October 13, 2014
I got an IQ of 137. I know it doesn’t mean anything. The number of intelligence quotient was never a sole criteria to be a successful person. It may just suggest the person has really got some “serious problem!” Whatever it means – it feels good to have such score, even more when you see yourself mostly good for nothing!
It was an online test. I don’t know the methodology, what type of scoring model they used etc. I would perhaps not care for that. For a person who stays mostly recluse, it’s good to have something to console himself with.
I had taken a similar test years ago and had got 139 then. These two marks less I don’t know if those are because of my increased age, different methodology, or just because my “intelligence” didn’t grow matching up with my age. Also, there were one or two questions where after hitting submit I felt I could have chosen different answer, but that’s part of the game.
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October 9, 2014
I get 24 hours a day. I need to live in these 24 hours. I get my breaths counted. I am not using my breaths to the fullest.
What’s stopping me from living to the fullest? I don’t know. I am going sleep too late. It means I am getting a lot of time in the evenings. I am still not reading books. Why?
Where are my priorities? Am I even prioritizing things or letting them happen as they come?
It’s not that I am absolutely wasting my time. I watched some good movies over these weekends: the Oscar-winning Palestinian movie Omar, Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator, some rom-coms. I spend some time playing music in the evenings. I have classes for nine hours a day. I don’t know how much time remains for me in a day.
I’m not pleased. I want to read a “book” – a full-length book.
October 4, 2014
Finally, I did go Bhopal yesterday. The feeling that I could actually meet dear Shams bhai proved stronger than my laziness.
I reached Bhopal station and he came to pick me. We went his home. We went out. Visited places – the lakes, Taj-ul-Masajid (Crown of the Mosques), the shaheen (Eagle) of Iqbal, curfew waali maata, various historical structures in Bhopal, many of them in ruins, few maintained. We rode on his bike on roads. We had samovar tea. We had lunch.
And we talked, talked, and talked –
of the city, it’s people, it’s structures and monuments, it’s literature, it’s language. We talked of Maharashtra, it’s politics, the social movements of Maharashtra, and the literary movements thereof. We talked of Mahatma Phule. We talked of Sikandar Jahaan Begum. We talked of Annabhau Sathe and Dr. Ambedkar. We talked about the Dhamma Chakra Pravartan festival at Deekahsbhoomi, Nagpur. We talked of Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh. We talked of Maratha Seva Sangh. We talked of Marathi ghazal. We talked of poetic meter. And then it was a time to finish the visit and come back!
Later I felt like I talked too much and made him listen all the time. I had gone there to listen to him. I noted a few times when he was talking about himself, I myself started talking. Perhaps, I was so excited.. Perhaps some other time..
I came back. Today, he posted a poem on his Facebook.. A poem dedicated to me.. “a friend comes from far away..” ek dost bahut door se aata hai.. Never believed someone would dedicate me a poem..
And I am overwhelmed.. almost in tears to read it!
Dedicated to Ganesh Dhamodkar
نذر گنیش دھاموڈکر
Ek dost bohat door se aata hai
arz-e-baraar٭ ki Khusbhu lata hai
kehta hai Marathi aur Urdu mein Ghazal voh
aur mujhe Chakbast** ka she’r sunaata hai
ab tak rabt tha us se
magar mulaqaat na thi
hoti thee.n baate.n magar shayad milne ki saa’at na thii
voh naujawaa.n jahaaN bhi jaata hai
saath Gahlib ka barqi diivaa.n le jaata hai
Ek dost bohat door se aata hai…
dhyaan se dekhe usne shahr ke dar-o-faseel
taal ke aks meiN nazar aayii use ‘Ambazari jheel’
hai kam-sukhan magar kamaal kar jaata hai
yakdam Taj Bhopali ke baare me.n savaal kar jaata hai
Ek dost bohat door se aata hai…
Uski aankho.n meN kuchh khwaab haiN
khamushi ke pas-e-pusht kaii inqelab haiN
apne kuchh Khwaab mujhe sunaata hai
ham se jab misra mauzoo.n nahi hota
voh jumla bhi ‘beher’ mein keh jaata hai
Ek dost bohat door se aata hai…
Shams ‘Adnan’ Alavi
[Arz-e-Baraar=Land of Berar in today's Maharashtra
٭٭Renowned Urdu poet late Brij Narayan Chakbast
barqi divaa.n=Diwan in file in computer/pen drive/pdf]
October 2, 2014
What am I doing? I am at Indore for a training. Tomorrow and the day after are holidays. Then a half working day on Saturday. Then again holidays for two days. The bosses were kind enough to offer a leave on Saturday, if one applies for it. I didn’t. People are planning where to go and what to do. I am sitting in room, watching TV, and writing this post because “what else?”
Plan was to visit @indscribe. Two hundred kilometer isn’t much. I have two whole days. I wanted to meet him for so long. But why am I losing interest in everything?
It’s around midnight. Better I go asleep.
August 25, 2014
I was awake till late last night. It was about 2 o’clock. I was not feeling sleepy. I had already had a good sleep in the afternoon – it was a Sunday. Not feeling sleepy, I was playing with phone, checking statuses here and there. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, I started feeling my own heartbeats. It was not pounding, but a flutter, thready rhythm. Everything started seeming hollow. It felt like I am going to crumble within myself. It was a feeling like – when you take terbutaline syrup and your heart goes shallow. The feeling was not much pronounced. It was not impossible to ignore, only if I could fall asleep.
Sleep was elusive. I used my time-tested somniferous techniques; they help for sure. I had good sleep, until morning, when nightmarish dreams started. I was trying to catch a train, caught the door bar, my hand slipped and I fell on the platform. The guard noted and slowed down the train, then I caught it. Some other incident. I was at some local station. Suddenly, there was smoke coming from everywhere. People started running haywire fearing a terrorist attack. I too ran away and caught some local, which swiftly moved out of the station. Later I noted the train was going to Karjat, not where I wanted to go.
Phone rang out of nowhere. Relieved, I woke up.
August 7, 2014
Like I’ve already lost the race, I stand still on the road, going nowhere. Like life is already over and the days are just a debt I owe to the unknown, I pass my days, in installments, day by day. How much it’s left still?
Like I am not living this life at all. This is life of someone else that I’m being forced to live. These are the days of someone else that I am passing – without any interst of my own in them.
Like I won’t mind much if the life remains no more some day. Like it’s not the life of someone who loved it so much once. Like we need to keep going with it because we have no right over it – no right to live it, no right not to live it either.
Like I don’t know where life is heading and why. But I still know it’s heading to every other direction than the one it should have headed. Like I have already stopped bothering where it would end up, because I already know it won’t end up where I had wished it would.
Like it’s heading to a hell in the name of life…
July 21, 2014
Three days I didn’t go to office. Then a Sunday. I spent my days in bed. First day, I went out – Gateway of India. People were taking photos. I got a portrait done, a pencil sketch – still the first one I ever got. The other two days were bleak. I tried opening all windows. I tried to clean up the room a little. It seemed to help for a while.
Not going to office also means breach of routine. I skip meals, sometimes both, and eat whatever I can find nearby. Also, I did not shave. It’s more than a week now. I have not washed clothes (from time immemorable).
I picked reading “Journey to the Center of Earth” and reached up to Rejkiavik – Capital city of Iceland – and we have started our journey forth on horses and with a local guide.
Meanwhile, Baba fell ill. Sodium went low. It was a big concern with his CKD. He visited his nephrologist on Saturday, improving now. Also, there were little fights, here, there.. Somehow, the four-day holidays ended.
July 3, 2014
Such a “meh” day. It’s only start of the day and my eyes are already aching. I had a good sleep last night; slept early and woke up late. It must not be because of sleep.
Work is going slow. The weather is damp with rains. The traffic is irritatingly slow. Yesterday, it took more than an hour for six kilometers – and all way standing in the bus. Same story repeated this morning. Too much time.. difficult more so if you’ve motion sickness.
Mumbai is a different place – not very much of my liking. Different people, different weather, different work culture. I sit all the day doing nothing. I hide myself from others. I take care no one notices me. It’s not the same old me who likes his work, who takes initiatives, who goes out of his way to help others.
Life is providing no respite, and I am doing nothing to make it simpler.
July 2, 2014
Such infidel thoughts in this circumspect world – and you’re being watched from everywhere. I’m missing a girl whom I shall not! But is there really something that “one shall not even miss someone”?
I was reading Slow Man by Coetzee this morning. Paul – my protagonist, a man of 70 with his leg amputated – pondering over his feelings for his caretaker Marijana – while she is dusting his books. Paul tries to find an exact word for his feelings. If he has to choose one word, he thinks, it would be admiration. “Can desire grow out of admiration, or are the two quite distinct species?” Paul thinks.
I, suddenly like a twinge, thought of a girl whom I had fallen in – principally an admiration. Whatever it was, it kept floating between admiration and desire – more towards admiration. What was it that I admired, I know not. Not really intelligent – someone whom I would put in “average” range – someone who makes mistakes in spellings and words and gets confused between convince and convenience. A beauty she was – no doubt absolutely gorgeous (so much that I once in my thoughts had named her Georgiana), but that must not be the reason. Was it her innocence? Perhaps it was, at least for the first few days, but later it was more of her reluctance to fall. I knew she admired me – a lot – and hence perhaps more cautious to let it not move up to desire. Sheer reluctance! Perhaps, it was no more an innocence.
My days were counted. As such, I was kind of taking a liberty to indulge, knowing it is to end on a fixed date. I weaved my days around her. I knew it was cruel of me trying to break her reluctance and I was still doing it. I knew it was best of it to leave it unsolved, and I was still trying to untangle it – only such that it does not get solved indeed. I lived my days between a yes and no – between admire and desire.
With an abrupt end, it started to fade away day by day. It was never to the stage where I could text her and say “I miss you” – in fact, never even where I could text her anytime I want. So when I was reading Coetzee this morning and was thinking of my Marijana, there was no question of me letting her know about it.
Then it started raining today – first real rain of this monsoon – making the weather kind of romantic when you see it out of the windows – and I set myself afloat, let myself flow…