In the last 30 days, I travelled to Delhi, Chandigarh and Chintpurni, had a lot of time to make a fresh mark on memories. Every place I went to, reminded me of some day, some person, some incident, something beautiful or something painful. In these 30 days, I had a lot of time to look back at last 5 years closely. I moved back to Bangalore in August 2010, my third attempt to be Bangalored. These 5 years have been an interesting journey. Today's blog is about two things. First , the Journey of Life, some travel tips and Baggage Rules. Second is a song by Shiv Kumar Batalvi, which I first heard, in winters of 1990. It was the 2nd Track of Side B of the cassette, which I bought from Deepak Radios in Sec 17. A few weeks later, I bought a book by that same poet from English Book Depot across the street in Sec 17 . Fast Forward 26 years, This song in fact has been sung again by Diljit Dosanjh for the forthcoming movie "Udta Punjab". A Travelogue of 26 years and the travel stories that I remember.
All Tickets are one Way, There are no Return Tickets: In Urdu, The word for past is "Maazi" and there is a beautiful expression called "Maaziparast" , people who live in the past. There are lots of people around you , who live in the past glory and Past memories. They hang on to on old memories. Old friends, one who was once a beloved. All their comparisons today are someone in past . You can't go back in time. You may travel again to that place but you cant bring time back . Since my 8th Std admission In Govt State Model School, I became friends with my bench mate. As we entered teenage , we became thick friends , in fact I had no other friends in school between 8th and 10th std. He was a quiet , introvert person. As time progressed , we relished each milestone of youth together , drinking , exploring vices , cycle rides and secret overnight breaks. I knew his house like my own , I was more comfortable at his place than any other . He was the person , who took me to hospital after my accident in 1994 and saved my life . At age 29, we were friends for 15 years , he said something hurtful , possibly unintentionally. He decided to be on the side of my sibling with whom I had snapped all ties . This led to me pausing our old bond in a matter of days . I didn't regret at all . I was convinced that values are more important than people . In 2014, I took a detour flight to Virginia where he lives . I called him, he invited me to a Target store closer to his place . I was in tears when i saw him , so was he , momentarily . We spoke for an hour and also met again later for a beer before my flight . he didn't invite me home , I didn't forgive him for 1999 as well . Nothing changed , we remain strangers to each other , even after that meeting . There are three expressions which make reference to time , Maazi (Past) , Haal (current , recent ) and Mustaqbil (future) . Life is all about "haal" and "mustaqbil" . That teenage cant come again , no matter what flight you take . Whats killed is killed . Don't keep watering a dead flower . Life is a one way street , Make no Mistake , Moving is living , Keep Travelling , Keep walking .
Put your phone and other devices on "airplane Mode" : Whats the first thing you check in the morning , your phone , whats the last thing , your phone . I know of people who sleep at 11 , get up at 1 am , check phone again , check whatsapp , Facebook , see a video , count the two blue lines and go to sleep again . Those little devices in our pockets, are so psychologically powerful that they don't only change what we do, they change who we are. Some of the things we do now with our devices are things that, only a few years ago, we would have found odd or disturbing, but they've quickly come to seem familiar, just how we do things. I am a person who prefers in-person conversations and when I ask people "What's wrong with having a conversation?" People say, "I'll tell you what's wrong with having a conversation. It takes place in real time and you can't control what you're going to say." So that's the bottom line. Texting, email, posting, all of these things let us present the self as we want to be. We get to edit, and that means we get to delete, and that means we get to retouch, the face, the voice, the flesh, the body -- not too little, not too much, just right. Human relationships are rich and they're messy and they're demanding. And we clean them up with technology. and when we do, one of the things that can happen is that we sacrifice conversation for mere connection. We short-change ourselves. We live a photo-shopped life and over time, we seem to forget this, or we seem to stop caring. Over and over I hear people say "I would rather text than talk." And what I'm seeing is that people get so used to being short-changed out of real conversation, so used to getting by with less, that they've become almost willing to dispense with people altogether. We are becoming connected robots . Go Hug someone , its possible they haven't been hugged in ages . Go have a conversation with a stranger , you may be the only person they talk to . Possibility is you are reading this blog on your phone and I will notice how many hits it got , how many from Bangalore, Singapore and other places . We are becoming slaves of the two blue lines , despite the urge of affection , we stick with emoticon . These days, those phones in our pockets are changing our minds and hearts because they offer us three gratifying fantasies. One, that we can put our attention wherever we want it to be; two, that we will always be heard; and three, that we will never have to be alone. And that third idea, that we will never have to be alone, is central to changing our psyches. Because the moment that people are alone, even for a few seconds, they become anxious, they panic, they fidget, they reach for a device. Just think of people at a checkout line or at a red light. Being alone feels like a problem that needs to be solved. And so people try to solve it by connecting. But here, connection is more like a symptom than a cure. It expresses, but it doesn't solve, an underlying problem. But more than a symptom, constant connection is changing the way people think of themselves. It's shaping a new way of being. Put your phone airplane mode and meet real people . Humans live on real social connect. Hug and don't just send a smiley .
You pay heavily for your excess baggage: Every passing Moment, we are archiving some conversations, some video clips, some whatsapp chats, some meetings, some music and some views in our memory. They are accumulating more and more with each progressing day. Very rarely you un-archive them . They are baggage, some are accompanied cabin baggage, stays with you every day and some is unaccompanied check in baggage , that stays with you but not in close proximity. Some baggage is fragile and some is valuable. We have more and more friends , more and more travel pans , aspirations , a longer list of things to acquire and a long list of foes to teach a lesson. You carry your memories and convictions in your backpack . You have to offload . Start with friends gone, siblings, relatives , cousins , colleagues and people who were once on a pedestal , your icons . Whats gone is gone . Your backpack has people , best friends , spouse , kids , parents , all of them . I got a whatsapp message this morning . It said , I would rather have four quarters than 100 pennies , how true . You don't need to carry all that weight . A small circle is a good circle . Some people carry each other , bear each others load , by just co existing . Don't have to . Make surgical cuts , shift delete memories , reformat conversations , love like a fool but move on .
Deleting is hardest part btw , much easier said than done . Don't just delete , format , a ruthless clean. Travel Light , the slower you move the faster you die .
Now the song , which i have heard over a 100 times in last one week .
इक कुड़ी जिहदा नाम मोहब्बत, गुम है गुम है गुम है.........
The girl called love ....is lost ...
साद मुरादी , सोहणी फब्बत, गुम है गुम है गुम है
Simple natured , beautiful aura, she is lost ...
सूरत उसदी परियां वरगी, सीरत दी ओह मरियम लगदी
Her face is like an angel , pious as Mother Mary .
हसदी है तां फुल्ल झड़दे ने, तुरदी है तां ग़ज़ल है लगदी
When she laughs, she showers flower petals and walks like a well-orchestrated ghazal.
लम्म सलम्मी सरूं क़द दी, उम्र अजे है मर के अग्ग दी
Tall like a plant (which one I cant find :( ) and still very very young, like a fresh fire.
पर नैणां दी गल्ल समझदी................
But she understands my expressions through my eyes.
इक कुड़ी जिहदा नाम मोहब्बत, गुम है गुम है गुम है.........
The girl called love ....is lost ...
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