For What Its Worth.

Small packages can bring big changes

2012-01-11T16:23:00.005+05:30

Innumerable things change after having a baby - big and small. It is so gradual that we notice them only after it has become a routine. I started noticing 11 months after having mine, and the consultant-devil woke up inside me to make a list of them*:

No amount of wanna-be-cool mother resolutions work, and falling into obsessive-compulsive pattern seems inevitable.

The disaster-intuitive radars start developing.

The timid voice gives way to an assertive one.

The catching reflex becomes stronger with each passing day.

Organizational and multi-tasking skills sky-rocket.

Judging and advicing married couples becomes difficult to control.

Keeping a clean house while the baby is awake is an abandoned dream.

Bath is a luxury, and even at its slowest, does not last longer than 10 minutes.

The head is perpetually inclined at a 45 degree angle with ears pointing to the room where the baby is sleeping.

the neighbourhood teenage boy playing loud music, the uncle meticulously reversing his car and the auto honking its horn are all equally and creatively bad-mouthed.

Peeing and pooping are replaced by pee-pee and poo-poo, and their smells fail to stimulate or repulse us.

Hosting a simple dinner takes a full day, if not more, taking the baby-delays into account.

All the purchases are based on their being unbreakable and child-proof.

A walk down the block, a trip to the garden or mall are all equally barfed at.

Planning a trip back home becomes more nerve-racking than exciting.

The mall shopping gets over in a haze - organized and rushed with a shopping list clutched in the hand like a lifesaver.
Chunky jewellery and heels are discarded for an all-bare and flat look.

No shopping trip is complete without checking out the baby store.

There is always a shortage of cloth nappies.

The shop-keepers and market owners suddenly become friendlier and more understanding.

Steamed vegetables, runny dal rice and mashed apples start tasting delicious.

Phone and spectacle replacement ideas are abandoned seeing the conditions of the current ones in the tiny hands.

The days and weeks are passed by mentally noting all the relevant growth milestones.

The mobile-using, hippie-clothed school children wandering hand-in-hand with the opposite sex are looked at with absolute terror, and worried looks are exhanged with the partner.

All ways of raising the child, other than your own, seem faulty.

Despite expecting it, the first 'amma' or 'appa' can send your heart plummeting.

Watching a sleeping child suddenly becomes the new stress-buster, replacing book-reading and movie-watching.

Unknowingly, the second childhood begins, where rhymes are sung and dances are danced entertaining self more than the child.

You start respecting your parents more.

With the added responsibilities, the bond with the partner becomes stronger and more dependable.

* I read a similar post-baby changes list by another blogger, but I hope against hope that this doesn't look like a rip-off!

Advice Mode On: Choosing Luck

2011-12-29T13:33:00.005+05:30

Working at a company in the city outskirts that took 2 hours by office bus in non-peak hours, it was difficult not to be grumpy in the mornings or tired in the evenings. I envied my team mate who had decided to move out of his parents’ house, and stayed at a room about 5 minutes from the office.
“You are so lucky! You don’t have to do the amount of travelling I do” I told him once.
“What lucky?! I chose to do it. You can too if you want to.” He retorted.

That stung. Because he was right. Dammit, to learn such a good lesson from such a disliked source.

I get reminded of that incident when almost every other person calls me lucky now. Of course, I am – I choose to be. I wanted my son to be in front of me all the time, make his meals, work and take care of the house, in that order. So, it wasn’t difficult to make it possible – from freelance writing initially to a full-time job with a nanny now.

This whole post is bordering between patting my own back and an agony-aunt column, but what I am trying to say is you can be lucky too. It depends on whether you want fate to take control or choose to act on your own.
And no, I don't believe in "Do what you love. If not, love what you do". It is impossible to compromise and also be blissfully happy. A better line would be:
"Do what you love. If not, discover a new love".

(Imagine a picture of me with a toothy smile giving a thumbs up sign here)

The Global Naming Controversy

2011-12-21T16:59:00.003+05:30

I wish the daddy Sharmas had thought of names other than Rahuls, papa Trivedis had not come up only with Amits and appa Krishnans had looked beyond Karthiks. Well, I was smug about the uniqueness of my first name-last name combination. I never thought I would have to be in Amit/Rahul/Karthik's shoes; until I started work and found that there was another. With.a.name.just.like.mine. I was minorly ruffled.
However, all my hackles rose when I found that she was a writer and was almost always mistaken for me. This could have been easy to live with, except for two minor issues:
- I found her writing skills mediocre.
- She always managed to post on the day I had a deadline, adding to the over-piled hate box assigned to me by my manager.
Of course, no one believed when I told them it wasn’t me. I usually got a condescending “suuure sureee” as a reply.

…………Which brings me back to the subject of this post. None of the parents are happy about their kids naming their grandchildren with some nonsensical, difficult-to-pronounce names. But frankly, they have only themselves to blame. If they had been more innovative, we all wouldn’t have been scarred for life and swearing on our European-counterparts-bent-on-pronouncing-Archana-as-Arkhana, that we would come up with a sexy-knockout-unique names.
So we google. We stay up at nights. We tear our hairs apart to outdo them and ensure that “jo mere saath hua hai, wo mere bacche ke saath nahi hoga”.

The bee-ginning of a love story

2011-12-07T16:04:00.004+05:30

There were myriad emotions running through her as she decided to take a long walk down the valley. Anger dominated them all, leaving her drained and resentful. On an impulse, she entered the Bee-yard, hoping that the beekeeper would let her channel this destructive streak.
He knew she was coming before he spotted her. A primal instinct drove his eyes towards her. She seemed agitated, but all he could notice was her blinding aura.He must have looked stupid in his standstill position with bees swarming all around him.

She approached him, and stared. He saw her lips forming four musical words.
“You have beautiful eyes!”
He felt the clouds parting, washing him in sun rays. He smiled as he answered,
“I know. After all, beauty lies in the eyes of the bee-holder.”

She took up a stick and started beating the hives, all the while looking into his mesmerising eyes.

From Mom's Kitchen to mine

2011-10-21T16:10:00.006+05:30

I have seldom heard my mother raise her voice, but she can be very scary. One stare and you will search for the nearest hole to hide into. The Stare was particularly powerful when it came to Her Kitchen. Her Kitchen was Her Fortress. Anything from drinking water to washing a cup of coffee in Her Fortress was met with disapproval. The last thing you can think of doing there was cooking. She was the queen of her jungle.
To her credit, she managed her kingdom very well. Everyone who has tasted her cooking would say so, be it Bisibelle bath or lauki kofta or pasta. Whenever we would go to a restaurant, she would order "our" favourite food and eat it. She will crinkle her eyebrows and immediately list out the possible ingredients that could have gone into it. The next day, she would try it out, and was almost always successful in replicating it. I think she took a personal offence when we ate outside.
At the age of 20, I realised that I may be married anytime, and I don’t know squat about cooking, let alone manage a home. I had no idea how pressure cookers worked, and what dals were. But I wanted to try very badly.
Amazingly an opportunity presented itself. My mother decided to leave the house to run some errands. Fortunately for me, she had left a kadai full of oil on stove, which had been used to make Bonda the previous day. So I decided to use it to make a simple bajji (or Bhajiya). After all, how difficult could it be? I prepared a besan mix with haldi, chilli powder and salt, and cut thin slices of potato and started heating the oil.
The oil started boiling – literally boiling with big bubbles. It started spraying everywhere, scaring me shitless. But, knowing that I won’t get a second chance, I bravely put a couple of pieces in. They disintegrated right before my eyes and the potato (sob!) sank.
After trying and failing a few more times, I cleaned the kitchen as best as I could and exited the crime scene. Few hours later, after inspecting, mom asked,

“What were you trying in the kitchen?”
“Nothing”
“Don’t lie. The stove is dirty and the kadai has besan at the bottom. What did you do?”
“I tried making Bajji, but I don’t know what happened..” I started sputtering at this stage as the image came back to my mind.
“Where did you take the oil from?”
“What?”
“Which oil did you use?”
“I don’t know, it was already in the kadai.”
“No it wasn’t. I remember filling it up with water to loosen the dried bits.”
“I just heated the kadai as it was.”
I didn’t realise why my mom was laughing so hard until much later.

For a ridiculous start like that, it’s a miracle I can cook a decent meal. Maybe it’s the genes. So, now that I know what the difference is between oil and water, I started a food blog. Here is the link:
http://vegetarianvagabond.wordpress.com

The Death Wish

2011-09-07T17:03:00.004+05:30

Franklee was on a run. Known as the most nimble deer in the jungle, he still feared the ferocious lioness. Having escaped her once already, he was sure he was not going to be lucky this time.

Just then he reached a turbulent river. For a split second, it reminded him of the story of the three brothers, who had a similar predicament:

One of them created a bridge through his wand, and they started crossing it. Then, death appeared. He was angry that he had lost his victims, but appeared to congratulate them, and granted them each a wish. The Eldest one asked for an unconquerable wand and the middle one asked for a resurrection stone, while the youngest brother asked for a cloak of invisibility to escape death. Needless to say, the elder two brothers finally died because of these wishes, while the youngest one led a happy trouble-free life.

Scarcely had Franklee done recalling the story, that Death appeared before him.

"You have me in front and the lioness behind you. Death seems to be certain. However, I will grant you a wish, like I did for the brothers. What do you want?"

Franklee, in his haste, replied, " Please sir, can you build a dam so that I can cross this godforsaken river?"

Death retorted, "Franklee my deer, I don't give a dam.".

As Franklee watched him chuckle at his own cleverness, the lioness had pounced up on him.

Stumbling in the canine world

2011-07-29T17:59:00.004+05:30

I share a very shaky bond with dogs and that’s putting it mildly. It started when I was 7 and was on my way to the singing class. I heard a couple of dogs barking behind me. So, I tried to walk slowly before breaking into a run in a side lane. That turned out to be a mistake, as the lane was a hibernating space for three more dogs. They woke up. They growled. I ran. I looked back, and all the five dogs were looking amused, rooted to their original spots.

Nineteen years later, I am stronger and I don’t run. But I can’t pat them either. I tried it with one, and his hackles rose. I can bring it out in them I suppose.
But I can’t resist their eyes. I mean, all dogs look sad! So, I do the little things, like bad-mouthing or blogging about people who are mean to dogs, and giving them food (from a distance of course) when they look really starved. Smiling at them never seems to work, so I have given it up for now.

Which brings me to the subject of the post. One morning, while rushing from the andheri station to the auto stand, I saw a beautiful cream-colored dog. He didn’t look like a stray, but he seemed to be dying. He was lying in the middle of this crowd, and could barely keep his eyes open. I kept staring at him. He didn't stare back. I sat down. He didn’t move. I asked him, my voice shaking, “Enna da achu?” (What happened?). There was no reaction. I went to my usual vada-pav place, got an extra pav, and immediately went back. By then, a small crowd had gathered around us. I was on the verge of tears when I offered him the pav and he didn’t take it up. So I nudged it closer and touched his nose.

He woke up with a start.
Apparently, he was sleeping. He didn’t like waking up, and he definitely wasn’t hungry. I tried to walk away as quickly as possible (only the 7-year old me would run).

Why I hate Fair & Lovely ads

2011-07-05T13:55:00.005+05:30

My neutral-feminism feelings have nothing to do with it. When a close family friend asked, “How did you land such a fair and handsome husband when you are dark?” for example, I did not think of blaming the ads for moulding his thinking. Again, when I got all the jobs I have interviewed for, I did not think of showing a finger to them either.
No, my extreme feelings are due to the state of my wedding album. Like all Indian girls, I was garishly dressed for the reception, and was very uncomfortable in all the bling and make-up. I was therefore surprised to see that the photos looked even worse, and bore no resemblance to my brownish-pink colour. On asking the photographer, it turned out that he had added a yellow filter to “make me look fairer and minimise the color difference between me and my husband”.

His one well-meaning (?) act ensured that I haven’t looked at the album more than once, and I look at the floor while crossing the framed-photos-covered hall.

So, yes I do hate these ads immensely - not for wanting to make darker-prettier girls inferior, but for the quality of thoughts they send out to common households and enthusiastic photographers.

Addicted

2011-07-05T13:51:00.000+05:30

Coffee is bad for me,

that I know for sure.

But, however hard my resolve,

I cannot have less than four.

First cup to wake me up,

And second to sustain it,

Third cup to pass the day,

And fourth to seal it.

I did try to give it up,

By having milk and juice.

But with a crying baby in hand,

A headache is NOT good news.

So I have relapsed to my old ways,

With four cups every day.

But over time, I will develop the will

To get this out of my way.

Sarcasm vs. Niceties

2011-06-02T10:24:00.002+05:30

Everyone who knows me is aware (and scared) of my confrontational attitude, especially when I am super-angry. That trait kicks in especially with strangers who are callously throwing thrash or spitting on the road.

So, when I saw a woman in a virar-churchgate local throwing the spinach branches out of the window (bunches of them!), I was trying to think of the most offensive comeback possible. Since that was taking time, I was just contending myself by giving her killer looks, when a 16-something girl sitting next to me spoke up.

"Aunty ji, don't throw it outside. Here put it in this plastic bag. I will throw it later."

The lady just smiled and took the offer up.

That incident taught me many important lessons. It is not necessary, or indeed useful, to be confrontational. I don't think the bottle throwing lady would have learnt anything by my sarcasm. However, this spinach-branch throwing lady will, in all probability, carry a plastic bag the next time. Being nice sometimes conveys a stronger message than being sarcastic.

From a loser's perspective

2011-05-19T15:14:00.005+05:30

After singing a lot of out-of-tune old hindi songs, he finally seemed to be crumbling in. The eyes drooped, the shoulders slacked and the legs relaxed. I had been oscillating with him to and fro like a pendulum, hoping for this much desired (albeit late) effect.

Suddenly, the phone rings. The eyes open slowly. I pat him nervously, hoping the minor distraction doesn’t cause my 1-hour of effort to go waste. He smiles, closes his eyes and starts sucking his thumb. Phew.

“DIDI, PHONE BAJ RAHA HAI” – My maid screams. I virtually tear my hair apart as I watch my almost-4-month old son’s head pop up.

“NEEND NAHI AA RAHI HAI?” She then asks him innocently, while I shoot daggers at her.

As he gives her his now-famous lopsided smile, I wonder if he knows that, in my quest for control, he wins every single time.

-----

(2 hours Later)

After singing a lot of out-of-tune old hindi songs, he finally seemed to be crumbling in. The eyes drooped, the shoulders slacked and the legs relaxed. I had been oscillating with him to and fro like a pendulum, hoping for this much desired (albeit late) effect.

Then he starts hiccoughing. And he gives me that lopsided grin again.

Well played son, well played.

Creativity Residue Of The Human (CROTH) and its deterioration with age

2011-01-04T00:28:00.004+05:30

A recent study done by CfNR* has thrown some interesting light on the decreasing levels of out-of-box thinking. Two groups were considered for the study – 3 years olds with no educational background, and 5-year olds attending daily art classes. They were both asked to draw a 3-D shape and a duck.
The results were fascinating. The former group drew impossible shapes with skewed planes and prism-like effects while the latter ones drew perfectly shaded monolithic ones. The ducks were colored in a mosaic pattern by the 3-year olds, while the more experienced ones colored them in white, with yellow webbed feet.
The experiment was repeated with older age groups, showing an increasing deterioration of original thought with age and knowledge. After documenting their findings, the researchers came to the conclusion that before defining the dimensions of the box, out-of-box thinking wasn't so difficult after all.

Moral: Too many books spoil the croth.

*CfNR: Centre for Nonsensical Research

The disappearing line between privacy and facebook

2010-10-15T15:24:00.007+05:30

We are "all" narcissistic to a certain extent. Part of us wants to express how intelligent/socially conscious/good/pretty we are through blogs, facebook, twitter or google buzz. It can be in the form of write-ups, copied quotes, random song lyrics, uploading our best photos (or tweaking existing ones with photoshop), publicly displaying one's events calender, or sharing worldly issues. But I draw a line at facebook entering our personal lives. Consider the following examples:

1. The following conversation between a 30-something attractive couple with their son was overheard during a boat-ride for parasailing:
Dad: Mom is very angry with you.
Son: Why?
Dad: You forgot to bring the camera. Now how will we take photos?
Son: It was not my mistake!
Mom almost in tears: We will never have a photo with us doing it.
Finally they persuade another couple in the boat to take their pictures and mail it to them.
Mom : Please send it ok? Otherwise we would have missed something very important.
Dad (To the para sailing trainer): No, all of us would go individually. We want separate photos.
Boy: Now I can upload it in facebook!

2. Updated status messages via facebook mobile at:
06:15: En-route to goa for a fun-filled weekend.
09:15: Just landed! The weather is just perfect for some masti!
11.15: At baga beach - it is so wonderful!
12.30: Jet Skiing in Baga beach - awesome!
23.15: Getting ready for the night life, yipee!
00.00: Having so much fun in goa!

3. Stumbled upon the following exchange in FB:
Girl: Hey I am doing well. How is your wife? I haven't talked to her in ages.
Boy: Hi girl1, this is his wife. Will you be my farmville neighbor?
Boy: I also need --some random famville terminology which I don't remember--

Except for the second one (which is exaggerated to a certain extent), the rest two are real enough.
While I can attempt to understand the wifey preferring to have a random girl as a virtual neighbor than a real-life acquaintance, I cannot fathom the other two instances.
I am sure that an absence of an FB update or a photographic evidence does not make the memory itself null and void. The incessant need to let the world know about every activity, interesting or otherwise is, to a certain extent, worrying. I mean, I have seen examples of girls sitting with me typing furiously in their mobile, only to realise later that they were uploading, "with friends - having so much fun!!" in buzz and FB. Frankly, if you have time to update that, clearly, you are not having fun enough.

The common corporate parasite

2010-07-30T15:58:00.006+05:30

Ethics in a company is like a parasite that passes on from one level to another. While it is true that being ethical is up to an individual, the implementation in professional life is strongly influenced by the characteristic of our immediate manager and not the company. Do you really believe that a company has a written rule saying: “lie to the customer” or “ Tamper your data as long as you get the money”?

So, how does the worm of unethical operations spread from a single person? What if a strongly righteous person is caught in the middle of it? I believe it can all be explained with a simple flow-chart:

Depending on how ethical a manager is, the thought processes of his sub-ordinates and future leaders spawned are determined (unless they leave the company). Either they successfully convert an analyst, or force them to leave the company.

This is precisely the reason why any consulting firm cannot be called unethical or bogus. Every company has hard-working analysts who struggle to provide more than the expectations of their customer. They are unfortunately overshadowed by the majority of consultants sweet-talking the clients into buying a summary of google findings.

I have had the fortune of working with people belonging in the former category, and hence have a very high opinion of consulting and market research.Generalising a consultant’s Modus Operandi based on a few disillusioned forced-to-be-unethical analysts seems very illogical to me. But I am curious to know if you have a different point of view on this!

Yadav ji

2010-05-27T13:34:00.002+05:30

With my odd timings in office, I had come to know the night guard, Yadavji, pretty well. With an ever-smiling face, he never went beyond a "good night madam", and few general pleasantries (except once, when he gave me advice on leaving early and how unsafe the city is).
After his 2-month vacation to his village, it was nice seeing him back at his desk yesterday. Our conversation though, longer than usual, was far from what I expected.

"Chutti kaisi thi Yadavji?"
"Acchi thi madam. Par Jaldi aana pada. Teen maheene ki lee thi, do mahene me hi waapas aa gaya."
"Fir phi, do maheene! Mazaa aaya hoga."
"Haan wo to hai. Puri family gaaon mei hi to hain. Mata, Pita, Biwi, Bache.."
"Biwi bhi? Saal mei ek hi baar milte ho unse?"
"Haan, to aur koi chaara bhi to nahi hai. Saal mei chutti ek hi baar milti hai."
"Arre, to unhe Mumbai leke aao na?!"
"Kharcha bahut ho jaayega, aur rent bhi to kam nahi hai. Yahaan ki night duty or subah ki housing complex ki duty ke beech usse time kahaan de paaonga?"
"Aap abhi kahaan rehte ho?"
"Kaheen nahi. Raat yahaan pe gujaar leta hun, phir subah housing complex duty karne chala jaata hun."
By now, I was gaping with my mouth open.
"Aapko ajeeb lag raha hai naa? Ab to aadat pad chuki hai. Dus saal se yahi kar raha hun."
"Par aap sote kahaan ho?"
"jab time milta hai, do-teen jhapki maar leta haun."

(Translated version)
"How was your holiday Yadavji?"
"It was good Madam. But I had to come back early, and shorten it by a month."
"Two months though, must have been fun!"
"Haan, it was. My whole family is there - Parents, Wife, Kids..."
"Wife too?? You meet her only once a year?"
"What else can I do? I don't get leave."
"Arre, bring her to Mumbai then."
"It will be too much of an expenditure. And between my night duties in this office, and morning duties at a housing complex, I won't be able to devote time to her."
"Where do you stay?"
"I don't have a house here. Nights here, and mornings at the complex."
By now, I was gaping with my mouth open
"It must be shocking to you. But now, I am used to it. I have lived like this for 10 years."
"But don't you need sleep?"
"I catch a few wink here and there."

I cannot imagine a life without a home to go to. Its not about the physical house with all the comfort and the cooked food. Home is what anchors us at the end of the day right? This guy doesn't have an anchor for 10 months in a year, and tries to make it up in 2 months.
I wonder what he looks forward to at the end of the day. Some time alone in an office full of tables to catch a wink?
More than that, I wonder how he can still keep an ever-smiling face?

The Bane

2010-05-25T15:44:00.001+05:30

Of all the banes in the world,
the writer's block is the worst,
for, how can a writer survive,
if he can't feed his creative thirst?

A near-physical steel door
blocks any views, good or bad.
all attempts end in torn pages,
and it makes one so mad!

the writer finally becomes desperate,
and sews words with a forced feeling,
Thus, such poems are formed,
with neither rhyme nor meaning.

The biggest driver for women wanting to marry

2010-04-26T12:08:00.003+05:30

India will have women marrying at a younger age, and hopefully will agree to an arranged one too, much to the relief of parents.
Why you ask? Because of Tanishq of course. They have embarked on a beautiful and well-thought of campaign:
A highly ambitious and successful girl is adamant on not marrying, despite her dad's pleadings to at least consider the case of this really nice guy he has chosen for her. The mother, looks on scornfully, until she asks her daughter to stop the car and enters Tanishq, the jewellery shop. She makes her daughter try on all the jewellery making her look, well, bride-like. When the mother realises that it was wedding jewellery, she asks her daughter to take them off, making the girl very sad and almost on the verge of tears. She decides immediately what needs to be done. Hestitantly and shy-like, she asks her father, "What is the boy's name?"
The mother sends a smug sms to the father - After 25 years of marriage, yous till don't know what a woman wants.

It was enlightening to say the least. 20-something old girls need nothing more than gold, silver and diamond jewellery to be happy. For a vulnerable, malleable and underdeveloped mind like ours, jewellery is the key (and perhaps the only) criteria for getting married.
I hope its a series. The next best thing would be an ad on how women are ready to have children, considering the amount of jewellery they will get to wear on the child's first birthday.

Olfactory Senselessness

2010-04-12T15:47:00.005+05:30

It was a surreal experience standing in front of the pearly gates, but I was looking forward to confronting The Highest Authority and asking him few naaku-pudongara (painful) questions. Lord, as is deducible, knew my motives and sent his scribe to meet me. A flustered old man, he reminded me of the rabbit in Alice In Wonderland. I wondered how he could help me.

Scribe: Yes yes, I can.
Me: I want to know why I was treated unfairly by him.
Scribe: But thats blasphemous (covers his mouth)... impossible i mean.
Me: Well he was. I haven't had any olfactory senses since I was 25.
Scribe (with what looks like a suspiciously evil smile): Oh yes, I remember that particular punishment. Oh yes, I do(rubbing his hands now, to my greatest discomfort). Wait, I have your book here with me. Let me think.. It was the day Indra was very angry with you.
Me (shocked): What?! What did I ever do to him?
Scribe: You wouldn't remember would you now?! Ah here we are.. it was decided in court on December 3rd 2009.

I take the millions of pages thick book, and start reading.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Indra walks in. He looks characteristically impatient and angry.
Indra: I have had it with her!
Lord: Who?
Indra: Batch no 16098987867676766, girl no: 122989
Lord (with a sigh): What has she done now?
Indra: She complains! (as if that would explain it all to the almighty all-seeing lord)
The Lord remains quiet
Indra: I haven't seen anything like it. She likes public transport, and is adament on taking trains and buses. She in fact scoffs at people who don't. Then she complains about sticky bodies pressing against her, and about the sweaty smells she has to bear. She actually crinkles her nose in public!
Lord: Hmm.
Indra: She can't stand cigarrette smell either. She forcefully makes her friends have a chewing gum as soon as they are done smoking, but never considers leaving them alone to enjoy it!
Lord: Oh good good.
Indra: She wears nail polish and takes it off immediately, all the while commenting about the smell of the remover.
Lord (almost sleepy by now): oh hmm?
Indra: She is allergic to the smell of malli-poo*.
That got Lord's attention. No one, I mean no one was allergic to malli poos. Clouds gathered overhead as he deliberated. Finally, the Lord stood up.
Lord: It is indeed shocking and your anxiety is well founded. The girl needs her due punishment. I think I have the perfect solution. Starting today, the girl will have a cold that will last all seasons and all places. No medicine can cure her, and no man can give her respite from that. She will, henceforth, be unable to smell anything good or bad, and will remain in an odourless world.
Indra, satisfied, took a deep bow and exited.

I had tears in my eyes, my respect for the Lord's justice and sound mind renewed manifold.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I closed the book with a heavy sigh, and started exploring my new heavenly abode, all the while hoping for a hankerchief to magically appear.

This, for all I know, may be the holy truth. I hadn't heard of an "all season cold" until I had it. I hadn't heard of a senseless nose until I got it.

Maybe in the theory of evolution, I was born off soorpanaka**. Maybe all her descendants have ill-formed noses.
Or maybe, I just made Indra mad.

*malli-poo - A kind of a white flower, which most of ladies keep on their hair for adornment, or offer it to Lord.
** Soorpanaka** - Ravan's sister in the epic story of Ramayan, whose nose was cut off by Lakshman.

News flash

2010-03-25T12:30:00.001+05:30

India has developed many special weapons over the past 4 years. It has recently picked up pace due to the high-scale terrorist attacks.

One of these weapons in advanced stages of research is the sleeping gas. The Non-violence activists hail this discovery specifically due to minimal bloodshed involved in capturing criminals.

Developed in large scale due to the low cost of production, it induces a temporary sleepiness in the affected person, lasting for about 11.5 hours. Due to its high volatility, the gas is stored in an invisible cyclinder maintained at 15 degrees Celsius, usually a few feet above the ground, held by invisible 3-5mm threads.

Despite the precautionary measures, there have been several unreported cases of falling or bursting cylinders causing extensive damage. The most recent incident occured today morning at 1000 hrs at Andheri, Mumbai. All the office-goers were affected. The officials are still looking into the cause of the issue, while people working in Andheri are gearing up for a sleep-filled day today.

The Definers-III mission

2010-03-09T16:53:00.005+05:30

20 hours after Definers-III landed at the pacific, the passengers decided to approach homo sapiens. The aim of the mission was very clear - Clarity-RX (CRX) had to get in touch with at least one homo Sapien and learn their language.
17 days later, CRX touched base with the mother ship, and reported his findings to Clarity-ID (CID) . Part of the translated excerpt is provided here:
.....

CRX: The paradoxical behavior of the hosts are outlandish.

CID (making a note): Elucidate.

CRX: There are many sir.
- Despite being vocal about their anti-pollution and pro=green beliefs, they use gas guzzling two-,three-, four- wheel vehicles and helicopters.
- They chronically complain about corruption, but don't stop taking or giving bribes
- People who dont follow the traffic rules discuss at length about the lawlessness on the roads
- Self proclaimed high morale people watching and sharing pirated movies and software.
- Human rights activists kicking their dog

CID: It doesn't make sense. What do the hosts say?

CRX: Hosts saY Portions Of Comments aRe Invisible To thEm

After 3.21 minutes of static

CID: I got it as H Y P O C R I T E. What does it mean?

CRX: No I said, Hosts saY Portions Of Comments aRe Invisible To thEm

CID: Oh ok. Lets call them as hypocrite from now on. What else?

.....
Clarity, thus helped us in giving a word for one of the our most inherent characteristics.

Phobo-Listo-Philia

2010-03-03T17:54:00.004+05:30

Wikipedia defines phobia as:
an intense and persistent fear of certain situations, activities, things, animals, or people. The main symptom of this disorder is the excessive and unreasonable desire to avoid the feared stimulus.

The list of phobias is daunting, but for sure, incomplete. I mean, listing an obscure phobia of bathing and not listing some of the more common ones? Surprising. For example, where is:

starophobia,
of being stared at by all men within 500 metres of vicinity? 99.2% of the females suffer with this phobia making them believe that they are either very attractive or have something stuck in their teeth, resulting in their doing nervously foolish activities.

smilophobia,
A phobia of smiling or grinning? This typically results in a permanent bull-doggish appearance in the said person.

secretophobia,
A phobia of maintaining any secret? (more popularly known as otta-vaazhi in tamil, pet mein na pachna in hindi or tattle-tale in english)

naturalophobia,
A phobia of looking or acting natural? The phobic usually hides the natural color of his/her face, nails & lips, the shape of their eyes & cheeks, or use fake accents.

timeophobia,
A phobia or intense dislike of arriving on time?

driveroadophobia,
of driving on roads, a phobia more common in India?

Are there any more phobias that have been missed out?

PS: In case you are wondering, I suffer from driverophobia and secretophobia all the time, and the rest occassionally.

The Dilemma of an ee

2010-02-18T17:14:00.002+05:30

Once upon a time, there was an ee (for all the tamil uninitiated: ee means fly in tamil) called Onaest. He worked as a police officer in his lane, monitoring all ee-activities and ensuring the right codeof conduct.

Onaest had one weakness - he liked to read. In fact, whenever he took a break from work, he would go to a corner, take out his book and read. His friends, seeing this as the one opportunity to talk to him, would hover around him and start chatting.

That made Oneast very angry. Any normal-ee worth his strawberry should,according to him, know how important reading was. Rejuvenating. Peaceful. Calm before a storm. Quiet before ee-patrolling. But how could he tell everyone to buzz off without hurting them?

Now the writer herself is in a dilemma, is Onaest-ee the best police-ee?

Eye-poppers!

2010-02-09T19:17:00.005+05:30

We always meet people we can't stand; and at times, we enjoy hating them so much that we keep hating them even if they are actually very nice.

Then there are people we like a lot. We like them so much that when they utter someting downright despicable, all we can do is gape.
I have had 3 back-to-back episodes with such much-liked people:

In the fast lane:

Ex-colleague: " I have lost count of how many dogs I have killed while driving"
Me: "What?"
Ex-Colleague: "There is no other option. At that speed, you can't really stop!"

Loyalty:

Girl 1: " I can't stand dogs."
Girl 2:"I can't believe you don't like them. They are so sweet and loyal."
Girl 1: "I can buy loyalty. But I really can't stand dogs"
She said that while kicking at a dog who came sniffing at her.

Provoked:

Me:"Working late nights must be irritating right?"
Boy:" Yes it is, especially since, while going back, dogs start chasing. Thats why I have stones in my pocket. I chase each one of them and throw at them."
Me (laughing): "You're joking right?"
Boy: "Arre no, they are a menace. In fact this one time, I asked the auto guy to stop and hit every one of them. Now they will not follow me."

The second one especially was a particularly eye-popping and open-gaping episode. I mean, you hear such things in movies right? Who in the right mind says something like that?!

Dementia* makes global rounds

2009-12-30T17:55:00.010+05:30

* Based on the definition: significant loss of intellectual abilities such as memory capacity, severe enough to interfere with social or occupational functioning.

The giant waves of Poshivtive Senatiments in Mumbai had made me jittery enough to think twice before settling here. Now I wonder why I thought so coming from chennai, where we are as broad minded as "Ajab Prem ki Gajab Kahani" is well-scripted. Where Mumbai is struggling, Chennai succeeded. Where Chennai succeeded, US of A is flying high with Nile Gardiner at the helm, who with a job description of a foreign affairs/movies analyst, performs an anti-US-propoganda check on every movie watched. His brilliant analysis is clearly visible in one of the comments he makes for "Avatar:

When I saw the movie last night in a packed theatre, I was disturbed by the cheering from the audience towards the end when the humans – US soldiers fighting on behalf of an American corporation – were being wiped out by the Na’vi. Washington is one of the most liberal cities in America and you come to expect almost anything here – but still the roars of approval which greeted the on-screen killing of US military personnel were a shock to the system, especially at a time when the United States is engaged in a major war in Afghanistan

He reminds me of the "black and white" tool in MS-Paint:

American soldiers - white. Washington - White.
Fighting - White. US-generated war - White.

Afganistan - Black. Killing US military Personnel for perfectly valid reasons - Black. Criticism for taking innocent lives - Black.

The Queen

2009-10-15T17:03:00.004+05:30

The air was filled with anticipation,
the whole town was in an uproar,
Expectations and excitement mounted,
While there were celebrations galore.

To make the perfect crown and throne,
the best witches of the kingdom were called,
With flashes of fire and ancient power,
They were slowly and intricately wrought.

On the appointed day, the whole town assembled,
To watch the anointing of their queen,
The palace, though decked in silver and gold,
Looked intimidating for all its sheen.

The princess came dressed in black,
And a cheer rang out in the hall,
The drums rolled and the throne trembled,
but the bards’ songs overrode them all.

The crown was placed on her head,
Cold diamonds among warm rubies,
She smiled and sat gingerly on the throne,
And the crowd started chanting on their knees.

The spikes in the crown dug into her head,
Drilling deeper while she sat straight,
The throne hissed, twisted and melted,
Re-molding itself to absorb her weight.

The palace erupted in cheers,
for the princess that had once been,
Their hearts swollen and eyes filled,
As they looked at their eternal queen.

Catch

2009-10-05T13:11:00.002+05:30

wait a minute Mr.fly!
what are you trying to imply?
don't you believe the promises i make?
do you believe I am that big a fake?

But Mr.lizard, understand me,
I'm the predated, can't you see?
my friends are killed by you everyday,
what more do i need to say?

My reputation precedes me,
I just want to play see?
a simple game of hide-n-seek,
I promise to be polite and very meek.

finally Mr.fly did agree to play,
persuaded by Mr.lizard day after day,
and they played every game under the sun,
oh, it was turning out to be so much fun!

one day they decided to try catch-catch,
Mr.fly was sure to win this match,
for who could overtake him in flying?
but Mr.lizard was all game for trying.

"start" and he spread his wings,
watching happily Mr.lizard starts to sing,
out came his sticky tongue and the fly was caught,
with a shocked oath, he valiantly fought.

"let me go, this was not the deal,
this is cheating, that's what I feel!"
"you stuck your wings in me sir,
it is not my mistake you hear?,

I just wanted to play with you,
but right now I am angry too,
for the trust not bestowed on me,
you have to pay a small fee."

With that he swallowed the fly,
and started chewing with a sad sigh.

Ideas

2009-08-13T20:22:00.005+05:30

I am not exactly weight conscious, but I am definitely shape conscious.. especially when the shape is moving steadily from a

drumstick to a yam
an hourglass to a barrel
coconut tree to a Banyan tree

So well, when I started putting on weight, I spent a lot of my precious time fretting about the unseemly result. After almost a year of just that followed up with short-term GM diets, and ad-hoc yoga exercises..

Lightening finally struck in the form of Abhishek Bachan in a doctor's garb sexily uttering.."just walk when you talk".

What were earlier a joke and a tease, later turned out to be very effective. It started with walking almost two hours everyday while talking to Ashwin. That was followed by climbing six stairs to office while, err, talking to myself.

The end result?

I don't huff and puff at the end of the sixth floor.
It gives me a perfect and energising start to a day.
I felt unexplainably smug and proud to be able to do it.
I haven't compromised on any of my unhealthy food habits.
I haven't lost as much weight as I would have wanted.

Eh? Well ya, I haven't, but I have definitely become

A carrot perhaps, if not a yam
A cylinder, if not an hourglass,
Eucalyptus tree if not a coconut tree.

So well, there!
**smug**

Spray Painting!

2009-07-16T17:39:00.005+05:30

PHAT!
Man 2: Eww! Don't spit on the road!
Splash!
Man 2: Spitting turns women off by the way.
Sluurrpp - Phat!
Man 2: It grosses them out! Look at her. She has actually turned away in disgust!
Man 1: What should I do then?
Man 2: Follow my lead now.
Man 1: You are eyeing the same girl?
(Chew chew)
Man 1: Careful, its leaking!
(Tip Tip Splash)
Man 1: Trying to keep it in is even worse man! The DAMe is just Not interestED (DAMNED!!

(wiping off)
Man 2: Well, not our fault is it? DAMNED if you do it, DAMNED if you don't.

Of all the habits Indians have, spitting on the road is, by far, the most disgusting and revolting one! While the majority of south Indians prefer decorating the road with flesh colored spit, the North Indians, believe in painting the town red, literally.

This post is inspired by a certain gentleman in bus today, who standing near the bus door, was releasing one rocket after another!
PHAT SPLASH PHAT PHAT PHAT!

Color me Brown!

2009-07-03T15:09:00.006+05:30

A new poem after long - feels liberating!

After 9 months, Vishnu heaved a contented sigh,
and finally opened Laxmi's eyes,
"Behold my dear, my latest model in line,
to be released into this world on may 29".

Laxmi took a long look at me and frowned,
"her color is not right my lord.
can you create a skin anew,
with perhaps, basic colors few?"

Vishnu then huffed and began to sulk,
for it seemed, Laxmi didnt like his work.
he immediately called his resources,
and started adding colors in ample doses.

"There you see Laxmi, 5 cups of fire,
is it red enough for your heart's desire?"

"I am happy my Lord but I do wonder,
wont that make her nasty and quick to anger?"

"Rest your mind dear, and help me think,
will 3 cups of air be enough to make this pink?"

"She is pretty indeed my lord, but surely,
air will make her absent-minded and more girly?"

"true honey but now she needs more blue,
2 cups of water ought to give the right hue."

"would you never listen to what you are told?,
this will make her sweat in hot and freeze in cold"

"Alas I can't undo since the skin is already sown,
but will 5 cups of earth give it enough of a brown?"

"finally love, you think right,
for against all the elements this will fight,
for all her weaknesses, she has one true boon,
one single smile to lift her out of her gloom.

So,thats how I was made,
absent-minded and walking in a daze,
quick to anger, despite a cool skin,
and the ability to hide it all behind a grin.

So, in the attempts of Vishnu to please his well-meaning wife, I was made the way I was. But of course, the obvious advantage in this chaotic skin creation was just that - My chaos is only skin-deep.

Note: As Anupama rightly points out, Brahma is our creator and Vishnnu the preserver. So I stand corrected. I was not created by Vishnu, I was sent to him for system upgradation.

Giftrocity!

2009-06-29T14:34:00.007+05:30

This is a crib. So, I will totally understand if you want to forego this post.

While cleaning my room a few days back, I came across an offensive piece of item. It was beautifully packed, nicely explained and must have cost a fortune. It was a set of three soaps, made from natural ingredients and was meant to be an "indulgence" according to the elaborate pamphlet that came with it. Hmmm.

I am all for indulgence, and I am definitely all for natural items. But I draw a line at thinking of soaps as decent gifts. That set my mind racing, thinking of other gifts that I have thrown out, without telling the giver of course.
Now, if you are one of those "need to buy something for everyone” types planning a visit to India, I will let you in on a little secret.

We don't care about the cost of what you got us. We appreciate the thought that went behind it.
We will like you less if you buy potentially offensive gifts.
It hurts us to see something silly stuffed into our hands, while thoughts of “Can I pass it on to someone else?”, “Can I put it in dustbin after she leaves?”, ”Will it be toxic for the street dogs?”, ”Can I give her something equally bad?” keeps running through our heads.

Here is a list of all I could think of. Please add or delete depending on your preferences:

Soaps - There is a difference between cheap perfumes and expensive soaps. The latter is offensive, boring, unnecessary or unused, depending on the person. For me it is all of that.
Diaries/Notebooks - We get notebooks here. We actually get pretty good papers too. It might be unbelievable for the kind of people saying "India does not have a Nike showroom like States!" (Thanks jiju for that tidbit!)
Postcards/Showpieces with "we love XXX" written on them (XXX being the name of the country/continent) - by far the most annoying gift ever. Do you all believe we would hang it in our rooms with "that" written over it? What would we get out of such promotional activities really?
Wallpapers/Plastic sheets for shelves/Cheap plastic table mats - I have always had the urge to fling these rolls outside. Jeez, wall papers! I was unbelievably happy when one of them was half-consumed by insects, and I had to discard it with a morose look.
Any flick-offs from flights or hotels- A pack of cards, bookmarks, and small lotion bottles etc are downright insulting. Passing on free gifts is a pretty low thing to do.

On second thoughts, bad gifts make up for a fairly enjoyable cribbing session! So, may the giftrocities continue.

You've got mail.. and a faulty mail client!

2009-06-18T12:58:00.005+05:30

What is more annoying than Microsoft Outlook?
IBM Lotus Notes

What is more annoying than IBM Lotus Notes?
Lotus Notes that take a loong time to load.

What is more annoying than Lotus Notes that takes a long time to load?
Lotus notes that gets hung while archiving old mails (which was unfortunately attempted to reduce loading time)

What is more annoying than Lotus notes that hangs while archiving and also, takes a long time to load?
Lotus Notes that doesn't allow sending of mails due to exceeded mailbox limit.

What is more annoying than Lotus Notes that doesn't allow sending of mails due to exceeded mailbox limit, gets hung wile archiving, and also takes a long time to load?
Lotus Notes that suddenly restricts opening of new or old mails with a weird message of "You are not authorized to perform that operation"

What is more annoying than Lotus Notes that restricts opening or sending of mails, gets hung wile archiving, and also takes a long time to load?
Lotus notes that throws recursive error of CircularDocException, and will not come out of the loop until one finally gives up, closes the application with a ctrl-alt-del.

What is more annoying than Lotus notes that throws recursive error of CircularDocException, restricts opening or sending of mails, gets hung while archiving, and also takes a long time to load?
Calling the maintenance personnel while fretting about the delays in meeting deadlines, waiting for them to fix the problem for 5 hours, and finally, profusely thank them at the good repair work patiently done, only to see the problem recurring the next day.

**Sigh!!**

I pledge that

2009-06-16T12:16:00.003+05:30

India is my country.
All Indians are my brothers and sisters.

Err... Except for

Sisters leaning on me in buses expecting me to carry their abundant weight, and provide the much needed balance.
Brothers or sisters not wanting to be Indians.
Brothers or sisters talking against my parents, Aarti, Rishi or Ashwin.

I love my country,

Err... except when:

bus windows are mistaken for dust-bins, and hands keep darting outside to throw offensive papers and plastics outside.
horns are used in abundance to show lane-changes, signal-changes, anger, joy or to intimate the breaking of traffic rules.
traffic constables use anything from no helmets to smiling while driving to collect pocket-money.

and I am proud of its rich and varied heritage.

Err... except when:

Trans-sexuals are not allowed inside share-autos by most drivers, with a laughing explanation of "they are gay"!
any fight on the roads are written off as "they must be muslims"
any high decibel conversation is written off as "they must be Punjabis"
A dark-colored person is invariably a South-Indian negro.

I shall always strive to be worthy of it.

Especially when:

The aut-wallahs give tired ladies lift free of cost.
A person driving at 30-50 kmph stops to check whats wrong with your bike, and helps you start it if it is not working.
Men call up blue-cross on seeing a hurt dog on the road, and then sit beside the dog to give him company.
Men or women give up their hard-earned seats to ladies carrying infants, or to old or pregnant women.
Kids implicitely take off their shirts and donate them to street kids with a smile on their face.

I shall give my parents, teachers and all elders, respect, and treat everyone with courtesy.
To my country and my people, I pledge my devotion.
In their well being and prosperity alone, lies my happiness

Fantasy Fiction

2009-04-18T12:36:00.007+05:30

How can J.K. Rowling, Christopher Paolini, Robert Jordan and Tolkien create such wonderful, new worlds?! Inventing new characters, new powers, more senses than five or six, new places, new games, new rules, new government, new species and what not?!
But there is a catch here. There is a necessity to read all the series written by these four brilliant writers one at a time. You mix them up, you better start reading again. I found that out at a very time-consuming cost.

I started with the Harry Potter series, and am more than glad that it’s over. That helped me enjoy it to the fullest and live the different world effectively for many years.
Then I made the biggest mistake of my book-worm life. I took the following treacherous path:

Eye of the World - Wheel Of Time (WoT) Series

Eragon - Inheritence Series (IS)

Eldest - IS

The Fellowship of the ring - Lord Of the Rings (LOTR)

Brisingr (started) - IS

Googled for IS, read the wiki entry to refresh my meory.

Brisingr (completed) - IS

The Great Hunt (Started) - WoT

Googled for LOTR, to find where I am going wrong in understanding

Googled for WoT to discover that I had completely forgotten the plot, and mixed it up with Inheritence series

Googled for IS, to find out what is WoT, IS and LOTR.

Make a Venn Diagram for future reference.. ggrrrrr!

Warning:

Kindly don't repeat the mistake that I did. If you have done it already, here is a little something for reference.

However, this does not guarantee a confusion-free reading, as the three series are deeply inter-connected. You may have to re-read everything again. What with WoT spanning 11 books, and still going strong, you don't want to take THAT risk!

Disclaimer:

I am a consultant and a follower of KrishAshok - hence propagating the usage of charts and graphs.

Originality!

2009-04-15T15:11:00.006+05:30

Angry Scolding Self(ASS): Hey!!
Me(M): Mmm (Yawn) You talkin' to me?

ASS: Yes I am! You can't sleep now.
M: But, My preciousss!
ASS: Don't preciouss me! Medicinal sleep in never an excuse.
M: Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. zzzzzzz

ASS: Hey what the hell?! Hello!!! ARCHA....
M: Cut it out! You had me at hello.
ASS: Better, now what?
M: I am going to make an offer you can't refuse - 5 minutes nap break, pretty please?

ASS: Fine, 5 minutes it is. I'll be back.
M: You know, for a little woman, you do make a lot of noise!!
ASS: I am big! Its the pictures that got small.
M: *snort* You can at least use original lines!

After 5 minutes...
ASS: 5-minute power nap is over! Wake up!
M: (Still Groggy) I think I have Houston (Horrible Occurences CaUsing Sleep Taking Over at Noon)
ASS: Sh*t! Houston? We have a problem!!
M: No we don't. Let me sleep through this afternoon. After all, tomorrow is another day.

Disclaimer: For the sake of originality, check this out!

Up or down?

2009-04-08T19:22:00.006+05:30

When we were young, we used to play a really fun game called,
‘color color what color do you choose?’
We had this paper model in hand, with grooves created for each of our four fingers. The moment one color is chosen, that person has to run and find an object of that color.

Then we grew up and started playing a different game:
‘Up or down, down or up, what approach would you choose?’
To the uninitiated, I refer to top-down and bottom-up approach. (To whoever coined these terms: You really didn’t realize that they have such obvious double meanings??).

This elaborate and unnecessary preamble is for showing my skepticism towards bottom-up approach. I think it works well in:

Market research: Forecasting
Coding: Creating solution modules for customers.

But where common sense and logic are involved, bottom-up approach totally messes up one’s mind.
For example, lets use the 2009 watch-word – recession. We know its here, and its doing a lot of damage (biggest understatement of this year perhaps). Consider the following exchange:
Q: How do you prove that recession is affecting international trade?
A: Simple, look at the export-import levels between countries.

Q: Well, um, they seem to have increased in the last month of 2008.
A: But recession is here. Q3 and Q4, show a downward trend right?

Q: Oh , well, so do Q1 and Q2.
A: Ignore that. That could have been due to oil price increase..

The above is, thankfully, a hypothetical example ( They do show a perfectly logical downward trend – whew!).
But, this is what happens when we know the end result. The data, current as well as historical, help us in validating the results, albeit subjectively.

Most of the time, our thinking is also bottom-up. For example,

A highly advertised beautiful scenery spot will appear beautiful even if it is just overlooking a bunch of dry trees and shrubs.
I-phone is a ‘value-for-money’ product even if it lacks some basic mobile features (the dictionary for one!)
Rollercoaster are scary-exciting rides because they go upside down, though we don’t feel much of it.

In all these cases, we have the conclusion fed into us. We just back it up with data supporting the advertised claims, and form the main body of the matter.

Reminds me of the Ishikawa or Fish-bone diagram, and how easily it can be misused. Ishikawa would have named himself after hearing someone say:

What a fultoos time-pass Kishi ka wah wah

or maybe its an acronym of:

It’s a Shit k(c)Ausing Wasted Analysis

Ok, perhaps not that either.

This post has been inspired by Michael Crichton’s book State of Fear. I am not for or against global warming, but its true that whenever a change in climate occurs (“its hotter than last year”, “we haven’t had such rains in over 20 years”), we just use one phrase (including me) – It’s the effect of global warming.

Raezidyr

2009-04-05T01:37:00.008+05:30

Raezidyr*

Raezidyr sat by his favourite brook,
Flexing and oiling his wings,
Impatient, he stifled a sigh,
Listening to Haeli talk.

“toe heel calf knee,
Start from bottom, see?
You should be gentle, but quick”
She whispered tensely.

“But Haeli, I know this already!”,
He whined, exasperated,
“I’ll be good on my first day,
Please don’t worry about me”

Detecting enthusiasm in his terse replies,
Haeli felt nervous, but happy.
Leading him to his first task,
she nervously oversaw his work.

Working on the giant smooth and fast,
Raezidyr massaged from toe to head,
He finally felt the knotted muscles loosen,
And tasted sweet success at last!

He must have made a noise small,
For the beast woke up suddenly in shock,
Raezidyr flew out through the window,
With an angry Haeli at heel.

The human kept staring at the fairies,
Wondering what was wrong with her,
“black spots again! Do I have BP?”
She muttered and went back to sleep.

She got up in the morning with a sigh,
Yawning widely, she said with a smile,
“what a refreshing sleep, I feel rejuvenated!”.
Listening, Raezidyr beamed at Haeli with pride.

* pronounced as Re-zee-dir

Have you heard this story of a cobbler, who was very poor and could not sell most of his work? Then, feeling pity on him, every night after his going to sleep, these tiny fairies would come out and make fine, intricate, and beautiful shoes for him. He would sleep with half-finished work, and wake up to find his work completed! He quickly became successful and lived happily ever after!

I just started wondering how we wake up energised after every sleep! Maybe we are worked upon by tiny fairies too, who massage our hands and feet and make us feel fresher each morning!

Bowled over!

2009-03-26T11:50:00.004+05:30

I chanced upon a website by Koldo Barrosso. He is a fantasy story-teller and an illustrator. His characters, protaganists' names, and sketches are so unique, and unlike anything I have ever seen! Writing doesn't do enough justice to him, so attaching links to some of his works:
http://www.koldobarroso.com/portrait-of-lady-zakharova-2/
http://www.koldobarroso.com/lady-pennington-the-tzoo-tzoo-2/
http://www.koldobarroso.com/sketches-for-christmas-card/

Whew! When I see something like this, I realise how little I have really done!

Noise levels - in a book?

2009-03-20T16:15:00.007+05:30

Books are like colofully lit magical boxes with beautiful or interesting thoughts floating inside them. Any book is meant to be lovingly held, cherished and opened, so that the one reading the book can bask in these lights and floating thoughts.

The above corny lines are mine, and I believe in them everytime I open a new book. That is why when a book disappoints me, it feels like I have been slapped hard by each floating thought, and blinded by excessive lighting.
The slapping and blinding happens when there is too much of noise in a book. Noise, in this case, is commonly termed as 'wordy'.

Theoretically, ( my theory that is), there can be two types of 'wordy' books:

Words-wordy:This is when simplicity simmers and whimpers everytime she is ignored. For example,the previous sentence is wordy. I could have said that ignoring simplicity is undesirable. Even if that sounds unappetizing, its simple. With patience and the right frame of mind, words-wordy books can be read and enjoyed. ( We all like Rushdie don't we?)
Wiki-Wordy:This results in a book full of irrelevant knowledge and facts, a classic symptom of a megalomaniac writer. I don't know what it takes to tolerate a wikipedia-type-wordy book.

Let me know tell you a story:

Once there lived an Indian Woman in a foreign land. She thought and made herself believe that she could write well. She took all the necessary courses and decided to make her debut with a collection of short stories. But she wanted to show how MUCH she knew, how rich her (cross) cultural knowledge is. So she ended up writing stories that could have been summed up in one line, but dragged on for 30-odd pages.

That is how, I ended up reading the story of a woman's survival after divorce. The author decided to take the seldom-used path, and covered the whole plathora of topics ranging from the protaganist's village, her husband's family, his work(which, for all of 5 pages, still remained a mystery), to the typical east-west divide, our cultural values, abortions, divorce and finally, her making out with another woman.

Most of the poets and writers are full of themselves and want to be in the spotlight in every forum and have maximum hits to their name in google. For example, when they are introduced to a person X with a "You know, X has written many short stories and has got herself published in so-and-so", these people go with, "Oh its a pleasure to meet you. You write stories? I understand, I myself have written more than you can even count, got more of my works published than you any-day, and can beat ou up in any contest, should it ever happen".

Beware of these specimen. They argue for the sake of arguing, do a lot of google to make their write-ups seem intelligent, and write stories, which can be easily renamed as "what's on wikipedia" or "Did you know? I do".

PS: I could have made this post shorter, but this post is a tribute to all the editors, who are scared to let the writers know that half of the book is a truckload of .. undigestable stuff. grrrr.

The devil, unfortunately, cares!

2009-03-12T14:48:00.004+05:30

Once there was a man called MeekEnLow,

who hated his voice, low, rough and slow.

In a twist of fate, he fell in love with a girl,

and finally married this beauty named ShoutEnHurl.

The girl was loud, where he was not,

it was a disadvantage, especially when they fought.

He grew lazy, surly and paunchy with anger,

which with suppression only grew stronger.

Ultimately his body exploded and he died,

"How embarrassing!", He howled and cried,

He met the devil with his mind made,

no kith or kin will, like him, ever fade.

The devil impatiently heard him out,

then breathing fire, laughed out loud!

He had a brilliant idea in his mind,

he had wanted to try it for long on mankind.

"I have a solution my man" says he,

"to create noise as loud as it can be,

whenever your kith feel they might explode,

they'll use this on women, and have joy manifold."

The devil then pursuaded God to introduce cars,

to provide men a bit of comfort, luxury and class

But, unknown to Lord, gave men evil knowledge,

of making horns to aid in MeekEnSlow's revenge.

There you go, you have it now,

MeekEnLow was avenged and how!

His Kith and kin, no less dumb,

are driving & honking with minds numb.

The devil looks at the noisy mess below,

and gloating at God, takes a deep bow.

I hate the venting honking buttons. At times, it seems men horn because they have nothing better to do, or because they want their front-seat counterparts to stop talking, or stop liking them.

Mean Machines - Literally!

2009-02-23T13:30:00.005+05:30

I wish the next-generation vehicles come with a pre-programmable honking horns. Key in the total number of kilometres to be travelled in the horn system, and the upper limit for horns is generated - 5-6 sounds like a decent number for 10 kilometres. After that, the system does not produce any noise - till the stipulated distance is done with.
Of course, this can be different for public and private transport systems. Autos should have the minimum limit - remove the pressing contraption I say, and replace them with this amazing electronic system.

Thinking of it makes me drool, because, armed with a mother-of-all-headaches, I had to travel by bus today. The driver was comparitively subdued - 22 honks in 10 kms. Yes, I counted.

I don't get it. Do buses/autos think they are silent machines? Like oiled shock absorbing Skodas and BMWs? One Swoosh of the wind and they are done!? These rickety contraptions make enough noise to shake up houses in their war-path and pedestrians or other vehicles long before they are in view- why the horns - especially these musical 10 honks in 5 seconds, or one long 15 seconds horn?

Our problem is not the traffic, for almost every city in the world has more cars than they can handle. Our problem is the freedom to horn and plunge one's way through cycle-gaps. Remove the capacity to horn, and reduce erratic travelling.

Cowardliness

2009-02-13T20:09:00.005+05:30

An act of violence to prove a point is cowardliness. An act of ignorance to not want to see a point is a bigger one.
I am guilty of the latter. I did not want to know about our cruelty to animals because I knew it would hurt. I once saw a KFC video, which was enough to give me nightmares.
Today, I chanced upon the earthlings video, showing how we ill-treat animals for food, entertainment, hunting, clothes etc. Oh.my.god. To think that I thought that by being vegetarian, I am blameless! To think that I turned a deaf ear to how animals in circuses are ill-treated. To think I still use leather!!

Conclusion: I am not going to buy anything leather from now on. There ought to be something more I could do, join PFA perhaps. That would be a goal as soon as I overcome my fear of dogs. :)

PS: This post is dedicated to Anupama. If not for her, I would have been lost in my rosy pink-perfect earth forever.

Material Analysis

2009-02-12T18:21:00.005+05:30

The IT professionals are highly mis-understood, not in terms of our high intelligence, but in terms of our worth. We are paid way more than we deserve, and we have also led to the inflated charges of everything.
Wondering what a skewed tangential look I am taking to life?
Let us make a time n material estimate, shall we? A typical IT professional needs nothing more than a desk, a system and software to work on. Say the project is supposed to be completed in 18 months. Now Assuming:

Cost of software used : Rs.50,000*
Electricity consumed per person : Rs. 200 per day per person**
The total amount spent in 18 months
would be : 50000 + 200X30X18***
= Rs. 158000
So average monthly salary of a software
professional should be : Rs. 8777.78

* Highest cost I could think of, but cost of software is immaterial, as it will be used for another project even after the 18 month duration is over
** A liberal estimate taking the compuer, shared AC and shared lights into consideration
*** Assuming we work 30 days in a month

You’ll agree with me now. We are overpaid right?
We aren't, because in the above calculations, the ‘time’ aspect is not accounted for. Neither is the amount of effort or mind-work, or the family functions we gave a miss to, to complete our work.

Now, let us all observe a moment of silence for the countless number of times we have cited the petrol prices vs mileage ratio to the auto-wallahs in retaliation to their exorbitant rates.

Rishita

2009-02-05T13:54:00.003+05:30

I have waited,

for her first wail,
showing her annoyance,
and then take her first nap,
could a lullaby ever fail?

I have waited,

to see the protest in her eyes,
against her first sight,
and to snuggle against her pillow,
with a deep contented sigh.

I have waited,

for the toothless grin,
that her unfathomable dreams gave,
and that grin to turn naughty,
when she committed any little sin.

I have waited,

to watch her pink feet,
touch the floor,
and the walk to become a run,
whenever i came to meet.

I have waited,

for her small hand,
to curl around my finger,
and her hands to later hug me,
Ah! That feeling was so grand.

I have waited,

for her to play with toys,
cooing with them in baby talks.
and then for her to say my name,
in the musical lilt of her voice.

I have waited,

for 'it' to become 'she',
as she grew up so fast,
so that I can happily say
My Bommi's name is Rishi.

Writing this got me unexpectedly emotional, as it reminded me of every special moment with Rishita, my now-3-year old niece. Her first smile, her first hug, her first walk are etched in my mind. But the most precious memory is the way her face lit up whenever the doorbell rang. With a musical cry of 'Archana Chithiiiiii', she would come running and hug me.

Sigh!

UnSelfishness - A myth?

2009-02-04T14:57:00.005+05:30

Everytime someone claims that they are very unselfish, I get a chuckle out of it! Grow up people!! The act of unselfishness is not possible. We are just not capable of that sort of a utopian thought.

Since unselfishness & Selflessness are used interchangeably, I will go with that. (Though, less thought of self (selfless) makes more sense that no thought of self (unselfish)). Lets look at some common usages:

"The soliders/commandos selfessly sacrificed their lives for their country."
Hmm. As heart-wretching and tear-jerking that is, is that true? The soliders were so committed to doing their job that they did not hesitate to risk thir lives. That makes them brave, not selfless.

"Gandhiji was the most unselfish person ever."
I admire Gandhiji, and look upto him. But unselfish, no. Gandhiji had some ideals he believed strongly in. He propogated and stood by them. That is not unselfish - that is being steadfast in his beliefs.

"I will even die for you."
Some of us say that, and most of us mean it too. Aren't we selfish when we say that? Doesn't that faith, that love for a person to want to promise such extremes actualy make us happy?

"He is so selfless. He has donated XX money to orphanages/old ages homes!"
Hmph! There are two ways of going about it. You either donate/help out because it makes you happy, or for being guilt-free and fulfilling your social duties. This is the least unselfish act ever.

As a corollary, I admire people who are realistic enough to call themselves selfish.
Every act that we do gets us something - peace, happiness or blessings. Just think twice before you egoistically call yourself selfless.

Overloaded?

2009-01-17T10:47:00.004+05:30

Oh no no no! We are wise, we are assertive. We don't take extra work, or let anyone give it to us.

Ya right.

A set of 'to-dos' (touche`- corporate lingo!) bullets are usually jotted down mentally before one joins a company. An experienced IT professional typically adds in the the following :

Family is priority. Try not to go home late.
Don't take extra work. In the larger scheme of things, it really doesn't matter.

I am one of these typical experienced IT professionals. I had mentally ticked and cross-checked these bullet points before coming to the new office and taking up new assignments.

Then the inevitable happened - Seemingly impossible and frankly unnecessary deadlines. Now remember I had ticked the mental bullets? So I tried using tact with my manager, "I will not work over the weekend as I have other work to be done". (Ok, thats not tactical, but what would be in the face of a deadline?)

Tact definitely didn't work, and before I knew it, I was moving along with the demand and felt like I was towed away in the hurry-flurry of the corporate life!

Lesson learnt:
In any profession, the game of tick-tact-tow is always played. More often than not, we win it with all three crossed out, but come out grumbling.

Disclaimer:
I love my job. In fact, I seriously think this is the most fun job ever. But hey, what is mused will obviously be put here.

Layers!

2008-12-30T16:11:00.010+05:30

From the glass bowl of souls,
God took one string of being,
and sewed the heart pieces into one.
New life created, illuminated it with a soft glow.

The heart, energetic and awake,
felt vulnerable and exposed,
and requested God for a cover,
fearing harshness it could not take.

So He created a maze,
for the heart to hide in,
leaving only an eye-window open,
allowing it, at times, to gaze.

The eye-piece watery and bright,
from showing love,hate, anger and pain
requested God for two shoulders
to share some of its plight.

So He created shoulders broad,
for the eyes to rest once in a while.
It helped display pride and strength,
and in times of need, to gently prod.

The shoulders, despite their might
were tired of the task bestowed on them,
and requested God for two hands,
to share some of their plight.

So He created hands two,
to hug and comfort a friend.
With polite and friendly shakes,
they shared the shoulders' load too.

The hands, weary of the shakes
with every soul-maze they met,
requested God for a thick skin,
to reduce the connections they made.

He finally created a thick skin,
with a sharp tongue to go along with it,
sealing his delicate maze in this secure cage,
leaving no trace of the soul to be seen.

The multi-layered man faced the world,
confident and brisk,
while the soul lost in its maze,
tries to get its voice heard.

The process of discovering new and unexpected layers in a person motivates me to keep finding out more about them. Just when I think I have figured someone out completely, Bham! They surprise me with something new.

Layers in short, is the way I perceive my friends and acquaintances.

Jaago Re!

2008-12-16T11:34:00.004+05:30

I have had my share of "Election-ke-time-agar-aap-vote-nahi-kar-rahe-hain-to-aap-so-rahe-hain" moments. ( If you didn't get that, you need to watch the Jaago Re advertisements by Tata tea.) Of all of them, there is one memory which for me, is the funniest.
After going to Mysore for Infosys training in 2005 September, 5 of us decided to go to the famous Brindavan Gardens one weekend. The first sight of the garden was a shock - Surely it wasn't this dirty a couple of years back! There were papers, plastic covers, and other debris everywhere! Unkempt grass, dirty water, and loud people were already making it a regrettable trip when-
A 25-30 year old lady, seemingly nonchalantly, dropped an empty aquafina bottle. You may think that she threw it in a dustbin, or maybe even, at a place where there were lot of aquafina bottles. But nay, she dropped it right in the middle of a grass-less, but fountain-ed place in the garden!
To say that I was more than ready to show her the very sharp edge of my tongue would be an understatement. So, I controlled myself, ran up to her, picked up the bottle, and said, with my 32-teeth-obvious-artificial-smile, "Excuse me, you dropped the bottle." and thrust the offensive piece of plastic back into her hand.
Ah, the joy of seeing pure shock and later, embarrassment on someone's face! **Sigh**

The sound, and sight of music

2008-12-08T14:54:00.006+05:30

There are different sounds people like, like Bryan Adams, birds chirping, violin or even a baby's full-hearted laugh. This post is about one sound which mesmerises me - the sound of a water fall.
I have been to 5-6 waterfalls in my life, but visits to two, being treks, were unforgettable. Imagine walking through flora, fauna, stones,insects etc just for the sight of a famed waterfall and wondering how long you can maintain your balance (and dignity) climbing slippery rocks. To suddenly hear the rush and sheer power of water falling is pure music for ones' ears!! I don't know how to describe it, but I can still feel the rush I had at that precise moment when I knew for sure that that's what I was hearing. Finally, what can beat the climax of the moment, the source of the music, the first glimpse of the fall?!
By the way, the two falls I have been talking about are Abbey Falls, and one near Talakona falls. Adjectives like "Wow", "Amazing", "Spellbound" fall short of describing them, so attaching a couple of pictures!

The one near Talakona Falls

Abbey Falls

My God must be crazy!

2008-12-03T12:12:00.006+05:30

Thats because, He devised an ingenious way of keeping me ramrod straight on my chair while working. My God uses an invisible straw which rests on the table edge with the other tip ending at my forehead, forming the hypotenuse of a right angle triangle.
But the unthinkable happened today morning. I leaned too much over the straw, and it broke. I immediately folded my hands, had a sip of coffee, and prayed,"Please keep me upright. I have work to do". He listened and reluctantly replaced the straw.
After two hours and breaking nine more, I ask The Lord again, " Please Sir, I have a call at 12.30. Once more, and I will never ask for anything from you today."
He looks at me with disgust, " My dear, that was the last straw"
I stare at him, shocked, and against my own will, my forehead drops on the table.

Sitting on a large stone..

2008-11-20T11:14:00.004+05:30

I am not a very big fan of Paulo Coelho, but there is one story of his that I like a lot. More than the lesson imparted at the end of it, I liked the way of the impartation. It goes something like:

The teacher placed a large glass jar on the table.
Then out of a bag he took ten stones, each the size of an orange, and began placing them, one by one, in the jar.
When the jar was filled to the brim with stones, he asked his students:
‘Is it full?’ They all agreed that it was. The teacher, however, took some gravel from another bag and by jiggling the large stones around inside the jar, managed to fit in quite a lot of gravel.
‘Is it full now?’ The students said, yes, this time it was definitely full. At that point, the teacher opened a third bag, this time full of fine sand, and he began to pour it into the jar. The sand filled up any empty spaces between the large stones and the gravel, right up to the top.
‘Right,’ said the teacher. ‘Now the jar is full. What do you think I’ve been trying to demonstrate to you?’
‘That it doesn’t matter how busy you are, there’s always room to fit in something else,’ said one student.
‘Not at all. What this little demonstration shows us is that we have to put the large stones in first because, afterwards, they won’t fit. Now what are the important things in our lives? What are the plans we postpone, the adventures we never have, the loves we fail to fight for? Ask which are the large, solid stones that keep God’s flame alive in you and put them into your jar of decisions now, because very soon there will be no room for them.’

I usually recollect this story during my daily and almost always, eventful morning bus journeys to office. The overflowing bus, precariously leaning towards the sensitive entry-exit side, provides a good bird eyes’ view of the peak morning traffic.
Then I notice how the big buses, vans, cars etc resemble big stones in a glass jar-type road. Just when I think that the road can’t possibly be any more packed, I hear honking, followed by yellow gravel-type autos, with adventurous drivers twisting and turning to occupy the empty spaces between these bigger stones. This has to be it – I think. Ding! Wrong again – in comes a horde of shiny-black-helmet sand-type bikers, riding full-speed; tilting their bike at amazing angles, getting in between the big stones and the gravel.
The early morning portrait is now full of green buses, silver cars, yellow autos and black bikers. Above the rapidly developing pollution cloud, protected from the searing morning heat, sitting in a hard-earned place and disdainfully watching the filling up of free spaces in the road, I feel like a queen of a vehicle-jungle. As I grin happily at the thought, the grandma next to me gives me a sympathetic look and decides to look the other way.
The little pleasures in life! **Sigh**

An Ode .. to Ash

2008-10-20T14:17:00.003+05:30

The irritation of being unable to sleep at 3:00 AM in the morning, knowing you have to get up in another 4-5 hours is nullified by only one thing - when you have company in this predicament.

Why is sleeplessness now a bliss?
Is it because it is as much mine as it is his?

Why do my eyes lose their hazy look at three?
Is it the knowledge that I have company?

Why I do I feel so lucky Suddenly?
Is it the fact that with you I never feel lonely?

Why do I smile while I type this prose?
Is it the certaintly that my life now is blissfully yours?

An answering rant!

2008-10-18T11:47:00.003+05:30

I recently read this blog (The girl mentioned in this blog is not me!) about the controversial topic of the patriotism of Indian people settling in U.S.

I dont know if i speak for the rest of the Indians settled ( and planning to settle) in India. But I want to add my piece on a topic which gets me totally riled up.

We don't mind Indians settled in U.S, studying there, working there, marrying there, starting their Gujarati/Andhra/Tamil commity, or even building their own version of a desi temple. No we don't mind that. In fact, by popular opinion, Videshi-Deshi junta are more outspoken about their patriotism than us.

But I do mind few things:
1. The comments about the Indian traffic, Indian taxi, Indian Auto (god forbid , the favorite topic for all videshi deshis), the level of Indian Noise - I don't mind the rants, I do mind the Indian sub attached to all topics, as if the speaker himself/herself was not an Indian (or once was).

2. Mails from just-going-to-study-MS-will-miss-you-all friends after landing: 'It feels as if I have come home de. This is where I belong.'

3. A recent comment by one of my relatives - ' Bed-Bugs? There are none in U.S! It is people from developing nations who bring it here. Must be the Indian students!'

4. Another gem of a comment from my recently returned-from-Pittsburgh neighbor thatha - 'ange perummal alangaram evalo pramadama nadakkum teriyuma?! Inge irrukkura koil llam unnum ille... evalo dirty!' and the add-on of course ' You should go there definitely for a darshan!'

I mean really, what does Vilayat do to some people anyway?! Note that I am not condemning everyone. My sister and jiju are in U.S hoping desperately that their daughter does not have much of an American accent. My Mama and Mami and Sai, though settled in U.S for more than ten years, are still very much rooted to India. My close friend Dasa has still stayed grounded.It is the smaller percentage of people that we despise.
Frankly, patriotic or un-, loving U.S or not, unless you are in India and get to listen to these nuggets of wisdom about our country from wanting-to-be-Non-Indian Indian, you won't get it.

You just won't get it!

PS: None of the above four points have been made up.

Taala-Kattai

2008-10-07T18:40:00.007+05:30

The moment I step up on the podium,
the world starts swimming before me,
I stop, trembling, straining to hear,
the sound of Taala-Kattai that could save me.

Thath Thai Tham
Dith Thai Tham
Thath Thai Tham
Dhith Dhith Thai

Learning these steps a year back,
right-cross-jump! - I would tell myself slowly.
As I became the sound and the sound me,
I prepared for my first performance on Vijayadashmi.

Thath Thai Tham
Suddenly I hear what I was waiting for!
Dhith Thai Tham
and my feet move with steps forgotten;
Thath Thai Tham
fingers changing swiftly with tune.
Dhith Dhith Thai

With Pain in body and pleasure in soul,
I dance and I dance and I dance and I dance.

Makkal were very surprised when I told them. "Dance?", "But honey, aren't you,like, um, too old for that?"
I mean really, how does it matter? Does walking like a duck, being clumsy, physically weak make one non-danceable material?! (Ok, It does, but who cares?!)
Now, one and a half years later, came the next set of questions. "Salangai-poojai - as in stage performance?!" "But honey, aren't you,like, um, too amateurish for that?"
Ah, well, to all ye skeptical people, this time I agree with you! I am very much an amateur, but it is something I am looking forward to, as it serves in dispelling lots of my own doubts about myself.

My poor Hubby!

2008-09-19T14:04:00.003+05:30

A mental break after a long long time! Though I am technically working, i love the non-AC and 'livable' conditions of my home PC, compared to office, where i end up catching cold or headache or stares!

Now my good luck makes me pity some less-fortunate mortals on! So, here is a poem for the long-sufferers, especially my hubby-to-be. May Gods and his bosses be kind to him at least today!

:) Oh i love irritating him:

My smile becomes broader,
can lazy day be any more sweeter?
then i worry about my poor hubby,
who works in the land of mordor.

i am in pure bliss,
can life be better than this?
then i worry about my poor hubby,
will he today find peace?

hippity-bippity bop,
around my room i hop,
then i worry about my poor hubby,
will his drudgery ever stop?

The Pink Tree

2008-09-06T17:56:00.003+05:30

Grazing my cattle far from home,
I suddenly snap out of my reverie,
My hands shake and i drop my stick,
looking ahead at the lone pink tree.

I am not shocked by the color,
or that it is the only tree for miles,
A candy floss wrapped in yellowed grass,
it was a sight for sore eyes.

I am not shocked by its height,
or that it grew in so dry a ground.
a leafy lollypop in yellow hands,
nods with the wind making a moaning sound.

I am shocked by its presence,
where last summer, my son was buried,
a flamboyant tombstone marking a buoyant soul,
growing out of an innocent heart-seed.

Stronger and Calmer, I walk up to the tree,
Cheek on trunk, I sing his favorite song,
leafy arms engulf me,
and i hear him sing along.

Not an original post - on charolis and rubaiyats!

2008-09-04T10:14:00.005+05:30

4-liners or short poems are a personal favorites with me. I recently got to know of charoli ( 4-line poems in marathi) and Rubaiyats ( 4-line or short poems by Ommar Khayyam. There are some beautiful verses all over the net. "Copy-Pasting" a few here:

Charoli by Chandrashekhar Gokhale:

Marathi

Aata me hi tharavlay

Agdi shahanyasarkh vaagayach

Kunaala kahi dile tar

Tyachya badlyaat kahi maagayach

English

Now I've also decided

To act like a clever person

If I've given something to someone

Then better ask for something in return!

Hindi

Ab maine bhi soch liya hai

Ekdum hoshiyaari se bartaav karna

Kisi ko kuch diya hai to

Uske badle mai kuch zaroor maangna!

------------------------------------------------------------------

Marathi

Gacch lavoon ghetlele daar

Baher lavlel 'Welcome' ch toran

He kasl daar bandh thevun

Swagat karnyach dhoran

English

The door is firmly locked

A 'Welcome' garland is put outside

What is this, keeping the door closed

And 'Welcoming' custom?

Hindi

Darwaaza kas kar band kiya hua

Bahar laga hua 'Welcome' ka Guldasta

Yeh kaisa darwaza bandh karke

Swagat karne ka tarika?

Rubaiyat by Ommar Khayyam:

Life is nothing

but a dull game with two

sure rewards: sorrow and death.

Is this a game

worth playing?

------------------------------------------------------------------

I feel young today.

Wine, wine! Its fire fills me.

Any wine will do - I am not choosy.

For even the best wine is as bitter

as life itself.

------------------------------------------------------------------

How sad, a heart that

does not know how to love, that

does not know what it is to be drunk with love.

If you are not in love, how can you enjoy

the blinding light of the sun,

the soft light of the moon?

English kills the beauty of the original - but thats the only language I understand! :)

Early Morning Blues

2008-08-30T15:37:00.000+05:30

Mind numb, shoulders shrivel, my hold on mouse slackens,
Oh no no, wake up! My inner self chides and coffee beckons,
Eye lids droop almost as soon as I empty my coffee mug,
And my head meets the table welcoming me with a cool hug!

Nag!

2008-08-29T11:00:00.000+05:30

Have you ever had a nag? Like, a reeeeeeeeeally persisting shadow of a memory at the back of your mind? Something that you desperately hope to find out?
I have lived with one such can-i-be-more-forgetful feeeling for the past 7-8 years. When I was 13-14 years old, I had a chance to read a wonderful book salvaged from a platform book-place in Gujarat. The tattered, stained, crumbling old novel(Don't remember its name or that of the author) was a very simple, first-hand account of a mother(don't remember her name) with few(don't know how many) kids and various incidents in their life (don't remember what). I cried copiously throughtout the read, and gave it back to the shop. And now that fragment of memory is killing me. I am still searching for it in google, wondering If i have passed it by! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Poems and I

2008-08-25T18:45:00.009+05:30

One fine day I woke up and discovered that I have a flair for writing, and then started this lovely journey in the world of poetry!
And nothing could be further from truth! Not very observant by nature, and not a great admirer of beauty, poetry usually flows over my head like a gentle undisturbing breeze. But then the miracle happened.
The miracle of Nora Roberts.
She is amazing. Her witty plots, humor, romantic descriptions and the occasional strong doses of magic has made me one of her biggest fans.
But how did she inspire me to write poems?! The answer would be found in her 'The three sisters island" trilogy. I made my sister read it and as expected, she fell in love with the plot. So following the story line, I made her Mia Devlin ( as my sis is Aries - Fire sign) and myself Ripley ( I am Gemini - Air Sign) - and wrote a four line spell - similar to how it is in the book.
It was juvenile, but fun! That tickled off my urge to write rhyming verses and finally to poems.
I am attaching some random initial impromptu verses here, which by no means are great woks of art, but are remembered fondly for the purpose they served.

Available!

(Written on seeing Nitin online after a very long time in Y! messenger - one of my earliest ones)

Hey-lo!

My dear dear fellow,

seeing your icon yellow,

turns my heart mellow!

For not calling...
(When i couldn't call up Ashwin after saying I would due to a sudden, unexpected and unwanted work.. this was written when I was in my previous job )

I owe you a big apology,
But have been involved in a minor tragedy,

For I have been given work I barely understand,
Wonder how much more of this I can withstand,

I will call you later,
When I am more saner,

I will go now have some coffee,
Once again, I really am very sorry!

Gyan!
(This was written to bala, who was then studying in final year(tucha are people studying in final year in his college lingo) and was not in the best of moods. Since I wasn't either, i wrote this. God! How unhappy was I then?!!

Ye enjoyer of tuchadom,
Enjoy your last year of freedom,

After this you will enter the read bad world,
Where small things will boil your blood,

I am in the same predicament now,
Got to escape this, but how?!

As the people around us are bad,
Which almost always end up making us sad!

But I hope u have a better luck,
At facing others, in which I obviously suck.

(Unnamed.. written a few days back for Ashwin when he told me he is going to continue with his new piece, 'The General')

honey sweety becomes naughty at times,
likes to write, but appreciates rhymes,
wants to be rushdie, but does not ape his style,
he's sure to leave mediocrity back by a long mile!

:) All Smiles remembering old times!

Busy is the buzz word!

2008-08-21T17:53:00.005+05:30

Consider the following conversations:

Me : Hi How are you doing?
Mrs. X : Good. Busy.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Miss Y : Hey Evglere(name changed!!), how are you doing?
Me : I am doing good thank you. How are you doing?
Miss. Y : Busy.. as usual!
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Start of conversation
Me : Hello Mr.Z! How are you doing?
Mr. Z : Busy Busy.
-------------------------------------------------------------------

Sigh! How difficult would it be when busy is all you are, even for answering a perfectly professional question from a perfectly professional peer? Especially when you are talking to the perfectly professional peer for the very first time?
Now I really thought that even If you are busy, when a typical "how are you?" question is asked, typical answers include "I am doing great!" or "have been better!". Guess typical passed me by long time ago!
Time to become atypical now i guess.

I have to go now.. busy day ahead! Bye!

Gadgety-Widgets!

2008-08-14T11:58:00.005+05:30

I discovered Widgets, albeit a tad late! My favorite addition is the Bookshelf (Thanks Nitin!). It feels wonderful to have one online, and see some of my treasured books racked up neatly for display!

AFTERMATH

2008-08-13T10:06:00.006+05:30

Dirt covered window, with a small palm print,
allowing sun rays to enter weaving dirt ways,
touseled grey sheets with brown stains,
some glisten red reflecting light,
naked body lying, heaving now and then,
curled into a ball, a girl of ten.
bruised and battered, red turning purple,
big scared eyes, salty tears healing wounds.
a heart-broken sigh, she gets up,
covering her wounds, to go to school,
leaving her room, the smell of wine,
and her drunken father behind.

This poem was written after reading "Our little secret", a story on child sexual abuse.

Shopping-Ship

2008-07-15T14:31:00.007+05:30

Male bonding typically happens in smoking room over talks of women, football/cricket and beer. I guess we ALL know where female bonding happens: Shopping.

And I dread that word. Don't mistake me. I didn't say I hate shopping. No girl survives in India, especially Chennai, with less than 7 dresses and a couple of earrings. Considering I have double ear piercings, and have some more lined up, I am totally IN with the More is Cool trend here. But I quickly run out of patience, and prefer buying the first few things I see, however expensive and mediocre they are.

So you think that is a good thing? Think again. When 60% of a girl-girl conversation is related to the biggest shopping haunts in Chennai, and crooning over the latest trends and must-haves, I find my knowledge or contribution to such topics negligible. When someone Oohs and Aahs, 'Where did you buy that dress/earrings/bag/shoe from?!', I embarrassingly forget that important detail at that crucial moment which would make or break the bond.

To put it in a nutshell, I am making excuses for my dwindling number of female friends! There are few i treasure: Mom (Yes!!), Aarthi, Suba and Aruna. The rest come, try their hands at being patient with me, and give up!

I intend writing the next few blogs on these girls who have made my life!

PS: I have just listed the people who have been been with me, like forever. There are others with whom I have lost a mental touch due to distances and differences.

The Big Bang Theory!

2008-07-10T11:04:00.004+05:30

Recently, I had an argument with one of my friends on the credibility of Big Bang Theory. One mass - Big Explosion - Bham Bham - Objects – Galaxies – Stars - Forces! A typical one-to-many example. Is it just a fragment of a man’s creative imagination?
Personal opinion: A colorful believable picture. The kind of theories that made science text books interesting, and star-gazing imaginative. But right now, applying it to a different facet of life, I find it explaining lot more than how the universe was formed.
Taking a typical scenario, consider the first day in office, where a group of people have joined together. They are from different backgrounds and have different mentalities, but are bound together by a common need to survive.
Fast forward it to 3 months from then. Groups - friends – enemies – crushes - lovers. Smiles and greetings are as scarce as the get-togethers of the first few exciting days.
The solid mass splits, leaving in its wake, few galaxies and few stray objects in the universe. They are moving away, slowly, but surely. But as they say, what will be, will be.

4Ws and 1H

2008-06-28T12:44:00.000+05:30

Saturday morning - I jump up on my bed,
too much work- that is all I have in my head,
Now in front of comp, my mind wanders,
how did I survive 2 months? I wonder.

'You have been put in Logistics'
Anil tell me happily
'Um, that is good, I know' I fumble
'Can you explain what it is though?'

'Research and find out what is hot'
Anil breaks the news,
'Oh I'll do it for sure' I say,
'But who is this report meant for?'

'Do a powerpoint, Arial font and shades of blue'
Anil tries to coax,
'Did I hear you right?' I ask,
'But really, why can't it be more bright??'

'Cover everything and be done by Monday'
Anil says smoothly,
'Can you please repeat what you said?' I ask,
'It is the when part that I dread!'

'Forecast, Primaries, Analysis',
Anil gives me a list,
'Oh I get it I get it' I fume,
'But you will tell me how, I presume.'

What, Who, Why, When and How,
questions that govern my life now,
I should be frustrated and angry but I am not,
As I happen to like my job a lot!

Mosaic

2008-06-21T11:18:00.000+05:30

MOSAIC
(Dedicated to Ash)

I have been trying for hours,
but am unable to recollect his face.
I dream of him every moment, but wonder,
How I always see him as a mosaic of colors

‘Can we be friends?’,
Asked the white Man,
So innocent and so pure,
‘Of course Yes!,’ I said,
and life took a better turn thence

‘I think I have a crush on you’,
Said the pink Man,
Blushing and Mischievous,
‘Ha! That will pass’, I said,
But, oh dear; did I feel the same way too?

‘I want to marry you’,
Said the green Man,
Smiling and down on one knee,
‘Oh Yes Yes Yes!’, I screamed,
There was nothing more I wanted too!

‘I have to leave’,
Said the grey man,
Mature and responsible,
‘Of course, go ahead’, I said,
with nothing more than a kiss to give.

‘I miss you so’,
Said the orange man,
Romantic and dreamy,
‘I do too’, I say,
He will be back soon, I know.

A mosaic of colors, he,
Opened up a whole new world to see,
More than making me love him,
Has made me love me.

The tale of a horse

2008-06-12T09:45:00.001+05:30

This poem was written recently just to bug Ash:

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!,
The hooves make the sound,
As he runs through the greens,
covering more and more ground.

With a coat of brilliant white,
and lustrous mane flying high,
he is a graceful figure for his height!
minions of the jungle turn to watch,
as he, like a breeze, passes by.

He has reached Vikhroli,
Drenched in sweat, from Mallad,
Facing banana bombs, Chepauk and me,
He now whinnies a ballad:
“Oh! I need a break and sleep”,
he whinnies all day long.

God Almighty, unable to bear the song,
Lets him sleep whenever he wants
So now he spends the first third of the day on hay,
Sleep in bus in the second third
And trot slowly in the last leg of the day

So now, Ashwin sleeps and sleeps,
breaking only for food and piss.
But, unknown to him, The God has other plans.
Tomorrow, he needs to run again,from Vikhroli to Netherlands.

The journey will be long and hard,
lots of pitfalls, people and training,
But no no, it won’t be bad,
As he would meet his old relatives & friends
And imagine the experience he is gaining!

Ya! I know! Its funny and dumb! But i loved writing it! Since there are some parts which most of you won't understand, here is a small spoiler:

Mallad : Location of Ex-TCS office
Vikhroli: Where CapGemini, his new office is
Banana Bombs: The production house of his movie
Chepauk: Where the chennai cricket ground is, and we went there to see an amazing match between CSK & RR

Observations

2008-04-21T17:43:00.000+05:30

Poem thought of while going to office in the morning bus:

Standing in the middle of the road in the scalding heat,
I have lost track of time and the changes around me,
Watching the world moving to a wild beat,
I marvel at the different shades of man I get to see.

Take this young man walking by the road,
With his wife silently tagging along,
Carrying two bags, too much of a load,
While the man looking at a pretty broad,
Nods, winks and bursts into a lewd song!
The wife watching this hangs her head in shame,
Maybe thinking that she has only herself to blame.

Suddenly, a whistle disrupts my reverie,
Followed by a screech of wheels and a hail,
Turning around I am not surprised to see,
The traffic constable making his first sale;
Sale of his honor for not stopping an offender,
Calmly pocketing the money, he waves him along.
How does he live with himself? I wonder,
As this is what I have seen him do, all day long!

Jus then, something divine reaches my ear,
Oh it’s a bird singing a beautiful song,
She lands on me, without a fear,
Noting my appreciation, decides to go on!
"Oh what a pretty bird!" Cries a young girl looking,
Her beau, looking dreamily at her, nods,
She moves closer to him, still smiling,
And his hand creeps around her waist, after a pause.
Oh ignore me, for god's sakes,
I am only a man, about twice your age!

Lost in my observations, i just see,
That the sun has set, giving me a golden glow,
The bikers slow down looking up at me,
Magnificent in bronze, with feelings I can't show.

Whim!

2008-03-02T00:12:00.000+05:30

A sudden whimsical one written to make Ashwin come back to Chennai!

Deep deep in a forest,
Where everyone roamed and flew free,
there was a small, but busy mumbatree,

on which lived a sweet birdie,
loved by many, wearing a lungi,
spent its spare time flying by the sea!

With its high voltage energy,
famous how could he not be?!
heartthrob of some,
loathed by many,
he is usually too busy to pee!

but now he is confused,
as he has got a call from madratree,
from ma and pa birdie,
long longgggg tailed karthi,
and of course.. me!!!!

Madratree is not Mumbatree,
but birdie will still be happy,
as there are many here who love him,
and he can still fly by the sea!

Sizzles!

2008-03-01T10:10:00.000+05:30

There is nothing more exciting or inspiring than being in loved and be loved by a person you respect and trust the most! So.. i got inspired!! And wrote another poem! Be warned though: whatever comes out of an inspiration need not be good!

Fires burned high, rain fell strong,

Wind blew mighty, Earth trembled long,

A powerful man, seeing the power around,

Decides to capture it, and keep it bound,

Takes the fire high stirs it with rain strong,

Adds in air mighty, and drops in earth with a song.

He gets power in a vessel, but sees something amiss,

And so adds in a drop of love with sizzle and fiss!

Out of the vessel come a man and woman,

Powerful, and made in love, mere humans,

The woman of wind and Earth, The man of fire and rain,

In mortal world, known as affi and antbrain!

24 years later, they fulfill the powerful man’s wish,

They meet, they love, they sizzle and fiss!

Another attempt!

2007-12-08T19:54:00.001+05:30

It is really boring to be at home with nothing to do! I had the misfortune of going through THAT ordeal last week, when a tiny fuss my leg made lead to a lot of fussing on my parents' behalf!

So, after reading all the unread novels, and writing a poem which neither rhymed nor made sense to half of my friends(see previous blog entry for reference), I decided to sketch! Of who you ask?! The possibility of you recognizing her is minimal as the sketch bears very little resemblance to the real person, so i may as well tell you. I drew a sketch of bommi, my almost-2 year old niece! There it is!

As times lead me..

2007-12-08T19:54:00.000+05:30

It might not be my best, but:

I lay awake on bed, staring at the ceiling,
Waiting for sleep to come, but it eludes me now,
The night-time carries with it strange feelings,
Taking me back in time, making me remember how:

We used to get together and play cricket,
With best-bowler Bouncer and me at the wicket,
Playing in lazy afternoons, changing the rules of the game,
Breaking many windows and wondering who to blame.
The games are over now; there are no more Get-tos,
There is a new Bouncer now; and another kid in my place,
New streets, new teams, new games to win and lose,
As times lead me, all I can do is give in with grace.

The bed next to me creaks; bringing me back to now,
It is still dark and dawn so far away,
I try to write this all down, but I cannot hold a pen,
It takes me back to a time when:

Teachers feared at the idea of teaching me,
For I wouldn’t listen, they could clearly see,
Punishments, beatings, ah they tried in vain,
I remained impervious, though very much in pain.
How I repent that now, how I wish I could go back,
But as times lead me, all I can do is give in with grace.

I hear footsteps and urgent whispers, is something wrong?
Oh, must be old Martha singing her famous song,
She is like me she is,
She dwells in her past, at an hour like this,
Sings for the good, frowns for the bad,
To continue, oh yeah, I had:

The best job a man could ask for,
A loving wife many would die for,
Parents who took care of us,
Two girls who excelled in all,
I spent everything on them, frills or fuss
In my memories they glimmer and fade,
As times lead me, all I can do is give in with grace.

The sun rises finally, and a single tear leaves my eye,
Another minute, hour, day has passed me by,
I look around, to see others in a similar daze,
not knowing what to do, after reaching the end of the maze.

Suddenly I hear a familiar cry,
Oh bless me; my grandson has come by,
These visits are all that govern my day’s pace,

As times lead me, all I can do is give in with grace.

A beginning!

2007-12-04T12:17:00.000+05:30

Huh?! What the hell are you doing here?!
Now that you are here, you may as well fear,

For i am bored of life being on constant rereun,
With work so boring, there is usually minimal fun!

So decided to create a blog to vent it all out,
Any comments about that, i can do without,

On that note, i start my blog! and FYI, i am just kidding, comments are welcome!