Author: manuscrypts

  • Keynotes

    There are keys that unlock memories, some of them happen to be on a keyboard, the musical type. And that’s exactly what happened when I chanced upon a keyboard at a relative’s place. I started with the easy stuff that I could still remember – nursery rhymes 😀

    That was followed by some attempts at carnatic music. Some successful, and some not. Lots of rust. And lots of immediate connections, where the fingers knew automatically where to go. And I was asked how i knew, and then, how long I had learnt. No time is quite enough, but in 9 years, you could learn quite some.

    Thanks to the interest I had then, Dad bought me a Casio when I was in school. You’d have played with one at some point in your life? The ones with 100 instrument simulations and background beats? It was good fun to learn Bolly numbers by self, practice till it was perfected, and then try out alternate beats and backgrounds. It was also tougher to play carnatic, quite unwieldy, and therefore more fun.

    It lost out quite a bit towards the last two years of school life thanks to the school team’s cricket and cultural calendar. Just like quizzing lost when Dumb C became an obsession, around the same time. And while the singing had a longer shelf life, that too stopped after college. Campus politics was also fun, and sometimes  serious, just like beaches and business studies. 🙂

    A few keys and out came the snapshot of life. Meanwhile, remember the room? The keyboard sits on the cupboard, high up on the topmost shelf. Out of reach, out of reckoning, thanks to some carelessness (left the batteries inside too long). Like the aspirations it had kindled a long time back – out of reach? Out of reckoning? When, sometime in life,  fun took a backseat, perhaps unconsciously. When i go home, I fiddle with the keyboard, no sound comes out, and I never bother to change the batteries and try to make it work.

    Today is friday, it is my day to do what i want
    Mama can tell me that i’m goin nowhere, i’m just a prisoner of my fate

    I could say fate, or I could say time, or I could say priorities, and after a while, all these would amount to what I could call baggage, but I doubt if any of them would quite satisfy my own mind. I sometimes think its fear, of what would happen if I explored what once used to be fun, and found out I had changed. Maybe these things are safer in the past, maybe we couldn’t handle each other in the present..or future. I’m still wondering how I should go ahead with a few of these unfinished businesses, and also wondering if there’s such a thing as a last bus.

    until next time, to get the drive…

  • Pity

    No one knew how the treasure myth originated, but it spread. And the eyes of men gleamed with greed. They created armies, with promises of the booty’s share. The digging started, and the city was pitted against formidable foes – BWSSB, BBMP. He hoped they’d find the treasure soon, so he could ride in peace.

    until next time, the pits!!

  • The Better Man

    Anita Nair

    This is Anita Nair’s first novel, and quite a good start. I could identify with it quite a bit, probably because of the Kerala setting, and therefore the familiarity with the kind of characters that appear in the background.
    Having said that, the protagonist is quite a universal character. Mukundan, a retired government official, retires to his village and his childhood home, not by choice, but by the machinations of fate.
    This is the story of how he faces the ghosts of his past, and understands that his fragile character is not equipped to deal with them. The same character which tends to fix the blame on external entities when it’s not able to fulfill the desires of the present, and the aspirations of the future.
    This is also the story of ‘One-screw-loose’ Bhasi, ostensibly a house painter, but one with the ability to heal the human mind.
    The story is about human nature, its selfishness, the games that the mind plays on itself and the redemption that happens when it faces its own inabilities and conquers them.

  • Stairway to heaven

    A few days back, I came across a line we had used some time back for a brand campaign, as part of some ambient advertising – “Let’s cut climbing stairs, but not climbing ladders”. That ended up prompting quite a surreal thought.

    Of starting to climb a ladder from the time we’re kids. The first few rungs seem easy, there’s someone helping you, and you know that the same someone is there to catch you when you fall. There are others who are climbing ladders too, your friends, some of whom keep up with you while others choose a faster or slower pace. There are those who will leap, knowing all about high risks and huge rewards. There are those who know exactly how much of effort is required to reach where they want to be, and there are those who are unsure, but still know they’ve to climb.

    At some point, when you have climbed quite a bit, you pause to look.  You might realise that the support you had in the beginning is gone, and perhaps replaced with another one. You would look up, perhaps you now know where you have to go, and the steps and pace required to get there. Or you would look down, and see how far you’ve come up. Or you would look sideways, at friends, family, peers who have been climbing too, you might be tempted to compare and consider your efforts and results against what theirs.

    And then perhaps you would just close your eyes, take a deep breath and look within – at what you have, and what you want to have. Maybe you’ll find yourself dissatisfied and might want to climb a bit more. Or you’ll decide that you quite like the place you’re at, and this is as good a final destination as there can be, you’ll choose to enjoy the view from where you are and perhaps help those who haven’t been able to climb as much as you have, or those who want to climb higher than you have. Maybe you would decide to climb a bit more and then decide.

    The choice would be yours. After all, its your ladder, and your climb, and the top rung is where you decide it will be. The only thing you really don’t know is the journey time.

    until next time, an alarm rung….