Jogging on a rainy evening

Jogging in the fading light of the dusk with the drizzle drenching my T shirt more than my sweat, I was actually feeling ecstatic. It was the first time I remember in my short lived memory when I had not taken my i pod and the humming of insects mixed with the croaking of stray frogs and the splatter of rain was playing the role of a joint of fine hash. I was intoxicated and though my legs were aching and my chest burning, I yearned to go a while longer, till I could fall facedown in the rainy puddle and feel triumphant.

It was a long while, more than two months since I ran last and the surge of breathlessness as my muscles secreted more lactic acid was overwhelming. I wondered why did I ever give up on running? Wasn't it one of the few acts in the day which made me feel alive, which granted a somewhat subtle meaning to this soporific life of mine? My mind was riddling with such many thoughts as I gazed around to see the brilliant green of the trees washed of dust. It felt as though my eyesight had improved and my specs. fogged by the rain was only an unnecessary accessory much like the appendix which is there but which I do not feel any need for.

I tried running on the road as the pavement beside was slushed and it would stain my brilliant white sneakers. But Hell!!!! Who cares? Am not here modelling for Dolce and Gabanna or doin an Akshay Kumar act for the Levis. I remembered Fightclub and how Brad Pitt says to Edward Norton of the false notions of a perfect man and how we readily believe what the brands have to speak for us. I jumped in the mud splashing it around, waiting for it to skid underneath my feet and lure me forward for a skateboard ride. I was a kid again - intrepid and impetuous and was loving every bit of it.

My tired legs slammed against the earth with a thud of the dead and it felt as though am a Frankenstein struck by the thunder that fused a life in me I had long forgotten. The rhythmic tap-tap of my shoes felt like rains on a cold grave and me the resident of that coffin. I was a dead man injected with a yearning and a wail.

As my breath choked me and my stomach gave a cry of the cramps, I stopped and walked. I didn't care to wipe the sweat on my forehead and back of neck. It was one with the rain. The rain was also salty. I broke into a brisk pace so that I could hold a little more on the last sips from the goblet. I was happy and after a much long time felt alive and meaningful.

Doubts here and there, flying everywhere

Ever wondered what an aura of a person looks like? We have a perceived idea that it is a golden round hallow glowing at a flame gentler and engulfing the saintly figures stretched across the pages of history. I often picture Gautam Buddha when I think of an aura. I have always wondered what it means? Is it a mere sense of divinity bestowed on a person by Upasakas (lay followers), Is it the story of the person and his travails with life that makes us see him as one with a golden halo, Is it our idea of the light of God, Is it our delusion or illumination to prostrate ourselves on feet of the hallowed? The questions are many, the answer is singular yet it is evasive and like millions of flickering dots of white light which we all have seen at some point or the other.

We all believe that there is a way in which the world is conducted and managed. Even the atheist and agnostic emotions know that there is some force which guides what we do, what we perceive and how we go about it. The mere difference is that it is God or faith or religion or multiple such other notions for the believers and it is self-confidence, self-determination, belief in one's qualities and inner voice and strength for the atheists and agnostics.

If we carefully observe there is not much difference though. Whether the tale is of confirming or denying the existence of God, it always boils down to what we believe and how far we believe in our belief. This is the only operative word. This is the only word that determines the chart and course we tread in our life and this only is the determinant of where we land.

This belief can be characterised in its innumerbale forms. We chose to believe at times only when we could see or hear the definite. We often forget that the definite is not only sensory but it could be tangible in ways our senses could perceive only when we stay still and listen. Isn't that how we can smell the fragrance of wind even when it is not raining, isn't it how we can feel the warmth of the Sun even when it is still up or below the horizon, Isn't it how we know that a stream in a forest will eventually lead us to some settlement. The last observation i made here is deliberate and emphasizes the quantum of faith we carry in our daily lives, no matter whether it comes from experience, trust, a hunch or a known fact. The chances are always dual and we choose to believe what we have to.

Our mind if often crept up with doubts swelling and swimming like phytoplanktons in the Antarctic sea (they are lesser now as applies to doubts too) and like an algae enveloping the entire river body (the doubts are multifarious). No matter what we do this cycle of doubts goes on and the vicious circle sucks us inside with its centripetal force so that all our mind possibly dwells on is doubts, explanation of doubts, answers for doubts and the way to break out of the cycle.

We all have faced this task at some point in our lives and we all have mantras to de-stress and to let go. At times the solution is elusive, at times it lasts for a while (till we shop and party) and at times it is a self-deceptive exercise (where we shun the existence of doubts). But it is only seldom that we accept them as they are and face them in their behemoth form.

We have also realized that the tyranny of doubts is overwhelming and the moment we are about to cross its borders, it spins harder and like a giant black hole it pulls us back destroying the thin strands of faith we rode on to escape its singularity.

But at all points of time we are also aware that there is a world, a creation beyond these strangling doubts and we all envision how happy and peaceful we are out there. When this awareness is visualized the doubt monster is in a frenzy as his reign of darkness is pulsated by a light which is the result of our belief and firm knowledge of the turn of tides and advent of better days. All that is dark perished when the light shone. In this light, in this aura, in this hallow we find our doubts melting and scattering far far away into some dungeon. It becomes anti-matter (something which is nugatory to our recent flush of belief and hope in good). And when this tide of light shines and verbates, all we need to do is not to chase it and hang on it tightly but let it suck us in in its still aura of illumination and peace. That is a place where the behemoth would fear to tread. And that is where lies our hope.

Hope is a beautiful thing. It tells you to expect the unexpected, to believe the implausible, to fly even when your feet are stuck in the dark mud of the pestilential agony and loss of worth. It is indeed one of the languages in which Gods at some end of this Universe speak to us in his sincere, grey and comforting tone.

To be agitated is a state which we all have so become habituated to. We believe that resilience will slowly spread its silken wings and descend on our parched souls, long lost in fits of despondency and contemplative and meticulously crafted pity.

I was spoken to today in many ways which are not only the most unusual but least expected. As fate and destiny are the instruments in the hand of invisible omnipresence, I won't delve on them much. I won't speak of instances which made my faith stronger and resolve impermeable. I won't saunter into the grey zone of my belief and phases of agnosticism. I won't speak of the tones in which I was comforted and assured. That all is kind of personal. Maybe all that I said here can be justified in the undermentioned lines from the Scraps of Bob Dylan. And then I shall get to writing what is meant to be written. A note of thanks and a heart of gratefulness.

The quote goes thus:-

"DESTINY is a feeling you have that you know something about yourself nobody else does. The picture you have in your own mind of what you're about WILL COME TRUE. It's a kind of a thing you kind of have to keep to your own self, because it's a fragile feeling, and you put it out there, then someone will kill it. It's best to keep that all inside."

So keeping inside what is supposed to lighten (Both in terms of pressure and transitive verb), and thanking God for his support and bringing to us what we need most at a particular stage, I shall speak of a phone conversation that not only uplifted me from the nooks of some creepy alley but also fed me with a music (hard rock) that was both deafening and enamouring at the same point.

It was 12:15. Sitting aimlessly and hyperventilating over How I fared in a task I undertook and whether success is elusive, I had a strong urge to speak to a long lost friend. Our friendship is more defined by the ways in which fight and not talk for 6 months after that, cut off each other from one's life and then in some strange twist of fate we end up speaking like we are meant to be with each other. Its a strange and fearsome compatibility. Something I won't dare to mess with but something I frequently risk to mess with.

We spoke for two and a half hours rambling on stuff we both desire, seek and hope for. We spoke of tales of success, the persevarance and patience it demands, the need for focus and determination, the resolve of not being bent by the tsunamis of failure and non-activity and on a cheerful note of how I can play a matchmaker to my friend.

We argued, we fought, we debated (even over our debating skills and who is better). We spoke in rowdy tones of uncouth hoodwinks, in tones of a sadness and depressions and in guffaws of laughter smirked across with innumerable smiles.

We spoke of how one year is less valuable than a life of frustration, how even 5 years is worth the wait for where we want to see ourselves and how the Universe shall be bent to fulfill our destined destinites. We were Alchemists conjuring every rare potion that could soothen our burns. We were optimists, we were victors, we were even the vanquished and the defeated.

In mid of this I remember one of the lines I read in Archies Comics. " What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to What lies within us".

Thus even in our frantic searches for answers, we could relate to the possibility of a perfect plate life is bound to serve as and when the time arrives and the destiny's bell is struck. I told you, we were optimists.

There is no good way to close something which has had such a deep and profound impact on you in such a short span. Maybe at times we know what is right and what is to be done. Maybe we have our paths charted out. But all that is required is a sense of reassurance to resurrect us from our own ashes. I found that flight in more than one ways today and speaking strictly for this phone conversation, all I would like to say is:-

Thank you so much Komal.