As Far As The Eyes Stray

There lies a green expanse,

As far as the eyes stray,

There is no beginning and no end,

Similar to the space in my grey,

As hard can it be, I try

But no words come to the fray,

As far as the eyes stray

How far do I walk, how far do I go,

Wonder I measuring the distance that lay,

Beyond what I see, there lies a mystery,

My heart propels me, but the mind says stay,

As far as the eyes stray

As hard can it be, I try

Oh for once will I overcome,

Take that step, move forward come what may,

The sun shines bright and there’s no turning back,

How could I not see before, the only way,

As far as the eyes stray.

Reliving Childhood Memories

Chennai is a place that holds a special place in my heart and Marina Beach is my favorite of what I remember of my childhood here. En route to the railway station we halted at Marina beach to spend some time there.

            Though it was almost midday, the cloudy sky gave altogether a different feeling. As I stood there in front of those splashing waves, I became reminiscent of my childhood days. I was about five or six years old when I had first come to Chennai, then known as Madras. Even after seventeen years I still remember the street, where I used to live very distinctly. There was a huge temple complex characterized by the Dravidian style shikar and a big stepped water tank. (This a regular feature of a South Indian Hindu Temple.)The sea was about half a kilometer away from our house and I used to spend my most evenings on the terrace, playing as the sun seemed to sink in the sea.

Those were the days of fun, laughter and play. My mind was oblivious to the world I was to step in. How I wish that innocence comes back. I was so secure and everything was so familiar in that small world of mine, when all my troubles could just vanish by running to my mother. How happy I felt to be in my father's arms as he lifted me up towards the sky. Though I can't go back, these are my forever cherished sweet memories.

Coming back to the present, standing on the very shores of the beach where I first came to know the sea, the place where I built my first sand castle, had my first horse ride, collected my first sea-shells, and where I overcame the fear of waves; gave me an inexpressible feeling of satisfaction.

Another thing that fascinated me was that I had spent a considerable portion of my childhood along the Bay of Bengal. First, it was in Chennai and then Vishakhapatnam (a port city). Later on I lived in Calcutta (Kolkata), which is strictly speaking not on the coast but is not far off. That's why I suppose I have developed a certain kind of bond with the Bay of Bengal. Its violent grey water has always emitted a certain kind of warmth for me. Though its been infamous for churning out many dangerous storms and cyclones, I could relate to its various moods.

As I stood there, the sea propelled high furious waves threatening to demolish everything that comes in its way. The grey water of the sea reflected the stormy clouds in the sky. A storm warning as been sounded and most of the fishermen's boats stood on the coast, though a few were seen braving the storm. And there I felt at home standing, waiting for the waves to wash my feet. After all I grew up along the sea. A strange nostalgia shrouded me and made me reluctant to leave.

My destination was calling and I had to move on.

My Soul Wishes to Escape

Sitting here in my room,

I dream of far away places,

Caught in the humdrum,

My soul wishes to escape,

Away from the subjection,

Away from the probation,

Where the sun shines,

And the skies are cloudless,

Where I could fly,

And have no fear of falling,

Where there is no pain,

And no shadows to follow,

Where I could be just me.

As the unending expanse of green meadows,

Beckons me towards the unreal,

I begin to fade away,

The line dividing real and imaginary blurs,

The dream becomes real,

My heart believes what it wants.

As I am drawn to the enigma,

My mind suddenly overcomes

My dream shatters,

I hurtle back into the real,

I see walls closing on to me,

The struggle begins again,

I pace to keep up with life.

Only evidence of my momentary rendezvous,

I am numbed by my own pain,

As the tears fell down my cheeks.

PERCEPTIONS ABOUT ARCHITECTURE

"What is architecture?" Pose this question to an architect and he will have ten variations to the answer concluding again that it is subject to individual interpretations. But today let's explore the other facet of the perception. So the altered question will be like, "what is architecture to a commoner?"

            One day my housemaid asked me what do you study. I suspect the number of sheets and other weird objects littering around every nook and corner of my house was the culprit in raising her curiosity. Now, this was a new dilemma to me. How do I explain to her that I am a designer? Explaining this simple yet so complex thing required me to conform myself to my housemaid's limited understanding. This suddenly made me realize that are we, "the designers" so aloof to this world. Has wrong perceptions made us as numb as to neglect realizing our work to the society in general?

            What is architecture to me? It is essentially a technical art that becomes a tool to design. Zeroing to the design of buildings, it encompasses the whole environment to which the building belongs. A building to me is not just a mere physical presence but an integral part of the social and urban fabric. This certainly requires sensitivity towards humanity. Bringing down a design on paper involves exhaustive tussles in mind that goes unnoticed. The process of thinking in designing is the most basic as well most essential and unfortunately the most difficult part to explain to others.

            Coming back to my housemaid, I wanted to explain all this to her but in her terms. I attempted to explain her, the basic process and she concluded that I am an engineer. When I tried to defer from her and began again this time she somehow understood that I make drawings or rather naksha in her language. I failed in making her understand the mind work that goes behind it.  

Forget about the housemaid, even well educated people and my fellow students in other field fail to understand the essence behind designing. Somewhere we, architects are responsible for this lack in communication to convey our issues. We need to bring forth our work and responsibility rather than just lamenting that no one understands us.

HARRY POTTER: A BOON OR A BANE

 It is difficult to recall when, before ‘Harry Potter’ happened; people, young and old alike lined up in long queues at midnight to grab the first copy each time the book in the series is released. For months Harry Potter sleuths tried to figure out who is going to die and what is the mystery shrouding the next book. The bookstores registered advanced bookings days before the release. The author J.K. Rowling went on to become the richest woman in England depicting the classic modern Cinderella story, albeit a widow instead of a maiden.

      The same anticipation has gripped the ‘Harry Potter’ fans and the marketing gurus alike once more prior to the release of the final book of the series. J.K. Rowling’s statements and interviews are carefully monitored to find that elusive one word that she may let slip by. The books managed to generate tremendous curiosity among the young readers, formerly criticised; for their delving more time in television, videogames and computers. Even the six and eight year olds managed to rediscover their rather forgotten companions: Books. It revived reading habits once more in the young ones and thus through this medium they managed to turn to other books as well. Though aimed at children it managed to maintain an equal popularity amongst the older people.

      Critics may argue that the story reflects a completely unrealistic world of fantasy and creates wrong impressions, especially on young minds. It might lead them into believing in unguarded expectations. Kids are very likely to expect the witches or wizards zooming through their windows or they might want an admission letter from Hogwarts School. It is unarguable that J.K Rowling’s production can let the children fan their imaginations a little wilder, after the boy wizard ‘Harry Potter’ became a household hero.

        In spite of that, there are good lessons to be learned from the book. There have been important messages and morals in the narration adapted tactfully. The importance of willingness to fight evil, rather than victory has been underlined. Though there are the evil and good sides represented here; they do not stand out in the shades of black and white. The emotions of the protagonist are shown very realistic and the one the reader can relate to. Repeatedly ‘love’ is heralded as the most powerful weapon, even in the world of magic. What better way can be to reinforce the young minds of this strong message in this world of hate and turmoil?