The DRAGON of an Energy Within

As I browsed through some old pictures that I clicked as someone with a new found interest in photography, I came across a picture of a Gothic architectural piece that captured my fascination like it never had before, even stranger was that it had always been there waiting for me to take notice of it. Dragon sculptures have been one of the most exploited features of Gothic architecture and why shouldn’t they be after all they have long been an embodiment of enormous strength and a courage which doesn’t mean absence of fear but the existence of something far more important than fear. They have been featured everywhere from the cathedral tympanums to the gargoyles which drain out water. If that’s not all then there are the stories spun in mythology and folklore about them which span continents and every culture has conceived its own native version.

The first time I came across these fanciful creatures was through the Chinese cartoons where the creatures had long serpentine bodies with large fearsome fire-breathing whiskered heads. There were both benevolent and malevolent dragons and in the particular cartoon show that I remember, a red dragon (malevolent) and a white dragon (benevolent) battle again each other across the skies over a village and towards the end culminating into one to create a richly coloured golden dragon, the sacred protector of the village. I instantly fell in love with the symbolism – synchronising the aggressor and harmonious to bring out the best in oneself. We have our very own native version of the dragon – The Seshnāga, I knew them more as Lord Vishnu’s recliner. I apologise for being blasphemous. Then there is the evil five-hooded serpent, the Kāliyā, who was defeated by a dancing juvenile Krishna. These Indian serpents are designed to look more like Chinese dragons in the Thai or Malay or Indonesian adaptation of the mythology. The dragon territories were then diversified by the Greco-Roman and the Norse mythology. They made such lovely bedtime stories. A same culture seems to have mothered all other culture, it but another diaspora.

Growing up, I came across the Dragonheart – the best dragon movie with the best “dragon-effects” and yes, for a change a male dragon which I realised later on. Later, Harry Potter happened to me which plunged me into this new found world of sorcery laden with every mythical creature encountered in the Greek and Roman mythology. Many thanks to Ms. JK Rowling and the Goblet of Fire. Would it be same without the ruthless Hungarian Horntail of a mother that Potter was to get across? I wish there were as detailed descriptions of the Chinese Fireball, the Common Welsh Green and the Swedish Short-Snout. I wish I could in real life run into some Charlie Weasley who rears dragons in Romania and wish I could have Hagrid’s Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback for a pet.  Finally, I think I should get a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Salamander (note the play of words in the name).

However, the same creatures were cast in my favourite manner by Mr. JRR Tolkien. Though there weren’t many of them, but then Smaug satisfied my palate. Reflections on the power accorded to these gigantic creatures, the fire they breathed was sure to destroy the One-Ring but there being no more of the kind after Smaug, the entire journey to the Mount Doom had to be undertaken, hence, the legend of the Lord of the Rings is born! His creations are a complete epic in themselves. Oh, there was this creature which could come in as a close ancestor to the dragons, the Nazgûl-birds. It’s possible they were once benign dragons fallen to the power of Lord Sauron who turned them into evil just as he did to the Ringwraiths. One must definitely see the last flick, The Return of the King. 

Last night I finished watching the Eragon. It had been on my mind ever since it was released over two years ago and last night was when I finally got through with it. In fact, the tale of Eragon and Saphira inspired me to type down this post. The bond the dragon shares with it’s rider that his death results in the death of the dragon as well and that dragon would  wait forever to hatch from it’s egg if it has to before it finds its rider. It’s the again the hidden power that needs a the guidance of conscious soul. Most importantly, it’s been emphasized in every creation about them that the blood of a dragon has magical properties. Another dragon that I instantly fell in love with was Mushu, the cute little red guardian spirit of Mulan.

Talking about how some people are crazy for dragons, the Welsh national flag features a dragon which goes by the name of Y Ddraig Goch. Just so you know, it is always a red coloured dragon which defeated the white coloured Saxon dragon. And more, there’s a proposal to alter the union flag of Great Britain so as to feature the Welsh Dragon on it. Speculating further on the matter, I think the Scottish Loch Nessie could be a distant relative to the Goch. Speculating further, I feel they are the imaginative descendants of our prehistoric friend the Pterodactyl thought they were discovered only in the late 18^th century and the dragon legends predate the event. “MAYBE”, they were discovered by someone long back and spun into tales which would survive for ages and ages. But we have a big maybe in double quotes! Oh damn, how I love speculating.

Now, when I have typed all that, it’s time for some afterthought. Incidentally, the word dragon derives from the Greek drakōn from Greek derkomai which means “I see clearly”. Does that mean anything further? Why are most of the dragons females? HP has more female dragons mentioned in the books than the male ones. Sephira is again a female dragon! I am back to the same thought stream as when I think why all hurricane names are feminine. Is it because of the power they posses? But hell, men are physically stronger than women. Then, maybe it doesn’t have to deal with physical strength at all. Maybe, it is because it calls for both physical and emotional integrity, an inherently feminine trait, which sanctuaries great power. “With great power there must also come - great responsibility.” A woman when benign is a nurturer and when infuriated she is nothing short of a catastrophe and then, women are more responsible which is a very emotional trait. We in India worship the Goddess Shakti, the active feminine energy. So, all these dragons in all the various cultures speak of something - the immense reservoir of energy that lies hidden in each one of us and which if unchecked could reduced the world to ashes - we need to tap this potential and bring out the compassionate dragons in us, the highest level of personal development. I am already bonding with my Dragon, she is called Gnosiofera.

A Little Love Story

Lady Rosanne Ran into Sir Damien
At the royal regatta in Cayenne.

Strangers, acquaintances, friends, lovers.

A love so red that made the most crimson rose blush.
An affair of the hearts which was also kept hush hush.

Lovers, consort, parents, and grandparents.

31 summers later oblivious again
With their house masse-en
At Cayenne.

55 Fiction

G was bored and lazily browsed through the limp WebPages.

It had been days since she had written something that kept her obsessed until she came across the addictive idea - 55 fiction - a sure something that is going to keep her glued to it for some (maybe long) time.

Yes, my first 55 fiction story!

Attachments of the Trivial Kind

I never knew that an early morning bath would make me this sick! I have been nursing a bad bout of cold for the last three days and it is still as persistent as ever, cannot believe I have my nose and throat blocked in this sweltering weather which could literally fry eggs on the pavement. And now that I have my olfactory avenues are all stuffed and I am oblivious of all the smells and odours around me, I think of the various smells that remind and reminded me of so many things. Each smell weaves a singular story in itself.

How strange it is that the smell from freshly washed hair of every person is so...umm...indescribable. I wish I knew the word that could be used to describe such a fragrance. Though the fragrance of the hair product used makes a huge difference, but a non-fragrant shampoo wouldn’t fail to create a similar. I remember as a child clinging to Ma, my nose buried in her freshly washed wet hair, when she stepped out of the bath. I have found the same smell in the hair of all the men that I have dated; it is so pure - maybe as pure as the smell from the hot soil when it is cooled by the first spell of rain.

Lately I have also come to realise how I get so attached to little things in my life. I remember losing a pendrive way back in my senior year of college, I missed it terribly then and spilled gallons of tears over it! Yeah, tears are like always on the brink of spilling out of my eyes but that was a good pendrive. Same with my cellphone, though I know that I have lost it and it’s not coming back, when I hear the old ringtone ringing I start rummaging my pockets and bag only to let the realisation set in that it’s another goner.

Getting back to smells, I use a certain nails and hands lotion which has this peculiar smell that reminds me Grandma’s pickled mangoes. Curious, is it not? Yet again, there’s this smell of sundried clothes washed in surf excel that remind me of Ma and makes me feel so warm and safe. Ma’s wardrobe smells so pleasantly of it. And Dad still smells of some cologne he used long back though he doesn’t use it any longer, it seems that fragrance has stuck to his personality or maybe it was always the smell of his persona.

Then there are the scary smells, I detested and to this day detest the smell of diesel from the public buses. I have suffered from motion sickness for a long time and this particular odour happens to be single reason to which the cause can be attributed. I also remember being told as child that one could also smells snakes and I thought that I did smell one on some such occasion. I was never the kind who would go chasing after a snake but I do remember giving one particular snaky creature the fright of its life. Rather we both scared the life out of each other and backed away at such awesome speeds! It was on that night I realised that they were as scared of us as we were wary of them.

However, the most heavenly fragrance is the fragrance of love. How one tends to attach oneself to the smells and odours and fragrances of the one person one is in love with. Having been in a romantic relationship for a brief period of my life, I remember how I had become attached to the fragrance that was soaked in his shirt, his skin and I would smell it around me when I was alone. It’s eerie. I always thought it to be his deodorant but only later realised it was more of his sweat than anything else. I never knew the smell of sweat could be so intoxicating, is it not supposed to stink? There have also been a couple of occasions that I have picked up the same fragrances while passing by total strangers and it’s plunged into such nostalgic desires of longing.

But then, it is very human to be human, I am sure. We readily attach ourselves to these really trivial phenomena, and these become permanently etched in our memories like the beautifully stained glass works. Just as easy it is to recall the stories associated with them, as difficult it is to get rid of them. They stay on like the decorative vestiges.

98840***** reinstated...

...as the chief wand to my magical contacts circle.

Yup, trying to make it sound like “Dumbledore reinstated as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot ” and totally failing at it. Never mind!

Now the reason I sound so high spirited - nah, I am not drunk. Drinking and driving is totally against the law. There are so many analogies between driving and writing because both of them could be equally dangerous under intoxication. With the former, you never know what you are going to hit into and with the latter you never know what you are going to hit at. What the beep (nope, this is not exactly a family blog but still no swear words)! Khay, so where was I? Yes, the reason I am so high spirited tonight but I guess it’s not too drunk to have had only a couple of drinks knowing that I have a good stamina, that is what I believe and so do Cat and Newt too! Cat is pathetic with spirits but very entertaining once she is drunk and Newt she is...umm what? I forgot the words, never mind again.

So, back to square one, I am high spirited tonight because I am finally in touch with the part of me that had been separated from me by some sonofabeep. Over a week ago some sonofabeep flicked my cellphone, it was a Navigator! Right to property might have been a fundamental right some time back, but it’s been ages since it got retracted, and right so someone else’s property is definitely not a right! It’s totally wrong! I miss my phone. But I have the right to freedom of speech and expression and I shalt have it!

Anyways, I managed to get to the Vodafone store today before eight, and yes now my cellphone number is all up and functioning and ringing non-stop (Das ist nicht zehr gut)! But still yippie! And it’s my old K350i from college and Dad hates this phone and that is why he got me a Navigator in the first place so I’d stop using K350i. I miss Dad! I miss Navigator!

Errr, now that I have my cellphone number back, he still has not called me up! He has forgotten me. Nobody called me up over the last week when I didn’t have a phone! People could be so callous at times. Gosh! I am still such a hopeless romantic, but no, I am not going to call him up! Maybe tomorrow in the morning, but definitely not tonight when I am all so weird! Pushing the thought aside. Tomorrow, rather in a few hours people across the country will be celebrating Uttarayan. Happy Uttarayan! I wish I was home! And the thought pushes back at me hard, should I call him up? Yes, no, no, no, no, yes why not, no, yes, nooooooo! Fine, don’t call him up! Too many exclamatory marks there I guess! One more there! And lo! One more and more! Khay, I really need to get some sleep now.

Blink...blink...

The Today

Like always I reached my workplace late (we don’t have flexi timings), made it there at 9:10:57 (the time displayed on the fingerprint scanner). Had I made it before 9:05, I would have been considered to have come on time. So, I got late by a bloody 5 minutes and whatever seconds. This is my daily morning routine, take a 21G at 8:30, then a 54 or M49 at 8:40, and try to get to work by 8:55 but that rarely works out as there is a considerable idle (waiting) time in the process, thought I’ve made it to work on time on more than a surprising number of occasions, but somehow punctuality is a difficult tea to drink, or maybe vodka, I find it too bitter to sip, have to tipple the whole of it down my throat. Otherwise, Chennai has a fairly decent city transport service, however, they are all always overflowing with people, carrying thrice their actual capacity I believe or maybe it’s only twice but it’s still more than the rated capacity.

I work with this Business Development Cell and my manager (A) is really cool. A never minds my turning up late everyday. It was to be my first busy day in the last 6 months since I’ve had my first ever full-time job. I was receiving offers for all the product enquiries I had sent over the last week. The work day was all reading mails, replying to them, calling up the suppliers, clarifying and making queries, in short really busy. Also, there was this call I had to make to one of the suppliers. Let’s call this gentleman D. D called me up confirm if I had received their offer which I did. About an hour later, I called up D as there were a few things in the offer I did not understand. D explained me things for a good half hour and by this time my head had gone whizzy and damn, flirt bug had bitten me bad and then there was this moral self in me that said “Darling, try behaving like a professional once” and I reasoned with myself that I am happy being an amateur flirt, don’t want to be a professional flirt so soon. Khay, I can crack PJ’s with myself, I know. Anyways, D had a nice voice and was very courteous. Towards the end of our discussion, D cleared his throat and hesitated when he asked this, “So S (yup, that's me), you are not from Chennai, are you?” I had to muster all my will so that I did not make any cheeky replies. Boy, was that tough? I hung up five minutes later, giggling. And for all you wondering, no, I did not get asked out for lunch or dinner or anything.

Also, there’s this sweet kid (R) who occupies the cubicle next to mine. Though, he’s not really a kid, but he’s a chartered accountant, totally naïve and uncorrupted. So, I call him a kid. When he has the urge to laugh, he has to rush to bathroom to laugh out all loud, which he does quite often. R told in the morning about the Satyam fracas. I was so busy all morning; I could not logon to timesofindia.com which I usually check every hour. However, the Satyam fraud was the biggest story of the day, the confession letter from Mr. Ramalinga Raju, the plummeting share prices, all the speculation, it sure must have been a crazy day for the lot. And then R began speculating on PwC’s collusion in the fraud.

Finally, on my way back to my place, I came across two middle-aged gentlemen debating over Satyam’s market-close share prices and in the night, when I called my little brother to check up on him, he asked me, “Did you learn of the Satyam fraud?” When I answered in affirmative, he enquired, “When?” I replied it must have haven been around eleven then. He said, “Oh, I did not get to know about it until some time later!” Then the usual stuff about his grades that he always tries not to discuss with me thought this I congratulated him on his performance which he again defended saying that it was not good. The guy cannot take either a compliment or a criticism from me, but he’s a good child.

That was today, and now it’s goodnight.

Nostalgia - New Year, Old Memories

Though this might be another post for the series titled Nostalgia but, no dear reader, it’s not digging up old graves. Let one subtly put it as taking a nice light stroll down the memory lane. It doesn’t concern a specific memory or event but rather the whole chain of happenings happening around us that we were too absorbed to take even little notice of or give a thought or two to. I dedicate this post to the music and the adfilms that people from my generation grew up listening to and watching.

Before going to bed on the New Year’s Eve, I had this urge in me to listen to this old number “Someone out there” by Code Red. I am not sure how many people still remember but they were touring this part of the world about 10 years ago, they released a single with Asha Bhonsle and were driving girls crazy with their boyhood. How could we forget the phenomenon that we were so much a part of? Remember the boyband mania that gripped us like bad bouts of flu which would make us get together in groups and swing to the melodies of OTT, Backstreet Boys, The Moffats, Boyzone, A1, Westlife, 911 and so many more and not forgetting the girl bands, Spice Girls, Solid Harmonie, B*Witched, Dixie Chicks, Destiny’s Child, well, until they all split up. How naive were we then!  Though, it’s nice to see groups like PCD still making it big, the new age girl power music. However, now our mature music sense translates into rock and metal bands like “Linkin Park, Avril Lavigne, Pink Floyd, Scorpions, Eagles, etc.” and “Def Lepard, Korn, Iron Maiden, Rammstein, Pantera, etc.” respectively, but I am not complaining. I like my new music so much better, so much more like me – rebellious, gregarious, high-spirited, loud, passionate!

Now what really got me going with this post did not take place until the first morning of 2009 when my dear friend Ghanshu (as we so affectionately call him) decided to im me url’s of old adfilms on youtube. It started with the dusty old advertisement for Hajmola masterji, and making its way to Vicks ki goli lo, khich khich door karo. I was so immersed in the feeling of nostalgia (How I wish there were a word without the root ‘algos’ and instead the Greek root for joy!) by now that I spent the next two hours cleaning off dust and cobwebs that had settled on a section of my memories. It was pure joy watching the ‘Mile sur mera tumhara’ and ‘Purab se surya uga’ (The National Literacy Mission Promotional Film), running across my then favourite Cadbury ad: “Kuch khaas hai hum sabhi mein”; the Mentos, “fresh goes better, fresh goes fresher with mentos fresh and full of life”, “I love you...Rasna” and humara Bajaj, “Buland Bharat ki buland tasveer”. Remember the Titan piano theme, or the catchy Complan song “The skirt can’t you see, is so high above the knee, but I am growing mummy. You play basketball and don’t come when I call, but I am growing mummy. You put doggie up so high, can you please tell me why, but I am growing mummy!” All of it feels so vintage now, like those semi-precious nuggets which adorn the antique shops. It makes me sigh and gaze and smile to myself.

Wow, time is swift, it does race by.