The Other Side of Reason

Why I Write

2011-10-28T10:38:00.000-07:00

Iwrite because writing is my dream. I’m in awe of skilled writers who cantransport me to a different world, like Tolkien, or change my veryconsciousness with their simple sentences, like Fynn, or make my heart twangwith their written pain, like Neruda. These are my heroes; when I steal momentsfrom the mundane now, and let my eyes glaze over with dreams of tomorrow, I‘malways a well-liked, well-known writer, no, author. I write in the hope ofrealizing this distant dream. I write so I’ll never regret not having tried. Iwrite prepared for failure, to be doomed to the same incomplete existence,where I hunt for, and fail to find, my raison d’être, again, and again, andagain.

Iwrite because language is, and always has been, my first love. Sentences readlike music to me. Words are notes. A single word, spoken aloud, can induceeuphoria, make me ache, dull my eyes with tears, or hold me transfixed with thebeauty, the immense rightness of it. “eleventy-one”can make me grin idiotically, and “quagmire” can make a shiver run down my spine.Out on the mountains, amidst knotted branches of Californian desert vegetation,“gnarled” can, and will, send me into transports of delight, so much so thatconcerned friends have asked if I were “on crack”. Words are my liquor, mycigarettes, my champagne. Words are my uppers and downers both.

I write because writing’s my bestform of expression. I write when words trip over my tongue, sentences getknotted, and speech is difficult. My sentences never break, even when I know fora certainty that my voice will. When there’s too much to be said, I writeinstead. Paper is patient, and my pen rations emotion, a dam to my deluge ofthoughts. I write when I may need to take words back, remove barbs from them, orreshape them at will. I write when I’m too afraid to speak. I write becausethen I have fewer inhibitions.

I write because writing’s my bestform of introspection. I write to stagnate, to mull over, to ruminate, to makesense of confusion, to conceive order from chaos. I write my fears down onpaper, in large letters, because it makes them look smaller, more worthy of ridicule.When I need to gestate ideas, I ramble on, and watch their fuzzy outlines growclearer as the glistening ink dries on paper.

I write because writing iscathartic. I write because nothing I write needs to see the light of day. Iwrite without holding back, the pettiest of grudges, the angriest of thoughts,words that would make me lose someone dear, should they be voiced aloud. Iwrite until I’m empty, and then I throw the words away.

Iwrite to reach out. I write when I don’t know whether to speak. I write what Ican’t say out loud. I write to amuse, to please, to cajole, to convince, topacify. I write because that’s what I’m most comfortable doing. I write when Idon’t know what else to do.

I write because I have stories totell. Iwrite because writing is such clever fun – be it rhyming words, paintingpictures with a few well-chosen words, limericks, ridiculous metaphors, or evenpuns. I write to express. I write to impress.

Iwrite in the hope that long after I’ve ceased to exist, my hopes, my dreams, andmy ideals will live on in my writing– I write for immortality.

An ode to Tequila

2011-10-23T18:34:00.001-07:00

One Tequila -

Elephant piss will taste less vile
When boiled with vinegar and bile

Two Tequila --

Steady on, I smell burnt socks
Oh wait, they are my vocal cords

Three Tequila ---

Still no buzz, but my head's afloat
What's worse, I've puked all over my coat.

Woe is me, for I can see
This Tequila stuff is not for me -
Let others have their happy highs
for liquor just fattens my thighs.

Alternate Realities

2011-10-08T22:39:00.000-07:00

<p>&amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://music.amandapalmer.net/track/ill-be-my-mirror"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;I'll Be My Mirror by 8in8&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;gt;</p>

Mein tainu pher milan gi

2011-10-05T08:04:00.000-07:00

I will meet you yet again
How and where? I know not.
Perhaps I will become a
figment of your imagination
and maybe, spreading myself
in a mysterious line
on your canvas,
I will keep gazing at you.
Perhaps I will become a ray
of sunshine, to be
embraced by your colours.
I will paint myself on your canvas
I know not how and where –
but I will meet you for sure.
Maybe I will turn into a spring,
and rub the foaming
drops of water on your body,
and rest my coolness on
your burning chest.
I know nothing else
but that this life
will walk along with me.
When the body perishes,
all perishes;
but the threads of memory
are woven with enduring specks.
I will pick these particles,
weave the threads,
and I will meet you yet again.

-Amrita Pritam.

(Translated by Nirupama Dutt and published in The Little Magazine2005)

Unlittle Things

2011-09-16T12:49:00.000-07:00

I'm almost 27. I'm no longer terrified of birthdays. They're not even such a big deal, except that I spend time wondering if I can diplomatically get away from the whole cake-n-song routine without offending my friends. I wonder if that signifies anything.

During our last "difference of opinion", my progenitor decreed that she will never bring up the topic of my Marriage (with the capital M, no less) unless I did first. I heaved a sigh of relief. Personally, I like to think that she was disillusioned with the decline in quality of "suitable" boys (balding, fat, and what have you), and threw in her dupatta in sheer frustration. An uncle pitched in with an oblique comment - "Tambrahms are evil, and will never integrate into OUR community, but other communities should be ok" What community? I live in a different country, mistrust religion, cordially dislike most of my relatives, and pretend the rest of the community doesn't exist. I've watched the atmosphere at home move through various phases - "My daughter is STUDYING", then the "I'll find a boy for you MYSELF","is there someone", "just get married, dammit" to "I don't know what the fuck is going on anymore". I'm content to leave it here.

I'm done with wanting to find out "what I want to do in life" too. All the time I spent looking for the big picture, I've missed seeing the nicer little pictures. Doesn't help that I want to be an educator one day, a writer the next Tuesday, an activist the day after (Ye Gods) , and a PhD student the same day, and everything all at once during the weekend. All my ideals and hopes come with a "As of now" prefix, and I'm lot happier for it. I can now stand transfixed by the great big yellow moon without being distracted by annoying little daemon threads running through the back of my head, and going bleep ever so often. Life, if not exactly simple, is simplified.

I may no longer believe in permanence, but I stoutly (figuratively, dammit) stand for love. And mutual understanding, and all that shit. And Space (how come space gets a capital S, and love doesn't?). The perceived meanings of all of the above, however, has evolved rather drastically. And now Life's all change-is-the-only-permanent-thing-god-lifes-such-a-fucking-cliche, but I love it like I do that cheesy movie I'll not name that I publicly pretend to look down upon, only a lot more.

As of now, I intend to live happily ever after.

At least until 2012.

Or next week. When I'm planning to climb the Half-dome at Yosemite, knowing fully well that while I may not be afraid of heights per se, I'm terrified of looking down when I'm at a great height. I've become intensely stupid like that.

Again

2011-07-31T18:41:00.000-07:00

Sunshine, rainbows, and thundering rain!
Droplets meandering down
My window pane
Steam wafting up
From my coffee cup

Toes curled into
Cut grass
Pebbles
Smooth as glass
Chocolate...
Ah, Chocolate.
Mellow notes of chocolate
Melting on my tongue.

Midnight Wisdom

2011-06-20T01:56:00.000-07:00

commitment |kəˈmitmənt| (noun)

The act of loving the same person to pieces every single day of your lifespan,or your chosen partner's lifespan, or that of the commitment, whichever is shortest.
Incarceration in a mental health institution for persons who aren't in complete possession of all their mental faculties.
Bear-hugs, and fights, and kisses, and shared smiles, and venting, and everything that's the opposite of alone.
Engagement or obligation that restricts freedom of action.
The act of choosing someone to grow older and wiser with.

Love is tender, partings bitter-sweet, and hope an everlasting ocean.

Bogi

2011-05-17T00:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, you have to have the courage to screw it all up beyond repair, throw it out, and start over.

Limitless

2011-04-28T10:38:00.000-07:00

Unfurl
Long forgotten wings
Soar
The horizon awaits
You.

Alive

2011-01-12T01:08:00.000-08:00

I've never felt this alive in years.

I'd almost forgotten this feeling, this state of mind - where my pulse quickens with a sense of purpose, my mind progresses what-ifs exponentially at the speed of dreams, barely noticing the leaps of faith and logic it takes with indecent ease, all its simultaneous trains of thought headed non-stop into the Dream I'm weaving, and my soul achieves a higher state of inebriation from the romance of it all.

I know, I know, my gait's weaving, and I'm going to fall off the pavement in the next second or two, my gaze is focused at infinity, and the silliest smile is etched on my face, but don't call the Nuthouse yet, I'm Dreaming!

We're all such suckers for meaning (real or perceived or imagined) in existence, aren't we?

It may have been ages since I've Dreamed, but I haven't forgotten how to. And I think one of those trains of thought ran over my cynicism and killed it dead. Excuse me while I mourn its demise.

Driving Nowhere

2011-01-07T18:51:00.000-08:00

Right is right, and left is left
And never the twain shall meet;
Except in my head, which alas
Is of all sense of direction, bereft.

Making the grade

2010-11-17T19:23:00.000-08:00

He see-sawed with Death for a month before wresting his brain back from the Tumor demon. And yesterday morn, the doctors told you that he'll be out of the ICU in a week's time. By evening, he was dead of a heart-attack.

Today, you bury your Father, bury him in a hurry, so tomorrow, you can wake at 4 AM, take a two hour bus ride, and write an exam that tests how well you remember the contents of your engineering textbook.

Your grief must wait until your exams are over.

:-)

2010-10-28T19:17:00.000-07:00

From this point on in our lives, we will either find or lose our souls.

Alpha, Omega

2010-10-26T14:47:00.000-07:00

so long
since your smile
warmed my insides
like winter sunshine

too long

now the blistering winter
craves your cool logic
and
iced lemonade

comme si, comme sa

in the end
we're back
where we started
at the beginning

with angels and demons and everyone else in between

எங்கே எனது கவிதை?

2010-10-21T12:24:00.000-07:00

Less Sensibility, more Sense.

First Poet

2010-10-12T00:38:00.000-07:00



சுட்டும் விழி சுடர் தான் கண்ணம்மா சூரிய சந்திரரோ? வட்டக்கரிய விழி - கண்ணம்மா! வானக்கருமை கொள்ளோ? பட்டு கருநீல புடவை பதித்த நல்வைரம் நட்ட நடுநிசியில் தெரியும் நட்சத்திரங்கள்ளடி! சோலை மலரொளியோ - உனது சுந்தரபுன்னகை தான்? நீல கடலலையே - உனது நெஞ்சின் அலைகளடி! கோலக்குயில் ஓசை - உனது குரலின் இனிமையடி! வலை குமரியடி - கண்ணம்மா மருவக் காதல் கொண்டேன். சாத்திரம் பேசுகிறாய் - கண்ணம்மா சாத்திரம் எதுக்கடி? ஆத்திரம் கொண்டவற்கே - கண்ணம்மா சாத்திரம் உண்டோடி! மூத்தவர் சம்மதியில் - வதுவை முறைகள் பின்பு செய்வோம் காத்திருப்பேனோடி! - இதுபற் கன்னத்து முத்தம் ஒன்று				Your bright gaze, darling Is it the sun or the moon? Your black eyes, darling Do they contain the night? An indigo silk saree Studded with diamonds In broad daylight - I see stars! The music in the bloom Your beautiful smile? The blue sea-waves - The rhythm of your heart! The nightingale's song The honey in your voice! Beautiful maiden - darling I fell in love. You speak of rules, darling Why rules? Raging passion - darling It knows no rules! Mores and rituals We'll later perform I'll wait - For now A kiss on the cheek!

What better way to break uninspired silence, than a poem by Bharathiyar? :-)

Inarticulate Me

2010-08-17T20:16:00.000-07:00

My words trip over each other
An avalanche of blabber

The few right words stay lost

Twenty-three to the dozen
And dumbstruck

Oh, what a falling off was there.

If

2010-06-12T17:56:00.000-07:00

If I have seen further, it is by sitting on the shoulders of Giants.

Man and Child, Charcoal on Pastel Card, inspired by the back cover of a book of poems.

Write Like No-one's Reading

2010-06-10T01:09:00.000-07:00

The universe
Ironed bed linen
Boring boring.
Jump up and down
On the trampoline
Those corners
Neatly tucked in
Pull them out
Crumple, and roll
to-and-fro
like a crazed maniac
Who loves her bed
And the wee morning hours
Open the window
Toss it out
An oversized kite
A faulty parachute
Until it engulfs
the man under her window
And his fucking Leafblower.
Jesus God.
Can't those people ever
SHUT UP?
It's fucking 9 AM
Middle of the night
Go away, leaf man
I spent an hour
making my bed
Last Sunday
I really don't
want to throw my sheet down in your face and smother you and you fucking leafblower.
Just go away.

Yes, I have homicidal tendencies these days. Sue me.

Nuit Blanche

2010-05-11T21:29:00.000-07:00

இவ்வாறு தனிமையில் பேசிக்கொண்டே என் இரவினை கவிதையாய் மொழி பெயர்த்தேன்!

(Translated (sans essence) into English-

Thus, speaking aloud in my Solitude,
I translate my nights into poetry. )

Snow is Me

2010-04-11T23:56:00.001-07:00

Spring can wait.

Charcoal and pastel sketch, inspired by a photo by Abishek Muralimohan

The Voyeuristic Tendencies Of Google

2010-04-08T18:58:00.000-07:00

When a friend of mine complained that Google was reading her email, I was amused, and inclined to dismiss her complaint as sheer paranoia. But on further investigation, I found that her complaint was spot on.

Like some software version of Argus, Gmail reads the mail of millions of unsuspecting emailers, even as they are typing away, spell-checking and paragraphing with sheer abandon. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Google tries to play internet Godmother and tells them what to do as well.

Are computer programs taking over our world? If I were thick-headed, and did not recognize the previous question to be rhetoric, I'd be tempted to answer, what with Facebook telling us to say hi to people we haven't thought about in 57 years, and Gmail reading our email and telling its servers about how hopelessly absent-minded we are, the answer is yes.

Maybe I should promote Gmail paranoia, start a "dumb" email service company during the ensuing wave of paranoid panic, and make heaps of money. Maybe.

Push me, Pull you

2010-03-31T20:43:00.000-07:00

Pushmi-pullyu, 2010, Permanent marker on Post-it note, by Thumbelina

On Ash Wednesday, one hundred and fourteen years hence, this little Post-it note will be worth more than a Degas.

Any Buyers? Price on request.

Conversations with Indigo

2010-02-27T02:06:00.000-08:00

Full Circles

2010-02-21T18:06:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, Incomplete is better.

Now and Nowhere

2010-02-18T19:30:00.000-08:00

This Architect
Built rainbow bridges
Across fluffy clouds
When the rest
Used steel and concrete.

Lightheadedness

2010-02-15T18:11:00.000-08:00

Walk in a straight line
Don't trip
Over your feet
Or the cobblestones
Don't look down
Don't look up
Look em straight in the eye
Sharpshooter
It's all in the eye
It's all in the head

Sunday Blues

2010-02-07T21:36:00.000-08:00

If only Time would let me be.

Love-le Twist - Chapter 1

2010-01-29T21:50:00.001-08:00

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single Indian man in possession of an American Visa (if only a F-1), must be in want of an equally American Girlfriend.

However little known the feelings or views of such a girl may be on her first entering the neighbourhood Peet's*, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding Single Men, that she is considered as the rightful object of some one or other of their baseless fantasies.

"My dear Thumbelina**,'' said my friend G-Man to me one cold day in November, "have you heard that I'm but recently in the throes of an intense crush?"

I replied that I had not.

"But I am,'' returned he; "And a very pretty, engaging girl she is too!''

I made no answer.

"Do not you want to know who it is?'' cried my friend impatiently.

"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.''

This was invitation enough.

"Why, my dear, you must know, she is a pretty young girl of reasonable intelligence, that she began work at my neighbourhood Peet's this Monday, and was so much delighted with my acquaintance that she began speaking with me almost immediately; that she wants to read Charles Dickens, and therein lies my chance.''

"Is she married or single?''

"Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! A single woman of large fortune; now that I'm interested in her. What a fine thing for her!''

"How so? how can it affect her?''

"My dear Thumbelina'' replied my friend, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of dating her!''

"Is that your design in drinking coffee there?''

"Design! nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that she may fall in love with one of the other coffee-drinkers, and therefore I must charm her as soon as I can.''

"I see no occasion for that. You and the other men may drink espresso, or you may even drink cappuccinos, which perhaps will taste better; but how would doing so charm her? Unless you tip her a dollar for every cup of coffee? Do you intend to?''

"My dear, you misunderstand me. I certainly have to drink my share of espresso, but I do not intend to be only drinking. I intend to ask her out eventually, and I intend to talk about Dickens with her, and lend her the fancy early edition of Oliver Twist I commandeered from you a long time ago.''

"In that case, I can only assume that you are asking me for permission.''

"But, my dear, I will indeed return the book to you once she comes in my thrall.''

"It is more than I hope for, I assure you.''

"Thumbelina, how can you abuse your dear friend in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves.''

"You mistake me, G-Man. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these nine years at least.''

"Ah! you do not know what I suffer.''

"But I hope you will get over it, and live to date many such young women of exemplary beauty who come into your neighbourhood Peet's.''

"It will be no use to me if twenty such should come, since you will not allow me to lend them your copy of Oliver Twist.''

"Depend upon it, my dear G-Man, that when there are twenty I will give you permission.''

It be a good thing that almost none of my friends take me seriously, because had G-Man not ignored me, and gone ahead and lent the pretty engaging girl in question my book, there would be no chapter 2.
***
(Most insincere apologies to Jane Austen for plagiarizing her best work, but I'm sure she understands that it would have been next to impossible to plagiarize a crusty old bugger like Charles Dickens. Especially for a "gossip" story such as this. Thanks Jane, for such a usable template introduction!)

* Name changed to protect skin of Author, after death threat from person who wishes to remain unnamed.
** The author forgot to use her pseudonym, and only remembered in time for the **.

Hypotheses and Quarterly Reviews

2010-01-28T02:57:00.000-08:00

Abstract
In this post, we introduce yet another (cliched?) way of looking at life, in terms of problems solved, and attempt to summarize 25 years of life in one (not so pretty) graph, and optimistically extrapolate said graph into future years. We also realize that Procrastination achieves nothing, and that writing about how Procrastination achieves nothing is also procrastination.

Framework
We philosophize that living is essentially problem solving. Every instance of life consists of a subset of problems and their solutions. The problem space is infinite, and may be divided into the following three categories as illustrated in Fig. 1.

Figure 1 - QE Problem Set Classification

1. Quod Erat Demonstrandum(QED), or That which was to be proved
2. Quod Erat Faciendum(QEF), or That which was to be done
3. Quod Erat Inveniendum(QEI), or That which was to be found

Also,every instance of life may choose its own subset of problems, although some problems are required solving, and others are extra credit. An ideal mixture of problems is presented in Fig. 2.

Figure 2 - An ideal mixture of problems

Analysis, and Quarterly Review
We next analyze our subject, who is a quarter century of age, and suffers from any amount of existential angst, in the above framework (See Fig. 3). We refrain from overly verbose drivel, observing instead that a picture is worth a thousand words, and a graph is worth 12 gig of pictures.

Figure 3 - Analysis of chosen subject in proposed framework

Conclusion
We conclude that the subject has a sub-optimal problem subset, and needs to
a. Increase the ratio of QEF to QEI problems chosen.
b. Quit procrastinating

QEI.

Love-le Twist

2010-01-26T23:29:00.001-08:00

G-Man's Story. Of Love. Or something like that.

Coming up next, Love-le Twist. Watch this space for more.

Gibran's Perfect World

2010-01-25T01:08:00.000-08:00

Says Gibran,

God of lost souls, thou who are lost amongst the gods, hear me:

Gentle Destiny that watchest over us, mad, wandering spirits, hear me:

I dwell in the midst of a perfect race, I the most imperfect.

I, a human chaos, a nebula of confused elements, I move amongst finished worlds—peoples of complete laws and pure order, whose thoughts are assorted, whose dreams are arranged, and whose visions are enrolled and registered.

Their virtues, O God, are measured, their sins are weighed, and even the countless things that pass in the dim twilight of neither sin nor virtue are recorded and catalogued.

Here days and night are divided into seasons of conduct and governed by rules of blameless accuracy.

To eat, to drink, to sleep, to cover one's nudity, and then to be weary in due time.

To work, to play, to sing, to dance, and then to lie still when the clock strikes the hour.

To think thus, to feel thus much, and then to cease thinking and feeling when a certain star rises above yonder horizon.

To rob a neighbour with a smile, to bestow gifts with a graceful wave of the hand, to praise prudently, to blame cautiously, to destroy a sound with a word, to burn a body with a breath, and then to wash the hands when the day's work is done.

To love according to an established order, to entertain one's best self in a preconceived manner, to worship the gods becomingly, to intrigue the devils artfully—and then to forget all as though memory were dead.

To fancy with a motive, to contemplate with consideration, to be happy sweetly, to suffer nobly—and then to empty the cup so that tomorrow may fill it again.

All these things, O God, are conceived with forethought, born with determination, nursed with exactness, governed by rules, directed by reason, and then slain and buried after a prescribed method. And even their silent graves that lie within the human soul are marked and numbered.

It is a perfect world, a world of consummate excellence, a world of supreme wonders, the ripest fruit in God's garden, the master-thought of the universe.

But why should I be here, O God, I a green seed of unfulfilled passion, a mad tempest that seeketh neither east nor west, a bewildered fragment from a burnt planet?

Why am I here, O God of lost souls, thou who art lost amongst the gods?

Looks like he felt as though he didn't belong either. Truth via metaphor -whatay amazing writer!

Old Lessons in New Experiences

2010-01-22T18:28:00.000-08:00

And some of them are tougher to learn than long division. What does it take to rein in a wandering mind and put it to 'useful' work?

New Year Resolution - I

2010-01-17T23:53:00.000-08:00

Sketch more.

An Infant, a Dog and a Cashewnut

2010-01-14T21:16:00.000-08:00

Any South Indian worth her uppu will tell you that there's nothing quite like chakkarai pongal. But me, I can never quite make up my mind if I like chakkarai pongal better, or payasam. Which is why I love festivals like Pongal - I get to eat both, accompanied by a savory spread worthy of the Gods. It is also why I wake up early festival mornings - the making of these divine desserts fills the kitchen with an aroma that's a clarion call to a dessertarian soul.
One Pongal morning, not so long ago, I answered the call as any true dessert-eater would, only to be banished almost immediately by my mother. "Don't hover around. It's for the Gods. You can't eat ANYTHING until the pooja is done. No, not even the cashewnuts." I cut a strategic retreat to the dining area, close enough to smell the vermicelli frying in ghee, and yet out of reach of my mother's wrath. Soney was waiting under the dining table, thumping her tail ever so often in happy anticipation of Payasam in her doggy bowl (Sweet teeth are a family trait).
A while later, the gate clanged. It was Edir Veetu Aunty, as my mother likes to call my next-door neighbor, dropping her grandson off at our doorstep. Ashish was about half past two then, I think, young enough to have to be escorted across the road, but old enough for his parents to worry about why he hadn't started talking yet. For a kid his age, Ashish had a lot of gravitas. He also had the most gut-wrenchingly beautiful smile I have ever seen on a child. Soney couldn't see him smile, but the frequency of tail thumping from under the table increased drastically. It's not that Soney loves infants, I've seen her walk around my toddling nephews/nieces with canine disdain. But Ashish she adored, for reasons unknown.
"Aaaashishhhh, how are you?" My mother enquired after his health in her for-use-only-with-babies-and-dogs voice. In response, Ashish walked slowly up to Amma, his hands clasped behind his back, and inspected with interest the goings-on in the kitchen. His prodigious infant charms work even on my mother, for the same hand that slapped my hand away from the cashews handed him one. I watched in amusement as he walked back with his prize and sat down beneath the dining table, ignoring my offer to seat him on a chair. He then carefully broke the cashew into two halves, and held one half out to Soney. Little miss slinky walked up to him, sniffed enquiringly for a moment, and daintily took the cashew half from him. And she ate it without further ado. Her drop on floor, sniff,lick,contemplate, and eat/reject routine was only for adults, evidently.
"Soney ate half a cashew, does the milk teeth concept hold for dogs too?" The look my mother shot me was enough to make me beat a fast retreat to my room, so I don't know if Ashish and Soney got any more goodies intended for the Gods. I also don't know why Ashish chose to share the cashew with Soney and not me. Maybe he thought I was capable enough to get my own cashews. I'll never know.
Happy Pongal/Sankranthi. And if you are in India, I hope you've gorged yourself sufficiently on payasam and other delectable delights. I also hope you get fat.

The duo - older, wiser, and still sharing.

Rain on my Parade

2010-01-12T18:04:00.000-08:00

Slow and Stealthy, I sneaked out
To steal some kisses from the Sun
Only to be accosted by lowering Clouds
Standing guard jealously
Shaking cold, grey fists at me
And drizzling in righteous fury.

What wet blankets.

Nocturnal Jogs and Silly Verse

2010-01-07T23:28:00.000-08:00

What is the probability that you will be stalked by a herd of cows during your jog in a park? We calculated this probability to be near zero, but alas, we failed to take Murphy's Law into account.
One traumatic experience, bucketloads of laughter, and an entire workday spent writing sillyverse(and they don't get verser than this) later - much later, like three years later - we realized that sublimely ridiculous moments make for the best memories.
Gotta love Murph.

(Red ones penned by a poet best known for inspired poems such as this)

***

The cow in Da Na*
================

As I walk tho the park,in da middle of DA NA;
I fear no evil as I have her right in my sight.
It started with a chance encounter, bizzare.
The feline ran straight, trippin, but not too far.
Wooo! Look at her move....
Moooo! Moooo! Moooo! Moooo!
As if once was not enough, I saw her again, and again, and again,
hiding behind the tree. Now you better refrain.
Mooo! sista Moooo!
She is the one, yuhooo!
So I brought my family to meet my love, divine.
The future inclusion to the power gang, bovine.
.
.
.
BTW who was that guy,
Sheesh... Kabab me haddi... Bye Bye.
.
.
.
Its going to be great- just me and her.
As we stroll thro the park, all together.
Ummm...
Those walks in the park, in da middle of DA NA....*

-----------------------------------------------------------
* A slang pronuncition [sic] of night.
BTW, In kanada, cow is translated as 'dana'.

DA NA Retorts...
-----------------------
DB,bovine potentate,
Your suitors came to play..
However,unbovinely bovine,
You turned them away.

Heart broken,distressed
Sadly they went away,
Only to come back
Yet another day

I know,
in your heart of heart
You miss them
When they depart

But outwards,
You bluff your way..
Fie,tis destiny
You ll meet one day!

(Maybe at Whitefield?)

Retort?? Abort!! Resort!!
===============

You, Jobless!! get back to work!

Don't you realize, you can't bluff your way,
for they, not feline, but bovine, are always yours to stay!
To put da analysis in place, sealed.
Cows don't like to walk distances... not to whitefield.
Open your eye...why don't you see?
Made for each other, you were to be.

Look! its all in front of you....
Sit down, relax, regurgitate and chew...
Why did people call you dana??
Was it so designed, vandhana,
that the literal translation- 'Dana'= 'cow' ??
Thats in kanada.... but just tell me how!!

The first look, the moves were made, the first trip...
Things are in place, so don't you quip.
You were right . Tis destiny!!
The cow was meant for you, not me.
Bangalored to bangalore...to join the crew
Did I hear some one say... Moooo! Moooo!

The Bovine who launched a thousand cows
---------------------------------------------------
(On behalf of Ze Cow)

Tis said, once upon a time,
A cow jumped o'er the moon
Which one I know not,
But by my twin horns,
I swear,
For you ,most bovine,
Over moon and fen,
O'er crag and torrent,
I'll walk, nay, I'll fly;

I'll give up
Grazing in my green field,
And move up
With you to Whitefield
You could moo,
Or bay or shoo,
I'll still be with you,
All the way.

And If still you
Unkindly kind,
Would resist,
Please don't mind,
Then with sorrow
To the slaughterhouse
I'd go.

Adios, O Bovine Chief,
If you must,
Then have me as beef.

***
db may write better sillyverse, but I spell better.

What's in your Wallet?

2009-12-30T15:03:00.001-08:00

Meet Wallet. It's a nondescript green-black four year old, missing its original key-ring (which we suspect is in the possession of a certain shameless kleptomaniac). It's imbued with a good amount of homing instinct, having parted company with its absent-minded mistress several times only to find its way right back to her (thanks to the phalanx of ID cards within) Wallet can also hold more than your average handbag. (Proof herewith)

After several years of mindless abuse, Wallet has finally found redemption. Today, it has been emptied of all the baggage it carried, the necessary and the non-essential, the ancient bills and forgotten receipts, currency Indian and Foreign(or Foreign and Indian, really, who cares), expired bus passes of various American states, photographs of people long forgotten, credit cards lettered in gold, hoping to charm its owners into debtor's hell, you name it, it has been extracted from Wallet's murky and inflated innards.

Wallet is happy. Wallet wants to look beyond an inflated past, into a lean and less stuffed future.

What's in your wallet?

Law of Really Large Numbers

2009-12-06T19:21:00.000-08:00

Twenty Seven is a scary number
If you are keeping count (we are)
Of your not-so-tender years,
And your happy happy birthday
(Which as you well know,
ranks alongside Water Torture
And them Cat o' nine Tails)
is when your sweet friends
Express their dearest wish
That with the really large number
Purrhaps will come Gravitas
And Good Sense
A Mustache and a bald head
Mortgages and Marriages
And version 2.0s of you.

Twenty Seven, on second thought
Is not all that bad:
Remember what we were taught
Once upon a blessed time
About counting blessings?
You have a job, like everyone else
That takes you far and wide
A job that you hate, but ummm,
You've got great digs!
SO WHAT if you share them
With your aged parents?
Single, of relationship status
And not a single nightmare
Of Arranged Marriages
Or psychopathic Exes.
That's three, I think, or zero
I'm not keeping count (are you?)
Anyway, let's reject these
Moronic attitude implants
And look forward to

Twenty Eight, where Dentures loom
And Walking Sticks too.
Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday DB, old (quite literally now, methinks) friend, and may your shadow never grow lesser!

***
Birthday Wish Part II

Some folks are such brats, I swear. You go to the trouble of writing a real cheerful birthday greeting, and they respond with a "My My My!! kiitos!! But then again... where is my painting???"

Well, heeryor painting.

P.S: This is my first attempt at doing something with color, (unless you count my kindergarten days, when I drew wall murals with wax crayons) so you better make the right noises. OR ELSE.

long time, no sketch

2009-10-04T23:23:00.000-07:00

Not one of my best, but not bad for some 5 minutes of effort either. I've officially re-inaugurated my charcoal pencils. Yay!

Update: It's almost like I had this poem in mind when I was sketching!

Life's a cold, stuck-up Bitch

2009-08-26T01:43:00.000-07:00

And then you die.

Ever felt like chasing certain people down with a hatchet in your hands, and then chopping them up to pieces when they trip over the (mandatory) piece of furniture? And then hacking the rest of the room around you to pieces, and then cutting yourself down? Huh? Have you?

I haven't. Honestly.

This post sucks. SHIT.

So does my state of mind. Screw it. Screw it all.

Ego-Bashing

2009-04-06T00:18:00.000-07:00

(Excerpted from gtalk)

A: my biggest loss till date
all the certis. right from standard 1
me: hahaha
A: they were in this one bag. and only that got lost
when we moved from Delhi
or nellore i think
me: i refuse to believe you
:D
me: without proof
A: i ll show u my report cards
me: show me certs
:P
A: u shud see the comments of teachers
no certs
me: genius,interrupted
A: did i tell u i didnt give my 6th standard exams
english exam.. cakewalk for me.
i went out to play cricket
sunny my friend..
had an accident
me: u told me
broke hand
abba
A: leg
not hand
me: some appendage
same diff
A: hand i cud have managed
me: :P
A: my last yr in delhi that was
and i was bedridden for close to 4 months
no holi.
me: aaaargggggh
A: i threw water balloons from top
safe :D
on the ppl on the roads
but delhi kids are fckers
from opposite terrace
egg
me: hahahaha
serve u rite
A: my mom also got it once
egg..
its not just dirty
its painful
me: really
ha
A: yeah it is
me: ok
unless u stop now
u ll have to do my h/w
are u game?
A: i think i ll sleep
me: :D
good
wise u are
A: but killer
imagine me in my cream cargos. gandhi glasses
feeling all cool
the girls thought i was lame
but the attitude attracted them i suppose
all my friends/foes called me an asshole for refusing that chick
all the guys who were after her
me: :D
update
we still think u are lame :P
A: we who
hmm actually the attitude is still there
cause i dont care.
haha
if ppl think i am lame
well u cant please the world u knw
me: we the people
:D
like in the preamble
and all
A: haha

A is busy. You may be interrupting. (Yeah Right!!!)

Free publicity for A. :P I'm now doing my homework in some peace. :P

A Tallish Tale

2009-03-25T20:18:00.000-07:00

The Bully (Short Story)
-Anon.

Disclaimer: This is a (great)work of Fiction. All resemblance to characters, living or graduate student, may have been intended, but the author takes no responsibility for anything. Cut her a break,won't you? She is unwilling t0 take responsibility for herself even, for Murphy's sake!

I thought I saw an Intruder in my stairwell.

I juggled my key-bunch and a pair of grocery bags,trying to come up with the right open sesame. "Probably someone upstairs moving about", I snapped at my Imagination. "Get off overdrive already. Some old lump. Exercising or something." The shadow-haze outside my apartment stopped moving. I put my weight on the door, my hands full of shopping. An 180 degree pivot later, I found myself staring at a 5-foot-something male, looking rather startled at his interrupted incursions into my apartment. Very Deer in Headlights.What do you know? I'd just caught myself an intruder, and I was between him and the door.

Did I chuck my bags and rush out the door? No. I stood my ground. For one, I am very brave. For another, a five-foot-something male looking ready to jump out of his skin isn't very intimidating. For a third, I actually knew this foiled intruder.

Shivers Bhai, my (erstwhile) room-mate's live-in best friend. But just because she'd taken up permanent residence in his house didn't mean he could come waltzing into ours anytime, did it? Did he have a spare set of keys? My eyes narrowed in suspicion. What nefarious activities had he been up to? He was definitely not sociopath material - He was way too annoying for that. Dressing up in my roomie's clothes when she was otherwise occupied? Maybe. Serial Killing? No.

"WHAT are YOU doing in HERE?". His one arm was behind his back, and I was all set to catch him at his mischievous/sociopathic/psychopathic activity. Red Handed. "Oh... I was just taking photographs of your house... To send to Good Housekeeping." To add insult to incursion, Shivers was being very catty. Not your standard intruder (unless you are a moron, and can't tell cat-like from catty). AND Good Housekeeping? What sort of heterosexual male even knew of such magazines? I briefly considered braining him with my grocery bags, but suppressed the urge as unneighborly.

" I was just about to clean the house" I said coldly, holding the handles of one grocery bag apart.
He peered into it. "How the heck do you run through cleaners so soon?"
"I use a lot of it. when I clean." This was definitely not going like a crack-down. And his arm was still firmly ensconced out of my sight. It looked like Hercule Poirot had to catch this fly with some sugar.
"There's some pineapple-upside-down cake in the Fridge. Want a slice?" Cake in,secret out. Or so I hoped.
"Ermmm... ok!!!".He moved back in so I could enter.

A minute later, I was trying to unstick frozen toffee/pineapple off the bottom of the pan, while the Intruder snickered to his heart's content - at my messy kitchen, at the fact that I bought new dish-towels instead of laundering my old ones, and of course, at me cutting cake instead of calling the cops. It was somebody's day today, and that somebody was me. NOT. I persevered. A moment later, the intruder was oohing and aahing in delight. "This is awesome" he remarked, once he unstuck his teeth from the sticky topping. The moment I was waiting for. "So... What were you doing?" Real casual. slick (If I do say so myself). He looked like he was going to be catty again, but the cake wouldn't let him. He slowly brought his arm around...

A profusion of pink. Female Garments. I mentally jumped up and down, pointing an arm, wagging the index finger:"Aha!!!" Premonition. Killer Instinct. The Next Night Shyamalan Movie waiting to happen. All that mental shrieking filtered out my eyes. Shivers looked defensive. "There is this bachelorette party..."
"Oh?" I sounded encouraging. Go on, Jame Gumb.
"Your roomie is running late, and she is getting ready. She has to wear something pink, so she sent me down... to get something pink...". He sounded resigned.
"Oh!!!" The image of Jame Gumb exploded, leaving behind a washed down image of Rick Moranis. You know, that Flintstone character who is married to that huge female.Rosie O' Donnell. Boom Boom's dad. Henpecked husband personified. Only, in the case of poor Shivers, it wasn't an affaire de coeur, but an affaire de venti. His moderate culinary abilities, combined with my utter lack of any. "Best Friend" on the surface maybe, but disturb the surface a little, and you see "Passable and Willing Cook" underneath. I was torn between sympathy and amusement. As if it wasn't bad enough that he spoke about Good Housekeeping. "Pink, huh?"
"Yeah." He seemed more at ease.
I bit back a grin. "Do you want a cap to go with that pink thing?"
He looked surprised. Was she actually being nice? Or was this a trick phrase? "Errm. Ok..."
"I fished a dusty cap put of the closet. "See, pink AND purple. Perfect for a bachelorette party. It's so OUT THERE." With great strength of will, I maintained my poker face, long enough to go through the goodbye routine. I slammed the door, latched it shut so it couldn't be opened from the outside, and proceeded to roll on the floor,overcome with laughter.

There are bullies, who take over entire houses, make its inmates cook at their will and whim, AND have them run errands of a very personal nature without as much as batting an eyelid( or their eyelashes). And then there are bullies, who attempt to sneak into houses,get caught in the act with embarrassing effects, and resort to intimidation to talk their way through. and then there are the nicer sort of bullies, who not only derive great amusement from such proceedings, but poke gentle fun at everyone involved in a rather public manner. Shame on all of them.

The Ende.

The Spoilsport and the World's Cleverest Conspiracy

2009-03-03T00:25:00.000-08:00

Not only did Islamic Insurgents in Pakistan strike a blow for Islamic Jihad in general and Pakistan in particular by shooting at the Sri Lankan cricket team, they used up all their superior Intelligence and inordinate amounts of cunning to come up with this:

"The Indian connection, even if indirect and unintentional, (really? Oops! I accidentally just sent some terrorists along!) cannot be ignored:

Lahore is the same city where Pakistani anti-terrorism police arrested several Indian citizens and their Pakistani accomplices in the past few weeks and paraded them in public with evidence linking them to India’s spy agency Research & Analysis Wing, or RAW.
Pakistani security officials had received a report that at least ten Indian operatives have crossed the border into Lahore 48 hours before the attacks.
India spearheaded a campaign to convince several countries to sever sports relations with Pakistan and put tremendous pressure on Sri Lanka not to send its cricket team to play here.
India has a history of supporting the terrorist LTTE group and arming it with sophisticated weapons to fight the Sri Lankan government and army. Pakistan, on the other hand, has been supporting Sri Lanka against this terrorism. India has long been disturbed by the close relationship between Colombo and Islamabad. In this connection, Sri Lanka’s foreign minister’s statement is important. He said he won’t point fingers but said ‘terrorism has no borders’, an implied suggestion that the Sri Lankans believe the perpetrators came from outside Pakistan.
The timing of the attack shows the professional planning. Lahore administration was in a flux after the change of provincial government. Lahore was also the last Pakistani city that has not yet been affected by the fallout from America’s failed and disastrous war in Afghanistan. This incident effectively brings chaos to Lahore as well. The rest of Pakistan is already being destabilized by foreign intelligence operatives working from the Afghan soil, inserting professional saboteurs and flushing the country with money to recruit criminals and activating them under the guise of religious extremists.

An important point to note here is that whoever planned this attack made sure that the terrorists look similar to Mumbai attackers. This can be an attempt to spark more conflict between Pakistan and India.

This is the time to expose Indian Terrorism. India should also brace for retaliation. If Indian military and security forces are using terrorism against Pakistan in multiple places, then Indians from these organizations should be a fair game for retaliation."

~Ahmed Quraishi

I'm seriously impressed by Pakistani capabilities - what capabilities exactly, you ask? The capability to spew enough BS to cover a football field full of babies 3 feet deep in bullshit (thanks Maddox, for the visual imagery) I mean, come on. Could YOU have thought of such a fool-proof excuse? I couldn't have. I'm giving credit where it's due.

***
My only regret that it wasn't the American swim team. Obama would have pulled off Iraq Part 2 on Pakistan, and serve them right too. SOMEONE needs to kick Pakistan where it hurts most. How about volunteering, President Obama?

P.S: And while you are at it, Mr President, please introduce these insurgents to Logic 101. We'll be eternally indebted to you.

As God Intended

2009-02-24T15:07:00.000-08:00

"The hand that sent Jupiter spinning through heaven,

Spends all its cunning to fashion a curl"

Contrary to popular opinion, I know exactly what my hair looks like. I look in the mirror everyday. More than once. Many times in fact. And you are wrong, I don't cringe every time I do. If I am to believe Sir Aurobindo, then Mister God could have chosen to make me straight-haired (Here. Have some hair. And here's some glue. Get on with it), and made another galaxy or four in the remaining time. Or taken a nap. He didn't. I'm special, see?

And I really don't see the point in straight hair. I used to know a person who had wavy hair, and she looked okay, in spite of colourlessly light eyes and the complexion of a blood-starved vampire. The other day I was hurrying past a person I took to be oriental (limp raw-spaghetti straight hair that stood at attention) and to my great surprise, it turned out to be the ex-wavy haired person. Now the zombie look was complete. Stiff hair,dead eyes, coffin skin. I actually stopped and stared. And felt depressed. Another person lost to the one-hairstyle-suits-all troupe of straight-haired wannabe divas.Sigh.

Why can't we just be curly headed girls, as God intended? Well I am. I choose to be Botticellisque (in spite of the odd (or even) Medusa day), rather than spaghettisque. Damn your Sedu hair straighteners, and reverse-ion technologies. They belong in hell, heat and all.

So what's the whole point? Well, there isn't one.

This post is dedicated to Curly Hair. And to all the nitwits who continually pester me to "do something" about my hair, suggest [substitute your favorite hair straightening technique here] or even just shaving it all off. Some of you, I love, some I dislike (albeit very cordially), and some I couldn't care one training set of data about, but seriously? Piss off. (You know who you are - the next time, pay me a compliment about my wild head of curls, or shut up. You don't know jack about fashion anyway. Curls are so in. Bet you didn't know that. ha!)

An Ode to MadSpring

2009-02-14T22:57:00.000-08:00

Spring
It's that time of year again

All around you
Rent-a-fences* and road blocks
Booming sounds of Destruction
And Construction

Icy Puddles
Of melting dirty snow
Bleary cold humidity
Sneezes and heavy heads
And cold wet shoes

Cold Rain
Sickly green dead grass
Poking out from under melting snow
Dirty-brown slush

Eeeyuk

Spring
It's THAT time of year again

* The entrance to the CS dept is sealed off by a long length of rent-a-fence. The main cause for all this angst.

Hope Floats

2008-12-30T03:32:00.000-08:00

A Smile.
To douse the Inner Fear
Or the birthing of Happiness?

Death.
Or the Ninth Life?

The Mind forks;
Cynical Jade
Or resilient Naivete?

In love with Love
Or running from Loneliness?

Hope & Faith
Or Blissful Ignorance?

Hope Floats, but you sink;
In Depths of Despair
Or an Ocean of Contentment?

All these -
Questions
Or Masquerading Answers?

Six of one.
Half a dozen of the other.

MadWinter Chronicles - I : _ cometh before a (and whatay) fall...

2008-12-13T17:43:00.000-08:00

***

T'was yet another cold madwinter mid-morning (or late afternoon, if you are a up-at-6-AM sort of person, in which case, you have no business reading my blog, will you please go back to your own planet, I mean, Earth is bad enough with all these Terrorists 'n Jehovah's Witnesses 'n tiger-killing Poachers around, we really don't need your sort making the rest of us feel miserable 'n lazy 'n the Lord knows what else) I'd only just woken up,and, steadfastly ignoring a niggling feeling of impending doom (it was exam week) proceeded to have a light-hearted, this-n-that phonecall with a friend over my morning (or late afternoon, if you will, read previous rant) cuppa. An excerpt- the most - or only - relevant part of which follows below.

.
.
.
S : "Errr... I don't think so. Mom is on edge these days, and I *don't* think she wants to hear that."
Me : "On Edge?"
S : "Yeah. Like yesterday night. She was in tears over water spilled on the kitchen floor."
Me : " (smirking)Crying over spilt water?"
S : "Not exactly crying, but close. you know how her voice gets all high n' screechy. She was like, 'Oh God, look at that, water all over the kitchen floor! ' And she was frantically mopping the water which was leaking from the drinking water can. And the can was still leaking."
Me : "(suppressing laughter with great difficulty) sheesh."
S : "I had to go take care of the can. But yeah, she is on edge these days."
.
.
.

For reasons known only to me, and the edgy mom referred to in the conversation, (who has scolded me roundly several times about my own scatter-brained nature - "You'll misplace your own child one day" - and this when I was a young,impressionable 17 or so - I KNOW, Hmpf. ) I found this mental picture deeply amusing. Feeling perky all of a sudden, (which I had no business doing - t'was, after all, the season of exams) I got ready to go to class.

Singing all the while (Pichle Saath Dinon Mein, from Rock On) , I put on: 1. a double layered jacket 2. two pairs of gloves 3. my favorite red woolen hat 4. woolen socks 5. snow boots (by which time I'd gotten to the second stanza). (And yes, my thermals were warm and woolen too, but Good Girls (like me) are sworn to not mention underwear in blogs, even for innocuous reasons like these,so you can just forget I said that) I stepped out into blazing sunlight, and stood like one transfixed. It was WARM. Above-zero warm. No-snow warm. sunshine-and-impossible-blue-skies warm. I briefly considered my alternatives. I could either cry from sheer happiness, or burst into joyful song. Rejecting option 1 as too sissy,I continued pelting out lines from Shankar Ehsaan Loy's attempt at Indie Rock, and stepped out into the first second of the rest of my life - and in the split second between my rendition of the hypenated 'sun-glasses', found myself sitting on the bottom step of the stairway, after having slid down five more. Gla-h-sses. Deep Breath.

Ice, ladies and gentlemen. Not on a skating rink, but on the stairs.You know the routine, gentle rain comes pitter-pattering, and turns to ice when Madtown Freezes Over (happens every night, from late November, to late April).Ice that would have shattered my brand-new sunglasses, had they been anything but hypothetical (or imaginary if you will, geez, what a nit-picker) I looked around quickly, to ensure that my song-n-dance act had no audience, and stood up quickly, only to get back on my butt right away. Ice may be injurious to both your ego and your butt, if you didn't know.

All perkiness and good cheer skidded away on the icy landscape that loomed between me and my destination. Swearing (I've learned to swear rather colourfully, if I do say so myself) the air blue around me, I baby-stepped to my bike, and started wheeling it down to the sidewalk. An acquaintance of mine once commented that I'd set a benchmark in Madtown when it came to biking in snow (read craziness) I'm like that, can't help it. So then I biked down, very carefully, not letting my mind drift to anything but the slippery sheets under my bike's treads, only to fall down at the first signal. Bruised knee, butt and ego. Hallelu.

I learn slowly, but given enough time and pain,I learn. I wheeled my bike slowly to the department, walking on the snowbank (yes, it's painful, with snowboots that weigh a ton each, and 20 inches of snow, but if you had a better idea, you'd be Einstein) when to add insult to injury, two still-perky nitwits (male, obviously) came running towards me, acting as if they had dry grass under their feet. My blood boiled. Then, the nitwits both fell down right at my feet, arms flapping, with goofy grins on their faces (undergraduates, I'm sure) and I perked right up again. And laughed fit to kill. I must have cut a funny figure, walking my bike while perched atop a snowbank, but they were funnier. ha!

On my (slow) walk to the department, I saw a couple of people getting off the side-walk, as if it was their intention all-along to sit down for a while, and felt even more vindicated. People were falling like they were bowling pins. Several strikes for someone who resides wayyyy above the atmosphere.

I worked late that night, waiting until all that ice was snowed in before I chanced my way back home. clever me.

Moral of the story : (Yeah, there is one) Mister God watches over edgy moms, and doles out divine justice to people who laugh at them. DON'T laugh at them. You will sooo regret it.

Fraud correlation? It sure seems logical to me!

***

(This kid has nothing whatsoever to do with my post, but adds to the general cuteness. I LOVE his attitude - "Yes I'm eating grass, and do you have a problem with that?")

The Wrong in the Right

2008-11-05T09:08:00.000-08:00

The Juggernaut of Bigotry and Hatred proved impotent. Cool Reason won hands down before Zealot Patriotism and Acerbic Irrational Attack. I'm never been prouder to be a Leftie. Go Obama!

Too many Capital Letters, I know. My brand of Capitalism. So tax me.

A Comedy Of Errors

2008-10-31T13:19:00.000-07:00

Words Credit : BoyMongoose.

The Month So Far

2008-10-19T20:46:00.000-07:00

Never has life been so eventful.

This semester, I've got 3 Grad Courses, an independent study (research stuff), Tennis and Ballroom dancing. TAing, projecting, examing and class attending(which I don't mostly) - You'd think a body wouldn't have breathing space, let alone time to get into trouble. You think? Ha.

***

My bike's brakes have gone for a toss. Which means I begin the day with action, adventure, swerving cars and honking cars, sometimes swerving and honking cars. So much so that I can skip my daily dose of coffee.

Caffeine or Adrenaline,dear?
Adrenaline, thank you.

I have a death whoosh for Speeeed :) And I still haven't gotten around to fixing those brakes.

***

Bored of subs, I got down to cooking, and in the process, burnt down my kitchen. All in the space of 10 minutes. And while reheating frozen food, for Chrissakes. Goshdarned gas stoves. No, make that Fuckin' gas stoves. They nearly got me evicted for sheer stupidity.

How do you put out a fire, Vandhana?
omg, OMG, it's burning!
Elementary, my dear Vandhana. Water.
Water is a compound, you thrice-damned fool. Put it out. PUT IT OUT!

Thank Goodness Americans are suckers for my Abla Naari shtick.

***

I withdrew $30 from the ATM, expecting a balance in the early thousands, only to see a -33.00 staring out at me. For the first time in my life, I'm in the RED. But why? I was asked to turn in a form to Payroll, which slipped my mind (My mind is more slippery than the average wet bathroom floor). And they din't bank my check. Whoopee.

Not that I feel bad. I'm in the esteemed company of Lehmann Brothers, and such.Oh, and if you are reading this, can I have 50 bucks off you until month end?

***

Very conscientiously, I go to work friday evening, when the rest of the town gets drunk (It's Wisconsin). In the elevator, I stick my hand into my pocket, hoping to find keys, and finding - nothing. I call A.

Hey, Are you in the dept?
Yeah.
Great. I forgot my keys, can you let me into the 5th floor?
Sure. wait for 20 min.
But... I'm downstairs, like right now. Are you busy or something?
No.
Then...?
Hmmm.. (giggles) Wait n See. (giggles) ok bye (more giggles)

After enduring a ride in the elevator with Mr. Wannabe Calvin, I stride up to my door, only to realize that.. I still don't have the keys. My mind is AWOL, you think? Hardly. I walk back to the elevator bank, get my laptop out, and begin working.

It takes more than missing keys to keep V from answering her TA mails. Suuper TA!

***

Other traumatic experiences involved tennis balls running amok, billowing tie-skirts getting together with bike handles , Cold Coffee, and Missing Roommates. These were beyond embarassing. As in can't-be-typed-out embarassing. Oh and just about an hour ago, I made two phone-calls to the UW Police . Why? I'm not telling. Top secret stuff.

Yeah right. Sometimes though, I wish Life were more boring.

And in all this havoconfusion (copyrighted, its MY word) I almost forgot the main thing. I turned 24, and survived. Whoopee. No grey hair, no wrinkles, no crow's feet. Just the number. I swear.

*

In Wonderland

2008-10-15T18:35:00.000-07:00

A lifetime ago. A year ago. Non-sense, yet perfect sense. An email, a missive, a call for help.

*************************

I bumped into my looking glass when I looked into it, and instead of bumping out (as a normal person would) I went through it. Straight into Wonderland. And wonderful it is too. I'm all a-wonder about the wondersome state of things here. -so much a-wonder that they call me Wondernna (pronounced the British way - wond-ah na)

I'm taking Wonderland courses to fulfill my credit requirements in the "other" world - just one, "Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in Coils". There are NO exams for any courses here though. I can sleep all I want to. I still have nightmares, that I'm feverishly prepping for exams. I've been put on a strict diet of chocolate and orange marmalade until I recover. The Mad Hatter is going to outlaw exams in the "other" world, so I can return and live happily ever after. I hope "they" listen to him - otherwise I'm not coming back.

In case you get sick of the world too, you can try bumping your carrot nose into mirrors there - you'll land up here IF you are not a normal person. You should. Then I'll tell the Gryphon that you made fun of my nose, and he'll bite a big chunk out of yours. You can be Mad-Eye Moody then. The Cheshire cat and I will laugh at you the same way you laugh at other people's noses now. If you cry,then we'll laugh even harder.

tata, I'm off to a mad hot chocolate party!

--
Anne Wonder Shirley Blythe

P.S: I don't like being Vandana, or Vandhana, So I'm now Anne. (Note that it's spelled with an E)

--
Anne spelled with an E

************************************

Sad, in a very amusing sort of way.

Yodel

2008-10-15T09:19:00.001-07:00

Yet One more Day when E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G was Lovely. Enough to make me sing la-la-la-la-la. Even yodel. loie-la-la-loie-la-la-loie. bum bum bum na na na na pam pam pam. LA LA!

Never said I could carry a tune, did I? :-) LA LA! Hmmm? LA!

Head-Writing

2008-09-21T19:20:00.000-07:00

Swaraj

2008-08-30T16:14:00.000-07:00

The Triumph of Self. Over Self. Easy as it sounds?

Mister God's Inverted Colour Schemes for the Sky - As seen in Seattle!

2008-08-16T22:55:00.000-07:00

I haven't had enough of these - I wish Time wasn't in such a royal hurry.

Diet-Food for Thought

2008-08-04T13:49:00.001-07:00

Green Tea to sip.

Greener Cucumber, Orange-red Carrots, Wilted Lettuce, Roasted Almonds, Spanish Peanuts, Crispy Onions, Crispier Croutons, all tossed with a dash of Artichoke Parmesan, and then some Chipotle Southwest for good measure.

The Reddest Cherries for dessert.

Oh, and a bite of Birthday Cake, too.

Dieting can be fun.

Non-Expletives

2008-07-31T13:38:00.000-07:00

Most of my friends swear by swear words. Admittedly, it can be very satisfying to use a choice expletive or four to vent frustration. But think about it. Swear words are so passe. We are making do with a bunch of faded words that are only given life by enunciation,volume, and tone. Why not colourful non-swearing, that can be as satisfying, if not more?

Let me give you a simple illustration. You have a friend, who is a borderline megalomaniac. You've put up and shut up this far, but now you think it's high time you unleashed some of that pent-up irritation. How would you go about it?

Friend - "I don't mean to imply that you are dumb (A Mother Theresa smile) but I HAVE been around the world, you know. I only want to help you"
You - (sniff)
Friend - "Did I tell you about the time when I saved superman, batman, and spiderman from a runaway plane?"
You - "A thousand times"
Friend - "Now don't you take that tone with me. I don't have to put up with you,you know. I don't even have to talk to you. I'm important. I'm noble. I'm rich. I'm smart...."
You - "F*** off!"
Friend - (brushes off familiar expletive) "... You need to emulate me.You really should be bowing down to my infinite wisdom..."
You - (grind teeth to fine ivory powder)

Now let's do this differently.

Friend - "I don't mean to imply that you are dumb (A Mother Theresa smile) but I HAVE been around the world, you know. I only want to help you"
You - (sniff)
Friend - "Did I tell you about the time when I saved superman, batman, and spiderman from a runaway plane?"
You - "A thousand times"
Friend - "Now don't you take that tone with me. I don't have to put up with you,you know. I don't even have to talk to you. I'm important. I'm noble. I'm rich. I'm smart...."
You - (very politely) "Tell you what. Take your ego and shove it into your pants along with a earthworm and centipede".
Friend - (long pause, as s/he digests the uncomfortable (to say the least) suggestion. "Errrrmmm." (swallows) "Whatever. F*** off!" (stalks off)
You - (satisfied smile)

Much more effective than boring four letter words in expressing your exact feelings,don't you think? Can the simple 'f**k you' even compare?

Joie de Vivre

2008-07-16T16:54:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking...

How easy is it to stack one 'fun' activity over the other, over the span of one weekend, to the point where it becomes tedious?

How easy is it to go about Life's business without pausing to savour the moment?

How long has it been since I've played a prank?

How long has it been since I've had a long-drawn, nails-out cat fight with one of my best friends, and enjoyed it?

How long has it been since I've been bien dans ma peau?

How long has it been since I've laughed out loud just because life was beautiful?

It's time I brought some Joie de Vivre back into my life.

The Beginning of the End

2008-07-13T22:46:00.000-07:00

Love dies. As does Sanity. Eyes puffed and red, she's clutching a pair of pink baby booties, as if they were a charm that could unravel time, if only she gripped them hard enough.

I've had enough.

Responsibility. I'm bound to her by words that mean nothing to me - A progressive litany in Sanskrit that barely registered in the heat of the Holy Fire, and the itching of my silk dhoti. That, and the walk around the fire, those Saath Phere, quite unlike the leisurely walks we once took by the river. The walks of those carefree pre-nuptial days, when dreams were woven of air and laughter and silken fantasy...

What was is painful ecstasy, a divine taunt of what will never be. What is, or is not, is what matters. Responsibility. Rust wears away at the iron-tipped word. Her guilt is my sorrow. But pity mingles with equal parts of hatred and dying anger. I loved her once. Not so long ago, that I can't remember how much.

If only I were dead. Or she was. Or both of us. Or... Too painful a thought that. Too futile. Little better than clutching a pair of booties in wordless prayer - booties that belong to a baby three months dead.

The Breaking

2008-07-08T23:10:00.000-07:00

I harden my heart. But, confronted with a pair of dead eyes, I feel a pang in spite of myself. Taken off her pedestal, she no longer seems larger than life.

A broken soul, who once was a magical being. A magical being whose aura rippled the air around her, coaxing the mundane into the extraordinary - the too-wide smile, the riot of curls,the ready laughter, the warmth that reached for you at ten paces and took you in a sunshiny hug...

My thoughts are interrupted - wonder of wonders, she's smiling at me. Or trying to. The corners of her eyes crinkle in the familiar way, adding years, and then taking them away. Slowly, the smile gives way to the stress of holding it in place. As I watch the half-smile die, I mourn the loss of what she was. My anger builds at the half-person in front of me,the person who once was my ideal. Resisting an urge to shake her, to demand that she bring back the person I knew, I fold her in a bone crushing hug, a hug that shouts out all I cannot say, of what she means to me, and how much I love and respect her.

If only she knew. If only.
.

A Prodigal and a Hypocrite

2008-07-06T00:42:00.000-07:00

Like everyone else. Different names, different lives, same story. I stand disillusioned. With the world. With myself, too.

All this time
I never learned
To balance equations
Of Me, and You, and Life.

So I stand
Unbalanced.
But I don't know
To fall.

Poisoned,
I see flaws
Where once I saw
Perfection.

Disillusioned,
Sapped of strength,
I look for support
Look to God.

Unchanged,
Now as always,
says he -
'Welcome back'

Am I seeing the world in all its sordid reality, or is it just my grim mood? Are people this small, or am I out of perspective? Or did I never really get close enough to see the truth, or care enough to think about it? People are ugly. And it bothers me. To think that I could be as ugly. To think that they're really me, only from the outside.

The more I hate the world, and its people, the more I despise myself.

I still love dogs though.

Quoi?

2008-06-13T16:51:00.000-07:00

I'm clockwork; logic living in a rusted brain
I'm the wet purple in the pouring rain
Death reborn, to never-ending Life
I'm your joy, hidden in these tears of pain.

On Sugar Coated Pills, and Such

2008-05-10T16:17:00.000-07:00

Some of the less Gooey pieces on Love. The last one is downright amusing,and yet... :)

It's like you told me once
If we never saw each other again
It wouldn't make any difference

You didn't say it wouldn't matter
You said.. it wouldn't make any difference

And did you know I understood the nuance?
It was so long ago.. but did you know?

(Linda Goodman)

***

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

(Khalil Gibran)

***

..To go beyond thought and time - which means going beyond sorrow - is to be aware that there is a different dimension called love.
But you don't know how to come to this extraordinary fount - so what do you do? If you don't know what to do, you do nothing, don't you? Absolutely nothing. Then inwardly you are completely silent. Do you understand what that means? It means that you are not seeking, not wanting, not pursuing; there is no centre at all. Then there is love.

(Jiddu Krishnamurti)

***

Your life is such a performance I've abandoned my seat.
I am a standing ovation.

Make mistakes, frown, squint, waste your time, be sensitive, unapproachable and mean. Ah, the music hasn't stopped, you magical being- it takes away my breath and my seat.
I am a standing ovation.

Be rude, be a prude, be alone, be with everyone you love, live with those you hate. Make a pact, sell your soul, buy a new car and house on time, and quit work. Refuse to wear all that isn't yellow, wear what's old and blue. Be unsocial, evolved and backward too. Be forward, righteous and outspoken. Such a sweet song to me, your standing ovation.

Be a saint and wash lepers, wear a dead fish around your neck, believe in evil. Be wary, propagandized, cunning or cold. Be above it all, below it all, be a bore. Eat crackers in bed and sleep on the floor, give a hug or ignore it. Worry yourself sick, and put heart and faith in doctors. Find all the wrong things to believe in. Misquote, misspell, and be a bigot.

It is all the same to me, I'm moved to my feet,heart in a leap.

Yes, here I am,
your standing ovation

So play on - Encore! Encore! Ah, you are Music - divine, sublime.

(Anon)

***

(Thanks to the people who brought my attention to some (most) of the pieces. :)

...

2008-05-08T01:12:00.000-07:00

It's tough. Life is.

Phew!

2008-05-02T23:38:00.001-07:00

Death

2008-04-27T20:11:00.000-07:00

For keeps, or is it yet another painful Birth? I wish Life hadn't so many Questions.

Scribbles en route to Work

2008-04-21T16:44:00.001-07:00

The weather is so beautiful,my vocal cords strain to break out into off-key, joyful song. The sky's bluer than it has a right to be, and Madtown is too warm to be true. Life is beautiful. The lark's on its wing, the snail's on the thorn, God's in his heaven, All's right with the world!

On second thought, it isn't. but the weather's so beautiful, I couldn't care less. :) I'm drunk on the funnies, eh what?

How's this for a neo-classical cliche - "She's a Hydra in my fish tank". Shakespeare didn't know enough science, obviously, for the best HE could come up with was 'A mote it is to the mind's eye'. Take this, Billy boy, and ponder on it.

Another that tickled my (long untickled) funny bone - 'well, I didn't MARRY him' (I wouldn't either, and I would rather be suspended on the tip of a barge pole right on K2's summit. No kidding.) Hmmm. This isn't funny without context. And the moment. You know, how important 'the moment' is to humour. but I'm gonna write it all down anyway. If you don't like it, you can always go soak your head in red wine vinaigrette.

"Well, are you gonna say something about --"
"No."
"Then? You're ok with things? As in, everything's fine with you and all that?"
"I guess"
(sputters) " You APPROVE? You're gonna live with things, with (gasp sputter choke) HIM????"
"Well, I didn't MARRY him."

Oh King of sarcasm, Champion of the Gay Pride parade, we're all glad you DIDN'T marry him.

And the finale grande to the showcasing of nutcase humour - "Are you la belle dame sans merci or something?"

Need I say more, Ladies and Gentlemen?

Unhappily Ever After

2008-04-11T01:15:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a Princess
Who was smack in the middle of a happily ever after
She was a sweet, not-so-little thing,
pretty as plum pudding, abrasive as screechy laughter

Her father, the King, and her mother, the Queen
Were bored with plain ole administrative duty
In a cruel attempt to end her peas (peace?),
They sought a hunkly prince to match her beauty.

The Princess, now, had a mind of her own
She had no intent of sharing her crown
Emancipation, and all that you know,
With her consorts, red she liked to paint the town.

So there was, as in any regular story
The climax, the clash of wills -
So hard did the Princess fight,
The queen took to her room with her sleeping pills!

Let's keep this short, but the King did find
A chap who overlooked our Princess's merry flaws
Not to say, it was very easy, but the dowry
Promised turned the Prince to sweet from soury.

The Princess then proceeded to disregard,
All utterances from this lousy bard
She was of ice, and aged single malt whisky
And the Prince moved her not, though he tried very hard.

"Oh you're such an Ogre" he desperately cried,
As the Princess laughed, and mocked and hooted
The King frowned, and the Queen and the Prince
But the Princess held her stance - they weren't suited.

The Royal parents haggled, threatened and coaxed,
In frustration, the Princess resorted to her standard trick
Bold as brass, she kissed the Prince: while the audience gaped,
Lo Behold, our Prince, he turned into a Frog real quick.

Enter into this commotion, The Fairy Godmother,
Who was quite a piece of bad news (like the Plague)
To punish the Princess she turned(You see, Of her beauty,she was J)
Into a Demon, Or Ogre, who knows, the change was pretty Vague.

The King cried out in loud alarm
While the Queen (quite obviously) fainted,
For as fairy tales hold it, Ogres and their ilk are ugly,
And her Daughter's beauty was now tainted.

Ok enough now, this is quite long winded,
Besides, I'm all out of my precious time -
To end it - The Ogre and the Frog lived unhappily
And then died - so here ends this elegant rhyme.

For You, A Thousand Times Over!

2008-03-15T18:54:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I've read a book that made me ache, and with an ache that's Fulfillment and Wonder and Longing at the same time. Beautiful, simple, heartrending - That's 'The Kite Runner' for me. For you, maybe.

Quagmire

2008-03-14T09:17:00.001-07:00

What a beautiful mouthful of a word.

The Silly Monster Rhyme

2008-03-10T19:38:00.000-07:00

Monsters drooling under my bed,
Giving me evening nightmares, shoo!
I've better things to do than crawl
Under my green covers, scared of you!

Trials, Tribulations and Truth

2008-03-05T19:06:00.000-08:00

Of dealing with loss, the pain, the unreality. Of dealing with Life, and its ups and downs, of being confused beyond reason. Of seeing, and understanding, for the first time - and not wanting to. Of craving Family, and loved ones, and not having them around you.

I can't afford the luxury of Denial. It's hell to be all alone on an alien planet when you are in pain. All alone ,except for Mister God, of course.

Keep me True, Lord, Keep me True.
There's a race that I must run,
There are victories to be won,
Give me power, every hour, to be true.

Amen.

Wishful Thinking part 1 : A Shoulder to lean on.

Bah, whom am I kidding. I need to find the strength to deal with adversity. Better sooner than later.

In Search of Sanity

2008-02-23T17:42:00.000-08:00

Happiness and Sanity are an impossible combination.

Choose Sanity. Everything else is expendable.

Where Fools Fear to Tread, and Angels Rush In

2008-02-17T13:58:00.000-08:00

Is there someone else?
No... But there is the dream of someone else.

Do dreams really die, or am I growing too old for them?

ODing on Reality, and Other Stories

2008-02-09T14:49:00.000-08:00

"Your heart isn't where your soul resides. Neither is consciousness rooted in your brain. The only part of your body that matters is your funny bone. Your life's a joke, and laughing at it is the only way you will stay sane, and stay happy."

There are those who lead mechanical lives - set goals and doggedly work toward them. Living, breathing, robots. And then there are the others, who need a painful kick on the you-know-where to bring them back from whichever alternate reality they currently inhabit. The first sounds so much less painful,and practical, no?

How I wish I could go singing and skipping though life like that kid in that old song, "Nanna munna rahi hoon, desh ka sipahi hoon' - And with a lovely Alsatian dog to follow him around to boot! Damn, talk about having it made. Sigh. I know I can't, though. I'm not Dorothy, or Alice, or even Anne.

'How I Wish' part 2 - Pouring, Thundering Rain, to melt away all the grimy, slushy snow (Earrrrgh), Rain that is warm and stinging enough to make you want to dance in it, irrespective of whether it will leave you with a heavy head for weeks to come. :-)

Whom am I quoting? (Three guesses who)

As Is

2008-01-20T01:13:00.000-08:00

I've been living life as if it were a game of 'Let's Pretend', in a dream world woven with equal parts fancy and ancient memories. Not any more,though. It is now time for me to throw away my rose-tinted spectacles, and look the world in its glaringly real eye.

A Long Time Before

2008-01-16T23:38:00.000-08:00

A Minute, A Lifetime

The wind moans in my ears as I look down. A bleak landscape. Swaying coconut treetops, houses the size of matchboxes. And matchstick people. I breathe in spurts and a sour taste fills my dry mouth. Fear. One step, and I would fall forty feet to sure death.

Two steps backward, and I sigh in relief. I close my eyes in a brief prayer. Methodically put away all fears into little compartments in my brain. And shove my sanity out of reach. I forget to breathe. I have to do this - quickly, before my sanity and my fears overwhelm me. I turn around, my back to the edge of the rock. One step towards the ledge. And freeze. No. I can't. But I have to. Another step backward. One foot is half in the air. "NO", my brain screams. I numb my mind.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE" My mind is hysterical. "If Jesus could walk on water, then I can at least walk down a sheer drop, no sweat." I dissolve into hysterical giggles. Slightly braver, I take one more step backwards. Sanity triumphs. " I am not doing this!" I shout, and cosmic laughter mingles with the moans of the cold wind. I have no choice. Eyes open wide, one step at a time - I walk off the rock...

All is quiet. Even the wind stills for a second (Or is it a lifetime). I look up. My feet are firmly gripped on the rock, and I'm dangling in mid air. The rope held. Of course it did, it has a capacity of 2500 tons. But fear is irrational. Pleasantly surprised to be still alive, I gather my bearings.

The only way to safety is down. Slowly, I loosen my grip on the rope, and lean backwards. I careen from side to side, and space my legs further apart. I stop swinging, and the sickening feeling dies down. Phew. More carefully this time, I lean back inch-by-inch, until I'm perpendicular to the rock.

A blue sky above, as though I were lying down in space. A strange feeling, but bearable. I start finding my way down the rock. With each step, my confidence grows. This is easy. Suddenly the rope stops giving, and I'm frozen in mid air. I look up. The trainer grins. "Photo… Pose for a photo!" On a nearby rock, I can see my colleague aim his camera. I let go of the rope, and strike a pose with both hands in the air. Suddenly the rope gives an inch. I scream, and I can hear laughter close to ground. I grind my teeth and swear at the trainer. He grins widely. His little joke, apparently.

What was scary has now become an adventure. I climb down the rock face, as if I were descending a stairway backwards. Only difference is, I'm suspended horizontally mid-air, the rope my umbilical cord to life. Nearer the ground, the mumbles and laughter grow louder. Around 6 feet from the ground, I can hear my friends cheering. The trainer shouts instructions. "Straighten up, and jump off " Ta-da. I'm standing upright again.

Safe on the ground, my fears seem baseless. "Easy as pie" I grin, (not too truthfully) while my friend looks on suspiciously. He's next. "Don't worry, it's only forty feet… Besides, you're wearing a helmet." Now I've freaked him out. I grin to myself. My good deed for the day. I scramble onto a nearby rock for a better view of the comedy/horror/adventure show. Abseiling is fun, really. I wouldn't mind doing it again. Living on the edge, and all that. Watch out, Sylvester Stallone, You've got competition!

A Long Time After

2008-01-12T22:21:00.000-08:00

Yet another "new" year. Who cares? This time around, NO heavy-weight Resolutions,NO Worries, NO Promises, and most important, NO Baggage - In short, a whole lot of nos. It's MY life, and I KNOW how to live it perfectly, Is dotted, Ts crossed, thank you. I don't need to make a pretty list of "things to do", title underlined once in red and once in black, to live the next 365 days, or less. Amen.

Was I saying something about not making resolutions?

Something Beautiful

2007-12-14T18:14:00.000-08:00

Every now and then, I find poems that are achingly beautiful in their simplicity. This poet paints Imagery into his poems like Monet would wield his brush - broad,sweeping strokes of bright colour. AND in verse that's endearingly child-like.

Now touch the air softly,
Step gently. One, two...
I'll love you till roses
Are robin's-egg blue;
I'll love you till gravel
Is eaten for bread,
And lemons are orange,
And lavender's red.

Now touch the air softly,
Swing gently the broom.
I'll love you till windows
Are all of a room;
And the table is laid,
And the table is bare,
And the ceiling reposes
On bottomless air.

I'll love you till Heaven
Rips the stars from his coat,
And the moon rows away in
A glass-bottom boat;
And Orion steps down
Like a diver below,
And Earth is ablaze,
And the Ocean aglow.

So touch the air softly,
And swing the broom high.
We'll dust the blue mountains,
And sweep the blue sky;
And I'll love you as long
As the furrow the plow,
And However is Ever,
And Ever is Now.

--William Jay Smith

Blessed Child, who had such sweet lullabies sung to him!

An Unhinged Reasoning of Morality (Or the lack of it)

2007-11-15T09:17:00.000-08:00

Totally crazy. Totally illogical. Not surprisingly, I love the way it goes.

"Vegetarians are morally and ethically wrong, and the people that are most cruel to animals. The reason it is morally wrong is that vegetables can’t defend themselves, nor are they able to escape the clutches of those that would pick them and eat them. Vegetables have feelings too (you can’t prove they don’t).
If I release a head of lettuce and a deer into the wood, give you a gun and tell you to shoot the first one you come to, you will be forced to shoot the lettuce, since it can’t run away. The deer would be long gone as soon as you made a sound!"

Oh, but I'm still sticking to vegetarianism - I'll avoid lettuce, though.

(Credits : Someone dumber, sillier, and lazier than I)

Celebration

2007-10-13T20:04:00.000-07:00

Well, it's a few hours before my B-day.(Ah.I can see those brain cogs whirring. ' This resembles... D-day?' You ARE bright.It's no coincidence) As you've probably guessed by the not-so-festive sounding sentence (yeah, right before this one),I'm in no festive spirit.And no wonder. 23(Eaarrrrgggh) is well past the wonder years when you wake up groggy-eyed, go blink blink and... "Yay!!!!! Its my birthday!!!!!!" ... tumble out of bed in happy anticipation.

As I am well against celebrating my rapidly advancing years (Hey! I was 22 just yesterday!), I thought of what I COULD celebrate.

"Yay! I'm in Wisconsin!!!" - Nope. All deference to the previous post,but Nope.

"Yay! I'm doing my MS at U-Wisc" - yeah,right. I'm wondering what in the darned heck I've landed myself into. A fine kettle of fish indeed!

"Yay! My room is all neat n' clean, and my kitchen shelves are neatly organized!" - I'm rejoicing, but I cannot exactly jump with joy, especially as that took my whole saturday. Hmpf.

"Yay! I have the greatest friends!!!!". Nah. Hey wait, this will work. I do have the coolest of friends.

This post is dedicated to my bestest of my best friends,

The ones who waste a lot of time (not to mention money) listening to me crib...

The ones who have the courage to 'talk sense' to me, even though all the reward they get is a tirade of abuse in the choiciest of expletives, or a flood of tears...

The ones who always answer my question 'Do you think I'm crazy?' with a very confident 'No!'... (ditto to, 'Do you think I'm fat?')

The ones who never tell me to go to hell, even if I annoy them for hours at a stretch...

The ones who sing to me coz I ask them to, and when I say 'That sucks! You have a cold or what?', play the original version.

The ones who accomodate all my Neuroses and Principles, and never let me feel that they're doing me a big favor...

The ones who supervise my cooking online/on the phone, so that I don't starve...

The ones who are blindly,madly loyal. The ones who think that anyone who pisses me off is a jerk, and that I am perfect the way I am. These ones are bad for me, but I love you folks more than I love junk food. I'm not kidding. I especially love the ones who'll tick off those 'talk-some-sense-into-her' friends of mine,when they give me a tough time (Get off her case!)

Sigh. I could add a lot more of these 'categories', but It's getting late, and I've gotta be getting home.So the last few...

'Hey folks, YOU are the reason I'm celebrating!Thanks for being there for me, for putting up with me, and not the least, for promising to ignore my B-day. You can still call, but no mention of my age. Let's all pretend I'm turning 18, shall we?'

(Eye-rolling begins here)

P.S: Yes, I take my family for granted. So sue me. I took my friends for granted until I wrote this maudlin soap-operaish post that had tears swimming in the eyes of those who fancied themselves part of the script (Those who WERE part of it were probably doing quite a bit of eye-rolling, or rofling). Now that I've gotten all this appreciation and whatever off my aging shoulders, I'm going right back to taking them for granted. So sue me.

(Eye rolling ends here. I'm back in character.)

Hail Wisconsin

2007-10-11T18:22:00.000-07:00

This post is dedicated to all my friends who went 'huh?' when I said I was going to Wisconsin. We're not NY or LA, but we KICK BUTT :-P

"How to save your butt if you plan to visit Wisconsin this summer."

(Issued by the Wisconsin Tourism Bureau to ALL visitors)

1) Don't order filet mignon or pasta primavera at Al's Lodge. It's a diner. They serve breakfast 24 hours a day. Let them cook something they know. If you upset the ladies in the kitchen they'll kick your butt.

2) Don't laugh at the names of our little towns (Sheboygan, Menomonee, Nekoosa, Prairie du Chien, etc.) or we will just have to kick your butt.

3) We know our heritage. Most of us are more literate than you. We are also better educated and generally a lot nicer. Don't refer to us as a bunch of hicks or we'll kick your butt.

4) We have plenty of business sense. You have to make a living here. Naturally, we do sometimes have small lapses in judgment from time to time, but we are not dumb enough to let someone move to our state in order to run for the Senate. If someone tried to do that, we would kick his/her butt.

5) Don't laugh at our giant fiberglass fish and cows. Anything that inspires tourists to buy 50,000 postcards can't be bad. And don't laugh at our love and pride of cheese or we'll kick your butt.

6) We are fully aware of how cold it gets here in the winter, so shut the heck up. Just spend your money and get the heck out of here or we'll kick your butt.

7) Don't order the vegetarian special at the local diner. Everyone will instantly know that you're a tourist. Eat your steak well-done like God intended and have some potatoes with that, for heaven's sake! Also, don't ask what a hot dish is or we'll kick your butt.

8) Don't try to fake a Wisconsin accent. We don't have an accent. That will incite a riot and you will get your butt kicked.

9) Don't talk about how much better things are at home because we know better. Many of us have visited big-city hell-holes like Detroit, New York, and Chicago, and we have the scars to prove it. If you don't like it here, Interstates 90, 94, 39, and 43 are ready when you are. Move your butt on home before it gets kicked.

10) Don't complain that Wisconsin has too many mosquitoes and farm land. If you whine about OUR scenic beauty we'll kick your butt all the way back to Chicago.

11) Don't ridicule our mannerisms. We only speak when spoken to. We hold doors open for others. We offer our seats to old folks because such things are expected of civilized people. Behave yourselves around our sweet, little gray-haired grandmothers or they will kick some manners into your butt, just like they did ours.

12) So you think we're quaint or losers because most of us live on the farm or in the woods? That's because we have enough sense to not live in filthy, smelly, crime-infested cesspools like New York or LA. Make fun of our fresh air and we'll kick your butt.

13) Oshkosh B'gosh is NOT a joke. Your butt will be kicked.

14) Last, but not least, DO NOT DARE to come out here and tell us how the prairies should "go back to the buffalo." This will get your butt shot (right after it is kicked). Just mention this once and you will go home in a pine box. Minus your butt.

Now enjoy your visit and then go home.

The Astonishing Superpowers of Google

2007-10-11T11:50:00.000-07:00

Being the scatter-brained stargazer I am, I was taught a very painful (read expensive) lesson. While it happened, so to speak, I was in the company of four sane, responsible adults, so I couldn't vent my frustration the way I would have liked to. Unable to keep still, hurting like crazy (mentally at least) I typed 'Inspiration' in the Google homepage and hit the 'I'm feeling lucky' button. (Not that I was particularly, on the contrary)
Here's what Google bludgeoned me with:

Well Grounded

It can often be useful and interesting to wander away from your original path for a while. Sometimes you discover a new and much more fulfilling direction that way.
Yet if all you ever do is wander off, you won't be able to get anywhere. When you give in to every distraction, nothing will ever get accomplished.
Be curious, be open to new experiences, be willing to do things you've never done, to go new places and to meet new people. Remember, though, to also give your life a solid, steady context through which you can create real value out of all the diverse experiences that come your way.
A stable foundation in your life does not necessarily have to limit you. In fact, it can enable you to make the most of the new and interesting opportunities that come your way.
Being well grounded provides a strong base from which you can operate with effectiveness and confidence. Taking good care of the mundane and boring aspects of life gives you the time, energy and resources to fully explore the most exciting possibilities.
Be sure to mix your progressive, adventurous vision with a good dose of old fashioned common sense. It's a proven recipe for outstanding success.

-- Ralph Marston

Google is Fey, or what? Go Figure.

Death

2007-09-12T14:36:00.000-07:00

The walls close in on me - I shut my eyes in mute acquiescence. The darkness takes over, and the comforting hum of civilization around me dies, giving way to a deafening,whooshy silence. The cold radiates down my arm, away from my frozen fingers, and I curl them inwards, the nails biting into my numb palms. Its freezing. The darkness grows blacker behind my closed eyelids. I begin to shiver uncontrollably. I can sense the chasm a little beyond, and I strain towards it. All I need is to keep my eyes closed a little longer,and stay numb to the cold.The seconds will bring oblivion.

(For those who are freaking out, I speak metaphorically. Read my disclaimer. Doh. You are way too literal.)

Hypocrisy? Or Escapism?

2007-08-27T17:47:00.000-07:00

A while back, A very good friend of mine happened to comment that whatever I've so far put up on my blog was 'so not me'. While I laughed her comment away, I did feel a pang, a rising up of Pandora's box of topics that are tip-of-tongue, but oh so taboo.

For a while, I thought that mine was a form of intellectual hypocrisy, you know, the 'dish-out-only-what-the-average-reader-will-like-or-even-understand' kind of writing. But now, I don't know, maybe I'm incapable of anything else. Repression? :-) I guess I have learnt to say the right things, to smile the right smiles, at the right times, not to forget all the interjections, the but-of-courses and not-at-alls of so-called civilization. And I like myself the less for it. But I totally understand that its a nessessary evil, I can hardly go about telling people exactly what I think of them.Well, friends maybe, but acquaintances, no. And colleagues, a definite no-no.

Ok, what brought this on? Sick of rotting my brains on mindless novels, I picked up 'The Princess and other Stories' by the great Ruskie writer, Anton Chekhov. 15 odd pages, and Pandora's box was open to the blue blue skies of Madtown. There must be some sort of law against laying open the human psyche the way Chekhov does.

Is there a Heaven, or Hell? Never mind, here I go. "Ok Mr Chekhov, if you did have to do these mental dissections, why didn't you use more cheerful, live tones? Humans are not so bad! And hypocrisy, in small amounts, is essential to the weave of so-called civilization. I'm hardly surprised that you were a misanthropic, sour person, so what if your writing is oh-so-clever, I'm never going to read you again!"

Phew. THAT feels a lot better. :-) Thought for the day - If you are suffering from homesickness, culture shock, and a myriad other little ailments, don't read Chekhov. Or any book that makes you think, for that matter.

Madtown Madness

2007-08-17T11:18:00.000-07:00

A Siren in my Head,eeeyon eeeyon eeeyon
Playing tornado with my hapless Thoughts,
Flinging them around all helter-skelter
Into gloomy,godless,damned Despair.

Sanity craves Time,Mercy, and Good Sense
But Sanity is weak - It never had any say.
My eyes burn red in their aching sockets
Because of blazing fireworks in the mind.

Common Sense, Uncommon Sense - Whatever, I never had any. May the Lord God save Madtown from the tear floods.

Paraphrasing the Silmarillion (Stolen Goods)

2007-06-23T01:54:00.000-07:00

Oh how I wish I'd written this!!!! :-( Great stuff, really irreverent though. I ADORED it, almost as much as the real books :-D

THE SILMARILLION - J. R. R. TOLKIEN

(IN ONE THOUSAND WORDS)

BOOK 1 - AINULINDALE:

ILUVATAR: Ahem.
AINUR: Wow! Existence!
ILUVATAR: *blows pitch pipe* LA!
AINUR: LA LA LA!
ILUVATAR: LA LA!
AINUR: LA LA!
MELKOR: This sucks. BUM BUM BA DUM!
AINUR: Um. . . la?
ILUVATAR: Ahem. LA!
MELKOR: Boop bop-a-doo-bop!
ILUVATAR: LA, dammit.
MELKOR: Bwam bardle ningle boom.
AINUR: . . .
ILUVATAR: Right, you're out of the band.
MELKOR: Fine, I was leaving anyway.
AINUR: . . .
ILUVATAR: What are you waiting for?
AINUR: Oh. Right. Newly created world. Sorry. Great jam session, big guy!
ILUVATAR: Yeesh.

BOOK 2 - VALAQUENTA:
MANWE: I'm in charge!
VARDA: I'm Manwe's spouse. And queen of the stars!
NAMO: I do death and fate. They call me Mandos.
VAIRE: I'm Namo's spouse. I weave things.
IRMO: I have gardens. They call me Lorien.
ESTE: I'm Irmo's spouse. I take care of the gardens.
YAVANNA: I make things grow.
NIENNA: I'm sad.
ULMO: I live in the ocean.
AULE: I'm Yavanna's spouse. I've got a great big hammer! I made dwarves.
NESSA: I dance.
OROME: I hunt!
VANA: I'm Orome's spouse. I make living things happy.
TULKAS: I'm strong. I'm Nessa's spouse. I got here last.
MELKOR: I'm bad, momma, I'm ONE BAD MUTHA-
TULKAS: Grar.
MELKOR: Um. Yeah. Hiding now.

BOOK 3 - QUENTA SILMARILLION:

VALAR: Hey! Ilmaren! Party on the island, everyone!
MELKOR: Bah. Too bright. *builds fortress, kicks over lamps*
VALAR: AUGH! *flee to west*
MELKOR: Hu hu hu.
VALAR: Oooooh SHINY TREES! Yavanna made shiny trees!
YAVANNA: Yep! Aren't they pretty?
MELKOR: Want shiny.
VALAR: Nope.
MELKOR: Why not?
VALAR: Because you're a jerk.
ELVES: Oh hey, stars. Shiny!
MELKOR: Oh hey, breeding stock.
ELVES: AUGH!
UNGOLIANT: Want shiny.
MELKOR: Let's go get shiny.
FEANOR: I've made more shiny!
VALAR: Good, 'cos Melkor took ours. Can we have yours?
FEANOR: No! MY SHINIES! MINE!
VALAR: Aw, !&*()!@&)!(&.
MELKOR: Got the shinies!
UNGOLIANT: Not enough shiny. Want more shiny!
MELKOR: You can't have 'em.
UNGOLIANT: Grar.
MELKOR: Eeek! *runs*
FEANOR AND SONS: We're gettin' our shinies back. And YOU CAN'T HAVE 'EM, Valar!
MELKOR/MORGOTH: No you're not. *stabbity fiery burny death*

BEREN: Ooo! Pretty elf lady!
THINGOL: You can have her if you ... BRING ME A SHINY!
BEREN: Worth a shot.
LUTHIEN: La la la
MORGOTH: Ooo baby... *zzz*
BEREN: Got your shiny!
MORGOTH: you BASTARD! I stole those fair and square!
CARCHAROTH: Grar.
BEREN: Ow!
THINGOL: Got the shiny?
BEREN: 's in my hand.
THINGOL: And?
BEREN: Hand's not here.
THINGOL: Crap, I really wanted that shiny.
CARCHAROTH: GRAR!!!!
BEREN: *dies*
LUTHIEN: *dies* La la la.
MANDOS: ... oh all right.
LUTHIEN: *returns to life*
BEREN: *returns to life*
LUTHIEN: Beren! Look! The shiny! In a necklace!
FEANOR'S SONS: *mutter*
LUTHIEN: *dies again*
BEREN: *dies again*
DIOR: Oo, Mom's shiny!
FEANOR'S SONS: WANT SHINY!
DIOR: *dies*
ELWING: Eek! *grabs shiny, runs*
FEANOR'S SONS: !*&(!)&)*!.
EARENDIL: Hey. Nice shiny. Yo! Valar!
VALAR: Well FINALLY. *stomp stomp stomp*
EARENDIL: Wow, planetary orbit!
MORGOTH: Eek!
VALAR: Got your shinies!
MAGLOR AND MAEDHROS: You mean OUR shinies!
VALAR: Oh *!&(!&).
MAGLOR AND MAEDHROS: Ow! Burny shinies!
MAEDHROS: Fine. This sucks. *jumps into chasm*
MAGLOR: Um... not really looking forward to meeting Dad again... *chucks shiny into sea* Bye. *wanders off*
VALAR: Well... um... okay.

BOOK 4 - AKALLABETH

VALAR: Thanks for helping with Morgoth, Edain! Have an island! Elros is in charge!
EDAIN: Cool!
VALAR: Don't come looking for us.
EDAIN: Okay.
ELVES OF TOL ERESSEA: Have our stuff!
NUMENOREANS: Neat! Ooo, Middle-Earth!
GIL-GALAD: Dudes. Good to see you.
NUMENOREANS: Yeah, same here. What's going on?
GIL-GALAD: War with Sauron mostly.
MEN OF MIDDLE-EARTH: Shiny tall wonderful wise sea-king dudes! Yay!
NUMENOREANS: Here, have some stuff and wisdom.
MEN OF MIDDLE-EARTH: <3>
NUMENOREANS: Life is cool. Why do we have to die?
ELVES: You're human?
NUMENOREANS: Can the Valar fix that?
VALAR: No.
NUMENOREANS: That sucks. Go away.
ELVES: Fine.
ELENDILI: Hey! Over here! We still like you!
MEN OF MIDDLE-EARTH: Gosh, we're lonely.
NUMENOREANS: Whatever, give us your wealth and your children.
MEN OF MIDDLE-EARTH: Um, okay.
ELENDILI: This isn't gonna end well, is it?
ELVES: No.
TAR-PALANTIR: We're sorry?
GIMILKHAD: *I'm* not.
AR-PHARAZON: Thanks for the throne, dude.
TAR-MIRIEL: Hey!
AR-PHARAZON: Shaddap, woman. Sauron, j00 suxx0r! I 0wnz0r j00!
SAURON: Okay.
AR-PHARAZON: Make me immortal.
SAURON: Human sacrifice is good. Also burn that pesky white tree.
AR-PHARAZON: Um. . .
ISILDUR: Hey! White tree! Got your fruit!
SAURON: *makes chicken noises*
AR-PHARAZON: Fine. Tree burn! Fire pretty!
ELENDIL: Isildur, Anarion, get the boats.
AR-PHARAZON: I've got a huge navy! Let's go conquer Valinor!
VALAR: Oh no you don't. *CRASHBANGBOOM*
AR-PHARAZON & CO.: Eeek!
ELENDIL, ISILDUR, ANARION: Wheee!
NUMENOREANS: Arrgh!
NUMENOR: SPLOOSH.
SAURON: Bwa ha ha! Um, where's my body?
ILUVATAR: Did I mention the world is round now?
NUMENOREANS IN EXILE: Well, crap.

BOOK 5 - OF THE RINGS OF POWER AND THE THIRD AGE:

ELVES: Wonder what's going on over the ocean. This crafting deal is pretty sweet, though!
DWARVES: Yeah, seriously.
ANNATAR: Hi, elves! Wanna learn some cool stuff?
ELVES: Okay!
SAURON: They fell for it.
SEVEN DWARVES: Thanks for the rings! . . oooh, GOLD! MUST HAVE GOLD!
NINE MEN: Neat rings. . . Hey, didn't Mom die like six hundred years ago?
CELEBRIMBOR: Okay, how about we do three more and call it a wrap?
SAURON: How about I do one more and claim them ALL?
ELVES: AUGH!
SAURON: Bwa ha ha!
LAST ALLIANCE OF ELVES AND MEN: Push off.
SAURON: Make me.
ISILDUR: Whack.
SAURON: Ow.
ELROND: Hey, you got his ring. Let's ditch it.
ISILDUR: No.
ELROND: This sucks.
ISILDUR: Tell me about it. *dies*
GONDORIANS: *change calendar*
CIRDAN: Hi, wizards! You in the grey, catch!
SAURON: Okay, that's long enough. Movin' into Dol Guldur.
SARUMAN: It's not him. Also the ring's lost at sea.
RING: No I'm not.
THE WISE: Augh.
THE WEAK: Bad ring! Volcano for you!
RING: *melts*
SAURON: AUGH!
MORDOR: BOOM.
GONDORIANS: *change calendar*
ELROND, GALADRIEL: Road trip!
GANDALF: Hi Cirdan! Still got your ring!
CIRDAN: Cool. Let's go to Valinor!

... I'd say I'm going to Hell, but there's no Hell in Arda. I'm gonna be eaten by a Balrog, I figure.

:-D Now THAT'S literary prose for you.

Chicken not-so-Little

2007-06-19T05:14:00.000-07:00

Ever thought that Chickens could once have been top of the food-chain? No? Well, It definitely seems so. Say hello to the Gigantoraptor!

Hmmm. Makes me wonder if a few milleniums hence, mutant cockroach mothers will press their offspring to have 'Homo Sapien Soup' for wing ailments. Oh boy, we'll definitely be in soup!

PIG

2007-06-10T10:25:00.000-07:00

The guilt is killing. Better to get it over with, than have sleepless nights.I take a deep breath, and walk up the narrow corridor right up to the last door.As I open the door, the tiny space seems to sneer at me -I barely manage to squeeze myself into the tiny box of a room. Damn, but it's a tighter squeeze than what it was the last time.

I move closer to the small window."Forgive me, for I have sinned"

The high pitched voice is edged with steel."Yes, my child?"

I tell her EVERYTHING. A blow by blow account of all that had 'occurred' since the fateful friday morning, when I had genuine reason to celebrate. Beginning with the Chocolate mousse,I went on to tell her about the sinful chocolatey peanut-buttery calvin brew, then the 'skipping-dinner-only-to-fill-up-on-chocolate-bars-at-midnight' routine, the gigantic quantities of cheese, the tiramisu, and the copious quantities of piping hot, heady filter kaapi.

She sounds amused. "Did you eat anything at all that wasn't junk?''

"Ermmmm. No. I had a milk-shake for dinner."

I steel myself, ready for anything. Lectures,raised voices,accusations.But the voice is deceptively soft.'Mortal Sin, child.It is the scales for you'

'Not the scales, give me the guillotine, but NOT the scales'. I can hear the desperation in my voice.I can see the tip of the pointer moving rapidly away from ' A Little on the Plump Side' to 'Positively Fat'.'No,no,NO!!!!!!!!!'

Phew. The train slows to a halt,the bright yellow sign board reads 'Ambur' - I'm almost home.I'm sweating, not only because I'm sitting in the window seat with the sun streaming down on me, and wearing a sweater to boot. I take off the coat - I'm marginally thinner. I solemnly resolve to 'atone' for my sins by fasting the whole of sunday. Many of my friends fast on Mondays (It's supposedly a deal with Shivji, I'll starve myself every monday,in turn, you land me a good husband), I'm sure I can fast one sunday at least.With this solemn resolution, I shrug the guilt off my shoulders, and go home.

As I walk into the kitchen for a cup of tea, I take a peek at the dining table. My breakfast has already been served. The idlis gleam white against the steel of the plate, and the steam is still softly rising from them. Beside the plate, a bowl of groundnut chutney, with fried mustard and 'karivepele' floating on the top. The food literally speaks to me, beckons to me. 'Tuck In...'

Groan. It's been ages since I've set my eyes on such tempting food. There is only one way out. I walk up to the table with steely resolve, pick up the plate, along with the bowl, and tuck in.

Demons in the Head

2007-05-27T11:32:00.000-07:00

Demons in my head, wreaking havoc - they don't let me write. The future looms ahead - Huge,intimidating, downright scary.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

Lyrics credit : Green Day :-)

Doggerel

2007-05-10T02:35:00.001-07:00

Tongue-in-cheek sort of doggerel, penned by an insane friend of mine -

Ding Dong Bell
Vandu is in hell
Who put her there?
Nobody would dare!
Who'll pull her out?
U can't,she is too stout!

A Long Wait Ahead

2007-04-26T23:28:00.000-07:00

A long wait ahead for this little chap - Charcoal on textured paper

A Recipe for Disaster

2007-04-25T02:20:00.000-07:00

It was a fine evening - I got back home early (which is pretty common), was quite up to cooking (which is pretty uncommon), and my roommate was already home - As a consequence, I found myself in the kitchen, standing alongside Manju, chopping onions, while she calmly cut up beans, one at a time. (I've never understood how she finds the patience to tackle vegetables like ladies fingers and beans one at a time - I can only gaze at her in awe, bordering on reverence)

It didn't take much brains to surmise that we'd be having beans for supper- as a precaution, I check the fridge. Nope. No curds. "Go easy on the spice" I warn Manju. Manju is a very Punjabi person - By popular opinion, her dishes are gastronomical delights, but she's very heavy-handed with the spice (Her food is to be consumed smothered in curd, and alternated with sips of water/buttermilk). I get 'the look'. "Ermmmm, there's no curd, that's why". She goes back to decimating the beans.

She'd hardly gotten through half the beans, when I was done with the onions. The tomatoes were next. Squishy things, tomatoes. They behave better if u cut them up from where they've got the skin on, but they're still very messy vegetables. Give me onions any day.(I take special pride in the fact that I never cry when I chop onions - Manju says it's the glasses, but I'm sure its my natural culinary ability peeking through) Getting back on track, I cut up a couple of green chillies after the tomatoes, when Manju got out of her beans-chopping reverie, and said " Get the cabbage, it's in the fridge". That stopped me in my tracks. Cabbage. Oh no.

"No. No cabbage" I fix her with a stare. She is older (and bigger) than me, and can easily return my stare with impunity. And so she does - "and why not?????" Sigh. It was worth a shot, at least. I have a brainwave - "What about the baby corn?" "Yes, get that out also. And the cabbage." Hmpf. The doorway is narrow, and I stand between her and the fridge. And I think fast." See, it's not that I don't like cabbage; it's just that it has no nutritive value (yeah right)" I get another look. I play my trump card. "And its KNOWN to cause constipation." I strive to look all knowing and intelligent. This time, she doesn't even bother to give me a look - she gets past me, and to the cabbage, before I can chuck it in the bin. Damn. I should have thought of that before.” See Vandhana, there is only a quarter left, and it will be wasted if I don't cook it" I get out of the line of fire, before she can get started about the starving children in Ethiopia.

The kitchen fills with the overpowering smell of cooking cabbage - To console myself, I make a cup of tea. "You shouldn't drink too much tea, Vandhana, tea is KNOWN to cause constipation". Sarcasm worthy of an Infoscion. I give her an imitation of the look. She reiterates, "Oh, its true". Hmpf. As If. Too soon, the cabbage is cooked - the baby corn and beans lie undetected in the gooey mess that is the cabbage, and even the ghee dripping from the rotis (did I mention that my roomie was Punjabi?) fails to rekindle my appetite. I peck at the food, and take refuge in the terrace, away from the stench of the cabbage.

When I was a child, and forced to eat cabbage, I resolved that I'd never eat cabbage when I was grown up. By all accounts, I'm officially grown-up, and yet, I'm forced to eat that dastardly vegetable. The future seems equally bleak. Cabbage lovers abound in this world, and I'm sure I'll always be cursed to room/live with one. There's cabbage around every corner, waiting to leap on to your plate. Sigh. I can envision the scene sixty years hence - "Eat up, grandmamma, Cabbage is good for your health". Hmpf. A cursed life indeed! :-(

Shadowfax

2007-04-24T03:23:00.000-07:00

Some challenges are not meant to be overcome - HB pencil, and charcoal :-)

Aaaaarrrrgggggggggggh!!!!

2007-04-23T04:39:00.000-07:00

My brain has two sides,
The right and the left:
The left has nothing right,
and the right, nothing left.

Living without a Cause

2007-04-17T00:54:00.000-07:00

All day, I toiled and strived,
Now its dusk, and my race is run -
The excitement ebbs - I rest a while:

A long time before the moon will rise
A long time before the next race begins.
But now I've got to walk.

Walk now, though my race isn't for another day
Walk happy, even when no one cheers me on
Walk alone, for my friends celebrate at the finish line.

Walk steady, for the adrenaline is at an all time low
Walk on the path, though there is none to judge, or censure
Walk my best - there isn't even a consolation prize.

Walk, past the limelight, into darkness
Walk, though I want to walk no more
Walk, beyond the race, not pausing for the new day

I know what I've got to do
It's what's writ on my schedule
But tough work this, this walking the walk.

Probability - The 'Matheist' Defense against Religion

2007-03-22T03:50:00.000-07:00

One Question. Does God Exist?

The Agnostic refrain from entering the argument – But I cannot imagine how people can be so indifferent – Seems so lifeless, bloodless even.

“Hello there, Do you think you’re headed for heaven?
Maybe. Maybe not…
Or will you cease to exist the minute you stop breathing, and your heart stops pumping oxygen to that brain that u refuse to use?
Maybe. Maybe not…”

Duh.

The Atheists attribute our very existence to a trifling chance, a sleight of hand by Lady Luck – If not on earth, then elsewhere, as probability dictates. They would probably :-) use probability to ‘reason’ and ‘prove’ that God doesn’t exist.

Lemma 1:
In a deterministic universe, based on Newtonian concepts, there is no probability if all conditions are known.

The matheists in question ignore all finer details of the event in question, the nuances, the infinite dependencies held in place by the gossamer threads of the universe. It’s futile to reason when we cannot comprehend.

At the end of (your) days (excuse the pun) the answer to THE Question is 0% or 100%.

If 0% - Ahem. It wouldn’t matter. You are DEAD.
If 100% - Oh, but you are gonna have the shock of your death. You can pray (hehe) that the answer to your question has a great sense of humor. :-)

It takes a naive person to ‘believe’ – and an impossibly foolish one not to do so. So, all ye proponents of Probability take a long hike :-)

The Bend in the Road

2007-03-15T02:10:00.000-07:00

			When I left college, my life stretched out in front of me, a straight road. I could see along it for many a milestone - Life was simple, monotonous even. Now, there is a bend in the road. I don't know what lies beyond it, but I believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that Bend. Possibilities - The 'mights' and the 'coulds' and the maybes'. What green glory, what soft checkered light amidst dancing shadows, what curves, hills and valleys. Anticipation makes me sigh in dreamy delight. I'm 22, and stubbornly resisting Maturity's domination. It will take more than just years to rob me of my birthright of imagination, or my ideal world of dreams. :-)

For the Rumor-Monger - One Tight Slap

2007-03-08T04:46:00.000-08:00

No Smoke without Fire, they say…

"Oracle closed the $5.84 billion buyout of the CRM software vendor last month and has started the paring down of staff and creation of a product road map. During a web cast for the financial analyst community late today, Oracle executives announced that the company is cutting its workforce down to about 55,000 employees. Oracle President Charles Phillips said that the philosophy behind the merger was to have as little change or disruption as possible to customers.

Most of those employees being laid off will be Oracle's, said Oracle CEO Larry Ellison. Some personnel are back-office employees; others worked on Oracle's own E-Business Suite 11i. With Oracle already moving forward on its Fusion next-generation set of best-of-breed applications, there actually were more development personnel than the company needed, he said.

"Notifications have begun, and the majority will be completed over the next few weeks," company spokesman Bob Wynne said in a statement."

The article was dated February 10.

...

My first thought was, "Why the heck has no one told me before? I had to find out while browsing on the web!" My heart was racing, and my stomach doing flip-flops.

...

Open Oracle RTC, ping one friend with the news. "Did you know?????"

"OMG! What a news!!!" I wait for more. The next question I get - "Is the salsa class at 4.30/4.45 today?" Hmpf.

...

I ping yet another - And get back a smiley ':-P'. I ask," Aren't you worried? That you'll lose your job?" "Yes... I am... But what's the big deal... I'm not gonna starve, I'll look for another job." Hmpf again.

...

My third sounding out - in person this time - A colleague higher up the corporate ladder. He listens to the news, " I spoke to the VP, and I guess they've frozen hires for most groups - We are still hiring though. The lay-offs will not affect IDC." He smiles.

I think to myself " Yeah, and why should it, we are cheap labor after all!" I'll admit to a certain relief though.

...

Finally, I tell another friend, and I can tell the news gave him a jolt. "Where did you get the news from?"

"The net."

Silence. Sighing, I get back to my work.

A minute later, I can hear him say, "Are you trying to scare everyone, Vandhana????" Stunned, I turn to look at him. He looks both irritated and amused. "Did you read the whole article?"

"I did!" I protest - nevertheless, I reopen the site that hosted the ominous bit of news... The date... "Feb 10,2006"

Boy, did I feel sheepish or what. I turn to look at my colleague, and he says, in a pained manner, "Its not even April Fool's Day!"

The situation is too much for me - I burst out laughing. After a slight pause, so does he. To cap it all, I throw in a PJ, "At least I got you out of your post-lunch stupor!" Hehe. "Yeah..." I sense a well of sarcasm behind the monosyllable. "I was about to ping my manager and ask me why she didn't tell me the news" Whoa. That was one major catastrophe that didn't happen. Thank goodness! Ahem. Time to save face - but I can't stop laughing - the whole situation is ludicrous. I briefly contemplate pinging my friends and informing them of my mistake - But what the heck - no one was that bothered anyways!

I've been sane and gather-witted for quite a long time now - But it looks like my remission from scattered-brainism is over. Sigh. I console myself that most geniuses (is that the plural?) are quite… ermmm... 'Few Pennies short of a Dollar' – or was it ‘Few Dimes short of a Pound’???? There’s hope for me after all! Hehehehe.