Reverberations

INVICTUS

2010-01-10T16:56:00.000-08:00

I recently came across the poem Invictus (Latin for "unconquered") by the English poet William Ernest Henley. It is a simple, but powerful poem where the poet expresses his "never say die" attitude. This is also the poem that Nelson Mandela held onto during his incarceration on Robben Island. The movie Invictus also derives its name from this poem.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of fate
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years finds
And shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

In the very first stanza of the poem, it is clear that the poet is not one of those people who blame fate or the Almighty for their misfortunes. He employs "Black night" to metaphorically indicate hardships of life. (Note the use of both metaphor and simile in the first two lines). It appears as though the poet is an atheist because of his usage of "whatever gods may be".

Life, for some like the poet, may not be a bed of roses. The poet was diagnosed with tuberculosis of the bone at the tender age of 12. A few years later his leg had to be amputated in order to save his life, but despite that he led an active life. He wrote this poem from a hospital bed (possibly after the amputation). They say life is as you react; the poet clearly shows his strong, unconquerable spirit in the second stanza.

In addition to the trials and tribulations of the present there is always the fear of the unknown (Horror of the shade), possibly uncertainty about the future. The poet says he is not afraid and ready to face whatever lays ahead of him.

The poem ends strongly with the poet proclaiming that he is the master of his destiny regardless of the difficulties that may be in store for him.

This is my interpretation of the poem. Your interpretations are welcome too!

HAPPY FEET

2008-07-30T10:43:00.000-07:00

When I started running early this year, I used to put on my regular sneakers and go for the runs. I had a goal of being able to run 5K on a regular basis and wanted to reward myself for achieving that goal. What better reward than a good pair of running shoes? Since the program was following a gradual progression to 5K, the longer runs did not come until towards the end of the program, and was able to get away running in my sneakers. But as I continued running 5K 3 days a week, I noticed that my feet hurt. That reminded me of the promise I had made to myself. I headed to a local running store and bought myself a good pair of running shoes.

My running shoes - Nike Air Pegasus

Now my feet don't hurt and I feel a marked difference in the running experience from before. Here are some things that I learned while shopping for my running shoes.

A running store helps - I had a very good shopping experience at my local running store. The sales people were real runners. They started off by identifying my foot type and suggested the best shoes for my foot type. I was able to get a real feel of the different shoes I tried, by running around the store or on the treadmill in the store. They gave me all the guidance that I needed to choose the right kind of shoe, without being pushy about making a choice. I would highly recommend going to a running store where one can get personalized attention over buying something at the mall.
Your running shoe should be a size bigger than your regular shoes. Our feet expand on running; the bigger shoe size gives your feet some room to move.
Mesh-work on the shoe is an indicator of a good running shoe. The mesh allows your feet to breathe which helps, since feet get hot and sweaty during a run.

MIND GAMES

2008-04-28T16:55:00.000-07:00

My body had gotten into a nice rhythm. A breeze sent a heavenly waft from the citrus blooms along the running trail.

I came to the narrow sidewalk under the bridge. I disliked this patch - it was very narrow, barely wide enough for two people to walk comfortably. Many times there would be a water puddle or contents of a discarded cup lying around. This would require me to slow down and watch my step. I imagined bats lived here, in the dark corners, where light wouldn’t reach. As I passed by here, I would be concerned that a bird would send its poop on me. I disliked it even more when I would see a dog owner walk with a mean looking dog from the opposite direction. I would slow my pace as the duo approached, fearful that the dog might grab my ankle if I were running. But the dogs here are too well behaved; it would pass by without even sniffing and I would heave a sigh of relief. My breath would quicken when I would spot a hulky male coming from the other side. On such occasions, I would try to recollect some prayers, only partially meet his eyes and move away as quickly as possible, always checking my shoulder. The road under the bridge was usually busy with traffic and there wasn’t a remote possibility of anything happening. But such is my mind….

It is on this queasy patch that I saw her. I came across a chubby kid first. I wondered why he was alone without a guardian. Then at the far end of the tunnel, I saw a tall figure entering. “May be that’s his mother” I thought. But in a flash of a second I realized that she was THE 'snake girl'. I bolted…

She is fair, blonde, tall and walks gracefully. The two times that I have seen her, she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Slung across her shoulder like a backpack was a snake, a python I think. A friend had pointed her to me when we were driving, but I didn’t see her then and it probably didn’t register.

After a few days, I was walking back home after my evening walk. I saw a girl walking towards me. From a distance it appeared like she was carrying a backpack. She was probably 20ft away when it hit me that it was a snake and not a backpack. It was more out of disgust than fear that I turned around and ran to find my friend, eager to tell her what I had just seen. I was a little excited that evening after this episode, but I laughed at myself as I recounted the incident to many. I decided I would stop, talk to her and have a good look at her snake the next time our paths crossed. I far from stopped during our 2^nd encounter, I probably ran faster than before.

Every time I am under this narrow, dimly lit bridge or approaching a blind corner, my mind turns to this girl and I worry - will she emerge?

AN EVENING TO REMEMBER

2008-04-18T08:33:00.000-07:00

...is what the evening of 1st June will be, given that the maestros are performing!

WILL CODE FOR FREE

2008-04-14T15:06:00.000-07:00

No false promises, hidden charges or anything in the fine print. For details click here.

I'd appreciate if you could spread the word :)

ALONE

2008-04-11T17:14:00.000-07:00

I sit slouched on the couch, laptop on my lap, meaninglessly surfing the internet and refreshing my email page every five minutes or so. I look back at the clock on the wall. It is 5 o’clock. On any other day, I would be outside my apartment complex waiting for you to go to the park for a walk or a run. But today is different - I ignore the clock’s toll and sink even deeper into the couch. I don’t feel like heading out; not yet. 45 minutes later I have overcome my inertia and I head out. I consider carrying my iPod along but instead take my cell phone.

I take a deep breath and start walking. I pause briefly outside your apartment, as if waiting for you to emerge – silly me! I have an idea; I call your cell phone, only to reach your voicemail. Just as I am telling myself to gear up to be alone henceforth, you call. We chat for a little bit, then, you hang up and I am alone again.

I don’t spot many familiar faces on the trail today. But when I do see one, I smile at them eagerly, hoping they stop me and ask about your absence. None does. With no one to point new flowers to, or share the excitement over spotting a new bird, or exchange notes of domesticity and satisfy the inherent girlish (or womanly) need to babble, the trail seems to stretch longer than usual. I try to focus my mind on something other than our times together.

I get back home after an hour that seemed painfully long. No extra gossip time at your apartment steps today, nor any beseeching to stop by for a cup of chai. Hmm..I’ll brew my own chai or even better, make myself some lemonade from the lemons you left for me… :)

OFF THE COUCH

2008-03-14T16:20:00.000-07:00

I was never a sports person, not even the kind that spends time watching and cheering for a favorite team.

An uncle of mine, a yoga exponent introduced me to sun salutations. I never imagined myself to be flexible enough to do yoga, yet I started practicing sun-salutations; more to stay trim than as a fitness regimen. Over time, I was exposed to more yoga. To my surprise, I found that I was pretty flexible (at least more than I had imagined) and was able to do the asanas pretty well. That sure motivated me. Somewhere during my late teens, staying fit gained as much priority as staying trim. Also, I began to feel the need for some aerobic activity - as a consequence I started jogging/running. The sprawling campus of the colony where I lived provided the perfect environment; serene, quiet, pollution-free and traffic-less.

And so I have been running for many years now; for this post, let us focus on running for fitness and stay away from all other connotations (for those of you who know me - running away from being a responsible organized adult and whatever else your mind can conjure). My running regimen has always been ad-hoc, unstructured and prone to long lapses; of course one can’t run during the persistent monsoon and I used to find it extremely difficult (maybe impossible) to wean myself from my warm rajai in the cold winters and summers are too hot to be out running anyways. Despite my irregular running schedule, I have observed that I enjoy running. I like it for the meditative rhythm that it puts me into while I am at it…for the ‘runner’s high’….and also for the sweet hurt. Considering my cushy, laid-back lifestyle and proclivity to gain weight, I decided, it was time to embark on a regular fitness regimen and make running a part of it.

I stumbled upon the ‘couch to 5K’ running program while surfing the internet. I found that the program has been around a while and has many followers. It seemed simple and doable; I decided to give it a try. ‘M’ jumped at the idea and decided to be my running buddy. I also discovered Robert Ullrey’s podcasts for each of the couch to 5K workouts. The podcasts are wonderful; they save you from keeping track of time or distance and make the workout a lot of fun. 3 cheers to Robert!! :)

We run MWF and I am in the middle of Week2. I hope to complete the program by mid-May and continue regularly with my 5K runs. Who knows, someday I might even run a marathon!

If you are looking for a program to get off the couch, this is worth a try. Go for it!

I’d also like to hear your experiences about running, couch to 5K and anything related that you would like to share. Well, its almost time for today’s run. Adios for this time.

Happy Running!

THE LIFE OF PI

2008-02-07T16:07:00.000-08:00

Beware: Potential spoilers ahead.

The words maths and sci-fi came to mind as soon as I heard about the book that goes by ‘The Life of Pi’. Long, complex looking mathematical equations started darting in front of my eyes whenever I thought of the book. I must mention that the book was recommended to me by a ‘maths-science-and works’ aficionado and I am sure you will agree that my mental imagery wasn’t unfounded. Of course, I couldn’t get myself to read such a book!...it wasn’t ‘my types’…

I don’t remember what exactly made me pick up the book, maybe, it was the knowledge of the fact that India featured in the novel or maybe it was the cover (it sure didn’t look like a sci-fi novel from its cover) or maybe it was just to satisfy my curiosity about the queer title. V started reading the book before me and whenever I’d ask “So what is the book about?” I would hear something like “Don’t know yet”. I decided to find out for myself.

How right he was….believe me, you don’t know where the story is headed till you finish part one of the book, unless of course, you have done some background reading about the book and tried to put the cover in perspective.

Some books get you hooked up from page one, and then there are those that you have to plough through till you get to the interesting parts. I would say Yann Martel’s Life of Pi belongs to the second category. The initial pages are not drab, but as a reader one needs to know where a story is headed no matter how entertaining the read has been so far. “Hang on till part one and then you won’t realize when you finish the book”, some friends had mentioned. So with that hope, I continued to read, page after page, and then I reached a point where I couldn’t keep the book down.

The book begins with the author’s note about the story behind the novel. He mentions meeting an individual in a coffee shop in Pondicherry, India who tells him the story that is now the novel. The references of people and places made me believe that it was a real story that I was reading. Silly me, actually started googling for Pi Patel (the main character of the story) hoping to find some clues about his existence and wondering how I had missed a story so fascinating. Alas, I found out that the novel is a work of fiction. I felt betrayed and berated myself for being naïve, but, full marks to the author for making the story so real and believable. Definitely worth reading!

A SILENT RAIN

2008-02-07T14:04:00.000-08:00

Dear Baba,

I am sitting by the window of my apartment as I write to you. The weather forecast says, rain and thunderstorms are headed our way. I am excited; you know how we looove the rain! :)

The gusty summer showers that relieve us temporarily from the heat….the intoxicating smell of the wet hot earth ….sometimes there is hail and we would run to collect it…if the hailstones were small they would melt away as soon as they’d hit the ground….the bigger ones would stay and we would eat them…sometimes, one of them would hit us hard on the back, as we stooped to collect the ones on the ground.

The monsoon is a different ball game altogether…..the early showers are heavy and make a lot of noise…as if the heavens are lashing out at the earth…or like a child throwing tantrums….then the rain settles into a rhythm….a daily incessant drizzle….as if the heavens have made peace with the earth…. there is another phase of heavy showers before they are gone for good till next year…

I close my eyes and can hear all the rain sounds……the growling thunder…the howling wind……the rustling of the leaves…..then the different sounds of the rain drops…..the first few coming down tentatively tap, tap, tap…….tap, tap, tap, tap,….falling on the ground, on the road, on the roof and the awning outside our verandah….soon the drops would gather speed and before you know they would be coming down in torrents… when it stopped raining, the tip tip of water droplets trickling down from the trees or the window sill or the awning onto the ground…

The initial heavy showers would always mean a power cut; due to a fallen tree over the power lines, or, some other fault…..power cut or otherwise, we would huddle up in chairs in the verandah and soak up the view… sometimes we would need to rush inside to secure the windows, for the haphazardly slanting rain would send water through the windows inside the house…..we would speculate about the rains for the year, make phone calls to friends and relatives and excitedly exchange the rain info …..ginger and lemon grass flavored hot chai and bhajis would arrive from the kitchen….we would continue to talk for hours about this thing and that, until it got too dark to see the rain or, the mosquitoes shooed us away….you would turn of the light in the verandah, because it would attract scores of bugs that would dance around it till they died, and left a mess of their dead bodies on the floor…..you would play a beautiful rendition of some monsoon raga ……we would drift off to sleep listening to the sounds of the rain….

Often I think of the monsoon as a naughty, undisciplined brat, up to some mischief or the other, but, completely unbothered by its acts….yet, I like this brat…..it never fails to evoke a rainbow of emotions; joy and exhilaration mostly dominate the spectrum……it has opened hearts; mine to other people and other people’s to mine….I have noticed a surge in my creativity in its presence …..Alas, I don’t know when I will enjoy the Indian monsoon next… :(

Nothing can compare to our monsoon….O….it has started raining…here the doors and windows are all securely closed; not a sound can be heard, unless, I strain my ears, to hear above the drone of the heater…..neither can I smell the earth…….there seems to be a lot of wind for the trees are shaking violently, but of course, I don’t hear the wind….The rain here is nothing like our rain…..it is disciplined, just like the people here…..it never makes an unexpected call….it arrives on time like a punctual guest and never lingers…there is no informality…..no liberties are taken or given….its well manneredness hurts, seems fake and it fails to reach my soul….

Oh well….is it just me or …? ……..Maybe I should open the windows and try to listen…

LOOK ALIKE

2007-08-06T09:35:00.000-07:00

It was that time of the day, Tunna and Chutki took their places behind the long curtains in the living room. Eyes twinkling with mischief and faces beaming with smiles, they waited for Jiji to arrive at the scene. The big grandfather clock on the wall struck 7 and Jiji came waddling into the room. She chanted her prayers in a murmur and grimaced as she walked; it was the arthritis. There was nobody in the room, she noticed as she squinted from behind her thick glasses. Jiji turned on the TV and slowly settled into her rocking chair.

The TV screen came alive with Jerry trying to run away from Tom; Tunna and Chutki burst into loud giggles. Jiji frowned and called after them. This was the daily prank they played on Jiji. Every evening just before Jiji came to watch her soaps, Tunna changed the channel setting to their favorite Cartoon channel; Chutki liked to play accomplice. They enjoyed seeing Jiji struggle to find her channel; the channel that played all the melodramatic soaps.

Tunna and Chutki were the youngest among Jiji’s pack of grandchildren. Jiji had three sons and they all lived together with their families. Ever since their father’s death 7 years ago, they had brought Jiji to stay with them. Jiji had never wanted to come to the city from Bagra….what did the city have??…she didn’t want to leave her home and her friends, but couldn’t resist her sons’ plea. Nobody really had time for Jiji and she met the family only at night during dinner.

Jiji punched the numbers on the remote and looked up at the TV screen to see if she had found her channel. She muttered something about how naughty Tunna and Chutki were getting and how their generation lacked respect for elders, as she went about this channel scanning exercise. Suddenly her jaw dropped as her gaze settled on the screen. She adjusted her glasses and looked at the screen one more time.

The same straight nose, the same white hair, combed back slickly and the same starched, pure white kurta and the same broad frame. Jiji couldn’t believe her eyes. The man on the screen looked just like Ramcharan, her husband who was no more. The man was speaking a language that was beyond Jiji’s comprehension, but when he smiled…she smiled back, because the smile too was just like Ramcharan’s. She called out for her sons, but no one answered. For an hour Jiji sat there glued.

The family was surprised to see Jiji chirpy and excited at the dinner table but nobody bothered to know why. Jiji’s evenings are no longer lonely. Her hour-long date with Ramcharan daily even keeps her arthritis at bay. Sharing her deepest thoughts…speaking her heart out…reprimanding him about his health…complaining about her sons and daughter-in-laws at times…sharing stories about the city and her grandchildren…the hour seems to fly for Jiji…

RELIANCE SUCKS

2007-08-04T02:40:00.000-07:00

Of late, I have been dishing out small pieces which I consider to be my feeble attempts towards fiction. But this post is very much real and as you will soon realize, about an issue that is close to my heart. Without further ado I will get to the heart of the matter. Please be ready for my rant mode for this post.

Pardon the profanity in the title. However, I am sure anybody in my position would be driven to such extremes. A few months ago we signed up for a broadband internet connection through Reliance. Since we signed up as a group (a bunch of people from my colony) they threw in a free intercom service and waived off the activation fee. We were elated! What the dodo in me failed to note is that we had ended up signing for their phone service for which my family had no real use. Hence, I decided to terminate the phone service and upgrade my broadband to a much better plan.

So pronto I did the needful; switched the broadband plan and put in the request to terminate the phone connection (14^th July 2007). Apparently only a supervisor level individual can take the termination request. So 1^st a regular customer care dude, verified my identity and then put me on hold for 30 minutes at least (seriously, no exaggeration there) so I could be transferred to the supervisor dude. Apparently all the supervisors were busy just the time when I wanted to put in my termination request. I gave them the benefit of doubt and tried to be merry listening to the music track that they play when they put you on hold. O BTW the music really really gets too you as the time you spend holding the call increases. At last, after what seemed like eternity the supervisor came on line. I had to repeat the same verification details, provide him with reasons as to why I want to terminate the connection, etc. I was informed that somebody from another team would contact me to take an appointment so they could visit and take away the phone instrument and finish the other formalities. I provided him with an alternate number to call. I was told that the timeline for the completion of the request would be 14 working days; that’s like half the billing cycle. Oh well! Maybe their motto is: “Our customer is our GOD (spelled backwards!)”

When I came home next day, ma informed that the Reliance folks had called. Unfortunately I had not clearly updated folks at home, so ma ended up telling them to call later since she did not have a clear idea about the termination request. Of course they never called back. I called up Reliance customer care that same night and I must say they are either out of their mind or have a really crooked sense of humor. I was informed that we had communicated that we want to retain the phone service!! Wallah…how they twist the customer’s words. I admit that I really admire their skill of interpreting new meanings from seemingly simple statements. The only option that I was left with was to put in a new request (as outlined above).

It is well known that I need a lesson in anger management. The prospect of being on call listening to crappy Reliance on-hold music was quite daunting and I guess that proved to be the last straw. I sort of raised hell as I put in my request the second time around. Only this time, I decided to do better than listen to their on-hold music; I utilized my time by making some pending phone calls and caught up with people that I needed to catch up with. After much tantrum throwing (no that did not help, my call with them still lasted the customary 45 minutes) I had put in my 2^nd request. I got a call from the other team on my cell within a couple of days. I was not in a very cordial mood (when am I you say? ;)) and so ended up telling them point blank that I wanted to terminate my phone connection ASAP. I also informed that I was tired of giving reasons. A week or so elapsed, no follow up signs from Reliance and I began to get suspicious.

Another round of calls confirmed my worst fears. Their logs show that I confirmed I want to retain their phone service! Now either I have forgotten how to communicate or they have some serious mental challenges. With no other option I put in my termination request the 3^rd time around last night (3^rd August 2007). If a phone call to Reliance customer care entails termination of service, then be assured that their supervisors will be busy (which means you are on hold indefinitely) or that their system will be down. (which means you have to call back later)

These incidents coupled with some previous sour experiences with Citibank have led me to believe that customer care around here is customer, don’t care. They come kissing at your feet to activate any goddamn service, but when you need to cancel the same, you are at their mercy. Often customers are plundered by signing them up for unnecessary services. Agreed it is the customer’s duty to thoroughly verify what they are getting into. But often, time seems to be the challenge and hence such minor plundering is either ignored or most times goes unnoticed. These service providers don’t seem to value the customer’s business or their time. Their contorted processes are proof enough.

Have any of you had similar issues with Reliance or for that matter any other customer, don’t care service? I urge all those sailing in the same boat as me to not give up on such issues. Hopefully our follow ups will yield the desired result someday!

Moral of the story:

Be extremely careful before signing up for anything that requires your money, because it takes a lot of time, patience and mental agony to get out of it. (Take my word for it, will ya?)

To Reliance:

GET WELL SOON. My flowers are on the way!

EXHALE

2007-07-27T10:10:00.000-07:00

A storm was brewing in the distance and it seemed to be fast approaching Charleston. It was dark outside but the lightening set everything aglow every now and then. Nothing else could be heard above the din and rumble of the thunder. It appeared as if it wouldn’t be long before it started to pour. Another storm had been raging in Neeti’s mind for a while now. She couldn’t take it anymore….She couldn’t live on two planes at the same time and was tired, tired of lying and pretending…. She stared blankly at the computer screen that sat on a desk in the study. Then, as if having resolved the quandary in her mind, she came back to her senses and signed into her gmail account. There was an email from Ajeya, her husband; the man her parents had chosen for her 10 years ago.

Nee, deal through. Will be home by dinner tomorrow.

Curt and crisp, that was Ajeya. He was a good man and had been a good husband to Neeti. Yet there was something that was missing…

Neeti opened up the email that had been tucked away in the Drafts folder for days now. She glanced over it one last time.

Ajeya,

I met Sujoy during one of my poetry reading sessions. Sujoy is a painter and also has his own art school. We have been seeing each other for a year now. I thought it was time you knew…

Neeti

She took a deep breath and hit the Send button. An eerie calm came over her with this exhalation…

TRUCE

2007-07-27T10:05:00.000-07:00

The hot, arid summer was taking its toll on both man and beast. Short tempered Prithvi was unusually irritable this time of the year. The slightest remark served to vex Prithvi just like the spark that was sufficient to start a fire in the dry woods. Aasma, Prithvi's best friend, was well aware of his tantrums, but could hardly be of any help due to the distance that separated them. One such sultry afternoon, words and tones trundled in the wrong direction. That was the spark. A silent war began raging between the two…Prithvi seethed and Aasma rumbled in her own abode….this continued for almost a week. At the end of the week dark clouds gathered and a gentle pitter-patter commenced…at last there was a truce!

BLUR

2007-07-20T08:32:00.000-07:00

After some initial slow rotations, the merry-go-round gradually gained speed and very soon was at its peak. Trusha, impatient and restless as she was, hated the sluggish start and end phases of the ride. She loved to see the world buzz past when the ride was in full swing. Everything; people, places and even seemingly inert objects seemed to have a heady momentum then. Her life these days was just like the ride in full swing. She regretted it at times….no it didn’t feel like the merry-go-round, instead, it felt like being on a roller coaster that was ready to take a nose-dive. Her days were a blur…how she had yearned for them to be like that! But now, she wanted time to pause, just briefly, so she could collect herself and smell the roses one last time…before her life was launched into a different orbit….

MOOD SWING

2007-06-05T11:33:00.000-07:00

A wave of sadness swept across her mind; like the high tide that only leaves rubble in its wake. The day had started like any other and then out of the blue she started feeling like a dump. Uninvited guests always irked her and this one was no exception. Sarah felt something tugging at her heart; something that she couldn’t dismiss or ignore. A heavy weight seemed to press on her and there wasn’t much she could do about it. She wanted to cry but not a tear trickled. She tried to force a smile, as she looked at herself in the mirror in the loo, but her smile gave away her mood. Work was slower than usual at the supermarket where she worked, and that only made it worse. The thought of calling Hugh did cross her mind, but she knew they would end up fighting on a day like this.

The evening was cold and glum as she drove home from work. Even the perky RJ on the radio and the peppy tracks that were played refused to lift her blues. Sarah threw herself on the couch and lay there for a while. She hated this feeling….And then suddenly she knew what to do. She sat at her desk by the window and started writing. Words oozed and she felt liberated. The sun was peeping through the clouds just as a rainbow formed in her heart. She swirled and giggled; for the first time today she was happpppppy!

ROSE

2007-05-12T07:20:00.000-07:00

“Wow California …isn’t the weather there just like India?...and you get almost everything(Indian) there these days…so not much you will miss huh!?”

“I heard everybody in the States has a car…nobody every walks.”

“Oooo away from the big Indian family…nice…I’d live better if I too met w/ the family once a year!”

Her move to the States was generally greeted with such and similar responses that exuded awe, excitement, and happiness…sometimes even a tinge of jealousy would show up. It was as if her move was regarded as an escape to a paradise, where things were picture perfect. And life in such a place had to be good – no? As if just the place guaranteed that life, relationships and everything around and beyond that would be shipshape. But ask people who lived in this paradise, they thought of it as otherwise and claimed that the greenery was all there (in their motherlands). They hastily replied with a reason or two and made it sound as if they were in the so-called Paradise by chance and not choice.

She answered both parties patiently, because, she thought she knew how to savor the roses and how to make sure the thorns don’t get to you…

PERCEPTIONS

2007-05-11T23:02:00.000-07:00

They sat across each other in the most happening lounge in town – La Bouche. He had made a good first impression (didn’t he always?) and she was glad she had agreed to meet him. He was wearing a black corduroy shirt with faded blue jeans and had a shock of silky black hair that was neither too long nor too short. A dimple formed across his right cheek every time his mouth broke into that infectious smile and one could see the perfect set of pearly whites. The cologne scent that he exuded, the prominent Adam’s apple and the slight stubble….she was beginning to fall for him already and only hoped that his thoughts and character matched up w/ his looks…As they sipped their margaritas she noticed the thread (the sacred thread worn across the shoulder after the thread ceremony) as it peeked into view from under his shirt. “Still holds on to his roots after 7 years in Australia”, she made a mental note. Although she tried hard to focus on their talk and him as a person, she caught herself drifting….

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

The song played in the background…She looked at him and thought that his eyes mirrored her feelings…Little did she know that his thoughts were w/ Julia and the summer evening that they had spent together at the Copacabana beach in Rio…

A PIECE OF THEIR WORLDS

2007-04-21T04:20:00.000-07:00

Sameeha was the apple of Aapa’s eyes. Sameeha was all she had, ever since the fatal accident took away everybody in their family. She had devoted her life to Sameeha who was barely three when their world shattered. Neighbors and friends worried about Aapa and how she would deal with the crisis. Sameeha was the only reason why Aapa had not crumbled.

Their house was brimming w/ life and excitement. Sameeha’s marriage had been finalized w/ Ahsan and today was the Nikah. At last Aapa could breathe easy. She had strived to give Sameeha the best of everything and she constantly fretted about the kind of family Sameeha would marry into. Now her fears were rested. Ahsan was a fine boy from a respectable family. She knew Sameeha would get all the love, care and comfort that she deserved. Distant relatives and friends had gathered in the house. A feast was cooking, and children played in the courtyard. The men-folk chatted away as women-folk busied themselves supervising the preparations. There was music and laughter all around. Sameeha sat patiently as four girls stooped over her, applying mehendi to her hands and feet. Her girlfriends teased her about Ahsan while elderly ladies squeezed in words of wisdom every now and then. Aapa sat in a corner, observing and shouting orders as needed.

She was happy for Sameeha yet, her heart broke into a million pieces every time she thought of Sameeha’s bidai. Years flashed by her eyes. How little Sameeha had tightly clutched her hand as she mourned the deaths in the family…Sameeha with her lovely locks and smile……How she had scouted the bazaar barefoot one summer afternoon only to get Sameeha the red velvet slippers that she had wanted….Sameeha the chatterbox…..Sameeha the singer….the Sameeha who studied day and night for her exams…Sameeha the caring doctor…and now, Sameeha the bride…

She would never hear her laughter, her chatter and have her around like she used to….she would have to wait months, just to see her darling for real and even then, it would never be the same…a heavy sadness choked Aapa’s heart. She tried to lift the weight by hollering for some chai and day dreaming about the joys that lay ahead in the future…she had to be strong and able for doing all her duties, she warned herself…Allah would help her survive without her lifeline – Sameeha.

*********

Aapa was her world for many many years. She was her friend, philosopher, guide and her idol. As she grew up her world expanded, but Aapa was still at the center of it. But now it seemed Allah was testing her, by sending Ahsan into her life. All of a sudden it was expected of her to accept Ahsan as the new center. To her surprise, even Aapa wanted it! Although it seemed easy at times, this shift filled her w/ guilt. It was not so hard for her since Ahsan, was the man of her dreams, but what would happen to Aapa?....How would she deal w/ it? Her heart was torn in a game of tug of war; on one side there was Aapa and on the other Ahsan.

Memories flashed past her eyes like a picture slide-show….Her strong Aapa, who rarely smiled….Aapa the taskmaster who never said CAN’T DO…Aapa, the best cook she had ever known….Although with a temper of her own, Aapa who soaked in all her tantrums…. the Aapa who had locked away her tears ever since their family perished….Aapa, who stayed up w/ her as she studied for her exams….Aapa’s embrace, the most comforting thing in the world….Aapa’s trust and confidence that had always pulled her through her lows…..the Aapa who knew her more than herself…and now the Aapa, who was standing and smiling just for her with a heavy stone on her heart... “Ya Allah!…guide me well”, Sameeha prayed.

DIAMONDS

2007-04-16T10:56:00.000-07:00

Thank you for the diamonds,

I’m glad you read my mind.

Let’s share a love that shines through the times,

Let’s be a team that always sparkles and chimes,

Let’s ignore the flaws and discover the gold mines.

Thank you for the diamonds,

I’m glad you read my mind.

Let’s weave a bond that storms only twine,

Let’s be the mountains that never break their spines,

Let’s strive for a life, pure and sublime.

Thank you for the diamonds,

I’m glad you read my mind.

I have all my diamonds,

They twinkle as if humming this rhyme.

The road ahead is slime dear, but has both brine n wine.

So anytime you feel things are not so fine,

And you want to throw yourself on the bed and whine,

Head to a nice place, dance and dine,

Just look at us and you’ll know we stand for all you pine…

IMAGINATION... INFATUATION... INTOXICATION...

2007-04-02T04:26:00.000-07:00

I am ME, when its WE,
Is this what love's supposed to be?

A lot of stuff that I’d like to share,
Wonder, is it too early to show I care?

Some things left unsaid,
Will they ever raise their head?

The equation has but one unknown,
Only time will solve and make it known.

Until then I prefer to drown,
In the sweet world that I’ve grown.

Herez to imagination, infatuation and intoxication!

CRUSH(ED)

2007-02-11T00:05:00.000-08:00

Trina was on her way to work and had paused at the 4-way stop, when she first saw him.

“Why do I see him everyday??” Maybe it is a sign, her infatuated mind answered.

He was her inspiration to get up every morning and make the long commute to work. He never seemed to notice her, always looking straight ahead from his black Chevy. Was that because he was married? “Oh c’mmon Trin. That’s not a sure sign of matrimony. Maybe he is just a well behaved lad.” Trina told herself. She imagined he was tall from the brief glimpses at the stop sign. She couldn’t guess his age. But obviously he looked young and did it matter?? – He looked good. She practiced her smile as she pulled out of her driveway each day and rehearsed her lines just in case this moved to more than peeks at the stop sign.

It was Valentine’s Day and she was in a genial mood as she left home for work. Maybe today would be the day, she secretly hoped….maybe destiny had saved everything for this special day, she reasoned.

Something glinted as sunrays caught his fingers…...Blues music is Trina’s new found love and it is what drives her to work everyday now….

ESCAPE

2007-02-10T07:13:00.000-08:00

Shiny had mixed feelings as she packed her bags and readied herself to start a new life in a new place. Was she really going to escape the sorrow and the pain and know a life of happiness??

She had always wanted live in Dubai, like her Dada; a father she had never known. Amma gave her a cold, blank stare as she kissed her goodbye. Her heart broke, but she understood. It was the Alzheimer’s. Appachan was fast asleep when she tip-toed into his room. Growing age and the paralysis had made short tempered Appachan more irascible. Tall and well-built Appachan, with his military colonel moustaches always looked formidable. He always seemed angry about something and their relationship had never developed. Jibu Chetta followed her as she moved about the house; he could sense that she was leaving home. Mentally challenged with limited ability of expression, all he could do was make sounds to let her know that he would miss her. InjiAmma’s eyes welled up with tears every few minutes as she came with Shiny to the bus-stand. She had been Shiny’s care-taker from the day little Shiny came into the world.

The bus left dust clouds in its wake as it chugged out of Perumpuzha. Shiny closed her eyes and prayed for the well-being of the family that she was leaving behind…..

PERFECT

2007-02-10T07:11:00.000-08:00

Every leg muscle protested as Hope and her friend Tiffany settled into the comfortable sofas at Mochas; their favorite place to relax after a crazy day at the mall. Hope was a hopeless shopaholic. Tiffany didn’t care about shopping, but a good friend that she was, always accompanied Hope on her seemingly never-ending trips to the malls. They were scouting for the perfect pair of sandals for Hope’s big day – her wedding with Dan. Four hours into their search and the perfect pair still eluded Hope.

There were many that Hope had liked, but for some or the other reason hadn’t ended in her shopping bag. There was the strappy one that looked great on her feet, but it was way beyond her budget. Then she had fallen for the stilettos, they would have gone perfectly with her dress. “These are not for sale, Miss.” she was informed. She almost fumed out of the store when she caught sight of the soft-leather heels. She was unlucky this time too – her size wasn’t available. Morning turned to afternoon as they moved from one store to another. Now it was Hope’s turn to find some or the other fault with every pair that they seemed to like.

“Hope, you better settle on something, else you are never going to find the perfect pair” Tiffany reasoned. “Besides there is no way you will escape the shoe bites” Tiffany seemed to mention casually. Actually, she wanted to make sure Hope didn’t include that in her check-list for the perfect pair. After a series of failed relationships and a broken marriage, Hope knew better. “I’ll go for the strappy ivory ones Tiff” Hope said getting up, lost in her own web of thoughts….

CLOUDED

2007-01-30T08:16:00.000-08:00

When will we learn to look at things objectively?... When will we put aside religion and think straight while analyzing people, things and situations?..... Will we ever realize that we are being fogged by the miasma of our narrow-minded exhales? Too bad it is sun salutation this time..

MY EXPERIMENTS WITH ABSTINENCE

2007-01-29T09:34:00.000-08:00

No! I don’t smoke or drink or am not into any other weird stuff that the title of this post might help you imagine. I am an Internet junkie. I can, and, I do spend hours online, most of the times doing stuff that does not ahem qualify as ‘value-adding’. School got me used to 24 hours of high speed Internet. Post-graduation, I found myself in a big city where people were hard to come by. In these testing times the WWW was my only solace. My work in the tech-sector only further fostered this friendship and I guess I never realized when we became almost inseparable. Granny’s rants fell on deaf ears, dad’s disapproving look was quickly dismissed and mom’s Gandhigiri also failed to instigate a change. Like every addict, I was aware of my addiction and its ill-effects; yet I wasn’t doing anything about it and I liked to think I was helpless.

New Year’s time is usually a good time to take stock of life and make amends. It is during this reflective juncture that I happened to read this quote. Write it down. Written goals have a way of transforming wishes into wants, can’ts into cans; dreams into plans and plans into reality. Don’t just think it – ink it. It made sense, and so I penned all the do’s and don’ts and proclaimed it to the entire world here. Most New Year resolutions never go past the first few weeks of the New Year; so a research article claimed. It partially attributed the failure to the fact that the goals are not SMART goals. A quick look at my list and I realized that I needed to be more specific. With a long weekend on my holiday calendar I decided to take some real steps towards tackling my addiction. I promised myself that I would stay away from the Internet for 3 days. Talking about resolutions makes you stick to them, I’d heard; so I dashed a quick “Miss Me” note to some friends telling them about my resolve.

I lingered in the living room after dinner. “What’s the matter today? Aren’t you going to surf?” Granny asked mischievously. I was about snap back; “No I am going to be off it for 3 whole days and spend time with you instead.” I proudly announced. We chatted for a while before turning in. Yess! I had made a start; I congratulated myself. “What’s the username for our Internet connection? Have you changed the password?” - Dad. “There let me help you with that.” I promptly offered jumping out of bed. I was tempted to have a quick look at my email as I got him connected, but checked myself. “You will have to watch out for these weak moments for the next 3 days. They will be waiting to pounce on you at every corner.” I reminded myself.

Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. I sure felt great as I awoke to the sounds of the birds early the next morning. Chai-walk with Granny-jog-meditation was to be my morning ritual for the next 3 days. Gone was the feeling of “I need more sleep”, the dark circles and moi’s beauty gained a new dimension. As Dad busied himself with some work, I pulled out my lappy. “I am going to play you music over the Internet” I suggested enthusiastically. All I got is a cold stare to which I succumbed. Ah! Another small victory. Temptation usually comes in through a door that has been deliberately left open. Remembering this, I gave my lappy a goodbye kiss and tucked it safely into the laptop bag. This bag then went into my sister’s wardrobe. Out of sight, out of mind – I hoped this would work for me. The first day was really tough, every few hours I was seized by a strong urge to pull out lappy, hook it up and surf. Those times I tried to divert my attention by reading. One way in which the Internet has taken its toll on me is – lessened concentration. So reading didn’t come so easily too, but I just kept at it. “This would make a great story.” I thought and started observing my moods and thoughts more closely. Saturday (2^nd day) went by smoothly; I was travelling and out of home all day. By Sunday I had sort of gotten used to not starting my day by booting the lappy. I busied myself with some household chores.

By the end of Sunday night however I was bursting to tell everybody what a good girl I had been. So out I pulled lappy dear and woohoo I was connected…

Looking back the 3 day abstinence worked out well for me. I felt relaxed and satisfied that I had not splurged my holidays. I think I am going to practice this more often….

FAITH AND PATIENCE

2007-01-28T09:31:00.000-08:00

The human mind is a funny instrument. Most times it comes across as a rational device prone to logical thinking. Yet, there are times when it makes you comply with the seemingly absurd and unimaginable. During such times these requests can be attributed to intuition, blind faith, desperation, frustration, or may be sort of a last-resort. These were the thoughts that crossed my mind when I heard my Dad announcing a trip to Shirdi. While there is nothing weird in visiting Shirdi, it does raise eyebrows when it comes from a person who has always stayed away from rituals, god-men, and fervent displays of religion; whose focus has been on practicality, whose principle in life has been ‘Humata, Hukhta, Hvarshta’.

We found ourselves in Shirdi an hour before noon amidst a multitude of devotees. Apparently we were late to gain entry to the holy chambers, in spite of having passes arranged for. Dad was ready to make a turn-back, but Granny persisted. (She isn’t the one to give up so easily.) So after some phone calls, we were put at the end of a queue that seemed to be progressing quickly. The women and men were separated just before entering the holy sanctum. The chamber was resonating with a soothing chant of ‘Aum Shree Sai Nathaya Namaha’. It took me a while to get used to my surroundings; women shuffling around me to get a better view of the idol, people chanting and murmuring prayers, unoblivious of everything, regulars acknowledging each other or explaining newbies like me what to expect next, little boys crying at being separated from their mothers. The chamber was ornate with designs embossed on silver. The benign idol of Sai Baba looked upon us as multiple air-coolers and fans kept us cool. In the meanwhile, the stage was being set for the daily aarati (prayer recital). The aarati started at noon; my hands folded as an automatic response to the recital, but leaving that I was not sure how to behave.

I am a believer; I believe that there is a supreme power and that man does have his limits. I am okay with calling this supreme power God. I haven’t thought much about God beyond this simple belief that I hold in my heart. So I don’t think twice if I have to bow before Ganesha or Shiva or any other Hindu deity. However, this was a new experience. The idol which everybody was worshipping here was that of a mortal human being; just like me. I don’t know much about the life and work of Sai Baba and so feigning zealous devotion was a far cry. My mind was coagulated by a million thoughts….

The pictures in the museum portrayed Sai Baba as a simple man. Now, his idol was seated on a silver throne, dressed in a jazzy purple (!) kaftan and his head adorned a gold crown. “What an irony..,” I sighed. “The time and money invested in this enterprise could move mountains,” I said to myself. “Baba, do you approve of all this?” Oh well, I’ll save my rant for another post….

As I tried to find my way out of this mental maze, I noticed two words on the silver embossing “Shraddha-Saburi” (Faith-Patience). That was the Eureka moment. I waited outside for Dad after the aarti. He seemed happy and relieved at the same time. “Faith and Patience, Daddy,” I exclaimed as I hugged him. He understood.

SLEEPLESS

2007-01-21T10:15:00.000-08:00

Diya threw herself on the four-poster bed; it had been a long agonizing day and all she wanted was some peace, solitude and sleep. She looked at their picture on the mantlepiece; a half smile broke on her lips, but it disappeared before it bloomed fully. She turned off the lights and tried to think of happy things as she tucked herself into her favorite blanket. The room was silent except for the continuous ticking of the time-pieces…..click-clicks of the big grandfather clock mingled with the tick-tocks of the small alarm clock. The more she tried to ignore the sounds, the more they seemed to hammer the eerie silence of the night. Sleep evaded her and thoughts barraged her mind like heavy hail. A silent tear rolled down her cheek. “Why had he gone away?” her mind screamed, but the night offered no answers.....

CHINNU

2007-01-20T03:14:00.000-08:00

With her smooth dusky skin and thick shiny black hair, she looks like any other Indian girl. At a little over 5 feet and slightly built Chinnu (her favorite endearment to-date) does not stand out in the crowd; unless, you notice her eyes. Her big, black twinkling eyes; they are so full of life; a testimony of her unending enthusiasm and zest for life.

Chinnu is not just a friend, but also a philosopher, a guide, a doting mother who handles her tantrums, a baby to her when she is done mommying, and very much an irritating sibling. Their personalities are poles apart, yet miraculously, they connect. One moment you will find them fighting like cats and the next moment they will be in their own goofy world.

Chinnu is her role model. In the short span that they have spent together, Chinnu has inducted her to many of life’s lessons, unknowingly. Chinnu taught her to enjoy life and “living the moment”. To value your loved ones, to treasure every moment with them, the power of one’s mind, the importance of ambition and goal setting are some of the lessons that she will never forget. Thanks to Chinnu, she now truly believes that it is not one’s aptitude but one’s attitude that determines which way one heads in life. Most importantly, Chinnu has acquainted her to the art of giving.

There was a time when they saw each other every single day, but now, being miles apart they have learnt to live with short phone conversations and replaying their memories….

THE LIONESS AND THE COW

2007-01-20T02:30:00.000-08:00

The mother-in-law (MIL) – daughter-in-law (DIL) duo, make an interesting pair; they are poles apart yet they are very similar when it comes to some quirky things. The more I think about them, the more I feel that the MIL, is like a lioness; aggressive, outspoken and gregarious and the DIL like a cow; silent and submissive.

The chubby cow takes her own sweet time for doing things whereas the lean lioness is agile as ever. The cow relishes good food, and the lioness enjoys cooking over eating. “I can’t” is the cow’s favorite excuse. The lioness, on the other hand, believes that there is nothing that she cannot do. The lioness is an excellent manager but for the cow, management seems like an unnecessary chore. The timid cow prefers the beaten path where as the courageous lioness is open to new ways and things.

Each has survived a hard past and emerged strong from the experience. Both lead a simplistic life-style and are completely non-egotistical. Perseverance and determination are traits that they both display. Neither of them is the effusive, mushy kinds. Neither can handle shoes nor deal with the subtle humor that they are often subjected to. Their enthusiasm, energy and habit of keeping busy, always amazes the people around them.

Like typical MIL-DIL, they have had their differences, however, they have never let these differences shatter the peace of their home. I shudder to think of the way life would have been had they both been lionesses or both cows. Kudos to their teamwork! May they both live long and well…

LIFE AND MANAGEMENT

2007-01-14T04:21:00.000-08:00

Was listening to a discourse by Satguru Jaggi Vasudeo of the Isha Foundation Many of his thoughts made sense to me....infact, the more I mull over them, the more they ring true....Here they are for your consumption...He says...

Fundamentally life is management. We are managing things in the external world, as a part of whatever it is we are doing in life. However in order to be good at what we are doing well, we must learn to manage ourselves, because ultimately our mind/body is the only thing that we have control over....

In doing what we are doing, we have to manage situations and essentially people. So how can one say that we are managing people well?....He says that a good manager is someone who fosters an environment such that every individual is elevated to his/her peak potential, every individual gets a positive feeling about the space in which they are operating...and every individual rises to the peak of their love, peace and compassion...

Such a simple yet profound thought! Imagine how beautiful the world would be if we all learnt to practice this simple truth...

THE BEST GIFT

2007-01-14T02:37:00.000-08:00

The holiday season and cheer are long gone. This is generally the time for merry-making, gift-shopping, and also to an extent thinking about the past, taking stock of the present and weaving new dreams for the future. Ever wondered about what would be the best and most cherished gift that you could gift somebody and anybody? .....LIFE would be it.

Recently I happened to read 2 articles about organ donation. The articles made me aware of the sorry state of organ donation in India and the need for the masses to be educated about the this concept. I was all fired up about pledging my organs after the reads. However, I think the decision will require some more study and contemplation.

I thought it might be a good idea to trigger your thought process towards organ donation. Here are the articles that impacted me....

The Gift of Life
A New Life

INDIA POISED

2007-01-14T01:50:00.000-08:00

INDIA POISED, an initiative by the Times of India group was kick started on the 1st day of the new year. While I can't say much about the way India is positioned and stuff, I am confident that we are headed in the right direction. I really liked the anthem of this initiative..Filled me up w/ a lot of positivity and hope!

May we all make India shine...

HURT

2007-01-05T20:37:00.000-08:00

She was both hurt and angry. Her kohl lined eyes were red from crying in the shower; there was no way she was going to have him think of her as weak and vulnerable. Crying hadn’t washed away the hurt, as she had hoped. It was still there, throbbing even harder every time she thought about it. In her own thoughts, she silently stood staring out of the window. The sunrays caught her amber eyes and they glowed with the fire within her. He saw her just then and realized his mistake. He was sorry and drew her close to him. She wanted to fight him off, yet, she melted in his embrace. After all, he was all she had in the far-away country that was now their home…

DRAINED

2007-01-05T20:31:00.000-08:00

Ishwari was tired of answering the standard set of tactical questions, of the lofty talks of the exalted statuses, of the over-exaggeration of the seemingly normal achievements and activities, of the ridiculous expectations and mostly of the commoditization of people. She was embarrassed to bare her soul with every other person who came along as eligible. “Am I weird?” she was beginning to think. Yet, she nursed a faint flicker of hope. She knew, that someday, she would meet the man who would sweep her off her feet and then life would be beautiful. She smiled at that thought as she drifted to sleep…

NICO-TEENS

2007-01-05T10:31:00.000-08:00

Their boyhood is slowly graduating towards manhood and there are tell-tale signs of the same both physically and behaviorally. This is the age when all external advice and goodwill is promptly warded off as voodoo. Ironically, it is often at this blind turn on the life-road that they discover cigarettes, drugs and the works. I often see a group of young boys smoking at the road-side shop on my way to work. While they fantasize about their future looking dreamily into the swirls of tobacco smoke, I despair and sigh for the young lives being wasted……

NOTES TO MYSELF

2007-01-01T07:11:00.000-08:00

To read-write more, surf less…
To listen more, babble less…
To absorb more, be stubborn less…
To exercise more, sit less…

To be patient more, swear less…
To be open more, rigid less…
To care more, be self-absorbed less…
To love more, hurt less…

To appreciate more, criticize less…
To respect more, be insolent less…
To understand more, fight less…
To thank more, complain less…

To focus more, diverge less…
To be organized more, haphazard less…
To think-ahead more, be myopic less…
To venture more, be afraid less…

To follow these notes to my very best!

CLICHE

2007-01-01T03:57:00.000-08:00

Komal hated this time of the year. Everybody seemed to have something exciting planned for the night and seemed over-eager to share their plans with her. She sulked at the thought of going through the annual ritual for the 30^th year of her life – Shammi Chacha and Pummi Chachi would arrive by dusk. Pummi Chachi would get carrot halwa for the party; hadn’t the birthday girl always loved it? Ma would make aaloo matar and Papa would make a trip to the baker’s for the bread. Daadi would be glued to her rocking chair watching TV; lately Daadi didn’t care much about visitors. Anju and Manju bua would come with their clichéd gift - a horrid colored suit-piece. The gift would be later given to St. Martha’s Church’s Easter charity. Post dinner, Papa would play the ‘BoneyM Hits’ LP record and they would urge Komal to dance, while they simply clapped with a wondrous-lovey look in their eyes. She was the only child in the family and how she hated that - especially on her birthday that fell on New Years Eve…..

LITTLE ANGELS

2006-12-30T09:24:00.000-08:00

The Angels were visiting us; two, extremely adorable, lovable angels. These little angels were –

So energetic that their parents fall asleep trying to put them to sleep….

Generous enough to forgive me w/ a meek smile when I gobbled up their last chocolate chip cookie…Shrewd enough to divert the topic when I asked them to share their walkie-talkie password w/ me….

Young enough to enjoy an evening in the park or on the swing….Grown-up enough to ask me about my boyfriends…

Silly enough to believe in ghosts….Smart enough to figure out the TV channel that ran their favorite Cartoon Network, to always get a hold of my cell phone for their play, to convince me to turn on the computer for their games…

Naïve enough to believe in all my made-up stories…Smart enough to pick on my code language w/ their ma….

So peaceful when they slept…..So noisy during their waking hours that they made me blow off every few minutes….

Their presence seemed to shake our mundane life into action. I got some free lessons in anger management. Order to them, is boring, chaos, on the other hand, is a lot of fun. In the few days that I spent w/ them, I have learnt to let go. So what if somebody messes up your car radio settings; you can always re-tune. So what if there are food crumbs all over the place; cleaning isn't such a big deal. "Don’t sweat the small stuff", has been my mantra for the most of past week.

But just as these important lessons are beginning to sink in and I am getting used to the amplified decibel levels at home, they are GONE.

I am going to miss you darlings. Visit me soon!

USE IT OR LOSE IT

2006-12-21T10:11:00.000-08:00

Its been a while since I have written....that my grey cells need exercise is evident from my previous post....in an attempt to have a regular work-out...okay warm-up at least :)....I am planning to write a short piece daily......Inspiration for the work-outs has been derived from Shoefie, a blogger whose writing I love!....not sure if I will get to the precision of 100 words...but keeping it short is the idea...anyhoo...here is my 1st short piece for your preview...

FATE

It was a late spring evening and the sky was alight. Its goldens and pinks intersected haphazardly and gave it the appearance of a huge modern art painting. Another lonely evening, he thought and let out a loud sigh. As he looked up helplessly, he saw the birds hastily returning to their nests. Of late, everybody seemed to be in a hurry! The twittering of the birds was drowned by the cheer that rose among the group watching the football game. He realised it had been ages since he had played the game.

In the field, Ishaan had the game under his control. Lean, dark with his long mane of black hair, Ishaan appeared like a black stallion cruising the field with the speed of lightening. Ishaan scored the victorious goal and was swept off the ground by his team-mates.

As he looked up from his thoughts towards the loud group, his eyes met Ishaan’s. In a flash they were transported to the cold December night….. Ishaan was at the wheel…. they were on I-95 heading towards the airport to catch their flight to LA…….his next memory was of waking up in the hospital room…..

A sharp pain rose in his heart and he winced as he tried to get up with the help of his crutches……he looked down at his amputated legs…..Ishaan looked up to the heavens…..his mind clogged by memories of the cruel twist of fate..

SAWAI GANDHARVA MUSIC FESTIVAL

2006-12-18T10:30:00.001-08:00

For many, it is THE place to be; hang-out with friends through the late hours, savor snacks and coffee amidst the vibrant musical atmosphere and display their style quotient. For some, it is simply an annual ritual/tradition, while for some, it is a place to meet old friends and relive the past. But for most, it is a place to see their demigods, hear the best Hindustani classical music, and also experience those rare moments of connecting with the divine.

I am talking about the Sawai Gandharva music festival (now running its 54^th year). One of the most prestigious events in Indian classical music, this festival generally takes place around the 1^st week of December, in the city of Pune (Maharashtra, India). The festival not only features big names in music but also serves as a platform to introduce upcoming artists. It is a matter of great honor to get a chance to perform at the festival. Music lovers from India and abroad make it a point to attend the festival.

Since 1989 the festival is being held in the grounds of New English School. (Ramanbaug) For the convenience of the attendees, the seating arrangement is a mix of bharatiya baithak (floor seating), chairs and sofas. A number of LCD screens and TV monitors are installed in the arena so that the attendees can view the artist. Yet, nothing matches the experience of being seated cross-legged in the front rows (a few feet away from the artist) and enjoying the concert. Every artist gets at least an hour to perform; the schedule is tailored so that there is a good mix of vocal and instrumental recitals each day. Until a few years ago the festival used to be an all-night affair. The program would commence at 9 pm (if I am remembering it right) and would go on until the wee hours of morning. On the last day, the show would continue till almost noon the next day and music lovers would sit there mesmerized. However, things have changed due to the ban on loudspeakers beyond 10 pm. The festival now runs on a 4 pm-10 pm schedule officially. In reality, the ban is lifted and the festival continues well past midnight on all 4 days. :)

……………

Shawls, sweaters, and other warm accessories find their way out as the night deepens, and the temperature drops. Munchies are passed around during the short intervals between two performances. The breaks are aptly utilized by the foodies to pamper their food pangs. From Punjabi to South Indian to Chinese; there is a wide variety available for selection. Veteran attendees are seen exchanging notes about the finer points of a raga, past concerts or details about an artist’s biography. The uninitiated seem to grind out humdrum details about life. Often a brawl ensues over the place of seating, but it ends quickly and peacefully. Apart from music, it is truly (most of the times ;)) entertaining to meet and observe people of all the possible personality types that there exist.

I was fortunate to have been able to attend all four days of the festival this year. The festival began at 4 pm sharp each day. The first day was kicked-off with the customary Shehenai recital. Of the 1^st day, I particularly enjoyed the sarangi recital (Raga Madhuvanti, Mishra Pilu) by brother-duo Dilshad and Sabir Khan and the vocals of Shashwati Mandal (Raga Saraswati, Punjabi Tappa in Raga Sohoni).

Although the 2^nd day saw maestros Pt. Shiv Kumar Sharma (Raga Rasikpriya) and Pt. Jasraj (Raga Jaijaivanti, Bhajan – Govind, Damodar,…) perform, the highlight of the evening was the vocal recital of Kaushiki Chakraborty, daughter of Pt. Ajoy Chakraborty. Her perfect rendition of Raga Rageshwari and thumri (Rangi saari gulabi chunariya re..), sweet smile, and humility found her a place in the heart of each and everyone present in the audience. A successful performance requires not only a flawless rendition, but also the ability to connect with the audience and to convey the true essence of the composition. I think, KC had mastery over all these elements and hence was an instant hit with the audience. The encores and the standing ovation she received say it all about her performance.

Day 3 started with the vocal recital of Mrs. Hema Upasani (Raga Madhuvanti). The performances that followed, steadily took the musical evening to a magical height. HU’s final gazal (Ratra aisi gothali ki, chandra hi tharakapla..) rendition was especially appreciated by the audience. Rahul Deshpande, grandson of late Pt. Vasantrao Deshpande enthralled the audience by his renditions of Raga Marwa, Maru Bihag, natyageet and bhajan. Pt. Anindo Chatterjee’s tabla was a complete delight.

The weekend and bigger names on the list of performers drew larger crowds to the festival. I was unable to attend the morning session on the last day and regret missing Rakesh Chaurasia’s flute recital. :( The numbers peaked just as Shubha Mudgal took to stage. Amjad Ali Khan’s sarod recital took everyone by surprise due to the accompaniment by 2 tabla players. A lot has been debated about the raga he played. I do not understand the technical aspects of classical music. To me, music that appeals the human soul is good music. Khan saheb’s rendition of Raga Shubhalakshmi definitely possessed that soul stirring quality. The last moment announcement of Dr. Prabha Atre’s performance being cancelled came as a big disappointment to me and many others present there.

Like every year Mr. Anand Deskmukh did a good job at compering for the event.

I was also impressed with the toilet arrangements this year; much better than the portable ones of the previous years, this year we had the option to choose between the Western and the Indian one and they were pretty well maintained too! Although way off-track, I think the loos deserved a mention.

Overall, it was a treat to see the maestros perform and reside in the heavenly world of music during those days. Long live Hindustani classical music!

HELMET

2006-12-01T08:36:00.000-08:00

Lord Ganesha helmet awareness poster

Received this poster in my email and thought it was worth sharing, considering the traffic sense that we display, the road conditions and last but not the least for the creativity, humor and the instant appeal that is inherent to the poster.

There was a lot of hullabaloo over the decision that made helmets compulsory for two-wheeler drivers in the state. After all the protests, debates and tomfoolery the decision remains unimplemented; wearing a helmet still continues to be an individual decision/preference.

Friends, please…

Drive safe. Driving rashly not only puts your life at risk but also that of the numerous others who are on the road. I know many examples who have suffered fatalities due to the rash driving of others.

Respect time. From my own experience I can say that I tend to drive rashly if I am running late. I think about it often. Now when I am running late and driving I tell myself, “Your super time management is causing you to drive rashly and sooner or later you are going to pay for this.” Sometimes the driver in me heeds to this sometimes not. I have learnt that most of the times human beings initiate change only after something bad happens to them. Anyhoo, I am trying!

Follow traffic rules. “Nobody follows rules. Why should I??? There are more chances of getting hurt if I follow rules!”…yea I can hear you saying that but, surely we can turn around the situation if each one of us thinks otherwise.

Wear Helmet. (when on a two-wheeler ;)). That is the least that you can do to ensure your safety on the road. Stop giving lame excuses like – I hate to carry it around, ruins my hair, etc. If you can’t, go get yourself a car or take a liking to public transport. I am serious, no kidding.. :)

Reading this might help in interpreting the poster.

LOHAGAD

2006-10-02T07:29:00.000-07:00

Vinchu Kata point - Lohagad Fort

I massage my legs, trying to comfort the sore muscles and wish I had a personal masseur. “This pain is temporary; it will go away after a day”, I tell myself. To divert my attention from the pain, I close my eyes and reminisce the pastoral yellow-green of the wild flowers atop the fort (Lohagad) and the bliss I felt as rain clouds swept past and engulfed us in a heavenly mist…..

A day trek had been the next activity on the agenda of the girl-gang at my workplace. I was keeping my fingers crossed that this would materialize and not be dropped off the list due to lack of numbers. It is my experience that such activities do not find many takers. Lately I have been keen on doing some serious trekking; there are so many places around Maharashtra to do so, however lack of time and association with like-minded individuals are my (lame?) excuses for not having been able to do so. So anyways, at the end of Friday there were 7 of us who were still game for a trek to Lohagad (Loha = iron, gad = fort). I only had a brief acquaintance with majority of the group and so was a bit skeptical about spending the whole day with such a bunch. All for the trek, I convinced myself and tagged my sister along as a fallback. I must admit that my spirits were dampened more than they were enthused as I was packing gear late into Friday night.

We decided to take the early local (train) upto Malavli. As we ware about to leave for the station, I was informed that the group had missed the local. The next one was almost an hour and a half away. My skepticism surged, but I decided to make the most of the time by building my energy reserve with wholesome homemade breakfast. Hot methi parathas did the trick and I was smiling and chatting all through the local journey. Wild orange flowers and lush green mountains zoomed past us all the way to Malavli.

A board at the railway station mentioned that Lohagad was a 9 km walk from Malavli. This was probably my 4^th journey to the fort. All my previous visits had been during the simmering summer months and I hoped to see the fort in a different light at this time of the year. Here the monsoons are almost over and the weather is really hot on most days, however this is also the time for short but big showers. We were praying that the sun would stay behind the clouds for the most part and bless us with a drizzle just when we needed it.

We started the climb at about 9:30 am; a late and slow start and I tried to build the group’s tempo so we could reach our destination before tiring ourselves by our own breaks and lazy speed. The hike is an easy walk along a wide gravel road for the most part. The sun was hiding but there was a lot of humidity in the air. I tried to look for old signs as we made our way up. After almost two hours of walking the twin forts of Lohagad and Visapur came into view. Wild yellow flowers were in full bloom and their color contrasted beautifully with the greens of the mountains and the brown earth. We couldn’t resist taking pictures and resumed our walk refreshed, after this short break.

Monument on Lohagad fort

Cool breeze and the yellow-greens atop the fort greeted us; none of us were really hungry, however the prospect of shedding some weight from our backpacks was reason enough for having lunch. A family of monkeys arrived just as we opened our packed lunches. Although we bribed a stray dog and some local kids with food, to chase the monkeys away, we were forced to have a hasty lunch. I think I am going to hold it against the monkeys for a long time. They are definitely off my favorite animal list!

We decided to explore the fort further, but couldn’t resist the cool water in the numerous water tanks that were along our exploration path. Chatting, singing, fish-spotting, we forgot all about the monkeys. Groups of teenagers suddenly appeared and soon the fort seemed like a vibrant youth hang-out rather than an historic artifact.

We continued our exploration after the water-play and soon the Vinchu (Scorpion) Kata (tail) point came into view. There is a tricky rock patch that one has to tackle before getting on the Vinchu Kata walk. Going down might have been easy, but we weren’t sure about making it up. Confused we sat there taking in the view of the valley. Soon misty clouds made way towards us and a cheer rose in the crowd.

Most of us had convinced ourselves that this was good enough. But S couldn’t go back after coming this far. She insisted on finding an alternative route and that she did. She urged us to look at the alternative path; a walk along the ledge below; it appeared simple and we decided to give it a shot. Suddenly a monkey appeared and edged close to S. The rest of us were at a distance above, and all we could do was scream in panic. S tried to shoo the monkey away, but the creature hissed closer. I was scared and confused at the same time. Our canine ally appeared on the scene just in time and drove the monkey away. I heaved a sigh of relief and tried not to think of what would have happened had the dog not appeared on the scene.

The walk along the ledge was the most exciting part of the trek. We seemed to walk in the clouds as we made our way to the furthest part of the Vinchu Kata point. We thanked S for insisting on coming to this point and not giving-in to our excuses.

We stopped for chai and kanda-bhaji before we began our walk downhill. The air was cooler than morning and clouds floated in the distance. We took a final stop that we had promised ourselves in the morning, at a waterfall and tried to speed up to make it in time for our local back.

Tired, sweaty and grimy we boarded the local and cheered each other for the wonderful time together. I silently chided myself for my earlier skepticism and wished for more of such times in the future.

I have but one regret – of making the exploration a mere physical activity rather than a studied tour. I hope I get better the next time on.

Lohagad fort - Trekkers climbing down

LINKS

Lohagad Info

AND THE WORLD MOVES ON

2006-08-02T09:05:00.000-07:00

For her its just another day,
Lots of work and some play,
Big deal! the world moves on….

Come next is a lovely day,
Success shines and her world is gay,
Big deal! the world moves on….

Ow its followed by a tragic day,
Her world tumbles into shades of grey,
Big deal! the world moves on….

She grieves, she rejoices,
She stumbles, she rises.
And in the meanwhile, the world moves on….

THE MARS VENUS DIVIDE

2006-08-02T08:59:00.000-07:00

It’s a rainy evening after a long day at work…
They get-together because they have been asked to….
Awkward silence follows the smiles and the small talk….
The party seems like a mundane chore….

The men slowly warm up after the drinks while the women weigh their options between the calories and the chips…..
Unconsciously they drift apart….
The men engage in shop talk while the women are engrossed in topics they feel are far better than shop-talk…
Dinner is served…. the men are unmindful….the women hurry and try to do justice by nibbling at it…
And so a party ends….

Truly men are from Mars and women are from Venus…

GOD, U THERE?

2006-06-03T12:29:00.000-07:00

I had imagined Haridwar and Rishikesh to be small towns with quaint ancient temples. On the contrary these are towns with booming economies. The temples far from ancient are colored in the brightest pinks and yellows. Sanyasi’s dressed in orange seem to be the majority followed by tourists, both from India and abroad. Spirituality is big business here. “Almost every house has a temple of its own”, they tell me.

Lakshman Jhula - Rishikesh

Ganga Aarti - Haridwar

Washing away sins in the Ganges?

There is no time for prayer and silent contemplation in the temples here. Many times you are whisked away, before you even get a good look at the idol. This is often the case in busy temples. In many others you are made to hear their familiar sales pitch asking for donations. And you’d think charity was optional. Apparently not! In fact, many times you are left wondering if you are in a temple or attending an auction…

I bet the Gods must have long fled these places in disgust…

HUH TAJ

2006-06-03T02:33:00.001-07:00

It is late in the night when we arrive in Agra. Its been a long day for all of us; covering mere miles of hot terrain. All for the TAJ, we assure each other!

Grubby with rumpled clothes and hairdos, we look totally out of place as we check-in at the Taj View. All I want is a hot shower, but all that only after I take a good look at the TAJ. We’re excited to have gotten rooms that boast of the grand view. In the glum yellow of the streetlights, I spot the familiar outline at a distance, standing tall above a maze of mediocre roof tops.

View of the TAJ from hotel Taj View Agra

Dinner is a somber affair as news channels cover the story of Pramod Mahajan’s passing away. It is indeed ironic; watching the tragic news of unrequited love in a city that immortalizes that very emotion.

Post breakfast, we hail a rickshaw to take us to the TAJ. The sun is blazing and the heat is unbearable already. I expect a grand entrance to this monument that is often christened as the 8^th wonder; instead our rickshaw makes its way through a maze of narrow roads and comes to halt at the entrance of a small alley. Small shops selling inlay work art items, miniature Tajs and other sundry stuff line the alley. I am disappointed with the façade. Couldn’t the tourism or whatever department deals with this be a little more creative?

As we buy our entry tickets, security personnel at the entrance inform us that we are to deposit food-items, drinks (water allowed) if any, even candy and chocolates! “This forces people to get out in a couple of hours, curbs hooliganism and littering”, they explain. We are told to walk past a security screen, which to me, appears like a rickety, unpolished wooden arch with some LEDs. Armed with a digital camera and a handicam we march ahead. One realizes the presence of the great monument only after stepping inside this entrance.

TAJ as seen from inside the premises

The premises are well maintained. I am glad I don’t spot any litter that seems to be common in any Indian tourist place. We are hailed by another security guard as we are about to walk past the last archway. We need to pay 50 bucks in order to take any footage. We do that with the understanding that we can take our handicam. We soon learn that we have misunderstood; the fee is so you can shoot the TAJ from that last archway. Handicams are banned beyond that archway. I find this silly, but we comply.

Artistic Arch - Inside TAJ premises

As we near the main marble structure I see people scuttling here and there. It is a funny sight; men and women of all ages and sizes running. It is not long before I realize why and curse myself for not bringing socks along. We admire the beautiful inlay work in the main dome structure and the architecture of the adjoining masjid. The murky Yamuna flows behind apparently reduced to a sewer. On our way out, we stop at the small museum that houses artifacts of the times of the Emperor.

TAJ Closeup

Masjid artwork

River Jamuna as seen from the TAJ

I am surprised that I am not swept off by this architectural wonder; perhaps it was the heat or the dismal entrance or simply the time of the day; I try to explain myself.

It is a full moon night and the sky is devoid of any artificial light. As I gaze upwards, the sky appears like a dark carpet studded with stars. The TAJ appears heavenly in the cool creamy light of the moon. A Santoor dhun fills the night air….

It is a crisp morning in early winter, the sun is yet to rise, but the sky has a rosy glow. It is quiet except for the azan coming from the masjid’s in the TAJ. A sense of tranquility descends upon me as I walk along the pathway that leads to the TAJ.....

Masjid inside the TAJ premises

Oh well; dream, that’s all I can do for now…

However, I do see a faint glimmer of hope. I happened to read a piece in the newspaper a couple of days ago. It talked about government's plans of acquiring the land around TAJ, beautifying the surroundings and organizing cultural concerts and light shows in the TAJ premises. I am keeping my fingers crossed…

LINKS

Explore Taj - Courtesy Nandan

A ROOM WITH A VIEW

2006-05-13T00:46:00.000-07:00

All my dreamy imaginations and assurances by my travel agent (about the cool climes) are shattered as our NON-AC bus takes us to Kausani from Nainital. Thankfully we see green all around, occasionally dotted by purples, yellows and bright reds of some flowering trees. Suddenly our bus comes to a halt and I see a long line of buses ahead. Apparently some road construction work is the cause of our stall. I get down to stretch my legs. There is a river trickling below (Unlike Himalayan rivers that are always gushing with water from the Himalayas.) and terraced farms, each a different hue of green. (I later learned that the elevations are drought-prone since all the water from the rainfall feeds the plains.)

The air suddenly grows cool as we start after this break. I go back to my day dreaming about Kausani. Kausani has been a fixation since I read about it in my Hindi textbook in school. I recollect the author describing the view of Himalayas from this little town and the Himalayan phenomenon of “Call of the mountain”.

Dark clouds dominate the evening sky when we arrive at our hotel (Hotel Jeetu). It seems that God is going to heed to everybody’s chants for cooler weather by sending some showers. This also means not being able to see the legendary sunset. I rush to my room and head towards the balcony; the backside of another hotel can be seen below and the usual pines and evergreens in the valley. I shift my gaze upwards towards the horizon and spot the ranges – NandaGhunti, Trishul, Panchachuli as I later learn their names. Excitedly, I call out to the others and point them to the ranges.

View of Himalayan peaks from our hotel balcony in Kausani, Uttaranchal

Hot chai arrives just as it begins to rain. Mesmerized we sip our chai and point out to each other as a new peak becomes visible from the cloak of clouds. A lone crow sits atop an evergreen, seemingly enjoying the showers and soaking in the view. It is interesting to even watch the clouds – a fluff on my right seems like an archer ready to shoot and the one on my left appears like the smiling face of a benevolent lady. A minute later the lady turns into a dragon spewing fire and the archer is no more, instead I make out 3 wild horses racing. An hour passes quickly cloud gazing and peak spotting. It stops raining and I decide to go for a short walk.

Sunrise - Kausani, Uttaranchal

We rise early (5:30ish) to catch the sunrise. The fireball slowly comes into view and illuminates the peaks one by one. The greys and blues of last evening are transformed into goldens and pinks. The air of mystique that surrounded the mountains last night is transformed into a serene sacredness by the rays of the morning sun. The sunrise is beautiful, yet, I prefer the view of the mountains of the past evening.

I hike up the hill in front of our hotel and collect pine cones on my way down. Post breakfast I take another short hike to a nearby temple. The peaks dominate the horizon everywhere I go. The hikes refresh me and am happy to have the opportunity to be in the midst of nature rather than just hop from one destination to the other.

Trishul peak as seen from Kausani, Uttaranchal

Soon it is time to say goodbye to Kausani. I take one last look at the peaks and make a silent promise to visit them soon.

AGILE??..........WILL SURVIVE

2006-04-01T22:45:00.000-08:00

Change, accepting change, dealing w/ change, etc. seem to be the buzzwords of our rapidly changing world. Many good books have been written about the same. To successfully survive the changes of time and tide, one needs to accept the fact that change is inevitable and having accepted that, brace oneself to make the best of these oncoming changes.

Azim Premji; successful businessman, founder of Wipro gave a presentation at IIM-A about “The Changing World”. He based this presentation on his own experiences and it can be summarized in the following 11 points. I happened to read this presentation in a Marathi newspaper. My summary is a loose translation of the same.

Be a good sensor - Know the signs of change and watch out for them.
Change is always lurking around the corner. Be proactive and try to prepare yourself for the same.
Change always brings along new opportunities. Look out for these.
Avoid getting into the comfort-zone of your routine.
It is natural to fear the insecurity that change brings w/ it. Use this fear positively, to plan for change.
Renew yourself constantly.
Be in the company of pro-change people Vs anti-change.
Play to win; give it your best shot.
Maintain your self-esteem.
Never forego your values and morals.
Being successful is far different and important than just living/existing. Your success not only positively affects you but also society at large.

TEACHINGS OF OSHO

2006-04-01T22:36:00.000-08:00

Recently I happened to read “LIFE’S MYSTERIES – An Introduction to the Teachings of Osho”. Never before had I read or listened to the teachings of any spiritual guru – never felt like it. A family friend urged me to read the book, I agreed, partly to sate my curiosity that gossip about Oshoites and the Ashram had created.

It took me a while to finish the small book. Some of Osho’s thoughts made sense to me, some were beyond me, whereas some sort of made sense yet the traditional teachings of my mind did not allow for ready acceptance.

Osho says that all the religions of the world are anti-life and his arguments in this regard were convincing.

Here are my interpretations of some thoughts that I liked and would like to remember.

Touchstone to differentiate between the important from the unimportant – Anything that can be taken by death is unimportant and that cannot be taken by death is important.

Don’t be life negative, be life positive. Celebrate life – live life to the fullest.

Focus on rejoicing instead of renouncing. Focus on the present and live this moment to the fullest.

Don’t believe in anyone – find your own path and walk on it. Follow your inner voice. When you do so, you will be on the right path. You might stumble along the way, might commit mistakes, but that is alright. In the end all these efforts contribute towards your ultimate growth – no effort is wasted.

Each individual is unique and each individual life has a beauty in its uniqueness.

Life’s aim is life itself – more life, better life, higher life, but life always!

Man ordinarily functions out of the past, out of the knowledge that he has accumulated in the past and thus has standard, mechanical responses. But life is continuously changing. Right and wrong are not fixed entities. So avoid functioning through your past. Act out of awareness. Awareness means being in the present

Receptivity is the door to the divine; it is a state of no-mind, state of awareness. Being receptive means dropping all the garbage in your mind, like your past. If you can drop this then you become more open, more receptive.

A man of awareness does not react; he acts or responds. He is responsible. He is his own master and acts according to himself and not by anybody else. Osho gives a beautiful analogy of a mirror to the man who is aware and that of a photoplate to the person who reacts. The difference between a mirror and photoplate is that the former is dynamic whereas the latter is static. Life is dynamic and hence one should try to be a mirror instead of a photoplate.

Love can be dependent, independent or interdependent. In the 1^st two cases it always brings misery and should not be termed as love but as an arrangement. The 3^rd case brings happiness because it is when two people are in complete synchronism and this is true love.

To grow during our life is a choice that we have to make. Osho compares our existence to that of the seed. The seed has the potential to grow and flower, so also we have the potential to grow. The seed is very safe and secure whereas a flower is vulnerable and fragile. People prefer this security over growth and the insecurity associated w/ this process and hence many of us choose to live as seeds and just remain as potentialities.

Avoid nouns instead emphasize on verbs. So focus on living instead of life.

Nobody is born for the other. Nobody is born to fulfill your ideals of how a person should be.

You can give as much as you want, but cannot demand (love for ex.) from the other – nobody is your slave. You have control only on yourself.

Ego is something that you can feel but that which does not exist. Osho compares it w/ darkness which is nothing but absence of light. To drive away darkness you have to experiment w/ light. Similarly to be egoless you have to raise your level of consciousness.

Meditation is neither concentration nor contemplation. It is a state of no-thinking or no-mind. Simply put no-mind means that your mind becomes your servant.

Meditation is when our mind, body and soul are functioning together in rhythm. Any activity that achieves this can be meditation. So running, dancing, singing….all these can be meditations.

Everybody is born w/ the same potential. Differences arise because we do not use our potential to the same extent. Meditation can make you aware of your potential, can make the passage in which your potential can grow and can find its expression.

Ego is the root cause of fear in you.

Fear always exists – about security, safety. When surrounded by such fear, remember this- the only thing that is secure or certain in life is death. Being dead is the ultimate security. So if you want to live, grow then you have to take risks. Don’t be shackled by these exercises of the mind - remember you have nothing to lose. Stop postponement

Freedom and responsibility are the 2 sides of the same coin. If you want freedom you have to be responsible. Responsibility means that whatever you do it is your response. It is different than duty. When you act out of duty it becomes a burden whereas when you act out of responsibility there is no burden because it is your response.

The inner (soul) is as real as the outer (body, material aspects), both are equally significant. One has to attain a balance between the two.

Simbly Z(S)even

2006-03-02T10:49:00.000-08:00

Alrighty………I have been tagged……..courtesy Kusum…..so here it goes…. :)

7 things to do before I die:

Globe trot (….squeeze in road trips and backpacking trips….fly business class)… Okay, if not anything, at least take a trip to Kailash Mansarovar.
Pamper my family crazy.
Anger management, learn to be more tolerant.
Start my own restaurant.
Be a cool dancer.
Stop swearing completely.
Do my bit for old people and/or something related to Indian heritage.

7 things I can't do: (for now…except the last couple )

Prepare Bhakri. (yumm….my favorite.)
Write poetry.
Think w/ my head instead of heart when required.
Tinker w/ gadgets and stuff.
Initiate and carry on a nerdy conversation.
Swim.
Be false.

7 things I always say:

Tch….or Mtch….
Whateverr!
I’m hungry….
I mean…
Like Helloow…
Cool….
Anyhoo…..

7 books I have loved:

Love Story
The 7 spiritual laws of success
The Monk who sold his Ferrari
Time Machine
A Cup of Comfort for Friends
arab bhASheteel suras va chamatkaarik kathA
badalata bhArat

7 things I get attracted to:

Nature
Rain
Smells - Cologne/after shave, earth after the first rain, warm spicy food.
Good vegetarian food.
People - Creative, Funny, Good cooks, Philosophers, Achievers, people like me ;)

Sorry can’t think of more….

7 movies I love to watch over and over: (Well not over and over…’coz I am not a movie buff…..but I could modify this to movies I have enjoyed)

Life is Beautiful
Iqbal
Dumb and Dumber
Austin Powers
Terminal

Sorry can’t think of more….

1 Person I am tagging

Kedar

KNOWING DOING GAP

2006-03-02T10:19:00.000-08:00

I think this post has been procrastinated enough. It all started a couple of months ago, when I mentioned a Marathi proverb to my Dad, that when literally translated means “I KNOW, but, I can’t DO”. Dad mentioned a book titled “The Knowing-Doing Gap” at the time and even got me a copy in the next few days. I was intrigued by the topic/title. For sometime then I had been thinking about things like “What motivates people?”, “Knowing-doing gaps in our personal and professional lives”, etc. I started reading the book to validate my analysis of why this knowing-doing gap exists. Although, the book was focused on knowing-doing gaps in organizations; the reason behind their existence and ways of overcoming the same, it made an interesting read. You should be able to find the book summary by googling the title and hence I will not mention that in this post. Instead I will focus my attention on my original thought; “Why do knowing-doing gaps exist in our personal and professional lives?”

Some sample KNOWs –

I KNOW I need to lose weight.
I KNOW I should not carry work home and vice-a-versa.
I KNOW I need to exercise regularly.
I KNOW I need to plan my finances and make the right investments.
I KNOW I need to improve on my listening.
I KNOW I need to learn that new technology that is hot in the job market currently.

Here are some factors that I have identified. I would love to hear your thoughts on the same.

You KNOW because you are told.

I think that this is one of the most important factors. Do you truly believe that you need to DO or is an external entity directing you to DO? Unless one is convinced about the KNOW, DO cannot happen. For ex. You KNOW you need to lose weight, but that is because people say you should.

Inertia/Who wants to leave the Comfort-Zone!

Many times the pleasure of being in one’s established comfort-zone is more alluring than the efforts involved in the DO.

Fear

Fear of change during the DO. Previous failed attempts or negative information from external sources can also prevent us from DOING.

Lack of motivation

Analysis Paralysis

Does one devote time for self-analysis? Is the DOING Vs the KNOWING measured, tracked?

Lack of momentum

Often times one starts off enthusiastically, but falls back at some point of time. I guess lack of measurement makes the failure difficult to be attributable to this lack of momentum or any other specific factors.

Anyhoo, I know I just surmounted one gap! (I KNOW I need to write a post on the knowing-doing gap.)

ADRENALINE BOOST

2006-02-20T08:52:00.000-08:00

Although I had visualized this post to be a photo with an interesting tag, it is going to be much more than that.

Okay, so a little background about the pictures. The pictures frame a portion of the road that stretches through the Sant Tukaram Nagar (STN) (Pimpri, Pune) area and eventually intersects the Bombay-Pune highway. The stretch of this road from STN to Vallabh Nagar (VN) has been closed to traffic due to a road construction project that is underway. While I was driving through the area a few days ago, I happened to see a couple of motorcyclists get their bikes up the mounds of rubble. (The mounds were at least a foot higher when I saw them first.) I was slightly amused at the sight and casually said to myself, “Wow, this would make an interesting picture for my blog!” Thanks to the appreciation that some of my pictures had received, I, at the time was toying w/ the idea of starting a photo-blog. Things did not get further beyond the thought and I still have it on my “TO-DO (someday)” list. Uff, I digress!

Finally, yesterday evening, I managed to gather the nerve (you won’t believe it, but, I actually consulted a would-be lawyer before I set on my mission) and verve to grab my camera and head over to the site of my photo shoot. I parked my bike in a non-descript corner and slowly pulled out my camera. Summoning a confident look, I perched myself on my bike and took a couple of shots. The delay in my camera can be really frustrating, esp. when trying to frame a moving object. I noticed the amused, curious glances of passing school-kids and other pedestrians. I wanted to get a closer shot and so started walking closer to the scene. I noticed a group of men, looking curiously at me and my camera. I tried to ignore them and focus on getting the pictures. Suddenly two men from the group approached me, asking if I was from the press. I had anticipated these questions and had rehearsed my answers. I stammered a yes, continuing to take pictures, and silently lauded myself for my foresight. The two of them stay put while I was taking pictures and began talking once I was done.

Handing his card, one of the two introduced himself as the Vice-Chairman (VC) of the local Congress committee. Apparently he had organized a rasta-roko at the spot a few days ago. The news had featured in Sakal, a prominent Marathi daily; also some local cable channel gave the place some coverage on their channel. Mr. VC appeared concerned, albeit, I was unable to discern his true intentions.

I believe that the status quo definitely IS a matter of concern for the local residents of the area. Many a brave, including the cameramen of the local channel have fallen prey to these deceptive mounds of rubble. The construction project is not due to finish for at least another year. All the traffic (two-wheelers, four-wheelers, buses, trucks) headed for the highway has to take a detour via a narrow residential street. Students, esp. young children from the nearby D. Y. Patil campus are unaccustomed and oblivious to such heavy traffic in their backyard. Considering the duration of the project, I am not sure what steps could be taken to ensure public safety. Any ideas?

That was my two cents worth….So watch out people lest you are run over!

SAGAR AND BHOOMI– AN ETERNAL LOVE STORY

2006-01-07T21:04:00.000-08:00

Their relationship dates back to what seems like an eternity, yet they still appear to be very much in love. Together they have survived the changes of time and tide and proven that “There is such a thing as true love!” They were just meant to be together; anybody who knew them would think “Here is a made for each other couple”. Bhoomi shy, patient and balanced and Sagar the extrovert with a dynamic personality; they perfectly complement each other.

It was a clear, starry night with a gentle breeze blowing. A full moon was visible on the horizon and love was in the air. Sagar gently presented to Bhoomi the treasures of his sea kingdom – a big white conch, a few silver shells and corals of the deepest blue. He waited expectantly to see her reaction. Bhoomi stared at the gifts in wonderment and a smile broke on her lips; she had never seen such things before. “Here put this to your ear and you will hear me,” urged Sagar, handing the big white conch to Bhoomi. Bhoomi did so and was amazed by what she heard. She was impressed. From that day on Sagar continues to pamper Bhoomi with treasures of his kingdom…

After all these years they still laugh, tease and fight with each other. Sometimes Sagar and Bhoomi appear playful like young lovers, Sagar whispering sweet nothings into Bhoomi’s ear; at times they seem like content, mature lovers, taking a leisurely walk on a moonlit night. Every once in a while Sagar throws this temper tantrum; Bhoomi patiently bears his lashings. Bhoomi knows that its really not Sagar’s fault and that Mr. Moon is responsible for Sagar’s wild side. Sagar feels really guilty for his behavior, he begs Bhoomi to forgive him and then they kiss and make up.

Together they have come a long way. Sagar has always been supportive of Bhoomi’s progress and success. For centuries now, till date, Sagar and Bhoomi together, nurture and support life in its various forms.

May their love prevail!

GRENADE

2005-12-19T09:33:00.000-08:00

The little grenade explodes as soon as I shut my mouth. My teeth dig into its crispy outer cover, out flow the cold juices and my mouth is full. The juices tickle my taste buds; a mixture of sweet, sour, tangy and hot! I try to swallow the juices, careful, so they don’t end up in my wind-pipe and all I can do is shut my eyes and nod in approval of these wonderfully blended flavors. The juices disappear quickly into my stomach and I then discover that there is more to it; soft mashed potatoes, warm chick peas, crunchy sev and the crispy remnants of the grenade.

If you are an Indian foodie, I am sure that you’ve figured out by now what grenade I am talking about. Sounds explosively appetizing right? Okay no more suspense for those unfortunate souls who haven’t experienced the little grenade yet. I am talking about “Paani Puri” (PP) aka “Golgappa”, one of India’s favorite snacks. Be it the chowpati of Mumbai or the cool locales of Manali; the crowded khau gallis of any Indian city or the food courts in the slick malls; PP seems to be there ALL.

Best enjoyed at your local “Sawaliya PP” stall, eating the PP does require some skill (ignore the garbage around you, any passing canines hoping to catch a bite from the leftovers, the not so clean appearing PP server). The PP server gently cracks the puri (a small, fried ball of flour) from one side, mechanically fills it with some stuffing (ingredients mentioned above) followed by a quick dip in the paani (the flavor is customized as per your desire – sweet, spicy, best of both) before handing it to you (about 5-6 at a time) in a plate. Now comes the time that will test your skills. The idea is to eat the puris one by one, quickly enough so they don’t become soggy and puri minus paani, yet careful enough so the juices and other stuffing end up in your mouth and not on your shirt.

This is what the renowned Marathi author Ganghadar Gadgil has to say about the after effects of eating the zesty PP. (An excerpt from his memoir about Mumbai)

"In that state of beatitude the Maharashtrians stop being surly, the Marwaris look at the millions of stars without being reminded of their own millions, the Sindhis admire the horizon without any intention of selling it, the Gujaratis speculate on the moon instead of the scrips they should have sold, the North Indians dream of things other than Hindi as the official language of the United Nations, and even the Parsi ladies stop nagging their husbands."

Like the repetitive and irritating commercials urging you to buy some book/CD-DVD/ - “Go get your PP NOW!”

LINKS –

Another one on PP

Gangadhar Gadgil on PP

Make your own PP

QUARTERLY LIFE CRISIS

2005-11-27T08:29:00.000-08:00

Mid-life crisis is a well known term (and experience I guess). Some years back I happened to read about the “quarterly-life crisis” in an email, but never thought much about it. After all, I was just out of my teens and life seemed perfect. But now that I am actually there, I am thinking, maybe that email made some sense! Here are some thoughts about life @ 25 -

Sometimes life seems perfect….things look perfectly aligned and you think “Yess, I am headed in the right direction.”

Other times you get worried and start thinking whether the future is as bright as you thought it was going to be.

You want to make it big, but at times are not sure if the thing you are chasing is a mirage.

You start realizing the shortcomings of your society, culture, city-country administration and even have some solutions ready, but….

You realize that relationships change over time and that hurts you somewhere.

You realize it is difficult to meet people and make genuine friends.

You want to achieve that work-life balance but not sure if such a thing exists.

Many times you feel that you spent too much time with your books and did not realize that you left your hobbies/interests behind.

I am pasting the contents of the email here (Author unknown).

It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are a lot of things about yourself that you didn’t know and may or may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now. You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren’t exactly the greatest people you have ever met and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you do not realize is that they are realizing that too and are not really cold or catty or mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you. You look at your job. It is not even close to what you thought you would be doing or maybe you are looking for one and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and are scared. You miss the comforts of college, of groups, of socializing with the same people on a constant basis. But then you realize that maybe they weren’t so great after all. You are beginning to understand yourself and what you want and do not want. Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging a bit more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and add things to your list of what is acceptable and what is not. You are insecure and then secure. You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward. You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you or you lay in bed and wonder why you can’t meet anyone decent enough to get to know better. You love someone but maybe love someone else too and cannot figure out why you are doing this because you are not a bad person. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision. You worry about loans and money and the future and making a life for yourself and while winning the race would be great, right now you’d just like to be a contender!

Anybody relate with this???

IDEAS

2005-11-27T08:21:00.000-08:00

“Umm….I guess the write-up was the result of a rare creative burst that happens to me once in a while,” I told my father when he genuinely appreciated something that I wrote.

“Maybe. But you should continue to write. I think you have a flair for writing,” said Dad, as always, trying to encourage me.

“I don’t know how it works, but these ideas don’t come see me everyday! They are like these friends with whom I do not hang out regularly, yet meeting them out-of-the-blue gives me immense happiness,” I complained.

Dad smiled at my analogy. “Make it point to write down your ideas WHEN they come to you,” advised Dad. “Do you remember chasing those feathery, white seeds as a child?” he asked. I nodded a yes and waited for him to continue.

“Remember, our ideas are like those seeds floating in the air. If you grab them they are yours, else they float away never to be seen again.”

Dad’s explanation made sense. Now, I keep a small diary and pen in my purse. The moment I sense an idea floating past, I make sure I scribble it in this diary for later reference.

Thought I’d share this ‘lil tip…

STAYIN ALIVE!!

2005-11-27T08:11:00.000-08:00

My two cents worth on the views expressed by Harshad Oak in his articles “Staying Alive in a Software Job” and “Recruiting like crazy”.

Do IT professionals in India have a life?

I think NOT. But this question has many aspects that need to be examined.

As Harshad has pointed out, Indian IT professionals get paid well (are able to maintain a good standard of living), however the pay is less as compared to the time they put in.

Markets in our world work on the supply-demand principle. There seems to be an ever increasing demand for quality technology workers. With markets getting competitive by the day, the cheaper you are able to get these, the better are your chances of survival. This is where India with its huge talent pool comes into picture. We must be mindful of the fact that the IT boom in India is because we are able to satisfy this demand of “low-cost high-quality technology workers”. So we could either carry on the way we are working and continue to attract technology markets or set rigid rules about time-money and indirectly limit the influx of such opportunities. I guess our technology leaders chose the first option, albeit at the expense of the tech. workers.

Harshad mentions negotiating reasonable time frames, but we cannot forget that the outsourcer will opt for some other low cost destination that will provide faster services. (Maybe few years down the line we could face stiff competition from countries in SE Asia or Russia or even Africa for that matter.) So although, I agree with Harshad on the point that we need to put our foot down when it comes to negotiating timelines, I think we need to figure out what would be best for the economy/business and the workers.

Another aspect that I would like to point out is the prevalent work culture in India. In India, working long hours is looked upon as a sure sign of diligence. Here is my take on how this came to be. Males were the working class back in the day. I guess they looked at work as an opportunity to keep away from matters at home and made “working late” a prestige issue. The trend continues today. Unlike Europeans-Americans, Indians have never had the concept of “do-your-8-hours” and then head home to spend time with your family or pursue other interests. In short, we as workers are equally responsible for the situation we are in. Hopefully, IT professionals will realize that they need to find and maintain that work-life balance and will try to bring about that change. Until this realization comes from within things will remain the same!

A thought to chew on - Are people dissatisfied with the nature of their work? If not maybe it is just that we need to ensure that people receive remuneration for the time and effort that they put in.

INNOVATION

Harshad says that not much “Innovation” is being carried out in the Indian IT shops and attributes it to the work environment. I beg to differ.

I am not very sure what Harshad means by “Innovation”. Is it something that is the result of work done in R&D labs?

To me software development is an inherently creative activity. Of course there might be some processes or tasks in the software development life cycle that are repeatable and can be die-cast, but overall the creation of a new application or service is a task that requires creativity and innovation.

Also not everybody is cut for research oriented work and we need to respect and value that.

Again, we cannot forget that the Indian IT industry is simply doing the job of completing the jobs outsourced to them and these might not be jobs that involve doing R&D. (However if you look at MNCs that have opened their shops in India (Global Engineering Centers or Design and Engineering Centers) they do have a fair amount of R&D work going on which is of course being done by Indians.)

Some food for thought – “Is our education system making dumb workers instead of scientists/thinkers?”

Our education system focuses more on theory than practical. With majority of the Indian engineering graduates joining the IT Industry, do they ever get a flavour of what “research” is? I do not doubt the potential of our talent pool. We have it in us; that explains the thesis presented by Indian students in various fields in universities abroad and the many patents granted to Indians working abroad. How are we going to encourage and retain the scientists among us? Are we always going to wait for Westerners to carry out research for us?

What troubles me is imagining the state of the Indian IT industry say 10 years from now. Will it still be in the Bullish phase? What state would we be in were some new destinations to crop up on the “Outsourcing Map”? What then would be our strategy for survival? Is it time that we started building some core competency rather than being content with being the world’s most sought after outsourcing destination??

WHEN I SAW HER THERE….

2005-11-09T19:20:00.000-08:00

Yesterday started off like every other day. I took my usual bus to work and was sitting by the window seat. It was a bright day and the air was cool, in fact the air coming through the window of the moving bus seemed a bit chilly. However, that was compensated by the warm rays of the sun that filtered through the window. I was listening to something on my walkman and idly gazing outside. People driving, a lone boat in the murky river, dwellers of the roadside slum getting on with their daily chores, some simply chatting and watching life zoom past; these scenes seemed like a familiar movie trailer.

My bus slowed and paused briefly at a small stop on the way and that is when I saw HER! Dark, short and plump with short cropped hair she was sitting on the bench at the bus stop staring blankly into space. Clad in a dirty looking saree and a full sleeved sweater, she appeared middle aged. Suddenly I happened to notice her hands and what I saw made me freeze. They were thin and shapely but appeared to have warts all over them. My gaze shifted to her face and that was no different. Her nose appeared flattened like a knocked off sand dune. I wanted to turn away and shut my eyes, but I could not and ended up staring. My bus moved and I sat there numbed by what I had seen, thoughts swarming in and out of my brain.

“Uff what an ugly face!! She should probably be wearing a burkha than showing it off!”

“Tch......what must have happened? Was that the manifestation of some disease or an unfortunate accident?”

“What kind of life must she be leading? Is she poor and homeless or able to support herself?”

“Does she have anybody who loves her, takes care of her or is she alone?”

“Is she dragging her days or has she come to terms with her deformity and the way the world sees it and treats her?”

“Wow!.....brave is she to continue to live! I would have probably killed myself…”

What started as disgust quickly turned to sympathy and ended up in admiration for the woman. May God bless her!

ARE YOU A ‘WHEN-ER’??

2005-11-09T19:18:00.000-08:00

Just a thought….not very new or radical…but just something that we have to keep reminding ourselves…

Don’t be a ‘WHEN-er’ be a ‘NOW-er’

When will I go to college….
When will I get out of college…
When will I get a job…
When will I find my soul mate….
When will I be financially stable….
When will I start a family…
When will my kids grow up…
When will I retire and enjoy the fruits of my toil…

When I go to college….
When I get out of college…
When I get a job…
When I find my soul mate….
When I am financially stable….
When I start a family…
When my kids grow up…
When I retire …

Now is the time to do what you always wanted to do!!

GO DREAM

2005-11-02T07:00:00.000-08:00

Hold on to your dreams, for if dreams die;

Life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.

I was reminded of this quote after seeing Iqbal this Friday (thanks to my aunt). This was my 3^rd Nagesh Kukunoor film and I have enjoyed all three.

Iqbal is a simple movie about a boy following his dream. It does not boast of foreign locales or magnificent sets like the Hindi films of today, yet it effectively conveys a very important message.

The rustic setting of the movie transports the viewer to the life of Iqbal and his poor family. This deaf and dumb teenager has only one passion – “Cricket”. What is important is that his family (minus Dad) recognize, support and even rebel for his passion. I loved the way relationships have been portrayed in the movie, especially the relationship between Iqbal and his younger sister. The movie captures the journey of Iqbal’s dream. Of course the journey has its share of bumps, but it ends on a positive note. The movie ends at a perfect juncture and that is another thing that I liked about it. Shreyas Talpade as Iqbal is brilliant; infact everybody’s performances are top notch.

I am not a movie person and need to be coaxed to go see a movie. This coupled with my notion that the movie was about cricket (a game that I have absolutely no interest in) always kept me from seeing it. Only after seeing it did I realize that this movie is not about cricket but about following one’s dream; a mantra that many self-help books talk about. Deepak Chopra in his book “The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success” talks about following your Dharma. What he means is that to be successful one must know what one loves and pursue the same and that is a key to success.

Thinking aloud….

Do you know your dream? One simple test that my friend Mike recommended is the “time flies” test. What activity makes you lose track of time? That activity could be a possible candidate.
Many a times people around you (family, friends) can recognize your true potential and make you aware of it. I guess it helps to listen and to have people who have trust in you.
However it could also happen that one is not allowed to do this soul searching and/or is expected to follow a certain path. (Like Iqbal’s father who thought that farming was a secure occupation rather than cricket. I love the dialogue that shows the conflict between Iqbal’s father and mother.)
It is never too late to go for your dream.

Bottomline, if you have not seen Iqbal yet, please do not miss it and most important go for your dream!! I have embarked on a journey to find mine….

Here is a song from Iqbal that I simply loved. Listen

aashaayein ...

kuch paane ki ho aas aas

kuch armaan ho jo khaas khaas

aashaayein...

har koshish mein ho waar waar

kare dariyao ko aar paar

aashaayein...

toofano ko chir ke

manzilo ko chin le

(aashaayein khile dil ki

ummeedein hase dil ki

ab mushkil nahi kuch bhi

nahi kuch bhi) - 2

o ho o...

udd jaaye leke khushi

apne sang tujhko waha

jannat se mulaquat ho

puri ho teri har dua

(aashaayein khile dil ki

ummeedein hase dil ki

ab mushkil nahi kuch bhi

nahi kuch bhi) - 2

aashaayein...

gujre aaisi har raat raat

ho khwaahisho se baat baat

aashaayein...

lekar suraj se aag aag

gaaye ja apne raag raag

aashaayein...

kutch aaisa karke dikha

khud khush ho jaaye khuda

(aashaayein khile dil ki

ummeedein hase dil ki

ab mushkil nahi kutch bhi

nahi kuch bhi) - 2

o ho o...

WE ARE LIKE THIS ONLY!!

2005-11-02T00:52:00.000-08:00

Arzan Sam Wadia describes how Indians react when they come across a fellow Indian in a foreign country.

FACE-OFF

2005-10-04T11:30:00.000-07:00

I just finished a book called blink by Malcolm Gladwell. It made a very interesting read. A section in the book talked about the work of two remarkable scientists who are experts at mind reading. The duo has studied human faces and facial expressions in such great depth that they are able to decipher even the most imperceptible of emotions that would flash across any face.

The scientists agree that our face indeed reflects our mind. Facial muscles can be categorized as voluntary and involuntary muscles. Voluntary muscles are the ones that are under our control. These muscles can be used to deliberately show or conceal a certain emotion/s. Involuntary muscles however are not under our control and can be tagged as muscles that “spill the beans”. In other words, no matter how hard one tries to fake an emotion via the voluntary muscles, an astute mind reader can look at the signs given off by the involuntary muscles and sense what the person truly felt.

Try and picturise what it would be like if we lost all ability to emote via our face. Our faces then would be reduced to art forms; some beautiful, some ordinary, some ugly. The expressions twinkling eyes, infectious smile, sexy pout would simply lose their meaning. We would appear like robots programmed to do tasks, except that we would still have a mind of our own. Majority of the tasks we perform require human collaboration; would we be able to collaborate without our facial expressions? How much would our mind then accomplish? No doubt, our mind would be freed of a lot of work (of mind reading) and it would probably be reduced to doing straightforward computations in such situations.

Without our facial expressions we would lose an important medium of communication. We would either have to talk or write to communicate. How cumbersome would that be? This would be advantageous in certain situations like

You could lie without being caught.
You could sugar coat your words when you actually wanted to frown in disgust.
You could measure your words or even better have time to think before reacting when your temper soars.

However, for the most part it would be a bane rather than a boon.

You would not know how to react when you break the 10pm curfew and come home to find Dad at the door.
Lovers would not be able to fathom the love in their partner’s eyes.
What would one do in situations when one is at a loss for words?
How would your pet know when it is time to be a good boy?
How would we pick on the Machiavellian’s intentions and know what to do to save our lives?

Would we be led to extinction or would we just stop evolving? I shudder at the thought. It is really hard to imagine where we would be without the functioning of these small muscles!

I close my eyes in a silent prayer and smile to myself everytime I think about this wonderful gift that God has bestowed upon us.

Interesting links

THE “M-WORD”

2005-09-24T12:14:00.000-07:00

Almost every other person I meet these days questions me about the “M-word”. My answers range from genuinely updating them about the status quo to quick repartees and sarcastic remarks to awkward smile followed by “umm…well…yes..uh..” to asking them the exact same question. Of course the nature of my answer mainly depends on the person posing this question and to some extent my perception of his/her intention behind asking this question.

On days when I am in a cranky mood, I really get pissed off when somebody whom I hardly know asks me about the “M-word”. What irritates me even more is when such a person insists on an answer. Give me a break!

“So anything interesting happening in life??”

“Umm......but how come you did not find someone for yourself yet?”

“So mamma dada looking out for somebody?.....are you seeing somebody?...anything in the pipeline?”

“Heyy when are you getting married?”

“We’ve been waiting for laddoos(sweets) for a long time now......I think you are trying to be too scrutinous......I would suggest you reach a decision in another 6 months......its high time now!”

These are some of the sample questions/advice that I am subjected to.

Although I am very appreciative of our friendly, non-formal culture, I get a wee bit annoyed when people I hardly know start questioning me like that. Can’t we have a normal conversation without this discussion or is it some protocol that “every marriageable person must be questioned or coached to death about the “M-word”?

Finding a life partner is one of the most important decisions of a person’s life. With arranged marriages still a common practice in my community people going through this process have their own concerns, worries and frustrations. So friends and people why add to their pot of worries by your questions and advice?? Think about how the person might feel when you subject him/her to your volley of questions n advice or even better think how you would feel were you in his/her position and only then say what you have to say.

Well before I get into that rant n rave mode, I have an announcement to make…..(I know what you are thinking)…..here goes….Friends, relatives, colleagues, curious neighbors, I would like to announce that, I will personally inform you when I find Mr. Right. Till then happy guessing and gossiping!!

EXTREME CELEBRATION!!

2005-09-24T03:04:00.000-07:00

My excitement and general mood of celebration during the recent Ganesh Festival was spoiled by the acts of violence and insolence during the immersion procession in Pune and other parts of the state. By now everybody has had their take on this topic and what I am going to say here might not be very different, but nonetheless I will write.

Ganesh festival has undergone a lot of changes over the years. What started out as a sincere effort to bring people together and boost the spirit of community, has now turned into an ostentatious display of money and lack of culture. (I am well aware that exceptions exist and I do appreciate the good work that they do via the medium of this festival.)

I feel that the ban on loudspeakers after 10 pm was a very good decision taken by the court. I was disturbed when I heard many people debate against this decision. People, have we forgotten to enjoy in moderation? Do we need to go to extremities to truly enjoy an event or a festival?

Most Indian cities are excellent examples of vehicular (air) and water pollution. Do we need the noise pollution and water pollution that comes with the way we are currently celebrating this festival? Can we stop making religion and rituals an issue and instead focus on the values that are at the core of these? Have we become so self-centered that we continue to celebrate even when our own countrymen are falling prey to natural disasters, injustice, poverty, lack of resources? Celebration is an inherent part of our culture; can we find ways to include all in this gala?

We celebrate to seek Ganesha’s blessings, but THINK, would He be pleased by what He sees? It is time, each of us pondered over this.

Considering the original thought behind the festival, how about

Not extorting money from people as “vargani” (donation).
Not squandering the donations over flashy immersion processions and other extravaganza.
Not playing blaring music especially irrelevant songs from movies during the festival.
Not immersing the big idols and thus help curb water pollution. The same idol could be used during the next festival. The money thus saved could be used for some worthy social cause. (We immerse our family idol in a tub at home. We buy a shadu (clay) idol and on immersion the remnants are spread among the flower beds in the garden.)
Encouraging the revival of some cultural arts or even better arranging programs or competitions that will help the youth in some way (sports events, public speaking, vocational guidance, etc)
Imbibing the importance of community service by conducting some programs aligned in this direction.
Continue improving social awareness on various issues via “pandal”displays.
Limiting a “pandal” per locality. This will prevent traffic congestion from happening at every nook and corner during the festival.

Ganapati Bappa Morya!!

MULTITASKER

2005-08-25T10:07:00.000-07:00

She rises early in the morning, the supercomputer inside her head doing numerous time-task computations to arrive at the optimum algorithm to successfully complete the countless tasks at hand. She does not have the option of extended deadlines nor is there a possibility of having new resources allocated.

She cooks, she cleans. She sees the kids and other members off to their daily routines and if working, sprints off just in time for her train/bus. She works hard; at times she trades her docile self to that of an aggressive lioness to keep herself alive in the rat race. She nurtures, she disciplines. She indulges you and spoils you rotten and yet she is the one to set the rules. She shares your dreams and disappointments. She entertains guests and weaves a social circle about the family. She knows when you are down and also knows exactly how to cheer you up. She makes a home!

She has to play mom, wife, teacher, playmate, friend, guide….you name it, she does not need takes and re-takes. Isn’t she multitasking personified??

As a career gal myself, I have realized the innumerable responsibilities a working woman has and the fact that “there can be no excuses” if things follow a downward spiral. Recently I also saw a cartoon depicting a woman with many pairs of hands, each pair busy doing something. I am sure every working woman would love to have those extra pair of hands. Mind you I am not undermining the stay at home moms.

So why wait for Mothers Day??.....Tell her how much you appreciate what she does or even better let your actions speak your mind. Need ideas??....Take her out for dinner, let her splurge in the mall, send her flowers…..umm….oops…..something smells burnt…..Adios people! while you are at it, I managed to burn dinner that I was cooking for Mom n Daadi. The two of them are out watching a play. J