A constant nagging feeling growing into the conscious.. striving for some space in the monotony of driving on the highway, pangs of hunger grumbling in the stomach and a dull pain brooding over the shoulders... The hunger and pain knocked only at intervals but the feeling remained.. unrelenting and steadily growing... we were on the way back home driving along State Highway No. 7 via Karimnagar... we decided to take a break for some tea.. something had to be done to suppress this feeling...

Every day has a unique beginning.. some way or the other.. it can be wonderful, dull, mundane.. early, late, too early.. but there are certain elements.. a few chores that has the capacity to decide the outcome of any day... February 6th 2011 began with a sudden drop into consciousness vehemently thrown out of my dream.. when reality settled I realized it was a Sunday and I was some 200 odd kilometers from Hyderabad in Nirmal all set for another expedition into the woods.. The day should be exciting and I was eagerly looking forward to it.. But waking up in the wee hours of the morning can disturb the smoothly conduct of certain chores which ought to be done in the morning.. The consequences of those were reserved for later.......

At 5 AM we (a group of five.. bird watchers and photography enthusiast) were back on the roads.. The route was surprisingly smooth and spooky... covered on either sides with tall dense teak trees spreading out its gigantic branches and clasping the road nice and tight holding it steady awaiting to consume all tiny particles that trod along its way unsuspecting.. A few that marginally escaped its grasp fled past us back into the safety.. None of them entered into the unknown darkness that was beyond the headlights... perhaps they were all consumed and became part of the growing and inviting darkness and ours was saved for last... the dessert in the full course meal.. we carefully trailed along the snake like path... carefully because we were running on the spare tyre owing to an incident on the National Highway No. 7 where our journey from Hyderabad began....

One can not expect a more satisfying drive than that on the Six lane magnanimous National Highway No. 7 starting from the southern most point Kanyakumari to Srinagar running along the length of India like the amateur arm scissoring awkwardly the subcontinent into two halves... we were gliding effortlessly at top speed discussing facts about birds, making plans for the Sunday and cracking up professional birding compliant jokes... The promising road gave us plenty of time to reach our destination and therefore we decided to take a break to stretch ourselves and sip some tea in the dhaba nearby...

The chillness of the night embraced us as we located a table out in the open to enjoy the little shivers under the folded arms only a perfect continuation after the drive on the heavenly expressway.. The view opened to a vast blue sky with a half-lit moon and endless bright spots that looked like the drawing assignment of a kindergarten-going kid... Eagerly colouring the circle on the assignment sheet with a bright ash coloured water paint occasionally sprinkling the paint on the sheet knowingly and/or unknowingly.. but then growing bored of the monotonous activity and leaving it incomplete for a good night's sleep... sweet dreams child for the nightmares are en route for the rest of us....

Promises are meant to be broken... especially those made by the government.. and the promise for a smooth and secure drive on the National Highway was about to meet its stark reality.. A reality where the roads are the way they are meant to be.. Two-way and narrow road with more of patch work than the actual road and deep trenches dug to keep up the warranted number of potholes that should be available to make the commuters life a living hell.... To put some cherry on the cake were the vehicles coming from the opposite direction shooting blinding high beams followed by an abrupt explosion of abysmal darkness.. The endless freak show of contrasting lights keeps you wondering if you are on the right path if there is actually a path to speak of.. And finally the icing on the cake is when the tubeless tyre butts butt-end into one of those trenches and is immediately rendered useless... A group of IT professionals, well aware of the gravity of the situation, throw some jokes around to defuse the tense situation. The task of replacing the tyre always looked simple when the tyre-puncture waala performed it deftly. But we realized the practiced efficiency hidden behind the task only when eight hands under conflicting supervision and varied opinions struggled to get it done.. Exhausted and excited, claiming to have added something new to the resume, we got back on to the dusty path treading carefully hereafter....

Sunlight dawned streaming through the dried spotted teak leaves showering hope that there is no vanishing into the murky darkness and the forest turned benign brown and green... We wandered into the forest, listening to the whistling of the birds and a deep throb of the axe digging its pointed teeth through the woods, along with a care taker who followed the birds whistle but turned a deaf ear to the wood chopping... He was no whistle-blower and perhaps was well-fed in the wood smuggling business... Corruption in our country had deeper roots than that of the strongest Teak tree in the 893 sq. km area... I had so many 'lifers'.. a term used in Birding when one sights a bird for the first time out in the open... We spotted Snake eagles, buzzards, wood shrikes, flycatchers, nuthatch to name a few.. and got some close and amazing pictures of the Indian roller - state bird of Andhra Pradesh..

After some wonderful sightings and photography we decided to pack our bags and head home... it was the same moment when the feeling registered its presence only to be rubbished aside.. we took a different route to reach Hyderabad via Karimnagar... We took a break for some tea.. I thought satisfying my hunger can bring some difference...

The tummy was happy and hunger faded from my conscious only to give more space to that feeling that grew like darkness that began to settle or the count of the fast approaching vehicles from the other end... there was no stopping of the endless row of vehicles or the feeling.. It was now pitch dark except for the high beams from the opposite end and the feeling filled up my conscious to take complete control and I was forced to make an abrupt stop near a dhaba and disclose its presence to the group... A desperate search to dispose off this feeling was made in the surrounding areas only in vain.. There was no alternative as hinted by my colleagues and I was completely subdued to find a deserted place out in the open strip down my civic sense and relieve myself of the hardships endured during the trip...

when in Rome do as the Romans do and when in the wild....... This was another lifer.. a first timer followed by sense of absolute relief and I felt feather-weight and free like a bird soaring in the sky.... This was a trip worth the salt...

A few pictures...

KawalWildlifeSanctuaryFeb0611

ok.. where do we begin this?? You have interesting anecdotes, thrilling experiences, long stretch of absolute boredom where time turned monotonous moving at its own snail pace.. You have all of these like characters in a play.. they know what they ought to do.. and they are ready waiting for their turn.. you might plainly put them one by one in the order of occurrence like reading news or you could start somewhere in the middle where something out of the blue happened and you keep the reader mystified till the end. But I have not murdered anyone in this trip to write a thriller.. though I desperately wished to stab a few of them to death.. like the bus driver from Manali to Shimla or the care taker in Katra dharamshala.. but they can wait..

This trip has only left me drained. I have lost weight, 4 kilos of them, and I am not among those who considered that as an achievement and celebrate it. I would not suggest this trip as a rapid weight loss program for those who want to lose their bulk or even trim off those round edges. I have lost my colour... my Aravind Swamy colour.. (although the previous statement is highly debatable and when put to vote will only win one vote in favour... I can term this as a writer's creative freedom to express his thoughts) The typical Indian fixation, left behind by the 'Phirangis', for the fair skin. You only have three categories.. fair which ranges from anemic white, pinkish skin to little amount of colour under the armpits... a little dusky or more would fall under wheatish complexion. (the word is defined under Indian English.. any new word used by Indians will be added to the dictionary as we are the largest English speaking population in the world.. A foreign word used by the vast majority no longer remains foreign..) and finally the absolute dark, Keiron pollard like, regarded dusky complexioned in the matrimonial sites.

A few memories of the trip which remained forbearing the infinite suction of the scorching heat find their place in this post.

Counting 'chicks': The trip was, as anticipated, full of promising nights.. the brief sojourns on filthy platforms waiting for the train.. They all loitered around the platforms, the trains.. some of them obeyed the announcing-lady, some did not bother to turn up even after repeated pleas by the lady and some dropped out of no where unannounced with no name no aim and stayed put.. The platform bustled with activity.. trains with bogies married to engines, bachelor engines piqued in loneliness wailing its discontent in sirens.. the cry of despair the cry for attention that deafened the rest of the platform but could not get the slightest of affirmative nod from the 'chuk-chuk' bulbous bogie.. Amidst the romance there were people, hoards of them, scattered everywhere like bird droppings. All kinds of them.. Tall, midget, dusky, white washed, elderly, hippie, Chinese and their elephant trunk cameras, loin-clothed with frizzy long hair, men in military uniforms and neatly groomed hair.. All of them under one platform.. The announcing lady dullard and uninspiring went on with her rambling unaware with the real proceedings.

With two of the promising nights spent under serene immobile locations, the remaining nights demanded extra efforts to catch some sleep. Some of the classic techniques were applied (modified to make it pleasant). Counting lambs therefore became counting chicks. Chicks with long legs and short skirts on them sprinting across an imaginary King's bed.. Chick followed by chick keeping the count was more pleasurable until my mind decided to play a trick to turn things nasty and my high-school English teacher appeared. The long wooden scale in her hand and the scowl worn on her face spoke her intentions in a heavy Malayalam accent as she began lucidly explaining the dictionary definition of the word 'chick'. The long legged ones waiting for their turn to sprint suddenly shrunk into ugly feathery little chickens scampering all over the place..

The night went on with chicks and little chickens running through my mind finally drifting back into a dreamless sleep as we left Delhi for Manali.. leaving behind the crowded lanes of chandini chowk hustling with furious activity, the unkempt parking where the only plausible way to take a vehicle out will be using air support, the silence inside the lotus temple.. the distinct aura which brings you in touch with your inner peace.. dwindling away the restlessness and filling the self with positive energy with every breath. You carried along with you the cold touch of serenity as part of temple's offering which lingered on chaste for a while but Delhi had more to offer to corrupt the austerity and fall back on crude dreading practicality. My haggling skills were put to gruesome tests in some parts of the capital city and I proved to be far more miserable than I thought.

Leaving behind all this we moved on for a fresh hassle free beginning in Manali.. a good sleep helped its course but we were 3 hours behind schedule..

Motorcycle Diaries:

To be continued......

PS: There are two kinds of people in this world.. One who finish what they start and

When you are aboard a flight on course for the next pleasure trip, what is the probability for a super hot chic to share the seat next to you???
Ok. Thats wishful thinking..
What is the probability for a good looking gal to be claiming that seat??
Hmmm.. Lets get more rationale...
Down to earth what is the probability for a person with a feminine anatomy to be present in the visible radar??
NEGATIVE...

'Bhai saab.. Yeh Rajdhani kaunsi platform par rukegi??'
'Rajdhani!!! Aaj koi Rajdhani nahin hai..!!!'
Ok this is not happening. I thought I was done with the misadventures. There isnt room for any more. Upon further enquiry I was told effective November the timetable for Rajdhani has changed and it is already on wheels running along the length of India... And I booked the ticket on one cold October afternoon over a lousy weekend in Budapest. Admist the numbing cold and lethargy the idea spurred with a bang when the desire to run took to its heels. Running has always been in my blood since the day I have seen that very blood running down my cheeks when I tripped and fell during a race. I was always fascinated by games that involved running. I was a not-so-fast bowler with a very very long run up. Running got me to listen to the song of my heart.. beating to the rythm of my body. Running gave me a wholesome experience of being alive and connected to myself.

But 'one person's conception of craziness was other person's pursuit for passion'..
And the general conception was 'You are going to Delhi to run!! are you crazy????' barring a few like-minded individuals or the holy ones with no mind to boast about who shared the same fiery passion. Not succumbing to lethargy or the more viable conception the decision was made to run the 5 KM race in Gurgaon. The next dramatic moment you are packing your backpack, putting on your jacket and the negative probability and seated in the plane enroute to Delhi.

Its always easy to spot the person who is going to sit next to you especially when he is of the same age group. The scornful look on his face immediately suggests that he must have, more or less, postulated a similar probability theory and that beating all the odds and hopes still holds good. We exchanged casual but plastered smiles and very fortunately dint take it to the next level of hand shake. The moment he was all set and put his seat belt on, he began digging up his nose as if looking for some precious beads of treasure. The excavation went on for a while until he fell asleep peacefully snoring through his treasure-trove. The occasional jitters in the flight shook him off his slumber, weary and awake, precariously churning his nose and casting nervous glances at me. We shared some meaningful and more pertinent thoughts about the situation.
'The plane is all jumpy eh?'
'Ya.. The path it seems is full of potholes and gutters...'
'Ohh.. Sad.. At least they could keep the airspace clear!!'

The plane landed in the capital city of India right on time..

THE PLAN: Catch a pre-paid cab to the race location in Gurgaon, get all the needed information and material , find a nice hotel nearby to stay over the night and get set for the race the next day. Jolly good.. Lets rock!!

The cab driver had no idea where this place was. I showed him the copy where I had the directions written and we went passing through the gigantic DLF buildings in Gurgaon. It was the same structures I had seen above from the plane where it only looked like digital displays of may be chinese language. I felt like God with infinite power to displace those tiny pieces rearranging them to form readable letters like 'DELHI' or 'DEE'. But sitting in the cab straining my neck to see the structures in its entirety, the powers of perception altered and the God in me was reduced to a mere midget. The landscape changed from massive buildings to deserted areas bereft of human existence but the place was not to be found. I wondered if I was still in India. And finally in one of those deserted lanes the cab driver and I could spot the location.

I was given a lays chips packet, Quaker oats, registration number with a sticker and a map for the race and some do's and dont's and tips to be followed. The registration was complete and I enquired about the hotels to stay nearby only returned with wide eyed look and a shrug. So I began my quest to find a hotel in that deserted area on foot. After walking for an hour I was in the middle of residential apartments and no where to head. Then I boarded an eco-friendly two seater rickshaw which, on my request for a nearby hotel, took me to a tea stall on the main road. The tea stall also sold bajjis and lays packets and had a vacant uneven legged wooden bench for accommodation purposes. Brushing away unwanted thoughts, once again I was afoot looking out for buildings which only had shelter for cars and its owners and occupants but none for total strangers.

Finally I got into a cab and told the driver to take me to a hotel anywhere in this vast empty hotel-less city and particularly insisting on staying away from the 5 starers. He took me to Lemon Grass hotel whose building had a distinct lemon colour and its lawn evenly spaced with grass. Sweeping one glance at the interiors, the brilliantly lit chandelier and a board with illuminated digital display of foreign exchange rates I at once knew that I had to get out and chase the cab, but to satiate my curiosity I checked out the rates and left the place gracefully.

With fatigue kicking in and the will to find shelter draining out, I got into another rickshaw calculating my options. Honestly lying down on the well cushioned damp and green grass fixing your stare at the twinkling stars and the night sky is not as wonderful as we make it sound or write about. But this time the ride took me to a guest house where I found a decent and affordable accommodation. I never felt so amused cuddled under the blankets staring at the ceiling and waited for my sleep to take over.

Next day I woke up early all set for my race...

THE PLAN: Try your best to finish up the race and then take a cab to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. Today everything will fall in place...

To be continued......

A Priest dies and is awaiting his turn in line at the Heaven's Gate. Ahead of him is a guy, fashionably dressed, in dark sun glasses, a loud shirt, leather jacket and jeans. God asks him: Please tell me who are you, so that I may know whether to admit you into the kingdom of Heaven or not?
The guy replies: I am Pandi, Auto driver from Chennai! God consults his ledger, smiles and says to Pandi: Please take this silken robe and gold scarf and enter the Kingdom of Heaven ...
Now it is the priest's turn. He stands erect and speaks out in a booming voice: I am Pope's Assistant so and so, Head Priest of the so and so Church for the last 40 years. God consults his ledger and says to the Priest: Please take this cotton robe and enter the Kingdom of Heaven ...
'Just a minute,' says the agonized Priest. 'How is it that a foul mouthed, rash driving Auto Driver is given a Silken robe and a Golden scarf and me, a Priest, who's spent his whole life preaching your Name and goodness has to make do with a Cotton robe?'
'Results my friend, results,' shrugs God. 'While you preached, people SLEPT; but when he drove his Auto, people PRAYED'

Dangling precariously with a part of the body resting on one end of the butt carefully mounted on the driver's seat albeit the scramble of bottoms fidgeting for space, where the slightest movement of muscle could be absolutely fatal.. and the major chunk of the body, recklessly thrown open to the mercy of the ongoing traffic, garnering support from the grip of the arm.. Anchored in such an arresting position, the auto-rickshaw hurtles forward with three people in the front and three at the back.. The fellowship of auto-rickshaw have an unwritten rule or a code of conduct which explicitly states that once the kick rod is pulled and the engine ignited, there is no stopping the rotating wheels, traffic or no traffic, highway or the driver's way, like the incessant rush of the stream circumventing at every barrier on course or taking the barrier along... Keeping to the rule, the jet-focused rider is suddenly diverted with the sound of a fancy ringtone...
"Anthe na!!!!!!!! (Is that all???? )
"Inkem kaavali... (What else do you want?? ) " The irony of it....
He frantically begins to dig into his pocket nearly putting an end to my journey throwing me off board.. He finds a missed call on his cellphone.. Who could that be at this hour of duty??? It could be the president of China waiting for his command to launch an attack on India.!!! Those sinister hands, a puppeteer to the fate of fellow commuters, executes the command typing a message in response thereby extending his reign of power over the entire nation. That was the peak of what my dwindling optimism could take and I finally resorted to remembering God and His divine intervention to help me get to the destination without losing either of my buttocks.
Now I am here, alive butt-safe and kicking, sharing this adventurous anecdote of my auto-rickshaw ride from Hitech city to JNTU.
Perhaps its God's menacing but benign ways, through the noble auto-driver, to steers us into the path of divinity and fond remembrance..
God Bless!!

The following piece of conversation deals about sensitive matters such as God and religions and also touches mundane everyday lunch topics such as children and their impish and allegedly funny activities...
The author on most accounts, and as indicated in 'italics', refrained from speaking his mind out leading to a peaceful and thoroughly professional conversation which otherwise would have gathered momentum towards true blue and unparliamentary swearing and supposedly culminated in violence...
Continuing further is left at the august discretion of the reader...

Author: So you have started getting your lunch box again...
Colleague1: Yes yes... My son is cooperating with me these days!!
Author: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Colleague2: Oh is it.. How is your son doing??
Colleague1: He is great.. You know he started calling everyone according to their roles!!
Author: what the fish??? So he calls you Quality Assurance Tester.. Wow.. Kids are too much these days!!!
Colleague1: you know.. He calls amma, naana, thaathaya and all....
Author: Get a hold!!!
Colleague3: I have noticed that among kids, girls are more talkative and boys are very silent types...
Colleague1: Boys are more into physical activities.. They keep running around here and there all the time... My son has no brakes at all...
Colleague3: Girls will play with their toys and keep them carefully but boys will be bent on destroying the toys the moment they lay their hands on them..
Author: This is unfair!!!
Colleague2: No no.. Boys are more interested in the physics of how they are made, how they work.. Girls are not particularly interested in that!!
Author: I dont think we can differentiate it like that... A kid is only born and we have a boy and a girl..
Colleague1: I dont know about the physics but my son scares me all the time.. He want to play with crackers, put his fingers into the electrical sockets. I always have to keep an eye on him or I dont know what he is upto.
Colleagues3: You must get those safety sockets installed.. Then there wont be a problem..
Colleague2: Safety sockets or not.. Kids would anyway try to poke into the sockets with wires. They will always know how to do it..
Author: I think he would learn when he tries it out once... When I was a kid, I was really curious about that insect which always went into the sockets and came out unscathed.. Thats when I tried pushing my finger into it and practically realised...
Colleague3: The safety sockets are coming by default in all the new flats.. I think they should be present in your flat too..
Colleague2: Is it?? I dont know about the safety sockets but I am more worried about the puja room.. I wanted a two side door, with two bells, so many idols just like a temple...
Colleague1: Dont do that.. You shouldnt have a temple in the house.. Its not good.
Colleague3: Ya.. Dont get big size idols, gopuram in your puja room, you will have to perform all the rituals you do for a temple then. Its not good..
Colleague1: you know you shouldnt even have houses near to the temples..
Author: Uh-oh!! Why is that??
Colleague1: Temple is a sign of sakthi and it radiates so much energy..
Author: No wonder!! I feel so energetic at home!!
Colleague1: We cant stand so much of energy you know...
Colleague2: Then how can we go to the temples? We go to the temples to absorb that great energy into us.
Author: A superb allegory and an equally amazing response.. Hats off people!!
Colleague1: Thats because we are pure when we go to the temple.. Why do you think we take bath and remove the sandals outside?? In purity we can face that energy from God...
Author: I do take bath at home and keep prancing around bare foot..
Colleague2: In kerala, we even have to take our shirt off while going to the temples...
Author: Bingo!! He did read my mind.. Not surprising that I am able to sustain such vast form of energy...
Colleague2: In kerala we had a family temple which was left not used for a long time.. And there were so many family problems.. So we called a prashnam..
Colleague1: Whats a prashnam??
Author: prashnam is something where we call a guy who plays with shells and predicts the future for us.. I still remember that guy who came to my place and predicted that I would join a government organisation.. Partly its true because I still work like I were in one.. God and his ways..
Colleague2: No no.. He doesnt play with shells.. He would do some calculations and tell us why is God angry and what is the reason for all the problems..
Author: If that were true... God must be really furious with me!!
Colleague2: So this guy told us that we need to perform all the pujas in the closed temple regularly or else we would have a lot of problems.. After that everything was fine...
Colleague1: Yaa.. And no matter which God you worship, you should never stop worshipping your family deity.. You can always worship other Gods.. but family deity is a must..
Author: who is my family deity?? 330 million Gods and counting.. I would stick to my family deity...
Colleague1: My sister's house has a very beautiful puja room.. Next to the kitchen they have done the wood work and its very beautiful you know..
Colleague2: We can have that in the kitchen also? But there will be so many food items made.. It wont be good na..
Colleague3: It all depends on the vaastu..
Colleague1: Ya.. Vaastu has to be correct. You know why japan is top in the world??
Author: now she is talking!!!
Colleague1: It has the most perfect vaastu. And thats why japan has progressed so much..
Author: of all the turmoil, technological advancement.. its vaastu that should take the credit!!! heights!!
Colleague1: Even tirupathi temple has the perfect vaastu.. That is why its so famous..
Author: I will open a company with a good vaastu and it will reap all profits..
Colleague2: haha.. thats a good idea..
Author: Will vaastu of the company building affect its employees??
Colleague1: I dont know about that.. But our company vaastu should be good.. Thats why we are still working here.. hehe!!
Colleague3: Ya correct.. so we will get back to the work before they terminate us..
Author: do they really have to drag my pj!!!!

The great monsoon sale is on...
where is the monsoon???

There is no monsoon but there is a sale..
where is the sale???

There is no sale.. with inflation close to 12% prices are only soaring..
There is no sale.. But there is a sale..

There is a sale of MP's in the parliament..
A vote of confidence.. Number-crunching game..

A conglomeration of trust, mistrust, back-stabbing, bidding..
who decides the fate of the country??

Fate of the country is already in ruins..
Country and parliament are disconnected.

Parliament seeks power.. country seeks hope...
Ideologies, alliances are on sale..
UPAs, SPs, BSPs, BJPs, CPIs seek the common P.. Parliament, Power

who decides the fate of the P?
For tomorrow its the weather that takes the decision..

Rain can bring in floods and dissolve the government..
Warm and sunny day might make Mayawati the PM..

Its a Great Monsoon sale...
No Monsoons.. No sale..

Just when I am inconspicuously wafting through the cycle of time, quite contended with my life and things around, a bovine contentment; suppressing the curiosity that keeps me going, a cat's curiosity; disinclined and extremely indolent with activities in life, unlike a busy bee... Just when any of the living beings dont seem to startle or represent me, letting me idle around the unending swirling motions of time... Just when.. and a vague opportunity knocks on my door...

A chance comes knocking to make a contribution, a significant one, to the community... to make a difference.. to bring in a change.. a head start.. and everything else written on the election campaign brochure.. It was a chance to participate in the world's largest democracy, play a role.. a supreme one.. As Lincoln said.. Democracy is for the people, by the people and of the people and may be on the people.. We, my family, had to vote.. and this time they allowed the pets to cast their votes too.. pets with initials.. Deepu, Dee chauffeur, girl and now Deer, V.A. Deer.. pet with initials.. The polling officer was startled, deer-like, to read out my new pet name as he dint find any visible traits of a deer in me and wondered if I was named after a royal stag or something.. I was compared, related and linked with most of the domestic animals but this is the closest I get to the wild ones.. I casted my vote smearing a blot of ink on my accusing finger and so did my sister who suddenly in the morning turned into a BJP supporter and zealously voted for HER BJP.. The BJP that unknowingly had the symbol of HAND.. (What if Congress won the Elections by one vote... one crucial vote which always belonged to the BJP and fell in the HAND of Congress????)

Elections and democracy was not a new experience for me sparing the novelty in nomenclature. We had them in our schools. Elections were conducted for school group leaders and class leaders.. I was an active part of both sides of the democracy, casting my vote for the group leader and nominating myself for the class leader. A class of 60, enfranchised pupils yet to be citizens penning the name of their able leader from the nominees standing on the dais. The counting is quick and easy(atleast mine which in my three continuous years of filing nominations never required the service of all the ten fingers!!) and a new leader is elected. A leader who would mind the class writing down the names of anyone who couldnt keep their mouth shut in the absence of a teacher; who distributed our unit and assignment test papers and read out circulars.. We practically learnt how democracy works and I clearly knew that Democracy was not a place to try your luck. Fortune in democracy always favoured the articulate and influential minds..

If I ever chanced upon a whimsical notion to file nominations again and perhaps start a new independent party to errr bring about a drastic change in the errr political happenings of this country..!! Royal Stag (animal not the whiskey!!) would be my party symbol.. I have decided on that... For the moment democracy is doing fine for India and I am happy being part of the electorate...

We reach Trishur railway station at half past 2 (one and half hour late) and start for my maternal home in an ambassador. This time we go through a new route, where a new bridge is built over one of the zillion backwaters in the green country... The ferry service is discontinued and preserved as a heritage in the name of Urbanisation. Ferries were always fun to commute moving at a steady pace giving an awe filled view around the lake within it and a growing urge to dive into it and feel the sharp chillness of the water slapping the senses clogging the nasal passages and ears; floating over the water weightless separated from the thoughts, emotions and the tangible life, floating around aimlessly and ultimately sinking into the blue. But I am in complete peace with the ambassador jolting ahead through the newly built bridge after an arduous 24 (plus 1 and half) hour journey in Sabari Express, which is by no means an Express halting at every other station, making way for every other train... and it so happened that three fourths of the adjacent compartment was reserved by a women's college excursion party.. compartments and grass is always greener and lusher on the other side... no use abusing my luck there...

After having spent majority of the sabari express journey time in a wistful slumber the transformations I witnessed out through the window of the ambassador were sudden and aching; tall buildings turned taller slanting coconut trees pregnant with coconuts tender ones full of refreshing and popular coconut water ready to hit the ground any moment and everything blue black red white yellow turned plain green... coconut green banana leaves green ripened jack fruit green backwater green.. greenery lead us, accompanied us to our destination...

Last time I went to Kerala was when my cousin got married (Trip to God's own country (Part I))
This time another cousin another marriage; same bland style, the proceedings set on a dais clouded by photographers and cameramen quickly filming whatever little is happening up there ( (no posing for the cameras and surprising sense of urgency in everything!!) and at the blink of an eye you are munching on the delicious sadya sitting opposite to the newly wed who are supposedly enjoying theirs under the limelight(spotlight?).
In the midst of all this my mom would call me to meet her cousins, friends, aunts, uncles...
'Deepu come here... This is my son.. No no not my daughter.. my son....'
'You have grown.....' gleefully staring at the apparition surrounding my head..
'Yeah.. Its.. Something different.. Wanted to...' a wide grin...
And off we go home...

This is the story of marriages at my place.. Sooner or later sometime in the distant future (when? perhaps when I show prominent signs of balding... for now I only have the looks of a bride!!) it would be my turn to tie the knot but I wouldnt possibly do it this way...
My marriage would be a grand spectacle.. The groom adorned in sherwani and a turban would come galloping on a black horse (not white.. I always had a crush on black horses.. fascination may be a better word for the dirty minds...) to the marriage hall and the bride on a palanquin (if she wishes to). There would be Punjabi style bangras and Andhra style jovial post-marriage games followed by a grand feast.. And finally...
'you may now kiss the bride' Richard Gere style after which we, groom and bride(if she still wishes to) would ride back on the black horse... Thats when I get married... Things often have never quite been the way I wanted it to...

Post Marriage we had nothing much to do and so.. we, my cousins and I the boys gang, decided to play cricket... I was extremely jubilant to step into the playground, for the last time I rubbed the ball on my trousers in the course of the run-up was in may 2005. A long time for the cricket loving mind to get excited and certainly longer for the cricket suppressed and forgotten body to return to action... Despite the worries of possible injuries I set forth, Akthar like, long hair, long run-up putting the maximum in every delivery... I was their strike bowler (they striked me all over the ground) and a classy batsman playing textbook shots, Dravid like, very well received and applauded by the opposition... My cricket was like that of the Hyderabad Deccan Chargers.. Great expectations and dismal performance... Why is Deccan Chargers way down in the points table?? Lack of players?? Gily, Gibsy, Afridy (Afridi) are not called players then who are???
What DC lacks is good looking cheer leaders and a brand ambassador.. Every team has got one.. What is Mega Star and Balayya doing?? Star players dont get you victories and points... Collected team and an aggressive captain does.. like the Rajastan Royals.. Thats about cricket.. IPL has commercialized cricket... we have big stars and celebrities involved and even 'Santoor Mummy' has started smacking the cricket ball onto the windows... We played till we could play no more and then rode back home on an antique piece..
A motorbike supposed to be donated to Salar Jung Museum, on which both rider and pillion rider had important roles to play. Rider would drive this thing through a narrow bumpy lane laid elevated between the water clogged fields and the one behind would lighten the path with a torch and also ensure all the musical spare parts would run along with the 10 year old bike (the foot rest unfortunately gave away to rest in peace on the ground and couldn't complete its journey with the others)

The next day we were admiring a herd of elephants after paying visits to Lord Krishna, standing in a queue for hours at the Guruvayoor Temple, bare footed, bare chested, cladding a silky smooth Lungi strapped tightly to the waist with a belt to prevent further embarrassment. The Lungi languorously lingered on to my modest self until I was among the elephants picturing them in my trousers and at my heels at their slightest movements... There were so many of them... Komban (the male one with tusks), Piddi Aana (the female counterpart), Kutti Aana (the calf) and they had big personalities and even bigger and full names... Keshavan, Shankaran, Padmanaban, Narayanan... (not Deepu, Dee...)
Elephants got a personality and as Samuel L Jackson says in Pulp Fiction...
'Personality goes a long way...' and it certainly does...
Cant help quoting one of the interesting conversations between Vincent (John Travolta) and Jules (Samuel Jackson)

Vincent: Want some bacon?
Jules: No man, I don't eat pork.
Vincent: Are you Jewish?
Jules: Nah, I ain't Jewish, I just don't dig on swine, that's all.
Vincent: Why not?
Jules: Pigs are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals.
Vincent: Bacon tastes gooood. Pork chops taste gooood.
Jules: Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy ********er. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eat nothin' that ain't got enough sense enough to disregard its own faeces.
Vincent: How about a dog? Dogs eats its own feces.
Jules: I don't eat dog either.
Vincent: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Jules: I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy but they're definitely dirty. But, a dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way.
Vincent: Ah, so by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Jules: Well we'd have to be talkin' about one charmin' *******kin' pig. I mean he'd have to be ten times more charmin' than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I'm sayin'?


Too much of elephants, greenery, cricket, pulp fiction and digression in this post... But they were all part of my trip...

Last week one of my intimate friends (we were a gang in engineering..!!) tied the knot; four knots actually... three real knots tied with such attentive diligence and one posing for the photograph.. The bespectacled groom and his bride, the newly wedded, smiling for the camera, smiling for their love that blossomed, nurtured and finally triumphed... Their love story had all the ingredients of a Tollywood talkie; a boy and a girl fall in love, go to places, sing songs (!!), parents object for reasons banal, persuasion opposition dissent disagreement imploring unbending and finally the anti-climax!!! Instead of a boiling rage leading to violent outburst, sumo-chases and one man shows, the happen-to-be negative parents just give in... And without any melodrama and hardcore action, all ends well.. The bespectacled groom ties the three knots, poses for the fourth and then a family photo is taken... Mr and Mrs Bride and their respective in-laws; all under one frame.. Perfect!! Shubam!!

Happiness and Victories are good but expensive!! The would-be (groom) threw a party celebrating his victory and happiness at the newly opened (then yet to be) club 8 near Hitech city... Champagne was ordered, white wine was poured and they all cheered for the would-be and danced... the would-be, soon-to-be, may-be, might-be, don't-want-to-be, all of them danced to the tunes of the white wine, celebrating the happiness and triumph of love; Love that spares no one... that can play touch-and-go sparking a moment of bliss and can stick to you like an adhesive seemingly unceasing for a lifetime... Love that can breathe a new life in you and can blight the only one life out of you... Love that can make you quit drinking and can binge you in a drinking spree... Love that can mean many things.. a feeling, a decision, an obsession, a pain, a remedy, a victory, a compromise... We celebrated one such form of the manifold omnipresent omnipotent love...

That was one successful tale of love and the rest is life. Wishing them all the good fortunes and television soap operas in life... Speaking of life... Celebrations are everywhere as today happens to be the fourth anniversary of my Gym.. They are hosting a body building show; no no its not the kind of show where the patrons (yours lovingly is one of the elite members!!) of the Gym are going to strip down to their briefs and display the progress... Because progress is indispensably dependent on time (sometimes more than 2 years!!) .. It takes time for the reaps of progress to be noticed and paraded considering the fact that the frequency at which I hit the Gym is far worse than my Engineering college attendance... They say 'Rome was not built in a day', henceforth this event showcases the shapes and lumps of the ones who have already built their Rome to encourage the aspirants, the wannabe-machos expedite their progress...

Celebrations and heat is everywhere.. Its vacation time.. I would be going to God's own country soon to attend a marriage (no triumph of love there... but might be the beginning of a new one!!)
Celebrations in life are plenty; progress however is diminished...

Tuesday 9:40 AM: we were at Utkal university, 5km away from airport where our flight is scheduled to depart at 10:15 AM. Our plan initially was to leave on Wednesday morning but the conditions here forced us to advance our plans... The scorching heat already turned me into a scare-crow and the humidity drenched me in sweat. Another day in this furnace would char the scare-crow figures to ashes. Finally we made a start in an unlikely, unhyderabadi auto passing through The Secretariat, 199 snaps already taken in the course of the trip one more to make it a round figure but wisely avoiding it to hopefully(our hope bit by bit wiped out of ourselves like sweat at every signal) reach Biju Patnaik Airport on time. The place where our journey began...

Biju Patnaik Airport looked like an unused playground compared to the new Shamshabad Airport. The latter gives you a foreign look and feel, one for the grandiose infrastructure and the other for the distance from the city. I felt I was transported from one part of the world (where the cab to the airport cost me 750 bucks) to another different world (here the auto charged me 60 bucks). The place outside was green, full of trees and free space and cows... There were cows everywhere, you think of a cow and you are bound to find one in the vicinity. The autos here are very much unhyderabadi as they are slow, like bullock-cart, strictly adhering to traffic rules even in the absence of a policeman, (I have only seen policewoman managing the traffic). Bhuvaneswar is naive to development as it seriously lacks sufficient traffic congestions, the trees are not chopped off and replaced with tall staggering malls and buildings and the contribution towards the latest trend global warming is pathetically inadequate. While the bulls of greater cities charge ahead when shown a red signal, Bhuvaneswar cows remain calm, grazing and waiting for the green.

The people here are round faced tiny eyes with gentle bovine-like disposition. They dont demand money or loot you. The loot, here in this temple city is proprietary of the temples. In Jagannath temple located at Puri, the home for three wide-eyed statues with a mocking smile (of Krishna, Shubadra and Arjuna) extending their arms out, a board outside read 'Beware of Pickpockets'. People who have been here before reach out to the embracing arms of the smiling Gods from a distance and say their prayers. The unfortunate ones however, who have read the board but havent understood it, trudge along carefully on the slippery surface full of ghee close to the Gods, only to be forced to bow down in front of the statues and then demanded huge sums for blessings and long life. You also get beaten all over the body with two sticks by the poojaris standing at every entrance and you pay for it. (I was whacked on my bottom for 20 bucks)

The Chilika Lake was vast and huge with dolphins peeping out a couple of times in the three hour boat ride, the first half of which was spent anxiously looking around for dolphins and the arrival of the sea-mouth and the second half, labouriously waiting for the shore.


Konark Temple, the last segment of the arduous sight-seeing under the searing sun sapping away the excitement and energy, jumped out of the history books infront of our tiring eyes was ancient, magnificent and slowly crumbling.

The next day our job (the purpose of our trip) was done by evening much earlier than expected, and we decided, hogging icecreams and cold fluids listening to 'Aa ante aahapuram' in Oriya, to advance our departure plans.
On Tuesday morning we started from our hotel at 9:05AM thinking to drop by at Utkal University for a couple of minutes and reach Airport by 9:40AM, take a final the 200th snap at the Airport and head home. But the unhyderabadi auto and couple of minutes turning 10 minutes upset our plan and we were still in the auto waiting for the signal, wondering what would another day in this place do to us?? We reached airport at 10:05AM anxiously hoping to board the plane. As luck goes, the flight was delayed (as it was going to HYDERABAD) and.....

Bhuvaneswar is a nice place to visit in the months of December and January but an absolute no-no at this time of the year..
8 people die out of sun stroke in Orissa. We were lucky, blessed (puri-Jagannath perhaps!!) not to make it a round figure...

'So... When you getting married??'
'There is time.. I cant focus on one gal right now!!'

This is what I get at marriages and long-time-no-see conversations... and thats what I give!! Earlier it was 'in another 6 months' everytime I was asked this question..

'I cant focus on one gal right now' though it doesnt mean what it intends to, although its said to imply what it means to (this is whats happening with my life, there's more of this coming down) I cant focus on anything for that matter now.. The word focus has lost its focus and is blurred in my life. The presence of purpose gives one a direction in life, a reason to live, wake up the next morning... but the lack of it, a purpose not defined, a void filling up everything, the emptiness of existence returns you the same nothingness which gets piled up under the stomach like fat. The obesity of listless life gives you long hair, hair that keeps growing like weed wild and unattended and an avoidable beard (occasionally avoided when it surpasses the thresholds of tolerance often questioning my age!!) devdas-like suiting itself, acting like the window showcasing the aimless existence. The beard is often indispensable as the absence of it, a clean shave coupled with long hair gives an appearance which tends to get feminine backed with my name, corroborating the deception. Its only the hair that grows stalling the growth elsewhere and a beard, on and off, posing its own tolerance levels and gender concerns fueled by the charring memories hidden deep down inside the brain growing numb beneath the growing hair.. The good memories standing tall growing into the long hair veiling the eyes, blurring the vision of the present basking in the glories of the past. The bitter pricking memories tolerated on the face until it is wiped(shaved) off clean...

There are only memories good and bitter ones, and the long hair....
There is nothing more to life...

Money with a perfumed fragrance minted under the pleasant air conditioned offices is easily and lavishly spent but money which stinks sweat and blood hard earned under the sun finds difficulty meeting with extravagance.

'The Hyderabad roads are flooded as usual but with water instead of the mop of vehicles for a change' spoke the FM radio RJ as we paddled our way ahead in the water logged roads in the comforts of our car, altering comforts as the AC was switched on and off, high and low heeding to the contending demands of comfort from its riders. The AC was altered for a change in comfort, the RJ was not allowed to convey her message and songs as she was switched to other radio station RJ's messages and songs for a change, on a Sunday morning when families prefer to be feasting at home rain or no rain we were all out in the car going to watch a movie for a change. Everything happening and about to happen is happening for a change. The wipers for a change were put to work wiping the thick drops of water off the windscreen from the interminable rains which began raining since my last post (answering my prayers!??) and not showing any signs to stop... It wasnt my prayers alone, there was something more that made the rains pour and pour... we will soon find out...

They (who??) say that when something really unexpected happens (for a change??) it rains..
It should be raining then for we as a family were going to watch a movie for the first time in the 21st century. The last one perhaps belonged to the period when Amitabh Bachchan was an angry but young man... We had numerous chances to bring forth rains earlier when my father agreed to step out of his routine of busy work schedules and couple of drinks with his friends, but he always gave us a slip at the last moment leaving the fourth seat empty or occupied by some stranger in the theater. This time the Rain Gods have decided to put an end to his 'bahanas' (its sounds better than the English substitute) and played havoc in his diurnal routine, thus putting him in the rear seat staring out through the rain splashing window unaware of its intentions. My father a busy man always was sitting idle (for a change!!) and giving me directions to the destination.. My mom (father - respect; mom - love) who has this wonderful and uncanny habit of cursing and loving the same thing at the same time, was cursing the rain and loving it too, for she knew we all knew it was the rain that completed the fourth seat.. My sister who I always thought was supposed to be born with a silver spoon and supposed to be brought up in a 'Rahees Kaandaan' (some words have no apt substitutes!!) was sitting next to me switching the radio channels and wondering why isnt she riding a chauffeur driven BMW (There can be a sky wide difference between BMW and our car but chauffeurs and brothers are more or less the same just that chauffeurs are paid for their services and brothers aren't!!)

The movie was not boring and ended on a happy note (unlike most mallu movies). The rains werent done yet and guided my Father and the rest of us to a restaurant in Banjara Hills. My sister and I convinced him to a posh place with lush ambiance smart waiters English speaking kids and their parents and an expensive 250 bucks Buffet lunch. He reluctantly agreed with once again a little support from the rain. It was when we started off with the course that the bomb was dropped. The 250 bucks Buffet was only on weekdays and on Sundays the price shot up to 450. My father who always had a calm demeanour and reacted apathetically to life's surpirses expressed his shock with wide eyes creasing his forehead and I reacted with a casual shrug. The shock and the shrug might be the value attached to money which is related to the way we earn it. May be...

The rains have subsided. Rains are like humans sometimes. They dont spend their resources wisely which lead to disasters. Rains and the effortlessly earning humans should learn their lessons. Humans can for they are the only living beings who can change...

'An Indian firm has launched a paan-flavoured condom designed to evoke the pungent taste of the betel nut and tobacco concoction chewed and then spat out by millions of South Asians' -- heights of innovation.

An out of this world innovation attempted to increase the use of condoms amongst sex workers and others in the pleasure seeking and giving business. The bonding of human sexes in search of an unparalleled divine pleasure an act of intense fulfillment celebrated to elevate from the mundane activities of human life, what can a meek flavour designed to stimulate the taste buds mark its influence? Innovations should be aimed at spreading the awareness, just like the remarkable concept 'puli raaja ki aids vastunda!' which has done its significant bit in educating people...

In this growing and bulging sub-continent of ours, where we are the most competent in various fields.. economy growing at a rapid rate, poverty not left behind in the race, corruption is way ahead, cinemas, cricket, population, global warming.. you name it we have it..!! But unfortunately India is seriously outnumbered in the divorce rates compared to the rest of the world. A nation which has the history of promoting child marriages and brutal post-marital practices can never be lagging in that area. This should be seriously considered by our elected representatives in the forthcoming five year plan or the next bill that is passed.. but just before the politicians fuel their uncanny creativity at the expense of the tax payer's money, the supreme court had its say on this. To increase the possibility of divorces let's plan more marriages, and henceforth decided to bring down the marriageable age for men. 18 years for all. once you legally turn 18 you have the choice to get married, you are encouraged to marry..

Marriage at the tender age of 16 is not legal (its not illegal either!!) but sex certainly is. All the young testosterones left wild and free on a humping spree, humping all around and you have the government sponsored flavoured condoms to play with.. and its all legal.. the moment you turn 18 get married despite all the odds you may face in the form of parents, caste, class whatsoever for love, for true infatuated intense love and they lived happily ever after.. movies end here.. what next?? You dont have a career but you have a woman.. you dont know how to go about your life but you know true love.. 'Mummy Im home.. I dont want all this.. Please forgive me!!'

This valentine's day all the young budding lovers out there, this is no time for flowers and cards... get married you have the supreme court to back you up till divorce..!!

Growing up not sure for sure growing old..
A naked fact you dont want to be told...

Long long back birthdays meant blowing candles, cutting the unpalatable plum cakes (I used to hate them when they were stuffed into my mouth one after the other swelling my face like a balloon making it impossible to chew or swallow or atleast spit it out!!). Dad gets you new clothes (bigger size so that you can wear even after you grow) and this is the day of the year when you feel special, different (colourful dress amongst the white and blue uniforms).. my aversion for birthdays on a weekend found its roots in my school going days.. Saturdays everyone paints the classroom with overbearing colours and your birthday is just another colour. Sunday there isnt any.. So birthday ought always to be on a school going day.. unfortunately my special day in the class was split into two unfair and unequal halves (perhaps proportionate to the physique) as one of my classmates happened to be born on the same day, that fat bugger always displayed a flamboyant and overwhelming appearance on the Dee Day and brought bigger and better chocolates. I hated him on that day and he hated me for the rest of the days. I always prayed he died somehow and on the same day he was born so that he can inscribe the same dates on the tombstone and I can claim what is rightfully mine. As they say 'God gives every bird thy worm but does not throw it in the nest' , He had his way of throwing this worm out of my life and my friend got transferred to some other high school (where there might not entertain birthdays and chocolates!). Everything happens for our own good..

The Dee Day starts as you stand on the dais facing rows of pupils standing at their respective places in all the possible shades of white, singing out loud in chorus with a flavour of inadvertent disharmony tossed in by certain anti social elements... The famous happy birthday song, a cliche we grow up singing.. But you are oblivious to the singing as your mind is busy constructing a speech ( a sentence actually!!). What would you say 'Thanks one and all!!' 'Thank you my dear friends' 'Thanks my fellow classmates for making my birthday even more special'.. The thought process goes on and suddenly there's a silence, the song is over and you end up saying 'Thank you' swallowing the 'you'. I have always been a disaster with public speaking...

As and when you grow and grow more till all the growth halts, birthdays grow out to form a new definition.. The candles are gone (too many candles), the plum cake is replaced with yummy butterscotch cake you only get to smack from the remnants of the cake smacked on the face followed by a purgation with coke and the terribly unwanted birthday bumps and pocket burning treats.

Finally when everything comes to a standstill forbearing any possible growth (physical or mental) birthdays are reduced to mere phone calls, smses, emails from friends far away, online groups and forums everywhere..
There is lot more forms and shapes to be seen...
Many Happy Returns..!!

'So you are a lefty??'
'Ya!'
'Hmmm.. You know something, lefty's are very creative!!'
The odd expression and statement I always get when I do something with my left hand..
This world is split in a way where a significant number of beings brush their teeth using the right hand, a fair number of odd ones use the left, then there are some who can use either of the hands to clean and of course the great ones who just dont bother doing it..

The ambidextrous are proficient at getting things done with either of the hands. They can eat, write, play, punch, paint equally with both the hands. Then there are some poor souls who manage to get most of the things done with both the hands combined. One of them being yours lovingly. He eats with right hand but uses spoon with the left (sometimes both the hands are at work when it comes to breaking the canteen served rotis), bats right hand (speaking only about the position. we dont see much activity when yours lovingly is at the crease slapping the wind with the wood. He is always regarded as a hot favorite and most preferred batsman of the opposition!!) and bowls express fast with the left. He writes (scribble you see.. I was a nightmare for my kindergarten teacher!!) with his right hand and definitely paints with this left hand. The lefty's hyper creativity is at work when he starts brushing the strokes with his sinister arm, the end result always being an amusing work of art that belongs to the future (aquarian style.!) whatever that means... he can punch with both the hands (the sum of two forces can only be noted.. ) after watching rocky he even considered kick boxing as a career move and threw some punches onto a punch bag (a cement bag filled with sand thanks to my dad!!), it was then and certainly one of the rare moments when he had a crystal clear thought and made a rationale decision that he is not born to be a kick boxing champ.

Added to the woes, he also had trouble with the directions. The many times he screamed pillion riding on his friend's bike 'turn left' 'turn left' and he is turning right, only to realize that his left was the right right and whatever little he is left with is not even right.. To overcome this he devised a simple scheme where he imitates his bowling action in his mind and decides the directions, left is his bowling arm and what is not left has to be right. (There is a delay though as he's a fast bowler with a long run up!!) This has served him well till date but on occasions when he cant imitate (I somehow cant picture myself running and bowling when im sitting.!) he gestures it often saving the occasional blunder of blurting it out..

Yours lovingly has always been a troubled soul...!!

'Dude.. I think its high time you start thinking about your marriage... '
'Oh.. why so?? '
'C'mon Yaar!!! You bought a new flat and now a new car.. what else do you need to get married?'
'you mean to say these are the prerequisites to get married??'
'Of course.. These can be used to impress the girl's parents..'
'Hmmm.. Is that enough?'
'Yeah. If the parents like you, its all set.. what else do you need man??'
'I always thought being liked by the girl I am to marry was primary!!'
'Not necessarily.. You trap the parents, the girl will fall in place..!!'
'Thats very insightful'
'By the way. what marriage are you planning to do? Arranged marriage or love marriage??'
'I never really have thought about that'
'Let me tell you this.. Arranged marriages have 90% success rate and love marriages only 10%'
'Really.. why so??'
'Arranged marriages start as a compromise. For all the ups and downs in such an arrangement there's always room for compromise. But Love marriages start more on a winning note than sheer love and any tussle in such a lovely life would only get worsened between the egoistic souls and ultimately all that love shatters and breaks up. Arranged marriages have more adjustment than love. The only striking similarity between arranged and love marriages is the dearth of love...'
'Wow.. I dont know if its you or the drink you are having but it certainly was an amusing allegory!! How do you know all this??'
'Experience dude.. Its just plain experience!!'
'Experience?? How can you gather so much experience considering your age!! How many times did you get married??'
'Huh.!! Just like you dont need to get into the ocean to know the profundity of its depth, you dont need to get married for that matter to know what marriage really means..'
'Then what is the source of your so called experience'
'I have a girlfriend.. No.. I had a girlfriend!!'
'Had!! What happened this time?'
'Nothing... Im seriously thinking of breaking up!!'
'Hmmmm. If I remember correctly you seem to have mentioned the same thing last time...'
'No.. This time its seriously serious!!'
'And what is so seriously serious this time??'
'She doesnt love me. she only pretends to do so. She is using me.. The day she is done with me, she will ditch me and go with somebody else.'
'what makes you think so??'
'She has so many friends and most of them are guys.. She keeps going out with them often. she doesnt have time for me!! I know all woman are like that...'
'I dont think you can generalize on that aspect. But you should be aware that she has her own life, her circle of friends, ambitions and everything. You just happen to a part of her life, a very special part it must be.. but you are not the only part of her life... Such sathi savithri things only happen in movies and to be precise only the old movies. Now they have stopped happening in movies also.. This is life dude..'
'Ya.. Thats fine but why only guys???'
'Haha.. You are insecure and that makes you possessive about her. You are afraid that you might lose her to some other guy'
'I am not possessive.. May be i am a little... But I love her and I dont want to lose her!!'
'Dont worry.. Its only natural to be possessive about someone you love!!'
'But why doesnt she understand me?? Why do we have to quarrel all the time? Why is it so difficult to understand woman??'
'Quarreling and then pacifying, hurting and then loving these are all the defining blocks of a relationship. They bring love in you, fill you with hatred, enrage you, make you cry, make you laugh.. They can arouse every possible emotion in you and you do the same with them. You dont understand them and they dont understand you and sometimes there's none better to understand each other. You cant live with them, you cant live without them. Thats how it is..'
'Ya.. May be you are right.. I think I will talk to her!!'
'I know you would do that anyway!!'
'Oh yeah.. Thanks dude..!!'
'Anytime..!! Finish your drink...'
'ok.. Merry XMAS and a happy and a prosperous new year!! I hope you will find your quarreling partner soon!!'
'Hopefully. Thank you.. wish you the same!!'

Greetings!
Diwali is here again.. The festival of lights and sounds and more illuminating and blinding lights and more deafening and clamourous sounds.. Diwali is celebrated on the momentous occasion of the return of Lord Ram back to Ayodhya. That was when people of Ayodhya lit lamps to welcome him back home... One wonders who got the nasty idea of bursting crackers as part of celebrations, but that tradition seems to have been followed till date.. Lord Ram's credibility which is clouded and under scrutiny thanks to the Government dint seem to hamper the Diwali celebrations.. The government says that Lord Ram does not exist or he is a drunkard and many more.. but the government says many things..
Whenever asked about how one celebrated diwali, yours truly fabricates a ready-made reply.. 'I dont really appreciate the idea of bursting crackers and adding to the alarming levels of noise pollution. I simply dont encourage such childish ways of celebrations!!' leaving an impression of an environmentalist or something close to that, but the concealed truth always remains that one has never been in good terms with the crackers or rather say is a little frightened about them!!
One is wary of only the red coloured loose crackers which are wild, reckless and dont have a time sense to burst unlike the other bigger and better versions which tend to pop out in a timely and orderly fashion albeit a thunderous noise renting the air.
Rockets are the most graceful among the firecrackers as they get air borne and paint the moonless night sky with dazzling display of colours. But a slight human fallacy could even bring these graceful ones to shame. There was an instance when one misfired a rocket and it went chasing one's brave and ferocious dog all over the house and straight into its kennel shutting the poor thing inside for two days..
Diwali is the most awaited festival of the year and its fun with brilliantly illuminating diyas, sparkling fireworks, showering flower pots and sparkles, the bombs are rather deafening (part social concern and part fear) and can be downplayed. Let this diwali bring happiness and prosperity to you and your family and everything that is generally said in greeting cards, mails, notice boards..
Happy and a Safe Diwali..!!

Greetings
The festival season is round the corner, compatriots especially the married ones are out for vacations, bachelors partying every night and of all this when one encounters a monday morning, the last place one would wish to be is amidst the computer monitors burping out a beep sound now and often and the chilling spikes of the office AC, which is cooler in the winter and hot in summer (thank God it doesnt drip during the rains!!) Vis-a-vis the weather.. But as fate goes yours truly was sitting right there staring at the monitor wondering why is that we dont have an earth quake or a bomb threat and told to get out of the office or atleast an alien invasion in hyderabad city and suddenly an idea clicks followed by the beep sound giving it a shot of affirmation..

Why not go for the movie Transformers playing on the big screen in prasads!! The show is at 2:15, and one can be back by 5:30 and feel like one has never been away... And by 6, the 9 to 6 working routine is complete and one can call it a day!! How good it would be if we had time system like that of the schools. A serious issue is tackled with the onsite managers in a meeting...
'this is a high prority call we cannot meet the deadlines with the current estimate and effort, we need to put in more effort and....'
tringggggggggg
people start packing the laptops and everyone's running, some towards the lift some taking the stairs.. not a speck of life is visible in the work premises
tringgggggggg
The entire building is devoid of any breathing life, the lights are switched off and the security guard does a final check up to shoo away those lousy souls who do not wish to go home and are hiding beneath the cubicles.. Wish we had something like this.... but that could also bring a morning bell after which we get to see the latecomers kneeling infront of the reception and one would often end up being a part of the kneeling practice than mere standing witness... Everything comes in a package, good along with bad...
The package theory had more to say in the theatre when good was happening on the big screen and the bad was lingering next to one in the form of a bickering couple. The made-for-each-other couple pointing the index fingers at one another and cussing a stream of 'gammunundu's (ironically a telengana telugu word to shut up) and one only kept guessing why they were here?
Was it like 'lets get two tickets for transformers on the big screen and quarrel' or 'i wanted to go somewhere and you brought me here to this sick movie'
One feigned a look of disgust and immediately felt like trash for the feeble attempt in vain thereby seeking the attention of the pointed index fingers and scornful faces... One finally had to remain contended with the nonchalant bickering and give up the painstaking attempt to concentrate on the movie and started wondering about life...
Blessed are those who have a clear mandate about what they want in life and go all out chasing it!! And there are lot others who just keep moving about in life, who are here because they dint fit somewhere else, who are chosen but not choose to, who are inspired but seldom prosper, who live their lives the way its always lived... Chasing for jobs one or the other doesnt matter if not foreign education and dollar dreams if not management education and plenty of money and so on so forth... Success stories are like icebergs, we only know the best and visible part of it unaware of the zillion failures crushed and trampled beneath.. And then the cube is destroyed.. Goodness triumphs and once again the earth is saved... It only happens in movies.. The couple might need more tickets to continue.. or may be they have it .. Life is still moving on..!!

5:45 AM when the world does not exist for more than 80% of the people, the alarm goes off... the alarm tone is a melodious suprabatham musical composed by A.R. Rehman which is pleasant to hear under normal and conscious circumstances, but 5:45 Am!!! the euphonious turns cacophonous and all that matters is the way to turn that thing off... The day has begun with jogging on a vast school ground doing rounds, more rounds till I sweat out and then a set of push-ups with every push-up making my tummy flatter and muscles forming under my belly like a row of speed bumps on the road... and then I hang onto something and start pulling my body up with my arms. A bulge starts to develop at the front of my upper arm and gets protuberant and solid with every ascend. I have done 49 of them and this is the 50th one, I look up from the lowest end and I can see my arms on the whole, bulged at the appropriate places and ready to take me up and suddenly.....
"Wake up you Lazy Ass!!!"
The bulge is all gone, the speed bumps have disappeared and the belly road turns convex.. I shake my head and find myself on bed with A.R Rehman still playing the tune with an honest intention to wake me up.What a dream it was... Who says we are scientifically advanced when we dont have the technology to exercise in our dreams and enjoy those fruits in reality!! The day this happens is when we can truly say 'Dreams come true!!'
"Cut the crap and get out of the bed!!"
Oh yeah.. This is Rocky Balboa, the boxing champ with six movies... He is now retired and living in my mind as an inspiration..!! I get out of my bed finally, get dressed and meet my companion in this auroral activity. I wonder if he goes through all this as I do or much worse? We reach the school ground and start our jogging....
Round 1: Rocky starts his theme song and I sense a rush of adrenaline spurting me into action.. I feel my blood rushing through all the body parts, the cool breeze brushing through my silky (not so silky, somewhat silky.. debatable!? whatever!! ) hair setting it into a rhythmic movement. It feels so nice and good...
Round 2: Rocky is still with me and now I am aware of a beating in the chest coming from my reticent heart. It still feels nice and good thanks to Rocky...
Round 3: The theme song is barely audible, Rocky is there somewhere.! My breathe gets faster and short and I start using my mouth for respiration. My legs feel heavy but its good becomes I am still going...
Round 4: Rocky must have gone to wake up some other lazy ass.. lots of responsibilities you know!! The music is gone, I hear a monotonic sound probing through my ears. I look at my partner, he is still with me calm and relaxed, unaware and impervious to everything thats happening to me. This is just a passing phase, everything will be back to normal Rocky will be here anytime and I trudge along...
Round 5: No sign of Rocky, no music, no adrenaline rush, its just the ground-breaking, heart-thumping, muscle-aching reality. I am panting and every step forward is like a milestone dragging me closer to the end point. Just when we are a few meters away from the destination, my friends says one more round... I am astonished and develop a burning rage to choke him to death, in spite of all the pains I say yes!!
Round 6: Nothing happens. My mind is blacked out..!! I just keep tottering ahead and finally we collapse on a heap of sand finishing a remarkable six rounds...
I am in a state of eternal bliss lying on that cool sand catching my breath watching people, all kinds of people... some playing football, some athletic built running continually some heavily built walking at a brisk pace reminiscent of the old motion pictures, some lazy ones sitting and gossiping promising their wives and kids at home to be sweating out here... After a few minutes we start our next course in the hyper activity, pull-ups and push-ups... I start with hanging onto an outward branch of a neem tree tall enough to keep me off the ground and start pulling my body up.. I do it four times with great difficulty and try for the 5th one, but it doesnt happen.. Newton's gravity wasnt ready to allow me pull myself up... I give up and go for push-ups... I do 15 of them at a stretch and stop immediately knowing well that anymore of those would give me a broken nose... we call it a day and head back home.. At home I feel my body aching and happy at the same time that I have done it, I have accomplished the task for today..
But again tomorrow is another day....