Another Harry's Bar....and the tale it tells.

Wet wind on the sidewalk….I’m staring in the rain,
Walking up the streets…and walking down again.
And my feet are tired and my brain is numb,
See that broken neon sign say…. “Hey, In you come.”
Got the scent of stale beer hanging, hanging round my head.
Old dog in the corner sleeping like he could be dead.
A book of matches and a full ashtray.
Cigarette left smoking its life away.
Another Harry's bar -- or that's the tale they tell.
Harry's long gone now....and the customers as well.

Somehow the first thoughts are always of bleary Pune December mornings , exhausted to the last mitochondrion of the body - with chronic sleep deprivation and substance abuse , you are dragged off to usual business. The morning fingers nearly breaking into a rigor , at the first strike of the heavy E-string. However, as the first chords lend way to the bridge , Miruvor has coursed through the body.

“ The mist had fled and the sun rose red
Upon the church spire tall,
An old man clad in a cloak and hat
Sat stoned on a battered wall.”

The mornings have always been the most dimly lit…..an uncomfortable jamboree of uneasy slumbers in incomprehensible lectures ; amidst bursting cacophonic hospital OPD’s and sardonically satisfying pools of blood in the OT ; amidst endless cups of pepper n ginger tea in the brilliant mornings of the decadent valley nothingness.
This hasn’t been the best of years , even by the exalted standards of your generally wasted existence. You’ve lost count of the number of ‘ oh, nearly so’s’.....ever witnessing the finishing line , yet forever shy of it ( damn you …hellish hope) ; from the vividly dark nights in the U-block to the anguish ridden centre court of Wimbledon. Yet maybe such disappointments were imperative to attain such hypoxic heights of nihilism , that you boast of in any case.
True nihilism they say arises from a perfect harmony of intellectual and philosophical realization ….. yet you cannot help but feel the ever worsening decline of the intellect amidst the mundane tribulations of routine existence. Not without an end, these tribulations, perhaps….but at what cost….and will it all be too late.

Last of all , Frodo hugged Sam…. “ Maybe you too shall follow someday , for you too were a ring bearer , though for only a short while.”
….and Sam , I think , made no answer….He was never very good with words anyway.

The fell voices of Caradhras fill the air , and the company awaits …death or worse….in the shelter of the naked cliff. “ If this is shelter , then one wall and no roof make a house”, said Boromir…..and Frodo dreams
“ Snowfall on December the 12th ? There was no need to come back to report that.”
“ But I was tired Bilbo.”

Sitting cramped amidst a blinding snowstorm and not being able to stretch or move , is possibly the most physically uncomfortable situation ( in my experience at least). Every moment is a dread weight….an eternity of wait. Fire , in either form , is elusive. You almost wish there was some…..in one way or the other.
Were it not for the generous swigs of rum , it might indeed have been the death of the Halflings ( or one of them at least)….Ferpectly True ( Hic!).

It’s the Olympic year…..we’ve already had a horrible Euro and a rather forgettable Tour. Blood was spilt on the red dirt of Paris and the stake firmly driven into the heart across the channel in London. Tiger winced and grimaced and hobbled , moved practically on one leg yet somehow managed to win the US Open….but the price was paid , and he’s out for the rest of the year . Kobe was MVP and the west was won yet the Celtics thrashed the Lakers in a lop-sided Finals.
I have a bad feeling about Beijing…..amidst murky drugs taints , there is an overwhelming lack of champions….notwithstanding that Phelps might yet win 7 golds ( I don’t believe he will).

“ The King under the mountains is dead….Girion lord of Dale is dead , and I have devoured his people like a wolf among sheep”

Indeed…. the all too brief era of light seems to have passed us by…..and the grim age of poisoned reality and heartache seems to have returned. And I have not the heart to write further. Now I see the 2 Sams had quite a few things in common , not least poetry. I wonder if pipe weed had more colourful connotations…. especially given Gandalf’s ability to blow those wonderous smoke rings….and of course…
“The finest rockets ever seen.
They burst in showers of blue and green.”

The cross atop St Patrick’s never stops glowing. You fall in, fallout , curse , berate and continue ….. to exist. As an old and dear ( now lost) friend so succinctly described it once - strumming furiously….sometimes you get the elusive chord, and sometimes you don’t….even as in some corner of Harry’s Rank old mess you can hear the unmistakable strain of Gilmour trailing….
“ for killing the past…and coming back to life.”

For all your efforts , you resemble the smaller Sam , as far as expression goes , at least.

Maybe there is some truth in doomsday predictors and thinkers of the likes of Diamond…. What wouldn’t I give to see that day of shattered notions. For the moment then….sit there …. Wait…strum…roll….stroll….maybe a ship does sail…..or Tol Sirion is overrun.
And the foresight dawns upon you….nothing in your realm shall endure……

In the meantime , of course....

"Harry's still here...."

Queue to a Kill

Another gemstone from Puneet....messaged across from Jhansi railway station.....

I just witnessed the great 'Indian Railway Queue Rage'.....clenched fists , racing pulses , abuses on tongue tips....and eyes on the lookout for someone who is breaching the 'discipline' and usurping their rightful place in the queue. ....but not thinking twice , if they can do the same themselves.
Shouting , spitting , swearing...while the sluggish queue crawls...blaming the man behind the counter for all that is wrong with the world.
Too bad , a license is required to posess weapons , else India's population problems could've been sorted out at these queues.

....attaboy Sax.....just keep em' coming.

Viva la Tour....Memories of Lance

So, it begins again…the most grueling physical endeavour known to man. The 21 day sensational journey through the idyllic plains and the breathtaking yet unforgiving mountains of Europe.
The Tour de France is one of the pinnacles of human endeavour. The race where the sinews are fed by the will , blood is replaced in the veins by sweat…..the race where heroes are destroyed , lesser mortals engulfed by the treacherous slopes of the Alps and Pyrenees….the race where legends are born whose names endure when the memory of aught else has faded irrevocable even from the memory of the oldest greybeards.

For all the recent taint of drugs and cheats and fallen stars , the aura of the Tour does not diminish. It stands , tall and proud , with its head far above the murk of petty human frailties. Over the past 6-7 years that I have been enamoured of the event , innumerable instances spring to mind about its enduring charm. However , a couple of these stand out as memories of the undeniable nostalgia , the almost fantastical romance and of a champion for the ages….the legendary lance Armstrong.

We are fortunate people to have lived and witnessed the age of mighty sporting heroes….the age of Tiger , Schumacher , Jordan , Federer …and not the least , the age and the legend of Armstrong.
So much has been written about Lance…the miraculous recovery from metastatic testicular cancer to go on to a record 7 tour victories…on the trot , if you please. Perhaps he will never be completely free of the accusations of his detractors branding him the biggest cheat to have used drugs and yet gotten away with it. However we live in a scientific era , and till evidence is brought before us , let us shun these accusations and rejoice in some of Lance’s most memorable moments on the Tour.



2001 : The Alpe D’Huez – The Look
The ascent up the Alpe D’Huez is the most feared stage of the Tour de France….draining every ounce of energy…demanding every sinew to be stretched to the utmost. It is the stage that separates the men from the boys…the champions from the also rans. Who better to demonstrate the same than Armstrong in a single moment of unsurpassed brilliance that has gone down as probably the single greatest moment in the history of the Tour.
It was the day when Lance was to be attacked and defeated. All the big guns led by Jan Ulrich , Lance’s perennial rival were determined to use the Alpe D’huez to decimate the champion. They hit the lower slopes of the mountains with a ferocious intensity , Ulrich’s strong team doing all the pace making …..one by one, Lance’s team mates dropped off the pace….the champion itself seemed to be struggling…the rivals for once seemed to have him just where they wanted and were perhaps ready to finish him off.
Then came the legendary moment as they began the climb up the steepest slopes. Lance , at the head of the pack , looked behind and seemingly stared Ulrich right in the eyes ……it was a fleeting moment but seemed like an eternity…almost as if to say , “ I am going ….. are you coming with me?” ...
…and then he just got up from the saddle and broke away form the field in an unprecedented display of guts and stamina…and the rest of the pack…..Ulrich , Iban Mayo , Joseba Beloki simply could not follow. In that one moment , the Tour of 2001 was won and Lance cemented his name as one of the legends of the sport.

2003 : The Col de Tourmalay – The Shortcut
The other great Armstrong moment that springs to mind comes from the 2003 tour on the precipitous descent down the famous slopes of the Col de Tourmalay. The 2003 race was proving Lance’s hardest yet as he chased a record breaking 6th consecutive yellow jersey. His old rivals , especially Jan Ulrich , were out with a vengeance during the mountain stages , attacking Lance at every possible opportunity. Thus far the champion had stood up to the challenge but the first time in his incredible reign , he was starting to show frailties and vulnerability. The particular stage on the Col de Tourmalay in the Pyrenees was no different with Ulrich , Joseba Beloki , and Iban Mayo attacking him ceaselessly…..then came the moment of brilliance. The pack were haring down the downslope of the mountain at breakneck speed…..Beloki leading the way , Armstrong bang on his shoulder. All of a sudden Beloki locked his back wheel , skid and hit the ground hard. Lance , tearing down in excess of 70-80 kms per hour and barely a meter behind Beloki seemed doomed to crash into the Spaniard and end his tour. However the genius that is Armstrong veered his bike out of the road and in an incredulous display continued riding along the mountain slope with impeccable control till he met the road at a lower part…..whereupon he dismounted from the bike and rejoined the race at the same time the others of the pack reached the spot…even as he nonchalantly hit his pedal……his old teammate Tyler Hamilton gave him an enquiring and reassuring pat on the elbows.
Stuff of dreams…of legends…..of the stuff champions are made off.

Even as the 2008 tour kicks off under a cloud of the discomfiting events of last year……it is too much to hope that another Lance will appear anytime soon…or ever again….but come what may….in the enticing slopes of the Alpe D’Huez , the Hautacamb , the Col de Tourmalay…..and finally down to the breakneck sprint on the Champs Elysees….the legend of the Tour will continue.
Viva la Tour!!!