Saturday, March 13, 2010


tak ………..taak…….. tak……….. taak

The beauty coefficient of this office is so high, it’s hard to focus on the work anyways, yet, and that is an important YET, they have to announce their presence and in what style. From the moment you enter the building every corner you look into, every office you walk into, everywhere, they are everywhere and yet they have to announce their presence every second. Let us not exaggerate it could very well be every other second.

You sit at your allotted seat, stare into the screen that is your laptop, trying to find meaning in what you are attempting to achieve, trying to find meaning in your work, trying to find meaning of life (if you are looking for any meanings at all), when all the meanings are riding on a wave of tak-tak, a wave that is passing by. You feel the rhythm when it starts from one corner, from their seats to restrooms, from their seats to coffee room, from their seats to printers, from their seats to their boss’ seat, from their seats to all the places they have to be. And that’s not it, they are not done, God have mercy they have to walk back from all these places to their seats. One by one. After completing one cycle only to wait till the next starts. And then this to be accounted for every one of them. A cycle at a time. A different person at a time. Many cycles. Many different persons. Many compelling and absorbing cycles. Many competing persons. With the start of each cycle the wave rises. It rises from the far heavens. It travels on the chariots of Gods unknown, travels in a crescendo till it reaches you (you, still staring into that laptop screen, still searching the meanings, sometimes oblivious to the meanings passing you by, sometimes so engrossed in saving what you call your job), the wave reaches you, the tak-tak at its peak, sounding more like TAK TAK. TAK TAK.
And then the wave travels away, on its trough, and farther till it reaches its destination of ephemeral silence. Only just. Only long enough to catch the thread that you lost on your laptop screen. Even after focusing your hardest. And then it starts all over again. Back to where it will wait till the next cycle. But not just travelling back. Travelling back with all the ferocity of travelling forth. And all the while your heart follows the beats as if this is its own beat.
tak tak tak tak tak tak tak tak tak tak tak tak

They were not the best designers, the designers of this office. Or maybe they designed the base before the advent of the heel below the heel. In any case one must forgive fellow men. And so we have tiled floors and the tiles must be the best of their lot, the ones with the loudest acoustic signatures. Or maybe they have special timbers in this part of the world. Special timbers for the special heels of the exclusive feet that support the magnificent legs carrying some of His best craftsmanship. Gods designs.

And then there are your favourites. The tak-tak’s that your ears look forward to. Those special tak-tak’s that carry your favourite faces along. And how innocently they pass you by. As if unknowest of their abilities to crush men. Crush them with nothing but a twist of neck, a fluttering of eyelashes, a swing of the hips, and an innocent movement of the lips. God you made man as the supreme being. Only to crush it thus. Mercy oh creator of benign loveliness. And then those favourite tak-tak’s also pass by and leave you to sort out the irrelevant worldly affairs.

Today you missed that special tak-i-tik-i-tak. Whole morning went by. Lunch time came and went. No tak-i-tik-i-tak. Your ears are straining harder than any normal day. You have to focus on your work even harder than you do when the tak-i-tik-i-tak is present. And just when you have lost all hope in the goodness of tak-tak’s around, you get a glimpse of them, walking by. But the tak-i-tik-i-tak is absent. You wonder for a moment. And then you realise the difference in the chariots of the day for their lovely feet. It’s a Friday and on top it was raining in the morning. The heels are missing. Now, this is one reason to not be thankful to God for a Friday or for the rain. But you are relieved. The world is not as cruel as you were starting to make it. The things will get back to normal. Tak-i-tik-i-tak will return. It will be as pleasant as ever. Yes, it will be.
Sometimes they march together. In twos, in threes and even larger groups. Then the tak-tak has its own music. An orchestra at work. Sometimes in harmony, tak tak tak, sometime with longer larger notes, ttttaaakkkk ttttaaaakkkkk tttttaaakkkk. But sometimes the orchestra is just not out there for the audience. They all are tuning their instruments and getting ready for the later, larger performance. This is when they can cause murders. takakatikataikataikatakatakatakaTAKITAKATIAKATAKATAKA. It’s a soul piercing shriek.

Yet you wonder if they know what powers they have if they march out on this world together. A revolution of the heels. They can bring the structure that this office is down, only if they know their physics right. But then you have this feeling, the beast that kills with beauty seldom kills with brain. The tak-i-tik-i-tak’s are harmless and to be looked forward to.

Her deep eyes, her lovely face, her tender lips, her golden hair, her dark skin and her waist and her legs and her heart and het breaths and her voice and her movements and her waking and her sleeping and her living and her dying and everything that is her’s. Poets and writers and singers and musicians and kings and slaves and Gods and devils. All have talked, written, sung, said, felt about her, in parts and in whole. And yet, yet this is something that calls on their attention. The heels below the heels. Waiting for their bards. Waiting. tak-i-tik-i-tak.

No comments:


Sukhdev Singh is milking a buffalo when I call him. We are speaking after a long gap. His voice carries the same cheerful energy I remember....