Photo Courtesy: Swati Pathak, 24th Nov'2007 at Agram army camp
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
Irony of the day
There I am, thinking about my life, in general.
And then, coincidentally, I get this sms:
Everyone starts out with a full bag of luck and an empty bag of experience.
The trick is to fill the bag of experience before the luck runs out!
I guess that was just God's way of smiling at me...
And then, coincidentally, I get this sms:
Everyone starts out with a full bag of luck and an empty bag of experience.
The trick is to fill the bag of experience before the luck runs out!
I guess that was just God's way of smiling at me...
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Jan 25-28 1988
A set of hot, spicy Ambodes sold on the footpath made way to my home, courtesy dad, packed in a piece of paper. Although there was nothing to take away from the Ambodes themselves, the piece of paper was far more interesting.
It seemed to belong to a teenaged gal’s diary dated Jan 25-28 1988. The handwriting was beautiful and legible although the grammar was as expected from any teenaged student. The 2 pages were more engrossing than anything I had ever read recently.
It talked of the previous day’s test, current day’s exam and the next day’s apprehension. It spoke of a girl’s fluttering feelings for her boyfriend in the class who hadn’t mysteriously come to school.
It spoke of the Republic Day celebrations and the associated march-past and exercise drills. It spoke of her embarrassing monthly problem and the dreaded white skirt. It spoke of how she was trying to see her boyfriend desperately in the huge group of boys.
When the space for the current day got over, she spilled over the next day’s section and negotiated by writing in a smaller font. The Republic Day holiday section came as a relief for there was nothing much to write. But a one-liner as to how well she studied for the next day.
It then talks about how well she had done her test, but yet depending on her fate for teacher giving good marks. It confesses about her talking bad about her friend’s boyfriend. And the retaliated outburst from her friend to her own boyfriend stating ‘he will get blood cancer, lung cancer, TB, etc’ which makes her worry because her own boyfriend is not in school today too.
It spoke about how she hadn’t spoken to one of her friends for the last 2 weeks and suddenly spoke to her today because it was her birthday. And how nice she felt when her birthday gift was appreciated by all. Followed by the treat to which the birthday gal’s boyfriend didn’t come.
It spoke about how she suddenly felt the closeness with the birthday gal friend. It observed the subtleness as to how the birthday gal’s boyfriend suddenly was sitting far away in the classroom from her and was flirting with ‘that beautiful fatso,’ how desperately the birthday gal was trying to attract attention, laughing at his jokes, etc, and yet the guy kept looking at the fatso.
And there it ended. Just 4 days in 2 pages with so much spice, and the whole gamut of teenage emotions, written in that beautiful school language, shifting from one topic to another, from one friend to another, in back-to-back sentences, complete from being studious, to fearing teenaged embarrassment, to secret pleasure of having a boyfriend, to making opinions about other girls’ boyfriends! Reminded me a little of The Diary of Anne Frank.
But there was one other observation in this single sheet of paper. Wherever she has spoken of her boyfriend and used the words “He”, she has smudged it to a “She” so as to give the impression that she was talking about just another girl, just in case someone happened to read her diary. But this sham is so amateurish that the smudging is done in a completely different pen and also, in a single sentence, some of the “He”s are not even smudged! But this innocent cover-up and mistake added even more charm to the whole thing.
Its a fascinating thought that something like this happened in 1988 and I came to read about it almost 20 years later, of someone whom I do not, nor will I ever know. Although the names of the friends, boyfriends are mentioned, the diary owner's name isnt mentioned anywhere, unlike Anne Frank's.
Overall, an enthralling read, and brought back memories of ‘those good old days’ of both being in school, and writing diaries!
It seemed to belong to a teenaged gal’s diary dated Jan 25-28 1988. The handwriting was beautiful and legible although the grammar was as expected from any teenaged student. The 2 pages were more engrossing than anything I had ever read recently.
It talked of the previous day’s test, current day’s exam and the next day’s apprehension. It spoke of a girl’s fluttering feelings for her boyfriend in the class who hadn’t mysteriously come to school.
It spoke of the Republic Day celebrations and the associated march-past and exercise drills. It spoke of her embarrassing monthly problem and the dreaded white skirt. It spoke of how she was trying to see her boyfriend desperately in the huge group of boys.
When the space for the current day got over, she spilled over the next day’s section and negotiated by writing in a smaller font. The Republic Day holiday section came as a relief for there was nothing much to write. But a one-liner as to how well she studied for the next day.
It then talks about how well she had done her test, but yet depending on her fate for teacher giving good marks. It confesses about her talking bad about her friend’s boyfriend. And the retaliated outburst from her friend to her own boyfriend stating ‘he will get blood cancer, lung cancer, TB, etc’ which makes her worry because her own boyfriend is not in school today too.
It spoke about how she hadn’t spoken to one of her friends for the last 2 weeks and suddenly spoke to her today because it was her birthday. And how nice she felt when her birthday gift was appreciated by all. Followed by the treat to which the birthday gal’s boyfriend didn’t come.
It spoke about how she suddenly felt the closeness with the birthday gal friend. It observed the subtleness as to how the birthday gal’s boyfriend suddenly was sitting far away in the classroom from her and was flirting with ‘that beautiful fatso,’ how desperately the birthday gal was trying to attract attention, laughing at his jokes, etc, and yet the guy kept looking at the fatso.
And there it ended. Just 4 days in 2 pages with so much spice, and the whole gamut of teenage emotions, written in that beautiful school language, shifting from one topic to another, from one friend to another, in back-to-back sentences, complete from being studious, to fearing teenaged embarrassment, to secret pleasure of having a boyfriend, to making opinions about other girls’ boyfriends! Reminded me a little of The Diary of Anne Frank.
But there was one other observation in this single sheet of paper. Wherever she has spoken of her boyfriend and used the words “He”, she has smudged it to a “She” so as to give the impression that she was talking about just another girl, just in case someone happened to read her diary. But this sham is so amateurish that the smudging is done in a completely different pen and also, in a single sentence, some of the “He”s are not even smudged! But this innocent cover-up and mistake added even more charm to the whole thing.
Its a fascinating thought that something like this happened in 1988 and I came to read about it almost 20 years later, of someone whom I do not, nor will I ever know. Although the names of the friends, boyfriends are mentioned, the diary owner's name isnt mentioned anywhere, unlike Anne Frank's.
Overall, an enthralling read, and brought back memories of ‘those good old days’ of both being in school, and writing diaries!
Monday, November 26, 2007
A perfect weekend
This Friday...
…It being Thanksgiving Day at onsite, comparatively less work at offshore. Fridays generally have a festive mood, and today it was even more so, due to the plans for the evening.
…Om Shanti Om at PVR. The latest SRK hit. It was an enjoyable movie, and with the right crowd, its really fun. Had a great time! Also, it was my first time at PVR, after a long wait!
This Saturday…
…Vocal class after a very long time, thanks to my sore throat and cough.
…Domestic chores and relaxation with intermittent Indo-Pak cricket First Test updates. Indians always seemed on top!
...Speaking of Indians, saw a nice movie called World's Fastest Indian.
…A wonderful Carnatic vocal concert at Gayana Samaja by TN Seshagopalan.
...Chatted with a number of friends on a variety of interesting topics:
a) Shared a few laughs with Ashwini on 'I-spy' (commonly mistaken for ice-spice) and her new list of goof-ups!
b) Plan A (new company after MBA) and Plan B (Infy after MBA) conversation with Preetham!
c) Marriage, and its intricacies, pros and cons, with Mayur.
d) With the Rich Woman about Andrea!
e) Status update with Harini!
f) 'This is who I am', with Rashmi!
g) US and its likes, dislikes, with Achala.
Of course, a chat always makes life interesting!
This Sunday…
…Nothing can compare to a game of shuttle early morning. November’s chill and clear blue sky added that much more to the beauty of the game.
…A long ride in the Kine to KR Puram in the hope of doing something for the world to combat the global warming. This makes another interesting read on GW. Volunteered to plant some saplings which will grow into fine trees and hopefully save lives in future. Doing good never fails to bring happiness.
…Kadari Gopalnath’s Saxophone concert in Gayana Samaja, accompanied by excellent artistes like Kanyakumari on Violin, Amruth on Khanjira, Hari Kumar on Mridanga and Rajashekhar on Morching. The tempo and pace was unheard of and unbelievable and spectacular.
...The Pink Panther does, as always, a hilarious justice to Inspector Clouseau.
All in all, I cannot ask for a better weekend. Less work at office, nice movies, my vocal practice, Indo-Pak cricket match that always somehow tilted favorably, experts’ classical concerts, great chat conversations, a beautiful outdoor game and a gratifying task of planting trees, with the only regret being I couldn’t practice Violin!
Well, I was reminded of this, and I am hoping for more such weekends!
…It being Thanksgiving Day at onsite, comparatively less work at offshore. Fridays generally have a festive mood, and today it was even more so, due to the plans for the evening.
…Om Shanti Om at PVR. The latest SRK hit. It was an enjoyable movie, and with the right crowd, its really fun. Had a great time! Also, it was my first time at PVR, after a long wait!
This Saturday…
…Vocal class after a very long time, thanks to my sore throat and cough.
…Domestic chores and relaxation with intermittent Indo-Pak cricket First Test updates. Indians always seemed on top!
...Speaking of Indians, saw a nice movie called World's Fastest Indian.
…A wonderful Carnatic vocal concert at Gayana Samaja by TN Seshagopalan.
...Chatted with a number of friends on a variety of interesting topics:
a) Shared a few laughs with Ashwini on 'I-spy' (commonly mistaken for ice-spice) and her new list of goof-ups!
b) Plan A (new company after MBA) and Plan B (Infy after MBA) conversation with Preetham!
c) Marriage, and its intricacies, pros and cons, with Mayur.
d) With the Rich Woman about Andrea!
e) Status update with Harini!
f) 'This is who I am', with Rashmi!
g) US and its likes, dislikes, with Achala.
Of course, a chat always makes life interesting!
This Sunday…
…Nothing can compare to a game of shuttle early morning. November’s chill and clear blue sky added that much more to the beauty of the game.
…A long ride in the Kine to KR Puram in the hope of doing something for the world to combat the global warming. This makes another interesting read on GW. Volunteered to plant some saplings which will grow into fine trees and hopefully save lives in future. Doing good never fails to bring happiness.
…Kadari Gopalnath’s Saxophone concert in Gayana Samaja, accompanied by excellent artistes like Kanyakumari on Violin, Amruth on Khanjira, Hari Kumar on Mridanga and Rajashekhar on Morching. The tempo and pace was unheard of and unbelievable and spectacular.
...The Pink Panther does, as always, a hilarious justice to Inspector Clouseau.
All in all, I cannot ask for a better weekend. Less work at office, nice movies, my vocal practice, Indo-Pak cricket match that always somehow tilted favorably, experts’ classical concerts, great chat conversations, a beautiful outdoor game and a gratifying task of planting trees, with the only regret being I couldn’t practice Violin!
Well, I was reminded of this, and I am hoping for more such weekends!
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Happy!
Sweetness in the air
Zephyr in the winds
Blueness in the sky
Freshness of the dew
Chirpiness of the birds
Liveliness of the kid
Smile on the lips
Spright in the gait
Lightness of the heart
Fullness of life
Zephyr in the winds
Blueness in the sky
Freshness of the dew
Chirpiness of the birds
Liveliness of the kid
Smile on the lips
Spright in the gait
Lightness of the heart
Fullness of life
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Happy Diwali!
Thanks to Diwali, it seems more than half of Bangalore is empty.
Compared to this, it took just 25 minutes to office and 25 mintues back to home today.
As Times Of India rightly said, we are not stuck in a traffic jam. We are the traffic jam...
Anyway, Happy Diwali...!
Compared to this, it took just 25 minutes to office and 25 mintues back to home today.
As Times Of India rightly said, we are not stuck in a traffic jam. We are the traffic jam...
Anyway, Happy Diwali...!
Friday, November 02, 2007
Life is a show
It is but a known fact, and an old phrase, that “this world is a stage and we, the people, are the actors”. While, to an extent, we might be construed somewhat as “puppets on chains”, it still remains true enough that puppets are indeed the main heroes of the show.
To be more metaphorically specific, we are all in this frenzy real-time show that’s occurring as I write this. Each one is playing his part, some to perfection, and some trying to excel, some falter midway, some are just there, as “supporting actors”.
Beginning from our birth, to our first steps, to our first words, to our first two-word sentences, every action is worthy of an applause and a reason to smile. So, while the kids dumbly watch with the expression of “what’s-going-on”, people around are actually all smiles and clapping about on the minute yet significant development!
In schools, we are constantly examined, graded in areas like academics, sports, skills, and, although, each has his own caliber, it is true that each has his own unique niche. And then, from Undergrad to Grad to Bachelors, as each progress in his own domain, the show gets stronger and stronger, with the audience praising one’s “upcoming-in-life”.
And then, some get into respectable professions, some carry on the academic pursuit and do their Masters, PhDs, MBAs, and once done, join even more awing jobs. So, for an imaginary audience, in fact, each one, in his own way, is putting up a brilliant laudable show!
It doesn’t stop there. On the personal front, people get married, and have kids. Job, which was number one priority for last half a decade suddenly, takes a back seat. The lovely kid cuddling in the arm is far more precious than anything ever construed till date! One gets to hear ‘Congratulations’ everywhere. Its “happy time” again, and all smiles around! In effect, it’s actually a “nice show” that we are putting up!
The phase and cycle takes a twist now. While as a parent, it is not just about sustenance of the family that counts, it’s more importantly, the upbringing of the child and making the child competent amongst its peers. When the kid stands on the stage of an auditorium jam packed with audience, and enacts a drama, full of innocent flaws, the parent cannot help but laugh. But when the same audience gives a rupturing ovation, the parent is flooded with pride!
And thus, it goes on and on. Men have come and men have gone, and men will keep coming and keep going, but the show goes on forever! Without actually knowing, we are all, in our own way, creating history, making positive strides towards a life in which we are actually successful, and a life, for which, many others are happy for us, and are internally applauding. For, it is a show that we are in, and making it a grand success!
However, all good things have to come to an end and so does the “time” for each one of us on the “stage.” But, as they say, “the show must go on.”
So, as long as we are on stage, we must always remember that there is an invisible audience watching us and wanting us to make them happy! Of course, we all love Truman, don’t we? So, let’s make the show a huge success, and while we are at it, let’s have a rollicking time!!
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body all worn and used, screaming “Whoo hooo what a ride!" - Lynds
To be more metaphorically specific, we are all in this frenzy real-time show that’s occurring as I write this. Each one is playing his part, some to perfection, and some trying to excel, some falter midway, some are just there, as “supporting actors”.
Beginning from our birth, to our first steps, to our first words, to our first two-word sentences, every action is worthy of an applause and a reason to smile. So, while the kids dumbly watch with the expression of “what’s-going-on”, people around are actually all smiles and clapping about on the minute yet significant development!
In schools, we are constantly examined, graded in areas like academics, sports, skills, and, although, each has his own caliber, it is true that each has his own unique niche. And then, from Undergrad to Grad to Bachelors, as each progress in his own domain, the show gets stronger and stronger, with the audience praising one’s “upcoming-in-life”.
And then, some get into respectable professions, some carry on the academic pursuit and do their Masters, PhDs, MBAs, and once done, join even more awing jobs. So, for an imaginary audience, in fact, each one, in his own way, is putting up a brilliant laudable show!
It doesn’t stop there. On the personal front, people get married, and have kids. Job, which was number one priority for last half a decade suddenly, takes a back seat. The lovely kid cuddling in the arm is far more precious than anything ever construed till date! One gets to hear ‘Congratulations’ everywhere. Its “happy time” again, and all smiles around! In effect, it’s actually a “nice show” that we are putting up!
The phase and cycle takes a twist now. While as a parent, it is not just about sustenance of the family that counts, it’s more importantly, the upbringing of the child and making the child competent amongst its peers. When the kid stands on the stage of an auditorium jam packed with audience, and enacts a drama, full of innocent flaws, the parent cannot help but laugh. But when the same audience gives a rupturing ovation, the parent is flooded with pride!
And thus, it goes on and on. Men have come and men have gone, and men will keep coming and keep going, but the show goes on forever! Without actually knowing, we are all, in our own way, creating history, making positive strides towards a life in which we are actually successful, and a life, for which, many others are happy for us, and are internally applauding. For, it is a show that we are in, and making it a grand success!
However, all good things have to come to an end and so does the “time” for each one of us on the “stage.” But, as they say, “the show must go on.”
So, as long as we are on stage, we must always remember that there is an invisible audience watching us and wanting us to make them happy! Of course, we all love Truman, don’t we? So, let’s make the show a huge success, and while we are at it, let’s have a rollicking time!!
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body all worn and used, screaming “Whoo hooo what a ride!" - Lynds
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Thursday
Thursday, for me, like for most others, is synonymous to the ‘Raghavendra Swamy’ day. It is said that Raghavendra Swamy, one of the most popular saints in 17th century, with main Brindavan in Manthralaya, entered the Brindavan on a Thursday, and thereon, Thursdays are said to be good days. A day, for me, of visiting the Mutt, if in vicinity.
It’s funny how it began in the first place. Being like most others, I truly believed, and still do, in fact, that one’s interpretation of the Supreme is in one’s mind. With God well and truly within one’s own mind, there really is no need to visit places of religious faith and worship, like temples or Mutts. But there occurred a small yet significant incident in my life which revolutionized my Thursdays.
It was a time when I was in my teens. I was suffering from an illness for quite some time. I used to suffer continuously on and off and no medication seemed to immunize me. My body, in a way, had become extremely sensitive. It was on one such occasion that my mom, exasperated about my health, remarked on one fine Thursday that I should visit the Mutt (which happens to be in the vicinity of my house) every Thursday, like how she does. I dismissed the remark and waved the suggestion away. Told her, God is in one’s mind. It’s not really necessary to visit temple to pray and thank the Lord.
Back then, (sometimes even now, in fact) if I was stuck in a tough spot, and wanted to choose something, I would ask Him, and I expected Him to reply in a way I chose. Like for instance, if I had a choice between A and B, I would associate a current event’s outcome to either A or B, and thus, obtained His response to my quandary. So, when my mom told me about visiting the Mutt every Thursday, it left me in a dilemma. So I had a personal conversation with Him in my own way and asked Him if he really wanted me to visit Him every week. And since, there was India v Sri Lanka ODI series cricket match going on, I associated His response as No if India won the series and Yes if India didn’t. India lost. Hence, I started going to the Raghavendraswamy Mutt every Thursday from thereon!
Although, initially, I used to go more for the sake of it than anything else, it gradually grew onto me, and now I am in a state in which, just like how some look forward to Friday night boozing, I look forward to Thursday morning Mutt visit! The visit to the Mutt brings unto me a serenity and peacefulness and calmness, as if someone putting a Healing Hand on my head. It’s really got nothing specifically with any one God or Saint, but it is more of a weekly status update (and off-loading of heaviest burdens!) with the Creator, and his Healing companionship! I do not stay there for long, it might just be about for about 10-20 minutes and in that span of time, I feel refreshed, rejuvenated and rekindled!
Due to office constraints, the coming-home-time becoming unpredictable, I made it a habit to visit the Mutt early in the morning before heading off to office. At 7 am, the Mutt is pretty much empty. The priest is washing the idol (It somehow gives this metaphorical feeling that everything that is bad is being washed away). The old flowers are being removed, and new ones being put. The decoration invariably is always innovative. The place is clean and tidy. And quiet, the quintessential part of feeling one with Him. There is a low hum of a religious chant which enchants me during the pradikshanas after the theerth and manthrakshath, followed by the genuflections reflecting life’s push-ups, of the effort needed by Man to survive and excel. There is a beautiful smiling photo of the Swamy in front of whom one can sit and enter the realm of the Universe where the land is peaceful and white and above the clouds, filled with utmost silence yet an atmosphere of joviality and frolic, of kids playing around merrily, of innocence flowing from everywhere, of a place where there is no ill-will or negativity. In that state of meditation, it is almost as if you are one with the Universe, and somehow, automatically, you will be left with a smile on your lips!
At times, I am forced to visit in the evening. Although the serenity of the early morning is lost in the evening crowd’s hustle-bustle, the evening has its own charm. The Mutt will be brightly lit. The crowd adds to the geniality of the situation. The instrumentalists add festivity to the day. The standard chanting of the slokas. The idol being taken around the sanctum sanctorum for three times. The idol being kept on the swing, juxtaposed with the singing of my favorite ‘Thoogire Rayara, Thoogire Gurugala…’ And the Aarthis, one after the other, done by the priest in a devout and disciplined manner, replete with respect, amidst the resounding and reverberating bells. It is almost as if one is purified just by one’s presence, in mind and thought! I then proffer a small offering to the Hundi with traditional saying of ‘Kereya neeranu kerege challi…’ The same goodbye of ‘See you, same time, same place, same day, next week’, sometimes added with ‘At least, at a more appropriate time’ if something is amiss! And another small offering to my ‘friend’ on the streets watching my slippers! That ends the Thursday routine!
I missed it as long as I was in US, but a time has come now wherein I just cannot miss the visit if I am in hometown. Whether it is raining, or I am swamped with work. Come to think of it, even if it is my own brother’s wedding! If I happen to come home at 10 pm, dead exhausted, and it is raining, my mom, who was the main driver behind this whole thing, forbids me to go, but I wouldn’t dream of missing.
I still suffer some illness or the other on and off. My body is still sensitive. I still feel there is no real need to visit temples or Mutts because one’s interpretation of God or of Supreme or of Creator is in one’s own mind and subject to individualistic opinion and views. However, for me, Thursdays have added charm and purity to life. Something, I very much to look forward to, every week…
It’s funny how it began in the first place. Being like most others, I truly believed, and still do, in fact, that one’s interpretation of the Supreme is in one’s mind. With God well and truly within one’s own mind, there really is no need to visit places of religious faith and worship, like temples or Mutts. But there occurred a small yet significant incident in my life which revolutionized my Thursdays.
It was a time when I was in my teens. I was suffering from an illness for quite some time. I used to suffer continuously on and off and no medication seemed to immunize me. My body, in a way, had become extremely sensitive. It was on one such occasion that my mom, exasperated about my health, remarked on one fine Thursday that I should visit the Mutt (which happens to be in the vicinity of my house) every Thursday, like how she does. I dismissed the remark and waved the suggestion away. Told her, God is in one’s mind. It’s not really necessary to visit temple to pray and thank the Lord.
Back then, (sometimes even now, in fact) if I was stuck in a tough spot, and wanted to choose something, I would ask Him, and I expected Him to reply in a way I chose. Like for instance, if I had a choice between A and B, I would associate a current event’s outcome to either A or B, and thus, obtained His response to my quandary. So, when my mom told me about visiting the Mutt every Thursday, it left me in a dilemma. So I had a personal conversation with Him in my own way and asked Him if he really wanted me to visit Him every week. And since, there was India v Sri Lanka ODI series cricket match going on, I associated His response as No if India won the series and Yes if India didn’t. India lost. Hence, I started going to the Raghavendraswamy Mutt every Thursday from thereon!
Although, initially, I used to go more for the sake of it than anything else, it gradually grew onto me, and now I am in a state in which, just like how some look forward to Friday night boozing, I look forward to Thursday morning Mutt visit! The visit to the Mutt brings unto me a serenity and peacefulness and calmness, as if someone putting a Healing Hand on my head. It’s really got nothing specifically with any one God or Saint, but it is more of a weekly status update (and off-loading of heaviest burdens!) with the Creator, and his Healing companionship! I do not stay there for long, it might just be about for about 10-20 minutes and in that span of time, I feel refreshed, rejuvenated and rekindled!
Due to office constraints, the coming-home-time becoming unpredictable, I made it a habit to visit the Mutt early in the morning before heading off to office. At 7 am, the Mutt is pretty much empty. The priest is washing the idol (It somehow gives this metaphorical feeling that everything that is bad is being washed away). The old flowers are being removed, and new ones being put. The decoration invariably is always innovative. The place is clean and tidy. And quiet, the quintessential part of feeling one with Him. There is a low hum of a religious chant which enchants me during the pradikshanas after the theerth and manthrakshath, followed by the genuflections reflecting life’s push-ups, of the effort needed by Man to survive and excel. There is a beautiful smiling photo of the Swamy in front of whom one can sit and enter the realm of the Universe where the land is peaceful and white and above the clouds, filled with utmost silence yet an atmosphere of joviality and frolic, of kids playing around merrily, of innocence flowing from everywhere, of a place where there is no ill-will or negativity. In that state of meditation, it is almost as if you are one with the Universe, and somehow, automatically, you will be left with a smile on your lips!
At times, I am forced to visit in the evening. Although the serenity of the early morning is lost in the evening crowd’s hustle-bustle, the evening has its own charm. The Mutt will be brightly lit. The crowd adds to the geniality of the situation. The instrumentalists add festivity to the day. The standard chanting of the slokas. The idol being taken around the sanctum sanctorum for three times. The idol being kept on the swing, juxtaposed with the singing of my favorite ‘Thoogire Rayara, Thoogire Gurugala…’ And the Aarthis, one after the other, done by the priest in a devout and disciplined manner, replete with respect, amidst the resounding and reverberating bells. It is almost as if one is purified just by one’s presence, in mind and thought! I then proffer a small offering to the Hundi with traditional saying of ‘Kereya neeranu kerege challi…’ The same goodbye of ‘See you, same time, same place, same day, next week’, sometimes added with ‘At least, at a more appropriate time’ if something is amiss! And another small offering to my ‘friend’ on the streets watching my slippers! That ends the Thursday routine!
I missed it as long as I was in US, but a time has come now wherein I just cannot miss the visit if I am in hometown. Whether it is raining, or I am swamped with work. Come to think of it, even if it is my own brother’s wedding! If I happen to come home at 10 pm, dead exhausted, and it is raining, my mom, who was the main driver behind this whole thing, forbids me to go, but I wouldn’t dream of missing.
I still suffer some illness or the other on and off. My body is still sensitive. I still feel there is no real need to visit temples or Mutts because one’s interpretation of God or of Supreme or of Creator is in one’s own mind and subject to individualistic opinion and views. However, for me, Thursdays have added charm and purity to life. Something, I very much to look forward to, every week…
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Write-up published!
There were a lot of edits and lot of cuts and lot of additions and sentence modifications...
Yet, felt nice when what I had written about the project's 5 year completion came up on the Infosys' intranet home page...
Yet, felt nice when what I had written about the project's 5 year completion came up on the Infosys' intranet home page...
Hail India!
India is known for its culture and traditions. While the same culture and traditions have rather taken a back seat in India itself, it is a pleasure to see the big strides Indian culture is growing in other parts of the world, thanks to the young Indians spread all over. Every other day, I get a mail about some of my friends participating in a religious celebration in the respective place one is staying, be it Sweden, be it Switzerland, Australia, UK or US, even though they would not have done anything when they were in India!
Chanting of Vishnusahasranama, Yoga, Ganapathi celebrations, Diwali fire crackers, Independence day, Navarathri Garba, classical music renditions is all done more religiously in US than in India with more participation!
While, India is getting more and more Westernised, West is getting more and more Easternised! A cultural balance, huh?!
Chanting of Vishnusahasranama, Yoga, Ganapathi celebrations, Diwali fire crackers, Independence day, Navarathri Garba, classical music renditions is all done more religiously in US than in India with more participation!
While, India is getting more and more Westernised, West is getting more and more Easternised! A cultural balance, huh?!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Saying of the day
"You are leading a perfectly normal life.....and that is exactly what I do not want to do."
Amen.
Amen.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
"I miss you"
Lets face it. I knew many friends who happened to be of the opposite gender as mine. And many of those many, have tied the sacred knot. And once such a thing happens, its like a spinner coming onto the crease instead of a paceman, with whom you were used to. Hence, there is a paradigm shift. One needs to change one's stance, one needs to stand within the crease because the wicket-keeper has come up, and you need to re-focus and see how the ball is turning.
In other words, the whole relationship takes a new course. It need not necessarily stop altogether, yet there is a subtle change. And with this change, comes the nostalgia of the good old days, and the immense fun experienced during the yesteryears when a friend was just a friend instead of someone else's wife. And, when a friend is someone else's wife, it is indeed inappropriate to say 'I miss you,' although you indeed feel it.
Well, suffice it to say that when they read this post, they will know that it is meant for them. Every one of them. For old times' sake.
In other words, the whole relationship takes a new course. It need not necessarily stop altogether, yet there is a subtle change. And with this change, comes the nostalgia of the good old days, and the immense fun experienced during the yesteryears when a friend was just a friend instead of someone else's wife. And, when a friend is someone else's wife, it is indeed inappropriate to say 'I miss you,' although you indeed feel it.
Well, suffice it to say that when they read this post, they will know that it is meant for them. Every one of them. For old times' sake.
Walked the walk!
Five years of completion in the project. 
Almost five years of completion in the company.
Almost five years of completion in the company.
The day when we all had awesome fun!
And, of course, the day when I 'walked the walk' for the first time in my life!!
PS: The person with me is Roopa Pai. Event occurred on Oct 11 2007.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
The Perfect Words
Me and my colleague had just completed a telecon with clients. It was a complicated discussion and seemed to have led nowhere. Plus, some of our questions remained unanswered. But due to time limitation, they had to wind up the meeting. I informed my colleague that we needed to pen down the summary of our understanding (not the minutes, because we were not the meeting organizers nor were we scribes) and highlight the open items in a mail and send it across.
I opened up a blank Outlook mail and started typing. I kept it short and sweet, moved some sentences here and there, edited a few words after review and the mail was ready. It had taken me about 5 minutes to compose the mail, with all the intricate details subtly put and ensuring a speedy response. I looked at my colleague and asked if it was fine, before I could hit the 'Send' button.
My colleague was gaping at me. He said, "I could never have written it so well. How could you manage that?" I felt happily embarrassed. Well, I waved it away as if it was nothing.
Couple of times, my manager comes to me for a write-up on something that he needs, and I will be more than happy to oblige. Of course, if I feel for the topic, there will not be a single review comment. But if I do not like what I am writing, the whole thing ends up in a 'recycle-paper' bin!
But it doesnt mean that I want to be a journalist. Nor do I think I can be a novelist. But I like writing and writing well! Although, I sucked in Verbal section of the GRE. I scored an abysmal 380 out of 800! Yet to come to terms with that!
Not that I am the greatest. When I read some of the blogs, I will be stunned at how well people write, how they play about with the language, the story, the humour and the subtlety. I really feel then that I am no match.
Nor is it that I have a clear cut clarity of thought. I am utterly hopeless when it comes to perspicuous oration. I stutter and stammer, and mix words, tenses, sentences, falter, pick up and, at the end, I am better off being silent. But give me a nice topic and give me a piece of paper and its all glory for me!
To this day, I feel good about what I wrote (impromptu, and with no correction), an essay for the Infosys written test. And I can never forget the 14 page marathon I had written in one shot, small font, with absolutely no mistake (pardon the handwriting though!), on my dear friend Sandhya's farewell diary! I liked it so much so that I requested a xerox of it for myself!!
Recently read somewhere that Ms Sudha Murthy had written a novel on a bride getting leukaemia. This story inspired someone to such an extent that one groom actually went ahead for a marriage with a bride with leukaemia! Truly, this is as good as it can get to a writer! To change someone's life by your words...
Although I cannot change people's lives by writing, it still feels good when I can articulate other people's thoughts into the perfect words and make them say 'Thats exactly what I wanted to say' or 'Thats exactly how I feel about it.' It is nice to see moist eyes when people read some of my touching blogs. It is a warm feeling when someone leaves a comment on the style of writing than the content. For, content is what I feel, and style is all about writing, and writing is an art, and there can be no more happiness for an artist than appreciation of his art...
Let me finish with those Perfect Words...
I opened up a blank Outlook mail and started typing. I kept it short and sweet, moved some sentences here and there, edited a few words after review and the mail was ready. It had taken me about 5 minutes to compose the mail, with all the intricate details subtly put and ensuring a speedy response. I looked at my colleague and asked if it was fine, before I could hit the 'Send' button.
My colleague was gaping at me. He said, "I could never have written it so well. How could you manage that?" I felt happily embarrassed. Well, I waved it away as if it was nothing.
Couple of times, my manager comes to me for a write-up on something that he needs, and I will be more than happy to oblige. Of course, if I feel for the topic, there will not be a single review comment. But if I do not like what I am writing, the whole thing ends up in a 'recycle-paper' bin!
But it doesnt mean that I want to be a journalist. Nor do I think I can be a novelist. But I like writing and writing well! Although, I sucked in Verbal section of the GRE. I scored an abysmal 380 out of 800! Yet to come to terms with that!
Not that I am the greatest. When I read some of the blogs, I will be stunned at how well people write, how they play about with the language, the story, the humour and the subtlety. I really feel then that I am no match.
Nor is it that I have a clear cut clarity of thought. I am utterly hopeless when it comes to perspicuous oration. I stutter and stammer, and mix words, tenses, sentences, falter, pick up and, at the end, I am better off being silent. But give me a nice topic and give me a piece of paper and its all glory for me!
To this day, I feel good about what I wrote (impromptu, and with no correction), an essay for the Infosys written test. And I can never forget the 14 page marathon I had written in one shot, small font, with absolutely no mistake (pardon the handwriting though!), on my dear friend Sandhya's farewell diary! I liked it so much so that I requested a xerox of it for myself!!
Recently read somewhere that Ms Sudha Murthy had written a novel on a bride getting leukaemia. This story inspired someone to such an extent that one groom actually went ahead for a marriage with a bride with leukaemia! Truly, this is as good as it can get to a writer! To change someone's life by your words...
Although I cannot change people's lives by writing, it still feels good when I can articulate other people's thoughts into the perfect words and make them say 'Thats exactly what I wanted to say' or 'Thats exactly how I feel about it.' It is nice to see moist eyes when people read some of my touching blogs. It is a warm feeling when someone leaves a comment on the style of writing than the content. For, content is what I feel, and style is all about writing, and writing is an art, and there can be no more happiness for an artist than appreciation of his art...
Let me finish with those Perfect Words...
Monday, October 08, 2007
Lucky to be alive
The aged grandfather is sitting in the middle of the living room. From his vantage point, he can see everybody busy in their own activities. The daughter-in-law cooking in the kitchen. The son talking on the mobile, pacing up and down. The grandson playing with his Diwali cracker gun. The wife going towards the Pooja room. It’s a completely serene, homely atmosphere.
Unfortunately, the grandfather was a victim of a paralytic stroke. The mouth was sagging towards right, the right arm was bent in a crooked angle towards right, and in fact, his whole body was bent towards the right. Such was his condition that he was practically dumb, barely able to mumble. His mind is active and perfectly fine, but his body had betrayed him. The family had accepted his condition and hence, while he sat there, looking at them all, everyone was busy bustling about in their own world.
Presently, the grandfather is looking at his daughter-in-law. He sees her keeping the cooker on the gas stove and switching on the gas knob. She presses the lighter but she is not actually looking at the stove. Because, ten times out of ten, the stove lights up. This time it doesn’t. She thinks the stove is lit and she moves out of the kitchen, her job done.
The grandfather sees the stove not being lit but the gas knob being on. He looks at his son, trying to attract his attention. But the son is busy on the mobile. The daughter-in-law has now gone out of sight. The grandson is playing with Diwali cracker gun but he has run out of the bursting strip of paper. So he is loading the gun. The wife in the Pooja room finds that the diya, small flame of light kept in front of God, has been blown off and she is striking a match stick. With every passing second, the grandfather realizes the horror of the situation, but is helpless. How terrifying it is to see one’s own Death nearing, along with the death of one’s dear ones, but being absolutely helpless about it!
Meanwhile, the liquefied petroleum gas is filling the house, menacingly, unknowingly. Unknowingly, to the physically and mentally sane members of the house but knowingly, to the physically handicapped. The panic builds on the grandfather’s mind. In a few moments, all of them are going to be blown off. And although, he is aware of what was happening, he is in no condition to break this information to others. He could not even scream or move to attract the attention. His immobility was accepted by everyone to be his normal routine. But he was now in a shocked immobility rather than serene immobility.
He again looks at the three members of his dear family within his eyesight. Son is still on the phone. Grandson has now filled the ammunition to his gun. Wife has found the right match strike to light up. He desperately seeks attention but nobody is seeing him. Else, he could have displayed his tension through his eyes and pointed towards the stove. The gas is pouring on, lethally. Panic has built on his mind to the maximum extent. What an irony it is that the only person, who could have saved them all, could not save them due to his handicap.
And then, the grandson pulls the trigger. The wife lights the match stick.
The screen goes blank. And then, the following message comes on the television:
Get ready for the tension.
India Vs Pakistan.
Nov 10th onwards.
Only on Neo Sports.
Phew. What an amazing ad. In just 2-3 minutes, so much is conveyed. The irony of life. The serenity of a middle class family. The family bonding. A simple mistake. The actions of innocent victims. The growing panic. The climax. No conversations. No dialogs, just pure action. Top class stuff!
But on a side note, it reminded me of my narrow escape in life when I was subjected to an almost similar experience some time during engineering. I keep thinking about it often and wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t been lucky.
I had come back from college at about 3, and as was my usual routine, had slept at 4. I would generally wake up by 6 or 6.30 after a fitful siesta. At about the same time, my parents generally close all the house windows to stop the mosquitoes from entering, and lock the house and go for their evening stroll.
This fateful day, I had slept late. My mother, who had gone out in the morning, came back at about 7 and rang the bell. In my groggy state, I found the key with great difficulty, unlocked the main latch, and let my mother enter. She immediately asked what the smell was. We both realized with horror that it was LPG. The whole house was filled with this inflammable gas. Immediately my mother ran and switched the gas stove off and we both opened up all windows possible. The diya in front of the God in the Pooja room was burning and we blew it off.
It wasn’t too difficult to put two and two together. My father had prepared coffee in the evening, forgot to switch the stove gas off, boarded up the windows, locked the door and had gone for evening stroll. And with the diya being on, the rest was just a matter of time. With all due respects to father, it still was a perfect setting for murder, eh?
After sufficient precaution was taken to let the LPG out of the house, I had to sit down to realize how close to Death I was. A simple matter being overlooked had caused such a grave threat to my life.
What if my mother had come home a little late?
What if the diya had set the whole house aflame?
With the main latch being locked and key not in its place, I could never have made it out alive. Perhaps I would be dead even before I had woken up to understand what had happened. The very thought chills me to the bones even to this day…
I am lucky to be alive.
Unfortunately, the grandfather was a victim of a paralytic stroke. The mouth was sagging towards right, the right arm was bent in a crooked angle towards right, and in fact, his whole body was bent towards the right. Such was his condition that he was practically dumb, barely able to mumble. His mind is active and perfectly fine, but his body had betrayed him. The family had accepted his condition and hence, while he sat there, looking at them all, everyone was busy bustling about in their own world.
Presently, the grandfather is looking at his daughter-in-law. He sees her keeping the cooker on the gas stove and switching on the gas knob. She presses the lighter but she is not actually looking at the stove. Because, ten times out of ten, the stove lights up. This time it doesn’t. She thinks the stove is lit and she moves out of the kitchen, her job done.
The grandfather sees the stove not being lit but the gas knob being on. He looks at his son, trying to attract his attention. But the son is busy on the mobile. The daughter-in-law has now gone out of sight. The grandson is playing with Diwali cracker gun but he has run out of the bursting strip of paper. So he is loading the gun. The wife in the Pooja room finds that the diya, small flame of light kept in front of God, has been blown off and she is striking a match stick. With every passing second, the grandfather realizes the horror of the situation, but is helpless. How terrifying it is to see one’s own Death nearing, along with the death of one’s dear ones, but being absolutely helpless about it!
Meanwhile, the liquefied petroleum gas is filling the house, menacingly, unknowingly. Unknowingly, to the physically and mentally sane members of the house but knowingly, to the physically handicapped. The panic builds on the grandfather’s mind. In a few moments, all of them are going to be blown off. And although, he is aware of what was happening, he is in no condition to break this information to others. He could not even scream or move to attract the attention. His immobility was accepted by everyone to be his normal routine. But he was now in a shocked immobility rather than serene immobility.
He again looks at the three members of his dear family within his eyesight. Son is still on the phone. Grandson has now filled the ammunition to his gun. Wife has found the right match strike to light up. He desperately seeks attention but nobody is seeing him. Else, he could have displayed his tension through his eyes and pointed towards the stove. The gas is pouring on, lethally. Panic has built on his mind to the maximum extent. What an irony it is that the only person, who could have saved them all, could not save them due to his handicap.
And then, the grandson pulls the trigger. The wife lights the match stick.
The screen goes blank. And then, the following message comes on the television:
Get ready for the tension.
India Vs Pakistan.
Nov 10th onwards.
Only on Neo Sports.
Phew. What an amazing ad. In just 2-3 minutes, so much is conveyed. The irony of life. The serenity of a middle class family. The family bonding. A simple mistake. The actions of innocent victims. The growing panic. The climax. No conversations. No dialogs, just pure action. Top class stuff!
But on a side note, it reminded me of my narrow escape in life when I was subjected to an almost similar experience some time during engineering. I keep thinking about it often and wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t been lucky.
I had come back from college at about 3, and as was my usual routine, had slept at 4. I would generally wake up by 6 or 6.30 after a fitful siesta. At about the same time, my parents generally close all the house windows to stop the mosquitoes from entering, and lock the house and go for their evening stroll.
This fateful day, I had slept late. My mother, who had gone out in the morning, came back at about 7 and rang the bell. In my groggy state, I found the key with great difficulty, unlocked the main latch, and let my mother enter. She immediately asked what the smell was. We both realized with horror that it was LPG. The whole house was filled with this inflammable gas. Immediately my mother ran and switched the gas stove off and we both opened up all windows possible. The diya in front of the God in the Pooja room was burning and we blew it off.
It wasn’t too difficult to put two and two together. My father had prepared coffee in the evening, forgot to switch the stove gas off, boarded up the windows, locked the door and had gone for evening stroll. And with the diya being on, the rest was just a matter of time. With all due respects to father, it still was a perfect setting for murder, eh?
After sufficient precaution was taken to let the LPG out of the house, I had to sit down to realize how close to Death I was. A simple matter being overlooked had caused such a grave threat to my life.
What if my mother had come home a little late?
What if the diya had set the whole house aflame?
With the main latch being locked and key not in its place, I could never have made it out alive. Perhaps I would be dead even before I had woken up to understand what had happened. The very thought chills me to the bones even to this day…
I am lucky to be alive.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Clouded Mind
It was one of those moments when it seemed the chips were down and the weight of the world was on the shoulders. A scowl-ish frowning face, perplexed eye brows, irritating countenance and defeated strides just about summed me up squarely. The pain points were all around. And pricking at leisure. And having a good laugh about my dancing discomfiture.
As can be extrapolated from the previous post, my vocation is not all that great, what with the conscience hitting me out for justice not being made to either the role or the pay packet. Nor is the job something for which I am cut out for and be proud about. Suddenly, just being a Bachelor doesn’t seem enough.
The threat of marriage looming over my head like a guillotine. “Started searching?” (Pulling Leg), “You are next” (Sneer), “Line clear” (Teethful), “Still single?” (Shocked). Blessed are those who aren’t in this situation.
And then, the “ordinary guy” is having its effects on me. I seem to be stamped with an all-time mediocrity skill level in anything I do. Be it sports or academics or talent or job. My IQ isn’t all that great either. Master of none, is a huge negative point.
So on and so forth.
With a clouded mind, I looked out of my room window. I saw neighbour’s maid clearing out some clothes. I reflected on her life. I had been seeing her since almost a decade now. She had no education. To sustain her life and her family’s, she was into being a house-maid at a very early age. To make ends meet, she catered to a number of houses, and sometimes stayed late during special festivals so that she could earn quick money. Before she would know, she would perhaps be married to a man whom she wouldn’t have set eyes on, however brute of a male he might be. To her, IQ hardly mattered nor could she transform her desire of any sports or talent to any reality.
She didn’t have a career. She had to worry about her next meal everyday as there was always a constant threat of getting fired. Her bleak future had little or no hopes as she didn’t have education. She always wore sad-looking attire.
And here I was, sitting on a comfortable foam-filled mattress-cot with a ceiling fan. I had all other comforts right there. A television set, a laptop, a DVD player, some DVDs, some music CDs, some novels, etc. Most of which she wouldn’t have experienced as one of her own. I have never had to struggle and work to earn my next meal. Compared to the environs from where she was born and circumstances which led her to being what she is, I felt I am zillion times luckier than her but yet, here I was, harping on my pain points.
Clouded mind? Chips down? Weight of the world? Pain points?
Who am I kidding.
As can be extrapolated from the previous post, my vocation is not all that great, what with the conscience hitting me out for justice not being made to either the role or the pay packet. Nor is the job something for which I am cut out for and be proud about. Suddenly, just being a Bachelor doesn’t seem enough.
The threat of marriage looming over my head like a guillotine. “Started searching?” (Pulling Leg), “You are next” (Sneer), “Line clear” (Teethful), “Still single?” (Shocked). Blessed are those who aren’t in this situation.
And then, the “ordinary guy” is having its effects on me. I seem to be stamped with an all-time mediocrity skill level in anything I do. Be it sports or academics or talent or job. My IQ isn’t all that great either. Master of none, is a huge negative point.
So on and so forth.
With a clouded mind, I looked out of my room window. I saw neighbour’s maid clearing out some clothes. I reflected on her life. I had been seeing her since almost a decade now. She had no education. To sustain her life and her family’s, she was into being a house-maid at a very early age. To make ends meet, she catered to a number of houses, and sometimes stayed late during special festivals so that she could earn quick money. Before she would know, she would perhaps be married to a man whom she wouldn’t have set eyes on, however brute of a male he might be. To her, IQ hardly mattered nor could she transform her desire of any sports or talent to any reality.
She didn’t have a career. She had to worry about her next meal everyday as there was always a constant threat of getting fired. Her bleak future had little or no hopes as she didn’t have education. She always wore sad-looking attire.
And here I was, sitting on a comfortable foam-filled mattress-cot with a ceiling fan. I had all other comforts right there. A television set, a laptop, a DVD player, some DVDs, some music CDs, some novels, etc. Most of which she wouldn’t have experienced as one of her own. I have never had to struggle and work to earn my next meal. Compared to the environs from where she was born and circumstances which led her to being what she is, I felt I am zillion times luckier than her but yet, here I was, harping on my pain points.
Clouded mind? Chips down? Weight of the world? Pain points?
Who am I kidding.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Saturday through Tuesday
Days prior to Saturday:
It was a really, really long weekend!
Saturday through Tuesday!
After a very long time!
I was happy.
So, plans started revolving around Goa for four full days!
But we were short of people, as each had his own prior commitments.
Out went Trip to Goa.
I was sad.
Still, there were four of us enthusiasts and one more tentative.
Decided to go to Yercaud in Tamil Nadu (and nearby places) for three days.
So, I booked a cab for Sunday through Tuesday.
I was happy.
Saturday:
The cab was not yet confirmed for Sunday.
I couldn’t get any tickets or passes for the Ind V Aus cricket at Bangalore.
Whole world seemed against me for the long weekend.
I was sad.
Fortune favours the brave and luck favours those with pluck.
I went to stadium with no hope, but got tickets in black.
I paid seven times the ticket value but I didnt care.
I was ecstatic.
Atmosphere within stadium was electric!
A nod by a player towards us was sufficient for us to go in uproars!
Electronic display focusing occasionally on a lady created a euphoria!
I was all smiles.
Meanwhile, the cab got confirmed for Sunday.
Perhaps Goa getting cancelled was for good: I got to see match live in stadium!
Whole world seemed to be with me for the long weekend!
I was happy.
After Aussies had piled up 307 and Sachin out for a duck, alas, the rain started.
I had sacrificed a wonderful RKP vocal concert at my Music School, for cricket.
And here I was, seeing rain for three full hours, until match was called off.
I was devastated.
Fortune favours the brave and luck favours those with pluck?
I took back my prayer of thanking the Lord for sending a messiah with ticket.
Then, the Tentative one messaged saying he was backing out of Yercaud.
I was all scowls.
Evening News said Bundh in Tamil Nadu.
With just four of us, it was going to cost us dear.
Whole world seemed against me for the long weekend.
I was sad.
Sunday:
Did a quick search on net and found alternate to Yercaud.
Bandipur national forest seemed encouraging.
Only to find the Bundh postponed by a day.
I was happy.
So, off we went to Yercaud, as per original plans.
As is with all trips, nice conversations and humour rolled.
Even as we reached Yercaud, the threat of Bundh next day prevailed.
I was confused.
Monfort Convent, Lady’s Seat and Pogoda Point were nice places.
But we finished visiting attractions in Yercaud within two hours.
We thought of moving into Karnataka and staying over at BR Hills.
I was neither sad nor happy.
But on our way downhill, we decided to head back to Bangalore.
And so, after even more interesting conversations, we were back.
The days and days of planning for long weekend ending up with a day long trip.
I was neither happy nor sad.
Monday:
But this opened up new opportunities.
And since I felt like driving, I took my parents to Ghati.
A nice picturesque ride in the country for about an hour and a half.
I was exhilarated.
A nice two-sided idol in the temple.
But a rather crowded road on the journey back.
Snacks at Chalukya.
I was exhausted.
Tuesday:
A nice relaxing eight hour good night’s sleep.
Refreshing shuttle badminton.
Violin practice and violin class.
I was satisfied.
A cricket match on which I had absolutely no expectations.
Some monthly domestic activities, and a couple of good blogs.
Thus came to an end, the long, long weekend.
I was content.
Days after Tuesday:
I was miserable.
It was a really, really long weekend!
Saturday through Tuesday!
After a very long time!
I was happy.
So, plans started revolving around Goa for four full days!
But we were short of people, as each had his own prior commitments.
Out went Trip to Goa.
I was sad.
Still, there were four of us enthusiasts and one more tentative.
Decided to go to Yercaud in Tamil Nadu (and nearby places) for three days.
So, I booked a cab for Sunday through Tuesday.
I was happy.
Saturday:
The cab was not yet confirmed for Sunday.
I couldn’t get any tickets or passes for the Ind V Aus cricket at Bangalore.
Whole world seemed against me for the long weekend.
I was sad.
Fortune favours the brave and luck favours those with pluck.
I went to stadium with no hope, but got tickets in black.
I paid seven times the ticket value but I didnt care.
I was ecstatic.
Atmosphere within stadium was electric!
A nod by a player towards us was sufficient for us to go in uproars!
Electronic display focusing occasionally on a lady created a euphoria!
I was all smiles.
Meanwhile, the cab got confirmed for Sunday.
Perhaps Goa getting cancelled was for good: I got to see match live in stadium!
Whole world seemed to be with me for the long weekend!
I was happy.
After Aussies had piled up 307 and Sachin out for a duck, alas, the rain started.
I had sacrificed a wonderful RKP vocal concert at my Music School, for cricket.
And here I was, seeing rain for three full hours, until match was called off.
I was devastated.
Fortune favours the brave and luck favours those with pluck?
I took back my prayer of thanking the Lord for sending a messiah with ticket.
Then, the Tentative one messaged saying he was backing out of Yercaud.
I was all scowls.
Evening News said Bundh in Tamil Nadu.
With just four of us, it was going to cost us dear.
Whole world seemed against me for the long weekend.
I was sad.
Sunday:
Did a quick search on net and found alternate to Yercaud.
Bandipur national forest seemed encouraging.
Only to find the Bundh postponed by a day.
I was happy.
So, off we went to Yercaud, as per original plans.
As is with all trips, nice conversations and humour rolled.
Even as we reached Yercaud, the threat of Bundh next day prevailed.
I was confused.
Monfort Convent, Lady’s Seat and Pogoda Point were nice places.
But we finished visiting attractions in Yercaud within two hours.
We thought of moving into Karnataka and staying over at BR Hills.
I was neither sad nor happy.
But on our way downhill, we decided to head back to Bangalore.
And so, after even more interesting conversations, we were back.
The days and days of planning for long weekend ending up with a day long trip.
I was neither happy nor sad.
Monday:
But this opened up new opportunities.
And since I felt like driving, I took my parents to Ghati.
A nice picturesque ride in the country for about an hour and a half.
I was exhilarated.
A nice two-sided idol in the temple.
But a rather crowded road on the journey back.
Snacks at Chalukya.
I was exhausted.
Tuesday:
A nice relaxing eight hour good night’s sleep.
Refreshing shuttle badminton.
Violin practice and violin class.
I was satisfied.
A cricket match on which I had absolutely no expectations.
Some monthly domestic activities, and a couple of good blogs.
Thus came to an end, the long, long weekend.
I was content.
Days after Tuesday:
I was miserable.
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