Tag: Home

  • An idea called Home

    …and sometimes you turn back to look at your past, it looks right back at you, there’s a smile of understanding, and you decide to move on…

    As i looked around the room, i could see the images flash – hunting for the missing single white uniform sock which was mocking me from somewhere on the stand,  climbing up on multiple stools to nail that Ash poster on to the wall, numbering new cassettes and arranging them on the cupboard shelf,  skeptically viewing the computer when it was brought in, and then spending hours browsing, adjusting the angle of lying down on the bed to watch TV in the other room while pretending to be studying, gazing fondly at those hard earned trophies and remembering the exploits that earned them….an almost endless stream…

    There has been at least one occupant since then, but ‘I’ can still be found there, after all i spent close to a decade there… memories buried amongst books, clothes, and all those assorted things that are part of the everyday existence… forgotten heroes… part of a story that once used to be called home…

    As i left the room, there was an uneasiness that gnawed at me… it happened during every goodbye, but somehow this time I felt it was different.. and a few hours later, as i opened the door of our current place of residence in Bangalore, and gazed around in affection at the familiar settings, I sensed an understanding of the uneasiness, and remembered the words from ‘Garden State’ that I tend to quote often

    You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone
    … You’ll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it’s just gone. And you can never get it back. It’s like you get homesick for a place that doesn’t exist. I mean it’s like this rite of passage, you know.
    … I miss the idea of it. Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

    ….for even as you smile in understanding, there’s the pain of moving on, of losing touching with the ‘you’ who once were, of acknowledging the paradox of Time – which caused you to change, and the room to remain relatively unchanged..almost frozen in time….perhaps a keeper of memories that you couldn’t find space for…

    until next time, a room with a point of view

  • Home is where….

    He enjoyed the cosmopolitan version of Bangalore. One of his favourite haunts was Indiranagar. When he’d first come to Bangalore, Indiranagar’s 100 ft road had lots of trees and a few brand stores. Now the situation had been reversed. And it wasn’t just brand stores, there were restaurants – fine dining and cafes. Yes, he did hear residents complaining ever so often about how Indiranagar used to be a peaceful locality until a few years back, and now the retired folk rarely dared to come out. It wasn’t just the noise, the bustle and the pollution, there was also the problem of how costly everything had become all of a sudden. He understood their plight, but couldn’t really sympathise with them, after all he enjoyed the cosmopolitan Bangalore.

    He loved Cochin, it was the place he wanted to retire to..later, after all it was his hometown. In addition to that sentiment, there was something fitting about dying in the place you were born in, a kind of closing the circle. When he walked the streets, when he talked to people, when he looked around, he knew that he belonged to the place, and  in spite of some things he loved to hate, his love for the place was quite unconditional. But he wondered what was up with these new malls, cafe coffee days, swank cars, swankier apartments and a cost of living that was aiming for the stars. The place was, damn, becoming cosmopolitan, and he didn’t like it one bit. After all, this was the place he wanted to retire to, and he had made an image of it in his head, which he didn’t want changed.

    And thus the realisation that the cosmos always has the last laugh.

    until next time, a homing device

  • Blog…Blogger..Bloggest

    .….and after over five years of floating around the net, trying to find itself, manuscrypts seems to have found its final resting place. Of course, I’m quite sure there will be regular cosmetic changes, but yes, we won’t be shifting now. The EMIs for the domain and hosting are being paid, and there’s lots of interest. So you see, nothing much has changed, the bad jokes remain.

    So, take a look around. I’m still working on the categories, grappling with whether/how to include a blogroll (there are just so many bloggers I have to add, that I fear the list may be too long. Those familiar with the manuscrypts blog would know that I even keep links of people who haven’t updated in years). I have to clean up the brants tags, and I’ve used too few in Blogger. So, its still work in progress. Since all the blogs’ content will now be here, there should be about 5-6 posts a week. One restaurant review, a couple of personal posts and 2-3 brand/social media posts.

    What I’d love you guys to do now is give me feedback. Positive mostly…. just kidding. 😉 But seriously, have a look at ‘Type Scrypts’ and let me know whether I should categorise differently, so that its easier for you to navigate. Also give me your opinion on the relative positions of items on the sidebar. (tags, categories, archives etc). Do you like the about page? And finally, and most importantly, do you like the content, whether it be the manuscrypts kind, the restorants kind or the brants kind. Shorter? Longer? More of something you’d like to see? Lesser? (Be nice and don’t include me in the last one) 😀

    I’ll miss my old blog, these words from Garden State would express it best for me ” You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone.… You’ll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it’s just gone. And you can never get it back. It’s like you get homesick for a place that doesn’t exist. I mean it’s like this rite of passage, you know.… I miss the idea of it. Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.”

    When I first wrote the words ‘Blog…Blogger..Bloggest’, it was perhaps my own site that I had in mind. At that point, to a guy who couldn’t code for his life, it was a big step. It still is, but it also marks the end of one five year old chapter. And so, if you liked the blog, and you liked the blogger, I hope you’ll be with me as I start this new journey.

    until next time, thank you 🙂

  • Transience

    Its comforting to walk about, and intuitively know the way around, without ever having to pause and think..the familiar roads and buildings, and places that are significant thanks to the associations they have with yesteryear life.

    Its soothing to catch up with people who you haven’t spoken to in years, and still be able to have a conversation which you feel had been left off  only the day before, about friends and friends of friends, where they are and what they do..

    And as you walk around, its also a bit unsettling to find out that some old landmarks have been replaced with swanky buildings, the roads don’t look the way it used to, desolate buildings that you stare at and say “I used to know some people here”, new street names and sometimes whole new streets have cropped up.

    And when you look around, you miss a few old faces, that used to smile at you from shopfronts…nameplates that you thought would remain forever, have been replaced, bringing new characters and creating new stories.

    And sometimes, as you talk, you understand that even the old characters have changed, perhaps without even them knowing it.

    And that’s when you realise that there’s something both sweet, and sour about having a town you can call home. A home where your life and memories were shaped, and which is now being reshaped by others’ dreams, and lives.

    And as places fade away and landscapes change, you are reminded of sand slipping through your fingers, even as you try to hold on. What remains are those tiny flecks, to give you memories, and to remind you of the fleeting nature of it all…..

    until next time, mortality

  • The Aftermath

    Most of their friends and relatives were dead. They would’ve compared the WMD use to Afghanistan and Iraq. Not just in terms of the damage caused, but also because, in their view, the biggest pest around, the one who instigated all this, was still walking around. She might have agreed, thankfully she couldn’t hear them.

    until next time, read this for the big picture