yea, it happens

"Speak no!", i squealed at her.
"Speak no, like you would do earlier. i liked the stupidity in you, not the formal 'Hi' and 'Thankyou'"
"you weren't like this before! what happeneddd to you? why did you suddenly stop being insane?
why did you stop your 'around the world in 80 days talks'?
i eagerly waited for your messages, your pings, and your ocassional missed calls", i was almost pleading.
She finally says "hmm, it happens"
my jaw drops straight to the ground and i wonder "yea, maybe.. it happens" and i get back to writing :)

eulogy- it stares back

i hate to write "cancer is intelligent than the sum of all its parts" . my ego takes a beating to say that cancer is powerful.

i was having this discussion with a dear friend of mine, and he pointed to an insight that is very profound.
"cancer is a lesson on why fittest survive".

even more disturbing is the fact that, almost every medicine that is available on this planet to fight cancer is designed to defend a territory already conquered by cancer.

my aunt too lost the battle. she is among the millions who breathed away their life battling cancer. she was treated by the finest doctors available to her. but cancer has its way of jumping back, just when we think its done.
she left behind my beautiful cousins.

looking back to the last few days, endlessly praying, crying, shedding remorseful tears, talking, finding excuses for her to stay along, i guess i was finding reasons for her to keep my part alive.

she was never my aunt. she was like my elder sister and we would often bicker over silly things.
with her she took away a part of me, a part i was trying to preserve and keep alive.

her struggle through the radiation cycles, the chemos that followed, looked effortless, and i wonder if she really had any problems. she was smiling all the way, infact she smiled through all her life troubles as well.

all she cared always, in all ways was well being for her kids. the schools they were put into, the upbringing they had to the care and the concern they were given.
sometimes the bounds are set so tight that we just end up hitting against the invisible wall.
if each of us is blessed with free will to make a choice and carve our destinies, then does it mean we create our fate too. dont know.

cut back to last two years. we never felt she was suffering. she was energy filled among all her co-patients and she would gossip even there!!!
since early this year, her state started deteriorating. each complication led to the other. normal problems like cough and cold would leave a pneumonia patch in her lungs and infect her severely. cancer ate away into her immunity when it learnt it was failing.

cancer taught me and pushed me against the wall. it showed me how small i am.
i also feel, cancer was the best thing happened to her. it muted all her pain, her agony , the mental turmoil that she went through here. cancer didnt kill her, it can never do, it was her shortcut to the peaceful attic.
she's high up there silently watching in peace, as we are tangled up in the mirth of life.

why

Often on days i wonder, 'why am i the way i am'. It feels very heavy inside sometimes, and at other times there is void inside, the deep vaccum sucking in every single emotion around, good or bad. And some other times, there is this muted feeling, that lets the wierdest emotion to take a pass.

I wonder sometimes
why things arent the way they should be?
why the world around isnt the way i dream about?
why do people think undoing acts?
why do two people love each other inspite of misgivings?
why sometimes they fight with each other and break away?
why sometimes in small acts, there is so much joy
and why in some big acts, there is little purity

why doesn't everyone see what i see
why do i dont see what they see
why do i feel i am the cause
and why sometimes i am the reason
why is there so much ambiguity
and why isnt the world in binaries

why do things go astray, when i say
"boy, this thing is going to be great"
and why sometimes things turn around,
where none is expected

i guess, someone already listens and loves to play
and plays opposite of what i think
this is why, this post is 'why'
questioning eternally

why this kolaveri

September 30th saw flagging of Telangana march near Necklace road in Hyderabad. For the un-initiated, Telangana is a part of Andhrapradesh and constitutes around 10 major districts. Telangana was a separate region and came under Hyderabad Province during erstwhile British Raj, and was merged with Andhra Pradesh after much agitation in 1956.

As a non- localite, i couldnt really understand why there is or there isnt a need for a separate state.
It made me read resources available on the internet on the history of the problem and appreciate if not fully, but to a great extent the intensity of the problem.

Telangana forms a part of the Deccan plateau, which comprises of few areas of Maharashtra and Karnataka as well.
Being a plateau, and primarily the heads of Krishna and Godavari rivers, the primary occupation of people here is agriculture. Although they are primarily dependent on rainfall for agriculture.

Also, since the region is well forms as a hub for for states surrounding it, industry and commerce is also practiced as a source of livelihood.

There a many many reasons why there is a need for a separate state, and there are equal number of reasons if not more for not having a separate state.
eg. separating Pakistan from India for a Muslim only country did not cause them or us less problems or solve their or ours existing problems.
and at the same time
having Kashmir as a part of India hasnt caused more or less problems for India.

Each state created or destroyed had their own victories and fallacies and perhaps in a democratic state like ours, democracy is abused by few autocrats for their own selfish gains. (this topic for some other day)

what gets buried deep is the voice of the common man, although he is the shield that the powerful bunch wield to protect their mole hill , and it is a commonalty to see the poor butchered.

long years ago, there was kingdom that wooed the mercenaries of east,
it wooed for all her riches, she stood resilient as she was plundered.
she provided in abundance to her kids, even as they fought
they used their hands to wield the sickle and destroy the lotus.
the sickle wielders claimed the land as theirs, tethered ones claimed said its theirs.
but no one is asking her, to whom does she belong?

Mahatma

Although, I am too very small to write about Mahatma Gandhi, I would put few questions here, which always intrigue me about him.

One of the many books that my dad gifted me, Gandhiji for children introduced me to Gandhiji, and i read it as a kid only to prepare for elocution speeches at school. I always won them, because the thoughts and ideas and the personality is so profound, i feel the medium is immaterial ;).

Ok, so that introduced me to 'My Experiments with truth', that was the first full size biography i read. It was tough, because meree english kacchi hain .  But as i read and re-read every few years, i start to learn even more (unlearn more)

What must have driven a very homely, secure, shy man to take up a cause and lead the entire nation.
What must have happened, when on that opportune train ride to Johannesburg, he was thrown out of the First Class compartment, inspite of having a legitimate pass.

What made him take up celibacy, to take up Buddhism, before inspiring the nation?

What element made him choose the path of non-violence. What made the entire nation follow his path.

What is it in him, that still has so much impact on the world.

Each day, why does his relevance in today's changing time seem more and more apt.

Was the path taken by him was a way for self discovery, and all he wanted to do was know his Self?
Dont know.

little angel on my shoulder

She's brutal always. My early encounters with boolean logic was because of her.

Of all the complex, grey, shaded things in life, i learnt polarity through her. 

Most complex questions, grey areas disappear when i lay my case in front of her. she has been one of my two angels(other angel- a huge teddy -some other post) sitting on my shoulder uncomplicating hairy, tarballs of complex crap and guiding me on a binary path. it is either 1 or a 0. 

She has been a gift to me, though i could never really reciprocate it back to her. She was gifted to me by Lord on this day many years back. It has been a privilege seeing her grow since then.

Like a true rebel she beats down common dogmas that i sometimes tend to advocate, and like a gracious ballerina, she also would swirl and whirl her way into her undertakings.

She is my little sister and today is her birthday. here is one of her pieces of design jig. 

this to me is a symbol of purity of spirit, it is beautiful.

i have many people around me, whom i wish to emulate and draw inspiration from. she's one of them.

empathy

My fear for ghosts and scary stories is very well known among my mates and colleagues. So much so, that they have started capitalizing every opportunity to feed energy to this fear.

today, i was ployed into watching 'Resident Evil' trailer, and so the fear of crooked characters, ugly scary lumps jumping across the screen  was still fresh in my mind. soon, in the evening i was walking along my friend Sarat towards a food 'take away' place nearby, we saw a very old woman near the cross road. i saw her through the corner of my eye and as i was doing that, my friend mumbled not to look at her. this mind is full of filth and is crazy, i had this impression of the trailer still fresh, and here i see this old woman, who wore the textbook definition of old crooked witch. i chose to ignore her presence and hop past.
she was completely bent from her spine and she looked above at us.

we hurriedly walked past her, while she was pleading for help. suddenly Sarat stopped. i do not know why we did that. we were just going to walk past and 'the small ugly lump' jumping across the screen picture was still fresh in my mind.
we stopped.
Sarat helped her cross the road.
i walked with them, and i can now only feel ashamed that i didnt stop to help her. then we were about to leave, she said she cant walk further and needs to go by a rickshaw to Ameerpeth
the filth in my mind is deeper than i can imagine, and i thought 'ah, she would now demand 100 rs for going to that place'. i indicated to Sarat that we should leave, thinking that she would ask money and we would not be able to say no.
we were ready not to be fooled and go from there, when she helplessly moaned to us to help her.
the soul has a way to know truth, and we knew she really wanted us to help her.

we asked a rickshaw to ride her to ameerpeth. he demanded a higher fare. she was a dignified woman, and said 'No', she demanded that she be charged as per the 'fare meter'.  the rickshaw guy relented and she left.

So, now i am penning this page, feeling deeply ashamed of my act.
if i were stern enough, i think we would have left her, but i am very happy that Sarat stopped and chose otherwise.
we dont know if she reached properly, if she had money to pay fare, if she has any place to stay, but we didnt talk any transaction.
she was a very fine old lady, spoke well, asked our well being.
She did ask for one thing. she asked so that we could receive. she kept on asking that which i lost.
she asked for 'empathy'.

it goes like this

She came dressed in beautiful green kurta. Her long hair always overflowing,
and her gracious demeanor always makes everyone take notice of her presence.
She walks slooowly, lest it may hurt the earth below and she radiates fragrance,
it lingers in my senses long after we go our ways.
Her beautiful round face makes the pearl in her ear glow even more beautiful.

so, we went out on a dinner date that day.
she generally is shy to go out for a dinner or date. But, i guess everyone gets lucky someday. I too got lucky the other day. She reluctantly agreed to dine with me.

We started pretty early in the evening, so that we could talk more. I guess, i wanted to hear her talk more. I had to drop by at the office on our way to the restro. So, i asked her if she would like to come to my office as well.
She said "um, i'm ok, you take your time". i went to my office and like a stupid fella, got into a discussion with a colleague.

It started to rain. i assumed she would be under the roof downstairs.  i hurriedly picked myself up and went running down-stairs to see she was drenched in rain. i asked her sternly "whhy didnt u come inside!" she didnt speak a word, and tears welled up her eyes. she went away without saying a word. this girl didnt want to bother me, stayed down stairs, thinking i would be doing something important.

i wish i had simply walked towards her and helped her dry off.  i went to her home. she hid herself on hearing me and aunty asked me if something went wrong. i asked if i could see her. she came dressed outside in her dotted tee and pyjama. by now her nose was red, her large forehead had weary lines, her eyes swollen (she cried for sure), still she put on a smile on her face. i cajoled her and asked to scold me, and as she nodded her head, i woke up.

i wish it were true, i would have ended like this

on the bylane

although i have picked up few hyderabadi slangs and can hustle with a telugu fella,  i feel that i miss my mumbai. especially the Ganesh festival.

the fanfare, the decoration, the faith that mumbaites carry in Ganesh is overwhelming. In a city that never sleeps, where men have become busier like never before, there is a certain sense of calmness that Ganesh festival celebrations bring to the life of a commoner in Mumbai.

Not all homes bring and do 'Ganesh Sthapana'*, but the ones who do it religiously   abstain from alcohol, carnal pleasures and stick to puritan food consumption for the entire 11 day period.
The way Muslims brethren religiously observe the holy month of Ramadaan*, people in Mumbai and Maharashtrians to a greater extent discipline themselves in the month of Shraavan*. 
I miss the huge Ganapati pandals of Mumbai, the lovely and beautifully decorated Ganapati at Wadala( see His picture here, isnt he cute :) )

The Matunga ganapati, the lalbaug ganapati, my grandma's ganapati, and my saraswat baug ganapati. i am really missing them.
I miss the I woudnt have missed ganesh celebrations much if hyderabad celebrated it with the same religious and sentimental fervor. I found that missing.

My observation on the bylanes cause more pain to me, than pleasure.

To add to the apathy, i found drunkards carrying the idol for immersion, it pained me to see lack of empathy and the signs of degradation among the advanced form of creation.Ah, it pains.

It is a customary for me and my parents to travel to my grandma's home and have amazing food there and also meet my family members. It is also a fun-fare to visit all my friends homes and stay up with them while they perform the 'arati*'.
I am cribbing to have been unable to do them all, and certainly feeling out of place.

The purpose of Sarvajanik Ganesh Utsav started by Lokmanaya Tilak was to bring together masses so they could fight for the country unitedly. this message too is getting lost somewhere. Ah, it pains.

Ganesh Sthapana - the ceremonial process by which an idol is formally installed at home for the 11 day customary period of Ganesh Chaturthi.
Ramadaan- the holy month of rigorous fasting followed by Muslims
Shraavan- the fifth month of lunar calendar(Hindu calendar)
arati- prayers offered to God , mostly they are beautiful songs sung in praise of the respective lord.


his wealth is priceless
mortals crave his wealth,
sails unfurl with his name,

he watches and swatches,
he amuses and bemuses,
he loves and is loved, 
he is cutest and most beloved,
he is Lord Ganesha

it is always same

i met her in this 'f' generation. So, unassumingly our first interactions were on the internet. there is always an initial romance. she'd like my comment, my post, and i'd like her. this signal-signal goes on for a good measure. re-visiting those pages again, i wonder, were my posts, comments, and all that crap worth a 'like', but who cares!

those few signals lead to 'subscribe' to updates and then 'add as a friend'. that leads to sharing number and then mobile operators make money.

so, we meet at a local cafe often on off days and sometimes just like that. 

so here at the local cafe as i write this post, i wait for her. 

so today we may still talk the same thing. she doesnt remember what she says, and she often repeats what she narrated in our last meet or even before. i don't want to act intelligent and say 'yaaa, you told me'. i simply care to be there. 

she is tough and mighty hearted. her stories are as beautiful as she is. her pure spirit is growing all over me. her giggles and sniffs too are rhythmic as her music is. its a privilege, it really is!

our conversations would go on and on about her work, and how she worked well and sometimes terrible with her team mates. how her manager praises her and offers her support. she sits and talks about her art. she talks and admires her seniors  who stayed true to their art and pursue it with pure spirit. 

i listen, and dont want to speak. for my words may break her chain of thoughts, for i may lead her to miss her pearl, i love being her silent testimony, always.

we stay up late till night. she's a dreamer, she says she needs to rest and sleep, and tells me 'kanno, i get these beautiful dreams in my sleeep, which i'll tell you someday, i should go now', i hesitantly say 'yes, yes you must go' and say silently, 'i'll wake up from my dream now'.

thoughts on thought

how many times do we see, that there is no difference of an inch in what we think and what we see.

There are so many actions that I am guilty of; very few I take pride in, I find in the zero sum analysis i thought them all. I fed thoughts with life and energy, and they manifested. There were no surprises.

Animated and expressive person as i am, i make a fool of myself when i see some eventuality, and realize that it was already thought out.

I find it surprising, how i feed energy to a thought, till it expresses in physical form. This dis-illusion re-affirms that thought indeed is real. All external things are manifestations of the thought.

So must be the case with each one of us.

We all have our own unique world and each of us has created it for himself/herself by his/her unique thoughts and the energy fed to it.

Our interactions with the world are but physical manifestations of our thoughts.

So if we think greatness or think downfall, either ways it is right.

I had half-hearted faith in this idea. and never really paid much attention, even after having read long long back the "the alchemist"-Paulo Cohelo, until I experienced. 

So I would continue to believe that we indeed can; and we alone can create and shape the world around us, through conscious thoughts, and enable unique unaltered manifestation of our thoughts.
Good or Bad, they are there and they are right. Always.

23rd Sept 2012

Titles are a difficult task. I dont remember the number of times, i gave up writing a post in the middle, because i could not give a title to the post.

Titles polarize. They build opinions and often constrict free wheeling discussions or opinions.
Few would argue that, they bring focus, but i wouldn't necessarily write to draw an eye ball(sometimes i may). I write because it i find it as a way of letting out.

I wish each posts were like human beings. They would have names, because name do not mean and shape the personality of the person. It would be fun to see if each of us were our names, wouldnt it?
On a hindsight, i feel it would be a big put off if we were our names. Imagine if i were like the sun, people would say , "ah, that guy is sun maan, he is cool in the evening and hot in the morning, and i guess his building is not using electricity anymore, he powers them like the guy in Spiderman" (wishful thinking)
one more,
girlfriend would say
"my boyfriend is so hot, but he doesnt allow me near generally. he cools off when we meet" ;)

For that reason I like biographies more than other books. Autobiography of Mahatma Gandhi, Albert Einstein, Swami Vivekananda, and all leaders including Steve Jobs, and more recently Autobiography of a Yogi. All these are names of books and represent personalities. They allow us to know about the person just like we would do if we were meeting them.

So, I have found a better way of laying bare the out-pouring. I'll tag the post with what i feel the post is all about. And name it with the date.
Dates too are like names. They dont necessarily mean anything and in some cases may mean something. But they are names.
[edit]
There is another way of doing it too. we are writing out thoughts. so i'll put them as thoughts.
eg. thoughts on giving a title to a post, thoughts on working in a startup, thoughts on writing.

This makes me name this post as 'No Title'. I'll hold myself from doing that, albeit i may end up scrapping this post altogether. I almost ended up scrapping this post after considering alternatives( naming posts, no title, naming blogposts, why i dont like title, no name)

at the coffee table

as she started sipping her coffee,
carefully blowing small winds,
each time her breath kissed the coffee,
it sprang to life with vapors as it cooled
it lived its death breathing her wind
until she sipped it in

as she moved sideways,
her plates allowed her ear to be seen
the pearl, it was pristine
her light hair blew over her face, shadowing
like lazy clouds on Bashang beneath

the air smelt beautiful,
with her still wet fragrant hair.
and so i rushed home
to pen her 

Perspective

and then I understand

the alphas , the betas, the deltas and zetas
fumbled my logic, eschewed my care
they were poetic, but logic denied

and then i understand
not out of logic, but by heart

the father's love, the mother's care,
i never fully fathomed,
for all my logic did, it only squared,

and then i understand,
not out of logic, but by heart

the men who walked the earth before
the greats, the misfits, the cockeyed nuts
they chose, and they did

and then i understand,
possibility is a choice

Poverty in Museums

There are few times when an idea comes and sweeps you away by the sheer force of its propensity and impact. As much as poverty is a complicated subject to understand, equally complex is its eradication.

So, without having experienced poverty even remotely, without having seen poverty from close ends, am i a person to comment about poverty. No.period.

We are like that only

The local mess serves us some delicious morning breakfast with well laid out pooris, 'doshas'(that's how they pronounce dosas. See I just picked up on how weird someone else's pronunciation sounds. We are like that only. We always pick up on where others faulted or looked funny. Strange no?

Things to do

Things to do. They get all guns pointed. They burn all bridges. They inspire.

My things to do...

Although, i do not remember how limitless i was feeling to write them down, the feeling is still there.

Few of the  'Things to do' have changed and have transpired into more meaningful goals.
Each day getting back to this list gives me an affirmative.
There is also an awareness when there would be negatives days on end. I'll know it's time to change then

Till then.... it is very much happening

Mere Intern waali maggi

Relationships as i understand are all connections, which are dated back to time in-articulated.

Friends, acquaintances, soul mates, co-mates, colleague, enemy are all terms/abstractions and compartmentalization that make us look controlling.

There are times when we meet few people and don't understand or feel connected after zillion meets
then there are times, when we meet a person or don't even meet him/her and feel like we have known them for ages.
Terms don't matter much unless we give it so much importance. As if living in terminologies was the way life got defined.
Such is a beautiful person I found in Sai Teja. He was my companion for the whole of June and July in Hyderabad.

Today I found a friend

Today I found a friend,
Or maybe she found me,
Or was it fate, chance, circumstance - 
Predestination, by whatever name?
Were we like nanoid stars whose orbits,
Devised at time's beginning,
In due season
Intersect?

Though we'll never know, 
No matter! For instinct tells me
That our friendship, nurtured,
Will grow strong.

So much of her I like;
Her quiet ways, warmth,
A gentle wit, and intellect,
An honest face, kind eyes, a ready smile.

'Friend' is not easily defined, and yet,
These things mean that to me
Concerning one whom, even now,
I hope to see again 
And count the days and hours 
Until a second meeting.

- via email from author/writer/poet Ms NiveditaN, you can find her here.

   She has a 'rough e-book' which she maintains here

contd...

a word from her, her gentle hi,

her mellow hello, her naughty giggle,

her deep eyes, that beautiful shine,

her pleasant demeanour, graceful gentle steps

her beautiful heart, unmistaken gratitude

they woo, they woo

how i wish, she were my friend

how i wish, we met more often

for time slows or 

paces too much i dont know

i know she is an angel on the shoulder

and i am an admirer, a fan, an acquaintance
until a second meeting and may be even after

-anon
a song that hums on my mind screen is 'Hallelujah' by Leonard Cohen: Linked here

Just Because

Just because,

                   she is honest, doesnt mean she is outspoken
                   she appeared quiet, doesnt mean she didnt have a lot to say
                   she appeared happy, dosent mean everything was okay
                   she laughed a lot, doesnt mean she doesnt take things seriously
                   she is forgiving, dosent mean she can be taken for granted
                   she doesnt show her feelings, doesnt mean she doesnt have any

What it does mean, she is the best girl you can have.
PS: it could be your beloved mother, darling sister, dearest soulmate or a new found friend, whom you seem to be knowing for ages
                      

(inspired writes)

The Fisherman and Businessman

There was once a businessman who was sitting by the beach in a small Brazilian village.
As he sat, he saw a Brazilian fisherman rowing a small boat towards the shore having caught quite few big fish.
The businessman was impressed and asked the fisherman, “How long does it take you to catch so many fish?”

Story of a Break!

This poem was sent via mail by my friend, Niraj Mishra..
It connects for the simple fact that it takes us back and forth in our memory lane through childhood school -college-graduation days. Its nice, read on :)

Pursuit of Excellence

Value Education was the first period in school days. Designing those 'Value Books', comparing friend's paper cuttings, showing off the new 'thought for the day' flipped out from a book that no one else has read was so much fun.

Harishchandrachi Factory

Harishchandrachi Factory depicts Dadasaheb Phalke's journey in making India's first motion picture film "Raja Harishchandra" way back in 1910s.

I loved the way Director Paresh Mokashi crafted this film. More importantly it was superb to see how he could capture Dadasaheb Phalke's struggle in a very funny way in this film.