Three books within a span of one month is something I could not imagine myself doing. But the sudden urge in blogging prompted me to read and there I am… in the year 2008 almost around 7 big books old (not counting the various magazines I’ve read so far).
The recent ones “The Bookseller of Kabul” made me think how lucky am I to be a woman with so much of liberation, “Gilgamesh” inspired along Edith’s journeys along Europe, Middle-east and Australia and “Changeling” horrified me in the end with the tragic death of (suicide to be precise) of Tom Curdie.
“You are Here”, “Three Mistakes of My Life” and “The Far Spent day” were other books that I could kill time with and increase my language skills. TFSD was endearing as it was from Sri Lanka and brought back memories of Colpetty and Bambalapitiya. I may be a late reader of some of these novels as it was only the year 2008 that propelled a plunge into reading nevertheless am happy. Happy - that these books are allowing me to peep into other cultures, stories of diverse people and carrying me around the world.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Martyrs
This tribute made by NDTV was beyond words...
The Mumbai attack woke up the public towards reality, towards sleepy politicians and crooked bureacrats...
Unfortunately this had to be done at the cost of laying to a deep sleep, a few good brave men...
They shut their eyes, to open the eyes of the public, to show us that life is not all about bieng selfish but fighting and saving the other.. who would have such courage!
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=PLIJpREFHp0
The Mumbai attack woke up the public towards reality, towards sleepy politicians and crooked bureacrats...
Unfortunately this had to be done at the cost of laying to a deep sleep, a few good brave men...
They shut their eyes, to open the eyes of the public, to show us that life is not all about bieng selfish but fighting and saving the other.. who would have such courage!
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=PLIJpREFHp0
Ilayarajah's Music
Each time Surya (Vaaranam Ayiram) kept cooing that Meghna’s beauty mesmerized him like an Ilayarajah song, I couldn’t help but wonder how ineffaceable the maestro’s music is, even now.
A sense of nostalgic melancholy seeps within, as you listen to his 80s song. The essence of Tamil feeling runs through his tunes reminding one of the bullock carts, gravel roads, large eyed heroines in colourful sarees and 'kosuvams', lush green fields coupled with significant verses that spoke of Tamil Nadu and its culture as in a Bharathirajah film.
The stories of rural Tamil Nadu echoed a sense of poverty devoid of modernity yet with happy people who could break into a song near the river, under the monumental ruins of a temple or a mud hut. Those films were clear visuals never allowed to be wiped out of memory. Gone are those pictures of soft songs and touching lyrics… the present milieu of extravaganza and high end pictures are yet another unique form of film making presenting the unquestioned growth of Tamil Cinema. Still the yesteryear ones keep ringing with their daring stories and echoing music of Ilayarajah.
The melting strings of the guitar, the gentle vibes of the flute and the between doses of tabla were unique in their interplay to churn out impregnable music. Long Live the maestro's muisc!
A sense of nostalgic melancholy seeps within, as you listen to his 80s song. The essence of Tamil feeling runs through his tunes reminding one of the bullock carts, gravel roads, large eyed heroines in colourful sarees and 'kosuvams', lush green fields coupled with significant verses that spoke of Tamil Nadu and its culture as in a Bharathirajah film.
The stories of rural Tamil Nadu echoed a sense of poverty devoid of modernity yet with happy people who could break into a song near the river, under the monumental ruins of a temple or a mud hut. Those films were clear visuals never allowed to be wiped out of memory. Gone are those pictures of soft songs and touching lyrics… the present milieu of extravaganza and high end pictures are yet another unique form of film making presenting the unquestioned growth of Tamil Cinema. Still the yesteryear ones keep ringing with their daring stories and echoing music of Ilayarajah.
The melting strings of the guitar, the gentle vibes of the flute and the between doses of tabla were unique in their interplay to churn out impregnable music. Long Live the maestro's muisc!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Bullets with Coffee
The night of 26th November 2008 remains indelible forever in many minds. As I was sitting at a posh café in Chennai few days back, I just imagined the horror the diners at Leopold, Mumbai would have felt, when ignorant young men with rifles showered them with piercing bullets. A gush of red blood splattering across the pure white whip cream and the taste and smell of coffee and beer, overpowered with the scent of human blood and flesh. Horrifying screams of death deafening the once merry music of the café.
“Leopold” an identity of the bourgeoning upper class, which till then was caught up in the frenzy of back packing foreigners, hip college kids and floating art lovers of the ancients, were treated to a nightmarish night in the hands of a few poor urchins carrying high end guns and bombs, arriving all the way from an illiterate village in (they say) Pakistan. For those who believed bomb blasts were restricted to crowded market places and shrines thronging with worshippers be it Hindu or Muslim, 26/11 was a clarion call. It showed terror can happen anywhere to anyone.
There would be even more Qasabs and Ismails being trained in distant camps across the globe, brainwashed with video clips and fiery speeches, drugged and derailed in life, to carry out someone else’ destructive desires. While a few ambitious Mullahs sacrifice the unsuspecting youth, for martyrdom, harbouring wishes of Supremacy over the globe, the common man, be he from the lower, middle or upper class with his daily toil to survive becomes the credulous victim. After Mumbhai, it could be any where-Chennai, Bangalore, Hyderabad, Delhi….
As the Government tries to amend past mistakes, the news channels rest on their breaking news campaigns, as the security lightly sighs a relief, as the cloud of 26/11 becomes hazy, as Qasab’s figure in the Versace T shirt dims down from peoples’ mind and as they settle down in their daily routine fight for financial survival the terror may strike again.
“Leopold” an identity of the bourgeoning upper class, which till then was caught up in the frenzy of back packing foreigners, hip college kids and floating art lovers of the ancients, were treated to a nightmarish night in the hands of a few poor urchins carrying high end guns and bombs, arriving all the way from an illiterate village in (they say) Pakistan. For those who believed bomb blasts were restricted to crowded market places and shrines thronging with worshippers be it Hindu or Muslim, 26/11 was a clarion call. It showed terror can happen anywhere to anyone.
There would be even more Qasabs and Ismails being trained in distant camps across the globe, brainwashed with video clips and fiery speeches, drugged and derailed in life, to carry out someone else’ destructive desires. While a few ambitious Mullahs sacrifice the unsuspecting youth, for martyrdom, harbouring wishes of Supremacy over the globe, the common man, be he from the lower, middle or upper class with his daily toil to survive becomes the credulous victim. After Mumbhai, it could be any where-Chennai, Bangalore, Hyderabad, Delhi….
As the Government tries to amend past mistakes, the news channels rest on their breaking news campaigns, as the security lightly sighs a relief, as the cloud of 26/11 becomes hazy, as Qasab’s figure in the Versace T shirt dims down from peoples’ mind and as they settle down in their daily routine fight for financial survival the terror may strike again.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
My Lil X Mas Tree
The Christmas spirit is not so much in Chennai, yet the chilly mornings and misty atmosphere owing to the unpredicted showers doth give an air of the festive season. A few shops displaying trinkets and chubby Santas caught my fantasy yesterday and it prodded me to step in to the small shop on my way home, for some unexpected Christmas shopping. I am not a Christian, my inner mind kept saying, not that I would be celebrating the day with roasted turkeys and wine but hey its all about being artistic and creative right. its always been my fantasy to gape at the huge, glittery trees erected in the elegant hotels, both in Sri Lanka and India.
The jingles and merriments that come along with it. My White Christmas in Manali, on the 25th December 2002 was most unforgettable. The Nuns dressed up like grand dames in their thick woolen cloaks and strong sticks to lead them up the snow clad mountains, we girls jittery and numb in heavy boots and coats, that we were not used to... it was a college trip thats remains indelible in my mind till now...
So Christmas is for every body...!
And there I went buying the smallest, greenest little X mas tree along with some red and gold decors like bells, balls, cutely wrapped gift parcels and a golden angel.
A little ‘X mas’ tree to add a touch of beauty to my home and usher in the cosy and colourful festive season with aplomb. Am sure as the date nears I could try to add more surprising excitement to the show.
The jingles and merriments that come along with it. My White Christmas in Manali, on the 25th December 2002 was most unforgettable. The Nuns dressed up like grand dames in their thick woolen cloaks and strong sticks to lead them up the snow clad mountains, we girls jittery and numb in heavy boots and coats, that we were not used to... it was a college trip thats remains indelible in my mind till now...
So Christmas is for every body...!
And there I went buying the smallest, greenest little X mas tree along with some red and gold decors like bells, balls, cutely wrapped gift parcels and a golden angel.
A little ‘X mas’ tree to add a touch of beauty to my home and usher in the cosy and colourful festive season with aplomb. Am sure as the date nears I could try to add more surprising excitement to the show.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Saturday with FOOD!
The day started off well, as I had pampered my tresses to a homemade conditioning therapy, of egg white, some herbal leaves, lime and other mamma’s ingredients. The rains have not departed from Chennai, giving people like me a delight of sorts. With the chilly air and mushrooming puddles of water. Something nice to eat would be apt for the moment.. Say pasta or potato wedges or butter and salty popcorn…food never goes out of my mind despite the constant worry about ending up with an over sized jeans and an XX large t-shirt in a few months.
Yesterday I had a good amount of bread, pasta with cheese and sour onion cream and soup. It was delicious and I ended it with a filling 2-3 glasses of coke. Today, various dishes kept flying in my mind. Even a plate of pizza would do… nice cheese, with crispy something and jalapenos.. Thinking of food on a daily basis becomes an inherent part of my lifestyle… sometimes I feel its good considering the truth where my imagination and day dreaming half fulfills the desire and finally when am served the dreamt of dishes, I could satisfactorily gulp down a small quantity than expected.
Now to ensure those who don’t know me much, I am not this greedy, ever so craving for food - plump girl. But my interest in food is never- ending. It eventually has graduated to cooking. Should I opt for a change of career? Maybe I should have become a chef. The time is not far behind. I could be one. And or maybe a wine taster, though I don’t know much about it! May be another few years would see me in some fine wine yard in a cozy French destination among grapes and bottles of wine! A big cheer to FOOD!!
And the day of food thinking did end well for me… surprisingly my friend Ela and her hubby celebrating their 2nd wedding anniversary really did take me out for an unexpected sumptuous large dinner.. “A North Indian Buffet” at Deccan Plaza. Though half the time I didn’t know what I was gorging on.. All oily, sugar dozed spicy panneers, kebabs, rotis and a special one was ‘Kesarangi’ tasted yum! It was a nice foody day after all with my friend’s wonderful family!
Yesterday I had a good amount of bread, pasta with cheese and sour onion cream and soup. It was delicious and I ended it with a filling 2-3 glasses of coke. Today, various dishes kept flying in my mind. Even a plate of pizza would do… nice cheese, with crispy something and jalapenos.. Thinking of food on a daily basis becomes an inherent part of my lifestyle… sometimes I feel its good considering the truth where my imagination and day dreaming half fulfills the desire and finally when am served the dreamt of dishes, I could satisfactorily gulp down a small quantity than expected.
Now to ensure those who don’t know me much, I am not this greedy, ever so craving for food - plump girl. But my interest in food is never- ending. It eventually has graduated to cooking. Should I opt for a change of career? Maybe I should have become a chef. The time is not far behind. I could be one. And or maybe a wine taster, though I don’t know much about it! May be another few years would see me in some fine wine yard in a cozy French destination among grapes and bottles of wine! A big cheer to FOOD!!
And the day of food thinking did end well for me… surprisingly my friend Ela and her hubby celebrating their 2nd wedding anniversary really did take me out for an unexpected sumptuous large dinner.. “A North Indian Buffet” at Deccan Plaza. Though half the time I didn’t know what I was gorging on.. All oily, sugar dozed spicy panneers, kebabs, rotis and a special one was ‘Kesarangi’ tasted yum! It was a nice foody day after all with my friend’s wonderful family!
Monday, November 17, 2008
An unusual portrayal of the mundanely - “Babel”
“Babel”, a strong contender during the 2007 Oscars, stands as an undisputed testimony to Mexican film maker Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu’s unusual filmmaking technique. The movie follows the league of “Amores Perros” and “21 Grams”, where diverse storylines that travel on singular paths eventually culminate at one junction taking the viewer by surprise.
“Babel”, a Greek word denoting ‘confusion’ or ‘ambiguity’ does perplex an amateur film-goer initially. The film begins its journey in the desolated barren lands of Morroco, where local man, Abdullah, purchases a .270 mm gun for his sons to keep away the jackals from their herd. Yusuf the younger and mischievous son, in an attempt to test the range of the rifle accidentally shoots at a tourist bus. The bullet hits American tourist Susan Jones (Cate Blanchett) who is on a reconciliation vacation with her husband Richard ( Brad Pitt) to save their strife-ridden marriage. The couple is left stranded in the deserts with only the locals by their side to help them get medical support. In San Diego, America, the couple’s two young children are taken to Mexico by their trusted nanny Amelia (Adriana Barazza) as she finds no takers to look after the kids while she is desperate to attend her son’s wedding. Amelia cruises through the border with no hindrance from the border police and happily enjoys the wedding feast with the two blonde American kids by her side, who are oblivious of their mother’s peril on the other side of the world.
Meanwhile in Tokyo, Chieko Wattaya, the teenaged daughter of a wealthy individual named Yasujiro Wattaya, is seen indulging herself in rebellious rendevous in order to gratify the trauma caused by her disability (she is deaf and dumb), rejection from the opposite sex and her mother’s suicide.
Four different countries, four unique cultures, four strong backgrounds, the proem though looks a tad confusing “Babel” eventually interlocks the differing tracks into one drama. The Japanese man , Wattaya had gifted his priced gun to Hasan, during a hunting expedition and Hasan in turn had sold it to Abdullah. The same gun had played the culprit and pricked Susan, wounding her critically, while her children were left wandering in the Mexican deserts, after the wedding, as Amelia gets reprimanded by the Police for tresspassing and working illegally in America.
The underlying theme of the film is nothing less than the oneness of humanity that is beyond human barriers and borders. Be it love, tragedy or death - humanity echoes the same attitude at such desperate times. Yusuf a curious youngster witnesses the first few glipmses of physicl pleasure, while Chieko in her adolescece yearns for intimacy by imposing herself on handsome men, Amelia rekindles her love with a widower in Mexico on the wedding evening.
Similarly, the concept of death, its aftermath and the pain it causes again exposes its terror in diversified stages. Through Susan’s spine chilling cries as she is pushed to the edge of death, and Anwar the eldest of Abdullah, shrieks as he nears his end bieng shot by the Morroccan Police, which impels Yusuf to surrender. A stark loneliness pervades Chieko’s apartment when she broods over her lost mother and Richard’s children fear to sleep in the dark as they believe that their baby brother died in his sleep.
The viewer is definitely taken on a global tour where ordinary canvasses of incidents unfold as the screenplay travels from the middle east to the far east and then to new found land in a perplexing order. The screenplay is well etched that an ardent viewer could easily break through the ambiguity and the minimal dialogues to comprehend the meanings, which are very broad if one is to sit and explore the crux of the film.
Ironically “Babel” is devoid of perplexities as long as one connects with the emotions, the plights, the apprehensions and the eventual tragedies of each characters who are after all representative of a vast panorama of human traits.
Unlike the usual film that ends with an end or period this movie projects mundane situations from around the world occurring at different time frames to a multitude of people, form various backgrounds and their reactions to such unexpected happenings. It comes to justify that the human race is nonetheless closely knitted by a thread that is known as ‘emotions’which is common to all.
“Babel”, a Greek word denoting ‘confusion’ or ‘ambiguity’ does perplex an amateur film-goer initially. The film begins its journey in the desolated barren lands of Morroco, where local man, Abdullah, purchases a .270 mm gun for his sons to keep away the jackals from their herd. Yusuf the younger and mischievous son, in an attempt to test the range of the rifle accidentally shoots at a tourist bus. The bullet hits American tourist Susan Jones (Cate Blanchett) who is on a reconciliation vacation with her husband Richard ( Brad Pitt) to save their strife-ridden marriage. The couple is left stranded in the deserts with only the locals by their side to help them get medical support. In San Diego, America, the couple’s two young children are taken to Mexico by their trusted nanny Amelia (Adriana Barazza) as she finds no takers to look after the kids while she is desperate to attend her son’s wedding. Amelia cruises through the border with no hindrance from the border police and happily enjoys the wedding feast with the two blonde American kids by her side, who are oblivious of their mother’s peril on the other side of the world.
Meanwhile in Tokyo, Chieko Wattaya, the teenaged daughter of a wealthy individual named Yasujiro Wattaya, is seen indulging herself in rebellious rendevous in order to gratify the trauma caused by her disability (she is deaf and dumb), rejection from the opposite sex and her mother’s suicide.
Four different countries, four unique cultures, four strong backgrounds, the proem though looks a tad confusing “Babel” eventually interlocks the differing tracks into one drama. The Japanese man , Wattaya had gifted his priced gun to Hasan, during a hunting expedition and Hasan in turn had sold it to Abdullah. The same gun had played the culprit and pricked Susan, wounding her critically, while her children were left wandering in the Mexican deserts, after the wedding, as Amelia gets reprimanded by the Police for tresspassing and working illegally in America.
The underlying theme of the film is nothing less than the oneness of humanity that is beyond human barriers and borders. Be it love, tragedy or death - humanity echoes the same attitude at such desperate times. Yusuf a curious youngster witnesses the first few glipmses of physicl pleasure, while Chieko in her adolescece yearns for intimacy by imposing herself on handsome men, Amelia rekindles her love with a widower in Mexico on the wedding evening.
Similarly, the concept of death, its aftermath and the pain it causes again exposes its terror in diversified stages. Through Susan’s spine chilling cries as she is pushed to the edge of death, and Anwar the eldest of Abdullah, shrieks as he nears his end bieng shot by the Morroccan Police, which impels Yusuf to surrender. A stark loneliness pervades Chieko’s apartment when she broods over her lost mother and Richard’s children fear to sleep in the dark as they believe that their baby brother died in his sleep.
The viewer is definitely taken on a global tour where ordinary canvasses of incidents unfold as the screenplay travels from the middle east to the far east and then to new found land in a perplexing order. The screenplay is well etched that an ardent viewer could easily break through the ambiguity and the minimal dialogues to comprehend the meanings, which are very broad if one is to sit and explore the crux of the film.
Ironically “Babel” is devoid of perplexities as long as one connects with the emotions, the plights, the apprehensions and the eventual tragedies of each characters who are after all representative of a vast panorama of human traits.
Unlike the usual film that ends with an end or period this movie projects mundane situations from around the world occurring at different time frames to a multitude of people, form various backgrounds and their reactions to such unexpected happenings. It comes to justify that the human race is nonetheless closely knitted by a thread that is known as ‘emotions’which is common to all.
Mood swings of a week
Why do people get irritated? A snappy yell at provoker, a disgusted sneer at the object of annoyance, an unexpected spank on the unassuming intruder… the past few weeks have been pretty hazardous for people who came across me. A pang of irritation had jumped out of my otherwise tight closet called ‘self’ inviting unbearable words from my mouth to sweep out, even at the slightest jest from a friend. To get pass this slight obsession with irritation, I had gulped down few mugs of ‘Barista’ coffee and ready to eat popcorn. Still the mania does not leave me. Even some extra time in the prayer room has not yielded much result.
The other day, Saturday to be precise, I had half a day off and went off to watch a movie with a friend. While Priyanka Chopra sizzled on screen, with her well-toned, strictly no bulging extra flesh body, and as John and Abishek churned out incessant laughter pretending to be gay-yes I was watching “Dostana”- a couple at the back got some eerie glares from my friend for kicking her seat. The young couple was oblivious to my friend’s grueling stares and for a change, this time, I kept listening as my friend spit words of raspy insults on the youngsters.
Now my friend and me seemed to be on the same sides where getting irritated was concerned and I was happy that I was not alone after all. Whether a young man with a ‘am so cool’ attitude made a wanting glance at you near the bus stop, or an uncle old enough to be your grandfather, riding an old scooter traversed your dress as he passed by near the signal or a poking aunt like one of my ex- wardens, kept eyeing your hair and make-up each time you got dressed to go to work. Anyone on the road, work or even the mall it seemed might irk my ire. I have been Ms. Rude to some really uncouth people who behave, talk and most importantly look in the most unpleasant of ways but hey I can’t help it. My nerve that provokes the irritation gland is pretty extra spirited that it easily spurs the words to flow out of my mouth within a few minutes of the aggravation, warning people to stay away. Now it does not mean am this grumpy, hate - people, wicked witch, as your imagination plays around guessing me in the figure of a sharp tongued, frowning, mean young woman with a not-so friendly face typing peevishly at the keys, but no am much different from your imaginary strokes though the annoyance at some issues lingers on.
Is it because you are neither young nor old, somewhere in the middle- ‘ready to be married’ but extra modern to fit in with the right groom or is it because they are too old, and prying that this irritation gets into you or that some people cannot just stop being over curious to know about many ‘others’ things? Either ways we are all humans and with emotions dying to be happy in spite of some sloppy incidents in life. Am praying this phase of my ‘going off the moods’ will sway past to make me pleasant and nonchalant.
The other day, Saturday to be precise, I had half a day off and went off to watch a movie with a friend. While Priyanka Chopra sizzled on screen, with her well-toned, strictly no bulging extra flesh body, and as John and Abishek churned out incessant laughter pretending to be gay-yes I was watching “Dostana”- a couple at the back got some eerie glares from my friend for kicking her seat. The young couple was oblivious to my friend’s grueling stares and for a change, this time, I kept listening as my friend spit words of raspy insults on the youngsters.
Now my friend and me seemed to be on the same sides where getting irritated was concerned and I was happy that I was not alone after all. Whether a young man with a ‘am so cool’ attitude made a wanting glance at you near the bus stop, or an uncle old enough to be your grandfather, riding an old scooter traversed your dress as he passed by near the signal or a poking aunt like one of my ex- wardens, kept eyeing your hair and make-up each time you got dressed to go to work. Anyone on the road, work or even the mall it seemed might irk my ire. I have been Ms. Rude to some really uncouth people who behave, talk and most importantly look in the most unpleasant of ways but hey I can’t help it. My nerve that provokes the irritation gland is pretty extra spirited that it easily spurs the words to flow out of my mouth within a few minutes of the aggravation, warning people to stay away. Now it does not mean am this grumpy, hate - people, wicked witch, as your imagination plays around guessing me in the figure of a sharp tongued, frowning, mean young woman with a not-so friendly face typing peevishly at the keys, but no am much different from your imaginary strokes though the annoyance at some issues lingers on.
Is it because you are neither young nor old, somewhere in the middle- ‘ready to be married’ but extra modern to fit in with the right groom or is it because they are too old, and prying that this irritation gets into you or that some people cannot just stop being over curious to know about many ‘others’ things? Either ways we are all humans and with emotions dying to be happy in spite of some sloppy incidents in life. Am praying this phase of my ‘going off the moods’ will sway past to make me pleasant and nonchalant.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Lone Wanderer
Is it hard to penetrate a swollen heart?
That stubbornly wears a cloak of defiance?
Hard enough to resist, kind words or simple caress,
Too small to bow down to eager smiles,
That heart wanders in search of truth,
Away from human clamour and cunning.
A pot of gold, the lost desire,
Yet far be gone, leaving traces
Pleasant memories to relive.
Isn’t it foolish to brood upon bygone sorrows or miss out on present joys?
To whine for a lost stray cat,
Who has run away towards sweeter milk?
Leaving thy stale self to rot,
Is it not sheer hypocrisy, to exult in mundane pleasure in the name of solace?
Who can instill wisdom to a foolish lover cheated by an adulterate ex?
They are two-faced people,
Who cannot commit or care,
Yet, who cannot survive in isolation?
They embark on revenge,
Their rigidity conceals, childhood truths, deep blemishes left indelible for life.
That stubbornly wears a cloak of defiance?
Hard enough to resist, kind words or simple caress,
Too small to bow down to eager smiles,
That heart wanders in search of truth,
Away from human clamour and cunning.
A pot of gold, the lost desire,
Yet far be gone, leaving traces
Pleasant memories to relive.
Isn’t it foolish to brood upon bygone sorrows or miss out on present joys?
To whine for a lost stray cat,
Who has run away towards sweeter milk?
Leaving thy stale self to rot,
Is it not sheer hypocrisy, to exult in mundane pleasure in the name of solace?
Who can instill wisdom to a foolish lover cheated by an adulterate ex?
They are two-faced people,
Who cannot commit or care,
Yet, who cannot survive in isolation?
They embark on revenge,
Their rigidity conceals, childhood truths, deep blemishes left indelible for life.
The Pupfish Calling….
We’ve come so far,
Braving all ages afar,
Deep down beyond thy reach,
Silently we swim, to preach,
The human race about thy history,
That has till now been a secrecy,
We calmly swim in waters so deep,
A tranquil serenade of heat that sweep,
Extinction! not far apart,
A concurrent echo so smart,
Warns us to pray in advance,
For our lives to give a chance.
Braving all ages afar,
Deep down beyond thy reach,
Silently we swim, to preach,
The human race about thy history,
That has till now been a secrecy,
We calmly swim in waters so deep,
A tranquil serenade of heat that sweep,
Extinction! not far apart,
A concurrent echo so smart,
Warns us to pray in advance,
For our lives to give a chance.
I love walking in the Rain
Rain, rain don’t go away,
You are my excuse to bunk office too soon,
My reason to wade through the flood,
As I Walk along familiar paths,
Dreading the unknown potholes on the way.
The salubrious wind brushes along my face,
A cold gush seeping through the air,
Passing chilly shivers through the spine.
I love the rain,
The dark coat wrapping me from the fiery rays,
Shielding from the dirty sweat and tan.
The rains are so magical,
They urge things to a standstill.
You can move if you want to play,
Or just take shade under a tin roof,
Avoiding the gushes as they come in strong showers.
But I love the rains so much,
As they dance around,
Giving everyone a respite,
To enjoy the misty sights!
You are my excuse to bunk office too soon,
My reason to wade through the flood,
As I Walk along familiar paths,
Dreading the unknown potholes on the way.
The salubrious wind brushes along my face,
A cold gush seeping through the air,
Passing chilly shivers through the spine.
I love the rain,
The dark coat wrapping me from the fiery rays,
Shielding from the dirty sweat and tan.
The rains are so magical,
They urge things to a standstill.
You can move if you want to play,
Or just take shade under a tin roof,
Avoiding the gushes as they come in strong showers.
But I love the rains so much,
As they dance around,
Giving everyone a respite,
To enjoy the misty sights!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Narcissist's Pleasure
Individual
My roots, long lost, I admire....
My destiny, unaware, I tread with fear......
I may use too many "I"s, myself I trust!That shadow of my own!
Honest- I've nothing to hide,
Confident- I do what I think is my pride,
Hypocrites and Gossip-mongers, Would run away from me a mile,
My conscience, I would not lose even for a while!!!!
Whether you like me or not,I do not bother!
A research writing I had come across long time back opined that most of the friends networking sites were an outlet for all the narcissists to parade their talents, achievements and of course their attractiveness. Am sure none of the eager 'orkutters' and 'facebookers' would consent with a sneering statement as this, claiming that they just prefer to stay in touch with friends, kindle old memories, bring back nostalgic moments etc etc. But I myself, just taken to blogging could hardly resist acknowledging the underlying truth. Yep I too started orkutting first for the sake of keeping track with my friends. It was surprising awe to see how people have changed over the years, all looking new compared to how I knew them, and in diverse parts of the world, some trumpeting their attainments, while some keeping a low key without even uploading a picture of theirs.
The friendship sites are a humungous cluster of human thoughts and traits. I know couple of people who take photos just to upload on the site so that their old friends (and new ones too)could see how much they’ve become - trendier and stylish and all in conrast to the gawky kids they were once. Also I know of a friend who plainly refused to log on to one of those ‘friendly sites’ dreading the bouts of diffidence it would bring into her if she glanced at her old friends educational and job profiles that would be gleaming with foreign degrees compared to her locally earned ones.
Then there are some of thopse secretive ones who use this to pry on their old enemies. I don’t mean the hard core fanatics with a vengeance, but simple school and college enemies who parted ways after petty fights as kids but now wanting to test what the other has done in life and where she has gotten to. Now I do not in any way mean to demean that these sites are for a bunch of jealous and over narcissistic folks wanting to display their success but I agree that these are to a level a form of narcissism for evry one.
The process that develops in itself is refelctive of the statement. First you create your own page with a pretty hip photo of yours, smiling most of the times into your mobile phone camera, your sole goal is to search for fellow mates from school, once you start meeting all of them it transforms into a competition of sorts because now you are back in track with the lives of hordes of friends and its time you show them what you are doing? How you look? Where you went this weekend to party? Your new clique of cool friends, your new hair colour and so on, it definitely escalates your amount of confidence and prompts you to achieve more at least for the sake of updating the news… I know, from bitter enemies to newly divorced couples who irritatedly ask the other 'to get out of their lives and go to Hell' would eventually sneak into the others web page to see what he or she is upto...!
Let the net working sites grow as the ‘jealous’ turn greener witnessing your success while the ‘curious’ keep peeping into your pages every now and then, to see if your mood is off and silently rejoicing when you are down!
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Beginning your Day..!
Today I started my day with a prayer.. its become a ritual of sorts daily to chant a few mantras to different Gods. Whether am thinking of the Almighty all the time I pray, is doubtful. Its just a ritual which I never fail. There are times when I step out of the house without saying even one prayer for the day and later in the day if something bad happens, immediately my faithful mind attributes it towards failing to chant the daily dose of mantras that am used to. Some say am overtly superstitious but I’ve to admit that if I miss a bus or get a warning scolding from my seniors for leaving assignments incomplete earning scorning looks, undesirable many a times, then its back to blaming myself for forgetting to thank if not just say a “hello’ to my saviours.
What prompted me to write this on prayers was an article in yesterdays paper where popular model Rajneesh Duggal had said with great sincerity about the “Hanuman Chalisa”. This article though I read it without much interest actually got me thinking later on. Yes even I say the mantra daily (whether I am totally drawn in to it while saying it is pretty doubtful, coz there are times when my mind sways towards what’s cooking in the kitchen, As I recite the same in the shrine room) But the truth is, for me the “Hanuman Chalisa” has become so important that I never step out without reciting it.. And day by day the amount of stanzas I say from diverse slokas just keep increasing thanks to my spiritually inclined mother and the belief in God she gave mme since I was a kid. I’ve to admit that having a hold on a religious activity be it a few minutes of meditation, prayer or just silence would definitely help everyone keep a check on their daily activities, and that includes me.
It instills a bout of fear on God. Now the fear here is not used in the literal term but as a sign, where one is not plainly afraid of God but afraid of doing things in the wrong way against the Almighty’s will. Simply put the idea that someone from up above is watching you, like “Big Brother”, hence beware of your doings. Be it unwanted gossip, back-biting, cheating- anyone who is apprehensive of the outcome for his actions wouldn’t dare to tune his mind in the wrong, and am sure such a person would be intelligent enough to understand that ‘whatever goes round will come back to him’. So better watch out for your words and deeds that may just take a swerve and return powerfully at you. I admit it is difficult to refrain from talking about someone you hate or just blaming another, when there is competition to survive at work where you earn your daily bread. No one’s Godly enough to always forgive and forget and keep some bickering tightly packed within his or her self. Situations with men and machines, in the high tech world would easily provoke hatred and depression…now this is when I say a dose of spirituality in any form would keep one highly alert in reality, not allowing the mind to be carried away by simple passing vapors of despair. I call them vapours because such frustration among or on fellow-beings are temporary and would in a day die without a trace.
Infuse spirituality and take its support when the mind is dry. But I’ve also witnessed even in the heights of felicity one should ‘Thank God!’ and not allow the happiness to eclipse actuality coz the next day you go back to what you are and were!
What prompted me to write this on prayers was an article in yesterdays paper where popular model Rajneesh Duggal had said with great sincerity about the “Hanuman Chalisa”. This article though I read it without much interest actually got me thinking later on. Yes even I say the mantra daily (whether I am totally drawn in to it while saying it is pretty doubtful, coz there are times when my mind sways towards what’s cooking in the kitchen, As I recite the same in the shrine room) But the truth is, for me the “Hanuman Chalisa” has become so important that I never step out without reciting it.. And day by day the amount of stanzas I say from diverse slokas just keep increasing thanks to my spiritually inclined mother and the belief in God she gave mme since I was a kid. I’ve to admit that having a hold on a religious activity be it a few minutes of meditation, prayer or just silence would definitely help everyone keep a check on their daily activities, and that includes me.
It instills a bout of fear on God. Now the fear here is not used in the literal term but as a sign, where one is not plainly afraid of God but afraid of doing things in the wrong way against the Almighty’s will. Simply put the idea that someone from up above is watching you, like “Big Brother”, hence beware of your doings. Be it unwanted gossip, back-biting, cheating- anyone who is apprehensive of the outcome for his actions wouldn’t dare to tune his mind in the wrong, and am sure such a person would be intelligent enough to understand that ‘whatever goes round will come back to him’. So better watch out for your words and deeds that may just take a swerve and return powerfully at you. I admit it is difficult to refrain from talking about someone you hate or just blaming another, when there is competition to survive at work where you earn your daily bread. No one’s Godly enough to always forgive and forget and keep some bickering tightly packed within his or her self. Situations with men and machines, in the high tech world would easily provoke hatred and depression…now this is when I say a dose of spirituality in any form would keep one highly alert in reality, not allowing the mind to be carried away by simple passing vapors of despair. I call them vapours because such frustration among or on fellow-beings are temporary and would in a day die without a trace.
Infuse spirituality and take its support when the mind is dry. But I’ve also witnessed even in the heights of felicity one should ‘Thank God!’ and not allow the happiness to eclipse actuality coz the next day you go back to what you are and were!
Friday, November 7, 2008
The First Time
I am, if not excited, slightly brimming with a wierd smile. I have just written my very own first blog though the idea kept meandering for couple of months in my head. Now that I ve created it without much aplomb.. (Thanks to my amateur knowledge of computers/ internet, I accept I had zero idea of creating one blog for myself), I am sure my words would pour out on the keys at any juncture when i feel like letting my voice chords open at people who annoy me. There are times when I am tongue- tied despite wanting to say what I feel coz of societal approval/ largely dissaproval but hey thanks to the wonderful internet which is immune to human emotions(so far Though), I ve discovered my perfect notebook, which am sure would carry my secret messages henceforth.
Now this is not only going to be a vent but an open book of my creativity. Someday I am sure my words binding with long winding sentences would come out like an attractive hard cover book ..with an ambiguous title inscribed in golden texts !!
I am waiting for that but till then cope with me....I' ve just entered.. wish me luck!!!!
Now this is not only going to be a vent but an open book of my creativity. Someday I am sure my words binding with long winding sentences would come out like an attractive hard cover book ..with an ambiguous title inscribed in golden texts !!
I am waiting for that but till then cope with me....I' ve just entered.. wish me luck!!!!
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