thesocratespot: XXXXIX The Tropics of Henry Miller be damned

thesocratespot: XXXXIX The Tropics of Henry Miller be damned: They, the group from the Royal Albert Hall, had to report to the Scotland yard, everyone was screened, finally let off. The Mayor, refus...

XXXXIX The Tropics of Henry Miller be damned

They, the group from the Royal Albert Hall, had to report to the Scotland yard, everyone was screened, finally let off. The Mayor, refused to file charges.

Not without a warning to “behave”. 

The Mayor’s family too had come in, they, the siblings, made sure they expressed their love for their Father, by quietly spreading the word that they would soon retaliate at the University, but the problem really was which University ?

Annie had a group from Merton, Oxford and Wembley.

So it was not sure where the group would strike.

Wherever.

Both Annie and Dan weren’t really gonna hang around.

They were from across the aisle.

The Atlantic.

Listen, someone out there felt that the Atlantic is a small Ocean, and the Pacific, the really large Ocean.

It’s so Anglical, these figures and fiduciary maps of Oceans, and then come the description of the Tropics.

Crazy, the Tropic of Cancer, the Tropic of Capricorn,       

Henry Miller be damned.

Today, it’s not as it was imagined.

Cancer had cured itself of its malice. Capricorn was drowning and it needed help.

Between the two floated Annie and Dan.

Call it the Isle of man and woman.

thesocratespot: XXXXVIII Someone puked at Wembley

thesocratespot: XXXXVIII Someone puked at Wembley: They were in the middle of the play. When suddenly a commotion started .  They, Dannie and friends of Annie from Cambridge, were a...

XXXXVIII Someone puked inside The Royal Albert Hall

They were in the middle of the play. When suddenly a commotion started . 

They, Dannie and friends of Annie from Cambridge, were all watching an adaptation of the P.B. Shelley musical epic 'Prometheus Unbound' adapted to stage by Kate Losowsky, an Andy Webber prodigy.

It was being staged at the Royal Albert Hall.  

Danny stood up, to check, suspecting the worst, found it was someone from his group, arguing, he walked through the seats and managed to reach the spot of consternation, by then the sounds were becoming loud.

He checked with one of Annie’s classmate as to what happened.

She told him.

One member from the group who was sitting at the very end of their seat line had stood and then puked , all that she could, onto another person’s trouser sitting on the opposite side. The one who took the puke happened to be the Mayor of Bristol.

Soon a group of good Samaritan belonging to Annie’s friends joined to apologise, another group swished their kerchief, scarf, whatever available to clean the Mayor’s trouser, even as the friends worked hard to control the situation, the Mayor, the hurt party, kept hurling abuses, on colors and racial slurs, by now the Play had been suspended and the Theater Marshalls were seen rushing to quickly delete the situation, but the Mayor wasn’t to be cajoled all that easy, someone had puked onto him, he was a hurt soprano hurling out the choicest abuses,.

Somewhere in the middle of it all Danny decided that the Mayor deserved a whack and he gave it, with his left fist first and it landed right on the Mayors nose, which started bleeding without any delay, by then Annie’s other friends watching also decided that the Mayor deserved more and they piled on, by the time Annie, who was seated at the other end joined it was all too late.

The Mayor was mauled. And the Marshalls clearly knew who were to be blamed. 

The whole play was screwed, and there was blood all over, almost like a riot.

The Royal Albert Hall had a taste of Birmingham.

Via Wembley.           

The Mayor had a good black eye, a swollen lip and was cursing in a language that the Royal Albert Hall was not used to. 

Brown fucking Son's of Bitches.

Even if the one who had actually puked on the Mayor was dutch. 

thesocratespot: XXXXVII Byron , Mary, aMistress , Prometheus...Unb...

thesocratespot: XXXXVII Byron , Mary, aMistress , Prometheus...Unb...: Shelley was a poet of a true poetic mind, depressed, brooding and suicidal   Byron was a Lord. A poet. Masculine, free willed. Depress...

XXXXVII Byron , Mary, aMistress , Prometheus...Unbound - II

Shelley was a poet of a true poetic mind, depressed, brooding and suicidal  

Byron was a Lord. A poet. Masculine, free willed. Depressed, Yes, but all that it was required for Byron was a woman, even a maid servant, will do, was enough, for him to sublimate his idea of life.

Mary Shelley was a god send for him. For Byron, when they met in Italy. Bright, intellectual willing to carry his Childe.

Byron and Shelley’s wife Mary Shelley were good friends. 

While Mary was a little moralistic, Byron had no such qualms. The Chronology of Percy Byshe Shelley’s poetry shows marked change in his approach to poetry by the time he comes across Byron.

Lord.

  

Prometheus Unbound in fact is but ‘Ode to Skylark’ rewritten with a biblical flourish and touché. 

It’s Moses like feel and its Miltonian fight with his creators, its Nietzschean like philosophy and Shelley’s first recorded rebellion – this time showcased against Zeus & Co. for the Theft of Fire - is a collective effect of Mary Shelley and Byron working in Collaboration with Shelley.

Shelley as a person was more a pure poet, lost in its metaphorical ‘naiveness’, it was Mary and Byron who brought him down to the Byzantian life.   

Don Juan turned, churned, returned.

Childe Harold rejuvenated.

 Prometheus, Unbound. 

thesocratespot: XXXXVI Annie's butt and Milton

thesocratespot: XXXXVI Annie's butt and Milton: They were back at the hotel, now, it was late in the evening, just when they were getting ready, both nude, both had their Cigarettes and ...

XXXXVI Annie's butt and Milton

They were back at the hotel, now, it was late in the evening, just when they were getting ready, both nude, both had their Cigarettes and their drink glasses on the table, but neither was conscious about it, both were trying on things to wear for the show, to go to the Royal Albert Hall, to catch the show, Prometheus Unbound, by Kate Losowsky, a Andrew Lloyd Webber prodigy, somewhere around they realised that it was Daniels B’day.

22^nd Jul.

He was drunk and he couldn’t care less. He was already swinging, and he had enough weed to smoke.

He was singing ‘Bye Bye Miss Amercian Pie’

Don Maclean.

Watching Nicole Kidman on TV .

He was good.

Annie, put on a maroon Cotton tanker top with spaghetti strings, a black silk Scholl and a khakhi silk short, her hair was natural black silk, with no streaks, she had on a very light pink contrast lip stick, she looked sleek and child like in her appearance, with a light brown Greek sandal, stringed to her ankle, moderate heel stiletto, She wore her white leather Omega, and had nothing else, She hated to carry the usual feminine carry bags,.

Some Brits would have felt that it was a shocking dress for the show.  

Dan did not even bother doing much, he put on his blue jeans, a V neck sweat shirt and a Anand Jon cotton Jacket.

A Converse brand cotton shoe. And a dark grey cotton scholl picked on the way.

And he was good to go.  

They were pulling off music on each other, singing songs of their favourite.

Life.

Was smiling.

They were waiting for Annie’s friends from Cambridge to join.

They tried some close dance and stuff before the bell rang.

They were friends. It was a cauldron of people, men and women, from Argentina, Mexico, Spain, even Albania.  

All stoned. All drunk. But all dressed in embarrassing student kitsch.

Suddenly someone broke a glass, sounded like it was thrown, deliberately, someone in the crowd was really drunk. There were arguments and some fists thrown too, but they were all , forgotten once the caravan decided to move to the Royal Albert Hall.

There were enough cars, but yet people had to squeeze.

Annie had to sit with her butt exhibiting out of the car window.

But she was yet laughing and singing some Greenday number that someone else had started.

The crowd really did not look like a crowd meant for a literary play. It looked more tuned for a Rolling stone gig at Liverpool.

But the fact that they had a Cambridge pass made things different. Because soon the chorus was singing Milton, if one one group sang The Paradise Lost, another threw back verses from Pradise Regained, for those few who knew the contrast, it was a fascinating give and take.

If The ‘Paradise Lost Group Sang -  

"oF Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit

Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast

Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,

Sing Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top

Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire

That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed"

The ‘Paradise regained Group replied -

“Who e're while the happy Garden sung,

By one mans disobedience lost, now sing

Recover'd Paradise to all mankind,

By one mans firm obedience fully tri'd

Through all temptation, and the Tempter foil'd [ 5 ]

In all his wiles, defeated and repuls't,

And Eden rais'd in the wast Wilderness.”

Youth and youthful arrogance were on display with no real consciousness.

The group was having fun.  

thesocratespot: XXXXV Our Archetypes , we the

thesocratespot: XXXXV Our Archetypes , we the: They were out, Annie and Dan, drunk, partying, Annie was showing Dan her side of London, all intellectual and Philosophical, it was all ...

XXXXV Our Archetypes , we the

They were out, Annie and Dan, drunk, partying, Annie was showing Dan her side of London, all intellectual and Philosophical, it was all driving through Oxford & Cambridge, and the pubs around.

They still had time for the show on Prometheus that Annie had invited Dan for.

Prof. Bernstein had given a Jaguar with a driver, Annie was thinking about the way Dan had walked out of the Heathrow, Bermuda shorts, printed shirt,  straw hat, a Greek leather sandal.  A guitar in hand and searching for chords, for a song she had no idea about. It took a while for Annie to get hold of Dan. To get his attention.

By then Annie already had a few thousand passes on her from the London crowd.

Her sleek frame, her general joie de vivre, her intellect, her very spirit caught people’s attention she was a person that people wanted to touch, dance, talk, rape.

Whatever.

Loose, drunk, floating .

She was.

Her friends spoke Ibsen, like others spoke Queen, they spoke about Kant, Russell, Husserl and Schopenhauer, like others discuss Pink Floyd.   

Dan was a Musician inside. A Nomad, a dilettante, a nowhereman.

In search of a chord.

Who, currently, found meaning in deciphering the life of the utterlessly powerless vis a vis usurped Democracies. Individuals who had more rights. More needs and wants. Politically.

The politics of anthropology.

The racial and the insane.

Still being the most powerful.

The beast.

Within and outside.

Again a primordial type. 

thesocratespot: XXXXIV Vaali. Dan's native poet. RIP

thesocratespot: XXXXIV Vaali. Dan's native poet. RIP: Somehow as soon as Daniel landed in London, it wasn’t Annie who occupied his mind, all he could think of about were about his friends ...

XXXXIV Vaali. Dan's native poet. RIP

Somehow as soon as Daniel landed in London, it wasn’t Annie who occupied his mind, all he could think of about were about his friends and mates from The Loyola College , Chennai - Lucy, Jennifer and Sharon – great people, he even had a face book update from them informing about their retrospective of the Tamil Poet Vaali. Annie was not even in the background.

At least not immediately. As soon as he landed.

Strange is the way that mind works.

Really.

He was waiting for his fragile baggage at the Heathrow. Despite all the care and precaution Lufthansa had broken the view finder glass of his Nikon. And he was not very happy about that.

But his thoughts simultaneously went into thinking about the Sangama Thamizhan poet Vaali. 

Daniel spoke the language, an ancient classical language that pre dated Latin and Greek.

Danny’s mind threw up a quick poem, one of his favourite, from the vast ‘Vaali’ anthology

Thithikkum paal eduthu

Dheyvathodu koluvirindhu

Muthupol vazhvadharka

Maali sudum manavirindhu

Ponnai pol nal irundhu

Annampola nadai nadandhu

Unniathan madiirundhu

Alli vaaypaay then virunthu.

The imagery, the grace, the translation of a mundane action into sublime metaphors, the sheer magnification of a simple emotion was always the hallmark of the poet. He was the poet of the young and the rebellious. Daniel made a mental note that he should try and one song dedicated to Vaali one of these days and upload it onto his blog,

He tried humming an old song written by Vaali. 

Back in India a poet had to adapt to the needs and vagaries of the Film industry in order to survive but that also meant that a poet had to pen words according to the demands of a “situation”  a mere event, under the patronage of the films Music Director, whose vision it was to translate a Film Director’s Visual communication into a musical adverb. Often inn India, the Music Director could make or break a film’s success.   

And a music Director’s fate was in the hands of the Lyricist.

A.K.A the poet.  

“Kannaivittu ponalum

Karuthai Vittu poga villai

Mannai Vittu Ponalum

Unnai Vitu Poga Villai

Inno Oruthi Udal eduthu iruppavalum

Naanallovo?”

The above lines formed a part of film by name Karpagam, an old Black & White film that yet had Daniel’s admiration.  

Vaali was a versatile genius, and a great admirer of Bharatiar. The Prometheus of Tamil literature.   

Daniel’s mind somehow continued to think about Vaali.

He was a romantic , Daniel thought, as his mind analysed some of Vaali’s songs written for a number of Tamil films, he could match a Wordsworth and then have the remorse of Keats, he could then build strands of Satire like Alexander Pope and then elevate things like Shelley, even when one looks at more contemporary poets like Donne , Yeats, Elliot or Hughes or even Octavio Paz- poets like Vaali could pen a Poem , a song, to match a “Situation”.  

Vaali’s stamp of one’s identity in the midst of names like Kannadasan, Karunanidhi, Vairamuthu and Pulamai Pithan ( and yet walk with a stamp of authority ) had a truly Johnsonian proportion to it.   

“ Potri padadi ponney

Thevar kaaladi manney

Thekkudisai aanda

mannar ilamdhan hoi…

…munnorukku munnor ellam

innarunu kandu kola

edu eduthu ezhithi solla

onnu rendu moonu alla”

ding dangu dangu ding dangu hoi.  

Daniel hummed softly as he checked his guitar at the Heathrow.

thesocratespot: XXXXIII Tarkovsky and Shelley in Mumbai

thesocratespot: XXXXIII Tarkovsky and Shelley in Mumbai: Listen, Tarkovsky’s ‘Andrei Rublev’ is but a neo modern take of Milton’s classic epic Paradise lost, but produced with a far more comp...

XXXXIII Tarkovsky and Shelley in Mumbai

Listen, Tarkovsky’s ‘Andrei Rublev’ is but a neo modern take of Milton’s classic epic Paradise lost, but produced with a far more complex cantology, made with a complex master class embellishment of Russian literary and artistic history, the influence of Dostoyevsky’s Brothers Karamazov and Idiot loaded in , as a backdrop tribute, catapults the film to a league of its own , the film surely deserves a massive round of all round applause, it’s probably one of Cinema’s and Cinematic history’s most defiant product yet, the industry’s most complex cinematic treatise, ever thought of, ever even dreamt of, creating, anything of that scale, in modern cinema, by a single director with the help of a single production house is just not ever possible.

Ever.

That was Prof. Ezekiel, Annie’s father talking.

Annie and Dan were seated right next giving the Prof all their attention.

Dan agreed

“ Tarkovsky’s epic, was what it turned out to be , in every frame. A rare and almost impossible epic of art.”

Now Annie added

“But it failed in doing what it was it was supposed to do. It succeeded, where it was not supposed to. It was started as a journey to put Russia and Russia’s Renaissance in perspective to European Renaissance, but ended up becoming a paean to World Cinema and put Tarkovsky in the list of all time greats.”

That was not the really the whole real objective. Interjected the Prof.

Annie nodded and so did Daniel. They were both now with Mr. Ezekiel, Annie’s father - a film historian, critic and teacher of Cinematography. They were with him when he had chosen to visit the Mumbai University, Daniel was then a student of J.J School of Arts. Annie, had just come visiting on a University exchange program, as a graduate student, invited by Mumbai University.

Prof. Ezekiel was then a Phd. Guide at Mumbai University for Research Scholars contributing their thesis on Post Modern art and Expressionism.

Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rubalev had just been screened at the University’s auditorium .

Annie was invited, since she was around.

She in turn had invited Daniel.

Since he too was around.   

They were at Daniel’s pad opp. Kala Ghoda in Mumbai.

They were sitting over a circle of marble chairs fixed on the Penthouse, terrace garden of Daniel’s house that was overlooking Mahalaxmi and Worli on one side , the left.

Sandhurst Road and Parel on the other side, the right.

The south side faced the dockyard.    

The Mumbai night air was warm, mild and balmy.

Daniel rolled a weed and lit.

Prof. Ezekiel and Annie took a drag each and returned to their chat.

Prof. Ezekiel continued .

Tarkovsky’s grand epic worked because right from the start the journey between the then Government of Russia , under Brezhnev and the ‘advisors’ of Tarkovsky were very clear, create a Russian chapter that would equal the might and power of the European renaissance with a Russian garnish.

Many of Tarkovsky;s attempts to finish Rubalev were Quixotic since it was one man’s broad interpretation of a humungous idea, to put together an artistic journey that took great pains to chip in a piece of cheese into the cauldron called European Renaissance the 17^th Century Russia and the almost current.

In the end if you notice, the film ends with a sense of decadence. With the camera panning on close up shots of the worn, peeling out , ill maintained paintings of Rubalev.

It was Annie’s turn to contribute

“Russia always has felt that it is indeed the very fountainhead of European intellectual history and progress but somehow also felt that most European nations were too cynical in allowing the country its due”.  

Annie was about to continue, but Daniel waved to signal Annie to pause, since he wanted to make sure the dictaphone they had kept on the marble table in the centre could record their conversation without the sound of the Mumbai sea breeze sounds contaminating the content of their chat.

So he was in charge of continuously changing the angle of the Dictaphone’s micro phone to face away from direct breeze and place it closer to the person talking.

He had already met a number of Critics of the Post Modern European Art and a few other friends talking on the subject Cinematic Art and Aesthetics, being a student at the JJ School of art , he had already met a number of  Critics of Cinema Aesthetics talking and airing a lot of stiff on a lot of things, he for his part always ensured he archived most of their chat .

So he was quiet.

Prof. Ezekiel – Annie’s father - looked set to talk well into the day.

Annie and Daniel sat cross legged, smoking and giving all their attention.   

The Prof. helped himself to a light drag of the weed from his daughter and then returned it, this time to Dan.

To ensure continuity to the conversation Dan chipped in –

‘But Europe had always failed to recognise Russia as a country with any kind of artistic flair, other than some bits of literature and poetry.

Purely lead by Tolstoy and Pushkin. Right ? He asked.

Annie came in

Russians always felt that somehow it had ignored to aggressively counter the consistent attempts of the likes of Gibbon, Huxley, Russell and even George Bernard Shaw and  others and grudged the fact that these people had collectively usurped the true superiority of Russia and Russian artistic leadership.  

Now the Prof. added

‘Russia always felt that had been deliberately left out of most of the intellectual movement of Europe and that Europe often reserved just left handed compliments to the likes of Tolstoy and Turgenev as opposed to a Proust or a Goethe or Shakespeare, on that side, in America even a Arthur Miller managed better appreciation, the exclusion of Russia and the efforts to keep it outside of the European art scene and beyond finally culminated in Russia funding Tarkovsky’s magnum opus Andrei Rublev.

And it cannot be denied that he film did manage to bring Russia and Europe closer using Greece in place of Italy as a common ground , to bind the two tectonic polar plateaus together, and then try merge the two while at the same time assuage a deep- felt anguish, in Russia.

Dan looked at Annie

As She added

“that Europe largely ignored the Russian Renaissance.” The Prof nodded at his daughter and then smiled at Dan making it clear how much he enjoyed their company.

They too acknowledged with a smile.

You should not miss the same director’s Mirror, it is a semi-auto biographical film but the Tarkovskyan motifs by hen become very clear.

Daniel by then had already made a decision to create a Musical art production of Shelley’s Prometheus. And he had already spoken to Prof. Ezekiel about the project and how he looked forward to his help.

Prof. Ezekiel had gracefully agreed to assist Daniel on the project.

Daniel's thoughts veered back to reality when he was woken up by the stewardess of Lufthansa who was doing her duty of informing passengers, the flight was all set to land.

London.    

thesocratespot: XXXXII Chimera , so what do you see ? do you see ?...

thesocratespot: XXXXII Chimera , so what do you see ? do you see ?...: Its not genetic really, when men are alone, driving, listening to music.  And then they see women, first, and then they see men, c...

XXXXII Chimera , so what do you see ? do you see ?

Its not genetic really, when men are alone, driving, listening to music. 

And then they see women, first, and then they see men, children, old hags, beggars, discards, rich, poor, happy - hues and shapes - walking on the pavement, looking at windows, talking on the phone, smiling, shouting, fighting, running, standing, waiting, looking - oh so there's a pro, how good? 

Sorry not my type. 

Surrounded by an ant factory of automobiles, spewing smoke, honking their butts out. 

Nor is it politics.

Daniel suddenly remembered the woman on the other side of his sit out , at home,  who was looking at him when he was playing on his guitar and then vanished, by the time he took Annie’s call.

The chimera. The Agora.

She could have stayed back just a wee bit longer, he was looking forward to her, as an appreciative audience.

She was wearing a short underpants, dark blue denim, was wearing a panty bra and nothing else on top, her hair was tied on a pony.  She was white. She looked young. 18 at the most. Her hair was blond.

Daniel shook his head and smiled as the traffic snailed on, he was still somewhere on 14^th Avenue, Danny smiled again, its primordial, or even beyond , it is . 

Especially at the great Longacre Square. 

His regular briefing in New York usually took place on the 30^th Floor office , of Reuters’ landmark # 3 Times Square building, overlooking Broadway and The Central Park on the North, but today Hoffman, his Editor–in- Chief,  suggested they meet on the 16^th, at the Cafeteria, not the most pleasant place ( considered the most wretched cafeteria in New York that even had the NYCHD warning several times for cockroaches), but for Daniel it did not matter ‘coz anyways it would just be for an hour or so. And his actual role at Reuters put him through worse.     

And so Daniel’s mind went on and on.Sometimes listening to music, sometimes talking to him, sometimes watching. Sometimes simply driving. 

Smiling, tapping, shaking.

Driving. 

Thinking.  Moving. 

Yet. Pausing. 

Hey? 

Mind, the mind, our mind.

Will it ever stop working? 

will it ever stop talking? 

Will it ever ? 

as long as it talks you’re alive, when it stops you’re dead? 

Not really. Its much more complex. 

As long it talks and you don’t

You are

A thinker.

As long as it talks

And you talk

You are

Normal.

As long as it talks

But you talk

Different

You are

Abnormal.

As long as it talks

And you don’t know what is its talk

You

Are

Insane.  

You’re .

No sirens please. 

Suddenly Daniel saw some open road space for a change and he started speeding, he noticed another car, in front, doing the same. 

It was somewhere about Duffy Square .

All of a sudden, the open space widened,  it just turned out that the two cars, got caught in an impromptu race . 

He sped them out like they were kids. 

Just When they were about to turn into the 57th Street from the Joe Di Maggio, the boys whom Dan was chasing left, Dan thought

Hey!

C'mon, let's do some more !

And stopped.'

He saw the car that had turned left had also stopped. 

He traversed , back, for he had driven ahead, thinking he would at least shake hands with the kids of the other car, they had managed to race for about 10 minutes real fast and with no cops monitoring. 

It was a rare joy inside New York.  

Dan, drove and parked the car just behind the other waiting car. 

He saw about 6-8 kids sitting inside. He walked forward with a beam of a smile, with his hand stretched. The guy who was driving the other vehicle, seemed white, also gave a smile and stretched his hand. 

The time Daniel reached the drivers' side.'He saw an avalanche of people from inside the car attack him. They were beating him from all sides, kicking, punching, butting, suddenly one of them brought a baseball bat and started bashing, they were young, drunk, A mix of Black, Brown and White.

Dan saw a cop walking forward, and then wait and watch. he was shocked. He gestured to the cop and maneuvered near him while defending himself from a drunk mob of 8, and asked for hrlp. 

The cop simply watched. Impassive. By then the 8 bevdas also rounded the cop telling the cop how Danny provoked for a race and how he had comem back ( from a road ahead ) and he was the one who had started the whole thing. 

The cop simply watched. 

Daniel knew the cop wasn't gonna be any help, he started running back to his car, even while the 8 member mob chased him, he ran a bit defended a bit, kept a few stones that were lying around handy , punched some of the guys with the stones, quickly opened his car door , got in and locked the door from inside, the boys chasing were not that easily coyed, they got hold of the stones he had used and banged at his glass, the Silverado's synthetic glass cracked but did not break, he lunged his car forward in a bit to get out. 

Daniel had banged the car in front.

The rare bumper flew out. Half way. and then hung. Midway. Dan's car did have much of a damage, it just had sime paint remived off its own front bumper. And its right side light assembly broke.   

New York , was alive. And Kicking. 

The cop had to reach them now, he stretched his book. Asked for ID's and etc., 

Daniel and the boys withdrew. Took the cop aside and aplogised. 

All of them gave the cop souvenirs of their own. The cop waqs reluctant, but later consented.

Before long. They were all off, shaking hands and bidding goodbyes. 

Danny was bleeding from his eye. But he still made it to # 3 , Times Square. 

Hoffman called for first aid. And told Danny - 

His cover story had to start at London. 

Before moving to Bolivia. 

thesocratespot: XXXXI Plotting the route map

thesocratespot: XXXXI Plotting the route map: Daniel was on his way to the # 3 Times Square, the iconic, 32 floors, New York office of Thomson Reuters. For him the drive from his Breez...

XXXXI Plotting the route map

Daniel was on his way to the # 3 Times Square, the iconic, 32 floors, New York office of Thomson Reuters. For him the drive from his Breezy Point neighbourhood circumventing the Upper River Hudson side, tracing out the Queens and inner Brooklyn towards lower Manhattan was like a Roosevelt –Marcy trail, starting with the backdrop of the Adirondack, ending almost near the harbour, tracing the intercourse of the mountain river and the Ocean right through its sleek estuary, it took him through a road trip that read like the history of modern New York, taking him across all the 3 bridges, as a choice, he could miss them if he was in a hurry, but he never really was.

He completely enjoyed driving his Silverado through the long and winding trail that took him at times over two hours when the traffic was at its peak. For him it was all about he, himself, the car, the car stereo and soaking in the experience of New York. It never really mattered that he had to drive like a migrant peasant across the 5 boroughs.

Henry Hudson, Dutch East India Company. On a drive.   

Many a times if he found the traffic too heavy, he would park by at any of the closest available private parking lots and take off on his unique 24 Shimano gear, bamboo bicycle, that he had imported from China, and which he always carried as a permanent part of his station wagon.  

In fact the rare portion of his SW was an extension of a multiple utility garage of sorts, it had all sorts of things, a Bamboo bicycle, a sleek, portable, Segway scooter, an inflatable 4 Seater Canoe with short oars, a surf board, a skateboard, a tent, a barbecue, gadgets for climbing and survival kits.  

His passion for the outdoors was tremendous. Daniel often shipped his Car along during his long tours.    

The radio jockey was belching out stuff that kept him marooned to his thoughts. It was Coldplay number streaming as he cruised the Atlantic Expressway His conversation with Annie and the prospect of visiting London lingered at the back of his mind.  

New York was so much like Bombay. Where Daniel had started his early adult life. As a teen, Sarsu was by then a Journalist with the Asian Age and a vociferous writer, after a bitter separation from Mohan, and closer to Arvind. Who was by then a Member of Parliament.

The radio jockey sneaked in with a Karen Carpenter number, Jambalaya, She was hinting that She gotta go down the bayou, Daniel simply hummed along.

 

thesocratespot: XXXX London Calling

thesocratespot: XXXX London Calling: Daniel, took Annie’s call on his mobile, which was located above his sleek , compact 'Bechstein' Piano he had recently bought ...

XXXX London Calling

Daniel, took Annie’s call on his mobile, which was located above his sleek , compact 'Bechstein' Piano he had recently bought from a friend, that was now positioned as a masterpiece in the hall that was his living space, which had the sea on one side and the New York City traffic on the other side.

As he shouted his 

'Hello' 'Annie' ? with a decibel level that was required to be heard above the New York din. 

Annie, who was in London shouted back ' Hey , Stop Shouting into the phone, my ears are splitting'  

They were soon having a normal conversation as Danny walked back to his Sit out area, hearing out Annie talking and giving him a ‘heads up’ about her London landing. 

He observed that the Woman on the other far side of his apartment ‘Ocean Promenade’ who was until a while ago looking at him playing his guitar and singing, was not around anymore.

As he stepped onto the wide Greek architecture balcony of his New York home, his clothes once again started flapping, it was late afternoon in New York, and he knew it was quite early in  London.

Going by the sound of Annie - the time of her call, her energy etc., - Daniel guessed Annie was probably just out of a party and she wanted to catch up.

Annie was excited. And She was talking . The need to ask whether She was alright was just not required. She just was.

Feeling good. Feeling great.

Apparently the presentation at the T.S. Elliot Memorial Hall, at Merton College, Oxford University, went off famously. In fact gave her a surprise by inviting her over on the dais and allowing her to co-present.

She even took the Q & A.

And She was taking and answering questions from the Rushdie’s, the Chomsky’s, the students, the press and soon became a small celebrity.

She loved it. Then.  

Later at the post Conference Dinner ball, She had all of them extending courtesies.  She met Pamuk, met Harry Frankfurt and several more. 

She had stepped out sometime back, many of the ‘great contemporary thinkers were still drinking and toasting and debating’.

She was back at her Hilton room.

Daniel hard all of that and then suddenly became alert .

Annie was saying

Dan, just found out through Annie that there’s this Andrew Lloyd Webber’s apprentice, staging a musical on Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound at London’s Royal Albert Hall and She wanted him to join in.

Dan had no words to speak at first – a mixture of envy, jealousy and then later superiority of his own idea, criss-crossed his mind in a flash.

Danny was saying : But Annie, I’m supposed to be off to Bolivia, in the next few days.

Annie was not the one to let go ‘coz she knew the subject was pretty close to Danny, She said

Listen Dan , C’mon! ? You don’t get to see ‘Prometheus Unbound’ everyday ? will ya? C’mon!? We’re talkin about ‘Prometheus Unbound’ ok? Do you get that? a musical ! and in London?

Annie was on alcohol for sure, but Danny was already a sucker to the topic that she was alluding to, and so it did not take too much Annie talk for Danny to come to a decision.

Dan’s defence was getting weak.

He replied ‘Ok, Annie, maybe I’ll book my tickets such that I meet you at London, we’ll see this musical and then I’ll move on to Bolivia , so that I don’t displease my bosses at Reuters.          

Annie gave an excited ‘hiss’ and said ok ‘ Mr. Mettuguda’ come on over. I’ll pick you up from the airport.

Page me your itinerary.

In the background, the seagulls were still shrieking. In New York.

In London.

It was quiet.

Except for the Ghost like lights that hung around, the London skyline,  just so that the city remained – global.

Annie finally wished G'nite and hung up.

Dan washed up , changed over, took the elevator, started his Chevy and drove down to his office.

Reuters.

New York.