Wings to Neverland

Its not goodbye, if you leave your coat behind'

2010-02-28T03:09:00.001-08:00

For two years, this bit of space in the chatotic world of the Web has served as my sanctuary. A place where I can just be and not be. What made it so was the fact that I had no need to paint face and color my thoughts and really not care who were visting these pages. Now that someone I know has barged in here and not just trampled on my words, they have also drawn a part of the street with them.

Alas, this is home no more. I will be looking for another spot where I can start over as a new being. Thanks for all those who visited and who knows, someday you might be blog surfing and you might just cross mine.

All the Glitter and Fancy Gloves

2010-01-07T22:15:00.000-08:00

Its been so long since I wrote anything in my blog. Somewhere last year I moved back to good old paper, but an anonymous comment here sort of triggered the itch to blog again.

Fame could be a fickle mistress, but for some she is always there at least garbed as notoriety. No one should have known this better than Michael Jackson. A hundred things were said about him and still are, but how much of these reflect the man himself? Strange that while you are alive people talk about your bad habit of picking your nose, but when you die, they talk about how good a human being you were. Jackson should be laughing at the irony of it from the Neverland he should be in now.

The moon walking singer was an icon for a whole generation of Indians. So many of us sang along with his when he sang, “They don’t really care about us” to drum beats. The whole country would have melted all its gold and beat a way to his door step if he had only asked. His charm was like a spell that even melted the saffron clad Bal Tacharey.

But lets shake off the glitter, and hang up the shoes. Remove those absurd gloves and scrap off the grafted skin; what will we find underneath?

Not that I was up close enough to know, and not that those up close managed to take that close a peek. But those songs that have been his making and breaking, life and soul should mean something right? Most even ignoring the words sounded rebellious, fresh, and sexy. Something like a teenager rebelling against being grounded. But some also spoke of a sensitivity and awareness so alien to most people. They served as the anthem for equality and a reminder for those lost in the mad rush of the world. But most of all they revealed a man lost in his image, looking for a place where he would truly belong in this world. I hope his fame and money or the obscene distortion of both, gave him the freedom to be just himself, however absurd it looked to the lesser mortals of the world.

Thanks to whatever angel above for sprinkling a little bit of fairy dust on the world once in a while. They did make MJ glitter.

The power of the insignificant

2009-03-15T21:32:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, someone bought a pair of sandals and specs for an obscene amount of money. Suffice to say that the money would have been enough to built schools in over a hundred villages. The reason why it was priced so high is even more baffling given that Gandhi the owner of the revered specs and sandals would have never bothered to pay so much for them. I bet he would have been much happier if 60 crore Indians followed at least one of his principles he fought so much for.
Why is it that people are so passionate about such insignificant things while the workings of great minds are confined to the realms of legends and never brought down to practical mortal levels? Why would the world value Shakespeare’s original manuscripts to millions while the most important thing, his writing, is available at every street corner bookshop? What’s important, the paper or the words?
Maybe, the Kohinoor diamond is worth the money. The piece itself has a value in terms of its rarity and beauty. But Gandhi’s slippers are placed on a pedestal way above all other slippers of the world because it was worn by Gandhi and not because it’s the most beautiful or durable slipper in the world. What is worth the money and time is Gandhi’s ideals, a commodity that’s getting so rare nowadays that soon nothing will be left to even auction even if a buyers wants to pay for it.

An History of Distortion

2008-12-28T03:11:00.000-08:00

If there comes a time when I have to share the credit for by knowledge, however meger it is, Hollywood will take about 50% of it. From the best slang for the best curse words to some of the lesser known and less useful facts like white christmas. Yesterday, I saw the movie on Alexander. To be honest, it was a bit boring. A bit high on the dramatics, low on action and loads of bits and pieces that just happened. In fact I slept through most of it after 'taming of the horse' scene until Alexander's death. In between in my drowsy state, I heard Alexander frequently spouting romantic dialogs. I didn't think over it until later when it hit me that there wasn't a female in sight long enough on screen to justify all those dialogs.

Imagine my suprise when the greatest teacher of our times, wikipedia, revealed that Alexander was spouting those dialogs at Hephaistion, apparently the most significant love of his life who came next only to his kingdom. I rewinded all the records inside my head on Alexander and I remembered reading about his famous horse Bacupalus, general Ptolemy, and his wives but nothing on his childhood friend, second in command, right hand man and possible lover. A result of selective historical national amnesia I suppose.

Hepaistion had the misfortune of being born with the wrong gender for the post of Alexander's great love. If he had been a woman, he would now be sharing space with Juliets and Cleopatra's of history. Poor chap, although I doubt he would have known he would be ignored so much. He could have been just a close frined of Alexander but the possibility of something more to the relationship had effectively ensured that he disappear. Even Alexander wouldn't have expected glory to be such a selective mistress. After all he did do everything short of building the Taj Mahal to remember his freind. I bet he would have built it too if he had met Shajahan. Then again Shajahan would have told him the truth that Mumtaz being a woman was more likely to bask in the Taj and the consequent historical glory that came with it. To his credit, Alexander did try to make Hephaistion God though.

Why was Hephaistion not worthy of mention as much as a horse in our history books? Because he was a man who sullied the perfect christian heterosexual image Alexander should have had? If this could happen in the story of a legend who roamed the fringes of India, what have they done to that rich mixture of legends, myths and icons inside our boundries. How much is true about Ghazni, the Rajputs, the Mughals, the Chera's, Chozhas, Pandiyas and all the way up to Gandhi and Nehru? Is truth taking a beating in the iconization of our heroes? How much have we carefully errased from history? Are these great men made by us after we cook and extract our legends?

I still rememered the shock I felt when at the age of 19 I read somewhere that Gandhi used to ignore his wife and sleep with young girls just to prove his own chastity and strenght of will. Now I know that Gandhi was human and had his own faults but at 19 it was the shattering blow that brought down the greatest icon every Indian is feed from birth. I felt utterly stupid when I learnt about the emergency in my twenties and that too through 'Midnight's Children' when I have been told that Indira Gandhi was a great leader and prime minister who had the guts to take on Pakistan ignoring the US. Would it be detremental to have studied about the emergency in our history lessons? Why are the faults and the more humane episodes of our icons removed from history? Is truth valued only as long as it is safe and acceptible to the social norms?

India's First Estate

2008-12-03T02:00:00.000-08:00

Last week like most Indians, I was anxiously watching the news as the drama in Mumbai evolved. And for the first time I watched as the first estate of India, the press rose to the occasion. And I must admit that when all the curtains fell on this horror show all that remained was a deep feeling of loss and a jumble of questions floating in my head. But once the tangles started loosening up, a few questions kept recurring in my head.

First thing was the recurring use of the word 'hostage'. With the way things were unfolding, it looked more like a siege that a hostage situation. I mean no one was holding anyone for ransom. It so happened that people were trapped inside and they tried their best not to get shot. But why was it termed as a hostage situation? I was surprised to see the usage of that term even in BBC. I could be wrong here, but I would like to know if I am.

Another thing was the way the media was drawing conclusions for its audience. Even before the men involved in the whole rescue operations had a say in it. Panels were organized and interpretations forced down our throat. I mean, who should conclude how India deals with Pakistan and when?

A point to ponder is how far can you go in the name of 'right to information'. Was it such a bad idea to shut down news channels in Mumbai to avoid the spread of rumors? And how much can you dramatics news. It was disgusting to watch reporters falling over each other to get a few words out of people who have starved for the past 48 hours. And why wasn't there a distinction between paying homage to our martyrs and making a spectacle of people in their private moments of grief.

Another thing was 'selective reporting'. While the events in Mumbai deserved to be reported why were the other parts of the nation totally blacked out? I don't mean to say they should have run their usual fare despite the events, but surely the cyclone in TN was news worthy enough to get a mention at the far lower corner of the screen. At least it’s more important than the change in venue of cricket matches. It would have helped so many people who were caught unawares in the airports and train stations of the state. Was it because 'Nisha' was not sensational enough?

Sage Yavanshi managed an interview with the rain Gods and this is what they had to say.

"Those bastards, they ruined our campaign on climatic change. However, acknowledging the fact that they are the experts in gaining publicity, we intend to hire Mr Azam Amir for our next campaign. I mean, it’s no mean task to turn your image from mass murderer to helper of the security forces with 24 hours."

Regrets?

2008-11-14T03:23:00.000-08:00

Another spectacular year has gone by and here I am, the tumbled and tired but not yet worn out product of the past 365 days (and alos all the other 365s gone by before). I can't help wonder how much I have changed and yet how unchaged I have become in the past year. Some part of me had died and some have come into being while some have just remained defining me as always. While birthdays are just like any other day, they are a good time to turn back just for a wink and move on. When I did that, I couldn't help but wonder if I would have done anything different the last year. Unfortunately, yes, I would have prefered to have nade different choices but then I again, I don't regret the ones I made. Afterall, they all had their own bit in ensuring where I stand now.

A question of importance

2008-10-30T02:32:00.000-07:00

Frankly, the wrong question to think about when trying to drown in a tub of chocolate icecream, but I guess no time is the wrong time to ponder the biggest questions of life. And mind you it doesnt happen often. Eating chocolate icecream as an art that demands complete and utter devotion.

But once in a while, the mind refuses to listen to the melting miracle of icecream and wanders into domains it has no business wandering in. But once I got the question, its the worst brain itch so far. I have no problem spreading the itch to others, so here we go.

"Are humans no better (or worse) than animals or is there something 'more' to us?"

and yes, I confess that I thought of it only because I was wondering if a dog or a horse would enjoy the chocolate icecream as much as I do or will they just slurp it up and trot off without even realizing the divine taste sliding down their throat. (Disclaimer: This is just an example, if you dont like chocoalte icecream its okay....)

But seriously, do we have a special ability to rise above the basics of life and aim for some greatness on our own disregarding the social good? Basic refer to eating, sleeping, procreation and ensuring the safety of the procreated offsprings, hording for winter etc etc...

Do we have the power or will to indulge in things that DO NOT in anyway aid in the above mentioned needs. I agree we read poetry, we paint, we sing (come on its not always a primal trick to attract a mate) and we vote. But are these the things that define us as humans?

I can't help but feel that there is something just beyond all this that defines who we are. And life seems to be like a pilgrimage to that unknown shrine. I just hope that I take the right turns to get there in one peice.

I am just an ordinary man

2008-09-23T06:57:00.000-07:00

Its been hectic the past few months and at the end of it, I had to sit down and take stock of my life here and now. I mean, its all nice and haughty when the adrenalin flows and I move from one project to the other conquering them all, but finally when the battle pauses, comes the moment of truth when I have to sit back and decide if it was all worth it.

Work has been gratifying at a personal level and I havent ventured beyond that as of now.
But on a personal level, I had to rethink my ideas about marriage and that led to a massive failure. Yes, paying up thousands and registering in matrimonial sites does give you that confidence that you do have potential but that doesnt last long. I wouldnt regret it though, given that its the best sampling of 'ordinary humans' you can ever get.

Sex freaks to wimpering cowards to men who actually know what they want and are nice enough to say so are all there, and I bet I could have never had the chance to meet them all if not for these sites (yes, that also includes the category that I never ever want to meet again). But one thing thats common to them all is the last line they ever tell me, "I am just an ordinary man". (Sorry, I am gender biased here, but thats because, I happened to meet only men in these sites)

How I wish there is a ban on those words, it should be awarded the worst curse on humanity award. This is an amazing statement that can smother and kill every question that one can ask about life, moral and choice. In fact, its the atom bomb on human moral.

Every bribing, lying, stealing, cheating, backboneless, guilt ridden humble citizen of society wears this statement as a cloak, designed uniformly with the same prejudices, wrapped around himself to hide in a forest of such people. This is better than Harry Potters invisibility cloak because, most people have one. And if you dont own one, you are mercilessly poked and prodded on all sides, gapped at, and frowned upon like a monkey doing sea surfing. Not surprisingly though, the first response, I would get after you have read so far is most probably, "What bitterness?" "How pathetic?" or "Get a life!" Strange that if a rat says that cheese is better than garbage to to a bunch of rats living in the sewer, he will be viewed with pity. Bitterness, joy, disappointment are well worth their time, if I can escape the dreaded cloak.

That nasty little sentence is the absolution that removes any genuine guilt you might feel about the social wrongs you see and effectively pushes you back into the safe zone and comfort that comes with mass misconceptions. It effectively throws anyone who begs to differ out of the planet.

I know it is unfair to say that anyone who says these words are all worthy of the terms I have used above, but this blog is not about fairness, its just about my perception and until I find an 'ordinary human' who thinks for himself/herself and stands by his/her own decisions even if it is against the social norms, I will change my mind.

Cloning!

2008-08-03T08:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I happened to go to a restaurant with a friend. But strangely, I just had a dejavu kind feeling creeping on me. Even though I was sure that I have never been there before. I finished my meal and thought about it on my way home. White shirts, a huge paper fan as a prop, banners with writings in Chinese or some such language, laughing Buddhas, chopsuey noodles and sweet and sour vegetables. Now where have I seen them? Then it hit me, the answer was every Chinese restaurant. I giggled thinking to myself that unintentionally, Chinese restaurants were cloned all over the city. I started making a list and soon I was listing cloned cool drinks (why do all soft drink bottles look the same), cloned food, cloned toys, cloned vehicles, cloned super markets (forget the name board alone), cloned rubber bands, cloned books.....

Then I turned around and saw a girl wearing a salwar just like mine and I stopped laughing. I always try to avoid designs that everyone wears. Call it vanity but I hate to see someone else dressed just like me. In fact, I go hunting for unique designs to some very dingy corners of the city. While cloning of Chinese restaurants is a bit funny, cloning cloths I wear was not, at least from my snotty point of view. I told myself that next time, I am designing my own salwar, or at the least buy something from a shop not too well known.

I had sufficiently sobered up by then and was watching out of the window of the bus, when i passed by a school. Like a sudden whiplash when I least expected, I realized with horrifying clarity that we not only clone restaurants and salwar kameezes but also humans. I find the sight of two rows of neatly dressed children with exactly the same uniform and hair style very disturbing. Don't you?

Dead Poets Society

2008-07-05T21:08:00.000-07:00

I happen to see two movies surprisingly similar in theme but worlds apart in the story and the style of narration. While one was about an elephant who wouldn’t stuck to his belief that the world has more to it than just what we see and the other was about a group of boys who try to break out of convention with the help of their English teacher. Yes, I am talking about Horton Hears a Who and Dead Poets Society.

Horton believes that he heard a sound from a speck proving to him that there is a small world inside that speck. From there on, he faces all the problems that someone who is right, yet in the minority come to face. But finally, he does save whoville, the world in the speck. If you want to explain to a ten year old that what you are told is not always right and what you see is not always the only thing, this movie is the best choice. Of course, those who prefer a much profound and soul stirring method to achieve these ends without having to watch elephants, kangaroos and vultures, there is Dead Poet’s society.

What an amazing movie!!! Its voice should be heard loud and clear against the collective din of conformity and tradition that spills out of every school, college and university. Above all, it’s a movie that has aimed to make us all rethink the way we look at life and the way we live. It defined why we do need poetry and all beauty in our lives and on a personal level explained why a I still feel like biting into a piece of watermelon on a hot day, when recollecting the few lines of poetry that I read long ago.

In the end, I couldn’t grudge Neil his choice of freedom as much as I couldn’t grudge Horton his moment of fame.

2008-06-05T03:49:00.000-07:00

If you cant Marvel...

I watched the movie 'Iron Man' yesterday (those of you who are itching to ask me, "why the hell is a smart and intelligent woman watching a movie like Iron man?" Go away. This post is not for you. And I do have my dumb moments). The movie was a MARVELOUS one, just like all MARVEL ones. But unfortunately, I laughed instead of my usual open mouthed awestruck gapping exercise. So finally, I the great sage Yavanshi, has outgrown Marvel comics.

Once upon a time, we had a Panthom who stalked the jungles, protecting his teritory of Bangala, in a sexy mysterious suit. Panthom told a lot of ten-year-olds that protecting nature is heroic. Then there was Batman, who taught rich kids that incase they don't know what to do with all their money, they along with their butlers can spend it on saving cities like Gauthom from mad jokers with stupid ideas. Even superman, despite his obsession with his adopted country flag, had his moments as he went about saving bus full of kids. I even liked spidey until he started acting demented in his last movie. But I must admit, none of these ordinary super heores, nor the incredibles, electra, cat woman, the fantastics and the X-men combined can ever beat 'Iron Man'.

Yes, the Iron Man is the guy who teaches the perfect lession all children must know. That weapons are cool, but only if they kill people other than Americans, that bad guys are almost always people who suspiciously look like Muslims from somewhere like Afghanistan, that if there is by chance a bad guy from America, then he is definetly smarter than the muslim 'terrorists'. And that when the terrorist buggers who look like muslims kill their own folks the hero of America is the one who saves them.

And ofcourse, some of the minor lessons are 'bad physics works, unbearably sweaty metal suits are good to fly alongside bombers, always hire a secretary smarter than you and a friend dumber than you, popoye green drinks makes you strong (spinach is really good, right?)...."
Well, the rest you will learn as you watch the movie. With such lessons I think there should be statuaory warning that says "Children, listen when Iron Man says weapons are bad and then shut your mind while watching, so as to avoid mental damage due to prejudice."

On Being an Atheist

2008-05-23T04:36:00.000-07:00

While I was reading Richard Dawkin's 'The God Delusion', I came across a horrifying story of a pastor who killed a doctor who performed abortions. The pastor after that happily walked to the electric chair thinking that heaven awaited him. (Someone told me St. Peter had strict rules against murder) While he did it because he had a mountain load of hate that would have stank all the way to the Arctic, the reason for the hate was the most scary one I have heard. He did it because he thought it was un-christian. (Eh, when did Christ talk about abortion?)
Coming from a country that follows a thousand Gods, I have seen a number of mob murders done in the name of religion. But whats chillingly different in the case of the pastor is that he was an individual who was uncannily calm and rational (unlike people in a mob) when he did it. I personally cannot relate to this kind of hate. In my environment, religion does not figure in the scheme of things. Even when religion becomes a topic of discussion it's more like talking about the weather.
"I am christian, I pray to God when I have trouble, I am sure he will listen and help. What about you?"
"Oh, I don't believe in God, I am an atheist."
"Oh, okay. One of the Darwin types eh?"

"I went to the temple today."
"oh, the last time I went to a temple was seven years ago."
"oh, maybe you can come along next time when I go. It's fun."
"Yeah, sure."

"Dad, I don't believe in God"
"Don't say that"
"why?"
"Hum, you wont get a groom"

All these days, I was thinking that people don't like me being an atheist. Now I realize the true extent to which 'don't like' can mean. Now I know that folks back home are just being benignly surprised by my response. For that matter, people here frown on the so called immoral behaviour's that you may exhibit, but that's all they do. A woman who goes for an abortion, a man or a woman who is a homosexual, an atheist; all warrant a frown and at the max, gossip. But that is all. If you can forget to hear the disapproving murmurs in the background, you are guaranteed a pretty much normal life.
I just hope things remain that way here forever. But then again, the wheels of change turn slowly in India.

Poetry and Pumpkins

2008-05-19T23:03:00.000-07:00

Finding Love

Why is it so hard to find?

why is it I never stop to mind?

The sun is down and the wind is cold

When the ocean sings, I still am looking
Why is it I never give up?

Why is it so hard to make up?

Even when the sands run through

My hands clutch at hope though
Why is it the price so high?

why is the bargain so bad?

Coz what I found was a pumpkin

That just won't spell any magic

Hehehe! this is what happens when you try poetry after 15 years :-)

Dragons, Spirits and Pricesses

2008-04-29T04:25:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday, finally, I was able to watch Princess Mononoke. And what a treat it turned out to be. Some people can imagine magic, while some can see it. There are only a few masters who can make it and Miyazaki is the wisest wizard of the lot. While enough has been said about his hard hitting environmental messages, I am drawn to the characterisation in the movie. In Princess Mononoke or Spirited Away for that matter characters take a suprisingly human form; neither overtly good nor completely bad. No character is judged upon, just made out in beautiful colours and forms set on a landscape that never once reminds you that its all make-believe.

Thanks to such movies, we get to fly with the dragons, walk the extinct jungles and meet brave prince and princesses who despite their courage, touch us by their humanity.

Apple juice

2008-04-08T00:25:00.000-07:00

Apples are my favourite fruit. I eat them in any colour or size. And I can eat more than three at one go. But something of a mystry was the fact that I was never that much in love with apple juice. Finally, a few days ago the mystry has been solved.

The problem with apple juice is they taste the same. I was never able to tell juice from one bottle apart from another. But each apple always tastes unique. There is a brief second of wonder when I take a bite of an apple and my brain compares the taste with all the other apples I have had and then finally files the taste away in memory.

Neat isnt it :-). I should try it with all other fruits. :-)

Gods and Tales

2008-04-03T04:18:00.000-07:00

A friend lent me an interesting book called, 'the God delusion.' I just read the first few pages so far and am already nodding my head in agreement several times. I always found God an interesting myth, an enigma whose evolution has been consistent across the world regardless of religion. I am saying this because regardless of the name given to this God, people always have so much of faith in him/her, so much so that they keep waging wars and murdering each other in his name. Such loyalty is seldom bestowed on men and women who actually do, what most people expect God to.

I started out as a deeply religious, or as deeply religious a 6-year-old can be, but gave up when I realized that every time I do something that’s been dictated in the name of God, I felt guilty. From then on, I became a very curious kid who wondered why trees grew and why birds sang and why water flowed rather than take it for granted that God made them so. And after years of having my head in the so called cloud, I am still fascinated and curious to know more about this world. I am not saying God had anything to do with it but a lack of a poor chap who can be blamed with everything under and beyond the Sun did help.

God is supposed to save us if we pray, which is nothing but wishing really hard in a manner acceptable to ourselves and others. Save us from what? Life? Why do people believe in the afterlife, the judgment day, the paramathma and so many other things that if not so old would be dubbed as fantasy. Maybe, a few more centuries from now people will be praying to today's myths. Rambo will become the war God, Harry will be the God of magic, Hermione will be the God of intelligence and by that time, Harry would be a handsome yet benign looking guy with lightning in his hand and Hermione will be an extraordinarily beautiful Goddess surrounded my cute little house elves.

One of my teachers in school long ago said that God is in real a creation of man to keep the not-so-strong-in-virtue in line. I can understand what she meant now but there is more to it. Man seeks boundaries; he wants a home with a fence that gives security; and the more people who share his faith in the strength of that fence, the more safe he feels. It gives a sense of belonging and a reason to fight when the fence is trying to be breached at the sometime absolved all the guilt that comes with it.

While most see God as the default answer to any and many questions, some choose to reason it as a lame excuse and try to cross the fence. Beyond the fence are a lot of space and a lot of freedom to roam free, to see, to observe, and to learn to make new homes.

It doesn't come easy but these homes that are worth a few stones thrown at us.

Values and the Individual

2008-03-24T23:54:00.000-07:00

A subject of discussion that comes up quiet often when I talk to people is the so called "degradation on values". I finally got down to thinking about it, only to realize that I still haven't defined 'values'. Its easy to define values when you place yourself in a group, but as an individual, its tougher that you think.
Do not kill, do not steal, do not hurt others, do not laze around are all social values that still retain their relevance to an extent but have slowly streamed out and got localized to a much more trivial level where they include "listen to your parents, do not dress different from everyone else, do not talk back, do not fall in love with someone society doesnt approve of, do not see 'evil' (have you watched "chole ke pechae kya hai" with elders around?), no one wants to give their daughters their due in marriage (dowry) and so on. The list is endless. But how much of it is really worthy of being accepted as values. Values, like the Ganges have started as the purest guides to out lives, but without the help of reason have aquired enough dirt to stink even before it reaches the mind of individuals. And so becomes more an excuse to fall in line than draw your own.
So what do we do? Do we ignore social values or do we follow them. Well, I think we need values but you got to mix reason before you dish it out. And what cant be dished out after mixing reason are not worthy values. But most of all, instead of following a socially accepted set of values, I suppose each individual needs his values.
This is the age of the individual, people are more and more isolated as ever. Gadgets have made our life so much safer and better that we no longer have the need to hunt in packs. But ironically, this is also the age where men as thinkers refuse to surface out of the collective murk of society. What is society but the majority and the majority seems to hold power more than ever simply because more people that ever refuse to differ. If social values say killing is wrong, why is the world playing along with the powerful few who kill for oil? If tolerance is value, why is Gods name slandered in the name of holy war? Are values merely a matter of convenience?
I don't care for these values, because they dont give me the satisfaction I should get in following them. Instead, all I get is a guilt that refuses to drown despite the sea of social knowledghement. I know that no amount of "you did the right thing" will put my soul to rest if I accept a groom who asked for dowry. No amount of "you are a good girl" will equal the fun of making a choice to wear cloths I am comfortable in. My values are my own. Whatever we tell ourselves, we are survivors first and only then social animals. If you must kill for survival, won't you? My first value is to survive. The rest are what I set to make my survival as guiltless and as enjoyable as possible. But like everything else in life, values too have a cost. You can kill to survive but you also have to answer to "at what cost?" If I do choose the wrong things as my values, or dont set the cost, then I always have karma to face. Afterall, those who are ready to kill, must be ready to be killed right?

Philosophy in the rain

2008-03-24T03:19:00.000-07:00

"Its surprising that it should rain so much in Chennai in March". As soon as I said this, I chided myself for falling into the trap of preconceived notion. Why shouldn't it rain in March just because it had never happened before. As I sat and watched the rain, I realized that how much ever I try, I always step into that puddle of memory and the notions I derive from it. Are we just a sum of all our experiences stashed away in memory and is our future always linked to the past. Is my past in real a definition of myself?

While I can still safely avoid rum and raisin while buying ice cream (after all they usually taste the same where ever you buy it) I, for all my rebellion against prejudices, am still committing the worst of the crime, namely avoiding people based on past experiences. I still am afraid to trust people because of past scars, I still avoid a certain group of people because I was betrayed by one of them, and i am still friendly to all auto drivers because one of them helped me a long time ago. I have always believed that the past should have no bearing on the future, that people react to situations more that habit and a thief needn't necessarily steal again, just the same as a honest man needn't remain honest always.

But what will happen if I really do become aprejudiced. I would have to look at everything in a fresh light, which is not only tiresome but also unsafe. In other words, I would loose the capacity to 'learn from past mistakes'. Is it really stupid to expect better coconut from a tree that yielded bad ones last season? Or is it better to blame it on the fertilizer, get a better fertilizer and now expect a better yield?

I guess I was wrong. I needn't be so prejudiced against prejudice. Prejudices are a direct result of judicious observation of the past. But then I need be prejudiced against the right things for the right reasons.

Okay, I have rambled enough. Thinking is a tiresome job. I am tired of contemplating the past and the future for a while. I will just sit and watch the rain hoping that, at least for a while, it will just wash away the restless thoughts that keep crashing my skull.

What Sita had done?

2008-03-02T03:07:00.000-08:00

Being born in a country of immense history and myth is an awful burden to live with. Even before you are born, you are tied to a stone weighing ages of tradition and culture that no matter how old, never loose their weight.
I hate her, I hate Sita. If only she hadn’t jumped into the fire at the whim and fancy of her husband, there will be one less argument when a woman refuses to take s*** from her husband. And before you tell me Ram did that to clear his wife’s name, let me tell you that if he really loved his wife, he wouldn’t care a foot about what others thought of her. Why didn’t they give Sita some character? Everything in her life was conveniently written to avoid her making a decision. Ever wondered what would have happened if Ram didn’t break the bow. Would Sita have walked down the aisle and boldly refused to marry anyone, bow breaker or not, except Ram? Would Ram have valiantly decided that he fell in love with Sita and not the bow and married her anyway? Why the hell didn’t she even think of attempting an escape from Lanka, instead of passively waiting for her husband to do the rescue?
For that matter, Draupathi had some character. She juggled five husbands beautifully and was clever enough to know who would do what for her. She also knew what they wouldn’t do for her and asked the right person (never mind it was Krishna and not on of her husbands who had pawned her) for help when desperately in need. But she doesn’t figure much in the ‘guide to Indian womanhood’.
What about Savithri? What about Kanagi? All these women gave the impression that their husbands were Gods and they themselves were nothing without them. Take Kanagi for example. She didn’t do much to stop her wayward husband, but she was docile enough to wait for him and take him back into her life when he came back a pauper. But when he got murdered by mistake, she became the mighty ‘pathni’ who burnt a city in his memory.
Passivity is such a glorified concept on Indian womanhood that women who put up with things are considered divine. While, women who are assertive and refuse to waste their lives at the foot of men are considered arrogant and manipulative. How many of the women in these legends did a honest days work (forget the ones they spent washing their father’s or husband’s feet and bearing children)? How many of them fought battles (Poor queen of Jansi, she did and still is fighting a lone battle), treated the sick, ran business empires, or plain protected their interests. I am sure there should be a few shining examples, but sadly, they not popular enough for a layman like me to know.
Indian women have evolved so much, we have come a long way from plain reproductive members of society to productive members of society, but still old myths are flung at our face whenever it suits society. While fathers and mothers are happy that their daughters are earning their keep, they resent it when their daughter’s make their life’s choices. While a man is happy with a woman’s efficiency at work, he goes back home and expects the same luxuriant dinner, his mother’s made for their fathers, from a wife who had worked just as hard as him the whole day. And when a woman grumbles about it, men (and women of the older generation) bring Sita into the picture.
Sita is a bad example, if Indian women follow her ideas fastidiously; we will have an even bigger population with even less money. But I must admit we will have more bonfires.

Chronicles of a Depressiac

2008-03-01T02:12:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, it’s so dark that when you look into your heart there is nothing. Its one big empty void that is just empty of anything. Its times like these that make me wonder if its better to have the bright rage of hatred than this vacuum. And then there are times slightly better when you feel cold, so cold that its numb. Its times like these that I wonder if my emotions have frozen so much that they will crack if I try to disturb them.
Yeah, this is how I feel when I am depressed. Alone, scared, and worthless are the usual toppings that go with this not so unusual rich sundae. It’s a struggle to get back on my feet when it hits be, but like the unwavering sun that always rises, I always get up, dust myself and walk on until it hits be again. The fear that one day, I may not get up, took me to a shrink once.
Acute anxiety, depression and a refusal to deal with emotional problems of the past were some of the things that were repeatedly mentioned in her diagnosis. While I sat and listened, meekly wondering if I will ever make it into the ‘normal’ side of human society, I told myself that I would do better to get rid of these ailments. Six pills and 2 days later, I realized that depression was more fun than sleep walking zombism.
I still get depressed but when I finally get it under control and stop those shuddering torrents of tears, I smile a real smile that is reserved for those occasions when I think I have come clean after falling off the boat of Hades. It feels like I am God, the enigma that will always resurrect, no matter how many ever times it is burnt or buried. And I have faith that I will always come clean. I have uncluttered my life as much as possible to keep this faith undisturbed. I have made my own ideals to live by.
Alone, yes, alone gives me the freedom to walk the road I choose. Scared, yes, the more I am scared, the more I want to win. Worthless, never, someday when I know that I don’t have many sun rises left to watch, I will know that each minute I lived was worth it.Meanwhile, I have chocolates, icecreams, butterflies and rain to live for.

WYSIWYDG

2008-02-01T03:04:00.000-08:00

I am taking the train quiet often now a days and though its not as packed as the buses, they are equally diverse when it comes to people. As usual people were sitting all over the place and that includes places where there is 100% chance of getting trampled over. A lady was standing (hanging for dear life) with bulging bags full of groseries from a super market. What caught my attention was the way she was bargaining for a packet of brinjals. The old woman who was selling it was asking for 5 rs and this lady was saying it was too much for seven brinjals.

I took a peak at her bag ( I am mannerless) and had a tough time holding back my sarcastic tongue. This woman had gone out of her way to a super market, bought exactly 3 slices of tomatoes, a handful of jeera, a few mint leaves and chopped onion (roughly 2 days old i guess) all packed beautifully on a plastic tray with a celophene sheet (not edible and so not worth a single paise while buying vegitables) for 30 rs. But she is hagling with an old woman over garden fresh brinjals for 5 rs.

Many people I know personally shop in these super markets and feel good about it too. They won't mind buying chopped vegitables at least a day old for the price of a kilo of the same vegitable in much better condition in the local market. My own dad buys watery flavoured yoghurt for 20 rs, while we have an Avin outlet, down the street that sells thicker and rich yoghurt for 8 rs. What makes educated smart people believe that packed vegitables and perishable goods are fresh in shops that have warehouses out of the state?

This is the age of marketing, quiet often what you see is not what you get. The dress I buy for 300 in pondy bazar is a better imitation of a designer salwar, that eats a months paycheck. When I said this truth to a peer, she said "Oh, its not branded and besides Pondy Bazar is too crowded." That set me wondering, when buying a dress, isn't the dress more important than the crowd or label?

Its not only true in case of merchendises but also in the way we work and live. How many of us have gone to the quiet zoo at Vadalur or the museum at Egmore, where there are things to see and feel pleasent about for a sum less that 50 rs. How many times have we all rushed into amusement parks paying 500 rs for just jumping from ride to ride. You will get a better and more thrilling ride if you take the guindy road ina share auto or bus.

In my own work, the quality of the content I write is not dependent on how effective the material was but on how many errors that were there. My collegues and I discovered that the best way to improve quality in such a set up is to write as less as possible. The less you write the less mistakes you can make. Logical isn't it?

Anyway, I got to buy lady's finger today, I hope I am lucky enough to catch up with the old woman in the train.

Spiderman

2008-01-22T23:13:00.000-08:00

This is something I wrote long ago after watching spiderman 3. I liked what I wrote and so, I am putting it here so I can read it whenever I want.

Who ever said spiderman 3 is not good has no idea of what entertainment is all about. When was the last time you laughed every time the hero cried? That kind of acting takes special skills and Toby is one of the special kind second only to Vijayakanth.

The amazing direction and wonderful acting makes this movie a treat to all. To say the story was dull is ridiculous. To start with you have a cute smart alien bug that hitches a ride on a meteorite, then you have the I-did-it-for-my-kid guy who by the way didn’t kill uncle Ben and then did and then didn’t (confused uh? So am I). Then you have the rival photographer who is waiting to be infected by the bug. And the best of all, the friend turned, foe turned, friend turned, foe turned, friend (let me take breather) Osbourn.

Which heroine confesses she is a pathetic actor? Mary Jane does. Which hero begs his arch rival to help him (as casually as asking for a lift)? Spidy does. And which director shamelessly assembles a crowd to weep and cheer for Spidy complete with the American flag? Spidy’s director does. Which friend waits patiently for his friend to die (forget the tamil ones)? Spidy does…

I am sure the bug will win the Oscar this year. It was the best performance by an alien bug so far.

PS: I have no intention of watching the another sequel of spidey, if the bug doesn’t act in it.

Mission accomplished!

2008-01-22T21:16:00.000-08:00

It was one of the easier missions. Everything went as planned and contrary to my usual style, I finished my job and walked out with a few minutes to spare. All I had to do was leasurely sit in the pick up and get to the drop point roughly four kilometers away; after that I am as good as home and dry. I was dreaming of steaming hot sambar rice as I walked down the stairs (spies dont take lifts). But as I stepped out of the doors of the massive facade which hid the secret research lab, I was stunned. All dreams of sambar rice vanished in a wiff of the obnoxious fumes as I groaned in disappointment.

Something had gone wrong and now I have to wade through an army of enemy artillery, walk past thousands of soldiers and maybe hitch a ride on an enemy tanker to get to my drop point. My pick-up hasn't turned up and I have just the great sage yavanshi to help me get to the drop point on time.

I summoned all my courage and plunged into the sea of soldiers. if they were surprised to see a woman wading through them, they did not show it. Right in front of me was a bus full of unruly soldiers. It was a sight that could freeze any woman in fear but not me. I put on my best puppy dog face and asked for a lift. I few wide smiles later, I was sitting in a corner of the bus and trying my best to become invisible. The traffic was heavy and soldiers were running all around. Just as the bus started moving again, I noticed a few soldiers checking the vehicles behind us. Oh God! This is absolutely the wrong place to be caught.

Just as I was about to panic, the great sage Yavanshi came up with an idea. There was a dark alley that seemed to lead to a parallel road just a few feet in the front. As the bus rumbled a bit closer, I put on a dazzling smile and said that I got to go back as i had forgotten something. No one seemed to mind, so I hopped off and dashed into the alley.

For a minute I though I was being chased but then realized that though a lot of people were fretting, fuming and generally running in all directions, no one was following me. There are began the treacherous journey to my drop point. It was pitch black, there were a lot of land mines and I had to move at snails pace using my flash light. Once I crossed the alley the road was well lit but crowded. I pushed my way through the crowd and finally reached the railway station where my train home was already huffing and puffing. I ran as fast as I can and got one foot into the train before it pulled away angrily.

If not for such a wild imagination, I would have also fretted and fumed after getting stuck in the traffic for 2 hours. I walked to the station after abandoning the bus I was travelling in and this was the story that gave me the strength to walk four kilometers to the station.

Can someone invent these?

2008-01-06T21:58:00.000-08:00

My current anime obsession is 'Getbackers'. One of those shows where you have very humane super humans. Its about a couple of guys who start a retrieval agency and all their friends and foes. As I watched the show I realized that it would really be fun and profitable (not to mention the service to mankind blah blah blah!) to actually mimic some of their powers in the real world. For example, Ginji's power to generate electricity. Of course we cannot generate electricity buy a shock producing glove that can be turned on at when needed should be great to fend of men and women who lean too closely to us with harmful intent. Dr. jackal's bloody sword could be a dangerous thing but his pesky little knives can keep muggers at bay. Himiko's monkey poison will come in handy when the neighborhood not-so-friendly thieves decide to pay a visit. And it would really be fun to use Ban's evil eye on nasty auto drivers who think people equal to bags of money that can be tossed around during the ride and fleeced after that.

In-fact we can create Ginji shields that provide an electromagnetic shield around our vehicles that will slow down other vehicles that speed in within a few feet. Imagine the number of accidents that can be averted (well, at least I think so).

hum, if only I was good in physics, I would at least know if these ideas were hare brained. Unfortunately, even today, I find it difficult to believe that I actually passed that subject in high school.

Mishaps and apologies

2008-01-04T04:44:00.000-08:00

It was one of those moments I really wondered if that person sitting in a cloud upstairs and supposed to be watching over us is actually a sadist. In that crowded bus already half way through to my destination, I though that if there is a God he is a real mean sadist. That Saturday was special. It was the day I had decided to treat a dear friend of mine to a luxuriant lunch and a great day roaming around town. We had planned on a movie but we didn't get tickets for three weeks. So we gave up on that and decided to go on a pilgrimage to our favourite temple, the Landmark bookshop. I planned everything carefully down to the last minute and everything was going as planned until she called up and said that for some urgent reason she has to work.

She was kind enough to let me visit her anyway. She is one of those friends i never feel like screaming at (and I should say I am good enough to be a professional screamer), though I am sure if any other friend of mine had tried this, I would have visited them after buying a pick axe. I cursed all the way for half an hour until she called and said that we can go for an early lunch once I get there. I was still irritated that all my plans were foiled and even contemplated forgetting the whole episode and going back home. But I had gone too far for that, so I just went ahead.

Even as I stood at her door wondering if the flowers I brought where right and the chocolates have melted in the humid Chennai heat; when she opened the door, I forgot everything. There on I didn't worry about what i was doing. We just laughed and talked. We walked to a restaurant nearby which was not even pretending to be as good as the one I had planned on, then we went on for ice creams (my favourite part). I even made her eat a blue and pink ice cream which she wouldn't have dreamt of trying on her own. One thing we didn't have was time. So we said good bye in a hurry and I set on my long journey back home inside a sweltering bus crowded as usual.
Curiously though, I remembered how irritated I was in the morning and then realized I was actually feeling happy now. Hum, at least the whole mess of my plans wasn't that bad. Later my friend told me that she had a really nice time that day, and I knew she meant it. I have forgotten all the fun we didn't have that day, but I remember the fun we did have. A couple of days later when I was narrating the event to a friend, she asked, "didn't she even apologies?" For a minute there I was startled. She didn't and I didn't even notice, in fact I would have squirmed if she had. To be frank, I realized that neither of us actually apologies to each other and that's one of the reasons why I feel comfortable about our friendship. Who wants apologies when neither of us care about such things?

The mess after all wasn't a mess at all coz the most important things where in place. Sort of like how you can still recognize a kids scribbling as a human figure just by the sticks and the circles.

Whoring all our lives

2008-01-01T21:51:00.000-08:00

Scandalized? Yes, we should be.

Some thoughts just sneak in on you so slow that you don't even realize that they are there until they hold you by the neck and throttle you. What I am writing now is one such. I was just thinking why people go to prostitutes. As far as I can see, its for sex. But why pay money and go to all the trouble for something that doesn't need someone else? Maybe because its nice to do it with someone else. Why is it nice that way? Maybe because it mimics something that goes way beyond sex, a false sense of love. But if that's the reason then why aren't there mother's for hire for a night who will serve you dinner and pet your hair. That will also give a false sense of affection right? Why not dad's for a Sunday, who will take you to movies and talk like a real father. Why not brothers, sisters or friends for hire?

I realized these relationships are also sold on the streets and sometimes inherited; its just that we don't call them prostitution. We call them duty, responsibility, commitment, comfort, security, and many more. Worst of all, we call it marriage. While whores get paid in money the rest of us get paid in kind or/and money.

I know, the first thing you are saying now is its not true. Yes, its not always true. But most of the time yes. Ask some of these questions to yourself and you will know.

Why do you marry?
Coz I need company, free sex, children, house maid, money machine, home, cook, bodyguard etc etc etc

Why do you care for your children?
Coz they are mine (u hear it surprisingly often), legacy, responsibility, future insurance etc etc etc

Why do you have friends?
Coz they will help in need, they have fun with me, they are there for me etc etc etc

In other words for something or the other.

I am sure you will be shocked why the word love isn't in these lists. I haven't said that word yet coz it is the only thing that differentiates prostitution and honest-to-yourself relationship.

Love that you just give for the joy of it. Not because you will get something out of it. Its just a honest feeling like genuine anger or sorrow. Oh forget the mush, its just a nice feeling that lasts while it lasts. Just like how anger dissolves in time, so can love. It doesn't become prostitution until the relationship lasts even after love dissolved.

By the way, I never said prostitution is wrong.

Women of the virgin territory

2007-12-27T23:27:00.000-08:00

Someone thought its a good idea to advocate the advantages of hugging; and what we have is a newspaper article that spouts a lot of theories and practices on the science of hugging. Considering the fact that its written for an Indian audience, it had a lot of practical tips towards the etiquette for hugging. As I read the article, a very amusing revelation came to me. I haven't hugged anyone for the past ten years, and I am stopping at ten coz I can't be sure about the time before that.

Why?

Coz its not part of the culture I grew up in. Yes, I believe that even our traditional form of greeting is a chaste namaste. Especially, if you are of the female species, people are reluctant to touch you. Even fathers, mothers and brothers keep off girls once girls step into their teens. Now does that mean I am deprived, well no; I can't miss what i don't know. No wonder, girls of this nation develop a highly sensitive sense of personal space. Try standing next to a woman in a crowded bus, I bet most men can sense that barrier that says, 'cross at your own peril.'

Its just a small thing yet the result of a cascading effect of the bigger picture that defines the status of women in India. And that status dictates that unmarried woman should be untouched virgins. (By the way, whats the link between touching and virginity?) Just watch a mega serial (that almost the entire nation watches) to know how important it is. That's why India is one of those corners of the world where you can hunt for virgins in their twenties and maybe even older. Whats with the virginity stuff? Why aren't men expected to be virgins? Was this a bright idea of someone to control the great Indian population burst?

Some of the undesirable side effects of this obsession with virginity is the social stigma that is pinned onto women who aren't virgins and still unmarried. Take for example the way rape victims are treated. The fact that there are very few rape victims who actually talk about it is a cold reminder of the fear of stigma; the automatic statements that twist the woman's character so much so that she is assumed to be responsible for what happened to her. By the way, have you ever realized that married bharathiya bahu's with children but very limited brain development barely enough to support family, fight with in laws and gossip about neighbors seem to be respected more than women who are professionally successful and generally more productive to society?

But then what can be expected of a nation which treats woman as men's property. Where even a woman's identity has to be substantiated with the father's or the husband's name. It's such a bad bargain. But it does have its advantages if you want a passive simplistic life (meaning just eating, sleeping, sex and looking pretty).

I don't care much for it coz, I know I will die within the first twenty four hours of such a life, and of course I ain't pretty. But I do have my radar and I can bet that no one matches the abilities of a hyper active inbuilt radar system to leering men like that of an Indian woman's.

To my right - survey

2007-12-22T08:00:00.000-08:00

Hey guys, I am taking a survey. Its very simple. Just answer the question below as a comment.

What do you think is right and wrong?

Bride and prejudice

2007-12-22T07:04:00.000-08:00

Bride seeing ceremonies have a very distinct effect on me - a mixture of disgust, despair, annoyance and a little bit of hope. Curiously though, that negligible amount of hope seems to sway my entire reasoning towards submission. And after going through the routine, I have become used to it, even though I still get the urge to do something nasty to the unsuspecting groom's party. Even though I protest rather loudly, I am no more rebellious about this subject as I was before; especially when I am painfully aware that I myself have failed in this department rather miserably.

Finally, after spending five hundred buck on a shrink who said, I need to find a right guy for myself (duh! as if I don't know.) I decided that some soul searching is needed in this department. So, I sat down and really thought; not my usual flashes of genius type but by aid of a series of questions raised by the great sage, Yavanshi.

Q: What am I looking for?
A: Someone who would see me as an individual and not as a mass product of society (well, no one seems to want custom made stuff anymore. Made in India's simmering cauldron of social zombism is the preferred brand for brides, and needless to say, I don't fit the bill.)

Q: Why would I marry?
A:Obviously for love (what? did I say something funny.)

Q: Do I really need to marry?
A: If I will be better of married that single then yes, otherwise no. And that's solely dependent on my tolerance level to the unlucky chap, if ever there is one. And that in turn is dependent on how much I can love him.

Q: Whom would I love?
A: Hum, a guy I can respect. Someone who would love me enough to be there as the warm home I can get back to after wandering the worlds. Someone who will not only patch me up but also accept me patching him up when the need arises. (Someone tell me if I just eliminated the entire male population of the earth.) Oh yeah, and someone who is like minded enough to toss ideas like adoption and some noodles when I am tired. (Now that completes the elimination I suppose.)

Q: What can I give?
A: Love and understanding (like why men prefer football games to their wives), leeway (like he can have lunch,only, with a female friend but better be home for dinner), consideration (spare him the girl shopping) and freedom of thought (he can think and say that my violin playing skill are scientifically subzero and I won't cry, though i might still keep at it even harder.)

Q: Do I want to get married?
A: To the right guy yes. To the wrong one, I would rather run all the way to the north pole.

Q: Have I looked for Mr right?
A: Well, don't know how do that. At least I haven't asked men if they are married or otherwise within the first five minutes of knowing them.

Yavanshi, the great sage thought for a while and then finally gave her verdict.

"You are looking for a highly endangered species. Even if you find one, it will be a crime to waste him on you. But if by chance you do get Mr right, then that goes down in history as a miracle."

Why do we always hope for miracles? Even when we know it doesn't happen often these days. Same reason why we buy pop corn at the theater knowing very well it will cost ten times that of its actual price; coz its a luxury to hope.

Moms and daughters

2007-12-09T21:29:00.000-08:00

Kanathil muthamital.
I had no idea what drove me to watch that movie and whats so special about that movie apart from Manirathnam's great direction, until a friend of mine tried to explain. She said that the movie touches a cord in everyone as they can relate to the anguish of a child who realizes that the woman she assumes as her mother is not hers and the hunger there after to know her real mother. Try as I might, I still cannot understand it at all.

Every time, I see a mother and a daughter, I wonder whats so special about this relationship that makes two women not only get along but actually love each other for a life time. Given the fact that I have the least experience on the subject, it still remains an enigma to me. For someone who lost her biological mother when young and then having to accept someone else in her mothers place, I would say that there are some unique points that you may not be aware of. Hence, I would say you can refrain from judgement.

Call it cruel, heartless, sick, demented or anything else, but I stubbornly refused to cry when my biological mother died. No one including me understood why (though a lot chose to talk about it behind my back.) I just didn't cry. All the while my brother was kicking and screaming for her, I just laid my head on my grandam's lap and watched her cry. After all these years, though I am not sure why I didn't grieve, I think I have a logical reason. Maybe because I wasn't sure about the relationship I shared with my mother. She was there but I guess I was raised more by my grandparents than my own parents. No regrets there though.

Surprisingly though, it took me even longer than my brother to accept a brand new mom. It took me over 15 years of fighting and compromising to get to the point where we can actually sit and talk and laugh together. I can now safely say that in our own way, we love each other. Boy relationships are so hard to build.

Now, every time I see a mother and a daughter duo I don't bother to wonder what it would be like. Instead I smile knowing that they will wonder the same way when they see me and my mom.

Let there be copy paste

2007-12-02T22:31:00.000-08:00

God and the Devil were playing a game of cards. As usual God was winning and Devil decided that the game was rotten. So he suggested an alternative.

"You know that game we used to play long time ago" Devil said in his silky voice that had deceived so many before.

"Yeah" God said noncommitally. He remembered the game very well. The last time they played that game, they had a cloned sheep on their hands and it had taken all of His skills to make it stop at that.

But Devil was so bored, he wanted to be entertained and what better way than playing with humans. So, he went on "lets play that game again. I am bored."

"Restless as ever, if I had your energy, the world would be a better place." God sighed.

"yeah yeah, whatever. You are lazy but good and I am active but bad. Now shall we play or what."

God thought hard, to be frank, even he was bored. So he nodded and said, "so whats the arguement this time."

Devil can be super sharp when he is excited, so he promptly said, "I say your humans are the least creative of the lot. Given a chance they would xerox you and me and themselves."

"And I should say they are more creative than you give them credit for."

Devil rubbed his hands in glee and said, "we each get one chance to amend and thats all. Now let the game begin."

God stood up from his throne and for a moment thoght, then he said, "ah, well, at least its not as bad as cloning." He then raised his staff and lowered it with might as he said, "let there be copy paste."

a year later...
Sure as the Devil suggested, there were xerox machine everywhere. People copy pasted everything from books to quotes. People fought and complained about the rightful owner of material and the world was heading towards chaos.

One particular individual was having a nice time though. "You know, I am having a great time, seems like the whole world is copy pasting now. What are you going to do." Devil was leering at God unconciosuly.

"You will see. And stop leering at me. I know I am handsome, but I am not your type."

"I know, you are such a bore. But a little leering keeps boredom away."

The next day, the first copywright laws were passed and copy pasting became a crime, if done without consent of the owner.

Upstairs Devil said, "as if thats going to stop them."

But it did stop them for a while. The xerox machines were there but people took the effort to think and write for themselves. This annoyed the hell out of the devil. So what he did was appear in the dream of a corporate manager and wispered copy paste into his ears. This guy was already having trouble deciding whose work was good and whose was bad. The devils idea came at the perfect time.

He went to his office the next day and asked all his employees to line up. He chose the guys whom he thought had written the best proposals and software programs and asked his other employees to copy paste these best guys' works. Thus copy paste became the new mantra of corporate world.

Soon, everything from cola add scripts to books to software were copy pasted. Corporates fround that they made more money simply by copy pasting than actually writing their own scripts.

God was sitting bent with his hands supporting his chin, the devil was dancing around him singing
"God has a problem, yo ho ho and a funny day for him.
God made copy paste and yo ho ho he has a problem."

God look on with disgust and said, "awh please cut it out. You look stupid dancing like that."

Devil didnt care, he was happy, "Admit defeat Mr.God. Your men are no more creative."

God sighed and said, "ah well, who cares, even I am bored or taking care of those damn fools. I will let them be. They better find a way out soon."

No joy ride but...

2007-11-29T04:07:00.000-08:00

You want to have a slice of Chennai, take the metro bus. Countless friends have asked me why I commute the hard way everyday. Apart from the fear of ending up as a plus mark on one of the city roads, despite all the inconvenience, the bus is entertaining.

Take yesterday for example, after a tiring day at work and an even more tiring wait at the bus stop; I finally got into a bus from CMBT heading towards Guduwancherri. It was one of those day where the Gods are playing cards or something and so don't waste time showing mercy. So, I didn't get a seat. Even as I was hanging on for dear life as the driver was testing the durability of the breaks, the sheer variety of life around me was quite over powering. Two college girls engaged in idle chatter in their typical, "no-yaaar-i-prefer-mobile-phones-with-glitters" conversation. Apart from the faint smile they elicited in me, they were completely worthless in substance. So, I scanned the confines of the bus for another interesting character. There was this smart guy down the narrow passage, who was cool to the eye but hard on sensibility. He was crooning to some darling over the other of the phone in a baby voice. Boy, isn't there a place for such things.

Next in line were two old men. Thankfully they didn't have cellphones and so were communicating the old way-facing each other and talking. They were of course talking about the Ps - pension and politics. Just ahead of me were two working woman. They were still wearing their ID tags and so I know they are from Covansys. I wanted to ask them the trick of wearing ID tags. I hate wearing mine even inside the office and feel thats its too heavy and bulky for my liking. Had I asked they would have known that my brain is pickling, so I just listened and soon enough I know they are paying housing loans, their company still follows slavery and every other woman apart from these two angels in Covansys is a b****. In between all this one of their husband had the gal to call and got a curt, "feed the kid and put him to sleep" reply. After some time my ears were buzzing so I moved on.

A daily wages laborer was throwing a tantrum that the bus wasn't moving fast enough and her husband and baby boy of 23 will be waiting in hunger. Ever eager to set the record straight, the conductor dove in and said that if the traffic wouldn't budge, its not his problem. To this he got a cool "if you guys don't drive properly, why wouldn't there be traffic hold ups" reply at which point the conductor decided he would doze rather than talk. One of the woman asked the lady how she got the scars on her face and promptly they settled into comparing war injuries. All this was just too much for me and I was begining to cling to a pole and close my weary eyes when I opened them startled. The women was saying, "these scars are from my husband when he hit me. Nothing wrong with that though, I deserved it you know."

I tried thinking for a while but then gave up. what the hell! its not me anyway.

Fist full of stars

2007-11-27T21:19:00.000-08:00

Have you ever stood somewhere, forgotten where or who you are and just been there in that place at that moment aware of the distinct smell, sound and view of that place? If you have, then have you tried something like an antithesis to this? I mean have you ever imagined a place and imagined its smell, sound and view?

I have and believe me its a wonderful experience. We wake up eat, work, sleep and count our money and do a few other things like building houses, buying stocks, and making babies. For a change why not live in an imaginary world at least for a few minutes? I did and it was like a new door had opened stepping out of which you can grab a fist full of stars, make the Meadows bloom in a second and ask the sea to take a breather.

Its not that hard really. I believe that one of the reasons books are still sold in millions is because they give us the right to imagine whatever we read. But you see something for real and that image takes over. How many of us see Daniel Radcliff every time we read Harry Potter? All of us who saw the movies isn't it?

By the way, don't go overboard. a small dose of imagination may keep the shrink away but too much of it, you definitely need to see one.

Are we HOMO sapience?

2007-11-23T21:01:00.000-08:00

This blog is the product of an other interesting blog a friend of mine wrote on homosexuality (http://pidog-thelordspeaks.blogspot.com/). That set me thinking and as you all know me by now promptly came up with a list of questions and possible answers that came to my mind.

Whats unusual about homosexuality?

Apparently nothing. I am sure that if 90% of the population was made of homosexuals, then the heterosexuals will be the ones who will be persecuted. People will say things like, "you know can you imagine, he made out with a girl; yikes, how disgusting!" hahaha! writing this blog is fun.

Whats the link between sex and love?

In truth, a lot. In recent times, sex and sometimes love in itself is reduced to hormone induced urges. Come on we aren't still primates, though they might have more sense than us. Why cant we give ourselves due credit and say that we love someone because they are our ideal company with whom we dare to be our naked selves (figuratively and literally) and we crave to get as close as we can with them at an emotional level. Sex independent of love is just a basic human need that frankly we don't need someone else to satisfy. If you don't know this, then I would say you had the perfect education in a perfect school.

Why the discrimination?

This is a difficult question to answer for me. But then I pulled a few specimens from society and came up with some brilliant but not sure if true answers.

Because according to the champions of the human race, its nonproductive (I don't believe this. Some part of man did remain unevolved.)
Because its unhealthy (well, smoking, drinking, eating junk food, staring at a computer for long hours and so much more are unhealthy.)
Because its the antithesis of family (If gay and lesbians can marry, I am sure they will make as good or rather as bad as any other family.)
Because its against religion (whats wrong with being against religion. By the way, I don't think any God said anything about this. Not even the ten commandments.)
Because its against nature (says who. Nature allows for a lot of diversity in everything and it if it wasn't natural, then we wont have it today.)

Are woman sensitive to this more than men?

Maybe, most writings on homosexuality is by woman. I believe they are more true to emotions than men. But if you want a Freudian kind of logic it would be something like 'all woman dream of being a man and fantasising about sex with themselves as a man is a favourite past time.' I can hear rotten tomatoes swishing through the air.

Please ladies, I didn't say that logic was right.

Ode to villany

2007-11-19T02:37:00.000-08:00

I have five beginings for five different stories and I cant make my mind as to what to concentrate on. For once I wish I am Ravana (u need more brains to write than hands). Talking of which something just hit me.

Ravana, even though he was the bad guy was still portrayed as a nice demon who prayed, took care of his people and was in every way as good as Ram except for the fact that he was obsessed with Sita and was too egoistical to confess that he was going nowhere with her anyway. Even the Mahabaratha for its hundreds of villains portrays people as those who chose their side wrongly than as die hard villains. Even Duriyodhana had his redeeming qualities. His defense of Karna against social stigma is a fine example. By the way, if not for his greed, he would have been a good ruler possibly better than the ever preaching Yudishtira.

Comparing them with the current crop of fictious villains, these guys almost look like saints. At least they weren't sadists. Of the few Tamil movies I see, most of the villains are typecast as psychotic. Either he is traumatised by his past, or he is gay, or he is mentally unhinged. Even females who do negative roles are made as if their brain was too lazy to grow. Why the stereotype? Can't a normal man or woman make a choice that makes him a villain.

Even more interesting, why aren't the heroes from the fringes of society? Why isn't a disabled, sick or a mentally unstable person dealing with his problems a hero? Why is a man who isnt a gay but right in every otherway a hero? Even if they are the heroes (like black) why are they still treated as emotional dependents?

It's time someone gave respect to the villains. Why should someone be senseless to be a villain? Why do we always need an excuse to be a villain? After all, when we walk away from a man hurt on the road, to him we are a villain. When we throw everyones wishes to the wind and do what we want in life, we are the villains in all their lives. We are all villains in some way or the other. Whats wrong with that? We dont need a excuse for villany.

Probably, I haven't seen enough regional movies to judge but those I have seen are to be blamed for that. I have made up my mind. I am writing my own stories. They at least please me.

Saiyuki again

2007-11-17T02:43:00.000-08:00

"If you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha,
If you meet your father, kill your father
Free of everything, you are bound by nothing
live the life that is given to you"

This is not some holy book talking about karma. Its from a badly made anime that attempts but fails miserably to be moralistic. Nevertheless, in a twisted sense, it does make sense and when I am skewed, I need such even more skewed quotes to strengthen my faith and hope in life.

I was depressed, depressed, depressed; boy! I am so used to this feeling that I know exactly when it starts. So what do I do? I watch reruns. And what better rerun than Saiyuki. I know whoever is reading this should feel like strangling me but before I die let me say it to my hearts content. "Saiyuki, saiyuki, saiyuki..."

This anime has taught me the biggest lesson in writing. Never mind the story, never mind the settings, never mind the quality; if the characterization could touch an emotional cord, then you have a winner. Saiyuki is the best example. Most of the time, the drawings are like that of a 3 year old gleefully scribbling over the screen with no specific inspiration in mind. The animation is crude with the characters posing for web tops more often that moving at all. A single line plot that even Son Goku would mock at. The setting is down right stupid and timeless in the sense that one minute its the ancient times when they dressed like museum pieces and the next you are watching an advanced scientific experiment complete with lots and lots of wires and tubes running around like a scifi.

But why do people still watch it? Coz it shows deranged men who are very near their emotional doomsday rise up to survive when threatened. Well the rest of the time they bicker but still someone had a spark of brilliance when they came up with these characters.

I wish I get a spark like that and also some more sense to do justice to it.

The shape of my heart

2007-11-16T02:53:00.000-08:00

The shape of my heart, or rather head that acts like a turbulent sea during an emotional storm, is a box. Its not just a box but a series of boxes. Every time I meet someone and get to know them enough to save in memory, they get a box; sort of a welcome kit. I put their specific content in the box and file it away. Now an important property of this box is that it can expand if the relationship grows; a phenomenon that rarely happens but when it does, I need the box to grow.

I notice that most people tend to try and replace people in their hearts (figurative). Now, there are two major disadvantages to this.

People already living in a plot wont like to quit. Ever tried to break up with a boyfriend or girlfriend and start afresh?

The unreasonable expectation that the person replacing the old one should fit into the space given for the previous owner.

I found this system too boring and annoyingly inefficient. So I came up with the infinity box system. All I have to do is create a new box and put them in there. The advantages of this system are:

You don't have to go to the trouble of hating someone or forgetting someone to create space inside one box.

When you want to ignore someone you just don't look up their box.

The organized boxes make it possible to keep relationships independent of each other. You don't have to follow the "my friends enemy is my enemy" rule.

Even though you keep relationships in a box, you are not inside a box. You are free and infinite like what we call God.

Now there is just one question you all want to know right? Where is the space? Well there is a whole lot of space left barren while we put ourselves inside the same single box with everyone else. Out of it you are free to govern your relationships with a clear head.

Birthday!

2007-11-15T03:43:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a great day for me. I finally learnt to celebrate my own life. Though it was nice when friends and family wished me well, the most happiest moment was when I sat down for dinner with the most charming person I had ever known. The food was great and the company was even better.

This person thinks like me and shares my passions. With an unfailing sense of humor, the half an hour we spent was the most entertaining part of the day. I decided then and there that come what may, this person is going to stay with me for life. I proposed and like all true love my darling agreed to be there for me, all the time and never leave my side. To celebrate our agreement, we sang "happy birthday to me" over my favorite Ice cream, chocolate.

I got a few curious glances when I smiled to myself all the while. But who gives a damn anyway; I finally learnt that I am my own best friend.

Who wants to be happy?

2007-11-13T03:53:00.000-08:00

I discovered a surprising fact yesterday. Given a choice to write the script for their own life, very few actually make it sweet and sugary. After all how many of us say that we want to sit in a big house with a cool spouse and everything we want and live life happily ever after. Very few if you ask me. Some of the prefered story lines range from that of a king who fights and wins grim battles. A highflying (literally) superhero who fight vicious villains and of course wins in the end to down right smart heroes and heroines who start out as paupers and later on struggle to make it big. My personal favourite is to live in a well-stocked (with food) library that has all the books in the world and a life time to read all of them; though not many share my down right boring preferences.

I believe that the underlying difference between existing and living is a kind of awareness towards ourselves and whats around us which results in an urge to change. What makes people to be so alive in their dreams and merely exist in reality? Is it the shackes of society that would laugh at someone who would wear a unique costume and fight crime? Is it the belief that dreams are the opposite of reality?

By the way, if no one seems to be satisfied with having everything they want, then what does make us happy? Is it owning what we want or is it doing what we want?

Guess thats questions enough for a day.

Long live saiyuki!

2007-11-09T01:56:00.001-08:00

After a week of agonizing emptiness that followed after breaking up with the only sentimental attachment I have ever formed with a fellow human being in many years, finally I am back on track. Its good to get back to the "yeah yeah yeah! whatever (yawn)" mode and it feels like heaven.

After aggressively arguing that its all my fault, the source for all my troubles came back one full circle and we are back on talking terms. Strangely, i don't feel bitter. Now it all seems like its for the best. I feel free, liberated and happy again. No worries, but just living my life each day at a time. In fact the more I talk to him the more I feel an urge to do something nice for him.

But still this is not the most important thing in life now. Whats important is Saiyuki. Boy what a show. I completed watching all the episodes of saiyuki and it was soooooo cooool! Wish I can wander the earth like the guys, albeit with better company. But there is something about tortured souls with attitude that is simply irresistible to my gloomy head.

Now that I have seen em all, i am going to see them again and again and again.....

Diwali!

2007-11-06T21:36:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is Diwali, although I am not celebrating this year as a mark of respect to my grandma who passed way recently, I can still feel the nervous energy festivals like Diwali bring.

The festival of light, the most expensive Indian festival and a diabetic's nightmare - what makes this festival so special that it has surpassed all other festivals in their pomp and splendour. I guess the answer is its pure fun. It has a bit for everyone, sweets, cloths, crackers all the vices in one shot. It gives license to enjoy and celebrate life without inhibitions. I opens our hearts to see everyone in a friendly light. Not to mention the lights, not the artificial ones that camouflage darkness but the small oil lamps made of the earth with their small specks of light bravely carving a space for itself in the dark. I always liked to watch these little lamps, the shifting trance like dance between light and dark. It never fails to remind me of our own internal struggles.

After all life is like that isn't it. Its not about covering up the worst sides of ourselves but with facing our own demons and fighting for our beliefs, no matter what the world says.

By the way, 'tamaso ma jyotirgamaya' doesn't it sound like 'let there be light'?

Adoption or adaption

2007-11-04T22:18:00.000-08:00

When I tell people that I want to adopt a kid rather than have one on my own the response is invariably one of the two, "do you think you are mother Theresa?" or "do you have a psychological problem?" Boy! what a world. Here i am trying to do myself and someone else a favour and look what people say? "Whats your problem? Why should you pay for someone else's mistakes?" Well, when did the biggest obsession since food become a mistake. Problem is most think that majority is right, if you aren't in the majority you are wrong.

For this I am branded as a weirdo or a smart ass who is making a mistake and doesn't know it yet. Well, first of all, why is having a baby on your own different from adopting a baby? Except for your genes which don't count much anyway what else is unique about the baby you chuck out on your own into the world. One of the weirdest and popular answers I have hard so far is "the pleasure of bearing a child for 10 months and then giving birth to a life is special." Tell this to a woman suffering from morning sickness for ten months, tell that to a woman who is almost dying in the process of giving birth. Which moron decided that its pleasure? If you can't see the life that is already around you, what makes you eligible to create one on your own?

Another popular answer is "my children are always special to me because they are mine". I can see where such parents are heading. Exactly fifteen years down the line, they will be going into cardiac arrest when their son or daughter come home with a date. They are mostly the kind who treat children like property, 'we made you so we own you' types.

A very popular answer with the ladies and a surprising large number of men too is, "a woman is complete only when she becomes a mother." Boy! then what are we till then? and what about woman who cannot or don't? There is only one response I ever give to this statement and thats a good laugh.

What I don't understand is, when you can love a stranger enough to sleep with him or her, why cant you love and care for a child who doesn't have a home.

One of the most funny answers I have heard though is this "because that's what everyone does". The person who gave me this answer went on explain that if 99.9% of the population does that then it should be the right choice and since no one adopts, it should be wrong.

I never dreamt of arguing with this guy because I was afraid. A few words with this species could cause damage to your mind you know.

What am I doing?

2007-11-01T04:04:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, even the most ardent pessimist can slip his guard and just for a moment become optimistic. I have never been one to believe that love is all that people say it is. At least not the street variety sold on the streets everyday. But even geniuses make mistakes.

Last week my parents brought home a prospective groom who looked sane enough at first glance. He seemed to really like me and so I took it upon myself to call him and tell him that I am not the "athaan, ungalukkaga naan uyirayae kodupaen kind" and that I would love to adopt a baby and see the world and live a good life. And if he is okay with such an attitude he may proceed. He was surprised but said he expects love and understanding and support in his endeavours from me and the rest is my wish. I was really impressed.

That night we talked and the next day too. He said he really loves me and would never force me into anything even though his parents may not like the adoption idea. I told him that if he is okay with it, then we can face the problems later. He said its fine with him and laid the foundation for us talking even more and I even went out with him twice. Meanwhile, he conveniently chose to tell my ideas to his mother.

After two weeks, he comes back and says, "you give up on your adoption plans and only then I can marry you." I was flabbergasted and I asked him why he agreed in the first place. Pat came the reply, "I thought I can convince you." Till then I never thought I can fall in and out of love so fast.

I think I made the worst mistake in my life by falling for a moron like that and now, if only I can find a way out.

I will :-) I always have.

How I bought my violin?

2007-10-19T01:40:00.000-07:00

There are somethings in life that are just not meant to be. You feel almost feel a cosmic power trying to push you off your chosen path. Well, the way I bought my violin was one such experience. Even though I was thinking of taking my dad along to buy my violin, somehow it was not meant to be. In the end, I had to go alone. I went to a famous musical instruments show room one evening and the minute I entered I felt my hair standing on ends, one of those times when you get goosebumps for no reason. I walked into the violin section and met this expert. He was sitting like a sage waiting to enlighten me. A knowing smile and a nod now and then, thoughtful pauses that made you hang in space for just a few seconds; had it been fantasy, I would have called him the keeper of the destiny of all the violins in the world; in real life he was aptly called master.

He asked my budget and then carefully took a Chinese violin. I liked it and asked it to play a tune, but I wasn't satisfied. Another piece was brought out from a dusty storage room and I knew that was it. When the case was placed in front of me and gently opened, I felt like I was witnessing something as magical as the prince of darkness waking up from a long slumber. When I shyly touched the surface, I felt a shiver of anticipation run up my spine. I had eyes only for it and I felt he was saying something to me. First I thought a violin could only be a she, what with all the curves and the screeches when played badly, but then I changed my mind when i saw this piece at close range, beneath all that delicate features, there was an underlying strength and resistance. I knew I have to win every bit of music out of him. When the master tuned him and started playing a sample, i felt mad with jealousy. I picked up a book on some basic tunes and walked to the counter.

This is where I think my luck ran out. There was something wrong with the card swipe machine and they asked for cash, I didn't have any cash but just my card and when they, rather rudely, asked me to draw some cash somewhere and then comeback, I was sad, angry and bewildered all at the same time. The master intervened on my behalf but there was nothing to be done. The woman in the counter simply called to an assistant at the back and said, "take this inside," I felt a sudden lump in my throat, I couldn't swallow. Hastily, I ran out of the shop and got into the waiting auto that had brought me there. From there on for nearly 5 mins my mind refused to accept the situation, but even so I was getting furious by the second. What was a lump in my throat had melted and evaporated into rage.

Regardless of the time or place, I instructed the auto driver to go to another shop on the other side of the city. Inside my heart I screamed at fate, "I wanted to buy a violin and I will, whatever you do I will not go home without it." The traffic was unusually heavy, we were stuck in every signal possible and we lost our way, but eventually after an hour's struggle, we made our way to the shop. It was a small shop and while the auto driver leaned back with a sigh, exhausted, I walked up the stairs into the shop with great conviction. I told myself, "if its meant to be like this, it will be", all the while not believing it a bit."

There was no master here, the whole place was cheerful and people walked around the brightly lit shop as if they were children in a toy shop. An assistant walked up to me and asked me what I wanted, when I told him, he just pointed to a rack on which were hanging several violins. I picked up one and asked the assistant to try it, surprisingly, he said he doesn't know how to and worst of all none of them did. In fact, I was the expert there as I am at least one session old. I picked a few and placed them back and then finally chose one of them. No vibes nothing, probably I was too hooked up and regretful about not getting my first love. I bought the same book here too and the violin was five hundred rupees less than the one I chose in the other shop. Without much fanfare I bought the violin and started heading back home. All the way, I was having mixed feelings. I still question if it would have been wiser to have just drawn the cash and gone back to the first shop. I regreted that i wont see the master again and most of all I cursed myself for not getting what I felt was waiting just for me.

Once back home, I stepped into my room and locked the door. I opened the case and took out the violin, he wasn't as light as my first love but he was good. He had a kind of coolness and serenity that seemed to calm me. As I took the bow and applied the rosine, I felt a kinship with it. Here was one who was considered not good enough by his own owner and yet when I tested the bow on the strings, it pulsated with a kind of hopefulness and abandon that made me forget everything else.

I have found one of my own kind and just before I went to bed, I kissed him on impulse and smiled. We have a long way to go together and tomorrow will be brighter than today.

Boooooorrreeeeeeeeddddddddd!

2007-10-18T02:57:00.000-07:00

This is one of those days when I say bored I say it with emphasis, like boooorrreeeedddd. My new office is a boring place. I feel like I am sitting inside zombie land. Rather, Zombies who can communicate only through con calls or sametime. Why is it so hard for people to talk face to face. What has society come to. People talk non stop all day; they talk over the phone, they chat and they mail but they seldom seem to notice the guy sitting right next to them.

Well, for all my antisocial behaviour, its really hard to find someone to rub the wrong way. I haven't found any form of society yet, barring my buddy who is smart enough to steer clear of irritant statements that I throw at him. I am so bored. I am itching for a good fight and that is exactly what I need to brighten up my day.

I think I should call some of my friends!

The voice of the violin

2007-10-16T02:07:00.000-07:00

I joined a violin class and for the first time, touched and felt a violin. To someone who doesn't care to know, a violin is just a hollow piece of wood with a few strings attached. But for me, my new violin is alive. The first time I held the bow and pulled it against the string of the violin, what emerged was a screeching wail. I hope it will soon learn to talk.

Every time I watched my precious violin, I could feel the presence of bygone ages and places. The tree that should have given the wood, the horse whose hair adorns the bow, the artist who made it and the ship that carried to Indian shores. Wow, here lies a story that's all the more fascinating coz I will never know it.

Concentration camps

2007-10-12T00:57:00.000-07:00

Today I woke up to the sounds of alarm. I did not want to face the day but I knew I have to. After the customary bath in disinfectant, I ate the same oats gruel I have been drinking for some time now. Without sugar, it was awful but it was breakfast anyway.

I was a fraction early in getting ready today. Each day I am becoming more and more adept at the routine. I had a few minutes to spare before my pickup would drag me to the camp. For a brief moment, I contemplated escape but I knew that was futile. When I don't step out on the road after the second honk, frantic calls would be made, officials alerted, and before I cross the next road, I would be traced and nabbed. All I would earn is a black mark in my monthly report. I opened the heavily censored newspaper; I found four instances of bombings of which two were suicide bombings and the glorious victory India in bowl out cricket. The bombing did not shock me and the victory did not inspire me; so, I folded the paper and set it aside; life seems to be as miserable for everyone as it if for me. I wanted to get an head start and maybe finish up in time to eat supper at home. But my pickup van had other plans. It was ten minutes late when it finally pulled into the street. I hate these daily rides. Poeple are packed so tight that you feel the fear and the despair crawling under their skins.

Our camp is an imposing one, infact it's the largest camp in the entire country where more that 15, 000 Homo sapiens labor their lives out. I showed my ID card and was let in. There was talk on the floors that a few people were stopped at the gate and they never returned again. My job in the camp is to keep tab of mails and sometimes assist in book keeping. Most of the others worked on assembling parts or generating codes and it was worse for them as they were monitored all the time.

Lunch was a weak atempt by the over-worked cooks at optimization-potato boiled, par boiled and nonboiled. Nevertheless, no one seemed to notice. There was a slight murmor among the rebel faction but even they have lost hope in fighting for such things.

As the day progressed everyone grew tense as the calls for extra time will be made. When the general did not make his usual rounds at 4.00 pm, everyone sighed in relief, after all we will be allowed to drag our weary selves home by 6.00. But it was not meant to be, the general made his rounds at 5.00 PM and was even more aggressive owning to his irritation with the minister whom he had met an hour earlier.

I shrank back in fear as he passed by and that seemed to please him. I was quickly pulled out of the line and put on the production floor. When I walked home my fingers were sore and my eyes were blurred. I was hungry but was too tired to eat. As my tired body hit the bed I prayed for a good dreamless sleep. My last thought was "things haven't changed much since the Nazies; While people were forced into concentration camps by the Nazies, today, I am forcing myself into something similar by my own choice. Does choice make so much of a difference between right and wrong?"

Days of a different kind

2007-10-10T23:34:00.000-07:00

I did not hold a job for exactly four days. At least it was a break between my past and future job. The surprising thing is I didn't enjoy it. I was so uneasy and restless all the while. Took of to Chidambaram for a 2 days but rushed back as I was bored.

I know retirement hits people hard, but this is just a temporary break and I am only 26!

My first message to you.

2007-08-31T05:08:00.000-07:00

I don't know who you are yet and I don't know when I will get to know you. But the day I find you, I will show you this. The fascinating worlds I have been to, the awfully short thoughts that run through my mind and disappear like the whiff of a smoke, the sudden surge of pleasure when I see something beautiful.

One day, I will meet you in Neverland, and this will be my gift to you.

Till then this will be a record of my flight.