Accused of being an aimless arrow, abstractly romantic or rather precisely morontic, I have taken an offbeaten path from the regular 3-4 paragraphs to contemplate on
LIFE
- It’s a Mac Powerbook G4 crippled of a DEL key to rewrite the past, but gifted with a SHIFT key to the future.
-It’s a Motorola Razor edge without free daytime minutes to waste but all night hours to dream.
-It’s an apple’s ipod devoid of too many playlists to play, but great songs to sing along.
-It’s a Parker without a refill for living but enough ink to sketch our course.
-It’s a Da Vinci code without a Tom Hanks , but quite a puzzle for us to do the decryption.
Can life get more materialistic than this, which once revolved around Pizza, Levis, Castle (food, clothing and shelter). However its a Roberto Benigni's LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Guilt free Sunday
When everything comes with an RFID tag (Radio frequency Identification), right from the library books to our entry to secured buildings, how come this guy strolls around without it. If he had been tagged, he wouldn’t have had the guts to barge in through the window, penetrate my comforter, and pierce my eyelid with his warm streaks of rays. Lazily, peering out of my comforter at the sundial, I was astonished to wake up with the minute hand and the hour hand vertically slicing the entire circle in two halves . Me, waking up at 6.A.M. on a Sunday is once in a blue “sun” occurrence.
Wading my way with an air of arrogance and casting a condescending look at all my lazy roomies who are still snuggled in their comforters, I slipped out of my apartment. Fresh morning breeze, which was flirting with the trees overlooking my appt, found a new crush in me. As always, I try to do the movie inspired scenes of embracing myself with crossed arms and rubbing, to warm myself. Listening to the chirping sparrows, looking at the scurrying squirrels with walnuts, and the seeking sun trying to take a peek at me through the canopy, filled me with a sense of fulfillment. Little Madhavan in me inspired another movie stunt of flinging my arms up in the air and yawn with a high-pitched squeak. Bad stunt indeed, for the stagnating rainwater over our roof hit me without a warning.
Finishing my morning chores, I continued my Sunday Morning after the intermission. Seated on the staircase and holding a hot frothing cup of coffee, I savored the steam rendering waviness to the house and trees in front, while the fragrance of chicory complementing the morning effect. More complementing would have been, if my girl hugged me from behind, throwing her arms around my neck, rubbing her cheeks against my 5’o clock shadowed cheeks, and pleading me for a bed coffee. As I slide a second cup in front, her “Chow Chweet” turns into a childish glower for want of more sweetness in her coffee to which I retort, “Try me”
Getting back to reality, things are not as black and white as they seem to be. It would have been more enjoyable if my romanticism and movie inspired stunts were not bombarded with thoughts of my research work, its related anxieties, or the empty future begging me for attention. My roommate once put them in words as, “Guilt free pleasure is a rare commodity and quite a lavish luxury.” Undeniable facts for the grad student, by the grad student and of the grad student. Though there are miles to go before I sleep, I think I will cross the bridge when it comes, what with double treat of French Open finals and World Cup Soccer in Germany vying for attention.
Until my next Guilt-free Sunday
Merci
Guten Tag.
Wading my way with an air of arrogance and casting a condescending look at all my lazy roomies who are still snuggled in their comforters, I slipped out of my apartment. Fresh morning breeze, which was flirting with the trees overlooking my appt, found a new crush in me. As always, I try to do the movie inspired scenes of embracing myself with crossed arms and rubbing, to warm myself. Listening to the chirping sparrows, looking at the scurrying squirrels with walnuts, and the seeking sun trying to take a peek at me through the canopy, filled me with a sense of fulfillment. Little Madhavan in me inspired another movie stunt of flinging my arms up in the air and yawn with a high-pitched squeak. Bad stunt indeed, for the stagnating rainwater over our roof hit me without a warning.
Finishing my morning chores, I continued my Sunday Morning after the intermission. Seated on the staircase and holding a hot frothing cup of coffee, I savored the steam rendering waviness to the house and trees in front, while the fragrance of chicory complementing the morning effect. More complementing would have been, if my girl hugged me from behind, throwing her arms around my neck, rubbing her cheeks against my 5’o clock shadowed cheeks, and pleading me for a bed coffee. As I slide a second cup in front, her “Chow Chweet” turns into a childish glower for want of more sweetness in her coffee to which I retort, “Try me”
Getting back to reality, things are not as black and white as they seem to be. It would have been more enjoyable if my romanticism and movie inspired stunts were not bombarded with thoughts of my research work, its related anxieties, or the empty future begging me for attention. My roommate once put them in words as, “Guilt free pleasure is a rare commodity and quite a lavish luxury.” Undeniable facts for the grad student, by the grad student and of the grad student. Though there are miles to go before I sleep, I think I will cross the bridge when it comes, what with double treat of French Open finals and World Cup Soccer in Germany vying for attention.
Until my next Guilt-free Sunday
Merci
Guten Tag.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Dream Works Production
The chandelier lights are soft. The red velvet carpet endowing an air of stateliness to the proceedings, rosewood furniture cushioning the elite personalities of the gathering. Midway through the vibrations in the air, “ The Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences is proud to honor this year’s youngest Nobel Laureate in Chemistry Dr. Narendran, recognizing his contribution ….”, I button my suit, cast an accomplishing glance at the my parents and girlfriend, walk down the aisle, return with a memento and a cash prize, that for once will make my wallet happy. As I try to wipe out the champagne on my suit, result of the slip between the cup and the lip, I felt a sense of chill running down my spine. I wake up to the trickling water, courtesy – my roomie, “ Dude lets go to weekly pilgrimage – the Walmart.” What an insult to a Nobel Laureate!!!!!
DREAMS – a virtual “n” dimensional space for which we don’t require a visa at the port of entry. The space with no boundaries, where our imaginations are as wild as our obviousness, taking a ride on the Pegasus, and of course the regular ingredients of white clouds and plumes of white smoke to add to our dream sequence. (Yeah! You are right. I do watch a lot of Tamil movies.). From time immemorial, we all have been playing the Tom and Jerry game, chasing our dreams, with hope as our adrenalin.
Ironically, all our dreams have a strain of uncertainty that transforms it into a mirage. But I guess, we owe a lot to Mr. Uncertainty, who spices our life with drama and adventure. If not for him, we wouldn’t be so anxious to open a Fortune cookie to see what’s in store for us, (in bed). But however uncertain it might be, its always DREAMZ UNLIMITED!!!
DREAMS – a virtual “n” dimensional space for which we don’t require a visa at the port of entry. The space with no boundaries, where our imaginations are as wild as our obviousness, taking a ride on the Pegasus, and of course the regular ingredients of white clouds and plumes of white smoke to add to our dream sequence. (Yeah! You are right. I do watch a lot of Tamil movies.). From time immemorial, we all have been playing the Tom and Jerry game, chasing our dreams, with hope as our adrenalin.
Ironically, all our dreams have a strain of uncertainty that transforms it into a mirage. But I guess, we owe a lot to Mr. Uncertainty, who spices our life with drama and adventure. If not for him, we wouldn’t be so anxious to open a Fortune cookie to see what’s in store for us, (in bed). But however uncertain it might be, its always DREAMZ UNLIMITED!!!
Monday, May 29, 2006
Caught the Miss.
Being infested with the vagaries of life, I slithered to a state of reclusion. Sitting on a grass carpet, I couldn’t help but notice the evening breeze flirting with the lake water. Not far away from where I was seated, I heard a fluttering noise. It was a piece of paper shouldering a heavy stone like Atlas holding the world, badly in need of Hercules to set him free.
Out of nowhere, a sparrow swooped down and darted away with a earthworm that was taking its evening stroll on the paper. A deathbed indeed!! for the earthworm. Sadly, before the paper could breathe its freedom from the worm, a bubblegum landed with a big thud, delaying its emancipation. As though God was listening to its prayer, a baseball rolled over, carrying with it the holy glue.
A blonde girl walking by, created a stir in my paper mate, who started to flutter more than ever. Finally with the wind as its rescuer, it broke loose of its master and flew to her back. Paper does have hormones, I guess. When I saw the highlighted word “FREE” I started to follow her, trying to read, my head dancing to her tunes.
She sensed her new companion and shoved the paper off, not forgetting to give me a stare. I was more interested in the contents of the paper than her looks that I started to follow the paper’s ascent to the top of the tree. Got the necessary info of venue, date and time. As I was waiting for its descent, a gal came running, snatched the paper from the air, scribbled some numbers wrapped around a stone and threw it at a bus where a boy lunged out of the window only to miss it. Her beauty subdued my seething cauldron of emotions.
Take a guess where I landed. A free ballroom dance for 1 month. First come, first serve basis. And with the girl who snatched my paper patch. His miss, my Catch.
Out of nowhere, a sparrow swooped down and darted away with a earthworm that was taking its evening stroll on the paper. A deathbed indeed!! for the earthworm. Sadly, before the paper could breathe its freedom from the worm, a bubblegum landed with a big thud, delaying its emancipation. As though God was listening to its prayer, a baseball rolled over, carrying with it the holy glue.
A blonde girl walking by, created a stir in my paper mate, who started to flutter more than ever. Finally with the wind as its rescuer, it broke loose of its master and flew to her back. Paper does have hormones, I guess. When I saw the highlighted word “FREE” I started to follow her, trying to read, my head dancing to her tunes.
She sensed her new companion and shoved the paper off, not forgetting to give me a stare. I was more interested in the contents of the paper than her looks that I started to follow the paper’s ascent to the top of the tree. Got the necessary info of venue, date and time. As I was waiting for its descent, a gal came running, snatched the paper from the air, scribbled some numbers wrapped around a stone and threw it at a bus where a boy lunged out of the window only to miss it. Her beauty subdued my seething cauldron of emotions.
Take a guess where I landed. A free ballroom dance for 1 month. First come, first serve basis. And with the girl who snatched my paper patch. His miss, my Catch.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
:-) :-) :-) :-)
Life has its own way of teasing its survivors, sometimes being ruthless and merciless, and at other times swathing them in glory, and swashbuckling moments. So on a day when life came galloping on a winged Pegasus and swooped me down with its three-pronged spears, just like the “word of the day”, I sensed that I am the “Prey of the day”.
When, all I felt was even the light at the end of the tunnel was a neon glow of a fast train hurtling down the tracks with my image at its crosswire, something lifted my spirits. It pulled me back from the jaws of death, tranquilizing my mind sloshed in turmoil. I owe my presence, my reincarnation and my rising like a Phoenix from the ashes to her all soothing, hypnotizing, innocent SMILE that has left me yearning for more.
Undeniably, action speaks a thousand words and one can find no better example of such non-verbal portrayal than in the flicks of the much-famed Indian director, Mr.Mani Ratnam, where his entire film dialogues can be etched on nanoparticles. If not for his duo with P.C.Sriram, Madhavan’s bunny smile could never have swooned and swept the Indian girls off their feet, or that’s what they think (being swept).
Smile, a five-lettered word that has the power to humble the five elements of the universe can be a silent harbinger of a heavenly relationship that can sustain the little hearts. Holding a rose on one hand and his heart on the other, as our lover boy spurts out those magical words to his beloved, it’s only her smile that’s going to keep his heartbeat tick for both of them.
When, all I felt was even the light at the end of the tunnel was a neon glow of a fast train hurtling down the tracks with my image at its crosswire, something lifted my spirits. It pulled me back from the jaws of death, tranquilizing my mind sloshed in turmoil. I owe my presence, my reincarnation and my rising like a Phoenix from the ashes to her all soothing, hypnotizing, innocent SMILE that has left me yearning for more.
Undeniably, action speaks a thousand words and one can find no better example of such non-verbal portrayal than in the flicks of the much-famed Indian director, Mr.Mani Ratnam, where his entire film dialogues can be etched on nanoparticles. If not for his duo with P.C.Sriram, Madhavan’s bunny smile could never have swooned and swept the Indian girls off their feet, or that’s what they think (being swept).
Smile, a five-lettered word that has the power to humble the five elements of the universe can be a silent harbinger of a heavenly relationship that can sustain the little hearts. Holding a rose on one hand and his heart on the other, as our lover boy spurts out those magical words to his beloved, it’s only her smile that’s going to keep his heartbeat tick for both of them.
Monday, May 08, 2006
WALK to WALK
Assuming a span of 60 years before we have a lift-off, the spectrum of Homo sapiens immunized from impoverishment, enjoy the privilege of spending half their life being nurtured in a school of thought. Never in our tender age, would we have realized that a walk along with our parents grappling their index fingers, repeating after them, A for apple, B for boy,.. would one day lead the road to take a WALK on one of the most unforgettable moments in our life- the Graduation Day.
Yet to accomplish many things, with my graduation and me poles apart, I decided to step into the shoes of the black gown clad intellectuals just to capture their musings before the final moments of their degree conferral. Seated along with equally accomplished peers, a sense of overwhelming happiness would have rushed in, only to be lulled by the gentle spicing of the Philharmonic. After scanning for the familiar faces and match-lit conversations, mind would have wandered to the humble beginnings where they had to start from scratch, their one –step rise on a near 90 degree slope hill tripped down by 2 step setbacks, conviction to stay afloat in the sinking submarine, racing against time to meet the deadlines,…the flashes of the past suddenly takes a back seat with the marching of the faculties to the tune of Edward Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance March No 1.
Walking down the aisle, receiving the degree and tossing the tassel from one side of the mortarboard to the other, the verve of accomplishment can never be captured in a 24mm lens or be elegantly put down in words.You live only once to experience it.
Yet to accomplish many things, with my graduation and me poles apart, I decided to step into the shoes of the black gown clad intellectuals just to capture their musings before the final moments of their degree conferral. Seated along with equally accomplished peers, a sense of overwhelming happiness would have rushed in, only to be lulled by the gentle spicing of the Philharmonic. After scanning for the familiar faces and match-lit conversations, mind would have wandered to the humble beginnings where they had to start from scratch, their one –step rise on a near 90 degree slope hill tripped down by 2 step setbacks, conviction to stay afloat in the sinking submarine, racing against time to meet the deadlines,…the flashes of the past suddenly takes a back seat with the marching of the faculties to the tune of Edward Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance March No 1.
Walking down the aisle, receiving the degree and tossing the tassel from one side of the mortarboard to the other, the verve of accomplishment can never be captured in a 24mm lens or be elegantly put down in words.You live only once to experience it.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Memoirs of my Tryst with nature
If time machine is the only wagon that can take us to the Middle Age or the Old Stone Age in a quest to explore the various civilizations, I beg to differ. A quiet place and a calm mind can take us down the memory lane in a flash. I tend to travel back and forth, revving my SILENCEdes, letting in my past memories sedate my present.
As images unfolded in tranquility, I was sucked in by the gravity of the situation. About a year ago, near the fag end of Spring 2005, I saw her on my way to the workstation. Though I always felt an air of swagger around her, perched on top of her wooden castle, my heart would start pounding, palm bleeding with sweat, rippling tsunami in the gut. Days flew into months, me playing a waiting game for her first move.
One fine morning I decided to let go of my feelings for her and move on with life. But by quirk of fate, I was hit by her dewy tears. Sensing a glimmer of hope for my unrequited love, I stood there under her shadows just in case if she needs to lean on. After few hesitations, she opened her heart out revealing how her sibling succumbed to nature’s fury, her static life in the branched ivory tower and so on. As she was pouring out, I realized that all her flamboyance and pride were just a façade to veil her trials and tribulations.
What started out as a crush grew into a very serious relationship, she sloughing off her regular green jersey and donning a red one to impress me, minor quibbles between us and what not. All seem to go well for us until one fine day her parents revealed to me that she is counting her days and that they will be all gone before the winter sets in. She made no effort to conceal her impending grave and our eyes were locked in tears. Head down with a heavy heart, I started to walk writhing in pain.
Next day, as soon as she saw me, she broke loose from her wooden castle and descended down only to be swept away by the wind. I had to sprint like hell to retrieve her. Holding her in her final moments, with a quivering voice and a failing heart, she whispered that she would be back next spring and left me weeping. Until I see her again, may her soul rest in peace in the casket of my organic chemistry book. Amen.
As images unfolded in tranquility, I was sucked in by the gravity of the situation. About a year ago, near the fag end of Spring 2005, I saw her on my way to the workstation. Though I always felt an air of swagger around her, perched on top of her wooden castle, my heart would start pounding, palm bleeding with sweat, rippling tsunami in the gut. Days flew into months, me playing a waiting game for her first move.
One fine morning I decided to let go of my feelings for her and move on with life. But by quirk of fate, I was hit by her dewy tears. Sensing a glimmer of hope for my unrequited love, I stood there under her shadows just in case if she needs to lean on. After few hesitations, she opened her heart out revealing how her sibling succumbed to nature’s fury, her static life in the branched ivory tower and so on. As she was pouring out, I realized that all her flamboyance and pride were just a façade to veil her trials and tribulations.
What started out as a crush grew into a very serious relationship, she sloughing off her regular green jersey and donning a red one to impress me, minor quibbles between us and what not. All seem to go well for us until one fine day her parents revealed to me that she is counting her days and that they will be all gone before the winter sets in. She made no effort to conceal her impending grave and our eyes were locked in tears. Head down with a heavy heart, I started to walk writhing in pain.
Next day, as soon as she saw me, she broke loose from her wooden castle and descended down only to be swept away by the wind. I had to sprint like hell to retrieve her. Holding her in her final moments, with a quivering voice and a failing heart, she whispered that she would be back next spring and left me weeping. Until I see her again, may her soul rest in peace in the casket of my organic chemistry book. Amen.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Missing CPU
First thing, does it really exist? If it does, is it functioning the way it should? Is it of the right size to perform its routine? Is it shrinking? These are my ways of questioning the existence of a small lump of grey flesh tethered with thousands of neurons, with cranium as its place of abode, which the medical fraternity calls it “Brain”. My schoolteacher, college professor, my friends, even my parents used to ask me “ Do you have brains?” With all my innocence and ignorance, I used to say “ Sorry I am not willing to share it.” Never felt that they were asking me a rhetorical question.
From time to time, when I tend to knock the door of the skull mantle with knuckles, my auditory senses would pick up a hollow resounding signal just like an empty vessel, confirming that God forgot to plug in my CPU. If HE is the architect of my current handicap probably I guess a one-to-one talk could help resolve the issue. Even to put forward my case and prosecute HIM, I need some analytical thinking.
Above ramblings and suicidal blaming game are spewing out of my piled up dormant antipathy towards my academic ancestors- the likes of G.N.Lewis, J.J.Thompson, Linus Pauling, and not to forget the great Albert who rollercoasted his way to glory using only 10% of his grey matter. Adding fuel to my incapacitated mind are my fellow peers from IIT, IIM, Stanford and other Ivy league schools who strut with an air of flamboyance, not to be left behind are the underage over achievers who are hell bent on questioning my mere existence.
From time to time, when I tend to knock the door of the skull mantle with knuckles, my auditory senses would pick up a hollow resounding signal just like an empty vessel, confirming that God forgot to plug in my CPU. If HE is the architect of my current handicap probably I guess a one-to-one talk could help resolve the issue. Even to put forward my case and prosecute HIM, I need some analytical thinking.
Above ramblings and suicidal blaming game are spewing out of my piled up dormant antipathy towards my academic ancestors- the likes of G.N.Lewis, J.J.Thompson, Linus Pauling, and not to forget the great Albert who rollercoasted his way to glory using only 10% of his grey matter. Adding fuel to my incapacitated mind are my fellow peers from IIT, IIM, Stanford and other Ivy league schools who strut with an air of flamboyance, not to be left behind are the underage over achievers who are hell bent on questioning my mere existence.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
I think not what they think
Depleting creativity, draining reasoning, funneling analysis, recurring boredom, inability to think outside the bun, has all motivated me to the following limerick.
As my parents watch me grow up
Parents thinking: My son will be great
Me thinking: Keep thinking.
Standing behind a girl in queue
Me thinking: Hips hypnotize me
She thinking: You can’t screw me.
Standing in front of a mirror
Me thinking: Tom Cruise
gnikniht eM : Cruise Tom
My advisor thrashing me
Advisor thinking: You Stupid, Jackass indeed
Me thinking: Just following the lead.
Watching a 10 pointer go by
Me thinking: I am there for you
She thinking: I am never for you.
Praying to God
Me thinking: HE is listening
HE thinking: Go to Hell
Deep slumber in bed
Me dreaming: Natalie Portman
She dreaming: Some other men
After reading this
You thinking: Bull shit
Me thinking: So do I
As my parents watch me grow up
Parents thinking: My son will be great
Me thinking: Keep thinking.
Standing behind a girl in queue
Me thinking: Hips hypnotize me
She thinking: You can’t screw me.
Standing in front of a mirror
Me thinking: Tom Cruise
gnikniht eM : Cruise Tom
My advisor thrashing me
Advisor thinking: You Stupid, Jackass indeed
Me thinking: Just following the lead.
Watching a 10 pointer go by
Me thinking: I am there for you
She thinking: I am never for you.
Praying to God
Me thinking: HE is listening
HE thinking: Go to Hell
Deep slumber in bed
Me dreaming: Natalie Portman
She dreaming: Some other men
After reading this
You thinking: Bull shit
Me thinking: So do I
Saturday, April 01, 2006
" ********** "
As I mentally hitchhiked and traveled back down the memory lane, a slew of images raced like trees running past a moving train. I was able to sense the disappointment writ all over my parents, as they watched me grow from a cute little angel to an uncouth brat. Hey who can defy nature’s will of increasing entropy (disorder). I am sure we all carry huge sack of adventures only to be reenacted by the next generation with more vigor and ferocity.
Of the many sepia tainted images, the old Tamil movies of the 60’s and 70’s seem to have strong nerve connections in my hard drive. Probably the long grueling hours that I had put up with my grandma, before she could allow me to watch Giant Robot, might be the reason for those tattoos in my ROM. Though there were these torturous 16 -20 bits of musical extravaganza, some of the, out-of-the-context dialogues were enjoyable. For e.g., when the villains are exchanging smuggled goods, one guy would say “Kaka Pachai”, (the crow is green), for which the other guy would reply “Amavasaiku Pournami” (honeymoon for the guy full moon) and once code words fall in place, they exchange hands.
Slowly I did realize the fact that even today unknowingly we are all playing the code game of “Kaka Pachai” (the crow is green) as we punch in those alpha - masking star-spangled passwords for almost everything –bank accounts, secured entrance, missile launch, parental control, and email accounts. With email accounts from all possible vendors, the difficulty lies in remembering the passwords, not to forget the alphanumeric username. I guess I would have answered at least a 100 secret question to get a new password. Probably, once the speech recognition software is implemented in full force, we might end up whispering our passwords like the Hogwarts School of Harry Potter. Until then, just let’s be muggles, forgetting our password and retrieving it , logging in every 2 hours to delete the spam and letting others know that we are alive with our forwards.
Of the many sepia tainted images, the old Tamil movies of the 60’s and 70’s seem to have strong nerve connections in my hard drive. Probably the long grueling hours that I had put up with my grandma, before she could allow me to watch Giant Robot, might be the reason for those tattoos in my ROM. Though there were these torturous 16 -20 bits of musical extravaganza, some of the, out-of-the-context dialogues were enjoyable. For e.g., when the villains are exchanging smuggled goods, one guy would say “Kaka Pachai”, (the crow is green), for which the other guy would reply “Amavasaiku Pournami” (honeymoon for the guy full moon) and once code words fall in place, they exchange hands.
Slowly I did realize the fact that even today unknowingly we are all playing the code game of “Kaka Pachai” (the crow is green) as we punch in those alpha - masking star-spangled passwords for almost everything –bank accounts, secured entrance, missile launch, parental control, and email accounts. With email accounts from all possible vendors, the difficulty lies in remembering the passwords, not to forget the alphanumeric username. I guess I would have answered at least a 100 secret question to get a new password. Probably, once the speech recognition software is implemented in full force, we might end up whispering our passwords like the Hogwarts School of Harry Potter. Until then, just let’s be muggles, forgetting our password and retrieving it , logging in every 2 hours to delete the spam and letting others know that we are alive with our forwards.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
On a scale of ..............
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 ..................
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 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????”
Friday, February 24, 2006
THE CLASTRIX
The waves are racing against each other to kiss the virgin land, only to find the huge rock squashing their fantasy into foams. As the small kids take a dive into the sea , I can see the chilly sea wind unwinding a lock of hair from her twirled bun caressing her chubby cheeks. Breaking the momentum of silence,
“What do you want?”
“I don’t understand, Naren”
“What do you want between us, Maya?”
“I want to be with you. I want to marry you. I want to make love to you always. . I want to have 3 kids. Fight with you. I want to see those eyes always.”
“You see my job might endanger people around me. Moreover, Why me? “
“It’s a girl thing. You wont understand.”
“Alright. Lets get marri… “BBhhhhang!!!!” I wake up banging my head, only to find that I have dodged a marker pen thrown at me, to hit my classmate behind. If you are still wondering, I was performing the age-old ritual of taking a nap, dreaming about the famed Indian actress- Jyothika (who enacted the above sequence in a movie) during a lecture. Instead of appreciating the (polite) way I conveyed the message that he is boring, the professor is taking out at me by throwing a marker.
Well jokes apart, it takes a lot of preparation to settle into this mode of unconsciousness. First of all, well-built classmates to be our fortresses, a window for fresh air, a sentinel to warn of any impending danger, a cozy last bench in the class with a soft head rest, unflinching never say die attitude to forge ahead in spite of the stiff competition from peers, carefully choosing the co-ordinates so as not to create a blurb in the radar of the lurking back-stabbers, and most important of all, the right professor.
The professor should honor the privilege bestowed on him by the ORACLE, that HE IS THE ONE and realize the fact that history repeats itself rather than shattering the hope of Morpheuses like me.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t understand, Naren”
“What do you want between us, Maya?”
“I want to be with you. I want to marry you. I want to make love to you always. . I want to have 3 kids. Fight with you. I want to see those eyes always.”
“You see my job might endanger people around me. Moreover, Why me? “
“It’s a girl thing. You wont understand.”
“Alright. Lets get marri… “BBhhhhang!!!!” I wake up banging my head, only to find that I have dodged a marker pen thrown at me, to hit my classmate behind. If you are still wondering, I was performing the age-old ritual of taking a nap, dreaming about the famed Indian actress- Jyothika (who enacted the above sequence in a movie) during a lecture. Instead of appreciating the (polite) way I conveyed the message that he is boring, the professor is taking out at me by throwing a marker.
Well jokes apart, it takes a lot of preparation to settle into this mode of unconsciousness. First of all, well-built classmates to be our fortresses, a window for fresh air, a sentinel to warn of any impending danger, a cozy last bench in the class with a soft head rest, unflinching never say die attitude to forge ahead in spite of the stiff competition from peers, carefully choosing the co-ordinates so as not to create a blurb in the radar of the lurking back-stabbers, and most important of all, the right professor.
The professor should honor the privilege bestowed on him by the ORACLE, that HE IS THE ONE and realize the fact that history repeats itself rather than shattering the hope of Morpheuses like me.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
911 situation
Everyday when I get up, the first thing that pops up in my mind is the spectrum of terror alert. It has been blinking yellow, keeping me on guard at an elevated risk for sometime now. It’s a very precarious position, being in the middle not knowing when it will shoot up. I go about with an air of optimism, praying to myself today will not be the D-day. But as the ruthless time, to which I am always a prey, ticks to unfold a new day, my shriveling optimism gives way to heightened anxiety. With palpitating heart and trembling hands, I slowly open my closet to take a peek at the compartment of the “hour” WWHHHAAANNNGGG!!!!!!!!!. It’s an emergency. Red Alert. No jockeys for the day.
Immediately my brain starts to churn out various permutations and combinations, I start to rummage my entire closet. My desperation drives me to this futile exercise of finding a pie in the sky. Emergency has its own way of striking me. It just waits for its moment and springs on me entirely out of the blue. It couldn’t get much better today with my group meeting presentation within an hour. So going to the laundry or manual labor is ruled out.
I bid my time by taking a time out in the shower, where I am really creative, trying hard, how not to succumb to the situation. Minutes fly by, I am in the last leg of my purging, still no way out. Finally I decided to take the Hobson’s choice of confining my BOYS with a good track record (in my case, the least stinker).
So I turn my vision to the laundry basket. I never treated it with respect, always casting a disdainful look, trotting by with an air of flamboyance. But not today, kneeling in front of it and sifting through my Johnsons trying to avoid the overworked ones, especially the gym johnson, long day Johnson, believe me its my instinct that guides. Finally after sheltering my boys with the CHOSEN ONE of the day, I fumigate myself with axe and step out of my apartment, all set to stink the world with my stench.
Immediately my brain starts to churn out various permutations and combinations, I start to rummage my entire closet. My desperation drives me to this futile exercise of finding a pie in the sky. Emergency has its own way of striking me. It just waits for its moment and springs on me entirely out of the blue. It couldn’t get much better today with my group meeting presentation within an hour. So going to the laundry or manual labor is ruled out.
I bid my time by taking a time out in the shower, where I am really creative, trying hard, how not to succumb to the situation. Minutes fly by, I am in the last leg of my purging, still no way out. Finally I decided to take the Hobson’s choice of confining my BOYS with a good track record (in my case, the least stinker).
So I turn my vision to the laundry basket. I never treated it with respect, always casting a disdainful look, trotting by with an air of flamboyance. But not today, kneeling in front of it and sifting through my Johnsons trying to avoid the overworked ones, especially the gym johnson, long day Johnson, believe me its my instinct that guides. Finally after sheltering my boys with the CHOSEN ONE of the day, I fumigate myself with axe and step out of my apartment, all set to stink the world with my stench.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Taste Buds' Nepotism
¾ cup aqueous brown solution, ½ a spatula of sucrose crystals, 1/8 cup of white colloidal solution. Stir for 5 seconds and expose the mixture to the microwave region of the electromagnetic spectrum for 90 seconds. Remove the container and direct the contents to the aperture between the lips cloaking the teeth. Caution contents hot.
This is what it all takes to please my gustatory senses addicted to caffeine abuse. Rhetorically, does it please my taste buds drenching it with a domestic product of steamed coffee? Cerebrum syncs with my cerebellum, and there goes my coffee down the drain. Next thing, I find myself under the roof of leading caffeine chain store – Starbucks, trekking/ hitchhiking at 28 degree Fahrenheit, swiping my plastic card, and now my taste buddies are Happy.
Flip side of the coin, the stimulating aroma of the coffee, gentle background orchestra of strings, contagious enthusiasm of young minds, voracious book crunchers, steamy gossips cum discussions, techno savvy's conglomerations …… for a $2.25 tall cappuccino, Its priceless.
This is what it all takes to please my gustatory senses addicted to caffeine abuse. Rhetorically, does it please my taste buds drenching it with a domestic product of steamed coffee? Cerebrum syncs with my cerebellum, and there goes my coffee down the drain. Next thing, I find myself under the roof of leading caffeine chain store – Starbucks, trekking/ hitchhiking at 28 degree Fahrenheit, swiping my plastic card, and now my taste buddies are Happy.
Flip side of the coin, the stimulating aroma of the coffee, gentle background orchestra of strings, contagious enthusiasm of young minds, voracious book crunchers, steamy gossips cum discussions, techno savvy's conglomerations …… for a $2.25 tall cappuccino, Its priceless.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Fourth dimension in all its glory
"Hey Naren, Whats up" near the entrance of my building
"Dude, how you'r doing" another guy while holding the door open for me.
"Goooood Moornninggg" with a wide brimming smile.
I would have come across numerous multi-lingual salutations and warm greetings on a cold and rainy day. I was totally flummoxed with the "hi's" from faces that I have never met. what the heck is happening. Instead of pinching myself, I immediately flipped through the Daily Campus (UCONN's Fourth estate) to see if they finally recognised the unassuming greatness in their presence. Not being disappointed for their lack of insight, I perused the foresight column. For my sunsign it read " You will be made to realize and you may pay for it"
Still wondering and pondering, I waded my way to the teaching session in the midst of nature's natural peeing. After illuminating/polluting the young minds with protons, neutrons and chromatography, I started to leave. All of them in one go, """"""""""""""have a great weekend. """"""""""""
When I rewound the morning log and freezed the fourth dimesion to recapture the events that happened in 3-dimensions, a momentary bliss set in. Its the day of all Days, Mother of all days, Its The Friday. Oh my Friday. How did I ever lost sense of you. How can I ever redeem myself for such a dastardly act. Will I ever be accepted back into the species of the Homo sapiens.
Who am I to break the tradition when even the unrelenting rain took the break to reveal the quarter nudity of the moon with its lewd twinkling spectators. So lets glorify the day.
"Dude, how you'r doing" another guy while holding the door open for me.
"Goooood Moornninggg" with a wide brimming smile.
I would have come across numerous multi-lingual salutations and warm greetings on a cold and rainy day. I was totally flummoxed with the "hi's" from faces that I have never met. what the heck is happening. Instead of pinching myself, I immediately flipped through the Daily Campus (UCONN's Fourth estate) to see if they finally recognised the unassuming greatness in their presence. Not being disappointed for their lack of insight, I perused the foresight column. For my sunsign it read " You will be made to realize and you may pay for it"
Still wondering and pondering, I waded my way to the teaching session in the midst of nature's natural peeing. After illuminating/polluting the young minds with protons, neutrons and chromatography, I started to leave. All of them in one go, """"""""""""""have a great weekend. """"""""""""
When I rewound the morning log and freezed the fourth dimesion to recapture the events that happened in 3-dimensions, a momentary bliss set in. Its the day of all Days, Mother of all days, Its The Friday. Oh my Friday. How did I ever lost sense of you. How can I ever redeem myself for such a dastardly act. Will I ever be accepted back into the species of the Homo sapiens.
Who am I to break the tradition when even the unrelenting rain took the break to reveal the quarter nudity of the moon with its lewd twinkling spectators. So lets glorify the day.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
"Living" mannequins
Input "&"
Get "&"
For
(int i= 0, i< 1000, i++)
system conversation
{ "This is my son and daughter- in -law
He is "&" "
"Hello!!! Congratulations"
"Thank you" }
Thousand handshakes, many a flashes, for- loop (poses/jaw straining plastic smiles), never-ending group photos, blaring musical extravaganza, sprinkling rosewater, sweltering heat under the tungsten sun, live-video coverage/telecast - a ritual, that spares none .
Do the couples really have to undergo this torture on the very first day of their nuptial bliss, all in the name of wedding reception? Does it toll the many social abnormalities in the offing for them? It should be quiet a nerve-wrecking experience for the two little hearts who have no options but to go with tide.
Coming to think of this event as a fund-raiser, one couldn't find a better example for Product Placement than the strategic positioning of the couples either near the entrance or when they are the Manhattan Bridge to the Dining hall. In either way one cannot afford to bypass, without paying the toll, to the repast. This might prove to be pretty "costly" for the famished Indian Grad Students.
Please do not expect any changes from the person slandering this practice as he is an ardent advocate of hypocrisy.
To the Moghuls of computer coding, kindly excuse me for the bugs in the program (if those few lines can be given such a status).
Get "&"
For
(int i= 0, i< 1000, i++)
system conversation
{ "This is my son and daughter- in -law
He is "&" "
"Hello!!! Congratulations"
"Thank you" }
Thousand handshakes, many a flashes, for- loop (poses/jaw straining plastic smiles), never-ending group photos, blaring musical extravaganza, sprinkling rosewater, sweltering heat under the tungsten sun, live-video coverage/telecast - a ritual, that spares none .
Do the couples really have to undergo this torture on the very first day of their nuptial bliss, all in the name of wedding reception? Does it toll the many social abnormalities in the offing for them? It should be quiet a nerve-wrecking experience for the two little hearts who have no options but to go with tide.
Coming to think of this event as a fund-raiser, one couldn't find a better example for Product Placement than the strategic positioning of the couples either near the entrance or when they are the Manhattan Bridge to the Dining hall. In either way one cannot afford to bypass, without paying the toll, to the repast. This might prove to be pretty "costly" for the famished Indian Grad Students.
Please do not expect any changes from the person slandering this practice as he is an ardent advocate of hypocrisy.
To the Moghuls of computer coding, kindly excuse me for the bugs in the program (if those few lines can be given such a status).
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Longing for the *free spirit*
Oh!!. As I stepped out of my apartment, she was there again, embracing me with her gentle hands, murmuring breezily in my ear. Though its pretty embarrasing, her kiss, seems to defy all the laws of philematology. It really invigorates my body, rushing in fresh air to my airsac. Being a globetrotter, she started to fill me in with her latest adventures, while playfully caressing my hair.
She instinctively gets to know that I am turning a deaf ear to her mumblings and ramblings. Well, going by Newton's third law, I have to incur the repercussions of my actions . She waits for her moment, and then gently swishes the tree near the entrance of my building. Morning dew on the leaves might kindle the imagination of a poet, not on my shirt.
Her impishness knows no bounds. She tries to flee away with the NMR spectra, strewing them all over the pavement, knocks off the coffee cup by the window and what not. But she has saved me from many embarassing moments, very subtely making me aware that my flyer is undone.
Though we are together most of the time, I cannot make her mine or grab her by her arm . Her unpredictable nature, her free spirit are what draws me closer to her. These are few of my thoughts that I have AIRed about her. Its time for me to WIND and head off as Nicholas Cage has classified her as a BLIZZARD tonight.
For more information about her, logon to weather.com
She instinctively gets to know that I am turning a deaf ear to her mumblings and ramblings. Well, going by Newton's third law, I have to incur the repercussions of my actions . She waits for her moment, and then gently swishes the tree near the entrance of my building. Morning dew on the leaves might kindle the imagination of a poet, not on my shirt.
Her impishness knows no bounds. She tries to flee away with the NMR spectra, strewing them all over the pavement, knocks off the coffee cup by the window and what not. But she has saved me from many embarassing moments, very subtely making me aware that my flyer is undone.
Though we are together most of the time, I cannot make her mine or grab her by her arm . Her unpredictable nature, her free spirit are what draws me closer to her. These are few of my thoughts that I have AIRed about her. Its time for me to WIND and head off as Nicholas Cage has classified her as a BLIZZARD tonight.
For more information about her, logon to weather.com
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