Wrapping up the year in style...

The only words that come to my mind are those of John Keats from his Ode to a Nightingale.

My heart aches and a drowsy numbness pains my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.

I would like to revamp those words into 'My heart glazes and a drowsy numbness delights my sense, as though of bubbles I had drunk...

...and being too happy in thine happiness 

                                                                   and use only the nice notes to express my feelings

I have never experienced such ecstasy, such bliss, never been in such perfect communion with someone
                      It is as if I had blended into that person to become just one

     Fireworks were lit in both our bodies last night, the flame of pleasure that ignites destiny

                                               Could there be a better way of ending the year?
                                              

Thank You Babes!

Christmas 2017: Spirit, spirit & spirits

How was my Christmas 2017?

Well, it was a family gathering around the decorated tree in true christmas spirit to talk about ghosts and spirits, followed by dinner at Patrice's house where wine and other spirits adorned the table.

The Holiday Season As I Love It

Christmas is more special than ever this year.
Seeing the sparkles in the eyes of those I love sends me on cloud nine.
It's about the moments we spend together more than the gifts themselves.
I wanted to make my people feel special and make them understand that this how they make make me feel all the time.
Did I spoil them? Actually, I wish I could have done more...
What I am doing this christmas is nothing compared to the bliss they bring into my life.

The Incomparable Joy of Giving

With its flaming flamboyants, could summer be more majestic?

December / Walking in the shoes of gratitude

Halfway through the month of December and what can I say? I've been around people I love, enjoying doing things I like, going to work every morning with a smile on my face, savouring my favorite dishes, decorating the office with enthusiasm, laughing with friends, spending endless hours watching the sea, swimming in the warmest lagoons, going for long drives, admiring the milky way in the summer sky, looking out for shooting stars, making wishes...aaaaahhh, so far, so good.

I wear my shoes of gratitude everywhere I go.
Because magic takes place everyday in my life.
This year magic came into a few unexpected forms:

 

- Getting a dream job

-An air ticket to NYC

-The warm comfy hug of a friend at the airport 

-A night of passionate love making until dawn

-A wooden box containing a copy of 'Leaves of Grass' by Walt Whitman

- A morning message reading: ' Having someone who can handle all your moods is such a blessing'

 As the year draws to its end, my thanks go to my tribe and my friends for their indefectible support and patience. A special note goes to:

Boris: The Warrior of Kindness, the embodiment of caring and patience.

Antish: The Once in a Lifetime Kind of Person, sweetness personified.

#yaar

When you feel blessed to have extraordinary people in your life

Moments sucrés, moments sacrés

Sur tous les murs, des pans de notre histoire et les regards bienveillants de nos ancêtres. Ceux-là mêmes qu'on a autrefois appelé coolies, marrons, esclaves, ceux-là mêmes de qui nous sommes issus. Je la vois bien toute cette souffrance qu'ils ont su garder enfouie au creux de leur être mais je ne peux m'empêcher de poser sur eux un regard amusé, attendri et parfois ému. Nos angoisses et nos craintes semblent si petits comparés aux leurs, ancrées dans une époque tellement lointaine qu'elle nous semble presque abstraite.Nous avançons dans cette salle pendant que l'histoire de la canne se révèle à nous au gré de nos pas et je tombe sur une photo de mon frère. Il fait désormais partie des lieux, de cet antre qui relie le passé à l'avenir et je prends soudain conscience qu'il est un maillon dans cette chaine qu'est l'histoire de notre pays. A ce moment je suis content de ne pas être là ,seul, debout à prendre sa photo, je suis soulagé de t'avoir à mes côtés. Qui sait, seul, je me serai peut être senti défaillir, absorbé par l'âpreté des lieux et sa présence?

A l'extérieur, le soleil a un parfum de fangourin, il est doux et caressant. La musique sillonne les allées et pénétre nos corps. Nous nous asseyons tantôt dans un wagon, tantôt sur l'herbe sèche et nous imprégnons de ce lieu éclectique où tout le monde semble s'y retrouver, ce coin qui ressemble étrangement à un grand foyer et où l'on se sent forcément un peu artiste. L'air me chuchote cette phrase étrange et vivifiante à l'oreille: 'Tu es dans le vrai. Tu es dans le bonheur.' Je m'allonge, je ferme les yeux, je sens mon coeur souple et agile et je n'ai comme seule envie de ne plus jamais les rouvrir. Tu es là avec moi et autour de nous, nos aieux, nos héritages, nos compatriotes, notre peuple, la nature, la culture, la musique. Sur notre langue le goût du rhum, ce vieux goût de notre pays que tu as testé pour la première fois en riant les yeux fermés. Moment d'anthologie: l'espace de quelques secondes je t'ai dévergondé, toi, le garçon sage à la chemise lisse.Nous venons, vois-tu, nous aussi d'écrire un pan de notre histoire, de cette petite histoire d'amitié qui nous lie depuis un peu plus de deux ans et qui durera le temps qu'elle devra durer.

Le baiser

Toutes ces années de vie et pourtant un soir, au milieu de l'obscurité, au milieu de nulle part, quelqu'un vous serre dans ses bras et soudain vous avez l'impression de tout apprendre à nouveau. C'est comme-ci vous n'aviez jamais souffert auparavant, jamais pleuré, jamais été meurtri, jamais haïs. Son visage posé contre vous, comme une pétale, son souffle chaud sur votre nuque et la brume qui vous enlace, qui cimente vos deux êtres.
Nous regardons vers le ciel et devinons la lune qui nous épie à travers cet épais brouillard. Même, elle, semble attendrie par cette image de deux amants figés comme sur une photo sepia.
Chaque seconde qui passe est une odyssée vers la plénitude, vers l'ecstase. Il ne s'agit pas d'amour mais de tendresse et de complicité comme seuls les enfants savent le ressentir. Nos doigts se cherchent, se trouvent, s'effleurent et nous rions comme enivrés par un étrange nectare. Nous ne savons pas de nous deux, lequel a le coeur qui bat plus fort que l'autre. Ce moment ne durera pas éternellement  mais il sera suffisant pour combler ce vide en nous pour les années à venir.
Je viens de rajeunir de dix ans, il vient d'en gagner dix et nous nous trouvons exactement là où nous le voulons, dans cet espace où tout semble évident et précieux. Un dernier baiser brûlant qui scelle ce moment d'éternité, là, dans la brume du soir, au milieu de nulle part.

Updated CV

Shhh! Don't say I was there...

Last saturday night I went out moving a few body parts with my peeps.Some call it dancing but I prefer to refer to it as a bodily expression of my aptitudes to fill space. I entered a hall where, for a second, I felt like an uninvited guest. The place was filled with 'la grande bourgeoisie d'Albion'  and upon realizing that the usual U.F.O that I am had crashed on planet 'je suis-tu es', I promptly decided that I would not be bothered. I decided to dance my ass off and have as much fun as possible until the band started hitting their first notes. Upon hearing the noises coming out from the instruments we couldn't but acknowledge that the band was about to screw our whole evening. The sound system which had certainly been tuned by a deaf person, left me and my beloved ones with internal auricular scars.You know that you have it all wrong when half way across that Boney M song, it suddenly strucks you that you have actually been dancing to an ABBA tune. How blasphemous! To make matters worse, the YMCA fell completely flat with a singer struggling to labor the crowd to mimic the alphabets in the air. In the end, you know it's better to leave the party when even the Grease medley can't seem to save the night.Tats actually found the right formula to recap the evening.She sent me a texto later on wittily reading : 'putain, it took me more time to remove my make make up than to dance' :)

That said, all the above is futile and secondary.What really mattered to me was the fact I had been able to gather the people I love the most around a table. They were all there at my request: Vim, Shaf, Tats, Bo, Sid and even Wills whose presence warmed my heart when he came over to say hello. How lucky I am to be able swim in the ocean of these creatures of their own unique breed. Clearly, I would not be the person I am had they not existed.There is a very specific portal to another dimension in my heart. I love opening it and getting lost in space and time with those I love the most. my peeps, my very own peeps.

L' O.V.N.I que je suis

Je suis un ovni dans le ciel moribond de la réalité.
Je n'ai jamais vraiment compris comment fonctionne le monde
/Car il n'y a jamais grand chose à comprendre

Je n'ai rien à dire
/Car tout a été dit déjà
Dit, médit et #maudit

Je suis un ovni dans le ciel étourdi de ma dualité.
Je n'ai jamais vraiment su comment faire taire cette voix profonde
/Car il n'y a jamais grand chose à entendre

Il n'y a rien à faire
/Car tout a été fait déjà
Fait, méfait et #contrefait

Je suis un ovni qui flotte l'espace d'un moment
Moment résumé en une vie
Toute petite vie
De rien du tout

Je suis un ovni qui surpasse le temps
Tout fait d'apathie
Volant vers l'infini
Avec un soupçon d'arrière-goût

Sur les brisants de la réalité, la vie a fracassé le vaisseau de mes rêves

Tonight

Tonight a star renounced the sky
Tonight a star chose not to die

Tonight a star of renewed radiance
Stopped in an abode where it all makes sense

A true purpose conclusively found
Within a soul of tenderness profound

For B

Declan McKenna - Brazil

Home

Je ne me suis jamais considéré comme pratiquant, encore moins croyant, mais j'avoue que la période de navratri, les neuf nuits que durèrent la bataille entre la déesse Durga et le démon à la tête de buffle, qui aboutit à la celebration en l'honneur de la déesse, instaure dans la maison des vibrations particulièrement positives et solaires.
 
Aujourd'hui, c'est jour de prière.Les préparatifs sont allés bon train depuis ce matin et l'air semble s'etre illuminé tout à coup. Les mantras et autres chants de devotion ne cessent d'emplir tous les coins et recoins de notre foyer et la fumée provenant des batônnets d'encens danse allégrement dans l'air. Je m'arrête et je regarde ma mère, fasciné. Elle ne fait plus qu'une avec ses prières, je la vois se fondre, se dissoudre dans une espèce d'hypnose qui la projette dans un univers lointain, comme pour échapper à ce monde et à ses incohérences.

Tout, dans cet instant, me parle. Je comprends soudain qu'il y a une finalité dans toute chose. Mes racines, mes valeurs prennent naissance ici, en ce lieu qui a vu grandir quatre enfants et partir un père aimant, un père aimé. Ma mère prie et sa foi intemporelle est un heritage qu'elle fait le choix de nous laisser malgré nous. Il est de ces choses, dans une vie, qui finissent par refaire surface dans vos moments d'égarements, des choses qui vous enracinent dans votre être.

Je n'ai jamais vraiment su prier. Enfant, on me disait, si tu ne sais pas quoi dire à dieu, alors remercie le pour tout ce qu'il t'a donné. Alors, lorsqu'on partait au temple, je lui disais merci par politesse plutôt que par gratitude, comme on dit merci à quelqu'un qui vous offre un bonbon. Ensuite j'ai découvert le bouddhisme et le concept d'un 'non-dieu' a tout de suite fait écho en moi. Aujourd'hui, j'essaie de trouver l'équilibre entre la foi des autres et mes croyances à moi. Parfois, s'installe un grand désordre, un veritable méli-mélo qui brouille les pistes et m'éloigne de mes valeurs. Dès lors, je m'arrête et j'observe les circonstances et j'attends patiemment passer l'eau couler sous le pont.

Ma fabrique à souvenirs

Vous ai-je déjà parlé de ma fabrique à souvenirs? Celle où je m'attele à me construire des moments plaisants lorsque tout semble aller tellement mal dans le monde. Plus égoistement dans le mien.

Deux évènements ont causé en moi un grand désarroi et une profonde tristesse dernièrement:

1) Une fille que je connais et que j'ai côtoyée professionnellement a été assénée de18 coups de couteau par son mari la semaine dernière. Elle laisse derrière elle 04 enfants, dont le plus jeune a 3ans. drame humain, réalité mauricienne morbide.

2) Je me suis vigoureusement fait maltraité par mon ex pendant que l'on finalisait la vente de nos voitures afin d'en finir avec le seul lien qui nous rattachait encore. J'ai eu un rire cynique lorsque j'ai réalisé que le mensonge faisait toujours partie de son modus operandi. Pourtant, je n'aurais jamais imaginé que dix ans après notre rencontre, tout allait se terminer aussi lamentablement. Cela me cause une peine immense que nul ne peut comprendre.

Toutefois la sagesse des propos de Mike et le soutien inébranlable de Vimla m'aident à entamer cette nouvelle semaine. J'ai décidé de retourner dans mon atelier fétiche où à l'aide de rires, de bonne humeur, d'évènements impromptus, de situations que j'irai volontairement provoquer, de rencontres inédits, de conversations suréalistes, de débris d'anciens mosaïques et de soupçons de vieux cocktails, je vais me confectionner un nouveau patchwork.

L'objectif de se rendre dans cette fabrique n'est pas de s'y cacher ou de refuser de faire face à la réalité. Non, le but est d'y faire le deuil de ce sentiment de tristesse qui s'est accrochée à moi par surprise depuis un moment déjà. C'est aussi d'y cultiver à profusion l'insolite qui au fil des ans se propagera, je le souhaite, dans chaque avenue que forme ma vie. Ce sera surtout et indéniablement le meilleur endroit pour être à l'écoute de ce coeur battant qu'est le mien, ce coeur pulsant d'histoires et de prières informulées.

Connaissez-vous ma fabrique à souvenirs? C'est un endroit où je m'invente un peu prophète, un peu messie et où je creuse les sillons d'un bonheur à venir.

Fragment

Dimanche-fragment.

L'image que je souhaiterais retenir de ma vie, c'est celle de ce dimanche du mois de septembre 2017:

1) Un texto de mon frère au réveil qui décrit la bataille à mort entre une cigale et une mante religieuse sur le tronc d'un arbre.
dramatic event: yesterday morning, in the fragrant hills, just outside beijing we saw a praying mantis kill a cicada. the murder scene drew a small crowd of onlookers who quoted to each other the old  saying 'pang lang bu hua, huang xue zai hou' (or something like that) , praying mantis and cicada fight, while the yellow finch watches (deux larrons se battent, le troisième en profitera)

2) Nos plans de voyage au Tibet pour l'année prochaine.

3) Lettre de motivation d'une amie revue et corrigée.

4) Trainassé dans les rues, quelques mots échangés avec le marchand de gateaux piments et observation de la foule paresseuse du dimanche matin

5) Début d'après-midi, je m'allonge sur l'herbe de la plage de la cambuse avec mon livre. De phrasés spectaculaires en envolées lyriques, un texte d'Ananda Devi m'a donné le tournis. J'ai cru perdre pied et basculer dans une autre dimension.

6) Scène d'un autre temps>En route pour l'aéroport, un troupeau de cabris m'a bloqué le passage.

7) Don't you forget about me de Simple Minds est passé à la radio et je me suis mis à chanter à tue tête.

8) Enivré de bonheur, je suis allé retrouver Vimla et je l'ai ramené chez elle.

9) J'ai massé ma mère qui avait mal au bras et je l'ai serré fort contre moi. Nous avons suivi le maiden ensemble en direct à la télé et nous avons crié pour encourager des chevaux dont on ne connait même pas les noms.

- 'Allez!Allez! Souval noir la rentré même.Allez, allez. Guett kouma li rémonté'

Nous n'avons nullement été étonné de voir l'écurie Gujadhur triompher une fois de plus dans la grande dame. Ma mère m'a raconté pour la milliardième fois son enfance au Champs de Mars et je l'ai écouté avec toujours le même plaisir.

10) Début de soirée: je remonte le moral d'un ami dont le métier ne lui convient pas.

11) Voicecall  à Michael qui faisait du pédalo sur le canal Saint Martin avec Rabiah.Paris à travers l'écran paraissait éblouissant.

12) Dans la soirée Kiran m'appelle.Je le taquine énormément et lui fait beaucoup rire. Il me demande d'arrêter car il en est tout essoufflé. Cela me soulage de réaliser que notre connection semble rétablie. Elle sera désormais plus saine et solaire. Nous savons instantanément  tous deux que ce moment est précieux, qu'il ne reviendra pas.

13) Fin de soirée, je fais la connaissance d'un évangéliste-en-devenir de 21 ans sur une plateforme. Je suis frappé par cet air d'étrangeté qui flotte tout à coup dans ma chambre.Cela me fait sourire. Conversation improbable, propos relativement creux, démarche teintée de bonne intention mais qui n'aboutira à rien...

Dimanche-fragment, fragment d'une vie.

Nostalgie

Chacha Nund s'en est allé hier. Il nous a quitté à cinq heures du matin, à la même heure que mon père il y a huit ans... Avec lui se referme un chapitre de notre vie dans le quartier. Les deux amis d'école ne sont plus. Ils s'étaient connus vers 1954-1955.

Un passage avait été laissé ouvert intentionnellement dans la haie de bambous qui séparait nos deux maisons afin que l'on puisse se cotôyer plus facilement. Mes souvenirs de la petite enfance me ramènent inlassablement vers ces diners que l'on faisait dans le jardin et le va-et-vient incessant entre nos deux demeures.Entendre ces sonorités au goût d'eternité dans ma tête me rend triste et heureux à la fois.L'amitié à portée de coeur n'a pas de prix et ne connait pas la solitude.

Les grands dimunes m'ont laissé leur histoire et j'aime me la raconter en voiture seul, le matin.C'est mon moment privilégié à moi. Je revois les éclats de rires d'hier et j'entrevois les valeurs de demain que je transmettrai à Sid. D'ici vingt ans, au volant de sa voiture, certaines pensées lui seront comme un langage familier et le soleil, le vrai, n'ornera pas le ciel car il sera collé au coin de ses lèvres.

La vie ne restitue rien, elle ne fait que passer en nous observant et nous ne faisons que respirer sa légèreté et parfois son étrangeté jusqu'à ce que ne subsiste plus qu'un simple sentiment...la nostalgie. 

Ce soir je revendique le droit à la mélancolie, pas celle qui écrase sous le poids de l'émotion, mais celle qui  libère et qui affranchi des peines.

Reality check

Sometimes we have to take tough decisions in life, decisions which we know will modify the perceptions of people we care for about who we are. I took this risk today because I realized that trying to preserve a relationship by not being honest and open was ending up distorting everything. I have my own distinct rhythm of drama and melancholia drawn from my life experiences.I have tried to stay moored to reality for so long even when at times I felt I was being pulled in contrary directions.

I did my coming out to Kiran today. I should feel relieved.
                     Instead, I have this unexplained impression that the illusion was better.

Did I mar this relationship of ours? pollute it with the truth?

                                               Is honesty the best gift you can offer a dying friend?

Is this the manifesto I want to write to myself?
             
                                                       Why am I feeling awful?

My life these days

+

+

There's a drama going on

When friends send you whatsapp messages like 'enjoy every moment in your life.today's beautiful moments are tomorrow's beautiful memories' how come they forget to complete it with ' ...and today's ugly  moments are tomorrow's sadnesses'?

An unexpected and dramatic situation occurred last sunday, leaving me perplexed and making me lose my bearings. I found myself in the middle of a terrible family clash where words of hatred and bitterness have been expressed leaving everyone profoundly hurt and sad. I tried as hard as possible not to take sides but the crisis eroded into something which went beyond us all. The worse is when you realize that you are trapped into a dangerous landslide and that you have lost control of the situation. I have had to take a stand against family members I am deeply attached to and where did this all lead me? Well, to leave the battlefield, angry, frustrated, feeling rejected, unwanted and unwelcome into a house where doors had always been opened for me.

A week has elapsed and I haven't been able to get a proper sleep.I have gone for long walks on the beach by the sunset trying to pacify my heart and let out all this angst inside of me.I am not able to share my feelings with any of my closest friends.

I managed to reach Kiran this week and after talking to him, I felt even worse (as if that was possible). Our conversation was strange and surreal. I felt as if he was disappointed in me at so many levels. He made me feel that our friendship was supposed to be better than what it actually is, that I was supposed to be straight and a better man.

There is so much turmoil in my head and chaos in my heart right now...

Gurl'

I sit at my window in trance these days, gazing  at those same stars that adorned the sky the night you stood in front of me on that jetty

Potent magic in the air and that winter breeze which fanned this slow fire inside of me into a blaze

Funny when you say that your lips are the things you like the least about yourself. 

To me, they are your most gorgeous feature

                            

   

                                                           

 My words are

scattered and so are my thoughts

Thoughts of you which are like a mesmeric incantatory melody 

1979

On 20-09-1979 my father wrote to Dr Clyde Bant, of the ministry of education of Australia, following a conference the latter had given for senior secondary principals on recommended practices for successful educational administration. Dr. Bant has replied by air letter 38 years later:

'Your letter was extremely complimentary about the Port Louis get together and it warmed my heart to read your wonderful epistle again!'

This may look insignificant. To me, for some deeper reason, it means a lot.

Mamee Yolande (1943 - 2017)

My favorite aunt, Mamee Yo, passed away this week. She formed part of that elite group of persons who are 'uncriticizable'. The type of person who is genuine, nice, sympathetic, funny and whom you basically love loving. She was a fisherman's daughter and back in time, my uncle who had been posted at the Mahebourg police station, seduced her and got her knocked up. Since she was creole and my uncle hindu and the background of the 60s, that of a society which was way more conservative than today's, I can hardly picture what she must have gone through. Out of fear of rejection, my uncle dropped her and asked to be posted elsewhere on the island. The poor girl had to take the bus down to the capital and go and see my grandmother, a very traditional lady, to ask for her support. The latter called her son and told him that it is a man's duty to face his responsibilities and from there she got them to tie the knot, to my grandfather's great despair. Mamoo Dan was my grandfather's first son, his pride and it is sad that he was never to be looked at the same again by the latter after that.
Mamee Yo quickly became everyone's favorite in the family. She had the capacity to adapt to any situation and follow all the traditions of the house, which led to the elders respecting her and her in laws loving her. She would wear the traditional saree and devotedly attend every religious ceremony. She would never miss the Maha Shivratree pilgrimage and would perform Doorga pooja in her prayer room in Pointe Desny. The statuette of Virgin Mary would stand right next to that of  Doorga Maa.
I fondly remember sunday bollywood afternoons at her place. My mom would rent the latest bollywood blockbuster cassette and we would all gather in the  tiny tv room to watch Sri Devi's comedy acts. Mamee Yo's   fan club would comprise all the nephews and nieces who would literally run to hug her as soon as she would step in somewhere. She would tell us hilarious stories about Dass, the soothsayer that her sister Françoise had consulted,  about her arguments with Kader the driving instructor who was also my uncle's best friend.She would proudly wear her Hindu Cadets t-shirt and walk in Roche Bois to go visit aunty Neema. I would bring Sid to her place to swim in the backyard pool and she would shout "pa tiss dan piscine' (don't pee in the pool!)...lol. And her impersonation of Keswar bayya was so extremely funny.
Mamoo Dan and Mamee Yo formed,by far, the most charismatic couple of our family. They loved each other deeply and when my uncle was about to pass away in 2010, he would tell anyone who would visit him at the hospital: "gett mo bonnefemme bien kan mo pa pou la, mo sel sagrin mo pou kitte moYo et mo perr personne pa pou konne gett li" (please look after my wife when I will be gone, my only fear is that nobody looks after her properly). That was his only concern on his dying bed. Her daughters lovingly took great care of their mother until her last day and she received regular visits from the family. Well, I didn't expect she would leave us this year. Honestly, I would have given her at least 4-5 more years but as goes the saying 'death is certain, the time of death is uncertain' and it is certainly a good thing that sickness spared her.

Love fell into me

Music is coming out of my heart these days, most of it melancholic. I realize I have even begun to wait for messages on my phone as expectantly as any teenager. This is very unlike me and I really don't know if I should consider it funny or weird.

I have been thinking a lot about the whole concept of romantic love lately. Like any regular human being, I always wanted to fall in love with hope that my story would end happily, but now after trying all the recipes in the book and getting the menus repeatedly overcooked, burnt and invariably ratés, I  have decided to quit once and for all. When you're no good at cooking, why bother becoming a chef? Those many years which all began hopeful and ended with the same dull disappointment are now gone for good.

How far have I come from my distant dreams! A bright-eyed, smiling guy from a middle-class family, living on a small island who would have fun at anything in the most natural manner. I had dreamed of so many things that are blurred now. All those encounters, each time thinking I was in love. To make matters worse, thinking they might have been in love with me only to wake up one day and realize that I had just been a holiday crush all my life. This awakening does not taste as bitter as it appears though. On the contrary, it is more sweet than sour. What do I dream of now, if anything? I am unafraid to find out.

I wanted to fall in love but instead love fell into me in the most unexpected way. It turns out to be the eye-opener I had been waiting for throughout my entire life.

Gopee's imagination is playing tricks on him

My hairdresser just came back from his holidays. He visited France and Mount Etna in Sicily. He spent one night in a château in Normandy and his lips turned purple with cold in Calais.  He was overwhelmed by his transit in Dubai and his description of what he saw is pretty exaggerated and funny.

1) Sa volcan la so cratere fer la moitié nou l'ile
2) Dubai so terminal prend dépi Curepipe ziska Port Louis
3) Avion la so lézel prend dépi La Louise ziska Rond Point St Jean

Even my imagination has its limits. I mean, how can the wings of an aircraft possibly be like1.5 km long, an airport terminal around 30 kms wide and the diameter of a crater stretch over 40 kms? Seriously, man!!!

I've been going to that hairdresser's salon for the past 25 years. It took him 30 minutes for a haircut back then. Now that I have gone increasingly bald, it takes him maximum 2 minutes to get me out of the chair. He is kind enough to compensate by chatting 10 extra minutes with me. After all, the time spent there does need to be worth every penny, right? I must say that his observation of world news is somewhat subjective and fascinating. For example he told me today that he thinks that Emmanuel Macron won the presidential election in France because he is good looking and that many youngsters who were not in age to vote persuaded their parents to vote for him as he is so very attractive. Now, if we had to vote for our ministers here based on their physical attributes, that would be something. We would be in such a fix...lol

This afternoon, my colleague Yoann asked those two tourists:
 - How are your holidays going? Are you on honeymoon?
- 'She is my daughter!' came the reply from the man who suddenly turned pale. The girl must have felt slightly insulted and I just could not resist laughing out loud at this clueless blooper.

Enjoying the illusion - A letter to the diva

Dear Vimla,

Would it be an overstatement if I said that this past year has been the most intense one of our respective lives? For different reasons. You witnessed your family fall apart and lost your 'home' and your friends. Those who were supposed to be on the forefront and support you simply walked away upon realizing that things were about to get messy. At the same time our paths crossed and we reacted similarly acknowledging the fact that everything happens for a reason. Today, I can't help but think that our story is very Paulo Coelhoesque: two persons at the crossroads of their lives come together and decide that no matter what happens, life is a merry-go-round which needs to be ridden. We also agree that over and above everything life is but an  illusion. We decided soon enough that each and every moment would matter and allowed ourselves to let go of our  fears.

You taught me to reconnect with nature and the simple pleasures of life. I taught you to reconstruct your self-confidence. You showed me to laugh at little nothings and I showed you to stop paying attention to pointless matters. Our positive vibes and energy are a natural match at so many levels that the mere thought of you makes me happy.  Today the greatest thing about that relationship of ours is that we can easily survive without each other. Experience has taught us that attachment only brings suffering. I left for New York for a couple of weeks and we carried on with our respective lives merrily. You will be leaving for Nepal for a couple of months, yet we both know that when we will meet again, we will have so many adventures to recount. I can listen to your stories for hours without ever getting tired and you can listen to my silly anecdotes with a smile on your face.

I am so happy to have gotten out of my old dreams to create new ones with you...

Rita Mitsouko & Césaria Evora - Sodade

Insight Out

I have been doing a lot of thinking about inter-religious marriages.I have a very dear muslim friend who has been going out with her tamilian boyfriend for 4 years. They now want to get married and she has figured out that the only way to go ahead is for the boy to get converted to islam. That's the way things work here. She has asked him to convert but somehow I have the impression she is not feeling totally comfortable with this idea. This situation is very cruel and is putting a lot of pressure on the couple. I suggested they do a civil wedding and follow their own religion individually but instead got a grudgingly awful look as reply. In my opinion, it's the only thing that makes sense. Apparently not to islam.

Can someone be asked to convert in the name of love? Can a person be whole again after such a thing? If someone chooses to convert out of his own will, then it makes total sense but when asked to do it to prove something, how do you integrate that in your own being? This part needs to be explained to me. Shouldn't anyone be allowed to express his own identity in terms of religion, like a declaration of who you are and how you choose to live?

I am being asked to give my opinion into this matter but there is nothing much to say...les dés sont jetés. Honestly, out of all persons I have, since long, done my coming out as the least religious person ever, so why would anyone ask for my opinion on that subject? I am no voice of reason either. I am just a guy who figures that some things make sense and others don't.Why should everything look so intricately complicated when they are actually so utterly plain and simple? People live in the fear of being rejected by their community or family, in the fear of not being understood,in the fear of not being accepted. They tend to forget that not being accepted can sometimes be the greatest gift ever. It can be synonymous to freedom and connecting to your very own self. In my opinion, this is the ultimate self-realization.

Usual stuff + Emily Dickinson

It was nice to catch up with Tats for lunch last week. It is always such a delight to be in her company.
These past days have been quite busy; Ashna's surgery, meeting all my friends, spending quality time with Sid and lending him a caring ear, hooking up with a hottie, having dinner with the gonssclub, bringing mum and my sister for a long drive, listening to Nasreen voicing out her 'situation', going for a 3 hour walk in the national park, discussing loneliness with Vimla and coming to the conclusion that you can only be alone if you keep yourself isolated, talking about  non-duality and reading Emily Dickinson's selected poems.

I think I will never really be alone in this world as long as I carry with me Jacques Prevert's "Paroles" and Emily Dickinson's "Final Harvest".


I know that He exists.
Somewhere - in Silence -
He has hid his rare life
From our gross eyes.

'Tis an instant's play.
'Tis a fond Ambush -
Just to make Bliss
Earn her own surprise!

But-should the play
Prove piercing earnest -
Should the glee - glaze -
In Death's - stiff - stare -

Would not the fun
Look too expensive!
Would not the jest -
Have crawled too far!

c.1862

Prospect Park Brooklyn on a Saturday Morning - May 2017

For the love of NYC

Has this trip to NYC been the best one of my life so far? Most probably. Has it been the most meaningful one? Definitely!!! I have decided not to post any picture of my holidays on facebook because I do not want to share my memories publicly. This encounter with this good old buddy is so very intimate that by just posting a few pictures out there would be like a lack of respect towards it. New York deserves better than people 'liking' it and barely paying attention to what it has to say. New York needs to be told to people you love around a meal. What am I saying? several meals... Of course, every adventure has its exaggerations and embroidery and my recounting the tale of my adventures in the big city to friends and family members will be sprinkled with additional flavors but at the end of the day, it is the only way I know how to pay tribute to what is now a good friend. Only me and me alone know how delightful and unforgettable this holiday spree has been and how kind the city has been to me.

The town has that wry sense of wit to it, one can't deny it.  It teases you all the time by unraveling new places to you when you thought you had already been taken aback.On the plane back, I tried to list down the best moments I experienced only to realize that each and every minute in the big apple had its own charm and carried its load of good souvenirs. Was it the pic-nic I had in Central Park before falling soundly asleep on the grass to later waking up to the sound of the squirrels fighting over a nut? No,wait, it was probably my walk on Brooklyn Bridge on a cold, rainy day where it had been deserted and I felt as if I owned the place. That's not right again, it surely must have been when I was sipping into that divine prosecco at Tomi Jazz at 1am listening to that band led by the lady with the mellow voice.Or was it when I let a tear roll down my cheek while admiring 'La Repasseuse' by Picasso at the Guggenheim? On second thought, I will give the credit to that stroll in strawberry field down to the bow bridge on a warm sunny morning. But then again, there was ballet night at the Lincoln Center... The New York City Ballet performing 'A midsummer night's dream' must surely have been the highlight of my holidays. but what about The Botanical Garden in spring with the blooming  flowers and Smorgasburg, the outdoor foodie market in Brooklyn where I tasted Argentinean beef? Seriously, I cannot pinpoint one specific moment over another where I felt more overjoyed.

The greatest thing about this holiday is that I was there on my own for fifteen days and I never felt lonely or depressed. I managed to make friends and engage conversation with perfect strangers. Walter, the old black, homeless guy in Brooklyn who shouted 'Hey mamoo' at me near the subway station. 'Do you know the meaning of mamoo?' I asked him, to which he surprisingly replied "Yeah, it means uncle in hindi'!!! - that was my OMG moment / Soraya, the puerto rican lady in Harlem  who engaged a conversation with me about the queen and Lady Di. We talked for an hour and she made me laugh so hard / Peter, the kind gentleman who lives in Queens and provided me with so many tips about how to get around and find the best seats for the shows / Margarita at the ticket counter at the cinema theater who advised me to take a taxi from Columbia Square to Lexington Avenue after the midnight session of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. From what I have experienced, New Yorkers are nice and friendly and helpful and I really fell for that place. To wrap it up, how can I forget about my dear Polish friend, Thomasz and his cult phrase, in his charming broken english, which left everyone laughing their head off :  "Global warming, global warming...what global warming?!? Come to Poland, Global Cold!!!".He was so upset the evening everyone turned him down for the drinks at the bar. It was funny and at the same time said so much about his character.

So far I always had a soft corner for London - 1998, that spectacular year where my life changed forever. How beautifully has 2017 made the tables turn! New York City has just become my favorite holiday city.

When your dream is about to come true

See, I have been dreaming about visiting New York for the past what? 25/30 years? And here I am now, finally taking that long overdue leap, all set up to travelling solo to the city that never sleeps. And true, I might have read everything that could be read about the big apple, watched countless documentaries and traveled a zillion times there in my head, still I confess being kinda scared. It's something I can't really describe, like finally being in the presence of this best friend whom you never had the opportunity of meeting.

Now, the real question is not whether I will like the city but rather if NYC will like me? Will it accept and absorb me in that unique energy and buzz that it yields all year round? Will it teach me about my own limitations and insanity? I am confidently guessing yes.

My dream is about to come true and I have no clue about what entails from there. What really does happen once your dream has been fulfilled? Has this question ever been answered? Do you just go with the flow or set afresh and start dreaming about something else? Stay tuned if you want a decent answer to this relevant question.

The weather is absolutely perfect today and I am flying to New York.

                                                                                      I am flying to New York..

                                                                                                     I am flying to New York...

Ravi Shankar at Monterey - Monumental!!!

Follow the path that is no path, follow your bliss

It is such a nice feeling when a friend tells you that he has been reading your blog in order to catch up with what is happening in your life. Not only does it convey a sense of caring but it also puts a smile onto your face. You throw a few sentences in the air, juggle with some words on a blank sheet and someone actually takes the time to go through the lines and comment on them with warm consideration in the voice :)
Meeting Zyad is always such an absolute pleasure. He had just turned 20 when were first introduced to each other and 17 years later the rhythm of our relationship has not changed that much. Same tempo.Same beat.

                                                                        ***

My car has gone temperamental these days and I have sent it to the mechanic for repair.It is never easy to part with a vehicle which has served you faithfully for years but I guess sooner rather than later I will be left with no other options than purchasing a more reliable car and bid goodbye to my old mazda. It will be a sad moment. It is not as much the car itself as the souvenirs attached to it; road trips, laughter, confidences exchanged on the back seat, adventures galore...

                                                                        ***

Exactly one year today since the breaking news of Viraj's cheating on Vimla and the latter's life taking a spiral downfall. Out of this chaotic mess, long drives and reconnecting with nature helped in saving our two lost souls. What has life tried to tell us this past year? That it is indeed a mystery to be lived and not a problem to be solved, that good things do spring out from bad situations, that everything happens for a reason. We went for a cup of cardamom and cinnamon tea at Pamplemousses this afternoon. We talked about our failures,our sense of shame towards life, towards people. Acknowledging my faults and weaknesses and voicing out my sense of guilt surprisingly did not make me feel as bad as I would have thought. It was quite liberating actually. I never talk about these things out of fear that it might affect my self esteem too far without hope of recovery. Today I realized that finding the right ear to pour it out to just made me feel lighter. Someone knows, someone is aware, someone understands.


                                                                       ***


I am reading a novel that Boris gave me. It is an evocative and moving tale of a young woman making a new life for herself after the passing away of her husband gone on a mountain trek.I don't want to finish it too early as there is a restrained beauty to it. It is the type of novel you wish to never end, more because of the prose than the story line.
Extract:
I sifted through my mind for whatever I could retrieve of him, reconstructing our years together; the way I pretended to sleep so that he would bring tea to our bed each morning,tugging a tuft of my hair to wake me.How we would eat omelettes day after day because we had failed somehow to shop or cook.
I longed for the simple joy of being married to him, and to have him there to confirm my memories - was our cupboard black or brown?Did the neighbors really have a dog called Simona?Where was that bouldered and scrubby place we went to, the day his motorbike was delivered after weeks of waiting?He had driven very fast and we were wildly gleeful, like children who had escaped school.

Simply Red - So Beautiful

Does 'paused development" sound sexier than "midlife crisis'?

So here I am, hitting straight the ugliest and most dreadful spot ever; midlife crisis. Somebody please save me from that uncomfortable feeling of looking back at those bygone decades while trying to look forward at the rest of my life. They had warned me all about it (by 'they' I mean those who have been there and the, much, younger ones who have no idea what this whole agony is about). Truth is, I did not want to pay attention to them, thinking I would get away with it with some wit and positivity. Had midlife crisis not come to fling a stone into my calm pond, I would be all up and about these days. Instead I am slowly losing my taste for adventure, my impulsiveness and gradually sinking into that grey area where you vaguely resemble that someone you used to be, asking yourself:  'Is it still okay to be me?...whatever that is...'

Given that emotional intelligence and richness of the soul are not taken into account when you are nailed down like this, swapping the term 'midlife crisis' to 'paused development' might be a good idea. It can be a ray of hope .You know you cannot go with the flow anymore and you have to relinquish the idea that your energy level is never going to be the same as before. It has to be used more intelligently and diligently. You cannot just go lay claim to everything. You've got to face it, at 44 time bends it all and you don't have the upperhand on the script anymore. Even the universe tends to be a bit indifferent to your demands. I guess being kind and gentle to yourself is all that is left to do to avoid a roiling mess.

Message from Japan

My brother Amal who is on holidays with his family in Japan sent me this very funny message:

Almost had a quarrel with my wife yesterday. we had reached that stage in zonkeddness where we take half a day to decide where to go; arrive in the subway, fall asleep, wake up to realise we're going in the wrong direction and will soon reach some decrepit suburb with tatooed guys walking their pitbulls, scramble back towards the city centre and in the middle of this half conscious haze she decides that she wants to visit the yasukuni shrine. me: 'but that's where they worship their war criminals' she: 'it's just a few of them who are war criminals'. me: 'but you can't go there. it's their criminals. you go worship your own criminals.' fortunately she did not hear that last one.i hope she does not come up again with that idea today. to be fair to her, she was not the only one to come up with strange ideas. i suggested a neighbourhood called kagurazaka which is the french quarter of tokyo. it's ultra chic. we almost went there, thank god we did not, i don't think I could have handled a double whammy of franco-japanese refinement. quaint cobblestoned alleys lined with geisha courtyards, avant garde art galleries, conceptual stylists, fusion restaurants...already in kyoto we got badly put down when the kids said they were famished, and we couldn't find a place to eat. out of desperation we entered a bakery named 'Chez Amal' (no joke!) but it only had the daintiest little chocolate cakes i've ever seen. the kind of thing you're supposed to nibble along with organic coffee from Uganda or somewhere like that. then the girl told us we couldn't eat the stuff in the shop and we returned it.

Me: You should have taken a pic of the signboard, we would have shown it to the relatives and told them that you recycled into bakery in Japan. That would have been the talk of the town.

We already have a baker in the family: remember popol, in australia? but yes I should have taken a photo of Chez Amal. I guess the owner is an arab lady, or a fan of Amal Clooney.

Lil' things

Heard in the toilets of Bagatelle yesterday, a guy clearing his throat in the most gross, shameless, scabrous way ever. He had to go and reach deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep within to make that frightful sound which can easily put to shame the T-Rex from Jurassic Park. Mr Phlegmy, you almost had my ear torn off. I admit I could not stop laughing. Actually, I still can't, else I would not be mentioning it here. I am thinking how I would describe this to Mike in our next conversation. Whenever there is a lull in our strained conversations, we just crack up silly jokes to relieve the tension.

The sun and heat has become a constant in our lives these days. I can't recall when I last experienced walking under heavy rainfall, the one which lasts for hours. The heat is uncomfortable but the starry nights have never been so luminous and beautiful. Every night, I sit outside for ten minutes and I lose myself to the sky, allowing my eyes to travel many millions of miles until they reach other galaxies.

The rhythm of my life has changed since Vimla has appeared in it last year. We spend most of our free time going for long drives and taking pictures from all impossible angles. Sometimes we pause and talk to perfect strangers or even take a snap with them. Her presence reassures me about not being the only crazy creature on earth.I know I can be understood when I say things like " Do you think that if I go and talk to that tree over there, it will reply to me?" Unhesitatingly she will answer " What are you waiting for? Go, hug it warmly and ask it how it is doing." -  when insanity meets madness...

Count your blessings

There are days like these where you feel caught up in rapture.                                     Moments you would like to frame and keep in your heart forever.

When the kids set the example

Both Sid and Ashna came up with good HSC results and we are proud of their success.
Bright academic performance is awesome but becoming a good person is what matters most and in that aspect I will say that all our kids have bloomed beautifully well, specially Sid who carries himself  with poise and awareness of other people's sensitivities.There is no better feeling in the world than to realize that your children are turning out to be good human beings.

So,we had this nice family dinner to celebrate the kids.Moments like these are to be cherished forever. We are a middle-class family, we take care of one another (sometimes even in the most awkward manner) and we try as hard as possible not to be judgmental. There are times where we succeed and others where we fail. Sometimes we fall short at understanding one another but come what may, we try to make sure that no one gets hurt in the process and we see to it that home is the safest haven where one can sleep soundly.

Most of the time, it is the children who teach us the best. I was listening to Sid and Ashna conversing with such natural ease about their hook ups last night that at one point I thought I was in a sitcom. It was funny, charming and disarmingly spontaneous.

Well, my wish is for them to be proud of us as we are of them and to try not to let them down. I pray that our pieces of advice will guide them far enough to help find their way in the world.

January Encounters

Coming out of the grocery shop, I ran into Sim. We greeted each other politely and parted ways. For more than two decades, she had been the central figure in my life, then one day she flipped a switch and became someone I never knew. So, I saw her and the only thought that came to my mind was that we were just two strangers with memories. I could be sad but I choose to thank her instead because deep down I know I would never be the person that I am today, had she not come into my life.

Holidays and Holy Days

My first post of the year.

The holiday season will be over when Divya and Hishana will go back to Australia. Soon, that is. Too soon :(
What can I say? It has been a beautiful holiday season which will now make way to holy days. I have started purification by doing my Vajrasattva mantras and reciting the auspiciousness prayer six times a day.
Today is a day of reflection, spent in bed with books, lots of books spread everywhere in the room. It's such a nice feeling to laze around and to read bits and pieces of everything that comes at hand. Two things I have retained:
i) Personal enlightenment cannot be attained without the enlightenment of others
ii) One can be fulfilled only by doing something valuable

On a lighter note, from "Comment Vivre à l'Ile Maurice en 25 leçons":

Mais connaissez-vous l'histoire de Diabaldias, le masseur itinérant de Quatre-Bornes? Il massait dans les endroits les plus variés. A son domicile, au vôtre, dans la rue, dans l'autobus, en taxi, en palanquin, en charrette, en dilettante, dans les magasins, sur les manguiers de la cour, partout où la fantaisie prenait à sa victime de se percher.

Mais si vous vouliez lui faire réellement plaisir, il fallait l'emmener au cinéma. On payait sa place et il se mettait dans une rangée juste derrière le client. Et, tout en regardant le film, il lui massait l'occiput en musique, appliquant, suivant la relaxation obtenue, un des trois tarifs qu'il professait et qu'il avait classés par grade d'intensité: joui, jouissance, et joui serré, ce dernier degré procurant une volupté encéphalique où la réalité dépassait la friction.