Oh to be alive

The headline may reek of sheer plagiarism, but nothing could sum up the current bizarre state of affairs (pun intended) and even State affairs, better than Mark Haddon’s title of his masterpiece, by a similar name. Therein lay some layered, labyrinthine intricacies of the human brain, to which not all the answers are easily available; but what one is noticing now with the social networking boom is a strange disorder, or let’s say an obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) of a different kind.    An eerie silence envelops the being as one looks around the metro coach, packed with people of all hues and types.  But, if one were to tune in, to the sounds of silence, the extra sensitive tympanum would certainly pick up a humming buzz, emanating from the shiny, colourful objects that each individual is tapping into. The speed, with which nimble fingers collectively work on their respective screens, would put many a keyboard player to shame. They look up for a minute or l...

One hot afternoon, as the sun blazed overhead, I cruised along, on the near vacant roads:  a rare sight or opportunity, in the bursting-at-the- seams urban spaces. For nearly two hours, I had been out on a two-wheeler and was on the lookout for the shade of a tree to park and call a friend who lived en route. But, not a single tree that would give shade, was visible as far as the eye could see; this being one of the posh main roads, of one of the so called fast growing cities of Gujarat, that once upon a time prided itself for its large number of verdant,  robust trees. Not meaning to feel despondent, I veered toward a scraggy looking one that was barely big enough to provide shade to a squirrel, leave alone me. Just as my irritation seemed to be mounting, I saw the most beautiful sight that made me stop dead in my tracks, despite the scorching heat.  A little ahead of me I saw a man riding a rickshaw, meant for carrying goods and not people. Well what could be b...

In the deepest recesses of the mind, there is sometimes a thought unkind, niggling, dying: resurfacing, sublime. Shadows, traces: some morose, some exultant, well defined. Jostling colours, fading shapes, moving pictures, convoluted lives. Rearing its head yet again, it connives, gasping for breath, its pushed out, dying. Supplanting it with seeds of love, washing it out, in bright sunshine. In the far recesses of the mind, sometimes there is a thought unkind…   ©Copyright Suverchala Kashyap    

I know you all hate sermons, at your age I did too. I know it’s not easy when everyone chants aloud, at equal intervals: That and this, you mustn't do! You wonder what the hue and cry is about, ‘cause all you want is to get a bite, of the forbidden fruit! No, it’s not what you think, it’s simple and true, I know all you want to do, is break some rules… Well go ahead and do it, but spare a minute to think, is this what I really want to do, something, that lasts but a blink? I thought the latest scourge was AIDS or worse still H1N1, but, not perhaps for me and you… I guess you are way behind, as the newest thing, plaguing one & all, is the relationship flu!! It begins young, maybe at nine today, dies out as soon too, so by the time you are twenty, there’s nothing left to do… Well this is nothing new; long ago it was called by another name, but was untainted, innocent. All wanted to be afflicted by it, back...

Sunday , May 12, 2002 Article If only there was a messiah in all of us Suverchala Kashyap S TILL swaggering under the impact of a killer quake that spelt havoc a year ago, Gujarat recently witnessed a death dance of the worst kind, in the aftermath of the Godhra inferno. Mindless violence—that seemed to show no sign of abating for more than a month—is still rearing its mean head in the most unlikely of places. It is the common people who can make a difference by listening to the voice of sanity. Logic and reason are qualities that have taken a backseat in the current scenario and there is a strong underlying wave of hatred and fear of a particular community. It gets worse by the day under a chief minister who has all along supported and approved the backlash, and has in more ways than one justified what he calls "a reaction." Several appeals and calls for his dismissal from intellectuals and other quarters have come to naught. The situation, hence,...

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was originality in the air, everyone looked different and everything looked like perhaps it was supposed to. Girls looked like girls, boys looked like boys. Well, no story ever began like that, now did it? Adults looked like adults and behaved like them too. Forget about looks, they even did things differently, as in there were specific aspects to childhood that one wouldn’t want to trade off, ever. There was innocence, there was individuality, there was contentment; there was peace. Then a silent, but salient wave overtook everything and changed it forever, perhaps.  Metamorphosis, turned out to be a tad uniform when it referred to the humans peopling the cityscape. Everyone looked painfully similar. Originality went out the window and a monotonous similarity became overwhelmingly visible. Little girls looked like clones of someone, one happened to see in the latest magazines, adult women looked like them too. They all carried t...

Alone amidst the shadows he sat, waiting for darkness to engulf him, pause he did for a while, as nocturnal was his style. Bated breath, taut muscles, watching intent, pounce he would when the time was apt, till then no scope to be lax. Every day was a fight, ever night a rare act, he was known by the way he caught his prey, platitudes were not his to say.  Alongside those very shadows, taking in the sway, oblivious to the darn darkness, stealthily keeping at bay, was another presence, negating all that was thrown astray. Every night was a tough fight, before its dawn, who would call the shots; who would have a say? In the deepest recesses of one’s heart, soul and mind, lies the ability to choose, give in or just be blind.