permeation

Warm winter reaches its zenith, though the mercury disagrees with me. May be I have a fever. That thermometer has not been seen in a while, touch wood. Try as I may, I am not able to focus on work. I knew this would happen, when I took that vacation. I am not exactly longing to be elsewhere either. And the times are hard in the industry. Time to call yourself a resource and mine. But, I am either on or off. Just two states. There is that listless restlessness creeping in. I can see the end of this coming some days or months later, yet, if I have to trust my own judgment and ability to avoid self fulfilling prophecies, it is very clear -- it could end in a patented, rock bottom -- something that is good for work and nothing else -- just a launch pad to the next rock bottom -- as in, back to the very foundations of existence. I am not too far up the building right now either. Rock bottom, is not bad. It is self feeding and rather nice. You can become a perfect machine. Things become simple and clear. Let me not elaborate further. I observe, that the writing has become predictable and monotonous, history just repeating itself and precessing towards a dead beat. There is nothing I want to write about, despite the best of encouragements. Ironic. And, my perennial source of inspiration is something I am unwilling to explore any further. I intend to see the end through, if at all it is coming. Lately, I have been more willing to let the connections go idle until necessary... seems very natural. Thoughts of wanting to do something, to learn and to try are now tiring. Sleep is about the most enjoyable thing at the moment.... who knows? may be this is another transformation in progress...

Black Alluvium

The Brahmaputra. Also known as the Tsangpo on the leeward side. The flood season is over. The banks are sandy and the river is silent, except for the occasional murmur as the waters eddy around the sand deposits or debris hidden beneath. No Dolphins today. There is haze and mist adding to the surreality with the midday glitters on the water. The sky and the deceptive dark flow are hardly discernible. We make our foot prints among the many left earlier by Rhinos and Elephants on this gray dusty bank, and just like them, we are unable to reach the water from the sandy cliff. More than 300 meters away, a solitary Elephant sounds off a warning and continues to graze and play with the sand. It blends in easily. The fine dust kicks up readily and sticks on to the shoes, clothing and the camera. There is no wind. There are numerous perfectly conical and identical holes on the ground -- entrances to the underworld. The shifting sands, the moving river, the animals, insects and us... nothing stands here for too long, except the plants. And the movements are all measured and very slow. In this desolation, with its sheer volume and width of about 15 kms, the river appears pristine and primeval to the eye. For now, everything is calm and sleepy. I am, without choice or protest, in sync. The memory is flooded with information and all the thinking has to come later.

snow

It is true until it is said.

Layer upon layer, over the years, beautiful as it may be, snow has got deposited and in the eternal winter, it sheaths what lies beneath. The sleeting ice needs to be broken. Lets try. Friends were made and friends were lost. The harder I tried to hold on, the farther they went. I am on the lost list of some too. It is almost silly how easily I fall in love and try ever so hard to convince myself to let it go. Or make friends and then having to let them go. Lately, being on guard all the time has turned boring and tiring. So what if some don't like me? So what if anyone doesn't like me? What if I do like something? They are just opinions. They change. I am too old to be trying to find a best friend, as much as I would like that. Also have to consider how many people I have prevented from reaching there. Now it feels like friends have all but disappeared. Sometimes I wonder at the very idea of a friend. It is not true that there aren't any friends. There are enough who would answer a cry for help and who have my respect and trust. But, If I let myself go, I end up in this mad needy state that feels most unhealthy -- I am just becoming more and more of a deviant, in ways I hardly foresaw. But for that, there is an enigmatic freedom, mostly random and feeble and ephemeral, in which there are things to wonder at, in every degree of the tri-dimensional compass. Easy smiles. The ungot and the lost are something to be tried for, with zest sans fear of failing and sans the compulsion of possessing. Say, what do I do in life outside of these words? I write in a different language -- to communicate with machines. I program, and contribute a little in the designing.

Merry Christmas.
[+/-] my favorite version of the Carol Of The Bells

Dawn

More than 6000 kms and two weeks of travel by land came to an end 2 days ago. Apart from the minor cold feet before setting off, the rest of the trip just happened. Planning and backpacking like this to new lands, my first solo, proved to be everything I thought it will be -- it felt not too different from any other day. If you are like a stranger at home, you are always home. Best foot forward, economize, minimize and discard excess. Far away friends, thieves, friendly strangers, refreshing professionals, hidden sanctuaries, long meditative silences, book, unnatural cold, fog, mist, moon, sun, flora and fauna... You have to be there. You move on when the time comes and preserve what you need and go back again or elsewhere when the time comes.

Looks like Eco-tourism is a necessary evil, for ecology.