In a New York second...

I once got an email, a forward to be precise which talked about the essence of time. The last sentence in the email was "If you want to know the importance of a milli second, ask an Olympian who lost the race by a millisecond."

It did not ring a bell at that point. Who cared. All I was worried about was that I come back from the library at about 8:00 p.m.,because after that the hostel warden wouldn't let us in, and hit the bed by 10:00 p.m., because after that the lights were not supposed to be on. 

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I have been watching some telecasted Olympics events', to be more precise the track games, gymnastics, tennis and water cube events. 

Track races, because I want to see the winners and their performance and review it against any report of drug abuse which will be published later towards the the time of the final medal count. I am curious, I want to find out if drugs can really result in victory.

Gymnastics, because the Chinese are performing brilliantly. I join the millions of other people who've been debating if the performers are really 16 or older. The Chinese gymnasts look too young for their age. Is it the gymnastics that makes them look younger, or will their true age be revealed and contested towards the time of the final events or way after that? I wait and watch. No questions about the performance though, I know very little about the technical details and difficulty levels, but through my 'lay person eyes' the performance has been an art of immense beauty, proving the extents to which the human body could be bent and flexed. Overall great show!!!

Tennis, I want to see the intelligence and prowess of Nadal, and what has kept Federer on top for the last 5  Wimbledon years. I happened to see a couple of matches and I see why the critics have been naming Federer the 'Best Tennis Player ever', and how Nadal's mastery over the game has helped him scale to the peak. I saw Serena in action too. I just let loose my imagination and placed myself running on that same tennis court. I could see myself running all over it without being able to figure out what would be my next move. I would be too busy being defensive instead of attacking the attacker the way the Williams sisters do...

Swimming, you guessed it, because of the legendary brand called Michael Phelps. Here is where the email about the millisecond made sense for the first time. Is it sheer genius, is it excellent swimming tactics, is it speed, is it some hidden energy, is it all this and more? What makes Phelps strike gold each time. Is he some Demi God, some progeny of Zeus that has the power to conquer water? 

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The essence of time, that goes into the making of a hero. Time moulds, slow or fast. Time changes people, places, races. Success or failure comes and goes with time. Thats when I heard about this funny sounding unit of time " the New York second".

My preliminary understanding of the term is a unit of time shorter than the actual second, resultant of a pace set up by the frenzy people in New York live in. Expecting the unexpected with every move. Why not any other place? There are so many other cities, there are people who work day in and day out. Why not any other place in any other country? Is time the most precious commodity only in a New Yorker's life? Or is it that New Yorkers  have realized the extreme importance of that dimensionally small unit of time which is big in it's magnitude of impact. 

Everything changes for better or for worse in a 'New York second'. Life changes into a winning spree rewarding you with gold at every juncture, or a series of losses within "New York seconds".

Expect more out of life every "New York Second", & well, Keep Smiling :)

R K Narayan's Malgudi Days...

As a child, the only option I had when it came to watching TV was Doordarshan, India's National Channel. It was funny how the channel limited the scope of programs that could be viewed. 

Anyways thats not my point, I want to talk about something entirely different.

It has been raining in New York for the past couple of days. Accompanied by the downpour is a spectacular show of thunder and lightening. It made me crave for Indian monsoon. The decade old beautiful memory of the way rainwater streamed down the parapets onto my extended arms, while my mom, scared of thunder and lightening, coaxed me to retreat into the safety of the rainproof indoors, flashed in my mind.

To me thunder and lightening were the result of the legendary Tansen singing Raag Deepak to set up flames while his student sang Megha Malhaar Raag to douse the fire with music that burst open heaven's floodgates. There was the music and beat from the showers and the thunder, and the beautiful scent from the soil, as it gorged down rainwater, which overwhelmed one's senses.

All this coupled with a warm cup of cardamom - flavored tea, some pakoras or bhajjis, and a book to read. Thats how R K Narayan's Malgudi Days came to mind. 

Malgudi Days was one of the serials that I liked on DD. Swami or "Chami" as his grandma used to call the character, was played by Manjunath, who immortalized this little boy from Malgudi and etched him among the beautiful memories I have of my childhood.

To me Malgudi was a place where kids had fun, where they could run around and play, they were scared as I was of my educators,  but in the end everything was for good. 

It also reminded me of Indian writing in English. I love the concept, especially when I see a beautifully written regional story draped in a foreign language with a beauty and fluorescence that embraces you with it's every word. I remember reading short stories by M T Vasudevan Nair,Uroob and Thoppil Muhammad Basheer in Malayalam, though it was not my forte. I took days to read and understand the stories, the purpose was to live amongst the many colors in the pictures they painted and the characters they sketched. Sadly when I started working I grew impatient and tried reading translations instead, thats how I added Kuttyedathi to my collection. 

The breeze that preceded the showers blew life into that page in memory where I used to listen to the rhythm of the rain falling outside as I grabbed a book and retreated into the colorful world painted by my favorite Indian authors. There amidst rain drops, Megha Malhaar, fresh green shades, colorful memories and refreshing scents was a calm that no materialism could shake.

I love New York and it's many hues, but the rains in New York remind me of a mystical Malgudi somewhere. Guess the child inside wants to escape and stay unbound even amidst concrete strictures.