"You write well...your honesty is admirable..."

The nice people on the matrimonial website where I have had a
"paid" membership have given me an extension of three days. And
prior to the expiration of my "premium" membership, they even
reminded me to renew my membership fast...and to avail the special
spotlight feature for my profile.

Which is all very fine and in fact pretty forward-looking and
customer focused and market led of them. But "spotlight" on
what? Pray?

My ears? My poetic angst? Or my "admirable honesty"?

Oh well, probably I am just being strongly satirical here or
you may want to call this a mild case of gallows humour (of the
matrimonial kind) but yes (and I am sure you know it too)
matrimonial sites are where the action is, for all those intent
on getting hitched "fast" and "settling" down and it is where the
posturing and masquerading and marketing (that goes along with
showing oneself in the best light)is...

Yes, I have been on these sites before and no I wasn't expecting
miraculous results, but still...

And yes, as usual, I wonder if I am probably too open, easy-going
artless and unsophisticated for my own good. Or probably intent
on being truthful to a fault. And as you can very well expect,
these approaches don't work in a world that is getting more and
more literal everyday, when most of us are led to believe that
we are perfect (and virtuous and settled down) and should ensure
we stay that way by allying with others who are the same.

The company we keep and all that marketing jargon if you will...

So I guess -- by extension -- I am a misfit on matrimonial sites
too. Or maybe the ladies (or their chaperones) I have been
fortunate enough to interact with google me and land up here.

Well you do the math thereafter.

"Angsty poet" + "rootless motorcyclist" + "romantic tree lover" +
"unsettled consultant" + "obscure writer" doesn't add up to much,
no?

And then again, there would be the other stereotyping at play,
(since this blog mentions my being Hard of Hearing, rants about
my troubles when employed, questions my employability and so on)
making me a prospective minefield, I guess...:-)

Whatever it be, the sum total is that I don't probably weigh in
as substantial enough to be pursued as a prospective alliance.
Let's leave all that jazz about intelligence, compatibility,
common interests, etc.

Or, everyone is just too tired and expects to find the "finished
item" who has excellent phone skills, travels extensively (which
not only means he is culturally polished -- and has hotel napkins
et al to gift -- but can immediately "come" meet up) earns
big bucks, etcetera, etcetera...

Who knows, I am certainly not a woman intent (allegedly) on
getting married and I am certainly not someone who
understands them that well. Nor am I someone who is unaware of
what an average reader's reaction would be on reading "hearing
aids" on a matrimonial profile.

But then, this blog post is not about all that and in
fairness, to each one his / her own. What I find surprising is
that of a substantial number of those who "liked" my profile,
(and went on to praise it too) not many showed any interest in
taking things ahead. A bit indicative of a mindset that goes
like -- "Poetry, travel, photography, motorcycling is fine,
but I would prefer someone who is a regular guy doing a
regular job".

Oh well, like I said before -- to each, his / her own
and (no, I don't go by gender stereotypes) maybe that is
what is called "feminine logic" or whatever else...

I do know that I have been a bit too frank with that profile,
but it will stay that way, thank you.

And yes, if you have seen it and said / felt "you write well..."
hey...why, thank you! And wish you all the best for a happily
married life!

P.S. -- This post is not taking any potshots at matrimonial sites.
I still feel they are the best way to meet people; else I wouldn't
be a paid member on one. This post is about my own experience
on a particular matrimonial site and indicative (if at all) of
what confounds people like me or indicative (if at all) of how the
marriageable among the fairer sex (or their chaperones) look at
"getting married".

P.P.S -- This one is not needed -- especially if you know me :-)
Yes, I don't believe in gender stereotypes and I also believe
that it is the man who should do the wooing. But there is only
so much one can do, without "phone skills" and if the other
party gets literal and panicky...no?

The glittering happiness of three Goldfish

I just changed the water in the Goldfish tank. Meaning, I just
poured out all the water (after transferring the fish out into
a small bowl), gave the gravel and the inner surface of the
tank a hand scrub, gave the plastic plant one, set it in again
and filled up the tank.

With common tap water.

And then -- when I put Tonu, Gonu and Donu back into "their"
tank, it is as if I have put them back in a paradise of bliss
and happiness. For one, their glitter has the sparkle of a
beatific smile and for another they are stiller and calmer then
before. You could say that they are floating serenely in the
middle of the tank, enjoying and thrilling in the
purity -- of water.

Even if it is common tap water.



Oh well, am telling you half the story? Yes, the other half is
when they keep making a beeline for the surface, very evidently
distressed if you see how they "blow" bubbles; it almost seems
they are coming up to breathe. This is all of course when
the water has gone all cloudy and bad, almost like a cesspool.

Well, if you keep fish and have a bigger tank than mine, you in
all probability have an aerator and some kind of fancy breathing
apparatus, but even in that case I am sure you will agree with me.
Fish in fresh water glitter their happiness, don't they?

Incidentally, this is not the first time I am keeping (and caring)
for fish at home. My earlier experiences were in Orissa, when
I was 10-12 years old and used to get pond water and half-dead
fish (from the fry and fingerlings left over when nets teeming
with Pokhuri fish are drawn in) and a attempt creating aquariums
from one and two kg Horlicks and Maltova jars. To wonder why
the fish would belly up and die, sometimes just overnight.

It wasn't all that bad either, I also used to "breed" Eels and
Catfish in the ditches all around my place when I was a bit older
and learned; and those fish lived longer too -- before disappearing
in the give-away smell of fried fish from a stealthy neighbour's
kitchen.

Anyway, if my memory serves me right, these three little goldfish
have completed more than 100 days. Or rather the fish bowl has. Oh
yes, one of the first two fish died within 4 days. Then I got another
two and they too died. And then I got another two. I am happy to say
that all seems to be well in fishland, with the last two of them here
for more than 2 months now.



Some more facts about the fish fellows -- the names were given by
the little man; or rather I proposed and he seconded the same.
I may be wrong but Tonu is the original "survivor" and a bit aloof
and the biggest of the three.

And oh yes, like any thing that needs "doing", cleaning the fish
bowl is a chore. Also, a responsibility, because "before you know why,
fish could belly up and die!". And responsibilities are scary and
painful. In my case, the pain happened as I slipped and fell (on my
behind) while changing the water at around 2.00 in the morning.

But still, its worth it all to see the glittering happiness
of Tonu,Gonu and Donu. Especially when they catch the sunlight,
streaming in from the skylight, over the landing where their
bowl is.

Tripping -- travels and travails

Coincidentally enough -- as I have been procrastinating a
blog post about an amazing road trip being undertaken by two
friends -- Prabha and Harsha Koda, I have been beset by a set
of related travails; the Enfield needs a new Carburetor (and the
type I want seems to be out of stock)starter coils and some other
TLC, the Schwinn is getting either its front or back wheel
punctured more or less with as much periodicity as the moon's
waxing and waning. If that was not incapacitating enough --
in between the Enfield being unable to keep up with the 100 CC
commuters and the Schwinn making serious holes in my pocket,
I also managed to go ahead and puncture the sole of my foot.

Which (naturally) led to a poem and a lot of wonder(even more
naturally)on my part -- that of seeing my blood dropping and
drying on a decrepit and sizzling hot (and rain-washed and
spanking clean) road and that of finding that the tear in the
"leather" of my sole more or less mended itself in barely 4-5
days. How's that for being well-worn, eh?

But then, this blog post is meant to be about Prabha and
Harsha Koda's trip all along the border of India, starting
from Mumbai and ending at Mumbai.
And yes, as of now they are in Leh, eating up the miles
steadily in their beloved Scorpio


And yes, in keeping with the confessions I routinely make
on this blog, here's another -- I was invited by these nice
people -- to be part of their trip and be with them from Srinagar
to Leh.

But I am here in the Deccan itself.

#$@%!!

Coincidentally again, I got around to finally cleaning my room today.
And found a bunch of receipts, visiting cards, bills, etc. from
a road trip that I had undertaken in January 2009 on
the Enfield -- down to Kanyakumari (and Rameshwaram) and then
up along the West Coast. Didn't have the heart to throw them,
maybe I will try and find some poetry in those bills, receipts,
et al...

A lust for life (and lenses)

I never learned how to paint. And, I am sure the little man
can sketch / doodle better than me; I mean he would have done
it far better than me even before he started going to "drawing
classes". But it has been said by some of my readers that there
is a bit of the imagist in my poems. Or rather, I have been told
that some of my poems are rich in "starkly vivid, photograph like
imagery" and that I "juxtapose allegory and metaphor with images
to draw pen pictures".

Is it because I am trying to paint with words? Or is it because
when (I take a photograph) or try to drink in a landscape / view
with my mind's eye -- immaterial of if I am already "writing" the
poem or gazing at the beauty of the outdoors in

awe, the poem has already taken root in me?

You know what this means. Yes, it means that everything that I
see is potentially an image that can be drawn in words, a poem.
And from the very time I have realized that I have been
boggled -- not at the prospect of what masterpieces I may be
destined to draw but at the scarier one. Of not being fast enough
or receptive enough to draw all the poems that come to me.

For being unable to focus all my being into the poem, for
doubting it, and for so on and so forth...

But then, all said and done, its a good problem to have;
its better than being totally closed to poetry and being
unable to write (drafts) with originality fed by immediacy.

Or so I feel.

I don't know if I can "devote" my life to poetry. Its tough
as it is dealing with the trickles that my "self" lets in.
Its tough as it is dealing with the epiphanies that come
unbidden, but still the greed remains -- for more. The greed
remains -- for more "writerly purpose", extended periods of
"writing in the zone" and for the overwhelming lust for life,
one that teaches a complete focus on art, to the point of being
madly obsessed with it -- Van Gogh like.

And yes, the greed remains; for better lenses. Yes, lenses that
give me a wider angle on life, and lenses that let me zoom in
and block out all that is irrelevant too -- for though I may
not be primarily be a photographer, many of my poems come to
be through my eye.

As I go down on my knees, in reverence and awe.

A room with a view

In Telugu, there is this saying -- illu
kati chudu, pelli chesi chudu. Literally meaning -- build a
house and see, conduct a marriage and see. I wouldn't know of
marriages (though I am arguably a Shaadi.com veteran) but now I
can say I know a bit about building an "illu", even it happens to
be on the terrace of another and nothing very grand.

Oh yes, it has gone over budget. As any wise man would have
expected it to. And it has taken a lot many days than was
estimated. As any wise man would have expected it to. But then,
what matters is that it is finally done and now I have a good
idea of what it takes to "build" something. Even if that "something"
is but a sheet-roofed writer's shack designed and built (for lack
of a more "builderly" term) to be a penthouse.

How exactly should a newly built place feel? Overwhelmingly
impersonal? Silently spacious? Finished and foreign? Fragile
enough to inspire handling with care?

Whatever it be, I wouldn't know much about "new" spaces -- being
very low maintenance and afflicted with a sense of aesthetics
that borders the spartanly minimal -- I have not much of an
affinity for the grand and glitzy (in terms of spaces) and I
haven't been in that many of them -- at least long enough to be
considered a resident.

And then again, though the walls are new, the tiles are new
and a lot of time, money and work (at least by my standards) has
gone into creating this space, I am certainly no stranger to
it, this being the terrace of my "illu" after all. So maybe
this feeling of guarded strangeness is nothing more than what
I feel when staring at an empty page in a much used diary...the
diary is familiar but the page is still new and empty.

And yes, now for some background on this writer's shack :-)

If you know me, you would know that I absolutely adore open
spaces and just love being close to nature. So then, its not
tough to guess that a shack for someone like me would be either
on a cliff-top or besides the sea or out in the middle of trees and
other wilds. But then, I haven't got any closer to owning any such
space for the shack to come up there.

So...

If you know me, you would also know that I am rain mad and just
cannot have enough of getting drenched or being close to the rain.
And then, for me there is another far more crazier (and probably
primeval) level of associating with water, inasmuch that it is in
many ways my very ink. And, since we had a very very wet season
last year, I spent a lot of time getting drenched in deluges of
water; be it on my expeditions into the city, to or fro from work
or on mycycling trips. In fact, the first time I had the terrace
seen by an architect was on August 15th of last year, a day I got
totally drenched six times (inclusive of once on the terrace).So,
once I decided on getting a "room with a writerly view" here itself
on the illu, it had to get ready in time for me to get high on waters
that fall from the skies*.

So...

If you know me, you will also know that I am unschooled and
decide on things in my own patented illogical way. And another
strong motivator for getting the shack done ASAP was one of
the little man's sketches. Of a structure that has one door,
a conical roof and another door up there on the roof. And oh yeah,
it got done in a jiffy too!

Now, for the view. I would of course have wanted some more
elevation, maybe some 3-4 floors into the skies to see more
of the sunrise and the sunset. But yes, there are guaranteed
views of both (does that sound like advertising copy?). When a
bit more footloose, I can walk a few steps on either side and
get an eyefull of bursting blooms. A (tree of a) rosebush that
doesn't respect or care for the boundary that separates my
place from a nice neighbour's (ok, it is their rose bush, but
they have never made us feel so) and a yellow flowering tree
which I think is the Golden Trumpet on the front
of my place which runs riot with more sunbirds than I can
count, describe or capture :-)And yes, the junction box, too.

And then, there is the view on one side. Of trillions and
trillions** of lantana flowers and 8GB cards full of butterflies.
How long the butterflies stay around and how long the plot
stays that way, wild and overgrown with lantana (and other wild
flowers) is anyone's guess -- especially since there are rumors
of a water pipeline being laid to my so far "developing" and
suburbian colony.

But as long as it lasts, I would love to drink of it.

Maybe I will put little bird houses all over the terrace
(with blinds in place too) and shoot bird portraits. Or
maybe I will do some cooking. Or I will do what I have been
doing all this while, a bit of this and a bit of that :-)

But anyway, it's a bit of a kick to have a room with a
view. And yes, the little man agrees too.

* -- Call me an optimist (as opposed to being pessoan or
angsty) but I am still hoping there will be a bit more of
rains this year. And a cloudburst does seem and sound out
of the world up there.

** -- Lantana flowers in an inflorescence arrangement. Also, I am
not being literal.