sHifT+qWeRty. I lOve swiTching.

nOtt a trAffIc diversion.nOr a we've-changEd-fOr-yOu chanGe.
i caNt bLog hEre unLeSs i sTaRt nEw(nOt old-nEw,i mEaNt nEw-nEw)
a nEw uri wIll thRiLl me.

i waTcHed on diScOvery yesTerDay a cObra sheD hiSs sSkin
(i sTill dOnt knOw hOw to teLl a he-cObra frOm a sHe..
oR a he-snaKe frOm a sHe.eVen wiThouT knOwing iT i'M 22! sHit! wHy is thIs nOt uNbeliEvabLe!? i wOuld hAve feLt saNer hAd i fOund iT uNbeliEvabLe)

iF yOu cOncludeD cObras inSpire me,yOu muSt be oNe tOO.

tHis nEw uri shOulD thRiLl me - cLicK mE! I'm nEw! nEw! nEw

What i did on the eve of the valentines'

I went and watched Ishqiya at innovative multiplex shelling out 150rs for the ticket and another 40rs for the butterscotch milkshake which was sickeningly sweet and another 40rs for the popcorn. Alone.

I go sit there pretty and relaxed sipping the milkshake but people seemed to have a slight problem. A loud just-out-of-college gang of Bengalis to my right and a maine-ishq-tumhi-se-kiya couple to my left. And here is what i got from them all-

At the ticket counter -
How many tickets ma'am?
One please.
One ma'am?
Yes please.

Just before the screening starts -
1. Kurta-clad-bengali-guy-to-my-left gives me a Waiting for him to join you, eh? look.
1. IloveYou-IloveYouToo-couple to my right give me a Oh!you must be waiting for him to join you look.

After the screening starts -
2. Kurta-clad-guy-to-my-left gives me a Call him up! He's late look.
2. IloveYou-IloveYouToo-couple to my right give me a You aren't even using your cellphone!You have lost yours'?Or he has lost his? look.

I dunno what other looks of disbelief they went on to give but I got engrossed watching Naseruddin on full screen. The movie has absolutely lovely songs.

Interval.
Nothing happened. I paid 40rs and bought popcorn.

While i sat munching the popcorn -
3. Kurta-clad-guy gives a Movie alone!Popcorn alone! Cute! look.
The couple were busy hogging and sipping and slurping.

And then the movie got over in another 40 minutes. I gave them all a Oh yes!Please go ahead & think i'm here alone only because i lost a bet to somebody. Do i have an unfriendly vibe? No, no! I've enough people in my life! Thank you beri beri much! look and walked out.

So long and thanks for all those generous pity glances!

Oh! Fun it was! :)

P.S: What i did on the Valentines' day? Oh, nothing much.Treated myself with panipuri late in the evening which made up for an otherwise sullen sunday.

A weaver's village

I was recently in this village of kodiyaala, a few kilometers away from my home town(Sakkare Nagara - Mandya) known for its handlooms and cotton sarees.

While people shopped busily and heavily, I watched Gurappa and other weavers add vibrant colors to the sarees - each a masterpiece.

The villages and its people have something in them that makes me feel not just awed but almost jealous.Its something more than just their simplistic lifestyle that draws me..I cant be sure..
(I know, I know, you will say that i must have found it homely given that Mandya is almost a village.. FYI, Mandya now has a MORE and a FabMall and Safal, you know :P )






Gururajappa


Satisha in the powerloom

Every time i happen to see a distant airplane
making its flight in the bangalore night-sky,
i mistake it to be a firefly.

And i end up feeling cheated, every single time!

Happy Feet

Skip steps while climbing down the stairs..
Splash jump into the rain puddles..
& kick stones during the long walks.. :)


P.S: Pic taken at Mettupalyam, Ooty, India.

Make cork balls on your own!! A visual guide with 7 all-easy steps!

What? Cork balls
Who are eligible? All who still have in them, alive, the spirit of playing lagori.
Who aren't? All hudGiru[and hudGuru] who have soft & clean manicured hands. All kids who know about nothing else but video games.
What one would require? 6-7 Katti Kaayi [The dried pods of the rain tree], A stone to grind.
Where? Some decent place in your garden which has a flat surface[Preferably a stone slab under the shade of a mango tree]
When? Summer's the best time.
How?

Keep all materials ready[Parents can get non-cooperative at times like these].

Step 1 - Grind the KattiKaayis till you can separate the seeds and the sides. Keep the seeds aside [They can be put into use while playing Chowkabaara or Moshi].









Step 2 - Now grind them. Grind and Pound. Grind. Pound [For atleast 1/2 an hour].Grind till you feel they are fine and pasty-pasty.









Step 3 - See if you can proceed with making a ball out of the paste. Else goto Step 2.










Step 4 - Follow beNNeyammas'[butter-seller] method of giving the ball a perfect spherical shape [If you've not seen any, come visit Mandya sometime]
Step 5 - Roll your fresh & all-sticky ball over a little Rangoli pudi. Allow it to dry for sometime. Yes! Dirty hands, they leave you with! [ Doesn't matter much,does it? Especially when you don't mind your not-so-clean mind.. :b]




Step 6 - Oil your palms with coconut oil and gently roll the fresh cork ball in between till the surface absorbs enough oil.

Step 7 - Keep out of reach of birdies/cat-ies/kittens/puppies/doggies/humans while you let it dry for 3-4 days.

Now your hand-made cork ball is all ready! Lo! Go play Lagori!!

P.S - Queries welcome. Any attempts made, please keep me informed.

Naanenadru *XYZ aagidre, en en maadtidde gotta?

There has been a lot of "music" in my life lately.At office i hum 12x5 to keep my sanity level in check for the most weaselish of weasels are my co-workers -
>>>Mizzz.M to my left-hand side who is still too "young" to even understand what i speak, that a smile or a you-are-so-too-much look is all i get back for all the wise cracks i come up with[ok!ok! Mr.u-know-who, my jokes ARE wise relative to the "wisdom & wit" of my co-workers is all i mean. But, i know my score is still 3.5/5];

>>>Mizter.U to my right-hand side who thinks i'm a "beri beast seengar" and that i'm a " beri beri beast kannada tutor" [Thank you beri beri much. I hope it'll be very late before somebody dare tell you how polite "Hegidyo Magane?" "Nange kelsa madi taley keDtiDe" "Baavige haaru hogu" "Maga ootakke eLo" sound in kannada]

>>>>I'll dare not mention how amazing a master-piece another team-mate of mine is. Probability is more that he'll sue me for referring to him in an "unprofessional" & "unethical" manner in my blog damaging his wonderful "reputation" of being a "true professional" [My brain is still functional. All thanks to you, Mr.A. I enjoy nothing more than the "heated" arguments we share all day long,5 days a week. I can even get to the extent of getting sentimental & saying -"My work life would've been so dull & dry without someone like you in our cubicle"]

Yes,coming back to the senseless point that my life has gotten musical..
>>>It was with a friend & non-weasel colleague i had a conversation about my fascination for the named and the unnamed. Ever since I've been exhaustively listing down all the names of Indian classical ragas and My!My!My! what names,i say!!
Here are a few -

Asavari     AmritVarshini     Bageshree     BasantMukhari     Chandraprabha     Dhavalashree     
LalitGauri     Haunskinkini     Hamshika     Janasammohini     KesariKalyani    GopiKambhoji     
Basanti     Khambavati     Keervani     Lajwanti     Kaumari     Lalitavari     Lankeshree 
Madhuranjani     HaunsManjiri    AmbaManohari     ChittaMohini     Nilambari;     Kalavati
KaamVardhini     KumudPrabha     NaagSaraswati    Sawani     Shobhavari      JaiJaiwanti
Shreevanti     Sindhoora      Sohini     Lachari     UdayRaviChandrika;     HansNaad 
PuriyaDhanashree    Sawani     Yaamini     VrindaavaniSaarang     Patdeepaki    Purvi


If i were to mother the 101 kauravas i would have had all girls to name them after the Ragas or if i were Krishna with 16K gopikas, i would rename some 250-odd of them after the Ragas. There can be other possibilities..like who others i can name after Ragas, but, *Ahem* *Ahem* 200-odd! OMG! :b :b

It ain't a pleasant feeling when you see someone else weaving a dream for you while you are still occupied in a world your own..when you are still splashing angry colors of your sulkings & choosing colors for all your longings..when you are still so occupied in adorning your world that whenever your shift your gaze to look up, you choose a star each time from the infinity to fill your own night sky..

I've returned here often..many more times than i've chosen to leave..
And every time the contrast strikes, so bold.
And like never before, i wish that this place live.

How many you have, Man??

People all around were so engrossed conversing in groups their own, where we had none. If we hadn't sat together, i would be occupied in watching the squirrels hurry around and nothing else. At lunch, a few days back, when i'd least expected it, we spoke about it - loneliness. I remember that the very first time i'd spoken to her, i knew she had as many people in her life as i have in mine.

A little human universe we build for ourselves; hand-picking people from around us, we let our lives revolve around them.. Placing them in the center of our being, we try to shapen our lives..a purpose we try to find..a meaning we all look out for..; a name, we give it..new relationships we define..

Sometimes when you start awing at how beautiful a universe you've built, it suddenly turns ugly.. And you notice that its an island you have been building! A misfitting piece you've built, it feels..and you are left mercilessly to ponder over what jigsaw puzzle it was that you were trying to solve..!


Whenever i mess up a piece of code, my manager says - 'Start from the scratch,Sahana! Its so good that one almost always can give oneself the choice to start afresh'

We wanderers,ever seeking the lonlier path.....

Baavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna

Baavre se mann ki dekho Baavri hain baatein
Baavri si dhadkanein hain Baavri hain saansein

Baavri si karvaton se nindiya door bhaage
Baavre se nain chaahein
Baavre jharokhon se
Baavre nazaaron ko takna

Baavre se is jahaan mein
Baavra ek saath ho
Is sayaani bheed mein
Bas haathon mein tera haath ho
Baavri si dhun ho koi
Baavra ek raag ho
Baavre se pair chaahein
Baavre taraanon ke
Baavre se bol pe thirakna
- Swanand Kirkire

At the pantry,during a tea break, they all heard me hum..I knew that they would ask me to sing out aloud and i knew that then,i would even stop humming..

Sometimes when i hum a tune, I portray you in my mind..you would ask me neither to be louder nor would you ask me to change my song....You would wait till i hummed a tune and you would listen with a dreamy intent gaze and a tender smile on your lips..losing yourself in the tune till you find me somewhere there,as lost as you..

Religion.Fervor.And its Hues.

A piece of art can only BE , not be MADE.















































Location - Kukke Subrahmanya , Karnataka , India.

Oh! And a few ask why i don't address any "real" and "happening" issues in my blog.

This is the only space where i voice all my untolds and unheards. Here i can see my voice emerge free and loud. And this freedom too, i love. As virtual as it may seem, it's real to me and Real enough.

The issues around will be addressed in a different blog maybe sometime later or maybe never! Moreover, now that almost everybody and anybody are involved in real and happening issues , one can almost run into a person who has "seen it all happen",every other day.My opinions would simply voice what hundreds have been addressing and I choose not to add to the redundancy.They are loud and eloquent enough.

It's mostly luxury and luck , these days, to be safe and alive..And i would rather not spend much time blogging about the fortunes and misfortunes of people around..

This space is for me alone and issues my own!

Nothing like home

That big city,i noticed,has a shattered soul..
And I'm glad i can survive out there without really being a part of it.

As stoic as i may sound,i'm afraid i'm becoming one.

And everytime a lightning flashes,it all turns magically silver - the rain,the dimly lit streets,the rims of the umbrella,the raindrops dripping from its edges and those in my cupped hand - all colored silver..like the centaur blood.

And the very next moment things revert back to the colors reflecting the dimly lit street.

A distant vehicle colors it all again - golden orange.Golden orange colored everything for an instant.Much like relationships,i would say [maybe wrongly]..a quick flash of colors and then mostly ordinariness.

I live and relive my past in my mind..somewhere i feel like longing for those million things which went lacking..their presence which perhaps would never have made me feel their lack..which perhaps would never have made me long for their presence..

To much of my posts these days,i fail to give a title....like i've failed to give a name to this space thinking it would confine its essence..like i never could give a name to those few relationships which went dead much before they could grow deep..and to those hundred emotions that lie hidden somewhere within to surface every now and then..Maybe i've fancy for all unnamed things..or i don't name things fearing it would cease to mean its meaning sometime....or going the shakespearean way maybe there's nothing much in a name and this post is just much ado about nothing.. Whatever..

Despite all the sadistic grimness in solitude and endless cravings,there are always things which can bring back a smile....like the rains and the silver colored everything when the lightning flashes..the cupped raindrops and a grand delusion that it would turn into a pearl someday..

There are always a few moments which i will savour a lifetime..
There are always a few things which gets me singing again..

I hadn't realized you were long back dead till recently..till i saw how hollow your eyes look during those nights when you can't sleep and when i lie awake.I wonder why you were given such a beautiful face..if all that had to remain was this ghastly look on it..a face dead to itself..a face with such dead eyes that strive to see life only through mine..

I was too happy once,you see,to take notice..so too happy that i laughed whole days as i played and dreamily smiled whole nights as i slept..holding tight your arm with mine..feeling the warmth of your existence besides..of your life which i had then not known to exist only in mine..

I wasn't aware of what killed you..i didn't know of the many things that were lacking-those which supposedly make one unhappier..You never had given me a clue about it..Why!You had even let me spread joy in this bloody place..in this very place where cold blood springs and flourishes-thick and dirty red..here was where when i had once merrily leaped and smiled till it had made others smile too..

Yes! I was a kid once..always wholly happy and angelic..happy,without having to bother neither about the reasons nor the consequences of happiness..happy enough that i lived without any longings..

And then there had this transition to happen..Growing up,i'm told it was..and as taught.. growing up to be mature enough to reason out what pleasures i can allow for myself and what not..whom to hold close and whom not..of the rights and the wrongs..of bonuses and vengeances;fairy godmother and her tales vanished..along went all the angels-winged,white and clean..;i saw you'd started to bleed..

Its this,i know,the reason behind all my times of solitude..behind the sickness i feel when i see that i have not a thing to share with those who incessantly tell me their stories -long and dry..I know what made me forget my song and bury my voice..I know what left me mute and what left not a single vent..

My longings seem ceaseless..and I choke whenever i try to get it out of me..a lump gets struck and i suffocate..They tell me that i'm to blame no one for my unheard stories..what i say has gone unheard,they say its been left untold..Scared i'm of the litter it would cause..the litter that's orphaned the moment it's delivered..that moment when i cease to be its owner,it'll die,i know..
A "fabulous destiny" it has got,i should say..that it has been allowed to live and to grow within..nurturing it with shreds of pain..pain i feel when it burns my insides..when it makes a ghostly appearance and a futile attempt to spurt out..But,i've left no vent remain..it's hidden safe-zipped and sealed..

I know what killed you will kill me too,Ma..sooner or later.Yet,I pose to live.Looks are deceptive,they say..but,they all like it when a smile deceives them..a smile spread across lips - protruding and red..across the skin - soft and warm and that which leaves a dimple in my cheek.. I know i'll now let my hope die..a hope which longed for somebody to provide a vent.. I'll watch it die for i see there can never be one to own my body and its scars alike...impartial unlike the fire and as reasonable unlike it..

I know i'll never tell them my story and your's.
Sailors that they all are -'..You are an island,my dear lady!' they would say before they leave..It's by choice one sets foot on an island and taking it back is a choice again-a wiser choice perhaps..They have let me remain one..I smile and wave back..

Roy says in her book that the Love Laws lay down who should be Loved.And How.And how much..This place isn't for you and me,Ma..I know i'll now learn the lesson which you failed to..i know now it's time i learned to shrug..

Chitrakaley

[..and this time they colored]

All my shishyas at Prerana probably had too much fun last saturday at the painting competition i had organised in co-ordination with the IEEE Student branch of our college..their 'good-morning akka' since then has got a li'l too loud and their smiles broader too!


They had drawn what all kids usually draw - houses with windows and no doors,fans that are visible even from the outer wall,pots with flowers,blue,pink and yellow hills shown in perfect triangles..



...the sun bordered black,cartoons,trees and innumerous birds covering the whole sky,Indian flag colored with colors of their choice,streams starting nowhere and ending right in front of the houses..fish,kites,butterflies..and all..


Madhu had drawn all this too..
His painting was not so neat..one can find it almost too shabby..
But he had a story to tell- His own.



He gestured that the boy waiting for the car in the painting was him and it would take him home - his home which has a tree, a pot and a rain water ditch..hills, a sky with a lot of birds and a sun.

Maybe he misses his parents though he has spent very li'l of his 8 years with them..

P.S -
1. Many said that this whole idea of the painting competition was a "Taare Zamin Par idea".I think i'd have come up with the same idea even if there was no TZP. Well,whatever..But, now please don't start comparing madhu with ishan awasthi :)
2. Many asked what those who couldn't color did..the singing competition was for them all.
3. Thanks to all my juniors who helped in organising things well - specially to vijith,maya,rajath,pradhan and vivek.
4. Madhu won in the 5-10yr category.There were neater paintings than madhu's,but none with a story like his..

Ziddi

He beamed as he held her hands in his and looked at them..'An artist she really is..' he thought as he delved into the details of the fine curves and the crisp maroon-red lines running across..

Her hands were not as soft nor as delicate.She knew that he was distasteful of her hands..an aversion he had for they never looked as beautiful as her face. The too many lines that cris-crossed made them look almost ugly and old..but,she'd thought they were warm.Warm enough.

She could see he was happy with her hands..Today that her hands were colored.

'Put them all the time' he said and with childish pleasure,he looked out for all the letters their names had hidden in the geometry of lines.
In a Disguise the lines would not look as bad..
He was too occupied to take notice of her.A tear welled up and rolled down her cheek and She looked away.
                                                  
                                                        ----

Back home,she scrubs her hands.Harder each time.
They are adamant. Some song sings in her mind..
Ziddi hai armaan.Ziddi hai toofaan.
Ziddi hum bhi yahaan.

The color only fades a li'l..But,she knows that when it fades completely,it will be gone forever..and not a trace will it leave of its existence..much unlike the scars - deep and dark..

And redemption is sweet,they all say......
I tried a lot to fall asleep..i realised it was not going to be possible..
It's not that it doesn't let me sleep..only sometimes it pricks somewhere deep within to accept what lies ahead..some uncertain feeling that sinks deep inside one's hollows and churns.. In some article i read,sudhir mishra calls it a "Ghost Day"..when the past intrudes into your present,pushes aside the immediate and snarls."Talk to me" it says.. and after all the talk,all you are left with is a cold,empty feeling..try as you may not to let them make a comeback,memories rush in and pour forth..memories that dries one's throat and burns one's eyes..
A sin it is called..sin of stealth-of a life or its soul..My hands look bloody..and a few dirty stubborn stains mockingly establish themselves to remain and haunt.. But,I've only let lives live. I've let me live..
What regrets should i have?What sort of redemption should i await?
I look out of the window..and as the night sky pours down all night long,i only wonder if the rains are purgative..

PreraNa

I'm a tutor at PreraNa - a home for the physically challenged and economically backward[ Yes,i go teach them Parisara,Vignaana,Samaaja and GaNita :) ]

There's Pramod-a 6 year old LKG-going-kiddo who only smiles and giggles at every gesture i make..he loves it when i draw apples and kites in his book so much that he'd not let me do anything else than that!..with the naughtiest look a kid can ever have,he can't hear anybody calling out his name nor say out his name aloud....not only his name,that is..

Savitri - a 16 year old student of history who can sing so well with an amazingly striking voice - bold and clear..very much unlike her vision..

Then there's Eshwar - a diabetic patient who can only crawl..but with a determination of passing his class-12 exams in his second attempt,so strong..

Manu and madhu - who paint well..one dumb-and-deaf and the other polio-struck..
And Suma - the girl who gestured on my first day there to ask if i'm married yet..

Vishnu-who forgets that F comes after E and all the alphabets after Q even after i've taught him some n times....and loves doodling so much that all his books are filled up almost only with lines and arcs.
Ranjita,Chetan and Chandu who are at PreraNa because their parents can't afford to have them at home..

There are some 50 children...each enjoying the challenges they face in ways their own..

                                                             *****

When i go there every morning,there usually are a few of them waiting for me at the door to inform the rest to assemble in the room and occupy their places before i enter..

There was Shivu at the door-side today.
I parked my scooty and took a few steps,still far away for him to hear me approach..and i heard him shout 'Sahanakka bandru'..[Sahana Akka's is here]

As i entered,Shivu was still there..he beamed and wished me 'Goodmorning'..
Having nothing else to ask him at that moment,i asked - 'Naan bandiddu hege gottaitu?Gaadi shabdha kelista?' [ How could you know that i came?Was it the sound of my scooter? ]

He was about to nod, but, instead shook his head..
'Illa akka....nimma gejje shabdha kelistu..' [ No,not your vehicle..i heard the sound of your anklets..]

I smiled a smile which he could not see......he, perhaps, never can..blind that his eyes are..
..then there was -'Goodmorning Akka' in a chorus..

                                                             *****

I sometimes wonder why he chose to say that he heard my anklets....




P.S: 1. Names have NOT been changed.
2. Nanna gejje pic's a modified portion from a picture originally taken by Soumya..