Saying Goodbye

Its not like the person matters too much or the person matters at all.In an ideal world, with an ideal life, people shouldn't matter anyway.Then why is it so hard to say goodbye? If moving on is easy, why does the process of 'let go' suck the life out of you? It ruins everything, you know, everything. And somehow it is always the so-called 'indispensable' ones whom the goodbye has to be bid.

It is a tricky word, goodbye. If you say it, you regret it for the rest of your life.If you don't say it, you wallow in the guilt for the rest of your life. For, sometimes, and i tell this a lot to me, they are not going because they want to.It's simply because they have to. It is a simple fact to pinpoint, but not an easy one to come to terms with. Anger, frustration, are by-products of attachment. They will rear their head somewhere, somehow. So you don't say goodbye, as a sort of 'punishment'. Or you do say it, which is far worse a punishment sometimes.

I hate the word, personally. Arrivederci or phir milenge are commas, perhaps colons. Goodbye is a full stop. Final. There shouldn't be finality in anything. Finality shakes my faith in life.

Then again, they say that whatever happens, happens for the best. So it doesn't really matter what you say or whether you say it. In the greater scheme of things, all this coming- going business is petty ephemera.Even Jainenderkumar Jain told me that when Manohar shattered Surbala's sand-castle.Kabir keeps stressing on it. Rahim re-iterates. My own head tells me to get over this 'sheer nonsense'. I wish it was themIi had to bid goodbye.They won't let me be. It's all I am asking for.Please, please just let me be.And let there be no goodbyes anymore...and no more reasons to say them.

Awesome Mausam

Awesome Mausam
A Celebration Of The Mumbai Monsoon Madness


We almost thought they would ditch us this year.But here they are...albeit a few weeks and several suicides too late.And like the cheating husband who punishes his doubting wife, monsoons 2004 are lashing down with a vengeance on the never-give-up city that almost gave up on them.
It is that same annual drama that comes to town, enacted with repititive freshness on the stage of our artificial jungle.Every year, the rains pull a Veni Vedi Vici on Mumbai, and every year, we watch with childish fascination as the sweep us off our feet, pun intended.
They are both, abhored and adored.Like they care.Love 'em or loathe 'em, they will 'barso' with contemptuous indifference all the same.To dance under their battery, to splash around in puddles, to slip and fall flat on wet streets and fracture a bone or two...they are a beautiful excuse for anything you always wanted to but never dared to do.And if you never wanted to do any of those, well, you will cherish the fractures as a reminder of these times, at that time when a third World War will be waged over water.
To combat agnosticism, all one needs to do is watch the Mumbai rain in its element.Divinity did not stop suffering for Mankind with the Crusifixon of Christ or the flight of Muhammad.It continues to cry, perhaps for us, perhaps because of us.But it cries, and cries without inhibition, because the downpour we revel in are tears from heaven.And perhaps the closest we can get to it.