The Journey of a Gypsy

2009-03-18T22:32:00.001-07:00

My first 100 words post. Here.

A 100 words

2009-03-17T18:24:00.000-07:00

"Words like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within"

When he told me about 100words i was immediately intrigued. To write a post in 100 words or lesser, conveying the gamut of emotions that runs through one's mind. An attempt at disciplined creativity.

It excited me, as it seemed like a sort of introspection to myself. A way to look into me and get directly to the heart and soul of it. I do not know if i will be able to see through this or make sense in the process.

So here is the deal. We will write posts that do not exceed 100 words. As often as possible. About anything. Absolutely anything.

Yet another new journey begins here.

PS:- A Drabble is a story or piece of fiction that is exactly 100 words.

Through the looking glass

2009-03-10T00:47:00.000-07:00

Listless eyes fixed aimlessly on the road. The dry hum of the AC blowing on my face. One long never ending road. The slow monotony of a highway drive. Many kilometres covered. Mindless music crooning in the background. Every mile seemed to me like the road was gobbling up human beings, villages and vehicles alike. The road swallowing the people and things that it passed by in seconds. The car swallowing the road as it moved ahead. The vicious cycle kept replaying before my eyes and suddenly brought a memory to the forefront . A memory that tore its way from that place , deep inside mind, where it was locked away for eternity. The loud screaming thoughts rudely shook my reprieve and replaced the stoic silence of my mind.

A few words spoken. She said something. I said something. It all became one huge mess. I kept thinking about it over and over again. It wasn't about right or wrong. It wasn't about me or her. It wasn't about the sorries that should have been said, but went unsaid. It wasn't about the million notes we wrote each other from when we were kids. It wasn't about the undying juvenile declarations of ever lasting "best friendness". It wasn't about the times we shared together. It wasn't about the time we grew up together, making stupid mistakes, laughing over them and growing up. It wasn't about all the times we cried on each other's shoulders. It wasn't about the late night escapades. It wasn't about the sneaking out. It wasn't about consoling each other after all the break ups. It wasn't about the bitching. It wasn't all the fancy notions of love that we shared with each other. It wasn't the long cups of coffees shared everyday and the long soul to soul conversations that came with it. It wasn't the porn movie we sneaked to watch as teenagers. It wasn't about the lame late night conversations and rides in the beach. It wasn't about all the fights at home and standing up for each other. It wasn't about being together, making mistakes together, learning from it together and being there for each other. It wasn't even about that fact that almost all my happy memories had her in it.I was only thinking about how us growing up has made everything so much more difficult. How us, who let nothing get in the way of us, are now driving a wedge between ourselves, slowly, gently and without letting each other know. The stupid way adults did it. The way we said we would never be when we grew up.

How all this suddenly seems lost is something i can't come to terms with. Why is it that we, who spoke about everything under the sun, didn't speak about this and put it behind us? Why is it that we, who think and know that we are always best friends have both decided to put that one incident at the back of our minds to never discuss it again? Why is it that i still look at you, smile at you with all the fondness in the world, and yet know that somewher inside, something hurts. Why is it that, i was thinking of writing this as a blog, when i should have just reached out for my phone and told u, "Lets talk about that day." It was after all just a few words that both of us said.

The thoughts in my head were deafening. I was suffocating. I reached out and lowered the glass in a ditch attempt to get rid of the way my thoughts were closing in on me. The cool breeze caressed my face, and soon i found myself forgetting myself in the sights and sounds around me.The gentle caress of the winds, the steady sound of the car cutting across, and the fleeting glimpses of people, villages, Peace and calm. The caress of the breeze, brought back memories, joy and the steady sound of the car cutting across the wind, brought a sense of peace, calm and understanding.This was the other side of the looking glass. All along i was looking through the glass. On the reverse. The reflected side. other side of the looking glass is not behind it. It is right in front of us. It is right there at the one place we never look.

All i had to do was to lower the glass and transcend into reality. All i had to do was look through the glass at myself.
All i had to do was let go of myself, so that I could find me again.

This time on the right side of the looking glass.

It was from the other side of the looking glass, that i reached out to my phone and called her.

PS: for the really, really uninitiated through the looking glass is a term that i flicked right off alice in wonderland. :-)

to new beginnings!!

2008-09-20T22:39:00.000-07:00

To new beginings,

a new beginning,

a new life,

This is for the one soul who checks back every once in a while to see if i am still alive!

PS: decided against the old blog.. its going to be this :D except i am hoping to be back to blogging NOW..
yes i know thats 247th time i am saying that.. but i hope to mean it this time around

i am back!

2008-01-16T20:37:00.000-08:00

hello to the both of you who read my blog so religiously!! even when there are no updates..!! [:)] if there's more do delurk and tell me!!

its the new year. well.. we are quite a bit into the new year!
but i suddenly realised how much i missed writing and how i was just giving myself excuses that i was busy.
Well here i am, making a conscious decision to write more and more often!! i am promising myself that i am going to be more regular.
I almost forgot.. one of the biggest inspirations for the same are of course 1$saint., i am also planning to blog from his blog as well. He's one of the both of you, who actually thinks i am good enough to write and also very politely invited me to blog in his group blogs! ! [:)] and also S, alec and a few others who were subtly persistent.!!

happy pongal folks as well as a very belated happy new year!

Don't laugh at me

2007-06-10T03:39:00.000-07:00

His little girl came up to him and claimed that she wanted to be the best train driver the world has ever seen. Suddenly memories came flashing though his head.

Memories of him trying to reach the top most shelf where his amma had hid the bourborn biscuit dabba. His failure to do so irritated him and he had proclaimed to his mum that he would one day be the tallest man in the world, so that he could reach anything. His mum had laughed at him and asked him to run along.

Memories of him, telling his dad that he wanted to be a telephone operator as then, nobody could stop him from using the phone. His father had laughed at him too.

Memories of him wanting to be the richest man in the world, as he could then buy all that he ever wanted. Memories of the various uncles and aunties and the other friends who would purposely ask him what he wanted to be and then laugh at him when he said something.

Memories of him wanting to be a million things. But the one thing common to all of it was that he was always laughed at.

He remembered that as a kid he couldn't wait to grow up. He hated being a kid. He wanted to be taken seriously. He hated being dismissed as "a little kid"

Then it hit him. All those times that he wanted to be a million things, he only longed to be taken seriously. Somehow his little brain had concluded that the only way to be taken seriously was to become a grown up and Nobody would laugh at him then.

He was brought back to reality by his little daughter, tugging at his sleeve excitedly, so that she could catch his attention. She went around the room, chugging like a train, trying to show him, how she would drive her train.

He smiled. He ruffled his daughter's hair and told her that he was sure she would make the best "train driver" in the world. His daughter chugged out of the room,her childhood intact.

Tomorrow

2007-06-06T07:42:00.000-07:00

The clock struck six. She woke up like in a dream. Her hand automatically went to her phone. She went through her daily routine like in a dream. She crammed into the crowded train like in a dream. She pushed her way out at the crowded station almost like in automation. At work, it was like she was almost not there. She no longer stopped to care about what she was doing. She just knew that at the end of the day, she had to get to the top. In the rat race called life she too was running. Running to win. Her life was now governed by train timings, boss's mood swings, the maid's timings, super market timings, so on and so forth

Till one day she woke up. She threw her alarm clock on the floor. The glass shattered to pieces.
She smiled. She smiled at the sound of broken glass. She smiled at the million pieces that she saw. She smiled while carefully jumping over the glass pieces. She smiled as she switched off her phone. She smiled as she shut out the distant sound of the train chugging. She smiled as she threw the newspaper aside. She smiled as she walked out.

Tomorrow she had to buy a new alarm clock. But that was another day. Today was her day. Nothing would come in her way today. She closed her eyes and took a whiff of the fresh air around her. She opened her eyes.

Finally she realised, that she was in a dream.

PS:- arbit posting. Felt like it. Just a whim.

SEXY!!!!

2007-06-05T03:23:00.000-07:00

I saw Cheeni Kum yesterday. No this is not a review, but there is one annoying element in the movie amongst other annoying elements.Its that six year old girl whose called SEXY. huh?! what? yea! u heard right.. sexy. its stupid, small, wears dirty pink clothes and walks around the screen mouthing obnoxious dialgoues.It doesnt walk. It struts around! If my mum ever laid hands on that kid, it would be mince meat before it even had time to say SEXY!

Apart from suffering from blood cancer, [it has to be fatal.. what was I thinking??!!] it also suffers from an acute foot in mouth disease. It stays up till 12:30 in the night. It asks for adult movies. It tells Tabu that it is in bed with amitab bachan!![ to be precise.. He's sleeping.. with me!!] [BLECH] It says stuff like dont impress the father in law with food. Impress him with booze and its all of bloody six years old. It also said some other things which i was too bugged to remember. What got to me worse is that somepeople in the theatre were actually lapping it up. There was a bunch of people sitting before me who kept going awww awww!!! Some people i tell you !!!!!!

If the director didn't kill it in the end, i would have loved to wring its neck.

2007-06-01T06:01:00.000-07:00

She zoomed out of the house, lighting up the entire place with her smile. The main road was buzzing with traffic, like a bee hive, but she had already heard the distinct honk. It was the horn that she waited to hear everyday. It was the man she waited to see everyday. She ran to the main road just in time to see him. She hopped onto the bike. She hugged him tight and he zipped away. It was a very short ride, but it made her ecstatic. She was young and not very observant, but she still noticed the way, his hand touched her every time he breaked hard, just to see if she was all right. She still remembers the smart manouevers he made with his bike, the elegant style with which he rode his bike. She always thought that he was the best rider in the world. She still does.

Time flew buy and she still worshipped, adored and loved him. He was there for her at every step. Every time she achieved something, he was ecstatic. He was proud to show her off to the world as his. There were times she failed. She cried bitterly. She was angry with the world. At times like these, he patiently waited for her to cry her lungs out . He never said anything.. He always told her that things would be okay. But more that his reassurances, it was his actions that always stayed in her mind. It made her learn what being tough was all about. She never saw him cry except when he lost his loved ones. She never saw him give up. She never saw him weak. To her, he was just the best guy in the world.

Soon, the rebel in her surfaced. She wanted to break free. She wanted to spite the society for just being its own judgemental self. Sometimes He encouraged her to do it. Sometimes he acted like the other men in the society that she saw. He sometimes said that she couldn’t do something just because she was a girl. He was firm in his judgements. It annoyed her. It irritated her. In turn, she annoyed him with her defiance and her decisions. But he never left her side. Some times she was right. Sometimes he was right. Through it all, he supported her, encouraged her. He never judged her, even when she was really mean to him. During all those mistakes, he never once said “I told you so”. For the first time, she realized that she was different from him. She also realized that at the end of all the innumerable fights, was a man who genuinely cared for her unconditionally. Young as she was, she refused to accept it. The rebel in her was still surfacing. She was too proud to ask for help.

She went through some of the toughest times of her life.. He let her be, but was always there when she needed him. He wanted her to learn from her own mistakes. She was happy that she was finally alone. She could say that she was truly independent. She made her own choices with no one to tell her anything. She was in this crazy world, when one day it all came crashing down. She was rushed to the hospital. She knew she was strong. She refused to let the pain get to her. She refused to cry. All along, she was surprised that he was the only person she was thinking off. He came rushing to the hospital as soon as he heard. She looked at him and burst into tears. He hugged her and said everything would be all right. She knew then, that it would. She was a fool. She needed him. He still was the best man in the world.

She came back to where she belonged. He welcomed her back with open arms. Life had taken her in different directions. Each day life was teaching her something new. She was learning to not only live her life, but also love her life. Then suddenly, one day another man walked into her life. Things were completely different. Everything around her changed. She was lost. She didn’t know what to do or where to go. She didn’t want to hurt him just because there was another man in her life. But she couldn’t help it. The new man was everything she ever wanted in her life. Mustering up the courage, She went up to him and told him about the other guy.

He looked at her and smiled. Tears glistened in the corner of his eyes. He knew it was time to completely let go as things would never be the same again. After all those years, It was tough. He looked at her long and hard thinking of all the old times. He hugged her tight and let her go. It ached his heart to do so, but he knew that years ago, he promised himself, that he would do whatever it takes to make her happy. He never wanted to let her go. He wanted to tell her that she was being a fool again. He decided She was doing the wrong thing ,but, If this is what she wanted, he would still give it to her.

He hugged her once again and then finally let her go. Now, she looked at him long and hard. She smiled. Her eyes were moist too. She was amazed at the selflessness of this man. She looked at the man, who taught her about life. The man, who stood by her throughout. The man, who never judged her. The man, who let her have her way, even when it hurt him the most. For a split second she wallowed in guilt about leaving him. She was scared that she would hurt him. Then her mind cleared up as the truth suddenly hit her.

She hugged him tight and whispered into his ears

“Dad, Your still the best man I ever know. !”

For a minute, they both remembered the bike rides he used to give her as a child. She remembered the hero that her dad was and he rememeberd how protective he was of his little girl. Tears flowed down both their cheeks.

Then,he let go of her to assure her that he was willing to let her become the woman she always wanted to be. She clung on to him to reassure him that she was and will always be his little princess for now and for ever.

PS:- this post is dedicated to my dad who turns a year today.. although this post is under the fiction category, It sure as hell is based on real life..

To the man who taught me life

“happy birthday dad!”

PPS:- yeah, i know i am back after a long time. but i am back with a vengeance. missed blogging quite a bit!! [:)] and thanks again to them folks.

PPPS:- this post is also for shruti, the soon to be blogger. [:)] u go now gurl!

I thought for long and hard about naming this post. I kept drawing a blank. If u guys can think of something drop me a comment.

Whats in a name?!!?!!

2007-04-22T02:48:00.000-07:00

The whole world is talking about the Abhi-ash wedding.... Yes, i too got a million mails asking me to check out pictures, costumes, sangeet donkeys, mehndi powder etc..!! I was determined to not give a shit!! i still dont!! but then its a sunday and extreme boredom calls for extreme measures...
I opened the junk folder of my mail box and was flooded with a dozen idiots forwarding me mails about the much touted ash-abhi wedding!! It all started as a "clean junk mail" spree mail but one mail caught my attention..
The mail had this link....
http://www.southasiabiz.com/2007/04/abhishek_aishwarya_wedding_tit_2.html
As a measure of relief for extreme boredom i clicked this link which came with the subject... Pls seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!! very interesting!! [i am not exaggerating on the number of exclamations!!]

We all know way too much importance has been accorded to this wedding so on and so forth. But what amuses me is not only the extreme detail that some indians are ready to delve into or the unnecessary attention that the media accords to it, but also the fact that we indians readily lap up even the minutest details offered to us!!!!!

One bit which had me grinning and which in reality made my day was :

"According to Anupam V Kapil, Abhishek should call her wife Aishu and it would help further to improve their relationship"

I don't feel all that jobless any more!! [:D]

I could crib and say that they are all big losers but i won't cause this feature is unique only to indians!! Why would I? It provides for so much entertaiment...

It happens only in India!! [:)]

Abracadabra!

2007-01-13T19:53:00.000-08:00

I stared wide eyed at the magician. I could only see his teeth. His smile was bewitching, enchanting and seemed to say a million things. Here I was talking to a magician, years after i grew out of my childhood fantasy of magic, mysticism and a penchant for the unknown. Somewhere down the lane, just like everybody else, I stopped believing in magic. I had gone there for a different reason. It was to invite him to perform for sick little kids. It was to make sure they forgot their world of pain for atleast a short time period. It was transform them to a world of fantasy for just a little while. It would be their never never land.

I saw him. Memories came flooding back. I was transformed into the world of magic once again. He was grand. He made birds fly out, rabbits pop, coloured ribbons flitter. His voice boomed. He held me captivated with his enchanting smile. He would make little kids disappear. He would make their pain fly away. He was smiling all along. He swished his wand at me in mock admonishment. He asked me to believe in magic. And he smiled. Yet again. He pulled a candy bar out of nowhere and gave it to me. I smiled as I walked back home, reluctantly. He would come next week. The magic would come too. Illusion was the best way to escape reality.

Next week came. I was excited. I think i was just a tad more excited than the little kids themselves. I told them all about magic and magicians. I told them how enchanting his smile was. I told them that it was much much much better than the real world. I told them that the magical world was not dingy. It wouldnt smell of hospitals. It wouldnt be time bound. It would have no limits. Anything can happen.

My stupid phone rang, bringing me back to reality. It was the man who i thought will make life better for the little kids. He didn't sound enchanting. He didn't sound magical. He simply said someone was paying him more to continue a show and so he couldn't make it. Just like that. It brought me crashing down to reality. The world was for adults. It wasn't for little kids and their fantasies. It wasn't for adults like me to indulge in fantasies either.

I looked down at the little kid which tugged my sleeve. Was it not my fault if she got disappointed today? Did I not after all build up all their expectations? Did I not promise them a different world just for a few minutes? Not having much of a choice, i told them as softly as i could. I told them their magician uncle was held up and that he couldn't make it.

Faces drooped. Disappointment writ large on all their faces. I silently cursed the man who did this. It was the same man, who i thought was the universal cure for reality. It was the man who would take us away from the dirty world of reality to a magical world of illusion. Now I know, adults are always right. Kids are always wrong. There is no magic. Its a load of tosh.

Then a little kid stood up. He took out some thread that he had in his pocket. He said he would make it disappear. All the kids gathered around him. He swished his hand violently. He looked at me expectantly. I played along and closed my eyes. Everyone around me closed their eyes too. When we opened our eyes the thread was gone. It was peeping out of the kid's pocket. In his excitement he forgot to hide it properly. The other kids either didn't see it or chose not to see it. Eitherways, they crowded around him and cheered him on for being such a great magician. A little 8 year old pulled the kutti magician and brought him over to me. She looked at me and said in no certain terms and said "He's better than your smiling magician"

I looked back at her and smiled. There were 23 faces with wide smiles. They were amused that I seemed more disappointed when the magician didn't turn up. They were amused that i needed someone to come and show magic. It looked like they were laughin at me. Magic was around me, and here i was like an idiot waiting for some guy with an enchating smile and useless hat to do weird, absurd things.
Soon, each one started trying a magic trick of their own. The other kids always played along. As i was growing up, i remember trying to spot the magician's trick so that I could rubbish it. Here they were, each one of them doing their own magic. Everyone knew how it was done, yet everyone played along just fine. Magic was truly in the air. Magic wasn't making little things disappear or appera. Magic wasn't fairies, gypsies or rabbits or anything. Magic was the moment these kids created. Magic was how these kids supported each other. Magic was in their toothy grins. Magic was in the fact that the kids knew that there is no difference between reality and illusion. Magic was in the simple truth, that whatever happens, the world offers enough reasons for you to smile. The world offers you enough reasons to forget and move on. The kids could have gotten angry at the magician like me. They however chose to smile, create their own magic and move on in life.

I now believe in magic. I believe in the real world. I believe that the real world is magic. Everytime I begin to become cynical, I am just going to look at a little kid smile. I will once again know that magic is real.

PS:- sorry for the long hiatus!!!!!!! And special thanks to 1$saint ,alec, ramya and a few others. They wanted me to come back to blogging! :-)

I am back.. the political drain's unblocked..

2006-07-22T06:22:00.000-07:00

My country was stinking.. The drain, the political drainage was smelling so bad.. Somebody opened it and let it all out. The result of which, was that they blocked most of the blogs in the country! The boogey man's now back in the box.. and my blog's back in action.

I got a mail which has left me in splits!!!! I am just copying and pasting the mail here, so that you guys can have some laffs too.. I have no clue who wrote this mail, but if it is a HE and if he's single, i've found my MATCH!!!!!

ALERT:- the lines that follow are absolutely senseless. There's no reason why somebody wrote it! Its just mindless, useless facts.. So if ur realllly all that busy and dont want to laugh, just chuck and wait for my next post..
Otherwise.. read on,, laugh on... and pass on the smile....

IF YOU yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would have
produced
enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.
(Hardly seems worth it.)

If you farted consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is
produced
to create the energy of an atomic bomb.
(Now that's more like it!)

The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out to the
body
to
squirt blood 30 feet.
(O.M.G.!)

******A pig's orgasm
lasts 30 minutes.
(In my next life, I want to be a pig.)

A cockroach will live nine days without its head before it starves
to
death. (Creepy.)
(I'm still not over the pig.)

Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories a hour
(Don't try this at home,maybe at work)

The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached
to
its
body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male's head off.
("Honey, I'm home. What the....?!")

The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It's like a human
jumping
the
length of a football field.
(30 minutes..lucky pig! Can you imagine?)

The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds.
(What could be so tasty on the bottom of a pond?)

Some lions mate over 50 times a day.
(I still want to be a pig in my next life...quality over quantity)

Butterflies taste with their feet.
(Something I always wanted to know.)

The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue.
(Hmmmmmm......)

Right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than
left-handed
people.
(If you're ambidextrous, do you split the difference?)

Elephants are the only
animals that cannot jump.
(okay, so that would be a good thing)

A cat's urine glows under a black light.
(I wonder who was paid to figure that out?)

An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.
(I know some people like that.)

Starfish have no brains
(I know some people like that too.)

Polar bears are left-handed.
(If they switch, they'll live a lot longer)

Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.
(What about that pig??)

hahahahahaha....

All said and done.. I think the politicians of our country top the list when it comes to humour, stupidity and heights of joblesness.

Of liars and lawyers!

2006-06-23T09:58:00.001-07:00

Ever had those times when people are trying really hard to be funny? They end up asking such dumb questions which are so cliched!!

This is a venting out session!! I dont know what happens to people when i tell them, i am studying law..!! I get such weird questions!! i have no clue if it the same with every profession or i am just jinxed!!

question no 1 :- [this i already mentioned before]

person:- what do u do?

Me:- study law

person:- oh uwant to become a lawyer!!

now if you thot was unbeliavble...
next question

9/10 ppl say this to me!!
1] question :- oh u want to become a liar???
Me:- Yea.. i am studyin to be one..
[ in my mind :- I already am a liar, here i am answering your question patiently with no signs of frustration, when all i want to do is take the damn table next to me, and bang it on ur head!!]

Come on people, u want to act funny, try something original! this line has been used, like for the past 4000000 years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2] Oh and another standard response, when told that i am studying law
So u can help me if i get into trouble,
or u can bail me out when i commit a crime,
or u can help me sue someone...

Yes.. U know why i am slogging my butt of at law school? To save ur ass when ur in trouble! yea rite!!!!! thats why i stay up nights mugging law...
I have one word for those weird people who i meet once and who want me to save their asses..
kill yourself and plead mental insanity, they wont jail you!!!!

3] Oh, your studying to be a lawyer, i have to be very careful with you!!
Yes, in law school they teach you how to compete with godzilla and swallow human beings up. Watch ur mouth else ur dead!!

4] ANother thing i hate, the two of us here are making a conversation like the above mentioned which is already lousy enough, and if a waiter, or a third person ccomes in
they say
"Watch out, she is studyin to be a lawyer, she wil sue you or some rubbish like that"

To all these people, i have just a few words,,
Get original or get a life!!!!

My little blue cycle with teddy bear stickers

2006-05-29T01:38:00.000-07:00

He said it was okay. He said i would be fine. He said he was holding on tight. But thats what scared me. I knew he was there holding on tight, keeping me from falling. But i also knew that he would let go, and i would fall. I would get hurt. I was more scared of him letting go of me, than of falling.

I was seven years old then, and i was learning to ride my bicycle. My dad tried his best to teach me. Each time he would hold on to the cycle, waiting for the right time to let go. But, i was scared. Each time he held on, i was dreading the second he would let go.

The thrill of owning my own bicycle with little teddy bear stickers all over it and all those dreams of showing off to the world by riding it without holding the handlebar all vanished into thin air. Learning to ride a bycycle was turning to be a nightmare. Nobody saw why i was so scared. I seemed to ride it perfectly, even when my dad wasnt holding on, as long as i didnt know about it.The second i realised he had let go, i would come crashing down.

Sheer frustration, prompted me to take the cycle out on my own one day to see what would happen. I hesitantly put my right leg on the pedal, and thought long and hard before i took my other leg off the ground. 2 seconds later, i came crashing down on the floor. It hurt, yes, but surprisingly i wasnt scared.

A few falls later, a determined confidence came over me. I told myself that now i wouldnt fall. I took my legs off the ground and pushed at the pedal with as much force as i could. I was moving. Yes, i was wobbling, shaking at first but soong enough, the cycle gained momentum.

As i moved, the wind breezed through my face, as though sharing the joy that i felt at that minute. It was sheer ecstacy to cut through the wind. It felt amazing to be in control of that thing, called my cycle.The clinging soound of the bell was to me, the best sound i could ever hear. It was my way of announcing to the world that i had arrived too.The cycle listened to me. It obeyed every command that i gave it. The faster i went, the better it made me feel. I wasnt falling down anymore. I could do it too. I could do it on my own.

My knees were tingling with pain, the feeling of pain when mud mixes with blood. Thats something that i generally would have paid a lot of attention too, but the pain it seemed for the first time in my life was completely inconsequential because i had achieved something, which to my 7 year old brain, was the pinnacle point of my life.

I couldn't wait for my dad to come back from office that day. The second he came back, i took him outside to show him what i had done. Pride surged through my father's eyes too. I was happy, because i had done it. I had done it without holding on to some one. The fear was gone. It was replaced by a feeling of complete euphoria. I refused to dress the wound up. It was proof of my bravery. It was proof of my victory. The little scar on my knee, remains till date, reminding me that i too could do something which i thought was impossible.

I was walking on the road today, when i saw a little girl on a blue cycle with little stickers all over her cycle. Her dad, was holding on to her, gently cajoling her to move and not be afraid. It not only brought back a smile on my face, but also a plethora of memories.

I smiled at the little girl, as i walked past her. I know that she will learn too. She will learn to ride the cycle without someone holding on to her.
She will also learn a lesson, that she would use through the rest of her life . It was just like riding the cycle. Once u learn it, you never forget it. Its somewhere in some corner of the brain. We, sometimes just choose not to see it.

The harder i held on to someone, or the more i wanted someone to hold on to me, was the only time when i ended up getting scared.It was the only time in life, that i never found my balance.The problem i realised was that i wanted my dad to hold on to the cycle forever and never let go. Nothing or nobody can stay with you or hold on to you forever. Neither can you hold on to someone or something forever. The fear of losing or the fear of falling should never stop one from trying.

I learnt never to hold on to someone or something just because i was scared or that i needed support to do something.Everytime i fell down, i always got back up on my feet. Why then was i scared to do something? As this incident came back to me in a flash, i told myself that i would never again, not to do anythin just because i was scared to fall.

After all "Falling down is not the sin, staying there is."

2006-05-24T06:31:00.000-07:00

EXTRACTS of a mail i got....

Silent Sit-in protest plannned in Chennai on 25th of May

THEME: ANTI-RESERVATION, MERIT BASED SYSTEM

DATE : 25th MAY 2006 Thursday
TIME : 4-6 PM
PLACE: Government Guest House, Wallajah Road.

SILENT SIT-IN PROTEST WITH PLACARDS

Permission has been granted by the police.

Participants include IITians, Medicos and working people.

All are Welcome. Let us show what we feel to the government.

Silent Sit-in Protest
A silent sit-in protest will be held. The protest will be SILENT. People are urged to tie a cloth (preferably black coloured) around their mouth during the protest. Dress code: White (waist-above atleast). A black ribbon to arm band in case the cloth used to tie is not black.

FOR MORE DETAILS
http://yfechennai.blogspot.com

Pictures of protests happening all over the country.

Pictures that speak a thousand words

Unleashed Fury

2006-05-15T21:47:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer :- I STILL love my country and i dont mean to offend any personal sentiments. The views expressed in this blog are mine and only mine! I also think ARjun Singh is a blithering idiot.

Students, protesting peacefully in mumbai, exercising their fundamental bledi right, calling for equality, again another golden principle of the Constitution, and what exactly happens? They ruthlessly beat the shit out of these students, injure them , treat them with no dignity whatsoever. A friend of mine, was dragged on the road, by a male officer, with no regard for the law at all.She has a broken elbow and brusises all over. All this, for exercising her rights in what is known as the world's largest deomcracy.

Even before we get into the pro's and cons of the reservation debate[ i dont see any, but still!] lets just analyse this. It doesnt need a Phd in Rocket science for the people and the government to realise that, before they remotely get to graduation and post gradutaion, the students need PRIMARY SCHOOLING first. They have to do something about the huge drop out rate of over 50% in the lower schooling level itself. 10,000 crores invested, or so they say, into the primary school education scheme and that too only for government schools. I wish the general public could audit them on all those funds. I for one, dont seem to see any improvement in the drop out rate or the government schools. It again doesnt take an einstein to tell them that econmoic reservations are way more sensible and more practical, i dont think any one is listening to us. Even if we do voice out what we feel, we get hit, and i mean it literally! Why cant they do it from bottom upwards, instead of startin at the top and rolling down all the way, hurting them as well as us! START WITH THE schools, move on the abysmal rate of litereacy in INDIA and then start talking about reservation at post graduate institutes.Improve the quality of education in the lower rungs. Equality is when all children, can study in government school, at the same cheap rate, and get equal education.

DO us a favour arjun singh. SHUT YOUR mouth and start talkin when u know what your doing. Look into the sorry affairs of schools teaching kinder garden kids, making a mockery out of their schooling. Tell us why so many students drop out. Tell us, why in your noble mid day meal scheme, the teachers end up cooking while the students are left to fend for themselves. Tell us why students are moving away from public schools to private. Your partners in crime, talk of how american has reservation too. Well in america, public schools are as good as the private ones.Make sure that a kid in a village gets a primary education just as good as a kid in the city CAn the same be said about INDIA?. Spend all your energy and time, in doing that, instead of bashing up medical students,curbing our fundamental rights, directly causing brain drain, [stop cribbing if people move out of the country. YOU did it to them.] Open up your hallucinating, stuck up mind and see that the truly depressed classes need a basic education first. Tell us where those 10,000 crores went. Use your brains, if you do have any, to priorotise before you interfere your stuck up, annoyingly long nose in everything possible.

In the name of CHEAP, VULGAUR, DEGRADING, vote bank politics, these politicians, seem to want to create a rift in our country, transorm it into a caste oriented pseudo secular place. ALL i can say to them is that you cynical monkeys stop insulting pure words like secularism, equality all in the name of repulsive politics.
Stop insulting the citizens of your country.

In my opinion, there should be no caste based reservation, economic reservation is the way to go if you really want to help the truly opressed and if we truly believe in equality. Those of u who belong to the other side of the debate, will still agree on one count, that the medics deserve the right to protest peacefully!!!!! Also that one needs to go to school, a good one, getting a good education, before they can even think of IIT's, and IIM's. I think the government need to get their priorities right and quickly! Oh, i am sorry, they have only one priority and that is winning elections. Why would they care?

Another tamasha, happened in the name of Tamil Nadu state elections. Everything under the sun was offered as a freebie. The election manifesto it seems was the hero of the election. The current chief minister has already waieved off 1000's of crores in the name of a loan waiver. The country of course in debts right up to their neck as is the state government. Its the tax payer's money which is being thrown away, in this power crazy state. Of what use is a colour tv, when a lot of villages are struggling with no power? Of what use is a gas stove, when the prices of LPG are soaring high. Gold jewellery in the name of the state. EXCUSE ME? but what the hell is happening here?

Sheer poverty, and hitting right where it hurts, rice, has ensured that one party assumes power. All parties, very conviniently kept saying, they would give this, they would give that. How lucky for them, they forgot to mention that its all OUR MONEY! Honest tax paying citizens, have to pay for them to dance like drunken idiots in the seat of power.
Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Elections come and elections go. Politicians win and they loose.
Is it only us who end up losing all the while, even if we speak out in protest??????

This is what happens in our country if we protest peacefully!

This one is to all the medics protesting in mumbai and the rest of india, who had to put up with all that torture and indignity, You go guys! Its our right! Lets stick up to it, and show them that we cant let them get away when they treat us like shit! We are not just another excuse for vote bank politics.

2006-05-14T21:17:00.000-07:00

I was just wondering as soon as i saw this picture. It somehow reminds me of life, and how its a constant stuggle. You keep fighting the crocodiles and land safely and the crocodiles it seems hav other plans! Its a battle isnt it?? No, i am not complaining. I am merely stating that life is indeed a battle at times!

I know i havnt blogged in quite some time. Sorry, i am saving myself from the croc's. Will post in a day or two!

Salam

2006-05-01T07:02:00.000-07:00

Salam, a friend, a joy,a child, a treasure,your regular guy,a teacher, and also a million other things. A guy,with a million facets to himself, yet handled all these roles, which such ease, that it was a joy to watch him, just be himself.

He was your every average guy next door, [what with a similar name], thought he was salman khan re-incarnated. He never missed an opportunity to flex his non-existing muscles. His vulnerable side, reflected on his face, everytime he turned beet root red, not knowing how to react to compliments, especially from girls, but pretended as though he couldnt survive without them.

The sport in him, was obvious, when everytime i called him a girl, for those inch deep dimples of his, used to respond by flashing me one of those smiles right back at me, never once reacting for the million names that i heaped on him.

Those little pranks he played so miserably, like hiding my cell phone, so obviously that it peeked out of his pant pockets! He, being highly oblivious to the fact, came up to me with a smug look on his face, asking me where my cell phone was. Intentional, or sheer stupidity, it always brought a smile on my face to watch his antics.

His little impromptu jigs, to the shadiest of hindi music, to the annoying voice of anu malik, or anyone for that matter, were amazingly funny. I learnt a lot from that though. He never once worried about who was around, who was looking, or anything. If he wanted to dance he would.

The sentimentalist in him, often visibl emerged. He had a little box, in which he collected things as trivial as chocolate wrappers, for keeps sake. He was a keeper.

He was a social animal. He loved to be the centre of attraction of any group. If there was a crowd smiling, or laughing away to glory, Salam had to be there in the centre, making them laugh. He would never settle for anything lesser than what he wanted. He also knew how exactly to keep the people around him happy. He also knew how to use his smile to the maximum advantage. Scheming that he was.

Oh yes!How can i forget. The possesive streaks, well he was of the male species[no offence], they just had to be there. It was a total treat to watch him get all possesive over me. It was amazingly cute the way he tried very hard not to show it. But he used to hate me talking to other people when he was around. Exclusive attention was what he wanted. He used to sulk, pout and act all high and mighty with me, if i failed to give him all the exclusive attenion. But the darling, that he was, used to bounce back to his cheery self almost immidiately.

Even when he was terribly sick, he never forgot to smile. He was one of those guys, who truly believed that a smile passed around, would spread cheer to the world. Wonders of wonders, it did. He always smiled first, and 9 out of ten times, got a smile in return. The world, when he was around always seemed a happier place.

When i was sad, upset, angry he never asked me a word. I never told him anything. He read my mind, i think. Till date, i dont know how he knew when exactly i was low, but he did. A warm hug, a few stupid antics, and a few of his girly[ they werent really girly. Its just that his face gets all screwed up everytime i say girly. It gets to him and i love that!] smiles got me smiling all over again.

He was a friend in every sense. He was an eternal joy to the people who's lives he touched. He was always there to make you smile. He was always doing the things that he wanted too. He was always and forever dreaming. He was forever believing in his dreams. To me, he was a treasure and a lesson[just for the way he lived his life], a delectable gift, given to me, in the form of just one person.

Salam, a guy who i will salute and bow down too any time of the day. Salam, the guy who i thought led by example, was 5 years old when i first met him. He was 7 when i last met him. He died, fighting cancer, till the last second of his life.

In the short span that was his life, he managed to touch a million lives. I was fortunate enough to be one of them. There's so much that salam has taught me. There is so much that he means to me. Thats why I am a little jealous. God, is one lucky guy. He has Salam, with him, by his side,a little boy angel [perenially flexing his muscles], to make him smile, to make heaven a better place to live in.

The other end

2006-04-29T09:40:00.000-07:00

2:30 am. The little girl let out a loud ear piercing scream. It echoed all over the little 8x8 room. The scream seemed to eminate from every brick, every inch of the room. Droplets of sweat broke out on his forehead,as though they were crying out in fear. He woke up shivering, fully expecting her to be there. After the shivering subsided,he looked around the little 8x8 room, which had been his world, for the past 14 years. The only other soul who inhabited his world, was the little girl. She seemed to live,echo and resonate from every corner of the room.

Patches of fresh blood,blood curdling screams, little frail arms flinging out aimlessly in all directions. These images hautned him, at all times of the day. One would think, he would have gotten used to it, but each day, she only managed to unsettle him a little further. Just as he was about to go back to sleep, well he couldnt call it sleep anymore. He had lost his sleep ages ago.Just as he was about to while away the rest of the night lying down, he realised today was different.

These were his last few hours. The president had turned down his clemency appeal yesterday. He had been waiting for this for many years now, but the finalty of the situation struck him. He gulped down a glass of water. Somewhere else in the city, some one else woke up shivering too. As the frail old man, gulped down his glass of water, his tear filled eyes, looked at the wall, on which hung the picture of a beautiful looking angel. His baby, who was now just a photograph. He stood there staring for long. That was all he could do.Hope filled the hearts of both these men. One hoping to live, and one hoping to die. The irony was that the father wanted to die, he didnt want to live without his little princess.

At 4:30 am in the morning, the door swung open. They were here, to take him away. By now, he was overcome by a plethora of emotions. His entire life, flashed by in his mind's eye. He could stil hear the girl scream. As the doctor put the steth to check his heartbeat, tears poured down his eyes. Were they tears of remorse? Were they tears of sympathy? Were they just tears of weakness? Was he finally accepting defeat? He closed his eyes and the little girl was back.Only, she wasnt crying anymore. She was intently looking at him with her little blue eyes, as though asking him just one thing, WHY?

He buckled under the piercing gaze of the little girl. He recollected what happened, like it just happened yesterday. The little girl, calling out for her daddy. The little girl, hitting at him with her frail little arms. His evil laughter, as he thrust himself into her and then thrust the knife into her little body over and over again even after the last drop of life oozed out of her. Her soulful blue eyes looked scared, angry and deprived and hopeful. Scared because of what was happening, hopeful because she still thought her daddy would come and get her.The little princess was deprived of her throne, for no fault of hers.

He was still crying as he was led to the chamber. He wished he could have changed all that had happened. He wished he could have changed everything,he wished he could be given another chance for he was scared to die . Then suddenly he wanted to die, atleast the little girl would stop haunting him. He knew now, that he didint have a choice. Hope it seems was finally deserting him. Just, as the black cloth covered his face, he cried out silently hoping for the last time that someone would hear his plea. He was sorry. He wanted to live. Then it struck him, He didnt listen, when the little girl called out to him. He didnt listen to the cries of an innocent angel. Some sins in life are never forgiven.

A sudden jerk. They had pulled the lever.A few minutes of absolute pain, a breatless sensation and then suddenly a strange kind of lightness descended upon him. Suddenly he could see. He could see himself hanging. He could see all the police men surrounding him,he could see them all and on the other side, he could see a strange glow of light. There was a tunnel of light. At the end of the tunnel, he could see a silouhette. It was the little girl. She was looking too. For the first time in years, a divine cherubic smile lit up the corners of her mouth.

Somewhere else in the city, the father, looked at his watch. He was waiting for this moment for long now. The moment passed.Was he happy now ? He didnt know. He hugged the picture of his baby girl and cried. Nothing, would bring his little princess back to him.Nothing would ever bring back the peace of mind that he lost.Nothing would make the pain go away. He, it seems had to live, to die again another day.

Another one of those million incident in the newspaper about a man raping a 11 year old and stabbing her to death. May these bastards rot in hell.

A drop of Joy

2006-04-20T11:35:00.000-07:00

I sat there, aimlessly staring at the sun's rays reflecting on the water. The sea, a phenomena of nature that always amazed me with its potence, power and beauty. Idle thoughts crossed my mind, and a myriad of emotions gushed through my heart. The golden glow, that the sea assumed, reflecting the beauty of the sun, was a sight to behold. The lone boat, sailing in the middle of the sea, which to me appeared to be sailing right on these golden waters, fighting the waves, bobbing up and down ,slowly moving against the wind, yet appearing to be completely in sync with the sea, only reminded me of the journey called life.

I was completely ignorant to what was happening around me, immersed as i was, in the majestic, glorious sea. A gentle breeze whizzed past my ears. The rain was announcing its arrival. The rain gods were going to smile down on the earth. The rain was announcing its arrival with elan. The gentle breeze, the scent of sand, rain sand, a scent which is unparalled in the world.

But, all this didnt cross my mind just then. As soon, as the first few drops, pattered into the earth, my brow knit into a frown. I woke up, just like everybody else, to find shelter. To me, right then, it was just a disturbance. Just as i stood up, i saw a kid running away from the clutches of its mother, running towards the rain. The mum ran up to the kid quickly and took the child back into the shelter.

Suddenly,a childhood memory came back to me so hard, that i sat down, right where i was. As a little child, i used to run out, with my hands outstretched and mouth open. I tried to catch as many drops of rain as i could. I always thought that once the rain hit the ground, it would die. It would become, regular water, or muddy water. My mum always told me that rain water, was the purest form of water before it hit the ground. Rain was my hero. He was the purest thing i could ever find.

I therefore, ran everywhere, trying to catch the rain. Each time, i caught a drop of rain in my hand, it felt amazing. It was as though i was saving the rain from losing out on its purity.I would carry a little mug with me, to catch the rain. I was saving it from dying dirty. With a mouth, open as wide as a crocodile, rain was bound to go in!!! But, i didnt think about any of that. I felt ecstatic, each time, a drop went in.

It, then struck me, that i never once was worried about all the drops of rain, that i never caught. To me, it was all about running there, doing everything i could, to catch the rain drops. The ones, that i did save, made me very happy. I never felt disappointed at the ones i let go. I always knew there would be more for me to catch. Everytime i opened my palm, to look at the rain i caught, it used to smile up to me, as though telling me something. Back then, i seemed to know what it was saying. Impulsively, i put my hand out, with my palms outstretched. I caught a droplet of rain and closed my fist tightly. It suddenly struck me. Life is not about all the things that i lost, all the opportunities that slipped me by, all the downs in my life. Life was about all those drops of rain that i caught. Life was all about the little things in life that i have, all the joys that happen to me, all the opportunities that i do grab. Even if i do loose some, there's always more. There is plenty for everyone.

I suddenly looked at the child. It was looking intently at my clenched fist. She knew what i was doing. She smiled at me. She wasnt frowning. She knew it was my turn today. She also knew that there would be lots more raindrops for her. I smiled at her. I walked slowly in the rain, smiling,with clenched fists. All the rain around me, didnt worry me.I didnt notice it anymore. I was happy. In my hand was my little raindrop from heaven. The rain drop that taught me what i had forgotten. The little rain drop that brought me closer to the child in me. The little rain drop that filled my heart with peace. The drop of joy that made me realise how much i love my life for all what it is.

Mothers in agony

2006-04-17T08:42:00.000-07:00

She lay there, lying in the corner of the single roomed hut, whcih was her room for the past one week, rotting away slowly. An unbearable stench enveloped the entire room, as she lay curled up in a foetal position, desperately waiting, praying that the pain would go away, the stench would disappear and she would be back to normal. Or else, she just hoped that it would all end immidiately.

Just a year ago, she was a stastic. A happy one at that too. She was one among the 54% of women in India who get married before the age of 18. Womenhood was thrust on her. Who was she to refuse? She didnt know she could. She didnt know she had rights. She was merely performing her duty. It felt good.

Everyone said that the only good thing to happen to a woman was motherhood. That was exactly what happened next. She was pregnant. Everyone rejoiced. Why was she then, feeling extremely weak? When she voiced out her worry, she was shushed saying that it was part of the process of being a mother. Everyone made her feel special and she liked it. For the first time in her entire life, some importance was being given to her. She realised though, that it was only as long as the baby was born. She still loved to bask in the glory while it lasted.

At 16 and a half, motherhood was being thrust on her. She prepared herself mentally. Biogloy although had different plans. Her tender, fraglie body, decided that it was too young to take on the huge responsibility. Half way through the labour, it decided that it had taken enough. It buckled. The baby was born. Everyone was happy. She closed her eyes to sleep, tired that she was.

She opened her eyes after a few hours. A foul smell awoke her. She thought that she had just lost control. Soon, she realised that it was not just a single incident. She had just completely lost control of her bowels and bladder. She
had no clue why. Nobody told her why. Nobody knew why.

It became an everyday issue. She tried not to move, not to eat, not to drink. Nothing would make it go away. Everyone, who she always thought would be with her, were nowhere to be seen. They couldnt stand her either.She couldnt stand herself. She was ashamed and disgusted. She thought it was her fault.

The stench was unbearable. It would never stop. She was kept aside in one corner of the house. Soon, that became unbearable too. They soon put her in a one roomed hut, far away from the village. They left her all alone, with only the stench for company. She hadnt even see her baby's face. Honestly, she didnt care. She just wanted to get this over with.

It was her fault that she stunk. She was scared. She was afraid. She was lonely. She couldnt move anymore. She was covered in a pool of her own fluids. With only that for company, she breathed her last. No one told her that she was suffering from obstetric fistulah. No one told her that it was not her fault. No one told her that it was ok. No one told her, that she needn't be ashamed of herself. No one told her that she was not alone in what she was going through. No one knew.

First of all, i am sorry if some of you found that a little too graphic. But that is probably the most softest way of describing reality.

obstetric fistula is mostly becaues of obstructed childbirth in young pregnant women . During prolonged labour, the soft tissues of the pelvis can get compressed between the baby's head and the mother's pelvic bone - constricting blood flows to these tissues and creating an opening between the mother's vagina and bladder, or vagina and rectum, or both. This hole causes the mother to lose control over her bladder and bowels and thus remain soaked in her own fluids. The horrific nature of the condition prompts husbands, children, relatives and friends in many cases to abandon these women, leaving them destitute. This is caused mostly in developing nations like africa and asia, because of early child birth, early marriages, rape etc. Yet 52% of women in India are married before the age of 18.

50,000 to 1,00,000 women suffer from obstetric fistulah every year. The overall capacity is to treat only 6,500 of these cases in the entire freaking world!!!!. This disease has a 60-90% curing rate. A simple surgery, which starts from 5000 bucks. No one knows. No one cares. Thousands are left to die in horrific conditions.

The shame that these women suffer is unthinkable for me. All this because of mass ignorance, early child marriages, early pregnancies and the lack of maternal care,infrastructure etc etc... The fault lies everywhere, except for the young woman who suffers.

This has given me many a sleepless night. There is so much that needs to be done. I don't know how to end this post. I dont know what to say. Nothing i say seems to salvage my conscience.
If you do want to read more about it check out www.endfistula.org

PS:- lets start with awareness...!!!

Selvam, a rare treasure

2006-04-15T10:05:00.000-07:00

Descartes, if alive, would have found his most devoted pupil in me. For the uninitiated, Descaretes was a philosopher who belived in the theory of doubt and questioning. But recently i finally realised that sometimes, somethings in life dont have an answer and the best you can get to is faith, hope and belief.

There is this temple in bangalore, which is the one of the few places my desacartes theory goes for an absolute toss. This temple is one place on which i have blind and implicit trust. I dont know how or why, but i guess we all have places like that, each to ourselves. Somewhere to go to at the time of need and otherwise. Sometimes, faith and hope is all we have and its best to stick on to it.

Its here that i met, selvam[ meaning treasure in tamil]. True to his name, Selvam is indeed a treasure, a rare one. The first thing, you will notice about him, is that he has the most expressive eyes ever. Everytime he smiles, a spart alights his eyes. A smile, which would make even the gloomiest of faces smile.
His pockets perenially clinked with change, and he loved making music with them, as though he was bringing out all his lost creativity, by making music, only by jingling his pockets.

Day in and day out he works. His day begins early at 7, i think and ends late into the night. His job is to take care of all the slippers, that people like me leave in front of the temple, asking God for a million favours, all for a measley rupee or two. Inbetween, when the the temple is closed in the afternoon, he sells bananas, in front of the temple, in front of the God, that i have come to believe in so much.

What was surprising was that, Selvam actually enjoyed what he was doing. Now, i have no clue how anyone can enjoy the job that he does, but he did.He already behaved like an adult. Although i did notice how diligent the kid was, i never took the time off to speak to him. I was always more engrossed in getting to the temple and asking God to help me , wasnt i?

A friend and I went to the temple one day. Two chocolates in hand, which was given to us by some friend of ours on her birthday. Just before entering the temple, we gave selvam the chocolates. The kid was overjoyed. The smile that he gave me was so stunning, that it made my day. However excited he was, He first tore open one chocolate, gave it to his little bro sleeping under the vegetable cart and then ate it himself. The three of us, shoook hands in eternal friendship that day. Thats when i knew that the little kid with an expressive smile was Selvam.

I often wondered if Selvam, ever felt bad, ever felt sorry for himself. Day in and day out, he took care of slippers and shoes right in front of the abode of God,keeping them safely till the people came out, after asking their prayers to be fulfilled. Was Selvam ever angry with God? Did he ever feel sorry about his plight. Did he ever wonder if God was playing a cruel joke on him? Would Selvam ever be able to believe in God, or life by itself? How did he manage to stay so happy then? I never had the guts to ask him, because i think deep down inside, i was afraid of the answer.

I got my answer soon enough though.I came to the temple a little early one day, to see that Selvam just before opening his chappal counter was inside the temple, eyes closed, half prostrated before the sannidhi[if ur not tamil, i dont know how to explain this one.. .its actually the place where the idol is kept] with a look of rapt devotion in his eyes. Later when i asked him, he said that he did that everyday as it made his entire day go great.Belief. One simple word.Selvam believed, and so he was happy with whatever little he had. I dont know if i will ever be capable of a faith, as absolute as that.

Selvam, at the tenderest of ages, realised that faith and belief are what keeps us going. It might be in God, it might be in life, someone, something, anyone, anything or even ourselves. But at some point in our lives, we all need to believe.

Yesterday, on tamil new years, on way back to chennai, i had to stop over at bangalore. The flight got delayed, and i was forced to get off at bangalore for a few hours. Of late I had begun to question my life and was extremely low on confidence.By a lot of weird coincidences, i went to the temple, totally unplanned. To me it was almost like God wanted me in that temple that day, to set things right.

I quickly rushed over to the chappal stand. Selvam stood there, happy as ever, giving me his trade mark smile.It was months since i had seen him, but he remebered. I knew he would. He put his hand out to wish me a happy new year [tamil new year] . All this came flashing through my mind. I smiled back widely at him. I was a believer again. God sent me a little treasure, to remind me that life is all about belief.

All my scepicisom vanished. I then knew that i will have a great year ahead of me, because i believe in God. I believe in myself. Most of all, i believe in Selvam and if he told me that i will have a great year, i definitely will.

PS:- to all the agnostics out there, this post isnt about God, its just about belief.

Slow down you crazy child....

2006-04-03T11:42:00.000-07:00

The doors swung apart, as though making way for him, as he walked out with a smile without looking back. For the first time, in many years, he was completely sure as to where he was going. His heart skipped a beat, as he walked by, nameless colleagues, each one, more self absorbed than the other. The little boy, who delivered supplies walked by. He had never noticed. The boy had grey eyes.He had never noticed. He had been too busy. He ruffled his hair in affection, only to recieve a wide stare of amazement in return, and then a shy smile, which made him feel light.

The past few years, all he did was push himself, stretch boundaries to get to his dreams. He was forever hounded by deadlines, that he had lost count of them. Everyday he woke up, only to drown himself in the ocean of faces around him. He was lost to the mechanical monotomy of his life. He was running so fast in life, that he had forgotten where he was heading. He had lost old friends and was too busy to make them new. Yesterday, suddenly, when he was in the midst of work, in the middle of the night, his phone rang. His best friend, his partner in crime, called him up to wish him. It was his birthday and he had forgotten. His eyes became moist.

He hadnt met his friends for ages.He was always too busy for the people who cared about him. He suddenly missed home. All he wanted to do, was throw everything and go to meet them,tell them that he still cared. Then it struck him, the only thing stopping him from doing that was himself. Wasn't it he afterall who had come up with his own twisted definiton of success? Wasnt he the one who had set himself rigid time frames to achieve all that he wanted too, losing track with life and moving ahead of it eventually? Wasnt it him, who had changed all his priorities, losing out on the true joys in life? Wasn't he the one who had make a clock work clown out of himself. Just as he thought of this he smiled. It was ironic. As a child, he used to find the clockwork clowns in the enid blyton, extremely amusing and stupid. Here he was today, relating himself to the clock work clown. He had just been a big blithering idiot, he realised now.It didnt make him happy. So why exactly was he doing it?

With his mind made, he decided to do something impulsive. He hadnt been impulsive, listened to his heart in ages. He packed a small bag, went to his boss, and told him that quit. He was going back home. He didnt tell home. He wanted to surprise all of them. He wanted to take time off to priorotise. To figure out for himself, what was that he wanted out of life? He didnt want to hurry anymore. He didnt want to rush himself for no apparent reason.

He was recollecting all this, on his way to the airport. He felt at peace today. He closed his eyes,a smile still persistent on his lips, floating in his dreams, when suddenly a rude jolt awoke him. A head on collision. The other person was, it seems in a hurry to get somewhere. His eyes opened wide for a minute in shock. In that split second he thought, "I wish he had known too" and closed his eyes forever, a slight smile still lingering at the corner of his handsome mouth. The smile was his way of telling the world to slow down.

The inspiration behind this, was this song by billy joel that i heard called vienna waits for you. It goes :-

Slow down you crazy child
You're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart tell me why
Are you still so afraid?
Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?
You better cool it off before you burn it out
You got so much to do and only
So many hours in a day

But you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through
When will you realize...Vienna waits for you

Slow down you're doing fine
You can't be everything you want to be
Before your time
Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight (tonight)
Too bad but it's the life you lead
You're so ahead of yourself
That you forgot what you need
Though you can see when you're wrong
You know you can't always see when you're right(you're right)

You got your passion you got your pride
But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?
Dream on but don't imagine they'll all come true
When will you realize
Vienna waits for you

Slow down you crazy child
Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while
It's alright you can afford to lose a day or two
When will you realize...
Vienna waits for you.

And you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through
Why don't you realize...Vienna waits for you
When will you realize...Vienna waits for you

This song, has been haunting me for quite sometime now. I wish someone told me earlier. I learnt my lesson the hard way. Actually, i am learning my lesson the hard way. I had quite forgotten that i cant be everything i want to be before my time. I am so caught up with it, i am so ahead of myself now, that i have forgotten what i need. I am making an effort now though. I am learning to live life, not live outside it. Its tough, but it makes me happier. Everyonce i a while, i manage to extricate myself from the web i am caught in, and those times i feel a joy that is incomprehensible.

Now, whenever i feel that i have so much to do and only so little time i tell myself to slow down.But then, the idiot that i am, I don't listen to myself all the time either. But then i atleast know that Life is waiting for me. Patiently, hoping that i will atleast learn the truth, the hard way.

now. i have no clue if i made any sense to any of you, but i really hope i did.

The lessons of life....

2006-03-29T11:39:00.000-08:00

He was my hero. I adored him. I looked up to him. I was a big girl, one year old to be precise when he first entered my life. He was, three. At that time, 3 seemed to me like all the age and experience in the world. He took upon the task of personally educating me on the trials and tribulations of everyday life. He became my best friend, or the way i put it then, "my bestest friend in the whole universe"

When i was scared to ride my tricycle with 5 support wheels, he told me that nothing would happen to me. He taught me to have confidence in myself. When i started to walk, he would laugh at me when i fell down,teaching me that it was okay to make mistakes, but it was also important to learn to laugh at them.When he taught me to sing his school prayer song in the middle of the road, without feeling shy, he taught me to get rid of my inhibitions. He taught me to let go of myself.

When he said he would be superman, and i had to cook and clean for him while playing, he taught me that the world was sometimes a difficult place to live in. When i hit him for that, he frowned and let me be super woman too, he then taught me that with perseverence [and a little force :-)] i could achieve what i want.

When the other guys teased him for playing with a girl, he stood up to me, he then taught me the true meaning of sticking up to the people you care about.Each time i was sad, he would sit next to me, with his arms in his chins too, for as long as i wanted to him too, teaching me the meaning of sharing the sorrow.When i couldn't play cricket, he would stay out until late in the nights, bowling patiently, till i eventually swung the bat. Here, he taught me, that i should never give up in life till i get there.

When i left the city at the age of 7, he thrust a little pink doll in my hands, and looked at me with his big brown eyes, filled with tears into my eyes, which were flooded with tears. He stuffed the doll into my hands,held me tight for a minute and turned back home. Here he taught me the most important lesson of my life. He taught me that life moves on, and we should move on with it, retaining the memories.

I listened to him. I moved on.I saw the pink doll, one day while my mum was cleaning the loft. I went back to trichy searching for him, after ten years. I did meet him. When we saw each other, no it wasnt the dream ending! it was very awkward. We had both grown up in different circumstances. We didnt know what to say to each other. We spoke to each other, randomn stuff. I was disappointed. I was so eager to meet him. I had dreamnt of it being happy and perfect, like from a fairy tale. Reality alas, is harsh.

Had i just over romanticised the entire relationship? Did it mean anything at all to him? Had he forgotten about me? Just then, he showed me the painting i gave him before i left. [It was a glass painting. My first short at art. It was a green duck. I couldnt find yellow then.] He had had it framed and it hung in the centre of his room. He looked at the painting, then looked at me and smiled.His big brown eyes, seemed to tell me "i didnt forget"For a minute, he was the best friend i always knew.I felt like i was 7 years again.That was what i came here for. That one minute, just to see that he remembered to and that he always will.I smiled back at him. We shook hands and i left, knowing that i would never come back again.He knew it too.

Time moves on, people change, life changes, but memories dont. Memories stay with you to grow old with you. I remember all the things my best friend taught me even today. Even the last time i met him, he taught me that "Somethings in life can never be forgotten, and friendship is one of those." We might move on, change paths, never meet again, but the lessons that we learn from each other, the memories that i shared with him, shall live with me, shall live with him, forever and forever. As i type this out, the pink doll is sitting on my table, reminding me of the lessons of life that he taught me.

A silent scream...

2006-03-27T00:32:00.000-08:00

She turned around and sucked her thumb, kicking her limbs in the constricted space, just to see if they would move. They did. She was happy. She was alive and kicking, literally. She also figures out that she can kick whenever she is hungry. She hates it when its too noisy and wonders why her mother is letting all the noise get to her. She hears people crying, all the while, except that she still does not know what crying means. But she can feel it. She feels sad, in the womb, whenever her mother is , and the by the looks of it pretty often these days. She still loves hearing all the noises from the outside world. She cant wait to see them all. Yes, shes 16 weeks old and she's got eyelashes. She shuts them and opens them, just to feel her new found eyelashes. She's so proud of them. Everyday was a discovery for her. Another small baby step, or should i say kick into the beautiful journey called life.

One day, its unusually quite out there. She's restless. Suddenly her mother lies down. Her quite little home is rudely disturbed. Inside her little sac, enters a gush Of fluid. Excited, to lead into yet another discovery, she opens her little mouth. Suddenly, she doesnt feel all that nice any more. She's burning all over. She doesnt know it yet and never wiil, but that solution is strong salt solution. Her skin started burning. It was peeling off, because the liquid was too strong. She screams silently, in vain. For over an hour, she tosses, and turns, kicks, tries everything that her little brain knows, but in vain.

Within 24 hours, she's still alive, only remotely so. She is in so much pain. Pain was a new feeling, she had never experienced before. Suddenly she is being pushed, rudely out of her cosy little corner. She's burning and cant do anything about it. Suddenly it strikes her,She's not wanted. All through her tumultous journey to the outside world, only one thought strikes her, there is no jounrey anymore because she's not wanted. She resists.She cries without tears. She tries as much as she can. In vain. She is pushed out finally. She was not to be outdone. She would'nt be born alive in this cruel world that didnt want her. Just as her mum pushed her out finally, she closed her tiny little eyes. She entered this beautiful world, dead. She died, burning in pain. What hurt more, was that, even her under developed brain, could in the end comprehend that she was not wanted anymore. Her silent screams went unheard.

This post is fiction. Yes. But the method described in here, is one of the certified methods of abortion called salt posioning. Some times these babies survive the entire ordeal and are still born and are left unattended to die. There is another method, called the Dilation and evacuation involves tearing the bones of the unborn child apart till the foetus is dismemeberd and removed. The spine and skull is generally crushed inorder to be able to remove them.I have tried in many ways to see the other side of the moral debate of abortion, but failed miserably.I just dont see how! I am not making moral judgements here.I am completely aware of crime against women. It,indeed is a personal choice.But those who argue that the foeteuses do not have lives are lying to themselve.

This is just my way of understaning what the baby goes through. I do agree that a woman has the right to do what she wants with her body, but then all i care about is who will speak out for the rights of the unborn baby, which has the right to live? I for one, believe that the right to live, over rides the right to choose.

Never been kissed.

2006-03-24T08:24:00.000-08:00

It was almost like she knew all this was going to happen. She chose me. She was waiting for me. I didnt realise that then. Now i do. We walked into that place. For the first time,the banyan tree,with its huge roots spread all over, looked obstructive to me. It looked to me not as if it was giving shade but as though it was covering the light, that was rightfully theirs. Their sunny faces, more than made up for the gloom that loomed ominously.

She stood there, under the banyan tree. I spotted her immidiately even amongst the sea of faces. Over 70 little girls surrounded us.They were not orphans. They left them in this dingy place just because they were girls. I shuddered at the very prospect. I wondered at how these little things stomached rejection.They all looked at us with a mixture of fear and apprehension, but not her. She gave me a wide smile, and bobbed her pony tailed head wildly as though beckoning me. Then she restrained herself, as though suddenly realising that she wasnt a kid anymore.

There she was, 10 years old, trying hard and fast to grow up into a woman. She thought she was one and pretended at all times to be one. But the little child in her escaped way too often to overshadow the woman she presumed she was. This quality of hers endeared me to her, more than any other kid.

All of them, soon opened up to us. She was ofcourse, like i said always special to me. I spent atleast 5 minutes everyday talking to her, asking her how her day was and how she was progressing in school. This kid was way too fast. She wanted to do everythin quickly. While being taught, she had to be the first one to jump up and answer, irresptective of whether she was right or wrong. She just had to do everything first.She was adorable.

On that particular day, she was extremely quite. Just as we[ my friend and I] were about to leave, she came running, caught my hand, pulled me down and asked me if she could ask me something. She wanted to know, if we would be awfully offended, if she gave us a hug and a kiss. She told me that all her life, she wanted to do this. Yes. She had never been kissed before. Not just her, but almost all of them. But as usual, she had to be the first to do it.

For a minute, i looked at my friend. We were speechless. I bent down, swooped this little girl into my arms, and held her there for sometime, for i didnt want her to see the tears in my eyes. I finally let her go.I never wanted to let go. I wanted to hold her and tell her that it was not her fault. I wanted to protect all of them forever and forever.I wanted to tell all of them that they were wanted. For the remaining half an hour, we hugged every kid there. They didnt let go of us. It was such a big deal to them. We were humbled. When, the little devil came up to me,she clutched my hand, she looked at me with her small little brown eyes and told us thank you, i couldnt take it anymore. I choked. I walked out after smiling at her.

We walked out in silence. Conversation seemed to be almost cheap when compared to the experience that we just shared. That little girl, in not so many words, put me in place. She was the reason, for me to have the single most humbling experience in my life. A few months later, i left the city but i made a promise to Raji, the little pony tailed devil.

I dont know what i did to deserve her affection. She chose me, to teach me.She knew this was going to happen. I didnt.I can only be thankful that she did,choose me.Raji, i wanted to take care of you forever. I couldnt. But this much i can. On the 24th of March, four years back, i promised raji never to forget her. I havent. I am sure she must have grown in to be a beautfiul girl by now. In life, there are many people who come along leaving a permanent mark behind.However small be the time of interaction. It can be a minute,a week,month or years, but the memory they leave behind stays forever.Raji is one such person in my life. I just hope you have grown up, being proud of the fact that you are a woman, whatever the world says.
You will take the world by storm, prove it wrong and as is usual, you will be the first to do it.

Hope

2006-03-22T07:56:00.000-08:00

Lost somewhere in the state of tamilnadu, is God's pet peeve, heaven on earth, a small little village called Killai. The lake with its delectable mix of colours soothed even the most frayed of nerves.The beauty of this lake never ceased to amaze the people who set sight on this azure tranquility. The transition of colours in this lake ranging from the lightes of blue to the palest of green seemed as gradual as the evolution of this earth. The thick lush mangrove trees,the sea surrounding it all made this wonderful creation of God seem so secluded, so alone, so detached from the rest of the state. It was like tranquility amidst utter chaos.

It was day break,and the sun was rising rapidly as though it couldnt wait to shine with all its might, showing the world, the path of light. Geetha stood here, throwing pebbles into the lake, watching the pebbles create a ripple effect on the beautiful palet of colours that the lake had to offer. She stood there lost in the beauty of the moment. Her hand automatically moved to her stomach. Her little baby was inside. The baby was her confidante, friend ,god's gift, all that and more in the past 9 months. She[ geetha was sure it was a girl] was already her mother's best friend.

All her life geetha was brought up saying that motherhood was the ultimate pinnacle of her life. Liberated women like me find it annoying, discriminatory but to Geetha, it was perfectly normal. It was what she wanted all her life. She stopped studying at 14, was married at 16 and here she was all of 18 and expceting her first baby. The baby, that she dreamnt of all her life, the baby which would share all her troubles, joys, sorrows and pains. Infact the baby already did all that. Geetha spoke to her baby at every waking moment. She was so sure that the baby heard all of what she said. She never wanted the baby to be lonely like she was as a child.

The sun was now shining with all its might. She suddenly was swept off her feet, literally. A giant wave took her by surprise. It roughly threw her over the mangrove forests. The lovely trees which she had loved all her life, did not think twice about bruising her body all over. Heads bobbed, people screamed, objects and human beings washed away alike. All the screams were dimmed by the wrath of nature. People screamed, but not Geetha. She didnt know how to react. She wasnt able to digest the fact that the nature that she loved so much would be so cruel to her. She waited to snap out of the bad dream.She fainted. She was eventually thrown along with her baby, near a kattumaran which shielded her from the waves, till it all subsided.

The sun set, quickly, as though it couldnt face the people after all that happened. Night dawned. The womenfolk all gathered in the local school for shelter. They lived here for some time. A few days later here, for the first time i met Geetha. First her friends told the doctor who had come that Geetha had not spoken yet, and that they feared that the baby would get hurt this way. They forced a reluctant geetha in front of the doctor. I saw her and i will never forget the look in her eyes. Her eyes, were silently screaming with fear. Her eyes brimmed with unseen tears. Her eyes had widened with shock and awe at what had happened. Words refused to part her parched mouth. The fragile 18 year old girl, looked like the world had come to an end.Maybe it had.She was covered with bruises caused by the mangrove trees, from head to toe, just like the rest of them. She did not speak but i saw her hand rest lightly on her stomach. I didnt know if she was reassuring her baby or reasuring herself. I caught her eye for a minute and in them i saw a frightening mixture of steely resolve and the vulnerablness of a simple village girl who's life was thrown into the shambles without warning. She refused to eat. She refused to speak to the doctor. She refused to co-operate.She thougt it was all over. Her hand left her stomach. She stopped talking, even to the baby. With great reluctance and after a lot of coaxing she was moved to the pondicherry hospital. A few days later, the baby was born. Geetha was still shocked. The trauma she underwent was such. She still had not shed a single tear. The baby, was premature. She was kept in an incubator for a week. A week later, for the first time, Geetha held her baby. Her wide innocent eyes, brimmed with tears,and she let out a long, loud wail. She cried her lungs out. Tears of joy and tears of anguish flew out of her eyes. Here was the baby that she waited for all her life.

She looked at the baby and then looked up. She clutched her baby tightly. She never wanted to let go. She did that once. She would never ever give up on hope. Weeks later, she took the baby back to the lake.It was still breathtakingly beautiful. She looked down at her baby and smiled. The baby was even more beautiful than all these sights together. She thought to herself, and was reminded of what her elders always said, "A baby is God's way of saying life must go on. A baby is god's way of saying that there is hope, today,tomorrow and for eternity.

I dont know if should term this story as fiction or reality. I did meet a girl like geetha. My story is based on that one girl that i met on the 31st of december at the village of killai. All of 18 and 9 months pregnant. The look in her eyes,is something i will never forget. I never saw her again. I dont know what happened to the baby.I could never trace her after that.I have always wondered about her. I choose to believe that this is what must have happened because i remember the resolve in her eyes.I know it for a fact. This story is just my way of believing that life must go on. There still is hope for eternity.Everytime a life is born, it just reinforces the faith in mankind, life,and nature. Geetha taught me that. Her unborn baby taught me that.This one is for you, girl wherever you are.

Headlines today..

2006-03-21T09:28:00.000-08:00

Why on earth, would i want to know, first thing in the morning, that maenaka gandhi has a pet donkey that she loves and cares for. Do you know whats more intersting, the donkey blushes or hides it face or does some shit like that when someone calls it a donkey. Ok pig, wont call you donkey, now stop right there. No, i dont hate animals. I appreciate maeanka in her effort to love animals, but what i dont appreciate is seeing her in my news channel first thing in the morning, when i am trying to comprehend the happeings of the world. The fact that what the donkey does is always more sensible that what dubyaman does is another grouch all together. Lets not even get into that right now.

I gave up on tamil and hindi channels long time back. Now anyone who has seen even promos of kyunki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi, and chitthi will not question me on why i did that. Seriosuly, some people in those serials get married so often that i wonder if they think marriage, as a concept dwells on the principle of rotation.Music channels! Ah.. what do i say about them. They seemed to be filled with half naked women gyrating their pelvic bones like their life depended on it to a backgroud score with a few english words[rap obviously], a few old hindi words and then a few arabic words.Arabic's the way to go dude. Not to mention, screwing up your nose in a weird fashion, so u can render soul stirring sufi music or so they say. Indian Idols and reality shows like that are for obvious jerks.What did that leave me with? News channels and sports channels or so i thought.

The very idea of Navjot sing sidhhu spitting words like the broken mixie in my house, or srikanth talking like he was loudly replicating dolphin mating sounds puts me off those. That brings me to the protoganist of this post, NEWS CHANNELS. Now whatever in the whole wide world happened to them?

They seem to have radically perfected the art of sensationalising bull shit. One hot chick with bright red lip stick and a perfectly weird accent tells me such annoyingly unimporant stuff that the fact that sourav ganguly's brother's in law's sister's kathak teacher's dog having a burst appendix sounds like headlines to me. Do we honestly care if shah rukh khan is 40 and celebrates a thousand festivals? Oh yea. Abhishek bachan was wearing a super man shirt to give his sick dad support. Really, would it make a difference to world peace if abhishek bachan wore red underpants over his pants to fly his dad back home, to avoid the zillion jobless journalists standing there?

Its depressing how journalism has lost all its meaning and depth.
One very prominent news channel, these days seems to be specialising in sex scandals. They also have found a guy with a constipated voice to be the perfect anchor to perfectly revolting sex lives of individuals hitherto unknown before. The foreign policy of India, gets shadowed by a god forsaken freak show of an IG who literally thought he was mankind's gift to god.

What was once very popularly known as the Fourth estate has just become barren land. Its deplorable, but then hilarious. These days i put the news channels on mute and watch them move their lips. It is somehow infinitely more intersting than listening to the crap that they have to say, not to forget all the expert opinions. Whatever happened to the good old days when the remote was heaven. Gone were the days when i surfed channels, because i didnt know what to watch.Now i know what to watch. THE remote.. its better of to watch the remote and all its intersting buttons, than watch the tv.

But one thing i have to admit. These days the tv has begun to educate me so much.I am learning tremendously. Everytime someone switches on the TV, i go in and read a book or start studying. Yup, the TV has managed to do what my mum couldnt.

Destiny's Child?

2006-03-20T06:24:00.000-08:00

Is Destiny the omnipresent,omnipotent, all pervasive factor in my life? The answer to this question has been evading me for quite sometime now. Its funny though how this ominous question never haunts me when i am perfectly satisfied with my life, but continues to haunt me when life hits rock bottom!

Your right. This is one of those times again. Is it true that if everything comes your way, your probably in the wrong lane? Extreme frustration on bad days,like today makes me wonder, does the answer to all the toughest questions in life narrow down to DESTINY, a question by itself. Am i in denial? Do i refuse to face the answer or do i just not know the answer? They say that "You often meet destiny on the road you take to avoid it?" Do we?

Even in this confused, senile state i am reminded of the one poem that i have lived by all my life. Its a poem by Robert Frost,called

The road not taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Yes. I have my answer.I took the road less travelled by and that has made all the difference. Life is a choice i make. It's choice, not chance that determines Destiny. Destiny is not the ultimate answer in life. Choice is. The key to my universe lies in the choices i make. I, being the master of my destiny chose to lead my life, the way i am doing it right now.

Today, i choose never to ask myself this question again, even when i hit rock bottom.Even when everybody around me tells me i am wrong and that i can never be right, I chose to live my life the wayi want to. I choose to not limit myself only to what seems possible or probable or reasonable as i will disconnect myself from what i truly want and i dont want to be left with just a compromise in life.

Today i choose to realise that what lies behind me and what lies ahead of me are all tiny matters when compared to what lies within me.I have within me the power to make a choice and that is all i need.

Unspoken business

2006-03-17T03:19:00.000-08:00

It was one of the most boring days ever in my life. Ever so often, one of those days come along, where all you want to do is break away from the mundane,monotony of everyday life. Yes. This was one of those days.

Then you walked by, like a whiff of fresh air in spring, like the precious droplets of rain which mark the end of a very sweaty summer, like the gentle breeze which gently brushes past you, whispering into your ears as if it was caressing you, you walked by. Was it the monotony in my life that made you seem like a welcome change, or was it just you? I never bothered to find out.

My head turned as you walked past me. I couldnt stop looking. I dint want to speak or be spoken too. I just wanted to look. I waited everyday, just to see you walk by. Everytime you walked by, my spirits lifted. It seemed just right.Thats all i ever wanted to do.

Everybody else figured out how much i liked you, but you didnt, neither did i. I didnt want to give what was happening a name. No! that would be like spoiling the sanctity. Then i felt you look. Not very often, but you looked too. I knew it. But we never made eye contact. I never wanted too. I dont think you did either.

Then came one of the most important days of my life. I had to speak in front of a live audience.That didnt make it special.I had done it a million times before. What did make it so special was that I knew you would be there in the audience. Not because of me, but because it was compulsory. Still. I was waiting. I walked on to the stage, it felt like there were a 1000 people, but my eyes were scanning for you. I found you, sitting in the last bench. I smiled. I spoke. I gave the best performance of my life.

I won that day. Thanks, to you. The results were announced i didnt wait.I knew i would win. It wasnt arrogance. I just knew. I walked out and waited alone,near the gate. I knew you would come. If anyday, today was the day. You did come.This scene is still so vivid in my memory. You came close, i moved forward expectantly. Was that a smile i just saw? I never found out. My friends closed in on me to congratulate me. I suddenly thought it was a bad idea. Apparently, u did too. You walked away. So did I.

Even after that,I still waited for you, i dont know why.Everyday,till the last day came. I had to move out of that city. I did just that. I stood there one last day waiting.You passed by. I saw you make an attempt to smile. But i looked away.People thought i was crazy to not talk to you. I knew better. This is one of those things which was best left unsaid. I dont know if that was love. I dont think so, because i dont believe in love at first sight. Somehow deep down inside, i never wanted to talk to you. You were like this emotion in my heart.The very thought that you existed made me feel happy.It was like the one dream, that i wanted to last forever. Thats all i wanted. I thought the sacredness of that unspoken bond[ i dont know what else to call it] would be lost, if we spoke. On all those bad days, thinking of you makes me feel better. Now i know, its not love. It never was.

But, what was it? I dont have the answer. I dont want to answer. On my part, i dont want to insult you by terming you as a crush. Neither is it love.It was never friendship,after all we never spoke. You were and will always be special to me. Not a day goes by without me thinking of you.You have a special palce in my heart. This feeling still exists,although somewhere in some corner of my heart.I am glad we never spoke or met, because somethings are best left unspoken.

PS:- fiction,fantasy or reality... thats for you to decide..

My mum, the vaccum cleaner

2006-03-15T20:34:00.000-08:00

My mother darling is the most adorable species of human beings to ever be born in planet earth, but she's afflicted with a peculiar kind of disease. Cleaning. Well, you might tell me most mothers have it. I agree. But my mum cleans perfectly clean things too,[atleast, according to me!] not just dirty ones.And if you still feel thats not uncommon either, then join the club!!!! The entire family will see a very clean table, but my mum will show us with evidence that the dust storms from rajasthan, changed their course of direction and flew all the way to chennai to plonk itself on the table of my house. She won't sleep either till the great storm is vanquished according to her high standards!

I left a clean, squeaky, well srubbed envorionment and went to live in a hostel for 3 years. HA! u guessed right. We dont recognise the existence of clean in hostels. I forgot what clean meant! The room rent paid is for the things that i possess which is invariably mixed up with my room mate's. The books slept on my bed and if there was no place and i was too sleepy to make place, i slept on the books. If in the middle of the night, i hear a crack or breaking nose, its either my room mate breaking stuff or my cd's cracking because they are there some where under all those books.

Another deadly mistake! On the day of my moving out for a long vacation, i invited my mother to do the cleaning, [god! that sounds like such a big understatement] and packing. It looked just a little dirty to me. Hey come on, it wasnt all that bad as my mum made it sound! She was actually looking for snakes and scorpions in there. She was successfully scandalised worse, when my smart roomie told my mum that snakes and rats were cute. To avoid the pre-scolding sessions, i told her i had only two bags full of stuff. The post-scolding made up for it because i had 9 bags and not two as promised. A girl gets around shopping in bangalore. Its tough not too. 9 is not bad, is it? My mum didnt think so, and as always mum won. So after litereally threatening me to manually evacuate me if i didnt mend my ways back home, i was taken back to home sweet home. :)

The first day back home, ah! feels like heaven. Woke up on my on sweet bed and i walk straight to the paper. The shrill call of my name being echoed a zillion times whammed my ears. Oh yes, did i forget to mention. Apparently you do stuff like making the bed, folding bed sheets etc. See this is one logic i never understand, Why fold something when your coming right back to it the very same night? So anyways i was thrust upon the rules of the house, every sentence of which had clean,dust, dont move in it. Infact there is a standing joke in my house. My mum, you see loves moving furniture around to try new looks all the while. So my family feels that if we dont keep moving around in the house, my mum's going to move all of us to differnt places.

But then, all the forgotten lessons were made to be remembered. Things got back to how it used to be. Ang you know what? This time around i was loving it. I was missing home so much that every time my mum yelled, it sounded like music to my ears.

Wait right there! before you go around imagining a reformed me. In your dreams! Left alone, i still hate making the bed, my books are stil strewn around etc but then me listening to my mum yell at me, makes me feel so happy! As dirty as that sounds, it makes feel right at home, where i belong. Oh! here she is now. My books, now apparently, are on top of each other, piled up [neatly according to me]. BUt she thinks the big books go down, and the smaller ones on top! NOW whoever heard of rules like that? Now after 10 minutes of her trying to bring juvenile me back on the reformed track, i will start helpless shifting around books,and then my efficient, adorable, but a little angry mum will come and do it herself..
Devious old me! Boy! i love her. THings wouldnt be the same if she wasnt clean!

Does time heal?

2006-03-14T20:04:00.000-08:00

Time, they all keep saying is the best healer. Is it? I really have no clue. Nearly 5 years back, my perfectly wonderful utopian life came crashing down. My cousin brother, do i have words to describe the relationship that i had with him? NO. I was too young then, but then he was my confidante, my best friend, the guy i looked up too so much. The guy i wanted to be like all my life.He was the only one who could call me anything and get away with it. YUP.. he grew up, and was about to get married. Again to a perfectly lovely girl. It was like a fairy tale. I liked her too, still do.

Ten days before his wedding, the freak show decides he would be better of in heaven [ wherever that freaking place is!].He worked all night in the hospital[ he was a doctor] saving lives, drove to the airport and died. Yup just like that. One day he mails me saying he is on his way to the airport and we would all go out. The next day i am blank, because they told me he wasnt there anymore.

The guy who adviced me all my life, now left me in this big bad cruel world for me to fend for myself. I cried my lungs out, and they said time was the best healer. I hated life for what they did, they still said time is the best healer. I wrote to him everyday. I still do. They still said time is the best healer.

These days, everytime i have a problem, i wonder, would it have been different with him around? Would he have pulled me through my rough times? And then i realise. That he does. He always will, dead or alive.

Dead. A word which is so simple, yet the meaning of which i still cannot comprehend. I still dont believe it. I dont think i ever will. When i tell people this, they still say time is the best healer. Everytime i look at his photograph, i relate it to the clock ticking by to see if that will help!

So does time heal? I dont know. I dont think so. Maybe i am not giving time the chance. Maybe i did and time didnt heal. Maybe i dont know what the wound is because i still dont believe he's dead. So then.. maybe there is nothing to heal! The same pain i felt 5 years back, i still do. I just dont cry these days! OK. maybe that means i have healed. I dont know. I dont care. All i know is that life goes on. And all i know is that he;s happy somewhere. That keeps me happy.

Just as i am typing all of this, i am thinking again and voila, this time i can see. The same eyes twinlking with life, the same smile which kept me going through all the bad times, the same voice of my cousin telling me "Time is the best healer." And if he says it, its got to be right.

Of spoilt kids and kings!

2006-03-12T20:57:00.000-08:00

I made a few extremely shocking discoveries yesterday, only to realise later, on further research that scientists all over the world are already actively exploring the possibility. My research, of course, is on a more micro level than the scientists. Dubya Man, George Bush shows starking similarities to this spoilt brat neighbour kid of mine who throws tantrums all the while everytime he wants something and does irritating stuff til he gets them!!! And the scientists i was talking about, confirm that he shows "dubyasitis" or extremely stupid spoilt child syndrome, along with mental derangement. Lets analyse his actions or rather speeches to confirm symptoms!

First, just before stepping in to fight with the little boys, he along with co-bully Tony blair had to face the music in front of their parents. My dear DUBYA actually assures the entire family [the world at large] says
"OH NO! WE're not going to have any casualities with iraq" [PS:- all the quotes are actualy bushisms noted for later perusal"] and then when it did get ugly, he was thrown questions from all directions. On asked what was the impeccable, unbraekable bond with tony blair, he comes up with a mind blowing answer that "WE BOTH USE COLGATE." Some reason to ally together and destroy the world. Friendships like these will go down in history books!

Spoilt kids, apparently have lousy creativity. Here's evidence. A sweet child in UK walks up to our very own superhero DUBYAMAN and asks him out of worldy curiousity, what the white house was like. Dubya, the child with a phenomenal IQ, replies without batting an eyelid,
"Its white!" and his parents, watching a live telecast of the interview were delirious with joy, dubya, their puttar was a lot of things like stupid,deranged and spoit, but he wasnt colour blind!

The only good charecter trait of DUBYA, is to give his enemies all credit, without him realising it. Dubya says "Our enemies are innovatie and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm out country and our people, and neither do we!" hahaha

Apparently, although dubyaman has always had problems, reading,writing,speaking,walking,talking etc. there are a few things he is good at.

1] Eating his words, foot in the mouth all the bledi time..
2]Killing people
3]blaming it on others
oh! and the most important of all
4] He's the master of self analysis. Lets end this post with Dubyaman's own analysis of himself

"I am the master of low-expectations"

Yes. The master of low expectations said " I'm also not very analytical. You know i don't spend a lot of time thinking about myself, about why i do things!"

Mr.BUSH. We know that only too well. Your refusal to think is what's causing or will soon cause the destruction of the world.

PS:- ALL BUSHIMS QUOTED ARE QUOTED DIRECTLY FROM THE HORSE"S MOUTH!!

The value of a life???

2006-03-11T07:29:00.000-08:00

Twenty odd people dead in Varanasi in a shocking bomb blast. Nothing new about this. Its been ensured maximum publicity and also maximum mileage for it to turn into a political tamasha, another one added to the millions which has already happened before. In all the hullablo occurring, are we missing the main point? The value of those twenty lives lost???

Innocent blood shed, be whatever the scenario. Media, politicians and everyone possible have linked the issue to everything from minority appeasement to playing politics! They related it to God, satans, terrorism,almost everything under the sun making a mockery of humanity at large.

Is this the first time. The answer, depressingly has to be a vehement NO! This has bee n the scenario everytime a tragedy occurs. It does not make a difference to them if 20 lives are lost or 2000. Each life, to them, is nothing more than a chance to promote their own cause!

Why is it that, something as precious and priceless as a human life is being related to the most frivilous of issues and why is it that we take it and also put up with it? The profound loss of a human life is lost in these issues, insulting and degrading the value of that one life. One or a million, its all the same.. A human life is priceless.

Lets for the moment forget politics, media and everything around us. Let us for a moment forget law, international realtions, politics.. internal or external and see what is the one thing that is over and above all these issues? Dignity of the human life. The dignity which seems to be so lost in the present day.

Before we let our leaders get carried away in their vote bank politics and cheap propoganda of secularism, living together, and many other such objectives used only to gain political mileage, there is one thing that just cannot be forgotten.

A human life requires utmost dignity, dead or alive. When respect is shown for a human life, the other "ideal objectives" i think will follow automatically. I can now only hope and pray that the lost lives of these 20 ppl and the respect and dignity that they, along with their grieveing families deserve is not buried in these trivial pursuits of power.

universality of stupidity

2006-03-10T06:21:00.000-08:00

Albert Einstein said "two things are infinite, the universe and stupidity and i am not sure about the universe!" a profound statement. Ever come across those people who say such stupid things that you wonder if they are for real..

i have...

S1:- Hey, what are you doing?
Me:- Studying law!
S1:- OH U WANT TO BE A LAWYER? [ no u stupid doofus i am studyin law to become an astronaut!!!! what are they thinking!!!??]

After a very freaking obvious hair cut..
S2:- Oh u cut ur hair???
Me:- No the hair just dropped of my head!!!!!!

this was the heights and i swear somebody did this to me

S3:- so what are you doing?
ME:- studying law [for the zillionth time]
S3:- So basically what is your course all about?
What will i learn in law college? the theory of relativity?? god.. do their brains hav a buffer system at all?

at a proper tamil brahmin wedding, one of my cousins! I am already bugged in enough by people telling me, soon it will be my turn and my parents trying to tell me that weddings should happen early, girls get married soon.. blah blah

an aunty who walks by, well i know she walked by because she was blinging with a violet pattu podavai and cart loads of jewellery comes up to me and says

A1:- I saw you 15 years back
Me:- [thinks"here we go again"] grin. rather gnash my teeth because there is nothin else i can do!
A1:- You have grown so much!
Me:- wants to say but refrains.. YEAH SURE AUNTY. wil stay the same as i was when 3-4 years old just because you want to see me and say U LOOK THE SAME...DUH people.. grow up.. or atleast let me grow up..

The conversations of a tam bram wedding can make a humour story by itself.. but that in a later post. right now, lets stick to stupidity.

Yeah!some people do talk this stupid..They make you want to tear your hair apart!
All this makes me want to the conclusion

"Strange as it seems, no amount of learning and formal education can cure stupidity!"

The art of doing nothing..

2006-03-09T07:18:00.000-08:00

the trials and tribulations of everyday life. Living in a city like mumbai made me realise what most of us were doing wrong.. we are running so fast in life that we often fail to realise where the heck is it that we are actually heading! whats more important, the journey or the destination? what happened to all that shit about life being a journey to savour, enjoy and experience?

has it all narrowed down to being one big rat race? someone [ i dont remember who!] said "the problem with rat races is that at the end of it your still a rat!"

After all the stretching myself to achieve the best i can and in the process screwing myself up, i took a minute to breathe and wondere where is it that i am heading in life and why?
When was the last time i let myself waste an entire day doing nothing, or doing only the things i enjoy doing? When was the last time i day dreamt with no thought whatsoever of the consequences?

Ha.. do i need more inspiration?after all dont i keep saying "my way highway!" so i did just that. Today was heaven. Did absolutely nothing productive and am damn proud of it.Absolutely no guilt.

Went to the beach early in the morning. Stared at people. yes.. MINDLESSLY stared at people. for once it felt good to be giving it back. [if ur of the female species in chennai and went to the beach on sundays u "l know what i am talking about!no offense to the good clan of men! ] came back home, read 5 news papers from top to bottom. All of it. lazed around in my bean bag all day, with excellent music and a book to top it all. oh, and if your wondering if i ever thought about studying [ i usually get very paranoid if i dont!] I DIDNT! rethought my entire life. was going through an all time. Decided it cant get any worse, so it had to get better :)

Messaged my friends, [after all those sms'es in mumbai and blore wher i payed through my nose, rather my dad's nose, free messages seems like god's gift to me!] Listened to all those old songs, read old slam books, updated all the tamil slang i lost out on. I LOVE TAMIL! it just sounds so cool and so at home and so right.

Slept in the afternoon, watched tv. I surfed the TV. Dreamnt of going to venice, italy all around the world, screwing people at court, finding prince charming. It was my day off wasn it? can be extravagant cant i? Realised that my dreams are still beautiful and however bad my day was, i still had them. Remebered another saying [god! i am so full of them!]
"Life without dreams is like a bird with broken wings!" Ok.. me rejunavated.. WILL FLY AGAIN :)

Oh yeah. had my crib session. called my best friend up and bugged the life out of her. She apparently was baking biscuits or whatever for a fair in her college. U heard right. hahaha. things like that happen in chennai.

Played music and made my parents ball dance. It was hilarious. My mum thought i was draggin her around the hall. She thought i was going to break her bones. My dad was a big sport. He danced around for a bit. Then he suddenly realised, doing it with me was no fun! He asked my mum, who i am not kidding, literally ran to the room. AH! the proverbial indian woman!:)but it was really cute!

Then with a big grin in my face, here i am at the end of the day. DID nothing but totally loved it. This was a break i really needed. Now am all worked up and excited to go back to what i am supposed to be doing.

I thought i was the only one crazy enough to do stuff like this. Apparently not. I googled "The art of doing nothing" and i got 62,000,000 results! hahaha. there are a lot of people like me arent they?

One more to the list of "The things to do in life"
1] Master the Art of doing nothing.. A BIG TICK! done! :)

LAWS OF LOVE!

2006-03-08T19:02:00.001-08:00

Murphys law. My life it seems is here just to prove murphy right. For all the uninitiated, Murphys law is the best and most truthful piece of literature ever written. And his laws of love, every one of them apparently works on me!
1] all the good ones are taken :- Oh u bet they are! everytime you see the perfect guy/girl and go all over switzerland singing duets in your dreams a voice yells into your ear waking you up rudely saying "i am taken!" arrrgh! those horrible words! and if that person is not taken, there's a reason and an extremely miserable one!

2]The nicer someone is, the farther away h/she is away from you:- yup. either their taken or else they live on the other side of the arctic circle. You run into the perfect guy just as you are about to leave the city and move and yeah the perfect guy true to his perfection thinks long distance sucks!

3] The perfect formula Brains*Beauty*Availability= Constant Always. Availability is also a function of time. The minute you get interested is the minute they find someone else. I can vouch for this!and i dont think this needs any explanation anywhich ways. am sure all of you must have been through this atleast once!

4]NICE GUYS/GIRLS finish last! yes. and anyone who says otherwise is saying it to make you feel better or worse still to make you feel like shit!

5]If it seems too good to be true it probably is! This is true with anything in my life. All those times when you think you have found your prince charming, the one you want to spend your life with eventually cleaning each others dentures and biting into bread soaked with milk... something has to screw it up. something. anything.. everything. if you thought nothing could go wrong it still will because if it seems to good to be true it probably is not true ! :)
yes my friends, thats how it works! the entire system must have been designed by some devious scheming brain and someone so intelligent is probably taken too!
and for all of you who think this post is too cynical and murphy was a cynical old fool
try o'tooles commentary on the laws. its very simple it says

"MURPHY WAS AN OPTIMIST"

PS:- all said and done.. am still one of those old fools who believes in the power of love! god some people never change..!!sigh.. my prince charming is round the corner!

Caught me!

2006-03-08T04:15:00.001-08:00

hey people..
yeah.. the blog fever finally caught me.. after months of following blogs and wondering if i should go for it.. well.. did it.. here i am.. what is this blog about?? well you could say this is about a frustrated outlaw's experiences at law school!! on the other hand the happier quirks of fate which makes me love life..the ups and downs of that roller coaster.. my life!! well my take on life and yea pretty much everything else......
so hop on ..