I lost few lines I had written. Those were the lines churned out of impulse, in those few seconds realisation. I searched for them. Opened the recycle bin, looked for every possible way to restore them, but then they were lost, in the ocean of words. Those lines were beautiful - original creation of my own mind. I could not let them go. How could I let go what I had created?

 Few lines that they were from the deapths of my  heart. Few lines that they were oozed out of my pain. Few lines that they were I could not find them. Written for no one, they were for me. I don't know what happened to the thought behind those lines? Where did it all disappear? As I looked for those lost lines I heard the echo of those countless words churned out again and again, cliched but still original. Are those lines I lost somewhere around, about to bounce back as yet another original thought? 

Few days back I tore my diaries – the ones I had maintained for past six or seven years. It was difficult and after lots of contemplation and flipping through the chapters of my life documented in all those diaries, I finally gathered strength to tier them into bits of pieces.   It was huge, the collection of memories which the mind had decided to forget but the heart had decided to preserve.
 
I wonder if they were memories at all. Had they been memories they would have been with me, within me. I need not document them for the future reference. At the most they were the reflections of my constantly changing thoughts and emotions based on those erratic moods, a punching bag for my emotions.

We live long, for years together. And in this long life in the name of memories what we collect around us is the clutter of emotions, thoughts, and ideologies. Despite knowing the eternal fact of mutability we insist on preserving. Half of human effort is towards preservation. It’s an on going struggle for durability, permanency and eternity. 

The last minute flipping through those pages showed me without the mask and those pages also showed me the glimpses of all the masks I have been wearing. It is so difficult to be true, even to our own selves. I could see in those pages how consiously I had avoided writing so many of my feelings. How intelligently i was hiding parts of my personality, even in those pages which were mine.

I could see in those pages the stagnated flow of my thoughts - stinking like stagnated water in the gutter. Nothing fresh was added to flush the effluents out. I could see the same names, same complains, same doubts, and the same old fears. Was I growing?

Those pages showed the pattern of my life. A life that wanted to hold on. The one that feared seperation, one that feared the unknown, the unseen. It wished to hold on to its stagnation while everything around moved. It was trying to find solace in the familiar.

There was no fresh perspective of looking at life. There was nothing new to write about but still I filled in pages after pages. Mind was stuck. Pages after pages reflected just one thought process.

While I tore apart my past I allowed the fresh breeze to fill in my mind and heart. I acknowledged the change taking place within me. Today I do not need a punching bag. I do not see the need to hold on my own thoughts which keep changing with every passing moment. How stubborn I was trying to hold on to the events, the memories, the past and crying about what happened to Jyoti who was " Happy go lucky". Not feeling the metomorphosis that Jyoti was bound to go through with the happenings of the life.

Today the effort is not towards storing memories, but experiencing the wave of fresh breeze that touches my soul and leaves silently.

A sparrow is chirping on the electricity pole.
Someone is sweeping outside.
Two yellow butterflies just fluttered by.
I saw all of them.

It had just one leaf.
Then slowlly sprouted another one.
Now there are two leaves - facing each other.

Amongst all the trees around this one alone has flowers.
Bright red, boottle brush flowers.
They look to the earth and grow up to the sky.

A kite is gliding.
The clouds are moving
Sometimes the clouds cover the kite,
Sometimes the kite glides overs the clouds.

She has decided to wait for him for a year, that is till he completes his PHD and returns back to India. She has never ever seen him. She read his profile on some matirmonial site and so did he and they exchanged few emails and now both of them have decided to wait for a year. In a way she has commited to him. Yesterday she called me up and thus I came to know this decision of her"s. I was furious - this was rediculous - how could anyone trust, commit to a person one has not even seen. I gave all that most of that feminist arguments, I tried to sound like a rationalist, I finally came down to sound like a friend - but she had decided. She calmly said - " Joe, you know as human beings we have nothing more than trust. It"s the faith that keeps us ticking. It is the hope that makes a live. What would remain if stop believing"
I still argued, but i could feel the shallowness of my words.

Since yesterday i have been wondering what is that power in her that made her trust? And what is that weakness of mine that makes me doubt?

Going deeper I realise that it has been the trust and confidence that so many bestowed upon me and still do that I am what I am. Infact I am alive for that trust. What would I have been had my father not said " I know you will be doing great " after seeing my reportcard that showed I had failed in three subjects? What of that teacher who proposed my name for the post of school captain when each and every teacher was thinking of throwing me out of the school for keeping a dead cockroach on my teacher"s table? What would have happened had that NGO not trusted me the money they gave me to make my very first film ?

There are so many who trusted me, there are so many who I trusted. What"t been the basis of that trust, that faith - my goodness or thier goodness?

Right from the childhood we are only taught to fear. We are told to take precaution, to be careful. As girls, every guy other than ones own father and brother is potrayed as a rapist to be stayed away from, to be feared off. Every hawker on the road is out there to cheat you and every muslim is out there to kill the hindu. So be smart and what we mean by smartmness is "do not trust". It means maintain ones enigma, don"t tell everything to everyone. Dont"s show your weakness and do not cry infront of any one. Close down to the capacity of giving  love and being loved. Be politically and practically correct.

I thought of her. I thought of her capacity to trust and realised indeed life wont exist if we do not trust. Faith in the unknown, trust in to the unseen, belief in the unsaid - I feel we live because of this. Is"t it the trust that we share our innermost thoughts with each other, isnt it wonderful that we get married with the unkowen to become the most know?

I do feel like trusting because so many trust me.

Hi Everyone,
Its a busy time for me. Well I have completed my film and for last one month I was just working on it. I am happy the way it has finally shaped up. Lets see!Will be sending it for few film festivals.

There is lots to write but not able to make it . Well I am reading this wonderful book on Afganistan, written by a war reporter, Chritiana Lamb. It shakes you up. Just as amazing santro wrote about death - in which moment it"s sitting dormant , no one knows, similarly while reading this book I am feeling god knows what system might be thrusted upon us by some fanatic, jingoist person. War, communalism, imperialsim - one wonders what awaits us. I am a optimist , yes i definately " am , but offlate the kind of campiagns I have got involved with I do feel helpless and vulnerable. One can see so many undercurrents which are scary - our envirionment, our art, our freedom - it all seems so temporory - which moment it would be taken away from us we know not. I guess least we can do is appreciate this freedom that we have, relatively clean air we breath and "clean water"  that we buy.

Well these were just some random thoughts. Usually I see life as a beautiful thing to happen to me. But sometimes this very life makes me realise that life is not as beautiful as it is for me for many.

Will get back soon.

Dear friends of NBA, You all have been witness to the long, long battle on issues related to the Narmada dams and the Sardar Sarovar Project affected, in particular. Lakhs and lakhs of people in the Valley to be thrown out of their generations old habitations, environs - social, cultural, and economic, based on natural resources have always received your support, your solidarity - that has helped us carry on for over two full decades. Your presence and participation, during the March to May 2006 struggle in Delhi, was most valuable. While neither the Prime Minister, the Central Government nor the Supreme Court played their role or used their authority to stop devastation, protect Adivasis and farmers, and to question the false reports and affidavits, the people had to remain firm and determined to face come what may, assert their rights�at least to just and fair rehabilitation as a precondition to dams and displacement.  That is exactly what has happened since we went back to the Valley. The monsoon, heavy enough, has brought in flooding.  If it is in more than one river valley in Western India this year, it is the dams that have contributed to the floods everywhere, as we all know by now.  In the Narmada, the Sardar Sarovar, even though it has been stopped at 119 mts instead of 122 mts, has caused flooding, destroying land and everything associated with it, homes and hearths, trees and forests, gods and graves, agriculture and forest produce. It is certainly a killer wave that has tried to finish off the river valley civilization which is the oldest in the world.  Can this be acceptable?  Hundreds and thousands of Adivasis have become landless, many homeless but they have shown the tenacity and perseverance to build their own houses at a higher level�up in the mountains, with small patches of farms left behind, all land drowned.  They are the ones who have to continue with their struggle for survival. The government is almost absent in this region�even today when the crisis is of survival, there are no proper rationing shops when even the right to food is at stake.  The age old habitations in Alirajpur (MP), Akkalkuva, Akrani (Maharashtra) tehsils and some in Badwani (M.P.) are cut off from each other and much more isolated from the rest of the world today than they were before.  There is no public transport. Private transport by machine boats is unaffordable.  There are no schools (but for the Jeevanshalas of NBA), no dispensaries (except the honorary doctors put up by Government of Maharashtra in a few villages on a temporary basis, and the floating dispensary gifted by the European Commission to Maharashtra government, which is more stationary than mobile!).  A few minimally trained health supervisors are in some villages in Alirajpur tehsil since the last few days, with meager medicine - not even any anti-snake venom. Snake and scorpion bite cases have zoomed and locating snakes and crocodiles which are yet to attack is becoming a full time occupation, since both the flora and the fauna are totally disturbed. There is no government service or government servant available except for some boats in M.P., which carry food supplies for police and government employees only.  In Maharashtra, there are a few police patrols and some government employees and officials who move in barges, touch "satyagraha" centres for dialogue on limited issues and they have made some promises. The governments have no cultivable land to offer and hence thousands of families � those who have already lost all their private holdings and much of their common property resource base as also the others who are threatened with immanent loss � have no place to go.  Still the �Satyagraha� is on�. the Shunglu Committee Report has been criticized and an affidavit filed before the Supreme Court on this and the governments continue to be questioned, through one mass action after another. You cannot remain silent at this critical point. You, along with others, have helped us sustain the movement and spread our mission.  We expect you to be with us in every way to challenge the system � this callous, criminal onslaught on communities that is happening across the country, the implementation of anti-people projects and plans, which benefit corporates, the political vested interests, the global market�.what not, by devastating the already poor and marginalizing them even further. We appeal to you and all to come to the Valley at least once to participate in our action, express support and solidarity -the immediate dates are: - August 25th at Jhabua Collectorate - August 28th at the Nandurbar Collector�s office - August 30th at Badwani Collector�s office And then other actions and programmes will follow.  �Satyagraha� is on �on the river bank in Chimalkhedi (Maharashtra), Bhitada (Jhabua District, M.P.) and in Chikhalda (near Badwani, M.P.) - To write - in periodicals and disseminate information, build an opinion on displacement caused by development, by large dams and water policy, democratic processes of planning�and other issues and challenges specific to the Narmada valley. - To raise funds, in cash ( cheque/ DD ) or kind, support and mobilize supporters as "Janasahayogis" so as to guarantee atleast survival to the struggling Adivasis, who have lost their lands/homes but not the spirit nor the struggle.  (Please see our plans and the need, the Annexure given below)  We would earnestly request you to come to the Valley yourself and relate with those victimized - not just with your support but also your love. - to challenge the government - states and the centre, at whichever forum, question the representatives, write letters, hold action programmes. - do suggest what else you think of and can act on, of course at the earliest, before more and more people - literally lakhs of them - all get drowned and lost at the altar of "development". Cheques/DDs can be made in the name of "Narmada Nav Nirman Abhiyan" and send to : Pervin Jehangir 261, Jupiter Apts, 41, New Cuffee Parade, Mumbai 400 005 Ph: 022-22184779 80G IS AVAILABLE. Please note that we do not accept foreign funding. With regards and awaiting an early response, Kailash Awasya, Kamala Yadav, Ashish Mandloi, Rohan Joshi, Yogini Khanolkar, Chetan, Vijay, Siyaram, Devram Kanera, Umesh Patidar, and others Shashi Mehta , Arun Sawant, Pervin Jehangir, Vijaya Chauhan, Mohan Patidar, Suniti S.R, Dipti Bhatnagar, Medha Patkar and many other like minded supporters. Annexure: Our Plans: A request to extend your hand to the victims of development. There are at least 1000 to 1500 families in the Adivasi communities who have lost land, houses, trees, and forest access, including access to potable water and ways of transport.  They are landless, many of them shelterless, stranded in the 6� x 10� or 10� x 10� dark, damp, leaking tin sheds on slippery slopes. They need a hand of support, in every way.  Each of these families will need - - Food grains adequate for six months at least:  costing Rs 6000/- per family.  YOU CAN SPONSOR A FAMILY AND MOTIVATE OTHERS TO DO SO TOO. - A tin boat and 3 kgs of fishing net to be shared by a group of 5 Adivasi families - required not just for eating but also for asserting their right to the reservoir. Rs 5000 per group, 30 groups in toto.  YOUR HELP CAN PROVIDE THEM WITH A LIVELIHOOD. - A small packet of fishing hooks and baits - 200 per family - can be supplied to hundreds. - We surely need more tin boats for transport across the river, at least one per village - 70 villages, Rs 3500 per boat - Plastic tarpaulins and tins are to be provided - as many as possible, up to 1000, at the earliest, Rs 700 per tarpaulin sheet of 12" x 18". - Community kitchens, where large communities are affected - For children, aged, women and men - clothes, old and new, bed sheets and blankets, "chatais". - For schools - equipment, notebooks, and educational aids, large vessels and food grains - More plans to evolve later - Our Jeevanshala children reached out to the Tapi flood-affected with some teachers along with Vijay and Yogini.  They too need help!  At least 27 devastated villages in the Tapi basin have received no government aid or relief. Our children rose above their own grief and suffering to mobilize and collect donations from the surrounding communities to help these victims. We stand with the last, lost and left out!  Clothes, grain, children's materials, housing material to the tune of atleast 4 lakh Rupees as per a rough estimate, is most urgently required in this area as well. In solidarity, NBA Supporters

Rain drops are hanging on the window bar
Waiting to fall.

Ants walk in a row. They stop by to talk.
There is no noise.

Morning breeze is pushing back the spider's net.
The net is still holding on.

Clouds are moving. Slowly.
An eagal is gliding. Slowly
I am watching. Slwoly.

Till My Last Breath

Every morning, I walk out of the safety of my home, to get merged with strangers on the road. I walk along with those hundreds and thousands of starngers towards something.

Some look at me, Some I look at. Some give me a smile, some i give a smile, some just walk past me, some i walk past - relationships of seconds - faceless, nameless, timeless.

Amongst these strangers I seek that known face - the face I have known, the face i have touched, the face i wait to see, the face i call my own. A relationship of yeras , with identity, with a name, forever.

And there goes a blast in that old car standing on the roadside. There I lie in the pool of blood. Counting my last breath. Unknown eyes look into my eyes. Unknown hands try to stop the blood oozing out of my head.Unkown face consoles me.
 
I die amongst the starngers - relationship of seconds , nameless, faceless ,
till my last breath.

Hi There is lots to share. But first the synopsis of the short fiction film I will soon be completing.

Its titled as " Eshti" currupted pronounciation of the short form " S.T" (state transport)

"At times I reach
'times I am on the way
'times i dont know which way'

Three individuals, of different age group -  travel – and this journey revels their fears. A mother fears that her son might not come to receive her at the bus stand. A just married young girl fears her husband who has got down of the bus might not return and a small child wonders if the drunk man, known as his father, would take him back home.

What happens in those moments when the faith dwindles? What happens in those moments when uncertainties grip ones mind? What are those moments when relationships make us helpless? Why the relationships – of blood or of bond make us doubt?

 It’s a trilogy.

The first film brings forward the apprehensions of a old women, travelling alone by bus, to meet her son. From whether she has boarded the right bus to whether her son would to come  pick her up or not, the film explores her anxiety and how she tries to fight her own doubts.

The second film is about a young girl, just married and travelling for the first time with her husband. The husband gets down at one of the stops, saying he would be back. The bus is about to leave and the husband is not back. The fear that the young girl experiences till the husband returns is what this film is about.

A bus stops at a stand and a drunk man is thrown out, followed by a small child. Its late in the night. Father has no money. To top it he is beaten up and abused The child stands crying, seeing his father being humiliated. The last bus comes. Child tries to pull his father to the bus. Runs around to stop the bus. Father can’t move. The bus leaves.