Saturday, May 31, 2008

I shall not talk to you

There is nothing wrong with us two
We just belong to different worlds
I am not being arrogant, while
you are not being vain.

I shall not talk to you
Cause I do not want to be forced
To give you a false smile
every time I see you again

So go back to your rouge
Go back to your makeup course
Keep the gap of several miles
any time I pass by your lane

Dedicated to my hostel mates whom I have not talked to yet, in spite of having lived under the same roof for an entire month.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Of Forests and Failure

I take yet another walk through the forest that holds me and keeps me in its awe. My neck begins to ache dully because of constantly looking up and watching birds, insects, leaves and branches of every hue you could ever imagine. A million sights and sounds and sensations. A snail with its antenna and dull brown shell, moving as though on wheels with an air of royalty that does not bother about speed. To it, like me, the journey mattered more than the destination. A centipede- glossy and busily moving over twigs and leaves. Curling up when poked or prodded. Birds twittering and singing, moving from branch to branch. One dressed in a dinner jacket that fit wonderfully, showing it off by jumping busily in front of me, the other hidden well from my prying eyes. Slithering slowly and noisily over dry leaves into a clump of trees - that was a red rat snake that looked at me from behind a tree curiously. A grey mongoose looking about with a frightened air. It looked left first, then right, and then left again. When it was just about to cross the road it spied me boring my eyes into it, taking in its swift movements and shiny fur. Then it bolted to the other side and looked back at me hidden safely under a slab. A heron that arrived in the evening into its favourite spot on the lawn and busily picked up delicious insects. Lots of butterflies, donning the latest fashion. Blue of a million hues, pink, yellow, green, orange, red, black, what-is-that-colour-never-named-by-man. And trees, reaching out to heaven, waving at the sun. Sunlight drenched these leaves and turned them a translucent green. Colours and shades of green - innumerable. These leaves blessed the occasional passerby with some cold drops of water that had spent the night on them. Creepers that rose to the sky and weaved a thick sun-ban. Branches that fought their way up trying to get some sunshine for themselves.
And me in the middle. Not knowing what to look at and what to take in and what I might miss if I turned one way or the other. Me in the middle. Writing all this to people who probably will never see this place - right out of a fairy tale. Telling them things that they can never feel because words are inadequate. Quite useless. I can tell you about what I see not what I feel. My senses are strong and the stimulus of the forest is powerful. But it is this brain's inability to bring the feelings it experiences and enjoys to you.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Randomer and randomer :D

Yesterday I squandered away a lot of money on my mobile phone, used it to talk to many people that I normally don't call up to talk to. Yapped away to glory while it threatened to rain. I stood on the terrace watching trees waving in the wind and the lightning display. It only threatened to rain. With a lot of disappointment I headed downstairs and finished another Sudoku puzzle. I bought two papers yesterday - The Hindu and The Times of India. I usually buy only the former, but because I have had people telling me that they like The Times better, I decided to compare the two. Well, I liked the puzzles page (:D) in The Times. But it had nothing else other than sickening tales about film stars(I think they were film stars, they were dressed like them. Never have actually heard of them before) and some other controversial characters. I just didn't like it. It sounded more like a magazine than a newspaper. Nothing like good old Hindu. There was an article (in The Hindu) that went "How to avoid boring strangers" or something like that, that cracked me up. Some person who thinks like me, that reporter. I keep forgetting (almost) that the sarcasm that I take to be humour normally, sounds sinister and evil to other people. I keep reminding myself that others are neither as forgiving as my family,nor as good-humoured to allow my jokes to amuse them. So even when I think up of some hilarious, sarcastic something I just allow myself a large grin and try not to allow myself to be seen. Not for the fear of being seen and thought of as mad - but for the fear of having to tell them what it was that I found so funny. They just wouldn't understand it I know.
Then I saw a mongoose. Light brown and shiny, long body. Quick, sharp movements. It bolted as soon as it saw me.
My digestive system is beginning to weaken. My stomach feels like lead and the sight of sambhar makes me feel like throwing up. Lunch was a lot of rasam and a little bit of rice. I hope it does a little good to my stomach. I feel sad for the poor thing.
As you can see I am dying of boredom and getting more and more random. I have never rambled more than this. Well this has nothing to do with my job. It is just the time that I spend away from it that is killing me. So just hoping that I am able to spend more time here and find some good way of using my time away from work.
What's happening with you?

Friday, May 16, 2008


As different as life is from death,
as different as rain is from heat,
As far away as stars are from Earth,
As contrasting as day is to night,
So different was the harsh black cloth,
That wrapped in it a face so white.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

The death of a fanatic

Chandrasekhara sat on the floor with papers strewn all around him. He was shaking terribly and had a swollen eye. Dazedly he wondered what had happened in the last few minutes. Nothing made sense. He strained to get up and headed to the washroom in his 2 room house that had almost fallen apart after his assailants had entered and beaten him up. Too frail to give back or protect himself, he had been so powerless that the hefty men had hesitated to hit him too hard.

He was too scared to go out to see a doctor about his injuries. He huddled up on his cot and tried to sleep. But his heart continued to bang and his body felt like it had been thrown down a cliff. He wondered what had triggered the cruel attack on his life. He had never meant anyone any harm in his life. But he had some principles that had cost him a lot.

He loved his language and culture. He was known for his fluency in Kannada, his vocabulary and his wit in speech and writing. His flawless Kannada was marveled at and praised by many.
He had written several books in Kannada. They had been greatly appreciated by people who could still read and understand the language in its true form, because over the years the language had deteriorated. He attributed this to the unwillingness of parents to allow their children to "waste" their time on Kannada. Even in his tired and pain-ridden state now he shook with anger when he thought of all this.

People thought he was a fanatic. He had a profound love for Kannada and that should have been in everyone who had it for their mother tongue. It was but natural. That is why he had been actively involved in spreading the growth and the return of the most beautiful language in the world. He had been responsible for all the public transport and public offices, streets and bus stands having only Kannada lettering on them. He had wanted Kannada to be everywhere. And he had succeeded partially. He had not succeeded in making advertisers write in Kannada. They preferred to write Kannada words in English. It irked him terribly. It was worse than English lettering. He had wanted to change that and went about doing what it would take to make these ad-makers write in beautiful Kannada. After all, it was for their good. It would help improve their business obviously.

Fanatics were those people that went after money. They were those people who lied and flattered and messed up other people's lives for the sake of living in luxury and with a lot of money. They had sold their souls and hearts for the sake of it. Changing to Kannada meant that these people would have to spend money on re-writing boards. It was but a measly amount really. That was not the reason Chandrashekhara had been getting death-threats. The ad-makers had thought that he was after their money. What ridiculous rubbish! What did money mean any way. They had offered to buy him. When he had refused any price they mentioned they had taken the next step and that was to threaten him. He was not one to give up so easily. After all it was the question of his pride for his language. That was what drove Chandrashekhara to hold on to his position over the issue. In spite of the bruises that his body bore, he held on to his beliefs. He pressed the right people to do what it took to ensure that all ads were in Kannada and no other language.
That evening Chandrashekhara was found dead in a dark alley. He had been bludgeoned to death.

Well, Chandrashekhara was probably wrong and foolish in what he did. It is up to you to decide for yourself.But the truth is that humans understand only devotion to money. So much so that they offer money to the gods and goddesses that they worship. As though it were of any use. They scrimp and save and kill for every paisa. They don't think before kicking up a fuss over a rupee that was owed to them. They rate other human beings based on how much money they have or had or will have. They think of, talk of, dream of, work for, die for, kill for, scream for money. That is natural to man. That is acceptable. In fact the lack of devotion to money is unnatural and unthinkable - an offence. Any other devotion - however mild or extreme, restrained or enthusiastic - is termed fanaticism.

Entirely a figment of my overactive imagination. And apologies if you have been subjected to my long tirades against the use of Kannada here in B'lore. This story just struck me and I found myself telling myself that I was being a fanatic myself and that I just need to open my mind a little more. So it is the death of this fanatic.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Welcome back blog!!

You will please forgive me for having my mood swings and for my extremely short temper that blinds me temporarily but not for too long.
I took off my beloved blog - will-make-change in a moment of weakness. However the intentions with which I started writing the blog are crystal clear and always strong. I am bringing it back to public view now that my mind has returned to me.
Thank you all of you who stand by me even when I am screaming crazy. I will not attempt to remove the blog again.


As the bus screeched to a halt, she pushed into the bus from behind the queue that had formed. She found her seat and then began her workweek. Like the few tens of weeks that had gone by, this one was not different. It involved her getting into this bus and choosing this particular seat and getting to work.
She scanned her co-passengers carefully. There were some irritating schoolgirls, giggling over nothing. There were old women going to the market, busily making garlands with deft fingers. There were some others who were sitting and doing some last minute studying for their exams. Papers in hand, and lips busily muttering something. Then there were the usual cellphone devotees... Then finally she found what she was looking for. A short and plump girl with a bulky bag - things almost spilling out. She was obviously new here and was probably lost. She was anxiously looking out of the window and trying to read what the signboards said, to see if she had to get down yet.
The bag was neat, like the ones rich people going to offices use. But it was overstuffed and had some zips open. Perfect. The girl had slid her hand into one of the openings and got out change to buy her bus ticket. So that was not where the big money was.
Figuring out the bag neatly and inconspicuously, her brain worked fast. She then found out where, what she wanted, would be.
Her heart was racing and she was tense in the excitement of it all. It had never failed to get adrenaline flowing for her. In a swift moment the money was in her hand. And she was off the bus. The workweek had begun in style. Then walking fast, with the clip-clop of her pointed heels resounding in the corridor Kamala pushed the doors of the 12 storey building, swiped her card quickly and marched smartly into her air-conditioned corner office to get on with her boring full-time job.

This story is entirely a figment of my imagination. Kleptomaniacs do not actually steal with the intention of doing so and do not steal objects of great value usually. It is a serious mental affliction and has been compared to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). This story was not written with the intention of hurting anyone and bears no resemblance to anyone I know. Though kleptomania is a disease, Kleptēs means "to steal" in Greek.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Then it rained

Just when she thought
it was a life-threatening drought
Just when she gave up
on everything good
Just when she waved away
thoughts, that some day
the earth would be
as green as it ever could
That's when droplets, pure
the kind that can mend and cure
fell to the parched earth
where she stood
Yes. It rained
washed away the pain
that had held reigns
on all that it could.

Its cool here now and will probably rain. Looking forward to see the forest in the rain :)
The rain always brings out poetic stuff from me. hehe.
I won't use this blog as a daily diary place. Those last two posts were just what I had wanted to record, so they had gone up there.
By the way, I saw the shed skin of a snake near here. It was shiny to look at and fragile. It felt like crepe paper though. Surprised to see that the entire skin was whole and held together though it was extremely fragile and almost dropping to bits. Don't worry, I will be fine. No snake is gonna come rushing to get me. The bus conductors are more likely to bite. So if you wanna save me, save me from them!

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Historic Second day!! :)

What do I say about today. I had a nice meeting with the bigger boss in a posh setting and finally gave me a feeling that I was employed.
I enjoyed working today. I was at my exploring best and looked (with a very critical eye hehe) at the works of some researchers and tried to figure out what they were trying to say in their papers.
Well I cannot tell you any of the technical details, because I am not allowed to. But the job basically requires me to develop a system of complicated electronics for a specific purpose. For this I would have to figure out what other people working before me have found and then base my design on the ideas that I get from their work. I think it is turning out to be a complicated task. The complications keep cropping up the more we (boss and I) discuss about it and thats the way I like it better :)
Well I will be doing some reverse engineering that I am already so good at and I will get to get my hands dirty with some nice electronics toys. What else can you ask for.
Thats the sum-up for you anon-e-mus.
Lunch was at the hostel mess. Food was good. I also got to talk to "Dr.KaLee" about his kungfu koolness ! and roared with laughter all the way there and back at all his stories and mannerisms. Did he look like a cartoon character? No, I told him. I said only good people can make other people laugh so heartily. (Or I should say heartiLEE the way he says it)
Well I will be heading back home for some better dinner than last night. Maybe I should treat my shrinking tummy a little better. Probably will start studying a little. My job is going to be as exciting as I ever wished it could be. So I must gear up. Wish me luck. And you two dear anonymous readers just find some time to tell me what you are doing too.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Historic first day

First day at first job. I had spent the whole of last week thinking about how it would be, especially after having spent an entire year at home basically relaxing and having fun. I don't really know what to say about it. Well this place is full of greenery and feels like being in the middle of some rain forest wallpaper if we just cut out the tar roads that keep people from getting completely lost. It looks like there are no people for miles and miles around. It doesn't make me feel lonely. Makes me feel more at home and happy. But the terror starts when I think of what is waiting at the end of the long walk. People - lots of them, whose names I just manage to keep in mind, while I feel idiotically conscious of myself.People I will never get comfortable with but there is something else that is taking all my energy and processing capacity and that is the job at hand. I have no orientation, no time to get used to my environment, no getting into backslapping terms with co-workers etc.Not that I miss all that, but it sort of doesn't give me the feeling that I am actually working here. I almost felt like an intruder this morning but now after the coffee break when we all went out together, I feel a little less awkward. I think it is fine enough that people here are not going to get at me and get me down. But still that makes it bad in a way. Odd as it may seem, I think I manage to get stiff and weird around people who are really nice. Nasty and in-your-face people seem to be more easy to handle. My "boss" also mentioned how they were all like a nice informal bunch that were not bound by stiff rules - probably after seeing me at my stiffest best.That made it worse. If he had scowled a little at me maybe I would have unwound a little.
However, that boring and horribly un-understandable (for the reader) part aside my job seems to be some page out of a scifi movie, the kind that you would have to watch 2 or 3 times (if you had the interest and patience) to understand. It is so terribly contrasting with the rain forest outside that I feel disoriented when leaving one world and entering the other.
I am finding it hard to believe that I will be here for probably one year or more. Now in another half year I will be heading back "home" that is not as terrifying as the workplace, but last night had me waking up in the middle of the night and gasping at the sight of a complete stranger fast asleep in my room. I guess this is a very normal and ordinary situation to be in and I must stop being a kid and get used to all of this, but it is a lil too much to take all together. (Mom don't worry I am just being my usual complaining self and so am perfectly alright.(!))