Being Prasanna ©

"A Post to Remember"

2011-01-07T13:16:00.000-08:00

Prasanna was 95 when he died. I had a nice friendship with him. I am 90 years old physically but 25years old mentally. Senility has given me more things than it has taken. I always have this hope towards future though i know that end is near. My first publication was in Ananda vikatan magazine in 1944. I was a young satyagrahi then. I was taken aback by Gandhi. Many young women like me were drawn towards the national movement then, just because of Gandhi. With his principles and methods, he represented a father-like figure for us.

Things apart, I used to have a really nice talk with Prasanna till his death last month. We were walking partners for 10years. Chronic diabetes had made my doctor to prescribe for walks everyday for me. It was then I saw the real senile world.

The world of many old people I met during those walks, were loomed by fear of death. They portray themselves as enacting the last sequence in the drama of life. Soberness, sorrow and desperation always dominated their thoughts and speeches. Well, I am not of that kind. I worked in archeological survey of India for 30 long years. I had traveled places and had excavated lot of sites. I had lived a meaningful life and I am ready to accept death at any moment. So that makes everyday a fun ride.

Among all the walking partners, Prasanna is a different person. He talks about medicines and how herbs are better alternatives to british introduced english medicine. He used to say, before English medicines came to India people used to be treated for thousands of years with natural medicine and it was highly effectual.

It may seem like a mundane talk for all those M-Tv generation people reading my post, but at the age of 80 you hardly can find people talking like this.

Age hood in India brings tremendous amount of respect, but least recognition. The two main things that needs attention in India are Voltage (electricity) and Old age. I had applied to work as a freelance writer in local journal, just to be turned down with a note saying that I am old and I wanted rest. I am not cutting logs or laying roads everyday that I need rest. I am still active in my mind. So is Prasanna and he also had this same complaint towards the worlds view of the aged people.

Well to recount my past.. The 1970s were the toughest years. I worked in ASI office in Delhi. It was in those years that Indira Gandhi had declared emergency and everything was in a state of chaos. But for the elite in Delhi, we always had enough food and enough wine in our casket. But still some mysterious calm was engulfing the air those days.

Then came the dream 80s. and then promising 90s. I am not going to narrate all the incidents in detail and make this post as a look-back on history.

All I want to say is, whatever recaps of the past that you see in news channels, I have lived through it in flesh and blood.

Oh no!! I wept like anything hearing Rajiv's death, I cried like a baby when I got my first Maruti 800 car. I am a citizen of this billion large Republic of India right from its inception.

I am really happy that our young generation of IT engineers are making waves around the world with their intelligence. They say that the Indian economy is one of the strongest in the world and that we are slated to be a super-power soon. I have heard this slogans many times, but this time it seems to be real. I can visually see the changes in the society. It is a good sign. Of all things I had dreamt of, my greatest ambition is to die in a developed India.

But for your information, My grand-daughter is in Houston and my grand-son is in Australia. It is one thing which Prasanna always didn't like and the one topic which we debated about most with hot mug of English tea.

Charlotte Square (Charlottenplatz)

2011-01-03T14:43:00.000-08:00

He took the filter and held it in his mouth. Then he unwrapped the pack of tobacco, took a buch of dried tobacco and started rolling it a paper. A small stuck of tobacco fell on the floor.

'Scheiße' he screamed and started rolling furthur. Beside him was the half drunk bottle of the regional beer and some plastic covers. He had a badge on his half torn coat which asked government to give jobs to the Youth.

'Was machst du hier (What are you doing here) ?' he asked me.

'Ich möchte nach schlossplatz gehen. Ich warte für die U-Bahn (I like to go to palace square. I am waiting for metro)' I replied.

With a puff of smoke with which had the mixed smell of beer and rotten food, he said - 'scheiße..Ich frage, was machst du hier im Deutschland? (I asked what you do in Germany) '

'Ich arbeite hier (I work here)' I replied.

The U-Bahn had come and I have to bid adieu. From the window of train, I can still see the gentleman puffing out circles of cigarette smoke in the air.

I was there in the same station on the evening of new years day . It was a cold January evening. Charlottenplatz (Charlotte square) has a honeycomb like train station. Sometimes, you get confused between escalators and elevators on which platform you should go.

I met the same guy in the same place. I quite understood that in the charlottenplatz U-Bahn station he is quite popular. This time he was having a regional zeitung (newspaper) and reading aloud the new year message from the German Chancellor.

This time also he had the same regional beer beside him and same set of plastic covers.

In between his address to the public, he noticed me and came near me.

'Habst du eine Cigaratte? (Do you have a cigarette)' He asked me.

'Entschuldigung! Ich rauche nichts (Excuse me, I dont smoke)' I replied.

He left with a murmur that I cannot withstand German winter without smoking. He went to a person nearby and asked for a cigarette.

Yesterday , when I took a train in Charlottenplatz, he was inside the train. He was overdrunk.

Today evening I had to go to the library again, So went to Charlottenplatz. Took a hot cup of coffee and walked back to Charlottenplatz train station.

He was not there.

As I stood waiting for my U-Bahn, A teenager came and asked me 'Habst du eine Cigaratte?'

I said 'Entschuldigung! Ich rauche nichts'

"Almighty" to "A mighty"

2010-12-28T09:44:00.000-08:00

There was giant streak of lightning. After that the sky opened and there was a huge gush of water flowing from the sky. It was not like raindrops but rather like a waterfall. It was pouring as though it wanted to wash away the entire planet. But it didn't reach the ground. It vaporized on the way down. It formed a hazy layer.

Then came the Sun from behind. It was not like the one I have seen. It was so huge and had a very peculiar flaring effect on me. Someone standing near me cried loud to switch off the sun.

Somebody shouted that it has been such a bad idea by government that it decided to open the Sun cover. There were people crying to switch off the Sun.

But the officials there didn't seem to budge. "No way, we want our people to have vitamin-D. It is quintessential" is what they argued.

Last week, I caught a fellow city dweller over coffee. He said his son almost died of UV rays because government decided to switch on the sun.

"Nobody likes Sun here" he said as he left the pantry.

There was again giant waterfall from the skies, this time more damp than the earlier. I longed for breath. I then Inhaled the oxygen capsule which my wife had given last Christmas. With the orgasmic effect due to gush of oxygen, I began to think.

Sun has changed. It is after all a dying star now. Nobody thought it would bulge and become a red giant.

It had engulfed earth some centuries back. Mankind was rescued to this space-planet.

We created artificial rain, artificial everything. We made a lid over this artificial planet to close our view to Sun. We made giant light which burnt from nuclear capsules.

We wholly detest Sun and it is a demon now.

Anyways, I met my Doctor on the way back home today and told him Happy new year 80667 which is going to happen in a few atomic seconds.

After all, we are not going around any stars but we still needed new year for the party and the babes.

Mysuru Odyssey

2010-03-01T07:47:00.000-08:00

Can I have a plate of pizza, oh I forgot... Give me drumstick sambar as topping. Well, this is Mysore (lately mysuru) for you. A mix of cultures. People saying distances in 'furlong' units, People wearing jeans and whizzing away in their unicorns. Well, I decided to taste this unique mixture on a holiday, and by coincidence it happened to be a 'holi' day as well.(28-feb-2010)

I always believe that Trains are the best mode of transport invented by mankind. Somehow nature has agreed to include this man-made thing into its coterie. I took the early morning train which leaves Bangalore at 4.50am. To underplay, it needs hundred eyes to capture the splendor that you can cherish with a window seat in a morning train. Green fields leave way to bunch of trees only to come again a few yards later. Its like seeing a soliloquy. I reached mysuru at dot 8.

Odyssey #1: The Mysore palace - Where perfection meets the grandeur

The colonial city was basking in the morning rays when I reached there. The gothic inspired arches of railway station has imperial style written on its mortar.

Just leave the railway station, you catch the Sayyaji Rao road which forms the main artery of Mysore. Dotted with colonial buildings and a typical freshness in air which is so common in Karnataka, It took a walk to city bus stand. On the side, of the road we can catch the glimpse of St.Philomenas church whose outlay makes you think that you are in Scotland.

Then we cross some squares, and then we see the Persian inspired bulbous domes of Mysore palace emerging out of thin air. The palace in itself has a rebirth.

The earlier palace used to be a column and beam structure made of wood (available in plenty in this part of Karnataka) which got razed because of kitchen fire during the marriage ceremony of one of a Wodeyar princess in 1897. (A side story here is, in the same year 1897 an outbreak of bubonic plague killed half the city`s population). The royal Mysore king took no time in deciding to reconstruct the new palace, this time more lavish and more fire-proof!

So fire-proof was the design that the Maharajah ordered to make the main pillars of the 'marriage pavilion' in cast iron!

The electricity came to Mysore in 1906, much before the palace construction was completed. So one can see those vintage fans and lifts traversing the rooms whose style is a mix of saracenic, native-indian and european. It makes no compromise with the use of ivory, teak wood and glass-works. And in every direction we see, our eyes always end up in the royal insignia (double headed hawk). Every corner is blended to perfection and it was not so difficult that I started drawing parallels with the city palace in Jaipur (another masterpiece).

The public hall for audience is huge and overlooks the grand garden. Its arches are islamic and its ceiling paintings are Victorian which carries paintings of Hindu deities. This mixture of diametrically opposite culture is quintessentially Mysore.

Here, I would take a stop to mention about the hall of private audience. Its more exquisite than anything and I am running short of adjectives to describe it.

One needs to see the palace in night on Sunday nights.. Thousands of light smile away the splendor of the palace to the night sky. Its a photographers delight. It cannot get more royal than this.

Odyssey #2: SriRanganatha swamy temple, Srirangapatna - Back to those stone henges

We read a lot of history. Many say that first millennium (1AD - 1000AD) is the most golden of the ages that India has seen. Different parts of India had this so called 'Ram Rajya' at different timelines in first millennia. But we have awfully little sculptures of these glorious days.

Some sculptures though have stood against time and conquests to tell the magnificence of those days. The origins of the Sriranganathaswamy temple in Srirangapatnam can be traced to 9th century AD and I decided to make the tryst with destiny on the dusky february evening.

The river kaveri forms an island in three different places on its course to bay of bengal.

One of them is Srirangapatna. Located 15kms from Mysore, this is one place where history puts a comma in it long narration.

So often this place has gone into the history that the present-day municipality has decided to give it a break by negligence.

As we walk inside the temple, you cannot control to connect yourself to the past. The same steps that you have taken would have been treaded by the Hoysalas and the Rashtrakutas and Vijayanagar kings. The sculptures in the pillars (of pillar & beam structure typical of pre-islamic buildings) are lord Vishnu in various poses and gives a eerie feeling which takes you to distant past.

This along with Shivasamudram and Srirangam forms a holy trinity of Ranganatha swamy where Lord Vishnu poses in a reclining posture on top giant snake after taking elixir from the sea of milk. This tri-rangam forms the core of Vaishnavite belief.

Odyssey #3: Dariya Daulat Bagh, Srirangapatna - The garden of sea of wealth

War is the catalyst for change in history of a nation. The history takes a U-turn in such episodes and brings forth tremendous human characters and their bravery. A fitting example for this is Hyder Ali and his son Tipu Sultan. Their arsenal and men matched the finesse and discipline of British. Even the great French Napoleon (after conquering egypt) dreamt of having an alliance with Tipoo sahib to uproot British from Indian Soil.

"Having occupied and fortified Egypt, we shall send a force of 15,000 men from Suez to India, to join the forces of Tipu-Sahib and drive away the English" Writes a French diplomat from Napoleon times.

The mighty soldiers of Tipu won three main battles against East India company. In the fourth mysore war, the Tipu`s soldiers were outnumbered by Company troops which now included forces from Nizam of hyderabad and Marathas.

Yet, Tipu provided a stiff resistance before falling. The defeat of Tipu in fourth mysore war (called as battle of seringapatnam by British) is one of the major events, along with victory of company-men in Battles of plassey and Buxar, which marks the beginning of company rule in India.

The Tipu sultans summer palace (Dariya Daulat Bagh, now a museum) has a lot of this scenes captured in pictures drawn by the company artist Hickey. The murals in the walls of palace depicts the victory of Tipu over red-uniformed company men.

One thing to notice here is that, Tipu is always depicted in paintings smelling a rose flower which is typically mughal style.

A few kos from the palace is this place called 'Gumbuz' which is mausoleum built by Tipu for his father Hyder Ali. The company soldiers later cremated Tipu too in the same place.

As I told in the beginning of this odyssey, so many times war acts as a catalyst. It creates heroes.

It defies future. The battle of Seringapatnam will surely be remembered for the bravery of Tipu and his men.

On the Gumbuz (on the eastern corner of srirangapatna) now connected by a single town bus which always runs 1/2 hr late, lies the tomb of the person who as a scientist pioneered rocket science and as a scholar wrote poem and basically as a soldier thrusted his sword and made company`s uniform more red. This is Sultan Fateh Ali Tippu (Tipu Sultan) for you.

For more information on how to travel to this places, Please do leave a comment.

So. (A short story)

2010-02-15T10:30:00.000-08:00

"Last call for Prasanna.. who is Prasanna out here.?" The loud thud of the voice calmed down hundred whispers. For a moment, There were some faces which showed grief..there were some faces which showed anger... After that brief pause, the faces reconciled and started looking for that soul.

Now, that person in waist coat started yelling.. "Who the hell is Prasanna.? Should I arrange a Merc to bring him in front of me.?"

The faces in the crowd started looking more frantically at each other. No one knows who is Prasanna. But they waited to see him. Sometimes, a victory parade is nice to see even if the defeat is cast upon thy.

"Now.. I am calling off the selection.. The next selection list will be announced after lunch" the waistcoat rumbled a big announcement as the crowd begun to disperse with a ray of hope.

Prasanna was not far away from the place where the action took place. He was sitting in a city park a few yards away. The forenoon sun was frying the park benches. If you can count the dog that was pee-ing in the corner, and some butterflies.. there were hardly any living organisms that moved. The tree, devoid of air, were still like a scene in the canvas. Oh! Forgot.. Prasanna was also still in the park bench.

Suresh came running to Prasanna. "what the heck.. Seeing the sky.? star gazing.? You have lost an opportunity DP" he yelled.

"Ya. I missed it." Prasanna tried to avoid the conversation as he walked away.

"So. what are you going to say to her today.? That you were not able to earn a penny because you were looking for Orion constellation in broad daylight.?" asked Suresh.

"No.. Not Orion.. See here.. Newton circles"

"No wonder.. That you have not yet found a job.. Well, I am trying my luck in the afternoon.. May be I will get my turn in the afternoon and that time I will not be caught star gazing" Suresh left.

---

The door opened after the third knock, the smell of urine of a new born child filled the air. A frail woman was lying in a corner. She was weak and hunger had made her weaker.

"Vinay, From when your mother is sleeping?" asked Prasanna.

The 7 year old Vinay showed a sand-clock.

The frail woman got up now, "Hey Prasanna.. when did you come.? sorry.. I dozed off a little.?"

"Just now.. And again with empty pocket" said Prasanna.

"It okay, I have mortgaged my bangles.." she said.

"No.. You know, I know nothing of construction.. How can I sustain if i take that job.?"

"Its okay DP.. wait for a astrophysics job.."

The yet-to-be named kid started to cry. Prasanna picked the sheet of paper which advertised for 'post third world war' building reconstructions. Half the city of bangalore had to be reconstructed.

"Ok. I am giving it a try tomorrow..Now let me read Feynman"

Jaipur - The beginnings

2009-11-08T09:57:00.000-08:00

My name is Ram Singh Gehlot. Jaipur had been a safe haven for us for five generations. Our great forefathers were traders of semi-precious stones. I retired from the Indian Army (Rajputana Rifles regiment) last year. I had never thought life existed beyond Jaipur, for our Maharaj had brought the splendors that the heavens can offer right into our doorsteps.I am coughing now, and years of army rum has given a slight metallic taste to the cough. The reverse process of becoming a civilian from army man is not always simple. There will be high profile parties, more visits to Delhi(hardly five hours from Jaipur) and more wine. What else..?

I find the past more beautiful and prominent, than the present and the future. The city of Jaipur has history written on it walls. Its royal clan has the the valor running in their blood, for how else they would have survived the most tumultuous of invaders with the might of their sword and their mind. I have to do my little bit to Jaipur.It was then i decided to write about Jaipur.

But I had to ask myself about how much I know about my hometown?.

I had visited many of its historical monuments over the years and have taken photos.

As I child, I had gone to see the Jaigarh fort in Amber. There, I had stood near the largest cannon in Asia. Those days, photography is only for firangees.

Later, After my marriage I had visited the Amber palace sometimes. By then, I had bought a canon model F1n camera (with power winder). We clicked a few snaps Jodily. Later my job took me to different parts of India and landed me finally back to Jaipur couple of years back.

Now, I have a lot of time for reading. Its one thing that keeps me going to forget the loneliness that my wife`s departure had brought. I socialize so little, as i always say it too difficult to become a civilian back again. Rather I find solace in visiting the past.

The next day I took my contessa classic car for service to some second hand repair shop near sindhi camp. I had to cross the walled city of old Jaipur at two places to reach there. I had got up early and whizzed past the old pink city. The red sandstone walls stood ablaze in the morning sun. My car flunked on the Tripolia bazaar and refused to start. The bonnet let out fumes of vapour from it sides. I opened the bonnet and let some hawa to enter. Somewhere do

wn the road is a structure known for its forced circulation of air, the Hawa Mahal. But my cars cooling system seemed to have given up.

As I was sipping a tea to cool myself as the car cools itself down, I saw a an elephant driven towards the direction of Amber town in a truck. It would have completed it regular service unlike my Contessa.

A day later, I decided to drive towards Amber with my loyal palanquin called as Contessa classic (1980 model) which churns out 39 horses power and gives a maximum speed of 30kmph.

It would have been the beginning days of Jaipur, Sawai Jai Singh I formed the new city of Jaipur on the foothills of the ancestral town of Amber. I had always loved to visit the town of Amber which is around 15 mins drive from Jaipur. In my contessa, it took more than an hour. The carburettor breathed heavily as it neared the Amber. With a lot of ooomph-imphhh I reached the foothill of the mountains which house the Amber palace, Jaigarh and Nahargarh forts. Understanding this place is important to know about what made our kings so strong.

For this we have to go back a little, to the humble beginnings of Kachchwaha clan of Rajputs.

Amber had been the seat of power for the Kachchwaha clan of Rajputs (Jaipur Rajputs) right from the 11th century when the procured the state from the meena tribesmen.

Once our kings were the most powerful among the Rajputs, but fate had made us to be defeated by the moghuls.

Our Kings served as distinguished governors and generals for the imperial mughal empire. Mirza Raja Man Singh served as governor of Bengal under Akbar. Later when he was deputed to tackle the troubling tribesmen in Afghan by Akbar, Man Singh secretly learnt the science of making cannon. He then made a cannon foundry in Jaigarh fort in Amber.

Mirza Raja Man Singh was a loyal general to Akbar and was connected to him through a marital alliance. His later days were not so smooth as Jahangir badshah had a bitter relation with him.

At the top of the Jaigarh fort , I saw the five coloured Jaipur flag fluttering in the breeze. The five colours are from the flags of the five troubling tribesmen in Kabul whom Man Singh I tackled.

As I finally parked my car, I decided to take a more reliable form of travel to reach the Amber palace in the top - Well, How about an elephant ride.?

A prologue for a Travelouge

2009-10-28T10:18:00.000-07:00

What makes the train journeys in India so special.? Is it the people we meet or the rustic countryside that swiftly passes through your window.? Is it that little beggar boy who sings in a metallic voice or that American traveller with a mineral water bottle, a dirty backpack and a big travel book.? If you have not travelled in second class compartment in a train in India, You are really missing something.

I feel that trains are subtle microcosms of the diversified yet strangely united country of India. Well, I travelled alone this year. Many Indians don`t do that really. I took a backpack with some books, a couple of tardy jeans, few economy class T-shirts , some underwear and a Olympus camera. With this minimal luggage, and with the assurance that mineral water bottles will be available all over India, I travelled around 7000kms during this vacation. Sounds a bit Forrest Gump'y, but as know 'Travelling alone is like a box of chocolates'..

October is a month, when the rain gods had gone back to slumber and leave a little time before they cover themselves with blanket for the cold Decembers. But the fog never gives up, as they keep kissing the landscape even after sunrays made the eastern sky ablaze. The mornings in north India is the most photogenic landscapes one can see on earth.

As the evening draws a curtain, and as the womenfolk cook the rotis with the stove fuelled by the cow dung that they had collected the morning before, another kind of fog covers the land.

But these are pictures only of landscapes in the countryside.

I have always felt that globalization had made our cities flat. They wear a same look all over India. It was beyond those buzzing cities and the crowded bazaars lies the real places where one can find solace.

Watching the ruins of Tughlaqabad where honey bees have made a dynasty of their own, During the elephant rides to the top of Amber palace in Rajasthan, When you stand below the magnificient Mughal arches of Buland darwaza in Fathepur sikri, And when you view the mighty Ganga mata in Varanasi.. you begin to feel the minutest part of timescale that our lifetime is composed of in the face of earth.

In the coming posts, lets know more about India. As we proceed..We will together travel to a city which was a dream for every king during the medieval age, to the most beautiful building in the world, to the most sacred places one can visit , to the most planned city in India and so on. Sometimes we will be travelling through Camels or elephants. Briefly We will be eating some real spicy Kachoris and some sweets which brings heaven to earth for a brief moment. Come lets travel..

God and Krish!

2009-08-13T10:25:00.000-07:00

Its a strange thing. God never pays visit to earth in this kalyug. But he did so yesterday afternoon in unforseen circumstances. Krish was waiting for his girlfriend in coffee day and the god just took a seat nearby.

God! Krish would have been pissed off coz of that. Reshma is always late and now a puffy guy with a long hair sits next to him with a coffee.

"I like this Irish coffee with Hazlenut" said god.

"Hmm! If you dont mind, I am waiting for someone." krish was restless.

"I know that dude, but I am sure I could give you a good company till that someone comes".

'Goddamn' thought Krish. "I dont talk that much to strangers, you know" Krish reverted back.

"Oh! Sorry. I have not introduced myself. My name is Kailash. I am from North... We are no longer strangers Krish" said god.

"Holy cow! How did you know my name" said Krish putting back the ID tag of a popular software company in his pocket.

"I know. So, I have come" said God with a sarcastic smile.

"What the heck you want from me.. Mr.Kailash something.."

"I just wanna know if there is any referral in the esteemed company. I am just fed up of my previous work." Said god.

"Brrr..Yet another job seeker.. by the where are you employed now.?" asked Krish.

"Well.. I cant disclose now. But to say for sure, I have a quite an experiance to fit into any software company"

"So.. Why switching jobs.. no hike.. no onsite..ah..? Its same old stuff here dude. You know, the recession has really hit the rock bottom" grunted Krish.

"Not really.. I just wanna see more people... you know.. contacts really help" said God.

"Hmmm.. then.. new to Bangalore ah..?" asked Krish.

"Ya.. first time.. It looks so developed and advanced.. But only minus point is the traffic"

"Ya.. Chill up dude.. you will get used to it. Swalpa adjust maadi.. as simple as that" said Krish.

"I have got myself chilled up already.. Kingfisher" said god with a smile.

"Oh! ya.. Thank God its a Friday. I will buy a can or two.." said Krish.

"Thank me.. I am the god" said god.

"You are #$#$$# drunk.. Get lost.." said Krish.

(A neo modern adaptation of Kadavulum Kandasamypillaium)

Kubera Halli

2009-08-09T12:20:00.000-07:00

Kuberahalli is a place not known for its wealth, If you can ignore the evening crowd in its wineshop.

Its a beautiful place when it rains, The gutter overflows into the road and the rainwater and sand forms a colloid with it. Children with weather beaten looks play in the rain and brazen the harshness of the reality.

The street-lamp is not glowing today. Ahh! Its a full moon today. The municipality had made an agreement with lunar gods and poor chap I did`nt know that. But alas, the municipality have not made an agreement still with the wavering clouds which makes the full moon night into a pitch dark canvas. I walk through the streets of Kuberahalli trusting nothing other than my next step.

The outskirt has railway line close to it and a railway station half a mile away. But of course these children have a strange liking to play on the rails when the trains are about to come. What if a steamer hits a kid or two?

No wonder, their parents would be happy if it had by it wilder probability hit a girl child.

My neighbour in Kuberahalli, Malappa makes a living by driving an auto rickshaw. Everyday morning he fuels his rickshaw in the HP gas station in Bomannahalli, and late in the evening he fuels himself in the kuberahalli wineshop.

That day he fuelled himself more and therby hit a rammed his rickshaw with a raging truck. His right arm got jammed and his eyesight partially lost. But good in the bad, he was drunk for he didnt know the pain. Parvathamma, his wife, cried so loud that night that the entire kuberahalli gathered to console her.

These days she visits the VAO office so often in the late evening and returns back home in the veil of darkness. She gets a few thousands from the officer every month and pities the sane world which talks of something called - Culture!

A great week of movie-ing

2009-07-01T08:31:00.000-07:00

Last week had been dull and sultry in bangalore. The monsoons have officialy failed and the Indian cricket team got banished in the carribean. Thank god, there is a DVD lending library near my office which has a decent collection of movies. Here are the few movies worth mentioning (which i saw last week... listed in no particular order)

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button:

Academy awards nominee for Best film and Best Actor of 2008, Just to lose behind Slumdog millionaire. Brad Pitt in his best performance ever. The lead character in the movie undergoes a reverse ageing process wherin he grows younger as years pass by.

Certainly a noteworthy movie for it 'out-of-the-bush' theme and some very good art direction.

1947-Earth:

Second movie in the elements trilogy of Deepa Mehta. Story is set in Lahore during the partition times and shows the real pain of partition atleast in couple of scenes. Solid performances by Aamir Khan and Nandita Das and some good music by none other than the legend - A R Rahman.

If you want to see an off the shelf hindi movie with some real life characters, then here is one.

Seven Pounds:

The same team that worked for 'In Pursuit of happyness' have paired up for this masterpiece, though you cannot avoid drawing parallels with the former. The story becomes very emotional towards the end and is ideally suited for people who have the tear bags overflowing in their eyes. But this sullen looking and slow moving movie suddenly becomes watchable because of one man - Will Smith.

Fight Club:

The second David Fincher movie that I saw in the week (following 'TCCBB') . A movie that remained in my 'to-watch' list for a long time and it surely didnt disappoint my long wait. Brad Pitt again in the lead again with Edward Norton with a psycho realistic storyline. A stylish and trendy screenplay typical of Fincher`s movies stand apart. If you like movies like Memento, you should never miss this one.

The Onion Movie:

Its a 'good-for-nothing' movie and its USP is it being 'good-for-nothing'. In US of A..You can make movies in which you can make racial abuses, unparliamentry abuses on popular people and policies all in the name of 'Satire'. If have a long and stressful day in office and want a laugh without applying your mind, then here is one.

Mystic River:

I always wanted to see this one dark movie from Clint Eastwood. It was his 'Million dollar baby' which I liked most. But preceding that, this Sean Penn starrer set a critical acclaim in box-office.

A movie to watch on late saturday night.

The GodFather:

May be this is the 17th time i was watching this movie. And to tell you the truth, each time I see the movie i understand how movie-making should be.

The one scene where Marlon Brondo talks to Al Pacino (towards the end, where he says someone is going to be traitor) is an epic and should be framed and shown to all those people who aspire to be directors.

GODFATHER - A legend.

Blogo-Maniac

2009-04-26T03:53:00.000-07:00

A few non-blogging months had nothing so special in it. Firstly I gave my lappie to my bro. Secondly got fully into reading a novel. Thirdly, the IPL.

It had been a pretty dull sunday form me till now. Saw a couple of movies in lappie and then some solid day-dreaming. Then I realised that I have a blog to maintain. A cold feeling went through my spine. Prepared some coffee and here I sit down for the 42nd post of my blog.

It was a humble beginning of sorts for my blog after flopping badly with my first attempt.

I cannot tolerate the stillness and dumbness these blogs impart on me. In my own eyes, I have seen myself transform change my opinion about blogging.But I still like blogging because of other bloggers. I get to know some charecters here. Here I take some moment to hav a look into my fella frequent bloggers.

RG was/is my friend from my school days. He is as creative as a NASA supercomputer. He keeps writing blogs with thinking at the speed of light and with vocabulary which will make those phoren sahibs to pee on their pants. I have once told him that blogging is a nice time pass and is a good way to express the emotions. He said 'Well..may be.. but also write something which will make sense'.

The second blogger I know is SM who likes to call himself insane. When he is not taking pictures of himself in his K800 he writes some really good blogs. Something which really questions the social setup and leaves you with no answers. He told me once that his real problem is reading so much books. I told 'Virtue of one may be a vice for another'.. He nooded and wrote a blog about that also.

One other blogger always writes aboout the people he meets in the bar. His neurons make better connections only when catalysed by ethyl alcohol. He had denied his invitation for dinner more than once.

Recently, this blogosphere has got into some real limelight with the fake IPL blogger from the Kolkata Knight riders outfit.

I feel that somewhere above the stratosphere lies a zone called blogosphere where minds meet over the dumb world below which is obsessed with matter.

L.A.S.E.R (Life As a Software EngineeR)

2009-02-20T11:44:00.000-08:00

My job involves:

- Sendin useless mails to wierd ppl, with a billion ppl in CC
- doing a bulk 'mark as read' once i have 50 unread mails.
- long and mind numbing meetings about stuff i don't understand.

- Handling crisis custom made to make life a hell
- Browsing and wastin time in general

My Skillset:

- Delegating work...
- Askin so many clarifications that the person who delegated work to me felt he was better of doing the work himself.
- Takin frequent sick leaves.
- Finding proxies to open emails.
- Playing flash games

- Pulling pranks on my co-workers.

- Drinking 4 mugs of coffee per day.

Future Plans:

- Nothin :-|

who said there is no learning in software industry?

Kalyani

2009-01-20T11:06:00.000-08:00

I prayed it should not be.. I had hopes that it wont be.. It could have been but it should have been later.. But it had....

Kalyani was our neighbour. When I was 7, we moved to southern part of Salem. South Salem is really calm and quiet. Its dotted with gardens and the rare peepal tree that you can come across.Mostly I used to go to a garden after my school hours to play. The game will continue till the evening sun makes way and a curtain of darkness is pulled by the night. Soaked with dust, I used to go back to my house. Kalyani never came for playing.

I saw Kalyani last week. As you know, I take off weekends to learn about myself. In this software job, thats the only time where you can find something meaningful.

The long walk to the hospital had made my legs pain. Note that, I preferred to walk rather than to drive so that I could think about myself. I buy time out of the world.

Kalyani yelled "Ah, Japan. You have come at last. " as she saw me.

No one calls me 'Japan' but for Kalyani. I remember she christened me with that name when I was 10. I had/ have a small nose and tough hairstyle which makes me japanese look-alike. I didnt like the name then. I have a weird reason for that. It sounded like 'chappani' which translates to 'dumb guy' in Tamil. But she kept calling me 'Japan' [spelt as 'Chapan']. It was irritating. I had slapped her once and had thrashed her with my school belt one more time in connection with this issue.

Last week when she pronounced 'Japan' correctly,I was surprised. She wont give up things easily. .

"You havent got me anything during this visit.?" she asked.

"Ya. I have. will give you later" I said.

Again this was her childhood habit. She always looks for some new things to be brought in every meeting. If you dont take any gift, she will speak with a disappointment in her voice. But that will only be for a couple of minutes. I used to wonder how a small gift can make this girl`s world so bright.

"What have you brought.?" she asked.

"I wont tell you"

Regular chemotherapy had made her bald. Cruel. She had hair that was jet black before getting this cancer. She was looking like a 80 year old. She was just 26. And she had knocked the gates of heaven 5 times already. Life is a cruel design.

"Tell me what have you brought" She ordered and then broke to a chain of cough.

I dont want to describe Kalyani in this part of her life. She was beautiful for me, no matter what people claim for the definition of beauty.

"Something special and its suspense" I said.

I never thought that a person like Kalyani could die so young. Yesterday she died. I got a SMS from her brother about the same!

After that, I walked all the way to hospital.

During my walk,I thought about the fitting present that I gave her a week back. I will miss her.

One hell of a man

2008-11-18T09:44:00.000-08:00

I am writing this blog sitting in a TNSTC bus. I am on my way to Chennai . But this should not stop me from writing about Vidyut sir. I have seen umpteen number of numb posts in various blogs in which people revere their role models. I am afraid that this post on Vidyut sir should not create a 'one-more-blind-praise' kind of a sense. One of the greatest virtues that I learnt from my Vidyut is to disrepect the venerable. Thrash the so-called 'established' ideas.

He had a Lambretta scooter.. a spanish guitar in living room. He reads Mir publication books and normally smokes in the terrace. I had some of the most important lessons in life and science in that little terrace. I dont want to make a statements like 'I owe him a lot' 'He showed me the way'. Certainly, he would not like me to write such things in my blog or diary or whatever. He told that there is a door and that I should apply some force to open the door. I opened it and I saw the world.

I met him when I was 20. I joined the college and I took a single room avoiding the hostel. Vidyut stayed in the room nearby. He was a lecturer in Physics department. I was doing BSc Zoology by the way. He was 10 years elder to me and a divorcee. I never have asked him wheather he has kids or some mundane questions like 'How do you kill loneliness?' . I had always thought that his days were worth more than 24 hours .

'Life should go on' He would say lighting a kings cigarette. And as the smoke engulfs his face he would furthur say Richard Bach`s take on Life. The illusions.

I once read his diary. It was a shameful act. But I could not resist myself from getting to know on what goes in backgroundof Vidyut. It is just a breathtaking note of a practical individual.

I once asked him about relations on earth.. It was those days when I had a crush with someone in my college. He said that if you believe that the relation will work out then there is no point in hesitating. I had not got introduced to that girl before. The next day, I said 'Hi' to her. She is now in US doing masters. I usually meet her in g-talk and our conversation normally starts with the usual 'Hi'. In was just of few chats in our college canteen, I got to know that its just a crush and then the wonderful episode of friendship blossomed.

I left my college jobless. It was a cruel phase where reality hit a harsh blow on me. Vidyut never cared about me being jobless. I read Bach and Capra during daytime and in nights I used to go to terrace to see the constellations. We used to go for a late night tea in my motorbike. (I had a IND-Suzuki then). All he gave me those days were some puffs of cigarette and the freedom to take any books from library.

What is big reason for me to write this long post sitting in a bus, Where already a thousand eyes have peeped into my laptop screen looking into what I am doing.

This Vidyut is getting remarried. One hell of man he is.

Mr.Mani and Me

2008-11-13T11:18:00.000-08:00

We can easily get a cycle for rent if we go with a reco and a SOP (statement of purpose). Mr.Mani is kind enough in that aspect. Despite being a owner of a cycle-rental, he is a part time musician (plays thavil) and a amateur story writer. He has become a part of my daily routine. Palani is too small a town for cycling, but I had to get a rented cycle to go to my office. No distance factor involved here. I should park my cycle infront of my office and walk briskly towards the entrance. Well, that gives me the feel of a employed graduate.

Next month I am applying for SWF loan and I plan to buy the recently launched TVS50 moped. It will save the rent that I give to my dear Mr.Mani. And I should apply for a LPG connection and then I should get a stove also.

"Sir, Why not you choose writing as a profession? Anyway you are writing well" asks Mr.Mani.

I get him a tea and a gold filter.

"Well thats fine.. Do you know where can I buy a Television..? I cannot pay it at one shot.. So tell me a place where can a have a good EMI" I ask him.

And then that day when we shared a smoke below the peepal tree... "Sir, I read your short story on Lankan tamils.. Superb sir.. Where do you such wonderful ideas sir..? " He asked.

" I got a TV.. It at 0% interest EMI" I was telling him.

Mr.Mani once wrote a long short-story and gave me. He asked for my opinion. I remember I saw that bunch of papers again when I vacated my house from Palani. I had ruined a tamil literary scholar right at his budding stage.

" Sir.. I will say you where can you get a good deal for housing loan.. But before that tell me your opinions on short story which came in Vikatan written by Sujatha.. ? Awesome na.." He muttered.

"Well.. I have not read it so far" I said.

Now here.. I am sitting as a 60 year old.. The literary 'me' has already died and was cremated with honours. My literary boundaries ends with dailies.

Why I am mentioning all these.. ? Last sunday I got a letter from Mr.Mani..

It was in 15paise yellow post card.. He tried to compress the wishes of his family members in one side of card and in the other side of the card he asks "Have you read Tolstoy..? You should read to appreciate the beauty!"

A Filmy Friend

2008-11-04T10:38:00.000-08:00

The more I see movies, the more encouraging I feel. Yes, I feel that I could make a better movie than most of them. I agree to the fact that it is an 'industry' but I cant digest all these craps made in the name of commercialisation. I should be able to enjoy the movie in any part of the world. It should not portray local emotions and people. It should kindle the inner artistic spirits of every human being on earth, no matter where he is from.

I have a friend who wants to overturn the way in which Tamil films are made. He lives in a mansion in Triplicane, Chennai. Fortunate enough to be an assistant director if a movie which was dropped, He now works as an Assistant of an assistant director who shares his room in the mansion. Both have atleast 20 stories in their repertoire. Action, Comedy, Sentiment, .. and one item number kind of stories. Phir bhi Pass ho gaya! kinda themes. I was not able to discuss with them about Kurosowas or Goddards. Their gruelling poverty strikes me. I asked them to take stories from their own lives. A good director should always maintain a diary or a blog and capture his emotions then and there.

"DP! In this fouth story na.. I have a scene before the intermission. The Hero stands on top of a mound.. The heroine runs towards him.. And there was a gun-shot"

"I pray that the story ends there itself" I said.

Some fallacies: (also applicable to movies in the past)

I think a girl`s father would never decide to kill his daughter just because she refused to marry a guy who was chosen by him.
You wont be reconnected on phone when you bang the button (where receiver is placed), These shots normally come when the villain threatens and cuts the phone.
No boys hostel is so shabby & No girls hostel is so sauber as shown in the movies.
There wont be a case where there is no exchange of words between parties in a fight.
Not all the beautiful people are intelligent.
There is nothing called 'Love at first sight'..

(Readers can post more in the comments (in films between 1990-2008).. The best of them will be awarded a book on 'How to write a screenplay?' written by Sujatha)

I asked him to correct some of the common fallacies in his story. He greeted me that I am going to be the next-sujatha in larger context. I paid the bill for the dinner. He argued that he can make 'Nylon kayiru' novel into a movie. God save the king!

As he came to Central station in Chennai to see me off, I asked him a realistic question.

"Do you have some scripts in your mind already?"

"Thats least important! Now its time to make contacts with big people" He said.

It is a more realistic answer.

Cadence of soul

2008-10-30T14:28:00.000-07:00

Hold on! I could hear light. How often this had happened to me before..? It an eerie whizz that has got emanated from the crust of the lamp and its audible to me now.

Call it 'Chevlovsky effect' or whatever..I will now have the third shot of today. The mystical chemical reaction had already begun and it has started cleansing the tawdry marks in my soul. Reality is something that has to be quarantined. It is the sickest thing on earth. It kills the fantasies and walks over the cadaver of the illusions. I push reality to the corner with this chemical elixir.. but it pounces back at me with vengence. Reality is the greatest nemesis of mankind.

The light have now changed their note. It is a shriller now. I hate this.. It kills the ambience. Who on earth invented the sodium vapour lamp.?

I am an antagonist to my own beliefs. Its a pleasing thing to oppose someone and its more pleasing to oppose your own reality. Try it out folks!

Let me have the fourth shot of the day.

Directors cut: This is supposed to be the first scene in my film. It is jus one frame where a fetid young man with beard gawks at a sodium vapour lamp on the roadside. He is doped as mentioned. Just a lesson in writing screenplay. I should convey the thoughts of that person through some camera angles. Let me try.

Nandi Hills (a short story)

2008-10-09T11:36:00.000-07:00

Vijay decided to kill Bhaskar. It was not an immediate decision. He had thought about it a few months back but had to postpone because Bhaskar had taken a leave.

Vijay felt betrayed. Why english was so hard to him..? Is it his fault that he wears thick glasses and finds difficult to speak with girls.? Some people are groomed like that.. They are failures of a ill-mannered society and a shabby culture. Vijay had never felt so low.

Bhaskar met Vijay a year back. That was the time when Bhaskar was new to office. Some people are flamboyant by default. They make friends easily. They do things with a panache. Bhaskar is one of them.

"You seem to be quiet always.. Why not you speak out..?" Bhaskar asked Vijay as both lit cigarettes.

"No! I am always like that" Vijay was taken aback by the blatant question.

In conversations after that Vijay opened up and told his complexes to Bhaskar. To list down a few -Vijay is short (his height is 5 feet 2 inches ). Vijay cannot speak English fluently (he studied in Kannada medium). He believes he is impotent (smokes 15 cigarettes per day). He has curly hair inside his ears and wears cylindrical power glasses (attributed to genes). And in top of all that he wants to speak to a girl so badly in the past few days.

"Just go ahead and start the conversation" Bhaskar advised Vijay.

"How can I..? Ananthi is so beautiful.. How can a person like me.. A dumb squib like me talking to her.."

"Hmmm.. Can I help you..? I can introduce her to you" Bhaskar had a faint smile.

"No! for gods sake.. Leave me alone.. I am more than happy with my Byron and shelly"

"Then marry them.. Dont ever think of Ananthi" Bhaskar left.

Vijay stood in front of mirror that night. He does this so often.

"I know these people. So mean and so trite. I cannot reduce my self esteem and go and talk to someone.. Why should I..? Is she so important.. Let her come and talk to me.."

The following day was Ananthi`s birthday.. People were wishing her all the way from morning. She looked more beautiful that day.

"Come on Vijay! It is a good oppurtunity. Go and wish her" yelled Bhaskar.

"Shut your mouth! Why on earth should I wish a stranger for their birthday.. Everyday on earth thousands of people were born"

"Hey! You are nuts.. Its better you consult a psychiatrist"

"Mind your words Bhaskar! Please try to argue within your limits" Vijay left as he shouted this words.

That night when Vijay stood infront of mirror he decided to kill Bhaskar. He was waiting for an oppurtunity from then on. It came yesterday. Everyone in the office decided to go to Nandi hills for a excursion.

"Hey Vijay! You are gonna come for this excursion" Bhaskar commanded vijay.

This is what they call 'digging ones own grave' ... Vijay had to make exquisite plans to kill Bhaskar. It should look like a accidental fall from the mountain.. He should also take Bhaskar alone detaching him from the friends circle to accomplish the ordeal. Lets see what happens..

It was a jeering journey in the bus. People were singing and dancing. Ananthi was in white dress looked like an angel. Vijay and Bhaskar were sitting in the same seat. Vijay was not involved in the activities.

"I should atleast kill one useless person on earth.. Being stupid is not his fault.. But how can he mock at me.. I am destined for something big.. How can he mock at me for not talking to Ananthi.." Thoughts went like a flocking feather after a bird hunt.

People started talking the same old office stories once they reached Nandi hills. Everyone tried their best to show that they were child-like by their heart. Vijay wanted to act quickly.

"Can you come with me for a walk? I want to talk something personally" Vijay asked Bhaskar.

"Ya.. Why not"

Nandi Hills has a fort built by Tipu sultan. There is a special place called Tipu`s drop from where the prisoners where dropped from the hill. In the current topography if someone falls from Tipu`s bend they will directly come to the second hairpin bend.

"It had been a terrible year for me Bhaskar" Vijay started.

"Hey.. Cool down.. May be you are thinking so much.. Have you been to NIHMANS..? I told you to do so."

"No Bhaskar! I may not need it"

"Hmmm.. you keep turning down my suggestions"

Vijay laughed. The valley infront seemed to echo.

It happened in a split second. "You dont need to live anymore" shouted Vijay and kicked Bhaskar into Tipu`s drop.

Venkatappa received a urgent call. He called two of constables and reached the 2nd hairpin bend of Nandi hills. As the police jeep reached the spot, people moved and made way for Venkatappa.

It was a gory scene. Venkatappa had to bend backwards to see the Tipu`s drop on top . It was like a faint dot.

"Hmmm.. What is name of the victim?" asked Venkatappa.

"Vijay Bhaskar! sir" told one of his constables.

I read my 2015 diary

2008-09-27T13:11:00.000-07:00

Daylight was pouring through the windows of the wagon. The smooth tweeters gave a shrill and the air conditioner soothed the eyelids. I preffered Pink Floyd.
I have yearned for cars. Those days, our neighbours used to have a Premier Padmini.. I used to wonder why people call it Fiat. It used to be mode of travel for our imaginary journeys to the destinations of which always used to change.

Bangalore is a nice to place to start your career with if you dont consider the 'harsh reality' part of it. All you need is to do is to adopt yourself to 'swalpa adjust maadi' ing with the people.
Those days, I used to walk everyday to office in the morning. Bangalore wakes up late and all you get is some half sleeping magas serving masala dosa.
I used to meet those people who sleep in the roadside.. Those children.. Who used to sleep tasting the taste of tar. And that small boy who always sits near traffic signal and wishes me as I pass.
I never used to wish him back. Those were days when I started building my bourgeois basements. I didnt know then that happiness is inversly proportional to bank balance.

Then I started to go by autorickshaw to office. I saw less of the road side people. I used to take a book to read on the way. Kipling, Dickens, Byron,.. Now I saw a different set of people. Life changes right.?
I was sent onsite to the city of angels. Ya, You are right. I got a bike after I returned from there. I used to like those long distance trips with my sweetheart. Hmmm.. Motorbikes.. Its one of crazy inventions of mankind. I was a part of 4 minor accidents in bangalore from 2009 till 2012.

I was sent onsite to the land of rising sun. Needless to say I came back. I bought a Audi Q7 Quattro.. I married my sweetheart. I started delivering lectures on the 'six sigma' and have written a few books about them also.. Next time if you go to landmark, see them in 'Non-fiction' section in the first floor.
Here I am.. I have shifted to the fourth gear and its now its 'The great gig in the sky' in the stereos. Pink Floyd is immortal and so is audi Q7.

Nowadays I realised that I am not at all noticing the roadside children. Those people have never changed. Still someone sits near the signal. Still those homeless children on Tar road.
Its cold in Bangalore nowadays.. I feel like burning all the literature I have read to warm them up. Who is joining with me.?

JarHead

2008-09-20T07:11:00.000-07:00

That day passed without any significant activity. That was a Friday and people are expected to leave for the day very early, only to swipe their credit in the money thirsty malls in Bangalore. There was an apparent urge in the faces of people as they returned from the afternoon round of coffee-break.
"Hey dude! You didnt come for the coffee?".
"Ya! I know" I replied.

I saw the monitor. It stared back at me in return. It was when the telephone tringed. It was a long trrrrrring. Must be a call from the customer... May be he will be asking some questions which will be a fodder for my technical hunger.. May be he is appreciating the piece of code written by me some six months back (my last attempt of glory).. I picked up the call..

"Hello Sir, Am I speaking to Mr.@@@@..? This is Reena calling on behalf of XYZ bank..Would you like to..?"

"I would like to ask you one thing ..How much are you paid Ms.Reena..?"

It was not new for me. I had seen periods of no-work. But this time it was for a longer period of time. It began with a recession in US. It still has its roots on the declaration of war on Iraq by Mr.Bush. Its root is on what is called as sep.11. It again has its roots on guys like Osama and so on.

Seems strange. But this is how I analyse things nowadays. I am not here to do this 'news-channel' style analysis. But reality is this. I go home from office at 6PM everyday and I am forced to watch news channels as I totally disagree with the shows which claim to hunt for talent.

I went for an Onsite. It was last year when I was sent to the city of angels. Well..thats when I saw the faces of people whom I yearn to converse with. They hold a doctorate in their area of interest and still keep their head cool and straight. My 'knowledge' is like a David infront of their Goliathness. Well.. David slays Goliath only in the books.

I never complain for the sorry state of being software engineer. But just give me some work which will help me to prove my mettle.

These are extract from the diary of my friend who used to work in a leading software firm in Bangalore. He had quit his job recently to start a business. He recently shared on how his knowledge on 'Supply-Chain management' helps in his idly-dosa business.

John Mascerhanes for you

2008-09-12T12:43:00.000-07:00

As he took the pick and touched the strings of guitar, he began to forget everything. John Mascerhanes was stoned. He had multiple shots of cocaine that night. He had a fight with Elena that night and may be because of that he may have overdosed. He sat in the balcony of his 2BHK apartment and started with his guitar.As he caressed the strings to give life to a Pink Floyd number,he felt the beat. The beat that had chilled his spine. The ecstacy on earth. The orgasmic feeling that one gets when they create music.

The tempo of increased and it was reaching a crescendo. Why should you think, that he has to get into daily chores of life. He was a born musician.
When he has the guitar in his hands.. It screams, cries, laughs and some time talks. He persuaded for what wanted. The one dream which he chased till he saw the dark side of it. He still lives on this side.

Elena speaks photography. She composes optical sonnets. She also goes high with cocaines and thats what brought John and her together. She was pale for 27 years. Hunger and dosing are the parents of creativity and both John and Elena had both of them in plenty. They were college mates. And they were living together since then. Now Elena wanted to have a baby and thats the reason why there was a misunderstanding.

John played in the bars around Panjim. He used to play immortal numbers of Beatles and so on infront of a doped audience who can see music and hear colours. He had been a part of three music bands which had never released an album. He had given up the idea anyways.

If I had finished telling about John Mascerhanes with last paragraph, then you would not be having the complete information.

That day, after playing a solo in his balcony.. He went back to his room and dosed himself to death.

Vincent Prabhakar

2008-09-08T10:22:00.000-07:00

Hello Sir/Madam.. Just two minutes..Do you know Mr.Prabhakar..? His full name is Vincent Prabhakar. He used to live in the corner house in our street and used to drive a age old bullet motorcycle. Can you recollect him.?
Anyways, as you dont know about him. I should tell a story. Kindly bear with me.

This Vincent Prabhakar is a poet whose feathers never flocked beyond the crowded streets of Emmahalli. Writing a poem is one of the adulterations of the adulthood. But he went far beyond that. He writes a lot of self-sympathetic poems where he portrays himself like a ugly noob in the art of loving. He writes his classics in 40 page unruled notebooks whose stack had increased from last January. From then on till his death this September, He had completed 30 notebooks straight. By the way, he died last saturday at the age of 26. He was laid to rest in St.Stephens crematorium which is very adjacent to the Emmahalli bus-stop.
Till now I had not come to the story, sorry sir I have a lot of diversions. Even Vincent is also like that Sir.

This Vincent loved a girl. She was the daughter of the local MLA. You might have seen that in many movies. But what interests me was the collection of poems that the great poet had left behind and his notes. He is well versed in Kannada. But the language is just a trail of his thoughts. His lines in the poem are just the trails left behind by the prancing horse which is his thoughts. I thought of quoting his words here, but this blog is too small a stage to showcase the maestero.

Lets not go philosophical. I do run a risk of losing the readability of this blog if I do that. I will give you bare facts.
Emmahalli`s sole claim for fame was a big-ben like tower clock till Hema came here. She completely shattered the dreams of everyone in Emmahalli. She stayed in the house adjacent to Vincent`s. He used to tell us about her voice.(She is a trained carnatic music singer). She comes to collect the flowers from the corner shop every morning and that when we came to know what made Vincent to go mad behind her. She is beautiful! I have tried to include some adjectives here.. But English is running out of adjectives.

Vincent spends a lot when he is happy and we have a reason to praise his poems. Soon it grew into a addiction to him. He will write a poem and then go for a smoke and then will sit again fresh for a new poem. It has just become an oxygen for his literary life. We (5 star friends group) were praising his poems all the way. I think I praised it in the beginning of this post also (the prancing horse!) and I hope the remaining 3 stars would have already written an ode in their respective blogs.

We also thought she was very much involved in love towards him. It seems last friday Vincent saw her in the garden with another person. And both of them were alone.
Vincent`s letter of departure was a poem in itself. He claims that glossiest of the diamonds leave behind deepest of cuts and so on.

We.. from Emmahalli friends association (5 star group) have decided to publish a collection of Vincent`s poems. Kindly give some donation sir. Vincent Prabhakaran is a great poet.

Master of his own Arts

2008-09-04T10:28:00.000-07:00

He was 26 and he looked like a 45 year old. The overgrown beard showed that it had not seen razor for a week. His pale eyes were bracketed by thick spectacles in an attempt to look at his inner blindness.

"Hello DP" he yelled.

Now..thats a little surprising. Only my close pals call me by this name and whenever someone calls me DP my memories go back to my school days. It was in those when an official "Divya Prasanna" got into a short and user-friendly "DP".

"Sorry I cant recognise you" I said looking deep into the sullen eyes of his.
He told his name which I cant mention here. To be frank, I didnt recognise him from his name. It was one of those common first names that you would come across in south India. But i didnt want to embarrass him.

"I know you did'nt get me by name, I know that" he said. His first smile revealed traces of nicotine on an ill-arranged teeth.

"I am sorry to say that. But you know all these days I am into lotta work.."

"You into Software.?" He asked. That was a blatant question.

"Yes. Kinda.."

My cellphoned beeped with a good evening message.

"So you should have a fat paycheck, a costly mobile, a credit card and cozy friends"

"So.. What do you try 2 say..?" I asked with a profound caution.

"Oh.. sorry I didnt try to offend you in anyway..Thanks for the talk" He said and lit a cigarette (without a filter).

"Hey.. Dude.. cool down.. what are you up to..? How come in Bangalore..?" I tried to break the unpleasant calm.

"I am up to nowhere.. I am in Bangalore because life took me here" He said as a thick cloud of smoke engulfed his face.

"You working here.. A BPO/An ITES...? Hey.. U look like a Journo.. workin in TOI..?" I asked.

"I did my M.A in English Literature. And life has already shown the harsh side of it..Life is not a
spectacle or feast; It is a predicament" He said.

"Yo.. stunning words yaar.. Predicament... That should be from word list 32 in Barrons" I said.

"Bar..What..? I've read only Byron"

"Leave it yaar.. I gave up preparing for any competitive exams.. It is not in my spectre anymore" I said.

"I feel a verse from Byron as I see your restlessness"

"Me.. Restless.. who said..? You callin me 'restless' guy.. How dare.." I was restless.

"Hmmm... Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom"

"And Jill came trembling after.." I said.

Among other things.. I came to know that his childhood sweetheart, one Ms.Anandhi had left him and that he smoked 15 cigarettes a day. He spoke a lot about Byron and Shelly. He gave me a cold look when I asked about his job.

All throughout we meet a lot of people in the daily life and each of them carry a story behind them. Some crumble with weakness and sought for a premature ending for their life. Some stand brave and fight against distress who soon will reach the pinnacle. And in between them there are people like our young rebel.

We just reached an ATM as we walked talking with each other. I just excused to take some money for the weekend. My friend preferred to stay outside and enact a soliloquy with his filterless cigarette.

As I came out of the ATM counting my notes. He asked with a brisk tone "DP! Have you considered taking a Insurance?".

Software professional with 2 years experiance

2008-06-20T23:25:00.000-07:00

By June16, I completed my 2 years in the software industry. Two years of affiliation with coffee mugs, computers and coding. It has given me some solitary moments which helped me to define myself. Some expectations went in the drain and some oppurtunities clicked when it is least expected to.
Hello external world! Dont ask an IT professional "Hows work?".
It sometimes throws the harsh reality which makes us sometimes to feel nostalgic.

On a lighter note, I feel like sharing with you some interesting questions that I faced in last two years about work -

Which domain are you in..?
On which platform are you working on..?
Shall I forward you my resume..?
What do you exactly do sitting in front of monitor for one full day..? (by an elder person)
What is your pay package..?
Is there onsite oppurtunities in your job..?
When are you writing GRE..?
What plans for the weekend.?
Why you didnt come for the team outing.?
What is your rating in the performance review.?

Welcome to get Bangalored!

SHE - II

2008-05-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

It was a sunday and it rained heavily. The hazy winds accomponied the rain and the sun was visible as a faint bleach in the wrath of black clouds. It was dark inside my house and it was just 1700hrs. Time seemed to come to a stand still and my mobile got switched off because of low battery.

I stood in the balcony to see how the rain god is casting his spell on the bystanders. There she was hiding with a baby in her hand under the poorly laid tin roof.

The rain drops percolated through her hairs and her eyes had a shade of bleakness. The child was crying. She is probably the mother of that child. She might be having a drunkard as her husband who boozes away all his earnings. She might be very well working in xerox shop or a telephone booth. And may be saving her fortunes to buy baby food.

She was wearing a wrinkled salwar and had a age-old mobile in her hand. The baby was still crying and she took out a feeding bottle from half torn jute bag hanging to her left shoulders.

I wonder what plans she has for the future. She would obviously like to make her son/daughter an engineer. She would obviously change the company if she feels that her manager is having a wrong motive. She may leave the kid in some missionary if she wants to end her life or she may very well become a nun or so.

We often attach a lot of respect towards things like pride,success..etc. Success is something like a light in the tunnel but its that of an approaching train. There she is standing in the rain with a wailing baby. She might very well have failed. But she is beautiful. All those wrinkles and bleakness that her hardships had given her had made her more beautiful. I dont see beauty in the coat of success. Its the failure and the hardships that makes one beautiful. Well.. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

I went downstairs to grab a cup of hot chai. And there she came to the bakery with the baby. I saw her buying a cream bun and giving a small piece of it to the baby. I slowly walked near her and asked her gathering all my courage "How old are you?"

"19!" she said.

On Thinking and Relationships

2008-05-10T03:16:00.000-07:00

What do you really mean when you say "I am thinking!". You recollect your memories and circumstances in the past and try to arrive at a solution for the current problem. The pre-conditioned mind gives you data from the vast memory repository that it has and you simply take a piece from the archive.

Now.. Do you really need to THINK in order to solve a problem. Is 'thought process' really helpful in solving a problem. From my past experiences, I have found that 'thinking' actually complicates the problem. 'Thinking' just sees a part of the problem and gives a solution for that. However, the vast majority of the problem which was unexplored in the past remains untouched.

Now I come to the most important aspect in human life - The relationships. By relation I mean friends, wife,lover,parents etc.. whom you think of even when they are not there. We approach towards a relationship with a pre-conceived notion. If you say 'NO' then you are telling a lie.
We think a lot before we involve ourselves in any relationship. We tend to draw parallels from the past relations and derive a hypothesis before we engage ourselves in a relation.

No one is alone in this world. If he/she tries to seclude themselves from the world then they are merely acting. All our mannerisms and characters are mended with every relation that we have. Relationships are the must for survival. Can you imagine getting yourself locked in a closed room for a week or so..?

But we really think a lot about the relationships and tend to complexify the entire chapter of it.
Some relationships are broken because of intensive thinking from both the sides. Relationships are not the ones that are to be approached via the tool of thinking. You need to do 'thinking' only when you want to draw some parallel from the past. Like when you want to write a code or something like that.

Relationship is a myriad path which was not discoverable by religion,sect, philosophy etc.. But merely by feeling it.

If I had raised a few questions in your mind. Then I am through. I wont think much about this post after I had posted it.

A hot cup of coffee and a teaspoon of philosophy

2008-05-04T11:04:00.000-07:00

I was standing in the balcony and was enjoying a late evening coffee. I took the time to look at the twinkling stars of the evening sky. I had just read JK* and what else do you want to make your Sunday evening beautiful?
People worship success. Its what drives them happy everyday. Suddenly when they become void of success, there is a big vacuum. Success is like a black hole in the cosmos. It absorbs all the other feelings that surrounds it.
Have you ever looked at the women from village who carry pots on their head and walk towards the horizon..? Well, I met one of them last summer during my vacations. She was thin and pale and walks three kilometers for a pot of water. I asked her what success means to her. She gave me a sarcastic smile and told success means making her son a city-dweller.
I met her one more time last month and she was even more pale and was totally collapsed. Her son had become a drunkard. He was out of his own senses.
Now who is it to blame... The women..? Her son..? or the blind affection that manhood has towards success..?

Just because i am talking against 'success'.. Dont think that I say failure is fruitful.
My idea just to raise a few questions in the readers mind.

'Questions' makes one to feel happy. Especially asking a question which cannot be answered makes one feel even more happy. It triggers an inner quest then. The mind tries to find out the answer and hence explore. Have you noticed 'Question' has the word 'Quest' in it.

It is very important for one to come out of closed emotional quarters when asking questions. It is immaterial whether you are a Hindu or Christian or Muslim or a young man or a communist.. Any of these should not pose a constraint on you and your questions. Just keep asking the questions and the answers will start to come.
A Zen proverb says "When the student is ready, the teacher appears". Wat say?

Soon one can realize that happiness is not in success but in questions.

* - J Krishnamurthi, JK as he is fondly called by his readers is a philosopher. He is one of those philosophers who dont patronize religion. One can expect a rather serious narration style from him when compared to Osho, though at many places there is a unison between their philosophies. You can find his books in 1st floor in landmark under the section 'Eastern philosophy'.

SHE

2008-04-30T11:32:00.000-07:00

I saw her after a long time. Her voice was still sweet giving some reminiscence of the distant past. She had given up singing though. Bangalore is too vast a place where you can meet an old friend when you are on a shopping spree. But it so happened that I met her in a commercial mall on a sultry sunday afternoon.

We stayed in a small town in central Tamil nadu long back. I still have fond memories of that place. She was my neighbours daughter. My earliest memories about her was playing with a bunch of friends around a papal tree.

"So you are in Bangalore for how long?" she asked.

"exactly 2 years.." I said. I had been Bangalored for so long.

"You must be living in a PG and should be a smoker" She asked.

"The first half of your sentence is true"

" I am with I******s for last two years, I moved to Bangalore recently"

" Oh cool.. Welcome to Bangalore then". I had a warm smile.

"Hmmm.. I dont like cities da.. I still like the woods and the papal tree that we used play around"

" I still go back to those days.. When I am down.. you know". I must be lying here.

"Oh.. Really.. you used to think about me" She giggled.

"Not always.. But sometimes when I see a Papal tree"

" Are you still afraid of butterflies..?"

"Ya.. I am still.. I still consider them as insects.. Its wings are ugly advertisements"

"Hmm.. I had missed you for long time.. I always thoug............"

Trrrrrrrrrrrrring..

My cellphone alarm rang and I got up. I had to rush to WC. Life is like that.

Summer of 91

2008-04-22T11:15:00.000-07:00

Some photos gives an opportunity to go down memory lane. It makes you to go to your distant past when things were as simple and as direct as it looked like. These photos are sweet reminiscence of a ignorant phase of life.

We do grow up and eventually start playing weird games for existence. We get tired of proving ourselves worthy. Sometimes a few extra leaves of currency proves its worth better than you.

A candle dies because of its own light and humans also do.

This particular frame which the photo freezes was a humid July morning.. I had lost a button in my shirt as i always used to bite it. I was little shy because of swathi(who was sitting beside me). That was the maths teacher and the English teacher standing to our left. They did teach about maths and English, but they didn't reveal about the tricky game of life lying ahead.

So with our innocent faces.. We smiled..

For us the world ended within the compound walls of the school. The neem tree outside the wall is something which is extra-terrestrial..

I still feel the stinky smell which one can feel when they go near the coconut tree(seen in the background).. The smell of jasmine which pervades as our English teacher(mallika) enters the class. The sound of bell was the declaration of independence.

Life ended within short boundaries.. The word 'Happiness' was properly defined.. Now its little itchy to define happiness. I define and redefine it nowadays. May be you might also be doing the same thing.

The swaying Tao pendulum is in its 'Yin' phase (this is for my Chinese friends). The Karma is

accumulating.. The good Shepard beckons me in return for the sins. Somewhere back in that summer of 91, I didn't care much about these and hence smiling.
Life is a box of chocolates!

October sky on an April night

2008-04-19T13:12:00.000-07:00

It was one of those hot and humid Saturdays. Temperature was soaring at its peak yelling out a mighty song for the ever dwindling pedestrians. Hardly any people come out these days in the afternoon.

The April nights are cool though. The breeze comes from the North fluttering the flora and the hearts of the listeners.

It is a full moon day. And the streets lights are off due to some strange political (or metaphysical!) reason. It is the time for the moon to take the role to light up this third rock from the sun. The moon had a saintly halo around it (science says.. Halo`ing is due to stratosphere)

Stars are pins on a giant black haystack. They do twinkle. Stratosphere is a giant artist and it juxtaposes the stars and the moon. It has given poets and scientists their daily piece of bread. And this night it is giving me a company on my lonely walk back home.

Ah! Here is Orion constellation (or is it?) . Just turned my head and covered Betelgeuse which may be hundred light years away. And this patches of clouds and city lights, they are villains of space lovers.

Locked in the maze of sky and littled by the littleness of earth, I recollect the October sky of 1957 when the first man made satellite Sputnik(USSR) brushed a master-stroke in the canvas of sky.

fyi...Man is just a Social Animal!

Do you think..?

2008-03-12T11:21:00.001-07:00

தேடி சோறு நிதம் தின்று – பலசின்னஞ்சிறு கதைகள் பேசி – மனம்வாடி துன்பம் மிக உழன்று –பிறர்வாட பலசெயல்கள் செய்து –நரைகூடி கிழபருவமெய்தி –கொடுங்கூற்றுக் கிரையென்ன பின்மாயும் – பலவேடிக்கை மனிதரைப் போல் -நான்வீழ்வெ னென்று நினைத்தாயோ….

Always on the hunt for food -- Muttering out gossips all the time - Letting the mind to be Clutched in the claws of despair -- Doing something which hurts others -- Getting into the grey lined old - Making myself a prey for the fate.

Do you think I would end up like a common man..?

The light is gone

2008-03-02T08:33:00.000-08:00

The light of the neo-modern tamil literary world is gone. The multi-faceted persona of tamil literary circle is no more. On 27th Feb.. Sujatha (real name: Rangarajan) died.
I cant get words to write how much I liked his words. I grew up with his words..
Ganesh and the ever funny Vasanth.. (Two of his popular charecters)
Mukundan in Nila Nizhal..(The shadow of moon)
His charecters in Sreerangathu devathaigal.. (The angels of sreerangam).
Anyone who know to read tamil and had missed Sujatha are missing a spice in life.

A Bangalorian evening

2008-02-22T11:51:00.000-08:00

As the world clutters around me and the sound of an insane motorist irks me, I am writing this article in the middle of a chaos - Its the electronic city. Its friday evening and the IT-thirsty bangalorians have decided to have a shot of elixir. Weekend is the only thing which has a proper definition here.

Guys give a tough time to Rossi with spunky bikes and Girls giggle in their mobile phones.. The scene is set for a perfect friday sunset. The street-lights come into life here and there. The hazy sodium vapour and the harsh mercury ones. The noisy BMTC buses run jam-packed spilling out smoke regularly and people at every stop.

Shops light their front doors and the ATM machines starts to get scratched. The sons and daughters of globalisation take a german car to have italian food in an American restaurant. They talk about Bush,Kosova, Karan Johar and Magdalene.

The dogs come out of the gutter-kennel. These are uninvited proletrates of Bangalore. But without them Bangalore is not complete. It scares.. frightens..terrifies..petrifies. But all the way it tests our endurance.
Now there are more lights.. More blaring of horns.. As the city of bangalore comes to standstill in every traffic jams, you can easily say it half past eight. Again there is cellphones clinging and people trying to sell a duplicate ray-ban at the traffic signal.
Foreigners strangle in the maze of streets with half-torn map and a water bottle.
If u can 'swalpa adjust maadi'... This is a bangalorian evening for you.

Historic Imbalance

2007-10-14T08:20:00.000-07:00

Sometime back, our Prime Minister Dr.Manmohan Singh initiated a committee. It was headed by Mr.Sacher. The purpose of that committee is to find out the status of representation of muslims in various governement departments.

The Sacher committee report was released five months back. It was a true revelation of the status of Muslim community in India.

The report threw light on how muslims are grossly under-represented in various departments. Even in states which proclaim to be minority-friendly don’t have enough representation of Muslims in various sectors (in proportion to the Muslim population)

After the report was released there were wide-spread talks about reservation for Muslims. But strangely after that I find no efforts being taken on it.

It has been left unattended like many proposed reforms.
Sadly, there is no political party which is considering this seriously. This is the fate of this country, if something is not in the politicians mind then it never becomes a reality.

There is no need for any statistical data for justifying the fact that Muslims are under-represented in all departments. If you are working in a IT industry, just get up from your seat and see how many Muslims are sitting around you. Hardly any.?

But go to a economically backward zone of the city, Its major share would be Islam population. Is this a classic example of a historic betrayal, which will be left untold ?

They are branded as 'fundamentalists' by the west because of the sheer passion that they show towards their religion. They are blamed of not sailing in the main-stream. Yes they should be brought to the main-stream.

The change should be initiated from the government side. We should give them opportunity. Through reservations.

Villager

2007-09-18T08:02:00.000-07:00

Our native is a miniscule village in salem district. And from there my great-grandparents moved to salem leaving their fields. They were one of the first set of people moving out to cities which had became a trend those times. They ended up working in collectorates, railways and post-offices which were run by Britishers.

My ancestors settled around 'Fort' area in salem and many of them worked as clerks in collectorate. So their children had their education in schools in salem. Invariably schools were run by christian missionaries those days. There were subjects like british history, domestic economy..etc (I peeped into the grade-sheet of my grandpa last week.. It was dated 1930-33).

A few of those educated lot ended up working in services. Few got through ICS (Indian Civil Service). Few of them turned rebellious against british raj and went on to work in tamil dailies.

And most importantly few went back to villages to work as tahsildars(VAO).
For those tahsildars, it was a kind of home-coming. They perched into the lands of their ancestors , and with solemn authority given to them by the raj they governed and dominated the village.

Time passed by and there were a new generation of people coming. These people were the first sons (and daughters) of independent India. They worked in banks, telephone exchanges, PWD bords. And a considerable lot were left jobless(who were sons of so called tahsildars).

This jobless lot turned to the most primitive occupation of mankind - agriculture. They produced corns,rice and sugarcane from their meagre lands. And devised their lifestyle to meet with the meagre earnings that they got.

When the world went crazy with the information revolution in late nineties. They were immune to that.Their only view of urbanised India is through their visits to their relatives whose ancestors had preffered to stay in the city.

With every visit they carry the innocence and ignorance of villagehood. I met one such person last week.

He was carrying a two dozens of banana and a bag full of maize (all produced in his farm). His language is so different from that of city-dwellers. He showed a lot of attachment to people which is so uncommon among urbanised people.

He would refer to the name of a distant relative (whom we can barely recollect) and say that he has twelve cows in his backyard. For him its like having a hefty back-balance.

He wanted me to take him to a movie, a recent block-buster in Tamil. At first I tried avoiding that by telling that tickets wont be available. But he was determined.
Inevitably I took him to a theatre which was jam-packed with people. I was crushed and calcined before I got the ticket. And that too I managed to fet only the front row tickets!

I have never seen a movie sitting in front row. And you cant simply do that when it comes to tamil/telugu movies. There were only buckets of mud with the word 'THEE(fire)' written on it between the front row and the screen.

Everything seemed to happen in high magnitude. So far , the balcony seats had offered me a nice asylum for staying back and enjoying the movie. But now.. I am in the thick of the action. I felt like being in the middle of the gang which was thrashed by the hero, the hero was staring at me and his eyes occupied two thirds of the screen.
Never ever sit in a front row and watch the movie.It sucks big time. After all this.. I turned to see how my counterpart looked like. And to my surprise his face glazed with the sense of amazement. He felt it was previlage to sit in front row and watch a movie.
After the movie was over and we started to move, he got my hands and said "It’s the greatest honour in my life. You made me to sit in front row".

I didn’t want to shatter his belief that he was honoured by me. After all life is all about those moments when you feel you are honoured by others.

Wiedersehen

The language

2007-08-13T09:11:00.000-07:00

What is the language of breeze..?
Is it sound or music...
What is the language of flowers..?
color or fragrance..
What is the language of oceans..?
Waves or the foam..

When the breeze blows, there is no direction for it..
When the love flows, there is no language for it..

When the cloud speaks.. it is called as drizzle..
when the rainbow speaks.. it is called color..
when truth becomes dumb.. Tears becomes the language..
when womanhood becomes dumb.. Shyness becomes the language..

When the night falls.. stars becomes the language..
When your sweetheart is near you.. Her touch becomes language..

The above is the translation of Kaatrin Mozhi song from the tamil movie Mozhi (2007).
Simply breathtaking lyrics. Very subtle music by Vidyasagar telling the power of silence.
Sung by newcomer Balaram..
Hats off to the team.
This is my second favorite song.

Wiedersehen

L O V E

2007-08-08T06:09:00.000-07:00

As I start typing this post, I got one text message from one of my friends.. It goes like this.. " If you are failed in love or don’t get any.. Don’t Worry.. Its nothing but your fiancé's prayer…"

Well.. In this post I am going to talk about one of the most fascinating yet most intriguing thing that has gifted as well as haunted mankind. LOVE.

Philosophy says that world exists because of love. It’s a thread that stitches two hearts. Psychology says it’s a alter-ego. Also it stresses that insecurity of loneliness pushes one to love. Science says that its rush of hormones. It is a chemical reaction.
History has a lot of love stories in it backyard. Taj Mahal is a standing example for that. Literature is almost numb without love.

Love is all around in the air. The only thing is that you have to grab it. You have to feel it.

Society is against love. Lovers are the most happiest people in the world. Society doesn’t want happy people.
Happy people don’t go to the warfront in times of chaos.
Happy people never builds bridges or lay roads.

Elders are against love because they were brain-washed by religious pundits. Rulers are against love because they fear that the fragile barriers that they have built with caste and creed will be broken by the mighty force of love.
So an ordinary sociopath is made to shy away from love. His succumbs to the peer-pressure. I will call it as a domino effect.
The same phenomenon that makes the share prices to crib also makes the human mind to crumble - The domino effecr.
I whole heartedly support love. I am against the concept of arranged marriages. I would say love is just a natural thing. Just like sneezing, coughing,yawning I would classify falling in love.

Now.. Should I also fall in love with someone and make the world a better place..? Sorry.. I am from Mars…:)

X CROSS ROAD X

2007-07-01T03:02:00.000-07:00

He was helpless . He was standing and watching humanity as I do. He was too weak to cross the road . Some one from the other side of road was shouting at him. He took them for granted. He was smiling. His face was dull but his smile was bright.

I asked him why people are shouting at him, he was left with no answers..
I asked him "why you came to this side of road?".. He said "I don’t like the other side."
His hair was uncombed.. His shirt was torn.. He was barefoot…
Is he made to be like this?
Is this the fault of him or the fault of society..?
He likes to remain in the this side of the road.. Here he can see greeneries.. Here he can smell nature.. Here he had that smile..
Now..He prays.. He cries.. But violently he is taken to the other side.. The materialistic side.. And he is made to stay there itself.

When he had crossed the road to come to this side, people shouted at him. They frightened him.. They made his life dreadful..
Nobody likes this side of the road.. No one wants to live in the realistic side..
They find reasons to avoid realistic side.. They want to live by mind rather than by heart.. Therby they remain in materialistic side.

As I stay back in the realistic side, seeing the little boy violently dragged to the materialistic side ..The little boy was still crying… His shirt was torn.. His face was more dull.. He had people around him who were still scolding him for crossing to the other side.. He was taught that crossing the road hereafter is a sin and that he had been given last excuse.. An elderly priest was also preaching him the same thing, taking quotes from epics.

I was laughing.. Human beings always like misery.. They always like to travel towards uncertainity..

On which side of road are you now..?

Distant Lands

2007-05-19T13:15:00.000-07:00

Kerala is known as 'God`s own country'. You have to be there to realise it. It’s a land of endless splendors. It’s beauty is breath-taking. It’s a place where nature still nurtures.

Sometime back I went to kerala to attend a friends wedding. She was my college mate. Thamarassery is a microscopic village in kozhikode district.The bumpy roads didn’t stop the rumbling bus. 'Mayilvahanan travels' read the board on top of the bus. Its conductor had a thick moustache and was holding a leather bag (with the picture of mira jasmine) in his hand.

The bus spit four of us in Mangulam. And there was a boatman there flicking his mundu in style. We asked him the route for thamarassery. With a smiling face he offered us a ride in his boat. The ride was nice and cool, with the amber rays of sun making us to feel blue. From the distance I saw thamarassery.It is a little paradise.The entire geography of the village ends in 4 kilometers, but it has a world in itself.

Northern kerala is dotted with backwaters which give a typical feel to that place. Thamarassery is no exception to that. The boatman threw the half smoked malabar beedi as we landed in the village. The waterbody was still bathed by glittering rays of sun, which managed to perch through the coconut leaves. As a mark of respect, he removed the turban in his head.We gave him a hundred rupee note, which he accepted with a prayer.

I alone can hear him sing 'welcome to hotel kerala-fonia' …Arghh.

An old 'Prem Nazir - sheela' number was blaring from the nearby toddy shop as we walked past. On the other side of the road was a old malabar style house with a 'sickle-hammer' flag in its roof. Communism still sells in kerala.

All families in that village survive by the money sent by their dear-ones from dubai. My friend is no exception to that. Her brother is working in a leading petroleum company in abu dhabi. She got into our college through 'management quota'.
As we walked past a wooden bridge which was helplessly hanging over the water, I can see a wealthy settlement on the other side. It’s the place where all the 'dubai-settlers' have ther ancestoral homes.
Each house in that area was a piece of art-work. I don’t know what gives that traditional feel to them, the king-size pillars? The rezhi (vacant area in middle of the house)? Or is it just the smell of coconut trees nearby?
Tears of joy were rolling down from the eyes of my friend. She is the first one among our friends circle to enter into the next phase of life. Soon she will be going to fly into the distant lands of sharjah.
Whatever scarce malayalam we had learnt from our friend, we spoke. Or rather I should say 'we sang'. Yes.. It’s a musical language.
As we started after the ceremony we were given a bag of sweets.. Coconut.. Banana.. More coconut.. As we started from that beautiful village , I decided I should spend my retired life in Thamarassery. No doubt.. I would be a full time poet then.
Distant lands are always green!

Auf wiedersehen

Enemity

2007-05-07T08:36:00.000-07:00

Last week I was reading a book called "The art of war". It was a book written in 250BC by a chinese general called Sun Tzu.

The book was full of tactics that one should adopt in a battle. I found striking some striking similarities.

It says "one who takes allies for granted will lose friends, but one who takes enemies for granted will lose himself ".

"My world is defined by my enemies. Friends always encourage me for whatever I do. Enemies sets the benchmark. They push me towards peak. I can live in a world without friends, but I cant live in a world without enemies" says Tsing-Ti, an emperor in han dynasty.
Now...Are we living in a world which is void of enemies..?

US is a developed country now because they had an enemy in the form of USSR. European countries are developed because there was an enemity during second world war. Japan also took part in second world war. You can see that all the developed countries now took part in some battle in last 100 years. All the technological developments have been from such countries.

Interpolating this, I would say, Sri lanka or some African country (like Uganda!!!) will be the next superpower. The enemity is in their blood. The brain behind any innovation is surely the rage to vanquish the enemies.
Just because we don’t have that rage.. Just because we were told to do 'satyagraha' to make things happen.. I think we lose the edge.
Right from the childhood we were taught not to quarrel with others. But it had made us meek, made us like little kittens.
We don’t fight for our rights. We take things as it comes to us. We live life at surface level. We get stressed because we are denied rights. We show a cold face on loved ones because of that. We end up in a complete mess.
Our rage should be always towards the enemy. Our mind should always think of how to anhilate them with our skills. That’s how we can reach the pinnacle.
It also suits to ones personal life- Have a lot of friends on whom you can trust. But don’t forget to have an enemy.
Let there be force. The force to fight.
Be a rebel.

Auf wiedersehen.

Chords

2007-04-19T07:30:00.000-07:00

I just look around me as I post(verb) this post(noun).
Coffee mug, water bottle, cellphone, penstand, a magazine flapping in air, a greeting card from my friend. No sign of humans in the vicinity of my mind. Now, is that the reason why I post to this blog. Had a friend called now or if I had seen a friend online would I be writing this?
Are all the events in this world interconnected. Are there anythings which can be termed as mutually exclusive events?
I got a bicycle from my dad and I am working in a multinational company. Two events, spread across two different period of time, seemingly unconnected and exclusive of each other. But I find a mild chord running through these events. So mild is the chord that it needs absolute solitude and a mug of irish black coffee to discover the connection.
Yesterday was a gloomy day in bangalore. It rained as though it had never rained before. It made me stay in office late. So late that I got bored of rain. Finally it showed some signs of receding and I managed to sneak into the coffee day near my office. I like coffee especially on a rainy day.
Alone to coffee day.. Sounds crazy..? Coffee shops are not meant only for lovers, I know a friend who goes to coffee day alone like me. Infact I found more little chords criss-crossing my past. All that happened yesterday. The 'bicycle - multinational company chord' is only one thing which I am quoting here. There are millions which I discovered yesterday itself. I plan my next coffee day session (of course alone!!) for I would be lost in discoveries otherwise.
Physics means fascination to me now. It is a world where nature,philosophy and logics merge into one. It is a ecsastic experience to live in such a beautiful world.
I developed this love towards physics during class XI. The one who`s responsible for showing the world of science to me was my physics tuition teacher.
So deep was my love towards physics that I started collecting MIR publication books (of erstwhile soviet union) which explained concepts of physics in the easiest possible way.
I developed love towards astrophysics. I started reading more books regarding that. At times I was cautioned to come to the academic routine.
It is only natural that I took mechanical engineering. I thought it would enhance my love towards physics. Then because of some more chords ( really thick ones this time), I developed love towards automobiles. Because of that I read everything which carried the picture of car with it. I still count this transition as one of the decisive things in my life.
Finally I ended up in multinational company which is the heart of automotive industry! I find love (towards physics, of course!) behind all these events. Thin chord?
So.. Wondering where does the bicycle come into picture here?
I told my dad that I will go for tuitions for my class XI only if he gets me a bicycle.

When I travel

2007-04-14T23:34:00.000-07:00

I like window seat. No matter wheather its a bus or a train, the window seat really fascinates me. It gives the picture of the world outside. Its not that easy to peep into every village and feel their inherent beauty. Being a window seater gives you the opportunity to have a glimpse on country side. The flora and fauna, and most importantly the people you see from the window of your bus carry lot of untold stories behind them.
I am a frequent traveller and I always used to take window seats during my journeys. As the vapours of the steaming filter coffee block my vision as I type these words, I am thinking of how I got into the habit of sitting by the window and what had made me to give up that.
Though my native is salem, I was born and brought up in temple-town of palani till i was ten years old. During those times, I used to travel with my parents to salem atleast twice a month. Its a 150 mile journey spanning for five hours. We used to start on friday evenings around 5pm. I was still a half-ticket then and so I was forbidden a seat in the bus. So I used to be in my mom`s lap. She is also a window lover. As the bus traverses through the country side, I used to ask innumerable questions.
Who lives in this hut .? Why are people washing clothes in the river side? Why some roads are left unattended? and some real tuffy like Why are some people begging?
My mom used to be patient. Many of her answers would be "Its like that".
I used to ask back "Why it is like that?".
Through the world shown by her, I picturised a portrait based on what i saw through the window.
Later when we moved to salem, I missed those window journeys. But it was not so long as i landed up in college in one another city of coimbatore. Again window journeys.. Hippie!!
Most of college friends who travelled with me those used to sleep as soon as the bus starts. Many ways it helped in creating a solitary space around me. I started loving the world which i saw through the window. The portrait was more colourful.
In the faces of people whom I see through the window i interpret untold stories. In the sunset which bathes the green fields with its golden rays I see unwritten classics. In the breeze that only window sitter can get i hear unheard melodies.
But all this was till my last journey...
Two days back I was travelling in a 1970 model tata bus (the one which had benz engine inside) from Bangalore to Hosur. The KSRTC driver was pressing the accelerator pedal upto the floor tapping out the maximum power that he can get from the age old vehicle. Having crossed the limits of bangalore, the bus was screaming ahead at a tearing pace. It was like a rolling juggrernaut. He handled the corners with the precision of an F1 driver. Sitting in the first seat I enjoyed that joy ride. Its as though playing a computer game.
Ya.. I have decided to give up my window seat for the front seat. If the window seat was a calm portrait of transendence the front seat is the transendence itself. The roaring engine, The clumsy instrument panel, An age old gear knob, uncleaned windsheild with scratches left behind by the wiper. The cars and truck that play the sport with you in the highway. Its the real thing. I am seriously thinking of taking up a job as bus driver.:)
As i finish posting this i would be taking my Maruti 800 and test its horses. Vrooom...

Auf wiedersehen.

About what?

2007-04-14T14:25:00.000-07:00

I wonder how people perceive the word 'blog'. Mostly people look for themes.They are used to the patternized outlook of world. The most frequent question i face when i speak about my blog is "about what?".
Actually, i still dont have a perfect definition on what my blog is going to be about. My first blog was a flop.It was a theme based blog and after a few posts I ran out of ideas. Basically our minds can never be confined to think about a theme. Its wings are spread all along. Blogs are not confined spaces, Its the reflection of our minds. I will never answer 'about what?' questions. I go sick of it.
Sitting in the solitary space created in the steel and concrete jungle of bangalore.. I would be passing my thoughts to the cyber community.
This is jus a small post to start with. Look out this space to know how it is like being prasanna!