SF Diaries - Fall 2008

I'm at the SF airport. On the way back. It's a lovely day. And I'm going to write my San Fransisco Diaries. I've been here about 9 days. And I'm sad to go back, but also relieved to be going back home.

Mountain Viewing

Among the various things I'm enjoying in the Google Mountain View office, besides the bikes, and the air is the stuff in the break-out areas. I usually walk around slowly and take a good look at everything to eat/drink, and find it hard to make up my mind about what I really want to try.

But today I happily grabbed a bottle of Vitamin Water - dragonfruit. And it's delicious.

Here's the amusing copy on the bottle:

have you ever wondered why every
superhero insists on wearing tights? when
did they get together and decide that tights
from head to toe was the official superhero
uniform? well, whatever the case maybe,
if you're not a superhero but still want to
look good in tight t-shirts, we recommend
this bottle packed with vitamin c. who
knows, you may find yourself jogging past
speeding bullets, bench pressing
locomotives or skipping over tall buildings
(in a single hop), and if you insist on
wearing tights... who are we to judge?

Yea. Vague. But funny. And tasty, yo.

Virgin Movies

20 hours in air. 4 movies.

1. Harold and Kumar escape from Guantanamo Bay.
Hadn't watched a completely retarded movie for ages. It was sufficiently retarded. A ludicrous masala Hollywood flick, with love-story, drugs, action, comedy, all rolled into one.

2. Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day
Lovely British drama. Happy movie. Great looking cast. Nice dialogues, and beautifully shot.

3. The Love Guru
Saw this out of curiosity (the Guru thing). It's hilarious. I guess I've missed watching movies - this was really good entertainment. Mike Myers was superb as the Americanized Guru Pitka living in LA (performs some ridiculous songs with a sitar), and Justin Timberlake as Jacques 'Le Coq' Grande was funny too.

4. Horton Hears a Who
Animated movies are usually a sure-shot good time. This one was cute. Not as super-awesome as The Jungle Book or Kung-Fu Panda, but neat-o. An eccentric elephant hears a 'speck' scream and then discovers that a whole world exists on something as small as a needle-tip, much to the disbelief of everyone around him.

(I guess am imagining it, but I seem to find spiritual messages in so many movies. And everything I come across. And, Sadhguru says that yoga can be in everything we do. Anyway, that's another story.)

Bombay - London - SFO

Bombay was Bombay. And it was time to travel.

Once again, Google's ample generosity bought me a week long vacation, sorry, work-trip, to Mountain View, California. Somehow, I wasn't so excited this time. Until I bought my ticket - Virgin Atlantic, via London. And my manager offered that I could stop in London for a day if I wanted.

Thrilled, and slightly rashly, I bought my ticket with a deliberate day-long halt at London. And only after that bothered checking with my friends, Karen and Brad, if they were to be in London on that day at all, and not filming in Pakistan or something. Fortunately, they were going to be in town.

Only after, after that did it strike me that I might need a visa and other such paper work. It's disheartening, this whole visa business. That we're subject to such an annoying procedure to go anywhere. Anyway.

So, nobody seemed to know the answer to whether I needed a visa or not, and the website was a confusing mess. But it looked to me that if I had a visa to the US, and my halt was less that 48 hours, I wouldn't need a visa. So, I was hopeful. But the website was very confusing, and had too many rules and laws for me to bother reading properly.

Lots of people I asked, including one person (ahem) who very strongly declared that I was nuts if I thought I could get out of the airport, said that it didn't seem likely. All this after I'd spoken to Brad and Karen and had already jumped up-and-down in excitement three times.

But, strangely, I wasn't disappointed. This whole yoga business is doing awesome things to me.

I was like, cool, if I get to go, it's great. If not, it's fine too. I can read at the airport and all that.

Oh, and this yoga business. My packing was so compact. The last time I went to Mountain View, I took a bag three times larger for a much shorter trip. This time, I had a nice small suitcase, laptop bag, and my yoga mat.

At the airport, I asked the Virgin staff if I would be allowed to go out in London. They were pretty sure I wouldn't. So, I prepared myself to spend the night at the London airport. Reading.

Landed in London, and started looking around for where I could sleep or rest. There was a board pointing at 1. Connecting Flights OR 2. Immigration. I started walking towards connecting flights, but then asked someone if that's where I should go for a 15-hour stop. They waved me towards Immigration.

And then, boom, in 5 minutes I had a stamp on my passport - '24 hour' visa. And I was out! Not really prepared. It was 18:30hrs and I had no currency, no address, no phone, and had messaged Karen from Bombay airport saying I wasn't likely to be able to see them.

1. Bought some Pounds.
2. Tried unsuccessfully to call Karen.
3. Went online (2 Pounds) and copied notes from an email with directions, from Brad.
4. Got slightly concerned about how things would turn, and went offline.

The first bit of directions from the email, were to get onto the Picadilly Train Line and travel east to Holborn and then switch to the Central Line until Bethnal Green. Which is where they live.

Went out of the airport. With laptop bag, camera and yoga mat. And realized London was freezing cold. Went round and round and asked people to help me find the trains, went round and round some more, and finally found the trains.

It was easy after that - very well organized, dozens of signs to everything, and super-cool trains. Fast, snazzy and all that. And full of Indians.

I was slightly concerned about my next steps. I knew which station I had to get off at. But from there, I had no idea. I knew I had to somehow make a call to them, or get online and look at a map. Or email. Or walk around and ask for directions to No.w.here. Which is what their film studio is called. I pictured myself asking a proper British Uncle if he knew where I could find nowhere. And I pictured his eyes bugling out in disbelief, in the style of Inspector Goon from the Five Find-Outers legend. And then I dismissed that picture from my head. Wasn't helping.

There was a girl across from me, talking on the phone in Hindi. I was desperately wondering if I should request her to let me make a call. But I didn't. Instead I focused on my little map, criss-crossed with train lines. Boy, what an elaborate railway system - a dozen railway lines, connecting every corner of the city. And stations with fairy-tale names - Knight's Bridge, Baron's Court, Earl's Court, Cockfosters(?).

But alas, that map was pretty useless when it came to trying to locate No.w.here.

An Indian-looking man then asked me if I was new there. He indicated that my clutching of the map had got his attention. I said I had just landed, and that I sort of knew where I had to go... He said, I shouldn't ask random people for directions, but should ask the railway staff. And then he got off.

Thanks for the tip, I thought. I didn't want to get into trouble in a foreign city, with no escort and no way of reaching anyone I knew.

Bethnal Green arrived. I got off. There was a map on the railway station - but I was quickly dismayed to realize that I had absolutely no idea which way to go. I didn't know what street they were on, and I felt massively stupid for being such a retard.

Fortunately, all this lovely yoga magic was happening, and I wasn't worried or scared, and I knew things would work out. I went out of the station. It was dark, windy and cold. And deserted.

Asking for directions is a natural process when you live in Bombay. The hundred of people on the road, and the dozen super-knowledgeable paanwalas everywhere are assured means to finding your way to anywhere.

London is not = Bombay in that aspect. There were a couple of young boys on the phone outside the platform and I somehow didn't feel like asking them for help. No shops in sight. Hardly anyone on the streets.

I continued walking, some shop like lights were a few blocks down, and I saw a store near a gas station. (Just like the movies! And Indians selling the stuff!) I was happy, they were sure to help me, I thought. All I wanted was a phone booth! Or a computer. Or help.

I went to the chap and said I was lost, and that I needed to make a phone call. There was a phone right there. I was hoping that he would let me use his phone. (Take a pound, I don't care, I was thinking, sending brain-pleads to his brain.) He looked a bit skeptical, and said that I would find a phone on the railway station.

I went back into the wind and the cold darkness. I was in tears now. But I guess its natural for people to be skeptical of strangers. Maybe he thought my yoga mat was a terrorist's weapon. So, I turned and went back to the station.

It was a relief to escape the cold and see people again. I saw an Indian girl, with a bouquet of flowers in her hands, standing waiting for someone, and I went straight to her. And told her I was a bit (yea, sure) lost, and that I would be grateful for help. She immediately offered to make a phone call for me, and we started chatting. (Happy Diwali and all) and then, I got through to Karen - who was on a train to Glasgow. And she said I was lucky I managed to reach her phone!

Fortunately, Brad was in town and he came to the railway station and rescued me. So, all turned well. I was thrilled to see Brad, exactly one year after our memorable adventures film-making in Bombay.

And then things were glorious. My flight the next morning was at 9:30 am, so I only had the night to be in London, but I didn't care what we did - it was enough just that I was there!

Went to the much-discussed film studio, (was super-cool) and caught up on the one year (lots of work for Brad and lots of stories from me - the life-crisis and the yoga). And then, since I don't drink anymore, we decided we didn't want to see the inside of a London pub, but we'd see as much of the city.

Walked. For the next 4 hours! Until way past midnight.

London. Is. Gorgeous. More so than SF, I must admit. We walked through a neighbourhood full of pubs, strip-clubs. Soho. And then to posh streets - Trafalgar Square! The city was bursting with energy - so many theatres, cinemas, museums, art places! I had my camera dangling around my neck, but my fingers were numb with the cold, and the light wasn't enough for great photography anyway. Tiny alleys. Red buses.

Walked past a movie premier of the new Bond movie - fancy-fancy-gorgeous looking people.

Then walked to the Thames and crossed the river. Saw the London Eye and Big Ben, and well, as much as we could cram into the 4 hours, before I was ready to collapse with a frozen body. Stared in awe at St. Paul's Church.

Smiled because I was in Harry Potter and Enid Blyton land.

And went home, content to have seen London at night, and more than glad to be in a warm bed.

Magic became

They say life breaks you. And that you have to pick up the pieces, and walk on. And all that.

What happens when life not only breaks you - but grinds you down? No pieces to pick up really, when you're ground into powder.

But then, there comes along a magician. And he looks at the sand. And says, hmm.

Sand becomes glass, you know.

A new form. The same sand, transformed.

Cocoon-ed

I remember Swamy calling me a caterpillar. He wouldn't explain why. I was extremely miffed - he wouldn't tell me what it meant, and I couldn't for the life of me imagine what he was talking about.

Had forgotten all about that until today. It's funny. Read this on the new Isha website.

There is a beautiful story about a caterpillar that lived much of its life believing that it had come into being only to eat and sleep and do what the rest of the caterpillars did. However it was unhappy. Somehow it sensed that its life had another dimension not yet experienced.

One day, driven by a strange longing, it decided to become still and silent. It hung from the branch of a tree, weaving a cocoon around itself. Inside the cocoon, although constrained and uncomfortable, it waited, sensing and aware. Its patience bore fruit, for when the cocoon burst open, it was no longer the lowly worm that went in, but a beautiful, resplendent, winged butterfly which dazzled the sky. It soared and flew, no longer limited to its worm-like existence, but free and unbounded. The caterpillar had been transformed into a thing of air and lightness, magic and beauty.

Once the transformation had taken place, it was impossible for the butterfly to return to being a worm. In the cocoon, the caterpillar had become one with its inner being and in this union it reached its ultimate nature. What happened in the cocoon can be described as yoga. Yoga is the path towards being boundless.

Yoga transforms and liberates human beings so that they can reach this unbounded state. Humans, unlike animals, are not merely existing. They are becoming. To evolve as a human being is to become aware of one's limitations; to strive, with intense passion, towards the transcendence for which we all have the potential.

Lagging

Bombay.

At night. Sober for a change.


Time with the family. Talking.


With the boys. Listening. Arguing.


Lights on the streets. Amber glow.


In the train! Sitting at the doors.

Relished.

Diwali Wishes

In another lifetime, I would say: May all your dreams come true.

Instead, now I think I'll say: Hope you stop dreaming soon.

Happy Diwali y'all.

Going to Bombay!

"Sunday afternoon lunch at our place. We're organising food. BYOB. Theme party. Everyone has to dress as rock stars. If you want to bring wives, girl friends, someone along, make sure they know the theme. Non-theme dressers will have to take care of Kabir."

SMS from Melly. Haha. This is the lunch party where I meet the boys. I guess Sailusha and I'll be looking after Kabir, and trying to teach him yoga.

At BSP

I buried my face in the grass. I was lying flat on my stomach, in the morning sun, in the grass.

I breathed in the smell of the earth.

The last remaining dewdrops cooling my skin.

I heard nothing but the birds.

I didn't need to think. Nothing else existed - no past, no future. No opinions, or emotions, or fantasies. No Afrin.

I was experiencing something new. Something unique - oneness.

The Ishas

Sparkling eyes.

Delirious laughter.

Unconditional love.

Exuberant skipping steps.

The answer

When the longing to know becomes larger than your ego - you will find out.

Two sides

When you're driving a car, you think the pedestrians are like annoying mosquitos, and people on bikes keep getting in your way, and you hate the bus driver for thinking he owns the road.

You honk impatiently. Quite a lot.

When you're walking on the road, you think the car drivers are out to kill you, and you can't stand how much they honk.

You curse them. Quite a lot.

Where do tears come from? Do you know?

I'll tell you.

They come from the gap between you and me. The gap between me and the sky. The gap between me and hell.

From the void between the minuscule and the infinite.

That's a big gap, my friend. Many, many tears. Why won't you cry your share?

But there's something I can do. To bridge that gap.

He's told me how. To become infinite. That leaves no gaps, you see. And you'll be a part of me then.

She asked me to scream. I closed my eyes and screamed.

Opened my eyes and looked at them. They looked amused.

She said - not good enough. Try again.

I closed my eyes.

Took a deep breath...

...and screamed.

You can do better, she said. How would you scream when someone hurt you?

I closed my eyes. Something was welling up. I knew I wanted to scream. Without holding back.

A deep breath. And a scream. A blood curling scream. So intense, my stomach shook. A scream from every cell in my body.

I heard them applaud before my eyes opened.