Monday, February 25, 2008

Pacing up

Yawning away, while reading a document, i realised that i have ignored this space for quite sometime now.

I am now located at a place which was in one of my "places visited" list,till about a few months back.This place held me in awe. The buildings,the crowd, the people, the ladies with with their tick-tocking stilettoes,the gentlemen in their thick rimmed glasses and dark suits and the colors everywhere.This seemed to be the dream workplace for those looking for a different experience altogether as far as "work - environment" is concerned.

In my last two tenures in this country I enjoyed the sleepy relaxed country-side,travelling to office in a snail-paced bus, reading some book with a plot in 1900 AD and listening to good ol' Bob Dylan numbers as the bus moved through different landscapes of greens and browns. Now I travel to office in a rushing train with buildings outside moving past even before i can catch the color of the paint used.The beats of the songs from the 60's completely out of sync with the clattering wheels of the train.The book replaced by the latest daily handed over at stations.The skyline showing big brands jutting into the sky from amongst buildings of various sizes and shapes.Walking through a sea of humans,everyone moves at a pace, where if i stop for 2 seconds to receive a call, I end up blocking the way of a big group.This is a new experience altogether and am trying to match steps :).

Child in Red

A poem by Rilke

A very beautiful poem in a friends blog space led me to this one. I almost could imagine the real life version of this poem. .... beautiful..

Child in Red

Sometimes she walks through the village in her
little red dress
all absorbed in restraining herself,
and yet, despite herself, she seems to move
according to the rhythm of her life to come.

She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,
half-turns around...
and, all while dreaming, shakes her head
for or against.

Then she dances a few steps
that she invents and forgets,
no doubt finding out that life
moves on too fast.

It's not so much that she steps out
of the small body enclosing her,
but that all she carries in herself
frolics and ferments.

It's this dress that she'll remember
later in a sweet surrender;
when her whole life is full of risks,
the little red dress will always seem right.

- Rilke

ps:- the color in it is not the only reason i love the poem.