Posted:
Going,Going,Gone-1
"We suffer more often in imagination than in reality." Seneca (c. 4 BC AD 65).
Darkness,near darkness is when i step out of my home and in the still,chill air of the night and dawn.I stop and ponder on the words twilight and wonder why it is used only when night takes over day and not when day takes over night for it is all about dark,light and yes,shadows.
Maybe i will say this for the very first time,a word i have coined to describe the coming dawn.For that magic moment when birds wake up,stars are fading in the first light of the sun over the horizon and that magic hour should be henceforth called Dwilight.
The light and might of the sun chases out,blots out most of the bodies that lie outside its family and control and only the mirror of a moon hangs in the sky, a sliver,crescent like and sometimes like a small planet.
With my favourite music lulling my breath and steps,i am lost in my own imaginary world and take no great notice of the passing buildings as they loom all around me.
But,sometimes,when my work or an errand takes me out in the day and to the haunts of the dwilight,it never fails to amaze me as to the changing landscape that has quietly taken over Besant nagar.
Gone,are two floor,single floor and only ground floor apartments that were built in the early 1970's and that change is really visible in Mico and Benco colonies.
The old structures have been replaced by new four floored structures by Ramaniam constructions and they gleam white and with chrome fittings here and there and announce to the world boldly that a change has come and that they belong to the 21st century.
I am a simpleton,simple minded man and i stand and gawk in awe and with a coat of tears at the grave of old buildings on which new graves stand with new souls.
I knew many in those now disappeared buildings and i knew and had loved dearly many a four legged furry ones that used to lie outside those vanished buildings waiting for scraps,biscuits and many a time just a gentle pat of love reminding them that they were not alone in this struggle called life.
A quarter of a century gone and with it gone many oldie friends,familiar faces whose names i could not remember then and cannot do now and will not in the future.
I remember a man in the first floor of the block opposite my block and all you could see him do was smoke from morning to evening in solitude in the small balcony,solitary man even with a wife and son inside the walls.
He went missing and then came back and i remember standing in the road and waving to him and gesturing like a handicapped person,enquiring how he was faring.Well,he went back to his battle station in the balcony like a lone warrior in a lone outpost in the frontiers of life and desolation and a few months later vanished all together from this existence called the living.
I trudged the steps and paid my respects and they told me that he had been suffering from throat cancer and that he had come back from surgery and chemo and once fine had gone back to his destiny of smoking that would take him away.
I remember Meganathan,my opposite flat neighbor,a soft spoken man with an even softer spoken wife and his trials with a failing and ailing heart and still nurture fond memories of him although our friendship was short lived and he died within a year of moving in to that flat.
An amateur poet,a bumbling one but still an amateur poet i am nevertheless and sometimes the poet in me transcends the prose and grammar that are the boundaries inside which writings have to be created.
But,a poet,regardless of his skill levels has no boundaries to tie him and cage him and so i too step out and sometimes stop in my tracks and in the gathering dawn sing odes to buildings and the souls who once lived inside the buildings.
The old TNHB( Tamil nadu housing board) structures still stand and stand strong in vain for the very people who dwell inside are plotting its demise.
Maybe,the buildings are rejoicing that they are being born anew with new foundations,new limbs and skin.
Yet,the buildings of the 20th century are taking a stand and putting up a stiff battle against the rampaging and fast advancing 21st century buildings for the old men and women,mostly born during the era of Mahatma have decided that they are happy with their life within their old walls and ancient memories.
It is at once a strange sight and at once a tragic sight to see an old,faded,cracked low cost building standing next to a brand new four or even five floored building although to my eyes they appear different.
I see two centuries colliding.I see old and new colliding.I see generations that are separated by generations colliding and it does make for a tale,a mega story that maybe i will write someday.Maybe,just maybe.
"We suffer more often in imagination than in reality." Seneca (c. 4 BC AD 65).
Darkness,near darkness is when i step out of my home and in the still,chill air of the night and dawn.I stop and ponder on the words twilight and wonder why it is used only when night takes over day and not when day takes over night for it is all about dark,light and yes,shadows.
Maybe i will say this for the very first time,a word i have coined to describe the coming dawn.For that magic moment when birds wake up,stars are fading in the first light of the sun over the horizon and that magic hour should be henceforth called Dwilight.
The light and might of the sun chases out,blots out most of the bodies that lie outside its family and control and only the mirror of a moon hangs in the sky, a sliver,crescent like and sometimes like a small planet.
With my favourite music lulling my breath and steps,i am lost in my own imaginary world and take no great notice of the passing buildings as they loom all around me.
But,sometimes,when my work or an errand takes me out in the day and to the haunts of the dwilight,it never fails to amaze me as to the changing landscape that has quietly taken over Besant nagar.
Gone,are two floor,single floor and only ground floor apartments that were built in the early 1970's and that change is really visible in Mico and Benco colonies.
The old structures have been replaced by new four floored structures by Ramaniam constructions and they gleam white and with chrome fittings here and there and announce to the world boldly that a change has come and that they belong to the 21st century.
I am a simpleton,simple minded man and i stand and gawk in awe and with a coat of tears at the grave of old buildings on which new graves stand with new souls.
I knew many in those now disappeared buildings and i knew and had loved dearly many a four legged furry ones that used to lie outside those vanished buildings waiting for scraps,biscuits and many a time just a gentle pat of love reminding them that they were not alone in this struggle called life.
A quarter of a century gone and with it gone many oldie friends,familiar faces whose names i could not remember then and cannot do now and will not in the future.
I remember a man in the first floor of the block opposite my block and all you could see him do was smoke from morning to evening in solitude in the small balcony,solitary man even with a wife and son inside the walls.
He went missing and then came back and i remember standing in the road and waving to him and gesturing like a handicapped person,enquiring how he was faring.Well,he went back to his battle station in the balcony like a lone warrior in a lone outpost in the frontiers of life and desolation and a few months later vanished all together from this existence called the living.
I trudged the steps and paid my respects and they told me that he had been suffering from throat cancer and that he had come back from surgery and chemo and once fine had gone back to his destiny of smoking that would take him away.
I remember Meganathan,my opposite flat neighbor,a soft spoken man with an even softer spoken wife and his trials with a failing and ailing heart and still nurture fond memories of him although our friendship was short lived and he died within a year of moving in to that flat.
An amateur poet,a bumbling one but still an amateur poet i am nevertheless and sometimes the poet in me transcends the prose and grammar that are the boundaries inside which writings have to be created.
But,a poet,regardless of his skill levels has no boundaries to tie him and cage him and so i too step out and sometimes stop in my tracks and in the gathering dawn sing odes to buildings and the souls who once lived inside the buildings.
The old TNHB( Tamil nadu housing board) structures still stand and stand strong in vain for the very people who dwell inside are plotting its demise.
Maybe,the buildings are rejoicing that they are being born anew with new foundations,new limbs and skin.
Yet,the buildings of the 20th century are taking a stand and putting up a stiff battle against the rampaging and fast advancing 21st century buildings for the old men and women,mostly born during the era of Mahatma have decided that they are happy with their life within their old walls and ancient memories.
It is at once a strange sight and at once a tragic sight to see an old,faded,cracked low cost building standing next to a brand new four or even five floored building although to my eyes they appear different.
I see two centuries colliding.I see old and new colliding.I see generations that are separated by generations colliding and it does make for a tale,a mega story that maybe i will write someday.Maybe,just maybe.
Kumkum Bhagya
Tu Dhadkan Main Dil
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
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