Hello Guys,

Been quite a while since I posted here. Quite a couple of things on my mind that writing something that would make sense to a sane head was completely out of scope!
Now what was on my mind is something that you are not about to hear, not now not ever! You learn is all that I can say. Now over with that. :)

For those who did not know earlier, I am in Melbourne. Aparna knows and since she seems to be the only one reading my blog,everybody knows :) If there is someone else, the silent reader types - welcome and do leave a comment behind. Oh yea, thats me - the one with the hope against hope hopen kinda hope! I could do with some cheering right now.

Its been two weeks here. I wont do the like it/ dislike it part. It is way too soon. Its cold here, the weather is good on my skin and I like that part. My hair though is quite another story. Hopefully Parachute from the Indian Stores does its magik. Getting used to the 'scene' on street is a different thing altogether. I am so used to doing the turn to your left, then right, then left routine while trying to cross the road. Here, you just need to see the traffic signals. That huge leap of faith is something I haven't yet managed to find in myself. Also, I do not loose my way any more, fingers crossed. Wouldn't wanna jinx it.

It is not a big city, like an aquaintance once said 6 streets horizontal, 6 streets vertical. You can practically walk yourself across the street. Its easy to get/feel lost however. Small towns are easier that way I reasoned with myself while waiting for a friend on the street. Small place, friendly people, easy life... And then, I saw a common house sparrow. And another. And for reason that cannot be explained here,I felt a strong sense of belonging.Maybe it was the DDLJ ka "yahaan ka kaboothar kabhi India ho aayaa tha" logic or maybe there was just "something" about seeing something like a sparrow at a time when I was feeling lost and vulnerable. I know it sounds poetic, but then thats how I felt. :)

Or Maybe I am filmi!!And the rest of the evening only made things better - the stroll across Victoria Market, speaking in Telugu with the guy at the Indian store, longish conversations with another poor lost soul here, late night chai... It feels like home.

And on that note, Good Night to you guys....

Flash Back

Some two years and a couple of months back, I was in Bombay.One night, dinner with two girls from work and big time bonding over food, fashion and work. The conversation steered toward 'problems in our lives' (for some reason!). And my friends took turns to elucidate one by one, the problems in their lives - the list just didn't seem to end. After what seemed like eternity, they looked back at me - I hadn't opened my mouth. I mean, not that I didn't have any problems but I was happy. Hey wait,I really didn't have any problems. And I said so.

Fast Forward

I do not think I can say that now - the No problems thing. Atleast not without battling an eyelid. And then it wouldn't really mean anything, would it?

Just a thought.

Ever wondered how as kids we always thought everything was smashing, great, awesome. Just Bindaas!
And how as we grow up the superlatives are all replaced by nice, okay, good and so on.
Are our previous younger day experiences so amazingly wondrous that everything pales out in comparison? Perhaps Painful Growing Up lessons include a whole chapter devoted to Modesty? Do we grow up to be dignity personified selves only to be painfully shy to acknowledge the best times we had? Or maybe we are just plain superstitious to not to want to jinx our good luck?

Some tortures are physical and some are mental,
But the one that is both is dental.

I don't think Ogden Nash ever ever had a cold!

Anuradha Ma’am teaching civic class, 9B Circa 1998

Why is the right to education for all children under the age of 14 on the Directive Principles of State Policy and not a Fundamental Right?
Does it mean the government refuses to accept education as a fundamental right? Does making education a fundamental right automatically mean everyone will have access to it? How does matter to the government as to what education is – ain’t it imperative on the government’s part to ensure access to education for all? And probably it ain’t just access – maybe we would also need laws to enforce compulsory education for all.
And some twelve years later, Education does become a constitutional right!

PS: I am not expecting much immediately.But this shows a lot about our attitude. And hopefully things will fall in place.

It still hurts.
The pain I thought long gone
Still hurts.

I buried the pain deep
In the darkest recess of my heart.

I thought I had forgotten all about it.
But how do you forget a thing you know you have forgotten?

The pain is back and it’s just the same.
I turn to words – trying to write away the pain.
How I wish I didn't have to write this.

One of my earliest memories from my childhood is Appa reading out aloud to me and my sister. He would usually read from one of the numerous books he bought for us – usually Children's books originally in Russian translated into English or mythological books. He would sit on a chair. Madhu (my sister) would sit on the floor and I would sit on the arm rest, cuddling up to Appa.
And I hated it!
My sister would look up to Appa, engrossed in his narration. And I would have finished reading the page and would be impatiently waiting for Appa to turn the page. Appa however wouldn’t be hurried into anything (another trait I seem to have caught from him - I have to do things at my own pace - I will not be hurried/slowed down!) and he would read out aloud, pausing at every comma and full stop and stressing at significant places. His intonation of speech was amazing. In short, a lesson in prosody.
However, I never had the patience to appreciate any of it! After reading the current page, I did start fidgeting; I already knew what was in the page and wanted to know what was on the next. Madhu however would hang onto each word of his and would listen in rapt attention.
Appa soon realized that it was not my obsessive love for him that made me sit so close to him. And he hated the fact that I was sneakily peeking into the book. He made me sit on the floor from then on, but it was never the same again. Soon he stopped doing the read-out-aloud sessions and I went back to reading on my own.
But Madhu missed those sessions and so did Appa. I think it hurt Appa more than anything else.
Appa still tries to read out to me, from the Business line or one of his published papers. And I still fidget!!
Amma never took a picture of this, but I have gotten it in my head. I just need to close my eyes and remember.

PS: How I wish I had the sense to sit back and enjoy back then. I still can't do that!!

The other day I asked a friend to stop brooding. And was magically transported back to class nine, KVAN.
It was the English class and PG, our English teacher was having a difficult time managing us(as usual). We were supposed to dramatize one of the English plays in our text book titled Meera Bhai and PG was randomly picking up people from different groups and asking them to play bits from the Play.
I was in Group Two - I was Meera Bhai, Nithin was the Rana, Suba was the Rani, Aravind was Bhojraj, Prasad was Jaisalmer, Deepika was Meera's nurse and Ramya was Sanjogta (Meera's close friend and lady-in-waiting).
The scene we choose to enact was the one where-in the Rana tries to reason out with Meera and get her to act 'normal'. He tells her to play with the children and knit and sew with the women.

Nithin asked me to stop breeding. Yea, you got that right. He was supposed to say brooding, but it came out as breeding. I thought it was so funny that I started laughing my goofy laugh and the whole class was in splits too. I soon realized that the joke was on me, but it was way too funny for me to stop laughing!

Like I tell you, Being N!V! ain't easy!

PS: PG thought I did make a better Rani than a Meera. I agreed 'cos I didn't want to be asked to breed, not again. I wore a parrot green sari and towered over the Rana. Meera forgot her dialogues. I forgot to face the audience while saying my part and when I remembered, I was talking to the audience and not to the people on the stage! All of us were just mouthing the dialogues and none of us got the chemistry right. I was miffed because I knew this was going to happen - I was always shepherding people into the rehearsals and nobody ever took the rehearsals seriously!

And yet, this is one of those things in my life that never fails to bring a smile on my face.

Flashes of light can mean so many things – it can mean thunder, bringing with it the imminent rain; it can mean a camera clicking somewhere near, capturing a memorable moment for posterity; it can mean the flash from a welding arc that joins together two metal pieces; it can mean a plain flashlight brought out to aid sight in the dark by a battery-life conscious soul; it can even mean a plain hallucinated you!

However, with me it can just mean retinal detachment. Oblige me if I ask you if you saw the flashes too.

oru naNban irundhaal
oru naNban irundhaal
kaiyoadu boomiyai sumandhidalaam
thodu vaanam pakkamae
thoda vaeNdum naNbaney
nam paeril thisaigaLai ezhudhalaam
kadalil nadhigaL peyar kalandhadhu
indha natpil engaL uyir kalandhadhu
natpu enbadhu engaL mugavari
idhu vaazhkai paadathil mudhal vari
indha ulagil miga perum yaeNi
naNban illaadhavan hey



thoazh meedhu kai poattu koNdu
thondriyadhellaam paesi oorai sutri vandhoam vandhoam
oruvar veettilae paduthu thoonginoam natpin poarvaikkuLLae
indha kaadhal kooda vaazhkkaiyil azhagilae thoandrumae
thoazhan endra sondham ondru
thoandrum namadhu uyiroadu


nenjukkuL nenjukkuL uLLa
eNNangaL eNNagaL solla naNban ore sondham
namadhu maejaiyil uNavu koottaNi adhil natpin rusi
ada vaazhkai payaNam maaRalaam natpu dhaan maaRuma?
aayuL kaalam thaerndha naaLil
naNban mugham dhaan maRakkaadhey

Dear Readers,

Thank you for your wonderful support in keeping this blog running. Your constant encouragement in the form of nil comments has kept me going on. After all we all need something to strive for, don't we?

And I thought I had achieved what I had toiled for, when I found four comments waiting to be moderated. That made my otherwise depressing day. Well if that is a pleasant surprise, wait till I tell you more. The first advertised a medical insurance policy, the second one talked about how a lady and her husband found a wonder drug and how happy they have been since then (whateva!), the third one egged me to open another link if I wanted to make money (guess this reader was just being concerned about my job, given the amount of time I spend doing total time pass in office ;) ) and the fourth one was trying to sell me something that I didn’t need in a language I didn’t understand.

I guess I might actually have a need for that insurance after all. There is only so much heartbreak that my frail heart can take after a short lived bout of happiness.

PS 1: I think I am gonna ctrl C + ctrl V some sample spam comments.

PS 2: The Non Spammers amongst my otherwise silent readers are encouraged to comment and the
not so silent ones amongst the Non spammers are encouraged to comment more. You will make my day :)

Obituary

Dear Mom, Dad, Aparna, Sirisha, Bhargav et all (In all the probability almost everyone I know);

You remember the big brown dangling pair of ear rings I used to wear? Appa, the one you used to hate and refuse to come out me if I wore them? Amma, the one you would beg me to take off and wear a more appropriate one just to maintain domestic peace? Bhargav, the one you used to call tribal wear? The one Pavan used to describe as made from ball bearings and other metal scrap stolen from a garage? And the one that Aparna used to smile off – calling them as my “those” earrings.

For that matter they were always my “those” earrings, or at least that is how everybody who has seen me in them has called them. Few (Reality Check: more like a multitude of people) have been repulsed by the sight of those long ear rings, preferring instead that I wear something more traditional and refined (!). Most have begged me to take off the hideous thing. And there have been a couple of people who have absolutely loved them. There have also been very few like good ol’ Sirisha who never really voiced out anything (knowing her, I am sure she hated them); instead just asking me to do what I wanted to do – wear ‘em and not listen to all that jazz, err noise.

I guess I am just stalling. Those big beautiful brown earrings have died on me, in a freak accident. And so the earrings that loyally served me for about five years are no more.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.

P.S.: And before you heave a sigh of relief and start gloating, I have already found the perfect replacement.

When I was a kid, I always fantasized of how things would work out. I visualized my future as a very ethereal, poetic dream. I would just flit in and out of things and Life did have an airy feel to it. Cut to reality. Everyday life is just a struggle against sheer boredom.

She may be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song the summer sings
May be the chill the autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of the day

She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dream
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I remember till the day I die

She may be the reason I survive
The way and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be

The meaning of my life is
She

Sony Max, 8:00 p.m.

That is where I am gonna be tonight.

Update
It was'nt the same.

A colleague and a fellow “Joined Company on XXX” flew back from Bulgaria yesterday and dropped into office post lunch. I am usually not very social after lunch, preferring to slump away in a half asleep half awake state until it’s time for my afternoon tea. And while I was enjoying my afternoon siesta as much as I could on my office chair, which by the way is no recliner; this Laddie walks up to me and says a good natured Hi. So far so good. Except for, one – I didn’t exactly want to talk to anybody then and two – I didn’t exactly want to talk to him.
You see, I am on what is called in IT parlance ‘the bench’. The bench is probably the best place to be in when you want to leave office early for shopping, when you don’t feel like going to office because you just feel like sleeping off last night’s hangover or when you want to take extended tea/lunch breaks as my dear friend Apar found out. However it is also the place where you don’t want to be in when you are in one of those pensive moods, evaluating your career and where you go on from here. And as a bencher, your friends are fellow benchers and you try to stay away from the non-benchers. There would be good natured queries on the bench status and condolences on not being on any project. And there are only a finite number of times that you can laugh it away and say it’s nice not being overworked for a change. Or joke about paid vacations. Or make the other person feel bad about not being on bench.
And as someone who has spent the last two months warming the bench, I dint quite feel up to the task. And while I quickly went about numerous excuses in my mind as to how I could cut the conversation short and make a quick exit, Laddie asks me why I am not my usual cheery self. Numerous attempts to deny so turned futile. I heard someone saying “Maybe that’s the effect you have on me”. Err, that was ME! Needless to say, Laddie made a show of wanting to talk to somebody in the next cubicle and made a quick exit. He never even as much glanced in my direction for the rest of the day, or at least till I called it a day.
And you know what? I didn’t feel bad about it. Sorry for him though. Okay just a li'l bit, but jus' a li'l. Maybe I'll talk to him tomorrow. :)

PS: I am now officially looking for a job. Looking for a project management/ corporate finance/general management role in an IT company – it’s the only business I have been formally trained in. Any inputs/suggestions/leads will be appreciated.

I do not recognise myself anymore. I am no longer the person I thought I was. And I am not quite the person that I thought I did grow up to be.
It is not quite that I don't like the person I have turned out to be. What I need to figure out is if this is the person I want to be.
To be or not to be. :)

An eye on the television, nay both eyes glued to the television now that my mother is no longer around to coax me into getting back to studying. I am still the errant teenager in more ways than one. A certificate examination next Saturday which is quite the "hard nut to crack", a Bengali roommate who can't understand Tamil, an hour past twelve by when I had decided to give up on my attempt to get back to books and all set to nod off with the fond hope that my books may have a greater appeal to me tomorrow (by now, its already tomorrow) morning 5 a.m. than now (fat chance that) and Alaipayuthe aired on K TV.

It was'nt a very difficult decision to make. Fate had decided so when my roomie not only switched on the channel but also started watching it. Now, how could I possibly try to go against what was already destined to be.

The movie brought back a zillion memories. Of hearing the music track for the first time in Revathi's house, of contemplating Shalini's character in the movie going by the lyrics (Timuru ku arasan and so on), of Shubha crooning the 'Netru Mun Iravil' piece in a very male-ish (read her own) voice, of watching the movie at Udhayam and of course, having this huge crush on Madhavan. The 90s movies never stop affecting me - maybe it has also got to do with my age at that time. I dont think a movie like KKHH would keep me engrossed today, but I can watch the original KKHH any day and every day. True, not a great movie but dont you ever tell me that. I loved the KKHH reference in Dostana too. The 90s music too - I think AR Rahman was better back then than now. Try telling me otherwise and you are up against a rock solid wall.

Maybe at that age (not that I am pretty old now, just a decade back :) ), things affected us more than they can probably do now. Maybe thats the reason we feel the way we feel about our first loves too, we never seem to be able to shrug off that feeling, no matter how lucky we get later on. Nothing seems to measure up. :) And before a few smart alecks, some of whom hopefully still keep getting back to my blog in the fond hope that I may have gotten over my writer's block yet start asking me about this - I said first loves which can mean just about anything. Yeah, that too. :)

Its been three years since I first blogged. From an initial reluctance to write about myself this blog has seen me getting more comfortable sharing the unanswered questions on my mind, how I feel/thing about certain issues and the going-ons in my life with fellow netizens who frequent my blog.
It has really been nice having you guys around. Thank You! Your comments made many a day for me.
Quite a few of my last posts have wallowed in self doubts and reveal a Me that is very skeptical of what is to come. In fact after five days at home, I find my recent posts rather depressing to read. :)
But this too shall pass.
Hoping I find myself again, very soon and you keep your patience till then. :)
And last but not the least, wishing my blog a Happy Birthday!!

A couple of days back somebody I hardly knew asked me if I believed in God. It had been quite a while since somebody had asked this question and I dint know what to say. Do I say No and be branded as an aetheist and a non-conformist? Do I say Yes? Saying the truth, atleast to the person in question was out of question - he wouldnt understand as wouldnt most people.

The truth is an indifference - It stopped worrying me a long time back as to why I dont know the answer to a question questioning my beliefs. This question used to drive me crazy back at school - I dint want to believe in a God to whom one prayed to, for good things. I believed that a li'l bit of hard work and some smart thinking was all that was required to create one's destiny. I dint want to believe in a God who was benevolent to his devotees inspite of whatever they had done. I dint want to believe in a God who was'nt always as fair and just as he would be expected to be. But most of all, I believed that the ultimate thing we all must answer to is our own conscience - If we can look into our own eyes without fear and with pride intact - thats all that matters. Because regardless who knows what, we would always know.

And as time went by, I stopped praying and going to temples on my own. I had my own strong sense of right and wrong and as long as I stayed within the boundaries of right, I had nothing to fear. I still went to temples with my parents though. I looked at the people around me, their radiant faces while they had their arms up in prayer - is this what belief and conviction do to people? The fact that there is a God who will always make things right for them must ease out of lots of things for them ( this is not meant to be condescending or patronising) - As for me, the truth that I can make my own destiny is also a bit overwhelming - What if I goof up? I am but a doubter amongst strong believers in a temple.

I try to reason out with myself as to how people had to invent this mythical God - those were the savage times - People could'nt be expected to know the right from wrong. They had to have a punishing Deity - like the ones numerous villages still have. And a benevolent God when they did the right things. The Pagan God was necessary to make sure people did'nt become arrogant because of what they had been able to achieve so far as much as to give a hope to people that they were'nt alone and that a much greater power would always step in when things got a bit rough.

Nothing helped though. Then I read Robert Langdon's Angels and Demons. It made a nice read. And it also set me thinking. There is a part when Victoria asks Langdon whether he believes in God. Langdon tells her how difficult it is for him to believe in a God who would 'rule in such a way' ( Codes of conduct, requirements and penalties).

And this is what Victoria says

"Mr. Langdon, I did not ask if you believe what man says about God. I asked if you believed in God. There is a difference. Holy scripture is stories . . . legends and history of man's quest to understand his own need for meaning. I am not asking you to pass judgment on literature. I am asking if you believe in God. When you lie out under the stars, do you sense the divine? Do you feel in your gut that you are staring up at the work of God's hand?"

( yea.even Fictional Novels and Romantic Commedies can have deep moments.)

And my answer is I dont know. When I was at the top a hillock at Trayambakeshwar or walking by the side of the creek in Dubai - I was overwhelmed. I had goosebumps all over me. I could'nt exactly put into words how I felt - but I knew I would always remember the feeling.

And so, when this guy asked me 'If I believed in God"; I said yes. Yea I do but perhaps not the same sort of God. And perhaps not the same kind of belief. I dont know if I am agnostic, pagan or simply aetheist. And it doesnt bother me.