Irish Waters

Quite a trip it was!

Such a picturesque land of navigating waters, waves slashing against rocks invincible and the cordoned beauty of the suburban lands! Well, we never wanted to come back but civilisation has its own perils and we are bound by its torrid tentacles.

A quick round up of what unfolded in 3 days and how astounding our lives looked till we took the road back to insanity.

Day 1 – The Beginning of Boundaries

It all started in Belfast, the city so gorgeously appearing to enjoy the bliss of its eloquence.

Day 2 – Game of Thrones Tour with Giant’s Causeway

What can I say about this ethereal day! Words are not enough but the scenes are just floating around my eyes. Rest, I will let divinity do the talking.

Day 3 – Birth of Tragedy

Belfast is home to the most iconic masterpiece that never lived – ‘Titanic’. It was built and designed in Belfast, but the ‘unsinkable’ could only replicate its stature in the history books. The story of its making and its inevitable demise is equally riveting and colossal. And after lunch, we drive through Belfast by-lanes, watch the sunset by the harbour, few more shots with my wife and son before deciding to call it a day.

Stay in Marriott

Ravishing, as usual. Food was, uh, tad disappointing but Uber Eats compensated for the otherwise comfortable and contagious stay.

Magic of W

Another Wimbledon final, another magic on grass court. Wimbledon always takes me down the memory lane. Doesn’t matter who wins, but watching players sweating it out in this 2 week juggernaut is nothing short of a spectacle.

Wimbledon has been special ever since my younger days. I remember watching each of the high voltage matches with the utmost of attention and detail, not to forget the post match conferences and match analysis. I had numbers on my finger tips and exactly knew who won and who got knocked out! Yes, those were the days of unblemished joy, where you could just do what you wanted to. Yes, you had those interruptions but we’re largely positive.

Coming back to grass court in Wimbledon. I have seen too many greats playing the game in the last 20 years. But ‘Pistol’ Pete was arguably the greatest. And since my younger days and his rise to the prime collided with each other, he was my hero. And during the nineties, he was almost invincible. Some great rivalries with Andre Agassi, Pat Rafter, Jim Courier and Goran Ivanisevic, bit class of Sampras stood out. The only blip in his astounding career was the French Open that eluded him, but he was the Jesus of Tennis for me at that time. Roger Federer, another modern great, was able to overcome this and perhaps he was also one of those grass court champions who was able to break in to the arena of clay. Yes, Rafa belongs to another planet and his range is unmatched, and it is not surprising that their rivalry is one of the finest this sport has ever witnessed.

I have watched the recording of Boris Becker lifting the coveted trophy in 1985, and he remains a favorite too (incidentally, one of the commentators in today’s final). I loved Stefan Edberg as well, in fact, I adore the era of serve-and-volley players. Borg, McEnroe.. I love watching them play even today though the game and the landscape has changed immensely. Power has taken over elegance, tenacity remains the key though.

I have very little of Andy Murray and Novak Djokovich, but they are specials talents for sure as I managed to take sneak peek in to the Wimbledon finals in the last couple of years and they sure are in the right direction of becoming modern greats.

Another final in the Centre Court has come to a close and till next year, I wait for the most celebrated Grand Slam to come knocking again.

Resonance

Looking through the lens, the sun shone bright and undisputed.

She smiles through the dawn, looking at my eyes with hopes to survive, relinquish and live to see the next sunrise. After all, she lives to see the ups and downs. Survival amidst desires.

The sparkling waters, the residing boats, the tempered waves, the towing presence of a structure above that sees life through troubled waters – every moment, every day.

Leaves and branches kissing the sun, the golden path that no one dares to tread across.

Serene. Fathomed. Tranquil. Consumed.

Shining Corners

Chiseled in times, ravaged by war, a witness to the independence movement and surviving amidst troubled celebration.

The monument stands and shines, devoid of percussion, beneath and over.

Sans you, sans me. What is left of is platelets of the past and some enormous little moments.

Inevitable 2018, Hello!

2017 was a roller coaster year. Well, I can call it adventurous and tumultuous in the same breath. Yes, you might argue that these expressions don’t quite sit adjacent to each other. But at times, our derivatives stand flawed and undisputed.

Strange are the ways of life, so was 2017.

Indulgent, attractive, celebrated.

Sometimes, we feel excited about things that didn’t work. Perhaps, time is the major player here. We smile when it smiles. But in life, at some point, we all smile. Not really when we want, we don’t get to decide everything in our life, every time. As much as I am a great believer in myself and am self obsessed, I cannot ignore the subtle variations of destiny in my interesting life. I guess, there lies the beauty. And all the joy, apprehensions and agony that supplements the turmoil of the journey, so famously called ‘Life’.

But, all said and dusted, 2018 could be the year of my life. Instincts, gut feeling, not sure what it is. But the feeling remains undisputed. And, I am looking forward to it with exuberance and hope. Hope is good, fear is not. But apprehension, yes. I guess, that’s why 2018 is going to be a massive year of glorious uncertainties.

Keep aside my life for sometime now, 2017 was yet another year with lots of everything – emotions, achievements, disappointments, celebrations.

For each of you, let’s achieve what we always wanted to.

Let’s do what we enjoy the most in our decorated lives. Let’s create the space we always wanted in our lives. If you don’t like something, say it. If you want a change, now is the time to take first baby steps. Respect people but don’t take shit from anyone, especially if you don’t deserve it. Value relationships but make sure the relationship is two fold and devoid of oscillating benefits.

Phew! I know. Words of wisdom for few, Gyan for many and just rustic, frivolous words for those who don’t find a meaning in web of words and spoken partitions.

Let’s take a look at some pulsating pictures that defined my 2017, in more ways than it so appears.

2018, come and you will realize that you are already falling in love with me.

An Adulterated Life

Call girls. Prostitutes. Nymphs. Even worse, sluts and whores. Even an elite bitch works like magic.

Doesn’t matter how derogatory and pervert these words are, whether you like it or not, these words have a life of their own. And precariously, they live amongst civilians like us, living a nomadic journey of sleuth and ignominy. We despise them, yet we want them. It’s a dynasty of ruthless victims and jeopardised lives.

If they are animals, we are of a worst kind.

Prostitution is an industry in itself. An industry that traces its roots back to 200 years (perhaps older taking in to account, the frivolous and lustful nature of the human clan). Despite all the taboo attached to it, it still manages to thrive big and remain pioneers in a money spinning game of lethal flesh and enduring politics.

Coming back to the lives of women who have embraced prostitution as a way of life.

Real time, on the ground.

To begin with, let’s clear the air about this profoundly disgusting profession. It has nothing to do with pleasure, love or the art of lovemaking. In fact, it is devoid of human emotions and chemistry. All it is, is a game of flesh and bones. The woman is just devoured and used, spit and discarded once the capacity to inflict pain diminishes. All in all and significantly put, it is rape with consent.

As I mentioned earlier, here the protagonists are equally hapless and displaced. One craves for the other, for obvious and inexplicable reasons.

It is also a glorious example of the position of women they hold in a society and culture that has been an epitome of mercurial savages with a penchant for vegetable terrain.

Prostitution is an industry manufactured and designed to integrate the turmoil of system. Men need respite, women are used to get crucified and system needs a bait to bask in return on investments. A system relegated to a wicked and inevitable ploy supplemented by an equally disdainful history.

The families of such women are equally guilty. We have families around this world who struggle to make ends meet and the money their women make from this distasteful profession is a welcome boon. But, they equally despise them for what they do and the women are subjected to unsurmountable pain and hatred, which is grossly unfair. They want the cash but they don’t the profession to taint their lives which in itself is the sole reason for their survival. Pretentious, to say the least.

Despite leading a bereaved life of pain and humiliation, this clan continues to grow unapologetically. Redundancy, for one, is not a forte in this world woven with ruthless anguish.

Encounters with Water

It was humid, sweaty and hot. It led us to the place of perennial relief. Our ‘Massive Friendly Neighboring Beach’!

It was dark but we could see the lights shoving up whine the earthly clouds. Clouds did not have enough water, but the sea did.

Sunshine eluded us but we could walk on the sand and feel it as well. Without too many people and usual chatter around, we felt breathtakingly serene.

The long drive wasn’t essential but we made it necessary. The destination was a delight to look forward then.

More often, let’s do this.

Sun Days

Day or night, the sun never goes down.

It wallops, it gallops, it eats your head, it vibrates. But never goes down.

Glittering waters or the artistry of the clouds. Deep meanders or open flings. It ain’t going down.

Sun never goes down. Hope never goes down. We are hope.