Road From Hell to Salvation

                 From hell to salvation

I love the British show, Doctor Who. My ears are very sensitive to the word 'doctor'; the attraction is unlike anything I have experienced. I mean, how cool is time travel? Getting into the TARDIS ( for all you muggles out there, the tardis is the spaceship of the doctor in which he travels all around the universe ) and flying away with the most intelligent person (say Alien) is legendary. Forget about travelling to countries, continents or islands when you can travel to distant stars, galaxies or nebulas being the doctor's companion. It sure as hell brings out the geek in me. But why a sudden mention of Doctor Who? I need a beating every time I make an introduction which is not even remotely related to the content of my article. But I can have a pass this time because its Doctor Who; I couldn't resist sharing my fandom for this show. I will try though, to connect this introduction with the rest of the article.
                 
                   CHAPTER 3
I concluded my last chapter of this so called travelogue with a cold and bitter experience. After the day's disaster, while I was sleeping that night I dreamt about being one of the companions of the doctor. Yay!! My memory has aided me once again. So such a vivid description of the show is the courtesy of my dream where my subconscious was making fun ( or let say bringing relief  ) of(to)my pathetic existence. The uncertainties of the future were haunting me (haunting still) and in the doctor I sought refuge. I slept and dreamt of flying away to the lost stars while striking beautiful thought provoking conversations with the doctor. I shouldn't have been that cynical about the next day as it turned out to be exemplary. My only mistake the previous day was that I neglected the cries of my inner traveler and went along with my friends as my guide. The next day was different, I could feel it in the air as I woke up. My conscience proved to be right. I went on to travel that day's quota but this time only two friends accompanied me. Now, I believe in solo travelling but if you have companions, the lesser the merrier. We decided to travel to South Bombay this time and our first stoppage was at 'HAJI ALI DARGAH'. You can get all the information you need from the dargah's wikipedia page, I will be sharing my spiritual (well sort of) experience. Talking geography, the dargah is situated half a kilometre away from the main land. Its actually like an island situated with sea on all sides except its entrance path, of course. The journey from the main land to the dargah was a pilgrimage which I often do and enjoy. I was happy and sad at the same time; happy because at the end of my journey the dargah would unfold like a butterfly from its cocoon and sad because of all those handicapped beggers sitting on the pathway to the shrine who have  different lives with different motives. I empathise with them but cannot do anything for them right now (I will someday). Thinking about them will push me away from the thought process that I am currently in. So coming back to the mythical journey, I reached its main entrance and how splendid it was. It was an entrance to heaven if there is any. Once I entered, I paid my respects at the shrine and headed towards  an area within the dargah where a lot of people were gathered. I knew something surreal was happening there; it was a Sufi qawaali. Qawaali is a form of singing in a group which is enchanting and takes you to another dimension. Listening to a qawaali at God's house is the closest you can get to the almighty and closer I went with every verse. The singing was divine and I was uplifted from my worries for sometime into the air which was calm and peaceful. My meditation at the dargah ended after some time and I proceeded with this lifetime experience in my mind.

After the holy visit, I went to the 'Chowpatty Beach'. Now in my last article, I shared that how painful it was to spend time at the Juhu Beach; well, it was the opposite this time. The number of people were moderate and the beach was clean. Street food were available in abundance from vada pao to pav bhaji and were delicious. I spent almost five hours there just breathing in the air the wind carried from far away lands. The water was welcoming and I walked alongside it on the shore for hours. The feeling when cold water from the sea pushes your feet is indescribable. I was happy there, happy as anyone could get. There was a sense of relief which is rare in my life. I felt like Frodo baggins felt after destroying the one ring into the fires of mount doom (LOTR bitches).
My last stop was at the queen's necklace, the Marine Drive. We walked from Chowpatty to the Drive reaching there at night. It was beautiful as seen in a lot of movies. Sitting on the beach and watching the sea perform was an experience you cannot get in any theatre. I sat there and kept thinking that this feeling will end somtime. But I made a promise to myself to come back to that same spot once again and with that promise my day ended and I headed back to the college with exceptional memories floating in my head.

JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF HELL

CHAPTER 3

Don't you just love fantasy?

Well, not the kind of 'fantasy' which we all are privy to but the kind 'Tolkien' unravels in his masterpiece- "The lord of the Rings'.(LOTR)

I don't live here, in this sadistic,hypocritical, stereotypical, yet compelling world. I live in the 'Middle Earth', a land of Tolkien's imagination, a land where folks live peacefully, discrimination is unknown of and when evil comes all fight together instead of blaming and cutting each others throats.

This is all I have been thinking lately, a different world with different people having different agendas. Even though my LOTR trance is not over I would like to come back to the 'real' world. I cannot forget my time in BOMBAY, even though it is the last day of the world and a new world in beginning. 

So here I am, late again, apologetic again wondering whether my guilt has changed again to a nonchalant attitude which makes me this lazy procrastinator, this self absorbed narcissist(I went far, didn't I?) who prefers bed to pen.

I write when I have to, when deadlines start to fuck me over, in every position imaginable. I write when I wait, wait for someone's message, someone's acquaintance, someone's apology or someone's approval. It proves that actually I am the worst writer in the history of writing whose muse is waiting. But looking at it optimistically, I do have a muse which will not fade away with time(waiting is constant, you have to wait for something no matter what all your life). My muse is robust, its adamant for not leaving me. 

My my,How lucky am I?

Writing is like switching thoughts. The switching process is not very efficient though; I have wasted a lot of thinking power on this chapter's introduction and the main act is yet to begin. I still have some energy left and before It converts to some other form (energy is conserved; that's right, PHYSICS bitches) let's begin.

A JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF HELL

I need to be reminded every time that where am I.  

Oh yes!! I had reached the paradise city, was well accommodated and was ready to fly like a bird. The first day in BOMBAY was 'dull' ( and believe me 'dull' is the nicest word that I can come up with). Instead of listening to my inner traveler, I visited some of the most cliched places Bombay is known for. Take for instance THE JUHU BEACH, we all(Indians) have been hearing about this beach since our childhood seeing all those bollywood( that's the name of our film industry) movies. But it is a shitty place. Believe me when I say that Delhi's metro is less crowded than that damn beach( and I am talking about working hours here). For people managing the beach, cleanliness is a myth. I went there to ease my mind, clear my thoughts; I mean that's what beaches are for, right?

But what I experienced was the polar opposite. With so many people shouting and screaming it was like some fucking concert was going on, not a good concert mind you but a concert where all music is messed up and noise is considered to be its ultimate scale. I tried to leave but could not leave my friends alone, that much courtesy I do have(even if narcissism is predominant, as all say).

I eventually left and HOLY SHIT! was I relieved. Below is the beach's photo at its peak visiting time. Now you know what I was talking about.

After that beach debacle, a friend suggested to visit BANDSTAND. For all of those who don't know, Bandstand is like a nirvana for lovers. Couples from all over the city come here to share their 'love', to make lifelong promises and above all to show how uncomfortable PDA(Public display of affection) actually is. I mean that is the last place a single guy would want to go. I completely lost it there, seeing all those couples getting cozy made me disheartened. My spirit died and I became a character from THE WALKING DEAD, a blood sucking zombie looking at the normal people(people with girls, obviously)with eyes that would scare Hitler. I departed from there before mental breakdown could take over. But before leaving I did see SHAH RUKH KHAN's home. Now SRK is this super famous actor of Bollywood. His house is magnificent and it gave me one thing that I needed the most that time, ambition. I revived and came back to the college where I was staying, with a hope that the next day will be different(good different, I mean) and at that moment the explorer inside me had awoken and stood guard all night while I was sleeping to scare away all those disturbing thoughts of the day's travel.