Into the Night ...

Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell
It was love from above, that could save me from hell
She had fire in her soul, it was easy to see
How the devil himself, could be pulled out of me
There were drums in the air, as she started to dance
Every soul in the room, keeping time with their hands …

Santana & Chad Kroeger

Well the song is called, as you must have so obviously guessed, 'Into the Night'. The post in consideration would probably be apt to start of with these lines. Into the Night. The time of the day that many fear the most. Dark and Scandalous. Terrorizing and Tumultuous. Ugly and Abhorrent.

Oh well, welcome to a B-school. Thats the time of the day when all your worst fears come true. Delayed submissions, pending timeliness. The only chance that you get to wrap stuff up is at night. It does not matter to the professors that poor students are losing out on Sleep, Glorious Sleep.

During a recent chat with some alums, i was surprised to find out that of 24 hours in a day, only 4 went for lectures. You had 20 hours to yourself. Inspite of this Wow quotient, i had that queasy feeling in my guts with a pending lull of what was going to hit me next. Its borrowed time that the students live on. Even those 20 hours belong to the profs. And trust me, they will goto lengths to try and squeeze in a few more somewhere.

Take for instance my schedule. Classes from 8:45am to 10:45am and then from 11:15am to 1:15pm. With the profs keeping high expectations that the students will read up the lecture content in advance and also finish off the exercises before coming to class. Why, pray somebody tell me, are classes necessary then. Might as well have a mail correspondence.

Now i being the inherent lazy bum, dont expect me to visit the library in order to find stuff. Especially when the books are tiered into 3 vast floors. And i don't like buying books either, given the previous college experiences, where my books bought in semester one had never flipped a page even till semester eight. Which leaves me with two options.

First, i beg or borrow a book from my group mates for some time when they are not using it. This seems highly unlikely because i am sure there is no scope for lending when the pressure is mounting on you to read up cases after cases.

Second, and preferred option is to download the book of the net. However, our useless net connections have been blocked from pursuing such activities. Even after managing to bypass this obstacle, still leaves one problem. You never end up finding the correct editions. I am currently reading a book that has the exact same theoretical content, but the examples differ in terms of the global geographies. No wonder i was stumped when i tried finding a case for Gillette Indonesia, and ended up staring at the barrel of Ford USA.

The other crib i have is that since everybody wants to utilize the internet bandwidth at night, it becomes an ugly proposition when you cannot get effective speeds at even 4am. Oh well, no one said life is fair, but why cant it be unfair to others.

And now grudgingly, i have to make that trip to my library and get used to reading stuff. I am wondering if they will let me take my camera inside, so that when the library closes at 10pm, i still have the option to read up digitally, Into the Night ...

PS - What ultimate crap. Just when i am about to leave for the library, i get a call saying the book you requested is not on the shelf. Obviously, there are others who have the same idea and are reading away to glory right now. Why i ask, don't they have anything constructive to do in the night !!

PPS - i am now relying on my study group mates to provide me with a gist of what is accounting and marketing all about just before i enter the class. Hopefully that should at-least get me through for tomorrow. Coming from a consulting background, bluffing my way through 4 hours should not be an issue. Though i am riding my luck far beyond than just Into the Night ...

Oh! How I Envy thee Faust ...

When I say to the Moment flying: 'Linger a while - thou art so fair!'
Then bind me in your bonds undying, and my final ruin I will bear.

--- The Tragical History of Dr. Faust (Christopher Marlowe)

Bizarre as it may seem and heretic though it may sound, come to think of it, I truly wish to emulate Doctor Faust. For the uninitiated, Dr. Faust or Faustus is the person in literary folklore who sold his soul to the devil in exchange for eternal life.

But legends are based on stories, and some of which are true. The origin of Faust's name and persona remains unclear, though it is widely assumed to be based on the figure of German Dr. Johann Georg Faust (approximately 1480–1540), a dubious magician and alchemist probably from Württemberg, who obtained a degree in divinity from Heidelberg University in 1509. According to one account, Faust's infamy became legendary while he was in prison, where in exchange for wine he "offered to show a chaplain how to remove hair from his face without a razor; the chaplain provided the wine and Faustus provided the chaplain with a salve of arsenic, which removed not only the hair but the flesh".

Without deviating much, let me simply say - how many of us are lucky enough to fall in love, be the one who breaks our beloved's heart, sells his soul to the devil, manages to live a life of longevity albeit one of sadness and remorse, and yet manages to find that one single moment of happiness in the end knowing no happiness truly exists. And despite these horrors and the tragedies, God intervenes and prevents the devil from taking Faust's soul as agreed, because HE recognizes Faust's unending striving.

How easy is it for us to condemn someone today for their sins, knowing not the true nature of the actions involved. All we think about is the fact that Faust sold his soul, without an endeavor to understand why he did the same.

It was not for money, it was not for power, it was not for fame. No it was not even for love. It was simply to attain more knowledge. To attain the zenith of human happiness. Faust knew this would never happen, and hence he was confident of never having to give up his soul. As Goethe showcases in his poetry, even God feels the need to let the man's soul be, for though he has committed the sin of hubris, he has done it for a higher good. For that one moment of happiness, he has decided to forgo his very essence.

Now you would think, why am i blabbering all this. The facts simply are, i have been thinking about a few things this past week, and trying to find that one moment of happiness for myself. Seems to me its a little obscured at the moment. I am becoming unsure and hazy on what construes happiness. Is it the pleasure of achieving some thing great or is it the cherished memories of being with people you like, your friends, your family. Clueless i still am.

As the devil incites Faust - "if you wish to stay in that moment forever, you shall die that very moment". Do i thus wish to achieve that tiny bit of joy to be everlasting. Or am i ready to give it up and move on - seeking more moments of mirth that shall please me just the instant, but never to keep in my thoughts for ever. All good things come to an end. But as the answer came back, it is well so for better things to start anew.

The piper at the gates of dawn - waiting to be led - leading the way.
Oh Faust, shower me with the very knowledge you seek. So that i may be wary when the time comes for me to choose and decide the fate for my own.

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.

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 !!!

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 ...