Tehelka sting

Seems like everyone joined the "kill Muslims" party in Gujarat, the police, netas, aam admi, everyone with an ax to grind. Killing women, the aged and children, and violating women are not condoned by any religion or way of life, Hinduism including. That, to me, seemed really despicable and downright cowardly. If the Hindu way of life, so sublime in its beauty and compassion and well-regarded for its deeply thought out philosophy of life and the after-life, is left to these marauding hordes, then i shudder at its prospects. A belief system that has withstood wars, invasions, crusades and savagery at the hands of countless "others" should not be appropriated by brutal usurpers who have little clue about its great ethos. It is the duty of every proud Hindu, yours truly including, to wrest Hindutva (which means the Hindu essence) from scavengers intent only on using religion to futher their short-term political ambitions. 

Oh this Ka has become fascinating

Ka, by Roberto Calasso, is part novel, part myth, part everything. but what is becoming interesting is how deep he is going into Hindu philosophy, the Vedic thought, concept of the Saptharishis et al. It is getting better and better. 

sore yee

down with conjunctivitis....will be back in a day or two.....

johnny gaddar

very interesting movie. whodunit, but yu knwo whodunit!!! good performance by dharmendra and vinay pathak.

invading my dreamscape

i like the quiet of the night. that's when you invade me with thoughts of you. when i pen down the longing, the fear and the hurt, trying my best to separate them one at a time. you have a knack of catching me unawares. i miss those walks and easy chatter. i miss you. above all, i miss the searing want that comes with missing you.

be

i touch your fingertips,

while you gaze at the waves.

you drop into my life, like a raindrop

you have stepped in

unannounced, like the familiar Autumn drizzle.

once, i was scared to lose you, raindrop!

no time for friends

some people have no time for friends, or for what they say or what they want. they have all the time to pick up the phone and speak to you when they need something, not when you ask them for help. then, they develop selective amnesia, don't check the internet or can't even pick up the phone to talk. all they do is crib, about how little time they have. they don't realise how much time they waste on frivolous things. i don't get angry about the big things. but i certainly get riled by the small things. like people returning a call, replying to a message or sms. when they don't do that, i mean, when their courtesies are misplaced, that's when i express my anger. people assume i will forget their injustices. i don't. nor do i forget the good turns. that's my way of saying i reward good behaviour and punish the bad. people who don't understand this side to me can conveniently disappear from my life. i don't care. and people who try to make me feel guilty for succumbing to their own weaknesses can also take a hike. 

seems a strange day

when i feel very incommunicado. just do work, and blog an check orkut and mail. and read. and probably watch a movie. 

today's recurring motif is death

shocking pictures of scores dead in the Karachi blasts, all dead while the targeted escaped. this is really meaningless. a really smart assassin would prove his mettle by hitting just the target, not collateral damage as the Americans would say. why make an enemy of perfectly law-abiding citizens while trying to score political brownie points? seems terrorists are the same everywhere.

so many deaths on the road

saw a gruesome accident today. the biker was dead. a public transport bus parked a few feet away. whether the bus hit the biker or the biker ramemd into it is irrelevant now, for the man is long gone. but the sad state of our traffic endures. 

Peanuts, and being bullied

It seems Charles Schulz, the creator of the Peanuts strip, never ever forgave his bullies--even as he lay dying. That seems incredible, yet beautifully humane. how better to affirm your faith in humanity than in not absolving childhood bullies of their sins. Newsweek's piece on a biography of Charles gives us a well-rounded picture of the guy, through his biographer's point of view and his family and friends'. Which makes me want to read the book, although i find the cartoons themselves very depressing. Give me Calvin, Garfield, Hagar, Wizard, Animal Crackers and Beetle Bailey. And, of course, Gary Larson. 

elimination

now star singer is down to its last twenty participants. things are getting more exciting. some boring singers have somehow made it to the last 20, i wish they had been booted out a long time back. anyway, this will take until December end to decide the winner. it is a sane, participative format and funny in parts. and some real talent!

i seek you in a tattered telephone book

you stare at me 

as a ten-digit number

from the well-thumbed

confines 

of a faded telephone diary.

it's been years, i muse

peering intently

at your name for several

long seconds in discomfort.

memories of you zip through

my care-worn fingers

in many telephone conversations, 

in shared cups of tea

spent at a dilapidated canteen,

and long walks to nowhere

to no purpose,

except professions of love

and sacred vows.

you are just a name now,

not even a sharp intake of breath.

the time machine

if the space-time curvature is true, it seems time travel is theoretically possible. in the late 19th century, one man thought time travel would be possible, at least in a story he wrote. he penned the time machine, which, to this day seems so incredible. that someone sitting in dreary London, possiblly writing long-hand could devise such a means to meet one of many possible futures. or pasts. since space bends everything, including light, due to the force of gravity, it should be theoretically possible to reach where you started from if you travel much faster than light (now impossible). which means, you will alter the journey and when it began. sounds mad? no. think of a giant spherical ball and a point above it. the point is travelling faster than the speed of light. but the light ray on which the point is travelling bends, almost to the shape of the sphere that the giant ball is. the bend, all along its circumference will push light to meet its starting point, won't it? so what happens to the point the ray carried with it. has it begun the journey or ended it? or is it going to change the past by travelling to the future and coming full circle? these and other questions are agitating scientists the world over. if an Einstein among them manages to devise a way to travel faster than light, or punch a hole through the space-time manifold so that a journey along the circumference can be cut through the diameter, then we can travel faster from place to place, or meet ourselves before we started. 

conspiracy theories

Was Sonia Gandhi introduced to Rajiv Gandhi so that she may, 30 years down the line, control the Congress party, and, eventually become the power behind the throne? Were the tragic deaths of his mother, brother and of course himself part of that same design? which, incidentally was to let US capitalist interests gain a foothold in India? Is Manmohan Singh a membe of a secret society that includes teh Bushes, Clintons and other prominent men of this era? All these were asserted to be part of a grand capitalist conspiracy by a friend recently. I reserve judgment on these. to each his ow conspiracy claim!

ever watched star singer

it's a competition for singers, on Asianet. the format is in interesting, the participants are decently good and the judges are a caricaturist's delight! my fav contestant is a visually challenged boy from Bangalore, Ritvik Rajan. He is endearing and he sings very well. Thushar, another from TVDM, is good too. He may just take the top prize. 

Gene rules, but

We are back to deifying the gene, or even better, junk DNA. and the letters in it..A, T G, C. this century, Newsweek tells us, is possibly biotech's. so that should be good news for all those who seek to grow a new hand or keep a spare eye. and, growing old? not if the biologists or geneticicts are to be believed. welcome to the brave new world. the greying shall inherit the earth. and goodbye HIV!

met a friend

after years. but strangely, it seemed just like we were meeting after just a few days. interesting conversation and same camaraderie. that felt good.

another day, another blast.

seems so commonplace now. these bombs going off everywhere. ajmer??? where next? in flood-hit villages of orissa? a bomb for every indian, is it? that will make it 1.1 billion bombs and counting. that many bombs in the mind, ticking, waiting to explode. why don't the terrorists simply plant one in their houses first? just for fun, like they do elsewhere? or should that responsibility be taken up by all the innumerable victims of countless bombings? maybe they should just start a vigilante force that specialises in bombing the homes and beloved ones of the planters, and their handlers and the cowardly, faceless slime that instigate these hatchet men to do the dirty job. pity! if the earth were indeed flat, as friedman says so pompously, we could have just pushed these bombmakers off the ends and waited to hear their dying, screaming echoes. well, as of now, everything seems fine as long as no one acts to bring these guys to justice. looks like minority report will sooner be reality than later.

goooglyeeed

Indian cricketers seem to be high on talk and low on the real stuff. The match I am watching is ample testimony to that. Tendulkar and Dravid ought to be dropped. And India should play a young team that is fearless.

The Fellowship

It's a book by John Gribbin. Talks of how a few gutsy scientists brought the age of experimental science into being in Europe. How the natural philosophers challenged the Curch and the heresy fear to turn Europe into the scientific powerhouse it has become today. Galileo went to medical school, instead got interested in mathematics and eventually dropped out of med to teach maths. Interesting trivia like these make it engaging. Still long way to go before i finish it.

you are one with the mist, now

i memorise your silhouette

before plunging

into the icy labyrinths

of want,

yet again

even as you fade

ever so gently

into the foggy night.

somewhere,

a clock strikes

the appointed hour

as if ready to 

pounce

on the stillness

of your passing.

someone said my blog reeks of melancholy

every blog is a bit of the blogger. the story may be made up, the verse twisted to suit the frame or the mood, the anger palpable or the indignation feigned, even. but in essence it is an extension of the blogger's real self. that makes melancholy, inertia, pleasure and pain inevitable. it is an effort to fill up the cosmos with debris, with the detritus of feeling that has been sapped beyond simple concepts like pain and bliss. it is a husk, a shell that has seen better days. it is an empty tin that's been stripped of passion. words that transmute feelings do that. that is what this blog is, will be. not empty rhetoric or mere letters bereft of a soul. this is an attempt at post-mortem. in the world of lightning-fast optic fibres, there is no right or wrong. it simply is, it exists as a miasma of thought, feeling and passion expressed in the best way possible. it doesn't mean the world is a trivial place for my sorrow. i think it is richer because of it, inspite of it. as my fellow blogger said, "everything happens for the good." maybe, in the long run. and i accept the pristine beauty of that concept. but as some witty economist observed," in the long run, we are all dead."

story again...

...dinner was a rather quiet affair. which suggested that we were both hungry, and mulling over this new-found intimacy. we were headed back, when she caught me by surprise with the question. "why were you standing in the rain?" i mumbled. i hate lying to her, as i did even then. so i stayed quiet. "what if i hadn't turned up?," she was insistent. "oh! love is blind," i said, without even thinking. oops! i didn't know where to look after that impulsive statement. she looked as if somebody had knocked her cold. slowly,  a smile tugged at her and she reached out to touch my arm. "will you marry me?," i asked then. that shocked me even more. our acquaintance was barely weeks old, and here i was proposing marriage. this really stunned her. " i mean it," i said. "this may seem too fast for you, but this is exactly what i would do, if that's what you too feel." she put a finger to my lips. "shhhhh, we will talk about this later. now let's get back to work," she said. i felt so insecure, yet strangely happy that she hadn't dismissed the whole thing. for the rest of the evening, or night, she seemd so bubbly, helped me with a difficult testing software and smsed me in between work so often i thought she would be rapped by the project head. "let's meet up for lunch tomorrow," she messaged. "yippeee," i smsed back. when she was leaving, she said," i will sms you when i reach home." that made me sit up. we had never done that. i had never asked, although i used to worry. this was beautiful, i thought. i went home doing mental cartwheels. yet, a strange voice inside my head felt troubled. the voice refused to let me be completely happy. it said: " you guys are never going to make it to the altar." i dismissed the sugegstion angrily. yet it came back, forcefully. by the time i hit the bed, i was praying that voice was insane. it was not. but about that and other things, later.

This is the pits!!!

beating up a pregnant woman, and her child, whatever the reason, that too, in the land of the supposed intellectual, and one that professes to stand up courageously for the marginalised and downtrodden, is totally unacceptable. she may have stolen that chain, which is not proven as yet, or not. but what divine right did the people have to thrash her? it is gross injustice. the perpetrators of this heinous crime ought to be punished. 

you refuse to talk

or text, or receive my rings

this, after i stuff your notebook

with a zillion links 

to salvation.

why did i bother, i wonder

isn't it common courtesy?

Insensitivity toward the meek...

A friend listed this as a turn off on his blog. Phew! For once, I am convinced there are people with their hearts in the right place. Haven't you noticed that this is one the rise in today's world. And, insensitive is an undertstatement. Most of us are downright brutal to the meek. But, be assured, as the Bible says "The meek shall inherit the earth"

Telemann to soothe nerves

Of late, i have been a bit jumpy and snappy. I figured the irritability peaks just after i put down the day's paper. Every day, stories of betrayal, deceit, high-handedness et al. Enough to shoot a few troublemakers. What restores sanity are the Cavins and Garfields of the world. Now, that is something I wouldn't miss for anything. Have you ever tried Gary Larson and his Far Side? Do. A friend introduced me to him. His strips are so irreverent, obtuse and wacky. As of now, I am listeneing to George Philippe Telemann. His viola concertos can stuff the best garbage out of sight and out of mind.

Read the paper and your BP will shoot up

Several things that I read in the papers today, and just about everyday, makes my blood boil. What was it today? For starts, it was the fate of several thousands of our soldiers, fighting to keep the senseless terrorists at bay. Very young officers and jawans getting killed in battle and the trauma that must cause their families. All this while our politicians sit back and pontificate about, what in essence is a political problem. Another story that made me angry was the delayed justice to Krishnaiiya, the DM who was killed by mobsters in Bihar. To what purpose? Absolutely senseless acts that don't achieve anything. At this rate, we will all have to forsake this beautiful country.  

a rational man may also be superstitious

i frequently fall prey to superstitious beliefs. for instance, i have avoided buying Ramesh Menon's retelling of the Mahabharata, because of a fear that, once brought home, it will cause fights in the family. or so, goes the old hand-me-down that the Bharata shall not be kept at home. 

or, i try to avoid wearing a bright yellow-strapped watch because i am convinced that the day i wear it i shall spend beyond my means, or a 1940s wristwatch because it would make me angry all day or a slim watch that my sister gifted for fear that it will make me maudlin. as some superstitious poet said, "how do i avoid theee, let me count the ways"

continuing the hate tirade

People who think that power, money or fame can replace good old friendships also fall into that aforementioned list. Which brings to mind an interesting turn of conversation i had with a dear friend yesterday. While rounding off our talk, she asked me "Do you mind if i send you interesting jokes thorugh the sms?" and i said, "no, i don't" to which she replied.."i usually ask beforehand because some people may not like it." And i said..."sure. no problem, as long as you are not sending me stuff every two minutes, it's fine." 

The point of the story being, simple courtesy can go a long way in deepening a bond. that is what irritates me about so many sophisticates who claim to be intellectual iconoclasts, but who can't differentiate between the lefts and the rights of decency.  

I hate people who don't have the courtesy to reply

To my Orkut posts. Who think it is beneath their dignities (if they hold on to one) to be courteous, to respond to a birthday greeting or a simple courtesy scrap. And this goes even for my smses, emails and any form of communication. And for those who think that being indifferent is the new fad, let me be precise, it is the last resort of the uncouth.

Join the Anti-Delhi Club

It is just an idea, but all those of you who vehemently hate Delhi may post comments on why our Capital just needs to decay and rot, and why its culture of money, power and subjugation should be shown the door.

why the subprime mess sucks

At the core of that problem is poor people, or let's say peole with spotty credit histories, being lured to take mortgages that they should have been advised against. unable to meeet rising equated instalments, many (1.8 to 2 million, Fortune says) may just have to just let go of their only shelter. What is the world coming to? Is the Indian realty space headed for a similar setback? Sit tight, and hope not!

i figured out what's good for me...

being lazy and fit for nothing else, and have idealistic visions of changing the world through a few keystrokes, i have decided that henceforth, my pen, or rather, it's modern-day verison, the computer keyboard will do the talking. mostly angry talk that can't qualify as PC, sometimes, as i recently discovered, not even good netiquette (whatever that means). so, the anger and the compassion that will otherwise go unchallenged even by myself will find a place here. and you, poor reader, will be silent sufferers. 

Rushes...An Arabian Tale

Everyone, absolutely everyone, whether Leftist or Right-leaning or somewhere in the No Man's Land that they call Middle, must watch Arabikatha. It is a Malayalam movie by Srinivasan on the failed Communist vision. It made me angry, to see how ordinary people are taken for a ride in the name of an ideology that has veered from its lofty ideals long ago, especially in present-day Kerala. To see thousands of hard working folks cheated of their money, their lands, their livelihoods and their dreams, just watch it. By the way, the movie also doen't spare the Capitalist economy, as exemplified by Dubai's skyrises, being built by people forced to work in the 50 degree noonday Sun. 

The way to right injustices, especially those that seep to the dispossessed in every society, is for conscientious folk like you and me to write about them, for a start. This blog is an attempt to show up these venal, parasitic creatures (who make money at the expense of the "aaam admi") for what they truly are.  

after the lights have dimmed

you visit me in conversation
like a repetitive nightmare,
too good to stanch
too good to interrupt
and too beautiful to resist.

knowing you

it could have been
so easy
to understand
what you wanted.
but then,
what kept me
from knowing that?
why did i keep you,
and the darkness
and the sleeping pills
when you let go
why didn't i let go?

one conversation and two adjectives

you held my hand as we crossed the road,
i thought time,
and conversation,
and all those flowery adjectives
that thrive in a vacuum
between want and despair,
stood still, then.

story rumbles on...

...and the view was splendid.

It had been raining for days, some depression in the bay, the weathermen said. the cups of coffee were getting endless. work was humdrum. debugging the errors of the night before, putting more lines into mundane code and rain-breaks to catch the whiff of the sleeting torrent.

dinner beckoned. i looked across the cubicle, at her. she seemed busy, typing intermittently and staring fixedly at the screen. "want to catch dinner?" i said. she didn't even turn to look. "you go on da," she said, "this work will eat up my dinner-time too."

that's when i missed her. suddenly, going to the cafeteria seemed pointless. some of that hunger died, gasping at this change of heart. i couldn't put a name to it then. a quick bite would do, i thought.

the rain lashed at me as i got out. that seemed to wake me up. i desperately felt like running back and skipping the meal. for a long time i stood, in the rain, undecided.

i hadn't even realised she had tip-toed to where i stood. "the cafe will shut if you dance with the rain," she teased. oh! with a start i turned around and held her hands. then, both of us started laughing. i felt so relieved. we walked all the way holding hands. she knew. that's why she had stuffed the code-writing for later, i told myself.