Dark Oak

Desert

2011-08-23T14:28:00.001+05:30

As in everything, there is a rhythm that you can only feel, your senses feel it, you know it exists and your hair bristles when you know the moment is upon you. And while you are at it, the very notion that to balance the same you will receive a time which takes a toll and tests you against time, that that too shall also reign on you. Sitting here on this chair with a blue cushion, my thoughts wander, I feel its traces walking across my being; like when you drag a heavy laden bag across those fine desert sands. I wrote this poem when in such a state and that’s where it arises from:

Over the sands & nomadic dunes, I dredge along,
A moving speck leaving a trail behind
All vastness, a pale brown & high above, A calm surround

Not knowing where or why I move
Feeling no sensation below my toes
I see I have walked a mile
The winds play their games, in swirls and mists
Till all the dunes are lost in time

My throat parched, long gone dry
Swollen and fiery, beyond it all
The sweltering heat, never a denial
Beating on my back, a sorrowless creature
As it burns my neck & leaving me weaker

A slow pace is all I muster,
A daze, a shadow, a trance that follows
My mind a dulled numb mass of weight
Just a burden, totally awaste

Slung across, pouch gurgling beside
That is my life, my present divine
Taunting, calling… slushing inside
Each step I take, reminding me
Of the elixir inside

I wait, a little at a time
Knowing it has to last me only a moons time
Back to life & the sweet liquid of desire
But the strength is only because of her

The day is kind for the westerly blows
The scorching sun losing to the time
The worst of times I lay aside
Remembering the oasis & greenery abound

Life! you’ve been an ode to me
As I walk along the sands of time
Free like the wind as it carries away
The granules wiping along my face

the oddities of the present

2011-08-23T14:26:00.002+05:30

When people in the middle-east rise up against their regime, its a fight for justice
When the same happens in UK, the same govt that support the people in middle east, jail their own.

When S&P downgrades the US, what makes you sure that S&P wont be hit. I’m surprised, they haven’t found a scapegoat as yet and fired him for it. US influence should have done it by now.
...... & shortly, we’ll see them upgraded again, say a year or two at the most.

Why is it that when the US borrowed, they benefited.
Now that they cant pay, the rest of the world is suffering

Why have the Indians almost accepted Rahul as their future PM – isn’t it supposed to be the biggest democracy in the world. Yet we see almost an acceptance by resignation since nothing against the idea is said.

The world is supposed to be getting smaller by the day, yet the people are growing more apart. Social media is slowly becoming an oxymoron since its not supporting what social is supposed to mean (no, we use virtual intimacy for cognitive dissonance & for our lack of memory capacity only)

One Straw Revolution ~ Masanobu Fukuoka

2011-03-02T23:19:00.003+05:30

An earnest and simple book on natural farming and the power of nature to re-generate itself - one mans observations from living with nature and observing rather than make the soil/ crop live or you.
Would suggest reading the book to remove a few misconceptions we have about farming and nature in general.

One hundred years of Solitude

2011-03-02T23:10:00.002+05:30

My dear Mr. Gabriel Garcia Marquez
I acknowledge and agree with all the reviews made by all these distinguished critics - you have an amazing grasp of vocabulary from which you can bring out the most minute of details and provide it in the most amazing prose. I will go to the extent of even saying that if you were given the chance of writing about a single scene of an Indian picking his nose in the crowded bus stand of an arterial road in a small town, you would be able to write 200 pages for that alone! My good man, please stop going round and round so much entwining each and every detail into so much that your characters in the novel themselves seem to have become dizzy and fallen down! :D
Its definitely an entertaining start but as you go on, its soon becomes a story of nothingness... enjoy it for the way he can twist and provide details... but do beware that you'll grow numb after a certain point in time.

Fear

2010-11-26T01:10:00.000+05:30

My real fear is being left alone with myself...

The time traveler

2010-11-24T00:29:00.000+05:30

Over the winds of the artic mist
Beyond the horizons where it meets the shimmering blue,
Rises a streaky sun, all aglow
A life of nature
A life of old

Built along the narrow trails
A green cover not man can take
Wilderness abound & the trees alive
The cries of life all around.

Colours abound, red green & blue
Paradise wild & glorious life,
A cacophony, music only to those
As nature blooms & covers for miles
Gay abandon for life goes on,
To live in the present & the sweet bird songs

As the shades grow darker; fading light
A backdrop in shades of grey
The howl of a lone wolf rings out loud
To thank the gods & life around
As the snow starts slowly to fall over all,

Under the glimmering moon
Floating ice, the rumble of the ancients
A story foretold, with a tongue used ages ago
Long forgotten, in the passage of time.

Shadows in the dark, prowl the night
The wild never sleeps but the eyes betray
The shore washes the floor & covers the night,
A wave to greet, a wave to shatter
A life of nature
A life of old

The light goes bright & fades over glory
The days count out the meaning of life
A lone traveler, for time stands quiet
To watch the fallacy called life
Envious for the vivacity thus is born
A smirk is all he gives away
For in it was born an eternity to grace.

Boys

2010-11-04T20:01:00.002+05:30

I wrote this in a hurry before the story frizzled out of my head - its in its raw form without any corrections or re-writes to make it beautiful to read - wrote it in one go so please ignore the mistakes -

The incessant coughing woke him up from his hallucinations and he slowly tilted his head to see the dark green stained army overalls and dusty black boots. A smile appeared on the edge of his, “even now, you wake me up with that god awful sneezing.” He went back to their childhood when winters made the cough worse and nights generally meant hot water with menthol and balm. He still smelt the strong smell of the balm when he thought of their mother. Funny how things turn out, he thought.

Slowly without moving his back, he reached out to his backpack and ran his fingers in it till he felt the smooth round steel can and offered it across. “This is as best a remedy as we can have any day, don’t finish it off like you always do, its special, more than 10 years old.” A hand reached out and he got a glimpse of the bent finger he was the cause of god alone knows how long ago,…those were better times, those days they played football the whole day. “Hey A, whatever happened to Ameya? Did you guys get married, I never got the invitation.” the owner of the bent finger whispered out. The crisp English now had a tinge of the middle grounds, the words came out as though almost from the throat, more of a guttural heavy voice, so different from what he could remember. A… A? A & A+...thats what it had been, childish sibling rivalry had sprouted out nick names for them. He was A & the younger fellow just to get onemanship had gone across the house writing A+ across the walls to introduce himself. The thrashing he got from Pa later didn’t matter but the names stuck & they called each other that all through college too. He patted his chest pocket and slowly pulled out a photo with a woman & two boys smiling away at the person taking the photo. They were at a beach & it had been a clear blue day. “Here, Amar is the younger one, on the right; he reminds me of you all the time, the same nautanki, the same smile, he even broke his front tooth last year; almost the same age when you broke yours I think.” The pain that shot up his spine brought tears to his eyes and he barely was able to control the scream that almost escaped his lips.

He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep or what time it was now, the dust had dried on his eyelids and glued them together. He slowly rubbed his eyes, vaguely remembering his dream of Sara. It was always the same, the same smile, the same green salwar and the spot of red that suddenly appeared on her forehead as he stared into her dark brown eyes. The whirlwind that followed, he didn’t care about, all he wanted was revenge. He slowly looked down on and saw that the blood had clotted, the pain in his twisted broken leg had ceased. Amar looked up at the sun and felt its warmth as tears slid down his cheeks. Why… why? What had he done to deserve this, have everything taken away from his life? Sara, Ma…. “Bhai…” he called out and heard no response. Was he asleep? How badly was he injured? How long ago had he seen his face? He had to see him right now. Slowly he shifted himself & felt the pain in his stomach, bent down to straighten the shredded leg. The urge had become too strong, he didn’t feel the pain anymore, he didn’t notice the wound open up. He slowly pulled himself towards his brother, he could see his black shoes and the dust covered camouflage pants. He winced as he felt something scrape out as he dragged himself closer. There he was, looking at him with those soft eyes, those eyes that were so reassuring. As he moved closer, he saw the iron rod and wanted to turn away but couldn’t. The iron rod had pierced his brother close to his lungs and ripped through him almost cutting him into two. A deep sorrow grew within him, the pain felt like it was choking him and he couldn’t get himself to close his brothers eyes. And then he saw the coin in his brothers hand, the Sholay coin which they had melted together one summer break. They had felt invincible then, they had their fate in their own hands with that coin. He wrapped his fingers around the coin and slowly lay down on his brothers lap. He had always been there for him, the elder brother, the loving bhai… and he smiled knowing that he was joining his brother in another world where they would melt coins together again and live their invincible lives together.

& then life changed…

2010-11-04T19:05:00.000+05:30

Thought trails keep latching on while doing the most mundane of things and I for that among other reasons love those mundane things. Everything seems to have become busier and I do mean everything; do you remember those computers which ran on 433Mhz or trunk calling? When was the last time you saw a black & white tv or even saw a tv with an antennae sticking out of it? When was the last time you saw a car without an electronic panel or buttons plugged all over the dash board? Everything seems be getting more and more powerful (and getting smaller too!), we’re packing everything with more capabilities – even todays weighing machines seem to have enough ‘intelligence’ to tell you certain diets you should follow! In between all this, we expect ourselves to multitask more and more too; we’ve moved onto multitasking faster in thought too if you realise it. The scary part in all this is we take it to be normal but that I’ll save for another day.

Have you noticed that certain inventions and innovations have hastened evolution over a period of time? These spurts of evolution are brilliant in their own right when you think of it – I can’t fathom the impact of the wheel & the combustion engine on development right through the industrial revolution (revolution is a good term for it when you think about it) or the changes the electric bulb did to the world. They seem to skewed the natural progression of evolution to have spurts of greater speed and collective moved humanity to get to a place faster than it would otherwise have. Its like reaching a place a week earlier than when we should have ideally got there. (Questions arise in my head on whether this is a good or bad thing, on how we would have been had we reach ‘on time’ and if what would it have been that we expected against what we see and have, having reached earlier). If Glieck had anything to say, he would come over and chat up on a certain pattern even in this and I guess he would have something there.

I’m also currently having arguments with myself on whether or not technology is actually directing us to evolve towards something or vice versa. I’m inclined to believe or hope atleast that I have some power over what I would like to turn into (pun intended – too many comic books do that to your imagination) but I’m actually overwhelmed on that ground by the force and vastness of the armoury technology has in its dungeons and godowns. So it would be safe to say that anyone enough electric activity between the ears can figure where we are actually heading and doing a little algorithm also tell you in what state we’d be when we get there.

Good I have something called ramblings

2010-10-18T13:48:00.001+05:30

Was reading an article recently on us requiring another planet by 2030 & could help but wonder of our own naivety than other things like stupidity which does fall into the list. Here we are not able to take care of one while we’re already dreaming of getting another. I talk about saving the world yet ride a bullet, I talk about recycling to move in that direction yet open a pack of chips (such packs being non recyclable) & I talk about working towards population control and see new abandoned infants every week at the Juvenile home. Are we really searching for a solution or heading to a solution which none of us accept as what is inevitable yet knowing that its probably closer to the truth than anything else.

Its amazing how the mind works, for next week is the largest IPO in India and well its in the energy segment – wonderful that millions of people (including me) will be investing & hoping for an increase in the share value (which would happen only if we consume more energy! ) while not realising (or realising and not caring anyway) that this happens to be a non renewable energy resource which stats have shown, we’ll run out of by 2050 (or 2060, 2070 – depends on which report you want to go by). Energy consumption is definitely going up, so my stocks will definitely go up; the resource is going to become more scarce so my stocks will go up; seems a brilliant investment (& it probably is!) but is it the right investment to make? By investing, I’m also signing up to pollute more, I’m signing up to cause more destruction and by investing, I’m putting in money into an energy source other than renewable forms which in the long term is what will adversely affect me & the entire globe.

While the world thinks of issues like running out of petroleum in another 30-50 years, we don’t seem to be thinking fast enough about renewable sources. & so petroleum prices go up and we grumble and dig deeper into our pockets. I wonder if this is really how everyone envisions it. Logically, considering we’re tapping into an area of land covering about ¼ of what is actually available, I think we’ll be heading over to what we’ve yet to discover that below the oceans and the lands below that. We’re a long way off from actually drying up our oil reserves but its much better that we think that way I guess. Its fun to try and figure whether both thoughts are true (or false) yet root for one not because the lie is probably what would wake up the world. Its similar to think from 20000 feet above ground knowing you’ll get a good perspective of things but hating it because you prefer getting down to the details which you know will actually give you the answers while also thinking about Wilde and his theory of detailing.

Illusions

2010-08-10T18:29:00.001+05:30

Wave on wave a gentle song,
In rhythm & motion a soothing beyond,
Calm & peace, not known before
Gulls overhead & a five year old
Harmony surrounding the islet divine.

A glint of the eye, a flash before
An understanding beyond the ages in time
As the gentle ocean waves
Wash the granite protecting the sand

A childs delight
built is a castle that the water cant reach
I can come tomorrow & it’ll be here
Where I’ve made it, where we were….

Cacophony erupts, the birds have seen

what mortals fathom not
A shift, a wave, a fraction of a call
For them, its time to head for their home.

A beautiful sunset, but then the day is still warm
A magnificent creation, gleaming to horizon
Diamonds on the ocean, a sight to watch
A days ending slow & with grace
Painting the sky is shades of orange & grey.

Dark boulders, stretched fine…
I can see their outline as I sand in the dark
Peace & quiet for a thousand miles across
But I can feel it coming hastily ashore

Slowly the tide rises, swelling across
Riding its way slowly ashore
Time after time, a splash on the rocks
An angry rhythm, a forbidden path

Nature’s come to claim what is hers
It is we who take without her nod
The stones are solid, resilient with age
It doesn’t matter but the cracks will show

Time & again, as the land below shakes
The sand we walk on, the beach we hold
Something so precious, we both hold forte
The night is young, it’s a long way to go..

The sun, refreshed awakening sounds
The land glistens, dawning a new dress
To please the gods above,
nature knows no past, its only the now
In peace & calm, arise & shine

A shriek of delight, a whiff of a scarf
It’s the laughter that only a child can derive
Sand spraying all over the place
As her tiny feet carry her closer to yesterday

Slower & slower, till there no movement in them
Those tiny eyes, confused & afraid
Tears run down as it dawns across
There never was a castle, only sand

Sand was all there was…….

Pure blabbering...

2010-01-30T00:30:00.004+05:30

its well past midnight and its that time of the night or morning when i allow myself to feel drowsy with sleep - a strange thing happens, I always start to write in this strange old english sing song way - like see here -

Mine is a sad soul for it is in search of happiness not so that it can swim in it as though a sea full of wine but to settle into the mundane life of the normal. Where else can you ask for not a feeling of extreme but a search to feel warm, it is for life alone to feel the true warmth of the sun. A day of existence, without reason to smile, to feel alive and worth the smile that should otherwise sparkle in one's eyes. These short false goals cover me in a blanket of smog; through the hazy mix to see the foundation laid alive. What is that i see no more, so lost I wont believe in you. While walking along the shores so wild during the tempest wild about. Yet there she lies, a shy smile and raised hand to thee, was it a heed of caution or not, I tend never to look. closer and closer i approach the light, my fingers quiver... in fear? What is it, I shall never know for I carry on forward; beyond the fingers, beyond the light, far away from the smile; strange that it is to want so much yet shy away in tears.

Dragonflies

2009-12-28T18:25:00.002+05:30

The badly lit metal works shop was having a routine day; Anand was wearing that big iron mask and was hunched down with the phosphorus welding rod, sparks flying all across him. Raju had at first been fascinated with it, it looked so beautiful, like the sparklers the neighbourhood children held with happy smiles during Diwali. But it had long since lost its sheen, like everything around him, everything had become part of his life, the heat was now noticeable now, he didn’t feel the fumes which had earlier burned inside his throat when he breathed, the screeching when the metal rod were being cut had become so familiar to Raju that it disturbed him no more, it has become part of the silence he lived in, everything had been absorbed. He had to come in early to clean up the room and stayed well after the sun had set. Malik was paying him Rs.30 more for cleaning and taking care of the errands of the shop. That was the only thing that mattered to Raju anymore, that little extra money so he could buy those medicines. His hand involuntarily went to his heart where he had stitched a piece of cloth making it into a pocket & inside it lay a worn out prescription which doctor sahib had given his mother a long time ago. The medicines were becoming more & more expensive. Motilalji, the local pharmacist kept telling him of the increasing taxes and of some doctors who increased some prices. He never understood what Motilalji was saying, all he cared about was that blue medicine syrup that his mother needed to drink two times a day, once in the morning and then when he got home in the night.
After work, he liked walking through the mall street with its brightly lit shops and hanging street lights, somehow these lights always seemed to have current, the local current shutdown never seemed to affect mall road & Raju always smiled when he thought of that. He had noticed it & no one else in his jhopadi had! Raju had first seen the shirt while passing through these rows of shops on night, a new shop had opened up and had been decorated with lights and garlands, a pumpkin with red kumkum lay on the side in front of the shop and there it was that he had seen the shirt. It was a half sleeves shirt, sky blue in colour with thin lines of yellow twisting and turning in between the mass of blue. It felt like the suns rays shining across the blue blue sky, a wonderful sight to lift up your day. And here it was that Raju’s obsession with the shirt began. He would dream of wearing the shirt and walking around the mela on Sunday; he could see Chameli’s gaze follow him as he walked or skipped and hopped down the tiny lanes. As he floated down towards his house, a tiny worry would itch Raju and his sleeping face would spout a frown, he would twist and turn on the charpai and would be like this for a few moments before settling back into his sleep as the dream faded away.
His mother was just recovering from the mosquito fever when she fell sick again which something the doctor saab said was dangerous, her eyes had become yellow and hollow, a terrible smell seemed to come from her skin and it used to feel like she was on fire. Doctor sahib was always in a white coat, the collar and edges had become dirty but he never seemed to notice, he was always in his clinic, talking to a patient, listening into a black rubber tube which looked like big mobile headphones but this he would hold against his mother’s chest and listen to something. He had told Raju to bring his mother every fortnight and on every check-up doctor sahib would shake his head and say, “Raju, bring her again, continue the medicines without fail and make sure she drinks lots of water. See that the water is boiled, not warm, it should have bubbles coming you understand?”. Raju would nod his head and bring his mother home slowly; she had become so weak that he felt he was half carrying her.
His mother’s fever did not deter him, the noise in the factory had become numb, he ignored the pain in his stomach which would start as the sun set every day, his one meal consisted of some rice and a watery curry which he bought beside the factory for Rs.4 every day. A day would not go without him hearing a stone dash and grind against his teeth. A wince and a swallow later and the stone would be forgotten. One evening, he had taken up the courage to stand in front of that window and peek at the price tag of the shirt; he had then hurried home and with a small candle which looked like it would give up anytime opened his notebooks. He had forgotten the last time, he had touched those books, they lay in his small trunk, under 2 sets of neatly folded clothes. Those books reminded him of his father, of his friends in school or a better life. Shaking his head to throw away those old memories, he opened up his math book and slowly counted with his fingers on how much he had to save everyday to buy that shirt. That shirt was slowly becoming his life, the blue was getting bluer and the yellow was looking more and more like the sun’s rays.
At the factory, he had been given two spanners; he had to tighten the bolts of a particular machine which kept coming to him on a big moving rubber mat. Every day these weird looking machines would come out one after another and he had to tighten the bolts on them as they came. They were shiny big machines that looked like engines but they didn’t look like any engine that Gafur chacha worked on at the garage next to his house. Ajeeth had gotten this job for him some time ago, a little after his father had gone missing. Somehow, Ajeeth had become some kind of bada bhai to him, he was always there to help, he helped almost all the boys in the slum. He worked in some big office which had lots of shiny buildings and had all kinds of amazing machines. He had a phone which played the loudest music, had video games inside it and even took photos, it was an amazing phone and Ajeeth used to allow all the boys to play with it. A rule had been set, each boy had exactly 2 minutes to use the phone after which he had to give it to the next person. Once, there had been a fight and Ajeeth bhaiya had taken away the phone and didn’t give to anyone for 2 months, then he started giving it again to everyone to play. Ajeeth used to take tuition class in the evening, and Raju used to go initially… then he suddenly started working so late that it would become night by the time he reached home.
Doctor Sahib’s frown had become worse, he didn’t shake his head but looked very worried. He asked Raju again and again if the medicines had been given, did he boil the water, what had his mother eaten? Raju didn’t understand, he had bought the medicines just as doctor sahib had said, he had spent so much to buy the aluminum vessel to boil the water, why was Doctor Sahib worrying so much, Ma would become better, now that the medicines were there & she was eating so much food, he had even brought Nariyal pani for her once and she had smiled. That day, he had cried so much, he had cried well into the night before the darkness stole away his tears.
The street lights were already shining when he stepped out of the factory, he could see the dragonflies buzzing around the halogen bulbs. It always mesmerized him, just like the winged insects which would approach close and then fall down dead. It was one of those things he just couldn’t understand. He slowed down as he passed the shop window, almost dreamily looking at where the shirt had been displayed, there was the shirt, the blue shirt … then he stopped, the shirt was there, it was blue but the suns rays, the yellow lines were missing… something had happened and he could comprehend it for a moment. Someone had already bought the shirt, his shirt; somebody was wearing his beautiful shirt! Who would dare take his shirt, how could they… his anger slowly turned to despair, tears started welling at the corner of his eyes and he started trembling. Not now, not now, he had to save for only 3 more days, if only mother had been ok, then he would have bought the shirt a month ago with his savings.
As he thought of his mother, he realized that she had been asleep in the morning and had not taken her medicine. He became scared, he had shouted out to her on the way out to take her medicines, had she replied? He wasn’t sure. He ran home in a blur, as he neared his small tin roofed shelter, he couldn’t see a candle light through the bare opening which served as a window. He ran in and made out the sleeping form through the dim light of the street light. She didn’t move when he called out to her, he shook her frantically but she didn’t awaken, her chest was not moving up and down. Raju couldn’t breathe, he just stood still, he couldn’t think, his little mind knew that she was not alive but he didn’t know what that meant, just that she wasn’t going to be with him anymore. He slowly moved away from his mother and came to the entrance of his house; he didn’t know what to do, he felt numb and cold. He just stood there, tears ran down his cheeks, the night rain slowly started as it did always; it fell on his shirt and torn shorts. The drops mingled with his tears and rolled down in small rivulets as he stood there in the dark. The streetlight across the road giving out a dim light as the bodies of the fallen dragonflies joined the streams flowing down the road.

My Passion

2009-12-22T16:50:00.001+05:30

The most important thing I have learnt in my life and what I strive towards is to be dis-passionate. You can even say it is the only passion I have in my life.

The problem with tolerance

2009-12-22T16:48:00.000+05:30

Traffic in Bangalore while heading back home in the evenings post work is always resultant; you will always without fail spot a mishap, you are bound to spot a new pothole on the road or find a new pipe that has just been laid and quickly filled in with mud so as not to annoy commuters too much. It really doesn’t matter if the patch dug up has been re-tarred, we somehow seem to believe and accept it if the whole dug is just covered to let me through. I was weaving through traffic with this in mind when I realised that this same concept actually lives through me in various forms and associations. I have a level of toleration which allows me to turn a blind eye till such time that I can no longer take the irritation or it crosses my tolerance zone. I’ve built such zones through out my daily activities allowing for sacrifices to be made again and again so when I finally look back, I see the entire road filled with potholes.

Copenhagen??

2009-12-11T16:17:00.003+05:30

Do I really care of the generations to come in all honesty? Though I’d like to stand up and vehemtly agree with it; I have after thinking it over come to terms with the fact that I either do not or that I do not care. With Copenhagen Summit on the anvil, everyone is suddenly jumping into the ‘save the environment’ melee. Given the speed with which information travels today, I am not longer surprised to read front page articles which would even talk of Obama farting or Manmohan using his hands to eat in the days leading to the summit.

Everyday life across the world seems to be moving at its usual pace, the millions of Indians are still spitting pan on the road sides, using plastic and thousands of industries will carry on belching pumes of smoke into the air and colouring our rivers black with contaminants. I hear and read about blocks being formed and discussions/ disagreements being made on the percentages of emission reductions by the year 2025. Countries are bargaining and selling carbon credits, something I will never understand; it’s like going to the pot and asking someone else to flush simply because you can afford to.

Its amazing how countries are promising a 15-30% cut in emissions, so what happens if we don’t meet our targets? There will be bans and trade blocks? A developed country who acts as boss will stand up and spank you across? Is that it? Not meeting the emissions cut would still mean, we’re polluting more than within reason. Spanking someone won’t reduce the pollution, will it? A few countries on the developed block have an even funnier version which when we simply sounds something like this – ‘I messed up everything before the standards were set so you should not put any additional burdens on me to help clean up. That was before, that was before..!!’. If you agree you messed up, should you be doing something to fix it irrespective of when it was that you created the mess?

In the end, I think we fail to see it in our everyday lives - the changes that are happening around us and the destruction that is happening around us. I don’t see the glaciers melting and I don’t comprehend the gravity of the increase of sea levels by a foot or two. When I don’t see it, it doesn’t strike me hard enough to move towards change. The guys on some remote island say, they’ll lose their land, how would that affect me? Isnt this why we all doing absolutely nothing? Have we actually allowed ourselves to think that these so called man made borders being used to setup structure in the form of states and countries have any effects on the environmental disasters we are facing? Its almost like saying, your dirt flows only in your territory, the pollution be it on land, water or air will stay within your borders without flowing into my country. I wish it did but we in the end, we have only one earth to work with and it belongs to nobody. Simply put, don’t damage what is not yours.

We all sagely nod our heads when someone says that we are destroying the earth, but do we really understand or comprehend the meaning of that phrase? I still have a roof over my head, my three meals come easily, my fuel I can purchase at any time and I get to do everything I want to without having to struggle for it; the sky above is blue, I have no difficulty in breathing and I live a relatively safe life. When we have millions thinking on similar lines, then the so called strength of a bottom to top approach becomes our main weakness and we have nowhere to go but deeper into the graves of pollution we are slowly building around ourselves.

The sad thing about all this is I also am a culprit, I not only not work towards cleaning up my mess, I don’t particularly think about saving the world during my day to day activities either. So where does that leave me? Drowning with the rest of the wasted lot I guess… see you all at the bottom. Cheers!

Chinaman - Part 2

2009-12-01T18:29:00.005+05:30

Huo was already waiting patiently; it had become a custom between them to have dinner once a week together. Each week would be different, one week they would dine like the English, another week there would be sambar and Indian curry while on other weekends, there would be served dishes from across the world. They both had a liking for trying different foods and would often sit discussing dishes, cuisines and customs for hours together. Wei had made sure today was a surprise and Huo who usually was the one to choose the cuisine had to settle for not knowing what was in being prepared in the kitchen. He was excited and his wife had gone on the whole day trying to guess what Wei had planned out for them. Wei poured a clear liquid into 2 glasses and handed one over to Huo. A light frangrance of ginger and lotus petals arose from the Sake. Huo took a small sip and couldn’t believe the smoothness as the liquid slipped down his throat. There was a tinge of lime, a certain sweet lime… he had had this drink before but couldn’t pin point when or where. He could feel the sake go down his throat and felt a warm glow inside. He could see that Wei too had become engrossed in the drink and was happy to see Wei smile; Wei had almost forgotten to smile ever since Lin had been taken from him. He could see her portrait at the corner of his eye, the one carrying little Li in a small white kimono. The painting had been ordered for his first birthday and Li had made such a racket during the painting session; it had been a good year.
Wei looked light hearted and happy, “Huo, you still have to guess where today’s food is from. It’s been cooked by an expert I had secreted in from somewhere in China only.” Huo had already finished four glasses of the lively sake and could feel a certain excitement building within. Steaming trays with a rich aroma of seafood came in; he saw a feast which included scallops, prawns, clams, sea cucumbers, and squid. Beside it was a dish surely made of corn but he could get a grassy aroma from it; while his thoughts rushed in various directions trying to pinpoint the cuisine, another tray holding peanuts and Zhou (porridge made of Millet, wheat, oat and barley) were brought in. Wei was up to something, he could see the sparkle in his eye, was his friend trying to pull a fast one on Huo? Huo considered himself an expert on Chinese cuisine but there was something special in every dish on the table; the roast duck had a sprinkling of a rich herb he could quite guess, the corn was toying with him, it could be from the southern province where it was very sweet, this was a sticky and starch variety so it must have come from the north. The vinegar most certainly gave it away to be North Chinese cuisine, only fro mthere would you get this kind of vinegar which left such an impression on the food without actually affecting the cuisine’s taste. The mixture of sea grasses, and bell peppers with the hard cabbage dish was new to him, it had a sweet sour taste and the sea grass left a salty taste in the mouth. Each dish tasted unique and different, he knew he had tasted someof these dishes a long time ago but just couldn’t remember where. He still couldn’t pin point the location of the cuisine and had to admit that it was probably among the best meals he had but could only guess it to be from the North. Wei only smiled and told him that he’ll learn soon enough about the fabled chef and the exquisite dinner.The evening went on in lively fashion, they discussed his sons education, Lou was just finishing high school while Mei was quickly growing up to becoming a beautiful lady. He would soon be chasing away suitors trying their luck; a few had already come in. Grandmother as always was complaining about her eyes and her legs and her aches, it was a never ending tale of hers. Time quickly passed by and Huo couldn’t remember having such a good supper earlier. He felt drowsily satisfied and the sake also was numbing his senses.
“Come into the study Huo, I want to show you something” said a loud and jovial Wei. Huo suddenly became alert, his eyes lit up; he couldn’t believe it! No one had ever entered Wei’s study, there were rumours of all sorts of that room, the ceiling was supposed to be out of gold and exotic paintings adorned its walls, various busts of wild animals decorated the walls and it had two exquisite chandaliers hanging from its roof. Wei had always cleaned the room himself, always locked it when he went in or left; he had built the furniture inside by himself and setup up the stones for the fireplace with his own hands. “Bring the sake” said Wei as he turned around and headed in the direction of the study. Huo quickly grabbed the bottle and a couple of glasses before hurrying behind Wei wondering what it was that he was going to be shown inside that fabled room.
Wei slowly inserted the key and Huo heard the click of the lock, he walked into the room and felt like he was walking on air. He looked admiringly at the beautiful thick carpet as he wanted towards the table to set down the bottle. There were different models of boats set on his opposite side and his keen eyes picked up the suttle differences in each of their designs. The hull of the junk ship closest to him was different, the shark boats seemed to be sleeker and tilted backward, models of double masts and 160 footers lay open at the other end. He looked at the massive book shelf taking up one wall of the room and wondered if Wei had read all those books. He probably would have and memorised every page. There were a few paintings, small and beautifully done hanging next to a mirror which seemed to be just standing in the air. He saw Wei assessing him, looking at him with warmth and a smile in his eyes while he took in everything he saw in the room.
He slowly walked over to the library and though he knew his master to be a learned man, he couldn’t but admire the wealth of knowledge Wei had collected over the years. Huo was renouned to be a master in poetry and had studied it for years; his knowledge of Daoist had no equal in South China. Yet as he ran his fingers along the stacks of books, he felt inadequate looking at the collection in front of him. With his favaourites Chinee poets Lao Tzu, Tu Fu & Li Po sat Huang Po, Chuang Tzu, Wu Men, Confucius, Khalil Ghibran, Virgil, Homer, Ovid, Horace, Beowulf another so many others whom he had not even heard of. He saw scrolls of Waka, Haiku and Shi; there were books in the English alphabet but not in English, he slowly flipped though scrolls in Persian and Urdu. Here was a treasure trove of knowledge and emotions, a compilation of the finest writings in the world. Yet during all these years, during all their interactions Wei had never come out to be more knowing than him, he had always listened to Huo, always made Huo to be the master while Wei had been content to listening as a pupil. Huo was so engrossed and in admiration of the collection that he didnt hear Wei till he was beside him. Handing a glass of sake, Wei left him to soak in everything, silently going back to his seat and enjoying his drink.
Huo didnt know how to react, he was thrilled and wanted to shout with joy, he wanted to cry, he wanted to jump and throw his hands up in the air and shout, and he had this great desire, a burning sensation to sit with all the books immediately. Yet at the corner of his mind, a question was beginning to form though he hardly gave it a thought. He whipped around and slowly went to where Wei was sitting, he was so weak kneed with excitement that he felt like he was in a trance. He sat down and let it slowly sink in, the sake was still in his hands and he took one small sip following the smooth and tingling sensation flow down from his mouth down his throat.
"What do you think my friend, is my collection up to your standards?" Wei asked with a twinkle in his eye, Huo could see that sly grin and knew Wei had expected exactly this reaction from Huo. He burst out laughing aloud and found tears running down his cheeks at the same time. His chest felt like it would explod, there were so many emotions running through him. "Huo, how long have we known each other? 10- 12 years? You've been by my side all along, supported me through everything. You've been a brother to me, been my mentor and looked after me as a father would. For this I can never repay you but I want you to have this collection. It’s a small gift for something I can never repay in full measure. I hope you will honour me by accepting this small gift." The moment was too much, Huo couldnt say anything, his chest swelled up, he felt almost breathless; he could only slowly bring his glass to his lips and take a small sip to clear his throat. When he spoke, the voice felt strange to him, "Wei, I dont know how... I have no words to... how did you, where did you get them from?”
"Ah my friend, you forget we run a fleet of ships and we trade across the world, it was nothing. I just got the captains to pick up copies of several journeys. The look on your face was well worth it, I hope you enjoy them." Huo had seen so many occassions when people, complete strangers had fallen at Wei's feet on the streets and thanked him with tears in their eyes. His house was always receiving gifts, trinklets from traders and home cooked food from the poor in gratitude. Huo felt that same sense of worship at that moment, Wei had risen ten fold and he knew that this man was special. “Well my friend, for one I think it would be wise to close your mouth and stop staring and me so; I don’t know if I should call the doctors.” said Wei, laughing and completely enjoying the moment.

Chinaman – Part 1

2009-12-01T18:29:00.004+05:30

This is my second attempt at writing a story- I hope you like it. Since its a little long, I broke the story into 3 parts. - all three parts have been posted below. In case you read it, do let me know what you think of it and where I could have made improvements. Thank you for your time in reading this long 'short story'.:

The room itself was not big; it was a comfortable room with carpeted flooring. The soft Persian carpet reached across all the corners of the room. Soft, full and intricately designed, it had a ten thousand stitch pattern across every metre; everyone who entered the room would have instantly recognised its richness and value. Veins of red ran through the torquoise blue, weaving itself around the leaves and flowers which were in a deep green and red making them look like real rose buds fallen on the floor.
The room itself was tastefully decorated, each piece of furniture was at just the right place and each article in the room had been thought of before being made for the room. An old chest made of dark oak occupied the far end of the room, its hinges and handles made of hard wrought iron; giving it a time seasoned yet trustworthy feel. The small mirror that hung just above it stood almost all by itself in the air. Only if observed carefully could one see the silk wires holding up the oval glass giving it a look of delicateness yet knowing that it would never break. The darkness of the drawers in a strange way complimented this fragile magic of reflection giving a certain balance to the whole room and everything that stood inside it.
Beside it rose a sturdy bookshelf, built into the room from floor to ceiling. Wei had cured and build the three sets of slides racks himself, measuring each board to accommodate every size of book which had been written or published. From ancient history to modern science, Sima Qian & Confucius sat beside Aristotle, Rousseau & Jonathan Swift; Su Shi read pro’s to the approval of Pope while Kepler & Copernicus discussed science and the astronomy with Aryabhata and Shi Shen. Calligraphed writing on papyrus lay side by side with Caxtons block printed paper and the top shelf was reserved for scrolls and manuscripts which dated back to the Tang Dynasty.
On the opposite side of the wall lay a small pile of firewood next to suitably sized fireplace. A warm glow came out of the fireplace, allowing each corner of the room to receive some warmth without making it feel hot. Beside the fire sat a middle aged man, dressed in white cotton nightware with a dark rich red robe loosely tied around. The man sat quietly, listening to the crackling wood, pushing embers that popped out of the fireplace back into the fire. You could see the reflection of the small fire on his glasses and he stared away at the burning wood lost deep in thought. A broad forehead, with deep lines; intelligent eyes looking far into the distance, a small moustache in line with style carried by the affluent traders of the time; Wei Long sat erect but comforatbly in the chair he had fashioned out of his own hands. He had walked into Shanghai 30 years ago as an orphan with 2 RMB and the tatters he wore. He had fashioned a pendant out of the pearl which belonged to his mother, that pearl had at one time been on a string adjoined with 107 others; a gift of love from his father. Holding the pendant between his fingers, Wei was so lost in the memories of his parents and younger brother that he didn’t hear the first gentle knock on the door.
It had to be Huo Qiubing, his counsellor and trusted advisor whom he had summouned for supper. Wei had met Huo more than a decade ago, when he was struggling to get the nuances of the spice trade. Huo had been deep in debt after his ships had sunk in a storm leaving him with creditors who were getting angrier by the day. Wei had paid of Huo’s debts, saving him and his family and taking him into his fold.
Wei noticed early that Huo had the knowledge of the markets and traders but knew nothing of spices. Slowly the team built up Mei Li Spices to become the biggest traders in South and East China. With a fleet comprising of over 50 junk ships ferrying spices to Japan, the British & French provinces; Wei had built an empire in just over a decade and ran it with an efficiency that brought recognition even from the Emperor. Wei had learnt art and science from his father who had been one of the ship architects in the Emperors ship yards. As a boy, his enquiring mind had been encouraged by his father to learn as much as he could, buying books which were far from their reach at that time but making sure that Wei was kept busy.
His mother had been the daughter of a rich landlord, the eldest of 4 sisters; she had been looked down as a burden to the family. Daughters were valued for their prettiness, their blemishless skin and for their knowledge of the arts. While his mother had learnt and was better than all her sisters in the various arts, a large dark birthmark ran across her forehead had made sure that she was kept indoors at all times, away from everyones eyes. She wasn’t sent to school nor allowed to play with the other children; she was considered bad luck for the family and was kept as a secret. During her childhood, she immersed herself in art and science; she learnt new languages and ancient history. She learnt music, dance and mastered several perforaming arts; growing up knowing more than her 3 sisters and 2 brothers would knew together. Wei remembered his mother well and the love story of his mother and his father who was nothing more than an employee of her fathers. He had been working late one night in the dockyard and seen a stranger stealthly moving about studying the design of the ship. Thinking her to be a saboteur, he had confronted her only to find that the landlord had not 3 but 4 daughters.
Over the next few weeks he met with her at night and soon fell in love with her. They discussed ship architecture, she showed him better designs; they discussed ancient history which he thought himself an expert till he met her. After about a years time, he had approached her father pensively for her hand in marriage and to his surprise, her father was happy to be rid of her under the condition that she never be associated to his family name ever again. One rainy night, they had gotten married and Wei had been born in the second year of their marriage. He remembered his father lovingly talking to his mother calling the birthmark his lucky charm without which he wouldn’t have been able to marry her or even seen her.
Coming back from his trance, he quietly opened the door and stepped out into the long passagway slowly heading towards the family guest room where Huo would be waiting. Huo always made him think of his parents, he had become almost like an elder brother to Wei. They had been through everything together, struggling as two novices against the spice barons, working sleepless nights carrying sacks on their backs because they didn’t have enough money to hire enough labour. They had even scrubbed the deck together on their first ship together; those had been reckless and adventurous times. Huo had approached Lin’s father for his daughters hand for Wei, he was there when Li had been born. He had rejoiced as though his own son had been born.
The last 3 weeks had been busy for Mei Li Spices; Wei had set up an audit structure which took up a whole month every year. About eigth years ago, James Anderson, the chief financial consultant had tried to make his own fortune out of Mei Li which resulted in the deaths of 12 employees and the loss of Lin and Li. Lin had carried little Li for a walk along the cherry orchard behind the warehouse which had been made into the work spaces for Mei Li Spices. She had walked straight into Anderson and a rival traders meeting. On being seen, Anderson had panicked and shot at her; the round metal ball had gone through the delicate little Li taking his life instantly and then buried itself deep inside Lin’s chest. She had survived for a week, deep in pain as the region aound the metal ball turned from flesh to poison. In the end, she had died in Wei’s arms, crying out for little Li. While Wei had been with his dying wife, Anderson had tried to wrest control of the warehouses and ships. Huo and three dozen loyal workers had in the death of night gone into the main warehouse where Anderson had built his stronghold and clubbed their way through to Anderson. Not wanting to be tortured by Wei’s men or be held in a Chinese jail, Anderson had taken the barrel of his gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger just as Huo had made his way into the main office. Wei was lost in his own world for six months, the grief and sorrow ate into him every second, and he would wake up in the middle of the night and go to Li’s room wanting to see his little son sleeping. Every evening he went along the path through the Cherry orchard where Lin had been shot. Huo had been there, taking care of the business and supporting Wei through the ordeal.
Six months later, Wei walked into the main office warehouse and resumed work as though nothing had happened. He worked from dawn into the middle of the night going through all the details, he read through hundreds of reports, analysed the spice trade and markets in South China, picked on every number in the books; he made sure he had complete knowledge of what was happening in his organisation. Huo had many times walked into work the next morning, only to find Wei still going through documents or asleep on his chair. Within four months, the company had already increased its profits by 40%; Wei’s command over the spices, the ships and the trade allowed no room for mishaps. Within two years, the company had grown three times over and made its mark with the English and the Dutch trading outposts.

Chinaman – Part 3

2009-12-01T18:27:00.001+05:30

The excitement died down, Huo felt a strange sense of tiredness and he knew it was because of the barrage of emotions that was running through him. He had a smile which he couldn’t control as he settled himself among the soft cushions beside Wei. They both sat silent for a while; all one heard was the occassional sipping from the cups. “Huo, do you see that corner there, there is a dagger on that table, can you bring it here?” said Wei, pointing to a dim corner of the room. Huo slowly traced the fingers to where they were pointing and noticed a small table with a wooden stand. He picked up the dagger to see that it was a small iron dagger with a simple hilt. There was a copper ball at the end for easy handing of the dagger. It was the kinds used by experts who used them from a distance; he recognised it as a throwing dagger. He balanced it on the tip of his fore finger and felt a small tilt. The dagger hadnt been balanced properly, it was of poor quality. As he turned and walked back to his seat, Wei had moved to his desk and pulled out some documents.
“I wanted to talk to you about a few things, which is why I called you over. I know I was the one who had forbidden us speak of business during our dinners but I feel happy today and I want to share everything with you today Huo.” Huo didn’t know what to make of it, the fleet was one of the best if not the best in the whole of the Southern seas, everything was in order, so what could it be? “Don’t worry, there is no problem” said Wei, looking at Huo enquiring eyes. “I just wanted to talk to you about a few things here and there, show you some things, its nothing to get alarmed about.”
“Did you notice the carpet? Want to take a guess from where it originated?” said Wei. “Well, I first thought it was a Persian from Azarbaijan but then I noticed that the colour combinations used were different from what is weaved in Bagdhad. Their designs are more prominent and the motifs stand out like the ones we brought in from Khorassan and Sistan last year for the emperor. I was very sure that it was from Persia but when I walked on it, I felt the threads which had been woven with an Anatolian knot. The Persian carpets are generally stitched with a single looping knot but this has a double loop knot. From everything I know, this then should have a more of a block print kind of design but the curves and delicacy of the angles are nothing like I have seen before. The wool and silk threads have lightness to it, the whiteness told me that it is indeed a Chinese carpet and not woven outside. The Ujumqin is coarse yet, this is fine but I will still stick to my instinct that this is Ujumqin wool and the fat has been removed first.”
“Aha! Wonderful Huo, it’s almost as though you knew the sheep by name! This carpet was woven by a dear old woman in a small factory in the North Jiangsu Province Suqian City. You know I keep going up North because that is the only place I am not recognised and can walk about in the open without any hesitation. Well, I found it along one such trip. Her son runs the small carpet business and the shop is well known for its special stitching. Even with the double loop, that old lady was able to stitch with 36 symmetrical knots per square centimetre and provide the delicate natural flows that you see in the leaves here.” Wei walked up to the canter table and poured out another glass for both of them. “The sake is exceptional don’t you think? It is the right temperature and I my friend am already feeling nice and happy.” Huo was slowly reading through Plato’s writings and Wei couldn’t make out if his fingers were shaking from the excitement of reading or the effects of the sake. “it is strange my friend that you are reading from The Apology while I lace our drinks with the very same hemlock which took Socrates away from all of us. Do not worry; you will feel no pain, as you can see you have difficulty moving already.” To Huo shock, he couldn’t move his hand; he tried to get up but couldn’t feel his feet. He frantically tried to raise himself but couldn’t move. He turned to Wei with confusion written in his eyes wondering if this was another of Wei’s jokes. Wei himself was seated and was dangling the throwing dagger by the ball of his thumb and index finger.
Wei slowly looked at Hou and said, “Everything about today is from the north Huo, the food cooked has been according to Shandong cuisine and were my favourite foods as a boy. My birthplace is a small village north of the city of Tai'an, in Shandong Province. My father was a shipbuilder for Quinliang, a local warlord in the state of Lu. He was a good man but fate dealt him an untimely death, murdered by the neighbouring landlord. My father had gone to meet Quinliang when they attacked and he was killed along with everyone in Quinliang’s home. I had accompanied my father that day and the only reason I lived was because his body lay on me, hiding me from the assassins. Do you remember that day Huo? Do you remember this blade? You threw it at my father.” Huo looked alarmed, his mind raced back to that day when he had gone on order of his lord to kill and vanish. He had been paid a lot of money and had later moved with his wife to the South where he wouldn be recognised. He tried to stand up but he couldn’t feel his hands or legs anymore. “Don’t struggle Huo, the more you try, the faster the poison will act on you. The poison was distilled so it gave out no smell or taste, the ycall the poison coniine, it freezes the body, it makes one paralysed so don’t struggle. You might find it a little difficult to breathe so my advice to you is to relax yourself and you will live longer.”
“Quinliang’s house was set on fire and my mother thought I had died along with my father. She took my younger brother and moved further up to protect him. I found them years later in a small village where she was making carpets for a living; this carpet was woven by her. As you learnt today of my secrets, I too know yours my friend. Several years ago, I had come to terms with it; I had found solace in my family, with Mei and had forgiven you. I knew I had you in front of me and that you would do no more harm to my family. I was wrong wasn’t I Huo? I didn’t favour the partnership with the Wang family and you along with Anderson tried to take over the organisation didn’t you? Mei found out about it and was coming to tell me when you had her killed. Anderson told me everything before I killed him Huo. You don’t have to say anything. It is fate that everything I cared for and cherished was destroyed by you, my friend.”
Huo just looked at Wei blankly, there were tears trickling down his eyes. “Over the years, I have helped my younger brother grow his carpet business; today Lin Carpets is one of the biggest factories in the entire North. My will allocates everything to my younger brother and his family. Even though you destroyed my family, do not worry my friend, I have made sure your family is taken care of well. They will not suffer for the actions of their father. You took away my little Lin from me Huo and I died that very day. These past years have gone into planning for this evening and today everything is complete, everything is taken care of.”
Wei was finding it difficult to talk, he was making an effort to breathe, “I have no more responsibilities and no more burdens. My mother is frail and old, she doesnt remember me well anymore. My family is gone and this world is not the place for me anymore. When the servants come tomorrow morning and noone opens the door, they will break it down and search for us. All the cooks were given a holiday today and I cooked the dinner myself so no one will be held responsible for our deaths. I am very glad you loved my cooking.”
When the servants broke down the door, on the following afternoon, they found Wei with his eyes open, staring into the embers at the fireplace, one hand holdiing the dagger and in his other hand a small portrait of his wife and daughter.

Through the Window

2009-11-20T15:44:00.001+05:30

I sat in a glass building recently where I had gone for an interview. While waiting at the reception area, I was walking around and took a peak outside the window. All I could see was the white paint and tinted glasses of the building next to the one I was in. I froze for a moment, staring out into nothing and felt this urge to just escape from this concrete and glass jungle, to cut away the threads that held me to this type of existence and I imagined the wolf calling out to me. This poem I think started building from there within.

So strange a stride, weathered yet strong
A slow steadied beat, each move assured and just
As if calculated well before time

The swiftness of a thought abound
As wolves hunt in pack a prey
Conditioned to counter the vast reserve
Steadfast in the arctic sun

A fog envelopes, blind as night
With no moon to guide, yet the stride
Never misses a beat, nor the cane a divide

A world of fantasy, love and hope
Flowers square with walking trees,
Yet the sane huddle in a corner stone
While pride moves up the sheet

Into the blue, with a skip and a dance
For hasn’t it been all along
Accustomed to rays of light in the blackest of the nights.

A scalpel art of love divine
Light to light and dark to black
A new meaning, a new world
Monotony within the economies of the large

No more sure, is the left step the first
Why have the flowers lost their charm
A world seen through one single sightA long to close these for peace

Shuttle Bus

2009-11-20T15:27:00.001+05:30

I was travelling in the bus recently and couldnt focus on anyone conversation or interaction that was going on inside. There was so much communication happeneing right there. Here I was listening to the person next to me complaining about the lack of number of buses in the route, about how bad the civic amenties were and what he thought about the top brass. I heard a lady talking about her husbands job and how late he gets home. Another man was talking to his employer on the phone and telling him about his fathers sickness and details of it. The thought slowly came as to the among of sharing we do in a public space, with strangers and with people just becasue they happen to get the seat next to us or by chance are standing beside us. The bus itself would have been a ear to millions of conversations, just think of the weight of travellers minds those boards hammered in to make the footboard stronger who have had to bear...

The nine o one to the clock
Keeps astep the milling crowd
To hopes of love, happiness and the divine
Never noticing the shuttle so loved
Always a place for me inside

Five planks of wood, a forest itself
Witness to a million lives
A shelter for worn out feet
And gum that always had to hide

Long stories together I have heard
Of children and pranks aside,
With solace, heart break and tears for the lost
A few hundred counts of anger belied

New faces, those I daily visit
All strangers by name left aside
A practice on purpose, none ever asked
For the hour was pleasant within itself
Comfort only a friend can provide

Grandchildren visits, an ailing mother, a win here and there
It was here that one felt free
Burdens left within the sliding doors
Never wanting to be found.

In patience, the time caring for one
A gentle word, a kind hand
A smile shared all around
Blessed is the nine o one, always sharp on the clock

Colours

2009-11-20T15:13:00.000+05:30

Do you see that yellow flower over there? What colour do you thing the insect buzzing near it sees it as? Yellow, red, blue, a tinge from each of the vibgyor or in all its brilliance?

Freak of nature

2009-11-20T15:12:00.000+05:30

Every reference to man is in the tone of superiority, the rest being lower or not as smart as man. Why alone has our brain been allowed by nature to grow so fast? It cant be Darwin alone since we’ve been around for an iota of a second across the panels of time. Are we nothing but a freak of nature, the bad apple in the basket which we havent turn a blind eye to hoping what we cant see, must not be true?

Choice

2009-11-20T15:11:00.000+05:30

People always tell me that I have a choice. I think my very existence proves that wrong since my conscious thoughts only started make some sense 4-5 years after I was born. So I already made the choice. Now whats left is to figure why I made that choice. It will tell me my future without doubt.

One Night at the Call Center

2009-10-16T11:46:00.000+05:30

Chetan Bhagat should have stopped with his first book 5 point someone and not let Idiots allow him to waddle in its fame and glory. What happened instead is his second book came out first in the movies and there too didn’t fair well (with a movie title like Hello, I’m not surprised). I really think it came out a couple of years after its time and if it had come out with the BPO boom, it would have been the most talked about book for sometime to come. What disappoints is the lack of grip the author has over the English language. One of its strengths however is in how well it allows the reader to imagine and visualise (taking into account my personal craziness, I sometimes had to force myself to stay true to the authors imagination and not bring in my own characters into the fold, I somehow was not successful however). One night at the Call Center does have its bright spots, it gives you normal people with problems that are unique (when I read it I thought it was a weakness, now I think it’s a strength). The characters are believeable to some extent and gives you emotions which a reader understands very well (but cannot connect with, don’t get me wrong).

Paranoid yet?

2009-10-16T11:44:00.000+05:30

I’ve always been amazed at the Google and what it stands for. To almost everyone in the world, its the best thing to happen this century, information is available at your fingertips, their applications are just what a user wanted and everyone is happy with it. Google is cool, Google is smart and its saved everyone at least once by providing them with more than the information they need at a click of a button.

So if I next ask you whether you welcome spyware and trojans into your system or do your best to keep them out, it might sound like a very wayward question, isnt it. I mean first I talk about Google and then suddenly change to viruses..??? Well lets just take a look at some things one at a time. Have you heard of companies like Norton, Symantec and Mcafee? Well, they are bunch of guys who happen to big players in the anti-virus and similar software industry? So if I say Google is the biggest spyware you will ever encounter, would everyone jump up and shout outrageously at me?

I might not cover everything Google has in their arsenal of online weapons but I’ll put down a few I can think of and you can take your grey cells to task from there onwards.

Google AdSense - AdSense records and tracks millions of users every day who make billions of clicks all across the net. Isnt it the same as having analytics installed on every website that participates in the program – accessible only to Google! They can track anything - from browser clicks, links, referrals, anything and everything you do on your system. Of course the information is required to fight click fraud, but I am sure Google finds many more uses for the information they generate.

Google Analytics - Analytics helps track websites, this is more a sales tool. Without the analytics data, Google won’t have inforamtion on any of the sites. Now you have to understand that the real goal of the analytics is to collect data. So Google Analytics collates all the data and has access to conversion rates – isnt this enough for them to play with PPC on conversion rates and revenues – this of course theroratically speaking. I do hope they arent since a lot of marketing dollars are going out through me on the same.

Google Cookies – Google’s super smart cookie allows you to save preferences, set default languages, filters and number of search terms and what not. Now remember that the cookie has a unique identifier which tracks all searches, all visited sites, the amount of time you spent on those sites, what keywords you used, what type of similar sites you visited and a whole lot of related data. Its almost like me standing over your shoulder and seeing everything you do on the internet – really not a nice thought is it?

Google Toolbar – Yep, while the every page you access gets sent to Google, it may also be tracking more than just web pages, but entire browsing behavior. Just think of what an advertiser could do with this kind of information!

Google Checkout – This is where Google actually brings you forward, and not be an encrypted set of alpha-numeric phrases – you actually become a little more human here since it works as a connector - connecting user cookies and other identifiers to a real name, with a real address and credit card number (yes, credit card details!!)

Google Chrome - Chrome is a very interesting browser, it has a unique identifier (created by default of course!) so Google will always know you and what you are browsing. Add to this that there is a typing tracker, which means every time you type in something in the address bar – Google records it. Come to think of it, why else would Google create a whole new Browser and spend a whole bunck of money when they are already doing that with $70 million a year on Firefox…??

Gmail – Every mail you open, you see advertisements related to keywords in your mail on the right side – have you noticed? This is because you are sharing your mail with Google!
Google Desktop - Google scans your computer, checks out everything you have in your system (with their own technology) and it transmits whatever it finds on the hard drive back to the Google's mothership of data collection.

Google Maps – Ok, so now you know that there are cookies in your system (and they arent the eating kinds) and that they track what you do. When you want to find out how to get from your home to some place, you search on G maps right? Do that several times (routes from home to different places) and Google will know where you live. Its simple isnt it – you search from point A most times – this Point A is most likely to be your home, office or loved ones home… so now Google knows where you live! Muwahahaha :D

So basically what we’ve done is given Google a whole load of information about ourselves, our addresses, contact details, credit card and financial information, interests, habits, friends, views, dark secrets and only you know what else… So how safe do you feel now? (evil grin… J ). Well, all this is just my opinion and so that Google doesn’t send across their bots to read this and sue me!! I’m sure Google uses all the information in the right way or atleast I hope they do. You can take this to be my second piece of fiction, how good was it? It has detailed information, well researched and may be fabricated data, a neat little storyline, involvement of the reader and a suspense ending!

True Evil

2009-10-16T11:43:00.000+05:30

Greg Iles tried to do a Robin Cook…medical thriller with evil inside geniuses’ minds. The book starts off ok and carries you in a more than normal pace though at times, it feels like the author wanted to deviate along 2-3 paths and kinda allowed ideas from the weaker ones to still come in wvwn if it hadnt been selected. The book is an ok read though I’d have skipped it if I had known earlier but then that’s what gives a really good book its charm isnt it? It’s a read which doesn’t offer too many pages to flip so the author doesn’t allow you to get into the book, there are no details to grip you, it lacks the quality of information a medical thriller has, it doesn’t give you glimpses into the medical world nor delves into medical aspects enough which is why I think it doesn’t keep your attention. The book though I think is ingenious with by giving the villian a better role than the good guys, it allows him to be stronger, smarter and with more resources at his avail. However I realise while reading the book that the hero (or heroine in this case) doesn’t or isnt allowed that emotional connect with the reader. What happens if the reader isnt pulled into her shoes or into the story allowing them to be even at times disinterested in the story but just turning the pages anyway.

The Watchman

2009-10-16T11:42:00.000+05:30

The Watchman starts off at a fast pace and tries to stay that way throughout the book. The main protagonist with a name like Mike has got to be good right? So he goes off reducing the number of bad guys almost immediately while making sure that even a hair on his head isnt bruised. This turned out to be one of those action hero books which makes Jason Bourne look like an amateaur. There is a love angle without a love angle, the good guy saves the girl, beats up the bad guys and walks away into the horizon. A book to pick up only if you like nonstop, brainless action like I do. It’s written by Robert Crais. I kept getting gthe feeling that the author wanted to make Mike here a kind of sequel creating book, giving him almost super natural abilities of endurance, not having to sleep, eyes which don’t show emotions nor a heart that doesn’t skip a beat, the next thing to expect is a stare that could kill but thankfully its not yet there… might be there in Mike’s next book.

The Cherry Tree

2009-06-19T10:15:00.001+05:30

It had just snowed and the children of the house had come out into the backyard, screaming in excitement as the first flakes had touched the ground. The trees were bare and the leaves had been removed one by one by the wind which was getting colder and colder by the day. The big cherry tree which stood at the center of the yard was all but bare, with a few stubborn leaves still hanging on but losing their fight against the changing weather. The flakes kissed the branches gently and one could almost feel the tree shiver in its touch as they melted into the branches. The breeze rattled the windows panes on the top floor, asking for permission to enter and then moving on when none was given.

The house itself was a magnificent old house; it was one of the first to be built in the neighbourhood and had been handed out through three generations. It had two floors and an attic filled with all the memories and lost treasures of the family. This was where they stored all their old and broken furniture, that antique cupboard which belonged to great Grandma, the little cots and prams which hthe children had grown out of and a million other trinkets which gets stored in such places till a curious grandchild creeps up one day and starts exploring it like it was Treasure Island. That was when curtains became ghosts and the old sofa set in the corner became the spring board from where the pirates pushed innocent maidens into the shark infested waters of the vast attic ocean. This was also where little Rafeek hid during a game of hide and seek and fell asleep for hours while the entire family had searched frantically for him, till he came down rubbing his eyes woken up by hunger.

The cherry tree had been there ever since I remembered, it has given us its shade during the hot summers when we lazed out talking about cops and robbers and the new neighbours who were always fighting among themselves. It used to bear these red ruby coloured cherries which we’d run back from school to pluck and savour. Every day in summer, it would give us a treat without fail; the tree seemed magical back then as it never ran out of the sweetish sour fruit which came in colours of red and yellow and sometimes even green when we just couldn’t wait for it to ripen. I still remember that neighbour boy Prateek who had sneaked in once to get a hand full of cherries and was clumsy enough to fall and break his arm instead. Pa found him wailing in pain on the ground and had to quickly be rushed to the hospital to set his right hand. Grandma always told us that the tree had magic and we never thought of questioning her words.

The window from our room gave us a perfect view of the backyard; it was a big place with all kinds of plants and trees. Ma had a green hand and was always winning some prize or the other for her wonderful garden at the annual garden and flower competition. It was always magical in spring and the house which looked asleep in the winter also seemed to have a kind of new sheen to it every spring along with the greeness of the cherry tree.

During one of the storms which frequented our place, it had been fierce enough to knock out the lights and the phone connections, we heard a huge thud outside and Pa was wondering if the old Oak tree beside the house had finally given in. He had always been complaining of the roots being diseased and that it was his nightmare that it would one day fall on the house. The house seemed intact since we were still alive inside it and there was no draft or rainwater in the darkness to tell us otherwise. The next morning, the backyard was abuzz, some neighbours and workers had already come and chopped up the tree into a couple of big logs. We kept hearing of how lucky our family was and when we finally got a glimpse of the damage, it pulled at our heart strings and little Nishu started crying. The big Oak had fallen straight onto the house and it was the cherry tree which had saved us all. The beloved cherry tree had broken its fall and moved the oak just away from the house but not before snapping into two pieces. There it lay, our shelter from the sun, our accomplice in all those escapades, our silent friend to whom we had whispered so many secrets, lying broken in the mud, gone for ever.

The house itself seemed to realise what had happened. Pa had always been telling us of his grandma’s stories of the cherry orchard which our neighbourhood had once been and that lots of pieces of the house itself was made from wood of the cherry trees. The roof gave away in six months time and the stair case suddenly started detiriorating. In about a year’s time, most of the door hinges had to be replaced and some of the railings of the porch in front broke. We moved out of the grand old house a little more than a year after the incidence of that night as it was getting too dangerous to stay in the house. It was almost like the house didn’t want to live anymore and had given up. It felt like the house was in pain and was mourning the loss of its loved one.

The house is now in an abandoned state and no one lives there, the place is under some litigation among brothers and the place as such hasn’t been touched. I visited the place yesterday and it brought back a flood of memories. As I brushed aside the cobwebs and carefully climbed up to my room, I saw outside from the window which we spent the summers looking out of, a small cherry tree growing proudly beside the stump of where our beloved cherry tree had lived.

The Sunfeast 10k Marathon Experience

2009-06-18T10:44:00.001+05:30

I had started about 3 weeks before the event, knowing that I would eventually do it but making sure the body too had some kind of a hint of what it should expect in the next one month to come. Up at 6 and a jog for about half an hour made sure I was comfortable with the half way mark after which I was looking at allowing my so called determination (which I never trust) to take over and get me across the finish line.

I loved the mornings and waking up to them, the roads were wet from yesterday nights rains and the freshness of those moments were when I think of it worth it all. I realised the best way to do this was to not treat it as an exercise but to enjoy the run and allow it to be a treat for the body. I also figured that the first one kilometer was the most difficult till my body adjusted to the smooth flowing movement.

Chrysallis too was getting happier, the money being collected for a good cause was slowly but surely trickling in, the last few days before the run was turning out to be more of a flow than a trickle and we were all happy. The team of 14 runners kept sending out encouraging mails, some of them did a trial walk arounf the route and we were all pepped up by the cause and the newness of the venture. This was to be my first mini 10k marathon and I was looking forward to it. With it planned to be such a big event, there was a lot of admin work being done by the organisers backend which meant we were to collect our running tags, goodie bags and sign in a couple of days before. It was great to see the coordination and the professionalism with which the event was being churned out (atleast to the participants eye, everything was running smooth though I know the organisers would have had a tough time behind the screens as it happens for every suc h event). Over the last few days of the my so called practise, I was doing between 4-5 kms in half an hour comfortably and set my self a target of finishing the run in an hour and 15 min.

The open 10k run was to start at 8:10am and knowing that the traffic would be ridiculous as well as my hunt for parking would get more difficult if I reached late, I decided to be at the venue atleast an hour before the start. To my luck all the roads were blocked for the run and the parking lots organised for this particular event was just not accessible, I would have had to do a complete circle of about 6-7 kms just to get there and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it in time looking at the beeline of traffic which was headed that way. The weather was pleasant and it didn’t look like the sun would come out anytime soon with a slight cloud cover making it perfect weather for the run. I parked about 2kms from the venue and treated the walk as a warm up of sorts. What this allowed me was to gain inspiration from the above 65 years category of runners who had started early and the sight was just amazing. There were cheerfully walking and shouting slogans, there was a group of people who were a part of a laughter club who had joined and were doing their laughter club routine while doing the walk; one elderly gentleman was off at a comfortable jogging pace giving it all he had and there was this wonderful old lady with a stick and who had to be helped at walking, smiling and walking one arm around her friend who was supporting her. This old lady went about 300 metres before turning back and walking back to the start line and I couldn’t but admire her for her effort, here was a lady who looked easily to be atleast 90, not only taking part but enjoying it!

Just thinking of Krishna participating in the wheelchair marathon was enough; it gave me a certain sense of pride to be running along with him. Of course the very thought was also enough to make sure that I don’t stop for loss of face to myself than to anyone else. Motivation is a strange thing and I guess you need all kinds to kick yourself into action!

Mayank, Dev and I were together and were pinning up our running tags, drinking sips of water and waiting to start the run. The small gates in Kanteerava stadium opened and a surge of participants started off. The more I watched in fascination at the enthusiastic runners, the more it looked like a fountain of multi coloured cola fizzing and gushing out of the bottle when shaken before the cap is removed. There they were, out in the open, finally let loose and of they went like mice let loose from their cages. Flags waving, cameras flashing, shouting in excitement, calling to their friends, re adjusting their running tags, drinking up water, slowly the line of runners traced through the stadium tracks and over to the outer rings before pouring over into the roads of bangalore and onto the pre marked and pre defined race course. I waited my turn, no pushing, no shoving and when I finally kicked off my run, I glanced up at the start clock which was already 20 min ahead. “That’s not a problem”, I thought since I had my time piece counting down my time to finish (if I did, that I wasn’t sure of at the beginning of the race). Mentally I had put in a plan and thought it wise to run 900 metres, walk a 100 metres and repeat the cycle through out. Like we all know, the thought is great but when it comes to actually doing the activity all the thoughts and plans are shed aside and instinct takes over.

So there I was running with the crowd, weaving through the ones walking, I was suddenly thinking to myself, “this feels more like an obstacle race than a marathon, oops sorry lady… passing through… man that guy runs fast, hope he stays steady… wow check out those legs… hubba hubba!. ” Many a time, I found myself hopping over to the pavment and running past the trees on the side simply because the roads were blocked with slow runners and walkers. Up and down, left side and then the right, move some more to the right, run straight 20 steps before going through the practise again. The first 2 kilometres were run well, I felt the first beads of sweat forming and it felt good. I passed Diana and Cynthia on my way here also saw mithila and Dhananjay who were standing on the side of the road cheering all the runners and pepping everyone to keep going. Thanks so much guys for the inspiration and support! I could feel the positive energy all around, people of all ages and sizes, chating and laughing, some very focused o ntheir running, others on their breathing, a few even on their mobiles… and here I was in between all the chaos, fitting I nperfectly, loving every moment of it.

From the beginning of the race, I felt my bladder asking for permission to let loose but where to go in the crowd, where were those toilets that had been promised to be kept enroute. Suddenly I spot a sign board and it encourages me to hurry a little more and it was a complete disappointment when I got there. One movable toilet each set on the sides with a long line already in front of me. Without wasting any time and confident of holding on, I continue running along and now when I look back at this moment, I can help but laugh myself silly yet knowing that focusing on the bladder definitely helped me conquer a few kilometres without stopping! There I was focusing on my breathing and holding on for dear life hoping I don’t lose control crossing over the 5 km mark and slowing down to catch my breath and grap a small bottle of water which the organisers had setup at convenient locations all along the route. I could see Sumit completely red in the face and jogging with his new shoes and gave him a thumbs up. I later surprised myself by going back to the place where I walked and it was less than 400 metres, I had run the rest of the stretch! There on Kamaraj raod where I walked, is a busstop where buses don’t stop but a small group of elders had gathered to cheer the runners and as I passed them, one old gentleman stood up and shouted ‘Bharat Matha ki jai!!’ half amused, half acknowleding his support, I carried on smiling to myself.

My brain refused to allow myself to throw the bottle like most of the other runners and there I was running with a small towel in one hand and an empty bottle in the other, one eye keeping a look out for a toilet which didn’t have a line and the other searching for a dustbin to throw the bottle! There there there! I spot a brown small bin kept in the corner and the bottle is rid off as I continue my slow but steady jog. Almost 6 kms up and I’m feeling very good about this run, I remember myself talking to myself in my head now believing that I can run the remaining entire distance.

Across towards Vidhana Soudha, passing both the magnificent buildings and quite a lot of the crowd who have started walking by now, I remember slowly weaving through and my tired mind asking for a separate lane for runners so they don’t have to do this criss crossing between people. In front of me, I saw two small boys from the army school being encouraged by I presume their PT coach or elder brother to continue running and it was wonderful to see both of them though tired giving it all they had in steady measured footsteps. I am sure they had not stopped through the run and my heart went out to them. Slowly passing them by, a little after the 8km mark, I spot Vikram with his camera clicking away again and hope that he’s got a few good snaps of me. I almost missed Heena as I passed her and heard her shouting encouragemnent over my shoulder.
I slow down for another bottle of water near an ambulance parked on the side and walk the distance of finishing the bottle. After looking around a little for a dustbin, I gave up on it and kept jogging through. There it was, I could now see Kanteerava Stadium and put on a little burst of speed looking to reach the finish line faster. Glancing at my watch, I could see that it was 5 min to an hour of jogging and I knew I could finish by the 70 min mark. Crossing the finish line felt great exact of the dot of the 70th minute and there I was, next to Mayank with whom I had started the race. We had started and ended the race together! My legs felt fine, we fought through the crowd of tired but happy marathon runners who were ecstatic on having finished, to a corner were a few army men dancing away after finishing the run to some nice street music. We waited for the entire team to slowly come, taking their time and decided to head to welcome back India coffee house who had opened again much to my delight. After a heavenly breakfast of dasas, egg sandwichs and amazing coffee, I slowly allowed myself to sink in the fact that I had completed my first mini 10k marathon and was feeling good about it.

Thanks all for supporting my run, we as a team were able to collect about Rs 1.25 lakhs which will be going to the children and the gifting activity we do every year. The target this year is to gift and make atleast one lakh children feel special and after this run, I know anything is possible. We’ll get there and we’ll get there smiling!

March 11, 2009 - Jodhpur, Rajasthan

2009-05-18T11:29:00.002+05:30

Jodhpur – March 11, 2009
I woke up at 5am and was pleasantly surprised to have the train reach on time to Jodhpur, a quick trip by auto (haggling in Hindi allows for more of a bargain than you would expect) and 10 minutes later I was at the door step of Discovery Hotel. I rang the bell outside and a sleepy Raju (owner) let me in and immediately went back to sleep after showing me to a room. The room was great for Rs. 250, a nice hot bath and a good sleep later, I was ready on the ‘roof top’ restaurant having breakfast. While roti and sabji was being made, Ali and Asgar, two local kids taught me their version of battle (playing cards).It was Holi that day and I was all excited of playing the festival of colours in Jodhpur. A quick breakfast and I was out on the cobbled gullies wandering the streets in search of a short cut to the palace. I was surprised at the friendliness of the locals and had a wonderful time playing holi with all the children. At every gully, I was caught with gleaming eyes and hands full of red, green and yellow! Borrowing colours, taking from others, we went wild colouring each other, wishing each other and tasting sweets which the children insisted I eat. A steady ascent for sometime and there it was; a gigantic magnificant palace built on top of an impenetrable fortress. The whole palace was built on a huge cliff like structure which was smooth rose straight up more than 40 feet! I could see cannon marks on the outer walls, taking me back centuries when the Rajputs fought with each other and with the invading Muslims. I tried imaging taking over this fort but it looked rock solid from every angle and was a marvel in itself.

Since it was Holi, the palace itself was closed but I took the opportunity to wander around the fort and was happy to get a little time all to myself to be with this fort which I knew I was falling in love with. The balconies and windows were intricatley carved, the pigeons were cooing to each other and one of the security men was playing a flute from a balcony atop the palace. I went into a small homely little temple which was built in a corner on the outside of the fort. The place was completely empty and I’m sure if you actually focused, one could have heard the horses and live of the fort and all its inhabitants who lived ages ago. I took my time walking through the corridors, looking at the a few paintings which had been painted a long time back, and reach one end of the fort which over looked the city. All I saw was a vast ocean of blue houses, I stayed there for sometime just soaking in the view and allowing myself to be taken in by the allure of Rajasthan and all it has to offer. Pulling myself away from that spot, I went over to the other corner where there is an assembly of cannons laid out. Some of them have very intricate flower design work and they all stood in complete silence telling me the battles they had fought and the wars they had won over those centuries.

While trying a few camera shots, I met Karsten Klinger who had come down from Germany by himself and was also exploring India. We got chatting and decided to see Jodhput together, I was glad for the company, this love hate relationship with lonliness with standing. He was on a backpacking tour just like me and had come down to India was over a month as a holiday and a birthday gift for himself. We headed of to Jaswant Thada, a royal cenotaph built entirely out of marble. The whole palce was closed and we were informed that the palace and Jaswant Thada would open only at 2pm since it was Holi. We headed out to a local restaurant which served us nice north Indian Thali’s and where karsten was introduced to Rasmalai and wonderfully cold and thick malai lassi. We also had an opportunity to see a local street fight due to a minor mishap on the road (I swear I couldn’t see any dent but the car owner could and was shouting aloud with the choicest of words at the autorickshaw guy who had bumped into him. Of course the car guy beat a hasty retreat when he saw a whole bunch of auto drivers crossing the road where there was an autorickshaw stand!! ).

Immediately after lunch, we headed over to umaid Bhawan palace which was where the royal families had stayed before being converted into a heritage hotel and museum. To our misfortune, it was closed for visitors owing to security reasons and we headed back to the Mehrangarh fort and palace which I had fallen for. We went in, and then I spent almost 2 hours roaming the palace and all its rooms. How much of a chance would you have I wonder of meeting a South Korean tourist on the third floor of a fort in Jodhpur who works in Bangalore and resides close to your house; that’s exactly what happened and his ‘Indian’ name was Ashoka Lee. I am still to connect with all the wonderful people I met during my journey and it’ll have to be done soon enough. A quick visit to Jaswant Thada, a nice walk back through the busy market place and a glimpse of the old clock tower right in the center and voila, my journey of Jodhpur though short was a ver fascinating one. I enjoyed it thouroughly also because of Holi and the fabuluous dinner at the ‘New Discovery’ roof top restaurant!

Next stop – train to Abu Road and Mount Abu

A Star at a Time...

2009-05-06T16:03:00.002+05:30

This was written soon after I read 'Sea Wolf' by jack London... thats where the old English rubbed off from I'm guessing. I found it written on a Napkin which had been used like a book mark...

A flash of silver, searching for you
The roads shown for neither to see,
Flashes above break the mist of black
clutching the light, yearning for more.

Thousands traverse along the path,
Eons have been there, the future will too.
A simmer, a hope, a guide… the light…
Small each one within themselves,
Come join the search for you have gone,
To build the world, trust is cherished for.

Our lives so short, the span of a beat,
All that’s warm, beautiful & sweet;
Ah! How we love to yearn for you,
Come, deliver for I am high born too.

The morning cloudy, the day will weep,
Tears shed of sorrow & pain
For the memories that I want all back.

Time; the most wicked, it plays with me
Stops for none, except the tears;
How it would be if it played with us,
Filled our love & shared our joy.

Fall & rise, the heart beats strong,
Clear the ashes & learn from the tears,
For the winds can come & move the clouds;
Warmth filled am I for the truth,
A morrow is there for us to brew.

Ride fast for the time is short,
Not for us but you & me;
A speck is what I will always be,
Add a few and the storms can brew.
My hand holds the strongest sword,
A simple long blade, written in hope.

deeds

2009-05-05T17:54:00.000+05:30

Does the man make the deeds or the deeds which make the man?...

life...

2009-05-05T17:13:00.002+05:30

Everything I touched has also touched my life, how I have treated it is a direct result of how it has treated me. My life is as far as I can reach and everything else beyond should be only because I choose it to be.

March 10, 2009 - Jaisalmer, Rajasthan

2009-04-15T15:51:00.000+05:30

Jaisalmer – March 10, 2009

Packing my bags and settling the bills at the reception, I quickly jutted out of the hotel and crossed over to Jaipur railway station. It had transformed itself in the night from a simple building to a bright purple coloured monsterous ugly building which some architect would have taken a fancy to at the time of building the station. I caught the 23:45 train to Jaisalmer without difficulty and quickly settled into the top berth of the bogie. Since I had booked all my tickets in advance over the internet, I had made sure that I my berth was always on top. My legs which stuck out onto the passage way would hit anyone and people wouldn’t try to squeeze in and try to sit as they do on the lower berths.

I woke up to the early morning cries of the chai vendors and was treated to a water hot liquid which I gulped down without thinking twice. General chit chat with my fellow passengers who soon started getting off as their stations neared. As the train moved deeper into the desert, fine sand started seeping in through the nooks of the windows and soon I found myself and everything covered with a very fine layer of sand dust.
Everyone has gone from my compartment, the hour hand slowly moved to 10:00 and I was lying down stretched out on the lower berth when a gentle tap on my shoulder found me looking up at a teenager who got chatting. He suggested I go to this hotel called Heena which was supposed to be good and that his cousin ran. Taking his advice I decided to do the same and he offered t ocall his cousin and get him to pick me up at the railway station itself. I met up with this so called cousin who had his scorpio waiting outside and quickly filled it up with some more tourists who had come to Jaisalmer. Three japanese and a dutch later, we were roaring and honking our way into the narrow market streets to come to this normal 2 story house which had been converted into Hotel Heena. I got a room with hot water for Rs.150 and since I had only that day at Jaisalmer, I picked up my camera and headed out to the intricately designed haveli’s which I had read and heard about so much.

As I walked through the gullies, I passed such beautiful and delicate designs carved on normal houses. Each had a story and was better than the next one. The gullies were littered with cows and cowdung and I surprised a bunch of kids who thought I was a ‘phoriner’ when I spoke to them in Hindi (of course the reaction I got was an awe and a whisper of ‘Aww hindi bhi aati hai’ meaning ‘Aww he knows Hindi also!’). People still live in the haveli’s and they function as normal houses. You pay an entrance fee between Rs 20 and Rs. 100 depending on the havelis (namely Salem Singh ki Haveli, Patwon ki Haveli and Nathmal ki Haveli) you enter and are met with these intricately carved floral and mesh designs! They are all so beautiful and exquisite that you cant stop but wonder at the expertise of the builders who created them. The 3 famous havelis are walking distance of each other so you don’t have to take a rickshaw (when I went the weather was pleasant and I have a high tolerance to heat). I returned to my room where the owner told me about this package of sightseeing, a camel ride and a traditional dance performance follwed by Rajasthani food which he said would come up to Rs. 3000! We finally bargained it down to Rs. 1500 and I was feeling good about the whole thing that I gave up entering and exploring the fort which I just went close to for some snaps. The brief 5 minute venture disappointed me nevertheless because I saw rows of shops and huts built right inside the fort, with banners and advertisements hammered into the walls of the fort itself. I cant help but feel a sense of sadness at the state of the Jaisalmer fort when I think of it. While getting back to the hotel, I popped into some local shops to buy some trinkets for home and family.

We hoped into the Scorpio (4 wheel drive SUV for those who might be wondering) and headed off on the so called 40km drive into the desert. We passed by some cenotaphs of kings and stopped for a brief period to visit a Jain Temple (which I must say was very intricate and beautiful – the whole temple was built of sandstone). We played a small game of carrom with some locals who were playing outside the temple and headed to ‘Sam sand dunes’ for the camel ride. My fellow companions who were sitting beside me were a young couple who were seeing a desert for the first time and excited about the camel ride.

After about an hour on the road, we suddenly came upon dozens and dozens of camels lined up with the owners calling out to stop for a camel safari. We on for about a kilometre and stopped at a shack where the owner quickly arranged for a pair of camels and a spritely boy who told me his name was Azad but introduced himself as Shah Rukh Khan to foreign tourists. The camel I was on was called Micheal Don (combination of Micheal Jackson and Don (famous Hindi movie with Amithab Bachan in the original and SRK in the remake)) while the other one on which the couple sat was called Micheal Jackson itself. We went on a half hour ride and if you havent sat on a camel before, please believe me when I say it is an uncomfortable experience for those who are not into experiencing the new. Of course, being quite the contrary, I asked Azad whether we could go for a run (paid him Rs 50 for it later) and we had a whale of a time, bouncing and almost falling while Micheal Don raced through the sand dunes kicking up sand as he rushed through. I am still not sure how I hung on, all I remember is being thrown front and back and the hot desert wind against my face with the sound of Micheal Don breathing heavily through the whole exercise! While walking through the desert sands, the locals come with their children dressed and made up and perform a small traditional dance which after they haggle when you give them a small note. I was walking along the dunes when I stop in my tracks and after a moment of disbelief, I crack up laughing and slip and side towards what I see at a little distance. There in the middle of a desert lies a ceramic commode – how the hell did that get there!!!

I think the locals believe everyone wants to be in the desert to see the sunrise or the sunset so we had no option but to sit there on the dunes and wait for the couples to enjoy their ‘romantic’ sunset but it really didn’t give any impression of that sort – just another gimmick to heighten the romance of the desert sands I guess. After sun down, it started getting a little cold and we headed of to some sort of resort where we were to spend our evening and have dinner.

The entertainment for the night was folk songs and folk dances in bright traditional dresses. The whole thing was too made up to enjoy and I could see that the performers themselves were bored stiff with the routine. The only ones who enjoyed the music was I think the small kids who took to dancing about and running around the common amphi theatre type area. The dinner was a complete disappointment and what made it worse was the mad rush to get to it. There was a whole set of tourists who had arrived earlier in one big bus and they suddenly took it on themselves to make sure that everyone in their group was fed before anyone else was allowed closed to the buffet. The food was vegetarian and half cooked and I just nibbled some of it before stashing away the plate. I kind of got the feeling that this was one big con not worth even Rs 1000. Later on when I enquired and read up on Heena hotel, I got to know that there were quite a few other travellers who had been conned the same way for a lot more money. The owners of Heena invite you in with cheap stay options and sell you a camel ride for Rs. 3000!

It was late and I was tired and sleepy, we got back to the room and I showered quickly and literally ran out of the hotel since my train was scheduled to leave in 20 minutes. The hotel owner sent one of his friends on a two wheeler to drop me off and I think that was some saving grace because I got my train to Jodhpur just in time!

March 8-9, 2009 - Jaipur, Rajasthan

2009-04-01T10:29:00.014+05:30

It was the beginning of March 2009 and here I was all packed and ready to head of to the desert sands and tales of bravery, splendour and mystic. A land where the Rajput kings lived in honour, built wonderous forts in the most harsh climates and created oasis in the Thar desert, the princely state of Rajasthan.

I had planned to visit Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh with a dash into Uttar Pradesh to see the Taj Mahal and visit the city built by the Great King Akbar, Fatehpur Sikri itself. A planned two weeks which was split even steven between Rajasthan and UP/MP.

Except for my journey from Bangalore to Jaipur which was by flight, I had managed to plan the entire journey by train (leaving out a few places which I shall come to later). I must admit that IRCTC has done a wonderful job and their online booking service is very user friendly and intuitive.

It was in the true sense of a back packing tour with one bag of my belongings and a small sling to carry my wallet and water. A budget tour which was to allow me to see the sites, immerse in the culture and taste the exquisite bites of the local flavours.

The Destinations:
In Rajasthan – Jaipur, Bikaner, Jaisalmer, Jodhpur, Mount Abu, Udaipur, Ajmer
In UP – Agra, Fatehpur Sikri
In MP – Gwalior, Kajuraho, Bhopal, Sanchi

What you’ll get here –
Details of what to see, what you can miss, how much to spend, where to stay, which trains/ buses/ autorickshaws to catch and how to fit everything into your budget.

The Journey begins:
March 8, 2009 – Jaipur
Well what can I say, the least expected happens and my flight made me reach Jaipur 4 hours late. The 9:30 flight from Bangalore which was to reach by 13:30 landed into Jaipur only at 17:30. I had planned to catch the 14:30 city tour bus and see all of Jaipur on that day with my train to Bikaner for the night that same day. I decided to stay over in Jaipur the next day and cancel Bikaner all together so as to enjoy the places I visited instead of rush through it all.

Jaipur airport is 12km from the city and you will get an auto for Rs 70-80 if you bargain though the autorickshaw drivers start with a price of Rs.250 with you. I paid a Rs.150 (I didn’t know the distance then!) however to reach the Railway station where the tourism office is located (yes! In the railway station on Platform 1, Room no 13). I quickly discussed the city tour plan and found there were 3 slots (Morning half – Rs. 150, Night tour – Rs. 250, Full day tour –Rs.200). I had the whole of the next day and it took me to a few more places that the half day tours didn’t so I took the full day tour which was from 9:00 to 18:00. Next I went to Hotel Swagatham, the Rajasthan Tourism Development Center (RTDC) approved hotel. Its exactly opposite the railway station and has dormitory rooms with 8 beds in a room for Rs. 100 a bed. I expected a run down place with bad facilities but was pleasantly surprised to find a decent dorm with clean bathrooms (cold water only but the weather was pleasant and a cold shower did me good). It also turned out that I had the whole room to myself as there were no other occupants that night. There was still daylight and I quickly headed out to see the main attraction of Jaipur, The Amer Fort. Little did I know that it was a little distance away and not as far as the autowala told me so I thought I had made a good bargain for Rs.200 since he had started at Rs.500 for a return journey.

I however think the money was worth the trip as I got a personal tour of the roads of Jaipur and some time at the Hawa Mahal and Albert Hall where I was eagerly trying out some camera shots to the amusement of the autowalla. Then came Amer Fort and its size took me by surprise, there it stood in the evening sun shining golden in colour and inviting me right in.

I have to warn you that every autowalla, guide, shopkeeper is out to con you; they’ve done it so many times that its become an art at which they are experts. I bargained and bargained but realised that I had still fallen for it, I had paid too much at various places, I spent more than I ought to have but soon realised to put a proper value on everything around me. All this took time so in the beginning I fell again and again to the great amusement and delight of all I interacted with. I am 6’3’’ with a fair complexion and all the locals considered me a gora (foreigner). They would talk to me eloquently in an American English accent till I told them I was their bhai from Bangalore and talk to them in Hindi.

From the main road, locals have arranged for jeeps to take one up to the fort for Rs.25 per seat one way. All along the way you will be sweet talked into hiring a guide but you really don’t need one in the fort or in all the other places I explored in the two weeks to come. But like I said, I was still new to the experience, excited about reaching Jaipur and had wax behind my ears so I hired a guide for Rs.100. The fort itself is beautiful, very well maintained and the view from the top is priceless. What made it even more enchanting was the evening sky and the setting sun. I could see the outer wall running across till the eyes could see on all four sides and its said to be 12km long (another person I spoke to later told me it was 18km but then the length isnt important). Standing at the top of Amer Fort, you can see the ruins of the old palace, a handful of beautiful temples and cenotaphs of the kings around the fort itself.

Raja Man Singh built Amer Palace in 16th century. It is a mesmerizing blend of Hindu and Mughal architecture. Jai Mandir, Sheesh Mahal, Sukh Niwas and Ganesh Pole are the main areas of interest in the palace. Exquisite glass work decorates all the walls and ceiling of Sheesh Mahal, it was made up into summer, winter and monsoon quarters with ingenius techiques of keeping warm in winter and cool in the summers. The story goes that huge wollen curtains were hung during winter to keep the whole area warm fro mthe hardh desert cold and thin cotton curtains were let down during summer. Water was passed along on these thin curtains so that the hot winds which blow in summer would cool as they blew into the living quarters of the royals. The mirror work itself is amazing and the architecture with which the whole Sheesh mahal is built is a marvel itself with water ducts and wind passages all around. The Sheesh Mahal is decorated with glass and mirror work all all sides and is something you can go again and again to see.

There was a fresh wall being built when I visited Amer Fort, it had fallen over during the shooting of a new Hindi movie (called Veer which starts Salman Khan) and the guide gave me the full story of the legal proceedings as though he had close relations with the lawyer who was fighting the case and had insights that noone else had about it. You cannot but be taken aback by the craftmanship and work of the artists who painted the entrances, beautiful floral work with vibrant colours to match the high elegant buildings give you a glimpse of the olden days taking you back to the land of the kings and their maidens. Quarters for their numerous wives and even more concubines, stables of the horses and elephants, you take it all in as you roam the fort absorbing all that is around you and admiring the builders who constructed such a huge fort when there were no machines and earth movers.

While coming down from the fort, I went over to the Government run emporium to see the handicrafts, block print and Bhandhani print work for which Rajasthan is famous for. Little did gullible little me know that the government was out to steal my money – the cost of the materials, the little marble knick knacks, key chains and handmade pouches are exorbitant. Well priced for the foreigners and tourists, its beyond me how people can afford to spend that much even if the exchange rate is favourable to them. So after buying a sari for my mother and a couple of bedsheets I escaped before anymore damage could be done to my wallet. Having experienced the sunset from atop the fort, I made my way back to the hotel to drop off my luggage.

A quick stop over to freshen up, I got out determined to explore Jaipur nightlife and see the pink city under lights. A walk around the place and towards the markets brought me to whats happening everywhere in India. The cities are growing, the infrastructure is slowly but surely getting better, the flyovers are cropping up at every corner; but along with it, the filth is accummulating, the vehicles on the road are doubling and pollution is getting to us. After a couple of kilometers of walking around I sighted a nicely lit shop called ‘Rawat’ selling Rajasthani food. Making sure I get my first bite of the local flavour, I dashed in to have the best Kachori’s, somasa’s and malai lassi I’ve ever tasted (the lassi was a little too sweet for me but it was so thick and rich that I actually had to eat it with a spoon!). I’m known for a huge appetite but noone can eat anything after the ‘snacks’ I had. Filled to the brim and very happy, I headed back to my hotel and my bed.

March 9, 2009 – Jaipur
I was thinking of taking the morning tour (half day starting at 7:30) since I had seen a few spots the previous day but there werent enough people for it to run and so I took the full day tour (9:00 – 18:00) instead. I was to report half an hour earlier so it was still about 7:00 when I had gone to the tourist desk and made to return back; I decided to go back to ‘Rawat restaurant’ to try some breakfast. After a filling breakfast of Poha, kachori and Jalebi (yep, sweets in the morning also was a first for me but like they say, when in Rome, be a Roman).

The tour bus was a nice push back seat luxury bus (with a large chunk of revenues coming in from tourism, the Rajasthan government sure has recognised the importance of good amenities) and off we went of my first ‘guided’ tour (one of many to follow). The guide was absolutely hilarious who went about with an air of authority, showing us the sights of Jaipur. “Look left, there is a park… children play in the park. Look to your left, you will see government building; in front is high court, there people are sent to jail…. When I am talking, no one else is talking, be quiet!”. There I was laughing my head off and following me were a bunch of guys from college who had come to Jaipur on their week long break. Pleasantries were exchanged and from then on it was a laughing spree at the poor expense of the guide. I know I must sound rude but it was all in good humour. A huge family had come from Palestine and they really had no idea why these 4 guys were laughing their heads off when ever the guide said something.

We passed Albert Hall and Hawa Mahal with promises to stop on the return trip back and the first destination was the city palace. Jaipur itself had been built like a fort with 8 gates, of course now it has expanded beyond the walls and expanded but you still see the huge gateways and roads carry cards and buses right through the gates. The City palace is a beautiful building, painted pink like the whole of Jaipur and is maintained very well. When we had entered, there were a group of dancers dancing to some traditional music inside on of the halls. The palace is now divided into 3 areas, one section is the museum, filled with old armour and swords and the rich dwellings of the kings, the second section is an open house with beautifully carved work while another section houses world famous artists who showcase their artwork and handicrafts.

From the palace, we headed to the Birla Mandir next to which lies Moti Doongri (small palace built for the queen; some generation of the royal dynasty still lives in it seems – so the guide informed us). The Birla temple is carved out of marble and the inside ot was cool and pleasant. A 10 minute stop and after being huddled back into the bus, we headed to Jaigarh fort which is on top of a hill and is the home to the second largest cannon in Asia. The story goes that the cannon was fired only once for a test; the cannon firing was so loud that it deafened the soldiers present. The king ordered it never to be fired again. From the top of the fort, you get a very nice view of the pink city in all its splendour. Desolute and standing by itself, the vastness of the fort gives one a very secure feeling; to imagine that one even tried to attack and capture these forts in itself is unbelievable. Another fort close by is the Nahargarh Fort which is equally mezmerising. Anyway atop the fort is a restaurant and being miles away from civilization, we have no other choice but to have lunch at the place. A normal thali for Rs.100 (highly over priced) was too much but I was equally famished.

After lunch we headed back to the city and to Jantar mantar, a place I had read so much about and was waiting to explore. It did not fail to disappoint and I was astonished by the astronomical genius that lay before my eyes. The solar calendar, the zodiac signs, time calculated to the second; built across a vast expanse, this amazing astronomical three-storey-high observatory was built between 1728 and 1734 based on the drafts of Maharaja Jai Singh II. Jantar Mantar in sanskrit means ‘magical device’ and it is indeed magical to have been built so precisly more than 200 years back.

Our next destination was the Jal Mahal, an intricately designed palace built in the middle of Mansagar lake but which we cannot enter. Next stop was to an old temple close to which is a famous shop for leather goods (of course at this point you must be informed that the guide does get a commission of everything that you buy from any place he takes you, it’ll be a prearranged agreement so now that you are informed, feel free to shop).
The guided tour was coming to a close and we were heading back so I got off at the Hawa Mahal to have a closer look (and to do some shopping in the markets which surround the place). The Hawa Mahal must have been very beautiful to look at once upon a time; today however only the front portion with its latticed windows and stone screens are seen, the rest of the building no more exists. It stands as a testimony of the exquisite craftsmanship of the times.

All around the Hawa Mahal is a shopping paradise, this is the place for you to shop in Jaipur – you gets bargains galore, you get everything you’ll want and the starting price will be half the price at the governmen t museum stores. Of course you have to bargain and of course you have to check the quality of the materials you are buying but then that is all part of the whole experience. You lose face if you don’t bargain and haggle! My recently acquired friends who had joined me for the shopping and I quickly stated off, trying turbans and kurtas, checking out a sword makers store and even checking out an old camera whose proud owner told us it was made in the 1940’s. Everywhere you looked up at the sky, you saw droves of pigeons flying about and now that the sun was setting, they were all returning to their homes, the sky was filled with them and it sure must have made a wonder shot for someones high powered camera.

Dinner was an experience I wont forget soon, one of them had heard of special roti’s that were available and the next one hour was a hunt for those special roti’s which sadly we never found! We had a filling dinner of jowar ki roti’s however at a road side stall and caught a local bus back to the railway station (they also had taken up a room close by it seems). Over all a very good day and I had to catch my train that night to Jaisalmer. After washing up and a quick dinner I headed out to the Railway station and voila, I see a small palace like structure bathed in purple light and that was the railway station, it was completely transformed into a sight which can never be explained but only experienced!!

Seeing that this travelogue is going to take longer in terms of time and matter, I’m going to post this city wise. It makes it easy for me to write and easier for you to read.

storm

2009-01-27T21:58:00.000+05:30

to weather the storm or storm the weather, what shall it be...

my creditworthiness

2008-12-19T17:19:00.000+05:30

My standing today is measured by my credit card

I've been standardised...

2008-12-19T17:18:00.000+05:30

So here I am, in front of the ocean, the waves falling through, the sand getting slowly washed in and out… and I slowly take a deep breath in, take it the salt air bit by bit, the energy, the freshness, and then in front of me, glittering magnificently; the vast strong ocean… and there in that moment, I am part of the it all, a small grain, just as the sand I feel between my toes; just as each wave, small yet unique and like each wisp of air, bringing in the ocean smell…
It is so special, this moment that no one else will have.
I wish that were true but this too can be standardized, each individual allowing himself to have that specialness, its what makes the memories so good, its what allows us to go forward and it is what provides us with that piece of the past filled with happiness. Be it the ocean or when a father holds his child for the first time, that hug from the one you love, the feeling at the top of a mountain, its so special, so unique, a secret which I hold close to my heart, something which words cannot describe.
And here in all this happiness, my mind breaks this apart; the detailing scrutinized, the ugliness thrown open bringing with it all the hopelessness and wasted darkness that lies within. For that precious moment I hold within myself is not actually special to me but to a million other souls. The ugliness comes in the standardization I make of it because I go into the details. I wish believing in Oscar Wilde’s would have been enough but then, it another detail there. The uniqueness is not in being separated but in being standardized for that’s what I’ve been made.

making it happen

2008-12-19T17:14:00.000+05:30

How much should I believe in it before I allow myself to make it come true?

Standard Deviation

2008-12-19T17:13:00.000+05:30

Have you noticed that when you are close to a person, the rules of the game change? All that you believe and stand up to make way for change, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Why else would I allow that one special person to ruin everything and still understand, why would I give a child more sweets though I know it’ll spoil his tummy, why would I ride a bike with the least fuel efficiency though I am aware and environmentally conscious.
I have made my life a set of variables with the only constant being change.
Very simply put, if I love children a lot, I will make or give more leeway, the margin of deviation is higher or like the saying goes – and my mind tells me, “you are way off from the Six Sigma curve my boy, but then that’s only a number”.I believe we all accept and subconsciously understand and allow it. The problem I guess occurs when the graph fluctuates out of the datasheet.

The Bourne Betrayal

2008-12-19T17:11:00.001+05:30

The Bourne Betrayal – Robert Ludlum with some Eric guy… edge of the seat thriller with a super agent with amnesia beating the crap out of whoever he meets and still survives to tell the tale. Anyway, here he’s is pulled in by the agency (followers know the history) to get back Bourne’s only friend (and hes a hot shot in the agency that’s been trying to kill Bourne in the previous books) who happens to be caught behind enemy territory. But for action fans and more importantly Bourne fans, yep it’s the fifth of the legend.

The Werewolf Trace by John Gardener

2008-12-19T17:10:00.000+05:30

The Werewolf Trace by John Gardener – a small novel written in the spy genrie… its my first book by the author. Story is about a guy who when he was small was chosen by Hitler to be the next great dictator but as you know, hitler dies and so a sub plot is woven with the british searching for the kid whose grown to become a businessman and has a unassuming life. Not a spy thriller with any amount of action, more of a Agatha Christie meets Remington Steele – all brit upper lip and faint on a pin prick types. A read when you want to pass time or when u read just for the heck of it.

A day in the summer

2008-12-19T16:59:00.000+05:30

The ball rushing through the ground, I see my legs frantically tracing a path behind it…. most times controlling it while other times, the ball taking the lead. A slight dribble and the the opponent vanishes as quickly as he had come, the last glimpse is of his maroon and yellow T-shirt out of the corner of my eye. My brain screams to focus forward and everything else is left behind, the swirling run through the mid field calling forth my lungs to deliver that extra energy. I can feel the cold air creating a numbness in my throat with each rasping greedy intake as I bound forward.
An instant reaction to the call on the side, I feel myself reacting to it even before my brain can process the signal. I see my foot connecting with the ball and it sails through landing a few feet in front of the caller. Racing forward this time free of the confines of the ball, I dart across trying to weave a pattern for my escape from the defender who stays like my shadow.
Dark green gloves on my hands, I notice and unnoticed a thought cycle begins, Why am I wearing dark green gloves with stripes? … the colour felt strange in my hands. I wonder why I never removed them earlier, I was no longer the goalkeeper. That string of thought cut away as soon as it had come as I feel a shove from behind for the ball. The ball however flies effortlessly through from the left flank to the right with no chance for a head of a hand of god bouncing a couple of times before crossing the white line at the corner of the field.
Its late and a couple of them have been looking at their watches, we decide to call it a day or atleast a couple hours. Sweating and with deep breaths, we walk off the grounds; friends chiding me on how clumsily I had fallen earlier and the goalie letting the ball go through his fingers. A stop at the water cooler at the corner of the ground, where it suddenly becomes a free for all with bruised elbows being washed, gallons of water being drunk. Nudging each other to get a closed palm full of water to wash our faces and allow our heated bodies to accept the change in temperature, we wash and throw water on another. Its always been a wonder that there is water in the cooler at all times and at that moment, it’s a blessing to quench our thirst.
We slowly find our way to the bakala (corner mom pop store) and dig into our bags and the bottom of our shorts listening to the sounds of coins clanking against each other as they come to see what they are being exchanged for. A coke, some sunkist emptied greedily till you hear only slurps, the sweet sticky orange flavor giving a sugar rush to the entire body. Out back on the pavement, walking along in a silence built of tiredness, a bag of chips are passed around and emptied before it reaches its owner back.
A walk back home is about 5 minutes away but seems like 15, friends bidding ‘see you’s’ along the way since we’re to meet back in a couple of hours. The lift is not working, its been that way for a week now. This is a daily exercise for thinking up the best of words all thrown at the maintenance man while walking up the flight of stairs.
I’ve always liked the ring of the door bell, it is not only an instrument of announcement. It is a sign of hope, of togetherness; it tells you that you are not alone anymore and that there is someone there waiting to greet you just on the other side of the door. Like in life too, all one has to do is open yourself to that person and allow them to come in.
A friends father had gone on some business trip and we had earlier gotten access to some of the goodies he had brought from the US. All we had to do was walk into the corner shop to get the same chocolates that his dad had brought but the very fact of it coming from the land of plenty gave it a holy aura to it. Dirty hands forgotten, I remove half a slab from the bag to share with my younger brother, everything has always been shared. It was the code, it is the code to live by… I grew up thinking it and believing it, to me it has a certain pleasantness, it pleased me as much as or sometimes even more than those who were on the receiving end. I wonder why it is so but recognise that feeling instantly and am warmed by it. We both decide that we can share the loot with mummy and keep some for papa in the fridge.
A quick wash and run to the kitchen to get the plates to lay on the table. It’s a hurried action both because I am famished and a certain event to look forward to post dinner. Everything mummies ever made has been mouth smacking, she has this knack of laying out the tastiest food with whatever is available as raw materials. Of course it did help that I’m one of those types who adores his mum to bits and believes a mother can do no wrong. When I’m in those happy happy moments, I sometimes wonder if it’s the love that gives it that additional taste which makes everything feel like magic. Irani kaboos with canned tuna fried with garnishing which gave out a heavenly aroma which permeated the entire house, a salad to the side and paysam for after. The holidays always witnessed a strange phenomenon, food on the plate never lasted more than 2 minutes; it was always gobbled in hungrily with such relish that you could never stop yourself from licking your fingers and making a smacking noise from your lips.
A bottle of water quickly slipped into my backpack and shoes to finish of the dressing, off I was to the flood light lights for matches which were retained in memory all these years and maybe some more to come. It made for a strange bunch with kids from Iran, Pakistan, India and Bangladesh playing together. Only years down the lines when I think back do I realize that there on the field, it didn’t matter where I came from or how I looked or what language I spoke, it only mattered that for the next two hours or so, we played to the best of abilities, saving every point, smashing every ball to eke out a point and built a lead over the other team in a game of volleyball. The game came naturally to me and with a small height advantage it was played with ease but with the same intensity as my teammate standing on either side. For the next few hours, it was a blur of hands slapping the ball, stretches across boundaries to keep play alive and camaraderie of jokes which only boys will crack.
Closer to midnight and we drag ourselves home, completely exhausted, feeling content with having played a good game. The game has always been better the next day and will be better the next day. Just about making it before curfew time at home, I drag my tired bones to bed but not before setting the alarm for the next day.
From the deep dredges of slumber I hear the horn of the grand yacht sailing majestically in the Arabian Sea, suddenly to realize that it’s the alarm going off. Still half asleep I drag myself out of bed and head to the bath room in a sliding slinking fashion furiously rubbing my eyes. I’ve timed myself exactly 10 min to freshen up, gobble down half a loaf of bread, heat a glass of milk and wear on my shorts. My watch told me it’s almost 4:30am and if I don’t hurry, I’ll have to run to catch up with the gang. It takes us exactly 25 min of brisk walking to get to the beach and allowed us about 3 hours before the sun became too hot for us to swim in the ocean or walk on the beach. Three hours of pure unadulterated fun swimming in the sea. Of course, none of us were great swimmers but you put a bunch of boys together and give them access to the sea and it doesn’t take long for a dare to be thrown up. We believed we were invincible and I am sure none of us would have batted a lid is going to help the other if there was ever a need. The beaches are pristinely clear and the sea was blue till the eye could see. It was a time when there was not a care in the world and no one thought of anything but the present joy and fun there is to be had. Completely wet, with pockets full of sand, salt water in our tummies, we’d sit together on the beach. No one was stupid enough to admit that they were dead tired from swimming but a consensus was always reached magically of when we’d wrap up with the excuse being the rising sun. yesterday nights rotis, the other half of the bread, kaboos rolled with egg or vegetable wrapped inside it, it was all there and I have not had any better meals than the ones I had there sitting with my friends on the beach. All the food shared, all the water drunk, we would walk back home smiling at the wonderful day that was to be. By the time we got home, our clothes were dry and the salt would have hardened onto our face and bodies. A lavish cool water bath after a swim and a walk in the sun can never be forgotten. It is something to experience, one of those things that can never be explained, it can only be felt. As you guiltily turn on the jets of the shower and feel the water hitting your face while you run your fingers through your hair, you lose track of time, space and thought. At that moment, you are just there enjoying the very essence of being.
I have a nice breakfast with bread and cheese and allow for the sleep to envelope me for the next few hours. Somehow its always that type of sleep I long for, where you find yourself asleep for a couple of hours and awake as though it was for two days. A quick lunch eaten while flipping through channels and a sibling fight for the remote later, I’m already thinking of how the coming cricket game would go. Images of kathik tendulkar the master blaster at one end and kathik Akram bowling swinging toe breaking Yorker come to instill a sense of awe to the greats of the game.
Initially the team had been called war lords, names of power and strength which we believed gave each man (boy) on the team super human cricketing strength. The kit had been pain stakingly built with pocket money and loose change used to feed the regular requirement for cricket balls. I think if anyone had informed us that there was a festival called Ayudha puja, we would have done it every quarter to the kit. Later nick named Salmiya XI, it was what every early adolescent dreamed off… to be the captain and lead his very own team which would beat every other team in a 50 mile radius! A game was played in the swelting heat but not one person cared for the 50 degree heat or the dust blowing about in the afternoon. All we focused on was to hear the sweet music of ball on wood or the single finger going up. A short game of ten to a dozen overs and we were well on our way to being ready for the Indian team.
Every day of every summer vacation began with the ocean somehow never ended, for each day runs on in a compartmentalized section of my hippocampus.
As the evening came, we would switch quickly to the two nets on either corner of the ground where twenty two players try and move a round inflated piece of leather into one of the nets. And I find the ball rushing through the ground, I see my legs frantically tracing a path behind it…. most times controlling it while other times, the ball taking the lead.

wild flowers

2008-12-19T16:58:00.002+05:30

If I bring a wild flower home, will it get tamed or die?

Half a Christmas day, memories for a lifetime…

2008-12-19T16:57:00.001+05:30

I can still feel 5 year old Sangeetha sitting comfortably in my arms, her star and Christmas tree tattooed tiny arms around my neck brimming with excitement at the scene that was unfolding in front of her. We were busy looking at the other 100 odd children all running around to get their favourite Christmas themed tattoo which were being stamped by the volunteers who looked like they were having as much fun as the children themselves. It was a little after ten in the morning and under the big shady arms of the Peepal tree (guessing here but it looked like one), the party with the children of Sheila Kothawala institute for the Deaf began.
Out came colourful streamers which easily became head bands, the children getting more excited with each new individual clap they learnt. Off went the rocket clap, this is how we do the butterfly clap, catch that mosquito clap and bright as a sunflower clap! A volunteer initiated a couple of small songs through sign language, ‘Happy day’ being among the favourites with the children enthusiastically joining in with sparkling eyes and happy smiles.
While a couple of children taught me how to say, “what is your name?” in sign language; they all couldn’t wait to play the next game. So we split up the children based on age and off went the older group to decorate and colour the banners which we had earlier got readied. The smaller ones who had earlier spotted the huge Santa and Christmas decorations outlines which had been outlined on the ground ran up to them not knowing what they were in for. It was time to get down and colourful, we brought out the rangoli packets and the children got busy giving Santa his red cap and adding yellow to the jingling bells. I’ve always been amazed at the freedom of thought, to imagine without inhibition which only a child has. I always think of a ribbon being red, a ball is red, white or black… but a ribbon can be multi coloured and a ball can have stars and gems on them. Children look at the world so differently, I wonder if this structurisation in society is really that important as its meant out to be.
The older children put their thoughts into the banners, the different designs to stick, the various colour patterns, adding in streamers and balloons to make the banners come alive. It was wonderfully done and the creativity most absorbing. I am always amazed by how easily they communicate a twist of the fingers, a deft move of the hand and what would have taken a verbal discussion was as easily explained. Friendly, enthusiastic and willing, the children are beautiful; in everything they did and made. Its only we who consider ourselves normal that see them with a challenge; out there they were all normal, it was I who was challenged, it was I who has the mental block.
The banners were hung, the children making sure that the ones they had made stood out but frankly speaking I think they did better than I ever could have. So anyway, off we went to don the famous Santa costumes and HoHoHo!! There I was half blind because I couldn’t see through the mask, my glasses fogged up and 100 screaming excited children shaking my hand, taking the sweets we had filled up the Santa bag with and having the time of their lives!!
The goodies were handed over to the teachers to distribute along with the small neatly packed gifts for all the children and it was done suddenly all done. The children left since they had to go back home in their buses. The volunteers managed to hurriedly clean up and we headed over to our next party at Cheshire Home which was next door…

what drives me

2008-12-19T16:56:00.000+05:30

Does god’s existence or absence affect what you do in your lifetime?

untouched

2008-12-19T16:55:00.000+05:30

Pedalling around through natural paths
Screaming & shouting, the bunch still raw
Untouched & free, a spirit in each
That which the innocent possess & do not understand

Springs & streams, green grass & trees
Whats a scratch, neither a bruise
There is always a smile to cover all those
My world is lovely, bright & in hues

Summers around, an adventure.. a sport
Friendships & bonds exchanged about
A hurtful look, soon a gathering around
Confused at the bird down on the ground

A shriek of joy, heads turn around
While I watch, spontaneity untold as mouths drop down
A tortoise creeping out the lake
While history is lost, untold but forgotten without.

Tamarind tinge’s & gooseberry red
Patch’s of green & brown, clothes made use of
A surrounding of joy, laughter behold
It’s a wonderful world, I choose it to be so…

vision

2008-12-19T16:54:00.000+05:30

It is my eyes that let me see but it is my dreams that give me vision

News interrupted...

2008-12-19T16:52:00.000+05:30

I still remember news when it was unbiased, just dished out as it should have been; crisp, true and to the point. It used to come at 8pm for one hour and everything was covered in it, be it national or international news, business, politics, entertainment or sports. The news readers were unglamorous, unpretentious people who didn’t have a cleavage showing wardrobe nor a flare for the ‘yo’ language as I call it.
And here we are today with atleast 8 full time, 24 hour news channels that I can remember at the drop of a hat all dishing out the same old news every 15 minutes. The same news shown at 8am is anyway shown at 8pm too. So what is this whole frenzy for having so many news channels all of a sudden? Is it that lucrative and profitable or is that we believe that today in this high speed world, it becomes essential to bring in news and details to viewers as these incidents happen. I think it is a bit of both, and none of them as well. They do hold good but in reality it is the viewers fault. Today the viewer believes that he is educated and believes that today it is his right to a choice. This is what drives news channels like many other things, things so many that counting them itself could take years. Not to deviate from the topic but that is where the actual harm is, not that we have choice but that we have too much choice, not that we have too much choice but that we all believe that we are smart enough to make a decision – this is what so many news channels thrive on. Today news pays, its more a business model than anything else. We live in a world which has always believed that information is key and today we take that in the literal sense.
I keep hearing the term sensationalism as of late and have found myself also using the term a few times. Today we all believe and accept that all the news channels try to bring news to my doorstep by sensationalizing it. I suddenly release that news itself I have grown immune to. It has become so meaningless that today not even half of what is announced registers in my mind even if the television set is on.
I do know that change is the only constant but over doing anything is indeed bad. I keep wondering… are todays news readers one of the most depressed bunches in existence? I do not say that they are crappy or not good at what they do, they I think do a wonderful job actually. But I still do pose that question at those times in nature when I do. Today I see so much negativity in news, its always more than half filled with death and destruction, harm and malice. I just be a little sensitive but its really a put off. I really could do with a dose of good news – don tell me what wrong with the world, please also tell me whats right in the world. If you can do that, I think news channels will be a boon to society at large itself. How or why I think so, it’s a little too late in the night to type out today, might put in my thoughts on it if I’m not too lazy or non inclined to writing about it.

long - short term

2008-12-19T16:51:00.000+05:30

At every step of the way we always seem to think only of what lies immediately in front of us rather than searching for a long term and maybe temporary solution. I do agree that we need to solve the obstacle that is at hand but also consciously look at making sure that this obstacle doesn’t arise in the future. As an individual I can think of the immediate in things that are not in my power to solve but where I can solve, there I need to be looking at both criteria. I do believe that there are right ways to go about doing this in the short term as well as the long term.

A good salesman?

2008-12-19T16:50:00.000+05:30

Who ever said a good salesman is one who can sell a fridge to an Eskimo never went to the Artic…

My Silver Coin

2008-09-15T19:32:00.000+05:30

A slight tap as they patter on my glass,
The sleet breezy monsoon awash at my doorstep
Giving life to the well parched earth
As I wake up to the heavenly earth scent

Rays break through, as the clouds pass through
I watch in earnest as she dutifully passes by
No smile or time to smell the flowers
Just two coconut swabs, no hands for joy

As it trickles, a lovely shiver down my back
One drop is enough to excite
Yet below that basket, selling his ware
Ignores the thousands that greet him the same.

Small I recall, those sinking paper boats
Following the snake as it swiveled lane through
Where eyes of age just as mine
Built sand castles to save his small dwelling house

Dark stains flow on both sides of the road
Honks & frenzied lights steal dangerously through
As we hurry under maple leaves & shelters abeat
Watching the children of the night as they splash through

Glittering eyes, a set of white, an oasis present to be
A moment of rest, burdens forgotten and washed away
The pure nectar drenching on them, a admire by side
Of a blessing only they understand………

Ace of Jokers - its always on me

2008-09-15T19:30:00.000+05:30

Ever since the movie trailors and promo’s started on the tele and you kept getting pieces of information at some instance or another, the Dark Knight seemed to catch the minds of people in a new way, in a different way. You read rave reviews on the actor who played joker (the aura of his acting further pushed into the annals of history as the best ever with his untimely death due to an overdose). It did catch even my imagination and I was very enthusiastic on watching the movie myself with the feeling of becoming a kid again following the caped crusader jumping over roof tops in my dreams as a child. The movie in itself was good, it took every turn it had to take and ran through the motions that it was expected to have, every serious batman follower will tell you that. It was here that I noticed a few chinks not only in the cartoon hero but within myself. Here I was going through the motions but holding back because of a number of reasons. Its really surprising to me that I hold back my enthusiasm because of my surroundings, its really surprising that I can allow myself to be taken in by society and what they say so easily, its really surprising that I could not allow the subject of my discussion here its just position but in turn went in to an immediate comparison chart to finally build and bill it as a classic, a good movie, worth a watch or a waste of money.

A walk in the Clouds

2008-09-15T19:27:00.000+05:30

It is strange indeed that we give up on so much we like and love in the name of work, salary and the likes. Then there comes a small ray of hope which tells you that life is much more and you grab at the chance.
I just came back with a bunch of friends from Uttaranchal, had gone for a week long break and had a wonderful time trekking the Valley of flowers and Hemkund. The place is pristine and beautiful, the air is fresh and you fall in love with nature all over again. It was an amazing experience which I think one can truly do justice by going there rather than writing about it.
The people there are amazing, strong and rugged yet very welcoming and hospitable, they go out of their way to assist and with whatever little that there is, they made the trip truly a wonderful experience. It brought in a bit of soul searching, a bit of camaraderie and a new freshness to the otherwise mundane drudgery that life in the city and work has to offer.
I fell in love with the simplicity of life, the uncomplicated aspect of being and of what nature offers us in abundance. Each flower stood out and said hello, each rain drop brought out a smile and the rivers and flowing streams sang their songs aloud.

Whisperings

2008-09-15T19:25:00.001+05:30

Walking along the thresh of time
A deep understanding of wisdom within
Tales learnt & dwelled upon a mind
Haunted with the ghosts of the past

A shy step, a skip & hop
A better future, don’t we call out all
Whims unfold as the gods play wild
Unseen, unheard through the eons of time

Morn cometh, a time of hope
The first rays, bringing a sign of hope
Forth night time sky to blanket the smoke
Dejavu to you, a normal day, just of despair

Shackled & chained, a constant shift
To break away from the conscious enforced
Scarred with time & hesitant to go
As emotions unknown well within

Structured with scrapers, a mile to the sky
Tuscan steel & mazes abound
Built with fear & the constant remind
Of a fragile soul, lost deep inside

Secrets, passwords & silence filled nights
A test of every foot rest & hinge distressed
As the days pass by, u get used to the fog
Settling around to live in piece

A sudden jerk, gasping for air
Mad frantic rush to surface
To breathe so sweet, I want the most exquisite of air
Is that gas, I don’t care

Along came one with a gentle touch
One innocence, offering much
Bonds of understanding, the eyes speak out
In a language than none can live without

Learn for you are not alone,We all carry life abound without.

Irony

2008-09-15T19:21:00.000+05:30

I do not trust my own self with my life, yet I do so with gay abundance to people I have not met ever and will never meet.

Divine Interventions

2008-09-15T19:19:00.000+05:30

A rhythmic beat, slow burning heat
A glow afar of hard work &toil
Rippling along thru smooth contour lines
Intelligence in the eyes, a glint of awe
To create a masterpiece never foretold

Sparks and frazzles, as steel moulds steel
A form as desired carved in delicate twines
Twisted & reined, a wild horse buckle
Patience & love through time eternal

A spice of life & a dash of colour
Smile beholden a touch of the divine
Twinkling stars to guide far as seen
Into sun touched skies and earthy sighs.

As dusk sets in with the hues of design
Fiery reds & sleepy blues
Come together to form a broach for the eye
As the beauty created glows from inside.

(unfinished)

Choice

2008-09-15T19:18:00.001+05:30

Would I relive the day and my thoughts on the day of the Bangalore blasts or would I just choose to forget? In many ways I know that even such a choice is not mine to make today.

I need a bomb to remind me of fellowship

2008-09-15T19:15:00.000+05:30

While looking into my screen going through the days proceedings, news trickled in of a serious of blasts about the city I stay in. 2 blasts at business centers, another one close to the place I work at, another one had gone off in the locality where I gone for lunch less than an hour ago. Phones were being jammed, terrorist theories were running in everyones minds and you could see the varied reactions in everyones interactions. My colleagues for once were not into their work, the primal need for safety, security of their loved ones were being seen. It was here I was allowed another glimpse of the human conscious, these moments when we wake up and realize that it is indeed more important than everything else and more important than office and work itself where we all otherwise spend more than two thirds of our waking hours believing that it really does play a very significant role in my existence. I too have fallen into this belief, I too have fallen into this circle; it does hold promise of a future I am aware of but don’t look forward to it.
We come together at moments one never imagines of and with the intermingled inter networked mess we have which somehow seems to work, we use it to pull out, gather as much information we can in the belief that we can make better decisions.

the drudgery of hope

2008-09-15T19:13:00.000+05:30

The human self knows that it is drudgery and nothing else that drives himself, it is thus that he makes sure he is in the pits at every opportunity he gets... only here does he think of hope.

No See, No mind, No thought

2008-09-15T19:12:00.000+05:30

We seem to be caught up in a time where the only instance we tend to take notice is when it affects us directly and adversely at that instance. There was a time in the 1850’s that the Thames was so filled with sewage and waste that one couldn’t walk by it because of the stench, only then did London get a sewer system in place. Mileage and efficiency are the key terms of today, with every manufacturer looking at providing motor vehicles which can take you farther for less, all this because I see a direct increase in my spending otherwise on fuel and thus my financial matters. It is visible to my eye and transactions and thus I give it that importance. While allowing my wanderings across the universe of my mind, a certain nagging feeling of something missing with the same topic kept coming in. In a few days, the time required for thoughts and paths to assemble, it is truly amazing the way I allow myself to be fooled simple because I do not see the damage, because it does not show itself in any physical aspect or have any direct contact with me. It is that of electricity consumption.
My household consumes an average amount of electricity and the only physical reality of it hits once a month when I pay the bill but can I see electricity like I can see petrol. Do I see a system where I can use less of it to do more things. Consciously I do not and cannot therefore I do not even realize it. In my physics classes in school we had studied energy and electricity and run through the details in a theoretical without thinking of it in any other way. It was to be learnt and forgotten and that’s how it was done. I wonder why we’ve never gone into thinking of how to make appliances more energy efficient, the only exception to this is when it comes to air-conditioners. We burn up coal in abundance to make electricity, we run in along hundreds of miles to get that energy home to use and then waste more than half of it, out it goes as heat. Why are we wasting so much? Is it because we don’t see the waste?

Dust

2008-03-03T18:27:00.001+05:30

Turns out the lines about dust to dust really means more than life and death but the very purpose of existence. While all these thoughts run through asking questions, filtering, talking amongst themselves and playing the devils advocate, streams of results seep through pointing in the direction whether right or wrong, it would entirely depend only on how one thinks or objective to the thought.
While the sun rises and during the day, as we all go out to keep busy, while the sun slowly melts into the oceans and the stars twinkle, the rivers flow out churning and circulating millions of tones of alluvial soil, the finest of dust with ash and debrie. All of which is brought to support new life, making barren land fertile, enriching and allowing for new life and growth. Spreading across and wide, the seeds of the future filtering through with the help of the past.

Utopic

2008-01-18T12:06:00.000+05:30

My time warp allows me to watch the stars, smell the flowers, and speak out my closest thoughts without having to say a word.

I'm sorry, I dont feel like coming back to your normal world, its a place I can do without...

my nose...

2008-01-18T11:59:00.000+05:30

The other day, while we sat in class, I had a very interesting discussion with the bunch of highly self actualized, focused individuals who are doing great things in their field or focus areas. It seems an eternity since I saw such passion in ones eyes that I today admire that persons commitment towards that cause. Where have we all gone off to I wonder, has logic taken such a great toll on us I wonder.
Issues close to ones heart be it geriatrics, children, the environment, water, air, special needs, underprivileged or any other so called specialized areas you may want to take up, I would rather call it a place where a little of your attention, love and understanding is needed. This place which each treasures so much seems to drive one o the level of becoming blind to the cause of the other. There was distaste in a majority of mouths since my argument though supportive of the topic that day (children) balanced itself on different fundamentals and approaches.
Today we live in a world of complexities and paradoxes, a world where the simplest of things can become the most complex to the person sitting beside me; after all God does need something to amuse himself with, so I guess we do have to say – so be it; as though one has a choice. Anyway, the question was simple one, it had only an affirmative or negative answer but in that answer lay open everything one worked and believed for. To save the children at Sivakasi, would you approach the factory owners there to donate money for the cause. Yes or No?
Ethics and morality evoked a ferocious response in the negative, how could one think of such a thing, when it’s the same person who is starving the child, is it morally right on your part to ask them for funds and so on and so forth. I do feel the love behind each of these questions, I feel the passion too behind each of these questions because I too feel them and I too understand them. It is not that I did not ask these questions, I too did a couple of years back and I too felt fiercely protective about it. Today however I will say yes; yes I will take money from such a person and I will use that money to help an unfortunate child. To me it’s a simple question, Would I approach a person and ask him for money to help or save a child; when it is that same person who is harming the very existence of that child. My morality doesn’t have anything to do in this matter, it cannot save, feed or protect the child, it can only protect me. what irritates me most is when I look at it, i stand at a point of confusion where I cant take one of the roads because i know that there is truth in what they say also.
While walking along this thought process, a few previous discussions and memories with friends do crop up. Questions arise which do not have a correct answer or an immediate solution. The solution is within society and with an individual. That carpet adorning your home and keeping your feet warm must have been woven by and beaten by a child since an adults fingers is not dexterous enough, those pair of diamond earrings you have been eyeing must have been dug out of a tunnel so small that adults couldn’t fit into. The chances are more likely that they were since these are child labour intensive industries. Does it mean that you wont buy your fiancée a diamond ring, will you allow your child to play on the cold floor and catch a cold rather than just put a carpet and allow your child to be a child. There are hundreds of such issues and hundreds of solutions, each one very important and correct; it about time we stopped wondering which was more correct or more important and start doing something in that direction.
I so clearly remember PT period in school, where we all stood in a line and took an arms distance before spreading ourselves into a field of aligned dots. While frowning at the sports teacher and on the sun beating down on us, I learnt a very valuable lesson. When I stretch my arms to the front or either side of me, I had to make sure that my arms however I swing them did not touch the person next to me. It was a simple thing actually, all you had to do was think of getting slapped on your head from the back because your friend behind you didn’t stand far enough when we started doing our exercises. Your freedom stops at my nose, be aware and be conscious of your actions. This I think helps me in a small way in being a better human.
I was sitting before two middle aged ladies who have worked towards so much and given so much to society. So tell me about your project, what are your plans, what is your topic of interest, how are you going to change the world and a few similar questions. So I rattled off something that was there in some nook of my mind but they had done this a hundred times before I guess and so didn’t accept my answer. “What are you passionate about?” asked one; I had no answer. She felt me on unsure ground and to support me, provided a few leading questions. What did I have in my heart and what did I strongly feel about, did I want to work with children, education, people empowerment, anything. To date I do not have an appropriate answer, the best way probably to answer it would be with what I learnt in my PT class, but how do I tell someone… my freedom stops at your nose and vice versa, I believe in humanity; its only that much I am sure of. I for a long time believed my calling was children and working with them; because I loved them so much. I still do love them, they mean the world to me and that’s why it probably hurts so much more to realize that I might be wrong. But I haven’t yet found my calling, it can be children, it can anything else and it might be nothing I had ever thought before.

following a thought trail......

2008-01-16T14:37:00.000+05:30

Random thoughts cross by while the mind is tired and not controlled, its at these times I enjoy the freedom, only here do I enjoy pain and grieve joy untold. The problem with reading is that we suddenly start believing that we know a lot, its here that we lose our footing and start the fall I think unless of course you decide to stretch out and hold those many branches which always seem to save you from an even harder fall. It seems so amusing while I myself also fall in the same trap that we think more and more for and about ourselves and everyone goes on doing it day in and day out, month on month, year after year and the world keeps turning and the years keep going past.
While I started out wanting to change the world, its those first steps that I take that tell me that it was the wrong foot. During these flying visits that thoughts decide to make connecting two independent totally non related topics that I can relax and make sense of the chaos. I mean I could do with a lot more exercise and instead of looking at eating less meat, trick my body into a more protein oriented program where it thins itself out. Why else would all those fiction loving authors and Einstein (?) go into that much detail to write a plot which no one can prove, yet everyone has read it and knows it and believes that they have spotted that one thing special which makes it personal and is remembered or treasured close to the heart.
I mean why else would man be made not to live beyond a prescribed timeline, we all talk about the firefly dying in 48 hours, the elephant in a 100 and the tortoise in 200, so whats the actual span of you and me. Well say 40… ok add in another 5 years tops for all your scientific and evolutionary growth and what do you get? A lot of hungry children, a lot of problems and increase in the price of land. I do understand the need to increase the price of petrol but really don’t understand the limited imagination of the public to see how the oil cartel and the government literally are taking every tom, dick and harry for the ride of their lives. Ya, you walk on the quarter of the earth and say you have about 40 years more of oil lamps you can burn while I don’t know how many have actually wondered about the remaining three quarters. A little water scared no one, the only thing it did was play your mind. People talk about tangential thinking but then like we all know, I only talk too.
But you are right too, just think of the chaos the economy and the whole world would go into if this road were taken. Can you believe that petrol is cheaper than water (no, I’m not talking of living in the middle east, I’m talking normal world terms)? So while I break my head over which project I’d want to do, I don’t see the usefuleness of it at all, those few who come saying they want to do good ending up talking of focus yet in the same time trample on another man’s focus. How else can one progress with out concentration on one thing, its not within ourselves yet to multi- prioritize.
The mind works faster than any computer it seems and I guess right so, but I guess its because its not a logical calculator, it works like a fuse half dead. I mean while you switch on the light and see light itself, I wonder how many wonder where the darkness went to? Did you see light come? Yes I saw it… did you see the darkness go? No I didn’t… so I guess darkness is faster than light. Hahaha, just recollecting those times of fun and here I guess I’m pulling your leg but I’m not entirely sure of it. I mean the fist thing that comes in my mind when a scientist finds a cloud of dark matter in the middle of the galaxy is one stupid fluffly shaped dark cloud like in the cartoons with the darkness representing a storm and heavy rain. Oh c’mon I cant even fathom it, I cant even draw a new picture in my mind, it just pulls out associations and memories that relate to each other to built a solution. So my congratulations to you on that topic, I can feel logic uncle coming back so see you later…

Rustling green buds always point to the Sun

2008-01-16T14:35:00.000+05:30

Back bend over the grindstone,
Slowly one on one, in circles they went,
Following the hands as the grains became dust,
In silence serene, as the household slept
A warm aroma of fresh baked roots
And yeast made brown with a pinch of love

Wiry and nimble as she quietly hopped about to ready
Long had she learnt to fight, twas required measure beyond
As her strapping young lads stirred awake
To the chirping sounds that only nature can make

Low behind the broken birch strewn around,
Mud smeared and heaving, stifling a cry
As they rustled the bushes, bayonets swinging about
Watching the feathered caps, the uniformed guards
as they sniggered aloud of bounty untold.

A legend whispered of flying squirrels
Men of honour who travelled the highways
Yet none had seen of the hundreds felled
Capable of what those tiny shoulders held.

Quietly she stirred the pot, round and round,
While the smile walked around the worlds unknown
Where the leaves rusted just before a leap
That faithful day when a glance sheared a leg
The world was changing and with the time,
She had learnt to be of a different kind.

Four for one, a trade not bad
While the legend grew to feed of lores
The eyes shone bright, it was a freedom
Tasted and never to be given light.

courtesy?

2007-12-30T21:05:00.000+05:30

Have you ever wondered what goes on in a mans head when he has to give a lady the ladies seat in a bus?

Tare Zameen Par

2007-12-30T20:52:00.000+05:30

I went to Tare Zameen Par a couple of days back and I came out feeling really good but with a sense of discomfort. The movie is a rather pleasant way of awakening each of us to the uniqueness that each of us possess, it brings out a strong message to look at your children again, to see the children around you and see how special each of them are. Human nature strongly resists any direct confrontation even if its for ones own good but that same message if put across in a different manner is acceptable, in this I think the movie succeeds. It starts you thinking about a lot of things from your own specialty, how dear those dear ones really are and in a subtle nice way which doesn’t hurt anyone’s ego make you relook at what you have, what you are and what really is deep within. Its worth a watch because if nothing more, its endearing, it takes you on an emotional ride and you come out of the movie theatre not ashamed of crying and having those moments of weakness where you let your emotions overpower your logic and self control.
The movie as such has been shot well, I did think that the first half was about 15 min longer than it should have been but in the end its those seemingly not required scenes which help you identify and empathize with the nine year old Ishan. Dyslexia is a short term learning difficulty; it is not a disease or disability which has no cure. The cure is simple, a little more practice, a lot of empathy and understanding and most important a little bit of time to spend on what is really important to that person who is so special to you. The movie takes us back to those difficult moments and opens up those drawers of your memory where you faced a difficulty and had problems understanding or learning. The movie walks along with you instead of guiding you or pointing the right direction and I think that is the real success. A sensitive issue handled with a lot of maturity. I do recommend watching the movie even with the few corny lines and errors.
It made me to stop and think a little, and i think in that small measure the movie is more than successful. i do wish we had more such movies coming out, its good for my soul if noting more. :)

somethings inside me...

2007-12-30T20:50:00.000+05:30

I feel the stars shining above while the sun shines, feel the cold breeze on the hottest days, enjoy running in an evergreen forest while walking in the desert, feel the love of those so far away yet so close, see the universe with my eyes closed, feel my heart beating those strong meaningful beats while lying in my silence.
I stretch my hand out and see the soft chubby fingers of a five year old extending his hand while his innocent eyes glisten showing all the piousness which only a child can possess. I close my eyes, look above and feel the rain drops fall on my face bringing with it the clear streams from heaven to wash away my tears.
A smile even from one dear warms me with its endearment, a nice word makes the whole day feel so nice and an acknowledgement from those you look up to brings within you so much confidence.
I feel my chest collapse in pain with the children who beg at the signals, I feel a sense of helplessness to see the pain and suffering of those who are not so fortunate; I feel tears run down my cheeks with the future of so many who didn’t have the opportunity.
I feel….

i wonder.....

2007-12-22T16:49:00.000+05:30

I wonder what will happen when we run out of coffee? I wonder why anyone invented the cigarette? I wonder why we give money so much importance? I wonder why friendship means so much to us? I wonder why we all feel so insecure? I wonder where the sun would have set if it we had 7 hour days? I wonder why I adore children so much? I wonder why I wonder so much? I wonder why mist and the stars never seize to amaze me? I wonder why I have fallen in love with the dark? I wonder why I smile when the sun falls on my face? I wonder why mandrake always wears his cape? I wonder why a smile always makes my day? I wonder why I like reading books so much? I wonder why I like to be in a state of depression? I wonder what it takes to eradicate poverty? I wonder why I can never get myself to hug my dad and tell him how much I love him? I wonder where all the greed comes from? I wonder why we don’t want the world to end but never stop cutting trees? I wonder why its okay for the servants children to do odd jobs around the house but not ok for my nephew to wipe the floor? I wonder where god has gone off to? I wonder when I can have a good nights sleep? I wonder where it is that people are in always such a hurry to go to? I wonder I will gain the courage to express my heart to the person I love? I wonder why we bring children into the world when we cant take care of them? I wonder how long before people understand that we can make better use of metal than guns? I wonder how anyone can abandon their child? I wonder why no one hears my cry for help? I wonder why we are never satisfied in life? I wonder the earth without time? I wonder why I love walking in the woods? I wonder why I can never become humble enough? I wonder why I like sugar so much? I wonder why I lose touch with my friends? I wonder what it is that makes each of us tick? I wonder why colours affect us so much? I wonder why we speak in languages that we do? I wonder if the plants can hear us? I wonder if we really know as much as we do?

Chaos

2007-11-01T00:54:00.000+05:30

Chaos by James gleick - Just re-read the book and it takes me out on a thinking frenzy everytime. Its a good book, worth your time if you are into science and its understanding. Dont pick it up if you just want to relax and do some no brain activity reading. The way he explains concepts with its qwerkiness gives the whole book its humour. You sniggle with a 'oh yes, now why didnt i think of that" at the same time admiring the science and advancement, understanding the pro's and con;s we get with every apple. Go ahead, read the book, its not of your mill types but then again, Richard Feyman is a class apart.

Am back

2007-11-01T00:50:00.000+05:30

Just wanted to say that my hand is healed and am back, the typing though is still slow so give it a little time before i write on a regular basis. Right now the typing that my work demands is more than enough for me :D
Not like anyone reads this blog, just doing an ego boost here ;) hehe

The Avenger

2007-11-01T00:45:00.000+05:30

The Avenger by Frederick Forysth, just finished the book. Its an ok book, not too complicated, he tries to make it action packed and with a lot of pace but frankly, he doesnt seem to be writing like he used to. Its not edge of the seat, u more or less know the story before the half on the book is over. A lot is lost out on detailing, it would have added so much more to the book.
Anyway, its a one time read book for passtime.

hard work

2007-10-01T17:28:00.000+05:30

Where yesterdays youth suffered physically, todays youth suffer mentally.

At times, my brain fizzles

2007-10-01T17:25:00.000+05:30

There are times when you become immune to everything, your brain shuts shop in terms of it having to react or cope with the environment around. If you think I’m referring to not caring about things or becoming insensitive, it is not true. It is a phase where you feel the pain but do not acknowledge it, where you feel the happiness but don’t feel the need to express it with a smile or suitable reaction. Yet you live to see the next day hoping this will go away, I can go back to smiling and enjoying the very fact that I live.

To tell you the truth, we are all searching for those two things aren’t we – happiness and peace. It comes out in different forms, under false pretences and actions which make no sense. Everything you do is actually only for those two things. We all in our own secret ways accept this and have this spark of realization when it hits you bang in the face. The irony being no one knows what to do to acquire them. Each has their own path to it, their own little books with rules, most of us have these nooks and corners where we hide these moments and recollect them throughout our lifetime, relishing it as much even if we have visited them over a thousand times. I sometimes don’t even know if I am asking the right question – What is happiness? What is peace?

The fare I dish out here in these lines I’m sure pale in comparison to what have been more elaborately written previously, beautifully penned lines by those with that rare eye for writing.

There are times in our lives, where we are true to ourselves, times when we have no eyes on us, when no one is looking at us; when we ourselves are not looking and evaluating. This is when we find ourselves, do things which are called extraordinary. Years past, we will sit comfortably on a sofa and say, “ did I really do that… wow”. Today I am so controlled, so evaluated that I miss those moments, sometimes even pining for them. Almost everyone I see is on the same plain, evaluating oneself and being insecure; insecure of losing face to oneself, I many a time do not stand up to the standard I would like to believe capable of. What I fail to see in those moments is I lose more than just face.

Starfish and the Spider

2007-10-01T17:23:00.002+05:30

I forget which year exactly but for many years now, I’ve often asked myself this question of why exactly do we follow a structure of power. Do I need to elect only one President or vice president, why does my company have one ceo and not three or four or so ceo’s, why should I have one leader to lead? Before I get your mind running into all the theories of one command, unity of power, structure, responsibility and a hundred other things; I just picked up a book called ‘The Starfish and the Spider’ which gives a small yet meaningful insight to the power of leaderless organisations, just general reading fare but in terms of bringing out one important point among many, it is successful. It’s an ok read but only if you liked books like fish, freakanomics and the kind.

Upgrade

2007-10-01T17:23:00.001+05:30

Half my memory today is used to store passwords, credit card and phone numbers, Does anyone have a upgrade slot?

the king is dead, long live the queen!

2007-10-01T17:19:00.000+05:30

The irony of our times is the fallacy of equality; where we stand equal, we fail to move forward. Today is the day I move forward and want to move forward in very path and dimension possible, alone , calling it my freedom breaking the bond of trust and togetherness. Today we even as nations are more alone though we do not even know why the cold war was called so, yet we remain in a state of cold isolation believing the thin strands we have to the rest of the world strong enough to hold us steady, even if it doesn’t I am strong enough to hold myself steady.
A man, the male species walking about, boldly going about his work, believing in his strength and force. The man is the less intelligent of the species, using brute force instead of the brain, two brains working one in his head and the other between his legs. He is the more aggressive, the more stupid yet the more in touch with his feelings though most are taught to hide it. In todays world, he is a fast vanishing species not in terms of numbers but in terms of quality. Future cycles will bring him lower in the value chain, removing him from his throne. For the simplicity with which a man’s brain works, today is more daunting and more confusing than ever. Feminists will look and call it weak or a lame excuse but that is todays evolution, we after all want equality don’t we? True the man is as much to blame, if you want to call it blame anyway.
The woman, the female species believes in her freedom more than anything seen before. Here is a world open to her not only providing her with equality but also allowing her superiority. The woman of today is more aware, more intelligent and more powerful. The old fragile, delicate and dependent woman is long gone and with it the reign of man. Today and tomorrow, you will find women getting more aggressive, leading from the front yet knowing and using her knowledge of the mans weakness to her advantage. Yet she doesn’t forget her stupidity nor her short sightedness; she still has to get to the point where she finds it normal to see a man cry. The advantage is the woman already has the emotional expertise, so she leads on that front. Arent we in the business of equality today?
The race for supremacy however much we disagree to has always been there and will exist for as long as life itself. Will we ever truly understand that this after all is not a race, I doubt it. Oh how nice equality would be one would say and yes, its probably the best think to happen when it does because it for all you know will change history and more importantly rules in the game of life. The question is not whether it will happen but when will it happen? One has to understand that today we live in a multiplier effect so the next period will only be half as long as the long time we took to get where we are now.

Autumn Break

2007-08-27T14:11:00.001+05:30

Scarred on the years home through,
Haunted tops and barren fields,
Friends left and strangers stoned,
Shattered and beyond, with nothing but hope.

Scrubbed and cleaned,
Even my ears shown
Remember the life
That was too much foretold

Bright eyed, innocent, cousins beside,
Numerous others not far behind
One silent rustle,
Squirrels stamping about,
With winter yonder,
It’s a hurry to fill the last of the stock

Rusted sea, brilliant against the sun,
Gently one by one,
Softly floating to their resting place
Forgotten among the million bonds

A silent snap of those immortal hear
As on gently drifts on my fore
Large and weathered
You have lived life well,
Such a resemblance,
A smile long forgotten
Breaks the spell

I cry of joy, as the winds blow through
The tree on my back wakes up too
I can feel it change,
As it brushes my face

A life weathered well,
See those new buds
It is time for the season of change

So close to native,
A sense of calm,
The simple joy
The rain swept face

Tired a little,
I am here for thee,
My eyes for you,Close in peace.

too much is not always good either

2007-08-27T14:06:00.000+05:30

The more I believe I've learnt in the time I've had, the less I will learn with all the time left

Did you know Chaos has a pattern...

2007-08-27T14:04:00.000+05:30

From as far as I can recollect, I’ve always wondered about those abnormalities that we take for granted and accept as part of nature or life or so. Almost everyone’s heart gets an abnormal beat once in a while, sometimes it leads to a heart attack, once a month you wake up at four am, the weather changes all of a sudden and you walk right into a shower. You get the drift of what I’m talking about, those inconsequential abnormalities which we treat as normal without batting an eyelid.
Something very interesting happened about 3-4 weeks back, a blogger found a glitch in the calculations of weather and temperature increase that the meteorological bureau had worked out for decades. A measly 0.015 change of temperature, so whats the hoo-haa about one would ask. With the increasing temperature and global warming and all the other signs you keep talking, reading and learning about; you just might have miscalculated when the ice caps will melt. Well I’m being a little extreme here but take two minutes on this thought – would those missed heart beats actually be a pattern that you don’t know about yet? Would those small twitches I get on my back actually be telling me that I might have a slipped disc a couple of years down the line?
In the end it always comes down to numbers and that’s why I’ve always been fascinated with it. For example, take the temperature of everyday day upto 2 decimal points for over a decade, we would tend to think that the average temperature would give us a decent indication. Now calculate the same with decimal point of not 2 but 5 decimal points. You will be startled at the difference in the averages you get. Now when I think of it, I wonder if a decimal point change in the revenue or expenditure of say India budget affect a million people in the country. Doesn’t math and numbers lose its meaning in such cases, where else would such an exact science become a weakness.
Companies and manufacturers in everyday field are trying to move to 6 sigma, nevertheless keep in mind that there are still defects. We can never become perfect but we sure can try our best and this is where the thought comes in. Isnt this the only gap that is there, the errors that we accept as normal. What if I tell you that this abnormality has a pattern, this wayward incident actually has a set pattern of its own. And today governments are spending billions to understand this abnormality that exists in every stream. I guess it’s a big enough thing if this is the case right?
When you get time, have a read at James Glieck’s Chaos, might help understand the enormity of the situation.

Original thought

2007-07-30T19:50:00.000+05:30

When was the last time I had an 'original' thought?

A route to heaven

2007-07-30T19:46:00.000+05:30

Criss crossing across busy channels
Each stream pointed towards a cause
A meaning to one on that path
Driving home from school with me.

Looking out the window, a blur of grey
Through city buildings and glittering glass
Small patches of green at every park
As the world fastens by.

A courtesy call, slowing down
The white stripes calling a slow
Hurried steps, hurdling each to the important task at hand
Milling over to the other side,
Brisk over the fresh white snow

Staring at the changing frame,
Fogging up the pane
As a little girl in the car beside,
Watches too while aimlessely kicking her legs about

Will my mother be looking out,
Would the oven have been used for my favourite,
My lessons talk of these fantastic worlds
Smiles and laughter everywhere.

My street I see, there we played
Those posts I knew well beyond blind
Desolated a look I find familiar
As the cold catches me unaware.

The chime gongs away, a good long wait
I see the curtain move on the top window and the door slid quietly open
I wonder whether they will notice the time
And ask if my term was over.

so when exactly is it only my independent choice?

2007-07-30T19:44:00.000+05:30

I can think, I can work, I live an independent life, I make my own rules, I don’t repeat what others say, I don’t get and wont get influenced by others – at some point, at multiple points in time, we would have, I have thought some of these lines. They give a certain kind of confidence, pride… of standing up by myself, of having made an independent thought, knowing that I am capable.
As I walked into the ice cream shop, I kept wondering of the fallacy of all this. Here I was asking the vendor which flavor was good, I guess my taste-buds weren’t working or the cone I got was a slow moving one. The weather was hot, the ice cream cooled things off a bit so I really didn’t care. More importantly my mind had already gone off into the next dimension. My ears were in the meantime catching bits of the exchange of words between the vendor and the next customer. I want the choco chip, is it good? Yes ma’am, it’s the best, freshly made. I haven’t ever heard a vendor say that his produce isn’t good, fresh or the best. Here ma’am, this isn’t that good, it was made last week, not too fresh but its ok, edible; wont that be the day.
The news last week was shooting out news of Haneef and his alleged involvement in the bombings; so much so, they made almost all of us believe it to be true; today he is released, innocent but already branded subconsciously; isn’t it?
There are so many average movies that become hits and blockbusters with reviews. A CEO becomes the next management guru because his PR agency had written or edited some of his outstanding write-ups. I let myself be influenced by those in my favourable environment. I trust the news channels to be giving me proper information, I believe that news papers are usually right and do not exaggerate. I also believe that my family and friends wont lie; and I believe that the ice cream vendor sells me the best ice cream in town even if its 3 days old. Today when I vote for a candidate, I don’t vote believing his words and promises, I vote for him because he seems to be the least corrupt. Fine, I might be exaggerating here but you get the drift.
I guess it is in-built in me; I don’t take all these things into consideration when I think, I’m thinking independently. My girlfriend or my sister would definitely influence my choice of shirt colour, “Your cupboard is full of grey shirts, why not get a red one?” , “this spaghetti is really good, you should try it sometime”, “I think you will fit right into a management course, this institute provides quality education…..”. Choices are influenced even without us knowing it. The first names when I think of non violence and freedom are Gandhi and Mandela; Vivekananda influences me, Hitler too influences me but in the reverse and so on and so forth, the list is endless and will remain so. This is because these do not come into reckoning when I talk about influence and independent thought.
I’d still take a choco chip or blackcurrent even if the tutti fruiti was made only an hour ago.

Its growing cold now...

2007-07-27T09:50:00.000+05:30

Sometimes it hurts so bad to let those you care so much about go away,
then a quite voice tells me that it is not my choice but theirs,
I understand, I accept, I honour,
yet the pain does not cease to exist.

Sometimes it hurts so bad to let those you care so much about go away,
I want to fight it, I want to hold on till the end of time,
I do not want to let go,
yet the pain only grows as the time comes close.

There is so much still to say
but no words to say it,
There is so much to do
but nothing to describe it

Standing here I see but dont know
walking the days, a ragpicker on the streets,
awaking to blankness, only fear within
while i wait and wait, for the choice was never mine

where is the hatred, where is the anger
is it not the pain i should react to,
neither is there for the voice comes slowly
I still will lose her, I am losing her

Then the body kicks in, an automated response
you immerse it all into that lump in your throat
and see your whole self growing numb and more
you start to breathe, the jog lifts to sight

I know the world is fooled
but not within me.

me and my spellings

2007-07-16T19:09:00.000+05:30

i dont like hurting people and i like helping people, yet when i die, i will be remembered for that flash for the good i was and hurt people for that good i was.

my paradoxical world asks me to build a balance and in that i lose my conscience, yet i build a logical world else i should lose my existance.

I still want to live, i am selfish, i am scared, i am a coward. yet there is that urge that scratches and pulls, thats howls and cries, that fights and screams to be let out.

I want nothing more than a whiff of freedom.
Only a whiff for it is new and too intoxicating, i know anymore will take me away.

hinges on rebellion

2007-07-16T19:01:00.000+05:30

I am but what the world sees, i am but what the world wants me to be, I am what the world thinks of me, i do not exist.... i am but a figment of the worlds imagination.

yet i live,
yet i feel,
yet i breathe,
yet i laugh
and i cry

i am the world
i am myself
i am noone

tread lightly

2007-07-11T12:34:00.000+05:30

While walking my path of freedom, do i wonder whose paths i tread on...

Here we go again....

2007-07-11T12:31:00.000+05:30

Sitting cross legged on my bed, listening to the tune of Munngaru Malle resounding faintly from across the road, I’m suddenly wondering blankly; without any thoughts coming through. The mind has this uncanny way of working and churning out subconscious half processed thoughts to be completed later, a time unknown and unaccounted for. Discussions and way laid lines from a conversation before, recollection of something read somewhere while without you knowing it, pieces of puzzles put together come together to make sense of something one would have never thought of. The art of doodling comes naturally to me, I have caught myself many times deep in thought over nothing in the conscious mind.
Phases of slow and steady progress broken by in between surges of activity and gap filling thought mingled with a sense of wonder as an afterthought over the power of the mind, the task at hand and the humour of the unknown.
“She has become very old, almost 12 years; not long before she packs in”, my colleague was explaining to us over coffee earlier in the day about how his dog was losing her eyesight and banging into things. It was the most natural think to say, he had rescued it as a one year old puppy and had since become a loving member of his family. I remember my science classes in school, learning about an elephant living till 70-80 years; our eyes becoming as big as tennis balls in wonder of a tortoise shooting past the 150 year mark. The simple explanations of why and how satisfying our curiosity for that brief period of time when the bell rang and the teachers rushed away with sighs of relief from our never ending inquisitive questions. With more lessons came answers and practicality; such simple things were accepted with out questions as more intriguing and engrossing questions took away to the limelight.
College came and suddenly we caught ourselves discussing vast topics including society, population and it benefits and disadvantages to the country in general; many thinking of regions with no boundaries, such shocking and new attributed never thought of before ideas and brainwaves. From suggestions simple to silly, thought provoking to complex, we had the most hope, young unbridled and tense filled with the fresh zest of life.
The heart beats only a certain number of times and then shuts down, such an insensitive and scientific way of looking at a demise; almost in resemblance to a much loved dog packing in. While we roam the vast reserves of complexity we build for our emotions, it is our actions that speak their language while the words roll out vivid scenarios with the tongue. We slowly will become immune to such ranges of sensitivities; having to pinch hard to feel the pain.
Would logic go to the extent of calculating the life period justified for a man to live before being ordered to close his eyes for ever so that he may make room for a new life to experience all that he has. Humans were after all designed to live for a maximum of about 50 years. People often wonder of why it is that they grow old seldom realizing that it is because they eat. Oh yes, we do grow old only because we consume food.
The body is like any other machine, it needs fuel to do any activity and food we must have. So this food is converted into energy with which we then swing the cricket bat, walk or even type the keys of a computer. And like all machines, we don’t have one efficient to use up all the raw material put in to burn. While cars and bikes spew out black smoke consisting of carbon dioxide and unburnt fuel; the body releases carbon dioxide and something called free radicals. These free radicals flow through the blood touching every tissue and cell, creating havoc because of the positive charge in them. As the cells grow old and weak, their regenerating power slows down; which shows up as wrinkles on your face. Of course my ancestor’s heart-rate which was 120 beats a minute is no match for my 70 odd beats, so while his average age was 35 years, I live a lot longer. Now that really doesn’t mean that my body has kept up with the reduction of beats of my heart. So while my heart chills and can go on a bit longer, my knees don’t know that as yet.
So where is it that I’m going on with all these seemingly unrelated streams of thought? Will we in the future set a limit after which euthanasia not only becomes legal but compulsory or will the longing to live longer and longer take each of us beyond 150 years? And which is the better option for this world?
One option is the best method along with other combinations to control population on the earth while the other allows you to enjoy life to your own individual fill
I don’t know but do you even think we will come to such a stage where we would have to decide?Do drop in a mail if you like the style of writing, I am looking to improve it so feedback is very expected.

some more of those liners to be archived...

2007-07-09T20:43:00.000+05:30

The shorter the period taken to create more destruction, the longer the period of peace among nations...

Add another to the list...

2007-07-09T20:39:00.000+05:30

We have in one way or another always used religion as an excuse, as a culprit or as a cause, as a reason and as a path to life. Most times, we allow it to use us even without our knowledge even at times when we believe otherwise. It given so many names, there are boundaries drawn within each religion itself and we each as an individual stick true to our own, believing it to be better in one way or another over something else. There are so many derivations, so many meanings and so many beliefs that have churned out of a sentence or word, over centuries of changes and tides of time; it has now become a potpourri of revelations, each required at a unique instance in life. Add colour and the world becomes livelier, it is the same with religion as with everything else. Today and for years to come, each of us will believe that we understand it better, have our own unique meaning which makes sense to us and live our lives content with its meaning, understanding it to how we see it and believing it to be correct.
To many, religion is a way of life and in its true essence it is nothing but. The paradox lies not in the fact that the end that is searched for is similar though we take to walking different paths if not same but that it is that circle of life which to understand you have to immerse yourself fully but risk the chance of being pulled in into the sea of waves.
He is fortunate who lives in peace with his beliefs without treading on the belief of another. I do not know yet… is he?

April Showers

2007-06-28T22:26:00.001+05:30

A constant drumming, never letting u forget
Of sunny days & life behold
Within the confines of the little shelter
Braving life as it weathers by

A music only built on the drops
By those with unfathomable strength
A deep wisdom that twinkles in the wise
Of a silent understanding of the deprived.

As I patiently wait, the storm withering by
I learn the little secrets of my cocooned life
In all its charm, a world unlike
Very easy to move in but a difficult flight

A life not for me, chains cannot en-spirit
As my soul cries out for freedom & the blue
Holding back from maniacal bounds
Is only from dark histories within.

Boundaries defined, a mind weakened astray
Games of life, of death he plays
The warmth of hope is all one has
A smile on your face & the spark alight

Fly over mountains & deep blue seas
Inside crevices & beyond depths of the clouds
To play on the treetops & swing my hands free
As I run along the shoreline, away from constant reprieve.

The green cover after a wet spell,
As the parched earth gives out its intoxicating smell
A world opened new, beautiful it always was
Waiting a while for these eyes to open wide…

Refresh!

2007-06-28T22:24:00.001+05:30

When was the last time you stopped to smell the flowers....

This is my state of logical philosophy...

2007-06-28T22:20:00.000+05:30

War changes perspective, you have to be in one to understand or even to comment on it. The impression it leaves will last a lifetime. Though we always talk of the futility of war, it is and has always been a necessary evil. Ever since civilization, there have been warring nations, even if there were many causes for it, there has always been one common interest, that of land and the resources it has to offer. In the earlier days, farm lands acquired were a great bonus, cattle, people and gold were in focus. Todays currency is black.
Man has always been dissatisfied with what is in his hand, it is but a natural instinct based on territory and the sense of ownership. The purchasing of land is an extension of the same.
A fair share of thoughts on different lines rush to be written but I’ll hold back most of them for now. I keep hearing people talk of balance of late, work- life balance, inflation & employment, even eating a balanced meal. All aspects have both something favourable and something that is not. Yet they both need to exist for that balance. Does that mean we will always have clashes or wars? I know I sound a little off but when you really think about it, it is as required as peace. Ever since one can remember, we have always had fighting, wars and battles; we have studied them in history, some of us have been in one or two. There always seems to be a requirement for it.
At one particular stage in life, when you’ve seen too much, gone through too much and have felt too much, then you start rationalizing. You accept everything not because it is what it is but because you see the big enough picture to understand it. As time goes by you start to sink into the agony of realizing that everything has a reason and you actually understand that reason. This can possibly be the lowest time in your life and yet you understand that this after all had to happen. It becomes a vicious circle and you accept it for you start to understand too much.
Even though a lot if not all would tend to disagree with me on this, life really isn’t there to be understood. We should not try to understand or rationalize everything, it very simply put kicks the fun out of life. It is not a race to perfection, I find people with imperfections attractive, a smile is not perfect with a perfect set of teeth. I see everyone around me wanting to grow up, gain independence, live life by themselves on their own terms, stand up on their own feet. It is wonderful and perfectly fine, even I want to do it but somewhere in between all this, we tend to confuse ourselves. We tend to start believing and then actually believing that some characteristics are not meant to be for grown ups or for that image that I want to be or become. I know this is exactly where I’m going to start losing all those reading so I’ll end this with something I really believe in. Learn with your mind but don’t lose the art of learning with your heart, it is the essence of what we are really searching for.

Treasure troves of knowledge

2007-06-26T20:58:00.000+05:30

Books have always fascinated me, from the time I laid hands on one, its been a magical journey. Running through enchanted forests, flying like peter pan, mystery, suspene, thrill, happiness, joy, sadness; you live so many lives, each unique, each special all through the mind and the words you read. I’ve learnt so much only because of books, it has opened up new horizons and shown new doors. Every walk of like has been influenced by what has been in between pages, right from school over to college and the new medium of the net; it has given me so much information, provided so much knowledge. I am fortunate to have had access and still have access to so much. My interest has only been strong because I have had them always around me, in front of me. My parents used to read a lot and I was fortunate to be born into such a family.

Now while working with children, one of the major drawbacks I am witness to is the fact that they do not have access to such books and information. It is not the lack of will but the lack of information that such avenues do exist. When you talk to them, you see their eyes light up, their complete focused attention to the information you provide to them, the discussion of how electricity reaches your home and the bulb overhead, how is it that a remote works, where to TV channels come from, how is it that I can see it on TV… they listen with rapt attention, absorb every little detail you tell them and then bombard you with a hundred questions…

It is not that they are not intelligent or not interested, it is just that they do not know the opportunities available to them. That I think is something to be worked on…

Everytime I (becoming far in between now) visit the National Library (Bangalore), its usually empty. I keep wondering that though it is nested right in the middle of Cubbon Park (hundreds of children come everyday); how many go to the library (or to the museum on kasturba road)? How many know the value that is within those buildings? The value in those buildings cannot ever be matched, it is a treasure trove for those who would only venture. I vividly remember the library in Coorg, hours together spent reading in the room while it poured outside. Every two months in the year while down for our vacations was a treat in itself and very prominently in memory is the afternoon sessions in the library. Gently tucked in between the State bank and the Rotary School, this was where I met all the scholars, the dramatists, poets and the fictionists, here was where I made friendship with superman and chacha chaudari, asterix and krishna.

I keep wondering when it is I will start my reading library, a place where people can come and just enjoy reading, where children will come for the love of knowledge and to meet their very own super heros. Something that I have been thinking about for a while now and would like to do. Crossword, Sapna, Gangarams, British Council and a handful of big book stores - Can we open one big reading center? Not a Library, no lending of books; just come, read and go. So many books lie wasted, seconds and thirds kept in warehouses and cupboards, never seeing sunlight or igniting a young mind. I am thinking of how this can be made a self sustaining model. It would be great to hear your comments on this.

1

2007-06-26T10:27:00.000+05:30

"The work an NGO does, is willing to do and will be doing is directly proportional to its ego...."

The Shuttle

2007-06-26T10:11:00.000+05:30

The nine O' one to the clock
Keeps astep the milling crowd
To hopes of love, happiness and the divine
Never noticing the shuttle so loved
Always a place for me inside

Five planks of wood, a forest itself
Witness to a million lives
A shelter for worn out feet
And gum that always had to hide

Long stories together I have heard
Of children and pranks aside,
With solace, heart break and tears for the lost
A few hundred counts of anger belied

New faces, those I daily visit
All strangers by name left aside
A practice on purpose, none ever asked
For the hour was pleasant within itself
Comfort only a friend can provide

Grandchildren visits, an ailing mother, a win here and there
It was here that one felt free
Burdens left outside the sliding doors
Never wanting to be found.

In patience, the time caring for one
A gentle word, a kind hand
A smile shared all around
Blessed is the nine o one, always sharp on the clock

Kalam...

2007-06-25T14:21:00.000+05:30

The power struggle has started and things are slowly beginning to clearer with respect to the Indian presidency seat. While Shekhawat and Prathiba battle it out, it has crossed my mind a couple of times of the kind of self worth or honour Kalam gives himself. While Prathiba is embroiled in a loan mishap that her brother is key in and Shekhawat is busy sharpening his knives; I found Kalams response to the second tenure very unassuming. He doesn’t want to do it, but will if pushed to the task, he would accept it. He would like to go back to teaching his students either way.
Kalam himself is a refreshing change to the post of President of India; accepted it is not the all powerful one when taken to the likes of a president of USA etc etc but the way in which he has handled the responsibility is pleasant. I am not a supporter of Kalam nor am I saying he isn’t the right person, just looking at the person for the gentleman he is. Yes, others wrote poetry, he is a physics expert. A lot of people and the media have termed him a people’s president. While he is a charming man, a vote online I do not believe is a good representation of the whole of India. The man has brought out many little things. Fine fine, the media goes on about him not wanting a different chair, he holds his own papers for a speech and stuff but when was the last time you saw a president encouraging others like Kalam has and is doing? When was the last time the person literally on top of the hierarchy so approachable? What Kalam has done has brought more warmness, more affection and honour to the seat. The man has never been a politician, I doubt he would ever want to also but that is totally up to him. He has not been a good president when it comes to ruling or helping govern the country, accepted. Acknowledged but I would not want to overlook what he has brought in also.
He is a teacher, a professor, a person who helps others grow many times above and beyond himself; that is the honour he has brought into the seat of the president. Whoever becomes the next president, I wish them well and hope that it is for the benefit of the country.
Kalam in his own way has brought a human touch to the post and it is a welcome change in the political scenario which we otherwise see.

Through the windows

2007-06-25T11:48:00.000+05:30

So strange a stride, weathered yet strong
A slow steadied beat, each move assured and just
As if calculated well before time

The swiftness of a thought abound
As wolves hunt a pack a prey
Conditioned to counter the vast reserve
Steadfast in the arctic sun

A fog envelopes, blind as night
With no moon to guide, yet the stride
Never misses a beat, nor the cane a divide

A world of fantasy, love and hope
Flowers square with walking trees,
Yet the sane huddle in a corner stone
While pride moves up the sheet

Into the blue, with a skip and a dance
For hasn’t it been all along
Accustomed to rays of light in the blackest of the nights.

A scalpel art of love divine
Light to light and dark to black
A new meaning, a new world
Monotony within the economies of the large

No more sure, is the left step the first
Why have the flowers lost their charm
A world seen through one single sight
Longing to return to those beautiful sights

Traffic

2007-06-22T16:35:00.000+05:30

Just had a meal and dropped out of the air conditioned office (its just not for me), to get some fresh air, see the sun and come back to humanity. Slowly looking at all the traffic passing by, bumper to bumper, all in their own worlds; having to reach places and important meetings, to an occasion, late for a meeting and the usual confusion – the roads were choc a blok with traffic, increase with schools starting.
Every road I take in the morning is blocked, resounding with honking and silent grumbles (havent seen one smile from a commuter mind you, I keep wondering who they take it out on at work). Bangalore roads are fast becoming one way shortcuts to our final destinations.
Everytime I hear what could be done, the apathy of traffic control, the corruptness of the regulators and a hundred other reasons, but hold on, isn’t it me who is driving, am I not the one behind the 2 wheeler or four wheeler? So if I drive safe, follow traffic rules and stick to my lane… u mean I can actually get where ever I am going in time, with a smile on my face. Wow, how come I’m not doing that? Ok ok I’ll get out of the sarcasms and ideology and look at something more realistic. Raising awareness and bringing a level of conscious approach from each individual in this matter.
There are a few NGO’s who are trying to work out something working closely with the traffic authorities but can we not do more?
I dont want to suggest a traffic policing by volunteers because its just a short term solution. Instead bringing about awareness of what one can do to ease a jam, 5 do's and dont's when you are stuck in traffic etc. In the end, it will change only when it comes from within.
Possibilities:
- Have bumper stickers with safety messages
- Would tying up with car manufacturers or even service centers be too far fetched? I mean if i can have a 'Drive carefully, our dear ones might be crossing the road' sticker next to a 'My next car is a Swift' sticker (nothing against Maruti, its the most common one I've seen (and of course the service centre stickers).
- Make it cool to have a 'I Care' sticker on your car (like the 'Coorg Wildlife' sticker). Associate the 'I Care' with something specific like a traffic campaign. It should be specific only for retention in the mind or as they say mindspace.
- Each car serviced by a showroom to get a pamphlet with safety messages or driving tips.
I found the giving the rose and pamphlet exercise on MG road very unique (done for road safety) but it could be only a limiited activity. Even images with accidents with half mutilatd bodies lost its edge after the first few weeks, yes we are thick skinned when it comes to you bringing your vehicle into my driving lane.
- Viral Marketing - use forwards as a medium to spread awareness, its probably the most wide reaching free publicity activity after word of mouth. (Apologies for being so blunt but how many fwd's of Infosys Infrastructure have you seen?)