leaves from the diary

A spider's web

2011-08-12T08:31:00.000-07:00

Built in a fissure amidst sprawling walls,
Thy silky maze stood for a scheming pall.
Woven from one’s own secreted wire,
The web has an artist to pause and admire.

To watch its arrest and to feast on its gruel,
With hunger satiated, what pride didn’t it fuel.
The triumphed binds glorified by many a prey
Thy hunter’s instincts have left fewer in fray!

But the choicest nectars from a bee’s mining,
And amidst picturesque petals, a butterfly’s dining,
Alas, evade thee that hath a castle to guard,
And a guardian too often is a captive inward.

Built in the vault amidst birth and passing,
Our world is a maze of our own dressing,
Springing from the self, many a thought envision
Our world of perfection yet hath us imprisoned.

However laborious, habits need to be severed,
Thus torch our schemes, however they be revered.
For it is by painfully consuming the web, in glee,
The spider-a survivor, turns that seeker in a bee.

A spider's web is a unique phenomenon. Built between two surfaces, by the secretions from the spider, it is meticulously woven and re-woven to capture its prey. So involved is a spider in waiting for its prey and "fine-tuning" its web before and after, that one wonders if the spider in truth is a prisoner of its own making. He doesn't get to enjoy the rich nectar like a bee or dance in a garden like a butterfly. And at times, his web doesn't spare him and ends up trapped.
Such is our lot as well.
We spin our world into being with our thoughts and tendencies that spring from our heart. We build our schemes, gaurd them like a spider does. Needless to say, we lead an unenviable life inspite of our victories and riches.
We killing our habits and withdrawing our assumptions, can make us permenantly free and happy; just like a spider withdrawing its web into itself can make it as free as a bee that seeks the best of nectar.

The musing of a spectator

2011-05-07T10:31:00.000-07:00

The following is a recording of a spectator as he walks after watching a rapturous performance of his favourite dancer. His thoughts prove that the dancer has had a larger-than-art influence on him. The performance has left him emotional, empty-handed, his sense of purpose lost.
Yet, few would believe how envious his situation was!!!

Like the beach sand left back by the retreating waters,
Like memories washed ashore by the waves of events,
Like backyard swings as memoirs of now-wedded daughters,
Thy frame left my eyes leaving sweet tears as remnants.

Like silence lost with the advent of diction,
Like slumber stolen by that bundle of riches,
Like fiery pace muted by the labors of friction
Thy splendor did away with my trunk of wishes.

I hope you did mark me amid your rapturous dance,
And would return to grant me my secret musings,
For, I lost my alms when I clapped in a trance,
That with barren palms I now tread, musing.

Maiden to her Paramour

2009-12-06T02:28:00.000-08:00

Scene of Radha a cow-herdress addressing her beloved Lord Krishna. As promised by Him, He agrees to meet her on a full-moon night on the banks of River Yamuna. At the specified time, Radha rushes out of her home, kith and kin in a state of exceeding love to meet Him. As they meet, Lord Krishna holds back her approaches. To Him, the love-lorn Radha addresses in words that are not only of deep love but also of legendary devotion. (scroll down for explanations on the verses)

1. In the moon-cooled sands by the abundant river,
Bathed by Thy eyes that art a love-filled quiver,
I stand transfixed facing thy benevolence’s might,
Oh! I am killed even with death nowhere in sight.

2 Lured out of the walls, you now have me in sight,
Now if unclaimed, how pathetic is my plight.
Fickleness in my love and this poisonous vanity,
Needs Thy embrace that would kill all Duality.

3 From the Lord who claimed all worlds by His strides,
Three steps of Earth I beg, that would lead to His side,
On the Stage of our love and to the tunes of Thy flute,
May we dance in ecstasy, my thoughts thus rendered mute.

4. A pompous bird that flew out from these sands,
To heights only lesser than her pride’s pangs,
Unleash Thy gravity that would slay my wings,
And bring me to Thy bosom, to what exalted bearing!

5 The butter that Thee hold is from incessant churning,
Of this creamy milk, behold! Here is my learning!
Thus pray churn me out from my entangling ignorance,
Hold me, deem me and consume me in Thy Fragrance.

6 All said, there still remains this cruel distance from Thee,
On one end, art the Lotus and on the other, a restless bee.
Embrace me so that there be no individuality, even a wee,
For, to the yearning seekers, the Divine Paramour art Thee!

1. Radha meets Krishna on the moon-light banks of River Yamuna. By "love-filled quiver" she means His eyes to be a quiver of arrows that aim love-darts at her. She is transfixed by His beauty and smile that she finds herself life-less even though there was "death nowhere in sight". Alternatively the egoism is killed.

2. Lured out of the walls: compounds of her home. Alternatively, the 5 sheaths that according to Hindusim sepearate the human from the divinity within him/her. Radha laments, if thus lured and not claimed, her plight is unimaginable. She believes her love is weak, and she is proud, and only His embrace can kill all these weakness and Duality in her thoughts. Killing of the "Duality" is supposed to be the highest spiritual state that is attained after the "5 sheaths" are broken.

3. The Lord is believed to have covered all the worlds by his strides in an episode. Radha requests just 3 steps of all he has covered, the 3 steps that seperate Him from her so that she could reach Him. She wishes to dance with Him in bliss to the tunes of His flute.

4. Radha compares her pride to the wings of the bird that breaks away from the earth's gravitation to fly high. She begs Him to break her wings and bring her back to earth, alterantively to kill her pride and bring her back to His bosom.

5. Just like butter is formed by continous churning of milk and then taken out of the container, Radha prays Krishna bring her out of ignorance by put her through various travails of life so that she can become one in union with Him. The reference to butter particularly is because of Krishna's strong liking for butter. Radha compares her to be his butter.

6. Radha compares herself to a restless bee that seeks the beautiful lotus, that is Krishna. She prays He embraces her so close that they are one in union and they are no more individuals. Alternatively, the killing of duality explained above and in various Hindu texts. Needless to say she treats Him as a Divine Paramour who would not only love her but also lead her to Liberation spiritualy.

And so it happened.

Sound of Silence

2009-08-23T08:25:00.000-07:00

The thousand wayside lamps that promise to illuminate
Together, a few miles, in Darkness’ engulfing senate.
Blots don’t steal a white shirt’s reverence,
Words don’t subdue the sound of silence.

Oceans have never been a thirsty throat’s feed,
My wallet that never served a single beggar’s needs,
Time doesn’t deter a heart’s loving incense,
Words don’t subdue the sound of silence.

The Sun that awakens the buds so coy,
The infant’s toddle and the mother’s joy,
His eyes that dance to her smile’s ambiance,
Many a verse penned by the sound of silence.

Just words spoken do not break the silence between people. The conversations need to be listened to, accepted and reciprocated. Words and silence, Ocean and thirst, Wallet and the needy etc are illustrations used to show that the spirit behind the action drives the results, not mere actions.
Often, we do not need words to communicate, a baby doesn't need to ask for attention and so on. Here the spirit fills in for the absence of words!

An Ode to a Ship

2009-07-27T11:05:00.000-07:00

With her pompous horn and a winsome mast,
Those intriguing aisles and the deck so vast,
With a proud nose that were to pen glorious tales,
Amidst hurrays and cannons she did set sail.

With determined rotors to cut the demoniac currents,
With sails to guide the winds that came in torrents,
With stoic mast that stood a symbol of her esteem,
For decades she wrestled the oceans’ gory seam.

And then that one gush that undid her sail,
The valiant rotors that laboured yet failed,
Alas! That one wave that finally humbled her deck,
The seas had conspired in this project of wreck.

The winds that bowed now deemed to vow,
The unsurpassable deck now at a piteous low,
The rudder that guided now forced to abide,
Her entire self trapped in the claws of the tides.

But, gauge her not by this heart-wrenching sight,
Her victories are greater than any ocean’s might.
The winds might threaten to ravage her frame,
But Time would step forth to declare her fame.

I know not her purpose or her destination,
I am not to judge for then, how come this aberration?
Keep her mast aloft O Lord, in Thy mysterious ways,
Grant her, her esteem and gift her Thy Grace.

This is in tribute to those heroes who did countless feats in their healthy days, but now are afflicted with diseases and troubled by age. They might be a pale shadow of their earlier selves, their bodies might have broken down. The world might write them off, but beneficiaries of their heorics must stand up and pray. Not out of sympathy but out of love.

The Potter's ways

2009-07-15T08:40:00.000-07:00

Potter:
The touch of my palm and the speed of my wheel,
Brings forth to reality my imagination’s zeal.
Burnt by the furnace and abandoned by Time,
Tested by my rod and finally worthy of a dime.

Requested by the little girl, the potter explains his process – he creates his object with his palms on the wet mud that is driven by a rotating wheel. He then burns the wet formation to high temperatures in the oven, then allows it to cool for an exceptionally long time(abandoned by time). He checks its hardness by tapping the pot with his rod. Only when he is confirmed of the quality he puts it on the selling table, else, he sends it back to the furnace. The little girl completely “mis-understood” the information as:

The little girl:

The wheel of time and that touch of Divinity,
Brings forth our lives, weighed by serendipity.
Burnt by troubles and abandoned by solutions,
Our misgivings fall prey to wisdom’s lotions.
And finally the He declares our worth proven,
Or alas the failure leads us back to the oven.

By the Will of God(the palm) and the governed by Time(the wheel), we take birth in line with our serendipity. We are then put through a lifetime of troubles and sorrow(in the furnace); we are left to feel abandoned and defeated. All this slowly only transitions our way of thinking and lifestyle from that of weaklings to strong individuals, steeped in wisdom and character. And based on our advancement(tested by the rod), we are either ready to live happily ever after, or are sent back to the cycle of seasoning.
The potter was the famous Saint Gora Khumbar and the little girl when on to become a great saint whose name I fail to recollect.

A-B-C Rhetoric

2009-06-12T22:09:00.000-07:00

Each phrase begins with three successive letters of the English Alphabet.

Astute Business Case

Dewy Eyed Fairy

Great Himalayan Invincibility

Jokes Kindle Laughter

Male’s Nine Orifices (eyes, nostrils, ears, mouth, urethra, anus)

Pastor-Qualified Relationship (a wedding)

Sensuality Talks undercover (Sensuality – a hidden trait felt over time, rather than seen in a minute)

Vendetta Wielding Xenophobes (racists)

"Alliteration..sort of" - contd.

2009-06-10T23:27:00.000-07:00

Poetry perturbed purists

Quests quelled Quixote. ( Don Quixote took up impossible quests and was
unsuccessful each time.)

Rum raising rascal

Soviets spread socialism

Tongue tells taste

Unplugged under umbrella (Remember the “Pyaar hua ikraar hua…” song?)

Vampire’s veiled venom.

Wield with wisdom (exercise an act with wisdom)

Yelled yet yielded (vocally revolt but give way in act)

Zoo’s zealous Zebra

Alliteration - sort of

2009-06-06T10:23:00.000-07:00

Ambush at altar ( a sudden wedding – referred to in a lighter vien)

Back breaking bundle

Cupid’s clandestine court (where lovers meet)

Destiny’s design doctored ( Destiny’s ways corrected)

Enticing Easter Eggs

Five fumbling fingers

Ghost’s glittering garment ( a problem that seemed otherwise)

Heart’s hundred heaves

Inkling in ink ( a written(in ink) clue)

Jack jests Jill

Lip-locking lovers

Monsoon misses May ( Indian south-west monsoon supposed to begin only in June)

None needs none ( everyone needs someone or the other)

Oomph oozing Oprah ( ya right )

..... to be contd.

Draupadi's Beauty

2009-05-01T22:50:00.000-07:00

Complexion that shone as the rain-bearing sky,
The cascading tresses and those lotus-like eyes,
The ripe-red lips that caused every fruit’s bow,
The bow-shaped lashes on a winsome brow,
The neck that hath wrested the grace of a conch,
Her youthful laughter, what music did it launch,
The great archer arches to Her rapturous smile,
Her blue-lotus fragrance that rules over miles,
The flaw-less skin about her creeper like frame,
Was she the Creator, or Creator’s Divine game?
Such was Krishnaa the Princess of Panchal!
Notes:
..rain bearing sky - She was dark complexioned(hence called Krishnaa)
..caused every fruit's bow - Lips so red that they won the admiration of the most ripe fruits
The great archer arches.. - Arjuna who bows to her highly attractive smile
..Fragrance that rules over miles - She blessed with a fragrance that spread over miles
(hence she was called yojanagandha)

Dark complexioned, yet glowing, bestowed with flawless features, Draupadi was an unparalleled beauty. The beauty stunned every person who met her, beyond measures. That combined with her immense intelligence, mastery over arts, political science and all so well balanced with touching nobility and humility- the perfection was nothing short of Divine.

He-She

2009-03-20T08:20:00.000-07:00

Speaker 1:

May big things have all our intersest,

Yet may happiness come from small things.

It is a palm full of water that serves the thirsty, best,

though inspirations are drawn from the sight of springs.

Speaker 2:

May big things have all our intersest,
Yet may happiness come from small things.

Though what filled his two palms gave him zest,

It's what slipped between fingers that set his spirits to wings.

Which among the two verses could be perhaps spoken by a male?

Vicious circle

2009-03-18T09:21:00.000-07:00

“The love that my heart bears for her, my maiden,
is as strong as that the deathbed bears for life”.
“Who among the maiden and life has thy love laden,
I am here to grant thee that, that wins this strife”

Translation:
Lover boy: I love her as much as I would love life when on deathbed.
God of Death: Her or life, you better make up your mind. What you love most will be granted to you!

What a vicious circle? What should our lover boy choose?

My train of thoughts after I listened to “Hum tumhe chahte hain aise…”

Why I cannot say goodbye!

2008-12-14T09:45:00.000-08:00

Prelude:

The world resides in the clandestine chambers,
Of the heart that hath witnessed its visual game.
Just as steady heat that resides in silent embers,
For long after the winds had consumed the flames.

________________________________________________

Long before thee penned thy farewell verse,
Hadn’t thee imprisoned this heart by thy ply?
Now, thou art the deity that my soul nurses,
Where is reason for the prospect of goodbye?

This heart, in longing misses its beat,
At every instance it hears your name.
Aren’t thou, who thus have taken a seat
Within me, a silent spectator of this game?

Like the magnet that holds to iron pieces,
To charge and galvanize their very frames,
Thou art held me by thy memories’ tresses,
Now, there is no escape from this sweet blame.

Destiny that banished me from thy presence,
Did only fill my every pore with thy thoughts.
The wicked wind could only spread her fragrance,
When to kidnap the flower was his callous sought.

Yes, thou would reside in me just as heat would in the embers, and hence, where is the reason to say goodbye!

A good friend of mine finds himself in a position to say a goodbye that he just cannot get himself to. This post is a message to him.

Bheeshma and Karna - II

2008-11-14T03:41:00.000-08:00

In the design of death by Sun’s northern motion,
Was a meeting arranged with His earthly son.
With his body in pain and heart in devotion,
Bheeshma lay awaiting the call of Capricon.

Bheeshma:
“Who art thou that thus burns my feet
with tears, more than these missiles would ply?
Rise and by my crown, pray take thy seat,
For, what art a conversation that not eye to eye?”

Karna:
“Oh Sire, I rather face thy gracious feet,
for in meeting thy eye, thy disapproval, I fear.
Pray pardon this act, as imprudence, I entreat.
This is unworthy Karna – the son of a Charioteer.

From a dark cloud carrying years of unexpressed love,
That were driven by the winds of reason so peculiar,
Onto the palms of Karna as barren as wood stove,
As a torrential monsoon, fell Bheeshma’s tears.

Bheeshma:
“What imprudence lies in a grandson’s yearn,
for the rightful seat on his Grandsire’s knee?
Those wretched denials to Kunti’s noblest scion,
Was to rid him off his friendship’s cursed spree!”

“For it is thy prowess that hath fueled the prince with pride,
to design a war against he, whom the Lord Himself sides.
Walk across, O beloved Karna, to virtue’s open gates,
This ocean of blood is still shallow enough for a wade.”

Karna:
“Oh wise sire, where is virtue in deserting the hand,
that fed this being that even a mother found unsafe?
For me, betrothed to death, so enticing and grand,
What wisdom in bowing to the petty maiden called life?”

Bheeshma:
“Yes, death is certain as certain is night,
to all we, who dared the Blessed Lord’s might.
But O Karna, may you find all that in Paradise,
What Earth failed you, from all her riches’ guise.”

Karna:
“May my beloved prince know Karna – his companion,
and know not Karna – Pandavas’s foremost scion.”

Bheeshma:
“Its only when the Sun sets on his glorious son,
would Earth know of Karna’s selfless loyalty.
In bloody Kurukshetra where a crown is to be won,
The spirit of Karna would be its unsung novelty.”

Just spoke Karna and walked back to his tent. He spent the next few days in high-end warfare against his own brothers, the Pandavas, till he met with a glorious death. Such was Karna, one of the noblest, the bravest, yet most cursed warriors of his times.

Bheeshma and Karna - I

2008-10-26T09:55:00.000-07:00

On the tenth day of the Kurukshetra war, Bheeshma, the Commander-in-chief of Kaurava army falls to the arrows of Arjuna. This is the meeting of the ever-offended Karna with the architech of the offenses, Bheeshma on the later's bed of arrows.

Part 1 describes Bheeshma's fall and Karna's visit to his bed of arrows.

The news reached him as a boulder of gloom,
That even Karna’s mettle gave way to silent quivers.
To the bride of martyrdom, stood Bheeshma the groom,
After a glorious courtship in this theatre of massacre.

Duryodhana's sorrow and visit to Karna's tent

With his heart heaved with many a sorrow,
Duryodhana fights his day in mourning,
With none from whom was solace to borrow,
He craves for the night to give him a darning.

His defences fell at Karna’s unaddressed door,
His sorrow poured like cascades over the rocks
In Karna’s palms did his unending tears, gore,

Alas, Time had just begun His ghastly mock.

(unaddressed door - at that time Karna did not have a place in the Kaurava Army; unending tears gore - Duryodhana's tears were piercing his dear friend Karna's palms; Time...ghastly mock - after Bheeshma's fall, Kauravas were to face continous defeats and losses)

Past fallen heroes and their pain-filled grouses,
Past the wrenching wails of their ashen spouses,
Past days of dishonour and shame-scared nights,
Karna walks to the bed of Kuru’s oldest knight.

(days of dishonour-shame scared nights - Karna was never honoured as a royal, he was always ashamed of his unusual birth; Kuru's oldest Knight - Bheeshma - Bheeshma was the last of Kuru dynasty, as further generations were not strictly Kuru geneology)

The aged frame visited by a thousand arrows,
But fewer than his Destiny’s unending cons,
His body bedecked by many a bloody furrow,

Bheeshma lay awaiting the call of Capricon. ..... to be contd.

(fewer ..unending cons - the thousand arrows were less painfull than the sufferings he underwent under cruel circumstances of royal life; call of capricon - Bheeshma awaited his death till the Sun's northern movement beginning from Capricon - called utharayana)

The Genius of Kalidasa

2008-07-31T04:05:00.000-07:00

Kalidasa was once asked by a courtesan about a riddle she heard was troubling the scholar class in the king's court:
"Kamale kamala uthpathihi shruyate na drishyate"
(It is heard that on a beautiful lotus, grow two beautiful lotuses. But no one seen it?)

Kalidasa immediately replied:
"Bale tava mukhaamboje katham indeevara dwayam"
(O girl, has not any seen the two wonderful lotus-like eyes that grow in your beautiful lotus-like face?)

Such was the genius of Kalidasa who has given us many classics in Sanskrit dramatics and poetry.

A Fairy on Earth

2008-07-27T10:50:00.000-07:00

The protogonist is a fairy that has come to grace the earth from fairyland. Being lent by Paradise to Earth under the promises of hospitality, the author laments the rough phases the fairy encounters during the stay. The author calls for immediate remedy in order to bring back the famed aura to the depressed fairy as well to have Earth reclaim it's fame as a honourable host.

Generations have recorded the lore of beauty,
Of grace compounded by wings and satin ties,
The creation that had been God’s earliest Duty,
The fairies have rightly defined the pride of skies.

Those times that thou plucked one from this clan,
A play of charity that the heaven did on thy account,
O Earth, thy fame is to be written by the élan,
Of hospitality thee displays in a fitting amount.

One such fairy from the order of paradise,
Graces thy plains like a bud in the barren gardens.
The garden awaits the splendor of her blooming trice,
And she, the spring, of which thou are a terse warden.

And then, like the callous breeze in its shoddy stride,
Thou brought disarray to her blossoming sport,
Why? Was it thy famed fear of serendipity’s chide,
That thee chose to play tricks of such pitiful sort?

May the skies and thee seek an immediate heal,
To bring to her, the charm that was her unique trait,
May thy joint efforts at the horizon reveal,
Those enticing scenes on which her dreams parade.

To the Mother

2008-07-26T12:54:00.000-07:00

This day would earn wrath for its concealed scam,
Of planting these thorns under my unsuspecting feet,
For hiding my coat when the rains were to slam,
And turning success away, when my palms rose to greet.

Thy smile answered my knock* and eyes questioned my whine,
That wise brow that always soothed my contoured emotions,
The vessel that were tormented by the waves of the marine,
Has indeed found in the motherland, many curative lotions.

Where else could I ask tonight, this love so deep and wide?
Where else can I park this load and need nothing to pay?
In thy embrace, I hide my frame and yet have nothing to hide,
This world forever, is in need of the mother’s cradling sway.

In thy shadow my heart’s unformed stories find courage,
On thy virtuous palm, my tears are no acts of shame,
May this world that thee begot read thy unsaid message,
That it’s your winning smile that brings even the sinner to tame.

Thy winsome love is our lesson for admiration,
And thy embrace, the ocean that dissolves our gloom,
Your uncomplaining tears are a reminder of creation**,
May the Lord make this wide world worth thy womb.

* - Knock of the door

** - tears of pain during child birth

Breath

2008-07-20T11:31:00.000-07:00

So overwhelming in silence that it evades memory,
This secret factory and its clandestine mission,
Of life’s endeavors chequered with sorrow and glory,
Is breath and its answers to heart’s ardent percussion.

Some find greatness in form, and some in wealth,
Some in their bloodline, while some in the miles they rove
Some in their fleet and some about envious health,
But where is glory in these without life-breath’s approve?

Victory to a sword is not blood but to it, a solemn respect,
Greatness to man is mere flatter without breath in his reins,
For sword and unrestrained breath are fury’s ready suspects,
Ask history-that helpless spectator to many bloody rains.

Like love whose depth is defined at the hour of separation,
On Death-bed’s stage, we will finally embrace this companion,
“One more hour” we would pine for, to postpone final vacation,
Till the fairies up there call our names in sweet union.

Tapping a Tender Coconut

2008-05-26T10:47:00.000-07:00

This is a comparison of tapping a coconut, to a seeker of Spiritual Truth. One who seeks the coconut drink needs to overcome the height(of the tree), the hard outer cover, the stubborn fibres and finally the frame of the nut. Similarly, a Spiritual seeker needs to surmount attachments, blind belief in theory in books, self-love, pride arising from advancement etc to finally find his goal which is well hidden in his very self.

Each stage of the coconut hunting is described with the compared Spiritual seeker's journey described in Italics

1.
In the coconut grove and up the testing bark,
He strengthens his grip after every slithery lark.

Amidst many a loving kin I slip to a binding tune,
But the all-knowing books promise to take me past the dunes.

2.
Many a snarl overcome by his riveting belief,
He reaches to his fruit, alas in short-lived relief.

Practice and determination make me wise against delusion
But my newfound armor besieged by pride and her mission.

3.
A steel cold cover to break and unyielding strings to sever,
His bruised palms hold only one tool-faith that magical lever.

Hurdles this far have succumbed like butter to knife,
But did I know self-love would be my bloodiest strife!

4.
His muscles have withered and his voice wouldn’t reach his ear,
Every victory has been scoffed at by another riddle- so wry.
And when he placed the final blow with his determined gear,
He was awarded his drink, in all its sweetness and in fulfilling high.

Hours spent in discrimination, and books that were read,
But it’s the Heart* when found that the journey is done.
For many a wall surmounted and warriors sent dead,
But it’s when the throne annexed that the Fort declared won.

* The Heart here does not imply the physical heart but the very Essence of Inner Consciousness which the wise hail as God.

Two words for 'ya'!

2008-04-14T08:07:00.000-07:00

When you deny her, her favorite jewel, it is an agitated “get lost”,
But it is a warm “come on” when she burns your choicest toast.

When your car, in first gear wails at her dressing room tile
It is a timeless “am done” screech with a glorious smile.

These days have given you miserly doses of football “guff”,
Yet her new hair-do, that you failed to note, reminds: “that’s enough”.

Roses and daisies might have threaten your calm brow,
All for that “my dear” after that evening’s even threatening row.

But when you knock her door with a “don’t disturb” key,
“and chocolates?” came the sting that was harder than bee!

Her “my goodness” has never revealed its true intentions,
But your constant “love you” get rewarded with periodic pensions.

Just as you draw close to her, intentions as chaste as white,
Your “I do” whisper gets returned with a loud “good night”.

Alas, life is a cruel game of two-worded scoffs,
The most harmless of them being a well timed "F___ __"

Note: These are random thoughts penned down, any resemblence to anyone is purely coincidential and hence unintentional. May undeserved fame for a certain two-word phrase be henceforth dissolved.

Kite Flight

2008-03-10T01:45:00.000-07:00

When he first threw up the kite for me, the flight ended in a few seconds. The wind was blowing in the exactly opposite direction. After changing positions, and a few words of caution, he threw it up again. I started pulling at the string vehemently believing, the harder the pull, the higher goes the kite. I found the kite at my feet. A few such clumsy attempts passed by. The kite had now begun a graceful flight up in the sky. Just when I began to smile, I felt the first cut of the manja(glass string). I never expected bloodshed at kite-flying. I thought that was the safest of all games. Aghast at my bloody palm, I dropped the string, my friend dropped his spool, came running to nurse me and we lost the kite to a tree branch.
When I next began to fly with a bandaged palm(I felt like a hero already), I thought I had learnt my lessons. The kite was now flying high and I rejoiced my new position of an expert. I could now fly and talk to my friend at the same time, answer my mom’s tea-time calls and what is more, even sip hot tea. Then misfortune struck and I found myself with an empty string. I had not noticed that the kite was flying dangerously close to a cable and so, did not navigate it out of danger.

One fortnight after my first expedition I was a much better kite flyer, learning the tricks every day.

1. You have to know the nature of the wind, your greatest enabler before launching the flight.
2. You have to pull the string with the right intensity at the right time to set the flight.
3. You cannot care a penny about bloodied palms while flying a kite. That is routine. In fact, that is the motivator.
4. Never take your eyes off the kite however steady the flight is.

Four valuable lessons for a successful and enjoyable kite-flight.

Interestingly, they hold good for a successful relationship too. Hmm..intersting indeed.

Dancer - Contd.

2007-12-05T19:45:00.000-08:00

This is a continuation from article - The Dancer

Intoxication had never been so strong,
That it had led him a mile away from path,
The jingle that filled his ears so long,
Had his senses fall to cupid’s wrath.

His eyes wide shut by darkness’ screen,
His tongue incapable for he knew not her name,
Yet the splendor of their amorous sheen,
Led his lips’ venture over to his dame’s.

Time had frozen in their passionate heat,
Their frames caught in an indivisible twain.
Like from daunting peaks, the melted snow sheets,
The robes flowed down from their decorated veins.

His silken palms causing her heart’s moans
Her breaths answering his longing calls,
With directions being their only gowns,
They found in each other, their ecstatic goals.

Strewn beads(from anklets) and flower petals took his dawn,
That stadium of love was a lonely wheat barn. (Hehehe)

The Dancer

2007-11-14T10:38:00.000-08:00

An eerie night had set on his road,
The distance walked had worn iron shoes.
The mind that carried his despair’s load,
Was weary of circumstances and their noose.

And then she addressed him with a jingle
Of her anklet that so oft hath spoken her words.
Her tapping feat that the glass floor tingled,
Ordered his defenses to drop their swords.

His eyes now a puppet to her slender waist,
Gyrating about in a musical trance,
Like a jasmine creeper so dear and chaste,
When the breeze as a lyre, caused her dance.

And then her fingers played their scheme,
As they playfully covered her bashful face,
Like amidst the clouds that hid the moon’s gleam,
He saw her smile, yet lost it in a daze.

The jingle had merged with the drummer’s game,
Her frame now swaying in blissful disdain,
Her outspread hands as if calling his name,

She danced her way to her quarter’s lane.

Mother in love

2007-10-23T10:46:00.000-07:00

Were it these tender legs that I embrace
That rocked my womb with merry kicks?
The red feet untouched by life’s dusty trace,
So blissfully unprepared for her toady tricks.

These unbiased palms that feel my teary cheeks,
The tears defining an ocean of joy,
And how do thee drive my whelming heart weak,
When thy fingers grasp mine in a telling ploy.

Thy face is to blame when I forget my way,
Thy smile is praise when I undo my pain,
Happiness caused me to beget thee, they say,
Instead, thou art the happiness that I had to gain.

Ever untouched by the seven emotions,
The seven colors fade to thy innocence’s shine,
Even more serene than the seven oceans,
May thee live in my heart and in this rhyme.

A Traveler’s Testimony

2007-10-14T23:49:00.000-07:00

When my tired fingers find thy silken palm,
So generous in warmth, so loving in embrace,
Like the desert traveler who in trees of Palms,
Finds a noble companion in a wretched trace.

When thy eyes blink at me, so full and grand,
I vow that I finally have seen my deity,
For is there any other than my love, on this land,
Whose looks disarm me with unmatched beauty?

A mere pilgrim I am to the monument of love,
Wherein thou art my companion, thou art my deity,
Among relationships this is that sweetest dove,
Whose purity turns cast iron eyes misty.

No monument of marble, built by lovers’ pedigree,
No lyrics that have found musicians’ strings,
These verses are my humble portrait to thee,
Of our love that hath set my emotions to wings.

The call of Nature - On World Evironment Day

2007-06-06T10:01:00.000-07:00

Delivered from the womb of the big blast,
She grew to be heaven’s priceless jewel,
Patches of green with those of blue, so vast,
She, in her, promised many lives to revel.

Greenery watered by the duteous rain,
The rain fed by the righteous cloud,
Riches borne on her generous mane,
She carried like a bride’s nuptial load.

And then, the eyes so lustful in deed,
Saw reasons to build on false desire,
They ran in wounds into her holy seed,
That her richly womb be bled, so dire.

Lest the notoriety of this bloody plunder,
Wreck a curse on our days to follow,
Lest the hands that cradled us, so tender,
Lead us grimly to hellish gallows,

May we wake up to from this ghastly scene,
And wash the blood off the swords,
Not with tears, but with acts of preen,
With diligence covering every possible ward.

May we not sever trees for any cause,
For such causes are borne on flightless wings,
May we now sow seeds to endorse,
Every birth, AND whenever birthdays ring!

In admiration

2007-03-08T05:38:00.000-08:00

This subject celebrated by legions of eyes,
Yet none to decipher her, O sigh!
That smile that unarms even the wise,
O woman, thou art a treasure in disguise.

Yet, who’s treasure shall I name thee, O Dear,
So oft has claws of possession wronged thy mane,
How uninitiated are those jeering seers,
Who seek to grasp the wind, alas in vain.

Valorous at the door yet vulnerable at the window,
Daring at war, yet gracious on the floor (dance floor)
Loving to the cradle, yet stoic at vow,
Beauty in the skin, the interior hath filled with lore.

The Valient Men - Puzzle

2007-02-24T07:40:00.000-08:00

Two armies of four meet at war,
the valient men split evenly by the star,
When Mathematics' queen swung her magic dome,
the aura reduced them to a palindrome.

"We count on Dada"

2007-02-19T02:32:00.000-08:00

Thus spake Rahul Dravid emphatically about Ganguly after the victory over the Lankans in the final match. It was perhaps a year ago that Mr. Ganguly found himself in the woods of the cricketing world. With his skill letting him down, his coach writing him up, with English Literature giving him an infamous crown(the word "ganguly" made it to the Oxford dictonary meaning "to come and go immediately"), his personal life being put under the microscope...and the list goes on. It struck when Mr. Ganguly, shedding the fangs of remorse, sitting in an empty stadium addressed the Nation with a "have you forgotten me already".
And today, he is having one of the most successful come-backs a sportsman can dream of. Each visit to the crease has been a resurruction of sorts, of a persona, of a skill, and most importantly of a career. Probably Oxford should change the meaning or atleast add a pun to the word "ganguly" now meaning "to go and come back immediately"!!
The only song that plays on my lips today is:
"Toota toota ek parinda aise toota, ki phir ud na paaya....jo bhi ho kal phir aayega"

Hats off..wait..no hats off to Mr. Ganguly. For, neither was his fall in fame his crime, nor is his resurruction, his heroic! This is a game of an up and a down, a crest and a trough...so aptly mentioned in this song. The heroic is to live it.

I do know if it is pre-mature to write this..however, I better write it better it is too late to notice.

Answer to Puzzle-II

2007-01-22T23:59:00.000-08:00

Thanks for your participation. Here is my thought about the puzzle.

He = Fire; I = Smoke

That vibrant nature of the fire and the quiet nature of the smoke(line 2)...Smoke rises from fire, yet its the smoke that puts off fire(line 3).

Puzzle-II

2007-01-06T22:36:00.000-08:00

The dimensionless he and the formless me,
My quiescent gait and his glorious dance,
From him I am roused, yet, he is fallen by me,
Name our identities to have this puzzle in lance.

Who is he and Who am I??

Sequel to Puzzle:

2006-12-28T21:55:00.000-08:00

Around lofty subjects is his "gallent walk",
Turbulent thoughts be "controlled" by his grind,
Amidst tempests, he marches to his dock*,
Most vibrant of all, he-the silent MIND.

*dock - for all water vessels, the dock

Puzzle

2006-11-11T10:22:00.000-08:00

The answer to this puzzle, do these verses guard,
His gallant walk as fluid as a roll,
He besieges the Uncontrolled, in his ward,
To serve his journey to the goal!

Who is he? Your views invited.

----

2006-11-02T05:31:00.000-08:00

It’s this sky that has embraced the lake in blue,
It’s the Sun that caresses the flower to bloom,
When miles so long, fail to Love’s piercing view,
What good, O Maiden, is this wall between rooms!!!

errrrr...now that's naughty! You would want to replace the last sentence with

O Maiden, this distant heart has thy love in loom!

----

2006-10-23T23:42:00.000-07:00

Me! A shodow to your esteemed frame,
my spread dictated by the Sun's path.
Then why is my littleness your jeering game,
and my hugeness, Distress's wrath?

Just as a shadow is a mere image of the frame and its size and spread is decided by the frame alone, so is one's predicament-be it joy or sorrow, is a result of one's own actions. Hence, one, oneself is responsible for it and can steer out of it.

---

2006-10-22T10:18:00.000-07:00

I and he, both in one frame,
the tale that is seen a ficticious dawn.
Is ever such fiction in nature's game,
that two peaks adorn one hill's crown??

Just A Thought

2006-09-18T02:27:00.000-07:00

This stage that thee strides, so strong,
Is an endless path that cradles thy role,
perhaps witness to rebukes and songs,
Alas! Yet not vast to hold thy soul.

One who is affected by official challenges is not less wrong than the actor who is carried away by situations in a play.

Ah, that venomous snake in glee,
Could wrap that branch by his frame,
Now, ask the wise sandalwood tree,
Can venom ever dilute that fragrance, so famed?

One’s inner peace and happiness is untouched, unperturbed by situations that engulf him; just like that sandalwood tree whose fragrance is never diluted by the venomous snake that always circles its trunk

These are random thoughts that came past me, after a particular discussion that I happened to have with few proffesionals, on the subject of professional challenges leading to mental stress.

A Puppet to his Master

2006-04-15T05:52:00.000-07:00

Lest the mother's eyes were forced to recite,
to her heart, in pain, her son's plight,
Thou led me out of her tender sight,
when my health had to bow to Destiny's might.

Lest my frame was tasked to lean,
on vacuum so cold and bare,
Thou carried me on Your arms unseen,
away from crowds, their words, their glare.

Lest Lonliness cradled my pain,
Lest its ways decieved my dignity,
Thou rested my self on a cradle whose twines,
were Love, Care, Warmth and Nobility.

A puppet I am, my strings, Thee wills.
Thy moves so Divine and full of Grace,
that when I have to fall to Destiny's riddles,
I find myself in Thy embrace.

2006-03-07T23:49:00.000-08:00

International Woman's Day

An Ode to Nobility

O Lord, such is Thy craft…

A fairy rises from Thy sacred womb,
As the Sun from that elusive Groove*,
Stamps she such beauty on warring humanity,
As does the rose to her thorny tree.

Valiant is the anchor that fights the storm,
Noble as much, for it shows not its form,
Such is the fairy whose silent aura banish
tempestous pain and mortal anguish.

Blesses as we by Thy Craft divine,
Amidst that is a jewel serene,
That thus, does brightens my convex crown,
As among birds, that wondrous swan.

My love for her is steely robust,
Of whose change O Time, thou can never boast,
Be towers that rise, and alas! They fall
May my love live past them all.

O Lord such divinity did Thee sew,
To the parched humanity, this Morning Dew,
Bless her well with Thy secret ways,
More than a thousand Suns with a Zillion rays.

* Groove between the sky and earth – the Horizon

2006-02-26T01:32:00.000-08:00

Redundancy – The hot job

I am glad that Lady Destiny offered to me the communion with Mr. Officer, an individual of the “Hard Work Pays” Order. My observations and subsequent inferences on him have helped me in a great way, to deduce my further conduct in the Professional World.
A person with a 15 hr workday for 6 days in a week, Mr. Officer is a man of energy. Be it going boundary-less at work, be it silently undertaking the load of peer-inefficiencies, or be it religiously making himself present at every cross-road of business transaction, he definitely portrayed a man of zeal and rock solid commitment. The last point is note-worthy. Officer took it to be his austere duty to have his fingerprints on almost every activity in his realm of Operations. This was not with an intention of overt self-importance or its likes that often drags one to illusionary heights, only to throw one down later. This was more with an intention of taking personal responsibility of all activities that unfolded in his realm. And from responsibility and accountability arises character and with character rise leaders – courageous leaders. Mr. Officer, in my eyes was definitely a leader, a long-distance front-runner with the followers far and strewn.
It was more than year of observation that lead me to see the fact! The race that Officer was running was not on a racetrack or road, but on a treadmill! He was running hard and perspiring as a result, all right, but was never moving from his start point!! He was tiring, though his zeal was unshaken, the “alleged” distance recorded by the treadmill meter made him smile, but then, progress as mentioned earlier was only “alleged” progress. This stark truth shook me, saddened me! A man of worth, this guy was enjoying only “alleged” growth. My analyses and further deductions on this sorry commerce between effort and reward were thus.
Officer was working with the entire load on his inviting shoulders. He worked in a fashion that made his fingerprints a necessary mark on every activity to be deemed a success. In other words, his little professional kingdom completely depended on him for its survival and Operations. He very well understood this, however, this fact only pleased his humble ego and did not awaken his fore thinking abilities. He never saw the pole that he was making out of himself without which the beautiful climber could never exist. Alas, Selflessness, thou art an outsider in the business Warfield.
Person-dependency can prove to be dangerous for businesses today. For an individual who propagate and practice this, it can be fatal. As a result of detailed understanding of the problem and zeal to overcome it, no matter however routine its frequency be, he goes about his functioning. Escaping the problem is a crime for him. However, is escaping from the very occurrence of the problem a crime? This question never arises to him. Elimination of the very occurrence is the crux of the solution. Setting up of systems that do not cause dependency on certain individuals is the crux of maturity of the self and the team. With change being the only unchanged aspect of human existence, the success of the projects that he handles has increasingly begun depending on unchangeable processes. In short, redundancy of the person, nay, not the person but that of the role that he plays is the need of the hour. Slipping out of the role that we hold without negatively impacting the functioning of the role is what I mean here.
And by redundancy of role, arises the freeing up of individuals who have been instrumental in such designing, and this pool of freed up geniuses is meant for higher orders of professional and personal life. Being irreplaceable can make one immobile and stunt ones progresses. And hence, what one considered a pet project slowly turns to be a predator on oneself! And hence processes and disciplined adherence to them has this undoubted, enviable importance.

I have been writing for quite some time now. I am amazed about what Mr. Officer has unveiled to me. Something so lush in its meaning and relevance. Mr. Officer is definitely a leader.

Note: This account has been triggered from inputs from a budding successful professional.

2006-02-12T19:04:00.000-08:00

A candle in the breeze

One sometimes finds oneself in a situation of a candle in the wind. The breeze blows hard on the flame in intervals, and just when the flame tries to re-establish its presence, there comes the breeze again to play havoc! The flame continues to make the resurrection act till the breeze finally goes silent.

Events do just this individuals sometimes.

Such periods are ones that highlight the character and resolve of the "flame". Such chapters are highly educative, not only for the self but also for all mankind.

2006-02-10T22:50:00.000-08:00

That Day with Her.

After weeks of intense hard work at office, we decided to unwind, one Saturday at a bicycle trail in the forests of Savanadurga. After all, a good way to escape the corporate jungles, filled with chilling Air-conditioning systems and monstrous computer gadgetry, is to find refuge in the terrains of the gorgeous Lady Nature! Very often have I experienced such trysts with this magical Lady being extremely enriching and calming.
It was close to noon when we 23 corporate escapees, each crowned with crash helmets and loaded with bottles of water, mounted our bicycles. Our guide announced that the path consisted of 80% of downhill terrain, and that worked well on our sensitive motivation circuitry. The Lance Armstrong in each of us was ready to be unleashed. It started with a bang! We zoomed past each other with a vengeance, each overtaking maneuver convincing our ego about the presence of a genius in us. We were on our way.
And lo! There came out the Sun, and with Him, out came perspiration, out came our fatigue, out came our thirst, out came our cameras, and out came our comradeship! We found ourselves looking over our shoulders for our companions, often stopping to help and motivate. The Sun began to get merciless, and so was the terrain. Legs began to complain and throats began to cry hoarse. Every water source on the trail attracted attention and respect (we had to bow down to drink water from the borewells, u see!). Our guide was rather nonchalantly cheerful at our antics. Rightly so, for we were just another herd doing the rounds.
Slowly, we settled down to enjoy the beauty around us…and listen, what an amazing presentation of greenery. The banks of the trail were lush green as far as the eye could see. The moving path below and the caressing breeze working on our hair and skin added to the intoxication. And can anything beat the joy of drinking from the borewells and feasting on fruits from the jungle trees!
I am persuaded to repeat, this Lady truly captivates! And just to ensure we uncover and celebrate our resilience, She gives us an uphill stretch, with an inclination of close to 40 deg, and with absolutely no shelter on an early Indian summer noon! We pulled ourselves through the ordeal. And just as we got there, She presents us with the panorama that made every drop of sweat worth the spill! Lake Manchinabelle, with its non-circular periphery looks amazing from the hilltop. Something, that rivets even Cast Iron hearts. Well, the Lady not only captivates and challenges, but also coaxes after the challenge.
In all, we had bicycled 18 km, stopped half a dozen times, drank litres of water, shed close to 500 calories of fat and clicked hundreds of pictures. We were a rejuvenated lot; after all we were with this mesmerizing Lady called Nature!

2006-01-16T19:20:00.000-08:00

Of Books N Bucks

I finally, last week, renewed my distance-MBA endevours after a 6-month hiatus. I must tell you, its a sin to get away from books. The quest for career and money often leads us away, but that aint the best that can happen to us. For, the very act of getting back and setting the rythm of studies is an uphill task, leave alone the task of studying and annexing exam papers.

I suggest to my friends, to see how books and bucks can be handled hand-in-hand with due deligence, so that there is no disregard for either.

:)

2006-01-09T19:25:00.000-08:00

Mein Nachlesend

I have just begun the reading of Hitler's Mein Kamph. It is amusing that a man who seemed to have lost his reasoning and humanenees in his quest of colonisation could write a book of this depth and character.
A good read which guarantees:
1. A good insight into World politics during the first World War.
2. A flavour of the iron resolve of the man.
3. A portray of his strong, all-conquering conviction.
4....

Will fill in blanks as I read...:)

Note: The title to this post can be roughly translated to "My Reading"

2005-11-09T19:37:00.000-08:00

A few observations.

The dew drops on a Lotus leaf. Neither can they declare attachment to one another, nor can they ever seperate ways.

The flower that blossoms in Sunshine. One brightens the other everyday, yet expects or recieves nothing in reciprocation!

The water fall! The rocks so arranged that fall of water is the only fall on earth that can be beautiful!

Sights so beautiful...ah, why wouldn't they be. After all, acts of love without the fangs of possessiveness are supremely beautiful and priceless.

2005-11-05T03:45:00.000-08:00

Further to a suggetion of a good friend, I herewith record 7 improbable(if not impossible) things i want to do:

1. An around-the-world trip in a hot air balloon.
2. Act in a Shakespeare play in the Royal Albert Hall, London.
3. Be witness to our Armed Forces battling it out there with the militants(The former deserve any and all acts of tribute)
4. Learn swimming and then, swim across to Vivekananda rock(Ah! some men are so worth to be imitated, yet so difficult..:) )
5. An evening in...oops...with Paris (Hilton) ( i call it improbable because i wonder if that event will ever end, once started !)
6. A vacation in Space ( Ah, those martian instincts)
7. (another thing I want to do is to complete the 7th point)

Any help from the blogger community to help fulfil any of the above points will be highly appreciated.

2005-11-01T19:03:00.000-08:00

Thanks Vishnu, for having brought me into the loop...

Seven things I plan to do:
1. Get my drivers' license for a four-wheeler
2. Complete a marathon race without a "pit-stop".
3. Watch 4 movies back-to-back in cinema halls in a single day!!(Its fun to test endurance)
4. Make atleast one visit to Kailas-Manasarovar(The beauty is simply bewitching)
5. Take to yoga for better fitness.
6. Blog more often than I do now.
7. And I better take my Distance Management course seriously....got to take the exams coming up.

Seven things I can't do:

1. Sleep beyond 7 hrs.
2. Take a dog for a jog.
3. Cook
4. stop liking sweets
5. shop for more than 45 min.
6. stop reading and re-reading Shakespeare's works(..and each time its all the more interesting)
7. dance salsa!!!

Seven things I say most often:

1. Okkk
2. gosh!
3. ahaaa...Oru K(g)ruppa thaanya alairanga(comedian Vadivelu's punchline)
4. Naaye ( Vishnu and I are custodians of Points 3 and 4)
5. maga
6. well...
7. Good

I now pass on the baton to Nidhi.

2005-10-30T07:42:00.000-08:00

“Unbreakable imported” Chinaware or Jalandar ki lassi tumbler

Friday workday was ethnic day at office. I reached office a little early than usual…me in a kurtha, jeans and chunri. Strike 9 am and the flow started. Men and women marched in their Patanis, Kanjeevarams, Mundu veshti, Sherwanis, Mysore Turbans…so on and so forth. I am not exaggerating when I say that each one looked as gorgeous as the word could mean and sound. One colleague in his Kodugu gown and head gear caused enough excitement among ladies for their hearts to complain of being over-worked in blood pumping. Not to mention that lady clothed in a Gujarati style saree…so very beautiful. I have always endorsed whenever elders at home discussed the importance of being dressed in our ethnic attires when the occasion arises. I strongly feel that the ethnic attires of Indian women are a celebration of feminine beauty! Anyone who wears those looks so gorgeous. Its just not about the looks, that is just a by-product. Its about colour, about the care and thought with which they have been designed, its about adding beauty and grandeur - grandeur so well blended with simplicity, without having to expose our skin to this atmosphere, this atmosphere whose Ozone is considerably depleted!

We have masses swarming shopping malls hunting for techni-colour tops and patched jeans. Hello! Please throw a glance at that beautiful Sherwani hanging on that stand with such simple majesty!

I was at a shopping mall yesterday looking for a Chinaware dinner set for a relative. The kind shopkeeper dug out half a dozen varieties, he even slammed one against other to show me how unbreakable they were. He even showed me his trump card – chinaware imported from US of A ! Whenever did Uncle Sam become such an excellent potter!!
I was very wary of it all, yet decided to go for it. As I gingerly felt my pocket for the wallet, I heard a wise lady quip rather emotionally in Punjabi, “ You call this unbreakable? I tell you, they can never match the endurance and grandeur of the Lassi tumblers of Jalandar!!..Ahh” The shopkeeper tried hard to hide is endorsing nod, lest he be viewed of breaching integrity to his business.

That very statement induced a chain of thoughts in me – I of course did not buy the dinner set. Instead I walked in to a cyber café to pen those flowing thoughts.

2005-10-21T04:59:00.000-07:00

Chennai Marathon for a cause

The Marathon at Chennai will be held on the 5th of Feb 2006. Check in to http://www.chennaimarathon.org/rules_regu01.html to know about it all.

See you all there.

2005-09-30T03:14:00.000-07:00

The Marathon:

Check out the picture of my good friend Vishnu and myself(Chest Tag #06152) just after the Bangalore Marathon held in May 2005. What a great experience it was!

Stay tuned for a discussion on the Marathon, 'cause thats what's in mind now. :)

2005-09-26T01:27:00.000-07:00

In a vessel upstream

As I walk hurriedly down the busy pavement I accidently overhear a cellphone user, "what the f@#@!! mein(man), I thought you said 5 30...ah.......yup! yup!...chiao meinnn....lets catch up the coming weekend...you rock till then ah! YO!
I walk past him and then it hits me...arre he is our old chum Parandaman!! We are both glad, we give our typical swinging hi-fis(oh, we have not forgotten them..great!).
"Hey da Parandaman, how are you doing now-a-days"?
"Paddy mein , Paddy is the name"
Errrr...gulp. We gulp a quick drink at a coffee joint, exchange contact details and get up to leave. He doesn't shake my hand, instead, puts a queer signal, the forefinger and little finger outstretched and the other fingers folded in. "Yo mein, nice meeting you, keep in touch ah"

Now, Paddy aka Parandaman is the personification of fashion, attitude, hep-and-happening.

We have our hair gelled up to look in all sorts of ways, our jeans is so worn, that it fights hard to defy gravity and stay up there(I once saw a gentleman pulling it up when he thought no one saw him. Uncomfortable that he looked in that attire, nevertheless he had to keep pace with his fashion-breathing comrades!), you got to show you are cool by saying kewl, you will be grunted at if you said ok...its ookkiiee!
This is fashion, this is attitude, this is help and happening.
We live like this because 8 out of the 10 people in our office shuttle bus live this way, or talk about living this way. The fear of being left out of the pack, or looked down upon due to not keeping up with trends, is as intense and perennial as the fear of death. We do all that’s possible to overcome it.
No matter how scenic the downstream route is, how enjoyable and easy the rowing is, we prefer to row upstream because 25 out of the 30 rowers decided to go that way. Perhaps our emphasis of staying in the herd is stronger than the joy of true beauty and comfort.
Now a few observations:
1. Walking down the ramp with your mom makes you look macho.
2. Greeting your Significant Other in your traditional, rich ethnic attire will give him /her immediate goose bumps and sleepless nights of pleasant dreams.
3. Fashion, style and attitude are in the heart of the wearer and not in eyes of the audience.

What do you feel?

2005-09-16T01:39:00.000-07:00

Pain!...its thought-provoked??

For the last 3 days I have been brooding about problems that have been plaguing my health, rather insistently. Besides that sickly weak feeling and the lose of appetite, its the disappointment of losing the rythm of running 6 kms everyday, which I took weeks to establish. Now I pant and heave even when I climb a flight of stairs!! Ahh, depressing.
But hey..wait a minute, its not been 3 full days of disappointment and resentment. These bouts of problems have been well punctuated by long sleep innings. They have been a welcome respite from the brooding.
So, why does sleep put me out of this despair? I did exsist in sleep, still none of these pinpricks touched me. A little retrospection shows that the only thing different in sleep is the non-exsistance of thought, thought that is attributable to the intellect and ego.

So is the feeling of pain and despair, a mere game of perception? A game where the ego is the judge and intellect, perception and expectations the jury?? Does pain exsist, and if it does should it bother us and our routine to any extent at all? Do we really have to stand in the court of ego awaiting a judgement on whether a particular event should give us happiness or sorrow?

Extrapolating, are all positive and negetive emotions at the hands of our discretion? and if so, is it possible to always choose the former?

Your views pls.

The thoughts that flowed into this piece were triggered by an article in the blog - bhartie.

2005-07-19T23:36:00.000-07:00

A day in the battlefield...

Chariots screech to a halt....half a dozen of them. Warriors and strategists alike, alight from their cosy vehicles and march into Ground Zero. Few hang around to take a puff or two before getting into action. As I get on to the ground after a smooth one-hour drive, an air of calmness greets me. Ironically, that gives me a tinge of excitement and an ounce of anticipation, for, the calmness is most often the silence before the storm.
The scene is a typical morning at the gates of my office, a company manufacturing electronic equiqments used in the field of medicine.
After the customary formalities at the security's, I walk in with my head held high, ready to face the field for the next 8-10 hrs. As I take position(log on my PC at my desk), Aramis walks in rather cheerfully. Two minutes later we are talking about the performance of one of the units that is right now, in an hospital in distant America.
I wear on my armour(the mandatory overcoat that one wears while in the manufacturing shopfloor), and march into the floor to meet my Legions of Volumes(my team of manufacturing associates who turn around our production numbers, thus winning bread for the firm). We spend the next 30 minutes discussing our performance against plan, problems, wins, loses etc...and over a series of jokes and chides we set our game plan for the day and for the week ahead. Positions are changed, few lines are stopped, few are loaded to increase capacity. All set to take on the day's foes.
Its close to one hour of war when I get back to my position from the production floor. The hall is already bubbling with activity...we have them all in full action, Porthos, Athos, Robert Langdon, Erin Brockowich, so on and so forth...and our Supreme Commander Jonah !
What immediately follows is an hour-long internal team meeting where the warriors talk about various operational and strategic issues that are and might effect or affect the course of the business. Each of the subjects are discussed in details, actions set in place and follow-up plans laid out. This meeting is one of the most effective tools that keeps the team going, especially when the battle is thick and tough.
Its now time for a quick break...tea time and juicy grapevine.
And then, the day charges up with gears being switched and heads down to action. Actions coming out of the internal meeting are taken up and followed. Strong calls go back and forth between the supply chain commandoes and the suppliers. Gosh, I really admire them for fighting those unseen distant entities(I would hate to call our suppliers, foes) on an hourly basis to ensure a smooth Operations. Now and then, we see Commander Jonah walk around and talk to his Generals on how the day is going. An integral part of the war is preparing for end-of-the-day tele conferences with collegues, higher-ups, suppliers, customers etc. Complicated data, volumenous and frighteningly complex in many ways get shared across the PCs in blinding speed through the LAN lines. Its close to 3 hours of intense war fare now and the stomachs start grumbling for attention.
Lunch time!...time for stomach filling amidst more grapevine, jokes and occasional business updates.
The tempo is maintained and very often stepped up during the second half of the day. New suprises turn in, some pleasent and some un-pleasant. The Legions continue to send out products. A comrade comes in announcing a major quality issue that brings the concerned commandoes in the office to their feet. In parellel, mails are sent across announcing the issue and a game plan to get back on track. Jonah has just announced an HUGE increase in the demand with very little time to react. The supply chain regiment takes it in bewilderment though it puts on a calm, strong face to it. General Langdon(head of Quality) points out a process flaw that needs to be corrected immediately. Almost simultaneously, one trusted comarade from the line announces his ill-health and thus his inability to carry on any further. I take a deep breath to make some sense out of all this. I decide to take a walk across the product lines. It fills me with joy when I see the products moving out in series of trolleys. I stop by to catch up with a few comrades, tell them how I feel about their recent improvement initiative, how much of a difference they make to the entire game through their endevours. I always try to put in a joke or two with my team, it helps to keep the tempo up. After all, laughter is the best medicine.
I am back at my seat and I have just realised that my "to-do" list is just finished the 20-point mark. The watch tells me that it is less than 2 hrs for the day to get over. Time to get going with the war. The next two hours have me glued into the Laptop. Spreadsheets get filled, mails get shot out, calls get made. I begin to realise that the "to-do" list is unsurmountable before the close of day. After due contemplation, I decide its wise to log out on time, to stay prepared for bloodier battles in the coming days. My innings at the laptop gets regularly punctuated with calls from the line announcing problems and soughting immediate solutions. It is these one-minute problem solving that interests me the most in this whole game. Thinking on the feet is a not a virtue here, it is the basic requirement for survival!
Its soon the home stretch for the day. My comrades for the battlefield fill me with the updates for the day which I put up on the production dashboard.
I give my curt comments as responses and send them back with the plan to think of for the coming day's battle
Meanwhile, few team members are already involved in a tele-conference with an engineering team in the US. I hear Athos greating the listener at the other end. We exchange understanding grins...tricky games these tele-conferences are. Its just about half an hour from the log out time, and I still have a dozen points to close. Recieving updates, mails, and other routine activities take me through the half an hour. Ah, the day has again managed to drain me out, but the thought of heading home is always a freshening one.
As I pack up my ammunition, a couple of comrades run into to give me the last minute updates from the production field. In my rush to catch the chariot, I shove the slip of paper into my pocket, promising to give my comments over the mobile phone.
I bundle up my back-pack and just manage to catch my vehicle.
As I settle into my seat, I close my eyes and grin to myself. Life is all but a theatre stage; we, the actors need to play our roles to perfection, though not to get involved overtly with any of them. The day's battle is won, but the war is still at open. Wow...now that gives the kick.

Note: Names are changed and thus geniune identities are withheld from the reader. Still, any names bearing to resemblance to anyone alive or dead is purely coincidential.
........(extract from the memoirs of D'Artagnan)

2005-06-30T08:56:00.000-07:00

The Myth of Tuesday

Tuesday has this envious(or would I say non-envious) tradition of being associated with superstitions in various cultures across the globe. The Indians believe no new endevour must commence on a Tuesday, the Spanish believe the day brings ill-luck ... a proverb runs En martes, ni te cases ni te embarques (on Tuesday, neither get married nor start a journey).
The truth behind these beliefs(from an Hindu Mythology perspective) is that contrary to the popular belief, Tuesday is the most auspicious day of the week...too auspicious to be involved in anything worldly. The day is a special day for Lord Subramanya, the Lord with unbounded knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge leads to wisdom and wisdom at its profound best shows that worldly deads are mere illusions with no relevance to true happiness. It is perhaps due to this fact, Tuesdays and all days special to Lord Subramanya(the day of the Krithigai star, Shasti-the sixth phase of the waning moon etc.), are believed to be wrong days for any special activities other than routine.

...on a cold monsoon Tuesday evening of 26th week of 2005, myself Srikanth finally launched his blog, "leaves from the diary". I say "finally" because it was an act that was prolonged for months if not years. I did not plan it for a tuesday...in fact i realised this angle only after i pressed the submit button for blog creation. But then, I will not term this act "worldly" and hence will tell myself that I have not violated that unwritten, emperical rule.
I am yet to update my profile. I never thought of it that day, nor do I have any inclination to do it now. Perhaps postings here need to be given an opportunity to introduce the author to the world rather than mere profiles.

Kudos.