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mohammed shahid - peacefully insane.. - Public

More pages of the Arabian Diary
"Your hold on language is so weak that you have no idea about what you are writing" This was a comment I recently received. Probably true. But I can't keep away from communicating. This time, let...

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1 person liked this - mer sara

mer sara - Oops that hurts, who said that. Whoever, don't take that into mind, dear. You write, and you improve. That's all to it. Ketto.. :)
Lovely snaps. And I particularly love those Arabian dumplings with sweet syrup/honey. Did you have them?26 Feb

Rejith Raj - feels good to read.27 Feb

mohammed shahid - @ pink, Yeah, I shall keep on writing...;-)

Friends, Thanks for the love you pour..I'm touched..Edit27 Feb

Ajaykumar K - Buzz - Public

To my dear brother Shahid,
Language is just a medium to communicate..........I believe not in the style of language but the soul in it. You open your mind and make the world to see through your eyes...That is what the soul does...Keep writing my dear friend. And show your HOLD ON TRUTH is far stronger than any thing else...

2 people liked this  - Sreejesh Karunakaran and amrith amar

amrith amar - baba ranchor das!!!!!!!!! ;-)1 Mar

mohammed shahid - yeah !! Shall do...Love alwaysEdit3 Mar

Sreejesh Karunakaran - Tudaruka tudaruka nirbhayam tudaruka.. Nammude sakhavalle upadeshichirikkunne.. :-)3 Mar

More pages of the Arabian Diary

"Your hold on language is so weak that you have no idea about what you are writing"

This was a comment I recently received. Probably true. But I can't keep away from communicating. This time, let pictures tell the story.
There happened something last week which kindled the spirit of wandelust in me. I met a friend of mine.     The man who guided me through the labirynths of Kutch and the lanes of Mumbai. We kickstarted a new episode of adventure.

Abra, a place where Dubai lives in the past.( A place where Dubai Government has preserved the traditional lifestyle, something which should be appreciated).

The Souk was active within the ruined walls on either sides. The wooden lamp-posts and the street hawkers. My mind perched new spirits with this time travelling.

The wooden boats took people across the creek while the sea gulls enjoyed their flights, and fighting for the fish the occasionally hunt. The yellow rays of sun pouring to the whole ambience.

My mind was guided by sheer joy when I knew about a temple by the souk. But it was quite disappointing  when I got inside, It was a moden apartment  paved with white ceramic tiles and having pictures of almost all Gods. The place was crowded. At times people need a corner for consolation, doesn't matter whether it is devoid of tranquility.

We then travelled through the town of Arabian tatses. This was a place where women cooked the traditional arabic delicacies. They were served with honey and dates syrup.

My friend was busy clicking with his Nikon D80.

We parted to our homes with a smile which contained the wish for another adventure in impromptu.

Thank Lord, there are people who think I am not bloody insensitive.

The first collage was made of snaps clicked by me while the others were clicked by my friend, Akhil.

Arabian Diaries

"Cabin Crew, please prepare for the take off ", that was an announcement from the pilot.

The mistresses of hospitality were on duty with their neatly worn smiles.

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Welcome to Dubai. The time is 7.25 am. The sky is cloudy this morning.

Thank you for flying with Emirates, Have a nice time at Dubai.

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The country welcomed me with an expectedly familar face. Thanks for the media and filmmakers.

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I stay in a room with a strength of seven so called bachelors. Thought all of them are of my age, most are married and a couple of them having kids. (Don't bring a frown of your forehead and ask WTF. They are from Malabar and its quite usual in their place for men to get married at younger ages with the womenfolk who live in the middle of their teenage.). They spend their evenings sharing f**king stories with the elder and experienced one taking hold on the youngers.

I would be resting on my berth observing this with a weird smile on my face.

To be frank, all of them are really good at heart.

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" Al mehtr quadimahia etihad "
" The next station is Union "

I take the metro train to reacgh back home from work. Its quite intersting to see the people of different origin and outfits converging into the glass cube.

The train is so beautiful amd so neatly maintained. Most days photo sessions happen here. Last day, it was two arabian nymphets and their friend, a guy who had an SLR with him.

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" Boss,  Chale ??
  Philipene he, Irani he, Russian he,. "

For a moment I wondered what the guy was talking about. That was a pimp on wayside, the promoters of world's favourite sport*. As soon as my brain made the sense, I uttered a ' nah !! ' and walked faster through the cold night.

*Courtesy: Moods ad 
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Will be back with more soon
Sorry that I used the same pattern as the last post. I couldn't find a better separator.

Fragmented

“Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.”


                                                                                                                                                                                    - Sylvia Plath
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Recently i did a painting and got it framed. I gifted it to a friend of mine.


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I am leaving abroad for a technical job this weekend.


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Mom: Can't you sell your paintings and make money ?


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Disgust !!


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Pardon friends, i am quite disturbed to write continuous sentences. Sylvia Plath's words could explain my state better.

The Tree of Life

" He was born as the royal sapling.
He grew as the mighty one; Alas ! all his siblings were rickety

They never knew which tree he was?
What his fruit was? "

Tapped the keys in a lost mood.

He is accused of planting trees. 
Who the hell are you to do so? What the f**k are you doing?

He secretly watered the mango, mulberry and nutmeg at the corners.

He loved the betel leaves and pepper strings.

He inherited the sparrows on the mango trees. They lived in his stories.

He was crossed.

They still don't know which tree he is, What his fruit is.
He lived, as the tree of life.

But he always knew...

Seasonal madness

The days were less cold but dry. Afternoons were lousy as always.
I loved being in the western corridor where sun-rays kissed me hard.
I sat on the rickety chair with my legs supported on the wall.
Lazy mind wishing for a sip of black tea.
I moved to the corner were the junk is heaped up.
A few flashes of imagination.
Later I captured it on frame.
Black tea in the crystal cup is now an obsession.
Seasonal madness on sunny days.
I always intend to write something and end up in something else.

Dream

I hit the bed to dream.

It was more of a wish to see Paru's classical dance. I felt elated when she promised to perform live in my dream, beginning with slokam, varnam in atthaaana and astapadi. But I dozed off to a strange and interesting dream.

That was a cold morning and i kept walking through a wide road. The way was being filled with kaleidoscopic procession groups like the melange of tributaries into a river. It was damn vibrant with the glittery costumes and head gears. I felt like being in one of the brazilian carnivals. An air of excitement inhaled. I simply felt like being flushed away with it. Nah, I have to move in the opposite direction and to my surprise, some force kept me moving.

(It was quite funny to see a naughty elephant standing aside, unwilling to move despite of its mahout's efforts. I can hardly mention him a mahout since his glittery costumes reminded me of a clown. The elephant was waving his trunk high as like a pendulum of clock. The activity must have been funny for him.)

I kept moving.Took a left turn and got into one of the labyrinths with a concrete floor and Z shaped curves. The place felt very familiar though i could not locate how it was.On the way i met a schoolmate of mine. He seemed to be in his night dress; replied with a grin when i asked why he was there. He told there is a secret which he will disclose later.I too din't mind.

The way changed abruply from plains to a cliff. I didn't feel it hard to climb, it had many flat rocks to step on. Air of innoscence, spontaneity, not of affection. Green climbers hung over black rocks. Tiny water droplets being sprayed from above. They wet my face as i climbed. It seemed like there was a waterfall up. I could hear the whispers of gushing white waters.

Finally, i reached the top to see a small crowd. The dream shifted to a new scene.

Myself placed on one of the chairs at a hall. Some documentary film being screened there. Small white screen and an LCD projector. Lots of bearded pseudo intellects looking onto the blank screen.

I met an acqaintance there. He was busy clicking snaps with his telescopic camera.He too had a beard and a round framed spectacle, but the person known to me is far from a pseudo personality. He kept talking to me about postures. I just didn't mind when he was clicking my close-up snaps.

He took a chair, placed it opposite to the crowd and sat on it. His wife took another and sat behind him. She was a dark voluptous lady. She wore a black see-through tee shirt which covered her body but hardly the nudity. She wound her arms around him. It was then adrenalin rushed over the veins of one of the pseudos seated there. My friend was accused of blocking his view.

My eyes went on the poster on the wall. Ivory coloure letters on red background. I read.... Hey, she is my online friend. her novel is being made a cinema. But when did she write a novel?

NB: I am famous among friends for such weird dreams. I had to wake up from the dream and travel to Thiruvananthapuram. So I typed it as a text message on the way on my cell. Somewhere i missed the spirit of the dream.