37 and so on

I turned 37! Yay!

During the week that led to the event of my turning 37, I was sick and very weak due to fever and cough. The weather was as cruel as the brutal election results. I was crushed by Uttar Pradesh's summer heat and the burning thoughts of living in this country in the coming days and years. I felt very fragile and vulnerable. But that was when I was 36. This is the story of how I graduated to 37.


On the eve of my turning 37, everything went as usual at home. Chinnu my wife cooked. We both ate. I got the sick-concession and was resting the entire day, sleeping and idling. She had asked me what I would like for the birthday. I didn't want anything other than love. Because I already had everything, including love. The little space left is reserved for love, and yes, I would like some more love.

By evening, I had developed migraine too. Perfect birthday it's going to be, I thought. So we had our usual roti-paneer dinner, some over-dinner-conversation, and some audio-visual entertainment. Suddenly at 10.55 pm, she says, "come on, let's go get a cake." I discouraged her saying the shop closes at 11, and that I was very weak (which I really was). She didn't budge. So we went to the only shop on campus to get a cake. Our favourite cake- Dutch Truffle was there. We bought one on a credit card, and rode home happily.

So, at 11.30 am, we happily ate tiny pieces of Dutch Truffle cake in a saffron state, in an almost all-saffron country almost at midnight. By 11 55, we were in bed. She wished me, and we were about to sleep when Jijoy called to wish. He always calls. At midnight! A cool friend, he is family. So at 12.05 on my birthday, we sleep.

I woke up at 7.30 am with a numbing migraine. 'Happy Birthday to you,' said the migraine to me. 'Thanks buddy, no one has been this close to me since my childhood,' I told the migraine, and got out of the mosquito net. Round the year, this mosquito net protects us. It's a great invention. We must have saved at least a litre of our precious blood this way so far. And the mosquito-gods are surely angry at us, I am sure.

In the kitchen, the poor girl is cooking breakfast and lunch simultaneously. She has to report at her office at 9.30 am, or else she will get scolded by her superiors who arrive at 10 or 11 am. Punctuality is important you know, particularly for contract employees! So I wander about in the small house, trying to make sense of what's happening. The pounding in my head is becoming louder by the second. I decided that I should stay home. When the food was ready, she packed our lunch in separate boxes. I kept mine at home. We then got ready. We both went to office area of the campus. After dropping her at her office, I went to my biometric attendance machine and gave a finger to the department. I personally had protested against the biometric attendance system, but had to comply in the end, thanks to the system's insensitivity to individuals' privacy. I returned home to rest.

At home, I forced myself to eat breakfast. Somehow, I managed to eat an entire puttu and went to sleep. Cough woke me up by 1 pm. By this time, five people had wished me apart from my beloved Chinnu. Some people would be unhappy when the number of wishes are low, but I wouldn't be. I am happy these many remembered or got reminded. It doesn't matter whether people remember or not. What matters is that you remain happy so that you can make others happy. After my MA at EFL University, Hyderabad,  I used to get one email every year from Prof Upendran on my birthday. Those emails used to make me very happy and proud. Nowadays, I don't get those, but the thought of those emails still make me happy. Afterall, birthdays are just like other days, except that they are not other days!

So I had my lunch, which my beloved Chinnu had packed for me. Then I had about 2 ml of the cough syrup given by the Institute pharmacy, and again went to bed. I thought I would wake up by 5 pm, so that I can go and pick up Chinnu by 5.30. Unfortunately, the cough syrup knocked me down and I woke up only at 5.40, by which time she had almost reached home walking in the scorching heat! I felt guilty, pathetic and weaker.

We had tea and another little piece of cake each. We decided to make kanji. By that time, Mettin a friend called from her hostel. She had come from Kerala that morning, and had brought some delicacies with her for us. We became super glad. While we waited for her, Shyam came. We gave him a piece of cake. He asked, 'why is there a cake at home now?' He used to remember my birthday every year, so when we told her it's my birthday, he wished me and stayed longer feeling 'guilty'. He is a long-standing true friend. No amount of forgetting will distance him from us.

After he left, Mettin came with the delicacies she brought from home. We gave her a piece of cake too. She asked what's special, we told her its my birthday. She was 'surprised' and she wished me. Then we sat chatting for some time. The doorbell rings. Chinnu opens the door, and to her surprise, there stands a group of 7 friends with a cake and some candles on it! This is the biggest surprise of all! It turns out that Mettin was acting all this time that she didn't know about the birthday. Normally I would have cried. Being feverish and all, I didn't, or I couldn't. Either way, I was carried away with emotions, became super happy, but couldn't show any of it to those friends. All eight of them sat around, cut and had the cake, sang, made jokes, even made Chinnu sing, and so on. By about 11 pm, they left; so did my migraine.

Chinnu and I cleaned the house up, had bath and went to bed by 11.30 pm. It was a great birthday. Birthdays are great not because so many people wish, but because some people become limitlessly happy, and make others happy, and make them forget their sicknesses, misfortunes, unhappiness and difficulties. It would still have been a great birthday even if those 5 people hadn't wished me over phone, or those 8 people hadn't visited us with a cake, because Chinnu and I had shared our love. But it became a celebration because everyone who wished shared happiness. Such islands of happiness must connect to form continents and oceans to cover this earth. What we need is more happiness- on birthdays and other days!

So I turned 37, and so I go on...

Love. Nothing Else Matters.

Henry Miller had many wives. There was one wife named Hoki. She was Japanese. Hoki and Miller met in a Japanese bar where she used to sing. After meeting a few times, Miller asked her hand in marriage, and she said yes. She was not yet twenty, and he was over fifty!

After Miller's death, the other wives inherited all his wealth. Hoki was the forgotten Japanese divorced wife. She spent the remaining years of her life in her dark little room on top of a second rate bar on a noisy street. But she kept Miller's memories- a few of their photos, a few signed watercolours of Miller (Miller used to paint), and an autographed book. And of course, plenty of invisible memories of a good time.

When Paulo Coelho visited her once, she told him that she did not inherit the rights to his books or his property, and none of those' mattered, because the experience of being together with him outweighed any monetary compensation'. 'There was no point in squabbling over inheritance: love was enough,' Hoki said.

Yes. When there is love, nothing else matters!

[Quotes taken from Like the Flowing River by Paulo Coelho, Harper Collins Publishers, London, 2018]

The Pounding in the Head

Work these days is monotonous. The technical name is 'transcription'. It is to listen to recordings and carefully write down what people spoke in a test, paying acute attention to minute details like duration of pauses, number of 'hmms' and 'uhhs', syntactic accuracy and linguistic complexity of language, and so on. Transcribing 5 minutes of recorded speech takes approximately 90 minutes. Extremely monotonous. The larger picture is clear- a PhD thesis in the area of language assessment. But remaining focused doing the monotonous daily transcription is a tough job. Yet, I drag through this drudgery to reach the golden goal hiding somewhere in the future.

Then comes the villain- the pounding in the head. Some people call it a migraine. I call it a devil. Or a demon. Or whatever I want to call it! While the headphones reproduce different test-participants' speech about themselves, their lives, interests, studies, and other people, my eyes, ears and brain try to focus on how they express what they express. As I do so, the pounding in my head becomes louder. "My name is..." The pounding becomes harder. "I come from..." "I love playing the guitar." "I have a very small family." "My mother is a teacher." The voices from the headphone slowly become rhythmically aligned with the pounding in my head. I can neither hear anything nor understand a word of what's being spoken. Everything around me is blurred out into a hazy hum. The laboratory in which I work, and the people around me dissolve into the air, and I become the pounding in my head. At this level, I walk to the rhythm of the pounding in my head. Or maybe I dance to the rhythm of the pounding. Faster and Faster. Harder and Harder.

The 'Pounding'

Source

Then at one point, I give up living. I am pushed to a point where I no longer exist. At that point, I end. I stop existing. Blank. At the base of that whirlwind of a spiral, I ain't. For me, that is the zenith of existence and non-existence. That's the top and the bottom, fullness and emptiness. end and the beginning. That's when the 'I' cease to exist as an embodied reality. I become weightless; the body disappears. The mind disappears. I disappear. There is no 'I'. It is just the pounding. And I am the pounding.

And that is what I call self, and you call god!

Polished Edges of Cemented Corridors

While walking through the large open cemented corridors of IIT Kanpur, I see the polished edges of cemented corridors. This makes me think. How did the edges of these cemented corridors get polished? Who polished it?

Ground Floor, Faculty Building, IIT Kanpur

The answer is simple. And it is thought-provoking.

Nobody polished them consciously. The cemented edges of the corridors are polished when the working class people of this institution rest their bottoms. It is polished by those people who do not have cushioned chairs inside air-conditioned rooms to rest their bottoms! Yes. The cemented corridors are home to the marginalized, invisible people who built, clean and maintain this great Institution of Excellence. They rest their bottoms on the edges of these long open cemented corridors, because this institution doesn't see the need to give them a space to sit and relax. They are not on this institution's list of big names. They are not scientists, engineers or academics. They are 'nobodys'. They are peons, messengers, carpenters, masons, gardeners, cleaning staff, and other daily-wage labourers. They exist on the corridors of the institution. Outside office spaces. Outside the purview of human resource management team. Yes on the corridors. And their bottoms polish the edges of these cemented corridors.

It is for all of us to see. These polished edges of cemented corridors are a proof of something that this institution (like many others) doesn't want to acknowledge. But, these polished edges of cemented corridors will remain here as long as this institution lasts- pointing a finger at our sense of dignity and equality!

Being grateful!

Too hot to work. I need to sit in an air conditioned room in order to work.

When I come to think of it, I have changed a lot. I who hated air conditioning have come to consider air conditioning as an inevitable part of official life. Why?

Picture from HERE

I can't quite think of how I have changed this way. Probably it is the weather in Kanpur. Maybe people change when temperature oscillates between 0 and 50 degrees. But physical realities around us should not change our mental/spiritual dispositions that easily, right? Can I justify murdering someone because I don't 'like' that person? No. That would be ridiculous. Or, can I justify sacrificing my beliefs because of one negative instance? I don't think so. So there must be something else that has urged me to change.

Did I begin taking things for granted? I would like to consider this as a very good explanation of the change in myself. I don't think I appreciate my blessings as well as I should. I realize this in the small incidents of life. For example, when I wake up in the morning, I have a washroom right by the side of my room, and I take it for granted. When I used to stay in hostel, I did not have this facility. And I clearly remember hating it. I like to have a private washroom all for myself. I don't like to share a washroom with strangers because of multiple reasons. Cleanliness is one. The point is, I have taken my personal washroom for granted! See- I have changed. I can give multiple examples of this in terms of things and facilities I possess: like cellphone, computer, study room, etc.

In terms of people too I am blessed abundantly. I have people to share my joys and sorrows with. I have people to whom I can confidently ask for help or favours. I have people from whom I can borrow money on short notice. I have people who will welcome me to their homes despite the fact that I don't have a permanent home to welcome them to. I have people who think of me, and wish me a better future. I have people who respect me for what I am to them. I thus have innumerable reasons to live happily and be thankful. But I take these people and facilities for granted.

I need to change myself. How?

I shall be grateful to people. I will thank people verbally and non-verbally for the love, care, consideration and concern they have for me.

I shall be grateful to the facilities I use. I will use them with a grateful heart. I will not exploit such facilities, and use them responsibly.

Good start, huh? I would like to think so. Small changes, small steps are how everything begins. I would like to be positive about things. 

Learn from dogs

A dog is a perfect example of how to set your goals. When a dog is hungry it will find its food. When the dog is thirsty it will find water to drink. What is certain is that a dog is not distracted by what happens around it when it sets it's goal on something.

This is something that we must learn from a dog. When the hungry dog finds food and realizes that there is someone near the food, it will wait patiently until the food becomes accessible. When the obstacle moves away the dog moves forward and eats it.

The dog knows that it cannot stay hungry forever. It's hunger needs to be satisfied. It cannot forget it's need. We humans lack this kind of dedication to our goals. If we can be so dedicated to what we want, we can achieve anything. Let us learn a lesson or two from dogs too.

Teaching tolerance in an IIT

Construction industry is one of the biggest industries in India as in the rest of the world. In cities large buildings are completed in systematic and fast fashion. Whether these constructions abide by the rules of the city administration and the nation is a totally different question.

Construction site in front of New Core Lab, IIT Kanpur

Here at IIT Kanpur, a building is being built right in front of my study room. The land is dug up using big machines in the months of March, April and May. Before digging up, they raised a fence around the land. It looked like a joke- it was just 7 feet tall! The pit they dug was almost three storeys deep and about 3 acres wide! The powdery sand from the pit was transported in open trucks across the campus, through a road that lies between the major boys' hostels during, before and after the examination week. This entire region was covered in dust. One could not walk through these roads at any given time of the day because of thick dust raising from the roads.

I wondered how everyone including the administration was blind to this. I know. The trucks passed through a road between students' hostels- not faculty residences. I know that trucks transporting any construction material must be covered. This is the law of the land. But laws are to be broken, aren't they? Especially on the campus of an institute of national importance like IIT, these laws must be broken blatantly so that the students must be normalized- taught a lesson. If a student's blood boils due to the fact that the trucks are not covered and campus is polluted, and they pass through hostel roads 24/7, the boiled blood has to come back to normal temperature sooner or later. This will teach the student a lesson or two about living in India. In the long run, students will learn tolerance. That's the plan. Yes, that's the plan. To raise a generation of educated youngsters who are blind to problems, or are afraid to react to problems. Long live the system!

Shit academics shouldn't do

There are a lot of things that academics do. Not all of them are cool. Here are a few advises for academics. For a better academic, for a better world.

Image Credits

1. Have a bath at least once a day.
2. If you don't have a bath everyday, don't go and sit in public places where others are bound to go. Example, your laboratory. You are making your lab mates' life hell by sitting next to him/her emanating your stench. He/she can't or won't tell you that you stink. But be sensitive and wash yourself for god's or devil's sake!
3. Learn how to use the washroom. All humans poop and pee. But all of us who live with others must learn to flush and make sure that your shit doesn't antagonize others. If you can't do that, what bloody research are you capable of doing? Grow up!
4. Learn and respect traffic rules. You are part of a law abiding society. So you ought to abide by some rules. For example, if someone is crossing the road, you need to stop and wait. If there is no space, you ought to wait before overtaking. If you want to die, please do. But don't kill someone else with your carelessness on the road.
5. No one will scold you for being introvert and spending time alone. Therefore, if you can't brush your teeth, do not get too close to people to share your intellectual gems. Realise that your mouth stinks.
6. Please respect public property. This includes water, furniture, infrastructure, electricity and food. You don't get extra credits on your score card for leaving an open tap in the toilet or running air conditioner in the laboratory. Conserving energy makes you feel good. Try it. 

Overall, be nice to others.

A Lesson on How to Stand in a Queue from Kanpur

This morning, at the petrol pump inside IIT Kanpur.

I joined the 'queue' to fill petrol in my bike. (Queue means a group of people crowding around the pump. The sequence of priority doesn't exist- might is right!

Image from Here (representational image only)

One fellow pulls up and squeezed his way through the queue and positions himself in front of my bike!

I said to him in stern, serious voice: "Please stand in the queue."

He looked at me as if I said something in Greek and said: "Ye jagah apka hi hai." (This place is yours.)

I remained quiet since he sounded apologetic. But when my turn to fill petrol came, he just squeezed in and filled petrol!

Now, what should I have said? According to Kanpur Style Manual (latest edition), I should have abused him verbally and thrashed him if I had time. But me being a Malayali kept quiet and mentally lamented about the yogi-run state's lack of respect for the other.

Here in Kanpur, you are elite if you can squeeze your way through the rush. You are considered respectable if you can kick others' asses and be the first in the queue. You are a heroine/hero if you can abuse someone louder and dirtier than your rival. Yes what the yogi said is right. We Malalayees need to learn a lot from UP: from how to run schools, hospitals and governments, to how to stand in a queue! 

Saying Goodbye to RKV (RGUKT-RK Valley)

Three splendid years of 'RKV'ing!

Three years! What did you do?

Nothing much. Went around a 350 acre campus, met a lot of sweet, intelligent, wonderful, ambitious and innocent students, spoke to them in class rooms and on roads, smiled, laughed, watched movies and documentaries together, tried to inspire and got inspired! Had discussions and debates on serious and stupid issues. But, I made friends with thousands.

It was a great experience to be at RKV. All the negativities apart, at this moment of departure, I would like to look at the brighter side of past three years. It was great indeed.

I'm sure I would never get such innocent and fresh students anywhere else in my life. The students of RKV are the best I have ever encountered- I can vouch for that. Not only are they talented, but also creative on both sides of the brain. It is true that some students are distracted by the infatuations of teen-age. But that apart, they are wonderful. Their minds are the 'tabula rasa' (clean slate) of Aristotle literally. A teacher can make an impact if s/he wants to.

My interactions with students were based on the concept that  students are learners who can learn on their own if the teacher provided a kind of structural opportunity or scaffolding. I am not sure how much I succeeded- my students have to judge. But I found that students at least 'tried' to do what I asked them to do. At least a few of my students made 'speaking English' a habit. And that is what makes me happy.

After three years of 'RKV'ing, when I walk on the roads of this campus, I get more smiles than I can handle. I guess one reaps what one sows! Sometimes a hundred fold! I care to give a smile to whoever cares to receive one. That establishes a human relationship. I believe in the adage 'If the person you meet doesn't have a smile, give her/him one of yours'.

My faculty friends and neighbours of RKV are family to me. Each one of them in their individual style has cared for, helped, and expressed concern and love at the times I most needed them. Without mentioning names I would like to feel grateful to all of them: those who cooked for me, those who substituted me, those who gave a consoling word, those who visited with kindness, those who smiled, and those who stood with me in my difficult times.

I started my family here at RKV. My wife- the sweetest person I have ever known- stood by me in my struggles. We stood the test of times together. We protected and strengthened each other when life put us through tough oddities. I owe her a lot! When she joined me here, we were a nascent family! The people of RKV helped us make life meaningful and joyful.

Finally, I should not end this by not mentioning the hills of RKV. The fortress that burns, fans and freezes RKV. You stupid hills have given me a tough time. You have burned me in summers and froze me in winters. The little rains you managed, helped to drench mind and body. Everyone might go away, but You will remain. You won't be forgotten!

It's time to leave RKV. Like I said in the beginning, I am not talking of the negativities of this place. It would take ever! Better things are there to invest my thoughts on. Like the sunshine of early mornings. Like the dew of winter nights. Like the gales of July nights. Like the milkman who says 'thanqe' every morning. Like the old, panting, noisy APSRTC bus that visits us twice a day. Like the proud honking of CGR. Like the '25-seating capacity' of RKV auto rickshaws. Like the monkeys that took mangoes from my house and dirtied my corridor. Like the laughter and cries of new born babies at the staff quarters. Like the tomato rice mess mornings and tough chappathi canteen evenings. Like the ten-Rupee mango from the fruit vendor. Like the Saturday WAT-CAT rushes. Like the never ending, ever-going-on construction work. Like the graffiti on the walls of our class rooms. Like the lone student couples stealing a word or two on the corridors. Like the candid attempts to copy in the exams. Sheer joy. All of these provided sheer joy. I can go on with the list for ever. Three years have filled me with such positivity.

Then why am I leaving the campus? Oh! That's a tough one to answer. You see, in life, I am a traveler. I like to explore fresher pastures and experience newer things. Yes, it is a risk. But without reasonable risks, no life progresses. I have to grow and improve myself. I have to equip myself for greater challenges. RKV is too comforting that it sometimes fails to offer a challenge or a threat that makes you grow. So I move out and try my luck. May be, I will feel bad about it. But for now, I a feeling excited, because I am challenged.

Dear RKV, dear administrators, dear co-faculty, dear staff, dear families, and DEAREST STUDENTS, I will miss you all greatly.

Wednesday, 15.07.2015

The man who was silent

He was always there. For everything, for everyone. No one felt his presence, because he was there, everywhere, for every need and reason. He turned a deaf ear to his own needs, so he could be available for those of others. A man of all seasons. A man who joked, laughed, smiled, wept, sat by, hugged, begged, loved and lived. No one noticed him because he was always there.

Then one day, suddenly, he stopped being there. Everyone who were used to his presence soon felt him- that he was absent, that he was not there by their side, that he was no more. He made his presence felt, with his absence. But while he could have, he didn't care to make himself prominent.

This truly is what a man can be. To be remembered is what one can achieve the most with one's life. He did it. Through silence. Through suffering. Through smiles that covered up tears. Through laughter that overshadowed sorrows. A man for others. My father- O M Mathews. 'MY' father.

O M Mathews
09.09.1948 - 31.12.2013

When he went away, I was left alone, standing on a cliff in the middle of an ocean of unknown faces. I felt the fall, but didn't care. The shock that crawled into my bones remained till the ocean waves screeched into my ears. Soaked in salty moisture on the cheeks I headed towards the shore, to see if he was still there, waiting with the usual warm hug and smile.

I couldn't see him. He wasn't there on the shore. There were only a few faces with no souls behind. Walking shadows. All of us, walking shadows. Soon we realized that the persons that we were, were not completely ours. Something was missing from our beings. Something was missing now. As for me, the fact that he is not there has not sunk into my understanding. My father, cannot not be. He should 'be'. There is no alternative.

Then I saw him. He was motionless. The radiance of his face had faded, but not the power of that smile that hid sorrows behind. The smile was kept behind a glass cage and it would never fade. Symbolism has to tell us that he cannot not be. And that, that being is not similar to my being now. So far, his presence was present, but from now on, his presence will be his absence. How strange! Life has to play all these scenes to me!

Later when that smile was taken down under the earth and I too threw a handful of frankincense and sand down into his grave. I found another fact- that the self that I have is not mine as I thought. I am a part of him. The way I speak, walk, react, think, live... Everything. My tears told me again and again that he is still here. And I realized that this is how he could still BE. Through me. I am him now.

I pray that I can embody what he was, so that he never dies. May god bless his soul.

Smiles that matter

Walk the road you always walk
Kick the same tin can, you always kick
Wear the same looks that mark you as you
But smile all the while if you want to be different.

Smile is all that matters- want to know why?
Come with me to the city; look at the slum and huts
Poor; still you see joy- fizzing life, bubbling fun
All they have is smiles; and joy is born of smiles.

Try wearing a smile from wake to sleep
Try giving everyone a smile every time you look
Try a smile when all attempts fail in procedure
Smile into joy; see what you get in return.

Smile is an ID card- gives you access everywhere
Acceptance guaranteed if you give one of your smiles
Keep a few always in your heart; so you can give one
to the needy; believe me its contagious.

Smile.
Smile away as you walk in and away
Smile while you can, 'cos you can't once you are away
'Cos Smile is what matters.

Forty days and forty nights

Its forty days. And forty nights. Feels like its forty years. But to count, its just forty days and forty nights. Just over a month. Spread over my mental landscape like a barren desert with distant oases- forty days and forty nights. Forty countable time periods… just forty of them. But if you count the drops of tears that I shed during those forty… I am left with no words to recount what they were for me. But there is a swelling within which always threatens to explore. A swelling so full of pain, agony, love and loneliness. So life-like I guess. I listen to Lionel Richie, Hariharan… and go down into the abyss of reflection about my state.

When I get up in the morning, I ask myself- ‘what's next?’ There’s no answer I know. But what if there is… Forty mornings have heard this question, but none heard its answer.

The forty were spent on trains, buses, dingy lodge rooms, red hot Hyderabad streets, cheap hotel tables, verandas of old buildings, at the ends of long and never ending queues, and lost in thoughts about what is the meaning of all these… Whenever I turned around hearing a ‘no’ or a ‘sorry’, I went back into thoughts about meaning. Of late, I wonder if I am searching for a job or meaning…

In one of my literature classes there were discussions of meaning making, and life as a process of meaning making. Now I understand what it all meant. It is true. Life is meaning making. Whenever I went down the narrow fissure of despair, there came a voice from within that told me to wait till the meaning is revealed. A long wait for a revelation- LIFE.

But it sucks to learn that its not easy to wait indefinitely. While you wait at a hotel table, you know your food is being cooked. When you wait in the railway booking queue, you know your turn is this far. But when you wait for meaning, you don’t know till when or if at all! That’s what sucks…

Once, in a cave-like lodge room in Ernakulam, I was amazed by the dedication with which scores of mosquitoes kept on trying to suck me dry of my blood. I wondered why I lack that kind of enthusiasm about my own life. Then I realized that whatever happened to me was the outcome of what I have within. There is nothing unexpected and unplanned in life. Even death and accidents could be expected and planned. One should be prepared for anything. One should be prepared to attempt till one’s prey is sucked dry of blood- just like those Ernakulam mosquitoes.

So its forty days and forty nights now. Forty days and forty nights of itinerant existence, address-less-ness, anxiety, and uncertainty.

Today, sitting in the chill and heights of my room, I can see these forty days and nights laid out like a collage on the busy streets and tall buildings around. Dark and bright, they hold up their ups and downs for me to see. Forty pieces of them. Forty pairs of them. One for each day and night. I can hear people, smell spoilt food, see frowns and smiles of people I love/d on those forty pieces of collage- sort of jigsaw puzzle I would say. From this height, I can see they take a shape… a definite shape of something which I can’t make out… Probably I will have to wait. For another revelation of kinds.. I am reminded of my literature class again, and the sweetest of all teachers I had… Unfolding meaning. Meaning making. LIFE.

Yes, I realize. It is life. The unfolding. The revelation. LIFE. Life in a crucible of love, pain and loneliness. That’s what it is- Life in forty days and forty nights.