Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Age of Aquarius

Our tissue is expanding fellow brothers
Our body is throwing out the toxic
Our soul is ushering in a new heaven
Our gathering is now binding, coming closer
Our minds are now floating mid-air
Our dreams are now touching each other
Our voices are garbled into one another
Our pastimes are re-inventing themselves
Our homes are now uniformly lit
Our lamps are all swaying
Our gentle clothes are flowing
Our hands are voicing new sentiments
Our young ones are shining ever more
Our time is coming back slowly
Our lives are folding into the future
Our growing bodies are relaxed
Our flames are gently lit
Our quivering feet are quivering
Our skulls are hard and clean
Our thoughts are surprising us
Our lovers are gathering around us
Our love is now sapient
Our love is now juvenile
Our love is now paramount
Our love is gregarious
Our love is terrible
Our love is sweet
Our love is cascading

Into the ever-flowing basin of juice
Kin and friends and foes
All melding meeting and dissolving
into
one kind glorious hope of existence.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Swaying Summer

This morning brought for me the feeling that summer is approaching.
The morning was not cool, the water in the shower was the same colour of mud as the bathroom floor.
Today, I didn’t dare to walk in the sun. I don’t fear the tan as much as falling sideways in the dirt and all the people watching.
Today, the summer is coming, the sun is blaring like a huge torch in the sky, you cannot look up anymore, you just don’t look up anymore.

And when in the afternoon, I went out to have my post-lunch walk, I returned with hot boots.
This is my first summer since college.
Back there, it used to come very quickly, and slide under our beds and into our sheets appearing as smoky sweat when we slept and passing out through one window and coming in through another enchanting as a flowing madman in the midst of white rye fields – but we never used to care, the summer was coming with holidays and time to rest from the primary load of studying and appearing for exams – and summer sneaked on us, catching a glimpse of my eye once in a while when I sat up late at night and scratched my ears and groin, thinking how warm it is getting.

And summer was a dish served piping hot, seasoned with the Rolling Stones, a jumpin’ jack flash before a morning bath in cold water, and afterwards a Joni Mitchell sweet spell song with the fan on and her beautiful soprano caressing my standing hair, plus the sunshine outside was bright enough for any kind of real Technicolor dream.

I agreed with myself on a still summer night in June when half the campus had given up and hurried on home, that the blues is summer music par excellence.
You will find that the blues is music from toughened bodies and lurching souls in turmoil from the unbearable heat. The scowled faces and the singing which is not musical is not borrowed from the Alpine pleasant courtrooms of eastern Europe – the blues jump and trop and trapple and gimble and push on through the summer – it has to end one day! Singing in the shade with your guitar, and afterwards maybe singing in the rain.

So during my college days, I was always willing to take an afternoon walk through the sun and the shade towards an unlikely destination – the cigarette shops nestled in the trees and sipping hot tea sitting on bottom-tearing hot concrete sauce-boiling and chitter chatter passing the time beautifully under the vast arching sky of benevolent IIT Kanpur – and the summer beat. When they called me in the evening for another round of smoking, I refused and stayed in the room with the fan running slowly now because of the hard work it had done in the day time when I was out.

The canteen with the hot furnaces behind the blackened wall and the fat uncle sitting in his tired clothes, hung up with a fly in his ear and gathering money slowly on sleepy Sunday afternoons – I go and ask for curd and he refuses with a bored side-look – it will not be ready until the evening. Okay we will have a Pepsi anyway for now before the heat burns a hole in my soul. Have a Pepsi and lie in the kind shade of the canteen front door pathway leading to the infernal heat outside.

So summer is back and this time I am alone without my previous friends and my previous insanity – I am thinking about saving my ass from all the heat – I am thinking that sweet lassi is nourishing and how I will survive these hot months on a carefully planned supply of water to my body with regular intervals of exercise and a sparse diet of juices and sugar and incense and all those summery things that I remember but forget, remember but forget.