The answer is 42

Charlie Brown

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 08:47:00 +0000

You close your eyes and its all different now. You wake up and don't recognize the sight in front of your eyes. Its a strange beat, perhaps the same beat even - but somehow still its just not the same. Someone took the lyric sheet away and you try to sway, you try and try and try, but you just can't. You close your eyes again, you think its all going to come back, that you are going to awaken, or perhaps fall asleep and that flight will lift you off the ground. But all I see is spots - spots of light and you don't know where you are. You don't know what your name is. You don't know what this life is.

Straws

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 00:31:00 +0000

Envelop and swallow me.
Whole and in pieces.

Drink from me,
of my blood
and of my sweat.

Star laden night,
low hung,
sprawled across the grass.

Liam Herringshaw: The origins of the name 'yorker' | Specials | Cricinfo Magazine | ESPN Cricinfo

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sun, 01 May 2011 03:03:00 +0000

Liam Herringshaw: The origins of the name 'yorker' | Specials | Cricinfo Magazine | ESPN Cricinfo

Sporting Old Parson, "I didn't ask you what a 'yorker' was - (with dignity) - I know that as well as you do. But why is it called a 'yorker'?"
Professional Player, "Well, I can't say, sir. I don't know what else you could call it."
Punch magazine, September 23, 1882

Yorker: a delivery that can make the batsman look like he's on skates going over a banana peel © PA Photos

Enlarge

What's the most exciting delivery in cricket? A glorious googly? A brutal bouncer? A deadly doosra?
All these will have their proponents, I'm sure, but all would be wrong. When it comes to a heart-stopping instant of sheer, visceral pleasure, there is only one winner. Nothing beats the yorker. From Lasith Malinga skittling Kenya with a burst of unplayable missiles, to Waqar Younis blasting Brian Lara off his feet, it is the quintessential death ball, and the most devastating weapon in a fast bowler's armoury.
But why is a yorker a yorker, and where does it come from? I play my cricket in York, where the natives are known, at least in some quarters, as Yorkers. Does this mean that this is the home of the delivery, then, and are the locals experts in bowling the ball? I donned my academic research hat, one that looks suspiciously similar to my regular cricket hat, and set off to find out.
Even from a cursory online search, it is clear that plenty of theories abound. For proper etymological work, however, the only sensible place to start is theOxford English Dictionary. There, three forms of yorker are listed - the bowling variety, the demonym, and the cryptically intriguing "something that is used to tie a trouser leg beneath the knee".
The cricketing yorker is first documented from August 1861, when Bell's Life in London & Sporting Chroniclereported that "Buchanan stopped some time, and bothered the bowlers much, as he would not hit even a 'Yorker'." Ignoring the fact that not hitting a yorker would surely end a batsman's innings, rather than prolong it, it is clear that the writer assumed his readers knew what a Yorker was. Less than a decade on, and the inverted commas had gone, as well as any ambiguity, as the Sporting Magazine (1870) noted that, "A fast Yorker is as disagreeable a first ball as an incoming batsman could receive."
When it comes to why it is so-called, the OED plumps for a geographical explanation, suggesting that it probably was from York, as a ball introduced by Yorkshire players.
Michael Rundell, however, finds this "really quite unconvincing". In his Wisden Dictionary of Cricket (3rd ed., 2006), Rundell argues that the true story is one of deception; that the yorker is from Yorkshire, but only because "york" is a slang word for cheating.
Rundell refers to the English Dialect Dictionary, compiled by linguist Joseph Wright at the turn of the 20th century. Wright found that, in various parts of the British Isles, "york" meant being shrewd or sharp, or simply "to cheat". He cites an example from Warwickshire, where a disgruntled plaintiff complains of an unknown person: "He has yorked me".
Indeed, though this isn't going to win me many friends in my new home, there is a substantial body of work relating to Yorkers being people whose personal dealings involve various unsavoury attributes. To outsiders at least, Yorkshire folk were always on the look-out for a new way to fleece someone.
One of the first cricketing dictionaries to define the yorker (Steel & Lyttelton, 1888) states that it was "called in days gone by a 'tice', an abbreviation of 'entice'". It seems a simple leap of logic, therefore, to make the crafty-cricket connection, and many have made it.
In its version of the yorker story, Wikipedia says "to pull Yorkshire" on someone was to deceive them, but as usual it is slightly wrong. The correct phrase is "to come [or put] Yorkshire" on someone, meaning to cheat or dupe them, as gleefully pointed out by the Lancashire CCC website.

To be "yerked" or "yarked" is to be struck, smacked or hit; to have something thrown at you suddenly; or to have your shoes tied together. It's entirely correct to mutter, after being yorked, that you've also been yarked

I asked David Hall, director of the Yorkshire CCC museum whether he could shed any light on the matter. He told me that they have gone back through the records to the start of the county club in 1833, but don't have an answer. When pushed, the museum refers (or defers) to the Cricket Lexicon of Leigh & Woodhouse (2006). They therefore prefer the idea "that the ball was invented in Yorkshire, [to] the fact that york was slang for 'deceive'".
The third option put forward by Leigh and Woodhouse is that yorkers were originally bowled with a jerky action. Even though it is a dialect variation of "jerker", I can find no evidence that the ball was ever called a "yerker", so this is perhaps a leap too far.
There does seem to some mileage in the many meanings of the verb, though. To be "yerked" or "yarked" is to be struck, smacked or hit; to have something thrown at you suddenly; or to have your shoes tied together. Many a batsman has suffered all these indignities as a yorker knocks them over, so I like the idea of the "yarker", even if I can't prove it is the true forefather. Either way, it's entirely correct to mutter, after being yorked, that you've also been yarked.
So what are we left with? Hypotheses still, but we can at least do a bit of clarifying. One website claims with certainty that the yorker gets its name from the device for tying your trouser legs below the knee. This doesn't take into account that the cricketing term appears in the 19th century, whereas the trousering one is not recorded until the 20th. Given that it is quite difficult for an older word to derive from a newer one, barring some kind of quantum delivery, I think we can rule that theory out.
We can also rule out 19th century Yorkshire and England star Tom Emmett as the original Yorker. Emmett was certainly a very influential and successful left-arm quick bowler, and, according to Anthony Woodhouse, "perhaps cricket's greatest character". Emmett didn't make his Yorkshire debut till 1866, though, some five years after the yorker was first recorded, so there's no way he was responsible for inventing the delivery. He did invent his own slower ball, though, one that pitched on a right-hander's leg stump and then cut away towards off. Emmett called it the "sosteneuter", and it is surely due for a comeback. Perhaps Zaheer Khan might like to add it to his repertoire?
It's interesting that none of the quoted examples are from Yorkshire, indicating that yorker was a term applied by outsiders, not locals. The early yorkers are also capitalised, suggesting a geographical noun. And as hinted at by the original 1861 quote, temptation and bamboozlement are what the yorker is all about. The deceitful Yorker with his deceptive yorker might just be the true story.
Whatever its origins, it's reassuring to those of us still trying and failing to master it, that Lasith Malinga "didn't have any idea of how to bowl a yorker" when he was called up to the Sri Lankan national team. He's certainly nailed it now, and Waqar Younis says his performance against Kenya in the 2011 World Cup "reminded me of myself in the good old days".
And, having apparently honed his skills by bowling at a pair of shoes in the nets, I can't help but wonder if Malinga is inadvertently giving us a glimpse back into history, and returning the yarker to its boots.
Liam Herringshaw is a medium-paced palaeontologist who moved to Newfoundland from the UK to improve his chances of opening the bowling

Slice

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 00:06:00 +0000

A thousand tiny cuts.
Paper cuts gush sometimes too.

Ca Plane Pour Moi - Plastic Bertrand (1978)

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Mon, 11 Apr 2011 04:18:00 +0000

Lokpal Bill Petition

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 19:57:00 +0000

From The Hindu April 5th

Garnering impressive support from the public, veteran anti-corruption crusader Anna Hazare embarked on a fast-unto-death at Jantar Mantar here on Tuesday, demanding passing of the Jan Lokpal Bill drafted through a civil society initiative.
He also rejected Prime Minister Manmohan Singh's appeal to call off the fast and engage in a discussion with a Sub-Committee of the Group of Ministers over the framing of the Lokpal Bill.
Visits Rajghat
Mr. Hazare first visited Rajghat, where he paid tribute to Mahatma Gandhi, before proceeding to India Gate atop an open jeep accompanied by several social workers and members of the public.
From there, he proceeded to the public meeting at Jantar Mantar with tricolour-waving students cheering him all along the way. Mr. Hazare demanded setting up of a joint committee with 50 per cent representation for citizens and 50 per cent for the government for formulation of a strong Lokpal Bill.
“We want a joint committee. If you want to end corruption, then why don't you constitute it? It means you do not want to end the corruption. I will fast till the joint committee is constituted and till there is pran (life) in me,” Mr. Hazare said in response to the Prime Minister's offer.
At Rajghat, Mr. Hazare said: “I have come to request Gandhiji to give good sense to this Government. So many sacrifices were made for this country. But everything is being destroyed. You [Gandhiji] gave direction to this country but these people are destroying it.''
PMO ‘disappointed'
The Prime Minister's Office had on Monday night expressed “deep disappointment” over Mr. Hazare's decision to go on fast. The statement from the PMO added that the Prime Minister had “enormous respect for Mr. Hazare and his mission.”
Mr. Hazare said he had got the same assurances from the Prime Minister at an earlier meeting on March 7. “He said we have faith in you; we respect you; then why did he not sit with us on this issue again?...If the Government alone drafts this bill, it will be autocratic, not democratic; there will be discrepancies,” Mr. Hazare added.
‘Not acceptable'
RTI activist and Magsaysay Award winner Arvind Kejriwal said the Prime Minister at that meeting had offered to pass on their suggestions to the Group of Ministers constituted to formulate the draft of the Lokpal Bill.
“This is not acceptable to us. We want to be part of the formulation. Who are the Ministers in this GoM? They include people like Veerappa Moily who drafted a weak Lokpal Bill, Kapil Sibal who could see no revenue loss in the 2G spectrum scam and Sharad Pawar,” Mr. Kejriwal remarked.
Former IPS officer and social activist Kiran Bedi echoed Mr. Hazare's demand for a joint committee with at least half the members chosen from civil society like senior advocates Prashant Bhushan and Shanti Bhushan and Karnataka Lokayukta Justice Santosh Hegde. “The remaining members can be from the Government. This committee should treat the Jan Lokpal Bill as its working draft. It should submit its report by mid-May and the Government should then place the Bill drafted by the committee in Parliament,” Dr. Bedi said, adding that such a committee's work would plug all loopholes in the Bill.
A number of politicians from the Opposition parties and public figures visited Mr. Hazare during the course of the day to express solidarity with him. Marking a change from usual protest demonstrations where party flags dominate, both sides of Jantar Mantar Road were lined instead with rows of tricolour flags.

Sign the online petition for the Lokpal Bill - Lokpal Bill Petition

We Are the Champions

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sun, 03 Apr 2011 13:10:00 +0000

What a moment. Glory,glory be the sweet taste of victory, for we are the champions now.

March 23rd

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Wed, 23 Mar 2011 03:09:00 +0000

I wish I'd had a little more of you. Just a little sometimes you know. Maybe you would say this to me. Happy Birthday.

Blue Moon and Jameson

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Wed, 23 Mar 2011 03:01:00 +0000

Dip drip drap. I pulled it out from inside my jacket. Keeping place with papers more important, linted into the corner.

On a cocktail napkin,
I feel for the holes,
Airport bars are strange places.
Noisy and quiet, enforced alien togetherness.

William H Macy's doppelganger asks me,
"Jameson and Blue moon? Strange,strange,strange"
Its close to midnight. Drunkards, stragglers - the flotsam and jetsam.
It was the name of a chapter remember?

Strumming on his guitar (who would have thunk?)
S & G making a call to head homeward.
Where have I been heading?
Everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.

Out the window, black and glisten.
At the bar, an aging blonde.
Air India glides past,
Cold soggy french fries and the Economist.

I see myself in the mirror,
The orange peel stares at me.
My middle seat beckons to me.

Order up for last call.

Boom Lay Boom

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Wed, 23 Mar 2011 02:21:00 +0000

I must have said this a bunch of times already. There are just some songs that don't stop playing in your head. They just keep turning over, around and through you.

They aren't necessarily terribly *great* or the most meaningful, or the most lyrically beautiful, but nonetheless, having those endless-loop-play songs is the prerogative of every listener.

And for some reason, I'm not shaking this one.

Repairing a bear bite in rural Nepal : Partners In Health

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sun, 20 Mar 2011 23:08:00 +0000

Nyaya Health: Bear Bite Treatment from PartnersInHealth on Vimeo.

HSB in the ATL

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 22:16:00 +0000

For some reason I'm down to reviewing the Saravana Bhavan in Decatur. Not that there's anything particularly wrong with that, just that fact that HSB is barely a place one thinks of reviewing. But nonetheless :

So a couple of disclaimers. Even if I weren't born in Madras (the hometown of Hotel Saravanaa Bhavan), it is where I have grown up all my life. And for those of you unfamiliar with that part of the world, HSB is nearly as ubiquitous, if not more, than MickeyD's is in America. Now almost every single South Indian worth his blood already knows this and most likely also has the HSB menu memorized and indeed never needs one when ordering.

The major difference being, that almost always, you get excellent, excellent food whichever one of their outlets you chose to go to. This was my fourth time there, and its taken me a while to actually review the place, only because I think I take the kind of food they serve for granted (its the food I've grown up on).

Now down to business - the last three times I've been there and have ordered masala dosai's, rava dosai's, bisibela bath, potato curry and a bunch of different uthapams. To be honest, the dosai here is a little on the pancake-y side for me. Not crunchy or thin enough. The uthapams on the other hand were spectacular. The sambhar and chutney that they serve with it is quite standard - good stuff. Ask for molaga podi (chilly
powder) to go along with it if you like and they will bring some out.

At lunch today, I was hit by a sudden craving for the bisibelabath and went there with the intention of ordering just that, when lo and behold there was a bloody lunch buffet!

It was vast and extensive. Buffets are always the death of me, yet somehow I end up indulging in them far more than I should, mostly because when I arrive and look at the food staring me in the face, the hunger is unbearable.

The lineup included idli's, masala doasi, rice with another sambhar, a kozhambu, rasam, kootu. Rava kichidi, Payasam, bajji's, thayir saadam with oorga (pickle) and three different veggies.Finished off with some filter coffee. Heaven. I can't even begin to describe how I attacked the food, and how every bite took me right back home. The idli's were actually soft, the curd rice tasted like 'thayir' and not yogurt and the beans paruppu usili was insanely fresh and tasty. Absolutely no complaints.

Aside from the food, the service is friendly but slow, and the ambiance is non existent. But I couldn't have cared less :)

For all you south Indians out there, especially anyone from Madras - you know exactly what I'm talking about. Anyone curious about trying out home style, south Indian vegetarian food this is THE place to go.

HSB on yelp.

March 12th.

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 04:32:00 +0000

Twisted metal crunch. An accident that was waiting to happen. An accident of birth and place and time, an accident of the universe. There were a good number of other things that weren't mere accidents. They were what transformed those accidents from mishappen lumps of earth into living breathing human beings. She was one of them. Bedrock, backbone, confidante, friend. Remembering you is an honour.

National Geographic's 'The Most Typical Person in the World'

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 14:20:00 +0000

7 Billion: Are You Typical? — National Geographic Magazine @ Yahoo! Video

Canstop's Cancer Awareness Walk 27/2/11

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 22:23:00 +0000

In view of World Cancer Day, Cancer Survivors Day and International Childhood Cancer Day (Feb 2nd,4th,15th) Canstop is organising an cancer awareness Walk amongst the loca community inl Semmancherry. Registration is free, and all are welcome.

We plan to assemble at the Semmancherry Primary Health Centre at 830 am and walk through the Tamil Nadu Housing Board locality apart from conducting street theatre in aid of raising anti tobacco awareness.

Please do join in!

When : 830 am onwards, 27th Feb (Sunday)
Where: Semmanchery Primary Health Centre (OMR)

Them Books

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 12:37:00 +0000

If I should falter,
Remember I loved those books of mine.

No discarded rubbish heap,
No pavement pushcart,
No irresponsible finger
Shall they bear.

Resplendent shall they lie,
Locked away and encased,
Breathing small islands,
craggy mountain peaks,
and that snowflake.

Remember me to the story.

Thus Spake Atlanta

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 06:26:00 +0000

Atlanta is an odd kind of city. Apparently it grew astride a railway line. It has endeared itself to me over the last few months. It has given me a job - actual productive employment that is useful to society. Amongst a whole host of other things (including attempts at cooking) in the last 48 hours I've had the immense pleasure of listening to lectures by the luminously witty Margaret Atwood and the razor sharp Fareed Zakaria. Fancy that.

There's something about the weather here. For the first time in my life I'm seeing what Fall looks like. Brilliant oranges and reds rushing at you, while simultaneously trying in vain to hide behind the evergreens. Mountains of falling leaves blowing everywhere, blustering about creating havoc for little dogs. I've never seen trees literally gush, since thats exactly how they look. The rain comes down in sheets, in torrents reminiscent of mad monsoonal fury at home.For some reason I can't stop thinking of my buddy Winnie the Pooh in 'Blustery Day', my only real childhood connection to fall at any rate.

Whats more, I can swear I've smelt 'Mannvaasanai' here - maybe all earth smells the same eh? Some days feel like a cool September afternoon in Kodaikanal - the wind whistling through the trees, cool and comfortable in the shade and toasty under the sun.

For a city that has no significant body of water near it - ocean,lake,river or even stream, I have to say that Atlanta is possessed of some gorgeous sun sets. This was taken in some haste from the roof of the parking deck one day after work.

Its been six months since I've been home - by far the the greatest length of time that I've spent away from Madras. My mind is racing at the prospect of all the things I want to do once I get home.

Its odd to think that I will be back here in Atlanta in the blink of an eye. Its odder still to think that in a manner of speaking this place has become 'home' and has acquired those properties in some small measure. So a not-quite adieu for now fair Atlanta.

The Game

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 16:23:00 +0000

I was thinking about that day. About the day you took me to watch my first test match, my first cricket match, the first time I sat in the seats at the pavilion terrace at Chepauk. The cheering crowds rising crescendo amidst the warm sea breeze inching its way above the concrete columns by mid afternoon. The giant mechanical scoreboard that seemed so much more massive than it was. The players so much further away, yet so much nearer by. Packed sandwiched with The Hindu and Sportstar for lunch break company. Thatha's redoubtable black binoculars passing from hand to hand searching for the cover drive.

I remember watching Sachin bat. I remember watching him toss the bowling all around the park. Apparently it was his first test hundred in India - imagine that. I remember Kapil Dev hitting a few sixes on his way to 66 not out.

Most of all I just remember you taking me.

One Walk One Hope 24th Oct 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 21:59:00 +0000

Once again its time for Canstop's 'One Walk One Hope'. Following the success of our Breast Cancer Awareness Walk last year with over 3000 attendees at the Marina, Canstop has decided to hold the walk again this year as well.

As many of you might know, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. This years walk will take place from the Lady Willingdon College Grounds.

Date : 24th October
Time : 3pm Onwards (Registration)
4pm - Flag off
Venue: Lady Willingdon College Grounds, Kamraj Salai, Triplicane.

I hope that amongst those of you who read about this and are in Chennai make it a point to come, and if you can't or are someplace else, please do spread the word to as many people as possible!

Ma Rewa - Blog Action Day 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 14:54:00 +0000

I realise that this is a day late in coming, nevertheless here's my bit for Blog Action Day 2010. This year's theme is Water.

Its been a while since I've seen or read news about the Narmada, the Sardar Sarovar dam or the Narmada Bachao Andolan, which of course could be entirely due to my own negligence. We weren't even a speck in their story, but the NBA, the dam and the people were a constant presence in our discussions over the course of high school.

I thought it fitting that I write about the Narmada, although at this point, its nearly a decade since we traveled there as 16 year olds. Relatively wide eyed innocents, conflicted between living out our dramatic teenage moments in the midst of cotton godowns, mofussil buses and social injustices, whilst trying to understand the confusing notion of creating and living positive change. Thinking back, in a way we were guinea pigs. Not that being guinea pigs stopped us from living the trip itself.

Ujjain train station at 4 am. The Indore platform with the army of pigeons. Open topped tractor hauled 45 degree rides. The Maheshwar fort. Bandits in the middle of the night stopping comrades from completing their business in peace. Hot,black tea everywhere. Copious amounts of poha. Drying chillies. Sardar sarovar from a bus. Chatting with telugu migrants building the maheshwar dam. Granular blasted rock dust coating everything. Earth and water. A life led far,far away from ours, an alien one at that. In a way all we really did was to stand and stare and listen.

-Photo Danilo De Marco.

I'll always remember the day we were at the village school. The kids were sitting on blue plastic sheets. Belting out song after song in strength. The barren brown hillsides had long given up their trees. The earth almost slipping into the river, the river swallowing it like a whale filtering plankton. We sat and talked, we listened a lot. They had a bicycle powered generator and a thatch classroom filled with literally every root,shoot and tuber that grew around there.

I had the video camera in my hand. Still desperately trying to understand the hindi/marathi, but not obviously succeeding very much. The kids though; they were free. It would be a cliche for me to say that they taught me a great life lesson. But in reality, it was more than that. It was a release.

In that ephemeral moment in time, with the wind working the fine earth off the rounded hillsides and the river breathing heavy under piercing blue sky, their voices ringing across the field, there was peace.

Over many years and months, they had had no home, no school, no livelihood. And every year during the rains, they would lose what they had worked hard for all year long. What was once theirs - land, forest and trees would never really be theirs.
Yet somehow, they were here. Going to school. Pedalling their bicycle to light their classroom. Learning about their roots and shoots - literally and figuratively. They weren't going anywhere.

I guess the reason I chose to write about this is because I don't want to forget the trip. I don't want to forget what I saw. How long can we afford to remain apathetic?

I wonder whats happened to them. I wonder whats happened to the school. Maybe I should go and visit.

Petitions by Change.org|Start a Petition »

Walking

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 12:20:00 +0000

I like hospitals at night. They excite me just a little. I like everything about it - the quiet self proclaimed hush, allowing for many moments of star gazing solitude. Knowing that somehow your actions over the course of the night are marginally more important than the nonsense you are doing during the day. Suddenly your steps are imbued with more meaning, with greater purpose.

I used to love walking across the field from the hospital to the hostel. Not a sound save the crickets and the lizards. I'm no entomologist, but crickets everywhere seem to sound the same. Archana's for once sepulchral, the one guy inside falling asleep on his face. The fluorescent glow around the coffee maker promising hot decoction.

You walk the corridors and the hallways. Listen to the breeze and watch real leaves being blown across by it, and the humility descends down onto you and creeps up in through your shoes. In spite of which you can't help but feel energised.Perhaps its that feeling that those of us a little lower down in the pecking order are no longer simply the scut monkeys. For a few hours the world order is temporarily reversed. We are the new masters of the universe.

With duty doctors on speed dial of course.

Interject

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sat, 18 Sep 2010 02:36:00 +0000

Atavistic cannibals,
Self sacrifice grubble
Life and loathing.

What are you good for?

Pavlov

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 15:01:00 +0000

A stranger menagerie I don't quite remember,
A nuzzle,a nibble and then a giant bite.

The dogs of discontent,
Snarling teeth and bared fangs.

Jaw imprints all over my arm,
Teeth sunk deep,
Deep into dream recess.

Texture

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 22:15:00 +0000

I miss the grass,
Curling around my toes.

Inexorable itches,
thorny addendums.

The sand,
swirling outward,
with wave
and wind.

Its all concrete here,
Shoes and socks
and Elevators.

I miss the texture,
Mud,sand,grass.

Vorpal Blades and all that Jazz

noreply@blogger.com (Arjun Rangarajan) — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 02:17:00 +0000

Sometimes no matter what we do, or don't do, life just goes on. Actually I should rephrase that, life always goes on.

I can hear the rain pattering down outside through my semi opened window.Just a hint of a cold draft blowing in. I'm sure that little rabbit must have escaped to warmer drier ground by now. The Jabberwock comes to mind. Oh Frabjous day!

So in this zero sum game where do we really fit in? Is that not the existential question to beat all comers? What in the name of (un)holy god are we supposed to do on this planet, and pray what is our purpose and place?

Perhaps there is one,perhaps there is none.Thattuvam you say?

We spend day after day toiling, all in search of that elusive meaning. We try and mark our every action and our every move with gravitas. We want our time spent with people,places and in time, to mean something. And sometimes, just that wee little bit times we chance across something that might perhaps be a clue to this ever expanding,never simpler puzzle.

The guise of wisdom can be a pizza, or a rabbit, or communist Cuba.Who's to say eh.

Go snicker snak my vorpal blade!



	To be "yerked" or "yarked" is to be struck, smacked or hit; to have something thrown at you suddenly; or to have your shoes tied together. It's entirely correct to mutter, after being yorked, that you've also been yarked