Thursday, February 28, 2008

Forget Me Not ...

As they stared blankly. in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realized all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi- god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before.
--- The Wind in the Willows


Oh what a sweet gift it is. The gift of forgetfulness. To purge thoughts of no use. To wipe away memories no longer dear. To wash away the remembrances no longer worth attaching to.

As Engelbert Humperdinck would put it - "How could you leave without regret? Am I that easy to forget?"

Or is it that we begin to forget some memories because new ones have taken their place. We had nothing against the old ones though. Its just that they faded away into obscurity.

But why would this happen. What would lead someone to churn out the remembrances that one has. Memories are linked to people. Memories are linked to places. Memories are linked to events. You can forget the people, you can forget the places, you can forget the events. But you cannot drive out the abstract emotions that have had a lasting impact on you via them.

People come and people go. They maybe near you, they may be distances apart. They are with you today, and yet years away. The memories you cherish the most are the ones that bring a smile to your face even after ages of their having happened. The sudden warmth you feel, the glow that lightens up your face.

Who would be cruel enough to ignore these. Shun them like pestilences. One man's junk is another man's treasure they say. Apt words. Your golden days can at best be the indifference in the lives of others. What then should one do. Pluck such thoughts off? Or bury them in so deep that they get lost amongst the million other indifferences.

I for one, cannot do either. I wish i could. Revisit the Tabula Rasa as i so want to. But no, I have learnt over time that starting clean is probably not always the correct way out. It maybe the easy path, but then i choose not to take it. As Frost puts its, I took the road less traveled. Beautiful lines:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Face my fears and face my defeats. Face my sufferings and face my pain. This I must do.
To try and remember, to keep thinking, to keep longing, to keep hoping, to keep having the faith, to not give up even if the cause is lost.

The gift of forgetfulness is the easy way out.
But as Frost yet again so serenely puts it as "
my best bid for remembrance", i quote one of my favorite passages again.

Whose woods these are I think I know,

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.


My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.


He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.


The woods are lonely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.


Thursday, February 14, 2008

Sgt. Pepper Lonely Hearts Club ...

Yeah yeah - that's the name of the number one rock album of all time as mentioned by the Rolling Stones magazine. The first time the Beatles came out with their creative best as a unit. The first time they tried doing something under a nom-de-plume - to NOT be Beatles the performers - but Beatles the next door artists.

Given the debacle i put myself into after the previous write-up, where everybody (except the one intended for) started questioning the mystery shrouding the post, like the Beatles posing as the Sgt. Peppers Club, i decided to clear up some air.

No, this has nothing to do with Hyderabad or Nashik or any other city in the country. And no, this was not the usual pre V-day blues either. I don't suppose you need to have a V-day in order to tell somebody you love them or like them or miss them and on and on. Don't we keep doing that pretty much every day of the year anyways.

(PS - don't brand me a "Tu hi tu Bajrangi Re" for having something against Valentine - beautiful post - must read - especially the "Kya ek ladka aur ladki ..." dialogue from Maine pyaar kiya - suddenly reminds of a "couple" of people i know - in a good way obviously - who am i to presume things and get into the trouble of writing apologies)

To cater to a second niche group that was much interested in the time of the post; well crowds generally pysche me more than being alone. Its all a state of mind rather than the physical being. Ok ok, no more Freudian fart.

Take for example tonight. It truly was a blast. Old happy memories revisited. Rib tickling laughter entwined with Toxic Ninja overdose. On one side you had the eternal chatterboxes, and on the other the GD experts, who like to come in at strategic points, hit a bouncer for a six, and then move back into their shell.

I was in the mood for writing the contents of the previous post for a long time now, but just never found the opportune moment. A few lines "close to my heart".

Come to think of it - do i need to justify what i write or on whom i write. NO i don't.
Read at your leisure, if you will. Appreciate at your leisure, if you will. Scathe at your leisure, if you will.

The keyboard is simply a medium for aerated ideas. Thoughts fizz through ...

What i have realized though over time is - you can be as lonely as you want to be in a crowd, or enjoy the company of good memories locked up by yourself. Its all how you perceive the moment. You could laugh away in front of everybody but still be aloof. Or you could have that pleasant and relaxingly quiet glow that says it all.

I recall a very old story i read by Earl Reed Silvers; the thoughts which i try and capture here in my own poetic essence:

Do you remember, dear, the days so long ago;
the school lab, where over messy experiments, each other we grew to know.
Do you remember, dear, you had just moved to town;
I was a poor dressmaker's son, but you wore a tiara and a gown.

Do you remember, dear, my waking thoughts were mostly of you;
you took me into your crowd, though friends i had so few.
Do you remember, dear, the night i took you to the dance;
and while we danced the last waltz, i confessed my love at this only chance.

Do you remember, dear, the specks of gold in your eyes;
and all the efforts to keep it a secret, with those small true lies.
Do you remember, dear, when society became so disapproving of us;
you took the path to college on the very next bus.

Do you remember, dear, what i whispered to you that day;
that in years to come you must follow what your heart would say.
Do you remember, dear, i asked you to win over your fears;
I kissed you, and you smiled at me through your tears.

Do you remember, dear, those letters of mine you never got;
the ones your mother, seeing you reading, had from then on caught.
Do you remember, dear, your replies to mine were always so short and few;
One week followed another, and i had only my memories of you.

Do you remember, dear, that i worked hard to earn a living of mine;
and through hardships and savings, it all worked out fine.
Do you remember, dear, the years that have gone by, 31 in all;
and we celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary this fall.

Do you remember, dear, that soon after you had college left;
chance it was, that in the corner of an unknown street we again met.
Do you remember, dear, the golden specks were in your eyes again;
reminiscent of that old night you left, us standing a final time in the rain.

Do you remember, dear, standing there in the middle of the street;
those strange words i again began to repeat;
Do you remember, dear, if in years to come i ever walk in through that door ...
forgetting the tears in both our eyes, you kissed me like never before !!!

Friday, February 08, 2008

Alone ...

In days, perhaps even in months, i felt alone today.
Really alone.

"You are so far away from me. So far i just can't see."
Never have i missed you so much. But what have i to remember you by.
Except for those few golden memories my thoughts have captured.

I half cried, i half smiled. Like those cute pink bunny rabbits with long ears.

I know you won't be reading this. But if you do, you already know.
Haven't you heard it all before. The pain, the anguish, the longing.

You have been my bridge over troubled waters. The rock i find an anchor to. I know where to seek solace. Aaah ! That smile :) - the eternal rejuvenatory potion - the one element in my mundane existence that i long for the most.

But my thoughts betray me. Or do they?
Can i ever forget you? Do i want to forget you?
In your happiness lies my salvation, and in mine lies yours.
The ties that bind !

And yet, if for ever in years to come ...

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Tribute to the Busby Babes






"Trafford Park, which is just behind us here, is the biggest industrial estate in the city and they work hard, and they work long. On a Saturday, it is up to you to provide a little entertainment for them"

---- Sir Matt Busby

As one of the teeming million fans of the Red Devils, i feel proud to take out time and devote a post in tribute to the greatest team that ever walked the planet 50 years ago.

The darkest day: Feb 6th 1958
February 6th will forever be circled on the calendars of everyone connected with Manchester United. On that day in 1958, the darkest day in United's history, 23 people - including eight players and three members of the club's staff - suffered fatal injuries in the Munich air crash.



Flying back from a European Cup tie against Red Star Belgrade, the team plane stopped in Germany to refuel. The first two attempts to take off from Munich airport were aborted; following a third attempt, the plane crashed.Twenty-two of the people on board died instantly, while Duncan Edwards - one of the eight victims from the team - died 15 days later as a result of the injuries he sustained.

The tragedy is an indelible part of United's history, as is Sir Matt Busby overcoming his injuries to build another great team which won the European Cup 10 years later.
Roger Byrne (28), Eddie Colman (21), Mark Jones (24), David Pegg (22), Tommy Taylor (26), Geoff Bent (25), Liam Whelan (22) and Duncan Edwards (21) all died, along with club secretary Walter Crickmer, trainer Tom Curry and coach Bert Whalley.

Eight journalists died - Alf Clarke, Tom Jackson, Don Davies, George Fellows, Archie Ledbrook, Eric Thompson, Henry Rose, and Frank Swift who was a former Manchester City player. Plane captain Ken Rayment perished, as did Sir Matt's friend Willie Sanitof. Travel agent Bela Miklos and passenger Tom Cable also died.

The Busby Babes as the young team (with an average age of 22) was called, was a highly talented bunch of youngsters that had come through the United junior ranks, coached by the legendary Sir Matt Busby. The team that went on to re-shape United's history over the next few years, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of Old Trafford (bombed by the Nazis), winning 5 consecutive FA Youth Cups.

If not for the tragedy, the juggernauts would have been unstoppable. There was no team unparalleled. And yet, it was the resolve of the 5 survivors led by Sir Busby, to mould a new team, that would go on to win the European Cup within just 10 years.

As Sir Alex Ferguson remarked in the memorium service, he has been at the helm of the club for 21 years now, and has won just the one Champions League. For that United team to win it in such a short span overcoming traversities, is something the entire footballing nation would be proud of. Sir Matt Busby could have retired then, and people would have understood. But even lying severely injured, he felt it his responsibility to all around him to continue and revamp the team.

Yesterday's solidarity shown by all soccer teams, even arch-rivals Manchester City, to pray for the departed and remember their constributions symbolizes the resolute spirit of the Red Devils.

The current United team for their part will come out this weekend against City in a derby match, wearing a one-off 1950's styled uniform, without sponsorship logos, and numbered 1 through 11.

A tribute to those true champions of soccer. Remembered but never forgotten. It makes me Proud to be a United.




Source: The ManUnited official website (http://www.manutd.com/)