So post a short stint of leave at Bangalore I have joined work again. Work has been action packed quite literally. I’m currently battling a minor back pain which made me think about how much I have hurt my body in the past couple of years. Yet I never learn.
My gut tells me I suffer from a hyper activity disorder.
I have also began some serious training, and pretty soon give the ladkiyaans of my imaginary mohalla something to look at.
There has been a roller coaster shift with the job as I’m literally juggling between a thousand odd chores.
I’m looking for a good steady SUV for myself to roam in the streets of Punjab playing obnoxiously loud materialistic punjabi music for neighbours to crib about.
I bought a new iPad pencil last month and cannot stop gushing over how amazing I have become at doodling, which is a habit I picked up in one of the many long phone calls that I attend as a part of my work.
Turbulence ahead, you are requested to please fasten your seat belts.
This one announcement in the plane sounds like a death threat to my petrified soul.
It is to be kept in mind dear reader that this blog is being written some 10,000 ft in the air as my airplane crosses the unforgiving skies of Chandigarh. I can see a raindrop or two on the window.
I have had this nagging fear of the skies for over a couple of years now. It was never there before. I used to be fascinated by air travel in my early travels. I guess that went for a toss when I let a few terrible experiences and YouTube videos get into my nut.
It was thorough pondering that made me realise that it is not the fear of the skies or death that haunts me. I am a qualified sky diver. I have jumped in the dark skies without a second thought. Give me a parachute and I will be sure of myself.
But in this giant metal tube with a hundred other passengers and a stupid wailing kid, I realised that I have a serious fear of helplessness. The helpless idea of putting my life in the hands of a pilot I do not know or do not trust. The fact that I could be subjected to plummet to my death from a height, within a minute that would be filled with nothing but a sense of anger at the idea that I failed to book a train ticket. I have had thoughts about what I would actually think about. I have been wondering at the business proposition of investing in a new technology where a mega giant super parachute could be installed for a failing engine to save the plane.
The worst part of the ordeal is that this niggling fear does not come to me while booking the god damn tickets.
It comes to me only when the plane taxis on the runway in full swing. Those minutes put me through a sort of regret. A familiar feeling that makes me want to tear open my front seat and slap the scalp of the uncle ahead of me.
Just like any other typical human, I never learn. I’ll continue to bitch about this amazing invention that has been saving my ass as well as saving me 4 days of precious leave because my loved ones stay way far in the hinterland while I stay perched in a pigeonhole in the mountains, in the Siberian end of the country.
I have always been fascinated by the grandeur of this mystical sounding place, in countless brochures and films. It is yet amusing to be honest here and admit that I would never have visited this place, given a choice, because I had always been swayed by the calling of the much hyped locales around the world.
Ladakh is like the gorgeous quiet girl in the class who is actually the true girlfriend material, yet the multitude chooses to go for the head cheerleaders of Europe or the Americas, hoping for a date or two.
Little did the Krishna I knew a few years ago, know that he would not only visit this magical fiesta, but live there for almost two full years. God has been kind. God if you are listening, please choose a country in the North American continent now. Thanks.
This love affair for the mountains began with my first ascent through the ever gorgeous Rohtang pass where a part of my soul lies, along with countless others because tourism is a sux.
It is after arriving here that I realized that the term Ladakh and Leh are two completely different terminologies, unlike your typical Bombay and Mumbai references.
Leh is a town in the region of Ladakh, which in my frank useless opinion qualifies as a separate state altogether.
No this is not a guide to Ladakh post to help you find your way around the place, because that is not what I set out to do. Please use the internet and help yourselves.
Ladakh belongs to the closet poets
The romantics who notice shooting stars, and choose to not point it out
The jilted lovers dissolving their litany amongst the clouds of solitude
The rich who came for no reason
The poor who came for every reason
The girl who lied to her parents about doing the trip with her close friends
The guy who had no reason to say no for the trip
The ardent biker who checked it off his to do list
The pamphlet casualty from the land abroad
The nauseated grandma who couldn’t refuse
The friends who rediscovered themselves
Which one are you darling?
We choose our partners because they represent the unfinished business from our childhood.
We choose them because they manifest the qualities that we wish we had. In doing so in choosing such a challenging partner and working to give them what they need, we chart a course for our own growth.
They say Thomas Edison slogged a thousand times before inventing the bulb. It’s a different story that it was a copied idea, but then kudos to his PR team. Here’s a cheer to all those people who were determined to start their own blogs and watch it ring all the cash registers. Let’s face it. The litany of watching every country bumpkin write and call themself a blogger was one of the most demotivating aspects that made me give up the idea of writing. Speaking of shame makes me recount my previous blog which had some pretty good stench of an adulting young boy who was in fierce belief of changing the world with his unasked opinions. I was going through my own content and figured how criticizing someone made me feel funny and superior. Something I would not do or appreciate today. Opinions are more dangerous than nuclear bombs. They must be put forth with a 5 step authentication in your own head before projecting them to anyone. Especially the fairer sex. A lot has changed in yours truly from the last time I wrote. The earlier me aggressively championed certain causes that concerned about social issues, societal injustice and violence. Now, they have become secondary as my prime focus today is to sensitize dear readers on basic civic sense. Yes one must definitely speak against some unexplainable norms, but how can you accept that while walking your dog outside the house to excrete in the open? ( Some humans too) The earlier writer felt a great deal of sympathy for the Kashmiri crowd, even writing a poem or two to highlight their plight. Now, I have been stoned by the very commoners by virtue of my job. It doesn’t mean that I have developed a hatred for them. Their anger doesn’t intimidate me, but good luck getting another heart wrenching stanza from me on your plight .Haha.
Military training doesn’t change you into a different person but probably adds a filter to your mind on assimilating your response towards certain stimuli. The saddening change post training has only been my ever increasing devotion to sleep. There were days when I could devour an entire 300 pager in a day. Now the idea of turning a page, motivates the slumber gods to put me down like a retriever in a kennel on a lazy sunday. So what gave birth to this one of the many first posts? In all honesty, it was an excuse to not join my friends for another round of swimming in the gorgeous Gokarna waters which I am starting to love. The place has started to make sense only on the second night, once you get familiar with what the surroundings have to offer. Last 30 hours have been the laziest hours of my life this year and I couldn’t be more happier. Love from the Oasis to you all. Yours truly