There are moments in life when things take a turn and go in the direction opposite to where it was intended to go. Moments spent on nurturing an inane feeling that the whole galaxy is up against me with the stars realigning themselves, plotting to push me into a black hole are innumerable. A long walk, under the roof of the blue sky with wind as my mute companion, serves as a panacea for my woes.
The blue robin chirping an aria with the orchestra of sparrows and swallows, the dried leaves scampering in the blowing wind, water ripples racing against each other, all tranquilizes the mind. The regained serenity gives way to racy statistics as my mind churns out a number on a scale of 10 on the sight of an approaching girl. Starting with 10 pointer, at a distance of 300 feet, generally a linear regression follows with decreasing distance, as the blemishes become more perceptible to the superficial mind. But not today, at least not for the damsel that seem to have captivated my mind by her heavenly beauty.
Clad in a black turtleneck to go with her blue jean, I am being swept off my feet by her beauty with every waning distance. Her broad forehead, her blonde hair, chubby cheeks housing a dimple, small yet full lips, most of all her smile that has put me under a spell. Wait a minute, is she is smiling at me? Should I respond back with a smile? Never in the history of charm scale, has a 5 pointer evinced interest from 10 pointer.
Instead of cramming in so many thoughts into my brain, had I listened to my auditory senses, neither would have I missed a 10 pointer dude running from behind nor be heart-broken at the sight of their PDA (public display of affection). Patting myself from the bruises inflicted by a 10 pointer, I go about realigning my scale, screening out all the stunners and zeroing on gorgeous 15 pointers on a scale of ..................
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Remember, Remember, the month of December
Of all the months in a year, it is the month of December that I always long for in Madras (India). The month of Marghazi as known in Tamil fills my mind with nostalgic memories of the days that I spent. Snuggled up comfortably to the warmth of a comforter in the cold days of the month, the aroma of the hot coffee that my mother brews, tantalizes and stirs me to my feet. Since bed coffee is an anathema in our home, I rush to the decontamination chamber, pep my teeth with Pepsodent, purge my body with saturated fatty acids and come out drying my hair.
Starting with the first sneeze of the day, I follow the trail of my mother to the street, where the artistic display of her Kolam (Rangoli) becomes the envy of our neighbors. Sipping my coffee and teasing my mother of her art portrayal, I stand in the street –allowing myself to be drawn into the essence of the holy morning. The cold fangs of morning breeze while sketching goose pimples on my body, brings along with it a waft of the cow dung that no axe can compete.
While the morning suprabatham from the nearby temple lulls me into a sublime state of mind, the rhythmic clinging anklets of my neighbor girl, who passes by carrying a pot of water, puts me under a trance. As my head involuntarily follows her trail, my eye catches a glimpse of my father at a distance carrying the morning milk and I turn the other way sulking.
Filled with images of the morning procession of Marghazi troupe singing Thirupavai, the small kid rolling the bicycle tire with a bamboo stick while competing with the guy launching the morning newspaper like missiles, the next door lad falling helplessly after losing his balance in his bicycle and engineering grad students carrying their drafter and hurrying towards their college bus, I walk into the kitchen to find a platter of steaming idli drenched in Kothambali speckled sambar, seasoned with few drops of Ghee. With coconut chutney to add to the proceedings, my mom transposes me to an island of heaven.
Rejected many a times by the towering Indian Institute(s) of Technology, here I am 15,000 km away from the paradise munching granula bars and cornflakes for breakfast, competing against myself to get better everyday. But till my next vacation to my country, the memories of small yet special moments in my life will still linger.
Starting with the first sneeze of the day, I follow the trail of my mother to the street, where the artistic display of her Kolam (Rangoli) becomes the envy of our neighbors. Sipping my coffee and teasing my mother of her art portrayal, I stand in the street –allowing myself to be drawn into the essence of the holy morning. The cold fangs of morning breeze while sketching goose pimples on my body, brings along with it a waft of the cow dung that no axe can compete.
While the morning suprabatham from the nearby temple lulls me into a sublime state of mind, the rhythmic clinging anklets of my neighbor girl, who passes by carrying a pot of water, puts me under a trance. As my head involuntarily follows her trail, my eye catches a glimpse of my father at a distance carrying the morning milk and I turn the other way sulking.
Filled with images of the morning procession of Marghazi troupe singing Thirupavai, the small kid rolling the bicycle tire with a bamboo stick while competing with the guy launching the morning newspaper like missiles, the next door lad falling helplessly after losing his balance in his bicycle and engineering grad students carrying their drafter and hurrying towards their college bus, I walk into the kitchen to find a platter of steaming idli drenched in Kothambali speckled sambar, seasoned with few drops of Ghee. With coconut chutney to add to the proceedings, my mom transposes me to an island of heaven.
Rejected many a times by the towering Indian Institute(s) of Technology, here I am 15,000 km away from the paradise munching granula bars and cornflakes for breakfast, competing against myself to get better everyday. But till my next vacation to my country, the memories of small yet special moments in my life will still linger.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Why WHEN
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday (come on not a Sex and the City ad), January, month, year, decade, history, period, past, present, future, millennium, and many more words with various permutation and combination of 26 letters of the English alphabet all relate to one of the dimensions of space – TIME. The moment we navigated our way out of the mother’s womb, we are tagged to the atomic clock classifying us under one of the 12 zodiac signs, the second hand ticking our countdown to the grave. Even on our mortal remains, the stamp of time is etched on our tombstone. In between our entry and exit, we remain a dormant slave, working our ass off to the ticks of time.
If the concept of time was not in the agenda when Adam ate that apple, first of all, we would have been spared of all the birthday bums, A.M. or P.M. wouldn’t have existed, so is A.D. or B.C.. For the inquisitive minds who speak the questioning language of what, where, why, the word “when” would be out of question. The esoteric subject of astronomy with all its light years would have been in oblivion. The only other subject apart from Math to have numbers – History, would not have found a place in the curriculum.
If it were not for time, the film fanatics would have been spared of the scene where the doctor comes out of the emergency room, shaking his baldhead and saying “Had he been brought 2 minutes ago..” or the lover girl frowning at her boyfriend for being late for the date. The scene, of villain walking off with a smirk while his timed bomb ticks to blow off in the background and the concept of timing in comedy would have been extraneous.
Lastly, if not for the existence of time, you wouldn’t be feeling guilty and kicking yourself for wasting time, reading this blog and losing 2-3 minutes of your lifetime.
If the concept of time was not in the agenda when Adam ate that apple, first of all, we would have been spared of all the birthday bums, A.M. or P.M. wouldn’t have existed, so is A.D. or B.C.. For the inquisitive minds who speak the questioning language of what, where, why, the word “when” would be out of question. The esoteric subject of astronomy with all its light years would have been in oblivion. The only other subject apart from Math to have numbers – History, would not have found a place in the curriculum.
If it were not for time, the film fanatics would have been spared of the scene where the doctor comes out of the emergency room, shaking his baldhead and saying “Had he been brought 2 minutes ago..” or the lover girl frowning at her boyfriend for being late for the date. The scene, of villain walking off with a smirk while his timed bomb ticks to blow off in the background and the concept of timing in comedy would have been extraneous.
Lastly, if not for the existence of time, you wouldn’t be feeling guilty and kicking yourself for wasting time, reading this blog and losing 2-3 minutes of your lifetime.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Minutes of the Cellular species
“ What do you mean you don’t have it? How do you manage? Don’t you feel you are missing out on something? Do you have any intention of having one? If so, when? “
These questions along with some condescending looks are what I have to put up with, for my impertinence (as perceived by my buddies) towards the contemporary version of iGraham Bell. In the current scenario where people converse in 0’s and 1’s one cannot afford to be without the digital locket hanging, sometimes waist hiking.
No more a touchstone of social status, I see every Tom, Dick & Jane hooking up to the network, rambling on the events which, to the best of my eavesdropping is not going to bring about a unified theory which the physicists are striving for, nor it is going to stop Britain from being the 51st state of the U.S.
No offence to the “always staying connected” cellizens, its just that I don’t want myself caught up in the quagmire of this network, carrying the small digital brick in my pocket, freezing to the veins when it creeks at the inappropriate time and running as hell when I lose it.
Today’s technology is a rolling juggernaut,I have just stepped aside, only to embrace it when it serves my purpose. So to the condescending onlookers “Can you hear me now????”
These questions along with some condescending looks are what I have to put up with, for my impertinence (as perceived by my buddies) towards the contemporary version of iGraham Bell. In the current scenario where people converse in 0’s and 1’s one cannot afford to be without the digital locket hanging, sometimes waist hiking.
No more a touchstone of social status, I see every Tom, Dick & Jane hooking up to the network, rambling on the events which, to the best of my eavesdropping is not going to bring about a unified theory which the physicists are striving for, nor it is going to stop Britain from being the 51st state of the U.S.
No offence to the “always staying connected” cellizens, its just that I don’t want myself caught up in the quagmire of this network, carrying the small digital brick in my pocket, freezing to the veins when it creeks at the inappropriate time and running as hell when I lose it.
Today’s technology is a rolling juggernaut,I have just stepped aside, only to embrace it when it serves my purpose. So to the condescending onlookers “Can you hear me now????”
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