Random Blog Talk

i was checking my blog stats yesterday, when a regular blogger went, ‘just 2000 views!’. Bust went my bubble. I was thrilled with the views i was getting. Well, i do obsess over my blog stats, but I just didn’t realize that 20 clicks a day was dismal.

Of course, this was followed by a two line discourse on getting more clicks. ‘Writing things that people really want to read about is the key,’ thus spake the blogging guru.

The thought doesn’t excite me. I write this blog to unwind after a hard day at work. Its a place for me to put my thoughts up. And its wrong to let the so called public demand manipulate my thoughts. So, I will not be bothered by the slow pace at which the clicks on my blog are going. All I care about is writing…

Since I am writing about my thoughts, I have something to say about the trees in five gardens. The trees in five gardens have been around  for along time. They are so dense that on a sunny day, you will none of the sun rays on the walking track.

Every morning, the sun plays hide n seek with the leaves. Hundreds of birds have made these trees their home (and that’s the reason why you find bird crap on your t-shirt occasionally…lol) When it rains, you can just hide under on of the trees and you will be safe from the rain for at least 10 minutes.

But this morning a couple of them lay broken… Not trimmed but heartlessly chopped. Why? Because they have gotten too big… How many times are we going to ignore the valuable gifts bestowed upon us by the nature???

Follow the sound of silence

There’s something about Simon&Garfunkel that makes you think think think. Here’s a story.

Saturday evening. An exercise addict who had decided that this was going to be a day of rest has ventured out. The grey clouds covered the setting sun and a cool breeze rustled the leaves. The dogs in the park barked playfully and children cooed and shrieked with glee. She did not want to listen to them; she plugged her ear phones and started walking. The radio was playing songs that didn’t mean much. She was restless, flipping through the radio, skipping to the walk. Suddenly, she heard a familiar tune. “Hello darkness my old friend,” and she stopped for a minute. The line just connected with her. The sound of silence breezed through her mind.

‘Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence’

Sang the duo to the arpeggios in the background, just as a huge group of women passed her, their lips moving frantically, but the girl heard only the sounds of silence. She looked up at the swishing trees and the numerous ongoing cricket games on the ground. She wanted to be alone. She turned into a lonely street and walked in the sound of silence.

‘In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
’neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence’

The light nearly blinded her and reminded her she wasn’t alone. She couldn’t be alone in this city, bustling with people at all hours. Solitude is a luxury here. And yet, people surrounded by people are lonely within, helpless and lonely. They have forgotten how to long for a friend or a companion. Friends are people who might help you in your career. Every relationship is a result of a vested interest. And yet, you are never alone.

‘And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence’

But she felt a fierce need to belong somewhere. The fancy cars, with fancy lights failed to excite her. She pitied the guys flashing the fancy mobiles and gizmos. She can’t belong here, so she seeked Silence. Solitude. Sobreity.

She walked alone, locking herself away from the world. She ignored the calls flashing on her mobile. She wanted to catch the sounds of silence.

‘Fools said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence’

She jacks up the volume on her ear-piece, and drowns herself in the song. She only wants to listen to more of it. For a moment, she closes her eyes to see what the sound of silence feels like.

In the world outside her earphones a loud screech and a honk, and she falls to the ground, the headphones separated from the phone, it continues to play the song she was engulfed in and a mob gathers around her.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said, the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whispered in the sounds of silence.’

And she’s still listening to the sound of silence…

Walkin’ along

The morning was unsure of the season. The sun shone bright enough to evaporate the dew drops, but the light breeze blew cool air to ruffle up the leaves. Morning walkers paced down the road, carefully dodging the parked vehicles, stray dogs and other morning walkers. Some youngsters, very few of them woke up to walk early in the morning anyway, ran along choosing the blaring music on their ipods over the light twitter of early morning birds.

 

I observed this scene everyday. Some came regularly, some showed up one day and never again. But they all had their reasons.

 

Some strangers had become friends over the innumerable walks in the ‘walkers’ lane’. I loved following the gang of oldies that only increased each day. They had long stopped walking for exercise. Under the pretext of exercise, they came scavenging for a social life. Retired, lonely and bored at home, they found friends here. Each day, they scanned the newspapers, news channels to look for the topic of discussion for the next days’ ‘morning walk’.

 

They saw the world from their point of view, where the youngsters were rude, the politicians were corrupt and prices way too high… This sounds familiar, oh yes, I was visiting one of the neighbourhood homes, and there was some song playing that said something about Sunscreen. This gang had literally lived through some of those lyrics.

 

The totally opposite wonder of this gang was a young couple, who came dressed for the walk. Elaborate sport gear with tick marks all over, earphones plugged in and they walked to the rhythm of whatever it was that played on their iPods. Time to time they looked at each other and smiled.

 

They never spoke, they walked and they smiled. They never had the time to observe other walkers. They would be busy walking and smiling. They looked like a happy lot.

 

On the other hand, the lady with the jewellery never smiled. She walked alone, everyday for an hour. She, too saw the familiar faces. Unlike the couple, she observed them, but never did a smile escape her lips. If someone did smile, she would look away. In fact the over friendly woman, I’ll tell you more about her later, once made an attempt to befriend her and walk with her. But the lady cut her off and walked away.

 

The over-friendly woman walked everyday for more than an hour and a half. Her walking companions kept changing through the morning, but she had a jolly good time walking. You’d think she’d slow down to catch her breath, but some lungs she has. She walks and speaks at the same steady peace. She was always accompanied by an entourage of youngsters who seemed to enjoy her talks. They came to her with their agonies about love, career, money and many more. Being the older and the wiser one, she happily sorts things out for them. They love her company and make time to rise up for the morning walks.

 

Am I the only one getting bored with this whole routine? Like many other things, observing them all through the morning was very interesting in the beginning. But now, now I am bored. I know what I need to know, but I wonder what kind of a life they lead after their morning walks.

 

I am too weak to follow them along to their homes, many of them drive to the walkers’ road you see. But I want to know more. I know enough about the old men and women, they don’t excite me. The young couple who keeps smiling does. They drive to the walk everyday, I assume they live far away. She is pretty, she is slim, dusky complexion, expressive eyes. She is pretty. He is tall and well built, intense face, with eyes that rarely express. She is the one who drives when they come, but he drives away after the walk. They have struck a balance, or are they trying to strike a balance?

 

I wish I could follow their car. I wish I could get into their car, but not many people welcome stray dogs in their car…