Window of my Heart

A little Poem for my little one

2012-12-04T14:33:00.000-08:00

Hey little one
Hey little one

Your moves are a zillion
Even an inch smile is worth a million

Your roly-poly cheeks are charming
That dented chin is so alluring

Your exploits fills my heart with gratification
Every maneuver you make is an act of consummation

You danced into my life with those little feet
I have become a responsible father, a real big feat

Before I thought the world was mine to discover
Now you have become my world forever and ever

Baby Boy or Baby Girl ???

2012-11-29T14:53:00.001-08:00

In this modern and ever so fast moving world, people still have their own pretensions and apprehensions on the birth of a baby boy or a baby girl. Probably I am also one of them.

She entered the operation theater. I caught a glimpse of her tense eyes for a few fleeting seconds before she disappeared behind those crusted glass doors. It was an agonizing wait after that for about 2 hours. It was akin to a thriller movie unfolding behind those doors.

Journey to Delivery

She traversed through all stages - spanning over 38 weeks – from initial days of sustenance to the middle period of suffering to the final pedestal of hope. For, she had to wither all the phases with daunting perseverance. “You need to eat well. Is your husband providing anything at all?” The doctor would often question frowning at me. Every week almost all the pores of her skin were being perforated to impregnate saline there by facilitating the growth of the baby.

Everybody wanted to know if we had inquired about sex of the child. I too had the same question hidden in some corner of my heart but feared to ask the doctors as I never wanted reality to differ from my expectation. The fact that I was the eldest of all my cousins was also the reason. As per our family tradition the birth of a great grandson to the eldest grandson results in the adorning of the great grandmother with gold. And in our families we always - even when the times have changed with women finding better jobs, having more reservations, always in demand for marriages etc. - prefer a baby boy. For, we always feel a boy is the torchbearer for the future of the family.

Eventually I visited a renowned Astrologer (appeared in TV channels for daily and weekly predictions) and registered myself by paying a lifetime membership fees (a huge sum). After feeding the birth, time and location in the computer he took a printout of about 10 pages. It had some rectangles and squares that resembled a board game that we played in our childhood days. By holding it in one hand he closed his eyes and like an umpire raised his other hand to count his fingers. Finally glancing at me with a smile that carried an air of accomplishment “Rahu is in 10th house; Kethu is in 6th house; 100% sir trust me, it will be a boy”, he said without any hesitation. I was relieved. For a moment I did wonder if astrologers played along with our emotions to make us happy.

In the ninth month, all speculations confined itself around whether it was scissor delivery or normal delivery. Everybody had their own rationale behind the kind of delivery. Some even told me not to trust doctors because they exploited the patients for the sake of money. My mother insisted on a normal delivery no matter what. Never acknowledging the fact that every case was unique, she often reasoned “your sister had normal delivery; your cousin’s wife had normal delivery; why not your wife?” Being averse to the pains, my wife wanted a scissor delivery as it would alleviate pain. The process of delivery then would be more peaceful except that it carried an element of risk post-delivery. I doubted whether I really had any opinion apart from heeding to everybody’s views. May be that is one of the lop sides of being a husband, “to be” father and a son at the same time.

Like the next Nostradamus, my Astrologer had assured me that it was going to be a normal delivery without any doubt and also prophesied the exact day, auspicious time and star when the child would arrive in this world. I had prepared my mind for that day and also discussed every possible detail with the doctors as suggested by him.

As it would have it, destiny had its own set of plans. It was a scissor delivery. We were blessed with a baby girl. The birth time was well beyond the predicted day, time including the star.

Thank god!!! Book Clubs are still in vogue

2012-03-27T02:02:00.003-07:00

After enrolling for a Book Club I was provided with Karan Thapar’s book titled “More Salt than Pepper”. Before the session started every one who had enrolled were asked to send in the discussion points on any two articles of liking. These points helped in initiating discussions drawing everybody’s interest. This book being a compilation of the author’s personal experiences, published in the form of articles in Hindustan times brought out the various facets of day-to-day life. Hence it was invigorating to listen to everybody eliciting references from the book to relate to their personal experiences.

In this era of technology, where reading books is considered a drab, people find activities like watching movies on YouTube, chatting on Facebook or tweeting on Twitter etc. more appealing . Reading has been limited to browsing the web for news or ‘googling’ for information. Thankfully the Book clubs are still thriving, making an effort to draw forth the inclination towards reading books and augmenting our public-speaking skills. For those who subscribe to reading as a passé but prefer speaking instead, these clubs can still be engrossing there by goading them to read. One needs to realize that Book Clubs are more than merely reading books.

The days of my college

Initially I loathed reading books. I never had the willingness to read nor had the stomach to speak in front of an audience with conviction. The metamorphosis began when I was coerced by one of my friends to attend a Book Club in my college. Though I hardly opened my mouth during those sessions I understood the importance of reading and speaking. I was impressed the way the students’ thoughts poured out incessantly, relating their experiences with the passages in the book. I cinched that good understanding of a subject will allow the words to emanate fluently. It not only brought my interest back in reading books but also led me to start my own Book Club in my colony.

As a part of the club we made sure that we spent at least RS 500 (collected fund) every month to buy books and shared it among ourselves. Every Sunday our group gathered to discuss certain number of chapters till the book was finished. This was not only a good past time but also helped us in understanding the book and the author better. It made me realize that if reading gave a one-dimensional perspective then discussing with others gave multi-dimensional vista opening our minds like parachutes. It also helped me in developing my literary skills stimulating me to write Poetry, ultimately leading me to publish my article in newspapers and magazines.

Now after all these years, I make sure that I still attend the book club. For, it not only acts as refreshment but also improves my interaction with others. Looking back I do see that these clubs has made the person what I am, confident and assertive. Going forward I do see more and more people embracing these kind of clubs. Since online Book clubs - people attending from different locations participating through teleconference – are also in vogue, the future is bright. Whatever may be the form of the book - soft copy or paperback edition -, Book clubs are here to stay with the basic concept remaining the same.

The Best Gift that can ever be given…

2012-02-19T23:11:00.000-08:00

“I came to love you as an imperfect person. But the perfect person in you has made me overcome those imperfections in me”

It was the morning of my Birthday. I had visualized spending the day in a Resort along with my girlfriend before ending the day with a late night party. At least that is what I reckoned when I had left home in my brand new Red Volkswagen Vento – a gift from my father - to meet her in the morning. But what transpired henceforth had been a far cry to what I had anticipated. I was not only astounded by her insistence of spending the day in an orphanage but also found the idea to be very inane. Eventually I had to succumb to her innumerable pleas.

She had brought along various gifts to distribute to those children. I could not help but think that those gifts were to people whom she barely knew but none for a person who could surrender his entire life for her. The gifts included several hues of tiffin boxes, geometry boxes, school bags, chocolates etc. I had brought my new car as a display of my wealth but had the least idea of its transformation as a cargo transport to ship those gifts to the orphanage.

As we entered the campus, the Head of the Orphanage welcomed us with a whimsical smile. We were told that the strength of the orphanage was about 40 children between ages of 2 and 14. Most of these children were working as child laborers before being brought here. The Orphanage ensured that they went to neighboring schools to complete basic education. It depended a lot on the donations from various institutions and people like us to provide a proper food and education.

The children were sitting in rows on the floor in the class. As we entered they all stood up and greeted us. We made ourselves comfortable on the chairs facing the class. This experience was totally alien and non-existent in my life until now. I was so wrapped up within myself that I barely had an inkling of a world beyond. My world consisted of Friends, Parties, long rides etc. But now I was being coerced to embrace a world that I detested to the hilt. Feeling out of place, I itched to get out at the first opportunity. What had to be a day spent draped in romance filled with passion was being squandered in a place of frivolity.

I was woken up from my thoughts when a 2 year old child caught my hand. She had a distinct charm and a haunting smile. Though I resisted, her charm urged me to let her sit on my lap. I was told that they found her when she was 6 months old in garbage nearby. I could not empathize with a mother who could part with her newly born to garbage. There was a sudden upsurge of hidden sorrow within my heart making my eyes moist. As we communicated they reciprocated with a lot of vivacity. They sang, danced and showcased their talent like none other. I was amazed when they performed with characteristic aplomb and vigor with total lack of any stage fear.

It was only during these interactions I realized that there was an unknown soulful happiness that otherwise never existed in my world. All this while, I had been self-indulgently happy riding bikes, driving different cars and attending parties. But this was the first time I was spending my time altruistically. I suddenly grasped that my girlfriend had given me the biggest gift of all. The realization that real wealth existed not in cars or parties but in happiness obtained in sharing the same to others. And I slowly started enjoying the whole scheme of things. But then some questions that kept on lingering in my mind did not have answers. Why God chose only these children to be sans their parents? What is it that makes these children inferior to others? Had it not been these Orphanages who would have taken care of them? Questions many but answers none.

Finally, it dawned upon me that the answers for these questions lay within us. And that is the reason God chose us to be there. Meeting and interacting with them not only gave them a sense of belongingness but also made them realize that they are by no means inferior and that they too can compete in this otherwise cruel world. On the whole I realized what I was missing and started being more considerate towards others.

Indeed the Best gift that can ever be given.

Why writing is not writing in its true sense anymore....

2012-01-29T01:12:00.000-08:00

When I was in school, my English teachers considered my handwriting to be very graceful and fluent. With a lot of passion, I learnt both Calligraphy and Cursive writing and practiced it for hours together. I used to take pride in my handwriting when it was appreciated. Writing with a Parker pen or a Fountain pen gave me a feeling of high, when the tip of its nib smoothly traversed through the intricately arranged thin fibers of the paper. As I wrote poetic odes calligraphically, I sensed that the loquacious movement of my pen was akin to that of a ripple on the surface of the water. It felt like beautiful thoughts ooze out of my heart to slip down through the ink of my pen only to be etched elegantly on to the wafer thin pages of my book. But before I got to the final version of my poetry on the book, I used to write and re-write on piles and piles of papers to get its sense and essence right. To this day, I preserve those papers. For, they remind me of my passion towards writing. There was an unknown psychic connection between my soul, the pen and the paper.

But now after all these years I do not remember what my hand writing looks like on a paper any more. Anybody who would want to study my personality through my handwriting might have a tough time to judge. For, I do not write with the same authority and frequency as before. My handwriting has become wobbly, flowing uncertainly underneath my unsteady fingers. This is not as a result of any injury or accident. It’s just that I do not have the same need to use a pen anymore. There was a time when I had a pocket diary and a pen wherever I went. But now I have a laptop and an Iphone to accompany me instead. I still use a pen but its purpose has merely been restricted to a signature on a cheque or scribbling a few words here and there. Even a signature seems to have become electronic.

MS-Word or a note pad on my laptop (even on an IPhone or an IPad) is doing the job of what a note book did some years back. The only difference being that instead of holding a pen for support, my fingers are at work all by themselves typing on the keyboard of the laptop or the touch screen of my IPhone. Now I feel that beautiful thoughts ooze out of my heart to slip down, not through the ink of my pen but through the typing fingers of my hand only to be edited later on to the flat LCD screens of my laptop. The only advantage has been that of saving the consumption of paper as I can edit innumerable times that don’t cost a thing to get to my final version. While writing and typing has become almost synonymous because of technology, it has made writing no more writing in its truest sense.

The advent of technology has brought in so many changes that we can hardly fathom the effects that it carries to further generations. There might come a time when our future generations might laugh at the very idea that their ex-generations were using a pen to write. They may also come to know about pens - like Dinosaurs- had existed sometime back in the history until they were useless (I meant extinct).

Certainly a bleak future invites those legendary Parkers and Fountain pens.

In, for yet another away white wash???

2012-01-06T01:45:00.000-08:00

Yes I would think so.

As they say history repeats itself. After the world cup triumph (a distant memory now), the team visited West Indies. There we scraped through to a series win against a week team ranked eighth. Then we visited England to get white washed in all formats. England returned to get the same treatment in one-dayers. Then West Indies visited us to give another series victory (no doubt in any body’s mind) for us. Now India is in Australia for a 4 match test series where it is 2-0 down already and slipping down the barrel very swiftly towards another impending away white wash. I hope we wont create a dubious record of sorts of most away consecutive test match losses. India has lost 6 away test matches on a trot including the losses in England.

Look the way the cycle going round and round. When we are at home we are like predators hunting down the opposition. But the scene is a reverse on a foreign turf. Most often than not, we are the one hunted. One would have attributed the reason for the debacle in England to injuries to our major players and fatigue after incessant cricket over past year. But now there is no excuse for the below-par performances down under. It’s only the attitude of the players on the field that needs to be questioned than anything else.

Before we began the tour, everybody talked about this being the best chance of beating Australia in their own backyard for the first time. But the hunter has been hunted. Australia showed how gritty they are even with an inexperienced bowling line up. Ponting and Hussey - whose heads were in the line of axe after their poor show before this series - were completely out of form and heading for an early retirement. But see what our bowlers have done. They not only helped them get their confidence back but also got them back in form by giving them good practice.

Our Bowling have always been questionable (experienced or inexperienced) in away conditions. But now I am afraid we cannot put our money on our famed batting line up either. Every now and then against a quality attack we are as week and meek as a pack of cards. Sachin, Dravid and Laxman – Considered among the greats of the game- haven’t lived up to their greatness tag. They are not even inspiring the young guns to make runs. So far the Australian trio - Ponting, Hussey and Clarke - has out run the Indian trio in this series. I can just hope against the every possibility of an impending white wash.

Can anybody bet why can’t there be a white wash?

The Fasting Land

2011-10-09T03:58:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago I had a dream. I had crash landed in a strange land. Everybody there was frail and bony. On enquiry I learnt that it was called "The fasting land". The king was none other than Anna Hazare. Modi was the Maha Mantri and Kiran Bedi was the Senadipathi.

It seemed the people there only leaved to fast. There were all kinds of races and betting on fasting. The more hours they would fast, the more the money they would earn. They just wanted a purpose to fast. Like, Obama would fast so that Terrorists would not attack America. Musharraf would fast so that India could give Kashmir to Pakistan. Manmohan singh would fast against everybody calling him a week PM. Raja would fast till he is cleared of all the charges in 2G. Nityananda would fast to ban all the video recordings in mobile phones and cameras. Jagan mohan would fast against everybody calling his father Y.S.R a fraud. Though it was illegal in this land everybody would just pickup a purpose for the sake of it to earn money through betting.

The king called in for a meeting to regularize fasting so that there was no misuse of the right to fast. After a lot of discussion among the core committee of the King, Mantri and Senadipathi they formed a new department called "Controller of fasting bureau". The king Anna Hazare himself headed it as he wanted to keep it under his watchful eyes. The king’s main desire was to bring a good fasting culture to fulfill required purposes.

Thus a new memorandum on fasting was released for the benefit of everybody. The controller of fasting bureau would have 4 directorates for each timeline of fast - Less than 1 week, 2 weeks, 3 weeks and more than a month-. Each directorate had its own set of rules & regulations. Anybody who wants to fast has to first get registered with the bureau. For that they would have to fill up a form and must specify all the details of the venue, the timeline of fast, the purpose and the limit on the number of people to gather. They should also submit previous experience certificates of fasting along with bonafide ids. A demand draft for 10 rupees should be posted to the bureau. Each application will be examined for its uniqueness of the purpose, the timelines applicability and the experience. The selected person will then receive an authorization certificate entitling him to fast. During this time period the relevant directorate will monitor the progress of the fast and submit its report to the king.

Any person who would fast without getting the required authorization will have to pay a fine of 5000 rupees with a jail term not less than 21 months. First Sunday of every month will be observed as “National Fasting day”. On this day they would get all kinds of tips to fast for long hours without food and water. They would also get to know the benefits of fasting. Any person who would fast for the specified timeline would get an experience certificate and an incentive for the hours of fast. If the purpose is met for which he/she was fasting then they will be entitled to all kinds of fasting discounts and fasting rechargeable coupons.

The fasting discounts included “fast for five days, fasting for another day is free”, "Fast for 2 weeks, get a week of fasting free" etc. There were also special fasting packages like "Fast for one month , get a free trip to Switzerland" etc. The fasting rechargeable coupons could be recharged on expiry to extend the timeline of fasting. At the same time if a person breaks the fast even before the completion of specified timeline then there would be severe punishment. He might be banned from fasting for a time period or for life as decided by the directorate.

At this stage I woke up…..

Technology Begets Technology

2011-09-25T07:55:00.001-07:00

Those were the days of my childhood. We did not have a VCP player. What we had was a Black and White 14" Dyanora TV that was just good enough to see the daily Doordarshan serials. No Cable TV still. Those who had the VCP in our locality were richest, at least in my eyes. We used to throng to their houses to catch the latest movies (at least 2 months old).My favorite used to be the Indiana jones series, Jurassic Park, Robocop etc. Their houses were like theatres for us. We just waited for the next video cassette to be brought by them. It was not just the children but also the elders who would gather. For me, all this amounted to a festive like atmosphere.

Then it was the time of cable TV. The traditional cable TV operators (unlike today’s operators) used to broadcast 2 movies every day. If one movie came in the afternoon then the other one was at night. Our Muslim neighbors had a huge magnifying glass which would make a 14" screen of a TV look like a 32" screen. It had become a sort of a ritual visiting their homes at all occasions. The cable TV had become a means of uniting people from different religions. It had helped us in making many as our family friends.

The mid 90s marked the existence of Star TV which was an instant rage. This is when we upgraded our TV to a color 20" BPL along with the Star TV connection. Our comforts of home had brought everything within our reach. The gap between people that were bridged by VCP and the traditional Cable TV was broken at once. Almost every home had upgraded to Star TV and hence the need to go elsewhere was not required. The traditional Cable TV metamorphosed into broadcasting several channels apart from the STAR TV instead of movies. Even the brick like black colored video cassettes had slimmed into spherical CDs and DVDs. The shops that rented out VCDs morphed into renting CDs and DVDs. Since then it has not changed for a while.

Of late I am sensing seeds of change again. My locality used to be a hub for several CD shops. Almost every weekend I used to bring several latest movie CDs so that our family could enjoy sitting together without the nuisance of any advertisements. Now all those shops have either closed or shifted gears to some other chain of stores. Only one or two remain. Even those have either rented out half of its space to accommodate a sweet shop or on the edge of closing it. That’s clearly is a sign of extinction.

Probably the decline started with the advent of Internet and other data transferring technologies like Blue Tooth. Though used sporadically in its initial days, now Internet is slowly becoming as common as Cable connections - Even the Net cafes might be out of vogue very soon -. Almost all the latest movies can be caught in one website or the other. The competition of the various channels also has not done any good to the future of CD shops. Within weeks of release some or the other channel would broadcast a latest movie.

For better or for worse, One Technology has either given birth to a new technology or gobbled up another Technology. All we can do is only use the latest till it gets older and get used to using another till it leads to a new one. Its never good to get stuck with one Technology as thats when we as a generation will get outdated.

The Time Warp

2011-09-11T07:33:00.000-07:00

Why do our parents think that they know everything? (They keep advising us) Why do they despise all that which may not match with their biases? (They think the previous gens were more intelligent) Or they stuck in a Time Warp?

Those were the days of landlines and Telephone booths. I still remember the time when I had to stand in a line (1.25 rupees in my hand, because thats what costed per call) in front of a booth just for a chance to speak to my friend over phone. It all has changed just in a span of 10 years with the advent of small wireless devices called cell phones. When I had bought it for the first time I thought that it might be of no use to me as I was not as social. I am sure many people would have felt the same way. Now when I look back, I know, that statement doesnt hold good anymore.

Our generation has now been sorrounded by these so called different kinds of gizmos and gadgets. We will not be able to visualize our lives otherwise. I am sure if cell phones were to be banned (Like prohibition towards drinking) today then we might even be prepared to smuggle them just to have a look at it. A cell phone has become an identity and an extension of our physical self that we might feel handicapped with out it. There was a time when I used to write, re-write on scores of papers to get my poetry right. Finally when I got it right I might have used atleast 20 papers of manuscript with numerous permutations and combinations of sentences underlined, scratched, written over and over again. Now laptops, desktops and very recently ITabs and Iphones with the facilities of MS-office have made all the editing more easier.

Now leave alone coexisting with these devices they have become our world. Our parents never had to put up with these things. So they really dont understand the state of today's generation. This has been the reason enough for our parents to always went their anger at us. When I am in my room doing something on my laptop they would just come up and yell at me not to waste time. They would rather be happy seeing me reading my text books. Now hold on!! I might just be doing the same thing in my E-Library. Why should they assume that I would be wasting my time playing only games on it? (I was infact doing the same thing) But why should they assume that instantly?

What used to be a source of knowledge at their time may not be anymore. To find a piece of information during their times would have taken a lot of (not at all worth it) effort from going to a library, searching scores of shelves, looking through various paper back editions and finally getting to what they wanted. But now you can just type it in google and you get it with the least effort. The problem with our elders is that they are still stuck in a time warp. They still can't realize the fact that the time of Rafis and Kishores are gone and the time of pritams and Rahamans are here irrespective of their liking. They should learn to respect the ideas of every generation and keep abreast with the updates. During their times the interaction with external world was minimal. That was best suited at that point of time. Today's world is made up of Facebooks and Twitters. They are so embeded into our systems that we cannot have any identity without them. If you cant understand a new thing atleast you should'nt despise it. The best thing that one can do is to keep the mind open and abserve and absorb the changes.

I hope that we can remain as broad minded as possible when we age. The next generation kids already speak the language of CDs and XBOX games. But those changes are inevitable with every surge of new generation. We just have to realize that this is the nature of ever-changing volatile world.

Telangana??? What After that??

2011-08-28T09:51:00.000-07:00

People (innocent Osmania University students egged on by the political leaders???) are fighting for a separate Telangana state. Was the ruckus of demand for a separate state politically driven or common man driven? That is a highly debatable question. Now lets assume that the demand is very reasonable and the separate state has been formed. What after that? Does that mean all our problems will be resolved? Will every student who is fighting for this cause end up with a well paid job (both Government and private) irrespective of the required skill set? Will the omni-present corruption ( so unselfishly being fought against by Mr Anna Hazare) vanish for ever? Will the political leaders change in to sadhus and think about the well-being of the people all of a sudden? Will the dry farm lands of Telangana become well-irrigated overnight?

I really dont think so...The only thing that would happen according to me is that new kings will take charge and same story of cat and mouse (in this case the politicians and common man) will repeat itself over and over again till this system is completely rotten beyond any chance of resurrection. Ok fine!!! lets trust these so called babus. They tell that if Telangana is formed, Krishna waters will be with us in its entirity. If that is true then why is our state dilly-dallying this issue in front of the tribunal for all these years? Will Telangana achieve what our entire state put together has not been able to achieve for so long? I doubt it.

Forget about the natural resources. Lets consider something that is in our control. The political leaders are promising our students that everybody will be employed after the state formation. I really want to know from where will the jobs come? If only all the Government jobs were filled all this while in AP, our employment rate would not be so dismal. Even if we are made to think that everyone will be given jobs, can we safely assume that it will be done free of any bribe? Now what about private jobs? If the jobs in private sector are made compulsory for all the Telangana students then will that mean companies will recruit even if they dont have the required qualification or skillset. I doubt if any company would stay with so many restrictions in this world of liberalisation. The growing Telangana agitation along with bandhs and strikes has already caused many companies to go to other cities. Hyderabad, once competing with metro cities like Bangalore (When Chandrababu naidu was at the helm) in IT has fallen in standards so much that even tier II cities like Baroda are performing better. Will the emergence of Telangana cause even more decline has to be seen?

Many questions and less answers. Will these questions remain questions for ever?? That is another question. I only have a single and simple answer. Enough of distruction and instability. As they say it, together we stay and together we grow. Lets make it a point to put all these things behind and strive for a progressive state. For once lets forget all the differences and work for the development of this state. That would yield more results.

Father of Jan-lokpal bill

2011-08-20T03:24:00.000-07:00

Anna Hazare,

This name was not as popular just a few months back. Now that has become a brand name even an LKG kid would know in every Indian home. Such has been his popularity (almost everybody including the media is following him) now that people are considering him as second Gandhi. If at all there was a prophecy (like sadhus and gurus who prophesy these days) that Gandhi would resurrect himself after 64 years then it has come true.

‘Con’gress has unleashed almost all its con weapons and ammunitions up its sleeve to dent the confidence of this little old aging, fasting until death, never-say-die Gandhian. Like Keanu Reeves in the English movie ‘Matrix’, he has dodged almost everything including abuses. Like an iron man he has stood firm deflecting everything through his shield of resilience.

One cannot discount the fact that if this law comes into force then almost everybody in the parliament would find themselves in Tihar. Probably this also one of the reasons why everybody wants to vilify this movement by terming that some external forces are behind this. Given a chance they might also say that Aliens from outer space are also behind this movement.

Should say, this has been one of the most defining moments of Indian politics in the recent past. Our Government so used to finding ways implementing everything (whether passing bills, getting votes, increasing prices or proving its majority) it wants to by corrupt means has all of a sudden been jerked from its inertia. It just cannot digest that even an ordinary Indian could challenge its supremacy. The Omni-powerful and Omni-present Government has been too reluctant to accept the fact that it is not all that powerful or present in each and every common man’s heart. The once oblivious R K Laxman’s common man is not all that oblivious or anonymous any more. When the need arises the common man will raise to assert that he has the true power in Democracy. This is the real truth. And Anna is that face of a common man.

Why is Anna getting so much of support? The reasons for this are many. If on one hand his pristine character (with no political overtones and selfish desires) being the reason then on the other is the recent incessant waves of corruption (2G, CWG etc.). All these things not withstanding for years the common man has been coming face-to-face with corruption in every phase of life from getting a license for a two wheeler to getting a ration card. If one says only these are the avenues of corruption then that’s a mistake. Corruption is in everything and in all forms from constantly withering roads with the slightest drop of rain, overflowing drainages, incomplete projects pertaining to roads and rivers etc. Every small misuse of the public money that goes unnoticed and effecting the quality of our lives is a cause of corruption. This is also reason enough for India as a nation will ever be a developing (not developed) country. Every time the television is switched on or one sees the front page of a newspaper only scams meet the eye. Our country can be called a developed country at least in one aspect. That would be in range of scams. If the first scam cheated the common man in lakhs then now that’s gone up to Crores.

Now all this is about to change. If it has to start this way then let it be. Let us all be a part of this Movement and cease this moment to be a part of history which is in the making every passing second, minute, hour and day. Hopefully this will just signal the beginning of something new and better tomorrow. Let’s give a better future to our future generations.

When Sauce was a Tomato once upon a time

2011-08-19T22:08:00.000-07:00

There was a scream in the kitchen. Expecting some kind of a mishap I ran over. My wife was in a state of shock standing like a statue. I doubted if some sage had converted her into a stone for not adhering to her husband. As Lord Rama stepped on a stone, Ahalya had a second life. Similarly I thought I too should do something like that. Well! I was not so lucky. The reason for the scream was she had forgotten to watch her daily serial and a good 15 minutes already had gone by. She almost high jumped over me to the hall, the place of existence of our beloved idiot box.

1002301th part (not sure about the number of years of its running) of the daily super mega serial of “Kyunki Sauce bhi kabhi Tomato thi” had already started. She breathed a sigh of relief as yesterday’s part was still being shown. Should say this was 15 times slower than the super slow motion of a cricket ball touching the bat. I am amazed at her punctiliousness in covering every part twice (Today’s night part is repeated tomorrow morning) as if there was some kind of exam next day and she had to be the topper by any means. And believe me she is so irritated if she misses even a single dialog or a scene. Nobody is supposed to do any cross talk at that hour.

I am not sure why people are so mad about such serials. I find it very brain damaging, annoying and quite silly. It is even more when I just come home from office and want to relax by watching some nice English movie in our recently bought 32” LCD flatron Sony TV. And I am snubbed every time I request for the remote. Being the broad minded that I think I am I always have to succumb to her requests. I then normally divert my attention to other activities like reading a book or newspaper just to forget the pain of not able to watch the TV. But occasionally I just happen to catch some of the parts.

I just cannot stand the same clichéd characters walking in and out every time you see. Rich joint families (that is so outdated), all the characters clad in such grand costumes and artistic jewelry that a middle class woman would never ever be able to wear even with a savings of life time, innocent looking “bahus” with loads of pancake on their faces, glycerin pouring through their cheeks every minute like a Niagara fall, supercilious “sasu maas” looking down on everybody including their no good side-kick husbands , villainous sister-in-laws showing the “Bahus” in bad light just for the sake of it. The list can go on. In the name of God can somebody please shut these things down?

Anyways now the serial had started. In a marriage scene there was some high emotional drama going on. All the ladies were sobbing because their distant cousin sister, third daughter of their step mother’s daughter whose father had divorced her to marry another (Confused??? Me too, I am not sure if that kind of relation really exists), who was getting married would be leaving them after marriage and their husbands were consoling them. Thinking that this was a third marriage in their family I told my wife that I saw a similar scene a month back. With eyes glued on TV, with watery eyes, almost breaking down unable to bear the emotional scene, she told me that this was the same marriage and was still going on.

I almost fell of my seat!!!!

The beautiful Hills of Papikondalu & Badrachalam

2011-06-14T09:28:00.000-07:00

Looks like the mansoons are finally here feeding the thirsty earth - left high and dry because of hot and humid summer- with rain water. It's great how the weather changes so quickly as if there was some kind of an alarm set- that June has come so must the rain. The first day first show also had me booked by drenching me completely on my way to the last day in Office. Yes that's right, incidentally this is my last day I would ever enter- if I don't join it again- that campus of beautiful beetle shaped red building resembling some old british fort sorrounded by rocky green landscape. While leaving I had a drop or two flowing through my eyes getting lost in the rain.

Me and my wife have planned for a getaway for the next two days. As a part of it we are going to Badrachalam and papikondalu tour through AP Tourism. Strange as it may be that the last day of summer and first day of monsoon has been chosen as a getaway when it had to be the other way round. Immediately after this tour we are going to chennai and from there to Tirupati. So that's a lot of travelling till next weekend.

At 5'o clock in the morning we reached Badrachalam in khamam dist. Haritha hotel is a building with pent house style rooms with good greenery sorrounding it. After fresh up at around 6:30 in the morning we left To the famous Ram leela temple on the banks of river Godavari.

While getting down the bus the recitation of sundarakanda soothingly reached our ears. Every year Sita Ramula kalyanam is conducted here and is visited by thousands of people. It is called as Ayodhya of Andhra Pradesh and considered one of the holiest places. But as with all the holy places this too has been choking under incessant pressure of dealing with huge public. As you can see dirt and lot of waste strewn everywhere on the walk ways with house flies making merry on them emanating an unbearable smell. It didnt seem any body cleaned it over a period of time. The shrine was atop of a small hill and invited us with 80 odd steps with beggars on either side of each step as if they were the guardians of the temple.

As we ascended step by step so did the sounds of beggars of all ages begging (amma ayya.....) for thier share of coins too ascended to unbearable decibal levels. Two of them even managed to have a tangle and fought over a coin as to whose it was that was thrown at them. The begging at its best I probably have ever seen. The main mandapam where the statues of lord Rama and Sita are kept is made of sculpted black stone. As we reached the main abode, the chantings of the peaple ( jai Sri Ram) around me rose to a crescendo and it subsided after the statues were visible. After breakfast we left to paranasala about 35 km away.

The fresh breeze of river Godavari touched our faces even as the scourching sun was beating down on our heads. With Godavari in background Parnasala looked like a small movie set out of Bapu's Sita Ramula kalyanam with various kinds of shops leading up to a temple tempting the passers by with their own specialities. There is a piece of history attached to this place though. Rama, Sita and Lakshmana were here during their last three years of 14 years vanavasam. All this has been symbolically represented here with statues of Rama, Sita, Lakshmana along with their hut and Ravana abducting her. Also there is one rock on which it seems as per the folklore Sita had dried up her 40 feet saree after her bath. The marks of that saree are visible even today. It is called as ' Nara chira guruthulu'.

But one thing that stuck me is the extent of commercialization that's taking it's toll on these historical places. It clearly shows that we donot have any kind of respect and care for our own history. We as tourists just come round to have good time and take photos and forget about it after we leave. These places exist only as memories in our photo album. Those people cash in on the place popularity and set up their livlihood in these places thriving on it. But ultimately it's the place that is taking the beating with none caring for it's wellbeing. Those people thriving on it not just earn out of it but also make it dirty and filthy. In that process the rivers and ponds around are so polluted that you would shriek at the idea that Gods even bathed once here. It is hard to get any kind of devotion looking at these things.

Post lunch we took a 2 hour (75 km) drive to Pochavaram. Sandwiched between huge hills and Godavari river is Pochavaram a tribal village. From here we boarded the steamer to Papikondalu in Kollur. There was no signal in my phone here on. The guide anounced the start of the steamer. It slowly moved as if a tiger hidding in woods slowly moving to catch it's prey to give it a surprise. But our steamer never really gained speed as the level of water was pretty low. Using the depth meter it slowly traversed through the calm surface of the water cautiously wherever the depth was deep enough.

We reached the shore of Papikondalu just before sun set. Tea and Pakodas were served. Our night stay was at one of those 40 bamboo huts on the shore. Luckily we got a separate hut to stay. As the sun set the green hills turned darker like shadows of giant ghosts waiting to gobble. There was silence around except for few occasional gigles of tamilians gathered before thier hut. Should say this was one of the most unique experiences I have had until now. Huge hills on one side, Godavari on the other, no phone signals, no thinking about the world two days after. Laying down lazily on the soft sand beside our hut, looking at the crescent like moon in the dark blue sky perforated with stars, should be there to be experienced. Didnot know when I slept. Only gotup when my wife coerced me to at around 5 in the morning. We had a bath before anybody else and just walked around the shore in the pre- sun rise time. The beach of Kollur with our tourism steamer anchored, the freshness of the breeze over the still water of Godavari, our huts in hues of blue and yellow, people in it still lazily shifting in their sleep, all in all made an enticing experience. We had a chance to capture this ever so enthralling nature in our cameras.

At 8:00 after filling our stomach with some idlis, chutney and upma it was the time for some jungle walk. An halfanhour walk through the path criss-crossing the forest, Kollur tribal village and then through the hills of trees sided by the snake like canal of stream took us to this place. We enjoyed the stream for the rest of two hours diving, swimming and floating and taking snaps.

Post lunch we were all set to leave and sitting in our steamer. Suddenly we came to know that our neighbour's wife went missing. Aged about 80 yrs of age it was hard to see where would she go in the smeltering heat of the sun. It's tough to walk even 100 mts on those hot sands as you might be drained of your energy. May be she had fallen down and lost her consciousness. We had to search for about an hour but with out much success. Somebody from other boat gave information that she had left in another boat. So we hoped to see her at Pochavaram atleast.

On the way back we stopped at Parentapalli. Here we visited Ramakrishna ashram and Shiva temple. A huge neam tree with steps adjacent to it invited us. There were many toys made of bamboo on sale by the locals there. But I could not find even a single cool drink or water as I was really thirsty. It was only in other boat's canteen that I could find one cool water bottle.

Back in Pochampalli we came to our bus and also found our Neighbour's wife seated comfortably. She had her side of story to tell. She had boarded a different boat out of confusion. And they dropped her to Pochampalli all the way. But anyways her husband breathed a sye of relief having found her. It's been 60 years since they have been together and this was not the way they were supposed to part. As my heart also felt comfortable our bus left back to Bhadrachalam from where we will heading back to the pavilion- Hyderabad.

Lost in Kerala !!!!

2010-12-23T06:14:00.000-08:00

Sitting in the chillness of AC two tier compartment of shabari express enroute to trivendrum we sighed a heave of relief from the incessant tantrums (advices of dos and donts) of our parents, as it slowly left behind the south central railway junction. It was hot mid afternoon but the enclosed cabin of ours did not let us know the outside temperature. We spoke about numerous things through out our journey.

Next day at 7 am the train reached Erode immediately after which Coimbatur came by. From here on I found a sudden change in the landscape with trees covering everyinch of hills and ridges, coconut trees being the major benificiary. Then there were a string of stations like Wayanad, Trissur, Palakkad, Shoranur etc all covered with the similar green blanket. On enquiry came to know that Coimbatur was the last stop of Tamilnadu and from there on we were in Kerala famously called as ' God's own country'.

At Shoranur the direction of the train changed as the engine that was pulling our compartment in the direction in which I was sitting started pulling it in the opposite way. Even I had to change my sitting position in line with the direction of the train. From here on it was like ride of my life. As the train trudged along in the forest of greenery on the serpentine like tracks my heart also just lingered along without even once thinking about the normal life. This was the best getaway that I can get at least this way at the end of the year. The sky started to get gloomier aiding to the beauty of the surroundings. Our 36 inch large LCD monitor like Relytuf glass window showed us the numerous pictures of nature in myriad hues. Large grasslands with buffalos chewing along, bordered with hills of tall and lean coconut trees, farm houses in red oxide coloredroofs, huge electric poles carrying wires on it's shoulders bifurcating the land. Two eyes and words wouldn't be enough to grasp the complete beauty of the exemplary nature.

The sleepy town of Ernakulam welcomed us with a whiff of fresh air as we entered the station. Many foreigners were standing near the door to get down. As this is the high season the rate of incoming tourists is also high. The taxi driver greeted us with a reverent smile and opened the back door to keep the luggage. It's a 2 HR drive to Komarakam, a village on the beautiful backwaters of Kerala adjacent to the lake vembanad. When we started, there was no rain at all and it was sunny too. As we neared the 200 km long backwaters the rain started playing hide and sick with heavy showers battering our AC Indica hatch back car now and nothing at all in seconds. A paradise of dazzling bays, lagoons and coves, Komarakam is home to stunning resorts and hotels which are upper crust, leisure destinations. Along the rain battered roads, our car driver took our journey fatigued souls to the resort where we would be staying.

Abad Whispering Palms lake resortis on a sprawling 10 acre land with the background of back waters and house boats sailing through them. This world class leisure resort has stylized individual villas, a plunge pool, private garden and back water front.

The sari clad receptionist escorted us to our pent house style Bamboo villa cottage. The cottage was nice and decent just for us two to spend some time. As the name suggested the roof was covered by bamboos and so was the wall of the back yard. Open air bath, exotic outdoor garden showers, private beach sit outs and glorious views of back waters were some of the attractions part of a privileged life style. After inquiring with our travel agent we came to know that there was no further program on the curriculum the whole day. So we just idled in the closed interiors of our room before going for a small walk. As we were having our coffee in the restaurant I unconsciously enjoyed the sound of flute coming from some where filling the evening air.

When we came out I realized that it was the light cultural program of instrumental music being held adjacent to the swimming pool. The soothing music, the full moon playing hide and seek in the cloudy sky reflected in the serene back waters, the surrounding still coconut trees, me sipping the coconut water from the straw laying down on the couch beside the swimming pool aaahhh!! Heaven, if at all there was one.

Next day after a plate of honey spruced pieces of banana, two wadas with cups of different kinds of chutnies- one made of coconut and other one with ground nuts, a glass of pine milkshake, a cup of coffee ( a great and filling breakfast mainly due to the fact that it was complimentary) we started of to Munnar 190 kms away. This time it was a different driver and looked like a typical malyali with the sandalwood tilak on the forehead. As soon as he opened the door of Mahindra Logon car a nice spacious perfumed interior invited us. The road was not as flat but as we neared

NH 49 it was good but quite narrow. Muvattupuzzha( spelt as muvattu pura - muva means 3 pura means river, a junction of 3 rivers) was one of the first stops along in highway. There we stopped to take some photos of the drum players. About 12 white lungi clad people standing in 3 rows rhythmically playing some traditional drums with remarkable unity that would make even Sivamani proud.

As we cruised along the narrow snake like road there were varieties of trees on either side of the road of which Pine trees and rubber trees were the most. Seeing at the limitless greenery I decided it was better to give rest to my eyes and put my head on the pillows and slept. By the time I got up, we had covered good distance and now we were swirling and twirling like a mad bull on rampage at 100 kmph on the ghat road that had a twist every 100 mts. I requested the driver to go a bit slow as the twister like ride made us feel like vomit. We prayed to reach as quickly as possible. We did stop in between to have a couple of mango pieces near a water fall as a quick breather. As we were nearing Munnar there was a sudden change in the landscape from a thick forest to neatly arranged tea estates on either side. We were good 9 miles away when we reached ambady estate where we would be spending the rest of the time as long as we are in Munnar. It was lunch time by the time we reached this place.Ambady estate looked very unusual to me to start of with. Right at the doorstep of Munnar beside the national highway it is nestled in the middle of a hilly forest interspersed with tea estate and thickly grown tree vegetation. The entrance hardly makes any attempt to attract your attention. Two rusted gates, a small square board of Ambady estate dangling to a pole on one side of it, a narrow ( didnt think there was enough space even for our car to enter) mud road ascending the hill in zig zag direction getting lost in the forest of trees is all that you can find. It looked like a setting straight out of a

horror movie like Evil Dead. Had it not been for the booking of the travel agent as a part of package I would have been very scared even to enter it. But as the car started to climb the carved out road it was a whole new world that met my eye. With out disturbing much of the natural beauty, 8 well done cottages made of local wood and mud exteriors offering a plethora of views to gaze upon were built upon different levels on the unevenly descending mountainous range. The manager smiled and welcomed us in his old fashioned and rustic hut like office. The main hall was well furnished along with a mini library that had various novels and history books of Kerala. He gave us tea made of various spices that had sweetish tinge of taste. After check-in formalities the office assistant showed us the way to our cottage through the narrow pathway covered by grass. The interior of our cottage had a very mild lighting and was well furnished with deewans and bed. For someone who is so used to the noisy city life, the silence of the woods especially in the night might be very haunting as even a small sound might be heard with magnified effect.

For the next two days we went on to visit in and around of the small at bustling with life town of Munnar. We visited the Kerala tourism run Hydel park, roamed the streets of the local market ( bought pain relieving oil and honey from adivasees there), speed boated in rain water of Mattupati dam (the best of all experiences), shopped handbags at the Echo point, learnt how the tea is manufactured in kannan Devan hills plantation manufacturing unit, traveled amidst tea estate to visit eravikulam national park and viewed the exhilarating performances of the local Kalaripayattu

practitioners performing the martial arts in front of spectators sitting in a gallery. The martial art performance was akin to watching a set of gladiators fighting for their lives. We also visited spices plantation and bought some of it while returning descending the hill back towards kochi. We reached Kochi in afternoon and spent rest of our time in the 19th floor of the 5 star Dream hotel. Next day we were supposed to leave back during early hours.

It was a great experience all in all except for a little out of tune effect in the form of delaying of our return train due to the derailing of a goods train. We were left biting our nails on the platform from early morning for about 4 hrs. From the comforts of a 5 star hotel we suddenly found ourselves fighting for sleep on the slippery steel chairs of the station waiting for the special train ( for the increased rush to Shabarimalay) whose interiors were quite ordinary. This we found out after boarding it.

One rainy night at Venkatapuram - Part 2 (last Part)

2010-11-06T23:01:00.000-07:00

The cellar was quite wet and windy – the effect of incessant rains. But in spite of this I felt my hands were sweating. Like distant waterfall in the hills that flowed in some zigzag motion channeling through the trees and hillocks, sweat was dropping down flowing through the forest of hair onto my wrinkled and worried forehead, its course of direction disturbed by the over sized black haired twin caterpillars like eyebrows on either sides to my billowed blabber like cheeks. A slight shiver not because of the chillness but a shudder caused somewhere from the left side of my chest spread to all parts of my body like a wave. As I walked to move out as quickly as possible from this state of discomfort I just looked side ways. There was no one but just felt as if some shadow just crossed overtaking me. Before I could understand what was happening that was gone.

Coming out of the cellar of my apartment I was walking on the rain battered and water laden muddy roads of venkatapuram (that’s the name of my area) that had street lights at every step but rarely giving light to the walkers. Looks like the government at last has woken up to the hardships faced by us people that they have decided to lay the cement roads. But the work is still incomplete due to the heavy rains (As usual even if it doesn’t rain) which is also the cause for further hardships with stones and chunks of cements scattered everywhere. From far I could see the Kirana Shop beside one of the dimmed but blinking street light. By the time I reached that shop there was some lady talking to the shop keeper whose back was visible in the blinking light. May be she was the usual customer but quite unusual to find a lady at this place at this hour.

With out looking at the shop keeper, in my own thoughts I asked for my usual brand of marlbrando cigarettes. As I took the money out of my pockets of my T-shirt to pay for the cigarettes casually I just looked at the face of the women standing there. They were the same dug up staring eyes. Some liquid was flowing through her nose, may be that was blood!!! The blinking light made that face even scarier with the hair falling on her eyes. Out of nowhere a small beetle like bug came out of one eye and crawled in the other one in a jiffy. Horrified!!!! I jumped at that very place with a scream that was half shut even before it barely arrived out of my mouth. The words of the shop keeper bringing me back in to this world. He asked me if I needed something else. I looked at his face to give the money for the cigarettes. Where was the face???? That was only a headless body. My heart at once galloped into my mouth at that sight. I looked side ways to see if the lady was still there. She was not there. It looked as if she just vanished in the thin air.

I started running from there towards my apartment as fast as my legs (any athlete would have been ashamed of) could carry my not so lanky body; to be precise the 110 kg burly mass of wobbling flesh covered barely by skin stitched together with muscles laced with loads of fat and supported by the framework of bones (I never felt them). The lift was not working any more. With out even thinking how I would reach my home ascending those stairs (This would be a Guinness World record if I do so) situated on the 7^th floor, I ran towards the staircase. As I crossed the ground floor I heard some kind of a hauling sound coming from somewhere. May be it was from the terrace. No!!! That was a cry. Initially it could be hardly heard. But as I kept ascending the steps with descending energy levels the shrillness of the cry gradually increased until it reached unbearable limits.

There with her head bent on her knees on the way to 6^th floor with all her air falling from over her head the night gown clad sobbing lady sat on the steps with her hands clasped on her head. The same stink of the dead body could be felt. Blood like stream of liquid oozing from somewhere scattered on the steps. There was silence now with the cry just stopped. I could hear nothing else but my breathing. This was the final step after which my home could be reached. But I have to cross this hurdle. Out of a lot of difficulty I filled my mind with some courage and tried to bypass her in the narrow space between her and the staircase wall.

She suddenly lifted her head with her hair flying over to her back. With screeching sounds like some kind of a bat she caught hold of my leg. In the dim light of the staircase I saw her crusted teeth with some kind of green colored liquid squirting out. With all the strength in the world I kicked her on the shoulder to escape her grasp. She fell on the other side. As I tried to run, my feet fell on the scattered liquid and slipped. I fell with my face downwards. With all force my chin hit the sharp edge of the step and my rest of the body pushed my head in the forward direction to make it skid through the smooth flooring of the stair case only to come to a halt when my head banged in to the wall of the staircase. The whole world revolved around me for a few seconds. My chin now resembled that of a ripped apple slit into two pieces fallen just from a tree. My whole face was ruptured with blood all over. Turning over I saw at the lady. Screeching and squealing intermittently, crawling on the steps and over to my body she brought her scary face directly on to mine, with her snake like tongue hanging……

Suddenly woke up. My whole body was wet covered by sweat. I was more than happy to realize that it was just a dream. I was not on my bed but looked like I had fallen of it in struggle with that scary lady in my dream. It was 3:00 AM. I was alone in my apartment as my parents had left to Ananthapur to attend some occasion. Still with 4 hours to go for the Sun to rise I relaxed on to my bed again.

Triiiiiiiing!!! The calling bell rang. Who could come at this odd hour?? My parents cannot come. Even friends cannot disturb me. May be??? With fear I proceeded towards the main door of my house. I saw through the key hole. Same starring dug up eyes. Same face was looking through the keyhole!!!!!

(The result of a just seen Horror movie with little madness added to it)

One rainy night at Venkatapuram - Part 1

2010-11-06T22:50:00.000-07:00

At 11:30 in the night I Pressed the Lift Button. The railing see through doors of the lift opened. After entering it I directed it to the cellar. Slowly and slowly the lift started moving down. The heavy rain looks like has not stopped at as it was quiet wet everywhere with the water flowing from terrace to all the floors. I was headed towards nearby Kirana shop to have a cigarette puff. This is my usual daily habit of relaxing and also I consider this to be one of the (in fact just one) daily exercises that I can give to my already bulky body with flab jutting out from my sides pushing the stretched T-shirt (Double XL) after a day of – Fevicol ki masboot jod to a chair- mentally exhausting and Physically relaxing (but back spraining) software job.

As the lift crossed 6^th floor through the railing door of the lift, very unclearly through the foggy atmosphere on the balcony of one of the flats I could see a vague lady figure standing out. It was as if she had a head bath and just came out to get her hair dry. It was strange though - who would have head bath and come out to dry hair, that too at this rainy hour?? As I had moved to this apartment complex very recently, I hardly knew anyone. Hence with out putting too much of stress on my brain went ahead with the flow of the lift. Now the lift crossed the 4^th floor. Outside someone just moved somewhat swiftly from left to right. It was difficult to digest what I just saw. It was the same lady who was there in the 6^th floor. Even if I were to think if she was playing running around, there was hardly anybody else apart from her. At this hour what was the fun I couldn’t understand.

In the ground floor again the same lady was standing to board the lift. This time she was staring at me directly. With mixed feelings – Little fear and little Shyness – I too looked at her. The face was half visible with the other half covered by her flowing brownish hair. Initially her skin seemed very fair but on deeper look I felt there was something in that color. It was as if the skin was half burnt and the fairness being the result of that. The eyes of her as if dug up in between the crater caused by the walls of her nose, cheeks and eyebrows. She also had grayish circles circling her eyes. Those eyes were searching something in my face. I do not know whether it was the proximity of the distance between her and me or my nostrils being over sensitive, I felt suffocated with the emanating stink from her that smelt like that of a dead body.

The lift stopped with a thud at the cellar. The watchman’s dog always slept beside the lift. As I kept my foot out opening the doors it looked at me and started barking instantly so loudly that it caught me unprepared. Usually fearful of dogs- because of the lesson learnt to never play with your friend’s pet even if it’s just a puppy after I was pierced 11 times round my bulging tummy as soft as a dough cake from a rabbit teethed sneering animal doctor, after the puppy dug its teeth onto my right leg. After barking continuously for few minutes the watch man’s dog ran away as if it suddenly realized the presence of my bulky frightening( to say the least) figure. I could not fathom whether the dog that hardly ever made its presence felt was barking at me or something else behind me. Was there really something behind me?????

Shopping at Tnagar in Chennai one evening.

2010-10-28T21:28:00.000-07:00

We had come to chennai all the way from Hyderabad via tirupati to do my wedding shopping. Named on the legendary poet Thyagaraja, Tnagar (Thyagaraja nagar) is a bustling locality where it seems whole chennai congregates to do some serious cloths shopping with almost all the rich and famous silk saree houses located in this area in a span of 1 km. After reaching my cousins house 1 hour from central railway station we had a lunch and a quick nap. We started to this place at around 4:00 in the evening reaching it one hour hence. As we got down the regional transport bus we were welcomed by a sea of people inundating the whole area where the tall buildings looked like some kind of ships docked to the shores floating on the sea. We then trudged along the forest of people like an army of cadets if not as agile, who were on a mission to save people kidnapped by Naxalites, only difference being that our mission was to buy some sarees. I say it as a mission because looking at the crowd made me feel as if buying a single saree there would dwarf even the triumph of conquring Mount Everest. As we passed shop after shop like shore after shore, I felt we were getting submerged under the incessant waves of people hitting us hard without respite. In between all this there were also some cars and two wheelers like hills and rocks in the sea changing our course of direction from time to time. It was hard to digest such an unprecedented crowd as we were struggling to even breath forget about staying together. With deepavali still three weeks away if this was the situation I would be scared to think what would it be during the festival days. My guess would be that we got to enter into some new avatars like spiderman or superman flying above everyone or walking over the ceiling upside down.

Out of a lot of diffulty we managed to find one shop which we chose to buy some sarees. But the queue to enter it with so many of them trying to out do each other made it look as holy as the abode of lord venkateshwara of tirupati which we visited a day before standing in queues for hours together even after paying hefty darshan fees of Rs 300. We also lost the same amount to a con jeep driver on the pretext of driving us to tirumala being a different story. The 5 floors huge shop looked small and spaceless with so many people occupying every inch of the space. Had it not been my wedding shopping I would never have entered the locality forget about the shop. There were several counters with different ranges of prices to different varieties of sarees. The mission that I had was to select three sarees to be given to my fiancée for three occasions while my parents's mission was to buy sarees which will be given to the near and far relatives who would visit. Muhurtham, Nagavalli and Reception were three of the occasions.

Finally we were out after buying just 3 Saree which took us about 4 hours. It was finally a relief as we were completely dehydrated but nevertheless it was a good experience.

Horrified!!!!@Toronto

2010-09-26T08:44:00.000-07:00

It was 11:00 in the night and raining heavily in Toronto. Returning after shopping, parked my car in the dingy basement of my 20 floor apartment which had tube lights flickering here and there. There was not even a single soul around. The whole place looked very gloomy as if filled by some kind of snowy smoke like never before. I always dreaded this kind of atmosphere because back in India it is always crowded any time and it was still initial days here. I had to carry all the shopping bags myself and out of a lot of difficulty walked all the way to the extreme right corner of the basement crossing several rows of darkness and pressed the Lift button. As I waited for the lift I felt a sudden gush of chilly wind from some where that made me frenzy. I looked around to see that it was coming from a small enclosure in the ventilator.

As the lift descended from above I could hear the beep sounds and the numbers on the digital board beside the lift button changing in decreasing order to come to a stand still at -1. The doors of the lift opened and I stepped into the four walls covered by mirrors and pressed the number 13 button. As if the chillness was following me I felt even chillier inside the lift. I couldn’t understand the reason for this as there was neither fan nor any gap through which wind would flow. The lift stopped on the 3^rd floor and the doors opened. But there was no one to enter as if some one waited and waited for the lift to arrive and left through stairs when it did not come. The chillness did not abate even after the doors opened. Infact it seemed to have increased by a degree or two. I heaved a sigh of relief as the lift came to a halt with the number reading as 13.

As the door opened I saw one of the tenants with her pet dog. Usually a calm dog barked so loudly that it scared me and ran away hurriedly taking his master along. I then understood that it was not barking at me rather at something behind me. I just looked around to make sure that there was no one except me and my chillness. But it did dent my confidence and filled my heart with fear. It is about 100 meters from lift to my flat. As usual the whole corridor was deserted and had to cross the several closed doors of other flats to walk to my flat. With so many bags in my hand I decided to keep some of them on the floor so that I can take them on the second turn.

As I walked, though with so much of chillness around I had sweat dropping over my forehead. I could hear my heartbeat echoing through the shrilling silence of the corridors. Nobody was there around but felt as if something was following me all along. Was it my feeling or really happening? Unsurely I trudged along. Reached my flat door, searched my pockets for the keys and opened the door. The moment I opened the door the chillness was gone and I was invited by the air that normally flows from the window in the kitchen. I kept the bags inside the hall and ran back to pick the rest of them. From far I could see a faint figure of a lady in huge gown like dress with short hair standing along side of my bags. Before I reached the place it was gone so were my bags. I couldn’t understand whether I was dreaming or was having some kind of a memory loss. These days I have been forgetting a lot. May be this was also one of those cases. I got back to my flat only to find that my bags were already there. This was a shocker as well as horrific to me.

Next day I woke up with a heavy head. I had to drink coffee to shake it off. In the evening edition of the newspaper as I was turning the papers, came across some pages with excerpts from some of the people leaving in the same area as I do. They seemed to have experienced some kind of a super natural phenomenon similar to what I faced. This caused a flutter in my heart and this fear remained for ever whenever I parked my car in the basement.

Bride searching

2010-06-03T11:40:00.000-07:00

Have you ever thought bride searching is so difficult. I never thought so until I found out through my friend's experiences. To get the right bride he did every possible thing. Enrolled himself in matrimonial sites, performed poojas, did homas, covered his fingers with what not rings, edited his profile repeatedly, visited places. It was akin to a job search. I should say even for a job he never ever struggled so much.
In earlier days brides used to give dowry to bridegrooms but now it seems the time has changed. As I guess it's the turn of boys to pay. The population of girls being lesser than boys not withstanding their demands are also the reasons to add to the prolonged difficulties faced by boys to find a girl. Just to give a sample of their demands(this he found out when he visited some matrimonial centers) minimum PG, minimum IIT or IIM, settled in Bangalore, green card holder, minimum salary of lac and the demands go on. He was happy when sombody asked for an MBA (as his qualification is MBA). But on deeper analysis he came to know it was pointing at BTech with MBA. I don't understand as to why are we so obsessed with qualifications when job is the only thing that should matter. For that matter even age of a boy should not be of concern. Just to point out my friend's experience, a mother of a girl asked him where he worked. Her face lit up as if a 1000 watt bulb when she got the answer she wanted. But that glow existed for a few fleeting seconds before it was gone with the advent of the next answer. The next question was about his age.

At this point one might be forced to think that love marriages are better. But let me beware you that even this carries many hurdles. You might have to be handsome, rich, intelligent talker, smart etc. But then again inspite of possessing all these qualities you have high chances of loosing out in the tough competition as the girls go on from one to another by dumping to find the best of the lot. As usual the boys are left behind with their bleeding hearts with nobody else to treat it with the bandage of love.

The Mangalore Airport Tragedy

2010-05-29T10:12:00.000-07:00

Today morning I landed in Hyderabad flying on Kingfisher airbus from Bangalore. But all the way I was in a tizzy, my hands covered in sweat, my heart beat racing at superior rate than usual, specially during take-off and landing like never before. I could not fathom the reasons for this behavior but on digging deeper in to my thoughts I could find the reasons of fear.
The Mangalore airport is a picture of serene beauty sorrounded by enchanting greenery. As serene as it might be it is considered as one of the dangerous airports specially because of the short hill top runway. To cover this anamoly a second runway was also built. There has never been any kind of incident till now. It was a picture perfect until now. But it may not remain any more specially after 22nd may.

"I am lucky to see this day". This was the statement made by one of the lone survivors. As heart breaking as it might be, the mangalore plane tragedy leaves behind many heart wrenching tales that would take sometime to forget. If some people preponed their journies, others postponed theirs to meet the same tragic end as this doomed flight on this fateful day. It was even more difficult to digest the fact that this flight lost it's control after landing on this newly laid hill top 2.45 km runway just inaugurated 10 days back. My heart wept as I heard some of the mournful tales. If somebody was widowed, then others lost their sons and daughters. A person lost 26 family members all travelling on the same flight. A family had to wither a double tragedy where in a son lost his life coming to attend his mother's funeral. A 3 year old girl with innocence in her eyes did'nt even know that she had lost both her parents as she came to attend the funeral service wth a flower in her hands to keep them on their coffins. And the list goes on....Only few were lucky survivors. If some missed the flights, some jumped out of the crack formed in the last few minutes before the flight met its end with a blast. Now it is difficult to debate as to whose mistake it might have been. The black box has been found. But what difference does it make now. It certainly can't bring back all those lives lost. As I am an idealist I never want such incidents to happen ever to any person. I always ask this question " Is there a way to avoid any kind of an accident at all?". I guess it is hard to answer such questions.
The people who have survived to leave another day might talk about it as some kind of a scary legandary tale in future. But this day might remain as an incorrigible scar etched with fear for all those people who have lost their loved ones and for some who are still fighting to get the correct charred bodies of their near and dear after DNA sampling.

Laila o Laila

2010-05-21T22:14:00.000-07:00

Not just my friend's village submerged under water. But many in and around it. Countless people died. some have become homeless, left with nothing but the clothes that they are wearing. Last 48 hours has seen 31 cms of rainfall. As if thats not enough the lakes and rivers around can break barriers anytime to inundate the already Laila battered villages leaving the people no time of respite. Such is the plight that though you can find water everywhere, there is no water to drink. In such circumstances the one obvious casuality is the power. Even for small rains the sources of power are usually cut.
Problems created by such tropical cyclones are arduous tasks to handle by the people and the politicians alike. But should say we are somehow used to it. Our skin seems to have hardened hearing and experiencing these issues in day-to-day life. As usual this laila will leave to give way to majnu(another cyclone) which would again destroy homes, leave people orphaned and the sequence continues. In my father words "The cyclone would weaken in few days and the life would return to normalcy". Every year it seems to be the mantra and some kind of a ritual of sadness only to return again and again.
It does not matter how many times the cyclone will return with different names, each time its the same careless approach we take to deal with it. Our MLA's and MP's are too busy in finding ways of increasing the value of their lands(forcefully occupied some other's lands) by building roads and airports to even be concerned with what is happening for the poor people stuck in the cyclone. Like police who come only in the fag end of a movie, when everything is come and gone, people have lost their lives, homes destroyed etc these politicians go to these villages with eyes treated with glycerines that would remind you a story from panchatantra. Apart from the issues that project the callous approach of our politicians, like every year even this year so much of rain water is wasted to the sea. We do not have any ways to harvest this much of water created by the twisting of dancing Laila along the coast.
Looking at the kind of difficulties we face, I certainly want these so called MLAs and MPs to come and leave in our homes and experience the same struggles that we experience every day since the time we step out of the house to offices, schools and colleges. Then only possibly if their hearts melt I think we might progress for betterment. Else there is no other go, the cycle continues so are the cyclones. But one thing for sure, how many ever Lailas and Majnus come, people would fear the demons existing among people more than those demons of nature as these come and go only once in a year.

Bangalore Bus stand

2010-05-19T20:17:00.000-07:00

Bangalore bus stand has not changed. It might be 15 years since I visited this place. No change. Same filth, same dirt everywhere. Disgusting people putting dust everywhere as if it were to be some kind of an unbearably stinking Municipal Dust bin. Buses everywhere, some in red, some in blue with blinking electronic boards showing destinations all running in zig zag directions like school children with their school ID cards during lunch hour. How many ever Goverments come and go the same waiting period, the same over crowded buses. Like pregnant women having a leg pain, the buses are always bending in one direction unable to bear the weight of hanging people on the foot board. I found it so difficult even to sit still at one place. one man on his way to somewhere in hurry stumbled upon my leg only to stare at me and mouth words in some unknown language. If anything I was sure that he wasnt asking apology. Next minute I was doing some kind of a Matrix stunt to evade an attack from an army of a ghutka fountain that originated from in between the space of a person's teeth. That person maintained an expression as if he just missed me. The municipal van taking city's dirt left a trail of some kind of stinking liquid which immediately reminded me that of the line created by the shadow of the rock tower to point the entrance to the canyon that showed the way to gold in the movie Mackenna's gold.

The family beside me started having their lunch. Immediately I could feel as if we were stuck in the sea of plastic bags, spoons, plates etc strewn everywhere. Just to avoid drowning we decided to follow the trail of the stinking liquid. At that very instance I felt something fell on my head. The roof of the busstop was leaking along with its century old deposits of waste, the after effect of the drenched roof from last night's rain. Went to clean in the public toilet. The queue there resembled me that of a queue which otherwise would have been for a first day first show movie with heavy star cast. Had to wait for about halfanhour to get through. Inside, the floor was like a battle field with stains of various flavours with unique colours filling the air with different odours.
After getting out we had to cross various platforms to reach ours for the required bus. Here some platforms didnt have Dustbins at all. Where there were dustbins, it was overflowing like a swiss account of a politician. I need not tell the condition of platforms where there were no dust bins. You can very well imagine that.
Regarding the security of this Busstand, one word - Pathetic. Especially in this golden age of terrorists, I could find only one police man gaurding at the entrance. That too he was too busy reading some latest gossips of swamijis and politicians stuck in various sex scandals which happens to be the trend now. The arch of metal detector which is supposed to be the only entrance as a matter of fact was used just as one of the several passages entering the busstand.
Just about when I was going to giveup on the description of this rotten Kempegowda bustand, we sighted our bus and left without looking back.

A Trip to Belur and Halebeedu

2010-05-18T19:06:00.000-07:00

It was tough to wakeup in the early morning - 4:00 to be precise- specially after a sleepless night. Ultimately we were on our way. My friend slumped on the push back seat of the AC bus for a quick nap immediately after it started to Sravanabelagola as our first stop. It meant "The Monk of the white pond". Since I had already googled some information about the trip I was quiet excited about the prospect of coming face-to-face with the History. As the jungle of greenery invited me into its fold I was not disheartened by its vastness and was more than happy to leave the jungle of concrete. My view covered a pallet of farmlands, numerous coconut trees, beetle nut trees and small villages doted here and there. As we neared Sravanabelagola, like a dieting Anakonda the road on which our bus travelled, crawled into oblivion of timelessness. At this juncture I wished that the restless time would stand still for ever never returning to the regular life. But alas!!! all good things dont continue for too long.
Like two pillars,the hills Vindyagiri and Chandragiri stood on the either side of road.The 600 steps vindyagiri was majesty personified with the so called white pond beside it. And that is where we were headed to. History was calling us to revisit it so that it could reveal its numerous treasured flashbacks to make us more knowledgable. Many people who had started to ascend the hill with over confidence had been outdone by the steepness of it. I was one among them. The steps were etched on the hill and hence the reason for its steepness as it took the shape of the hill. The Chandragiri looked dwarfed from top of Vindyagiri.
The serene smile of 57 feet largest monolithic statue of Bahubali cooled our workedup nerves. Traditional music filled the air as we entered the shrine. It was a photo time now as we were awed by the height of the giant. This giant gets its princely bath (Mahamasthabhisheka) every 12 years. The smaller version of the giant is more luckier as it is bathed everyday.
To suggest you a piece of history, After defeating king bharatha in a battle, Bahubali entered the state of abstinence and took the root of an ascetic to finally attain moksha on this hill. This statue built by Ganga king in 981 AD is still an eye-ball grabber. If it is hard to imagine how they would have built this magnificent structure in the technology deprived age, it is equally hard to imagine what would happen when thousands of worshippers walking the only thin line of engraved footsteps to congregate in 2018 to do the Mahamastabhisheka.
Our next stop was Halebeedu. As our bus traversed through the tunnel of trees, I was thrilled to see the variety that it offered. Nowadays its become so difficult to accomodate so many trees in our so called urbanised societies uprooted to make way for bridges and flyovers that it takes a while for we urbanised souls to distinguish the names of it. Its always worthwhile to go for such outings just to keep in touch with what the nature has to offer. As the window of my bus provided the endless canvas of greenery what numerous paintings would not offer as if a movie unfolding in front of my eyes, my thoughts veered backward and front so on and so forth.
Just to give you a piece of my thoughts,
There was a huge Banyan tree in front of one of the houses in the colony where my friend stayed. Since it was huge tree it not only gave shade to the passers by but also to the nearby houses. During the fall season when dead leaves fall from the tree it also gave that much excercise to the people in the houses under the shade to clean the mess it created. It was easier for them to accuse the tree for its careless behavior than remember its service of shade for all these years. The irked people - who nowadays are more used to the comfort lifestyles and dont like to put there body to any kind of physical stress and strain- resorted to pressurizing the house owner in front of whose house the tree was located, to chop it. My friend played the hero part to protect the tree's rights(like human rights) by complaining to various organizations but only in vain. It was an anti-climax of sorts where villans had the last laugh instead of the hero. The tree was chopped. What should have been the major source of feeding to the impoverished villagers are being used as mere embellishments in front of buildings in this Global village.
The entrance of Halebidu evoked me out of my thoughts. It was lunch time by the time we reached this fallen kingdom. Halebidu means ruined city. In its heydays was called by the name of dwara samudra - capital of Hoysala dynasty in 12th century. It was destroyed by the surging Bahamani sultans. The Hoysaleswara temple which is the only surviving piece is a masterpiece in itself. It took over 3 generations to build this incomplete temple - as considered by Historians as it does not have the temple top. If an incomplete temple like this one can be considered as masterpiece what would it be had it been completed. In this current technologically advanced age we still cant match the perfection of the then skilled artisans. There was no cement used to arrange these beautifully carved stones. Though the heat of the afternoon sun would move our shoeless feet within a second, the wonderful artifacts carved on the walls of the temple could not move us for close to an hour. Even today Hoysaleswara is worshipped. Two of the largest Nandi statues are found here. The walls toled us many untoled stories of Mythology in which Ramayana, Mahabharatha and Bhagavatha being the major beneficiaries. We were curious enough to know that if a single temple of Hoysala carried such richness of artifacts how much more would all the sorrounding temples put together carry. But time was running out.
Our last stop was belur about 16 kms from Halebidu. The channakesava's statue is a treat to the eyes. If Halebidu was an external showpiece, this was an internal classic. The 80 pillars in the temple which are unique in their own way enriched by the skillfull craftsmanship adorns the internal space.
On the whole the trip gave us a taste of a different facet of hindu kings older than vijayanagara kings. Reading a google might give all the facts and details but it would not reveal us the greatness of those skillful ancient artists who gave us some of the most beautiful timeless sculptors. You have to experience it to know it.