Blinded By You

Can’t get you,
Out of my head.
So dazzled,
By your whimsical ways.

Can’t comprehend,
Your setting me aside,
Yet your earnest longing,
When I am not beside.

Can’t see,
That self-evident truth.
These days,
I am blinded by you.

(Photos - From Empire State Building, Times Square, and Broadway)

Central Park

It’s been a while since I read the book. But I remember that I had sketched vivid images in my mind while reading it. “The Catcher in The Rye” means different things to different people. Over the years lots of people have sworn by this book – people both famous and infamous. The book has had an impression on me too, so add another one to the list (except I am still very ‘unfamous’). I had identified with the book so deeply at one point of time that I would imagine myself as Holden Caulfield walking down the streets of Manhattan and sitting in Central Park by the night.

But then it has been a while. That the images still lay intact in some deep recess of my mind came as a surprise to me. It came back to me suddenly as I walked down 5th Avenue somewhere near the crossing of 51st Street. I was alone on the street, and it was crowded as ever. Snow was melting around me, and the slush on the street made it difficult to walk. And then it came to me, like an epiphany, that it was just around the corner. A strange eery feeling I cannot explain. I walked on delirious with excitement. It had to be there, and there it was. Shining dizzily, dressed in snow. My Central Park.

It was all slippery, sloppery and I flip flopped several times trying to keep my balance. A carriage passed me by, pulled by one of those big hairy horses. A golden statue looked on at me with a sly smile. Children slid by on sleds and parents nodded approvingly. Lovers slipped their hands around each other and stared at the tall buildings in the distance. Freaks jogged in the snow (yes freaks, just imagine jogging in the snow in that kind of weather!). Where was it, where was the lake? There it was almost frozen. Where were they, the ducks? There they were, some of them, cringing in the cold, under the bridge. Is it real? Am I dreaming? My mind was going wild – Penn Station, Edmont Hotel, Greenwich Village, Grand Central Station, Broadway, 5th Avenue, Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was all in the book wasn’t it? And where was that “Little Shirley Beans” record that he had dropped that night when he walked out of the Wicker Bar and roamed all around Central Park. Where did you drop it Holden? It broke into pieces. Did you grab them all and take them with you Holden?

Where was Phoebe?

I felt so damn happy all of a sudden, the way old Phoebe kept going around and around . . . It was just that she looked so damn nice, the way she kept going around and around, in her blue coat and all.

There I was, all alone. Like I have always been. There I was walking down the street away from it all. The golden statue looked on. It was cold.

Gem of the Ocean

It is a play I saw last Friday. Written by two-time Pulitzer Prize winner August Wilson, the play is set in the year 1904, in Pittsburgh. The play is very engaging, almost a fairy tale. The protagonists are Afro-Americans primarily. Naturally it touches on topics of racism and the disillusionment of Afro-Americans after the abolition of slavery. The situation in which we find the characters is nothing short of extraordinary. Factory workers have gone on strike because of low wages. A black man drowns himself in the river in front of a crowd of people to show that he hasn’t stolen a bucket of nails. There is news that afro-americans in Alabama are undergoing extreme persecution and have no way out.

In the middle of all these extraordinary events is a small set of Afro-americans that have seen so much in life that nothing seems to surprise them anymore. Hardship is so much a part of their existence. Misfortune follows them at every step. And it is this that brings them together – a strong feeling that they have nothing but themselves to depend on.

A young man from Alabama finds his way to Pittsburgh and is sucked into the city’s vicious grip. At work his employers cheat him and pay him less, and at home his landlord charges him much more than market rate so he just can’t make ends meet. But all that is fine, until he does something wrong (steals a bucket of nails and unknowingly causes the death of another). His guilt consumes him and he needs his soul washed. This is the beginning of the story. Through a series of events that changes everybody’s life, the young man undergoes a metamorphosis. He finds a cause to live for. He finds himself.

The play is so natural and real. It is easy to put oneself in the shoes of anyone of the characters. It is easy to understand their helplessness, to admire their courage and their perseverance that makes them take every setback in their stride and strive on towards true emancipation and equality. More touching to me is the fact that I could not point fingers at anyone. Everyone is justified in his/her actions. Even the person that brings on suffering to this group of afro-americans is black himself. And he too is merely obeying the law. His eccentricity and his arrogance are forgivable if you take into account his background and ideals in life. He is after all a self-made man and a man who knows his job and does it well. Everybody is so caught in a web. From an angle it seems society is doing all right and yet from another it seems everything is disintegrating into something uncontrollable. The plots and sub plots merely play a side role. The essence of the play is something that hasn’t even been said explicitly. I found it brilliant.

Photos - Poster of Gem of the Ocean, Denver Center for Performing Arts, Larimer Square, 16th Street

Colorado Rocky Mountain High

The chill seems to follow me around. I missed my flight last weekend and was stuck in the blizzard in the northeast. Manhattan was frozen stiff and central park was a pearly white. It was cold there but Denver is worse. They recorded –13 degrees Fahrenheit! So today when I got ready for my trip to the Rocky Mountains, I wore 5 layers of clothing and an optimistic grin.

As we drove westward the altitude began to increase steadily. The Red Rocks Amphitheatre at an elevation of around 6400 ft was a sight to behold. People told me Red Rocks held the hallowed distinction of being the best natural amphitheatre in North America. The Beatles had played here. U2 will play here tomorrow. Some of the biggest bands of all time have played here. Gigantic Red Rocks (sandstone in composition) were the prominent feature of the landscape. Geologists would point out that the rocks of this area predate the Rockies and are hence not foothills, but actually “Ancestral Rockies”.

Moving on, we made our way through Clear Creek Canyon, an area marked by three frozen rivers and plentiful alpine forestation, into a snowy peak known as the Loveland Pass. Its elevation was a mighty 11990 ft. This was the great continental divide. The water on one side flowed into the Pacific Ocean and on the other side flowed into the Atlantic Ocean. The wind roared straight into the face at speeds of 50 miles an hour, and the conifers was conspicuous by their absence. This was the Tundra region where the vegetation consisted primarily of stunted shrubs on the leeward side of the slope. Nevertheless, the view was nothing short of spectacular.

Our next stop was the town of Breckenridge, known mainly as a skiing destination. On our way we came across a number of skiing spots buzzing with activity. High up in the Rockies, Breckenridge had a spectacular skyline studded with beautiful mountain peaks. The streets were packed with tourists who made a beeline for souvenir shops and restaurants.

Sometime later we turned back and crossed the Continental Divide again through what was touted as the longest and highest car tunnel in the world. The conifers bunched together so closely- evidently there was a lot of water and nutrients in the soil. Besides gold. Isn’t that what Colorado is famous for? The third great gold rush led to the creation of towns such as Idaho and even Denver. There are apparently 20000 gold mines in the region. We made a stop at one and marveled at the deposition and concentration of gold in the mines. Created in the 19th century the mine was carefully planned and rich with history. In those days miners (most miners in a mine were part of a single family as it was difficult to trust everybody with gold!) would labor for days with manual implements. Then came the drills, and later more advanced drills. Despite all the technical advances mining is very exhausting and miners are known to have notoriously short lifespans. It is estimated that around 75% of the gold in the region still lies untapped. The gold mining industry is dormant, and the euphoria is long gone. But with the gold prices rising, who knows?

Back in my hotel room everything is warm and cozy. The scenery around me however is not so great as my clothes lie in utter disarray. When I close my eyes I am transported back to Loveland pass. That scene won’t be easy to forget.

Photos - Red Rock Amphitheatre, Red Rocks, Photos from Loveland Pass, Skiing

Balcony Circle

We managed balcony circle seats. The view wasn’t all that bad. Craning my neck I could see the musicians waxed to their seats like statues from Madame Tussaud's. The curtains were drawn and people of all kinds of shapes and sizes were moving purposefully into their seats. All of ‘War Memorial Opera House’ seemed to be stooping forward precariously towards the stage. Before the balcony caved in with the weight of the audience still pouring in from different sides, the curtains decided to part. And there it was, like a painting of Vermeer, staring at us from the stage. Until it all came alive – with the familiar theme track. The dancers began to pirouette on their toes defying gravity at will.

Prince Siegfried floated in, as people made merry on his 21st birthday. They danced and entertained him. Hand in hand, so coordinated and balanced. Siegfried was obviously having a lot of fun, getting drunk on wine. Until Queen Mother paid him a visit and asked him to choose his bride by the morrow. His picture perfect life was now crinkled with uncertainty.

And so he walked away, to a lake, with a crossbow in his hand and came upon a flock of swans. Wantonly he aimed his crossbow at a swan but he couldn’t believe his eyes, as the swan transformed into a woman. A woman so beautiful and enchanting, like he had never seen before. She was Odette and Siegfried was madly in love from the moment he saw her. Thereafter Siegfried was passionate and earnest, he danced like a man possessed. Odette trode with caution at first, but she was swept off her feet and fell helplessly into his arms before she could realise what she was doing.

Swan by day and maiden by night, Odette’s life was governed by the spell of evil Von Rothbart. The story now had all the elements of a melodrama. The forces of good and evil, the element of love and ofcourse the suspense of what was to be. The balcony circle didn’t exist anymore. Nor did the thousands of people of different shapes and sizes. Prince Siegfried was being deceived and we all felt bitterly against Von Rothbart and his machination. I felt transported into the story – a character from the time of Siegfried, Odette and Von Rothbart. It all seemed so true – the swans, the villain, the story. It took some loud applause to rouse me out of my reverie. But why did they all have to die? Why couldn’t it have been otherwise? Outside the sun decided to take his leave for the day, but the ballet performance wouldn’t leave me alone. I wandered away in quest of my own lake of swans.