Letting go 9: the golden brown grasses

Forest writing its own story as noted in the following conversation

Suman Nath Yes.. those fingers..

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Rutuja Deshmukh It looks like a brown grass hand holding a feather pen... thinking what to write.

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Suman Nath True... wonderful observation...

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Rutuja Deshmukh :) thanks for the tag. I probably have too much spare time.

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Suman Nath no you have emotions... :)

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Rutuja Deshmukh Suddenly, it started looking so human.

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Suman Nath right you are... it's suddenly demanding a story...

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Rutuja Deshmukh The background grass is looking like happy human figures with their hands in air. Am I smoking something or what..

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Suman Nath no its never the weed or wine... it's all about setting yourself free among the fairies...

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Rutuja Deshmukh True that but something serves as a trigger. Sometimes weed, sometimes discussion, sometimes a book. When I first felt that it looked like a hand holding a feather pen, poised to write something.. the very next instant a thought came to mind that this grass (harvest for humans) may not have very nice things to say about us. And then i thought i should stop thinking.

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Suman Nath why don't we listen to their cry? They might have thousands stories to tell... forests are libraries if you want to read them. I realized recently.

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Rutuja Deshmukh Have u read a book called Animal Farm?

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Suman Nath George Orwell?

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Rutuja Deshmukh Yeah. George Orwell. U read?

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Suman Nath yeah, read it... years ago... and of course liked it, needless to say :)

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Rutuja Deshmukh Imagine this is grass Snowball's hand writing commandments for fellow grass community members after successful revolution against humans. Other grass members are cheering him up..

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Suman Nath exactly, I was just thinking that when you mentioned animal farm, but what if the forest is writing its story in its canopy, knowing fully well, no one would ever read them! but its worth of an effort - may be a survival instinct!

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Rutuja Deshmukh What if there exists seeds of revolution in the natural process of evolution.

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Suman Nath yes there are... seeds for revolutions... and it happens more often than we know!

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Rutuja Deshmukh That would be interesting to know. I always felt, nature's favoured method of survival was endurance rather than revolution.

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Suman Nath exactly, might be a long kept secret... we never know, :)

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Rutuja Deshmukh Viruses are the only system in the eco system which treats human as shit as humans treat other organisations. Pretty sure some part of nature hails them as heroes.

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Suman Nath Yes, quite likely...

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What happens when you find the forest writing its own story? Well it questions you again and again to reconsider, listen to and understand its existing narratives before it goes back to writing again. Quite something that makes you question the reality itself as it merges itself within the fantasies. A world in which if one wishes to, can live forever. However, roaming around in fantasies does not always depend on your wish! It comes at a cost, often too heavy to bear. Kaleidoscope often wants badly to come out of the fairies to accept and move on with whatever is offered by the world in concrete and clearly noted terms of agreements and references. He repeatedly fails to do so. He fails to comprehend the nature of being, and wishes to dwell on the perception of being in itself. It shapes kaleidoscope in such a way that the perception of nothingness also appears as being (an obvious Sartre's connection, google if you wish to). For example he believes there is a river with him, there is a library in the forest and water flow in the highway, if you try and convince kaleidoscope about the impossibilities he would pity your imagination and shut himself off.

It was just the other day when kaleidoscopic faces the question: 'when do you remember me the most? When you are drunk? Or its just that when you are drunk you need to remember me, search me, or be a loner for me?' - the river asks, forest whispers, and highways portrays! In other words do you really need to get drunk to remember me? Kaleidoscope has more cravings for being engulfed, but he also has an engulfed soul roaming around thirsty!

Kaleidoscope hardly has the answer to those questions. He knows his love for fairy is either too intense that he is always mesmerized, or he is drunk all the time - otherwise how could he always end up submitting himself to the fairies. However, he knows that there is no in between, there cannot be any.  Instead of searching for a reply to these primordial issues of fairy/real, drunken/alert, being a dreamer/awaken, he finds himself at the beginning of another story written by the golden brown grassland.

And it does not matter, because Golden brown grasslands have more stories than kaleidoscope could ever read and memorise. They have more stories than the whole world could even decipher.

The vast warehouse of stories have attracted him during his first meeting with the river Dulung. Yes, the early morning brown series have moved kaleidoscope and pushed him to walk through the fairies while he was supposed to do fieldwork. Instead he was trying to see what stories does the grassland offer! He could not read, neither could he capture them all. But after a couple of years he could only find out the fairy in the making again.

Forests and bitumens

Kaleidoscope often compensates his adventure seeking selves in an imagined way. Therefore, its the boulevard turns into a thin line of forest, roads into river and there are of course meeting points between mountain tops in the sky, on the river banks between the thin line of forest where the black bitumen kisses the riverbank. Once in a while he crosses a sewage running east west making the sun to settle down - those are creaks to cross over.

If you encounter kaleidoscope with eyes pointed towards the horizon just know he is in an adventurous assignment.

Letting go 8: Weired inclinations

Kaleidoscope knows people and their crazy, stupid, irrational inclinations. One of his friends is crazy about large rocks. He can't resist touching and hugging large rocks. He is swiftly dragged by any large rock in mountains. Kaleidoscope can recall several occasions when he jumps on one and then sits on the rock endlessly. His inclination does not have rational explnation, neither does he care to give one. Similarly kaleidoscope is strongly inclined towards water - more specifically, of late, he dreams to be engulfed by a river. He keeps on writing his experiences with the imagined river - distancing himself from the impossibility. He often shuts himself off from whoever says its impossible to make the journey in a prolonged sunset or to listen to the sound of waterfall in a late winter forest.

However, he owes an explanation to himself and that might help the worlds to understand the seemingly impossible connections.

Kaleidoscope experienced some of the weirdest inclinations in his not too small life. He faced consequences as well. Water has always been a saviour and he continues to seek refuge to water. Water,  when it is flowing on but not gigantic as that happens with the sea and not as aggressive as a river flowing through mountains. Both of these makes him awestruck with the spectacle but scared too. He is comfortable from a distance, knowing fully well the impossibility to become one- kaleidoscopic inability.

Kaleidoscope has loved the river from the moment he looked at it and can actually take the river with him everywhere. It suits him. He wishes to remain that unknown soul madly in love with an wonderful river. Neither the river nor kaleidoscope knows the length, the depth and the curvatures. Hence, kaleidoscope chooses to remain a private person secretly expressing life and love in the layers of crores of hashtags. Kaleidoscope is telling stories only to be buried under words, images and everydayness. He finds the river in highway, forest land and even in an otherwise smelly urban sewage which is by no means romantic. While the worlds fail to read the connections- kaleidoscope listens to more stories of impossibility. He talks to the water.  Water smiles and takes him near a river bank. Kaleidoscope finds himself in a busy cremation ground, where a little girl dressed like a boy attentively looks at a jug of water closely. Kaleidoscope approaches to find her putting a drop of oil at intervals on the surface of the water to see the game of colours. She seems to be happy with the world of water and games of colour. Although the tear soaked eyes and bruises have left a permanent mark of the abuse on her face, perhaps in her soul too.

She looks straight at kaleidoscope saying 'i am taking a refuge in water does it sound familiar?'

Kaleidoscope gets the answer. He sincerely hopes the others get their answers too, in water, stone, windy highways, forests, fallen leaves or in fire... or anywhere else.

Letting go 7: The forest talks

The library of stories

There isn't  much to say for a sal forest nearby. It's always magnetic. The sal trees would pull you out from wherever you are, drag you near and tell stories. It happens every time Kaleidoscope is nearby a forest. There is something called call of the wild. Yes it happens, but not in the Jack London's romantic experiences. Kaleidoscope is increasingly more into the imagined than empirical and experiential. Although, this time it begins with the experiential rather than imaginative. The google map pointed towards 'Garh forest'-  a part of 'Ramnabagan Wildlife Sanctuary' - enough to move Kaleidoscopic wheels. The feel of forest has been there at Durgapur itself but this place was already green in the map. It was a literal call- a sound that was worth listening to.

Windy this time and kaleidoscope could actually listen to the forest's call. The apparent sound of waterfall or rain created by wind passing through age old brownish leaves of sal tree actually carries whispering sound of the forest, and its love for the river. Otherwise why should there by the sound of waterfalls? It tells thousands of stories. Stories of birds, butterflies and forest people. They come alive in a never ending nostalgia. A nostalgia that compels  kaleidoscope to go again and again for the forest.

Navigating through the dusty forest road slowly, would make Kaleidoscope play with a rhythm of touching leaves off and on. Once he is off the road and starts walking through hundreds of fallen leaves it's a continuous sound of fallen leaves. They suddenly break the silence and tell the stories. If you listen to them they would tell you stories of the spring when they were born, the summer of sunshine, lovemaking monsoons and mystic winter when they prepared to leave the tree, store the stories and waited for the breeze to bring the river. Below them lies the earth - the library of stories - of every seasons. Each of the fallen leaves are archived.

As kaleidoscope prepares to leave them, suddenly the wind blows, entire forest narrates: from the canopy to the fallen leaves. They move and speak and finally the earth jumps off the ground and gives dusty hug - whispering a request "Bring the river next time."

Kaleidoscope smiles because he knows, finally there would be a river for him. A river where he would disappear in the horizon in a lengthy evening! But before that the library in earth would grow - the lust would remain! 

The rainbow in green

Letting go 6: Kaleidoscopic highway and the river

Whenever Kaleidoscope meets the river, he is mesmerised. Its reflected in his not too conspicuous eyes. Kaleidoscope knows that very well.  He can see his reflection on the river and rivery eyes.

Since, he is more often than not live in an imagined world, where everything is like fairy tales, he sets off to a journey. A journey through a lonely highway. A highway that wraps itself up as Kaleidoscope navigates through it. So, kaleidoscope is having a long... long highway. A highway that waits for kaleodoscope so that it could transform into a life long river with a prolonged and delayed setting sun somewhere around the corner. The more he navigates towards the west the more he sees the  universe mesmerising with the Kaleidoscopic journey through the river... with the river... for the river.

Kaleidoscope heads towards the west not to defy the time, not to challenge the sky, but to be mesmerised and embedded within the highway that turns into the river - kaleidoscope's river. The Sun would smile and make the meeting point of sky and highwayish river spectacular.

Just before the darkness engulfs he would enter into a creek, because before disappearing, he wishes to make an adventure, quite like taking his river to an unknown, undulating forest land. A late winter forest, filled with fallen leaves everywhere. Kaleidoscope could touch them, kiss them. They would kiss back as kaleidoscope and the river enters into the forest. They would kiss their feet.. creep up through the calves as an welcome gesture. They would whisper the lovestory into the forest core as the river holds Kaleidoscope's hand...

Eventually the river will take the entire forest land to a melting point, wet in lust and passion for love filled encounters. While kaleidoscope would dissolve and make love with the river. The darkness and setting sun would let the world know of a love story in silhouette. Entire cosmos would celebrate and melt down with the river. There will be No movement towards the west but the setting Sun would wait and give a few more moments to the spectacle... 

'We do encounter long evenings don't  we?' - an old and brown leaf would ask the tree!

Somewhere in a busy tropical cityscape another river would ask her kaleidoscope the impossibility 'is there a Maple tree here? The leaf look so similar!'

Somewhere, another highway would prepare itself for another journey. This is why there are highways to discover, rivers to fall in love with... moments to make love!

People state interface: The case of ticket inspectors

Being a 'daily passenger' of the sealdah bongaon section of north suburban railways from 2001 to 2006 Kaleidoscope developed instinctive techniques to board the over crowded trains without falling off. He has largely been successful as he is still alive. However, in 2003 or 2004 onwards the indian railways initiated a special ticket checking drive. It was first known as 'laal gaari' since the people without ticket used to b deported in a rain coach painted in nostalgic red. Later on it was replaced by an EMU coach known as 'chetna' -  consciousness. It was quite successful to raise the consciousness of the people. Well, once in his nearby station Kaleidoscope was taking the preparation to board the train. A ticket checker was standing behind him - yes, it was that special ticket checking drive. The over crowded train came, kaleidoscope used to run a few steps with the train before it stops to get a better position. He managed that and suddenly a firm grip on his shirt collar. The checker demanding ticket. Kaleidoscope has never in his life boarded a train without ticket. He was definitely irritated with the act of the ticket inspector. He showed the ticket and demanded an explanation. Since kaleidoscope missed that train he had some time to argue with the inspector. Inspector simply said that he has the right to pull a person's collar to demand the ticket and it appeared to him that i was trying to escape from his ironfast because i didn't have the ticket. Of course it was not true. But that was a lesson for young adult me how the people in uniform sees us.

A complete different scenario was in sealdah station. Many of my friends never bought tickets not even the heavily subsidised season tickets. They were never chased or harassed. The reason is the context of sealdah station, proximity of our famous ticket inspector beating Bangabasi college.

If we kind of extend these experiences we can relate things about state-people interactions. The state views its subjects with its 'legitimate' power to exercise violence as subordinates. There is no problem if one humiliate a person in the name of ticket inspection, while people define state a necessary evil with impositions against their will. Hence, there is always attempts of bypassing in whatever means possible its regulations. It begins early in people's life and continues with intergenerational transportability.