An Ode to the Elevator - In Prose

There are so many human inventions that have made our lives easy. And one of these is the elevator or "lift". It has become so much a part of our daily routine that we rarely even acknowledge its existence or its importance. Perhaps, this is the reason why the elevator does certain things to grab our attention in so many minute ways. Minute it is, but very effective.

So this is my Ode to the Elevator.

Please forgive the creative liberty, I am better at prose than poetry.

But I would still prefer to call it an Ode. What else could it be?

(Wow! That did sound kinda like poetry, didn't it? *wink wink*)

So most of us staying in urban areas live in apartment complexes. What other choice do we have? A city made out of seven separate islands, mushed together, which can no longer grow horizontally, has to grow vertically, right?

Only those who still live in the old-fashioned "ground-plus-3" (also called 4 storey buildings) are not using elevators once they reach home. But they still face them at work! Most of them, at least.

We will then, start off with the housing complex lifts. The newer developments have more fancy, steel-doored, closed and claustrophobic type of boxes. But we will talk about the good old, grille double doored, beeping ones. Hehehe. Beeping ones. Yeah, they used to just beep or make strangely classical music sounds back in the days. I am lucky to live in an apartment with a beeping lift. You open the door, it starts beeping, then you close the door and it stops beeping and takes you where you wanna go. Simple.

It doesn't say, "Please close the door. Kripya darwaza bandh kijiye!" So many of them say that these days. It seems like this elevator doesn't want you to open the door under any circumstances!

You know, having a wild imagination can create some really zany images in your mind. 

Whenever I get into this talking lift which keeps telling us to "Please close the door" I always imagine a grumpy faced lady with a frown but paradoxically, an extremely polite voice.She is like this invisible entity who resides inside the lift, like a ghost. If you open the door to enter the lift, she keeps telling you to shut the bloody thing. Once you shut it and press the floor number, she will calm down. But when you reach your destination and try to get out of the lift, she will again get annoyed and tell you to shut it! "Kripya darwaza bandh KIJIYE!"

Then you have a whole lot of other scenarios happening in a regular housing society. You ignore the screaming lady all the time, so sometimes she just shuts up completely. It simply means that the elevator breaks down. I stay on the 5th floor and in the past 10 days, the elevator broke down thrice! I come home from work, tired and hallucinating about my bed. But once I reach the building lobby, I realise that I need to climb 5 floors to reach my home! Elevator - why you do this?

We all have quirky neighbours creating their quirky situations. One lady visits another lady. They may have sat and chatted for hours, but when the visitor is leaving, they chat at the doorstep. Visitor calls the elevator, elevator arrives, visitor opens the door but both ladies still keep yapping away. Visitor keeps moving inside the elevator. One. Step. At. A. Time. Each step taking 5 minutes. BECAUSE THEY JUST CAN'T STOP YAPPING! And all along, the elevator is screaming, "Please close the door. Just shut it, ok. Shut that damn door, woman!" Well, what I mean is, I would say that if I was the invisible elevator lady.

Just imagine if you are standing outside your door, waiting for the lift and the lift is in the clutches of visitor lady. "Aapki lift mere kabze mein hain." Maybe, you are getting late for work. Or worse, you are going for a movie! Or catching the very specific 9:23 train to somewhere! This yapping lift-kidnapper is making you so very late. If you have to climb down, you may run down the stairs. But what if you need to go upstairs? Like, your bladder is about to burst and you just wanna get inside your home and run to the washroom! And the lift is being held hostage by a couple of chatter-boxes.

Finally, when the lady condescendingly gets into the lift, says all the ta-ta-bye-byes and comes down and gets outta the lift, do you give her that really dirty look she deserves? Yeah! Satisfaction.

But a kid gets in with you. With his or her bike! S/He twists the bike first this way, then that way. Then every possible way to fit it inside the small space. You help, because you want this torture to be over soon! Then you realise that the kid stays a floor below you. So, when s/he gets out, same twisting and turning and other jazz to get the bike out. Do you face this, too? Or is this just me?

Do you go through the nightmare of listening to ghost music/chatter from the elevator? What I mean is, you know you shut the lift doors when you rushed into your own house, but do you know for sure that they did get shut? Do you hear the lift screaming non-stop and wonder who left it open? Is it on my floor? Let me take a peep and see! Oh thank goodness, it is on some other floor. But then, why are those people not shutting the door? Yeah, someone left the door open a tiny bit and lift started screaming after they went away. But people staying on the floor where lift is screaming are ignoring it completely. Someone is on the ground floor, banging on the grille, trying to grab someone's attention that the lift doors are open. So, "please, pretty please, just close the door, man!"

Crazy isn't it! One little elevator and so many things it does to make our day.

Then there is the swanky, steel-shiny, extremely clean office elevator. (They hire house-keeping staff to clean them. So, don't feel too guilty if your housing society lift is not as well-maintained. It works, right?)

My office has 6 elevators, 3 in one row and 3 in the opposite row. It is manufactured by an international company which has a global presence. You will see their elevators in most countries. I guess, this is why they didn't bother with creating a localised lift-lady-ghost-presence. The office lift-ghost lady talks with a strange English accented voice. We have an S floor which is actually the ground floor. There is no basement, but above the S floor, we have 3 parking levels - P1, P2 and P3. 

When the lift opens on the S floor, she informs us that this is S floor (which sounds like, "F flow, some effing floor. How can you name a floor S, what does it stand for, anyway? Just get in or get out on this F Flow")

The 1st and 4th and 5th floors all sound like "fufth flow". While getting off on the 4th floor, I have actually told her, this is not your "fufth flow", this is the "foth flow." But she never listens. Just keeps talking. "Lispy-F flow, going up", "Sevempth flow, going down".

Then there are cameras inside the lift. I wonder what conversation the camera and lift may be having. Imagine a scene like this:

Camera: Hey lift, check it out! Guy wearing floaters and tie!

Elevator: Stop calling me "lift." I am not from around here, you know. Oh, "2nmpth flow, going up!"

Camera: Hey lift! Stop being such a snob. Look at that woman, checking herself out in the mirror. Hey lady, do you know you are being recorded? Hahaha.

Elevator: Ooh, there is a large crowd getting in, I am being crushed. Help! BEEP! BEEP! OVERLOAD! Aaah, that's better. Well. "FUFTH FLOW, going up"

Hey, by the way, have you ever waved at the cameras inside elevators? Just like that, for no reason? Or made faces at them? Please say yes, I don't want to be the only loon here. I wonder what other tortures the camera goes through, eh! *Evil grin*

Commercial buildings also have a separate service elevator hidden away very smartly. It hides away the housekeeping staff taking out the garbage, and other stuff that the white-collared employee never sees. This is not about discrimination. Maybe just to keep things organised so that the outer front of a professional building always look squeaky clean and tidy. Yes, these buildings are sometimes too tidy, aren't they?

At times, the regular elevators are too full and there are too many people waiting to get into the first one that opens on the ground floor (Lispy F Flow). In these situations, I go behind the stairwell and take the service elevator to the "fufth flow". Hehe, now you know my secret.

When a couple of my office's security guys saw me waiting there for the first time, they were quite surprised and amused. So was I, in fact. They had just walked in for their shift and were in their regular clothes. I had never seen them without uniform before this. That is another thing which the service elevator hides. It helps people go to their respective floors in civil clothing where they go to their changing rooms and come out as security staff, or housekeeping staff, or canteen staff.

So I reach my floor and this is a different world altogether. Because this is the chaotic world outside the service elevator. It is scary and spooky with half-torn boxes and broken tiles and cement bags heaped in a corner. I turn another corner to enter the stairwell and pass a few broken chairs and tables and other discarded furniture. Then I go out of a door and enter the stairwell, out another door and into the spic and span entrance lobby of my floor. Now I know where all the broken things go before they are carted off to the scrap dealer. Just a few steps away from each other - one end is neat and professional and swanky. The other end is; meh, who comes here, anyway? Let's just dump stuff!

This area reminds me of the cliched elevator scenes from horror movies or TV serials. The bad-acting-hamming-spooky-music types. Where the elevator is this closed box, an enclosed space, and there is always a girl stuck in it. Miss damsel in distress with no knight in shining armor. Boo hoo. And to add to the drama, she is claustrophobic. And the elevator stalls! Nahiiiiiii....!

Awww, did you get scared? *demon laughter*

The elevator is like an Indian daily soap. It has action, drama, gossip, fun and mystery.

You never know when your next elevator ride may turn into an adventure! (Now, are you scared?)

Did I just dream about my past life?

Well, I travel to work in a bus. Office transport, luxury and air-conditioned bus, with satiny blue curtained windows, individual a/c vents over each seat. Very comfy seats at that!

Yes, OK I will stop boasting. I know I know, everybody travels by luxury bus many times and it is no longer a big deal, yada yada yada. But we travel in this thing every single day. Ta-daaa!

Oh yes, I stay far away from work so it takes one hour to reach. And the comfort makes it easier to travel. I get to doze for 15-45 minutes and reach office fresh.

Sleep also means that sometimes you get to dream. Most of the time, you dream about random stuff which really doesn't make any sense when you wake up. But it is hell lot serious when you are in that dream. Mostly, it is something related to the daily routine, personal things, family or friends. But most of the time about work, colleagues, and more work.

The other day, my team-mate was telling me that she has been dreaming about us (our team, work, etc) everyday and she hates it. She doesn't really hate us, but c'mon! You are with a bunch of loons half of the day, every single day for 5 days a week. No matter how adorable they are, at least when you are in the comfort of your house and especially while in deep slumber, the last thing you want is to meet this bunch. Again!

I like my dreams to be a bit like an escape. Something that is fantastical or soothing etc. Basically, anything that is faaaaaaaaaar away from reality but very feel-goody, tickly, rose-tinted glasses type dream. Sigh, that rarely happens.

But, sometimes, you get lucky. Like I did.

I believe I dreamt about my past life. It was a sunny day. I was in a huge private garden/lawn. It had these expansive grounds. With verdant green grass. Sloping, manicured lawns, stone work fences, arches with creepers crowning them, studded with flowers. It was very vast and curving, with steps up here, down there. Large, sloping and lazy steps in a place which seemed quite natural. Each step was overgrown with grass or weed-like greenery. Then there were quick and short, stone steps at many other places. The sun shone happily over this world and it was a lovely afternoon.

There was an airy stone mansion in the distance. With arched windows whose borders were painted red. It was this geru red, which is the colour of natural red clay. The walls were white. There were pristine white curtains at the windows. Broad verandahs with cane and bamboo furniture, upholstered with old-fashioned seats and cushions. There were potted plants and flowery shrubs all around the periphery of this mansion. And there were these evergreen, leafy and cool-shaded trees growing around it.

This is actually a common feature in old bungalows or mansions built for government officials in small towns or villages. Typically the highly placed officials who keep getting transferred from place to place, en famille. And they are given these lovely residences wherever they get posted, for as long as they are to stay there.

In my dream, I stopped as soon as I saw this mansion. I didn't go in. I really really wanted to. As if this was my house. Everything was so peaceful and quiet. Like a lazy summer afternoon. The summer vacation type of feel in the air, when you don't need to go to school for a couple of months and are free to roam and while away your time. No questions asked. Not only that, it had such an old world charm to it. Like it just didn't belong to this era. I felt as if I had been transported back in time to those days when life used to be much more simpler, the pace of life was slower and you could trust everyone you knew. I could imagine myself sitting in a wide swing, sipping on some tall and cool drink, maybe home-made raw mango juice!

But my true self had half awoken seeing this amazing beauty. So my dream self could not step into her own house. My true self kept saying that I was trespassing on someone's perfect world. And slowly, the dream broke and I woke up. How very disappointing!

But the scene stayed with me. I kept seeing it over and over again in my mind. Why did I wake up?

I yearn for this picture that I saw in my dream, but it is so far removed from my reality that my conscious mind rang warning bells and brought me back to solid, stark and harsh truth. I am in a bus, on my way to work.

What if this dream wasn't a dream? (Oh yes, brain! I won't give up nor will I give-in to your practical thought process)

So, what if this wasn't a dream at all? Was it a half-remembered day from an actual life I have lived? I really like that thought. I believe in re-incarnation. Whenever I visit old buildings or historical sites, I get filled with this strong urge to hunt for a time machine and go back in time. It feels as if there is this really thin veil which is keeping me away from that era and I just need to lift it. But I don't know how! This dream, too, gave me the same yearning, the same urge. To go back in time and never return.

I wish I could live those long, lazy days. With no TV. Meeting people in the neighbourhood daily. Having a very limited social circle. Living with an innocent belief that the people you know very well are always trustworthy. Not having to worry about big ambitions and long-term goals and planning well ahead. A simple life with very basic needs and a lot of happiness.

Or was this dream a projection of this urge of mine? Because I want to run away from my reality for while and I long for a simpler, more peaceful life, I just conjured-up this image which worked like a soothing balm for my tired Soul. Maybe.

Life has become so harsh, so insecure. Maybe, the past days were not so rosy and maybe those past people lived a rougher life than I imagine. But I do imagine it was a fuller life.

When children used to actually run outside and frolic freely. Parents didn't have to worry about kidnappings or worse crimes happening to their babies. The open areas were left well alone and were not eyed by greedy developers. When people used to put pen to paper and write long letters. They DID care about handwriting and grammar with full sentences and complete words. An era when texting was not invented (how I miss those days, only because people used to make efforts with spelling).

A time when egos were not so bloated and interpersonal relationships were solid. When trust and belief were not just words, but really meant a great deal.

I wish I could go back. I know that I can't. Nobody can. But I really wish life would become a little less complicated than it is now. I wish we could trust each other more and become worthy of each other's trust. I wish we would be less superficial and more grounded. I wish people would stop being so besotted with outer looks and started giving more importance to the intrinsic uniqueness of each person.

I wish I could live in a world like this. I wish.....

Indian Identity Crisis

India.

The land of contradictions.

We proudly boast about our diversity. The language, dialect, culture, food, clothing etc changes every 12 miles on an average. There are over 1000 different languages. And still we are one nation - proud of our roots. We have evolved, grown and absorbed outside influences and wear our identities as Indians despite the various differences.

If we go back to our history textbooks and look a bit more carefully, what would we see? Wars, invasions, visitors from other countries doing trade with us.
The Mughals, Chinese, Portuguese, French and majorly British have left their stamp on our own culture. Nobody can deny it. The remnants still exist and the facts are documented. I won't go into detail because the influence is so vast. Be it the Urdu language and shayari, the music, the food, some social customs and manners. Or the bigger things like railway, post, telegraph etc. They might have been started to make life easy for the East India Company. But did the Indians throw these things out when the Brits left India? NO. Why?
We also started relying on these things. How can we throw out progress?

We have absorbed so much and yet we have managed to remain Indians. We have kept our identities and moved ahead with the times.

We started off as an advanced civilization which was famous for its industry, trade, knowledge and art. Think back on the times that we have read about the Nalanda University which used to attract students from all over the world. The Silk Route which is still followed by bohemian back-packers who just want to relive part of a forgotten past. The ancient but advanced knowledge of medicine contained in Ayurveda. The advances of surgery including plastic surgery which were invented by our ancient sages long before they were "officially invented" for the rest of the world. The knowledge of shipping, military, commerce, mathematics. Remember Aryabhatt and Ramanujan? The shrewd politics of Chanakya? The gorilla warfare tactics of Shivaji Maharaj?

Yes, we are the land which invented the ZERO!

So what happened to us now?

Fusion music - destroys Indian culture. Modern clothes - destroy Indian culture (strangely this applies only to women. Men since the time of my grandfather's generation have been wearing trousers and nothing seems to be wrong with the culture). Accepting same sex couples - against Indian culture (have these people been to the Khajuraho temples? They are in for a shock!).

Freedom of speech - technically my fundamental right! But dare I raise a voice against true injustice. I might just get bumped off out of the blue. Freedom of expression - this one too is my fundamental right as a citizen! But look at some of the painters, musicians, artistes and how their expressions of art are defaced with black ink and the artiste is paraded on a donkey with a garland of footwear! Where the heck is civilization?

What the hell is wrong with us now?

There is something else which is also diverse, tolerant and ever-evolving, like our country. But, completely and totally free of opinions and prejudices.

A single entity which is truly Free. It doesn't have a language or a region or any religion. Neither does it belong to a country nor to a culture. It originates in one place, gets inculcated in another, moves somewhere else and never settles into any rigid form.

MUSIC

That is my escape. Maybe it has origins in Carnatic Indian classical form, but some sufi became friends with it and they moved towards middle-east. They added a few Arabic notes and accompanied them to western shores. They mingled with jazz and blues and reggae. Some got mixed up with a rebel called Trance. Wherever they went, beauty reigned supreme.

They don't recognise geographical boundaries. They don't understand politically correct behaviour. They are notes and they create music. It is boundless and without boundaries. It is purely emotive and full of emotions. It enters through the ears, touches the heart, reaches the Soul and resonates through Existence. It is fluid and formless and Eternal.

Like a walk on the beach, lashing of the sea-waves, bare feet on fresh green grass, birds chirping at dawn, serenity of twilight, mystique of a moonlit night, the gentle touch of a furry little friend - music just seeps into your Soul and applies a balm of peace and serenity. Just switching off this world and switching on some music makes me calm down and remember that things are changing.

There are so many positive changes, too. We have become much more aware of our rights and our surroundings. We have a handful of good citizens who do make a difference. Everyday heroes like you and me, making each small deed count for someone. Making someone's day, bringing a few smiles, adding a bit of joy.

We as a Nation, are going through a major churning. Another Amrit-Manthan, maybe. The mythological amrit-manthan didn't just produce the Elixir of Life. It also unleashed a few demons and a Pandora's box of negative things. Good and bad came out of it in balance. It looks like we are going through a manthan in reality. Sometimes bad takes over, but at times good also wins.


Yes, we are like a bickering Indian joint family these days. At times, always at each other's throats, not respecting each other's personal space or opinions, getting on each other's nerves. But we stay together. At the end of the day, we are diverse but united. We are all same intrinsically, and we know this. We know that, in the end, we just need to accept the differences and smile because we cannot live without each other.

Like the different genres of music mixing and merging to create magic, absorbing the good notes, modifying the bad notes to become part of the never ending opera of Life.

Decision

(Originally published on 13th May 2008 on another blog I own)

Wind and rain and sea breeze………wild and freezing and tempestuous.

The sea is so inviting. All I need to do is just walk in. Just keep walking. Surrender.

The sea is very soothing. It makes me feel peaceful, careless, ruthless, rash. I rush headlong into the waves. They caress my feet, then my ankles, then my shins. I am being swallowed whole. I am knee deep into the lashing fury. Now it’s trying to throw me out. It doesn’t want me to do this. The sea is filling me with courage and hope and strength. It wants me to face this life…….the way it is. The sea wants me to make a decision. Take a stand.

I come out and walk on the soft sand. My feet feel pampered on the wet earth. I am soaked to the skin and shivering. But I am warm inside my heart. Someone, up there, in the blue skies is standing by my side. I feel Him around me today. In everything. In everybody. He is inside me, around me, for me. I am for Him. I won’t let Him down.

The words are still echoing inside my head. They resonate and boom like a gong. But they are not painful anymore. They will be forgotten too. I WILL move on. I WILL not look back.

I am moving back towards him. He sees me with a worried face. He knew what I went in the water for. He was scared I would do something like this. I smile at him. He gives me a wan smile. Unsure, sad.

We walk back home. It’s the same sad scene that I had run away from. The same loneliness. Despite being together. The same sense of desolation. But a heretofore unknown kind of peace.

This relationship is DEAD. Its time to bury it and forget. Forgive and forget. Its time to get rid of the pain forever. Death is not the answer. I’ll learn to live without him. He’ll learn to forget. We’ll live a better life apart from each other. The time for togetherness is gone.

I will live for myself. I will love myself. I will cherish me. If God loves me so much, what does it matter if a few people don’t?

I WILL LIVE BECAUSE THIS LIFE IS A BLESSING, TO BE CHERISHED.