m a n u s c r y p t s

Purpose Purporting

manuscrypts — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 03:58:08 +0000

Purpose. I remember bringing this up earlier in ‘Coincide‘ and mentioning that different life stages manage to give us short term purposes which leave little time for this line of questioning – a larger purpose of life itself. Like I told a friend recently, as though we took a life API and churned out all these fancy apps that now distract us from the purpose. What happens when you take those out of life? And when I say ‘those’, I also mean the alternate rat race that we convince ourselves is not one.

Turn out the light
And what are you left with?
Open up my hands
And find out they’re empty.
Press my face to the ground
I’ve gotta find a reason.
Just scratching around
For something to believe in:
Something to believe in.

I’ve wondered, even if one loves the work one does, does that become a purpose in itself? Is it really possible to be a karmayogi. Is that what makes a Tendulkar or a Yesudas? A larger sense of purpose? Doing the thing that they were meant to do? But even if that were so, what motivates them, for a karmayogi should not feel any attachment towards the fruit of his actions. Indifference and detachment. There’s obviously a difference, yet to realise it fully.

I have also wondered, actually worried, if its the lack of a larger purpose that drives one to (try to) leave a legacy? Creating something that will perhaps outlive us, in whatever scale ? Does the potential future of a creation give a sense of purpose to the present?

On twitter, @Bhuto asked me whether anyone had asked me if my handle meant “hand in the crypt” (manus being Latin for hand). No one had, the handle actually came into being because I couldn’t get the original spelling as an ICQ handle. I answered that I’d always thought of a grimmer version – of this being an online crypt. I think I’ve mentioned this here earlier. So years down the line if someone discovers this, the lifestream will perhaps convey a life.

You talk too much.
Maybe that’s your way
Of breaking up the silence
That fills you up.
But it doesn’t sound the same
When no one’s really listening

If you think that’s weird, there’s actually a site that has the same idea – 1000 Memories. Or how about a wireless headstone that will share its owner’s story with future generations? Or there’s also the Howard Stark version (when he speaks to his son) ” What is, and always will be, my greatest creation, is you, Tony.” Yep, that’s quite a popular way too.

For those who follow Malayalam movies, as is his wont these days, Mohanlal has already given the answers to ‘purpose’, in Aaram Thampuran, though the question was put differently.

But it is somehow difficult to even consider that life, in whatever way it is lived, is its own purpose.

You’re spending all your time
Collecting and discovering
It’s not enough.

until next time, multipurpose lives?

(Lyrics: Something to believe in, Aqualung)

2 States: The Story of My Marriage

manuscrypts — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 13:15:26 +0000

Chetan Bhagat

When Khanna & Iyer met Ek Duje ke Liye. Chetan Bhagat’s works have never been literary classics, relying more on a racy story, wit, and an interesting enough plot. Sadly, this one works only the first count.

The plot is an oft repeated one – the love story of a Punjabi guy and a Chennai girl, who meet each other at IIM, and whose parents are opposed to their relationship. I found the depiction of the stereotypes obnoxious, and I’m neither Punjabi nor Tamilian. Making sure that there are digs aimed at both sides and having a disclaimer at the start that you only take digs at your own, doesn’t change the godawful way of depicting the ways of life of two communities. It definitely isn’t a substitute for wit. If the idea was to change the North-South relationship’s status quo, really sorry, but it only strengthens the stereotypes, and adds a few ones too. Sample this

“They sounded like long wails, as if someone was being slowly strangled” on Carnatic Music.

I finished the book, because I hate leaving books halfway, and thanks to a perverse wish to see the new depths being explored. I was extremely disappointed with the book, more so because I have always defended the author, and asked why books always have to be literary masterpieces, and can’t be just good entertainers. Chetan Bhagat had so far ensured that his books were entertainers, perhaps this one would deliver too, if you can say goodbye to your sensibilities and sensitivity for 267 pages.

Alibaba

manuscrypts — Sun, 18 Jul 2010 17:30:58 +0000

The name conjures up the vision of a medieval Arabic story, and its indeed a restaurant that (also) serves Arabic cuisine. And just like the treasure, it makes itself very hard to find. Since we knew the rough location, we asked around until we reached there. Here’s a map for you. When coming from Coles road on Mosque road, take a left at the junction where Mosque Road meets MM Road (immediately after Empire Hotel). Then, Alibaba is at the corner of the first road to the left, on the first floor. The Charminar Kabab Centre opposite it is easier to notice. Parking is not much of a problem.

We got there late, well after 8, and were worried that we wouldn’t find a place. But the place started filling up only around 9. Its dimly lit, but the decor has a certain charm that deserves a special mention. There are red curtains, lots of dark wood – right from the main door, sheeshas, and Moroccan lamps. I read somewhere that the seating capacity is exactly 40, and that some of the furniture pieces are actually renovated bits and pieces from Navayathi furniture, including window frames, wooden chests and sewing machines! The seating is quite comfortable, but try not to take the stools without a backrest. Or maybe I was just wondering what exactly I was sitting on

Alibaba serves Bhatkali, Arabian and Persian cuisines. The link to the menu is right here. But that really doesn’t do justice to the extremely unique menu ‘card’. Its a bit like holding history in your hands, literally. Click on it, and read it, before you start reading the actual menu. It will tell you about Bhatkal, the Navayaths, their culture, their dialect and the evolution of their cuisine. Its not as though as i require a special reason to like food, but I’ve always liked the idea of giving a historical and cultural context to the food quite fascinating.

What it also does, is add to the desire of trying out as many samples as is possible from the different cuisines that makes up the fusion. With limited numbers – two to be precise, that is quite a difficult task. But try we did.

We chose the Joo soup, “Chicken cubes, carrot, oats, garnished with parsley”, from the Persian cuisine. Little did we know that it was an old acquaintance. I not-so-fondly remembered the ’sambar’ from Sufi – Soup-e-Jo! We also missed the chicken cubes. Not really a great start, but we’d traveled quite a bit to get here and refused to be easily let down.

Next up was the Alibaba Special kebab “Chef’s special grilled chunks of boneless chicken and lamb”. That took quite a while and after a lot of fidgeting, we were told that it would be delayed. We were worried whether this was turning into a Arabian-Persian tragedy, but thankfully we got the chicken skewer in a couple of minutes. Very succulent stuff, but we were left to wonder whether the lamb had met with some alternate unfortunate fate. But just as we were about to enquire, the lamb skewer arrived. The vegetables in this were a bit burnt, but really, who cared, because the lamb was fine. Actually very good. Usually, this is served together, but apparently the lamb takes a while longer than the chicken to be convinced, so be prepared to wait a bit if you’re ordering this. The dish is a bit on the bland side, but tasty enough to give a try. If you’re a larger group, it might be a good idea to order other kababs too while you’re waiting for it, ones that will require less time. The service is very helpful and will help you with the choices.

We decided to start the main course with Bhatkali cuisine – the Sharwa Maas, “Chicken/Mutton pieces cooked with authentic green chilli masala”. We chose the chicken version after a longish debate on whether to go for the Sharwa Maas or the Laun Miriya Maas (the red chilli version). Glad that we did. If you like spicy food, this dish is a must have. Its really tasty and while the green chilli masala does make a solid presence, it actually goes well beyond that and makes an excellent combination with the Gawa Poli, “Traditional Bhatkally Roti prepared with Wheat”. Actually the khubus too, which we’d ordered just to check it out.

Up next was the Dajaj Machboos, “Middle Eastern Spiced Chicken served with Basmati Rice”. We asked for a half plate, but the guy who took our order told us that it would be too much and suggested two small portions. It turned out strange because the two ‘portions’ cost us more than the half plate (?!) But that doesn’t take away from the awesome rice. The masala was good too, and not really greasy, just like the rice, but it preferred the rice’ company over the chicken. Well, so long as we’re having it all together. D quite liked the tomato chutney provided with the dish, but i still hadn’t gotten over the earlier chicken dish. I think it’ll go with anything, it was that good!!!!

I was quite stuffed, but the desserts section did a mind-over-matter trick and I ordered a Shaufa Pana Pudding, “An exotic Bhatkali Pudding flavoured with Dil leaf Syrup”. The greenish color did scare me a little, but that vanished as soon as i tasted it. Excellent pudding with a very unique flavour, almost like a subtle mouth freshener. Must try.

Meanwhile D ordered a Saudi Champagne, which is a mocktail made mostly of apple soda, but with a twist of lime. It also has tiny apple bits floating on top. from the little I was allowed to have, great stuff.

All of the above cost us, including a 5% service charge, just over Rs.900. The service is quite good, and helpful, despite a few communication lapses. This place is a must visit, for a distinctly unique cuisine, decor and value-for-money fare that won’t cost you a treasure.

Alibaba, #69, 1st Floor, MM Road, Frazer Town Ph:40917163

PS. This week, the blog takes a break

Storied

manuscrypts — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 03:53:20 +0000

The best thing about buying second hand books is that they might contain stories. No, I haven’t completely lost it, I meant additional stories. Messages, notes on the side, bookmarks from previous owners – they’re all stories. Stories that give you a tiny glimpse of the person who wrote it, or the person it was meant for. The last one I saw – in Pico Iyer’s ‘Abandon’, was very interesting. It said

Dearest A****,

Though this seems, and is the last day at C-72, I promise that its the first day and a nev be start to the best days of our life together.

Yours

S*******

30/Aug/03

I thought there was an amazing sense of romance in that little note. A story from almost seven years back. I wonder why A sold the book. Did they break up? Maybe she didn’t like this genre? Maybe they shifted, and there was no way to carry this. It was an empty page, A could’ve torn it off, she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t have time, maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she didn’t remember. Maybe, God forbid, something happened, and S didn’t want any memories? Maybe she returned it to S after they split, and he sold it. Maybe S never gave it to A, and instead sold it because some memory was too painful? Now you see the possibilities? But, to quote from the book itself “We are no greater than the height of our perceptions”.

I’d only started on the book, but it had already given me a thought. “The death of the author is a way of talking about the death of God. The world itself becomes a poem whose author disappeared long ago.” So the poet dies, the poem remains, the artist dies, the art remains, the author dies, the book remains, God dies, his creation remains, to be interpreted and shaped by us, the ones who see and experience it, limited by the ‘height of their perception’. Maybe the creation was never completed? Like the stories that remain in the head, never to be told. Like the pages that fill the waste baskets. Like the blog’s draft folder?

Meanwhile, on the next page of the book, there is a signature now, dated 10/04/10. He thinks he won’t sell any of his books.. ever. But then, stories have a way of twisting themselves in time.

until next time, home pages

Butter Chicken in Ludhiana: Travels in Small Town India

manuscrypts — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 05:26:13 +0000

Pankaj Mishra

If one were to go by the title, Pankaj Mishra is hardly the person who can be trusted to write about the “national bird of khalistan”, after all he’s a complete vegetarian, but then this book is about ‘travels in small town India’. From Kanyakumari and Kottayam to Ambala and Murshidabad and Gaya to Mandi and Udaipur and many many more small towns across the length and breadth of India, this is quite a wonderful account of a transforming India..and Indians.(set in 1995)

While there is an unmistakable cynicism that runs through many accounts, it does not really take away much from the conversations with a wide array of people – their fears, their hopes and aspirations, and how they cope with the changes around them. Television viewing habits, consumerism, big dreams, all figure as a framework for the author to show the ‘progress’ that Indians seem to be making as far as lifestyles go. ‘Progress’, because the author doesn’t seem to be entirely pleased with these changes, and the effects on existing ways of life, but since we also see them through the eyes of the people the author meets, the book manages to retain some objectivity.

While some would say there is an aimlessness to the travels, I’d say that despite the differences in locales and attitudes, there is a common thread that runs through the book – of humans, their reactions to change, and how in many ways, a lot of things remain unchanged, despite what the superficial would indicate.

The book worked for me in many ways – I could find glimpses of ‘The Romantics’ (a later work of fiction from the same author, which happens to be a favourite) as his travels take him to Banaras. It also brought about some nostalgia, as it is set in the early 90s, and the changes that the author talks about are something that anyone in the their teens (or even older) during that time, can identify with. These, and the wry humour – especially the part where he’s mistaken for a potential groom by Mr.Sharma in Ambala – that surfaces occasionally, took it many notches above a general travel book..

Watermark

manuscrypts — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 16:08:42 +0000

Sometime back, while trying recollect the name of a Chinese restaurant in Koramangala which existed circa 2003, I got stuck. Despite different mashups of the various terms used typically for Chinese restaurant names, nothing sounded right. It was a small mom-and-pop joint and since the net didn’t then feature all the resources it has now, I was well and truly stumped. It was quite disappointing since we’d had many a meal there. It didn’t help that I have this ‘thing’ about remembering such places, events and people. I feel as though I have betrayed them in some way. Yes, weird, thank you. :p The book, for once, couldn’t help either. I finally got the answer by checking with a friend who’d been in Koramangala long enough. Once I got the name, I even managed to get an image on the net – Szechuan Garden.

A few days later, I watched Pakal Nakshatrangal, a movie about a script writer – director played by Mohanlal. The narrative is from the perspective of his son, an author, who writes his father’s biography, and in the process tries to solve the mystery of his death. The movie begins with the demolition of ‘Daffodils’, the cultural hub of the previous era’s intellectuals and the scene of Mohanlal’s many exploits. There is a sequence in which a television newsreader reports this and we can see different people viewing it from different places reminiscing about their experiences there. A group of people connected by a place.

A place or an event in that place – that means something to a set of people – something only they share. And when they cease to exist, the memory disappears. Its as though whatever they shared never existed. A bit like the Garden State quote that I often end up using “Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.”

It reminded me of another Malayalam movie I’d seen a while back. Kerala Cafe, an anthology of ten short movies, with the place – Kerala Cafe, a coffee shop in a railway station, serving as the connection. But more than that entire movie, I remembered my favourite – Island Express, written and directed by Shankar Ramakrishnan. (Part 1, 2, seems unedited, and has incomplete subtitle help!!) [Spoiler] The story is about several people who were in some way affected by the Perumon tragedy in 1988, and their meeting at the fateful place a couple of decades later. Its narrated by Leon, who lost a lot himself, but makes a photo-book of it after seven years of efforts. I realise that Leon’s phrase, that remained with me long after the movie, is what this thought is all about.

As time passes, and life moves on, some of us are left holding the memories of these places, sometimes by choice, sometimes because we have no other choice, and sometimes by chance. But there’s no doubt about the transience of it all. Its after all, a matter of time. Perhaps the entire idea of a lifestream – the things I share here, and everywhere else is all about the phrase that Leon uses – ‘a memory with a watermark’.

until next time, memories without shelf-lives

Aroy

manuscrypts — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 03:54:18 +0000

No, we aren’t talking about a Bong here. I read somewhere that it means tasty/delicious, in Thai. The direction of thought is roughly right though. East. Aroy is a restaurant in JP Nagar that serves Thai cuisine, along with some Burmese too. Here’s a map to get you there. (a couple of zooms should get you there safely) Its in the same building as Crossword, on the third floor. Parking is not a problem, though you’ll need to go quite a bit – until the next junction – for a U turn when coming from Bannerghatta Road.

We reached there by about 7.30, and already found a few tables occupied. If you’re planning to get there later, it might be a good idea to reserve. Aroy managed to charm us straight away with its wonderful rooftop ambiance. There are indoor seating options too, but with a slight breeze, lightly swaying trees and the distant lights of south Bangalore’s apartment complexes, we decided to sit outside, under a cloudy sky.

Ok, before I go overboard, here’s the menu. They serve liquor and from the descriptions, some amazing cocktails and mocktails too. But we already had way too many choices in the food menu, and were wondering what we’d miss out on. So we asked for a Tom Kha soup, and a Pandan Chicken to start with. While we waited we were served a complimentary Amuse Bouche – a fried rice cake, which turned out to be as good as it looked.

The Tom Kha (chicken) soup arrived soon after. An amazing coconut cream soup flavoured with galangal and loaded with chunks of chicken and mushrooms. Though the coconut cream flavour was strong, there seemed to be a few others too that demanded attention – lemon grass most prominently, with a hint of tanginess. The soup, though slightly thinner than a regular cream soup, uses the coconut cream extremely well and is probably the best soup we’ve had in a long time.

This was followed by the Pandan Chicken, which was quite unique in terms of presentation. Unraveling the screw pine leaf is not as tough as it looks. The grilled chicken, which probably comes off as a bit dry, is complemented well by the sweet soy sauce.

For the main course, we wanted to try out a stir fried dish as well as a clay pot curry, but we were told that the latter would go well with plain rice. So we ditched that thought and asked for a ‘Ong Noh Khaw swte’, from neighbouring Myanmar, something I remembered from ‘Gangtalk‘ and before that, ‘Panda House’, which used to exist in Transit, Forum long back. Its a meal in itself and consists of crisp and soft noodles, a chicken broth and a range of accompaniments. In terms of quantity, though, it actually turned out to be a meal in itself for both of us, and an absolutely delicious one.

The chicken broth is also coconut cream based with generous chunks of chicken. By the time we finished the bowls we were quite stuffed and wondered what we’d do with the rest of the stuff we ordered.

In keeping up with our tradition of Saturday night gluttony, we’d also ordered a Pahd Keemao, which is another excellent choice, especially if you’re into spicy stuff. Rice noodles, flavoured with red chillies and basil. We could manage only about two spoonfuls each and asked for the remaining portion to be packed. The noodles goes very well with the Chicken Cashew Nuts and Bell Pepper. Though its description also includes roasted chilli paste, its actually a hot and sweet dish.

Though I did want to try the chocolate mousse, there was absolutely no way I could manage it. A worthy bait, and thus, a second visit is a given. Meanwhile, the service is worth a mention too. Extremely helpful, attentive and yet in a non intrusive fashion. Mission sanuk easily accomplished.

All of the above cost us about Rs.1300. I’d recommend that you visit with a larger group so that you can try out many things. With awesome food, excellent service and a wonderful ambiance, including some very good music, Aroy is a must visit, and its worth going to JP Nagar solely for this purpose.

Aroy, 74, 15th Main, 3rd Phase JP Nagar Ph: 40939311

Only time will tell…

manuscrypts — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 03:58:37 +0000

My reading list during the Sikkim trip consisted of “The Immortals of Meluha” and “Chasing the Monk’s shadow”, fiction and non fiction respectively. Sometime during the trip, I completed the former, the latter was completed long after the trip.

The first book is a work of fiction that treats Shiva, the Hindu god, as a real person and tries to look at mythology through a historical perspective. The second is a journal of a person who retraces (almost) the epic journey of Xuanzang (the latest spelling of the person we learned about as Hiuen Tsang in school). One myth, one history. One is a possibility, the other ‘factual’.

The first, about a Tibetan tribal chieftain who is looked upon by a civilisation as the messiah promised in their legends. The second, a monk with an insatiable thirst for India. In this age of rapid advances in communication, it was quite an experience to be transported to a time when people got news years or even decades after it happened. A monk who starts a journey based on a certain information, only to realise that while he was traveling towards his destination, things had changed – kings deposed, lifestyles changed, faith forgotten….

The passage of time gives us a bird’s eye view of what happened then, allowing us to dwell on the possibilities of how/if Gods were created, to interpret snippets of information gleaned from remnants of a life, what it must’ve been like. From our vantage point, we see patterns, lifelines almost crossing each other, tantalisingly close, with the possibility of drastically changing the flow of events that transpired later. All this, after patiently sifting through the layers that have been added over the years.

I wonder if, thanks to the way we consume and share information, later archaeologists will have a reverse problem, of having to go through mounds of information- multiple perspectives to separate facts from opinions. Or maybe, it has always been like that, and the sands of time have a way of burying it randomly. It is quite humbling to think of the possibility of Iceland’s volcano being a footnote in history, because it so happened that what survived was a casual, unaffected post which treated it as a minor news, as opposed to the anguished post of someone whose plans went awry, all thanks to it.

Another reminder that history and beyond is just a perspective we get from what survived.

until next time, time consumes too

Naati Manae

manuscrypts — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 07:33:36 +0000

Last weekend, we happened to go to Anjappar, and the food left us disappointed. From experience, I’ve learned that the only way to purge the memories of such occurrences is to overlay it with better ones. And that’s how we ended up at Naati Manae, which promises to “Tingle your taste buds of our Native cuisine”. The non-vegetarian wins over the grammarian easily. The good news is that we didn’t have to go to Gandhinagar/Rajajinagar or any of the Pet places that house eateries which serve this cuisine, Koramangala scores again!! Naati Manae is off the one way that goes from the Intermediate Ring Road to Jyoti Nivas College. Take the right immediately after Coconut Grove/William Penn, and then take the first left. You’ll see Naati Manae on your right. If you’re familiar with Koramangala, you could approach it from the other one way too – the one that has Oye Amritsar, China Pearl etc. Here’s a map of the area. Parking isn’t too much of a problem.

We arrived at 7.30 and easily found a table. But from the experience later, perhaps we were early. The decor remains true to the ‘Naati’ theme, lots of paintings and a matching version of the spices glass topped table decor. There’s a general area which is non-AC and a ‘family room’ with AC, that’ll cost you 10% extra! The idea, I think, is to replicate the general feel of the restaurants of this genre and add to it a little bit of refinement so it appeals to the different audience. In that sense, it works. Its clean, has a no-frills ambiance, the seating is comfortable, and there’s a uniqueness that sets it apart.

The menu is kept pretty simple too (click to enlarge), with specials during the weekend. Vegetarians, as you can note, the rest of the post might be a waste of time for you. Sorry about the ‘flashy’ mutton, still getting used to menu photography (After pepper fry, there’s fry, liver fry, kheema fry, thale mamsa, chops, saru and masala) We wanted to try the day’s special ‘Mutton Shukka’ but were told it’d take at least 20 minutes. So we asked for a Mutton Pepper Dry and were given the same answer. So finally, we asked for a Thale Mamsa which we’d wanted for the main course. Its Thale, and not ‘pure’ brain, so in addition to the meat, there’s a lot of bone and hair too. A combination of thick-headedness and hunger meant that I missed taking a snap! The dish is definitely unique, with a slightly spicy flavor, and worth a try, but at Rs.75, I’d vote for Imperial/Chandu’s version of brain.

Next up, we asked for a plate of coin parathas and a Guntur Chicken. Oh yes, a ragi ball too. The ragi was quite good, and exorcised previous demons of chewing gum like consistency! The gravy that came along helped. Now, we’d read the Bangalore Mirror review and the description definitely didn’t match the dish that came to us. We checked, and it wasn’t! Christobelle Joseph, I owe you one. So we waited, with rapidly cooling parathas while the impersonator was replaced.

Thankfully, the Guntur Chicken was worth the wait. Very spicy, especially if you also happen to consume the red chillies in the masala, and goes extremely well with the coin parathas. It’d been more than half an hour since we’d asked for the Mutton dishes, and judging by the 20 minute explanation, we thought we could try a Shukka with the Donne Chicken Biriyani.

But unfortunately, it wasn’t. I really couldn’t understand the logic of having a special for the day, advertising dinner from 7 pm on, and then not having the dish ready by 8pm. Nattitude sucks! Anyway we were told the Mutton Pepper Fry was a good option. A few minutes later, the biriyani arrived along with the explanation that the Mutton Pepper Fry was over. I stopped trying to seek explanations. The mutton fry was rumoured to be available. Once again, we waited, this time with a cooling biriyani. Thankfully, it didn’t take long.

The donne biriyani was easily the best among the dishes, and truly value for money. The leaf bowl really does add to the taste, exactly like I’ve heard. Highly recommended. The mutton fry was quite ordinary, and the meat seemed to exist in a confused state – cooked or uncooked.

The service was quite pathetic. Whenever we asked for the day’s special, we were told to go for the Mutton Fry! Serving wrong dishes and recommending something not available made me wonder if I had unknowingly made Naati etiquette mistakes. Wearing shorts are not okay?

What is surprising is that though the total cost came to only Rs.395 and we were quite stuffed, I’d hardly call it value for money if I took each of the dish separately. Maybe it was the profusion of bones or the general irritation brought about by the service. But despite all that, it’s still worth a visit for a unique menu (in these parts) and the biriyani. Oh, for the record Natti Manae, you aren’t by any means the first place that serves the Donne Biriyani in Koramangala. 1st Main Road, 1st Block Koramangala, opposite Rolls United, check it out!

Naati Manae, #334, 17th C Main, KHB Colony, 5th Block, Koramangala Ph: 40986160/1

Coincide

manuscrypts — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 04:08:45 +0000

A friend of mine, Soubhagya, is an avid photographer, who, despite my best efforts, still shies away from running his own photoblog. So when he asked me to take part in a writing experiment, I thought it would be a relatively painless way of introducing him to blogging, and hopefully, he’ll like it enough to do it on his own. The idea’s pretty simple – he’s given me a couple of pictures he has shot recently, and wants me to write a few words on each. Here goes

‘The face of money’ is what Soubhagya calls it.

What’s my value? To a politician, I’m a vote that will help him in his quest for power. To my employer, I am a worker who gets paid for the job I do. To the places I eat out in, to the shops I buy things from, I am a source of revenue. To the people who care for me as an individual, these are perhaps not the parameters of calculating their value for me. It’s a different currency. So the question is complete only if I ask “What’s my value to …. ?” Now, what if I were to pose the question to myself? Do I measure myself by my financial status, or the lack of it? Is it the ‘Likes’ on Facebook or the followers on Twitter? Or is it by the number of lives I have touched, in one way or another? Is it a combination? Is it what I deem as my potential? How much is that dependent on externalities? And doesn’t that change with time? Which brings me to..

‘Burnt Out’

Purpose. I have always been interested in the purpose of our lives. All life forms in general, and of course, specifically us, humans. Generally, at different stages in life, we get stuck with different routines, sometimes by choice, sometimes not – school, college, work and so on. There is a short term purpose to it all, so we rarely look for something beyond. By my definition, ‘purpose’ gives a meaning to what we do, something beyond the money that it brings in, something that really makes us happy just by doing it, as though we are destined to do it. One could rationalise and say that the money then becomes a tool to ‘buy’ the things that give happiness, but that’s arguable.. We prioritise according to our baggage, some are okay with trading an amazing weekend and regular holidays for mind numbing work, some wouldn’t be able to manage it at all, and there are tons of options in between. The candle reminds me of the passion that we bring into what we do, and I believe that depends on our approach to ‘purpose’. Burn brightly or be a shallow flame? In both cases, there is a finite lifetime in which it has to be done. For me, even the task of finding a purpose is a tough one. Whichever way one sees it, there is always the possibility of a burnout. Such is life. So burn you must, and light up the place as much as you can.

until next time, wax eloquent

PS: Now split ‘coin-cide’ and you might figure out a new possibility