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.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Vincent Prabhakar
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.
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.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Master of his own Arts
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?".
"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?".
Friday, June 20, 2008
Software professional with 2 years experiance
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 -
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!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
SHE - II
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.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
On Thinking and Relationships
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.
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.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
A hot cup of coffee and a teaspoon of philosophy
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'.
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'.
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