Walking In My Shoes

New Year Travels!

2008-01-05T10:38:00.000-05:00

Sometimes...when a year has brought so many changes to a life, when the new year represents so many opportunities and asks so many questions, when the past is no longer fully representative of the future, a change is required in every aspect of life.

This, here is no longer who I am..Do step in on my new blog

http://binaryfootprints.wordpress.com/

I would love to renew our acquaintance..

Warm regards,
ME

I Support the FREE BURMA Campaign

2007-10-07T10:53:00.000-04:00

A little less conversation....

2007-08-22T17:09:00.001-04:00

Elvis in my mind and burning my speakers. This song has been playing every half hour on my computer. Obsession, new craze, new "my tune", I don't know..all I know is it asks for a "Little less Conversation and a little more action please..

The new heartthrob is in town...

2007-08-22T17:09:00.000-04:00

There is a new heartthrob in town and the girls are swooning and so are some guys.....It is quite funny the kind of image that these people wish to project and what is more funny, two of the news stories today had to do with bare chested men, men who are not in typical situations dreamt about and swooned and sighed about....

This and This is what, ladies and gentlemen are occupying news channels and radio waves and sending shock waves across countries. Could it be a new war maybe, a Bourne Vs Bond kind of situation...Who has the best bod. Will the esteemed guv'nor from California join or even our Cowboy from Washington. Heehaw..

Wouldn't it be awesome if all three got together and had a, I don't know Camp somewhere meet. I can imagine the headlines..Ooh the possibilities. Will be a breakthrough in friendly relations...Enjoy folks

Dancing in my Shoes!

2007-08-13T15:06:00.001-04:00

I was going through some old photos that I got from India and spotted one which brought some real fun memories of my school days. I used to dance back then and was there in every competition on stage that required me to dance, don a costume, talk or even just stand..I loved the spotlight. We were actually a group of 4 girls all my classmates during my Kindergarten to 5th standard. One of the girls mother used to teach us how to groove. She was an amazing person who unfortunately passed away a few years back. I used to love being at her place and going through songs and figuring out steps. So there we are me, VR, SV, and NM dancing on stage and enjoying every tiny bit at least I did.

Anyway this was one of my favourite songs and one of the best dance performances I remember vividly. I must have been in 3rd or 4th at that time. A very popular song and I glad I found it. ENJOY!!

A Long Journey Home..

2007-08-13T15:06:00.000-04:00

3 months of life away can make you crave for the simplest things that you leave behind...The leaves outside my window twirling and dancing in the wind, the gentle curves of my pillow, the smell of my own cooking!!! and the pleasure of sitting here in my chair, looking at the green grass by the window and wondering if that petrified rabbit or the wily squirrel will get to the nut first. I was away for this really long holiday in India and one month of summer study in Cambridge, UK. and now that I am back and have felt up the above mentioned, my heart yearns to go back and my feet aches to start globe trotting again.

The trip back home coincided (made to coincide!)with my grandpa's 80th b'day, my parents 25th anniversary, my dad's 50th b'day and my youngest brother's Upanayanam. There is this smile which starts the minute you board the plane, this inexpressible joy at being back home just in time for a big function where I have a feast for 2 weeks continuously and get to behave like a kid again with my 10 cousins, feel the fall and rise of my father's chest and lie on my mother's lap in the big wooden wing at home. There is impishness in fluffing my grandpa's beard every time I pass by and in hugging my granny just after she finishes her sacred bath and heads to pooja and in talking nineteen to the dozen when my mother is cooking. Every event deserves a post in itself, and I don't want to rush through after these are some of the best memories I hold and I want to savour each drop of it. I will at least to try in some way to be unselfish and try express what life is like every time I go back and every time I make a return journey to relive my childhood.

I have been unfaithful and haven't blogged. I apologize. I was in so much of a rush to leave and in my rush to squeeze every second of a life I cherish, I all but forgot how it was to talk to a computer, share my love with only one person, and live life miles away from where my heart yearns to go every now and then. But I am back, to narrate tales of my long holiday, my summer in Cambridge, and the rest of my life. Thanks to all for their concern, I am happy that I have found a family I have never met, but seem to know a lot of here...

TV turnoff!!

2007-04-23T10:15:00.000-04:00

We are officially turning off the TV...at least for this week. This is where "Mission Conversation" was launched.

I am not a TV addict. But there are somethings I watch. The BBC news is like my additional caffeine dose in the morning along with my cuppa. Then the few odd pleasures every now and then. But this week, nothing is acceptable. Of course with the profusion of entertainment in the form of radio and Internet, the NO TV idea is workable, but for additional measure I added a clause "No entertainment of any sort be it on TV or Internet". News I need to, for work (Rolls Eyes!) but nothing else shall stand. I mostly listen to the news programs on the Radio and NPR is like manna from Broadcasting heaven, and so that is permitted.

I don't think it should be difficult. I mean with the overdose of entertainment news from around the world this past week, I am so ready to not switch on the TV or Internet for any sort of stupid, mindless fluff. They were like the dust bunnies, the more you wipe away, the more they come..Eeyuck!! Anyway that is where things stand now. I managed to do without my morning news, just made my coffee stronger. Actually thought out a few things and feeling nice and empty and ready to take on the Big Bad world of Politics.

So any of you want to give it a try?? I promise it will be fun.

OH BTW!! I updated my Political footprints In case people are interested in my burgeoning political life.

Slide!!

2007-04-20T14:43:00.001-04:00

A long time since I penned a Friday word. But here I am once again

Whoosh!! I could feel the air on my face
And a little heat on the seat of my pants
My brother chasing could barely keep pace
Whoosh!! Thud and down we went in a mess of arms and legs

Whoosh!! I felt like I was flying
The idea was to let the hands go
And let the wind carry you, squealing
Whoosh! Boy did I squeal my heart out

It was my brother who taught the fun
of coming down at high speed
Timing it to my grandma coming by, then run
Not stopping to listen to her mutter under her breath

She would do her prayers every day
and she had to take a bath every time we fell on her
It was perhaps more fun sliding into her everyday
than just sliding down for no reason at all

We learnt soon to slide with my grandpa
Slowing as he walked with his aching knee
And duck headed stick. I slid down once with pa
seeing if he had those hormones in him after all

I learnt to slid backwards and sideways, I learnt to slide
with my fee not touching ground
I learnt to even slide up from down, I would slide
all the way up and then all the way down

I would slide real fast when I was happy
An slowly contemplating each step I slid when sad
I would pause midway and sit when I felt crappy
I would go up and down and up and down when I was mad

The brown wood bore the marks of a dozen adults and a few more kids
It was all shiny from contact with bottoms of all kinds
It made kids silly and giggle, It made adults for a few minutes silly kids
It was my friend through thick and shine and it made my life complete

The banister at my grandpa's home, brown, old and shiny is where I lived
At times when I climb up some stately stairs in public
The wood tingles under my fingers, childhood beckons, I want to be the kid
Who came down the stairs with the wind in her hair and a twinkle in her eye

A Ray of Light.

2007-04-20T14:43:00.000-04:00

Break in News

Finally someone has enough sense left to open their mouth or rather unscrew the cap of their pen. Dear God whereever he is heard my prayers. I have never been so irritated and so sad at the same time. I understand the curiosity, but this is insanity on a massive scale. A girl attempting suicide, a man bringing laddoos from kanpur, another naming his whole family after "The Family" another conducting mock weddings, another taking boiling milk bath, and yet some others sculpting and painting and embroidering. It is just a wedding people, just a wedding. Don't act like Chicken littles'. Pfft!!!Idiots.

Rude Awakening.

2007-04-19T15:30:00.000-04:00

I was hibernating, in the cocoon of my basement. Sitting in the midst of books, papers, stapler, pen and everything else that would portray me as the desperate Grad student attempting to write a paper when in reality all she can think about is how amazing a plate of warm Bhel-puri and cool lemonade with black salt would be. Don't even ask me what the connection is or how I went from sanctions in Darfur to Bhel in Ghatkopar.

So many things have happened between now and then. The season is desperately trying new fads to keep up with the latest in fashion statement - Global Warming. India dropped to ridiculously low standards in cricket, journalism and celebrity fawning. Angelina Jolie has just saved another kid from the throes of poverty to drown him in ridiculous amount of wealth, cameras and everything else.A reporter was kidnapped in Gaza and feared dead for a while. But somewhere, some place things remain constant. People still die, some still live in fear and some in abject poverty. Some in courage, some in love, some in sadness. Some turn their heads for fear of knowing, some wallow in the bliss of ignorance and some others rooted in spot to their fast dying principles.

The rain fell in torrents, flooding the little street by my house, making the tiny stream behind my home to become a gushing brook. There was water everywhere and occasionally the thunder rippled in loud booms across the sky as one MAN sat above watching his handiwork. Who: One supreme being. Why: Unknown In Virginia, in the embrace of the Shenandoah valley it rained too. Blood from the lives lost, tears flowed like streams across the valley silenced by the deafening sounds of a bullet that ripped through the heart of an idyllic valley. Who: Someone mad and misguided and in control of some power. Why: Unknown. On the oil mixed sands of an ancient city, it rained through. Amidst the thundering sounds of misguided men blowing themselves up died 130 odd people. Who: Men seeking power in dying for their faith. Why: Unknown.

Were the 32 lives more important. Why does what we care for have to be orchestrated so much by what we see and hear. The 130 odd people became nothing more than a tally for a cause and destiny unknown. These 32 people will be praised, mourned and the relatives empathized with about their loss. Were their lives in anyway more important or more valued than the woman who went to buy vegetables, or the girl who went for walk. Didn't we create that too with our vivid imaginations, falsifications and a misguided value. Why not give that the same attention. Why not give Darfur where US imposes mindless sanctions be given attention. Why not the suicide of farmers in India because of one sided World bank policies be given attention.

I am saddened by the loss. As a student I don't want tog o in fear everyday to school. I can see how something as horrifying as this can affect people, a campus and a community. I am not complaining about the attention. It requires this attention if anything has to change. The fear is that it might not. Like all these other things, it might become mind numbing and just another spot on a time line of events. It might not bring a change anywhere. I don't want to think that way, but then sometimes I don't have a justification for thinking otherwise.

Guilty Pleasures!!

2007-03-22T18:46:00.000-04:00

I can be at some instances a little addicted to the Tube (Not youtube silly!!) I mean I watch about 4-5 shows that come on the TV regularly. Unfortunately for me, they cancelled one of the best shows out there. I guess it is good in some ways. I am in Grad school. But these sitcoms and dramas are what keeps me sane at times. I mean you can watch BBC and read news only so much. These are some my regulars:

Monday Night Two and a half men:
It is not rib tickling fun, but it is funny enough to be a comedy. It does get a little adult at times though. I mean some things there make me cringe and redden, but I enjoy watching it to lighten up an otherwise dreary Monday. It is about these two brothers, one a twice divorced father of one (basically the loser) and the other the playboy. So it about these two men and the son who is the half man. It is about the craziness that is their life.

Wednesday Night Friday Night Lights:
If there was a reason to watch one hour dramas, this is it. One of the most under appreciated drama of this season, it just holds you by your collar and never lets go. It is a take off one the Movie. It is about a small Texas town football team the Dillon Panthers and their lives. it is more about their lives than football, but boy is it scintillating. The actors, the story lines, the camera action, lights everything is just perfect to make it the best show I watch. It is definitely must watch. It makes you think, feel, cry and stand up and cheer every time the boys do well. It makes you heart warm and makes you see how so many lives can revolve around one elongated soccer ball. It is about Jason street the QB who becomes a quadriplegic in a freak accident at one game, it is about the shy sophomore who takes care of his grandma who is pushed to lead his team, it is about the friendship between street and star player riggins that is tested, it is about how smash and his big talk and ego and how he deals with racism, it is about how the coach deals with the pressure and still manages to bring his passion to the field with the help of his wife a guidance counselor. Just watch it, you will know.

Thursday Ugly Betty:
Like there is a need to explain this show. It has achieved critical acclaim. The actress who plays Betty makes us look beyond her braces, her glasses and everything else and makes us look for the goodness within each of us.

So there it is a fell 2 and half hour worth of drama, comedy, romance and good TV time. Makes me enjoy life a little bit more.

Friday Word: Dance

2007-03-16T11:05:00.000-04:00

She looked at the giant mirror near her bed
She twirled and looked again. Her back, her front
She brushed her hair again not that it mattered
But she did want to look her best.

She looked at the shimmery frock she had
It was all fluffed up shiny and pretty
Her friend thought it looked rad
She knew it looked prettier than that

She wore her silvery shoes with a little star
She took a deep breath and sang a little song.
She was travelling and going real far
To do a little dance and perhaps do some more

Her father kissed her forehead and looked all proud
He smoothed her hair and gave her his love
Go on, little dancers spread some joy to the crowd
He opened the gates and saw them laugh and then fly

She leaped and twirled around. She did a gentle somersault
and flew upside down. Her friends laughed and joked
They executed a triple jump with nary a fault
They held hands with her and danced into town

The wind was slow and silent. He loved seeing them come
Sometimes he blew a little, just to see them dance around
Sometimes he'd lead them to a cottage, sometimes to the slum
They danced all the way, tapping their little feet and nodding their little heads

I stepped out to enjoy the fun, the little snow girl fell
just on the tip of my nose, she made me smile and made me laugh
I did a little step on the crunchy snow, I couldn't tell
what made me dance, but I did and I danced all day

I made people around me dance, people I touched danced too
The snow flake shed her fluffy dress and went her way
She took a stopover on my nose and then she flew
She danced away into the spring and fall and then home she flew

She sits there all year waiting all day and all night
To dress in her shimmery frock and
wear her starlit shoes and paint the town white
I wait in my room to see her come and dance my way into town.

Bonkers about Bong!!

2007-03-09T14:28:00.001-05:00

It was one of those "HUH!!! ooh!! Wait let me go back and check....wow!! that's weird!" moments. Things have added up over the years and I have just realized, I have a thing for all things 'bengalish' (Is that a word?!?). How all of a sudden. I was listening to "Feluda" on BBC world service. The voice for feluda was given by Rahul bose and I was reminiscing about how much the voice suited the feluda in my mind and how much I liked both of them and in my wierd world things started linking and I sat up and realized I do have a thing for all things Bengali. I am not one myself, in fact I am from a place as far from Bengal as it could be and I don't even speak the language. I speak a language from the south and I have visited the place 2-3 times. There are places I have visited more but not found my rhythm with them. Visiting Calcutta was like getting comfortable with this old, worn out chair in which I remember sitting once, and am still happy and warm inside after all these years. So here is a roster of the people, places, food and things I love about the poetic place.

Ganguly - GOD. No that's not an exclamation, that is just how I feel about him :-) I have been obsessed with him since I was about 15. From talking to him over the phone to letters, he has been one solid favourite. Never mind what Chappell thinks or what other people think. For me he was the best cricketer ever and he has proved that over and over again.

Bengali - the language. When I was a kid and visited my cousin there for the first time, bengali sounded like hindi with a rosgulla in your mouth. But there is something melodious about the language.

Feluda - My aunt introduced me to the detective. Written by Satyajit ray, he was India's Sherlock. I have read most of his books and they never fail to impress me. Rahul Bose was excellent when it came to depicting him on the radio.

The Book shops of Calcutta - During my vacation there, one the favourite things to do with my cousin was to comb the place for books, preferably old and having the smell of pages read, turned and loved. From AC market to old book shops in rickety wooden shops on the street, the place was overflowing with them.

Lake Garden - Early morning walks with cousins, uncle and aunt. Rowers practising, the intense humidity and stickiness after just 5 mins. counting the number of people whispering sweet nothings to each other, the breathtaking beauty of the lake early morning.

The food - My memories of the place are tinged with the sweet aroma of rosgulla floating like little white clouds in the mud pot. The orange sticky Jalebi, the ridiculous joy that I got from eating Mishti doi. There used to a sweet shop near my cousins place. We used to go there morning about 7.00 and get these piping hot, fresh and absolutely tasty treats fro breakfast. It was the holidays and we had nothing else to do in life. So in the heat of the morning, with the ceiling fan droning we used to sit around the pot on the floor and laugh out loud afor no reason and stuff ourselves in the goodness.

I also remember the evening brisk walks to the puchka character. He used to hand us plates made from leaves. There used to be one scrawny assistant as dirty as the other fellow. But the puchkas were oh God heaven. He used to be around for only half and hour and the rush was bad on weekends, but the waits were worth their wait in puchka, I don't remember the names of the places but there used to be one famous shop selling rasmalai and sandesh which were real awesome and one fellow opposite Jadavpur university selling rolls and manchurian. I guess the dirtier they are the better the taste of the food.

The Public library - Just the vastness of the place and its history is enough to make me ridiculously happy every time I hear about it.

the slow moving trams, the rickshaw wallas, the ladies with their huge red bindi on their forehead. They look pretty and ravishing no matter what. Kishore Kumar, rani mukerjee, tagore, Rahul Bose, Konkona sen, Tea in little matkis, the rain, The life sapping heat and the incredible ways to cool off, and last but not least the way time seems to slow down there. People always seem to have time to put their head out and say hello or how everything seems full of life. That is true of any place in India. Perhaps things are not what they were, perhaps things have changed so much that these things are just memories and dear diary moments. Maybe the Pucka walla has faded along with the rolls fellow giving way to sanitised tasteless food and people live their lives over computers and cell phones. For me there is an old world feel to the place I knew from my childhood that remains unchanged, and brings back some of the best days of my life.

High Tea.

2007-03-09T14:28:00.000-05:00

Would you care for a cup 'o' tea?
She said. Trying her best to sound
As royal and as English as she could
Would you like some tea?

She tilted her little pink pot
and poured some tea in one little cup
She made sure she didn't slosh and spill
She had made it and made it hot

She offered her royal guests some sandwiches
She thought they might fancy the little bites
She had put cream cheese and strawberry jelly on it
And topped it with a tiny cherry she thought looked rich.

Thank you, I made the tea myself
My mum taught me to brew them right
My dad taught me to choose the best, smiling she said
once again I did make them myself

She talked about the gardens and the royal pets
She talked at length about the changing weather
She admired the pretty sweater they wore
And the delicate hats with little nets

And soon it was time to bid adieu
It was such an honor ma'm she said
I hope you can stop once again for tea
She smiled and did a graceful bow

She got up, and cleaned the tiny pot of tea
She wiped the table and put everything away
She grabbed her dolls with flowing gown and netted hats
She put them away till 'morrow's high tea.

The Big 50

2007-03-01T14:26:00.000-05:00

Whoo...50 posts. This is the one thing that I have stuck to for a while, and boy am I glad I did. It is a nice small achievement I guess. Something I never thought I could do and yet I did. It is kind of nice to discover things about oneself as time goes and realise there is more to us than what is perceived.

It is difficult for me to stick through with things. It is painful in fact for me to continue down a certain road for a long time. It is good in certain ways, but makes me feel real miserable in other ways. I always feel a tickle in my mind if I have been on a task for a while. It makes me want to put it down and run, run as fast as I can. it is perhaps the need to achieve everything that I possible can within my lifetime and yet the moment I run, I look back to see shattered half done visages lying behind. I have a double bonus in the fact that I don't often turn back and regret the things left half done. I do turn back, but it is more to see what was done and what is left to be done than to regret what was not. This half baking tendencies of mine do have negative consequences. I am invariably never around to see what good things could have come. I derive my life from the restless soul that I am. I see the things I can, I dreams the dreams at night and imagine the possibilities because of the fleet footed mind of mine. But there are times when I wish I could sit still within myself. I am incredibly patient, in the physical world. I can sit for hours without disturbances, but in the world within me, I run in quest of a world unknown, to seek treasures buried in the deep recesses of the world I imagine, to hide, to seek and to derive pleasure in the numerous non-constants in life.

There are times when I want to control the impulse to flee, when I want to silence the sounds and yet hear just what is happening now, here. I want to stick to things and take them to their destined ends, to be accountable for what I do and colour the whole picture and stick inside the lines. This, here is one attempt to be in the present and yet with 50 posts, there is a stir within me, I am unable to sit still, my hands go all across the keyboard and my thought trip and fall over themselves. I just have to learn to channel them elsewhere and keep leaving my footprints here.

Musthafa, Musthafa!!

2007-02-21T11:47:00.000-05:00

Anyone in college after this movie (forgot the name) was released will remember this song. http://www.musicindiaonline.com/p/x/EUCm_saTVd.As1NMvHdW/

It was almost like an anthem to people in their last years in school, college, wherever. I remember the song too for different reasons. It used to be a lullaby for my little brother. There is enough age difference between me and the little twamp. I have another middle b(r)other. And the two of us were old enough that we could put the tweeniest one to sleep every night. The house we lived in had this big circular hall and the ritual was to carry the little pig, not on the shoulder but lying on the arms and rock him to sleep as we walked around the hall round and round and had to sing Musthafa. It is weird thinking of it now. I have no idea why he got fixated to that song, but he did. We used to scream ourselves hoarse and sing it again and again and again, and I used to pass him off to the middle pig and take a breather. It had to be that song. He used to wiggle, squirm, cry and holler if anything else came out. It was fun though. I would wait for that hour all day and would relish taking that sleepy, satisfied, burping little piglet in my hand, see his little dwimpled smile and his happy sigh as he settled into a world of Musthafa's. I still wonder if we scarred him psychologically in anyway with our voices. I wasn't the best of singers and since my brother's voice was breaking he used to sing in multiple voices. I liked letting him sing the chorus. He could give voice to everyone in the chorus line, in one go.

I was listening to the song while driving home. The road twisted and turned and the song played on. Missed home a lot. The piglet has grown and it feels like I have missed a whole lot of growing up. I miss him being small, being able to smell Johnson's powder, miss sneaking to eat lactogen, miss watching him cry so that I could pick him up and make his world awright again.. But I am enjoying these years too, in a different way. I talk to him about Enid Blyton, Famous Five and Secret Seven, about Dinosaraus and how the girl sitting next to him in class wouldn't stop talking. Some things haven't changed though. His eyes glaze over and he yawns when he listens to Musthafa and I start walking in circles.

If night were a woman

2007-02-07T07:31:00.000-05:00

Mona's word for the day "Hair"

If night were a woman, she would appear to be
Like the woman who sat in front of me,
Her face I have never seen, for who can but see
Beyond the raven tresses that ache to break and flow free

They sometimes are swept up in a bun high, giving me
a glance of her shoulders white and silky
I can see why those strands would be so happy
adorning her pretty head and watching me sigh and heave.

Then sometimes they are let loose and free
Like waves at night that up in the sky I see
They float, they laugh with their naughtiness they tease me
To watch them caress her cheek, feel her breath..Oh the agony.

If night were a woman, the sky her tresses,t hen let me be
The flowers that might adorn her head, like the sky bright and starry
So I can be by side, smell her loveliness see her smile so sweet
In little pleasures like these my life be full and my heart happy will be.

Another Life to Live!!

2007-01-29T11:34:00.004-05:00

http://smallstepbigjourney.blogspot.com/

Colours of my Life

2007-01-29T11:34:00.003-05:00

Mona here gives a Friday word every well...Friday. http://yawpmona.blogspot.com/ I just thought it would be a good oppurtunity to dust those cobwebs, oil the wheels and get my right side of brain cranking again. So here goes. Friday word colour for the first friday in February.

I stepped in wearing colours of green and orange,
Not quite aware of how life would change
It was dawn, the sky shimmered in gentle hues
of gold, white, purple and blues

The place was a riot of colours,
People talking in shades of yellow and red. Flowers
from the wings of a peacock adorning my head
I could barely hear myself or what was being said.

They adorned me in colours of the rain drenched sand,
Silver anklets on my feet, rust and golden bangles on my hand.
Don't raise your head, walk slow they said. I ignored and sought
a pair of brown eyes and a gentle touch that love to me had brought.

I saw white, I saw black, purple, orange, blue, green, yellow
colours from every part of a rainbow
And yet with one golden thread, they faded behind
His eyes were on mine and the colours of his face in my mind.

I left home on a sunny, blue day. The plane was stark and white
The farewell dark and silver as I waved til they went out of sight
I landed on acold winter's day. The air was cold and life seemed to be in shades of grey

The years have only been few,but life as coloured as black and blue
I woke up today, to the gentle and shimmering snow pristine and new
I felt some pink on my cheeks when he reached out for a kiss from his wife
I hugged myself and watched the sky light up in the colours of my life

Running thoughts!!

2007-01-29T11:34:00.002-05:00

You know you have been going to the gym too often when:

You are desperately searching for your gym card three months after you have bought your first exercise machine.

You carry a gym bag with bottle and towel down to the basement

You dress up to go exercise in the basement.

You keep looking to your right or left to see how fast the nest person is running at.

You hear a real upbeat song and all you can think of is running on a treadmill for that song.

You put your cell on silent as soon as you start to exercise.

You sit in the car in the morning and realise you have no where to go for another one hour.

You miss listening to some senseless Morning show on TV.

You miss being able to show the person next to you, that you were able to run faster for an extra 5 mins.

You miss saying I am going to the gym and leave life behind for and hour or so.

Bells and Whistles

2007-01-29T11:34:00.000-05:00

http://www.ndtv.com/morenews/showmorestory.asp?slug=Amar+Singh+celebrates+51st+birthday&id=100043&category=National

Do we idolize celebrities so much that we ignore basic laws of the land? Are the celebrities so into themselves that they blatantly ignore basic laws of the land. A celebrity almost deified in the country, a sitting Rajya Sabha MP, an industrialist, a citizen journalist, an international actor who is known to work in orphanages and for child causes, an MP of a leading party and none of them bothered to step up and say this is not right. Hundreds of news stories covering the event and none except this one even bothered to mention it. Did we just go overboard in our ridiculous following of people whose claim to fame are a few titles and n number of movies. They talk about racism in and outside country and yet when it comes to their own land, no one speaks up.

I am not a big fan of the entertainment industry, nor a feminist fighting for equal rights, but something doesn't strike me right when a revered actor says his to be daughter in law, the most beautiful woman in the world, the woman who supposedly put bollywood in the international arena, who has acted in a movie on spousal abuse, who represents India outside is "Domesticated and homely". http://in.today.reuters.com/news/newsArticle.aspx?type=topNews&storyID=2007-01-27T181555Z_01_NOOTR_RTRJONC_0_India-285228-2.xml&archived=False

Is it so important that a woman be domesticated and homely before getting married? Isn't a woman's achievements of no importance or is it considered rare for a woman of so many achievements to also know how to make dal roti. I don't know. I just feel that the media is horribly misguided and the stars who can take the high road and probably set an example for people who follow their every step too caught up in the melee.

I am Cacophoenix

2007-01-24T11:45:00.000-05:00

I am Cacophoenix. I am an intelligent, creative, confident, strong and incredibly talented person. I have a thirst for knowledge and love learning about new places, people and things. I am outgoing and charming. I can write well, and draw well. I am good in literature, history, science and arts. I have a good memory, which serves me well in quiz competitions. I have a mind of my own and can be stubborn at times. I am passionate about a lot of things and tend to follow my passions. I am my own person. I am a little quirky, a little silly, a little romantic, a little hot tempered and a little imaginative. I am a Piscean and am incredibly vain about it. I love my life and I love who I am. And this is how I want to be thought as.

It ticks me off when people judge me by my looks or how tall I am or how fat I am. I hate being assessed by how I look. I hate being judged period. It is difficult I realise, to live now without ever being judged or having to judge. I judge sometimes too and get upset about my erroneous conclusions when a person reveals to be more than what I saw. Some of my best friends are the ones who I judged too hastily. There has to be a certain assessment of looks for certain occasions, I can live with that. It is however a different thing altogether when people who know you to a reasonable extent look at how you are rather than what you are. I am at fault too, I let myself be carried away in opposing directions depending on what was said. What I have written above is kind of a recommendation letter for myself, I want to know that there is more to me than what people see. I will come back and read it every time I am down, every time I feel incompetent or every time I feel like taking a swing at people who are expected to know better. Everyone should do this. I don't feel narcissistic saying I am smart. I know I am, I can be quite an idiot at times, but saying I am intelligent just helps me do better at my job, because I know I wouldn't accept anything less from me. I know what my capabilities are and I have to have a certain degree of confidence in them. Go on. write 8 sentences about yourself that tell who you really are. Not physical features. And see how you feel at the end of it. I don't want to feel miserable every time someone says with a critical tone that I have gained weight or my face looks weary and pale. I know me and I will not let myself be judged like that.

Swish...Swoosh!!

2007-01-19T12:13:00.000-05:00

That was me making snow angels in the first snow of the season..About time I say. I woke up, or should I be honest and confess was woken up rather rudely and dragged to the window. We ran outside, right into some powdery, sugar like, absolutely regal snow with just pyjamas and coats. I fell to the ground made some angels, got right up and made some snow balls and had a welcome the sun fight. The early birds who had to make it to work stopped grumbling as they cleaned their car and smiled, the kid dragging her books chuckled, my neighbour still sleepy laughed and I screamed with delight as a big ball of wet snow landed on my neck. It is such a glorious feeling. Lying down on the driveway on the softest crystal bed, as the sun came up apple cheeks and all and as the last star faded behind the flaming curtains, to see the snow fall was like taking a peek backstage beyond the clouds and into the world where men are made, seasons ordered to duty and where God sits chuckling at his jokes. Snow tastes a little salty, a little sweet and 100% fun. Hope M had her own snow party and the stunning elegance of the late visitor makes her want to blog........

I live my Life.

2007-01-18T14:35:00.000-05:00

I had holidays, winter break from school, from life in general.

I saw a squirrel rummaging for that last nut, the bird dragging a worm from hibernation, the smoke that comes out of my piping hot morning coffee. I smelt the gentle aroma of my freshly laundered clothes, I saw the wind in the trees, I heard the clank of the letter box at mid day when my postman comes, I smiled at the slow ballad the day dances with the night sky before the sun leaves the blushing sky behind, the north star which follows me home and the hum of the engine as it comes to a rest in my garage. I sighed at the welcoming smell of hot food and burning incense as I step through the doors, the enthusiastic greeting I get, I closed my eyes contended at the warmth of a beating heart on which I lay my head and the gentle kiss on my head.

A Parade in Silence!!

2007-01-01T18:12:00.000-05:00

I am back.. Had a good week long vacation in a place where dreams never rest and feet never ache till you go back home. I was in Disney world. Had a rocking time. You are never too old to scream at the sight of a mouse, bounce when you see tigger and give a big smack to eeyore just to see the smile on his face. I gave a big bear hug to Brer Bear and did a little jig with chip and dale. We were in Magic Kingdom on Christmas day. Got to see the most amazing fireworks, Christmas day parade. There was one sight which stuck with me throughout the whole trip and it kind of made me feel nice and warm deep in my tummy. The parade was in the late afternoon. It was a rainy day. So there I was under a poncho, praising the lord for giving me a very Chinese version of a samosa. We had a real good spot, right where the parade was starting. There was an old couple right in front of me and there was a Disneypersonnel with them gesturing vividly and explaining something. I didn't give much thought to it until the parade started. The horn tooted and the drums rumbled and the man opposite me started gesturing those things. There was a spark in the couples eye and they got out their camera. From then till 15 minutes later when the parade passed us, the man was dancing, jumping and gesticulating every sound coming from the parade and every noise he heard from the characters. I have never seen a happier person and a more enthusiastic audience. Sound was as much a part of the whole show as the characters. To see these people enjoying themselves and actually seeing sound was heartwarming. I didn't feel sad for them. They knew ho best to enjoy themselves. They will perhaps play the video over and over again, maybe to their grand kids or their own kids who would be as excited as these people were to see silence in a place where all dreams come true.

Huh!! where am I

2006-12-17T08:12:00.000-05:00

WoooooooooHooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!! I am an aunt. Yey!!! My sister in law just had a baby boy. Nine months and so many lives are going to be changed so dramatically. This is awesome. I am determined to be the best darn aunt that boy is ever going to have, which brings me to the question...What are aunts supposed to do? I am also sitting thousands of miles across the pretty world.

Psalm of Life!!

2006-12-08T14:05:00.000-05:00

One thing that gives me immense pride about myself is my ability to appreciate poetry and even scribble a few. I have seen people who struggle real hard and often have a distaste for poetry, verse and such. It is not their fault. The art of appreciating a poetry can only be taught by a really good teacher. I was blessed in that way to have my father as my teacher. One of the first poems that he taught me was called "Psalm of Life" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I didn't truly understand what it meant till I was in High school. It was a long way from the pig tailed fifth standard kid who gaped at her father reciting the poem by heart. It was a heavy journey too and this poem at that point in high school revved me up. It has been kind of like a mantra ever since. I am not interpreting the poem here. It would impose my version of it on you. Feel free to look at it as you want. it may appeal to you, it may not. But every time I feel blue, this reminds me of home, my father's warm hug and the life he helps me live.

Tell me not in mournful numbers,

"Life is but an empty dream!"

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us further than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act -- act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labour and to wait

Identity Crisis!!

2006-12-07T15:05:00.000-05:00

She walked in tools in hand, Sparkle in eye,
She walked in song on lips and head held high
She stopped for a moment beside me

It was a wonder that she spotted me
I thought no one could see me
Blending, as I was with the rest of the world

I had walked a few miles on the road.
The journey was long and I bored,
I wanted a wash, a change and a new wardrobe

I was lost in the world of zero's and one's
Life bore little meaning and no fun
I wanted a prayer, a little hope and something more

In she came, with her tools, sparkle and all
She sang a sweet little song and I gave her an order tall
She blew the smoke of her tool and set to work.

She shaped, coloured, cut, stuck and wove
The colours in my life and the big shoes that I wore
She made them blue, she gave me some sand, and a wave

I can feel my flat feet in the sand sink
I can see waves of thought every time I blink
I have happy blue shoes to walk and to lend

Can you see me smile mile wide
Can you see the wave that I ride
Can you see the sparkle in my word

The nerd did it all, with a smile, a sparkle
a song. I tell you she's a marvel
All bow to the Grafx gurl who made my toes curl

Comforts of the cocoon!!

2006-12-05T17:21:00.000-05:00

The thing that I miss about school/college is having secret crushes. Sounds silly, but the thrill of having this deep dark secret, the thrill that no one knows about it except you and in the comforts of your mind there are a million thoughts swirling around that no one has the slightest clue about is amazingly good. Suddenly you have a reason to go to study and focus sincerely in class, so you can prove that you are intelligent, tell wicked jokes to make sure you are noticed as funny and help your friend solve that pesky sum and show how compassionate you are. Notice how I didn't mention pretty, because in that cocoon there is no one prettier than you and no person more handsome than your secret crush. It feels good to have a sly smile on your face while talking to that person who has no clue. It sends shivers up your spine when that person laughs at your jokes and it is absolute heaven to know things about them that no one else knows about.

It does eat you up though. There is this irrepressible feeling to spill the beans, unimaginably painful feeling of seeing him drool at other girls. You feel like slapping him silly. There is the nervousness of maintaining your calm lest anyone finds out. Every moment you feel like standing on your tippy toes and yell out to the world, you have to step harder on your heel and walk away. In the comforts of the cocoon where your thoughts are buried, where they gain the courage to become a butterfly and go out of control. Till then you know you have the thoughts only to yourself and take comfort in holding it as long as possible. Till the butterfly comes out, you have an unbelievable silly smile pasted on your face, because your mind realized and processed a signal your heart had sent weeks earlier about the first instant you met him. you close your eyes and you know the way he walks, the way he talks, the way he smiles, the way he swears, the way he clenches his fist and shakes his head and the way his eyes glaze over when he talks about his dream girl. Secret crushes makes you realize at some point later in life that....

'Tis better to have loved and to have lost,

Than not to have loved at all..

Tennyson.

A study in Contrasts!!

2006-11-30T12:10:00.000-05:00

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/6159541.stm

http://www.ndtv.com/morenews/showmorestory.asp?slug=Mamata
+on+rampage+in+WB+Assembly&id=97213&category=National

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/6158595.stm

Spot, Sigh, Swoon!!!

2006-11-20T08:09:00.000-05:00

Learnt a very valuable lesson on the weekend. "Never say Never again". Just for the records, what you are going to read is someone I have never met before. It is not the normal me. I don't act like this and definetly not react like this. I saw 'Casino Royale' over the weekend. SIGH, SWOON!!! I had sworn I couldn't accept any other Bond. For a Bond fanatic like me, Craig ws so unbond that I felt it would be torture to sit there. And yet when the time came, I was in the seat first day. And swoon I did. I realised that I should never say never again when I heard a collective gasp from the people in the theater when he stepped out of the water in one scene. I will not confess to gasping with the rest of 'em. The movie was absolutely wonderful. Everything you would expect a Bond to be and everything you don't. Thinking about it now, this is perhaps the true Bond. He is a real spy, a real gritty, manly, agent. Not the I am so unruffled, suit wearing type. I am so floating inside my head. The heroine for once was not an idiot too. Heh! Treat for the 'meri woh'. He was upset that she didn't last though. I didn't mind that much. This Bond had a story, a good story and it kind of sets the pace for the whole Bond series. Craig pulls it off with elegance, gusto and absolute brilliance. And I have swooned and sighed for him to satisfy my nine lives. I am shaken, stirred and acting totally drunk. So if you will excuse me, I have to go dream about the man who livd twice.

Rolling on the floor Laughing!!

2006-11-17T09:43:00.000-05:00

"Amid these challenges, we hear voices calling for us to retreat from the world and close our doors to its opportunities." This is an actual bit of speech from President Bush in Singapore. We are in serious trouble. First God asks him to go to Iraq and now he hears voices asking him to retreat. I am not sure if I should laugh or cry.

The Stars in our eyes!!!

2006-11-16T11:08:00.000-05:00

Is it just me or has there really been an obsession with celebrities and their lives of late. I realized how bad the situation had become when BBC news carried news about "Twinkle" Tom and "Kiss-me" Kate. They are getting married in a Oh-So-Big castle in Rome. For the news junkie in me BBC was like a God sent gift. Their no-nonsense news appealed to my just need the news senses. I didn't like the way that the local channels like CBS, NBC, et. al., made news sound like entertainment. I had to wait for them to stop greeting each other, giggle about each other's clothes, talk about the next big wedding and/or divorce, talk about some award show and then slowly giggle their way into news. No thanks I will have just the news instead. So when they started to talk about Tom and Kate and Brit and Fed, I had to just sit there and grit my teeth. Was happy that they didn't have live coverage from Rome with a reporter talking on and on about the dress, food and locals with some real misguided stars in their eyes.

I don't really remember if we were so into movie stars and their lives when I was in school and college. There is now. One look at a news channel from home assures me there is. When NDTV's "We the people" talk about Kabhie Alvida Na kehana and its really screwed up characters story, I know we are doomed. I mean we did talk movies, I was and am a huge movie fan, but I was more into the movie, the story, the actors not the real live ego's. It is crazy here. It feels like a scene out of that movie where this man's every move is filmed..Now what was it's name hmmm!!??!! Anyway, it's disgusting. There are so many things happening in the world,so many wackos in the Big seat controlling gives. Wouldn't we all have some space in our brain if we empty this junk and fill it up with actual information. I bet there wouldn't be protests about the falling math and reading grades and president's not knowing where Iraq and Afganisthan is until you drop a bomb and pinpoint it. Wouldn't India be better off with people worrying about there are criminals in the center and not worry about Aishwarya marrying Abhishek. Agreed people adulate these stars and look at their lives and feel good about themselves. But aren't they taking the adulation to dangerous heights when they fly above their homes and film them sunning in their yard. I don't know, I just feel its pathetic and far too much pressure on normal folks working for their bread by acting, too much pressure to live up to their image, lead a perfect life and always be happy. No wonder 9/10 are bonkers.
Oh BTW just for record, I am not a big fan of Aishwarya - Abhishek as a pair. Apart from the fact that watching her act causes me to throw up, they just don't fit.

Wow!! Has it really been that long?

2006-11-15T11:49:00.000-05:00

I guess it has. When you let the exams drag you around by your collar and have you flopping like a Raggedy Ann doll, time just seems to fly. But it's okay now, I am bruised, I am aching and words like government, public policy, Iraq, democracy seem to be be dangling in front of my eyes every time I open it. But I am okay. I have learnt to look at the trees in the forest individually and found out ways in which I can tune them out too when necessary. I should have known this was going to happen. More so because the first thing that the prof warned about in his first class on the first day was "I promise you I will make you insane by the time you finish this course an I also promise you that you will start enjoying the insanity" And if he is an example to what happens to people passionate about this field, than let the good lord save you folks.

I have a folder full of papers waiting to be examined, written about, a computer full of documents waiting to be finished and yet i don't want to do anything for the next few minutes. I want to just talk without making sense ( which should be easy), not be coherent, cohesive and concise, and not have to worry about citations and definitions. Is it possible to become frustrated and feel as if you are sinking into monotony even when you are doing something you absolutely adore. I mean, I know the feeling of becoming automated, but I always presumed that it would happen only when I am not into what I am doing. I enjoy what I am in now, I crave for the time when I go sit in a class of people wanting almost the same things. And yet there are these moments when I feel irritated by drafting and redrafting and re-re drafting a stupid paper. Is that alright. I am not sure what the people who read my blogs and comment on them do for a living or if they are in fields that they have dreamt of and are loving their jobs, but the question is "Is it okay to feel trapped by the routine of everyday life , even when you wake up every morning to what you wanted to always do?'

On lighter notes, my best friend is pregnant and I am thrilled to bits about it. I was the bridesmaid at her wedding and jumped with joy when I heard the news yesterday. YEY!!! We met in 1999. I was a rebel and she the saint and we didn't really talk much or know much about each other except for the fact that I used to call her St. L and she used to call me well rebel. We hit it off when we in a funny twist of fate landed in the same class in college. Never realised the rebel and the saint could have so many things in common and here we are. Seems like yesterday when we were dashing up the stairs with test tubes, microbes and record books, making the driver wait the bus stop an extra five mins so the other could catch up, dancing to"Euphoria", gobbling tomato rice, begging her mother to make plum cake, talking late at night about Pasteur, Koch and the prof dating a student. she giggling and me grimacing at the cute guy who liked her in college, getting down from the bus and waving till she was out of sight....... it has really been that long.

Blogging F(ph)aces!!

2006-10-24T10:00:00.000-04:00

The hardest thing to comprehend in any relationship is the point when total strangers cease to be that and start having an effect on our lives. The first time you meet a potential friend there is this moment when you stop assess them from top to bottom, figure out what their intentions are and then wonder if they might be a competition to something that you own or might own. You are guarded and cautious. You take the first step and go out or talk, mentally wondering if this would work out. You want to sense a chemistry and look for it. You want to see something common.You are also careful in how you put yourself out there. Restrained yet no stand-offish, jovial yet not all over. I often compare making friends to reading a book. You see a book sitting on the shelf. The cover and the title looks tantalizing, but you don't want to be fooled. You pick it up, turn it around examining it, reading the synopsis at the back and then looking at the front page. the price seems reasonable, you buy it. You still haven't decided if you like it or not, you are just giving it a chance. You then find a comfortable spot and start reading. A good book, like a good friend can be addictive, interesting, can never bore you to death and will always be around when you want something to keep you occupied.

The strangest part of technology is this whole scanning process is pared down to almost nothing. We meet a person online, a total stranger who we cannot see and yet we open up in the relative comfort of our chair we reveal our likes, dislikes and the in betweens. We never realise the impact they have on our lives either. I follow a couple of blogs regularly. Very normal people, with the very normal stories like you and I might have. They make themselves interesting with their take on lives. Some of their posts are uncannily similar to my own experiences. I scream been there done that almost twice a week. I feel all cheerful when someone gets married, is pregnant or just graduated. Sometimes they go of the radar for days together and then I fret, I wonder why, and wonder when. I twiddle my thumbs and get irritated because I don't know what is going on. I have been thinking when these total strangers started having so much effect on my life and haven't been able to figure it out. I do sometimes get a very uncomfortable feeling that I have too much time on my hands.

Work or Not!!

2006-10-18T14:43:00.000-04:00

The thing that bugs me the most about days heralding the approach of winter, is the fact that I have to no matter what, drag myself out of bed early and study. It is especially hard when the climate is best suited for a hot cup of tea and a real good book, while warming my tootsies inside a huge warm quilt. Today is such a day and I have to submit my work by the weekend. I read a quote by someone wise the other day " It is work only when you have something else to do". Seems applicable. I am happy reading the books that I need to work on. I am just not happy writing about them. Anyway fretting and sighing aside I have to do work and yeah I do have plenty of better things in mind that I could be doing.

The Child is the father of the man.

2006-10-11T21:26:00.001-04:00

My favourite haunt used to be a local library about 2 blocks from my father's office. There used to be a little nook there where all the archie's comics used to be kept. I used to forget the world around me when I was there. I would devour 2 archies double digest in 30 mins and I was only 12. The librarian had to come and pick me up and drop me off in another corner of the library every now and then. There was a reason why I read those comics like there was no tomorrow. My dad was reading one when I was born, infact I have never seen him without one. And from day one I have always wanted to do everything just like him. I guess it is the daughter-father thing, but there has never been anything in my life so far where I have strayed far from things that in someway or the other revolve around his world. and no I am not part of the blame game. He has never imposed anything on me his entire life, except maybe his exceptional math skills and I have two lost and confused shopkeepers near my house who can vouch for the fact that he never got anywhere. From my love of literature, to poetry,history, Politics, science, totally useless trivia which came in use during quiz comps, debates, essays, writing every single thing in my life is attributed to his genes and I forever boast that I am my father's daughter. One of the single most important reason why I switched from science to Politics today is to walk my path and live my dreams. I needed to do that for two reasons one to not end up like my father, giving up on what he is good at and living someone else's life and two to give him a chance to experience something he always wanted to. I am exceptionally proud of it. Some of the best conversations I have had with my dad were debating the who's, how's and what's of the subject I am studying. Agreements turning into arguments, thoughts turning into potential thesis, it gives me a thrill to pick up that phone and dial that number.

Something happened which makes me feel a little lousy though. The other day when I called him, he didn't seem to know the answer to something.we were discussing about it and I knew a little more than what he did. While it is not such a big deal, I felt my heart sink just a little within me. Truth be told I am scared. When a bird is reluctant to fly or when a flower hesitates to open and absorb the world around it, it is not just because of fear of the unknown, it is also the fear that it might end up seeing too much, that it would leave its kind behind. I know that my father will always be there for me and he will always know far more than I do. But it stills sends a chill down my spine to think that there might be a place and time where I might be treading alone. It brings up questions of fleeting time, moments and mortality. Maybe I am seeing too much into little things, but the fact that I am moving forward makes me want to stop. When I was just baby, my father used to lift me and throw me high up in the air till I almost reached the ceiling and grab me on my way back. I have always looked down to see him when I went up. I have a photo which shows that. I feel the strongest urge to keep looking down even now. My father's genes, love, and unbridled thirst for knowledge have thrown me high up in the air. I can see the sky, the world around and the stars I am to reach, but I still want to look down and make sure that he is there to grab me when I come down. And somewhere deep down in my heart I know he will be around.

P.S: He just called to give me my answer...Whooopeee....Hope you can see me dance!!!

Conflict resolutions...

2006-10-09T09:25:00.000-04:00

I am a highly tempermental and passionate person. That is a nice way of saying that I have an explosive temper. I get ticked off when people do or say stupid things. I get visibly upset at times when things don't seem to be going the way it is. and knowing my very volatile way of expressing my dissapointment I usually just shut-up, remove myself from the scene and perhaps come back to it after a few minutes when I am a little more calm and whn I have kicked myself for getting upset with such a stupid thing. But then there is a small hitch in the goings here. I live with a person who belives in dealing with things immediately, in talking out things and diffusing the situation asap. So when the talking is going on, I am in no mood to listen, and when I am in the frameset to talk the talker has already moved on. So how do you resolve conflicts in a place like this? How do you generally solve arguments and sort out fights. I like having my voice heard and making my stands, but what is that leads to never ending rounds of arguments. Is it okay to change yourself when you realise something that you do or say irrtates your partner to no extent. Compromise is a key word in marriage, but what to do when you are not able to compromise on something. What do you do when you an argument flares up or when that shirt on the bathroom floor has got to your nerves? I just make resolutions to take one day at a time and take each situation as a new one. It works so far, but someday I will have to make new ones..

All said and done I do have to confess that I absolutely love making up after a fight......

Digressions over Dirty Dishes.

2006-10-02T15:10:00.000-04:00

Ever wonder how the more you wash those dishes, the more gets piled up in the sink. It starts with one pesky little spoon or fork, that I was lazy to wash, and the next thing I know WHOA!! I did not cook so much, how did the sink get filled up!!??!! The funny thing about this whole cycle is the fact that I actually enjoy washing dishes. It helps me become calm and gives me time to contemplate, about things like life. Ever realise how similar life is to dirty dishes. I mean here you are solving problems, you solve them one by one slowly giving attention to each and every nook, rinsing it and re-rinsing it to make sure there is not soap scum, and then voila you have an empty sink and voila someone throws in that pesky spoon in again. I guess if we tackled each and every problem if and when they happened rather that leave it to stink and deal with them when they are looming in front of your eyes, life would be so much better, but then not everyone has that much foresight. It takes a great deal of will power and perseverance to deal with tough to remove spots. It does for me. Sometimes I am running from one place to next, that I don't pause till the load become too unsightly to see or carry, or some other times I am just plain lazy. An incredibly warm couch and a real nice nystery thriller on TV is too tempting to ignore to take care of the mundane life. I berate myself everytime the sink or my life fills up and then fall back into old habits. As they say old habits die hard or should I say are highly resistant to "Dawn Foam" action. Atleast with die hard habits you can blame God for making you that way, but stubborn problems for which you think you have the perfect solution are not so. You have to scrape like your life depended on it...you curse it, rub it , pray over it and cry over it till one fine moment it is all gone...YEY!! all your hard work has paid off after all.
Life is funny; We can never stop taking our life and making something out of it and we always end up with the problems that come from it. It is perhaps a testimony to the untiring soul within us which forever seems ready to deal with grease and gunk because they think of life getting a little better afterwards or the life long adventurer in us who always seeks new piles of problems to clean up just to feel that surge of adrenalin that comes with conquered jobs. I think of myself as an adventurer... which one are you?

Navaratri....

2006-09-27T13:43:00.000-04:00

I have kept "Golu" at my place. It is the way south India celebrates Navaratri. The day before the festival starts, we scrub our silvers, bring down our dolls from the attic, dust them, paint the sad ones, put up steps using heavy wooden planks and steel rafter like things. We then adorn it with coloured papers, old silk sarees. We arrange our dolls..there are a few common dolls all houses have. Ganesh, lakshmi, saraswathi, Rama, sita, laksmana, Dasaavatharam, A shiv lingam, etc. An odd number of steps are required with 3 being the minimum. So I have three here with a random assortment of whtever I was able to salvage. It is looks simplistic and very rustic, but by doing it I receive a warm feeling in my middle. It gives me comfort by reminding me of home and keeps me connected to my roots.

"Golu" was a mega event in the house. A week before, my Grandmother would wake up from her slumber and quicly order eveything and everyone to remove the dolls, set up the collosal looking 13 steps and a smaller 3 step version to host her ganesh collection. She would then proceed to scrubbing, cleaning and polishing the silver. Then the dolls would come down in a cloud of dust and wrapping paper bits. We would ooh and ahh at the real old dolls that she kept safetly handed down through generations. Then we would scramble to see who could climb the rickety stool to place the first ganesh on top. The real highlight of the event would be setting up the something special at the bootom. It could be a mini version of a park. every house we went to usually had a cricket field with cricketers. To move away from the pack we would bring pot ful of mud into the house, set up a small city full with people cars, temple, etc.. Then dress up and sit pretty till the first guest start arriving. The best part of the function usually came in the evening when we went to other people's houses to invite them and visit their settings. We would manage about 8-10 houses then rush back home with the loot. it was a cupful of 'sundal' usually made with the various pulses in the house. soak the chick peas or pulses, boil them, throw them together in a pan with mustard seeds, green chilli, salt, hing and cocnut and you have the most delicious snack. But then the fun was seeing whose was better. We would arrange the ten bowls in a row and take a bit from each. It was amazing to see how people oculd mess up things as simple as thta. Either the sundal wouldn't be boiled or it owuld be too boiled, or spicy or without salt. The one with the best sundal would get a visit from another person in the house. We had no problem going and asking htme for more. And that's how the nine days would pass..ending with saraswthi puja and ayutha puja. It used to be fun with half a dozen cousins and all aunts and uncles. But then this is not about sighing for those days. This is about remembering them and maybe making my own traditions and taking pleasure in the abundance of memories it gave me..memories to last nine life times

Have some Change..

2006-09-22T11:43:00.000-04:00

The dining room is the favourite part of my house. It faces the South and there is a nice warm Sunshine throughout the day. There are lots of plants inside the house sitting by the window, happily chattering and discussing the latest gossip..it goes something like this-"Mr. Mony, mr mony..squeaks Jasmine, Did you see Red robin today. Oh she looks all ruddy because of the cold. Wonder if she is flying to her beach house this winter. Oh Jasmine, no flutters Mony. Mr. Robin has very little vacation this winter. He has to tweak some branches here and there. There is a big project delivery this season. He is building that new nest for Sissy Sparrow. Oh!! exclaims Jasmine. Bamboo sways in, her long gleaming green robe dancing and her long limbs getting in her way. I am suggesting the interiors for the nest. They need a zen atmosphere you know. I have even asked to move the nest to another branch so they might experience the full effect of Yin and Yang from the Powerful rays of the Sun and the stream running past. Oh..oh there goes slinky squirrel. he has got that nut that runny rabbit buried. Oh.. look at him run Chuckled curly cactus. Wonder where Runny went. didn't see him on his morning walk."

So amidst this on going chatter, I see signs of a new season gently shaking in its arrival. No birds sing in this season, nor do flowers bloom. But the happy leaves ignored the rest of the year burst into a riot of colours. They change from the envious green, envious of all the attention that the flowers and fruits get, to a proud red, a sunny yellow and a medley of purples and oranges. They look so pretty that you are tempted to touch the leaves and wish those colours stick to you. You want to sit there and dream on as the leaves gently float to the ground. You see them gently fliting to the left, floating the right and glide into its peaceful existence on the floor of the woods. They lie there giving a small home to a shivering worm or a desperate bug. they comfort the creatures till the season changes again. It is calming to see the seasons change, calming to know that it is not just you or the people around you, but even nature endorses change. Thinking about it, I am easily adaptable to change too. It is kind of fun to know that there might be a new me in terms of thoughts say five years from now. It doesn't mean that I like change everywhere. There has to be a constant somewhere in life. It makes change more acceptable knowing that one person or many people will actually share the same bond with you and actually grow and change with you. But looking forward to a new day where there might be a new you in some way is what makes life worth living.

Finally...

2006-09-22T11:34:00.000-04:00

Oh God!! There is a reason why I feel computers are like women..Their thought process is at a whole different range. They are so secretive, you feel like shaking the secrets out of them. They need so many accesories and other crap to look nice and perform well. Perfomance depnds on mood. They remember htings done long ago. They alwasy are threatning to fall sick and make your life miserable. No ordinary medicines work for them. They are always in need of upgrades. Access depends on your ability to say the right things and punch in the right words. And even when you give them everything you have, there is always something you didn't do or turn on and that's it you are a done deal. Like some stupid websites that didn't allow me access. I begged, I pleaded and as embarrasing as it is to plead to a woman, I had to . She was driving me insane... Flowers, sweets, words, rants...Geez. I finally found a way around. hehehe sneaky eh!! There is a reason why the equipment around the house the house that bears the most of a man's destructive anger is a computer.

You and I

2006-09-08T09:51:00.000-04:00

Remember the long ago when we lay together
In a pain of tenderness and counted
our dreams: long summer afternoons
when the whistling thrush released
A deep sweet secret on the trembling air;Blackbird on the wing, bird of the forest shadows
Black rose in the long ago summer,
This was your song:
It isn't time that's passing by,
Is is you and I.
Ruskin Bond

M from Random thoughts revived the memory of this poem in me. And as much as I would love to talk and talk about time, changes and roads, some memories become richer in the privacy of one's own mind.

The Laurentis Syndrome!!

2006-09-07T14:10:00.000-04:00

Ahhhh!!! I have been afflicted with the "Laurentis Syndrome". It is not curable unless I have some freak accident and forget anything that happened to me before now. But fear not it is but an illness of the mind and not of the physical self. It happens when you watch too much of a particular show on Food network. In most cases it is usually the 30 minute thingy with so-sunny-it-gives-me-a-glare Rachel Ray. In my case, it is from this show called "Everyday Italian". The host is this person called Giada de laurentis.

I am not sure when I started doing this, but I did some day. My dear "Guinea Pig" came into the battle ground one day with a wierd look on his face and asked me who I was talking to. To my horror I realised "Myself!!!". I made an effort and actually caught myself doing it again snd again and again until it became so normal that when I don't talk it probabaly forebodes a spicy dinner from a spicy lady. This is what I do. I start out by tying my apron and describing my dinner to myself. "We are going to have some real tasty basmati rice with roasted onions a little something we call pulao and garbanzo beans with a rich, delicately spiced tomato gravy". And then I describe how I roast the rice in a dab of buttter so that the nuttiness in the rice comes out and how I spice it with a turn of the ol' pepper mill. The onions are roasted to a deep golden brown and added to the rice. I then put a spoon in my mouth all the while thinkin to myself " Mmm..roasting the rice really brings out its delicate aroma and that nutty taste in the rice. I then make my chole, describing how the tomatoes should be nice and ripe and the whole nine yards. I am still describing each and every ingredient and its respective aroma, and flavour. I mean I never knew corinader leaves had an earthy taste or curry leaves had a wee bit of spice in their taste. Or the fact that Shrikand was so creamy it just slides down your throat and the dal in the sabhar gave some texture to it and made it more thick and brought together the spices in it. Geez, who would have thought cooking was so mentally exhausting. Honestly though, I am actually enjoying the whole describe as you go cooking thing I have been doing. I have started taking my time and appreciating each ingredient that goes in and what it does to the food and I have even strted to taste the medley of flavours that each ingredient adds to the food. I know the whole talking thing makes me look like a looney, but hey I've never denied the fact that I am one.

Ok Got to go, My take is coming up..hehe

Making Memories, Fulfilling Dreams.

2006-09-01T14:04:00.000-04:00

I was away for a month (Hopefully the absence was noticed!!!) Went home. Given the fact that my grandparents haven't been doing very well, I wanted to go. I wanted to get a taste of my grandma's Mysorepa and tamarind rice. I wanted to feel the soft fluffy beard of my Grandpa. I wanted to give my Grandma a leg massage and sit next to my Grandfather's rocking chair and hear his stories. I wanted to be there. And now that I am back I want to go back again more than ever. Life is funny.
I had a nice time. I guess there is some added pleasure in everything that I do when I go back home. Everything I do , or say I have to make sure I file it in moments to be remembered. It is like "Cud chewing" I eat in everything at one go and then once I get back I bring back each and every moment and slowly squeeze the memories, smells and sights in them till they are dry and colourless. But then by that time it is time to go back again. I do the darndest things when i go there. I take some sort of an apparel and get it ironed there. The person uses the old coal iron and the smell it leaves brings me back memories of school days. I bring back a packet of meera shikakai. It reminds me of Sunday mornigns at home and hw my dad used to rake his fingers through my hair every time I clean my hair. I bring back something from my mothers dressing table to remind me of her. I guess I am a little wierd. hehe.

I do have good news. I am finally going to take a critical step towards my dream. I am going to study political science. I have got admission and I am starting next week. Yey!! The thing is it is not one of those straigthforward dreams, or something that I have had all my life. I took interest only about 5 years back. The complication was that I was a major in Biology. So I had to work from the bottom up, little by little and claw my way to this step. And now that I am here the view is hazy, a lot scary and totally thrilling. I think of it as a huge achievement in terms of what I have done so far with my life and my dreams. It took a lot of guts to get here and I am crossing every finnger to make sure I come out the other end more alive than I have ever been. But for now I am just glad I am back warming my seat, coffee in hand and clacking away in my shoes.....

Holidays, Home sickness and Everything else.

2006-09-01T13:32:00.000-04:00

I was away for a month (Hopefully the absence was noticed!!!) Went home. Given the fact that my grandparents haven't been doing very well, I wanted to go. I wanted to get a taste of my grandma's Mysorepa and tamarind rice. I wanted to feel the soft fluffy beard of my Grandpa. I wanted to give my Grandma a leg massage and sit next to my Grandfather's rocking chair and hear his stories. I wanted to be there. And now that I am back I want to go back again more than ever. Life is funny.
I had a nice time. I guess there is some added pleasure in everything that I do when I go back home. Everything I do , or say I have to make sure I file it in moments to be remembered. It is like "Cud chewing" I eat in everything at one go and then once I get back I bring back each and every moment and slowly squeeze the memories, smells and sights in them till they are dry and colourless. But then by that time it is time to go back again. I do the darndest things when i go there. I take some sort of an apparel and get it ironed there. The person uses the old coal iron and the smell it leaves brings me back memories of school days. I bring back a packet of meera shikakai. It reminds me of Sunday mornigns at home and hw my dad used to rake his fingers through my hair every time I clean my hair. I bring back something from my mothers dressing table to remind me of her. I guess I am a little wierd. hehe.

I do have good news. I am finally going to take a critical step towards my dream. I am going to study political science. I have got admission and I am starting next week. Yey!! The thing is it is not one of those straigthforward dreams, or something that I have had all my life. I took interest only about 5 years back. The complication was that I was a major in Biology. So I had to work from the bottom up, little by little and claw my way to this step. And now that I am here the view is hazy, a lot scary and totally thrilling. I think of it as a huge achievement in terms of what I have done so far with my life and my dreams. It took a lot of guts to get here and I am crossing every finnger to make sure I come out the other end more alive than I have ever been. Will be doubly glad to have your best wishes. (Smiles).
I am back and it feels good to be in my seat, blogging....

The Heart needs a Home..

2006-07-30T09:58:00.000-04:00

For as long as I remember Home for me was where I would wake up to my Dad's monotonous voce droning out my dreams, where my mother's filter coffee spread its tantalizing addictive scent into all around and where I would scramble and fight with my brothers and where my father and I would literally leap to the door at the sight of the paper. I still have a feeling that he stood for a minute longer each day to see who won, or deliberately aim the paper in differeant directions. It was where I came home to my mother's dinner, to my Father's scrabble and news nights every night. That was where my heart is. After what seemed like a lifetime I moved to a place which was now referred to as my home and I moved further where I was expected to make my home. The funny thing about heart is it dosen't follow directions, it comes with its own set of directions, which often means it wanders around when I try to settle and make itself comfortable in people's mind and houses when I don't want to. Just beacuse I was instructed to make my home and refer to people as my parents didn't mean that I wanted to do it or I was prepared. There was however a comfort level I got into with increasing familiarity. It didn't happen in sequential manner, it happened. I have made my home now, far far away from the little place I had called home, and a distant cry from the big world contained in a tiny room which seemed to exapnd with friends and the walls that held my secrets tight. The wind is different. It seemed to carry the conversations I had and was a part of my bandwagon of mates. Over here it just seemes to be suspended in midair. I am not sure if it listens to the woe betide me stories or laughs at my rib cracking thoughts I speak aloud. The moon seems a little different too. But amidst al these I have slowly learnt to call this place which I scrub and scrouge, where I trip over the stairs, where I play Uno with my equal (Not better, equal) half and where the smell of the weak brew I pour down my throat tries its best to waft gracefully. I feel a twinge when I leave the place to fly home. I feel homesick before I leave and glad when I am back. Does it mean I like the place where my heart was a little less. Is the place where your heart used to thrive for 20 odd years your true home or the place where your heart learnt to adapt? Is it even possible to live in two worlds and call them each your home? My home is with my mother with whom I learnt to love, cook and paint. It is with my father who made the rest of my life. It is alos with my love who I gave my heart to and willingly followed him to the end of the earth to make my home where he went. My home is with these people and my heart learns to love them all in its own different way

The case of the Disappearing Friend!!

2006-07-21T20:05:00.000-04:00

I have a friend who is rapidly disappearing, one is almost disappeared and another who is thinking of taking the plunge. They have it in their minds that they need to look shriveled and not healthy, lose weight rather than eat healthy and exercise and most importantly think about it all the time. Why do people go on diets? For one thing it is too much of a strain on the brain, trying to calculate all those calories, trying to figure the percent fat, protein, carbs in each food then trying to figure out how much calories you need today. There is one important reason that my math teacher failed to insist upon when she was waxing eloquently about the lifelong gains that we would have see from studying mathematics. And the second thing is it wastes too much time. ou go shopping for groceries, stopping at each and every aisle for minimum of 10 mins examining the ingredient list, calculating, comparing, with furrowed brows rapidly scan the list, grab another compare the two then grab yet another one and compare that with the previous two, then put don all three and grab a fourth which has the words whole grain, complete grain, bird seeds or tastes like mud written on it. I am not by any means critiscing people for taking care of their weight or being careful about what they eat. In a rapidly growing country in ways other than the economic sense, it is very very essential for good food habits to be cultivated. But sometimes there is a tendency to take things to the other extreme. I am not sure if we were naive or unworldly or just plain ignorant, somehow in India I was never exposed to the weighty problems of excess adipose tissues. I have always been going around as my doctor so subtly put it "a slightly larger frame" but a lot has to do with genetics. Don't think I am just taking the easy excuse. I know my genetics especially when they are walking around as clear as daylight. Maybe it had to do with all the walking I did or the proper 3 mother made meals a day, I never found it to be a problem until I came here. I cook, so watching the TV and gulping the indiscernible contents on the plate seems like fun. But I have not been barraged with the reduce weight in minutes ranging from 15 to 120, and a wide varitey of contorsions to which if I subject my body, I am promised I can loose all my belly fat and tone each and every muscle in just under a month...GASP!!! but then they also ask me to stick to whole wheat bread, no milk products, no carbs, limited fat and most importantly a whole lot of green salad. I am vegetarian true blue one who eats milk and milk products, but even for me a green lunch is as tasty as chewing on a piece of rotten bark. As my very learned father said, there is a reason why we stopped walking on four legs, so that we could take a break from grazing. There is fun in pouring some gingelly oil, grinding coconut, jeera, red chilli, coriander seeds and a little hing. Chopping some onions till they brown up and throwing the spinach into it with the ground stuff along with a handful of boiled lentils. That is what I consider food and I have my parents backing me up for it. My parents were pretty liberal when it came to foods, no fuss, no hold backs, they are and were very active people and found no reason to stop eating good food. There is ofcourse the famous incident when my mother valiantly proclaimed that she was going to go on a fruits only diet for one meal a day and she figured dinner was the best. So for three days she munched on a every fruit my father laid his hands on in the fruit shop. My father being the man he is showed his supoort by doing the same. So life went on. One night my dad wakes up at around 2.00 to go grab a drink, when he spots the kitchen light. Alarmed he tips toes slowly to see my mother furiously mixing rice with "Onion Sambhar and making curd" She exclaimed and declares she is officialy back to eating normal food. She couldn't do it anymore. Imagine my suprise when I wake up to nature's screaming and find my mom and dad in the dining room with a candle light so as to not wake up anyone digging into food and some leftover cake for all the days they didn't eat dinner. My father calls it the most romantic dinner in his life and my mother mouth full nods. As you can see there is a reason why I like my icecream and like eating it too. I do restrain myself every now and then that is and excercise regularly given the fact that there is nothing here in "Walking distance". But I just can't figure out why people would refuse to eat a perfectly good pizza, or a beautiful "Chunky monkey" or "Dulche de luche". I am not saying hog, I am saying know what you want and eat what you want not what you wish you had or how much you wish you could eat. I find Good Food Indian or otherwise had sitting down on a table with family and friends is the best diet there ever was, and don't forget to eat the fruits in the end.

Seasons of Change

2006-07-19T19:28:00.000-04:00

As time goes on, it carries forward with it people who in the rumble, tumble of the path that they walk on change. Life changes not in dramatic flashes, but rather in slow measured movements barely perceived and much less understood, untl one day you pause to take the look back, you throw caution to the wind and go against all the warningsmthat you have been given to not look back. You stop on that path for a moment and turn fully expecting people behind you to turn into stone, but they do not. What you get instead is a whole group of people who were not around the time you started your walk, atleast don't resemble any of the people who came along with you. It is puzzling. change is supposed to be good. Here you are so far away from where you began, you have crossed the point where all you can see is the long road in front of you and you croos all the accomplishments that you set out to achieve. And yet here you are stopping, for a fraction a moment time has ceased to move and you stand there wishing you could go back to that simple, yet uncomplicated life you lived in, longing for only the love of the people you recogonized. The time when you were dissolving in peals of laughter when your cousin fell from the high bar, and giggling like a bunch of theives when you snuck behind your grandmother's house wih the whole basket of three dozen mangoes and devoured them with your n number of cousins, chewing the skin vigourously, and sipping and goobling that sweet nectar of Gods,before it hit the lily white dress your mother bought. Running like the hounds were behind you when the watchman from the apartment down the block chased you for aiming a rocket under his chair and hanging upside down for most of summer from the parallel bars till there was so much blood in your brain that everything looked red and there were round things dancing around your eyes. You look at the person who first taught you how to drive a two wheeler and at the big strapping brother who protected you from the wandering eyes of a romeo. The games you played with six stones and a scarf and sometiems with nothing at all. the songs you sang as you drenched yourself in a glorious river and relished the warm and sweet taste of pongal made with jaggery in a stone pot hit your throat. The days when you chugged along in a train for three days and four nights and how you roped in the entire compartment for a game of anthakshri. Time it appeared had ceased to be then, an yet there it was all along chipping in the changes that would make us who you are today,sculpting in the curves that would impact your lives delicately yet profoundly and along those curves, a plethora of discoveries would be made as they discover their life waiting for them, waiting to mould them into people they knew not and into people they never imagined they had in them. You walk on unaware, being guided by your own little light. You walk till one day you hear your heart beating amidst all the noise and you realise the music that had been playing around has reduced to a gentle hum and you like the soothing tones of the strained melody and yet you yearn for the cacophony of noises that would erupt when you sang with your friends and family. You feel lost and yet you feel the need to go on. It is perhaps with the hope that somewhere down the other curve that you pass, you will see all those people who created those noises waiting for you to catch up with time, change and life. You perhaps must have missed a moment when you stopped, instead of just walking. That was why they asked you not to look back.

Give me Back my Weekends.

2006-07-17T13:53:00.000-04:00

This is how I picture a few of my weekends. Wake up, Load up on caffeine. Enjoy the happy sounds of the morning, take a walk, eat some breakfast, randomly walk around house straightening odds and ends, rambling away to parents and grandparents. Make lunch. eat a nice lunch with an awesome ovie. Fall asleep on the couch. wake up. settle in the relative comforts of the cushions with a die for book and a cuppa. do something in the eveninn like play a game of tennis or hang around the mall, come home have dinner, sit out in the summer night and count the stars. go to sleep.
Now picture this. Wake up, Load on the caffeine. Hit the net to figure out places to go, look for traffic patters and weather. decide between five different places to go. argue to no end. wolf on some breakfast. still nowhere solid. So just take the car and randomly drive, becasue it is boring that there is nothing to do and come home with a headache and fall asleep.
I am very much a travel enthusiast. I love the adventure of seeing new places, the mystery in experienceing new things, flavours and the whole nine yards. But I like the rustic charm of not doing anything today weekends every once in a while. In todays' world where the person is often evaluated on how interesting he or she is by the level of activity on weekends make my rustic weekend look like a sob story. I have seen people go camping, rafting, hiking, and all ohter odds and ends just becuase their friends have done it too and they didn't want to not do it and appear to be sad by sitting at homes. I love doing all these things, but not for the pressure of doing it, it is for the fun. and somedays I have more fun just wallowing in my bean bag. and I don't see what the big deal is. It is not as if armageddon is around the corner and there is some tickets to escape into a distant planet if you see and do everything there is to do in the world. I like taking my things slow. I love walking in a new town, seeing the not so common sights and absorbing the out of ordinary. I don't see the point in a weekend when you have to rush to do things and end up more exhausted and more tired for your monday morning when you are supposed to have ahoilday and rejuveunate yourself. Maybe that's where the orgination of the term "Monday morning blues" is from. people are so blue by Monday mornign from all the running around, that all they want ot do is collapse. Some folks do have fun. They like the out of home experinence and the sense of achivement and satisfaction and high that the weekend of outdoorsy fun gives. I like it too. I however also like my books, my catnaps and my icecream at 3.00 in the afternoon. And that is one darn good reason for me to stay home and take back my weekend.

Of Superheroes and bald Villians

2006-07-12T13:25:00.001-04:00

This post was supposed to be about how on the weekend I managed to watch two sets of dark haired Superheroes and Bald Villians. Saturday was filled with Superman and the bald but totally hot Lex Luthor and Sunday ofcourse the dark haired Materazi and the puzzling actions of Bald Zidane. But then yesterday happened and this post is actually a stop and start from yesterday.
Superman would have perhaps rescued more people and I dearly wish it could have been a single known enemy like Lex luthor, unfortunately wishes aren't horses. It is heartbreaking especially since I have close connections to Mumbai and more than that sad. It makes me home-sick and very very confused. I have been reading these two books "Maximum city" and "India" the latter by Shashi Tharoor. MAximum city was eerie. It deals with the '93 bombings and the author Sukethu Mehta takes us on a journey into the slum areas, police interrogations, Muslim areas and basically describes how things work. The horrifying part is people actually know what is going on. I could visualise in my mind, so this person would have arranged for the bomb, and this person could have known it and this officer will talk about investigations and so on. It was chilling to say the least and the book is damn good.
India on the other hand basically deals with everything that is India. its religion, caste, ethinicity, language. This is the point he makes and it was true. Even though there is a base board of patriotism in each of us, given the way we live our lives and the way we have been divided. we think of ourselves in terms of our immediate area first, like for example a hindu malayalee nair would think of himself first as a Hindu and a Keralite, then a nair and then maybe in the end an Indian, and in a way he is perhaps true, Bombay seems so far when I look at it from the deep south, it seems like this whole other country. It is not said in a degrading way mind you, he is just trying to explain why we are who we are. This is how he sees it, every nation in the world has somthing common that binds them, Most Europena countries are majority Christians speaking English, and the nationalities have a common language. But we are not a single nation, we are nation of Pluralities and in a way that is what is what makes us unique and helps us stand out from the crowd.
I guess I am more curious to learn about my country since I feel by readin about it I can still feel connected and probably understand it better. Truth is I don't think I ever can. India is too deep, too enigmatic and far too complex to be understood by reading books, to know India you will have to feel it, be there and be amongst its people to know why inspite of seven bombings, one major flood and countless bandh, a state is still able to pick itself up and go about their lives. Is it a testament to their resolve to not be bogged down, or is it a familiarity with the situation tha they no longer fear it or are bothered by it. Being the optimist I am I will say the former. I like to believe in the spirit of the people and in their obsitancy to walk striaght and with our head held high. I read and article in rediff about how one man was comparing the 9/11 and the people's reaction and the way the authorities reacted. He was angry at why India was silent and why we were not turning up the heat. He was angry at our cowardly behaviour. This is my answer to him. India is not a cowardly country, we are far more brave, we have weathered far more troubled waters and experience has taught us to be patient and not blindly rampage nations. We are the land of the tiger, not the wounded bull. Try putting in 14 million people each speaking a different language,7 very crowded train, a rain storm and you will know the enormity of the situation. It is not easy being India, it takes great courage, greater patience. We don't condemn people beacuse they sing the national anthem in different languages, we are the more tolerant variety. I am proud to be an Indian. We might have the lousiest bureaucracy, the most corrupt politicians, the unreliable goverment services and police. But there is no place on earth like India. Mera Barath Mahaan.
I hope Bombay recoveres soon.

I am a bit of a.........

2006-07-07T13:31:00.000-04:00

This is a little late coming, but this in relation to the prompts and write by Midget diaries:
I'm a bit of a dreamer. I like to imagine things that will be, I like to float above myself and look at my world and imagine the possibilities. When I read a book, I dream of being amongst the characters and watch their lives play out, something akin to the common man in laxman's cartoons. When I see through the peephole, I see a world unexplored. The first thing that catches my eye are the cars parked neatly in a row, red, blue, silver and greeen. I see a dusty road and my mailbox shiny and nice and then I look beyond, I see what I did not the first time. I see trees, shaking of the self induced slumber of winter, I see flowers stretching their fancy petals up to the sky, I see butterflies dancing to the tunes of the wind, I see birds calling out to the sleeping world. I see these through my peephole and I dream. I dream of eternal spring, of hope, joy and love. I dream of a world where people could stop and live instead of exist. I see myself doing a skip, hop and a jump. I also see change and pray like the tree, the flower, the butterfly and the birdie, I gather the courage to live through these changes and never lose my ability to see though the peephole or lose that bit of me.

Dawn and Dusk...

2006-07-04T19:16:00.000-04:00

It is hard trying to be a sports fan, harder when the two sports that you support the most looks bleak in the same week. Geez...I am getting a headache. Agassi bids adieu, and so do Germany. I have chalked it all upto fate. I mean if I hadn't moved from the damn carpet, the goal wouldn't have gone in, I mean is it really necessary for me to focus on my own comfort. (Groans and shakes fist at nobody)Whatever, No more sports talk here for a while.
On lighter notes, I have been seeing a rainbow for the past four days. As amazing as it sounds it is true. Same time around four-five in the evening, at different places in the sky.
I just realised that my jasmine plant which has remained flowerless for the past five years has been blooming profusely(Knocks on wood). I am guessing my passionate pleas during the matches must have energised them, Those plants sure have a ear or root for sports. heheheee
Been seeing the July 4th fireworks. Hard not to reminsce about good ol' Diwali and the number of times the rocket went zooming on the road when the ketchup bottle toppled over and zipped right under the chair of the mean watchman who guarded the apartmetn down the road. Man he will never fall asleep at 3.00 in the morning again.
Icecream tastes the best when had at 1.00 in the night.
There is no comfort food like some really awesome curd rice made to the consistency of butter, and sprinkeld with mustard seeds and urud dal and eaten with real tangy lime pickele after more than three days of world cuisine.
Priya Pickle, the brand of pickle I get makes gujarathi chunndo and my day has been made.
People read my blog and actually even wonder where I am(dances a few steps)

Set, Game, Championship: Agassi

2006-06-25T11:22:00.000-04:00

The summer of '92, the stage was set for the finals of Wimbledon. Match between Agassi and Ivanesevic. Being the young teen-to-be, I was totally taken in with the long haired, earring sporting, rebel Agassi. Sitting next to my grandmother on her bed, the rest of the day passed in a blur of intense praying, google-eyed look and unabashedly rooting for the person who singlehandedly managed to inculcate in me the love of tennis. I should perhaps confess here that I was more interested in the bad -boy look of Agassi, than in the poetry of his motion and the grace of his shots. Times change and so do hormones and things I had overlooked before came into sight like the way he returned a serve or the way he hit his shots. I didn't get inspired to play tennis, I was lousy in sports and still am. But that did not stop me from gaining inspiration from a bunch of men grunting and hitting a ball around. Agassi's comeback was amazing. He went from an obscure could have been to a legend in a span of five years. It is amazing to see the transformation in him. For a man who refused to play in Wimbledon because of its white rules, he waited to make it his comeback vehicle. In a lot of ways he awoke a rebel in me. Someone who wanted to wear pants all day and hang upside down on bars. I believe every person has this rebel streak in them. People are like fruits or maybe onions, they have a skin which they torture, get hurt, bruised, pinched experiment with and ultimately the skin is removed , revealing a much more stronger person which is the real version. The skin was just a show perhaps, a tough shell with which they would experiment with life till they realize they were searching for someone who was inside them all along.
Whoo.. NOTE TO SELF: Concentrate on topic at hand. Anyway, And so my love story with the legend grew. I had dreams about him and dreams about a dream team who would be so invincible that they would beat any mixed doubles. The greatest day of my life was perhaps when Agassi married Steffi Graf. Oh God, I couldn't stop grinning. I went around town singing. I was acting as if I had got married. I shall talk about my idol worshipping in another blog. But the point is, m dream team had arrived. I realise now that they technically haven't played any game together, but I often visualize them playing against each other, or maybe toget in a mixed doubles. Ooohlala. Agassi just announced his retirement. He will be hitting his last serve in the US open. Man will I miss him.

ATTENTION!! Straight Line..MARCH

2006-06-23T21:57:00.000-04:00

This is my take on this: http://treadsoftlyupon.blogspot.com/2006/06/matchmaking-and-more.html

I am not for or against any type of marriage having seen the ups and downs of both sides. I guess the debate has more to do with the procedure of modern marriages than the actual life after. I say modern because what we see today is now what it was intended to become. Just the way writing horoscopes, not letting pregnant women go out in the evening or children play outside after six has taken on modern versions, so has he whole matchmaking scheme. Marriages in India are at fault not becuase they go through this whole charade of girl examination or boy examination but because they have truned a really respectable and necessary procedure in a dreaded ceremony.
In the olden days when communication was not good and the only source of information going around was through word of mouth, it was necessary for parents to consult people, relatives, friends on a prospectives boy's habits, actions and income. Caste was seen so as to enable their daughter to have the same level of omfort in her husbands house as she had in her father's something that was relevant to that age because caste was mainly based on the person's income. gothra's and nakshatra's seen because there is a strong Hindu belief that people of the same Gothra descend from a common ancestor, so intermarrying to result in genetic disformity. The writing of Horoscopes technically is done only when the girl/boy reaches puberty where in a learned man comes in assess their behaviour till date, sees their living habits, family, culture, education, money and predicts generally what the person might be like and what kind of life the person might have.
The procedure of seeing a girl before marriage came about becuase the girl being generally secluded and not having a chance to see the boy who is usually away on trips to earn a living or learn, gives them an oppurtunity to see each other, and since it was considered rude to directly stare at a boy, the girl typically gives him something to eat or drink so she could get a chance to glance at the boy slighly. The singing was typically to woo the boy, not impress him with her talent or show him she has a voice. It was also a tradition for the girl's parents to question the boy about his work, income and such. Infact girls actually had more power and authority to refuse a boy on grounds she needn't necessarily revel and had the power to choose the boy. They were even given the freedom to go around the town and choose their own boy, especially if the parents of the bride were well off.
Cinema, Serials and general misinformation and magnification of incidents which were menat more as a convenience than a norm have resulted in these traditions of today. It is the people who have abused the culture. I am not against love marriages or for arranged marriages. These are people who are grown enough to get a job, go abroad, and make a life out of nothing, and they can definelty be given the chance to choose a boy for themselves. And a lot of people are these days open to the idea of their kids choosing their own partners. But what sucks is the fact that due to a few people who go to the extremes a rich culture is going to dust. I do not approve of Horoscopes or twiddling around waiting for the right match to come along. If the parents want it, well then set a time limit, if no go ahead and ind your own boy, much like it was done in those days. Arranged marriage is not a business, it is just a chance for the parents to get involved in a singular most important event in their kids life, even though it is the kid who is going to live the life. Unfortunately or fortunately, we come from a country where the immediate and extended family is privy to every little detail that goes on. It is tough luck. Marriage is much more complicated. Just because people fall in love and get married or get married and then fall in love dosen't make it simple or sane. When one falls in love and gets married, there are already certain things that one knows about their respective partner, and whatever things that come later might take you aback or not and both of you will still have to compromise, work around the rest. In an arranged marriage, the compromise starts a little early. Arraged marriages are not demeaning and have never been, it just has been made that way. The person who is getting married has the ultimate power, they can stand up for themselves and tell that they don't want to be put through this thing and they will find someone for themsleves. Parents sure are not very open minded, but then how will they know if we keep wuite and go through whatever is being offered. I didn't want horoscopes to be seen and stars to be connected for my wedding and I said so, I fell in love with this person and I waned to marry him and they were alright with it. I am not defending arrnaged marriages of today or am not agianst love marriages either. If not for two people falling in love and standing up for their love, I wouldn't be here. What I am against is the corruption of a beautiful culture and little knowledge making respected norms into cattle shows. These convoluted forms of advertising our culture is what makes us look wierd and people talk about India as if it were a wierd place with people floating in air and talking to snakes. I know this blog seems to be like all over the place, but then so were my thoughts and what is a blog for if not throwing down all my thoughts as fast as I can type.

Gather the Herd and make them Decide!

2006-06-22T07:56:00.000-04:00

For heaven's sake people, talk to each other , really just sit and talk before you spurt your research findings.
Thank God I live my life without paying heed to scientists who research stuff. I 'd be bonkers by now if I did. To give you a rough idea of the things that have been brewing.
I have to drink coffee to protect my body. But I shouldn't drink it becuase of the Caffeeine. I shouls drink Tea because of the its antioxidants, but coffee is better than tea for heart disease. I mus t keep myself active when I age otherwise I will rot, now I work when I am old I risk heart attack, I have a walk roughly about 3000 steps on an average a day, but the pedometers are faulty. tomatoes are good for their lycopene, but are addictive given their relation to the tobacco family. Milk clogs arteries, but is required for calcium. fish if required for proteins but has mercury so be warned. grilling food is good for health, but the charcoal used to grill is carcinogenic. Chocolates are very very rich in antioxidants, but they are highly fattening. red wine causes to you to go woozy, but is an esential to prevent heart problems. I mean come on don't you guys have anything better to do.
I just give a call to my grandmother. I still believe she knows best, after all she realised turmeric is good for health and beauty long before these people rattled of the statistics.

Rocky Roads and Dark Forests...

2006-06-20T18:29:00.000-04:00

Nah, it isn't about the icecreams, although it does sound tempting enough. Man just talking about it makes my eyes glaze. The sure fire way to catch my attention is to give me an icecream. I guess I am getting distracted here...
I was off camping for a few days. It is such an amazing feeling to be away from computers, TV's, phones, and generally normal life as I know it. I took a lazy hike, which ended up being a wee bit not so lazy when I had to climb a 60 deg angle of rocks to reach the top. But it was all worth it. The vast expanse of greenery and concrete as the sun is just coming up is stunning. I ws basically lazing around all day, chatting with near and dear who cared enough to tag along and to advertise that we were Football fans to a bunch of people who call it soccer we played some and showed them real football. There was also eating in the midst of all this, or should I say the rest of it was amidst all the eating. There were chips, goold ol' Haldirams, Corn freshly grilled on camp fire, bread Sandwiches, Pav bhaji, Crackers, cookies, lemonade-loads of it, and to top it all of some really awesome Ice-cream. We sat around chatted till the last rays of sunlight vanished at around 10.00 PM. The tent was pitched near a lake and the sun ray reflected of it beautifully, people paddled at night. There were sounds of laughter and happy chatter all around, the birds were saying their goodnights. I then went to bed to the happy sounds of a guitar strumming and laughter and songs from the neighbouring camp. Okay well I didn't really snore of into a blissful sleep. I should have probably mentioned this, but this camp is supposedly notorious for bears. I didn't spot one, but I made sure I made a lot of noise wherever I went. That option is however not available when I sleep, so I sat there on a chair outside with a lantern for a few minutes till creepy-crawlies started falling from the trees above. I probably must have proved to be a souce of entertainment when I went around hopping on one knee, dusting my back, wiggling my hips and bending over and rubbing my hands up and down the other leg. It is technically not possible, but then it is not all the time you have that eerie sensation that something has gone somewhere. So there I was staring at the starlit sky as it filtered through the nets in my tent, inhaling the smell of night and listening to the croaking of a frog and thought to myself whether bears came near restrooms!!!
The best part was the sudden halt in your life. It gives you time to catch your breath, laugh, laze around and sleep under a blanket of stars and think about the stories your grandfather used to tell. It was a break from routine, from life and from time. Turned out to be one beautiful break

Of Friends and Roads

2006-06-16T17:27:00.000-04:00

One of the things that i enjoyed most about growing up was my ability to make friends real quick. One of the things that I hated the most about growing up was the number of times I had to make them. I moved around quite a bit when I was a kid, changing four different schools. It is probably not as much as compared to people who study all around India courtesy of the banks, but it was enough to lose track of friends. The oldest friend I have managed to keep in touch with so far is from '96. I actually lost touch with her for close to 5 years. We are kind of rekindling the flames to see if we still walk on similar paths. What amazes me is not the fact that we both have changed quite a bit. Life has taken has far enough from the ribbon plaited days of middle school, but the fact that deep down a lot of our attitudes and perspectives remain the same. Maybe I am just real lucky to have found someone who grew in the same direction as I did under very similar circumstances. There have been a number of people in my life who I would regret not knowing really well, or even failing to keep in touch with. Some of the best moments I had was with a few of my primary school friends and my greatest regret was having to leave that life behind. Things would have probably been different if I had lived that life, but then I wouldn't have met this person with whom I shared my growing years and another wonderful friend of mine with whom I see myself ages from now. I see myself as I am now, as I was then and how my life will be when I am with these people, and that perhaps is the true test of friendship, the ability to survive, thrive and grow. Here's to friends and the lives we live.

Eternal Questions on a Sleepless Night

2006-06-12T15:35:00.000-04:00

Choices have daunted men for quite a long time. Even Hamlet had to choose "To be or not to be" and Frost had to choose between the two roads that diverged in a wood. I have always wondered if life would be simpler if each person brought into this world was born with a to-do list. Kind of like instructing the person which path to take in life. You will be too advanced for kinder garden jump to primary. Concentrate a lot in math and science you will need it, pick math with biology, study computers on the side. You have to write GRE,GMAT. you will be doing biocomputers, marry the second girl you see, have kids after 3 years, run around kid, be chased by wife/husband for the rest of your life. Parents do take care of most of these things these days. I mean with the pressure that the kid is put through to take medicine or engineering is insane, but then they successfully manage to eliminate the bothersome job of choosing what to study. Even with marriage and kids, I've honestly heard parents discussing and eliminating scores of girls and boys amongst themselves while the prospective victim to be is sleeping thousands of miles away. They even instruct the bride to hav kids soon and then take a job, so the grandparents can take care of the kid. I mean could life get any simpler. I guess I am an anomaly amongst the many hundreds who take this path. I chose a group made up of just sciences so I could skip math, that was like a huge, insane thing to do in the math superior tambram communtiy. I then went one step further and took a bachelor of science degree. I virtually ceased to exist for a few weeks. People thought I was in there just to rebel. My people would talk about applying in places for medicine, waiting till my entrance exam results to come out, then quit and join medicine, or study alternate medicine. I would talk and whatever came out of my mouth disappeared into a vacuum. They just kept talking. There were quite a few incidents between then and now, which made me feel as if I was doing a huge crime. But I just realised something, I am not making a mistake, I am just following my dream. We have a seemingly limitless number of choices bfore us, but shaped by our background and community we often make a choice, to please people and assume that that is what we want to, only to end up miserable in our forties and blaming our parents for our childhood. I had the most amazing set of parents who supported me, even when they disagreed with my choices, and I have made quite a few absurd ones. I am sometimes scared of making choices for the simple reason that I do not know where I would end up and if I would regret the choice I made. I wonder if I should have just studied medicine or engineering just to have a future which would be certain. But then I stop and breathe. I love the life I am living now, I am making chocies which are often considered wierd, but there is this whole unknown in front of me, that makes it exciting, I am raring to go and unearth my life. I know for sure that I am not going to be in a cubicle or over a operating table. I am also excited to be an anomaly. It is the anomalies who make history. you never hear about a person who studied biology, ent to study medicine and become a doctor. You hear about the person who studied medicine and became an archaeologist instead. that is fun. it makes for an interesting, intelligent person. I just have to keep in mind that whatever choice I make I should not look back and regret. Ok have to make history and make my autobiography more interesting.

It's a GOAL!!!!

2006-06-09T17:21:00.000-04:00

My throat is little bit hoarse, and my neighbours are shooting daggers at me when I step out of the house, but who cares. World Cup is here, and there is every reason to scream, dance and bellow at the top of my voice. Oh God this is so exciting. Germany was absolutely beautiful in the first game. They do need to shore up their defence if they are serious about winning though. There is a Poland Ecuador match going on now and I took a respite from the tube. Guess who got me excited about Football..no you are wrong. It was my Grandmother!!! She cultivated my love for tennis, Cricket , Football. I remember watching World cup into the wee hours of morning sitting next to her. It was during those pre dawn hours I learnt the wide variety of expletives in my mother-toungue too. She is an amazing person. It is not often that you get a grandmother who lets you bunk school or college to watch a world cup final or bets you cans of coke and a huge chocolate cake that Brazil would win. Man that eclair on that cake tasted awesome. A lot of her cooking depended on how well the match went the previous night. some really plain, bland food meant the match wsa wash out, food so spicy that your eyes turned red and water gushed out of your nose meant somebone screwed up the match big time and mysore pa's and vegetable fritters meant all was well in football land. I call her these days to update her and get her input. She is better that any Football commentator anyday.
It's probably a pity that the country I come from is too busy concentrating on one sport and awarding bharat ratna's to fledglings to worry about sending a team to the world cup. It is as if no other sport existed. And the coutry I live, don't even get me started about people who play a game with Japan and call it the world cup. It is sad. I mean think about this, equador, Ivory coast, Iran, Saudi, Cameroon all have professional Football teams to play and win in International Football matches and we are stuck ranked 117th and examining Dhoni's hair and dravid's sponsor sticker on his bat. Cricket is a glorious game no doubt, but there is more to sports than just cricket. IF we could spend billions on stadiums, security, cricket coaching, advertisement contracts for cricketers, why can't we spend a fraction on other sports. If someone does well like Sania Mirza, we adulate her, go over the top in publicizing her, give her a Bharat ratna and forget about her. This is a sad state of affairs folks, indeed very sad. Politics is too widespread in the country and we take pride in passing the blame rather than doing something about it. Anyway, equador just hit another hoal and I am running away. GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!

Off with the shoes

2006-06-08T09:48:00.000-04:00

I am so vain right now. Just got an absolutely gorgeous pedicure and just can't help staring at my feet. They have ceased to be the trunks I used to get from place to place, instead they are these strong, pretty, absolutely feet-turning material that seem to hop, skip, jump and strut.
It has been raining incessantly yesterday and truth be told, I loved the weather. It was like a passport to grab a book, a hot cuppa and curl up in my pajamas and a really really warm blanket. My book of choice "Pride and Prejudice" of course. Real good authors are people who are able to make the reader believe that the character in the book was based on them and the reader is just like the hero or heroine of the novel. Jane austen is amazing in "Pride and Prejudice" in that way. I would love to imagine myself as Elizabeth Bennet. I was ofcourse considering my really obsessive reading habit in equal parts, the Proud Bennet, the tomboyish Jo in Little women, the hot tempered Darell rivers of Malory Towers, The brave george of Famous Five and countless more. It was fun to be someone else, fun to don new characters and live the lives of these really famous people. But then I was young and I thought MJ was really really cool. Growing up, I had to figure out something much more complicated than any story plot, I had to find out who the real me was. Beneath these layers and layers of Character borrowing, was someone I had never met, the real me. I am yet to find out a million things about myself and every step I take I discover something about me, a change in attitude or feeling perhaps. It is not easy finding out who we really are and what we really want in life. Time takes with it changes in people, perceptions, attitudes, friends, goals, ambitions, dreams and life. I am just more adaptable to change than I ever was. It feels good to walk in my own shoes for a change. I still have foot problems and the places where the shoes bit me when they were relatively new bears scars, but somewhere in the midst of all those my preety pedicured feet gives out a sigh and sinks into the relative comfort of something familiar, something, which inspite of adjustments will remain for most part the good old shoes, I found on a trodden path when I walked bare foot.

Shoot First Ask Questions Later

2006-06-02T09:31:00.000-04:00

I used to be a news junkie, a vey avid news junkie until recently. I hate turning on the Tv during my morning coffee these days. The news sounds like an international obituary column and it is the worst feeling in world to see people dying for no one's cause, or the natural disasters which seems to be happening in increasing frequencies. Maybe I am overreacting. If natural disasters had happened a century back, there wouldn't have been 24 hour news channel to report it or breaking news coverage. So maybe this is normal in the world I live, but that still dosen't explain the sinking feeling I get when I see live coverage of death. The morning news today was about the killing of 11 civilians in Iraq in what could be an alleged massacre by the US marines. The investigation is on. THis kinds of brings up a pattern on violence against civilians in IRaq and Afganisthan. The person who was interviewed on the news channel seemed to think that the US marines should have had ethical training and insurgency training before embarking into war. He said that it was a little too late for them to set things right now. He said and I quote "They shoot first and ask questions later"Wasn't that obvious, after what happened in Vietnam and Korea. People refuse to learn from History. History is not that boring subject you learnt to pass your boards. There is actually so much to learn from the mistakes that the people before us made. They made it beacause they were not aware. But isn't it foolishness to do it again because we just didn't feel like listening or sitting for a moment and thinking fo the consequences. Politics is not something you involve in because of bravado or because you can do it. Go bungee jumping or stand out in a thunderstrom for that. I don't suppot any kind of killing, especially killing in the name of a peaceful religion. These religious controversies seem to be rising in tempo and violence as each day goes by. Why in heavens name would a democratic, secular country ban a movie, a fiction. If you don't accept someones viewpoint, just say so and let them to do what they want. Banning a movie because it dosen't gel with what one community believes in is stupidity. If you son't like that movie so much don't watch it. Movies are creative expressions, just like blogs, paintings, books...It is what one person thinks and feels and by banning somnething that they put their heart and soul into we are asking people to stop feeling and thinking and curtailing their freedom of expression. Water, Fire, Da vinci code, Satanic Verses are all art forms which need to be respected for their art, not for their take on religion. By restricting these we are disrespecting God by refusing to give an outlet for a talent that is God-Given.
I guess I could rant on for hours together, but right now I need to go run, or something. Atleast I can burn anger and fury along with some adipose tissues.

First Steps

2006-06-01T08:46:00.000-04:00

If the blogging world were to be compared to a city, it would probably be a New York or Mumbai or London or some other big city where there is an ocean of feet big, small, delicate, treetrunks, funny looking ones, teeny tiny ones and in this mess of feet, I put mine in. It is like a constant activity and I am standing on the sidelines, I gingerly put my feet in and I get sucked whoosh!! the feeling is amazing, Here I am in this sea of shoes, threatining to run over me and I feel complete and safe and amazingly happy. I just have to remember to keep walking. Just keep walking...Just keep Walking