! ! ! Gargling Garbage ! ! !

THE LAST POST...

2009-07-10T18:47:00.003+05:30

Guys, I have been wanting to do this - close down the blog - for a long, long time now. Writing does not enthuse me any more. It's more of an ordeal. Words are never really forming in my head and even if they do, I have lost the ability to pen down. Writer's shock...

I am not gone from cyberland, though! Will read your blogs...

Thanks. Take care and good luck...

AND THIS TOO SHALL PASS...

2009-06-30T12:30:00.003+05:30

Last evening, the heat indoors and the resulting perspiration drove me out of my abode. The weather was very humid and the breeze almost zilch. A few minutes into my stroll, I stopped to investigate a random rustle of the leaves. It happened in patches until the beak appeared first, followed by the head, some feathers and finally the entire sparrow. Almost instantly, in the distance, something else caught my attention.

The sky was beginning to turn grey. And jutting out of nowhere was this huge electric pole, dwarfing all the trees and houses in its path. The tiled sloping red roofs; green, yellow and rusty leaves; the huge wirework; and the ominous clouds - all seemed to speak to me. I could, in that very moment, see time. With my head heavy and my vision blurred, I continued my walk. Only this time, I was shaken.

There was something deeply bothering me. Images were being scanned in my mind. Of those, one stood out. An artisan working on the Alhambra. This appeared in a television programme and the image was a reconstruction of how workers went about building this exotic palace. We had something in common. Time.

Time had watched him, while he was chiseling away the stones. Time witnessed the sculpting of those intricate carvings. But, it remained unmoved and impartial. Time inched on - second by second. Until time is here, with me, now.

But, the flurry of images continued. I imagined Akbar, while he thought and while he fought. I went further back, to the construction of the pyramids, how a commoner ate and worked on the mastabas. Time had watched human evolution in action. Time saw Ramapithecus and Australopithecus, then afarensis, habilis, erectus, among others, and us. It remained unmoved and impartial.

And however hard I tried to go back in time, it just kept on forging ahead, as if my existence did not matter. As if the human race, and the universe that contains it, did not matter. The insignificance troubled me.

Since morning, I've been reading on time warp and the slowing down of time. Extremely fascinating stuff. But, for now, let me just say that though time troubles me, am glad to have found some good company in it. And yes, this too, shall pass...

COCCI SIGNALS

2009-04-03T18:29:00.007+05:30

Ludicrous or commonplace? Let me know if you've seen them too!

When I was young, I had this wonderful habit of watching clouds. The cumulus, stratus, cirrus... They could exactly represent what's on your mind, including its state. I felt that nature was trying to communicate something to me as I indulged in this pursuit.

And one day, when I was about four, I saw some circular objects floating in the air. They were small, about half a centimeter in diameter and transparent. One could barely make out their existence through their edges and presence of two-concentric circles. What a sight! It was absolutely mesmerizing! How did they come to be all of a sudden? I was curious and some more when I realised that they were following my line of vision! They glided, danced, swayed, and left me pondering over their existence!

To me, that was the sky sending out signals!

A few years later, in Biology class, I learnt about round-shaped bacteria or cocci. They looked so uncannily similar to my signals! Yikes! Could I see microbes, then? Was I blessed with some sort of a microscopic vision?

My questions were answered when I realised I could not even figure out who was sitting beside me in class! With metallic rims sitting on my nose, I dismissed the idea of being a walking-talking electron microscope.

I didn't spare Newton either. These have to be corpuscles, then! I was euphoric! Until I heard of the Wave Theory!

The cocci signals appear even today. Only difference being, I am now old enough to imagine these blobs and acknowledge the imagination (if I did imagine, that is, but which is not the case) and yet, human enough, to remain curious to decipher their presence.

Ludicrous or commonplace? Let me know if you've seen them too!

THE FINAL MOMENT

2009-03-25T20:56:00.006+05:30

A thought crossed my mind today. If, you were lying on your deathbed and before closing your eyes, you could see just one image of the past in your mind, what would that be? Would it be your most depressed moment? Happiest? An image of your family or friends? Something, more like, out of an old sepia-tinted photograph?

I made several attempts to visualise the scenario and seek the answer. To those who ask if this is really necessary, all I can say is perhaps, the exercise is a chance to prepare myself for the inevitable, whenever that maybe.

While questions linger, and as I ponder over them, I'm drawn to the word - Happiest. Prejudice? Possibly. I can't say, at this point in time, if this state of mind has either come and gone or yet to, in my life. If it is the former, then did I ever realise it? Strange, being aware makes you happier than (that moment itself, called) happiest! If it has not come my way, then would I recognise it when it does?

And what is this happiness? Such a relative-relative term. Like all other emotions. Such an unquantifiable and intangible entity. And happiest? How can you possibly measure happiest-ness? Recollect all those moments when you clutched your tummy, rolled on the floor, got your intestines knotted, experienced those tingly sensations? And well, ask yourself now, do you remember what made you behave so animatedly? Else the way you felt while sitting by the side of the window, at night, watching the purple hues of the sky... or the silent drizzle highlighted by a row of sodium vapour lamps? Bliss? There could be a gazillion ways to feel happy. In my opinion, to "realise" is, perhaps, the greatest. You could have a mental picture associated with it. But how many realisations in a lifetime and which one would rein supreme? And the corresponding image? This brings me back to my question.

Worse (or better!), am asking myself - Do you have to even think of such a moment? It may not exist after all. You could just pass away in your sleep and not know anything! Saves you from all the trouble, eh? Lol!

WE COULD ALWAYS BEGIN AGAIN...

2009-03-16T21:10:00.007+05:30

Since morning, I've been thinking of my lecturer, Hema, in college where I pursued my under-graduation. She would teach us Mathematics - orally! Writing on the blackboard, according to her, was one big waste of time! And today, if she ever saw me ambling about - and strolling through my life - those would probably be the most blasphemous things ever. I can almost hear her say, "Wasting time like this? Wasting life like this? You can do something with your life, no?"

Chuckle!

Until my under-grad days, there was something or the other to keep me occupied. Studies, Science forum, Science courses, NIAS lectures... amazing! Those were my antioxidants preventing my brain from rusting away. I needed those doses, everyday. My gang of five would sit in the basketball court and discuss a million things under the sun. Without inhibitions. I matured in my thoughts. I grew more confident and aware of myself and things around me.

But, since then, I have not developed intellectually. Stunted and stagnated. People (which includes me) gather to speak about other people. People gather to speak about jobs in jeopardy. People gather to speak about themselves and their problems. No informative lectures. And discussions that mostly end up being making-a-jackass-of-you sessions (barring the amazing conversations with my roomie, Jags, PR, RS...).

But what stopped me from learning? I was run-over by a very silly person inside me who said, "You don't have to do anything with your life. Life has no purpose. Just idle away." I've been stuck with this pseudo-philosophy in my head and watching myself rotting away and being devoured by scavengers (read, depression). I've stopped learning, reading, writing, speaking, understanding. Tied down by a creeper called indifference. Watching a moss, called fear, growing layer by layer.

One thing remains intact from that day to this - my restlessness! A bliss, indeed!

I've been reading this book, Pale Blue Dot, for a pretty long time now. It's by Carl Sagan, also the author of Contact and Cosmos. Started with the e-book version of it last year but couldn't get beyond ten pages. I'm to be blamed, totally. Reasons? You just read them all.

But these days, I'm glued to the book. Lapping up every single word of it. Feeling every little idea it contains. Exhilarating! It's like knowledge dripping down on me. Gently. And this sentence struck me hard - "We could always begin again." What does one need to start life afresh? A passion? A direction? Some support? Lots of enthusiasm?

I've just got to keep this momentum rolling. I need to explore and introspect. May be I can hear Science calling out to me again. The last piece in the puzzle of my life, perhaps?

Chuckle!

UTTARAKHAND - A (C)HILLY PARADISE - PART II - NAUKUCHIATAL

2009-01-14T19:28:00.010+05:30

HALCYON NAUKUCHIATAL

A night ride by car might not be the wisest thing to do, in the mountainous terrains of Uttaranchal, but we didn't have much choice. We had to reach Naukuchiatal the same night and to keep us going was our cabbie - with 14 years experience behind him - and his tales of nights and leopards, trees and snowfalls. During this one hour journey from Kathgodam, we passed through the HMT Factory, caught a fleeting glimpse of Bhimtal, Sattal and Nainital by night, before zig-zagging our way to the top.

At half past midnight we were at Naukuchiatal. The temperature was well below 10 degrees Celsius when we reached The Lake Resort. Our camera addiction refused to fade away and we snapped a few more of our shelter for the next two nights.

With darkness holding Naukuchiatal (Nau-k(u)-chiya-taal) captive, we retired to our rooms, hoping morning would unfold to us, weary travelers, the magnificent nine-cornered lake.

It is believed that whoever sees all the nine corners at a single glance would attain Nirvana. But I'll tell you what, just a glance of the lake guarantees Nirvana.

The placid waters of the lake are enticing. The stillness grows through the day, creating a serene gargantuan mirror.

According to our cabbie, the lake's periphery runs for about four kilometres and makes for a great early morning walk. We went half-way and discovered several amazing faces of the lake.

October and March are the peak seasons and see a lot of tourists flocking to this paradise. What greeted us in December were these empty boats and a few, very few, birds!

Naukuchiatal also has its own paragliding base at Pandegaon for adventure sports enthusiasts. "But do so at your own risk madam." One statement from the cabbie and we decided to give it a skip! (Shame on us :D)

Next on our list was an NGO - Action for Environment and Preservation of Art & Nature (AEPAN) - that sells beautiful Kumaoni paintings. Unfamiliar with Kumaoni art, we didn't know what to expect when we went in. All we needed to do was to set our eyes on the lines set in red and blue cloths and follow the pattern. Mesmerising. We immersed ourselves in uniquely framed paintings of Gods and Goddesses, diyas, postcards, dolls, mufflers, shawls and lots more. These souvenirs are light to carry and lighter on your wallet.

We stopped briefly at the Hanuman and Vaishno Devi Temples, built beside each other. At about 50 feet, the Hanuman idol is indeed intimidating.

Tulsi Das' Hanuman Chaleesa wafted through the twilight air, rendered beautifully by the temple poojari and a couple of kids.

The entrance to the Vaishno Devi temple is through a gufa or cave (artificial one though). The cave was extremely dark with zero visibility. The temple also houses a Ram mandir and Radha-Krishna mandir.

The lake beckoned us again in the evening. But the cold made us retreat indoors.

We had covered lots more that day of the Lake District. We had been to the pristine Sattal and the mighty Bhimtal. All this with a massive neck pain!

By morning it was time to say goodbye to the nine-cornered lake and the beautiful Lake Resort. Hotel rating and other personal experiences in the next post. (That would be a short one, I promise!)

UTTARAKHAND - A (C)HILLY PARADISE - PART I - DELHI TO KATHGODAM

2008-12-25T11:46:00.022+05:30

DANCE OF THE STARS

Everything was in place. Tickets - booked. Food and lodging - checked. Thermals - packed. Accessories - stuffed. Three cameras - loaded. Spirits - charged. After all, it is not everyday that you'd plan a trip to Uttaranchal from a city down South!

Our first halt was Delhi. First week of December and chilly winds had not taken over India's capital city yet. Wide roads and countless flyovers greeted us. So did Delhi's chaotic traffic. Our train the next day was to Kathgodam (Kaat-go-daam), a town in the Nainital District of Uttarakhand. Trains do not ply beyond this point and one needs to travel by road to popular tourist destinations like Nainital, Bhimtal, Almora, among others.

The train chugged along and we had seven hours to spend.

As the journey progressed, the air grew nippy and windows were shuttered. Monkey-caps, shawls, jerkins and gloves found their rightful place. Despite our clumsy attire, we managed to have some fun with the cam. Here are a couple of photos, mostly night shots, of stars, planets and town lights, all this while the train was in motion! The dance of the stars - captured!

Interestingly, a couple of them assumed the shape of numbers!

Our train, Uttarkranthi Sampark Express, was running late by an hour. By the time it reached Kathgodam at 23:30 hours, besides us, there were not more than five people in the compartment. Creepy! Later on, our cabbie would tell us that not many people prefer this train. The sleeper, Ranikhet Express, brought in more tourists to Uttaranchal from Delhi.

With the cold numbing our bodies, we alighted from the train. The station was dark and we followed the rest of the herd to the exit where taxi-wallahs were waiting for prospective clients. It took our cab's hot-air blower to flush out the numbness off our bodies and to bring us back to our senses. After months of planning, finally, we were in Uttaranchal to catch a glimpse of the mighty Himalayas!

And we were not yet done for the day. A whole hour lay between us and Naukuchiatal...

IN MY HEAD

2008-11-28T14:17:00.006+05:30

I am tired.
My eyes - droopy.
Like my limp mind.
I scribble a story.
In my head.
Sentences contrived.
Meanings lost.
Words - Cacophony - Dissonance.
All mere synonyms.
My feelings - yellow.
Jaundiced, I lisp.
Befuddled with phlegm.
Crippled to reason.
Battling shadows within.
A pleasure so vacuous.
A flight so faithless.
Subsist - I don't.
For numeral, I am not.
No word or story.
Just weary.
Very weary.
In my head.

P.S. -- As usual, just an outburst. Written for not even me to comprehend. Prospective employer (wherever you are), please ignore this post :) Thank you.

WEAVING AN EXTRAORDINARY TALE

2008-09-18T09:09:00.025+05:30

DISCLAIMER: The author of this article is not an Arachnologist, or for that matter has no idea what spiders are (except that they are eight-legged creatures), what they are made of, where they all come from, etc. The author hates them, but loves capturing them on cam. She has not, in the process, hurt them, killed them or eaten them.

The Dryad silently embraces them into her bosom. She listens to their extraordinary tale, spun in delight. She pleads for more and watches them grow. Life moves on but their legacy retains its flavour in the coffee estate, where the following photographs were taken in a bid to capture the saga woven by the spiders.

It had rained heavily the previous night. Spider webs, I thought, could never have withstood the downpour. A trek down the coffee plantation (in Karnataka), taught me a beautiful lesson - Life can always have a fresh new beginning.

Millions of these creatures had begun their journey all over again. A few even went one step further!

And you cannot miss this huge species, so regal in its black and gold outfit. It would be a while before you continue the trek.

The plantation is full of this species. And most certainly it is not dangerous for the workers show no fear as they wade through its webs everyday.

The other fascinating species can be found on trees or dangling in the air. In fact, it requires a pair of sharp eyes to spot this one, beautifully blended with the bark of a tree. While it would take me some time to get this species identified, here are a few pictures taken right outside the estate's drying ground.

For about two years in Chennai, spiders and I lived under the same roof and shared the same bed. A few, though, felt my expensive Reebok shoe a more cozy option to spend their days.

My warden was quite anxious to get rid of the domestic spiders and she did triumph. My roommate and I, however, decided to give this Mrs.Wiry a chance to lay eggs.

I left my hostel soon after and I do not know what became of them. And if you are asking me, if I've ever been bitten by one, the answer is yes! A 1.5 cm long spider pricked my shoulder to declare its presence on my body. And no, I did not transform into a spider-woman with green eyes the next day!

"ORANGE MOON? DON'T KID!"

2008-09-17T12:26:00.017+05:30

A couple of days back, I watched a programme on Animal Planet called MOONPOWER, on creatures using our natural satellite as a beacon to hunt, mate and migrate. Fantastic show, after which my stream of consciousness led me to dwell a bit on moon exploration by humans, rites and rituals as per our scriptures, poetry and more, until a fact hit me hard - it has been a while, a long while, since I saw the orange blob!

When I was four years old, for the first time, I saw a bright orange hue in the sky, and mistook the moon for the setting sun! Ever since I've been fascinated.

Over the last two years, on every visit to Bangalore, I'd observe an apparent elevation in the "horizon" caused by high-rise buildings. This is in fact a rather mild way of putting across the point that even a minute speck of the actual horizon is no longer visible and in the process, the orange blob has disappeared too, behind those skyscrappers. And for children, supper would have to wait an extra few minutes, before they crane their necks heavenwards to say "MOOOOON!" Sadly, my own house has contributed to this phenomenon.

I'm not going overboard here, but my kids might just ridicule my "imagination" if I ever told them of the red-orange moon.

There are of course two ways to prove its existence. One, chalk out a controlled city/town expansion and development programme. And as for the second, continue polluting the atmosphere at just this current rate, only thing - our children may not be alive to see the orange moon.

Couple of blogger awards have come my way! :) Presented to me by my cousin Aaarti! Thankies, gurl!! How about a moonlight dinner sometime? :)

Remember this pic? We shot the moon precariously through a four square centimetre grid! :D

"A" FOR "APPLE"

2008-09-16T09:50:00.006+05:30

Subs has tagged me again!

RULES -

The Tag name is A for Apple

Give preference for regular sites
Ignore your own blogs, sites.
Tag 3 People.

ALL SET!

A
http://www.adamdiaries.blogspot.com/ - Jag's (a.k.a Thathankamon) Tale of Three Cities.
http://ask.com/ - Ask, and it shall be given you.
http://www.abc.net/ - Links to good-to-great articles.
http://www.asklaila.com/ - India's local information service.
http://ashwinspeaks.blogspot.com/ - Busy Ashwin hasn't updated his blog in a long while.

B
http://www.backpakker.blogspot.com/ - My cousin Lakshmi's travelblog. Must see!
http://blogger.com/ - Thanks to which you are reading this!
http://www.bookmyshow.com/ - Book tickets online for plays, movies, concerts.
http://www.blackle.com/ - Energy-saving google!

C
http://chennaikaran.blogspot.com/ - What a prolific thinker-writer-reader! Check out his Bata Thatha stories, Dad-daugher dialogue, Short stories, loads more.
http://www.contests2win.com/ - Who doesn't wanna win goodies!

D
http://www.dictionary.com/ - Handicapped without this site!

E
Err..!!

F
http://www.freebookspot.net/ - Incredible collection of ebooks. What more, download them for free!
http://www.4indianwomen.com/ - Write and get paid.

G
http://www.google.co.in/ - including its offsprings minus Orkut.

H
http://hotmail.com/ - An account lying dormant there.

I
http://www.invariablyconstant.blogspot.com/ - Prabha's blog. Work keeping her busy!
http://intelligentwins-lifeandme.blogspot.com/ - Now reading!
http://irctc.co.in/ - No more standing in queue and waiting!

J... K... :'(

L
http://www.lyrics.com/ - Why hum the tune when you have the lyrics to sing along!

M
http://www.mumbaichaat.blogspot.com/ - Hilarious movie reviews.
http://www.msn.co.in/ - Opens automatically after logging out of Hotmail. What to do!
http://www.mugamudi.blogspot.com/ - Harish's blog - The Mask!

N
http://nivi30.wordpress.com/ - Now reading!

O
http://www.123greetings.com/ - Craze for ecards fading away.

P
http://poetryinstone.in/ - Vijay makes stone monuments speak their saga through his website.

Q
???

R
http://www.rediff.com/ - Quick news stories, Raja Sen's reviews (readers' review of the review :D) and email.
http://www.randomphilosophie.blogspot.com/ - Peru's independent (and interesting) perspectives, contests and more.
http://www.randomblissitis.blogspot.com/ - Peru again and Bliss it is! World, like you've never seen before!
http://www.rsubras.blogspot.com/ - Kalakkal Kirukkals! Chance-se illaadha thanglish stories. My favourite - Guys must be crazy!
http://www.raaga.com/ - All suttufication of songs happens from here ;)
http://www.reuters.com/ - For top world news and business news. Check out Oddly Enough and their photo gallery.
http://reeltreat.blogspot.com/ - My cousin Aaarti's book, music and movie (never heard before ones too) review blog.

S
http://www.sitemeter.com/ - Just to quench the curiosity factor
http://www.space.com/ - Universe in words, images and imagination.
http://sagittarian-ramya.blogspot.com - Romie's blog. Chiselled words, warm stories. Must read Freshly Brewed Love.

T
http://telegraphindia.com/crossword - A time-pass tickler.
http://www.taurusblogs.blogspot.com/ - Prabha's travails as an IT Professional.
http://techmanic.blogspot.com/ - From zero to geek in a day!

U... V... :((

W
http://words-flow.blogspot.com/ - Aaarti's blog on the crazy things she's upto ;) and her words, they just never dry up!
http://wordsfloweasy.blogspot.com/ - Aaarti's short stories, poetry and more.
http://www.wikipedia.com/ - Just wiki "wikipedia"!

X
http://www.xsmail.com/ - I miss this email provider! :'(

Y
http://www.yahoo.com/ - Yahoo! and its family.

Z
http://zpub.com/ - I visited this link just today! Site for unusual articles.

My addition - 'A' for 'Analysis'!
* Lack of vitamins E, J, K, Q, U, V
* No social networking sites
* No site for movie downloads
* Blogs dominate the list

'C' for 'Conclusion!
* Expand the list - visit and bookmark more sites

'T' for 'Tag'!
* Peru
* Lakshmi
* Aaarti

SOMEWHERE... OVER THE RAINBOW...

2008-09-09T12:51:00.003+05:30

Wish I could observe every inch of the universe and feel the sights in my blood.
Listen to every sweet melody, novel note and lilting tune ever created.
Imbibe all the knowledge that there is ever to be learnt.
Live through every possible experience and experience every possible emotion.

H.m.m.. I sound like Dr Faustus, don't I? ;)

But what better day than today (my birthday!) to wake up and smell the coffee!

So, here's my "Things-to-do-before-I-die" list and some resolutions as well:

1. Make a mini telescope of my own and be an active star gazer
2. Participate in a half-marathon
3. Learn carnatic music and identify ragas
4. Learn salsa! And at least one musical instrument
5. Join yoga and meditation classes
6. Learn Telugu, Kannada and at least one foreign language - Spanish, perhaps
7. Go bungee jumping, para gliding, river rafting etc
8. But before that, learn to ride a bicycle!
9. Read Fundamentals of Physics and understand the (basic) workings of nature
10. Attend Astrobiology courses
11. Visit Ladakh and verify UFO claims
12. Read books more often and completely! Specially by Bertrand Russell, Carl Sagan, Stephen Hawking, Arthur Clarke, Isaac Asimov, Richard Leakey
13. Identify fields, crops and flowers instantly
14. Try out at least one new recipe every week
15. Visit as many places as possible – snow-capped mountains and the aurora borealis are a must
16. Learn pencil sketching and painting
17. Watch all the James Bond flicks (I haven't seen one till date!)
18. Capture spiders on camera and identify each of them
19. Start an NGO
20. Blog more often and update this list regularly!

As I pen this post, the song echoes in my mind - 'Somewhere over the rainbow... dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.' And mine will too! :)

JUST A PALE BROWNED-OFF BLOB

2008-08-09T02:14:00.007+05:30

Recluse - am I one? Of the indifferent, ignorant and insouciant type?

Humans - their endless expectations. Work - its materialistic nature. How they asphyxiate and clog my cranium.

I dream. I walk. I write. I sit under a tree and watch the aurorae. I speak with them. I see young children play - inventing games along the way.

The chants beckon. The air resonates with idyllic intonations.

I float. I drown. I taste ecstasy. Water makes all burdens light.

Life searches for life. I scan the skies. Light-years I wait. And a glimpse I get.

Flames of restlessness engulf me. I wonder. I wander. I'm just a pale browned-off blob!

PS: I confess. I have no clue what I wanted to write. Heavily inspired by Carl Sagan's book. Au revoir.

THE IMMISCIBLE ENTITIES

2008-07-21T22:43:00.002+05:30

These days, all the time I wonder what makes life worth living. Is it the people around you – your friends and family... Your job... Your dreams... Or merely knowing what you want to do, how you want to be known and where you want to be. Of course, life never finds a solution for you. In fact, never even lets you find a solution. And then life – the big four letter word – becomes bigger than yourself. You begin to fight with it and try to clobber it into a small dark obscure corner of your heart. And when your own life can’t understand you, not one among those friends and family can either. That is when you begin to realise, it is not your life that is in the dark obscure corner of your heart. It is you.

THE DELUGE...

2008-04-25T15:37:00.008+05:30

Today was unlike any other day in my life. Today was special. Today, I felt the pangs of nostalgia strike me once again, only this time, of an immeasurable magnitude. The day began with the newspaper, a cup of Bournvita and instructions from amma to clean up my room. I had books strewn all around me. The clutter. The chaos. Was all this a reflection of my mind? I couldn’t answer for a feeling of being suffocated set in. Music can heal this mess, I presumed. With my PC playing songs from the movie ‘Swades’, I began with the intention of discarding unnecessary books and papers. The mistake that I made, ‘fortunately’, was that I had not defined the concept ‘unnecessary’.

Among the rubble were my LKG and UKG progress reports. My standard one report too – 497/500 yet I had managed only a Fifth rank! No way I should discard these, I convinced myself. Couple of note books followed – standard seven Geography and standard nine Hindi. I caressed those pages, hoping to revive a few fond memories. By my side were Physics texts – ninth, tenth, PUC and my favourite – Resnick, Walker and Halliday. “I lived and loved them all. Please amma, don’t force me to dispose them.”

“Fine… But of what use are these GK books now, when everything is available over the internet?” Amma was determined to make me part with half of my treasure as much as I was to safeguard them. “Appa got these from Delhi, more than 15years ago. These would stay.”

I had constructed a tower of Competition Success Reviews, Wisdoms, Chandamamas, Amar Chitra Kathas and Panchatantras. “My kids would read these,” I told amma.

“And all these books on the Bhagavad Gita?”

“Those I would read when I find time...”

“Hmm... Do what you want.” Amma knew and I did too, that not a square inch of paper was going to make it to the bin. She left me, while I sat waiting for the deluge of memories to flood my mind.

I flipped through the pages of my B.Sc Physics practical observation notebook – Newton’s Rings, Biprism, Ballistic Galvanometer... and my heart grew heavier. The calculations, the amount of time spent on them, the manipulated results... Shut them out, shut them out... I screamed. I closed the book and then, my eyes, waiting for the accustomed slide show of my college days. They whizzed past me, in rapid succession – the wooden stairs, giggling girls, basket ball court, noodles pakkoda... And I saw myself, singing ‘Yunhi chala chal’ with my friends... Friends, who had been by my side only yesterday and gone in different directions today… and perhaps never to meet again... The smell of wet mud, the parched earth, the hugs, the warmth, the mirth, the fun... All lost in time...

The rustle of a gift-wrapper brought me out of my séance. “To a lovely guide and philosopher,” read the card on the cover. I stared at it. The ice-breaker, the first SMS, the summer course – images crashed in. ‘Yeh jo des hai tera’ played mildly in the background. “The song makes me want to go back to where I belong – my land, my people,” I heard him say. “It’s a calling, I can feel it.” And within a few months, he left. “Do you still think of the incidents that unfolded 2-3 years back?” I asked him one day over email. His reply shook me violently, “Don’t remind me of my past...”

“Don’t remind me of my past...” I heard myself say today. “Don’t remind me...” A cold wave swept over my body, snapping me out of my reverie.

I held tightly the wrapper and observation book. “Amma, Ranjith would be appearing for Board exams this year. Handover my Physics texts to him. He'd need these more than I do... And the rest...will stay...”

THE 8 'FACT'ORS

2008-04-22T14:01:00.035+05:30

Hi all..! I'm taking a li'l break from my stories, to bring to you tales about GG..! Thanks Subs for: 1. Tagging me 2. Making me write something more fun! :)

In the 8 Facts about Yourself, you share 8 things that your readers don’t know about you. Then at the end you tag at least 8 other bloggers to keep the fun going. Here are the rules.

RULES:
* Each blogger must post these rules first.
* Each blogger starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
* Bloggers that are tagged need to write on their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
* At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
* Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.****

F‘ACT’ 1 – I CAN ACT!

When I was 6years old, Appa brought home a video cassette of the Tamil film, Thiruvilayadal. I was hooked and drenched! It was around the same time that former Prime Minister of India, Rajiv Gandhi, was assassinated and announcements were flooding air-waves on cash awards for those who help capture Sivarasan and gang. Amma, appa and anna were having dinner when the announcement was on… I jumped, spontaneously, towards the television screen, raised my hands in the air and screamed… “Enna sonna, enna sonna… rendu lakshama..? Chokkaaaa Chokkaaa… andha rendum laksham enakke kadaikanamey… Chokkkaa… rendum laksham… rendu laksham… oiyo oiyo oiyo…” My parents were ultra-puzzled, almost speechless for few minutes at my imitation of Nagesh, untaught, yet exact. Till date, appa while appreciating Nagesh’s prowess would cite this incident to demonstrate the influence the actor has on kids and elders alike!

Several people have come up to me and have asked if I am Shruthi, Shyamali’s sister in the film Anjali! Weird coincidence, but we did look a lot alike when we were young. Amma was wondering the other day if Shruthi looks like me now!

I happened to be in a Gujarati dance for the Annual Day in school during my eighth grade. As my roommate aptly puts it – “two left feet is all that took for her to go into hiding.” My teachers couldn’t trace me out and I enjoyed this oblivion by taking shelter in the music room. After a few minutes, I learnt that this ‘music room group’ was staging a play for the Annual Day called, The Ballad of River Ganga. I decided to hang around, though not a part of anything. All of a sudden, there was utter gloom in the room. The ‘Kapila Maharishi’ had apparently fallen ill with just a few days to go for the celebrations. A replacement meant auditions - rightaway! We hundred kids were asked to increase our BPs and pretend to curse the person we hated the most in the world! Having fought with my brother almost every living second of my life, this feat wasn’t difficult. Within a few seconds I was selected! My classmates, seniors and juniors, even now, call me ‘Kapila’! And of course, I was in for the next Annual Day celebrations too! ;)

Later, I put this talent to some great use in college too! Coming up with convincing performances for not submitting assignments on time, bunking classes, covering up for my roomie… You get the point, rt? ;)

FACT 2

I cannot do any kind of driving, except perhaps, driving people crazy. Time now for a quick flashback. Appa chose an auspicious day to start my bicycle training sessions. He asked me not to look back but to keep peddling… peddling… peddling… After I had gone a few feet, I broke the rule, turned back, didn’t see my father behind me and the next image was that of a frightened me falling into the garbage bin! That was the first and last day I ever touched a bicycle in my life and resolved to never touch a bike too! Well… Car is an exception – you couldn’t fall into the bin! I got my DL when I was 18! Now it comes in so handy! Any photo ID proof required, I just flash it across! :D

FACT 3

I love cricket – to watch and to play though it has been 10 years since I touched the willow :( Appa taught me fast bowling – Yorkers and bouncers! And my bowling action used to resemble Ata-ur-Rehman’s! Games always brought in me a lot of joy – the excitement and challenge – amaaazing! Of course, during my teens, I became more interested in fast bowlers! ;) Shane Bond, Brett Lee, Laxmipathy Balaji, Shaun Pollock…

FACT 4

I nicknamed my teacher ‘Soya Beans’. I was 11 years old then! ;) I don’t repent for that, but crap, I got caught! I have been awarded several titles too but ‘Empty vessel’ is my favourite :D

Some special words from my family members –

My bro: Hey, you’re looking like a heroine!
Me: *On cloud 999*

Appa to his friend: Don’t take it easy. She can bowl.
Me: *Wowee* :D

FACT 5

My first film in the cinemas was either ‘Aboorva Sahodarargal’ or ‘Paati Sollai Thattaadhae’. I wish and pray it’s the former! My first adults film was when I was… ahem… 18… and I got to know it was ‘adults only’ sometime during the first scene! ;)

Me to friend: Arey, what’s in that ‘Guru’ film yaar? Everybody is talking about it…
Friend: Yeahhhhh… I knowwww… I wanna watch it yaar…
Me: Let’s go?
Friend: Now! Now!

Me to collegemate: Hey Arpi, we are gonna watch ‘The Guru’ yaar…
Collegemate: He he… Enjoy enjoy! *wink wink*

Me to lecturer: Ma’am, we are gonna watch ‘The Guru’ now…
Lecturer: Whaaaaaaaaaat? *blink blink*

Movie over. No comments. Back home.

Amma: Such a short movie? You are back so early. What film?
Me: Some English film.
Amma: Semma discovery. Enna English film?
Me: Err… Hmm… Uhh… ‘The… Guru’…
Amma: Guru-aa? Guru of what?
Me: Guru of… Err... Guru of… Gurus… Kaelvi kaekaadha ma :x

(Next morning)
Cousin: He he… Heard you watched ‘The Guru’ yesterday…
Bro: Whaaaat? Who watched ‘The Guru’? SHE WATCHED ‘THE GURU’? @$%!#$%

FACT 6

My earliest recollections of a Tamil TV serial is ‘Rayil Sneham’, starring Nizhalgal Ravi and Suchitra Krishnamoorthi. I remember an episode quite vividly when Suchitra would cook a meal for the first time. Nizhalgal Ravi would consume it without complaining, saying it’s fabulous. When Suchitra begins eating, she realises it’s too salty. At the age of 3, I was soooo wow-ed by Nizhalgal Ravi’s affection for Suchi in the serial. I immediately had a ‘karphanai’ friend, (I couldn’t pronounce karpanai when I was young, you see!). I called him Ravi ;) Of course it only lasted few months, but during my teens I was so anxious to know if I suffered from delusions of some sort when I was younger! That was later thwarted when my lecturer said her daughter has two imaginary friends! I was better… he he.. Just one!

Of course, my all-time fav serials include ‘Nizhal villaiyaatu’ and all the stories of ‘Marma Desam’.

FACT 7

One other fact is that my silence has often been misinterpreted. I’m silent when I’m very happy. I’m silent when I want to savour the moment. I’m silent when I’m wrong. I’m silent when I’m angry. I’m silent coz I’m like that. I’m silent just like that. So people tend to misunderstand my silence. It’s difficult to break this image of a ‘snob’ that others have spun around me! *Sigh*

And speaking of emotions, nostalgia is my favourite. Soothing pleasure and searing pain it brings to me all at once. Makes me want to revel in my past and dwell in my childhood.

FACT 8

Finally, I firmly believe in the existence of UFOs and ETs. C’mon, billions of stars, millions of galaxies, but one Earth only? And this explains the Sci-Fi movie buff that I am!

I'm done..!! :)
And my Bakri would be... Prabha..!!

THE SUPERFICIAL THINKER

2008-04-18T21:41:00.003+05:30

I see the streetlamps burning during the day and not at night…
I walk on…

I see beggars… I see malnourished children… I see their eyes…
I walk on…

I see cow dung levelling my road and no tar in sight…
I walk on, yes, on it…

And I ask - “Why am I indifferent?”

The auction happened… The IPL is ‘happening’…
I remain silent…

Motorola mobiles are better than Samsung… What say?
I remain silent…

Marxism is in! What do u think?
I remain silent…

And I ask - “Why am I not opinionated?”

You’ll spoil your hair… Don’t apply colour…
So be it…

You are a retarded cynic… A disinterested soul…
So be it…

Disfluencies… Get rid of them…
So be it…

And I ask - “Why can’t I defend myself?”

One of the fundamental problems with me, by me and why only me, is that I am a superficial thinker… Ummm…

So be it… I remain silent… And walk on…

FOOTPRINTS IN TIME...

2008-03-08T19:38:00.009+05:30

“Earlier pre-occupied… Now unoccupied…”

“And I think that’s a clever reply. You know what I mean by that, right?"

“A criticism, Mr. Creative Director?”

He nodded.

“But that is the truth,” I muttered, nonchalantly. Sitting on the rocks made me feel like one and his questions fell upon me like the restless waves.

“I am not asking you on how you intend to win the Nobel, just what you plan to pursue-”

I had had enough of this. “Do we always have to pursue something in our lives?” My intrusion shocked him. “Why can’t I just be a Lotus Eater in the land of Ullysseses?”

There was silence and piercing through it were his eyes, combating disbelief.

“You, Ms Idealist, are telling me that food will fall on our plates? That hard work and dedication are just myths? Then, what is life if we do not have our footprints etched on these sands?”

“Only the best ones get imprinted, CD, and the rest, are blown away by the breeze.” All the turbulence in my mind was culminating in this conversation. “To be good is never enough. You need to be the best.”

“With you, it always has to be all or nothing, isn’t it?”

“And if doing nothing is what makes me happy then let me do that.”

I knew CD too well, he wouldn’t give up. “What then, is the difference between man and beast?

“I don’t need to know.”

“So you’ve stopped learning as well?”

“How do you know if whatever you comprehend is the way it is meant to be understood?”

“A question for a question, Smriti? A workaholic in school, I remember you disagreed with the Wrong Man in Workers’ Paradise… After 8 years, you disagree on work? Is this one of your crazy pop-philosophies? Then I’ll tell you what, it’s flawed...”

“I opposed the story since I felt if you prefer work and work brings you more happiness, then why not be a workaholic?”

“So where did the workaholic Smriti go? And what else have you stopped ‘doing’?”

The rock was trapped by water. It had run behind the horizon all its life and now suffocated, it only longed to be freed.

“Physics, philosophy, anthropology, astrobiology, writing, dreaming, living…” I could go on and make myself feel worthless. “Nothing seems to make sense any more. I’m interested in nothing. I’m passionate about nothing…”

A fissure was forming fast on the rock…

“CD… How is it that some people know exactly what they want to do in life? Why is it that I am still searching for that one thing which would make me happy? What if I never find it all my life, would I continue being a Lotus Eater?”

“Let’s put it this way… Some people are just lucky. But for the rest of us – we get to explore. Really Smrits, should life be taken so seriously? Can’t we just live, love, learn, laugh and pass away?”

“But I intend to live on… Live on through my creation but even that would be drowned in the shadow of the best. There would be no footprint of mine, nothing to say I existed here once upon a time…”

Water had by now plunged into the crevice…

“See these striae on the rock? Notice how water has cut through it and left behind ridges… We are like the rock and our creation is the water flowing through us… We never know when, why and how we pass on our creations but they are etched in time just like these striations.”

I understood what he meant. It was time to create a footprint...a deep one!

TO THE ANGEL ABOARD 11E…

2008-02-08T11:28:00.001+05:30

I see you every morning as I board the bus, 11E... Your eyes, your expressive eyes, caught my attention the first time... Your ethereal fingers danced in the air when you asked me to move aside amidst the jostling crowd and the roar of the bus... You were at once to me, my angel...

And how you prattle away, so animatedly! Does your teacher in school reprimand you for being so ‘talkative’? Winning hearts with your warm smile, brimming with confidence, you just love life, don’t you? Wish I could ask you these... But all I do is watch you, as you infuse into me a renewed spirit...

Then one day, you didn’t come... My heart fluttered... I tried to suppress the myriad thoughts that crept into my mind- “She is fine, she is fine...” I repeated to myself... But you didn’t come the next day too... and the day after that... I couldn’t ask your friends or get rid of those thoughts... “She’d come, wait,” I consoled myself... And this little nymph did come a week later, with a hanky between your fingers!

I saw you alight from the bus and help your brothers and sisters get down one-by-one... I looked up to read the name of your school – “Little Flower Convent.” You are God’s own child... I do not know your name, but you are to me, a girl who made peace with Him just through your silence... I love you my little angel...

A WORLD OF THEIR OWN...?

2007-05-13T16:58:00.002+05:30

(UNEDITED)

PART ONE

“Do you think he is dead?”

D.E.A.D… The word numbed me... my eyes were riveted on the shrivelled up lump of black mass. A thousand flies scavenged his body, some entangled in his curly locks of unkempt hair, while a few others swarmed over his grey beard and pale lips. A mangy lungi or half a lungi separated him and the stone slabs on the platform.

“Is he DEAD?”

Ritu’s voice appeared to be coming from a distance, though I could feel her breath - short and heavy. I nodded my head in agreement, rest of the body still transfixed in fear.

The bus-stops in Chennai encapsulate the myriad features of the city. The white paint of the fragile shelters, strip themselves naked to reveal the brown skin of rust, brown - the colour of street urchins running behind firangees. The maroon hue of paan or veththalai adorn the walls, for the pious - the same shade dotes their forehead, and through every incision on the human body spurts out the same colour. While a cross-section of men cannot resist but ogle at women waiting for the bus, several lovers with their muses are busy in another corner praying for the break-down of all the buses in the city.

And in the midst of all these activities, the man lay, just as the dog beside him, oblivious of the detestable odour of garbage and urine, and he - but a non-entity to the passers-by.

“Let’s alert a few people here,” I said, knowing half my words had not managed to escape the confines of the larynx.

And then, it happened...

The fingers of his left hand came alive, sending scores of flies swarming in our direction.

“Run Smriti.. RUN,” the instructions were loud and clear from my roommate, as a thousand more of the species took off from his body, revealing a wizened skin. “I think we are their breakfast today,” I yelled, cutting through the thin slices of air, and watching the flies do the same more efficiently than me.

That was my first encounter with Mr Fiery Eyes or Pied-piper, as Ritu called him, a soul who would soon begin to impinge upon my future thoughts.
==================================================

PART 2

“Stars…..wonder what story each has to narrate, wonder why they have to die before reaching human ears…” I was on a high. “It’s incredible isn’t it - how they never fail to capture our imaginations, dreams and aspirations,” I said, stretching my arms towards heaven, taking in deep breaths.

“Snap out of the realm of fantasies Smrits… Have you ever thought about the world outside you being real?” Ritu’s words were harsh, yet true. But all the same, I was a carrier… and I often told myself that such manifestations of wild ramblings were in fact justified.

Ritu was more practical and spontaneous. It was beginning to drizzle slightly and the lovely drops of water ensnared in her hair glistened under the sodium vapour lamp.

I looked at those celestial beings that supposedly decide our fate. “It is all based on the gravitational force of attraction exerted by the stars on the elements of the human body at various points of time in our lives,” the astrologer had said while alleviating my scepticism. “Prashnam,” she continued, “is another form based on simply the time of your query while some can forebode events based on your voice. Everything is mathematics Smriti… Everything involves calculations. And of course, the grace of the Guru...”

The vermillion spot on her forehead merged away with the spectacular hue of Gaia’s neighbour, Mars.

My chain of thoughts was broken by the sudden screech of the wheels. People’s voices flooded my ears as a crowd collected around a car. I made my way through the stream of onlookers. He was there… right in front of the vehicle. The scruffy locks of hair remained dishevelled, the lungi hardly serving the purpose and he held a staff tightly within his palm. But what followed, were incomprehensible visuals, or rather, incoherent sights and sounds. The Pied-piper pointed his stick to the right just like the traffic police, and yelled “Left” loud enough for a few more lights to come alive in the vicinity. The elders laughed, street-urchins mimicked his actions, with occasional jeers of “Paithyam” from the amused crowd. His antics continued, with new-found vigour, now that he had an audience. The car swerved to the Piper’s right and drove away, leaving more room for spectators to hoot and taunt. He lay on the road and rolled over, scratched his head and sang notes and words novel to human ears.

Half hour had passed with the drizzle turning heavier by the passing second. But that did not deter the performer or his audience. I watched, tear-stained… and helpless… Ritu tugged my arm as we made our way out of the thamasha. A roar from the onlookers made me turn back and have a look. Piper was now swirling his lungi with the stick. “He’s mad beyond remedy…” someone said and the guffaws followed…
=================================================

PART 3

“I am not mad, ma…. I am not mad… It’s… It’s just this disease…,” the voice belonged to my brother.

My thoughts travelled back in time as I sat on the bed, still unable to recover from the scenes that had unfolded before my senses. Precisely five years before this night, my brother’s world would come crashing down, heralding omens of distress and eternal gloom over my family… all under a week’s time…

He was beginning to act a little weird… spending most of his time by the balcony, looking out at the people on the road, irresponsive to our constant queries, a spaced out stare occasionally disrupted by sudden violent behaviour.

“We are losing our son… we need to act soon,” appa said, but his worst fear was inching closer by the second.

“Your son, Mr Kumar, is suffering from a chronic mental illness, that we term Paranoid Schizophrenia – a chemical imbalance in the brain,” the psychiatrist at a renowned hospital in Bangalore stated as a matter-of-factly to souls who had raised their son for 21-long years all in the hope that he would stand on his two feet and take care of them.

“It could be hereditary or it could be otherwise. Any relative of yours with this disease, Mr Kumar?”

Appa looked at us, worry-lines flooding his forehead. “No, doctor…”

“What about the cure?” Amma’s voice was feeble.

“No cure, but, can be controlled,” the psychiatrist continued, “We need to constantly monitor the drug dosage and what we don’t want… is a relapse.”

I didn’t understand a word of what followed. I was watching amma. The first tear was always the toughest to shed.

“As a family, you need to be strong. Accept things and move on.”

Deepak had a separate session with the doctor after ours.

Nobody spoke a word until we reached home. The air was filled with disbelief, of non-acceptance and betrayal.

“Why me, ma?” Anna finally spoke. “Two in a hundred have this disease. Why did I have to be among the two? Why do I have voices in my head saying they are coming after me, to kill me? Why am I not like the other guys? Why me, ma? Why me?” I saw my brother’s frail body embrace my mother’s.

Days, weeks, months passed. There was no significant improvement in Deepak’s health, in fact it had only deteriorated. My parents had consulted nearly a dozen doctors, two dozen religious seers and astrologers.

Fear penetrated deeper and deeper into his mind. He was losing his ability to reason. “You fool… the neighbours should not know of my existence. They will kill me… I need to burn all my photographs… my identity cards… my passport… Give my certificates Smriti… Give them to me, you fool… ” My parents and I resisted… But Deepak was turning violent. He slashed his wrist... We had to give in, as we watched helplessly all the vital documents being reduced to nothing.

For three years neither did the sun rays kiss his skin nor did his friends pay him a visit. He spent his time within the confines of his room, listening to ‘Kurai ondrum illai’, a soulful rendition by M S Subbalakshmi. Deepak suspected both amma and appa of plotting to kill him. He wouldn’t consume food for fear that it might have been poisoned.
Amma… amma was a wreck. Every single second of her life, she spent wiping her tears, which would only draw violent outbursts from appa. I couldn’t blame him either. He had a million problems both at the factory and at home. Fate had snatched the smile away from all our faces. We lived, only because we couldn’t die…

My faith in God ceased. “IT may exist. But an entity that makes mothers cry cannot be worshipped. IT is the greatest sinner. I DON’T NEED IT ANYMORE…”

“Hey, is everything okay? You look like you’ve a BP of a 1200!”
Ritu got me back into the present…
“Remember the major outing we’ve planned for tomorrow? Get some sleep now Smrits, and stop looking like a possessed moron…”

She turned out the lights… and that… was the colour of my life…

==================================================

PART 4

Panagal Park and Pondy Bazaar – twin areas in Chennai that could explain commodity fetishism in six seconds flat. The aesthetically appealing shopping malls, jewellery stores, apparel showrooms, flanked on all sides by restaurants, this business hub attracts a crowd of over a million on weekends. And in all probability, you’ll not be walking, but swimming in a surging sea of men, women and kids.

“Uhh… sweaty day.” Ritu was breathing through her mouth. The heat of the tar was making its way through my shoes. We were almost through with our shopping and walking towards the bus shelter.

“Akka… akka… buy this cotton bud, ka… I haven’t eaten food since morning, ka… please buy this, ka…” A street urchin was tugging my hand, trying to squeeze a packet into my palm.
“Give him a glare and he’ll be gone,” Ritu murmured. I tightened my optic nerves and sent him a feigned fierce look.

It didn’t last long. This frail bundle of bones was no more than four and a half feet. Bare-footed he was waging a battle with the heat. And so were his weather-beaten shirt and shorts.
“We have a winner,” I grinned at roomie. “How much is this packet?”

He studied my facial expressions for a while. “Akka, buy me some dosa instead, ka.” Ritu winced. “I smell some hidden agenda here. Think this kid is capable of extortion? Probably hoodwink us somehow?”

“Let’s take the risk.” We crossed the road and stepped into Balaajee Bhavan. I scanned the area for a table. “Akka, let’s go to the room upstairs. There are loads of tables there.” I stared at him. “First alert: He knows the topography!”

“What’s your name?” I enquired after we had placed the order.
“Karthik.”
“Hmm… Karthik… Which class are you in?”
“Ninth standard, ka.”
“NINTH?” Ritu and I echoed. He looked too puny for a 14-year-old.
“I study in Corporation school, akka. No money to educate my sister. Every weekend I walk from Teynampet to Pondy Bazaar and sell cotton buds.”

His penury made me sick. “Be grateful to Him Smriti. He has given you good health and wealth.” Sharda’s voice filled my head. “Only total surrender and service would alleviate the pain.” I was in Bangalore then, making an insincere effort to listen to my wannabe evangelist-buddy. “God, we must accept Shads, is a flawed entity. And it is time we stop deceiving ourselves by giving silly excuses to bail ‘It’ out every time – ‘He gives us problems to make us stronger, He gives us problems ’coz he knows we can find out the solutions… Nay… Not happening.”

“Ghee roast!” I looked up to see the waiter serving chutney and sambar.

Karthik worked dexterously with both his hands. He had a voracious appetite. The ghee dosa was gone in five minutes.

I paid up the bill and in his eyes I could see the gratitude. Ritu wished him luck and we watched him disappear into the crowds.

“Inequality,” I muttered turning to roomie.
“Injustice… Hmm… Word association?” Her face brightened. “My turn! Red-tapism.”
“Tough one… RTI… My turn! Proletariat.”
“Piper…”

“Piper?” I turned around and there he was just a few feet away…rummaging for food in the bin. The dogs were giving him a stiff competition. Empty plantain leaves from the garbage were followed by violent curses. He hit his rivals with the staff and continued his search.

“Hey Smrits, look! He’s reading a magazine! Lol! Must be a literate piper!” Ritu guffawed.

My gaze rested on those palms clutching the book and memories clouded my vision.

=================================================
PART 5

“ ‘I am an open book… And the scribbles in these pages are my friends and family…Though a few scribbles did last only a few sides, yet they have left behind indelible impressions to last to eternity.

“ ‘I’ve always wanted the past and the present to meet at a junction where every mistake that haunts my memory would be washed away and from where I would not take two but jus’ a single path into my future... much much confusin’ this way..??? jus’ stick around with me.. you’ll figure it out soon..”

I recollected memories of flipping through the pages of Deepak’s diary, a few months ago, when he was away at work. Yup at work! He overpowered his greatest foe that held him captive for nearly four years! Not entirely normal but he carried out his activities reasonably well. The fear had ceased… the voices inside him spoke no more… The medication continued though, as per the instructions of the psychiatrist… The diary contained notes of his college life and the days of struggle with schizophrenia.

“ ‘Some guy comes over everyday, some counsellor. Tells me not to listen to the voices. How do I know if they come from my mind or from those around me?’ ”

“ ‘That guy made me chop vegetables today. I didn’t want to. I know my parents have hired him to kill me…’ ”

“ ‘Counsellor said some shopping malls have sprung around Bangalore city… Had I been normal, I would have gone there… just like guys of my age do… I want to be normal too…’”

“ ‘I was made to solve math problems. Easy stuff… 2*2 types…’ ”

“ ‘Stepped out of the room, for the first time today. Amma has lost weight. She looked happy.’ ”

“ ‘Doctor has prescribed a diff pill… and that tastes like shit…’ ”

“ ‘The voices don’t speak anymore… But I am a useless vegetable… Who would want to employ a schizophrenic anyway?’ ”

“ ‘My first job… in the copy section of an ad agency! Who said schizophrenics are just people with a mental disorder? We are simply more CREATIVE than the rest!’ ”

“ ‘Went out with appa today… my first mug of beer after 4years!’ ”

“ ‘Major argument between amma and Smriti today… heroine got into a college in Chennai for MA… Amma wants to parcel her off to some guy instead… I intervened and well, like always, diplomatically sorted out the issue! Heroine will study, amma can hunt for a guy meanwhile, at the end of second year, get her married… Of course the earlier it happens, the better it would be for me ;) ’”

“Hey, 12G…” Someone shook me violently.

It took me a while to get back to the present… I was still in Pondy Bazaar but the Piper… there was no trace of him.

==================================================
PART 6

“G O D … Isn’t He as imperfect as our species?” I was surprised to hear Ritu speak this way. “A father teaching his mentally challenged son to ride a bicycle, a mother waiting for the bus to ferry her daughter to a special school, a child desperate for an embrace from his mentally-ill mother… What expectations do they have of the future? Do parents feel guilty for not having brought into this world a perfect child? And what is His role in all of this?”

I didn’t have an answer. “Maybe He creates these special ones and brings sunshine into their lives before an eternal eclipse. Then, He creates us. So we can understand their illness and treat it.”

“It’s unbelievable - one element in the atomic table can make all the difference… And how our life changes and our perspective of the world changes.” I instinctively knew Ritu was still thinking about the Piper, though it had been a week since our third encounter. We watched our auto meander through the dark alleyway until it screeched to a sudden halt.

“Dei saavu graaki…” The auto driver yelled out. “Idhe pozhappaa pochu…”

It was the Piper again. This time he had jumped in front of our vehicle. “He’s gonna end up under the wheels of a bus,” the driver said making futile attempts to dodge his opponent. “Dei Mani,” he called out. At first, a silhouette appeared and then a face emerged as Mani made his way towards the auto-rickshaw.

Piper had begun his antics meanwhile. The bright headlight drew his fascination and invited the driver’s flak. The Piper’s innocent experiment of prodding the headlight with his staff ensued in a tug-of-war with the driver. Mani deftly tackled the former and brought him under his control.
“How many times to say… Admit him to a mental asylum… Else one of these days I’ll do it. Take him home now.” The driver started the auto and we moved on. I looked back to catch a glimpse of the Piper, but darkness removed any trace of him.

“Ganesan,” the driver said.

“Umm?” Ritu and I looked at each other.

“His name is Ganesan. My nomadic neighbour,” the driver continued. “People say he was fine in his younger days. Had a steady job as a salesman and married a flower-seller he loved against the wishes of her family. Maybe because of her parents’ curses, Ganesan started behaving abnormally and over a period of few days, he looked like he needed doctor’s intervention. Much was spent on medicines and his wife couldn’t handle the expenses all by herself. She was also quite young. That poor thing would keep him chained and not let him out. Then one day she committed suicide - fell in front of a moving train with her kid. Should have seen the body – cha. From then on, he has been like this. Nobody to take care of him and nobody to call his own. Eats from the bin, sleeps near the bin and jumps in front of vehicles. Hmm…”

“You never admitted him to any asylum?” I asked the driver while paying up the auto fare. “Definitely they’d take care of him there…”

“We don’t have time and money to fend for ourselves or provide our families with a basic square meal, where would we think of others? Each man to his own, ma. Hmm… At the end of the day, all that matters is if we have six feet of earth under us – both when we are alive and once we are gone.”

“Just six feet of earth…” I repeated and let memories take over my present…

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PART 7

“So… what’s your height Smriti?”

Uncle and I were sitting in Coffee House on M G Road, Bangalore, a couple of months back on a cold winter morning. The question was definitely a lot out of context as we were in the middle of a heated discussion on the execution of Saddam Hussein.

“I’m not sure I heard that one right, perippa. You asked for my height? Why?”
“Answer my question first young lady!”
I was bemused. “Guess around 5 feet 7 (in). Why?”
“Then,” he said, with that familiar wicked grin on his face, taking out a piece of paper from his shirt pocket, “this guy is 6 feet 4 (in)!”

I knew where this game was heading although it was happening a lot earlier than I had actually anticipated. I turned the photo away nonchalantly, sending a signal to my uncle that perhaps I was not ready for this as yet.

But the grin persisted. “Sriram is working in Kuala Lumpur. Nice family. In fact his mother is particular that you get married to her son. So, what do you think?”

“You want to know what I think? I think… it is time for our movie,” I got up and began walking towards the exit. Rex theatre was but a few metres away but my thoughts were all over the place. Sure… Sriram looked smart and sophisticated, but why all the hurry now? What about my education? And career? And did perippa mention Kuala Lumpur? Whatever was my family even thinking- I’ll be an ocean away from them… with a stranger…

With a STRANGER? I looked at my uncle, frantically. “I…uh…can’t marry an Eiffel Tower surely…”

“Hah… Lean-ing Tower of Pisa is saying she can’t get married to an Eiffel Tower!”
“Jokes apart, perippa… I’m just 22 and -”
“And did you notice those dimples on his cheeks?” Uncle cut me short with a wink, “I thought they were cute!”

“In which case, you can get married to him. He is all yours!” My lips broke into a smile. Somehow at that precise moment Sriram didn’t seem a stranger to me any more. All the petty issues could be sorted out, I felt.

We entered the dimly-lit movie hall and several fumbles later, reached our seats.

I hardly had had taken a glance at the photograph and I cursed myself for that. In fact I only remembered the Genting backdrop! But now I really wanted to know how Sriram looked! Did he have curly hair? What about those dimples perippa was talking about? My brain began working of ways to snatch the photograph from uncle!

“He’s coming to India this February. And I hope this would now make you stop fidgeting young lady, I’ve already mailed his pic to you!”

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PART 8

If anybody had ever asked me the name of Shahrukh Khan in Don or if Priyanka Chopra had even acted in that film, I wouldn’t have been to answer them correctly! My mind was simply too full of Sriram!

But that intoxication was short-lived…

I entered my home to find shattered pieces of glass strewn all over the place, crockery broken into a million fragments, telephone cord dislodged from the socket and lying on the floor, books reduced to the cover and pages swirling in the air… chairs, tables, curtains, rods all upturned and chaotic - similar to the thoughts on my mind. Sitting atop the rubble, and bleeding, was my brother…

Amma was on her knees, hitting her head continuously with her palms and wailing, with her mouth almost torn apart in anguish. And appa…was watching it all happen again… helplessly watching it all happen…

“I’m not mad, ma… I’m not MAD… It’s just this disease… this DISEASE.” Deepak hurled a few pieces of crockery in angst. Amma’s wails grew louder. Bleeding more profusely, he embraced her. Appa and I hugged them both. Schizophrenia was bringing my family closer but at the cost of our happiness…

“I had feared this the most, Mr Kumar. Deepak has had a relapse. I would suggest your son be admitted in NIMHANS. I have done my best…”

The psychiatrist washed his hands off the matter, while we watched in disbelief.

“AMMAAA…”

The scream rang through the hospital corridor as we rushed in to find Deepak crouched in a dark corner of the room, hurling abuses at unseen forces. Fear was back to haunt him… and us…
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PART 9

“To Yelahanka Satellite Town? Hmm…Why?” Here was a woman sitting absolutely dejected in NIMHANS and Sharda calls up asking for a favour. “I’m... hmm… I can’t come Shads… Ask Preethi or Vaishnavi… Sorry. Bye.” I hung up before the cajoles.

“Missionaries of Charity… Missionaries of Charity…” The phrase never seemed to go away from my head. I concentrated hard on the ceiling fan. It had been a gruelling week. Traffic jam, hospital, odour, doctors, patients, parents, husbands, wives, kids, rooms, screams… I was sapped off my energy. A few moments of Sriram would heal the pain. “This is only transient. Things will change,” I’d console myself.

But today, the phrase was distracting me. “Missionaries of Charity…”

“It’s just a few metres from here madam. See the church there? Beside that.” Sharda and I followed the auto driver’s instructions.

“Why are we going there, Shad?” I knew that question was not meant for her alone. “Hey listen, it better be good and quick. I need to relieve amma by noon.”

We reached the place and surveyed the area momentarily. To our right was land left vulnerable to the arrows from the sky. Perhaps a building was recently brought down and construction was going on.

“This must be the place,” Sharda said pointing to the left. We opened the gates and walked inside.

A Sister greeted us. “From a corporate company?” she asked.

“No Sister. We are students. I’m Sharda and she’s Smriti. I want to serve the special ones of this institution…full-time.” I turned my face, sharply, to look at Shads. What is she saying? Four years of engineering… For this? Why? Do her parents know?

“Come right this way, my children.” She guided us. “This is a surprise. A couple of corporate houses come forward to donate a portion of their profits but we don’t see many volunteers.”

She led us to a barren room with a few wooden benches. “It’s difficult to not listen to the cries of help and then the guiding voice of God,” Sister said when we were seated. “Tell me…”

“It’s a constant calling – to serve others and these days the urge is getting stronger than ever. I know one hand can make a lot of difference to this society and I want to extend mine to light up a few hearts. My parents,” Sharda paused and looked at me, “do not know about this. But I’ll convince them. Please give me a chance, Sister.”

“It’s a noble thought. But I’d suggest you look around, get the feel of the place before confirming your decision of choosing this path. One moment children, I’ll be back.”

I hurriedly whispered to Sharda. “What’s all this? Is this why you wanted me to accompany you? Charity begins at home Shads. Serve your mom and dad. Be an obedient daughter and –”

“Charity does not begin at home, Smriti,” she cut me short. “Charity begins FROM THE HEART.” And there was silence, more silence… I couldn’t argue.

“I’m sorry children for the delay. Please follow me.” The Sister led us to another building.

We had barely stepped inside a room when more than a dozen tiny wizened palms held mine. “Say hello to our guests here,” Sister said and a loud cheer reverberated around the room. Elderly women surrounded me… Their dark sunken eyes pleaded understanding… “Shunned by their family members and shunned by the society. The reason? They live in a world different from ours. Born into poor families; deserted by their own blood; drowned in irrationality, delusions, hallucinations; lying on the roadside – they cannot ask for food when hungry – they do not know… they cannot defend themselves when harassed – they do not know… Our mission is to rescue them, bring them here and provide them with food, shelter and medication.”

They appeared petite and fragile, but their eyes were brimming with life. The room had more than fifty beds, each with a bed-sheet and blanket. While a few were fast asleep, those awake were eager to make friends with the two new guests in their room.

“A psychiatrist comes over every week and we have a van which brings in all the necessary supplies to the missionary. This place also houses other destitute women who help the Sisters out in taking care of the people and maintaining the place. Service to man is service to God, so we work round-the-clock. There is no day or night - we attend to anybody at anytime. Come children, I’ll show you the prayer room.”

“God has a plan for each of us, doesn’t He?” Sharda said as she entered the prayer hall. “Still angry with Him, Smrits? Faith can move mountains, and in the Entity we rest our hopes that tomorrow will be better than today.”

Sharda had a long chat with the Sister and promised to return in a few weeks.

“Wonderful place, wonderful people. That was a re-awakening, Smrits.” I nodded my head as we walked up to the bus shelter. “Disease strikes the rich and the poor equally. Just like your brother and the special ones here, there are many more who need our help. How do you think we can go about?”

“We’d need a bunch of sensitive people… No, we need to sensitize people, Shads…”
“There are several institutions and individuals who offer such services, but they are all fragmented. We’d have to bring them together.”

“Then mass-media can bring about awareness…”

“So we can rehabilitate them, treat them and empower them…”

My eyes glistened, until doubt crept in… “Easier said, Shads, but…”

Deepak was home in a few days. “He’d be fine,” the psychiatrist assured us. But there was something else running through my parents’ mind - “Who’d take care of him after we’ve gone?”
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PART 10

“Butterflies in your tummy?” Ritu was referring to my “date” with Sriram. I was back in the present and events would unfold from here on, like how Deepak had mentioned –“just a single path into my future.”

“I’m fine, Ritu. See you soon.”

I had rehearsed my lines the previous night. It shouldn’t take me much time, I told myself. I stepped into GRT Grand at 6pm, and was out in half hour. “Good luck. Any help from my side, don’t hesitate to ask,” he said and then we parted.

There was a new-found purpose in my life.

“Easier said, Shads, but… IT IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE.” I gushed over the phone. “Have located a new home for Ganesan! Also, the campaign starts tomorrow. Wanna know the placards I’ve made?”

“Mental-retardation, schizophrenia, bi-polar… any illness… TOGETHER we can fight it.”

“Penury is not the enemy, indifference is.”

“It’s no longer a world of their own… We are in it too… IT’S A WORLD OF OUR OWN…”

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS

2007-01-03T22:35:00.000+05:30

Well… last year I had resolved not to make no resolutions… slight change of plans this 2007!

Resolu-shun 1: EAT EAT EAT

Ever since I landed in Chennai around July last year, thanks to my hostel that specializes in mixing sambar with water, rasam with water, lassi/more with water (note: lassi = curd + water) and water with water, I’ve lost four kgs...For Lalli, that ain’t an infinitismally small quantity… So… I promise to down adai no matter how black n ugly it looks, that hopelessly hopeless overly boiled carrot and raw brinjal curry… (I also resolve to manslaughter the pea-brain who even came up with this idea of mixing the two), oh and even that payasam… no matter how charred it smells and tastes…

Once a week I’ll hit:
my aunt’s house and fill my belly with gobi
the ice cream parlour and lick crunchit chocolate
Seenu’s juice joint and have lime, orange and pineapple back to back

Resolu-shun 2: DROWN MY LAZINESS IN COOUM

I will not trouble Sathish a.k.a Fatty, Deepak a.k.a Praveen, at the cyber centre by asking them to take print outs at 10 in the night. I will not roam around the gullies of W.Mambalam and T.Nagar at 10.45 pm for spiral binding. I will be a lot more organized and not put off my assignments to the last minute and give everybody from the warden to the watchman a cardiac arrest by vanishing from the hostel.

Resolu-shun 3: GET A BOYFRIEND

Now what were you thinking..?! For me..? No way..! Get a boyfriend for my Tambram roomie… In that way, she will not whine over her 21 futile years of existence in the morning, afternoon, evening and night..! Ho.. and no Jayaramans and Ramakrishnans..! The closer he is to Goa, the closer he will be to her heart..! Ofcourse I’ve told her, “No guy, No cry!” H.m.m… all those don’t work..

Resolu-shun 4: NO CHICKEN-WATCHING FROM BUS-STOP

I love bus stops on busy roads for the obvious reasons… Specially minutes before the xams when my eyes are scanning 180degrees in search of those rare cute guys in bikes… and I end up screwing my paper most of the time… Such transient distractions with permanent damage to be avoided…

Resolu-shun 5: SLIPPER INDECENT ASSHOLES

Men… please do not make me start hating your community… specially those aboard crowded buses … Frankly, those in their 20s are chivalrous and civilized… I am vexed with those beyond 30, those assholes who are frustrated with their wives and think every other woman as their wife… if any guy acts funny with me, I’ll remove my slippers and belt him, kick him in that region… and howl and bring the roof down… Else I’ll carry spurs and prick him until he bleeds to death… I intend to teach every fucking damned asshole a lesson…

Resolu-shun 6: PRACTICE THE ABOVE FIVE RESOLUTIONS RELIGIOUSLY!

A WHORE OF THE MIND

2006-09-15T19:28:00.000+05:30

September 13, 2006

On cool moon-lit nights, as I would walk towards home from tuitions, clutching my books, with the breeze playing with my dupatta, “a spring in every step, a song on my lips”, the feeling in my heart was overwhelmingly inexplicable. Smiling to myself, recollecting the beautiful moments I had spent with him during the day, and piling up dreams during the night, my 16years of existence seemed to be moving towards a beautiful new beginning. What did I love best about him? His wit? Humour? Warmth? Or simply the way he made me feel whenever I was with him? Probably there is no answer to this question. All that mattered to me was that I had found the one with whom I wanted to spend all my life, all my seven lives and life beyond that as well.

Four years, and my love for him was only growing stronger. So dazzled and blinded by love, I spent my hours capturing all the words he had uttered to me every single day of my life, jotting down all his messages and seizing every single opportunity to message him and hear from him.

I adored the way he would gaze deeply into my eyes and say, “Smriti, you are beautiful!” I’d smile… hoping he would utter those three magical words… seconds would pass like eons and images of my head resting on his shoulders would strike my eyes… "Oh God! Please stop making me dream so much…!", I would tell myself... "Take a deep breath babe, pull his leg for a while before reciprocating his love"… but I could never keep my heart beat in check… "C’mon dude… Propose propose propose… four years is a lot of time!"…

He did infact utter those three magical words… in front of my eyes… but… not to me… and never will he, to me…

My world came crashing down… there was nothing to look forward to… I was treading on my shattered pile of dreams… bleeding… but numb…

It was precisely then “B” entered my life…

He went on to become my best buddy. We shared similar interests- science and philosophy. Hours would fly by whenever I was with him and he was the perfect medicine to my broken heart…

“Hmm… Smriti… what do you think, is love and friendship a reversible chemical reaction?” We were in church then and it was raining heavily outside… I guess he always knew my reply… I shook my head… “Love is like a one-way stream… it is disaster when you ride against the current…” He did not buy my answer. He did not want to.

“I am leaving Bangalore, but I will persist", he said. "Why must I let go of you?”, those words troubled me. Within a few days, I said yes to him. “Right decision?”, I don’t know…

The relationship was getting strained. After a year, we were just two individuals trying to make things work… the feeling had sunk in… “He is not the one… he can never be the one”… I tried to pull myself out of the web… B did not want to give up… and would never…

“In love? Or out of love?”, it was at this juncture, I was introduced to “K”…

"Just a crush Smriti… just… a… crush"… I muttered to myself, as I laid down my head onto my hard pillow, watching the drape sway in the air, gently being caressed by the breeze… it rested awhile… and then another breeze swept it off the floor…

“You whore”, I screamed at the drape… and I painfully watched it echo the words in my direction…

E T E R N A L F R E E D O M

2006-09-15T19:11:00.000+05:30

August 2005

We all loved him.. his virtues... his mannerisms... above all.. his stories abt the freedom struggle.. he was a History of Modern India textbook... right from the establishment of the East India Company to the riots of 1947, he knew them all... he lived through some of them... re-lived the same during the last ten years of his life.. that was my granpa...

we six cousins would huddle up beside him vying for his lap most of the time.. n he would begin his narration with an air of a kshathriya... his booming loud voice would fill the room leaving us in awe.. stories of the quit India movement that he actively took part in as a teenager would be followed by exhibiting before us a few sepia toned photographs taken with netaji subash chandra bose by his side...

towards the end of his narration, there would be a tinge of melancholy in his voice... it would turn fragile and quiver with age.. in his words, "those days used to be beautiful.. life was simple... life had a purpose... n the joy Indians wore in their hearts when we got freedom is so inexplicable... i wish i could go back in time and live those moments.. this nostalgia... this nostalgia... it pains.. it hurts... either i should live only this present... or turn back time to the 1940s...."

eventually... his wish did come true, a year after granma passed away... he started leading a reclusive life.. detached emotionally from his family and mentally from the world outside him.. he would walk within the four walls of his room, muttering incessantly and incoherently, "Indian National Army.. Burma... Delhi Chalo..." the doctors had given up hope of curing him, old-age, they said...

at this juncture, i was admitted to a boarding school in ootacamund.. in the 3-minute phone conversation dat i would have with my parents, they would brief me on my cousins... who broke his arm and who sprained her ankle..! towards the end, they would add... "granpa... granpa is jus the same....."

but that day.... the call was for a different reason.... granpa had expired... "he died in his sleep", my dad told me... "come home soon"..

tears flooded my eyes and my heart felt like it would rip any second of grief.. i rushed home to see him lying on the floor... lifeless.... yet peaceful...

i heard amma say, "he struggled for ten years... delusions and hallucinations.. finally god has set him free..."

"no amma", i said, unable to contain myself, "god set him free ten years back... granpa lived within the four walls of his room, but in his thoughts he travelled to distant lands that his physical body could not take him to.. every second of those ten years he re-lived the moment that he cherished the most in his life... the first taste of freedom.. the first taste of free India... even when he was alive, he conquered both space.. and time.... though his reflective consciousness failed him, he could not have been a happier man......... we'll all miss granpa..... but the sound of his voice... will continue to linger in our hearts...."

RENAISSANCE

2006-09-15T19:04:00.000+05:30

2004

yeah.. yeah... it was that awful monday mornin' again... why didn't God create Tuesday after Sunday... anywayz... was greeted by my noisy neighbour's heavy metal music... to add to my woes.. was this fuse... trippin' the entire electrical activity of my bathroom.... then was the wall clock which gave haath... with less than 5 minutes for the college bus... was weighin' between my contact lens n breakfast... can live without a meal... but can't go to college with harry potter glasses... (damsels would definitely agree).. in that haste... dropped the contacts... major lenshunt was organised under the able leadership of me... my bro evidently found it... dust-laden... fixed it into my eyes.. finally hit the road... when the bus jus' whizzed past me... a 100m marathon pursuit... (million thanks to maurice greene for trainin' me..) with plenty of yellz... (courtesy... metallica n guns n roses) made it into that coughin' sardine tin only to find my buddy's lap free... the rest of the journey proceeded with bud's sneezes.. (type: spray...frequency: 100 a minute)... wondered if a combination of head n shoulders n sunsilk was enough to clean my hair..

was late for the first hour... lecturers sure work on german standard time... class received a discipline sermon... jus' when i felt i was beginnin' to sync with the time table... came the physics practicals... demonstrator was mournin' over the obituary of common sense with our generation... close on heels came industriousness n time management... flurry of harsh, cruel n cold vocabularies from the english dictionary followed... didn't take us much time in givin' her the terror nickname... phew... it was all over in 3 hrs!

durin' the break was a programme in the audi... a 45minute documentary by help age india... focus was on senior citizens n oldage homes... a personal awakenin'... they didn't want money... but loads of love... a good companion to drive away loneliness n boredom... they want to age beautifully n not in insecurity... they didn't feel appreciated by their sons n daughters... these lines still linger... "a year gone by... a year closer to the grave.." in front of their difficulties... ours seem so lame.... a few of us 've decided to pay them a visit n probably entertain them too...

while thinkin' on those terms a sudden gush of emotions gripped me... i've never thanked my bro for helpin' me out in times of difficulty... for puttin' up with me all these years... i've never thanked my parents for being there by my side... for everythin' they've given me... i've never thanked my buddies who've been my agony aunts n uncles solvin' teen troubles... why.. not even my lecturers who've made me the person i am... their never endin' advice though bitter to my ears have made me a better sensitive human being...

returned home n my mom greeted me at the door.. how was ur day..??? couldn't help but hug her n say... perfect ma... jus' perfect...

a special thanks to all the grandmas n grandpas for makin' me realize that love in any form shouldn't be taken for granted....

SHORT OF BREA(d)TH...

2006-08-15T22:01:00.000+05:30

hey litter-ers....

welcome to my junk yard..! have fun reading my wafflings... pop-philosophies... short stories.... musings... and... my million misadventures... ..!!! :)

*Cheers*