The trapeze act

It was dark in there, even the corridors. I hate dingy corridors but I was not there to love the place. " You can wait here", said the grumpy lady. Does she ever smile, I wondered. This felt like the longest journey of my life. This annual visit every year made me feel so nauseated. I dreaded the journey to this place. I feared reaching my destination and wished the journey never ended. I have felt so, long time back when I was in love, but that was not a fearful feeling, then I wanted to be with my love so I wished the journey never ended. This was not a similar feeling. Some feelings turn indescribable after an age and experience. Earlier there was an urge to label it all but now even that has come to a standstill.

The wallpaper looked tired and dull as if it did not wish to stay there forever. I wondered why non living things had no will , for that matter did we living things have will to execute?Yes we claim, but are we all not just puppets, situational creatures? Mom always told us that everything was written from above in the big guy's book. Then why did she scold us when something she resented happened? How could we measley beings mess with the big guy up there? Was all that not destined? Weren't all those unaccountable orgasms, filthy desires, untimely deaths and uninvited diseases and accidents written in the big guy's book? or did he lose his books and all these are mis entered? what about serendipity? I don't know, mom would never tell and now she never can for she has left us.

My mind and its questions are like peeling an onion.They go deep into layers till you feel saturated, yet there still will be another question waiting for you at the end.My days are filled with this game of peeling my mind. They say I am silent but I am in a game and they don't see it.So waiting for him I continue my game.

I hate the iron bars which I don't miss in between my game.His screaming years ago haunts me.There he stood behind these bars. Could I have saved him? No... the big guy must have decided this for him too. His destiny ended him there, or so I want to beleive. That's what all the dear ones beleive for we all need to pay a cost for being a part of a sane and cultured society don't we?

I wish we could all be unemotional too but the big guy divided emotions generously to some than the other. So here I am an impractical, moron wasting my health and sanity looking at those same bars year after year.

I open the pack I have. 2 out of 3 hershey bars were eaten by me out of my anxiety for this trip. But the peanut butter and tuna tins were still intact. Birthday gifts were turning mediocre and tasteless as years advance. What could you gift a 58 year old anyways?

The iron gate opens and he walks slowly. He walks slow with a hump. "Happy birthday boy", I say. "So you turned 58? Which means I am61", I say with a fake smile. He does not look at me. That's because I don't look at him. He accepts the package and mumbles something which I think was thanks.

Should I ask him how he feels but then I have been asking it all these years. Would he want to go out on a parole? I don't know for I can't frame sentences anymore they just play in my head whole day. He never remembers that' s his blessing and I always do that's my curse. I tried recollecting his favourite song not that I could sing it anymore. But when I raised my head he was no where. He left 15 minutes ago said the grumpy lady. And suddenly I wanted to hug him, tell him how much I loved him.

I wonder why I come here year after year and then it dawns me after 25 years - maybe I am grateful I am out and not in like him. But then I laugh out loud for what mistake the world makes. For who can say who is sane the world inside the bars or we outside? For are we not counterparts both ways? Who defines who is right? I continue my game of questions and wait for my bus.

I dread the journey back, because I hate my destination too and that's how life is sometimes just a journey with destinations you hate but are inevitable birth the starting and death the ending. The hanging in between both is the most unbearable. And that's exactly what I did - The act of trapeze

Animals are beautiful people

Recently, we were in for a pleasent surprise when we visited the 'Guindy National Park', next door to IIT. Surprised, because we never expected that there was such a beautiful place just next door, full of animals and the care takers there were really very warm and accomodating in letting the visitors come close to the animls.

Here we share with you our winged friends.

Claystation

My latest passion these days is pottery. Pottery has always fascinated me especially when I

saw handmade artifacts at shops and WHO refused to shop them ;)

My supervisor once showed me pics of pottery artifacts made by his supervisor, it struck a chord with me instantly. I was waiting for a chance to venture into this art. And 3 years down the lane I got it.

Claystation is a beautiful experience for people who are highly tactile, for those who rely on their hands as much as they do on their eyes. As a child I was highly tactile ( read as destructive) and mom lost a lot of her glass ware and household appliances because of this habit of mine. So my mom put me on works that could keep my hands occupied. So I picked up everything arty that came my way and the clumsiness soon disappeared only to be replaced with stained t- shirts and floors in my house :).

Clay classes but, were different. Firstly, because I let myself enrol for classes which I usually never did. I guess I am retarded when it comes to following instructions and secondly, because I never learned anything unless I felt confident enough to take it up and carry on, on my own. But here for the first time in life I wanted to learn something from someone without my mind telling me " oh you can do this". And frankly it is difficult certainly after school years :)

Everytime we don't get something right, our instructors tell us its ok, after all its handmade. Not that errors gets consoled by this but it sort of brings back the pride of having mastered an artifact. We are often reminded to close our eyes and feel our work with our hands and to mould it till we feel we have achieved the perfect shape. And it is then I realised how one could see with eyes shut this definitely is not easy for one with sight but perhaps is a skill we all need to master for life. And after all these years on earth I learnt it here.

Art of any kind is a liberating experience. The very fact that I create something with my own hands is so exhilirating to me. This however does not pamper my bruised heart when I see cracks and imperfections. But these days I realise its the remedy for my obsession with perfection.After all the labour when you fear of losing your work yet decide to go beyond the limits to explore it, thats a worthwhile journey. When you overcome your worst fears, break and tamper stuff you cherished, you are prepared for some real discoveries. For fear has left you rather liberated you to enjoy the process of creation.You also discover 100 ways of what not to do ( courtesy to Einstein ;) )

I wont tell you about wedging, merging,centring or pinching clay no I wont. I cant run a tutorial on a blog and even if i could I would not do the injustice of stealing an experience from you. So for all of you out there- Exxxxxperience!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Note-The third and last pic are not works of mine its a pic from claystation while all the others are by me.