And I pray... again..

Our Hummer
who art in GM
Hallowed be thy name
thy terrain come
thy will be done
on road as it is in GM
Give us this day
our daily torque
and forgive us our wheelspins
as we forgive those drift against us
and lead us not into sand bogging
but deliver us from powerloss
Amen.

And I pray...

I believe in God,
the Hummer almighty,
creator of power and torque.
I believe in the H1 Alpha,
his only son by far..
He was conceived by the power of AM General
and born of General Motors.
He suffered under unclean petrol,
was discontinued, dead, but not forgotten.
He descended into the records.
On the third day, he rose again,
he ascended into GM and
is seated at the right hand of a V8
He will come again
to judge the petrolheads and the diesel buffs.
I believe in diesel,
the 6.6 TDi V8,
the 300 brake horse power,
the 71kgm of torque,
the 37" tires,
and life everlasting..
Amen.

Climbing Clouds

Who are you? I reach out. Her silhouette against the bright, near full moon is all I can see.. Long hair, flowing gown and eerie look apart, I try hard to catch a glimpse of her face.

There was a time this was so easy. Firstly, it wasn't night, there was no moon wreaking havoc with my powers of identification and certainly no silhouette to deal with. It had happened before. But now, from all the faces I've seen, and people I've longed for, there is this one silhouetted figure against the moon. On my darkest night, this scenario has been my only source of light. Even as she turns, her face I see not, though the glint in her eyes says all I need to hear. I know not her voice. I see not her face. It haunts me, again. I long. I crave. I imagine, but I fear as I do. That which I desire the most I will seek out, and may or may not end up disappointed. But disappointment is the least of my worries now.

I know not patience as a close friend. Only in times of comfort do we toast. Yet in jest we try, have our own little test. I lose, badly, every time. I laugh, every time. Because then, every second longer I dare, and am capable of holding on, I pride myself knowing that I did. I can. I just don't want to. And when I realise that. It pains me. Why? Why must I wait again? The answer is in my head, my mind is okay. My brain is okay. Yet this screech from within, as my heart claws up the nerve to my brain, etching marks, like nails on a blackboard, I can't help but hear, divert thoughts, and cringe with the pain I hear and the sound I feel..

"Walk", I say. And then I look around. The cloud has disappeared. I get up, and walk. Look ahead, with my eyes, and not my mind. It's easier that way, even if it's only for a few seconds, and then I'm walking in my clouds again. Lost as ever.

Under the bridge.

Some bridges are built over vast waterbodies and take several years and efforts. But then again, there are some bridges that are built on dry land; and one day, water just begins to flow from underneath.

Someone once said, "Build bridges, not walls.." It's the way to go. Connect. Explore. Share.

The Sound Of Hope

Again. This wooden shed. On the edge of the cliff. Relentlessly bashed by the waves, over, over and over again. Yet, so strong, it holds it's ground, or whatever it is it's standing on. The wood looks weak, and worn, maybe that's cos it is. But yet, not a single wave manages to knock it off, or better yet, break it apart entirely, soaking all that is contained within with it's intense torrent. Yet, with every single wave, a slight spray, nay, a drop manages to cling on to the wood. And then, seeping through, it manages to pass it's wooden wall, finding it's way through, and then dripping onto the parchness that remains confined in this shed. Eagerly absorbing every nearly satisfying drop, from every other wave that manages to knock on the walls hard enough.

Drop by drop, no, there's no bucket here, and even if there was, there's not just one place the drops fall from. It's dark. Too dark to see...anything. Where the drop will fall next is impossible to tell. At times, vague spots of daylight manage to filter through, but the waves block it out almost immediately.

Parched, shriveling and yearning for a drop more, this shed stays strong. Not displaying the occupant it holds so silently within. With no knowledge of how to speak, the urge to scream is unfathomable, yet, remains supressed for want of a vent. Somehow, somewhere, someone will hear this faint wisp of pure, unadulterated desperation for belonging. Maybe just outside. Maybe just feel the water. Get struck once by a wave so strong. Feel the intensity of what it has to offer. Not fall off the cliff and struggle to swim. Not drown. Not anything. Just one wave. Strong enough to knock over the shed. Shatter the wood. Set the bereaved occupant free. Just one wave. One wave. One.

Why..

For all the times we feel that we are lonely.
We walk on and always seem to look back.
But just because we do,
don't mean we ain't on the right track..

It's okay to doubt. It's okay to cry.
We're only human, so don't ask why..
Bad things happen,
when you most needed to try.
But you keep going,
cos it's the only way you'll fly..

The world out there is crazy
or maybe it's just me...
Trying to keep up with the frenzy,
I can't let things just be..

There's so much more to life
I believe, I know, I see..
And what I also know
is that it's all up to me..

Love - with no strings attached.

That, is the tagline for the movie Kites - a movie so amazing, so well-made, so ahead of it's time by Indian standards - it drew gruesome reviews from a bunch of journalists who only know left and right, black and white. Geez, I surprised myself there, I only thought of my created cube back then. But this, the color spectrum, there are 42.9 billion ways to see things - and that's not a random number mind you.. It's 2 raised to the power 32.

Enough of that. What I saw in the movie, what I realised. No interrupting songs, no unnecessary ancillary footage, just the point. One key point that went through my head during the shadow puppet scene, was that languages are such a barrier. There are infinite ways of expressing yourself - actions, music, nature, or just plain facial expressions. Life does not need to be defined within a set of boundaries, it's only when you truly break free that you live. More so about love. If you see love within a pre-defined notion - you'll never know what it truly is. There's billions of other ways to see things, and I'm glad I have chosen to do so.

Kudos to the Roshans. I appreciate all the efforts they have made in creating a masterpiece of Indian cinema. Too bad, the masses won't appreciate it, but then again, even art isn't. Show an average movie goer a Porsche 911 Turbo, and he'll say, "What, just two seats?" Where will my father-in-law and his grandfather sit?". Yes. Porsche didn't think of that either. And they never will. Because they don't have to.

Completely off-topic again. But hey, a work of art, will always have it's share of appreciators. There is art in everything, you just need to capture it the right way.