Achieving Ignorance

I didn't notice her initially. I was busy hanging freshly-washed clothes out to dry that evening. Out here, people who stay in public housing hang their clothes on portable stands which they conveniently place in the corridor just outside the door. Mostly due to lack of backyards and also to avoid the ugliness of hanging them on the railings (as is customary in many other places).

Anyway, it was a cool breezy evening. Quite unlike the usual humidity and heat. It must have been almost 11 in the night and the block was relatively quiet except occasional noise from a passing bike or car. I think she was enjoying the quietness, balmy breeze and the coolness while comfortably sitting on the stairs with her legs stretched out. She was quite fair and had bright eyes. My sudden appearance with a bucket full of clothes must have disturbed her thoughts. I looked at her and she stared back. I immediately averted my glance and focused back on the task at hand. I could almost feel her continuing stare but I decided to avoid any further uncomfortable eye contact. I was feeling a bit guilty of intruding in her peaceful time and didn't want to create too much disturbance; so I just quietly placed each cloth on the stand. Same repetitive actions, same feigning of ignorance - one after another - soon I was done and ready to go.

But the urge to find out if she was still looking at me was killing me. So as inconspicuously as possible, I slowly cast a sly glance towards her. And my efforts had worked! She was completely bored with me and was looking towards the stairs going upwards. I quietly took the empty bucket and walked back towards my door. I had achieved the ignorance of the white cat.

Endless

They say, being in love is a feeling like toothache. Words spent describing are worthless; the only way to know is to experience it. And sometimes, it hurts as much, if not more. Though just because it hurts doesn't mean its love. How does one know if its love or not? Practical, floral, feasible, sensible, lyrical.... endless fruitless efforts of binding and defining the true free feeling responsible for all my bruises. The images keep re-playing in the mind like a broken record; the smile, favorite words in a funny accent, the warmth of the skin, the softness of the touch, moments of indifference, aloofness, the fire and smoke in the breath, the softness, words belying the goodness, words betrying quiet strength, the waiting, the meeting, the parting and the joining... images play on. Futile and aimless, the sensible advise of abandoning what will go nowhere is unheeded by the foolish, kiddish, screaming tantrums of blind heart. The heart truly has strings and when the moments gone do tug at them, it truly does go crazy. Like a lunatic's reckless non-stop cries for something he can't have. Some never learn, some never grow up, some endlessly repeat their mistakes. Is it merely human or it is inexcusable? Do I get a pat of understanding with the hidden sigh or resigned disgust at the endless strings of errors I keep weaving? How do I control the sensless, meaningless, pointless paintings my heart keeps drawing in its pursuit of the complete comfortable fulfilled love - none of which will bear fruition. I'm lost and defeated at both ends. At one side is the soft comfort of dreams impractical and doomed to be unfulfilled and the otherside is the deep dark abyss of practicality which leads to dry, cold and hard sensibility. Where do I go now?

Thailand: The sun, the sand, the sea and shitload of FUN!

Now that I'm in Phuket, I realized how badly I wanted & needed to have fun. I also discovered that I'm a closet Adrenalin junkie (and that side is now clearly out of the closet) :D

I can get used to this kind of itinary - get up to a nice sunny day, have a leisurely shower (this Patong Beach Hotel is great - fabulous bathrooms - you can watch the widescreen right from your bathtub!) Then indulge in a relaxing and lavish spread for breakfast, pick up my motorbike and go about things I want to do - just the way a holiday should be! These bikes are easy to ride, great speed, and cheap to hire - cruising in them feels awesome with the breeze in your face and sea by your side :)

Day before yesterday, tried Bungee Jumping (50m high, for which I got a bravery certificate - for what its worth). The worst part is when the crane makes creaking sound and gets you to the top of Phuket - you can see the whole island. And then the guy calmly asks you to hop-skip (bcoz your legs are tied to the bungee cord dummy!) towards the end of the platform. It takes shitload of nerves to spread your arms and jump - your bloody legs are like lead and your mind goes into overdrive screaming "This is insane! Are you nuts!! Don't do it!!!". And if you manage to slap all your defence mechanisms into silence, I challenge you to do or remember anything other than "oh my gaaaaaaawdddd" for those 10 seconds of free-fall when your face is rushing towards the water underneath  - fu*king scary and therefore maxx fun! Not recommended for sissies.

Then I went for Go-karting - its the most Adrenalin pumping, heart racing, g-force-heavy thing I've ever done. Its just for 10 mins and I banged into the sidelines within 1 minute - full force. The kart slammed so hard that despite of the cushion of tires, it went into the tree and threw me completely off into the ditch - still have the burises to show for it :) Next 9 mins were accident free and at full speed again - no bloody puny kart isn't gonna intimidate me into submission! Indeed, the best way to learn is to fall :) I don't know how to drive so picking it up in 1 minute and doing some respectable laps felt good.

Then went to the shooting range - 9mm Glock - real gun, real bullets. Only two bullets out of whole round were outside the inner black circle - all the rest in the innermost three circles - the guy managing the shop didn't believe I've never touched a gun in my life - my score: 85%. The force feedback of the gun is quite solid - have taken the target sheet and an empty shell casing as souvenir - good & very loud fun. Went back to hotel and had a nice shower and sleep. Then took out my bike and went to Kamala beach - much quieter than Patong. Had a nice massage while sea-gazing with a chilled Breezer - thats what I call relaxing :) The ride to Kamala (and most of Phuket) is through hill roads which go up and down quite steeply (I haven't been on roads this steep before) - you can enjoy the challenge as long as you're careful.

Yesterday was even more fun - did Jet skiing - pretty powerful Yamaha engine - every time it slams into the waves - Bamm! This thing works your biceps and forearms better than any damn machine any gym can offer and its LOADS of fun! Drove it a max speed - my fingers still hurt from the constant hard grip I had to maintain for 30 mins - otherwise it'll throw you into the sea like a wild horse (which is even more risky since I can't swim) :) Took it quite far into the sea - again - simply awesome!

Wrapped up the crazy day with a nice dinner at the luxurious Ban Rim Paa - lovely view of night Phuket from the wooden platform - dimly lit candles, live Piano music, soothing sea breeze and hear the waves softly lapping while you sip the long & exotic Mai Thai - ahh. The steamed fish turned out to be great too. All in all a lovely experience.

Every penny I've spent here is an infinitesimal fraction of the fun I'm having - viva la Thailand!!!

The songs of Rabindra Nath Tagore: rediscovered

Lately I've been listening to the songs of Rabindra Nath Tagore in the fresh and fetching voice of Sahana Bajpai. It is impossible to find a Bengali who hasn't heard the songs of our greatest poet. There is nothing I can say which hasn't been said before - and I'm not even close to be qualified for that.

Having said that, I didn't hear much of Rabindra sangeet in Benaras while growing up - we used to hear mostly Kishore Kumar or Hemanta Mukherjee i.e. Movie songs or Aadhunik (modern) songs. In reality I properly discovered Rabindra sangeet in the most unlikely of places. Dilli Haat in, obviously, New Delhi. During the winter of 1999 they were having some sort of Bengal themed fair and I happened to attend. I didn't know much about the Bengali music scene but on some random hunch we bought couple of cassettes (those were plastic thingies housing couple of hours worth of magnetic tape for the uninitiated). Anyway, one was by Srikanta Acharya and another by Lopamudra Mitra. I liked the former and fell in love with the latter's voice. She was a lovely introduction and I was a young romantic. A completely receptive ground for sowing the seeds of incredibly soft, soulful, touching lines of Rabindranath. I played the cassettes incessantly and never tired of her songs. Then things happened, time flowed and I moved on.

Years later, sometime ago, I was introduced to another voice singings Rabindranath's songs. I had heard "Aaj Jyotsna Raate" by Debabrata Biswas (George-da) years ago - it still is an experience. This song is example enough to demonstrate how modern and traditional Rabindra sangeet can simultaneously be.

After ages. I heard "Aaj Jyotsna Raate" again in Sahana Bajpai's voice - and she made me fall in love with her. I heard "Aamar Nishtho Raater Badoldhara" and I was transported to a dark window pane watching the night slide silently. I heard "Tomar Khola Hawa" and when she said, "Aami doobte raaji aachi", felt head over heels - has there been a more beautiful and bolder proclamation of love? She may not be the most technically astute singer of Rabindra sangeet - but why should I care if she manages to make my eyes well up when she sings of longing for the beloved?

Today in this age and time, eternal love sounds more like a concept. They say you need a person of flesh and blood to be in love with. I say love can be in words - without a shade of doubt it certainly is in these words and voices. They have made a romantic out of me, yet again.

Mountain dreams

Som cursed as he hit his head on the headboard. He woke up startled by the commotion caused by Hitler outside. Sona was still sleeping with a calmness on her face. He gingerly got up and looked for his shawl. It was a black shawl with yellow threadwork on it - his favorite. Wasn't very useful though in defending against the chill in the air brought by the bright November morning. His nose felt choked and throat groggy. Som blinked his eyes trying to adjust them for the bright blue sky visible from the window by the side of his bed. "Damn" he said; he had forgotten to close the window in the night and the cold had creeped in; that would explain his sore throat. Forgetfullness was his life-long companion. He put on his flip-flops and wrapped the shawl over his crumpled kurta.

As Som walked out to the porch, the proud black grey mountains revealed their sunny glory. His eyes slowly swept across the hills, the green covers and the intermittent matchbox houses on the hillside all the way down to the Tikri lake. The narrow road outside his gate wound down like a light-brown line made on a grey backdrop. He could hear the bells ringing from the old temple nearby. The bell on the postman's cycle was ringing too; his neighbour who was getting ready to leave for work. Som felt the quiet comfort which comes from watching others rushing to work and you know that you don't have to. He looked around his small garden; the hedges against the fence of his cottege had grown quite a bit. He resolved that he'll definitely trim them today; as he had been resolving for last few weeks.

Not giving a damn about this nice morning, Hitler was chasing Ramsingh. Hitler was Som's big furry moutain dog. Hitler's arch enemy Ramsingh was a notorious garden squirrel. It approached Hitler's den at every opportunity and tried to steal nibbles from Hitler's food. This infuriated Hitler and consequently such chases were frequent. "Hitler", Som barked at the dog. Hitler stopped in his tracks, jumped and rushed back towards him. Trying to adjust his shawl vis-a-vis Hitler's vigurous and enthusiastic licking of his face, Som settled in his chair to soak in the morning Sun. He rubbed his palms together trying to infuse some warmth in them - he'll make tea in a while.

Dogville: thoughts about a movie

Dogville (2003) is one of the finest and most thought provoking studies in human nature. This masterpiece by writer/director Lars Von Trier, manages to bring in forefront the wide swathe of the good and the evil in human nature. We see people who are merciful and kind, protect the weak even at the face of facing punishment. They provide shelter to a girl on the run from the law and the mob. They provide her clothes and a home, give her work and include her in their community. And then, as the time passes, degrade into their primal instincts. They exploit the kindness of the grateful girl, they extract their pound of flesh, they turn a blind eye to each others disgusting behaviour towards her and continue going down the filth of the human evil.

I feel the evolution shown in the movie is the natural evolution of the human animal (say the host) and how it deals with changes (say the arriver) in its surrounding. At the outset, the host is suspicous of the arriver. When the arriver is not a threat, the suspicion is somewhat mitigated but the familiarity hasn't set its deep root, things are still polite and civil. The distance by non-familiarity hides the ugliness within. Then familiarity sets in and that gives rise to growing comfort and opening of true self. If the arriver is weak or kind or non-aggressive, the base instincts of the host starts to ooze out. Dominating, taking advantage, exploiting for self satisfaction, torture as an expression of relief from own's demons or for simple voyeuristic pleasure. It shows the real creature inside the human - it is really animal.

Good and Evil is within us - irrespective of our education, social status, economic background or the civility we wear. Both can raise their respective beatiful and ugly heads - any place, any time.

Swarn Yatra

I think this was during the Durga Puja holidays while my first year of college. I was remarkably free. Without a shade of responsibilities, worries, obligations, timelines, deliverables. I didn't even know the last two words then. Then one day Mama came along. He was going to Punjab for business. Mixing his business with my pleasure seemed like a particularly good idea at the time. So without any hesitation I blatantly offered him my company. With even less hesitation he agreed. Off to Punjab.

It was a pleseant winter that year. Didn't bite. The train journey was a rude shock though. Mama didn't like to waste money on luxuries like first class. The fact that he could afford to have all the six berths in an AC coupe didn't carry any weight. Anyway, since I was a freeloader, who was I to complain. I just wrapped myself in the shawl ma gave me and kept up an expression of half-nasty, half-sombre throughout the journey. He was completely immune to such shenanigans and didn't give a damn. Mama always has been a Practical man.

Anyway, first port of call - Ludhiana. I don't remember much of that city. Except that I saw an awful lot of sports shops (I knew only three sports shops in Banaras). It also had tons of garment shops. Not surprising considering Ludhiana is well known for those two items. Soon enough Mama was in his elements meeting hard-boiled businesmen. I think his motto when it comes to Punjabi businessmen is - harder than thou. I kept gulping umpteen cups of tea and gaping at his prowess. There is a stereotype that Bengalis are fine in refined things and unwise business-wise. Mama was an exception. Anyway, I was quite tired of all this shop talk and couldn't wait to move on. Soon enough, we said tata to Ludhiana and arrived at Amritsar.

Amritsar felt different. I can't put my finger on the feeling. To put it crudely, it was less crude. There was something soft about that place. Maybe a bit quieter, or just plain nicer. We landed at one of Mama's main business dealers in Amritsar. They had a nice three storey house in a not too busy not too narrow lane. As usual, Mama was upto his business and I was upto nothing. Get up in morning and get freshened up, then a man would turn up from nowhere asking you to follow him for breakfast. No people around. Me and Mama ate, and when we felt like more helpings, the same guy turns up with more food. No questions asked. The smell of desi ghee lingers on for days. Within couple of hours of having a full meal, you start feeling a bit strange. Then you realise you are hungry again. So on for lunch and dinner. As usual Mama never noticed all these trivial matters and visited his "parties" with gusto to close his "deals". I ventured out during the day for a walk few times but after a while all the lanes started looking alike. Due to my inherent bravado and geographical talents, I promptly came back and went for a sleep.

On the third day, Mama was having a discussion with the owner of the business and I was sitting a bit behind him reading a newspaper. The owner was intrigued. He didn't know many helpers/assistants who read English newspaper - that too blatantly in front of the boss. Unable to contain himself, he asked Mama if I was a new recruit. Mama without batting an eyelid informed that I was his sister's son and immediately tried to resume business talk - but the damage was done by then. The owner was momentarily taken aback and then immediately extended both his hand towards me for a solid handshake. He openly regretted his assumption of me being a helper and inquired about my background, education and home town. The fact that I was in college and was doing quite well in studies impressed him - though it wasn't anything impressive in my opinion. Anyway, the lunch that day was unusual.

We were invited to have lunch with the owner and served in silver cutlery in their drawing room. That was where I first saw a huge-mega-size Sony tv (LCD panels were not invented yet). I was impressed. The owner introduced his family to us - he had a young daughter who must have been in 5th or 6th standard. She was very well-behaved and very talkative. I can't remember her name.  Once we had lunch, the owner asked his daughter to show me around. She enthusiastically rattled off places where she can demonstrate her knowledge of her hometown. However, it was almost evening and it was decided that I be taken to the nearest site. Golden Temple.

We set off for Golden Temple in a rickshaw. It was barely 10 minutes away - for the three days I was there, it was so close and I didn't have a clue. On our way, she kept chatting as a kid her age should and I kept listening as a chap my age should. Without much effort from my side, I was her pukka friend by then. We reached the temple entrance - I don't remember it particularly well. Then we went in.

The winter sun seemed tired and was done for the day. Small flocks of birds were flying recklessly - their shadows playing on an expanse of water in front of me. The gold of the Gurudwara was still glowing. The sounds of Gurbani washed over me - I didn't need to or cared to understand the language. My little friend kept filling me up on all the stories and facts of the temple. There was such a pure belief in her voice and in her eyes - certain belief that the day was good, there is a better day tomorrow and the saint in that sacred temple will always take care of us. We sat near the water and I saw schools of giant fish peacefully swimming around. They slowly swam to us expecting to be fed - they didn't have any fear either. With the same lingering pace, the evening kept floating away leaving shadows and reflections. And I kept feeling a sharp sadness - it was time to go. That was my last day in Amritsar.

I don't know where my friend is today, what she is doing right now? Maybe married with kids, maybe a successful business woman handling her family business or maybe somewhere in a land far far away thinking about her home, the lanes, silver cutlery, Golden temple. Does she remember me? who knows.

Smiles

Where do smiles go on Sunday nights.

Do they get tired like neon lights,
before the sunrise.
Do they fade like sparks from an orphan's eyes,
after morning's demise.
Do they run to their old lovers' arms to find,
the warmth of no surprise.
Do they stretch their legs on the wet pavement,
the night it rained twice.
Do they sit by the sea of memories,
watching the dark waves rise.
Do they search for the lost mistake,
tryng to wrong the worthless rights.

Where do smiles go on Sunday nights.

Let there be darkness...

The cheeriness was getting to me. Now my blog is dark and comfy - just the way I like it!

The gift of no gift

I was considered a "good" student since beginning of my studies. I wasn't brilliant or dumb or average - just a good student - the kind usually featuring in top 3/4 in the class (and occasionally 1st). I usually never had to try too hard (atleast in certain subjects) and for the rest, whenever I tried hard, it paid decently. In college, again, the obstacles weren't insurmountable and I could go past them fairly acceptably.

However, the nice ride didn't last too long. During my 2nd/3rd year, I started to notice that I had some questions to which the answers didn't lend themselves so easily. This was a bit frustrating because till then, with varying degrees of effort, I could clear my doubts myself. Initially I tried quite hard to crack them and then I realized that I wasn't able to do so on my own. I discussed with my peers but they weren't all that much help. I sought help from my professors but the stack of queries was too deep to unwind using their quick advise.

I was the kind of person who is restless till the answer is found. I say "was" because I tried a workaround (and managed to certain extent) to change myself so that I could ignore the discomfort of doubt. In other words, don't try to find the answer if you can't find it. I put a pebble on the questions in my mind and tried to move on. However, as happens with a house of cards, you can't leave gaps in the foundation. The pebbles got too many and too heavy. That was the start of the end of my formal education.

That was also when the sense of me being mediocre was planted. Its not a soft pain which you can ignore and move on. When you desperately want to understand things and you can't, it feels like a fiber stuck between your teeth at the back of the mouth. You can't reach it, you can't remove it, you constantly feel it and can't take your mind of it. Its almost physical. You get frustrated and start asking stupid questions like - "why me?" or "why am I not more intelligent/smart/above the scores of people around us?"

Recently I saw an interview about a guy - he came across as a really nice person. However, he has a medical condition which is making him constantly grow tall - very tall. Due to his condition, his bones are not growing in proportion to his age/facial structure - this makes his looks rather unconventional - you wouldn't call him pretty. And he is just a teenager. I couldn't imagine what that guy feels like. I couldn't imagine how incredibly hard he may be wishing to be mediocre. Does he ask questions like "why me" or "why am I NOT just like the scores of people around us?"

We commonly like to gripe that god has been unkind to us. Makes you realise that sometimes being unremarkable is a remarkable gift.

Kobita

Nights on the terrace

Silent lightning flashes its grin,
behind the sneaking guerrilla clouds,
healing winds scramble to sooth the bare skin,
as the bloodless war of elements rages on.

I lay awake on the terrace,
summer eyes heavy with memories,
remembering such glorious battles,
of careless nights long lost.

Music

Don't know how that crooked
shining brass;
the saxophone sings
But when it pours music
liquid;
grabs in its clutches
a fistful of aching heart.

Love: random thoughts

I don't know of anyone who doesn't want to love AND to be loved back. I guess that mostly sums it. What are the odds? You have to find a candidate (for lack of a better word), then you have to like that person, then you have to know that person well enough to know the Good Things and the Bad Things and then, after all this rigermorale, if you still haven't given up, maybe you find that you care so much about that person that you don't care about the bad things. If that was all, the world would be a lovely place (pun unintended). But where would be the fun if it was that easy? So the exact same process must successfully complete at the other side as well for a working love story. What are the f***king odds?

One would think that in this age and time, it must be pretty damn hard to have all these quirky requirements work out exactly as they should for this, "love", to happen. Cliched as it may be, the lining up of celestial bodies is a pretty good analogy; almost as rare as an eclipse (though that has the curious connotation of one being overshadowed by other). Considering the chances, one would think that the machine of romance writers, hallmark channel, slick rom coms, love-you-forever music and mushy-pink-heart cards, is a co-ordinated effort to get us to go on this wild goose chase.

However, if we look around, this thing doesn't actually seem so rare. It's signs are scattered all over nice places like college cafeteria (or Starbucks nowadays), sunny beaches, riverside walks and even in places not so nice. So how is it that something so elusive is actually so commonplace? Or is it that, all those hand-in-hand cases are not the "real thing" but merely varying degress of affection/infatuation/liking etc. etc.? Who is to say? To answer that, one would have to know/ask "what is love" and thats like going towards a crossroad with thousand ways - each a dead end.

If we assume that the abundance of signs actually point to the real thing, this must be rarest and commonest of all things - simultaneously. You see your friends, family, acquaintances and even strangers in love but for some reason when you go around looking for it, it manages to evade you forever. People spend their whole lives; their eyes searching for someone who they can love and to be loved back.

Does it take a special kind of person to be in love? How come some people are "more" in love than others? Does it require some talent - maybe she's born with it? Or maybe its just that some people look harder and are more persistent in their search. Who knows.

Speaking of contradictions. The search for love makes people do amazing things - make sacrifices for their loved ones without hoping for returns, suffer incredible pain, makes people strive to make themselves better and inspired to do great things. The same search also makes them desparate enough to order Russian mail order brides, disappointed & angry enough to spray hot metal shards in a room full of unsuspecting women, deceptive enough to cheat friends and do unmentionables - they go down the depths of filthiest human behaviour.

If someone asks me, I'll say its just a collection of contradictions. The only thing for certain is that everyone wants it (including those who have been bruised by it), some people are lucky enough to have it, those who have it sometimes don't know it, sometimes they don't care about it. And rest of us? Well, we'll probably expire looking for/at it.

Jaunty, Conky and Audacious

I have been trying to get Conky to display my Audacious track & progressbar - in vain. Even when the manpage mentions the support, its not enabled in the default package. Now since I use Audacious, MPD and Songbird (I wish Conky devs add support for it) interchangeably, I wanted it bad enough to build my own deb package!

Thanks to the guys (or gals) who made checkinstall - I've got my custom conky deb in 10 minutes. Supports:

[/tmp] $ conky -v
Conky 1.7.1.1 compiled Sun Jun 21 13:16:02 SGT 2009 for Linux 2.6.28-11-generic (i686)

Compiled in features:

System config file: /usr/local/etc/conky/conky.conf

X11:
* Xdamage extension
* XDBE (double buffer extension)
* Xft

Music detection:
* Audacious
* MPD
* MOC

General:
* math
* hddtemp
* portmon
* Lua
* wireless
* config-output
* apcupsd

So now, my .conkyrc has two lines - for MPD and Audacious. And the proof of the pudding is in seeing the screenshot :)

Ubuntu and Dell widescreen monitor

As they say in Linux world, research on the net first if it works with your gear before you put your money down. I had been thinking of buying a monitor to overcome the 14 inches of confinement i.e. my laptop screen. Recently Dell started a fantastic deal on their 23" widescreen lcd monitor (S2309W) for S$249! I mean thats the price at which I bought a 17" CRT 5 years ago - so I took the plunge (resulting in similar outcome) - without checking if there were any configuration guides/examples online. You pay one way or other :)

Ordered online, delivered within 4 days, connected everything - so far so good. Fired up my Ubuntu desktop and voila - the resolution was stuck at 1024x768! The google-reflex-action kicked-in immediately. After tons of searching and trawling the result was - no examples, no mention of any drivers for this one, nothing. The most dreaded option was staring at me - invoking the much-feared-vodoo of hand-editing Xorg.conf!

By then it was already 11PM and I had to go to work next morning. But I was desperate and was in one of those I'll-break-you-no-matter-what mood (a rare occurrence). Since X had to be bounced to check any changes, I had to do all incantations from the Console. So, I logged into the Console and at the primeval command line, opened the secret book:

man Xorg.conf

I started building the xorg.conf by hand, step by step - change configuration, kill X, login, check issues and repeat if not fixed. After countless tries and pushing it to one'clock, I bounced X and logged in.

Yeah! My widescreen display revealed its glorious-self at full resolution. I even managed to configure my laptop screen as an extended desktop. I don't care about gurus but I'll consider this an achievement :)

To ease the pain of those who may have to undertake a similar journey, here is my xorg.conf.

Dreams, microfibres and baloons

I was watching a kitchy tv show until later last night. So, after having a nice breakfast this morning and by virtue of this morning being Sunday, I found all things conspire to lull me into a good sleep. And it was a good sleep.

I dreamt that I was in a beautiful aircraft - shaped like a Zeppelin. The design was distinctly Steampunk. Opulent and spacious (yes, an aircraft with no economy class). There were multi-storeyed galleries along the sides with ornate railings. You could stand along one and see the empty centre lined with rib cages of the craft. Almost like watching a theatrical performance. I saw people standing, strolling and sitting on other stories - more like relaxing in a giant victorian club in a hollow Ellipse than flying in a cramped narrow cylinder.

And some of this may come true. Not the opulence of course, but the idea that a Zeppelin like aircraft could be used for air travel. There has been remarkable progress in technology since the days of baloons with direction being solely dictated by wind. Scientists have been doing research in super-tensile microfibres with learnings from the web spun by Spiders - one can weave a super-fabric capable of holding a volatile gas like helium without the dangers of ruptures and catching fire. Engine technology has progressed by leaps and bounds and multiple highly efficient smaller engines can be built to precision control the aircraft. By virtue of lightweight, it could be economically and environmentally lightweight too.

I've wanted to go to Turkey for a long time. The intriguing thing was that this aircraft in my dream belonged to Turkish Airlines. By the way, I love their new ad sporting Kevin Kostner.

The joy of finding

I blow the dust off the book and turn the long ignored pages. And suddenly there's the train ticket from a journey of which I only have fond memories. Or the receipt for a souvenir paid in a foreign currency. Its a joy to find these - one of the few pure joys still left.

Apparently the medium of these discoveries has expanded with changing times. I was cleaning multiple layers of digital dust from my save-and-forget Firefox bookmarks and found the link to my old webpage. Along with that came a photo snapped at London Tower Bridge on a rainy afternoon of 2006. I hate rains but I look happier in that photo.

And the blog was created.