Nonetheless

end it all

2025-03-13T19:23:00.000-07:00

I was a 12 year old living in Hyderabad. We moved to Chennai. I did not like it - the change was overwhelming. Different language, new house, new neighbours, and more impotantly I missed my old friends. I specially did not like the new school.

I thought about ending it all. I started walking towards the railway tracks. Half way through, I imagined myself waiting for the train to come and then to lie across the tracks. After some distance, I realised there is no point in waiting specially when you want to end it all. I made up my mind not to wait, I would reach the tracks and if a train comes up at that exact time, I would end it all. I was able to see the tracks now and sure enough, a train was just approaching. I then made up my mind, if there is no point in waiting, there is no point in rushing too. I looked up - the train was in no hurry either. It was at the exact speed that is required for the train to be upon me when I reach the tracks. My legs slowed just a wee bit so that the train just went past me when I neared the tracks. What a sad moment, I thought, it is not worth waiting for the next train.

On my way back, I said hello to my new friend with a smile and opened my English text to read - that is the next easiest thing to do.

Honesty that is never lost

2017-08-14T17:44:00.002-07:00

I lost my pouch. It had my bank debit card, two credit cards, my PAN card, driver’s license, my car registration card, and my library card. I do not remember how or where exactly I lost it. Perhaps at a Chennai restaurant where I used my credit card last. I had breakfast and spent some time with my college mate – we’ve been friends for almost 35 years. Or perhaps it fell off somewhere else on my way back – I just can’t remember.

I realised I lost it when I looked for it just before catching a train, a good 12 hours later. Within a few minutes the entire family searched for it and it dawned on me that I had clearly lost it and not misplaced. I had to postpone my trip. The restaurant guys were helpful but then they had not found the pouch.

The usual routine followed. I called the bank, the credit card providers and blocked all cards. I was dreading debit notice notifications – none arrived. I somehow had an inkling that the cards did not find its way to the wrong hands. India is now a digital country and your date of birth, address and card numbers are all you need to hijack any person’s identity and finances.

I waited for a fortnight to allow things to cool down. And then started the process to get new/duplicate cards. Just as I returned from applying for a fresh PAN card, I got a call. The guy identified himself as Chetan and after having confirmed my identity, told me that he had the cards.

And, apologised for the delay in calling me (one day).

With all the details that I had lost, the one thing that was not available was my phone number and he called me with that! Though my search ended with the loss of the cards – the cards took on their own journey.

He got the pouch as a courier from Chennai to his office address in Bangalore. I have no clue who exactly found my pouch nor why he chose to send it to an unknown person in Bangalore. Chetan had no clue either. It had come with no information and no notes. He enquired with his boss who knew nothing. He then wrote to a common group id from where the package had arrived to get a response that they knew nothing about it. I think we will let that remain an enigma.

Chetan did not send it directly to the address as he wasn’t sure if the address was still the valid one. Later, he visited the library and found it closed. And when he called their main office, they refused to give my phone number citing privacy. He had to give the card number and explain to them that he wanted to return the card to me. The library saw the point and obliged with my number. And then Chetan called me. After a couple of days, he came home and delivered the card. All intact. Hope, very soon, he will get to see a miracle as well.

That made me recollect my own experience. While on a journey by train a few years ago, I found a purse in the toilet. It had money and all the cards. Fortunately, I could find a visiting card with his number. I called him and later couriered the purse to his house.

Maybe one good deed deserves another. There are things you lose but honesty is not one of them.

The same story with Comma

2016-03-31T21:14:00.002-07:00

I had earlier written this and here is how it appears in comma

Comma - a simple way to convey your idea

2016-03-31T00:35:00.000-07:00

Comma

If you can tell a story with comma — in such simple sentences and words, then you really have a story. Here is one to look at my first dig. Let me know what you think.

Sunshine of opportunity

2016-03-08T00:44:00.001-08:00

The men from the ivory tower,

whose heads are filled with power,

Look down on me with all impunity

and say, why do I have to give you this opportunity.

The place is not for scums like you,

Old and battered, who can’t take a cue.

Muddled minds where sparks that no longer fly,

with forsaken eyes that can no longer cry.

The muscle, the power, the speed,

can never be beckoned on need.

The beauty, the color, the sharpness,

can never be brought to harness.

When the sun shines, it lights the sparks,

Makes me sharp to take on the sharks.

With eyes that can see further than yonder,

To grasp the world and appreciate her wonder.

The rays embrace me with all colors of the hue

That can make me bright and shiny to view

That gives me the strength to face with all my might

Opportunity, is wherever I set my sight.

The art of giving

2016-03-08T00:41:00.003-08:00

A foreigner visits India and on a winter night she spots a beggar, cold and shivering. She gives her jacket to him.

The beggar smiles and asks, “Are you happy?” She is a bit taken aback with this question and answers, “Of course, I am happy.”

The beggar then asks, “How long will you be happy?”

She now thinks and responds, “I am happy now, when I give this to you and will feel happy whenever I think of this incident.”

Now he looks at her and asks, “ Why do do this?”. This catches her off guard and she just thinks a bit, trying to find an answer.

He waits for a while and says, “Your happiness in feeling good for having given something to someone who wants it more than you do, is greater than the happiness I get in receiving this gift from you.”

She now sits down in front of him. He continues, “True happiness is when the receiver’s happiness is more than the giver’s happiness”.

And gives a practical tip, “Happiness in giving stuff is, no doubt, necessary and it is only because of you that I am warm. However, this happiness is temporary. Never give stuff or money or resources that may solve a problem for that moment. You will soon run out of it.”

He looks at her eye and says, “Be selfish — give what you have and never run out of. Time and effort. That gives true happiness to both the giver and the receiver.”

While she looked on — he wears the jacket and lies down all curled up.

Proud of my Dad

2016-03-08T00:37:00.002-08:00

The story in the Park

When I was a kid, I liked playing alone. I do not need to have friends, no games, no tools — I can just play all by myself. Go to the park, fiddle around, collect odd stuff and so on.

So one day, I was in the park near my home and playing. I was swinging on a bar. I suddenly noticed a bunch of other kids coming towards me — first I ignored but then they started harassing me. I tried to protest but then the shower of blows caught me by surprise. If no one can beat me in something — it was running. I just flew and escaped. The only thing that caught up with me was my dented pride.

I sulked back into the house, recovering from the blows and trying to cover up my lost pride for having run away from the field.

There was another surprise when I reached home. Dad was already in — oops it was a saturday. He immediately asked me what was wrong. I tried to say nothing but the swollen lips gave me away. And then he repeated in a stern voice. That was just too much for me and tears rolled down my cheeks with my pride taking a further nose dive.

I told him.

He said, “Let’s go”. I tried to protest saying the bullies would be gone. But then my father insisted. He was already on the street when I ran started running behind him. As we reached the park, the guys were still hanging around. I can never forget what happened next. My dad shouted at the top of the voice and sprinted towards the bullies. It was a sight seeing those kids take flight and then they saw me behind my dad.

When the kids ran away, my dad just went back home and did not even look at me. I did not look at him either — I had already started swinging again on the bar. I came back home much later that day with harder, faster swings and enjoying more than usual.

That day I was proud of my dad and since then I’ve felt and still feel that he is the strongest, bravest and the most courageous man — ever.

The Security Tangle

2016-03-08T00:32:00.000-08:00

Can someone explain this to me.

Just for putting through a non financial transaction (website accessed through a desktop), I need to have an already registered e-mail id in which I will receive a mail with a pdf attachment that can be opened with a password (in all caps) which is a combination of two different pieces of information (half of pan card and half of birthdate) that needs to be opened in 45 minutes and the transaction is completed when I give this pin in the transaction within a web page that closes automatically while you wait for the mail (whew).

Can’t they send the pin to the registered mobile?

The Moon Walk

2016-03-08T00:30:00.001-08:00

Watching the Moon walking with me through the thickets and clearings; Along the clatter of the fast moving train one understands her benevolence much against her nonchalant bemuse.

The patches of clouds seem to eat her alive and only one has to see closely that she brings out the rainbow of grays.

The palms and neems and tamarind try to close her with their hands only to realise she brings out the resplendent beauty of the night trees.

The lightning seem to out shine her and shows the tempest with loud thunder only when the moment passes do you realise the calm beauty of the soothing moonshine.

The very earth rises up as mountains to cover her up.

Only to see the light seething through the rocks against a grand moon rock.

The flickering lights from the kitchen seem to mar the beams and yet she shines through the window to show the beauty of the lady cooking.

The fast moving train seems to outrun the moon and yet there she is in the station next. And so my friend, what seems and what is are two different things. Be the Moon that shines and adds beauty however ugly the life journey is.

Budget Battlers

2016-03-08T00:28:00.000-08:00

This is one of the craziest stories I’ve ever heard.

Let’s call our man Bud. He manages his finances like a man walks his dog. (The man while he thinks he is walking the dog, in reality what the dog thinks is right — I am taking my master for a walk).

Bud is very strict with his budgeting and never allows any expense to overshoot his budget. NEVER. If he has a wish, first it becomes part of a wish list, progresses as a budget item, money gets saved on a monthly basis till the budgeted amount is achieved and then he buys it. Woe befall any item whose cost increases anytime during the save period.

Bud, after a due diligence and financial assimilation, gets married.

He has a little problem though. He had a single bed.

While his wife slept on the floor, an item gets added to his wish list. In due course, it gets added to the budgeted list and his savings begin and ends successfully after a year. He had the money now.

So he goes ahead and buys his budgeted item — another single cot.

He brings it home and sets this beside his other single cot. Wow — all fine except for a small flaw. The beds were now of different heights.

Bud is now trying to make amends with his second wife.

Heads I win, Tails you lose

2016-03-08T00:24:00.002-08:00

Glass jar with lid gets me slapped — twice

I must have been around six or seven, I think. All of us in the family were sitting for dinner and we had just begun. My mom asked me to pass the ghee (clarified butter) that was in a glass jar. Even as I lifted it, the glass jar slipped and shattered to pieces on the hard granite floor — even as I was left holding the lid securely in my hand.

The next thing I realized was the clatter of my jaw bones from a slap that came like lightning from my dad. It was so fast that I could not even see his backstroke — he did not give me time to brace myself.

He lifted his index finger and said — “Never lift a glass jar by the lid”.

The slap was hard and the lesson learnt for my lifetime — I have never done it again — whether it is glass or not.

Fast forward a few months. My dad was in a rush to get to office and I was getting ready for school. He had the habit of applying coconut oil to his bald pate every morning — I never understood why he did that considering that he was almost totally bald. And yes, the coconut oil was in a glass jar. Again yes, he lifted it by the lid — the glass jar slipped and shattered to pieces on the hard granite floor — even as he was holding the lid securely in his hand.

I don’t think I recalled the earlier incident but definitely looked up at him and what came next was even more unanticipated than earlier. This time the forehand slap was harder and faster. I was bewildered.

He lifted his index finger and said — “always close the lid properly”.

I don’t think I was the one who left the lid like that but I had no right to protest and I never did.

Neither have I forgotten the incidents nor the lessons but what I distinctly remember is that double standards are something that I need to get used to. Of course, I never could forget the sharpness of the slaps.

Now, years and years later, I am myself a father and as I recall — it helps me question myself, more than the glass jars and the slaps. Thanks, Dad, for that.

A Life of Joy

2016-03-08T00:22:00.004-08:00

This is my childhood story

Experiences of childhood brings joy throughout your life.

It does not matter how you felt when you actually experienced it, childhood memories brings a smile in your face — regardless of how many times you recall it and regardless of how you are feeling presently.

And so, with over half my life already gone, I relive my childhood here and share my joy with you — however small it might be.

TV talk of the town - how to enthrall and persuade at the same time

2016-02-20T16:31:00.000-08:00

Shonda Rhimes: My year of saying yes to everything

Listen to this talk. She is so enthralling. Look at the words the way she uses them. Her talk itself is like her TV shows - she first creates persona and then reiterates every character, every feeling, over and over again. The same words, the same sequence and the same feeling. And then the twist, just like in her TV shows. And tells her story of life, ever so eloquently and with so much of vigor. She is a better actor than all her TV show actors - perfect timing, not a single blemish or searching for words. The Focus - the hum.

These type of words are what makes a TV show successful (and in life too) - persuasive, powerful, full of character, strong and courageous, and delivered with confidence. It drives home the point - very clearly and succinctly.

Dead Man is never sad

2012-02-27T20:12:00.003-08:00

Yesterday, my sister called at 8.45 pm to say a man was lying on the platform opposite her house since morning. I immediately went and checked his pulse - he had been dead for a long time. He may have been in his 50s or 60s and there was a stick and a pair of slippers next to him.

Right away I went to the police station and informed - the police man asked me if it was man or woman. When I said it was a man he was sort of relieved. He took my name and number. I was both happy and sad.

I was happy that the police never troubled me and they never called me back. I later understood that they came with a photographer and took away the body in a van.

I was sad that there were so many people around the dead man and no one bothered or do anything about it. He was lying right opposite a hospital. Right next to it were vendors selling eatables and people eating right there. It takes great courage or complete apathy to do something like that - I think it is the latter.

The dead man perhaps died because he was sad - but I felt he was never sad that no one bothered him after he was dead. That was what I saw in the dead man's face. Lesson to learn.

I would want to ask him why he had neatly kept his stick and slippers next to him before dying.

Legs are sweating

2012-02-27T00:04:00.000-08:00

I have a middle aged, middle income and a middle of the road friend. An ideal employee, an ideal husband and father, he never had big dreams or ambitions and small pleasures of life made him happy.

The family used to live in a rented house. With his kids growing up, his wife wanted a house so that they can call something their own. So he took his first big loan and bought a second hand house. His income immediately reduced by more than a half while the interest rates continued going up. He can see the smile in his wife’s face when guests complement the public park situated right opposite the house.

He used to own an old battered 15 year old car. He was quite happy with it – it took him where he wanted to go – no powered windows, no power steering, no AC and not even a radio. He never spent much on it and never had to worry when it is going to get bashed next.

She started working to manage the ever increasing expenses.

Now the car wasn’t much of a looker to suit the house. He did not care much for these things but then one day he had to give in – he got a new car with all the bells and whistles. All were very happy till one day the wife commented while taking a spin in the shiny new car – “my legs are sweating”. Standards change very fast, you see.

The friend is obsessed with the thought of making his wife happy – to keep his wife’s leg cool. Who cares if he and his wife have to slave for the rest of his life – not him anyway.

Domestic Lizard - Garage

2011-07-10T02:25:00.000-07:00

Not sure if rare - at least I haven't seen one around for what I remember.

A spotted garden/domestic lizard in my house.

Beautiful but lethat

2011-07-10T02:22:00.000-07:00

This is a night sky of Bangalore. Do not be fooled by the orange colour - this is reflection of city lights!

A Wasp 'Couple?' building a nest

2011-05-21T23:04:00.000-07:00

The photos do not do justise to be the beauty of these insects building their nests. It was power, knowledge, resources, function and wonder that is driven by instinct. Hope they live happily ever after. I am not sure - while taking photos of these wild wasps - I saw the drama of a clutch of eggs hatching closeby - whether they were wasps - I would not know - but they were equally wonderful to watch.

Selim Sesler, Mac Crimmon - Roman Havasi - Turkish Clarinet

2011-02-04T14:32:00.000-08:00

Swati Dance

2011-01-15T11:49:00.000-08:00

Sampath Kumar's spoon flip trick

2010-12-18T12:17:00.000-08:00

Calcutta or Kolkata

2010-12-02T04:51:00.000-08:00

I am an Indian and lived throughout in India – and I can’t believe that I am visiting Calcutta, now Kolkata, for the first time. I was excited, enthralled and looked forward to getting drowned in Kolkata culture. I was never disappointed – I did drown and what a feeling it was.

It was quite late when I landed in Kolkata – the first thing that struck me was the Ambassador taxi. These extinct behemoths were there everywhere – and I loved it – my first ride in a four wheeler was in an ambassador car. I fell in love with the city immediately.

Next day I just walked down a while. The difference from other cities was glaring and stark. The British Raj buildings still existed there with work still being done out of these ‘offices’ – no flashy glass frontages, no multi storied concrete structures. The place reeked of old world charm and aesthetic cultural montage. Work moved at the same pace as the bullock carts – it reflected the mentality of the people. The taxi driver proudly showed us the building burnt several years with the soot all over it still fresh. They lived life and in between somewhere, work moved. Take it easy. The people had a weird attitude – they did everything they could to ensure they did nothing. That’s a great way to view life and death.

The tea in the mud containers told everything that Kolkata stood for – crumbles easy but great on the green. What is more important to life is what we stand for. You need to compromise on what you need to do and what you do not need to do – each has its pros and cons. I feel I am more of a person that would root for a life there. I don’t want to rush life and take my environment for granted. I need to merge into it and dissolve.

And lo, for the first time in my life I saw a tram in India – they disappeared from other cities of India ages ago – but, no sir, not in Kolkata. It was a pleasure to see people getting on and off wherever they wanted. I wondered why they had stops at all.

And then I saw the Birla temple. The security guards won’t allow me inside with my back pack (actually my lap top). I told very gently but sternly that I have come a long way and there was no way I am going to return without a darshan. He hesitated, but took care of my bag till I returned (despite the fact that my placing a bag in their custody was a bigger security risk – in my opinion). I offered to open the bag so that he can inspect – he refused. I was humbled by his trust. And when I returned, I was too ashamed to open the bag to check – he made me open the bag and check if everything was there. I left the place having got the darshan of the Lord right outside the temple.

Next day was my ambassador ride day. It was a great ride – I will remember this for a very, very long time indeed. I was sorry it came to an end so soon – I just rolled the names of the streets and loved the twirls of my tongue – Shakespeare Sarani, Park Street and so on.

That night I wanted to walk back. The street hawkers bring life to the city. Just name it and it is found there – cheaper than anywhere in India, well, mostly. And while bargaining they have a language of their own. “Please, brother, take this. I’ve been here for 17 years and if you find a defect and come after two years I will be here to exchange it for you – for free. And bloody, I bet you can find that guy in the very same spot with a few more grey hairs. And perhaps, selling those very same wares.

I thing, I can bet on – you cannot get cheaper and better food than in Kolkata. Of any type be it sweets or junk food. Street foods of course, stand out, literally.

And before the culture could seep in, it was time for me to return. I came to the airport – it is the blandest airport I have ever seen. The bus stops in some metros looked better. But the laid back attitude pleased me – I was in no hurry either.

I missed travelling by the metro – the icon that is trying to change the image of Kolkota – am I glad I did not travel.

Not sure when I will travel back – when I do I plan to go to the park street hawker and ask for a replacement lock and key that I got last year for Rs.30/-.

Liked Calcutta better than Kolkata.

Swati's clay eyes

2010-12-01T09:13:00.000-08:00

Plasticine monster by Swati

2010-11-30T08:33:00.000-08:00

Are you Eligible

2010-11-25T03:00:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, there was a king who liked to chant the Vedas. He asked his Rajaguru to teach him the vedas. The Rajaguru refused under some pretext or the other. As the king became impatient after some months, Rajaguru said that the King was not yet ready to learn the vedas. He tried to explain that one has to go through a period of strict discipline and become eligible before the learning starts.

The king refused to believe it and found out another teacher in a nearby village. The King returned happily after a month and boasted to the Rajaguru that he had learnt chanting of the vedas.

The Rajaguru seemingly angry, shouted at the nearby body guard to slap the king hard. The court was stunned for a while and the body guard was perplexed. The Rajaguru again shouted at the body guard to slap the king. When this was repeated two or three times, the King got annoyed and shouted at the body guard to slap the Rajaguru hard. The body guard obliged and slapped the Rajaguru.

Then the Rajaguru told the king, "See, when I asked the bodyguard to slap he would not slap you inspite of the fact that I told him several times. He never listened to me and I wasted my energy. However, when you told, he immediately obliged. That is because you are eligible to say what you said and can see the effect of your words. Similarly, one has to be eligible to be able to say something or pray something in order the see the effect."

The King felt that he was slapped now and learnt an important lesson in life.

(as told by my dear friend Jayant Pande)