Sunday, October 24, 2010

A Fitting Farewell.

It's been a hard 2.5 years here. Work has been tough, and so has been life outside of it. But I always found some comfort in it all because I have found a few good pals. The 2 criminals in question here, Mac and Viv. But now, they are shifting to greater pastures in that ever-haunting quest for El Dorado.

As Joe Cocker put it, "I get by with a little help from my friends." Fortunately for me, I got more than just help from you guys. I got a lot of advice (unasked for), abuses (undeservedly so), alcohol (unending streams of it actually), and a whole lot of affection.

I always took for granted that you guys would be around. Even though you always told me that you would leave. I never ever thought that I'd actually be at a juncture where in I'd be thinking, "Damn, with these guys gone, it's gonna be tough out here."

You guys are amazing. Both of you have been my friends, philosophers and guides. I have learnt immeasurably from you both, and shall continue to always look to you guys for support, advice and loans.

I shall pray for your happiness and prosperity and good sex lives for years and years to come. Hope to be with you guys someday in Bangalore and relive all that you guys are leaving behind.

God bless you both. Cheers!

- Vinaykrishnan.

Waiting.

I am at a loss now. I simply cannot wait anymore. It’s this feeling inside that just grows bigger and bigger. I wish time did speed up a little for now, and then maybe compensate by slowing that at that moment. That moment, I want to see with a magnifying glass. All clear and crystal. Vivid. Lucid.

But I do not know what to do with the time that is given to me now before it does come. I’m now just biding time. Waiting. It seems eternities away. And also seems that eternities have already passed since I have started waiting. Time just endlessly spiralling away.

I just can’t seem to do anything with this period of time that I need to spend before I can actually get to that moment. I have heard the cliché that the moment is always worth all the waiting in the world. But right now, while I’m waiting, I just can’t think good of it too much.

As Frances Anne Kemble so eloquently put it:

What shall I do with all the days and hours
That must be counted before I see your face?
How shall I charm the interval that remains
Between this time, and that sweet time of grace?

- Vinaykrishnan

Monday, October 18, 2010

The Coffee Woman

It’s beautiful here in Munnar in the day time. The gentle slopes allow the whole expanse to be visible from any high point, and the sun rays filtered down by the clouds, glimmering on their way down in parts and pieces render an ethereal air to this place. The green vast expanses of the coffee orchards compliment the golden shimmer of the sun’s light and in totality with the blue-grey of the skies, offer a multitude of not only colours, but also of emotions to the viewer. The slight mist in the mornings, that end up as water droplets on the coffee leaves look like diamonds sparkling in green velvet. It’s one of the most beautiful places I have even seen in my life in the day time.

At night, it tends to become spooky.

I’ve been here for almost 6 months now. I came from Delhi, to learn and research about coffee plantations, and the prospects for developing newer varieties of coffee that can do without chicory. Pretty ironical, to think of studying coffee, given that I come from a predominantly “Chai” culture. But that’s a totally different story.

I got here from a flight to Kozhikode, the erstwhile Calicut, where King Zamorin (Ruler of the Seas) allowed the Portuguese to start trading about 500 years ago. Known for spices, condiments and coffee, this land of greenery and scenic wonders amazed me. For a city boy, who has only seen skyscrapers and shanties in the cities, this was quite extraordinary. I took the bus to Munnar, and landed at the Carine Coffee production setup there. I was received there and taken to meet the Operations Manager, a lady by the name of Lakshmikutty. Her story is what I am here to tell you.

LK, (that’s what I called her), was a tall, slim and dark-complexioned lady in her mid-thirties. She was single and was residing in one of the bedrooms of the guest house. She was in charge of the coffee production unit here, and managed the entire doings of the 45 employees working here. She was good at her job, not a doubt about it. Very vocal, and very energetic, this dynamic lady could make a dead person stand up and work. But outside of work, she was an entirely different person. She was shy, reserved, and almost reticent when not working. I know her well outside of work, because I put up in the same guest house with her. I couldn’t afford a hotel here, and there weren’t any dorms that I could put up in. The company owner, one Mr. E. S. Prasanth, asked LK if she would be comfortable with me putting up in the other bedroom of the guest house, and she did not mind.

I got to know the company better, and LK’s knowledge of it all astounded me. She was devoted to her job, and knew all the ins and outs of coffee like the back of her hand. She worked for the pure joy of it. (Her salary wasn’t all that good). She had barely any visitors, and those who came never stayed too long. She was lonely, and since I was the only person around after work, we got to know each other pretty well.

I still remember. Every day after work, I’d take a stroll through the hills and valleys, the beauty of it all never dying to my thirsty eyes. When I’d get to the guest house, LK would make me the best coffee ever. I turned into a coffee person. My mother hated it, saying, “You will go all black with curly hair if you keep drinking coffee!” I couldn’t help laughing. Over this coffee, LK and I would discuss things a lot. She was a very good writer, and sometimes she read out some of her poetry to me. Initially, we found it tough to have conversations, and we were always struggling in awkward silences in each other’s company. But then we opened up to each other. Her insights into Indian, and especially Kerala, history were razor sharp. She was a very good writer, (as I have already mentioned) and she was very interested in knowing about how people live in big cities and what’s different and what’s not.

I slowly learnt that she had no family per se, only distant relatives, who really weren’t more than just that – distant. Her parents had died a few years back of natural causes, and she hadn’t married because she never wanted to.

This rapport went on for a while. Then things started to change. For the worse. The company was slowly going bankrupt. It wasn’t a very large revenue generator in any case, always just breaking even. But the fertilizer rates going up affected the whole system here. LK started getting tense day by day, and started working extra to patch things up. But it just was not working out correct. I could only stand and watch as I was also almost about to end my research term here.

But something happened. LK started pouring in money to the company chest. I don’t know where she got it from, and it was a mystery. She never revealed it, and I, though inquisitive, was not a person who would force answers.

One night, I was strolling in the market, and a couple of cops came up to me saying that I had to report to the police station. I went willingly, knowing that this must just be a formality. I ended up spending the whole night in prison. Apparently, there had been a spate of 7 murders in the last fortnight. All of the victims had their internal organs cut out. Some had no kidneys, some had no liver. And some even had their eyeballs gauged out. It was horrifying. Luckily, next morning, the security guard came by on my phone call and attested to me being at work during the day times, and at the guest house during nights. I was released from prison, and I went back to my room feeling very depressed.

LK was waiting for me there. She made me some coffee and handed me a piece of paper. I read through it. I couldn’t understand at first. Then it hit me like a lightning bolt. The coffee cup in my hand started shaking with the trembling of my hand. This was on the piece of paper:

Ashwini – 7000/-
Ramendran – 12000/-
Appukuttan – 10000/-
Abu Backer – 5500/-
Vijayanathan – 6000/-
Satheesh – 3500/-
Ammu – 7500/-


There was one more name in the list. The last one. It was mine. But it had no figures next to it. I looked up at LK, and she just lowered her eyes.

- Vinaykrishnan.
(Thanks for the idea, loved it!)

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Acceptance

How does a man go from restless and worked up to happy and peaceful in one day? Is it even possible? I have been struggling for the remedy to this for so long.

My denial of the situation made me fidgety all the while. I did not know what to do. My insides were fighting with the alien sentiment inside of me. No symbiosis. No synergy. No understanding. It was utterly chaotic. One part of me was fighting this foreign being within me. I loved the idea of the being within me. It made me swell with joy. But the part where it actually threatened to take over my space actually caused panic within me. A well of dread and horror rose up within me. That I would lose my independence to this. That I would lose my individuality. That I would lose sight of who I am and what I am. That, despite all the magnificence and splendor of this notion within me, I would still fall into an abyss of darkness from where return is not possible. Feelings are a many-splendored thing. And truer this cannot be. They not only have the power to raise you beyond the ordinary, but also have the power to consume you till you are nothing but ashes and dust.

But I had a revelation. I decided not to fight this outlandish thing within me. I accepted the fact that this would not rest until I accept it. I stopped fighting it, and decided to simply let it be. I nursed it. Empowered it. Emboldened it. And suddenly it grew. Not like a thorny vine threatening the existence of the support. But like the moon. From the oblivion of the empty sky to the radiance of the full moon on a cloudless night. And suddenly, I am at peace. I feel so good that I simply don’t think what I write here is in any way doing justice to what I feel.

I accept. It’s a part of me now. And now, given the case, it is integrally a part of me. Inseparable. Trying though the circumstances maybe, I will not ever let go. This feeling of rest, and calm, and the feeling of the quenching of my thirst I shall not forget.

Now you no longer haunt me or terrify me. I accept you. My acceptance is my deliverance. Totally. Completely. Wholly. Undoubtedly. Unabashedly. Unequivocally.

I accept.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

My Space.

My Space.

That's what I named my blog. It is basically just a soft copy of the things in my head. My Space, hence, is my head. It's inside me. What I am. What I think. What I have that is solely my own. No one can take this part away from me.

Or so I thought.

Because then "You" happened. You had to come along, skipping daintily, and take away the last thing I had that was my own only. Mine. My only. My precious. My Space. You had to come and occupy every last inch of it. It's annoying. But I can't help it. You just took over it all. I can't get you out of my head. I keep thinking, dreaming about you. About what you are doing. Whether you are thinking of what I am doing. It's really annoying you know. You cheat! Give me My Space back! You cannot be so good that you occupy it all. You have got to have some thing that isn't so spectacular. How can you, or anyone, be so beautifully perfect?! It's un-bloody-believable!

The mind is the only thing that is private to a man. To every man. But there you are. Taking it all up. For filling it with things like love and feelings and emotions and stuff like that. For staying here and drilling into it. I loved my thoughts. I thought I was untouchable. That I, as a thinker, was invincible in my own world.

You have blown me away. I'm only a reflection of you now.

- Vinaykrishnan.

I believe.

It's no longer warm today. The season is now changing and the leaves have started giving way to the fall. I only noticed it when I was looking out the window today. Pretty happy, given that I've had a long summer, both, time and otherwise.

It's been a tough time. I've had some crashes and burns, that I don't think I can forget for a long long time. But then, there have been things that have made me happy. Things that make me look forward to the next day.

I always thought I just was existing. Breathing it in, and breathing it out. But then, there have been things, insights, that taught me how to live. I was amazed at how it's not the larger joys, but the smaller ones that we hold on to so dearly. It's not the way of the world - to hold on to anything. But these just are small quirks and moments in my life that I will never let go of.

Sometimes, I really think that this is just a phase, and that it will all go away. The joys, the moments, the people. But then I think, "No way! I'm not leting go. Not this time. Not this." It's pretty weird really, how I can actually decide that, given that fate is such a fickle lover. But I believe in the eccentricity of it all. The grand scheme of things. It's not all irrational or erratic. There is a pattern. A master plan. It's not something mere mortals like me or you can figure out initially. No. That's not how it works. It's more complex than the human mind can imagine. Way out of our league. But at the end, it all fits in. So all I'll do is try to see if there is anyway I can push things along to fit into the great jigsaw puzzle that's laid out in front of me.

I believe all that I write. I believe that I shall continue to "live", now that I have learnt, and not merely exist. I believe that someday my life will be my testimonial. I believe that one day I will look back and read this, and say, "That, Vinaykrishnan Menon, was a good decision to make."

I believe.

- Vinaykrishnan.

Friday, October 1, 2010

You.

It's 3 AM again. And I'm still up. I just cannot stop thinking about you. It's like adrenaline. It just keeps rising like when I'm thinking of ways to get to that rock in the middle of that effing waterfall. Like jaundice. In the middle of summer. Just doesn't go away. I'd love to simply let you out of my mind, so that I have some space that I can utilize for other things.

Not better things. Other things.

I wish I could simply have just said "Hi" everyday, and left it at that. But No. I HAD to fall for you. I HAD to tell you that I like you, and that given a chance, I would do anything possible to get you. I HAD to stop and tell you that I believe in miracles.

I'm still waiting for you to get back to me. I said Hi. Your move. But now I'm desperate. I simply cannot stop fidgeting with things around me. Checking my cell for your text every 5 minutes. And that's while it's on full ring volume. Imagine what I do when it is on silent mode.

It's like I'm standing at a crossroads. All of these lead to different places. But I'm still ready to pick any road that leads to you. "Two roads diverged in the woods", goes the poem. And I want to take the one that leads to you.

Again, another one by Frost:
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

All of this, just so that, I can reach a place, where I can see you, meet you, touch you. Explain to you that nothing else is important to me. It's like this monster inside of me. It growls every time you say another man's name. It purrs when you tell me that you miss me. That you miss chatting and talking to me. I know it's me you are looking for.

I wonder where you are right now, and I'm wondering what you're doing right now. I'm still waiting for your message, by the way. It's late. Really late.

"The last time you were a free man, the Brooklyn Dodgers were still the Brooklyn Dodgers, and Eisenhower was your President." (Just had to bring this in).

I'm still waiting.