To the spirit of Life!

I was watching American Beauty last night. Yeah, the same movie in which Kevin Spacey jerks off thinking about his daughter's friend!

On screen was Tobey Maguire showing a video to his girlfriend. He was explaining that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. There was a little white polythene bag flying in the breeze.Tossing and turning. Making crisp sounds every time it hit the sidewalk. The wind bobbing it up and down and in spirals and in waves. It was a sight to watch! Such a free spirit flying with absolutely no care about the world! With the fallen autumn leaves around it rustling ever so gently with the breeze. The mellow grass on the pavement lovingly spread around like satin bed covers. There was a little puddle of water by the side, twinkling in the twilight. The evening light dancing in all directions as it reflected off its surface, making incoherent patterns, shimmering with a golden-yellow haze like a distant dream. The clip was in black and white, which enhanced the beauty of the scene.

What struck me most was the fact that it was these same forces of nature - wind and water - which, in a bizarre incident yesterday, took millions of people by surprise and killed over ten thousand along the southern and south-east Asian coasts. People taking morning walks on a crisp winter morning, people sleeping in slums abutting the Bay ofBengal, people relaxing on the shore in beachside resorts, fishermen out on a low-tide to earn their bread - it spared none. Within an hour,there was a deadly streak of devastation left behind at all these places. Everybody was caught unawares. They were reduced to helpless victims of a savage mood of nature. I mean, what is one expected to do if one fine morning, Mr.Ocean decides to wish you good morning at yourdoorstep!

Whatever the governments do, how-much-ever aid the international community provides, whatever news our BBC/CNN/NDTV teams telecast, will the gone come back? Will the people who were rudely hit by the tsunami ever regain a firm footing on life? Will man's quest to conquer the forces of nature ever be fulfilled? Will he ever be able to dictate terms to this omnipotent factor pervading everything? These are questions that leave an all-powerful human being dumbfounded.

Yet, despite thousands of such catastrophes and millions of casualties every year, life just goes on. Rescue operations continue on the one hand while the Sensex breaks new records on the other. These things are here today, gone tomorrow. It goes to show the basic essence of life -continuation, endlessness. Call it reproduction, reformation, renaissance. It symbolizes the eternal reincarnation of the spirit that pervades all that is referred to as having Life.

Amen!

Yo! I'm back in the land of green hills and soft, servile women. Yes, you got it right. Korea! Well, this time I'm not glad I got away from the din of Bangalore. This place is going through its yearly drama of autumn-winter transition and it's taking its toll on me. I've already got my butt pricked by the doctor and have lost count of the number of pills I've swallowed.

But, as usual, it brings back a gloom in me. Didn't we get our independence alongside Korea in the mid-late '40s? I wish the Nehrus and Gandhis had borrowed something from these people. No wonder I don't feel like going back home. I wish I could fly away somewhere. Well, I will. In about a month. I have to go back to see my parents and bid adieu to the land that has nurtured me for these past 25 years. I have no feelings for it. Absolutely.

On second thoughts, it's not the country I don't have feelings for. It's the people. But, a country is made by its people, ain't so?

Understanding

The years of my youth, my sensual life --

how clearly I see their meaning now.

What needless repentances, how futile....

But I did not understand the meaning then.

In the dissolute life of my youth

the desires of my poetry were being formed,

the scope of my art was being plotted.

This is why my repentances were never stable.

And my resolutions to control myself, to change

lasted for two weeks at the very most.

~Constantine P. Cavafy (1918)

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To the pretty dame who posted this note in my Inbox this morning!