August 6, 2012 § 6 Comments
Sitting at a café on a busy intersection and watching the rush hour traffic flow by- a slush is the only evidence of the rain a few hours ago. There is much ado about something. An organized chaos flows through the city like a drug through the blood stream. There is a hope to reducing some swelling but there is nothing to show for it. A medley of horns from clandestine vehicles emerges from the desperation, the need to get to somewhere before everyone else does.
A quick glance at the watch and people are always late. A little smile. Here in another city, which feels far from home. But that’s nothing the nice weather and a good cup of coffee cannot set right. The addict that he is, the caffeine kick helps him settle down. He searches the crowd for a pretty face. Any pretty face would do. He just had to see a pretty face. Not a beautiful one. Not a face with tons of makeup on it. Not a face held together by a deliberate nonchalance or decoction anger. But a simply pretty face- Without the air of high pretension, one that will knock you out with a slight smile. Maybe a hit of recognition would help as well.
One always likes to know people. Meet new ones. Especially pretty new ones. Another kick from the caffeine, he sits a little deeper into the couch. The couple at the next table rip apart the value of humanity to shreds. He wonders if they could shred paper with their mouths. Some purpose might be served. There was enough paper in this world waiting to be shred. Loveless love letters, thoughtless resignations and hopeless letters to distant homes. Some are written never to be read, others are written to be shredded.
The coffee cup stood there in an expensive stance, drawing the attention of anyone who would bother to look at not its contents but its shape and size- an appearance of something fantastic. He took out a ragged book and turned to page eighty-seven, took out the bookmark and began reading.
If only the world was written by Hemingway. If only we measured our sanity against Kafka. If only Shelley had lived longer. It didn’t matter, in the books he left the alarming crime rates of the city and immersed himself in the world of bulls, roaches and winds. The world is but an illusion after another, in between books.
Every page held another minute in a life which could have been written by anyone; or by monkeys on typewriters; or drawn by a surrealist; or sung as a voppari*. The words are but sounds which the tongue rolls, but what mighty things they do to the little recess of our senses. The way some words are the emotion rather than just a mindless blabber. If he could be a word, he would be spoken by everyone in this world.
He could never be sold or owned or hurt. He would be hurled but someone would catch him. He could be out on the streets and someone might pick him. But some day, he might go out of use, just like that- because no one felt for him anymore. Now, he was a little word in an unknown corner. Waiting to be born- he might become a noun, or be a verb or an article for indecisiveness.
He flipped the page. The world around him stood in perfect oblivion, passing through the motions of existence, contemplating origins from miniscule particles which might never exist. The world didn’t bother to prove its existence and he didn’t search for it. He would rather think of it as a fictitious mystery, a supposing God striking a furious pose behind a closed screen. No atlas was drawn and none held the world, not on shoulders, not on a boar snout.
Page eighty-seven became page eighty-eight and eight nine. A sudden rap on the nearby window- a familiar face looked in. The warmth of recognition followed by implications, struck him. He smiled politely and got up. He walked past the couple who had by now come close to triggering the Gods to unite in decimating them. He walked as fast as he could towards the wash at the far end. His friend from the window, realizing what was happening, made for the door with a mighty rush, shopping in tow.
As she reached, he disappeared. She stood there looking intently at where he disappeared. She knew, he would never come back. But there was his bag, his book and signs of him. She sat where he had just been moments ago. The wait, she had felt was over, but evidently not.
She flipped the book and stared at it. Page eighty-nine. She flipped till a hundred. And ran through till the end and then forward. Nothing.
The book was a blank. So he was, so he was, she told herself content. The world might live another day.
“Sorry madam, this seat is already occupied.”
Startled she looked up. A young waiter looked at her. His face is a blank slate with no emotions.
“Ohh, sorry.” She murmured and walked out.
*Voppari : Tamil. Crying loudly for someone dead. Mostly over the dead body.
January 24, 2010 § 20 Comments
This probably has become a habit now. Sunday afternoon posts. There is something comforting about it(though it doesn’t fetch many comments). Today I am going to write something about me.
ASPIRE, is the word. Now what do I aspire to be? The way I talk , people think I have it all figured out. So here is the truth- I haven’t figured out anything.
True, I am doing CA(about 100 days to go for the exam *sigh), but well I am not really into the idea of working as one. I am doing it because otherwise I will be wasting my time with B.Com alone. Of course, not that formal education is going to turn me into Bill Gates.
SO what do I want to be? Well, when I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut, but that seems pretty far away, especially since I am in the commerce stream(you can make my day, by telling me, how I can still become one). Some how the idea of flying in an almost surreal world, combined with views of swargaloka(though I had figured out,even back then, that it didn’t exist) , comets and planets, captivated my imagination.
I used to be left to my own devices. In a world of “big kids” and adults, I usually found day dreaming and imagining more fun. Superman and Spiderman, were never my favorites, simple because they had too much to do with humans. I preferred my own characters and turned even the most mundane object into something awesome.
I used to rearrange chairs and make the nether world beneath tables and beds my cool crafts. In short I wanted to be a superhero, but with another dimension- I wanted to be up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.
Some how I have always felt more comfortable, in my own world. People who know the gregarious me , will be surprised. After all, I keep making friends(and ‘enemies’ so to speak) all the time. But behind that there is that love for being in my own world. And probably that is why, I have never feared any God, as such- I saw the idols as “fun people to play with” and used to think of new wars and stories.
And I used to be shy(The change probably came during the summer of 2007 and of course blogging, but more about it later)- I couldn’t stand being blindfolded(those games at kiddy parties) or being too far away from people I knew. There is a gap of six years between me and my sister, so that probably, added my preference for playing alone.
Building blocks were a strong favourite. I probably would have made will make a very good architect. The scope they offer along with their definite proportions is overwhelming. Only wish I had bigger blocks to build now.
We have a swing at home. And I have never fell down from a swing. For others it might be horses and ponies, for me it is swings.I came up with a variety of polo- cycle polo(among myriad others) The opposition- chairs, tables and anything/anyone in my way.
Imagination changes everything. It gives you a lot of freedom, blank walls become carpets of history and thoughts, the sky holds animals and people.
I was and still am a very cautious person. I never take on anything head first. I see, I analyse and then act. People around me can make fun of me, but I analysed how to walk on walls way before any of my class mates did, I am sure. Walls offer a great way to practise balance.
Walking around the perimeter of my house and imaging all sort of opponents and ways to fight them. I think I have fallen from a wall, only once, that too, when I tried to get down hurriedly, for some unknown reason but then again, that probably is it. I hate making big mistakes and make sure they never happen again(?).
My judgement is mostly right, because as I said, I never get into something without thinking about it. The only place where my prognosis might be wrong, is here, the blogging world. It still hurts to think that my idea failed to materialise.
I am a bad loser. I cannot stand losing. And yet success in competitions, exams and even sports, has eluded me. I set high standards (probably too high, thanks to being the hero in my small little world) and when the bubble broke, I used to feel very very low.
True to my sun sign, I can very emotional, sensitive, while in fact I seem the contrary. And that has given a sort of “emotional photographic memory”. Colours have always fascinated me(my mom will tell you, that she had to teach me “white”, because I refused to accept white to be white, I am very tenacious) and though I am not all that great at drawing, I like to doodle.
Cricket cards and cricket. I remember the vigour with which we used to collect those things. When I grew older, it was replaced with cards, but it was cricket at least till I was 9-10. The only part of cricket I still like is bowling. I like anything which can be made to act under my spell. Batting is no fun, I probably got no where in cricket, because I refused to play forward defence in my coaching class(much much later).
Watching. Trains, autos, sky, construction etc. Sitting quietly and observing things, is second nature to me. And questioning when I don’t understand is first. While now I can articulate and describe it, back then, I think I understood that a lot of effort goes into it and felt that everything could be figured out. The element here is, that things can be moulded and can fit in.
I am already approaching the 1000 words mark, but these are things which I love to recount. Someone questioned me a few years back(on one of my poems), how can someone so young write such stuff. To me and probably to people who have seen me grow up, it has never been a surprise. I enjoy thinking, watching, observing and most of all creating.
|From Drop Box|
I started to write much later. But writing is a sum of all those things which I used to love doing, which I cannot do now because of various reasons. It is my shell, where I can hide, it is where I am the hero again and where things cement and mould into each other, the way I want.
The paint will stain the walls in the angles I want and the sky is probably not that high. unlike other kids, I never wanted to be a doctor when I saw one, an engineer or a teacher, I wanted to be an astronaut and I believed it was possible and still do.
I learnt history, tales and fables and politics through my grand dad. That probably is the reason, why I never struggled in social science like others- I knew them already and to me, they were plays being performed in my head. India in my head, was a fantastic idea, it was a passion and something which we fought for and got it. It is our home and we belong here.
Yet time has disrupted that view. More than time, it is people. I still have the belief in my dreams. I still believe India can be much more, India can be the best. But it is the people. And that is the element, which though I understand a lot about, I fail to understand one thing- the need to be caught in a box. Or maybe I am.
But one thing is for sure. What I want to be, What I really want to be , What I really really want to be, is , a writer. And I am one. It doesn’t matter if no one reads what I write. I have always been the hero. The skies and the walls and the chairs and my friends are there for me. That is why I say, I write for myself.
It probably is a wall, erected to block the disappointment of not being what I imagined what I write will bring to me, but it has a door. You can knock, I am waiting.
P.S:- The post should tell you one more thing about me- I can be random and let my thinking cleave it’s own path.
September 20, 2009 § 25 Comments
So I got my driving licence, yay! Of course, getting one is no big deal, except that you are made to wait for ever, let us not go into that. ” No one cares and has time, you and me are going to talk about, I might write about it, but there it ends”, That was my reply to others like me who were waiting for their licence
. We Indians have refined the art of corruption and bribing. There exists a corruption hierarchy, which apart from the officials includes the driving school people among other. Forget Shaktimaan and Captain Planet, we need a Anti-corruption Man (AC man).
And talking about super heros , I have plans of hosting a blogging contest on super heros/ super stars. You are to create your own super hero/ star , complete with powers etc, what do you think?
In solidarity with the cows; Apparently we love to get offended. Remember how people took offence , when “SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE” came out? I bet half the people didn’t watch the movie and I know it is a safe bet because many still feel that the “west” is calling us Slum Dogs, pity. And in this case of the austere Cows(though, they do get their horns painted once a year, during Maatu(cow) Pongal), we should be proud that our herd now includes all the Congress Ministers(and the extra guards).
Navarathri has begun. My mom and sis have come up with a creative gift this time(will put up photos soon) There is nothing special for me though, no holidays, even if college gives us off(even if they don’t I bunk, cut about 10 hours last week), I have those CA classes everyday morning. Its been days since I got to read the book(Argumentative India) , it is an amazing book, I am lovi’ it but no time to read.
Went to McDonald’s yesterday and again today. It’s on the way to the place where I went for the rehearsals . The Aloo Tikki Burger tastes really good. The violin rehearsals are bad though. So bad that, even the lazy me , had to prompt for more practice. Playing all the songs once over is not rehearsal.
I manage to update my poetry blog(yes, I am talking about it again, vanity indeed) about once or twice a week. I want to write 3 posts a week (at least over here), but then my schedule is so irritating , that I feel too sleepy to write about anything. There was a time, when I wrote about 60 posts a month, now I am not able to do 6. But being me, you can expect to writing pretty soon.
And I have to start studying as well. It’s freaky, to see all those weird sums. CA is no joke. You do to be really fast and see beyond the obvious. Lets see what happens. One thing is for sure, I am not going to get to sleep *sigh.
Between , check out this video, awesome, no clue, how he(Jascha Heifetz) does it. I want to learn western one of these days. I love the way, how the music travels and tells its tale without words.
I got a new phone-Nokia 5800. Its got 8GB memory and I have already loaded about 4.2GB of songs. Got lots more in my Comp, but I want to try out new stuff, especially something without lyrics, what would you suggest?
There are many things which I want to write about, the ideas do come and go, but arranging them is the problem. And writing is tough if you are tired-words do come out, they get stuck. There are moments when I wish, I can sit down and write forever..*how I wish..*
Among other things, I think I will be writing about something I have observed- though we talk about equality , a new stratification has started to form in our world, I do wonder, how many of us realize this. I do wonder where this will lead.
And yes, I did shoot a few things, think this is the best of the lot:-
The last photo was taken at Mocha. Yes, I almost got choked. Spent 25% of the time closing my nose, another 25% taking photos and the rest talking/trying to breath. But the shot is worth the effort(I guess) Anyway, hope I find time to post this week. Will try to record the violin programme.
And yes do tell me, what you think about the idea of another contest?
P.S: clarification- that is not me.. I am allergic to smoke
September 1, 2009 § 23 Comments
He held the dead leaf in his hand. Fallen from its plant, it was left to rot and fuel its own origin.
Or it could be picked by a wind. It can fly away from here, it can sail to the lands the winds choose and finally i might settle in a land of paradise, forever in a new joy or..
When it was alive, it was bound to its plant. It nourished it like its brethren , it was one among all, acting like how all expect it to. But is this what a passing eye feels but never the one held? Maybe it is held thus, because it chooses to?
But doesn’t one dream of the birds in the sky, at least when one is young and can race the clouds? Is it that dreams are meant to be dreamt but never sought in life? Is it just, is it fair to just die? Is this how frail all this is?
Is this a continuum, where the memories are buried and memoirs forgotten, sooner or later?
We strive for living, we fight for survival, we work together, we rebel, there are new beginnings , there are old endings, a fresh burst of air here, more heat there, one for all, all for one, will it be in the end, that we all will come alive, like actors talking a bow as themselves and being applauded for the parts we played?
Is this all a fantasy, these endless possibilities? Is our imagination a tool used to lead us from reality, which might shock the living out of us? What is living, if we are to die a baseless death? But isn’t this what we see and learn? How is this real? Can there be something bigger which we are a part of?
Is it love, that we die for? Is it misery that we live for this long? Do we all wait for the day, when we open our eyes no more? Is it that the quest we go on, offers no more, for the recesses have long outrun the excitement of the path, unbeaten?
Are words capricious fabrications, just to easy the pain of knowing the inevitable ? Is the mind there only to paint a vivid misery when in joy and a blunt happiness when in sorrow? Is the past only to be a seed for a morrow and today a retrospection where we dare to water that seed and tomorrow the day when the leafs do peek again, a visage fresh and innocent that the first brush with the polluted air does font it of earth?
So much for a dead leaf. What beauty can there be in the dead? For once dead all that remains is to rot. But when alive, all that remains is that we die. But when unborn, when a dream, all that remains is to brought alive. Call it optimism, call it human vanity, call it that I try to hide from reality and maybe it is true but I will dream anyway.
I may fail again and again. But I will pick up leaves again and in them see much more than what I need to. It might all be a soothsayer’s words, but at least there is hope of a better morrow. The plant may not remind us of the leaf, but the leaf sure does make you search for a plant.
I believe there are magic flowers, do you? Even if you don’t I do. I can feel them, hear them, see them, one day I will get to them. When I do, I will show them to you, I will not get angry or take pride for how can own that which is already owned, unless it is a meek being or I elude myself by calling it is a gift. When a leaf is plucked another one might grow, but there is more to be given for that to happen.
You can hold water in your palms but can we stop it from evaporating? Only thing left is to put to use while we still hold it.
August 21, 2009 § 21 Comments
Once upon a time, I found a key. It opened all the doors I tried. And in one room, which I walked into , I found a madman.
He seemed to be talking to himself. Papers were strewn around the room. There was a musical Instrument , I noted(but I forgot which string it was) and also a football. When he saw me , he gave a rather rueful smile. Sorrow not his , but mine. He seemed to know, that I held the key. But he did not try to escape, rather he started talking to me. This was what I think was said between us. I have(for obvious reasons) excluded the initial part of the conversation. I regret keeping you in the dark about the secret, but then the war within me has not yet ceased and the land is still the ante, how can I spread ruse among the people , the bounty?
The madman:-Shhhh…its a secret..
me:- But why should it be?
The madman:-Because people don’t deserve to know it.
me:-Who are we to decide?
The madman:- Who can predict the masses? Nitwits lead by nitwits.
me:-But isn’t it our responsibility?
The madman:-You are responsible as long as you use are allowed to use your discretion.
me:-But don’t we have the choice? And when we choose to act , aren’t we accepting that we can withstand anything.
The madman:-True enough. That is why we choose not to be a part of it.
me:-But this a nation. We people are a part of it. If we don’t rise up the challenge, then no one will.
The madman:-Of course they will. You and me , will never be allowed to do what we imagine. We have a few good leaders among the thousands and they some how survive, some become sycophants , some are born into a creed and some are just destined to be.
me:-What if , we choose our destiny , by making a choice now.
The madman:-Tell me, have you ever felt at any point of time, that you should share this secret?
me:-Yes I have.
The madman:-Have you shared it?
The madman:-And, How did people take it?
me:-They couldn’t understand what I told them.
The madman:-Why do you think so?
me:-Maybe I didn’t put it properly.
me:-Or maybe I chose the wrong people.
The madman:-Then you agree , that the majority till date , in the sample space you chose can’t understand a simple matter.
The madman:-If so , can you think of the type of leaders they would elect.
me:-Yes, but isn’t it our responsibility to help them choose better?
The madman:-And how do you intend to do it?
me:-By simplifying it.
The madman:-You want to dilute it even more? What is it you are trying to do , add more water to the ocean?
me:-No…its not like that..
The madman:-Alright , tell , do you think people will listen to you?
me:-Why do you think they won’t?
The madman:-Because you try to make sense of things, you try to see the source of problems..and that is what no one wants to do , at least they are not allowed to do that..
me:-But aren’t they free to realize that?
The madman:-Freedom? How can slaves be free? From the second they are born, they are bombarded with everything that which we are against. It is not that people are bad or something , that is relative, it is just that life makes them such..You call it inertia, they call it determination; In the end who is right ? Its either or neither and not one.
me:-But aren’t you the one who told me , that there is a right and a left , a while back?
The madman:-Of course and I still stand by it. Yes what is happening is wrong. We see things differently and we realize. We have , even when we were small , realized that you are not supposed to do certain things. We have exploited our capabilities and our cognition is better developed. But tell me if I were to lock you in a room , how would you feel?
me:-Aren’t we all locked in rooms of sort or the other?
The madman:-We are. But how big the room is the question and also if it dark or if its got some light. Imagine you are in a small dark room , just big enough so that you can’t really touch the walls , when you are tied to one place. How would you feel?
me:-I get what you mean , but isn’t that our mistake?
The madman:-IS it our mistake that this world has people who are willing to exploit the masses? Is it our mistake that we cannot chaff with good stupor stuffing? Is it our mistake that all we seek is a peace? Is it our mistake that we become a kind of aliens if we were to stretch our heads to full sensibilities? What shall we do, slay the animals when we are against cruelty to animals? Can you tame a wild, fully grown beast?
me:-No we can’t , but we can help them when they are young.
me:-So? Let me go tell the secret to the young ones.
The madman:-To what vain? You would have to take it upon your self to make sure they perceive things the ‘right’ way. And yes , we are like this because of our circumstances.
me:-But it is possible, if we can separate them from the society?
The madman:-And then how will you show them enough of religion, so that they respect culture and understand the functions of it but at the same time they aren’t be draw to the mania. How can you show them enough about difference in classes , so that they understand not everyone can be a master for not everyone knows ‘why’ they are doing something and at the same time ensure that they feel that no one is superior than another?
me:-But isn’t that the truth?
The madman:-That is not the truth but the reality you see. The difference is bound exist . But all animals are equal. And it is not that some are more equal than others , it is rather some understand equality better than others.
me:-But then if they do understand equality why do they exploit?
The madman:-When people know smoking is bad why do they smoke? When they know hurting someone is bad , why do they hurt? Some understand equality but only a few can judge and answer the why. We believe in equality not because it sounds cool but because we need to be equal to everything so that we can talk the same language and make everyone feel inclusive and thus belong to everyone and everything. The reason for that is , we seek peace. We cannot tell a tiger to stop killing the deers but nor can we kill all the tiger. We cannot imprison the tiger nor can we reason to it, when it is hungry.
me:-Then? Anyway humans aren’t tigers.
The madman:-Yes we are not. But tell me can you talk about your riches to a beggar? You do nothing but tempt him. Is it possible for you to praise a dead leader in a land where he was loathed? You will only end up stirring unwanted emotions. Can you explain to a moderate that there are extremes? For him his grey , is bright enough and dark enough , if anything , he is happy to watch a silver lining on another cloud and say blessed are a few.
me:-But we are talking about Equality.
The madman:-Exactly. To the beggar, you can talk about the world. In the country you can talk about the precedent and the consequence. And you can agree that the silver lining looks good and blessed are a few, but then you can blow him a little so that he starts flying towards the sun.
me:-All that sounds wonderful , Yes yes. But how do you do it?
The madman:-That will be something you should search for. You have the key , you know it opens doors, but you should know what lies behind the door before you open it. A key without a lock is useless and the secret without cognition is worthless. And if you open the wrong door, you might let out the true madman.
me:-Aren’t you the madman?
The madman:-I am.
me:-Then did I open a wrong door?
The madman:-yes , you have. Your life will never be the same again.
me:-Will you be leaving this place , now that I have set you free?
The madman:-Ha but a home needs to be lived in and besides who will tell people, the others who open this door, the secret ? I cannot leave.
me:-But I insist. And I already knew it.
The madman:-Everyone knows , few realize it. You are a madman like me. I have locked myself , in my room and spread the keys so that people who I hope to meet , will come to me. You have locked yourself in your mission and you place the keys with a few, who know you. If either of us was free, we would never meet our kind. What is freedom, but the chance to realize our choices? Our freedom lies within and not in the world. How can we belong to a world which is not ours?
me:-I hate to leave you.
The madman:-We shall meet again, when we need to meet again. Our choices will lead us. So choose wisely.
And I left the room. I walked for a while, before I realized what had happened. As he said my life has never been the same again.
1)The title is borrowed from Gibran.
2) “All animals are equal but some are more equal than other” is a line from the book animal farm.
August 20, 2009 § 9 Comments
August 16, 2009 § 24 Comments
Ya ya its raining awards! *hey anybody wants to erect a statue of me? *
This time its Kanagu , celebrating a year in blogosphere *ha young man congrats *.
Anyway , he has given me the Wordsworth of blogsphere award *see someone reads my poems * . Anyway how do I feel about it? Damn good you bet , but decided to ask Wordsworth what he thinks about this…
Me:- Dude , you are Wordsworth?
Wordsworth:- Once upon a time I prowled upon a fox,
She was so hot , that I forgot my life’s small faux pas.
In my dreams , I was a dove on her head,
In my beak I held a rose that was red.
Me:- That sounds like ,like… Wordsworthless , what happened to you?
Wordsworth:- I became a blogger on a dusty May day,
There changed my fate’s say.
This fellow called OG, A cook he was , showed me,
A lady in a white saree , A lovely damsel , A malayalee
Then another guide, took me in his stride,
In him insanity, Vimal made me see my vanity
And I laughed away my pensive,
For hiring a donkey was expensive.
me:- So that’s it , I should have warned you , but why didn’t you read my poetry?
Wordsworth:- The madman you are,
Your verses to my brain were a spar ,
Thoughts don’t rime and white is not sour,
Why ,you are still to get drunk at a bar.
Me:- Oh! shut up , have you had a chocobar? And its a mistake me coming here. I think I should have gone to Shelley or Hemingway or Frost or best of all Shakespeare.
Good day sir, Hope you find someone wiser than me.
The gray loons can never beat that well bred Shelley
Or keep taking different Paths daily.
I am but a man , who sees daffodils, For they are tiny,
In my heart , with their memory , everything seems free.
Me:- whatever , someone think I am like you. Anyway you lived far too long and you didn’t shoot yourself or get drowned..not inspiring at all, they say we poets are crazy..
At this point , the poor fellow mutters to himself and sees a couple of Chennai kaka(crow/raven) and wanders away …
Anyway anyone who says my poems are long , please , save it , for all you know , you would have to teach it your children if it becomes as a part of their English text * ya I dream of such things , The swine I am! Stay away from me , I am genetically self modified flu proof pig , coming near me is bound to weaken your system through jealousy , vanity and of course you hog , you stink!*
Oh! I thought I was giving away awards and look whats happening…anyway all those who receive this award , should write a ode to the river in your city
The award goes too…
Oh! He also gave me the “They gonna rock” , this one is meant for the kids supposedly(he calls me a veteran in his post and calls me a kid while giving me the award , so I am the young veteran ) .
Yes yes I am going pass this one around as well
There are few who behave like kids. They fight , they write weird comments in each others’ blog and they pull each others’ leg(virtual ones I guess ).
And this is a new trend, in the olden days(of blogging!) , people used to behave themselves , we commented and talked as if we had a tie around our neck trying to choke us( Oh! I didn’t belong to this category I think, what with my famous smiley comments and before that of course I was the new kid in the block ) So this one goes to the kids(some old timers who have reinvented themselves as well) :-
-Vimmuuu(ya if you don’t write his name with the 2 M and 3 U ..he’s going come and spam you )
-Smita ( A chronically shopaholic, Vimmuuu’s nemesis.. )
-OG( yes strikku moonu! Strictly speaking , he is the only guy I know , who writes a cooky blog )
-Anamika( full of weird instances and ya she makes me laugh )
-Dhiren ( along with Vimmuuu and OG , they form Don’s Angles )
-Don( well she does pretend to be Badshah of Bloggywood)
-Harsh (jee boom bha!)
You people are to write a post on your favorite toy(Vimmuuu stop trying to steal Smita’s toy! Or no candy for you!). Or King Khan VS King Kong (the choice is your’s choose wisely )
And if you thought that’s it , stop right there! There is one more award to go:-
DI passed on the cool blogger award (ya! at last something which sounds good , feeling cool )
*the greenery in the picture -oh! come on that’s good photoshopping! *
So while the entire Earth is boiling in its own pudding , there are a few coolers , if not for whom , our spirits would have melted away..These wonderful people whose post show their good brains(clean without having to be washed by pepsi) are:-
-Arch ( she understands my poems!)
-Indyeah( well what can I say Incredible Indyeah )
-Archana( I hate blogs which talk about guy-girl relationship,who needs them – but her blog has made me change my views )
-Lakshmi(she roams and she does what roamers do )
I am stopping with four on this one ; And since this award is about being cool , you are to write on the Coolest dessert!
So there done I think. I love doing these awards post Ha but wait almost forgot
This is the most important part of the post, so listen *Indi helps Vishesh in pulling OG down from the ceiling fan(he thought it would help him make chutney)*
Chirag , has come up with Indiameme.
In his words ,
With Indiameme you can:-
* Glance at the Day’s News and Blogs and get Permalink to the current news
* Read stories only from the best sources and bookmark them in twitter, del.icio.us, facebook and reddit
* Read the news in a giffy as there are no ads or distractions and this is the probably the most cleanest site in India
* Grab best of the news with “Top Items – Must Read News”
I have tried it out and except for a few minor glitches(which he is working on) its awesome! You can read the NEWS from various sources(including a few blogs) in one place. And well some people prefer to see things , so here is a screen shot
P.S:- Winners , do take up the challenge to write on those topics The idea is to make these award posts so entertaining(after all it gets monotonous to see comments saying “congrats” “cool” etc ) But its optional
August 11, 2009 § 7 Comments
When I see light ,
I know nothing can die.
When I see you,
I know I need not fight.
When I know you ,
I know what is right.
When we are together,
The world not perish,never;
August 6, 2009 § 6 Comments
A single thought can make or break ,
A single thought can set life ablaze.
The power from with , prompts
And there begins the chain of thoughts.
An inspiration from the world,
Sets opens the dams and let flow,the thoughts.
July 30, 2009 § 12 Comments
As a human being your place on Earth is dependent on your “sense of belonging”. And we try to belong to a myriad number of groups , in various permutations and combinations , but ultimately the one that seems to scar the singular human comradeship is our religious affiliation.
To secularists it causes endless heart aches, to see humans tear apart each other. But then we have come to a point , where a few frown upon these secularists and the heads of such groups declare them as infidels or a threat to their religion and that they need to be dealt with.
Is belonging or not belonging to a religious group all that important?
What has made religion the single autonomous power , with their various Gods?
One argument would be that man in general prefers not to take up responsibility.
The irony here is, we have taken it as our responsibility to take care of these religions , with our life and even more.
As we move into a new Era , where in we have started to accept that we need to change our attitude and our demeanour and approach to solving the pragmatic problems in living, the way we define our “sense of belonging” is quintessential .
The reason for problems is that we interact and in the process two universes of ideas clash , the barring is too much to sustain a bi-ambitious world.
One way to ensure a mono-synthetic society is to conclude that suppression is the only way to maintain a balance. If we look at this syllogism closer , we will find that the major premise is that we need a balance and the minor one that suppression is the only way.
And this exactly is what religion has helped evolve over the ages of humanity.
I do not claim religion is the root of evil , rather that religion has been chained and is being made to do as the masters who control it want it to do. Religion in essence aims at freeing man and hopes to breach the boundaries of human perception.
But in reality the essence of religion lies in the minds of people . The majority of whom are gullible, influenced by the rhetoric of orators and politicians. The reason for this gullibility is because we cannot define what is “good and what is “bad” in absolute sense. The alteration done is so simple that many fail to see it – a change in the yard scale. And to change this , we first need to change the latter premise – that suppression is the key to the balance.
To redefine maintaining a balance in any other way , than the existing one, is going to be a task which is hard to even imagine – we would need to move away centuries of domination and slavery. Unfortunately , the method adopted in India(i.e. giving reservations) is a negative step. In a way it is acknowledging that we have become subservient to the pseudo dogmas. It would only strengthen the hold of the suppressive methods.
What is suppression? This is a important question to answer. I would call it curtailing ‘freedom’.
Freedom is again a word which needs to be defined. You can say freedom is that which gives an individual a proportionate sense of belonging and acceptance. And here lies the answer , to what we can try do.
We need to understand and appreciate freedom. The line between indulgence and freedom may be very thin , almost nonexistent but the crux of freedom lies in the way we perceive and interact with others. Of course we cannot interfere with the way people think or make choices for them , but what we can do is try to remove the vintage prejudices and sneers , by stopping them from reaching our future.
We should try to find our way to a better race , not by thinking what ‘God‘ would find comforting but by understanding that our decisions are binding on the future of our kind. It might seem Utopian to dream of such a day, for after all we are no more than a galaxy of cells working together to survive . But then doesn’t this galaxy coexist without any Upheavals? Of course you can say that their thinking capacity is taken away by the ‘brain’. But what is the brain , but again another collection of cells?
But of course there is always a reflex or death. We can say reflexes give us a short term relief , i.e. revolutions are a temporary respite and well that death is the ultimate end of a bad mind. But then what dies and what lives on?
This is the question , which religions have capitalized on. And through out our history this is the question used as a fear of tool. I do wonder if hell really did exist, didn’t those exploiters realize that they would be the first to be dipped into a cauldron of boiling oil? But of course they do claim that , they are messengers of “God” .
At the same time without fear and guilt , we humans probably will be out of control. But then , I think it is better we remove these fears created by our imagination and present to our kind the real threats – without proper cooperation and coordination our race might bring about its own end; Earthquakes, tsunamis , floods, drought etc .
If we care enough for the living – this is not just about ’healing the world’ , it is about saving ourselves. The world can take care of itself. Earth as a planet will go on for millions and billions of years. And anyway whatever you do , will affect the entire universe . And no it is not caring for the smaller things – it caring for the most important thing – the ‘I’ .
Kill religion? I don’t think so. We need to kill our inhibitions, which stops us from understanding.
Is killing justifiable? Can you face yourself ?
P.S;- Thanks Indi for helping me in edit this