Riding: An Art.

Life is a stage and we as actors are performers. The art of living life cannot be measured by a tablespoon and made a perfect dish with appropriate ingredients. Similarly, the beauty of a motorcycle journey is not dependent on the pre-decided route, the roadmaps or the destination. What one lives through during a road trip is the flavour that one just craves for. Of course, it’s easier said than done. Because the motorcycle journeys are meant for those who are willing to take the challenges bestowed on them by themselves.

All said and done, bikers have a hard core belief that they live, breathe & feel riding like no one else. And to a certain extent, it’s true. He who rides, lives life at a different tangent and senses individuality with each passing road trip.

Companions make life beautiful and so they make journeys and expeditions meaningful. For the solo rider – the companion is the Enfield, for the one who loves togetherness – the companion is a friend or a loved one. But choose anything – it will just return back multi folds with only one thing – sheer bliss!!

The purpose of traveling is unexplained. Some do it for leisure, some for pleasure and some for explorations. When I asked myself, I got a plain simple answer – its my inner calling and passion. I feel blessed that I form a relatively smaller part of the world that not just knows his passion but also has an opportunity to live it – live it to the fullest. And I am glad that I made that choice. After all each life is all about the choices that have been made  – isn’t it?

The road less travelled calls for the nomad who may or may not believe in motorcycle journeys, but certainly respects adventure with a pinch of serenity or vice versa. The destination is and will always be a part of the journey because what it brings with itself is a thought – there is much more to be seen, explored & experience. There is no school which teaches that or no expert rider who can pass it on to you – it will just come naturally once you kick start your Enfield and begin your journey towards the ‘Art of Riding’.

When you are on the oldest motorcycle brand in the world, you see too much of the globe to remain strapped to a single identity. That’s why each Bullet means something different to each rider. There are days when we feel that I am living in a dream – a dream that is so pure and sacred that it has added purity to our beings and created new horizons for me. Fresh air and open highways, green mountains and light blue sea, no speed limits and a soothing motorcycle ride – that’s what life is all about in this dream world. I humbly bow down to the World of Bulleteers, where they live to ride and ride to live !!!

Writing, for the fun of it.

Today, I want to write just for the sake of writing. I don’t need this to be read by anyone. I don’t need anyone to comment. Today, I want to write, just for the sake of writing.
Blogging these days has become a way of communicating with the unknown. Most of the times the blogger doesn’t even know the reader. And yet they do. No doubt that has a thrill of its own.
But by each day the meaning of blogs has metamorphosed, if I may say so. Blogs are becoming more reader-centred, rather than staying writer-centred. What about expressing yourself to yourself? Blogging is supposed to be for oneself, and not for the reader. That is what blogging is supposed to be. The writer doesn’t choose his reader. The reader chooses his writer.
So here I am. Expressing to myself. I, Abhimanyu Manna, am talking to myself and hence, have gone totally bonkers. It like making those stupid faces in front of the mirror, repeating, “In kutton ke saamne mat naachna Basantiii..!” in 100 different styles & voices. Yea, just like that.
It's liberating, really. I am not a lunatic. Expressing to yourself might not be as much fun as writing to an audience, but it gives you a reality check. It lets you know about you, as it is. Time passes as it should. Emotions flow as they should. It is good. Yea it is.
So here I am, talking to myself, getting an inch closer to reality and yet edging towards ‘Moh-maya’.
Till next then.
CIAO.

8 Minutes.

 

“If the sun were to explode, you wouldn’t even know about it for 8 minutes. Because that is how long it takes for light to travel to us. For 8 minutes, the world would still be bright. And it would feel warm.”

- Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

We live our mundane lives every day, oblivious of what is going to happen to us tomorrow. Every next second is a surprise. Or rather, what it is intended to be. By who? Let’s not get into that now. Later, maybe.

Today, all we have is ‘8 Minutes’. What if some day, it really happened. And all we had was 8 minutes. Haah! Sounds like those cheesy forwarded texts, saying, “What would you do? Forward to falana-dimka people to get interesting answers, but first answer me.”

Let’s call the day when it happens, The Worst Day. So what would you do? In those last 8 minutes? The worst day, would also mean that it most certainly would be the last day. And hence it would mean that the Worst day would make the list of things to do a lot longer. Would it not?

You all would have your own lists. I have mine. But keeping in mind that we would have just 8 minutes, I am in a fix. What would I most certainly do? And what would I skip? There would be so many things I would have wanted to do in life. But those 8 minutes are not the time to do them. How would I know without ever doing them before if I like them? And would it be wise to do them in those 8 minutes? Would those 8 minutes be enough for all of them? It most certainly would not. And even if it were, I would not want to do them. Primarily because that would be the first time I would be doing them. I want to do only good things in those 8 minutes.

Good things. All in 8 minutes. So where do we start? How about, “What makes most number of memories?” Touch? Audio Clips? Video clips? Pictures? Pictures.

Pictures. Photographs. Photographs, to capture a particular moment in time. Photographs, to re-live a previously captured moment in time. Photographs, to remember people by. Or a place. Photographs to make your nostrils pain and your eyes itch because you miss the person, or the moment. Photographs to remind you how much you love someone. Photographs to remind you of the glorious gone-by days. Photographs to live them, just once more.

So that seals it. My last 8 minutes, I would want to re-live the gone-by moments. Rewind and play through those moments in my mind. Like a movie. A movie with just photographs. Moments frozen and captured in time. Yes, that should do the trick.

The Last 8 minutes. Now I am prepared for it.

Bring it on.

Time..is it?

Ok, lets have a reality check here.

In 3 simple words, “I am Lost.”

I haven’t socialized for almost over 5 months. Haven’t given myself a treat, ok ok, a mega-treat for a really long time. It feels like I kissed a girl last in 1826 (that is not true). I haven’t had a Subway Melt in over a decade. And to add to all this mess, I haven’t written since…’Maybe Maybe’ that surfaced on June the 21st 2012.

I have these long durations often, when I do not write, and every time I try to come up with an excuse, but the truth is there isn’t any excuse other than simply put in a single word, ‘time’. Now you shall say, ‘Seriously Dude, Time? Time nahi hai tere paas? Are you kidding me?’ Well, the answer to that isn’t quite straight. ‘Yes, I am not as busy that I can’t find time to write. But writing sometimes, most of the times, requires, how do I put it, ‘limitless leisure’.

The time to listen to the breeze blow by. The time to watch the pigeons make out on the window sill. The time to just keep gazing at the fan overhead, and that too when it isn't even on. The time to count rice while eating. The time to walk backwards all throughout the house. The time to make 10 different poses before combing your hair after a shower. The time to do a mo-hawk every time you shampoo, make a duckface, sing like a pig and dance like Elvis. The time to go to the terrace of your building and count the number of aunties around your house who are in your ‘Das saal choti se lekar bees saal badi tak koi bhi chalegi’ category.

Ab utna time to nahi hai. Hota, to likhne ko, Insah Allah, bohot kuch hota. Par hai nahi. So we gotta find a different way to manage time, because, mano ya na mano, I, simply, cannot stop writing entirely. It like Bhui Sir’s ‘Bread and Butter’. I have to write.

So here it is, making a promise (Haah!). I will write, more often.

And in Ratan Tata’s words, “A Promise, is after all, a Promise.”

Till next then.

Peace out.

Ciao.

Maybe…Maybe.!

Most of my posts are triggered by some or the other thing/incident I come across in life. Almost all of them are based on what happen to me, and what I do about them. I generally have a reaction only to events of massive proportions. I need to let them out of my system, and that is the main reason I let them out, because if I don’t, I can not be at peace with myself. On those days, I do not sit to think what to write, because that thought has already taken root in my mind long time ago, whenever what happened, happened.

But today, I feel different. I find it difficult to express, really. I do not feel the need to blog, because nothing of that sort has happened with me, today, or in near past, for that matter. I do not feel agitated about anything worth mentioning that has happened to me in recent times, or so I think, and maybe, feel. Today, I feel free. Away from all chaos in life. I am sitting here, thinking what to blog about, actually. Do I write about the rain, that is yet to come? Or the strong wind outside? Do I mention the heavy Desi dinner I had today, or that my prof. has asked for a treat and a good chat, and I am very much looking forward to it? Or that a couple of my lady profs wanna go out on a date with me? (Or so they said! )

Its 04:20 in the morning, and I am wide awake, no pressure of any deadlines, or exams, no tension even. My fingers are urging me to write, but my mind is lazy. It isn’t in an agitated state, maybe that is why its giving me no signals, or suggestions. But I will write. I want to. Not need to. Want to.

Today all somehow feels quiet. Serene. Or maybe this is the quiet before the coming storm. Maybe this is the still before the menacing pace of life ahead. Maybe! In that case, I better gear-up for the same. Will start with a couple of hours’ sleep.

Till Next then.

Ciao

Harmony & Disharmony

For those that define Harmony as the natural state of existence, or a state that we should aspire to, I have a question:

Does the Universe not exist in constant battle between contradictory forces of Harmony and Disharmony? Like the sunspots of the Sun, the Universe too tends to explode out of itself and then is pulled back by a contradictory force?

Would the Universe and everything that existed in it not be completely dead and non creative if there was a continuous stable non moving state of Harmony? And the same would go for us, in any form you may decide to see ourselves. Our consciousness, our soul, or our ‘five senses self’. The one law of creativity, of existence, of consciousness, of life itself, all that exists, or potentially exists, does so between extreme contradictions.

After all, Good can only be described in the context of Evil and vice versa. So what is that state that is one of complete acceptance (oops – here we go again in that word) which is neither good nor evil, nor moral or immoral, nor active or inactive, that is neither violent nor non-violent ? That has form but no recognizable form? A state that defies all adjectives, nouns or verbs we can think of, a state that exists without context with anything else, that is complete within itself yet completely infinite and incomplete?

For those that claim to have found that state which is often described as 'nirvana' (Hinduism) , or 'shunyata' (Buddhism) , or the eternal life (Islam and Christianity), I assume have encompassed the forces of contradiction and disharmony within themselves, battling neither, so experience themselves as the Universe and Eternity themselves. They are neither one nor the other, but part of a stillness that allows the battle to rage within. Knowing it to be an eternal battle, but able to smile upon it.

For me, I am still part of the battle, but learning that being buffeted by contradiction and giving into the contradictory forces is just the first step – the step that gives into the unknown without resistance. Or atleast active resistance, for the mind and the ego still rebels. The first step is to accept Chaos as the natural order of things, before reaching and yearning for that which is called 'enlightenment' or inner stillness, or whatever word and religion or philosophy chooses to use.

So forgive me if I question those that seem to emphatically KNOW. I don’t. I yearn to experience, and wonder at people that say they know. Is it mere knowledge? Or is it experience? Is it intellectual or is it emotional? The only people I meet that seem to be completely comfortable with contradiction (or duality as it is commonly called) are children , who have not yet been taught to separate completely that which is imagined and that which sensed.

I see everything I write here as huge question mark. A search and questioning, and sharing that yearning with others.

Till Next then
CIAO

Thanks to you, my friend.!

There are days that I wish to empty myself.

Empty myself of everything.

Of all the clutter that distorts.

 

So I can make room to breathe.

So I can make room to imagine.

So I can make room to love.

So I can make room to forgive.

So I can make room to listen,

 

To listen to you that is.

 

Listen

to your worries,

to your fears,

to your aspirations,

to your hopes,

to your dreams,

to your passions.

 

That way, I have little to do but be still,

be silent,

be kind,

be empathetic,

as I listen to you.

 

And in understanding you,

I become me again,

I become hopeful,

I become gentle,

I become uncluttered,

I become quiet.

 

For your wishes

are like mine.

 

For your dreams

are like mine.

 

For your fears

are like mine.

 

And as I bid farewell to you

My hesitations are silenced.

I no longer wish to be empty.

Rather, I want to be drenched,

saturated even,

in the beauty of life.

 

Thanks to you, my friend.!

INVICTUS.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul. 


--William Ernest Henley

Autopsy of Love: A Story

Love is an illusion. ‘May be’. Love is the most beautiful feeling ever experienced by humans. ‘May be’. Love is an over-rated emotion. ‘May be’. Love has the power to destroy not only one’s life but the whole world around you. ‘Well…May be'.
I never disagree with any definition for love. People have their own theories and versions for love. Even I have my own. One could prophesize any philosophy about love but if one-sided love prolonged for many years, you can relate to every known definition of ‘love’. My love story was not a very different one.
We were friends when we were kids. In adolescence, I developed some ‘special’ emotions in the friendship. I didn’t figure out it was love until my friends convinced me that it was love. Moreover, there were stuff like cinema, novels etc. that compel you to believe in the thing called ‘Love’. And from here I started my version of love.
Story becomes more clichéd as it progressed. She never had this notion of ‘love’ for a friend like me. With time, I tried everything to express my love. My innumerable banal poetries, songs had proved that I was a matter of fun in the school. We were no longer friends now. And one day, I came to know that she had an affair with our captain of basket ball team. I felt heart-broken but blissfully, when you were teen, there are other distractions than love in life, called ‘Studies’.
So, I studied hard and thought may be, I could marry her if I become a rich man. But, then in my final years, I heard that she was getting married. I gave my final shot and called her that if she could accept my love and reject the other marriage proposal for her. She told me, it was a love marriage.
“Ouch…!!”
“What are you thinking??Why are you worried now??….we had accepted your decision of marriage.”
My mother just broke my thought process, the thoughts of my immortal love story and dragged me to the present.
“Mummy, I am not worried. Just give me a moment of silence.”
So, I believe, we were at ‘Ouch..!!’. With it there was one more emotion ‘Enough of this propaganda of love, now I refuse to exist as a loser in real life.’ I had gone for further studies. I had no news about her. Then I met Trisha. She was a nice and intelligent girl. We enjoyed each other’s company. I started believing in mature love stories, a love where you could analyze the pro and cons of everything. A love whether you could envision the point ‘and they lived happily ever after’ based on your logic and statistics.
So, we fall in love. Her parents had no objection from marriage. Now, I went home to cajole my parents to the idea of ‘Trisha’ as their daughter in law. I could see the future in front of my eyes. Then one day, I went to my friend’s wedding and I met ‘Deepika’, yes…that’s her name, my first love. Believe me!..She was not my ‘only’ love…. she was my ‘first’ love.’ I kept saying this to myself.
After twenty-two years of my acquaintance, eighteen years of friendship, fourteen years of one sided love and six years as strangers, we met again. She was wearing white sari. She was more beautiful than I had ever imagined her in my dreams. I could still feel her eyes were searching for me. Now I kept on repeating ‘She was now a married woman’. But I couldn’t control my heart beats.
“Hi”
“Hi…. long time…, I can’t believe that we are meeting again.” I still had to control my eagerness to talk to her.
“Yeh…after really long time.” She sighed. “So, you went for post graduate studies.”
“Yes…my studies were over three year back. Now, I had been working. How have you been?”
“Great!! I had been working with ‘Airtel’ for past two years. Its nice to meet you, old pal. Do you remember we always used to have a blast when we were kids?”
..
“I remember everything. We were the best friends until I acted stupidly. You know in teen-age..it happens.”
“I don’t think it was stupid. It was just how you felt at that point. OK!..Forget about it..So any plans for marriage or are you a married man??”
“Partially true, I came home to tell my parents about ‘Trisha’. She was my fellow mate in the college. We share an amazing chemistry. And then we realized that we both loved each other. Now soon we will be getting married. What about you? How has been your married life? Any kids?”
“Actually, marrying ‘Ronit’ was not a good decision. We were not meant for each other. Within a year, we got divorced. There were very difficult days that followed. You know when ‘Love-marriage’ fails in India especially in a small town like ours, its really tough to fight with the image of a convict who got the punishment of what he or she deserves according to the society. But now everything is fine. I am enjoying my job and independent life.”
She was busy in meeting other people. My mind was blank for a while but suddenly thousands of emotions splurged into my mind. First, Happy - She finally got divorced. Yippee!! Sad- She was sad and lonely. Devil- You finally got your chance. She was single, and you are a successful bachelor. Angel- What about Trisha? She has been waiting for you.

As they say, Love was illusion, power, stupidity or anything one could ever imagine. It could be both selfish as well as selfless. I could not resist myself with the forces that attracted me towards 'Deepika' to surrender myself. And I could only feel sorry for ‘Trisha’. I could live ‘happily ever after with Trisha’ but I don’t want that ‘happy’ life.
I went to Deepika, “Deepika!...I had to say something to you…it’s important. I can do anything for you but please for once….”
Deepika interrupted, “Can I ask you for a favor as a friend? I would appreciate if we remain friends. All my life, I went for the things that I want and never cared for others. And still, my beliefs are not changed. I am fighting with the world for an independent and respectful life. Now I want to be a good daughter, good employee, good friend and a good person. Please don’t take my dignity by asking to follow my heart. I believe, I answered for your every unasked question.”
And she was gone.
My mother and I arrived at ‘Trisha’s home’ to talk about our marriage: Our love marriage. I was still debating with myself on definition for love.

I am thinking..what to think?

It is a general apothegm; Simple questions have complex answers and complex questions have simple answers. My actual question here is 'do we actually think?" The answer to my question is, we generally think what we are made to think. It can be done by our books, family atmosphere, society around us, newspapers TV channels and even all the sources of entertainment, right from cinema to soccer.

The three main pillars of thinking are rational mind, discussion and questioning. All the three are inter related to each other. Now let us discuss all of them one by one.

1. A Rational Mind
First, we generally associate ourselves with prejudices and dogmas very easiuly. For e.g.. we follow our religion and admire it. It is not because we have analyzed with substantial facts, but as we are born in it, we have prejudices and affliction for it.
Second, experience of others; any revered person can be a hindrance to experiment and formulate our own theories. A common example is, a man who has lost all his money in business will try to convince his son that business is bad.
And third, the fear of failure has been so much exaggerated in our society, that we are afraid to think of our own. Why else do you think that most successful business magnets, who were college dropouts themselves - Dhirubhai Ambani, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Michael Dell etc. are employing the best minds from Universities. Because they have come off all prejudices, dogmas, and fear of failure. They have experimented and written their own rules.

2. Discussion
There is no point in any discussion if the first requisite condition of rational thinking is not satisfied.We generally do not have healthy discussions because either we get trapped into the never ending debate or we popped out some points that have already been presented before. That is because we have the habit of taking secondary pleasure of thinking without actually thinking. But in reality, we are just refreshing the thoughts which have intentionally rooted in our minds; all thanks to the society and the media.

3. Questioning
When we say questioning, this is actually a prohibited part of thinking. As George Bernard Shaw once said, "All greatest truth were once blasphemous." If we question the authorities then we might be called traitors. But, questioning does complete our process of thinking. The irony lies in, if we question the authorities about their working in a throng, we can bring justice to Jessica Lal's and Ruchika's murder case. But if I am alone then I can be either Jessica, Ruchika or Safdar Hashmi. We have two choices:

1. Be ignorant, think within the frequency allotted by the authorities and take vicarious pleasure

2. Fight with the ignorance, but then find wisdom and struggle to find the satisfaction.

This may be a case of Simple question with difficult answers. I myself am in a dilemma of choosing the road...

Till Next then
CIAO