INTO THE THIRD WORLD -PART ONE

The best writing doesn't come when you have all this great knowledge like an ardent, disciplined research scientist, a spiritual guru where you need to impart it on someone else. That's often the worst writing. That is called technical writing, a journal/paper presentation or may be preaching to some extent. The best writing comes when you need to say something, when you need to express something. When something inside of you is, ugh, making you feel "UGH". Weighing down upon your body with ugh .


So am penning down this blog, a mammoth of it not because I'm so great at it, but because every day it's a daily practice to choose myself.-To not be beholden to the opinions of others, to cater to that imagination which had once captured our childhood moments of inspiration . To live the one life I want to live and let everyone else live their own and in turn tell you some beautiful yielding stories that I have come across during my innumerable voyages, travels and in a personal pursuit of knowing this world even more which I feel has the implications to affect our very lives here or somewhere else on a larger scale. All I have in my ability is to speak of those little pictures called memories in a different dimension and forge a timeless message encapsulated digitally through such blogs.






It’s the month of may ,when half of India is sweating it out with the acidic and torturous heat wave and the rest is gearing up to witness what the political stage has to offer in terms of choices and merit. “Ab ki baar modi sarkar .”, “trolls on alia bhat .” , Danny Morrison or Sidhu salivating with their thirsty eyes on watching the luscious ,sultry Shivani Dandekar anchoring the IPL show – these are some of the trending things going around now whose presence is very much felt and is in the thick of things. While I sit back and enjoy these worldly national events with a sip of coffee, contemplating by my window …the uplifting Bangalorean weather liberates my mood and stimulates my creative cells to ramp down yet another a monumental-sorts of blog.






Meanwhile, the fluctuating power supply of Bangalore has again reappeared leaving me even more baffled. But sooner I realize that it’s a blessing in disguise. Owing to the disruption in the power supply I couldn’t log into my Facebook, can’t go through some IPL highlights or for that matter do anything that this ever changing world with its ever increasing necessity has made us more dependent on technology and it’s associated utilities like never before. With no electricity I felt as if I have moved back a decade earlier, I felt as if time took a backward flip and I, like a time traveller is able to witness the plethora of events that had occurred and re-playing in the window of my closed eyes once again. When I sat for a while ,thinking what to write when perhaps I have written a life of a blog prior to this I fell in love with this girl yet again and I don’t think I will ever find someone like her again , ever. There is a little drizzle out there in the open, the sky is overcast and there is a soothing breeze flowing lazily making the air even more sombre, a little more lovable...it’s a perfect climate to dawdle with the companion of our loved ones. It takes me back, transports me back into the time when, perhaps life was simpler and our choices were made of little or less sophistication, our choices were simply based on convictions. When the foundations of our boyish-adulthood camaraderie was built upon only one thing –the love for cricket-where one wished to just swing a bat and throw a ball to qualify the day to be a wholesome complete one , when at nights our grannies would re-tale the tell of those infamous ,bone chilling ghost stories again and again and which still created a panic in us to go near the dark , when it was felt that girls get impressed if boys did difficult task and are vocal about their expressions , when candle lights were used to draw shadows upon the pale walls and when in-spite of emails not yet discovered fully those hand written letters were read over and over again and one would dwell upon a world of colourful imagination .






But in spite of having seen so many changes across me over the year, there was always this one thing that remained a constant – the smile of her came flashing back, every now and then. Even though I took a different path and choose a different life that diva of a girl still held a special place in one big-fat place of my heart . So let me just start by telling who she was and what effect she has left behind(of course I am not going to tell her name ,she is mine after all :-P) .Born and brought up in India , love stories has always fancied the imagination of generations because at the end of the day it’s a colorful country inspite of its probing problems of corruption ,poverty and rising inequalities . This is a peace loving country and it is evident from its history of over the last 10000 years or so. It never annexed any foreign country rather it welcomed people from round the world to come and settle down and make it their home . Atithi devo bhava. May be for that reason it is the second most populous country in the world.


Any way let me start narrating you about my only love story that I have yearned for in my life all these years . I will reveal her in every possible way that I have known her all these years .It must not be a mystic figure by the end I stop to describe her, you by then would have known it. How she used to be or for that matter how she is in all her complexities and demeanor?? From her traits, she is a traveler, an avid traveler who like me always has a vested interest to go out in the open and seek something. She is always amazed at the world around her, no matter if she’s in her hometown or in a place that is totally new. She sees beauty all around her. She doesn’t judge or pressure anyone to do things one doesn’t want to do. She knows too much about identity and self-efficacy and she appreciates more if one doesn’t pretend to be someone else. I really like the way she is so flamboyant about herself and at the same time protective about her identity .I took an instant liking to her and so one day I just asked her what her next plans for future trips were and how her previous expeditions had been . She was delighted by this little gesture of mine ,not only that she even invited me for the next trip she was planning to go . I was bowled by her modest behavior and the instant interest she showered on me. So we developed a very good vibe with each other and decided that we must plan some treks, expeditions somewhere or for that matter go to places we have never been and see for ourselves what we have known of the world around us. In spite of going to the city malls, newly opened fun park she would instead go with me for an unplanned weekend drive to puri or some exotic location just to absorb in the beauty of the virgin land or to a planned destination that we have brainstormed months before we were set to go, arguing, discussing about the pros-and –cons and listing out the unnecessary rubles that would come up in our way. We both were young then, energetic, without job and devoid of any regular source of income.so to facilitate our journey,what we did was make a joint piggy bank of ours, clubbed in a sum of 1000 rupees every month and looked forward to that month of the year when we would set sail for that unclaimed voyage of ours. Obviously ,as it was quite the habit of mine , I always ended up depositing 400-600 rupees instead of a thousand bucks as always I found it difficult to have any savings of sorts because of my spendthrift allergies and spending on things which got consumed quickly ,like –food ,food and food . A little bit of liquid too. She got irked, scolded me a few times and cursing me she would deposit her own share. While catching me off attention, she will stealthily deposit an extra four hundred just to make sure the balance is maintained. I wouldn’t know of it. How did she have those …extra 400 bucks?? After a little research I found out that she unlike her friends didn’t choose to buy a new purse or a stiletto those couple of months; instead she saved it for the times ahead.




It was a very hot, sultry month of May and we both wanted to escape the drowsiness-inducing, scorching humid heat of Bhubaneswar. We wanted to go to a place where we could feel light headed, feel a cooler energy. So we headed towards the Himalayas for a tryst with mysticism and to the land of great tales borrowed directly from mythology. All along the way we got tanned together , we got freckles ,she cut down her hair short ,wore more of a boyish attire not because she was scared of lurching male chauvinist coming along the way ,but because she adhered to the laws of light travelling, adhere to the grammars of being a good traveler ,an explorer and not as a tourist .during the course of journey I took on mischief ,I took on my idiosyncrasies but still she won’t be cowed by prejudices .The thing was in her travels she has seen worse and has known firsthand the vagaries of human virtue. She will be carrying a backpack where instead of cosmetics, eye liner she had a coil of travel string, bottle of water, wet tissue, a bit of medicines here and there for stomach ache, headache and some other rudimentary utilities. These were the things she was always ready with, just in case something happens and she can’t go home yet. She knows that at anytime, anything can happen. She takes everything with equanimity knowing that such things are part of life. She is dependable, reliable, traits that she’s learned while on the road. The day we reached the peak of the summit of our hiking trail, somewhere in the sylvan valleys of the lofty Himalayas, in that magical land where the picture was of the minimum – the setting sun, an infinite sky and mountains all around - the effect it produced was vast, enormous, it quieted our tried limbs that had been crying ever since we started off with the trek. There was not even a drop of sound pertaining to any human activity, implying that it was a place segregated from the chimes of time. The picture said it all – no matter what age we reach these mountains will always be as formidable as they were thousands of year ago, when the mythology cult had began. Time stopped, space suspended and eternity was what we perspired. It humbled both of us together and I was just in a different world when I came to see a very different side of her; we held our hands close as we saw the setting sun all in orange gliding down the tree line of pines, spruce and snow-clad terrains. We felt an ecstasy of an insurmountable level. As the sky turned into a splash of indigo we camp fired ,took funny pictures of each other , We laughed ,we giggled ,we got bored time and again in between having depleted every other options of chartable topics ,we then talked non-sense ,we then talked about secrets ,we then talked about those things which a man never does to demonstrate his affection for a women ,courtesy his Alfa-male ego and women never confided to a man fearing her vulnerabilities will be mocked at . A magic wand was weaved ,we fell in love...We fell in peace. We hugged, we kissed and the moon just lit up in the night sky showering a milky hue all over with the stars twinkling and the moment was captured, the moment was sealed till eternity. So there was no way that it would rust itself in the coming times, it was supposed to be a moment to be held all the way up in the journey of life.






So once we were back to the plains, we got irked by the mercurial sun beating down hard on us once again …we had no more money with us. The extra 400 which she had secretly kept was spent in an impromptu of an action when she decided to hit a pub in the suburban Delhi while coming back from the valley. She insisted she needed to look, behave like girl and have a little bit of fun like any mortals around her would like to have. This spontaneity made me even more in awe of her. I asked her how she can just go to a pub, in some far off, quite an unfamiliar place away from home. She just spoke three words – I trust you. Trust me; it had such an effect on me that quickly in a span of seconds, I turned from a protective boyfriend to a valiant batman. Yes the batman (without wings, cape but psychologically everything was present) I felt I have all the energies in the universe to protect this beautiful truth, beautiful creation of god’s own hand. She excused herself for a moment and came out of a trial room and when she came I just lost a footing of my ground. It was like – (blank) oh my god…is this you (blank)?? Having got tanned from sun, she looked even sultrier, more desirable and even more alluring .She walked in a confidence that made the scintillating dress she wore even sexier. I held her hand and waltz into some very fine music being played in the house. We celebrated love, we celebrated friendship, we celebrated compassion, and we celebrated life.


So now when we have returned back to our normal lives, we find that suddenly everything has started moving slowly. We didn’t want to loose the vivaciousness that we had acquired from the last trip but a reality check took us crashing onto the ground. We were bereft of any finances but still that didn’t deter us from turning our local, unplanned visits to the sea coast into a more regular one. Every weekend we would rush to the sea beach just to find an excuse from what the monotonic life was trying to offer us. We would take delight in splashing the salty water on each other ,get wet for 2 hours stretch and later on rushing to go back home as time demanded . But the little spray of water coming of the haughty waves, the soothing breeze of the evening and the setting sun would hold us for more minutes even if we didn’t want to. We would then walk Hand in hand along the beach, see the setting sun of the sea like a big orange bindi in a canvas of crimson hue, sat closely to each other in a comfortable silence .I would close my eyes seeping in the ambience but when I open it I see myself in a different world, and that world was called reality. I was dreaming, I was dreaming of a girl whom I have never met but have known and quietly understood in all my understandings and all my misunderstandings.


When I came back it was a different ball game altogether. The things which I saw in my made up dream was an ideal condition…and it’s only in the celluloid that you do see such wishes coming true. The sinking reality would wake me up from my day dreaming , I would find myself sitting at the railway platform waiting for my train. Dejected, frustrated of my failure yet again in another ssb round, I would just stare in blank at the railway tracks. A rage like a volcano in me would swell up. I would question myself –“They said you need 13 officers like qualities to serve in the military, to be qualified for one.” Then what about those who don’t have those qualities, regard them as misfits?? After all it’s a question of national security and they need the best men to run the show. They wouldn’t want any one less than that . While I was lost in this mingling thoughts, I saw something which resurrected my disoriented thoughts altogether. I saw a rajdhani express halt at the platform right in front of me. Through the tainted windows of the comportment I would see a family. A father, mother and their little son. The father was busy working out his office details across his laptop and the mother would be attending to the kid. A little later an attendant would come, clean the mess near their allotted berth and after few seconds the attendant would throw away the rubbles on to the open tracks. Minutes later the train moved out of my sight , what it left behind would be the same deserted tracks again. Moments later a rag picker would come, holding his tattered bag, collecting all the plastic bottles and other reusable thrown at both sides of the track. When he finished his task, a filthy pig would come into the picture and start scavenging on all sorts of excreta. Yeah it was “yuck” sight to see, no one would write it in a blog. But what I concluded from that revealing scene was that – the nature works according to an order to restore the balance. The whole order is divided into many strata with everyone being given a certain role to play. All we have to know is which strata we belong to, which role we intend to play. At the end of the day it will be our choices and our willingness to overcome the comfort zone we reside in which will eventually decide what our true worth is, what our purpose is. Looking out for the definition of happiness, for the definition of a fulfilled life I would rummage through a collection of the photographs in my cell of all the couples in their happier times. When the couples were posing together, they looked beautiful. It seemed as if the photographs were of the most beautiful people in the world. When the couples were just standing they looked totally ordinary- Like anyone you would see in the street. It was fascinating to see the difference between the intimate photos and the same people in "ordinary" photos. What constitutes happiness?? The question still intrigued me…










We've all been picked on. We've all started something and failed. We've all disappointed each other. Every piece of art we make is not about other people. It's about us taking a sharp knife and slicing off a painful piece of yourself and gift wrapping it in a creative way for others to see. All of the art in the world is really that simple. Showing a piece of yourself is a great gift you can give to others. When you take the pain of writing , pleasure is a side effect. Every pleasure has its own share of pain preceding it. A mother suffers the pain of keeping a child for 9 months, only then she is able to conceive the pleasure of creating a life. A player suffers the pain of rigorous training only then he is able to bask in the glory of success. A student stresses his mind hard enough only to be a 9 –pointer. Where we go wrong, as I think is that we seek for the pleasure without considering the pain, as a result – collateral damage .It is important to get out of things that pull us down and don’t add value to the way of living. What is right, what is good? What use is truth? What constitutes a happy ending? A young man is nothing if he has no true stories, just an empty an ongoing present. I failed to notice many a times that the confusion, clotting of thought, disorientation borrows a deeper ground than grief. Physical pain, a sense of injustice, a broiling anger, notions of hopelessness, sporadic loss of will, extreme fear of something or longing for some one – I never came into conclusion as to which pain is the most unbearable, and in return, I would feel the smoky presence of loved ones, like moist remnants of dawn in the morning air .it is customary to associate helplessness with the poor but an amputated soul is also a destitute in some ways, you have no prosthetics for an amputated soul. But in-spite of all these inconsistencies, there is certain equilibrium in the chaos. The equilibrium between despondence and hope, between rage and calm, between integrity and reality…. This is where I find the purpose of our existence.






2 years back with the backing of some of my jubilant friends, I started with an idea to write a novel and I thought if I got a novel published I would have girlfriend (s). I also felt like I couldn't get a job in the real world unless I had a published novel. I wanted to work at some very savvy company like Nat Geo but I wouldn't apply to their department until I got a novel published. Which is really a stupid way to think?


How stupid is the brain? The brain gift wraps you in it's own illusion and you're stuck until you are unwrapped by some random events that shake you up from fantasy stating that fantasy , ambition and passion are three different and independent entities .


But I wrote everyday and suddenly I was reading every book I could find. I was obsessed. And then after I read a book I would go to the internet and look up all the criticism of that book, go to the state archives and rummage through some old records. Then I'd comb through all the literary journals and read every story I could find. Then I'd go home and write. I wrote about 500 words a day. Some of my friends got sick of me because I would force them to read all of my stuff and give me critiques.


So I started to have no girlfriend, no job, and no “critique” friends, yet again. But I still read and wrote every day. And still do .Seven days a week. I feel physically ill on days I don't do this. People say they don't have the time to do this. I often didn't have the time either. So I would completely recreate my life to make the time.


In this journey I came to realize that your dreams even though are intangible entities; are in fact like engines pushing us forward. We dream of good health, love, a new home, the ideal job, a holiday, losing weight or getting rich — anything we think will make us happy. Usually our dreams change dramatically as life goes on. That’s what happened to me, too and that is what I intended to tell, and that is what I want to show.






While I was back at Bhubaneswar, I made it a ritual that I shall go that sacred place near Khandagiri, in that peaceful pristine vicinity where I felt the most close to connecting with myself. Here, it is believed, the distance between heaven and earth shrinks, the veil between the two worlds becomes so thin, and one is actually able to perceive something of a different world . And yes I did feel it coming through but only after a generous bout of marijuana. It took me into a trance ,into a third world … Sensing the deep spirituality of these sites, ancient Celts built many a years ago . Visiting these sites even today, one can lose all track of time and space, feeling deep inside that one is on holy ground. How most people are unaware as to why they stop to rest at certain places in the environment, but they do so because these are places of power that hold a more conscious focus of energy.


It is not surprising that thin places, where we step from one plane to another, are most often associated with wild or remote landscapes unfamiliar territory where our usual modes of control do not work, where instead, the unknown actually becomes our means of discovery. The place spoke of an indefinable, mysterious power that pervades everything. I feel it, though I do not see it. It is this unseen power that makes itself felt and yet defies all proof, because it is so unlike all that I perceive through my senses. It transcends the senses itself.


Some people notice third world. Others do not. It requires a kind of reflective and receptive capacity to discern them. You know that you are in ‘your’ third world when you feel the boundaries of time and space disappears. There is no yesterday, today or tomorrow; only eternity.


Having experienced the blessings of a thin place, you return to your life refreshed and renewed, graced with a new awareness of similar places in everyday life. The glimpses of glory in those sacred landscapes should also enable us to experience the divinity all around us. Life is this simple. We are living in a world that is absolutely transparent, and that invisible energy shines through us all the time… If we abandon ourselves, forget ourselves, we see it… But, of course, for most of us, in the onslaught of chores of a daily life, it is hard to see the third world , much less travel through them.”One of the precious gifts of realization of eternal time and space is that when you cannot physically go back to these places, you can return repeatedly to them in your memory and imagination. Take some time off to think about and remember the thin places in your own life. Recall a place that refreshes your spirit and opens out to the threshold of the sacred, and return to this place in your imagination and once again, wherever you are, experience it.


All this while I write this blog , the intensity of the light has reduced to a quaint glow of the late summer , raring to color the atmosphere with it’s vibrancy…time stood still , I saw life , I felt life . I would again contemplate about the girl I saw in my made up dreams. A warm embrace might seem like a month; a kiss might appear as year but when a smile is returned seasons pass in the outside world. That is how I feel when that image of her smile emerges itself up in front of eyes …Imagine a world in which there is no time but only images. It’s only habit and memory that dulls the passion. Without memory each morning is the first morning, each kiss and touch are the first. A world without memory is a world of the present. The past exists only in memory. Few projects are started which do not advance as career …few paths are chosen which don’t lead to destiny …few friends are made who will not be friends in future …two passions are wasted. A soft rain on a late summer evening ,on a walk this is the last best thing a young man can do. While lovers take each other into their arms, bridges rise, harmony is maintained and world is a better place to live …while a goodbye is said, cities crumble and are relegated into the forgotten memory.






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So after going through this enormous piece of story, if you feel this as part of your life do share it with your friends , it you feel intrigued comment it …Share a story from your past. Share your influences and why. Share what you've learned today. Share the stupidest things you've done today. Share the worst things you've done. Share the sexiest. Share the ugliest. Don't be afraid of what comes out of you. If you blend the magic world inside of you with the "real world" outside then you will learn to live in a hybrid world where magic and real come together and co-exist.






I think folks it’s time to take a break , my fingers are already burning …but before I realize I find that the journey has been more memorable than the un yielded destination itself I am headed for .






To be continued………stay tuned !!


Some more interesting blogposts coming soon as


1) The black magician called Thuri


2) Democracy –a farce and the story of borrowed nationalism


3) My son is in NIT-Rourkela (IIIT exclusive).