As i read through Rachit's 'picturesque' memories of Arunachal Pradesh, my own childhood memories in dirty delhi slowly started 'polluting' my head. I have lived in delhi since i was born. Family 'recreational' trips to other places were rare and limited to hill stations. They were more of an 'escape', 'air breather', 'relief' etc for me than the 'recreation'. I remember staying awake the entire nght, in anticipation of the journey. And then cursing myself for thoroughly enjoying the part where we wave goodbye to our house. Such was my desire to leave delhi. There are times when i really wish that dad hadn't left the army and i had been born n brought up in some place as open and beautiful as AP. My memories of the long distant childhood are sparse and foggy. The pollution levels have finally clogged my brain.
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As i walk down, sorry drive down through the various traffic sgnals and traffic jams in my head, to an age when i was 4, i recall a roadside chai walla on the other side of my nursery school wall. The aroma of fresh chai mingling with the characteristic smell of kerosene from the choolah, togethor blending with the smell of a wet wall, gave me a sense of excitement and adventure, a strange connection to nature. I stood there wondering what lies far far beyond the wall. And since then the wall, the chai & the choolah stand for an emotion in my life. Thats what i like to call 'standardisation'.
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My school, the (in)famous dps rkp, was around 2 hrs from my place. I recall the everyday 4 hr journey, for a period of 13years, to and from the school. I remember the school parking lot congested with buses on the banks of a dirty naala. The exhaust of the buses combined with the irritating chit-chatter of the school crowd and the added taste of a mother dairy ice lolly gave me a characterstic splitting head-ache. This happened regularly, and hence i made myself believe that i have migraine. We consulted a neurologist and everything was fine.
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I am 'supposed' to like delhi because i have my home there. Because it has a metro and a Lamborgini Gallardo on display. I am supposed to like Delhi because i have been born and brought up there. Because there is a Dominoes, Pizza hut, Barrista and a hundred other joints like that.
But trust me, i hate crowds. And i still dream of an isolated n open place like pilani.
Am i living my dream right now?
The 'eyes' have t
The 'i' on my keyboard has buckled under the 'too' much stress that t was subjected to. As a result of this it has stopped responding to the light tap of my finger. There can be two very simple logical deductions that can be made from the above given fact. The first being that, 'i' have used the letter 'i' most number of times which further doesn't imply anything. And second, u shall fnd a lot of words with their i's missing. Every time u find a word with a correct 'i', just think about the author who has taken the pain to carefully type it there for you. I now take the liberty to say that 'the i's have it'.
This reminds me of a brilliant Ruskin Bond story named 'The eyes have it'. For all those who haven't read it, its a good read. Go grab it. Its a cute story about two visually impaired people, a male and a female, who meet on a train. They try to carry out an interesting conversation about the weather outsde and the appealing greens without revealing their handicaps. They draw on their experiences descrbing the beauty involved in the world. This is a serious comment on 'seeing', by the author, for those who have a good eyesight either don't have the time or the interest to 'see' the things around them. Eventually its a fellow passenger who breaks the news to the man when the young lady gets down on the station, "She had very beautiful eyes, its a pity she couldn't see."
I don't know about seeing. But i sure can hear a lot of stuff. For one, there s a constant and distant sound that reaches my ears when i'm peacefully sitting in my room. Its a like a tolling bell. A gong being hit at constant intervals. No one else can hear it. It seems that my ears have been equipped with something that lets me hear sounds that are outside the audible frequency range. Lucky me!!
Then there is music that simply puts me in a peaceful trance. When i say music, i mean a partcular selectve song. I close my eyes, raise my hands and hum along. Rgamalika 's Sangamam had a smlar effect on me. The sound of the violin, yesterday penetrated to my interiors and started a virus scan. It was brilliant.
To end the post, here's what i said during my Measurement Techniques viva, "Viscosity is the property of a liquid whch is inherent to that liquid" And i got some marks.
P.S. This post is dedicated to my grand-mom and my casio teacher who tried their level best to put some sense of music into my head for 5 years. But my far from melodious voice was never tailormade for musc. And i ended up leaving it.
This reminds me of a brilliant Ruskin Bond story named 'The eyes have it'. For all those who haven't read it, its a good read. Go grab it. Its a cute story about two visually impaired people, a male and a female, who meet on a train. They try to carry out an interesting conversation about the weather outsde and the appealing greens without revealing their handicaps. They draw on their experiences descrbing the beauty involved in the world. This is a serious comment on 'seeing', by the author, for those who have a good eyesight either don't have the time or the interest to 'see' the things around them. Eventually its a fellow passenger who breaks the news to the man when the young lady gets down on the station, "She had very beautiful eyes, its a pity she couldn't see."
I don't know about seeing. But i sure can hear a lot of stuff. For one, there s a constant and distant sound that reaches my ears when i'm peacefully sitting in my room. Its a like a tolling bell. A gong being hit at constant intervals. No one else can hear it. It seems that my ears have been equipped with something that lets me hear sounds that are outside the audible frequency range. Lucky me!!
Then there is music that simply puts me in a peaceful trance. When i say music, i mean a partcular selectve song. I close my eyes, raise my hands and hum along. Rgamalika 's Sangamam had a smlar effect on me. The sound of the violin, yesterday penetrated to my interiors and started a virus scan. It was brilliant.
To end the post, here's what i said during my Measurement Techniques viva, "Viscosity is the property of a liquid whch is inherent to that liquid" And i got some marks.
P.S. This post is dedicated to my grand-mom and my casio teacher who tried their level best to put some sense of music into my head for 5 years. But my far from melodious voice was never tailormade for musc. And i ended up leaving it.
Lonely day
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
Should be banned
It's a day that I can't stand
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
Shouldn't exist
It's a day that I'll never miss
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
The most loneliest day of my life
And if you go, I wanna go with you
And if you die, I wanna die with you
Take your hand and walk away
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Life
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
It's a day that I'm glad I survived
It's a day that I'm glad I survived
And it's mine
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
Should be banned
It's a day that I can't stand
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Such a lonely day
Shouldn't exist
It's a day that I'll never miss
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
The most loneliest day of my life
And if you go, I wanna go with you
And if you die, I wanna die with you
Take your hand and walk away
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
Life
Such a lonely day
And it's mine
It's a day that I'm glad I survived
It's a day that I'm glad I survived
'Dumb'ies 13.0
Recently, there was a nation-wide hunt for a bunch of smart youngsters. Hero Honda MTV Roadies was back with its new installment Roadies 5.0. It was looking for new bikers. And since it was going international this time, the selection procedure was expected to be tougher and more grilling. Adventurous, intelligent, interesting, confident, talented & physically fit were some of the keywords during the various iterations. After insulting, abusing and using various other demotivating tactics, the executive producer, a guy named Raghu, finally narrowed it down to 13 proud Roadies.
They were all smart chaps. Why wouldn't they be? They all talked about promiscuous and raw sex, Guitars and Booze, Angelina jolie and Leopards, hairstyles and pubs, and various other worldly things in one breath of fluent english. As a matter of fact the show was going international for the first time and each of them had a reputation to live upto. All of them believed in broadening their horizons and looking at things from a global perspective. And thus its quite justified that the following 'insignificant' question received the below mentioned answers
Questions: "Who is the president of India?"
Answers
Smart girl1:APJ
Smart girl2:APJ Kalam
Smart girl3:Sushma
Smart girl4:Manmohan
Why would you like to answer that silly question when you can give a lap dance, indulge in a catfight and/or differentiate between raw and casual sex? Why care. These are times when the f word is a 'satisfactory' answer to almost all questions and a simple finger says more than what is required. Hair-styles, makeups, designer apparel are absolutely necessary ingredients to serve an indian 'dish' to an international audience. And not to forget the icing with the artificial accent. India shining. The world will surely notice.
They were all smart chaps. Why wouldn't they be? They all talked about promiscuous and raw sex, Guitars and Booze, Angelina jolie and Leopards, hairstyles and pubs, and various other worldly things in one breath of fluent english. As a matter of fact the show was going international for the first time and each of them had a reputation to live upto. All of them believed in broadening their horizons and looking at things from a global perspective. And thus its quite justified that the following 'insignificant' question received the below mentioned answers
Questions: "Who is the president of India?"
Answers
Smart girl1:APJ
Smart girl2:APJ Kalam
Smart girl3:Sushma
Smart girl4:Manmohan
Why would you like to answer that silly question when you can give a lap dance, indulge in a catfight and/or differentiate between raw and casual sex? Why care. These are times when the f word is a 'satisfactory' answer to almost all questions and a simple finger says more than what is required. Hair-styles, makeups, designer apparel are absolutely necessary ingredients to serve an indian 'dish' to an international audience. And not to forget the icing with the artificial accent. India shining. The world will surely notice.
The Cynical Contrarian
I supported Djokovic when he played Federer. Never wanted Schumacher to win any race. Heikennen, Alonso, Barrichello were always my pick. For me, Tendulkar never plays well under crunch situations. Ambani was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. And then the guys with extra high cgpa's should take a break and let the fives get a chance.
Everybody identifies with the underdog as it is the projection of their own struggle. But once that underdog succeeds and makes winning a habit then the masses negate him because they are unable to come to terms of their own limitatons.It just illustrates that excellence is an individuals quest whereas mediocrity is a collective refuge- Harsha Nagaraju ( MY TIMES, MY VOICE )
It surely makes sense and answers a lot of questions. One of them being, 'Why we hate winners so much'.
With the premature demise of Benazir Bhutto, another question, fogs the atmosphere, 'Why do we love the dead so much'.
The woman in question here, was no doubt a great person, but wasn't she the one who was charged of corruption twice during her tenure? She was also one of the greatest supporters of cross border terrorism, which has resulted in so much chaos in the valley. (This claim is a shot in the dark, but i think it'll hit the target) Then there was JFK who was believed to be behind the death of Marilyn Monroe and princess Diana with her infamous affairs. Both were immediately made 'gods' after their deaths. Their sins were shadowed and a pure white image emerged. My only question here is why idolize 'humans'. Lets just cry a little, remember them with their sins and move on. Are we so scared of their ghosts? Or is there a slight hope in us which believes that if not in life we would (like them) probably be celebrated in our death. In fact, we do the tears & flowers on funerals so that others reciprocate the gesture at our end. We want others to forget our sins and say ' He was a good man'. Thus every tear that we cry for a Benazir Bhutto has a malicious intention behind it. We surely are a 'selfish' lot.
Everybody identifies with the underdog as it is the projection of their own struggle. But once that underdog succeeds and makes winning a habit then the masses negate him because they are unable to come to terms of their own limitatons.It just illustrates that excellence is an individuals quest whereas mediocrity is a collective refuge- Harsha Nagaraju ( MY TIMES, MY VOICE )
It surely makes sense and answers a lot of questions. One of them being, 'Why we hate winners so much'.
With the premature demise of Benazir Bhutto, another question, fogs the atmosphere, 'Why do we love the dead so much'.
The woman in question here, was no doubt a great person, but wasn't she the one who was charged of corruption twice during her tenure? She was also one of the greatest supporters of cross border terrorism, which has resulted in so much chaos in the valley. (This claim is a shot in the dark, but i think it'll hit the target) Then there was JFK who was believed to be behind the death of Marilyn Monroe and princess Diana with her infamous affairs. Both were immediately made 'gods' after their deaths. Their sins were shadowed and a pure white image emerged. My only question here is why idolize 'humans'. Lets just cry a little, remember them with their sins and move on. Are we so scared of their ghosts? Or is there a slight hope in us which believes that if not in life we would (like them) probably be celebrated in our death. In fact, we do the tears & flowers on funerals so that others reciprocate the gesture at our end. We want others to forget our sins and say ' He was a good man'. Thus every tear that we cry for a Benazir Bhutto has a malicious intention behind it. We surely are a 'selfish' lot.
Panic Times
I got 'psyched'. Then I got more 'psyched' and finally i got so 'psyched' that I had to come up with some explanation or the other. Lame might be the first word that comes to your mind after you read it. But then its the best. Herez why i went 'highly' crazy 'THAT' morning.
- Well, for starters i found a place higher than the Mt. Abu that Mr. Sriram V and Ms. Shravya Reddy had told me about.
- Then i was in one of those situations, where u lose complete control of everything thats happening around you. (Normally i have a hand in everything thats going around in my external 'environment' or so i believe. All ups & downs are satisfactorily answered by a single statement which says "Because I wanted it to happen (full stop)")
- Thus the very characteristic (i.e. the ability to stay in control of a situation or simply acting to be in control of one) that form the foundation of 'Me' was shaken and hence i panicked.
Next came the control measures:
- A refreshing bath which predominantly meant pouring ice 'cold' water on my head. It helped with the blood flow.
- A series of resolutions that had the following set of words POM, ApT, TP, Sponz, Early Sleep, NFS, Milk, LOTR, Constructive work etc etc.
- A thoughtful walk towards the institute atleast an hour before the targetted class. It was an achievement, that walk.
- An attempt to sit in the library so as to calmly implement the 'DO NOT PANIC' advised by the senses.
And finally it took a good night's sleep to forget everything that happened on Tuesday. With it disapeared the resolutions and the panic. There were only two words that stuck on, and they said 'NEVER AGAIN'.
'Adventure goes awry'
We were three of us. We had planned an 'unplanned' journey, like the ones you see in movies. A simple bag, a wrist watch, a camera for the unexpected moments, some cash and an adventurous soul. A road trip. I dont remember too many details as it seems like ages ago. But i remember the number of 'that' last bus, 3975. It stopped at one of the villages. And all of a sudden we decided to get down. Like all decisions on this journey, this was as impulsive.
I close my eyes in an attempt to push back the brain barriers but i just remember the helplessness. The memory is still quite foggy.
I got down from the bus expecting a new adventure and i heard sounds of bullets from a machine gun. Not bad for a village adventure i thought. I dont remember the source. Nor do i remember what happened to the other two with me. I ran. But the pellets caught up and slowly started piercing my back. One by one they entered my body as i fell flat on myface. I felt helpless. I dont remember the pain but the " I dont want to die right now" attached to it comes back quite distinctly to my mind.
I wasn't even out of my dream when 'Adventure goes awry' struck like lightening. I shouted 'Eureka' as it was the perfect Title for my next post. Whats with the craze of blogging, i ask myself. I go through each day searching for something substantial to write about but the helplessness comes back to me. "I don't want to die right now i still have loads to write about".
I close my eyes in an attempt to push back the brain barriers but i just remember the helplessness. The memory is still quite foggy.
I got down from the bus expecting a new adventure and i heard sounds of bullets from a machine gun. Not bad for a village adventure i thought. I dont remember the source. Nor do i remember what happened to the other two with me. I ran. But the pellets caught up and slowly started piercing my back. One by one they entered my body as i fell flat on myface. I felt helpless. I dont remember the pain but the " I dont want to die right now" attached to it comes back quite distinctly to my mind.
I wasn't even out of my dream when 'Adventure goes awry' struck like lightening. I shouted 'Eureka' as it was the perfect Title for my next post. Whats with the craze of blogging, i ask myself. I go through each day searching for something substantial to write about but the helplessness comes back to me. "I don't want to die right now i still have loads to write about".
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