staying.cool

when i was a kid, i could fly.

i would spread my cape, swell my chest, and worlds would tremble. a jump, and i was afloat in the air. a duck and a swirl, and cloud formations would part. a swoop and a dive, and i would be truly alive.

in the large beyond, in the vast expanse i had at my disposal, i could espy the enemy. i could espy those who were trapped. few, if any, were beyond redemption. a million times i was captured, a million times i faced death; and every one of those times i lived a new life. on the chance i could not fly, i was limited to the trees, i was a jungle man. burroughs would have been impressed as i swung up and around. there has been a time that a curtain cord was the best substitute for jungle vines. even if it meant collapsing the curtain on my head. my adventures continued unabated.

tables, shelves, cupboards, beds were no more; i knew only buildings and tunnels and ledges. my bat was in turn a sword, a gun, a cutlass, a bow. corners and crevices were discovered a hundred times over, secret doors opened, hidden lairs uncovered. there was no limit to where i could go, what i could do and how i could do it. the playground a few floors below afforded more possibilities than the builders would have imagined; and the fact that i had company that expanded on my concepts only made everything more real. and so much more possible.

action figures were a craze, but were limited in their stories and possibilities. i: i could be anyone - a god, a superhero, a commando, a devil, a normal man pushed to the limits, a hero who just discovered what he could do - anyone.

today, i sit in a chair and type this out. those times remain a memory; even if every adventure is played out in my head. i cannot wrap a cloth around my neck and have a cape billow out. i cannot disguise myself and save the day. there is something to be said about growing older - the possibilities that existed so easily diminish faster than you can think of them. one day, you wake up. and you find that you’re going to be 25. that life needs goals and direction. that some things are better left unsaid. that some things are so easily forgotten to be said - and that it matters. that you can get all those toys that you searched for as a kid, but can’t really play with them like you wanted to. that every single one of the things that you thought so easy back then are barely practical in real life.

i wish that i could watch someone enjoy the times the way i did, but that is not true of the world today. i want to take some one by the hand and lead them into the land of neverland. show them the bridge that needs to be crossed to be able to fly. walk with them across and watch them disappear into the sky, reform the clouds, live the dive.

maybe someday i will. and hopefully fly again.

Courtesy ‘Bridge to Terabithia’

..nothing to feel. nothing to write.

apathy kills.

its finally done. harry potter 7 is out. 72 million copies have been sold in 72 hours, including nearly 150 copies a second in the first hour of release.

i still remember my mom plonking down books 1-4 all the way back in 2000. ’twas when ‘the goblet of fire’ was released, and i plunged into the world of wizards, witches and magic. for a kid who has long tried to levitate playing cards having seen kered do it in the strips, this was a bit of a dream. my sis and i launched into a reading competition, to which there was an obvious winner.

the world was beautifully detailed, something i recognized as being a gift of tolkein. and now that the series is done, i can say that it contained something more too, the additional element of the jigsaw puzzle. and dollops of my beloved sense of english humor.
mind you, no real comparison can be done to tolkein though: similar worlds, but the approach and the audience are very different.

i did not anticipate book 5 and 6 like everyone. there was no pre-ordering for me. get the books within the first week seemed good enough. then of course, a 2 year wait for the seventh ensured much more on my part.

one very obvious point i realized within 30 pages of the book is that ‘this is a book‘. to me the sixth was a glorified screenplay. the work and effort in this book are obvious from the word go. this has been in the making since book one. most importantly, this was probably part of the sixth book before she realized she had put too much into it (or maybe it was the publisher). and so we had an average sixth with choppy writing, obvious screenplay notions etcetera. and now the seventh. in all its grandeur. and completely worth it.

the series is finally over. the fifth and sixth undoubtedly had some very heavy-heart moments, but this one - this one had shock and sorrow unmatched. i had to re-read some passages to let them sink in completely.

i’m sad.
but now i’m trying to figure a way to read all 7 together. for the sake of some very memorable characters. and some great page-turning.

after all, it always about finding that little bit of magic.

as most of the sentient world not living under a rock knows… harry potter’s final instalment came out on saturday.
given my luck in such matters, i’m reading the book on monday.

having pre-ordered the book almost 5 months ago, i had decided to ship it to my college.. seeing as i wasn’t too sure of my address.

then, last week, amazon hooked me with an offer for $5 for receiving the book on the day. naturally, i suckered.
naturally, i missed the fact that i had shipped the book to college. on a saturday. in summer.

i wasn’t seeing the book anytime soon.

i went back to change the book - duh - but duh me, i remembered this fact on the day they finalized the order. good job, sev.

desperation dictated that on friday i attempted to track the book. it was in NJ, no details where… UPS only undertook shipping on this one. USPS was obviously sketchy about details given the 10m pounds invested in security. even in response to possibly holding the package for me. possibly if i called on saturday morning at 1030am i could know more ?

saturday, 10am. i called.
the supervisor is put on.
i check about the package headed for my department on a day that my college is closed.

matter-of-factly, i was told that my package was picked up by the rutgers postal service, which apparently functions even when rutgers is closed to the world.
oh, and it had been picked up half-an-hour ago. possibly an earlier call could have saved me the trouble of waiting until monday.

DAMNIT.

i tried desperately. to no avail. whoever the pickup was, they weren’t near any phone i could reach.

and so, monday it was. i spent the weekend playing incommunicado to the internet.
and monday, playing incommunicado to everyone.

a possibly scary look at how far the lack of privacy due to google can go.

[via google blogoscoped]

*shudder*

it has been a year and a day since bombay fell victim to 7 blasts in 11 minutes, wounding over one thousand people; bringing the city to a standstill. it took less than 6 hours for the city to get moving again, with people using the same lines that were victim to explosions.

it has been a year and a day and less than 200 of them have received any kind of compensation, other than that initial helping hand from other people.

it has been a year and a day and seven accused men were arrested. they also “apparently” confessed; which they later retracted.

it has been a year and a day and the pakistan ISI has only been said to be strongly suspected of “having a hand” in such an obvious terrorist act. as far as i have found, no other action has been taken against pakistan or the isi. india apparently remains the lone accuser - no other country seems to even be bothered.

it has been a year and a day and bombay is back to its old self. people today barely remember there were blasts. and even if they do, so what ?

terror is a part of their daily life.

[all data from the wikipedia]

Incidentally the Wikipedia has no less than 3 entries for Bombay blasts. Go figure.