Don't give me another name

No, I am not in camphor
Not in tinkling bells
No, I don't live in heaven
Nor is there a hell

I am not in murmured prayers
Not in whispered chants
I am not the slayer of evil
I am not the giver of grants

I am not in warring tribes
That kill without a thought
That preach about my will, yet
whose faith can be bought

Stop looking for me in idols
Stop looking in holy verse
I am right here, beside you,
in sunsets, on seashores.

I am in the quest for learning
I am in that which is pure
I am in trees and life and happiness
I am beauty that endures

I am in everything that breathes
And walks the face of Earth
I am in every kind word said
And in joyous mirth

Stop this trivial squabbling
Too many have died, too many maimed
I am life and love and freedom
Don't give me another name

Me am media's voodoo doll.

Warning: May contain traces of "humour" of the bathroom variety. Read at your own risk.

News is not entertainment. It is bad enough to have ads on TV channels that you pay for, we really do not need more rubbish from news channels. Least of all background music and the life of movie stars and their kind. They have their share of publicity. Newspaper supplements are filled with so called tidbits from their lives. Let them eat, drink and do whatever, just leave me out of it. There should be a law against wasting people's time trying to force stuff on them about what news guys think is news that too of the "breaking" kind. ("What should I break to vent this frustration") Or worse are the "citizen journalist" shows that are filled with dramatic music, video styling (camera tilts, slow motion, picture turns black and white all of a sudden) and weeping people. Are people so insensitive that they must be shown tears and suffering for them to accept that the other person is in trouble?

So the GOP thinks that Obama called Palin a pig. (If he really meant it, it was pretty decent of him to stop there). So what can we do? Why should the entire internet cough up links that talk about lipstick and pigs? Curiosity got the better of me and I read through all that rubbish. But don't blame me, you cant help but be intrigued if you see links that cryptically talk about putting lipstick on a pig. I wondered if anyone wanted to something so stupid why they would be doing it etc... Who ever knew that it was just a stupid expression.

Worst of all, are these so called entertainment channels that thrusts their sense of humour on people. It has ridiculous programs that go "dus ka dumb". Right you are. But a great understatement. It should be "Dus to the power infinity dumb". How else do you describe a show that gives you a complete audio-visual-sensory experience. When Salman pops up with his anchoring in a voice and accent that makes him sound constipated, it makes you look and feel constipated. Add to it Rakhi Sawant and it threatens to empty the contents of your stomach (Problem child style)

They all know where exactly it hurts and they pierce me right there. In my kingdom I will destroy the TV. And be more cautious before clicking on links. (sigh. cant banish the net)

Girl at work

Post number 50. Not a great milestone for me considering the rubbish that I have put in here anyway.
The milestone that I have been looking at more closely is having completed four months at my job. I have never had more fun than this in my life. I get these weird nods and empty smiles when I talk about how enjoyable my job is that I sometimes wonder if I am wrong in feeling this way. I guess people are more used to listening to cribbing and complaining about how over-stressed they are and underpaid. Talking about the pay, I am supposed to be earning less than a sweeper at NTPC, but that does not really matter. The fun that I am having while working is priceless. It is not so much in the place and the people (both of which are surprisingly great) as in my work itself.
I probably sound like a geek and like a goody-goody gal, and the kid that sits in the first bench and answers all the questions. But hey, I think I am one of these if not all... Not sure about the good part.
When I started out, I have even mentioned here on my blog, I was scared I would not be able to work up to people's standards, I was scared I would not fit in with my colleagues and I was scared that I would find out how stupid I really am. I have not found out how stupid I really am yet, but the other two fears just evaporated.
Is it just that everything has been really smooth for me or is it that when you enjoy your job, you have never worked a day in your life. (Or some such thing as Confucius said.)

The 8 things tag

Thanks Matangi for this tag. I have never done one before and never thought I should ever do one. This one is only for you Matangi. You wont find anything remotely interesting or new. You are going to get to know how boring I really am. :)

8 Things I am most passionate about:

My job, family, reading, music, food, friends, talking, and a bunch of beautiful girls.

8 Things I wanna do before I die:

This
go around the world
build a house
learn to play the guitar
write a book
paint a whole painting
compose a song
spend a month on a deserted island. away from civilization or any signs of it.

8 Things I say often:

Please, Sorry, Thank you, Oh my God, Shit, How stupid, Ridiculous, I am hungry

8 Books I last read:

Tinyos programming by Phil Levis,
Trustee from the tool room by Nevil Shute,
The Brave Little tailor,
Cinderella,
The little mermaid.
On the farm. What? I am serious.
Doctors by Erich Segal.
The prodigal daughter Jeffrey Archer

8 songs that I listen to over and over again:

Nothing else matters Metallica
Enjoy the silence Depeche Mode
Kiss from a rose Seal
Under the bridge RHCP
Desert Rose Sting
Come undone Duran Duran
Sultans of Swing Dire Straits
Layla Eric Clapton

8 friends I now tag:

Anyone who wants to take it up please do. Give me your link if you are doing it.

Let's go back

Gleaming eyes, feet without shoes
Never any worries, nor any blues
The wind in his hair fed his glee
A smile on his face for all to see
The cycle he rode, sped on fast
Alas! This joy barely does last
The boy, some day, will have to "grow up"
Leave joy behind, enter the muck
that this world pulls us all into
I know, I too wish it wasn't true
I too wish we all could stay
carefree, careless, joyful, that way

But wait. Why is it too late?
Is growing up like going thru' a one-way gate?
Why can't we just turn time back?
Run races, jumping with both feet inside a sack?
Laugh and jump like we always did
Of worry and pain we shall be rid
So why don't you and me make a deal
You bring sticks, I'll bring us wheels
Lets hit it, drive it and run down a hill
Across the stream, around the mill
Lets run all around and run all the way
Lets relive childhood, if only for a day

What say??! ;)

Immortals in combat

"Like two immortals locked in combat until Judgement Day...".
"Or... you can surrender..."

That is Barbosa and Jack Sparrows in 'The Pirates of the Carribean'.
Watching Fed coming back against Rafa again and yet again, I thought, if their master strokes, saves and returns could be put into words they must have said something like that.
Sport is one of those things that converts a man into his thoughts. It brings out a part of him that completely belongs to Nature. It is not acquired. Sport involves that part of the brain that performs by practice and by discipline and by simply letting go. It does not have time nor the need to ask questions and get answers. It has a way of showing the on-looker how a man can become one with what he is doing.
The same applies to a musician and his instrument, to a scientist and his work. While the body moves with the ball and the bat and these two move with the body, they become one entity and the rest of the world seems immaterial. The world seems too far away to touch them. It feels like gravity does not work on the mind any more. They are free to soar and to touch heights that no one could possibly reach.

Well, I think both Rafa and Fed reached that height last evening. It sure was one great match. As they reached that height, they took me along.There I was squatting by the television, whooping and yelling out support as though they could hear me. I guess that height does not pay heed to the limitations of man. That is why they both played like gods.

Loony tune Vs birdie melody

I stopped singing
out of sheer boredom
of having heard no other voice at all

My sense of hearing
heightened by the cessation of noise(!)
perceived the music of a bird call

The tunes I sing
made by mere mortals can't keep
anyone the way this one had me in thrall

The little guy jumping
from branch to branch
sang so beautifully with his throat so small

What I would give
for that tune to be mine
God knows, I would give my all

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.

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.

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?