Perpetual Smiles

2 Years..Long Time..Yet short..

2011-06-04T23:27:00.002+05:30

Its been two years now, since I blogged here. When I checked my last blog date, its sometime in May 2009. Not that I ignored this place completly in the 2 years, I would have done a random couple of posts, but realizing the inappropriateness of keeping them here later, I moved them elsewhere..

Its been two years, since i spend some time here..Since, I keyed in any thoughts or memories..Not that I did not had any thoughts or memories in the last years..
Its been two years.. Long time, yet a short period..because it has swiftly passed away..
A lot has happened in my life, in the life of people I know, and in the world in general in these 2 years..
A lot of changes has happened to me..yet, I have changed little..
When I was not here, I was away..experiencing some other tastes, feelings, lifestyle, preferences, priorities..
Yet, now I am back..I am back home now..Yes,

Its the feeling of coming back home..A traveller, after travelling far and wide, after long, is returing home..
dusted, durtied and wearied a little..neverthless, returned as the same person.. And I am here again.. i am home..

On Marlowe's poem!

2009-05-14T00:10:00.001+05:30

Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
Asked Marlowe; I did, said I for I agree
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate
And what if fate decides for our love to bloom
Like a morning flower with the first rays of the sun
Than like a thunderbolt that strikes in a jiffy

My sight was not chosen by love nor love by sight
But directed by overruling fate with all its might
I have been asked to love you..
Nd I love you with all will in me..

Moments!!!

2009-02-12T12:10:00.000+05:30

Glaring light..searing heat..dusty roads..parched pathways

Weary.. wooly vision.. unsteady steps.. dazed memories..

Flow of water.. energizing..cleansing.. filling the pores

Overflowing.. pulling.. taking vengeance..

Bone chilling cold.. freezing..powerful.. magnetic..

Struggling.. throwing weight.. not letting go..

Unable..helpless.. losing strength..gasping..

Choked throats.. desire to live..but weight in the soul..

Unable to let go..clear vision for a moment..

Images flashing..memories returning..lips twisting to smile

Flash of light..painless.. rest.. Oblivion..darkness..

Peace..Peace..Eternal peace …

Reflections

2009-02-11T00:18:00.000+05:30

Long time ago, I guess it is for the school magazine, I wrote a passage on aspiration and contentment-that they are two conflicting values. I don't even remember my take on the topic at that time and am not at all sure if it will align with the thoughts of this post. Well, life has changed quite a lot since then. If at that point of time, the inspiration behind the writing was something I read or my own novice ideologies, this time it is experiences in life since then and reflections on them thereafter. Well, you don’t grow up/old for nothing!!

So, is it aspiration or contentment that one should go for? Well, no one can live with just one of those; life would be awfully boring then. It has been and always is a balance that will keep you going and keep you happy, but one's key rests in finding that delicate, fine balance. But at this point of time, if you ask me-is it up to an individual to find his key and unlock the lock, I would say well, it’s written!! It’s written in your destiny!! Can you believe it?! I am one of those people who read the book the alchemist and said that the fundas in that are too much of a fantasy to be applied in real life.

But now, I think I stand corrected myself because I feel the fundas were always right and down to earth, only the application of the funda in the life of a shepherd who was destined to find treasure is fantasy. And what we adapt to our lives is not the fantasy element, but the funda element. And the funda I can relate to most in my life now is the connection between events, people, time etc. It’s all connected. What ever happened in your life in the past is connected to some event that is in the present or in the future. You don't see the connection unless it starts getting a little obvious and you decide to stand back like a third party observer and observe all the events that happened so far in your life and care to find the links.

I had always thought that the 3 years of my college life was over and done with if not for some fond memories and the learning’s. But now I feel, it keeps coming back through the connections it has to my present. What was so relevant then and proved to be futile later happened for a reason and what was irrelevant has become important. And the reason I mentioned is nothing but to facilitate the transition from irrelevance to relevance. It all makes sense!! And now, I think I will find my right key for my lock where the balance between aspiration and contentment lies.

The Brand called India!!

2009-02-10T15:46:00.000+05:30

Slumdog Millionaire : A very recent movie that caught the attention of the film audience in India and International. Says the story of a love struck youngster who participates in a reality show because of the probability that his lover might be watching it. And the movie element- he wins the show!

The White Tiger: A very recent novel written by an Indian author about a person born in the rural India making it to be an entrepreneur.

Two recent items in news-one is a novel and another is a movie based on an Indian novel. What is common between both? There are two common factors:

First: Both have been critically acclaimed and won prestigious awards. While the author of The White Tiger , Aravind Adiga won the Man Booker Prize, The Slumdog Millionaire won has won five Critics' Choice Awards, four Golden Globes (including Best Drama Film), and seven BAFTA Awards (including Best Film). The film has also been nominated for ten Academy Awards

Second: The crux or the background of both the works remain the same- an India which is known and familiar to the world. An India which is poverty struck with large population living in slums and underdeveloped rural areas getting exploited by the powerful. Beggary, Communalism and Poverty being the backdrop of all images that is being created about the country.

Why does it sell big? Why does such portrayal of India become so successful, acknowledged and acclaimed in the West??!! Let’s face it, the world like India that way. The image of the emerging super power or the Corporate India does not sell!! It’s like an overnight transition of the brand image. The brand called India sells when it is associated with slums, beggary and poverty rather than with corporate tycoons or the nuclear weapons.

I am not getting in to the controversial topic if India is really so, the accurate depiction of reality or stark contrast. This is been discussed and is quite a repetitive one. But I would like to pose more impartial questions purely from a marketing perspective- Why is that this brand image of India as a third world country still sell so big when our nation builders are making huge efforts to re brand India as the glamorous, young superpower/ Corporate India??!! Is it a marketing failure? A case of unsuccessful re positioning or is it just that the cost and effort incurred in re positioning the brand will take much more time to produce results than envisaged by this brand builders??

Questions are open!! Suggestions, Opinions and Hot debates are welcome!!!

Others speaking my words!!!!

2009-01-26T00:12:00.000+05:30

He had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was already foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.(The concluding statement in the nobel prize winner-One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garzia Marqez)

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine(Casablanca / 1942)

Dear, dear!!! how queer everything is today!! I wonder if i have been changed in the night!!- Alice thought when she emerged in the new world after passing through the rabbit hole. (I have not yet passed through the rabbit hole..But the feelings are mutual)

I don't have an alcohol problem..What I have is a low alcohol tolerence problem. Aysha says to Karan when he finds her all sloshed out(From the book 'Almost Single'. She spoke my words!!!!)

So no one told you life was going to be this way. Your job's a joke, you're broke, you're love life's DOA. It's like you're always stuck in second gear, Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.(Friends title song- how can things in my life be explained better??!!!!)

P.S: I'l keep adding to this list as and when something strikes me...the latest feeling will always be on the top.

Scene 2: The shores and the eternal wait of the waves

2009-01-16T16:59:00.001+05:30

The balmy sea stretched itself until the shore. The slow waves reached out constantly and pecked the cheeks of the shore. For a very long time, the waves were thus trying to allure the shore. It kept pecking the shore, slowly trying to make the shore turn its head and accept the waves into a sweet, passionate kiss. The waves kept coming back only for that.
But the shores were in a deep prolonged slumber. For the shores, the waves were like a cradle; slowly rocking it to sleep and keeping it in the sleep. It felt like a grown up hand holding, consoling and caring for the shore. It kept on enjoying the slumber.. Never bothering to wake up..never caring to grow up..

Scene 1- The little ones and the tragic death of the young weed

2009-01-06T18:24:00.000+05:30

There was a garden in the front yard. A garden that had grown by itself. In the garden, the flowers bloomed in the evening, when the sun rays hit the ground from a slanting position with much of it caught on the green surfaces of leaves. We called it the 4 o’clock flower. There were a few named after the moment when the clock struck 150 degree too. There were all sorts of colors in them. The only identity that one had from the other was its color. Purple was the pleasant one. Yellow was really happy and remained bright all the time. The magenta and white lived side by side too. And one day, among this family of colors grew a weed. Its birth was neither intentional nor welcomed. The weed was an intruder to their private and almost blissful existence. They hated the weed. But they couldn’t do anything about it. All they could do was to stand impassive and see it grow. Then one day, the little girl saw the weed. This was the girl who used to look at the flowers every evening with ardent admiration. She used to touch them, pluck them and at times, just smell them. She had very gentle hands with long fingers. Yet, the flowers were even more delicate. Even if it was a gentle touch, her touch always left them scarred- scarred for life. On occasions when she plucked them, they were delighted to embark on the adventurous journey with her, to roam around with her; but their subtle delicacy would always lead them to certain death within no time. Neither the gentle hands n nor her affectionate glance would help them survive. But for the little ones, it was a trade off. They could look forward to a silent death sometime in the night or a shorter life with excitement.

This time, the girl saw the weed amongst the purples and the yellows and the whites. Her look told the little ones that she was not very happy with it either. They saw the hesitation last only a moment. The gentle hands were stretched determinedly, tightened around the neck of the weed and pulled back with a jerk. It was uprooted. The weed is gone. The little ones were contended at the quick end of their nuisance.

A few meters ahead, almost outside the small garden space, was another weed growing. No one had yet noticed it. As long as a weed did not disturb the visual treat the little ones provided through their colors, no one would bother about the weed. And this one was lucky. It grew older in time and finally one day- it bloomed. The weed flowered too- with a rich orange and red color. And it bloomed in plenty; one could only see the orange and red flowers. No one could see the dusty old weed leaves under it. Soon one day, our little ones saw it too. They were slowly nodding heads with the rhythm of the wind. Their eyes were wandering aimlessly. And then they saw it too.. Another one of the same weed clan whom they detested so badly has flowered and colored.

Only this is so much that I know, but I am tempted to form the opinion that the little ones would have regretted the demise of the former weed. If the former weed was not killed, even that would have been a flowering plant right in their midst adding richness to their already colorful assortment.

P.S: There might or might not be Scene2, Scene 3 etc to follow

The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before

2008-12-23T14:05:00.000+05:30

Have you ever tried to put heart wrenching pain into words? To bring in some sort of logical flow or pattern into those words? I used to do that a lot and I still do it sometimes. In the past, I always wrote down those words and tore it apart..Pour down my unstructured emotions into a paper, tore it apart and blew it in the wind.. Frank and bold I might be misunderstood, but I am never frank enough to show what I feel or bold enough to admit how I feel.. And almost all the time, it is this heart wrenching pain..
Happiness doesn’t want an expression. It is so light that you don’t mind keeping in your heart even if your heart is overflowing with it. But sorrow cannot be so treated.. It fills your heart with its heaviness.. And your heart slowly starts drowning…
It’s the same now.. Its wretchedness all over… it cannot be altered.. There is nothing or no one causing this pain.. But all the same there is a reason for it.. A reason that cannot be altered.. I sometimes wonder, why do I keep committing the same mistakes over and over again. Is it because I am in love with that mistakes or the pain it creates.. Could be both.. There is an element of pleasure in this pain as well.. I am reluctant to let go of this pain.. This pain gone means I am gone numb.. I would be unfeeling then. I would rather be a feeling person and suffer the pain it causes rather than be immune to both.. I will miss the pleasure in the pain if they are gone.. I won’t be myself again then.. I will be someone else just wearing my robe..

Peace and goodwill to the mankind on earth

2008-12-22T13:37:00.000+05:30

Glory to God in the highest
Peace and goodwill to the mankind on earth!

This was the message that the angels sang when the baby was born in the manger 2000 plus years ago. It is a time of joy, cheer, goodwill, peace, charity, sharing and love. For the faithful, this is the anniversary of that day when god kept his promise to save the mankind by giving us the savior. This is the birthday of the noblest man ever who walked the face of earth. Over thousands of years, Christmas has been celebrated with this spirit.
If this season of Christmas brings in such a state of mind where people share peace and goodwill, this is the time we need it most. And what we need is Christmas-as a state of mind and not Christmas-as a holiday season. Right now, the joy of Christmas season is over shadowed by hatred and fear. There is no peace in the community or in the mind of people. There remains uncertainty because of terrorism and social unrest. People live in the fear of bomb blasts and gun shots. In one part of the country, when unrest occurs due to terrorism, in another part it is domestic violence.
I am not preparing for Christmas celebrations by observing lent. Neither do I have a Christmas tree or a crib nor a star lit at my home. I am not buying any Christmas gifts. At this Christmas, all I wish is this “Peace and goodwill to the mankind on earth!!!!!!”

Feels like Christmas

2008-12-13T15:06:00.000+05:30

Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home! ~Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers

Remember, if Christmas isn't found in your heart, you won't find it under a tree." -- Charlotte Carpenter

It feels like half a life time ago
That we celebrated Christmas by making a crib and decorating a tree
Now there are no cribs and only plastic Christmas trees,
But it feels like Christmas again

It feels like half a life time ago
That Christmas brought in joy and cheer with family
Now I am far away from home,
But it feels like Christmas again

It feels like half a life time ago
That I made merry with other kids during holidays
Now there is no one left but me who is not grown up
But it feels like Christmas again

It feels like half a life time ago
That we took those mid night walks to the church on Christmas night
This year, it would be just a memory as old days are gone by
But it feels like Christmas again

It feels like Christmas again
Though no Lents or long holidays or family near by
Though the moments of making cribs and trees are just memories
It feels like Christmas again

The star is lit in my mind,
The baby will be born in The Crib of my heart

So, it is gonna be Christmas again

On love- as I know it !

2008-12-10T16:38:00.000+05:30

I am fighting a battle. The weird thing is I am not fighting anymore. But the battle is still on.
And I am not able to get out. I don’t have any idea which side is winning or which side is losing.

I am in love with this battle. The battle itself is love. All that remains is love.

Love never dies. Love ends; but never dies. The love that has been shared is never reversed. It remains as it is as long as eternity lasts. Love is eternal.

I have loved- loved with all my heart. And still I do. But the great question answered by silence is –am I in love. Being in love is a state-which can change. I have just an answering silence.

But my love for you is always there. With you, all I know is to love. All I am capable of is love.
We have lost a lot of things- hopes, passion, understanding, happiness.. but love still remains. All this has begun and all this will end in love.

Love is just not an end in itself. It is a journey that we chose to take.

We don’t know where the journey ends or the bend in our road.

We know the pain of separation for we have separated and come together again. That separation was not the end of our lives albeit being undesirable for me.

But now we know, separation cannot kill us or the love that we shared.

I am perfectly confident on you - you don’t need me the way I used to imagine when I was a perfectly naïve female.

And I don’t need you in my life any more as I used to imagine. I don’t need any body for that matter. But if I need any body at all at any point o f time, I’d rather be it you.

Well, is that what is love? Or is it just an open declaration of my comfort with you? Or can that be the acknowledgment of my fear for the unknown?

Unsure about many things, but I can assure of this- years and years hence, I will be saying this with a sigh and a wandering eye that I have loved- a love that is lasting. That remains as long as eternity lasts.

And I am happy for the moments of togetherness, moments of separation, for hopes and the lost hopes, for the flush of excitement and flood of disappointment, for the lightheartedness and the heavy heartedness that this love has given me.

For the reason that without this love for you, I would never have known what loving like this meant.

The Modern Surrender of Woman

2008-12-08T16:59:00.000+05:30

In this post, when I write “I”, I mean the group of woman out there somewhere in this world, who agree with whatever I have written. I agree that it could be a minority probably, but it will be the popular minority.

I understand that men and women are different. Men tend to be physically bigger and stronger. They can lift heavy things, push open lodged doors and bottles, not be tired after long journeys, and… and.. that’s it??!!! Well, it seems pretty much it! Oh yes, all the things like this. I used to argue that to balance the see saw , woman are emotionally stronger, can think straight, logically and sensitively in crisis, can show much compassion when it is called for, so on and so forth. There used to be and still are, much debates and disagreements from the side of men against this capabilities of woman. Or rather, these capabilities of woman were ignored in light of the irrelevance of such capabilities in this world. All that mattered is- men are stronger. In the context of the modern surrender of woman, yes I agree to the men folks. All these centuries of arguments, I was wrong. At the wake of the 21st century, I finally see your argument and realize the irrelevance of the capabilities of woman in the ‘emotionally strong’ context. In this age of outsourcing, you can get someone else to do all those things for you. You can depend on a psychologist or a counselor for your emotional pressures and call EMRI\911 for an emergency and get the help of disaster management teams in crisis.
I agree with you (men) when you say that woman tend to gossip about other women mostly because they are jealous. Though men don’t generally gossip about other men; they just bitch about women, it cannot be attributed to jealousy at all. Because why would a man be jealous of a woman!! It sounds so logically incorrect and inconsistent! And a man never loses sleep on the promotion his colleague received or on the new car of the neighbor. The bitching that men tend to do about women are just affirmative statements where they have seen the women crossing limits-either morality or general codes of conduct. Discussing politics or social issues is the way men show concern about what happens around them, men have real good suggestions on how things should be run in the world. These are not time wasting gimmicks but while having such serious matters in head, you really cannot afford to learn about micro level issues like how to run a kitchen. On the other hand, I absolutely agree with you when you say about a woman who would have given an input to your world changing discussions that she is talking in her ignorance and should rather concentrate in running the kitchen rather than the government. After all, how can a woman talk about something other than her cosmetics!!
It is also true that women bosses are so ignorant, stupid and unrealistic. And this is not a stereotyping statement at all. The word stereotyping itself could be a woman invented word as that does not convey anything meaningful. And from what is written, it is evident, there are no bad bosses among men. I know all the men love their men bosses and since men don’t ‘gossip’, in the history of human race, not a bad word has been spoken about any of the men bosses, if it has been spoken, it is the imagination of the women lot.
And, as I said after all these centauries of disagreeing with these kind of things that men keeps telling me, finally now I have decided to unconditionally agree with you on all of the above and more not because men ‘just doesn’t get the point’ and no point in arguing with men, but because I agree with these concepts!

On Wines-especially Sula & Product Plugging-specifically in Almost Single!!

2008-12-01T14:55:00.000+05:30

Prologue :

This prologue is written after the below post was published. When I was writing this post, my impression was the favorable mention of Sula in the book ‘Almost Single’ by Advaita Kala was a carefully planned product placement. But later on, I realized (from the comment posted by the big man himself) that it was not an instance of product placement, but a product plug. Advaita Kala must really be in love Sula. So, friends, I stand corrected though I don’t want to make changes to the original post I had written. I am changing the original title from On Wines-especially Sula& Product Pleacemnt-specifically in Almost Single to On Wines-especially Sula & Product Plugging-specifically in Almost Single!!

Now you can read on the real stuff.…

My first memories of wine being mentioned was in the holy masses-Jesus took wine, blessed it and gave it to his disciples; and asked them to repeat it whenever they gather to remember him. And so- we did! In all holy masses the ceremony was repeated with ardent faith. But in our churches, they just spoke the words-the priest would never distribute real wine to the people. All that they would do, that too, a few times a year on important dates is to dip the Holy Communion in wine. And that was on very very rare occasions. Even before accepting my first holy communion, I got a taste of wine on one of the Monty Thursdays when dad brought wine for the occasion. That was just a port wine.
Then there was the different type of wines that my neighbor used to make at home-pineapple, beetroot, amla and many other different flavors. On visiting them, I used to get occasional chances of tasting those, but I was still not a wine lover. My love for wine started only when my dad made wine at my home for the first time. We saved a couple of bottles for a few years and then I realized that the concept of ‘old wine’ indeed is a noble one. That is when the stuff becomes really real! Thus homemade wines- ginger, amla and especially grapes remained my favorites for a long time. Otherwise, except for a wine tasting evening- I was not exposed much to the world of wines.
I used to read about the exquisite world of French Wine in Mills and Boons, Sydney Sheldon and the like. And used to wonder how it was like. But it seemed so smooth and sophisticated in the books than in reality. It was then, that I came to read Almost Single by Advaita Kala. Suggested by my friends who read and loved the book, it was a great contemporary novel by an Indian author. Awesome book!! And I got exposed to the world of Sula through it. Though it was read by many of my friends before me, somehow, they all missed the compliments the main character of the book had paid for the Indian wine brand-Sula. As luck would have it, that was the top of the mind recollection for me after reading the book. And I decided to try this one. A little prompting from my side- my friends were also eager to try this new stuff. Promptly, Sula arrived at my house. The young brand from Nasik won my heart that night. Henceforth, as far as I am concerned, the wine nights are definitely going to be Sula nights.
Though that is all about the wines and Sula, being a Marketing majored MBA(though working on a lousy job which has got nothing to do with marketing and hence forgetting all the marketing fundas at a fast phase), I cannot help but comment on the Product Placement/Product Integration done in the book Almost Single. The mentioning of Sula brand as the character’s favorite in the book, is nothing but a clear instance of Product Placement. I was familiar with product placements in movies and television and thought of it in books as a very rare and newly evolving form of marketing. But on research I realized, product placement in books can be dated back to the 19th century. When popular author Jules Verne wrote the classic Around the World in 80 Days, many transport and shipping companies were lobbying to get mentioned in the book. Later, many books have followed suit particularly by placing goods targeted at teenage girls.
In any case, this was the first time; I came across such an effective product placement as far as I was concerned. I tried and loved Sula!!

PS: This post is a classic example of product plugging (instances of product placement without an economic transaction). Here, I have placed both Almost Single and Sula. All the marketers out there! Pay me! I am willing to place your products in my upcoming posts!!!

Home Coming

2008-11-19T16:23:00.001+05:30

Though it was after a lot of months -that flew away just like a few-that I retreaded the all too familiar path leading home, I saw nothing has changed. Well, a lot has changed actually-mindsets, relationships, times.. Even the topography. I walked down the familiar path in midst of chaos- through a debris of shattered hopes and dreams that were leading into a void. May be that is the reason why it took me so long to walk this path once again. But finally I had to and so I did!
The rubber trees in the estate along the road are getting replanted. Instead of the huge shade providing trees, I could see a lot more tiny saplings. The jackfruit tree at the river bank is also gone-with nothing to replace. But now, there is a clear vision-of the other bank and also a long way up of where the river is coming from. Now I can clearly see the wooden bridge a little upstream. Or is it a new one? Could be! But I can see that right now it is not functional. Though it looks straight and sturdy from the river bank, it is slightly faltering. One of the supporting pillars is gone with the flood. The only purpose of the new bridge now is to give an old world charm to the whole scene. Ironical!
The week passed very quickly.One of the days, it rained. Don’t know if a rain in the beginning of November is a surprise or a routine. Don’t remember any more. The rain continued for more than 2 hours. And it looked just like routine with little rise in the river water.
In the middle of the week, the phone rang way past mid night. In an instant, I knew it was the death bell. Another of those familiar and most beloved faces vanishes from the face of the earth, yet will be remembered with fond memories.
Soon, it is time for the return journey. I know the feeling of regret of leaving home is mutual. After all, it is here that I was loved and I learned to love. This is where I dragged myself on my belly, I tottered and fell, and I rose and learned to walk. It was here that I started to dream, to believe; to judge- this is where I grew up. This is where I started on every journey that I embarked on. This is where I returned after every such journey. The hostels were great, Sai Teja is delightful; but this place is Home.

It doesn't matter which road you take!

2008-10-18T11:41:00.000+05:30

You are walking a barren road
It is a long winding dusty road

It is hard to move forward
But you do or you fall dead

would I choose if I were you?
To move ahead or drop dead here
Tough question to answer friend
Some questions can be answered
Only by living the questions
And that I would do If I were you.

The dust would turn to muddy water
If only it rain a few drops in the night
But that too is an ominous state
Knee deep in mud is not my
idea of the ideal road for me to walk

And no change can you expect in this
dusty windy road but a grubby rain!!!
And you have to keep going
I just know so much

Some where ahead, just a little ahead
the road will diverge!!
(ha!! reminded of the mighty poem?)
but yes, this happens in life too
And which one will you take
Or will you be forced to one?

Remeber you are always a solitary walker
You take the road less travelled
or the road more travelled
You are walking the road only once
Both roads will have the bends, the curves and the gutters
You don't know what lies ahead

May be! Just may be, who knows!
the roads will converge again
At the other side of the bend!

It doesn't matter which road you take
When you really don't know
Where you want to go!

On Communism, Social Welfare and the People of my state

2008-10-07T14:53:00.000+05:30

ഭാരതം എന്ന് കേട്ടാല്‍ അഭിമാന പൂരിതമാവണം അന്തരന്ഗം!!!!
കേരളം എന്ന് കേട്ടാലോ തിളക്കണം ചോര നമ്മുക്ക് ഞരമ്പുകളില്‍!!!!!

This post is due. Rather than writing about my nostalgias or weird fantasies, finally I am penning down something which I owe and quite a few others who make misinformed cynical comments deserve.
This is about that little state down south called Kerala which is often being talked about as a beautiful place sadly ruined by power of communism and a group of bad attitude people. Well, for a change, let me tell you something. Communism is not a bad word. It is a philosophy just like Capitalism or Libertarianism. Like all other philosophy, this too has its good and bad sides. Any philosophy at its extreme might prove detrimental to the freedom and welfare of the stakeholders. Just like extreme Capitalism will lead to higher disparity between the rich and the poor, extreme communism may lead to human right violations. But adopting such a great philosophy as a way of living by a large part of the community or having a political party following this philosophy run the government does not make Kerala a loser state!
Kerala is the first state in the world with a democratically elected Communist government. That happened in 1956 when the state in its present form was just born. Thereafter, this communist government has been voted in to power (and many times voted out too!!) by the people of the state, and not by military coupe or rebellion as you might fantasize. Rather than being an extreme institute of power and dictatorship, the Communist government has been focusing on rightful distribution of living conditions! I am not giving the credit only to the communist government. I am sure that each government that ruled the state has had its role to play in bringing Kerala to be the state with highest Standard of living index score. We have one of the highest literacy rates, lower infant mortality rate and low growth rates. And we have a higher woman to man ratio which is in par with the most developed countries in the world. True that we don’t have the kind of yearly GDP on par with other states. But at the same time, we also don’t have large number of beggars peeping into the car window at every signal like what happens in the big metropolitan cities. In spite of low domestic product and under developed Industrial sector, we don’t have a large BPL population. Recently I came across something called a Physical Quality of Life Index where our little state of Kerala stands only next to Japan even in the late 80’s in the whole of Asia.
We have learned in our basic economic classes:
Economic development = Economic Growth+ Social Welfare
Those states with the huge metros of the country (I live in one of them) might have a drastically higher growth in GDP, Consumption and Infrastructure. They could brag of the achievements they have made in IT, Industry, Agriculture- of their contribution to the national wealth. While not intending to suggest any of them are small achievements, I still wonder if any of them can demand their place at the top in case of social welfare. Yesterday, a misinformed friend of mine was suggesting that this achievement in terms of welfare of masses was achieved because of the low population. I have news for you my dear friend; we are talking about a state with a population density of 800 plus per square km, which stands 3rd in the most densely populated states in the country.
We might not have great industrial production to boast about; we do not have sufficient land and the unskilled laborers for these industries will have to come from the neighboring states (we have a population of highly educate people who would simply be over qualified for those work). But at the same time, we are already a dream destination for tourists. We are also slowly placing our foot in the IT and ITES sector with scores of technology parks coming up and investor friendly policies of the government (u heard it right!! The Investor friendly attitude of the left government!!!)
And what is so wrong with the people and their attitude? There are quite a lot of people who mock the large population of expatriates of the state. When opportunities were less in the country we had a large chunk of qualified people who exploited such opportunities available elsewhere. They are responsible for the steady flow of foreign income to the country. They form a major part of the NRI community which have played a major role in creating and building the economy. Moreover, they were the first brand ambassadors for the nation who propagated indirectly to the outside world that here is a country with a huge population of quality and skill whom you could rely on. And this belief is the basis of all outsourcing that has come to the country so far.
Those who criticize the strikes and demonstrations in Kerala against the government and authorities also should realize that this is part of a culture that has formed from questioning the unjust. We are a group of people who will raise our voices against injustice. Like many others in the other part of the country, we do not consider justice, welfare and social development as a gift; we believe that it is our right. Unlike the money making machineries that walk the earth in other parts of the country, we are aware of and concerned about the happenings around us, it is our nature to form opinion, respond and protest when things go wrong. Still, as per the latest India today survey, we stand first in maintain law and order in the country. This is achieved in a diverse population where one half is Hindu; Christian and Muslim a quarter each; which is a recipe for chronic communal warfare in the rest of India.
It is true that malayalies have a sense of humor that is self deprecating. We make criticizing yet funny jokes on ourselves. And their criticizing culture makes them discuss loudly about what we have not achieved rather than what we have. But that in no way should give others misinformed ideas that we are losers!!!!

When I become a novelist!!!(???)

2008-09-15T15:54:00.000+05:30

If I ever was or ever would be a novelist, what would have been my novel about??? would that be suspense or high phase drama? Fantasy or ground reality?? Tragedy or Comdey??? Would it be truth or would it be a lie???

Like most of the she writers- I might write about 'her' or 'I'. I will not meander into the niceties of the 'He'. Even if I did, that would not be interesting at all!! Would that ever be!!! Even if it was, I wouldn't know. Because except for the understanding that I have about the opposite sex as a partner, a friend or a brother I actually have not observed them as a subject matter for my novel. That is an area I will have to catch up quite a lot befor I start on the novel- if not for the main character, atleast to create my side characters..

I want my charcaters to be glocal- that is, local characters that global readers will be able to relate to. Obviously I will not be able to write about the heroine who grew up in the Prince Edward Island because I do not KNOW where the heck Prince Endward Island is!!! All I will be able to write about is some 'Maria' or 'Shantha' somewhere in Chittady, Mundakayam, Kanjirapally area.. At the most my geographical spread can reach up to Kottayam. Another obvious option is to draw some inspiration from our own Shantaram who wrote about Bombay. But so far, the one and a half Hyderabad years have certainly not given me my novel plot though showered abundance of other things(these other things could be the subject matter for my 'farewell Hyderabad' blog which could be published in future)

Now, what would my heroine be?? I can't make her a romantic- that is so out of fashion today.. And I cant make her a realist-that would be soo badly unromantic!!!Then, it would be like a plot of life- boring, mundane never ending loop called life!! [Gosh!!! this is becoming quite a tough decision..]

I will bring in a degree of sarcastic humour and with a sigh, wonder about the moral standard of the world..[Oh!! that will be too much austenish!!!]What if I make her an innocent, passionate, lively person.. [Glen, stop it..I am warning you again!!! Your heroine is not from Prince Edward Island!!] Ok, what about making her an unlucky, miserable woman[Not again!!!we are not talking about your stupid mood swings here!!!]

Readers: The ifs and buts are umpteen!!! You will have to wait..Wait till my novel is publsihed and till then, remember this post to compare what promises I have kept, what I have broken, how my perspective have changed, how much is unchanged and how much of everything I have captured. Adieu, till the novel is published..

Answer me, I am asking you!!!

2008-09-08T18:18:00.000+05:30

Why do I have such a vulnerable heart?

Why is it that sometimes the pettiest things prick me?

And leaves me with a heart bleeding to death..

I was the strong one..I am the strong one..in just a handful of ways..

Or is it just the appearences?? Just the pretenses that I make to the world out there which have untouched me in so many little and big ways..

Even to the world within me, I am strong..Strong enough when it is being just fair to me..

Why is it that the God who made this cruel world made me so suspectable to its cruelties??

Answer me!!! I am asking you!!!!

Is blogging for losers??!!!

2008-08-12T11:42:00.000+05:30

Some days back, I came across the blog of one of my friends..Well, He is not really a friend. I would rather call him an acquaintance. Calling him a friend will not be apt becuase to give the title of friend to each other- we would require something more than being your old room mate's friend and thus having to give cursory nods/smiles/hellos to each other when ever you come upon each other in the road/gym/basement of your apartment. Well, that is not the point. Before I saunter to other irrelevant areas, he had mentioned in his blog that blogging is for loosers. Well, I know that it is a rather hasty generalization. I have seen many a blog which is adorned with great creativity, sense of humour, emotions which are far from dissapointment and frustration. Still, in this light when I look at my own blog, I have to accept that from a winner's blog[now, that is an overstatement;-)] my blog has indeed been sullied into a loser's one.:-(

nd Y is that??!!!!

Well, I have lost it again...

Anne Shirley- the girl who shaped my personality

2008-08-12T11:18:00.000+05:30

This was never meant to be a blog post. It was written for some other purpose and now that the purpose is accomplished..I want to treasure it ..To keep it all safe under one pandora's box.:-) Hence its been labelled-'for safe keeping'

People draw inspiration from others who have had a deep influence on them right from their childhood or from exemplary personalities they came to know or read about in life. I have also been thus inspired by many. But the biggest inspiration I have drawn is not from a close relative or a famous personality, but from a fictional character called ‘Anne Shirley’.
Anne Shirley is the main character of L.M Montgomery’s fiction series starting with ‘Annie of Green Gables’. Annie is a talkative but precocious little girl with a cheery disposition, insightful thoughts and a lot of imagination. It is from Annie that I learned to cultivate and cherish a lively imagination. The way Anne led her life inspired me to be passionate in whatever I do, to enjoy the simple things of life and above all, to love and appreciate nature and its beauty. I am inspired by Annie to find joy in anticipation, to have great expectations out of future, to enjoy every moment of the present and last but not the least, to be unhappy about the little disappointments of life. In anticipating about the future, we might end up in disappointment; the kite that fly high might hit the ground with a ‘thud’ but the moments of flying high is worth the fall with the thud.
Like Anne, I am also inspired to think “Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive—it's such an interesting world”

Mischief from Heaven

2008-06-24T18:59:00.000+05:30

As a kid, I don't even know if I was a mischevious kid. I don't honestly believe I was. But as I grew, the mischief also grew. I have had quite some mischief to my credit. But whose account do you credit when mischief start happening on its own. Sometimes, your mind play mischief on you which you dont have any control over..Sometimes, life simply start playing mischief on you.. I call them the mischief from Heaven. Using my 'professional' language to explain it to myself- mind and life are just the 'custodian owners' of such mischief , they can't influence the mischief.The real owner is some one else- the influencers..He(in this context- it is a Unisex He)decides- sitting over there (again I persume that 'over there' is Heaven) what mischief to play with you, how to affect your life with it and how long to play. You are just a toy tied to a string- doing all those things in the eyes of the out side world when the fact is you are moving as per the orders through the string. What we call in my mother tounge Paavakoothu.There is this string tied around me, not visible but strong, resilient,callous.. which controls..consumes...and which brings all sort of thoughts- mischief from heaven. And you just move as per the movements already decided by the string holder..
How this mischief influences you, you will never know. When you thought you were weak, you were actually strong. When you think you are strong, you are actually week. You decide, this is how you want it, it goes the other way round..not just goes-like that, it takes a pie of your mind too-the other way. When you want something, it will go missing, leaving a void.. The Void might not be filled ever again, but when you get used to the void and get comfortable with its presence, the substance is back!! Not that you want to shun off the substance but it needs getting accustomed to!! And when you get accustomed, suddenly Void becomes the ideal thing- the magic manthra for peaceful living. When you got to sacrifice, you stand up for yourself. And when you got to stand up for yourself, you end up sacrificing. When you don't have the power, you choose. When you have the power, you are not intelligent enough to make a choice!!! You never get used to anything- just as soon as you are about to get used to- there!!!! the mischief happens!!!!
Is it the mischief from Heaven? or from the Hell??I hope I knew the answer.. But I don't.. and here, I choose to call it- what I wrote in the title. If I did it sarcastically, I am yet to find..or may be that is yet another Mischief from He.....!!!

Letter to you...

2008-06-14T13:47:00.000+05:30

Dear Blog,

I am sorry I ignored you for quite a long time now.I have my excuse, though it could be just any excuse, I would like to put it across to you in a way you like. As some great guy who was into litearture wrote a long time ago and as it happened that I sort of retained it in my memory almost in a similar form-I was caught in that intricate web of time and space..Caught in that vicious circle of choosing between living life for yourself and for pleasing everyone around you who care about you. Now, you might ask me, if all those burdens are over and if I am out of that vicious circle. The answer is No. But then, over the time I realized that you are the person I should turn to pour my uncomprehensable heart time and again and ignoring you for a long time might work aganist my interests. So, I am back to you dear Blog.
And this time, I promise... I will not deprive you of my attention for any long period of time... Thank you for still being there for me...

Luv,

~Me

A plain little conversation...

2008-03-22T22:13:00.000+05:30

A conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. That's why there are so few good conversations: due to scarcity, two intelligent talkers seldom meet.
-Truman Capote

The Background:

This is the conversation between two colleagues in an afternoon on the office communicator. Both of them are bored and obviously not busy with any urgent work.One of them had a note set on the communicator-‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever.’ And that triggered the conversation..

The purpose of this post in this Blog might be questionable.. Well, this could be the difference between Realism and Romanticism from the vantage point of an ordinary man!!!

So here it is..unsensored..unpolished...

A [4:41 PM]:
Pls expand.. cant understand.. "A thing of beauty is a joy forever" ???
G [4:41 PM]:
Look at the white lilies in the field (If there is none, imagine them).. Look at the blue clear sky above you and the green mountains beside you.. They are the beautiful creations of God and shall remain beautiful as long as time, memory and the universe… That is-forever..
A [4:42 PM]:
ya imagined.. still not able to get .. how is it joy forever??
G [4:42 PM]:
Now ur mind will be filled with joy cos of the sheer beauty of the scene
After some days, those lilies may dry up.. nd the Sky may not be clear blue or the mountains as green..
But whenever u recollect it, u will know that joy again, it will come back to u..
A [4:43 PM]:
but the joy ends .. when I go away from the place where I looked at the lilies
G [4:44 PM]:
No..the joy reminds in ur heart
A [4:44 PM]:
So do I have to remember all the beauty that I saw?? How is it possible???
G [4:45 PM]:
Even if u forget the beauty, won’t u remember the joy?

A [4:46 PM]:
Joy as an emotion can’t be forever.. It is momentary and u feel it whenever something good happens.. So how can it remain forever?? If that was the case, men should be happy always..
G [4:49 PM]:
see, that happiness is related with that specific thing of beauty only...there will be other things in life abt which u will be sad or even happy...that need not be mixed with this...the joy created in ur mind by seeing a thing of beauty will remain in ur heart, even if other things overshadows ur heart, it will keep on livening up ur soul..thats the kind of joy u get frm unadultered, pure beauty
A [4:53 PM]:
this unadultered beauty that u r talking about can create joy.. i accept.. but how that joy will remain forever if that beauty itself is not with u anymore... the same beauty that dies after sometime will also kill the joy that it created.. So the emotion that this beauty has created will then take a new shape..Will that formless state live forever? I think not..
G [4:55 PM]:
ya, see the thing of beauty cant live for ever..only good thing that can live which is a part of it is-the joy it creates..So make it live..dont let it die...keep that joy alive in ur soul for ever...if u try, u can keep that formless state an ever living one...at least, that will be the good residue left of the thing of beauty.
A [4:57 PM]:
but bcoz the beauty has died that joy cannot be felt... as it will remind of the beauty being no more... so isn’t it good that the joy be momentry and left for that time rather than.. living with that forever
G [4:59 PM]:
its actually the choice u make..either choose that momentary joy and forget the beauty nd joy together or u keep the joy even after losing the beauty nd keep the beauty alive through ur joy
A [5:02 PM]:
this is purely a choice.. fine.. but as a human.. who is never perfect... and not a GOD.. how can he keep the beauty alive by remembering joy it created... emotions flow in both directions.. and negative one always over shadows the positive ones in human... Otherwise, he has to be a saint who lives in non materialistic world with pure heart
G [5:03 PM]:
Again, another choice u make
either to be a common man with all above mentioned characteristics or be a not so common man with beauty in soul nd life, keeping alive the joy it gives...the world will be a much better place for u to live then...nd u will rejoice in it even with all the sorrows and disspaointments in life..Believe me, those sorrows nd dissapointments are also worth having if you can live a beautiful life like that keeps alive all the joy in the world..
A [5:09 PM]:
ya you r rite ... both sorrow and happiness are required for full life.. but your deviating from the point... in practical life that we live its not possible... you cant go to a forest and lead a joyfull life with beauty around you.. so isn’t it good to be enjoying other things once earlier one is gone .. Rather than remembering always that which has died!!!
G [5:11 PM]:
ok..I giv up!I know u r determined nd bored!
so, i shud expect the worse from u..
i giv up unconditionally
A [5:13 P M]:

now i will tell you something.. you were right and i accept all the points that you said.. i was just testing your debating skills.. you give up but still i accept i was not right.. they way u said was the way to live life...

Gone Are Those Days...Live In Memory Always..

2008-03-14T21:36:00.001+05:30

Gone are those days…But live in memory always…
When Jan came with the school anniversaries and the church festival..
I bought spring bangles from the festival stalls in the church for my anniversary dances…
When Feb came with revisions in school, one chapter a day..
I have to answer or I am caned.. Oh!!! How frightened I used to be…
When March came, with the sun soaring high, water level diminutive..
And I.. I write my annual exams and sigh many a sighs of relief ..
Gone are those days…But live in memory always…
Along comes April.. with the Palms Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter..
Busy days indeed with prayers, way of the cross, gathering at ancestral home and late night Holy mass
I go, I pray, I walk, I eat, I talk and I listen…Jesus crucified and resurrected…
May comes and goes with tours a, games ,getting new books and school uniforms..
It is very hot indeed and the stream is dry… green and ripe-mangoes in all forms…
When June comes..The school reopens and so does the sky..
It is pouring cat and dogs on the Monday morning, I am wearing my new uniform!!!
Gone are those days…But live in memory always…

Comes around the corner-July.. So does my birthday, another set of mid-terms and sometimes, a fever..
August is the month of Independence, a little outdoor activity in the form of clearing school ground..
Probably a speech competition on Patriotism, an essay or recitation competition of the Panchayat..
And with small tricolored flags stuck to the cycle handle, I am on road the whole day..
When September comes with Onam.. and brings along Maveli and exams..
I don’t remember the exams, but after exams..we go flower hunting…
Flower carpeting of DCL, YMCA, Chittady Library.. From one place to another..
With loads of flowers, chirathu, accessories and of course trophies too:-P
October came with Pooja vacation, tours, art festivals..
When November came with a lot more friendships, fun, happiness and smiles…
Gone are those days…But live in memory always…
When came December with Christmas, cribs, x-mas trees..
the promise of a new year, holidays and temple festivals…
Gone are those days…But live in memory always…

Home Is Where the Heart Is...

2008-02-13T22:00:00.000+05:30

My first memory of home is a small house of bricks painted blue. There was a small living cum dining room which had a big window covered with a grill. The grill had the figure of a peacock in it. The peacock was painted blue and green and looked very much alive. We used to call that room the peacock room.

The house was surrounded with trees of all varieties. There was a big guava tree falling on to the roof top of the verandah. Since, it was slanted, it was easy to climb on top of that tree on to the roof. And once on the roof, one could see the huge mango tree to the other side of the house in all its glory and majesty. If looked at it from the ground, one could see the huge trunk only. It was so big that one used to wonder if at all it had any branches and leaves on top of it. But looking at it from the top, one realizes, yes, it is a full-fledged tree with lots of branches and leaves and still eager to grow higher up into the sky. These were not the sole inhabitants of the plot of land around my home. All sort of fruit bearing trees that one could imagine lived there amiably and peacefully. Just like a perfect, big family. There was mulberry, champakka, panineer champakka, cherry, muttapazham, passion fruit, Ololikka,a number of coconut trees, yet another guava tree and a couple more of mango trees. Now the readers would think that we were prejudiced towards fruit bearing trees. That was not the case. Though not many in number, there was some flower bearing trees and plants as well. There was a big pink rose, jasmine, ashokam, elanji and the flower that blooms in the night- nishagandhi.

In the popular (among us) stories of my mom about my family and home, there is a story about these trees too. It is said that when my dad bought this plot, there was only a couple of coconut trees there. Once he built the house, he himself planted all these trees though it was doubtful for many if so many trees in such a small plot of land will bear fruits. Just as soon as the trees started to place their roots firmly in the soil and started thinking about growing and expanding, the great draught of the year I was born stuck. The brook (about which a great many stories follow and will be told some other time) that ran just behind my house went all dry. The Well, just beside my home followed suit. It was so hot, dusty and dry that the trees started feeling all thirsty. They grew week, dry and all weary. That was the time, utmost care was needed to make sure that they don’t die or grow retarded. So my dad went up the brook, fetched water from the temporary small wells made all over the brook, carried the water on his shoulders and watered the trees throughout the evenings. Thus he made sure that the trees survived in-spite of the fire-spitting summer dragon.

In front of the house, was the long, winding KK road connecting Kottayam and Kumily. This was and still is an important road of trade and commerce in Kerala. This was the road travelled by Britishers when they set up huge tea estates in the High Ranges of the Western Ghats in Kerala. The same road that the Irish father of Plantations- J J Murphy took when he went to establish the first successful Rubber plantation of India. Later on many a ’son of the soil’ took this road with ambition and zest in mind to make their own kingdom of spice and rubber plantations which marked the richness of this land for decades. Of all the characters that have been described so far, this was the only character with some sort of prominence to people outside this locality. On the other side of the road is the huge, thick and lush green rubber plantation of Chittady Estate.

Another important character of this geography has already been introduced earlier- The brook. This was the entertainment spot for all the children in the surrounding area. The ways of entertainment varied from fishing to two hour long swims in the afternoon to patented water games which would be unheard of in the outside world. This included kallittankuzhi, vellathil chattam, ‘swimming with changadam’ and scores of others. This brook bordered the backyard of my home. Across the brook was again huge, thick and lush green rubber plantation.Thus this house of blue bricks surrounded by all the above described topography served as a home for me, my brother, my mother and my dad for the first 10 years of my life.

All things- good and bad, great and small will come to an end. Most of the times; they give way to better things. Now, we were moving away from this house-to a portion of another house in the same neighborhood so that this house could be destroyed, demolished and erased out of memory and a new, concrete house with two floors could be built instead at that place. The evening we were to leave from there, there was a frenzy of activity all around. Packing, moving things, disposing of the hens and it went on and on. That was when I tried to retrieve something precious from the bedroom me and my brother shared. There was a poster of two monkeys-mother and kid I got from Balarama which I had pasted on the wall. Carefully, I tried to take it off the wall. It wouldn’t come off. Soon, it was time to leave, impatience overtook carefulness and I tried a little hard. It tore off from the wall. Then I cried, I cried bitterly all the way of the small walk from my home to the temporary abode where I was to live for the next one year or so. I cried for the first time in my life for leaving home.

P.S: There would be many a times in the chronicles of my life (some past and some yet to come) where I would be crying bitterly, at least in my heart, for leaving home.