Back when we were young

Love was when we were young,
You were seventeen and I, sixteen.
That one moment of the first sight
And the denial in every minute that followed

Evading the looks and shutting my ears to your laugh
I told myself day in and out to get a grip
Until my sleepy eyes would open with your face in them
Washed up on the shores of a sea of dreams

Spring had descended upon me to stay
An irrepressible blush playing on unknowing cheeks
And butterflies flitted in the shadows of silky black strands
That waved when memories came in the scented air

A golden vein of frozen words had come to life
Flowing onto every stray scrap and classroom bench
The love gilded my books with poems
And the songs rung in every pal’s ears

On that rainy dusk years ago, on my long walk home
When we were joyous in the festival of lights
Soft lights had lighted up my way and it was then
I still remember, the air had quivered with your invisible presence

Our paths though had to part forever
And the day came when, under the cherry tree we bade goodbye
My blistered heart thirsted for solace and in vain
I traced your footsteps to catch at least a glimpse.

Years have passed by and we have grown in age and apart
No more do I pine for a comeback, now hopeless
I wish we never cross paths again, for it may be sadder still
If we stand yet again eyes locked, and the rose petals don’t shower

Because my pain, my love
The wide eyed girl and a shy smiling boy are lost forever
And all the love was back then, when we were young,
You were seventeen and I, sixteen.

Things To Do Before I Die - Notes to myself

1.Be Independent

Because there’s only one life and you at least have to be able to be the real you, if you have to do anything at all with your life! Being yourself may seem to be the most natural thing that there is, but it ain’t that easy. There’s always the social norms and hypocrisy to be satisfied, leaving you with little room your originality. There’s just too many pressures trying to “mould” you into the most acceptable format, making me wonder,” Do they really want everyone to be just the same? All the girls this way, and the guys, whichever!?”

Independence entails having the freedom to self expression and realization ,choice of life style ,career ,job and much more .Above all this ,my independence also includes self-dependence .This is where I reproach myself for keeping in pending the plans to take up driving lessons.

2.Chase your dream

Self explanatory! Regretful as it is, so much of our life goes in a job which we may not care about, but for the pay check. Blame it on the special makeup of the society where educational streams are pursued keeping in mind their employability factor alone, we all...all of us… end up being engineers. I see several people bemoan their life for they wanted to do something else with their lives and find themselves helpless. You may or may not have the guts to switch careers mid stream, but don’t let that keep you away from the things you desire the most. They could be your hobby too. Today’s hobby may well become tomorrow’s vocation!

3. Work for a cause you believe in

As much as we blame the society for its ills, we are also a part of the very same society and in our own small ways, responsible for the way the society is today. I often think of something that happened a while ago, when I was working in Bangalore. The city is infamous for its crowded roads and pollution, and having come from a relatively cleaner place, I could not help but complain about the Bangalore traffic to a fellow team mate. Despite being highly educated and forward thinking, my friend said that there was no point in me complaining as nothing constructive would come out if it . Her argument was,” When we can do nothing to change the situation for the better, why simply complain?” I have wondered ever since, “Is there really nothing we can do?” One person is too small in a system and ordinary people are no real life heroes to go around campaigning for change, that too when they have their own lives to keep them more than occupied.

I have discovered, much to my own relief, from personal experience that it is possible for us to make a change. When people come together with a common motive and work towards it, things will happen. It doesn’t always have to be a fight against anything, for fights usually scare most people and they would rather not invite any attention upon themselves in such cases. Let it be so. You could work towards a humanitarian cause like child welfare or the environment. There are N number of institutions and initiatives which you can join to do your bit for the society .After all; all that the society asks of you is to return the favour it did to you.

4. Build my own private library.

The bibliophile in me is talking now. Books have been objects of my affection since early childhood and they have served as my companions through all phases of life. The joy of simply beholding one of your favourite titles is priceless. I have always depended on libraries to feed my appetite for books and have paid innumerous visits to the libraries in my hometown. Books have always been borrowed commodities and one of my reasons to want to start earning for myself, was my desire to own books.

I believe everyone should have a private heaven, a shell to withdraw into and hibernate and spend spells of solitude in .My private heaven can only be a library. There’s also one more secret reason for building this library .I want my kids(When I have kids) to be lovers of books too.

5. Travel

Travel does not have to be an expensive indulgence .There’s the whole of the nation to be explored, with its villages, mountains and lakes. In that way, India is blessed with its variety in topography and different ethnic groups which forms its inhabitants .A traveler’s paradise for as much as the natural beauty as its rich culture and heritage, I should travel to as much of the heartlands as possible.

I could add some of my more fanciful wishes like visiting Machu Picchu at least once in my lifetime and authoring a book .Since these are not entirely in my hands to decide, I would rather not add them to this list. Machu Pichu will always be my most romantic dream and will be so even if it remains unfulfilled. And the book…it is always being written in my head, word by word every minute of my life …

Heal The World

There's A Place In
Your Heart
And I Know That It Is Love
And This Place Could
Be Much
Brighter Than Tomorrow
And If You Really Try
You'll Find There's No Need
To Cry
In This Place You'll Feel
There's No Hurt Or Sorrow

There Are Ways
To Get There
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Little Space
Make A Better Place...

Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

If You Want To Know Why There's A Love That Cannot Lie
Love Is Strong
It Only Cares For
Joyful Giving
If We Try
We Shall See
In This Bliss
We Cannot Feel
Fear Or Dread
We Stop Existing And
Start Living

Then It Feels That Always
Love's Enough For
Us Growing
So Make A Better World
Make A Better World...

Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

And The Dream We Were
Conceived In
Will Reveal A Joyful Face
And The World We
Once Believed In
Will Shine Again In Grace
Then Why Do We Keep
Strangling Life
Wound This Earth
Crucify Its Soul
Though It's Plain To See
This World Is Heavenly
Be God's Glow

We Could Fly So High
Let Our Spirits Never Die
In My Heart I Feel You Are All My Brothers
Create A World With
No Fear
Together We'll Cry
Happy Tears
See The Nations Turn
Their Swords
Into Plowshares

We Could Really Get There
If You Cared Enough
For The Living
Make A Little Space
To Make A Better Place...

Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

You And For Me
You And For Me
You And For Me
You And For Me
You And For Me
You And For Me
You And For Me
You And For Me
You And For Me
You And For Me
You And For Me

I love you,MJ !

THE DESERT

It’s not just the sun that’s burning my skin

The solar flares blind my eyes causing tears to stream,

It’s not just the undulating dunes of sand

Waves of dust blow at my face making me choke,

At times it’s not even the cloudless sky

It’s all the hopelessness that’s parched my soul.

In my aimless wander , the eyes search

For a fellow traveler to curse the heat with,

As an egotist of a mind looks on

Feigning nonchalance all the same,

And finding not even a shadow of a soul

Says my mind, “You’re better off alone!”

And then the night falls and cold embraces

The solitary traveler, beneath the palm,

Sits down and waits for daybreak

With watchful eyes and wistful dreams,

Listening to the rising howls of the coyotes

Under the night sky, to the pack or a mate.

Another day, a new dawn of the desert

May bring cooler breeze and gentler sun

The unknown path may even lead to an oasis

Where pebbles adorn crystal blue waters

The mind nudges me in its reverie

And says,” The journey may be well worth it! ”

The mind shows the direction and I set off

Following the song of the wind and the flight of the eagle

Over treacherous knolls and past the cacti

To escape where the doomsayers cannot reach

And let the wounded soul heave in peace

Across the desert, I flee to my freedom.

PS: I crossed 50 with my last post.A miracle given my inconsistency!

On The VTV Note

I am credited with being the last person on earth to have watched Gautham Menon's latest musical romance flick , VTV - the name now so common that the abbreviation would suffice and even save some virtual breath.Its beautiful to watch, what with Trisha looking more angelic than ever,making every girl cringe wanting to look like that.The movie is equally delicious to listen to,holding us in thrall with the ARR magic.But what I set out to do was not write a review on the movie.Enough people have done that already for me to have anything more to add on to it.Having paid my deepest reverences to the maestro musician and the heavenly beauty,I set forth to say why I did not like the story.

The heady love story and the intense pursuit of it makes an interesting beginning.The idyllic view of Alappuzha adds flavour to the visual treat so much so that I now have a bee in my bonnet about visiting Alappuzha someday .Whoever bestowed the title of 'God's Own Country ' on Kerala ,must have had this blessed place in mind .I cannot mask my delight at the glimpses of Kerala and bits of Malayalam the film offered,stoking the flame of sweet love each one of us cherish for our own hometown and mother tongue .

The movie itself though left me with a bad taste in my mouth.Why does love always have to lose to be realistic? Why are parents always the villains of love?In the Indian context ,where children having love affairs are considered a disgrace to the family,isn't going halfway and then backing off,a disgrace to love itself?This is where I disagree with Jessie.She manages to disgrace her family by saying no to a marriage at the altar in front of the whole community ,and then goes on to do the same cold act again when she finally decides to give up on her love.Clearly,Jessie's reasoning prowess is not quite at a level with her beauty .Had the movie taken on the happy ending like the movie within the movie,Jessie would have saved women in general from the age old accusation of being 'cheaters in love'. I hear with amusement how romantics decry women of being traitors in love,every chance they get .

Having rejected the notion of love in a previous post,I feel the need for clarification before going ahead.Love is not allowed to exist,leave alone flourish,in our Indian cultural setup;not that love itself in non-existent.This happens largely due to the fact that love does not always look at religion and caste before happening to the unwarned.So in our pluralist melting pot of a society where we mix with people from every conceivable religion,caste and language, it's well nigh impossible to ensure that you fall only for someone who will match your exact profile w.r.t the afore-mentioned parameters.The older generation would cry fowl on how the younger lot will bring shame to the family honour through cross cultural marriages.No comments there.Its part of the Indian culture to obey and respect the elders.The arranged marriage system is also a part of our long standing tradition and is even the only hope of so many of our young commitment-phobic losers,including me , in finding a life mate .

However , as a member of the younger generation here's my take on love.Going the halfway in romance and then getting the cold feet and throwing love out of the window when its time to show some guts in getting committed to each other for life ,is like desecrating the purity of love.By all means,uphold the family honour but do not disgrace love in the process;for every time obedience is chosen over love, it loses a bit of its charm.For the lovelorn and the lonely heart alike,love is the elixir of life- the magic we all dream will happen to us in our lives and make living worth it .Be heroes in love,not losers!

Easier said than done?I know....

Hey You...

ALERT : Heavy dose of frustration follows!

In our poor lives, we dream rich dreams. From our lowly mud slums, we look up to the high heavens and dream and hope and pray that our life’s journey bring us closer every day to those heavens. We live in our dreams; our lives become our dream.

We struggle for our dream and we struggle against each other, for there isn’t enough to satisfy everyone’s dream in our land. Opportunities are few and far between and the dreamers aplenty. We push in the crowd, trying to elbow our way to our goal, while some fall away kicking and screaming, the sight of their fall searing us even more and we end up fighting an even bloodier fight.

I meet people who have fallen while I was kicking for my space in the crowd. They tell me their tales where-in they ‘compromised’ for the sake of things other than their own self, with a resigned look in their eyes. I feel sad for them, even want to console them but do not for I may hurt their ego. Their tales deepen the shadow of fear in me .I pause amidst the milling crowd for a second and swallow hard the rising lump in my throat and frantically eye the grey skies overhead for some sign of relief.

We know what we are capable of, and we know that what we want is just beyond that door. Our dreams are closed in on all sides by thick walls that rise unto the skies and the lone door is tiny. We bang our heads against the walls moaning, and groaning at our slim chances .Around me, I see some people weeping for it’s their last chance to get their dreams. If not this time, they will have to give up and fall back into lowly slum lives. They fear that they will be reduced to telling tales of their lost dreams.

Here, we grow up fast, fast-forward childhood and ignore adolescence. We harden our hearts against teenage love and wave good bye to song and story quite early, for we realize there are grim realities to be tackled before we get a chance to knock at our dream’s door. Bibliophiles read only text books, singers sang only theories and dancers danced to the tunes of their syllabi, for we didn’t want to fall prey to ‘distractions’.

It’s drizzling on us as we crowd outside the walls, kicking the slush. There is no ray of light except when the door opens to let a lucky one in. Then there’s a renewed energy and we push even harder in the direction of the light. Braving the darkness and the rain, each one to his very own selfish self, we push and shove, we claw and we kick…For ,in our land, the dreams are many and the chances few…

PS : Bringing to light an old piece.

Recommended music:Hey You,Pink Floyd.

The Rustic Charm of Ruskin Bond

Writing comes more easily to me when I have music in the background. Or is it that I lose myself in the music, get into the mood and write whatever captures the mood? If there’s any flow at all that’s there in my writing, it is due to the music. It’s also why most of the stuff here are just dreamy. If I were given one topic and then asked to write about it, I would find it boring - the eternal drifter that I am. Drifting brings me to what is holding me in sway these days - Ruskin Bond. My Orkut status already says so.

Ruskin Bond is one author I hadn’t had the chance to read much till now. He is also not whom I would pick, had I much of a choice of selection. Not mush reason for that except ignorance and negligible exposure to his works .I do remember though the short story of the blind girl the author meets in the train to Dehra Dun, that was part of our school syllabus. Though its titled ‘The Eyes Have It’ , in the book I’m hooked to right now – ‘The Best of Ruskin Bond’ - a collection of his stories , poems ,essays and what not ;I am certain the English Reader text had a different name for the story . It’s a love story – the story of a short, sweet romance. Couldn’t suppress a smile when I thought back about those school days when I was ‘taught’ this story .It never did strike me as a love story then. Not at all …. I read it now, and it’s a discovery that the author meant it as a love story. I was probably too young to recognize the faint scent of a tender romance that was the mood of the story. Or was it that the repetitious explanation from the teacher had killed the spirit of the story? A poem or a story cannot be ruined further than by explaining it. When you take a poem , read two lines and explain the meaning , take down the new words and their meanings ,delve deep into the metaphors and the similes ,you are actually dissecting it –literally opening its tummy and looking inside before even seeing the creature in its entire beauty and form . Should not! Not before you give it a full reading at least once, feel the flow and the mood, and lose some time in thinking about it. I guess you wouldn’t get the whole picture otherwise.

Take the story in question – the girl is going to Saharanpur and the author,all the way, to Dehra .So where is the girl going ,children ?? Saharanpur …we bellow .. and the that’s what gets the emphasis ,and that’s what stays in our mind .Tsk tsk .. Totally needless details get the spotlight and poor li’l romance is sidelined. But then, we were children and not to be spoilt with discourses on how the author’s heart went out to the girl .

I digress.

Back to Ruskin Bond.The office library is nothing much to write home about, holding in its general reading section, nothing much other than the how-to guides: the quintessential loser’s guide. Need I say more? I detest self-help literature .Period! So it was a relief to spot ‘The Best of Ruskin Bond’ among such wastage of precious paper like the afore mentioned genre of books. Grabbed it ,started reading and was hooked .The very first story ,’The eyes have it ’, was like the ‘hi there ,remember me ’ from a long lost friend .RB writes candid and simple prose that is heavily nostalgic about his boyhood days in Dehra dun and Mussorie . Most of it reads like first hand accounts of his life, as the ones that are shared among friends over a cup of tea, reminiscing the good old days. He describes his growing up years in the naturally bountiful hill station ,where he had all the time to wonder and be fascinated by nature , the many plants and trees and animals that he talks about with great familiarity, making the reader pine to go back to their own childhoods and relive it once again .As I have said here time and again , I am perpetually infatuated with childhood .For me ,its the best part of one’s life ,and I was always reluctant to grow up .I remember how sad I was to grow up and leave school ,and then later on ,college . It’s a tragedy that we cannot stop the years , live as much as we want is in our favorite age , and then continue with life when we are up for it .

He talks just as easily and eloquently about all the stages of life, from boyhood, to his late teens in London and after .There are also simple, lovely poems that can be enjoyed in one read, like a deep lungful breath of sweet fragrance. Would sign off recommending Ruskin Bond for company for the times when you feel wistfully nostalgic and want to go back in time. On that slow dusk watching the sun wave good bye , sipping sweet black tea , get on that hammock and stretch out with a copy of ‘The Best Of Ruskin Bond’ .

BGM

Track - I am born again.

Album – Oceans of Fantasy

Band - BoneyM

Long live love!

“Kadalinu karayodiniyum paadaan snehamundo ....?
Mezhukuthirikalaay urukaan iniyum pranayam manassilundo....?? ”

Does that feeling exist in all of its purity or honesty any more? You will need to say a lot to convince me it does .I, for one, am skeptical that love exists – in the full sense of the word where it’s divinely liberating and intoxicatingly uplifting for the soul. I would prescribe music and literature as soul feed instead. Is love even what it is made out to be? I mean, c’mon, is it even that big a deal?

By these musings , I in no way mean to indicate that I have been untouched by the vagaries of romance .Though the story itself is for another day ,I just don’t want you to shake your head sympathetically saying ,”What do you know…” . All I mean is that love is not a very conveniently practical everyday solution. It’s good for the books, for the reminiscences of a slow dusk. In the extreme cases the possibility of future love even makes arranged marriage between utter strangers possible and keeps our civilization going in India. Thanks to this delusional myth for that, cos by the time people realize love is nothing like The love, the illusion has worn off.

The most sublime, uncalculated and in that sense, honest, love happens in the adolescences and mostly in colleges. This feeling has its expiry date set even before it starts for the farewell day of college .The author has seen only too many lovers part ways without the slightest of doubts in their minds. After college, since most people get into jobs and are busy shaping their careers, I doubt anyone pretty much even finds time for love. I have no clue what marriage stands on, since I have already declared that I am a non-believer. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say, the institution of arranged marriage is based on convenience .While choosing a partner in India’s erstwhile AM system, people carefully investigate the social, educational and financial status of prospects, and try to attain a balance as perfect as possible. This could be picturised as the bride and the groom being seated on the two plates of a weighing machine, balancing each other off in each of the above mentioned parameters. Love is nowhere in the picture though. Oh yes, the match making is done all cleverly in the heads of the elders, with love, supposed to just happen since all the parameters have the perfect values required for that chemistry .
I frankly fail to understand how people agree to marry on something as vague as such a prediction . Ah, the myth though still lives ….

Love is a beautiful concept though and is best left unexplained. It’s not supposed to be like anything known before and in that sense, no comparison can ever do it justice .Its most powerful proponents are music and literature, and love finds it’s most exciting expressions in them. For ages now, love has lived in all its truth and vigour, in music and literature and they in return ,have thrived on love .I don’t mind love being a delusional myth , as long as it feeds fire to imagination and creativity ,for, if nothing else, I am a lover of words and songs .

Long live love!

PS- My first post for 2010.Rock the year folks !

Verse Ofcourse !


A curse on my uninviting mailbox
Looks like it's under a hoax
For there's nothing new or fun in there
To make me smile even once in a while!

Cross I am with all those blogs
I regularly visit and turn back disappointed
Cos no new posts have they for me either
To make me think and ponder awhile.

A bolt of lightning on the idiot box
For all the boring shows and thousand channels
Bloodier are the reruns
Of anything nice they might once have had!

Cannot even turn to my all time love
In good stead they have stood me so long
My dearest pals ,my good old books
For I'm recovering from a Coelho overdose.

And so I take a path I've trodden so less
That of verse and rhyming words
As a last resort or escape
This here is what came out as a result.

Hoping someone would read it atleast
And that one wouldn't hate it too much
Mayn't be good but what the heck
That's the best and all that there is for now !!

Can I have my childhood back?

I still have mountains to climb,

And creeks to swim in .

I wanted to play some more in the rain ,

And kick in the slush muddier.

I missed to make friends with some of ‘em I met on the way,

I forgot to pick some more fights with those I played with .

There are fantasies yet to be shared with wide eyed mates,

And some more adventures to plan during lazy afternoons.

Should have fallen and broken my skin some more,

So there could be more scars to show off from childhood games.

There are still more rainbows to follow with eyes lost to the skies,

Umpteen butterflies to mumble to, as they twittered uncaringly,

Some more flowers to gaze wide upon with admiration

Some more curious fishes in the pond I am yet to touch.

Tantrums and sulks a few more for my hunger for attention

I know some more stuff to show off to the younger kids

Walls yet to be etched with crude pencil and chalks

Stones to be flung farther off into the muddy pond

There are still tiny lotus blooms in there

To be worn around the neck, with their long stalks

Stories from my granny to listen to

There sure must be more tales of the kings and their battles.

Treasure troves of good things still hidden from me

Too precious, all of them, to let go

Can I have my childhood back please?

For I still have mountains to climb

And some more creeks to swim in …

Back to childhood

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. -- Kahlil Gibran

It was to see this longing, and to reaffirm my faith in the purpose and beauty of life, that I decided to volunteer for the ‘Rural Reach Program’ sponsored by the company. As part of the program, a team of employees from the company visit a rural school, sometimes with high drop out rates, and try to reach out to the children, mostly from poor families. The target audience is the children from 5th, 6th and 7th classes who do not get much exposure to computers. There we tell them about the basics of computers and let them explore and use our laptops in an effort to get them interested and generally acquainted with computers.

My life was just turning around the same spot, and boringly so too. Blame it on the recession, the general work trends in the IT industry, marriage brouhaha, or whatever else; nothing seemed to expedite the recovery. That’s when I remembered about my forgotten quest for a purpose in life, around the time I read this in Abhi’s blog. That touched a chord… a very lazy, lethargic chord in me twanged feebly, enough to make me decide on giving up a lazy Saturday to meet a bunch of naughty, high-energy and absolutely adorable kids!

We had a program scheduled for 2.5 hours wherein we would tell them a bit about computers, show them some basic apps like Word and Paint, discuss about civic sense with them, a tiny li’l G.K quiz and then let them play games on our lappies. The kids were broken up into groups of ten and a group of ten 6th grade boys were assigned to me and my mate. No sooner had we opened the laptop than they started chattering away excitedly among themselves -

“Athu kanda da ?Haaai athu pullinte padam alle ?” [Did u see that? Isn’t that grass in that picture? *Windows desktop wallpaper :-)]
“Ohh , ithu gnan nerathe kandittundu” [Oh, I have seen this before ]
“chechi-de peru enthiru ? ” [What’s your name, sis?]
“ithu namukku tharuvo?” [Will you give it to us? * The lappy!!! :-O]

Thus started off our exciting interaction with these tiny bundles of energy, brimming with questions and at times, shooting very frank comments! They took turns typing their names in MS Word, slowly finding each alphabetic key, getting tensed when they typed something wrong, and egging each other on …As part of the Kerala government’s promotion of Linux and open source software for it’s IT education in schools, what little exposure they had had, was in Linux .It surprised me pleasantly when they asked me to give them TuxPaint .We had to make do with MS Paint though, but they were just too eager to lap it all up.

They had spotted the bright blue coloured gift kits we had brought for them in cartons, and I told them the truth when questioned about it. Big mistake! They kept shaking their heads in disbelief, and just wouldn’t take my word that it was for everyone and that the same gift would be given to everyone. Apparently, they had been subjected to differential treatment way too often to believe that they were all going to be treated to the same gift for once. But it helped me get the racket under control with a simple ,”Do you guys even want the gift?” ,to which they would promptly quieten down and get back to their chairs ,finger on lips and arms crossed over their chests .Did I tell you ,they were simply adorable !

The children had very good awareness when it came to civic senses and I did away with the entire preachy bit. Come games time, and you could see ten kids glued to my lappie ,an entangled mass of heads and arms in front of a glaring screen accompanied by unbelievable din .Needless to say ,I loved the mess and was right in the middle explaining the moves and showing them how to play .We took turns playing Pacman ,that old game I played at school when I was the same age ,and I humbly state the fact that I was the highest scorer in our bunch! So I was allowed by the kids to assist them while playing .Yea … We were comrades in arms and I handled the down and left arrows for them!

In no time, it was time for us to wind up but not before getting their feedback .They had to mark their feedback on a scale of 4 to 1, 4 being the highest. As I explained each question to them, they scurried to mark their response as soon as I told them what 4 stood for. That was kind of you, guys! The naughtiest one though would say “1” as he bent over his covered paper and marked four for me and looked back with a mischievous grin. They told me they loved the program and kept on asking me to return some day and teach them some more.
“Eni ennu varum?Adutha Saturday varumo ? ” [When will you come next? Will you come back next Saturday?]
I smiled “Yes”
The naughtiest one shook his head sadly,”Eni varilla,veruthe parayunnathanu ”
[You won’t come back, you are lying]
How many promises made to you have been broken, my child, for you to have that kind of sad sarcasm in you …?
I was heart broken, but smiled “Yes” again.

That is the saddest part of meeting children. You grow so fond of each other in such a short while that it invariably breaks your heart when it’s time to leave. They take leave in the hope that we will meet again soon, and as they wave goodbye to me happily, I have to smile over a broken heart because only I, of the two, know that we may never meet again. Our paths may not cross again, but may the learning and the fun of the whole experience inspire them to not drop out of school but to stay on and learn more. Each one of the kids I met has it in him/her to do well; I pray that life gives them a fair shot …

I come back from the program, my fascination for life, greatly replenished!!!

Footnote -
Dear God,
They are such talented children; please keep an eye out for them.

The School-Maathasherrikkulam Malyalam medium UP School,Attingal.

Why Am I an MJ Fan?

These last few days, some non-MJ fans have been asking me that question, though I am still surprised that there are people in our generation who belong to that category. And all I can say is that, I am lost for words for any explanation.

Some things are so intense that they can only be felt, not explained.The moment you try to explain it, you dilute its intensity and it no longer is what you set out to capture in words. In a way, words are too small for that feeling.

This line of poem from yesterday’s memorial service stayed on with me and to all MJ fans of this world, I have only this to repeat,
“In the loss of our treasure, though we are many, we are all achingly alone … “

And to MJ himself,
I love you, MJ.
You were the best, you are and you will, forever be, The Best.
May your soul find eternal peace .
***

Stand By Me

Last week was the groggiest one of my life; exactly because I spent the most of it in a state of impenetrable grogginess. Last Monday morning went something like this .I drag myself out of the bed past 7.15 am when I have a bus to catch at 8 am by taking an auto to the pick-up spot. I further drag my sleepy self down the flight of stairs to the ground floor (thank god I didn’t slip and fall and break my neck. Come to think of it now, that would have given me a week off!! ).

Seated in the drawing room sofa I find my younger bro who had risen early like an ideal student ,even taken his bath and reading the morning’s newspaper! Again, thank god he didn’t take after me ..though I keep reminding him, “I was way better than you when I was a student myself ,so don’t give me that sneer!”.So I ask this dude in the process of enlightening himself, “innu bandh-o strike-o vallathum undo dey ??”* He gives me one of his supremely condescending looks, glances at the clock and shakes his head, and goes back to the newspaper.

The long and short of the whole episode is that, the whole of last Monday was like walking around with shackles on your feet .Was very very boring, I tell you. So I let the stupor continue for the entire week!! :PAnd I didn’t wake up till that weekend. Had a blast last Saturday though, aise hi , usual stuff…an exorbitantly expensive haircut! That did the trick of bolting me out of the slumber! And I come back this week with my batteries recharged and a new addiction to keep me beaming through the week.

‘Stand By Me’ by Ben E King. I am absolutely in love with the song right now, and listen to it religiously whenever I get time. My mp3 player is constantly playing that track and must be going nuts in that infinite loop I have put it in .Do check out the song if you haven’t already .It’s wonderfully romantic ! Of course it’s an all time hit number which I have known for a while, just that I finally downloaded it last week, and so all the renewed raving about it.

Wish you a romantic** week ahead!

*Is there a strike or a bandh today? (In Malayalam)

**[The wide implication ;-) ]-- Characterized by strangeness or variety; suggestive of adventure; suited to romance; wild; picturesque; -- applied to scenery; as, a romantic landscape. [1913 Webster]

And darling darling

Stand ..Stand by me ,stand by me ..

When all of your friends are gone .. Wont you stand ..?

Oh...Stand by me ...

Ehsaas…

It’s a typical work day .Me racks brain over a tricky enhancement on a VBA based Excel macro. Misses the first evening bus over it .Tries some more...
An hour later,
An ID card swipes...Beep. Red to green to red...
Reaches early to find the bus near empty and its insides, dark and solemn.
A beautiful cyan lights up the tiny mp3 player’s display and dishes out Atif Aslam’s ‘Ehsaas’. Lets hair loose and lies back on the seat by the window, eyes closed, an irrepressible smile playing on my lips …

Dusk is just graying the sky as I stand on the pavement of a busy road with silent traffic and watch the neon signboards and the bright tail lamps of the cars that flow smoothly
on the wide road.
Steam spews out of fresh cream laden coffee as I lean out of the window, after the rain that has bathed the earth outside. Breeze laden with the aroma of wet soil wafts up as the music grows louder with thumping jazz overtones.
A bright orange coloured hot air balloon moves over the ocean’s blue expanse as I strain my eyes to watch the view shielding my face against the sun with one hand.

The bus is now moving over a bridge over a lake, that lies dark and glittering as we glide over it .A gust of wind tugs at my loose hair strands as I look up to the winking stars in the night sky .

....Manzil paas nahi , kya tu mere paas hai ...

My mind plays with pretty pictures captured from my life, like playing with a kaleidoscope. I see in my mind’s eye the green that stretched away from the road till the end of my sight’s reach, as I traveled on a bus along the inter-state highway that leads away from B’lore.I see the night view at Suicide Point from a college trip long ago , a valley and a vast expanse of land before me with light bulbs that looked like floating luminous yellow liquid floating in the night air .I remember losing my breath at these sights …Each vision, a picture post card out of each point of my life…

‘Hey, you dreaming ? ’
I jolt awake from the trance.
‘No daa.. .’

*sigh* back to life ….

Blogscan

Though my appearances here have become rather sporadic, my blogging isn’t really so. The reason being the company provided blog space populated by numerous enthusiastic colleagues from offices all across India and the world .My other blog with the same name in the company intranet keeps me in touch with blogging, as much as a lazy gal can be .So taking a trip to all the blogs here that I follow regularly ,I came across and liked the following

1.Ram’s photoblog ‘My Dear Memories’ which got me jealous of his SLR !!!

2.A sweet post in PS’s hugely popular blog ‘Just a mother of two’ ,whose answers I am going to give a li’l later here ..

and

3.A candid piece on a very real issue ,something I face day in and day out @ Kochuthresiamma's Pareltank. 'Are Mallu males perverts?'

My answer to which is “yes,yes,yes”[Not all of them ,but most …enough in numbers to ruin my mood every single time that I step onto the streets here ! ]

And now to get back to nicer things , lemme answer PS's questions

I am---lost.

My best friend thinks I am----sweet & sour.

My ambition----to be the best I can be .

I am inspired by---the success I see in the lives of people around me .

If I ruled the world I would----do something about the climate,water especially!

If I had one wish I would---want to meet my knight in shining armour !

Thats all for the time being..adios amigos..

... Keep your face to the light ...

----- Lost in the greenery -----

In Love

Aarghh Finally ....

I finally got my very own Calvin n Hobbes gadget (not as in I own it ...)on my very own blog (yea..this one I very much own)!Finally!!!What an achievement ... I feel like I cleared SCJP ;YEssss...So what's all the hype about ?I have been trying hard ,not like in the eyes-glued-to-the-monitor style but like in the slumped-on-the-chair-and-typing-with-one-finger hardwork mode ,for over quarter of an hour to get this thingy added but with each gadget in Blogger's gadget link showing up broken ,or worse giving me the ray of hope by adding without content(showing me a bloody red X!).So finally after traversing scores of Calvin links , I got this one to work !All that hardwork definitely needs to show and thats why I have the gadget right on top ,just so nobody misses it .Does 'nobody' even read my blog ?Duh!

Calvin n Hobbes has caught my imagination and totally enslaved me these days ,just the way J.M.Coetzee did with 'Youth' years ago ,and nothing or nobody has been able to do before or afterwards...Yea ,I guess I am growing up backwards ,but that's alright if its gonna be thiss fun!!!My passions have always been the binge variety ,wherein I taste of it a little in the begining,if it appeals to me I take a second helping and then a third and then forget the rest of the world ,leave the fork and spoon behind and climb into the cauldron and lose myself till I am smug in the satisfaction that I have now chomped down enough to hibernate and gloat till my next love finds me .When my eyes go hazy talking about something , you know that it has been one of my loves.My love affairs till date go something like this (Only those which stole my heart and made me love-sick ,so this is just a teensy-weensy subset)

Since I learned to read till class 5 -Baalarama,Amar Chitra Katha.(Tons of others,but these two where my chart topping infatuations)

Class 5,6-Famous Five(I two timed with Secret Seven!)

Calss 7,8-Hardy Boys(Wonder why Nancy Drew got a step-motherly treatment)

Class 9-Agatha Christie(esp the Hercule Poirot ones.My favouritest AG till date is 'The Mysterious Case of Mr.Quinn'.I am torn between my love for several AG titles actually.)& Ofcourse Sherlock Holmes (This I binged till I read all of SH titles back to back)

Class 10-Erle Stanley Gardner(I still rememeber how I trembled in love for this one!)

Class 11,12-NO Nothing ... :( Every Indian kid knows why .. this was the time when for lack of any extra-curricular book to read,I binged on poetry that was in our ISC syllabii.My first baby footsteps into reading poetry,which I promptly forgot as soon as I got the sligtest chance to get back to anything prose.

College (4 loong years )-Year one saw me wine and dine with Ben Okri .Yea ,I was disillusioned and Okri is better than, and a convenient alternative to ,getting high on grass.The arrangement suited me anyways ...On second thoughts ,college was one long year and three fast ones.The fast three had me addicted to J.M.Coetzee!This is when I felt that I may have finally met the love of my life and felt a sense of reassuarance that I need seek no further.It was just JM and me ...*sigh*until I finished off almost all of his acclaimed works of fiction ...and I was forlorn again..Lest I miss out , I also had a fling with Harry Potter those days ,finally succumbing to pressure from all sides and one lazy holiday with not one other grown-up's book available but the HP3!I can't thank Renjitha,my class 12 mate,enough , for she was the one who kept pleading with me to read HP which the arrogant me had then brushed away with ,'I seriously don't enjoy children's literature anymore,please excuse...'.Guess the punishment for my impudence was the years I spent untouched by HP magic!

At Work(till a few days ago)- Paulo Coelho.This is when I moved from depending heavily on libraries for my romantic indulgences ,and started buying books.Though I had got a bitter first taste of Coetzee with 'Eleven Minutes',I lasted and got hooked to PC with my next sip in the form of 'The Alchemist'(Thanx to my cousin bro for persuading me to give PC another chance!)In PC ,I found someone who asked the same questions that I asked and what's more ,he went on to answer/explain some of those exasperating doubts in his own ways which appealed to me in a huge way.Thus began my scour for anything PC which lasted until a while ago till I had then obtained almost all the popular and talked about titles except for one which has eluded me till now ,'By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept'

Now that the pendulum of my love for PC is coming to a faltering halt, I have met Calvin n Hobbes ,both of whom incidentally hate girls !As a sign of how love-struck I am with these two ,Calvin especially (blush..) I let the Calvin gadget adorn my blog's forehead and allow it to sit there staring out at anyone who passes by.I am also attracted to the likes of Dilbert and Garfield,but I guess for now ,Calvin comics is where my heart truly belongs...

For all my pomposity of being single ,this post reveals to the world the secret behind my life long singlehood - I was always in love !Ssshhhh.... "I am single!" .Oh Yeaaaa ;-)

PS to my loves:Forgive if I have missed any one of you.My cobweb of a memory is far insignificant when compared to the true love I have had for you..Rest assured that you are safe in my heart !Cheesy ??? Well,this is just between me and my love ,so please excuse....

....... The Last Leaf .........

Untouched ...
Another time ,another day, I may come forward and kiss your forehead to tell you are the one;today I am too caught up with my life ...
I wanted to stay but can't, because I got to keep moving though I dont know where it is I am going ...
I think I will remember you as one of my charming unfulfilled dreams,but today I shall bid you good bye,again ..


Dediated to the volume of Orhan Pamuk's 'My Name Is Red' acquired by me months ago and yet untouched!

Do you have a similar story to tell ?Well , I'm listening ...

River Of Thoughts
---------------------------------------
A monotonous guitar note kept playing in an infinite loop in my thoughts rendering every thought of mine with a melancholy touch. I looked up at the blue expanse overhead and let the river of thoughts flow unhindered until they would quieten down on their own, for I hoped for some peace at the end of that flood. Sunlight beat down upon my face as I sat there on the low wall surrounding the garden, eyes fixed at an invisible focus above me through the clump of tree leaves.

They tried to bring me back from the madness and kept asking me to come back inside .They seemed concerned for me, but they wouldn’t understand even if I explained. The river has to flow its course; madness is to try to control it or worse, stop it. The river has a will of its own and it’s far beyond my will over my self. The sun, I will have to bear in order to gaze the sky in its eyes.

Birds twittered around me annoyingly; I wish they would stop disturbing me for their noise was drowning the guitar strums my thoughts played on. My breathing turned to heaving as the hot air got heavy and beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. I had to be patient and wait for the tide to roll over. Then I could go back inside into the cool comforts indoors, but not before that. I even wondered what the river was trying to say-but it spoke an alien tongue. I could gather familiar words here and there if I tried hard, but they weren’t coherent.
The river just ran on insanely, spitting condemn and roaring with anger. I feared it may boil over onto the banks and singe me; I hated that I had no control over it and that I just had to watch it flow, with trepidation, from its shores. I also hated its force and its utter unwillingness to obey. If it was up to me , that river would have flown peacefully ,kissing the sands and caressing the stones in its bed and just being pretty to look at like all those rivers are in the pictures, but my private river was turbulent and vicious, crushing the stones and the shells and constantly threatening the shores with menace. It was in a bad mood today, and I was waiting for it to calm down… waiting in the sun till the river ran its course....

[ Written under the influence of 'GoodBye Blue Sky-Pink Floyd'. ]

PS: The guitar finds repeated mention in this blog, cos I prolly am addicted to its sound and can’t think of any other instrument right now. It may well be a momentary love affair, like all others in my life too.

PPS: I have developed a sudden unexplainable liking for the semi-colon!