Heidi tagged me. I guess after PGDBA and dot net certification this is first time I am attempting something that has 50 questions to be answered. By the time I started and finished I believe that even James Cameron had started his next movie :-)
1. Were you named after anyone?
Yes. After my Great Grandpa Mr HariHaran.
2. Do you wish on stars?
Used to when I was a kid. Innocence lost :-(
3. When did you last cry?
April 28, 2003 when I left my college and friends. Adukku munnadi Dec 02, 1998. I cry rarely and so I remember them :-(.
4. Do you like your handwriting?
At least I used to. I used to write on my college blackboard. Now it has been reduced to chicken scratches.
5. What is your favorite meat?
Wrong Question. I am a veggie :)
6. What is your most embarrassing CD on your shelf?
ASP.Net and C#.
7. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with you?
Absolutely yes.
8.Are you a daredevil?
Yes. I love trying new things and I do not regret after a failure.
9. How do you release anger?
I used to shout and my tone would become sarcastic. Nowadays I walk away from anything that angers me. Usually the best remedy is listening to music.
10. Where is your second home?
First and second is the world ;). I have been a globe trotter with no fixed place.
11. Do you trust others easily?
Fortunately or Unfortunately Yes.
12. What was your favorite toy as a child?
My Atlas cycle.
13. What class in school/college do you think is totally useless?
The periods from 9 AM to 5 PM. :-)
14. Do you use sarcasm a lot?
At times yes.
15. Have you ever been in a mosh pit?
Nope.
16.What do you look for in a guy/(gal)?
Attitude and sense of humor.
17. Would you bungee jump?
Of course what makes you think I wont.
18. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
I am the laziest creature on earth. I bought a lace less shoe just because I hate tying laces ;)
19.what's your favorite ice cream?
There is nothing as favorite. Whenever I go to Ice cream shops I select the weirdest sounding ones and try them.
20. What are your favorite colors?
Blue and Black.
21. What are your least favorite things?
Any Monotonous and non creative work is my least favorite.
22. How many people do you have a crush on right now?
Lost count....
23. Who do you miss most right now?
My mom and my friends.
24. What are you listening to right now?
Idenna Maayam from Oram Po.
25. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Blue
26. What is the weather like right now?
Cold. It is 23F in Manchester, CT.
27. Last person you talked to on the phone?
Forgot. I think the last call I made was to my mom on Sunday. :-)
28. The "first" thing you notice about the opposite sex?
Eyes. Next is Smile.
29. Do you like the person who sent you this?
Illanu sonna adi vaanguven nu ninaikiraen. ;). (Heidi, I was just kidding)
30. How are you today?
As usual Unusual.
31. Favorite non alcoholic drink?
Fruit Juice. I like Mango or Chikoo Milk Shake.
32. Favorite alcoholic drink?
Does Coffee qualify as one? ;)
33. Natural hair color?
Black.
34. Eye color?
Black.
35. Wear contacts?
Nope. Because I did laser operation a year and half back.
36. Siblings?
A silent younger Brother.
37. Favorite month?
May
38.Favorite food?
Anything my mom makes.
39. Favorite day of the year?
April 04. I will blog the reason someday for this.
40. Have you ever been too shy to ask someone out?
Yes. In fact I have been very shy to ask anyone out :-(
41. Scary movies or happy endings?
Scary Movies with Happy Endings.
42. Summer or winter?
Summer. I hate being kept captive at one place.
43. Holi or Diwali?
Diwali
44. Do you like your name?
Hmmm...tough one. I don't...but kids do.
45. What book/magazine are you reading?
Archers "To Cut a Long story Short".
46. What's on your mouse pad?
My finger.
47. What did you watch on TV last night?
A movie called Shattered Glass.
48. Favorite Smell?
Any nice aroma of something delicious being cooked.
49. Have you ever regretted breaking up with someone?
Nope. Because the getting together thing itself never happened in first place. Apram daane, Break Up ellam ;)
50. Most tiresome thing you’ve ever experienced/done?
Can I say this tag?
Kidding. I hardly get tired.
Now I come to the best part. As usual, I don't tag anyone :-)
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
The Time-Table man
"Oh shit."
Those were the first words uttered by Mohan Joshi on Monday at 7.10 AM. May Sharone Stone go to hell. They say that it is inauspicious to begin your day by saying something unholy and Mohan unwillingly had done the same. Now you may wonder that why should one make such a huge hue and cry for waking up at a somewhat-early-morning hours? Because Mohan is the Time Table Man.
Mohan does his activities by the book and by the hour. Its been a month since he has arrived in US, but his near time perfection has even impressed his clients and colleagues. He wakes up at 630, finishes morning activities including shower by 715, has breakfast by 730, dresses up and packs by 750, arrives at the park and ride by 805 and catches the 810 bus. His Tea Break timings are at 1030 and 330 PM with lunch in between at 1245. He catches his evening 530 bus and arrives home at 620, checks mails, finishes dinner with his Land Lord at 830 and after watching some TV he is back in the bed by 1100 PM.
Yesterday on Sunday night Sharon Stone just broke his routine with her sultry beauty in Basic Instinct and by the time Mohan leaped in the bed it was 1210 AM. He finished his shower early and almost ran to the Park and ride to catch the 810 Bus which he missed by a few leaps and minutes. Cursing himself he caught the next bus and then remembered that he had forgotten his mobile at home. It was not the start that Mohan loved for his day. Office was no better as he forgot to send a document to his manager and he called and lectured him instead. Mohan couldn't wait for the day to end.
Half asleep and somber he ran and caught the last bus and saw a lady seated on his usual window seat on the 2nd row in the left hand corner. No good. Unwillingly he sat in a seat he had never sat before and after some time he fell asleep. He was not sure when he woke up, but as soon as he did he got down sensing his stop. Oh hell, why does this place have to get pitch dark at 600 PM? Wait a minute, this is not the stop. Seems that the day was far from over.
Now if he had been in India he should have had no problem as there would be people walking around or a tea shop around and he could get back on track. But this was the US where at 6 PM only ghosts and lunatics who wish to freeze to death roam around on roads apart from the vehicles. This place was devoid of all the three. Goddamn you US. Mohan having being used to the only route from Park and Ride to home, couldn't figure out where he was. Goddamn you Mohan. This is the trouble of carrying out life on a set pattern every other day. One gets used to it and when the routine breaks, all hell breaks loose. Without a mobile to call and ask Directions and in a neighborhood where he knew no one, Mohan Joshi felt as if he was stranded on Sahara desert.
"Uncle Mohan. What are you doing here?" asked a familiar voice. It was Jesse, Mohan's land lord's son. Mohan then realized that he was just crossing the backyard of the house where he lived. He had never set foot on the back yard in that whole month.
"Well...I was just roaming around" lied Mohan.
"Hmmm....Uncle, my friend gave me a book called Who Moved My Cheese? My friend says that it is a nice book about changes in life and adapting to it. Have you read this book?"
"Well..Jesse..Mind if I borrow it from you and read and return it in a week?" asked Mohan.
Mohan realized that he needed that book more badly than this 8 year old kid.
Those were the first words uttered by Mohan Joshi on Monday at 7.10 AM. May Sharone Stone go to hell. They say that it is inauspicious to begin your day by saying something unholy and Mohan unwillingly had done the same. Now you may wonder that why should one make such a huge hue and cry for waking up at a somewhat-early-morning hours? Because Mohan is the Time Table Man.
Mohan does his activities by the book and by the hour. Its been a month since he has arrived in US, but his near time perfection has even impressed his clients and colleagues. He wakes up at 630, finishes morning activities including shower by 715, has breakfast by 730, dresses up and packs by 750, arrives at the park and ride by 805 and catches the 810 bus. His Tea Break timings are at 1030 and 330 PM with lunch in between at 1245. He catches his evening 530 bus and arrives home at 620, checks mails, finishes dinner with his Land Lord at 830 and after watching some TV he is back in the bed by 1100 PM.
Yesterday on Sunday night Sharon Stone just broke his routine with her sultry beauty in Basic Instinct and by the time Mohan leaped in the bed it was 1210 AM. He finished his shower early and almost ran to the Park and ride to catch the 810 Bus which he missed by a few leaps and minutes. Cursing himself he caught the next bus and then remembered that he had forgotten his mobile at home. It was not the start that Mohan loved for his day. Office was no better as he forgot to send a document to his manager and he called and lectured him instead. Mohan couldn't wait for the day to end.
Half asleep and somber he ran and caught the last bus and saw a lady seated on his usual window seat on the 2nd row in the left hand corner. No good. Unwillingly he sat in a seat he had never sat before and after some time he fell asleep. He was not sure when he woke up, but as soon as he did he got down sensing his stop. Oh hell, why does this place have to get pitch dark at 600 PM? Wait a minute, this is not the stop. Seems that the day was far from over.
Now if he had been in India he should have had no problem as there would be people walking around or a tea shop around and he could get back on track. But this was the US where at 6 PM only ghosts and lunatics who wish to freeze to death roam around on roads apart from the vehicles. This place was devoid of all the three. Goddamn you US. Mohan having being used to the only route from Park and Ride to home, couldn't figure out where he was. Goddamn you Mohan. This is the trouble of carrying out life on a set pattern every other day. One gets used to it and when the routine breaks, all hell breaks loose. Without a mobile to call and ask Directions and in a neighborhood where he knew no one, Mohan Joshi felt as if he was stranded on Sahara desert.
"Uncle Mohan. What are you doing here?" asked a familiar voice. It was Jesse, Mohan's land lord's son. Mohan then realized that he was just crossing the backyard of the house where he lived. He had never set foot on the back yard in that whole month.
"Well...I was just roaming around" lied Mohan.
"Hmmm....Uncle, my friend gave me a book called Who Moved My Cheese? My friend says that it is a nice book about changes in life and adapting to it. Have you read this book?"
"Well..Jesse..Mind if I borrow it from you and read and return it in a week?" asked Mohan.
Mohan realized that he needed that book more badly than this 8 year old kid.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
The Cowshed
This is how people refer to the bachelor rooms. Yeah yeah yeah. You got it right. It hurts and possibly it is right at times as well.
The folks who live with me I guess are all neat and tidy when in their respective homes but a look into this room and you could puke to death. Clothes, books, bags...oh...everywhere scattered around the room in such a way that I could call 911 and he would see this room and believe that we have been ransacked. Every week me and my other roommate put everything in place and vacuum clean it and make it appear orderly...and the dream lasts for 2 days. The third day it looks the same again. How frustrating?
One of my roommate when he left India was told by his parents to lighten up the place by his presence. Well, he got the figure of speech wrong and took it quite literally. Any room he enters and leaves has the light turned on. Now with a salary which is only being rivaled by the Janitor at my clients place, we cant afford to pay huge electricity bills. Another one has a fancy for other guys dresses. He sees a nice shirt of mine or other fellas and the next day he is wearing them. It is even more convenient that we works for a different client. Depending on the feedback (which is more number of looks from the female staff) the shirt would be missing from the rack for the longer span of time and the buyer can forget having bought it in first place.
Another one is a worse bathroom singer. He screeches and drags and brays worse than donkeys and 3 stanzas later you pray to be admitted in an asylum. Worse are his claims. When reported that he could do away with singing he bragged that one girl in his college fell head over heels in love with him just for his singing(?) abilities! Now I always knew that Love was blind....turns out that it is deaf as well :-)
But then all of us are not perfect beings. Each of us have a trait or 2 which irritates someone out there. Even I have not cared about my health as much as my roommate did and Thanks is a very small word in exchange for that. Every person must once in his/her life live in a dormitory or a bachelor house. Our parents have no other choice but to give in to our tantrums or know the way we are and so it is always nice and cozy at home. But when you live in with a stranger or a friend....you get to learn a few lessons. You will get to learn the meaning of patience, giving space, letting things go, enjoying companionship, sharing joy and grief....and much more.
Trust me, however rich you maybe, but life sucks without companionship or when there is no one around to talk. As for the way the room looks....well.....Boys will be boys :-)
The folks who live with me I guess are all neat and tidy when in their respective homes but a look into this room and you could puke to death. Clothes, books, bags...oh...everywhere scattered around the room in such a way that I could call 911 and he would see this room and believe that we have been ransacked. Every week me and my other roommate put everything in place and vacuum clean it and make it appear orderly...and the dream lasts for 2 days. The third day it looks the same again. How frustrating?
One of my roommate when he left India was told by his parents to lighten up the place by his presence. Well, he got the figure of speech wrong and took it quite literally. Any room he enters and leaves has the light turned on. Now with a salary which is only being rivaled by the Janitor at my clients place, we cant afford to pay huge electricity bills. Another one has a fancy for other guys dresses. He sees a nice shirt of mine or other fellas and the next day he is wearing them. It is even more convenient that we works for a different client. Depending on the feedback (which is more number of looks from the female staff) the shirt would be missing from the rack for the longer span of time and the buyer can forget having bought it in first place.
Another one is a worse bathroom singer. He screeches and drags and brays worse than donkeys and 3 stanzas later you pray to be admitted in an asylum. Worse are his claims. When reported that he could do away with singing he bragged that one girl in his college fell head over heels in love with him just for his singing(?) abilities! Now I always knew that Love was blind....turns out that it is deaf as well :-)
But then all of us are not perfect beings. Each of us have a trait or 2 which irritates someone out there. Even I have not cared about my health as much as my roommate did and Thanks is a very small word in exchange for that. Every person must once in his/her life live in a dormitory or a bachelor house. Our parents have no other choice but to give in to our tantrums or know the way we are and so it is always nice and cozy at home. But when you live in with a stranger or a friend....you get to learn a few lessons. You will get to learn the meaning of patience, giving space, letting things go, enjoying companionship, sharing joy and grief....and much more.
Trust me, however rich you maybe, but life sucks without companionship or when there is no one around to talk. As for the way the room looks....well.....Boys will be boys :-)
Monday, January 08, 2007
Vanilla Sky
Siachen is freezing at minus 30 and it is just 6 PM. I look at the sky which is blue with a tint of pink. I get reminded of the Vanilla Sky painting of Monet she showed me on net.
"Do you have your location?" buzzed the walkie talkie in my hand.
"They are at our 3 O Clock at the pre confirmed location. Send back up now." I had made it fast than I had thought.
If I complete this operation successfully, we will be able to finish another band of infiltrators across the border which we are now going to eliminate based on a tip off.
"Major Ravi. So what are the plans after this?" asked the soldier on my left.
Plans? Man, Don't distract me now. I have a business to finish and home to get back to. Lovely parents, caring brother and...someone special. I got engaged just 2 weeks prior to the call and 2 more weeks are left for my marriage. The very thought of returning to home soon makes me feel on sky.
"sir, they are firing now sir." echoes one of my 2 mates. We have to retaliate and keep them there. I figure there are 4 men in that post and they are either terrorists or army men posed as such. We circle them and shoot them as fiercely as possible. Hang on buddy, backup is on its way. As I shoot the last guy I look at his face. Who was he? Few minutes before, he was a soldier. He was a son, possibly a brother, a husband, a father, a tax paying citizen who had a home which used to be filled with laughter and joy in his presence. It would never be the same again. Moments from now an inevitable call will be made to his house which will destroy it beyond imagination and beyond any compensation given.
Unfortunately a gun and a bullet know no religion, race, caste, creed on earth. For them the shooter is the master and the target is a piece of flesh which has to be torn to pieces and blood has to be spilled out. The only common reactions for the victim of a bullet are moans of pain and cry of despair and helplessness. An amazing hell of an invention is this thing. What were his last thoughts? Was he thinking of the past happy times or the could-have-been future? Was he cursing me to rot in hell when he breathed his last?
I joined the army as I believe in protecting my country, but I am no believer in war. Wars are just the games played by political big wigs to satisfy their egos at our expense. We are pawns which can be sacrificed before the checkmate. Sometimes there is no checkmate. Take the wars in Iraq, Srilanka, Kashmir, Israel, Chechenya, Afghanistan...anywhere. Do you think that war is the only solution? What will America get after that whole Iraq war? A few million barrels of oil? How long will it last? What will happen to SriLanka and Kashmir? Why do they want some piece of land which has been soaked red with the blood of thousands of innocent people? If only we all understood that irrespective of any accomplishments in our life we would rest six feet under or be burnt to ashes.....we may consider doing many a things in our living days.
Just a few more minutes and the back up will be on its way. The bodies will be handed over and questions will be asked. I look at the Vanilla Sky....but I am no longer in a mood to enjoy its beauty. Walk away soldier. You have a life to live and another day to die.
"Do you have your location?" buzzed the walkie talkie in my hand.
"They are at our 3 O Clock at the pre confirmed location. Send back up now." I had made it fast than I had thought.
If I complete this operation successfully, we will be able to finish another band of infiltrators across the border which we are now going to eliminate based on a tip off.
"Major Ravi. So what are the plans after this?" asked the soldier on my left.
Plans? Man, Don't distract me now. I have a business to finish and home to get back to. Lovely parents, caring brother and...someone special. I got engaged just 2 weeks prior to the call and 2 more weeks are left for my marriage. The very thought of returning to home soon makes me feel on sky.
"sir, they are firing now sir." echoes one of my 2 mates. We have to retaliate and keep them there. I figure there are 4 men in that post and they are either terrorists or army men posed as such. We circle them and shoot them as fiercely as possible. Hang on buddy, backup is on its way. As I shoot the last guy I look at his face. Who was he? Few minutes before, he was a soldier. He was a son, possibly a brother, a husband, a father, a tax paying citizen who had a home which used to be filled with laughter and joy in his presence. It would never be the same again. Moments from now an inevitable call will be made to his house which will destroy it beyond imagination and beyond any compensation given.
Unfortunately a gun and a bullet know no religion, race, caste, creed on earth. For them the shooter is the master and the target is a piece of flesh which has to be torn to pieces and blood has to be spilled out. The only common reactions for the victim of a bullet are moans of pain and cry of despair and helplessness. An amazing hell of an invention is this thing. What were his last thoughts? Was he thinking of the past happy times or the could-have-been future? Was he cursing me to rot in hell when he breathed his last?
I joined the army as I believe in protecting my country, but I am no believer in war. Wars are just the games played by political big wigs to satisfy their egos at our expense. We are pawns which can be sacrificed before the checkmate. Sometimes there is no checkmate. Take the wars in Iraq, Srilanka, Kashmir, Israel, Chechenya, Afghanistan...anywhere. Do you think that war is the only solution? What will America get after that whole Iraq war? A few million barrels of oil? How long will it last? What will happen to SriLanka and Kashmir? Why do they want some piece of land which has been soaked red with the blood of thousands of innocent people? If only we all understood that irrespective of any accomplishments in our life we would rest six feet under or be burnt to ashes.....we may consider doing many a things in our living days.
Just a few more minutes and the back up will be on its way. The bodies will be handed over and questions will be asked. I look at the Vanilla Sky....but I am no longer in a mood to enjoy its beauty. Walk away soldier. You have a life to live and another day to die.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
கல்யாணம்தான் கட்டிக்கிட்டு...
thanglish terinja makkalellam kizha ponga
"பாயசம் ஆச்சா?சீக்கிரம் ப்பா" ரமேஷ் பம்பரமாக சுத்தி கொண்டிருந்தார். கல்யாண வீடுனா சும்மாவா? வாசலில் இருந்த "சுப்ரமணியன் வெட்ஸ் சாவித்திரி" சற்று சாய்வாக இருந்தது அதை சரி செய்தார். இதுல விருந்தாளிகளை வரவேற்காவிட்டால் அது வேற பிரச்னை. ஒரு மனுசன் எத்தனை எடத்துல தான் இருக்கிறது? இந்த கன்றாவிக்கு தான் கிளோணிங் கண்டுபிடிச்சாங்களோ?
கொஞ்சம் கொஞ்சமாக கூட்டம் நிரம்பி வழிந்தது. ஒரு சில பேர் சுப்பினியையும் ஒரு சிலர் சாவித்திரியையும் கலாய்கக சென்றனர். கோஷ்டி கோஷ்டியாக மக்கள் பிரிய ஆரம்பித்தனர். வழக்கம் போல் சண்டை போட்டு பிரிந்த உறவினர்கள் எதிர் எதிரே அமருந்தனர். கொடுத்த கூலிக்கு வாசித்த நாதஸ்வர கச்சேரியை சில பெரிசுகள் மட்டுமே தாளம் போட்டு ரசிததனர். நடுத்தர வயது ஆண்கள் ஷேர் மார்க்கெட் பற்றியும், சதாம் தூக்கிலிட்டது பற்றியும், அடுத்த ப்ராஜெக்ட் பற்றியும் விவாதித்தனர். இலசுகளில் ஒரு கோஷ்டி எங்கே M.S பண்ணலாம், எந்த கம்பெனிக்கு தாவலாம்னு பேசி கொண்டிருந்தனர். இன்னொரு கோஷ்டி வரும் போகும் பெண்களுக்கு மார்க் போட்டு கொண்டும், டெண்டுல்கருக்கு பதில் யாரை டீமில் சேர்க்கலாம் என்றும் விவாதித்து கொண்டிருந்தனர்.
மாமியார்கள் மெகா சீரியல் மருமகள்கள் பற்றியும் மருமகள்கள் மாமியார்கள் பற்றியும் குறை கூறி கொண்டிருந்தனர். இந்த சம்பாஷணை நிஜ மாமியார் மருமகளை பற்றியும் தாவியது. மற்றவர்கள் ஜிமுக்கி, முத்துமாலை மற்றும் மற்ற நகை பற்றியும் பேசி கொண்டிருந்தனர். குழந்தைகள் அங்கும் இங்கும் ஓடி கொண்டு விளையாடி கொண்டிருந்தனர். சில பேர் மட்டும் "சீக்கிரம் வேலைய முடீசீங்கனா நாங்க சாப்பிட்டு கெளம்புவோம் இல்ல" ங்கற மாதிரி இருந்தார்கள்.
"சீக்கிரம் வாங்க. போட்டோ எடுக்கணும்" னு ஒருத்தர் கூவினார்.
எல்லா உறவினரும் எங்கிருந்தோ ஒன்று கூடினர். சுப்பினியும் சாவித்திரியும் அருகருகே அமருந்தனர். ஒரு சுட்டி பெண் ஓடி வந்து சுப்பிணி மடியில் அமர்ந்து கொண்டாள்.
"சுப்பிணி தாத்தா. என்ன உம்முனு இருக்கேள்? நன்னா சிரிங்கோ" என்று சொல்ல கூட்டத்தில் இருந்த அனைவரும் சிரித்தனர்.
பெத்தீயின் அறைகூவல் கேட்டு சங்கோஜமாக நெளிந்து பிறகு சந்தோஷமாக பொக்கை வாய் தெரிய சந்தோஷமாக சிரித்தார் சதாபிஷேக நாயகன் சுப்ரமணியன்.
"paayasam aachchaa?Seekiram ppa" Ramesh bambaramaaga suththi kondirundaar. kalyaana veedu na summava? vaasalil irunda "Subramanian weds Saavitri" satru saayvaaga irundadu adai sari seydaar. idula virundaaligalai varaverkavittal adu vera pirachanai. oru manusan ettanai edattula thaan irukiradu? inda kandraa vikku thaan cloning kandupidichchaangalo?
Konjam konjamaaga kuttam nirambi vazhindadu. oru sila per suppiniyaiyum oru silar saavitriyayum kalaaika sendranar. oshti goshtiyaaga makkal piriya aarambittanar. Vazhakkam pol sandai pottu pirinda uravinargal edir edire amarundanar. Kodutta kooliku vaasitha naadaswara kacheriyai sila perisugal mattume taalam pottu rasitanar. Nadutara vayadu aangal share market patriyum, Sadaam tookkilittadu patriyum, adutta project patriyum vivaadithanar. Ilasugalil oru goshti enge MS pannalaam, enda companykku taavalaam nu pesi kondirundanar. Innoru goshti varum pogum pengalukku maark pottu kondum, Tendulkarukku badil yaarai tee mil serkalaam endrum vivaaditu kondirundanar.
Maamiyaargal megaa seerial marumagalgal patriyum marumagalgal maamiyaargal patriyum kurai kuri konidundanar. Inda sambaashanai nija maamiyaar marumagalai patriyum taaviyadu. matravargal jimukki, muttumaalai matrum matra nagai patriyum pesi kondirundanar. Kuzhandaigal angum ingum odi kondu vilaiyaadi kondirundanar. Sila per mattum "seekiram velaiya mudicheenganaa naanga saapittu kelambuvom illa" ngara maadiri irundaargal.
"seekiram vaanga. photo edukanum" nu oruttar koovinaar.
Ella uravinarum engirundo ondru koodinar. Suppiniyum saavithriyum arugarugae amarundanar. Oru sutti pen odi vandu suppini madiyil amarndu kondaal.
"suppini thaatha. enna ummunu irukel? nannaa seeringo" endru solla kootathil irunda anaivarum siritanar.
Pethtiyin araikooval kettu sangojamaaga nelindu piragu sandoshamaaga pokkai vaai teriya sandoshamaaga sirittar sataabishega naayagan Subramanian.
"பாயசம் ஆச்சா?சீக்கிரம் ப்பா" ரமேஷ் பம்பரமாக சுத்தி கொண்டிருந்தார். கல்யாண வீடுனா சும்மாவா? வாசலில் இருந்த "சுப்ரமணியன் வெட்ஸ் சாவித்திரி" சற்று சாய்வாக இருந்தது அதை சரி செய்தார். இதுல விருந்தாளிகளை வரவேற்காவிட்டால் அது வேற பிரச்னை. ஒரு மனுசன் எத்தனை எடத்துல தான் இருக்கிறது? இந்த கன்றாவிக்கு தான் கிளோணிங் கண்டுபிடிச்சாங்களோ?
கொஞ்சம் கொஞ்சமாக கூட்டம் நிரம்பி வழிந்தது. ஒரு சில பேர் சுப்பினியையும் ஒரு சிலர் சாவித்திரியையும் கலாய்கக சென்றனர். கோஷ்டி கோஷ்டியாக மக்கள் பிரிய ஆரம்பித்தனர். வழக்கம் போல் சண்டை போட்டு பிரிந்த உறவினர்கள் எதிர் எதிரே அமருந்தனர். கொடுத்த கூலிக்கு வாசித்த நாதஸ்வர கச்சேரியை சில பெரிசுகள் மட்டுமே தாளம் போட்டு ரசிததனர். நடுத்தர வயது ஆண்கள் ஷேர் மார்க்கெட் பற்றியும், சதாம் தூக்கிலிட்டது பற்றியும், அடுத்த ப்ராஜெக்ட் பற்றியும் விவாதித்தனர். இலசுகளில் ஒரு கோஷ்டி எங்கே M.S பண்ணலாம், எந்த கம்பெனிக்கு தாவலாம்னு பேசி கொண்டிருந்தனர். இன்னொரு கோஷ்டி வரும் போகும் பெண்களுக்கு மார்க் போட்டு கொண்டும், டெண்டுல்கருக்கு பதில் யாரை டீமில் சேர்க்கலாம் என்றும் விவாதித்து கொண்டிருந்தனர்.
மாமியார்கள் மெகா சீரியல் மருமகள்கள் பற்றியும் மருமகள்கள் மாமியார்கள் பற்றியும் குறை கூறி கொண்டிருந்தனர். இந்த சம்பாஷணை நிஜ மாமியார் மருமகளை பற்றியும் தாவியது. மற்றவர்கள் ஜிமுக்கி, முத்துமாலை மற்றும் மற்ற நகை பற்றியும் பேசி கொண்டிருந்தனர். குழந்தைகள் அங்கும் இங்கும் ஓடி கொண்டு விளையாடி கொண்டிருந்தனர். சில பேர் மட்டும் "சீக்கிரம் வேலைய முடீசீங்கனா நாங்க சாப்பிட்டு கெளம்புவோம் இல்ல" ங்கற மாதிரி இருந்தார்கள்.
"சீக்கிரம் வாங்க. போட்டோ எடுக்கணும்" னு ஒருத்தர் கூவினார்.
எல்லா உறவினரும் எங்கிருந்தோ ஒன்று கூடினர். சுப்பினியும் சாவித்திரியும் அருகருகே அமருந்தனர். ஒரு சுட்டி பெண் ஓடி வந்து சுப்பிணி மடியில் அமர்ந்து கொண்டாள்.
"சுப்பிணி தாத்தா. என்ன உம்முனு இருக்கேள்? நன்னா சிரிங்கோ" என்று சொல்ல கூட்டத்தில் இருந்த அனைவரும் சிரித்தனர்.
பெத்தீயின் அறைகூவல் கேட்டு சங்கோஜமாக நெளிந்து பிறகு சந்தோஷமாக பொக்கை வாய் தெரிய சந்தோஷமாக சிரித்தார் சதாபிஷேக நாயகன் சுப்ரமணியன்.
"paayasam aachchaa?Seekiram ppa" Ramesh bambaramaaga suththi kondirundaar. kalyaana veedu na summava? vaasalil irunda "Subramanian weds Saavitri" satru saayvaaga irundadu adai sari seydaar. idula virundaaligalai varaverkavittal adu vera pirachanai. oru manusan ettanai edattula thaan irukiradu? inda kandraa vikku thaan cloning kandupidichchaangalo?
Konjam konjamaaga kuttam nirambi vazhindadu. oru sila per suppiniyaiyum oru silar saavitriyayum kalaaika sendranar. oshti goshtiyaaga makkal piriya aarambittanar. Vazhakkam pol sandai pottu pirinda uravinargal edir edire amarundanar. Kodutta kooliku vaasitha naadaswara kacheriyai sila perisugal mattume taalam pottu rasitanar. Nadutara vayadu aangal share market patriyum, Sadaam tookkilittadu patriyum, adutta project patriyum vivaadithanar. Ilasugalil oru goshti enge MS pannalaam, enda companykku taavalaam nu pesi kondirundanar. Innoru goshti varum pogum pengalukku maark pottu kondum, Tendulkarukku badil yaarai tee mil serkalaam endrum vivaaditu kondirundanar.
Maamiyaargal megaa seerial marumagalgal patriyum marumagalgal maamiyaargal patriyum kurai kuri konidundanar. Inda sambaashanai nija maamiyaar marumagalai patriyum taaviyadu. matravargal jimukki, muttumaalai matrum matra nagai patriyum pesi kondirundanar. Kuzhandaigal angum ingum odi kondu vilaiyaadi kondirundanar. Sila per mattum "seekiram velaiya mudicheenganaa naanga saapittu kelambuvom illa" ngara maadiri irundaargal.
"seekiram vaanga. photo edukanum" nu oruttar koovinaar.
Ella uravinarum engirundo ondru koodinar. Suppiniyum saavithriyum arugarugae amarundanar. Oru sutti pen odi vandu suppini madiyil amarndu kondaal.
"suppini thaatha. enna ummunu irukel? nannaa seeringo" endru solla kootathil irunda anaivarum siritanar.
Pethtiyin araikooval kettu sangojamaaga nelindu piragu sandoshamaaga pokkai vaai teriya sandoshamaaga sirittar sataabishega naayagan Subramanian.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Silent Night...
"I now declare you man and wife". Mark paused the wedding video of John and Juliet that he had recorded about 2 years before. He was the best man in their marraige and was shooting the whole wedding just for a personal memorablia. But he didnt know that it would come to haunt back him after a long time.
They all worked together in a firm and were good friends. Infact Mark had feelings for Juliet, but an introvert that he was, he stayed silent. Naturally the more jovial John and Juliet fell in love and got married as well. Ironically Mark was the best man in their wedding and he didnt know if to laugh or cry at his fate. An year before their marraige fell apart and it was a shock for everyone in their fraternity.
Today, on the eve of Christmas morning, Juliet had come searching for some video in Mark's private library and stumbled upon this video. As she saw it she realized what Mark fell about her. The whole video had Juliet in close ups as she smiled, yawned, smirked, cried...every possible emotions of hers was covered. She left the room without saying a word and Mark didnt give any explanation for it.
At 7 PM in the evening, Juliet heard a knock outside her house and she found a letter. It read as such
"Dear Juliet
Somethings are very easy to be understood but very complicated to explain. What you saw at my house was something as such. It would have been left unsaid if you had not found it all for yourself.
Today is Christmas night and on Christmas, one should tell the truth. Words cannot measure the love that I have for you in my heart. To me you are perfect. And my wasted heart will love you...forever....and ever.
Yours
Mark"
She smiled and kissed the letter sobbing. About 200 feet away Mark watched this and walked towards his house. All the words that he could say were "Enough...enough for a lifetime..."
P.S: From Love Actually
P.S1: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
They all worked together in a firm and were good friends. Infact Mark had feelings for Juliet, but an introvert that he was, he stayed silent. Naturally the more jovial John and Juliet fell in love and got married as well. Ironically Mark was the best man in their wedding and he didnt know if to laugh or cry at his fate. An year before their marraige fell apart and it was a shock for everyone in their fraternity.
Today, on the eve of Christmas morning, Juliet had come searching for some video in Mark's private library and stumbled upon this video. As she saw it she realized what Mark fell about her. The whole video had Juliet in close ups as she smiled, yawned, smirked, cried...every possible emotions of hers was covered. She left the room without saying a word and Mark didnt give any explanation for it.
At 7 PM in the evening, Juliet heard a knock outside her house and she found a letter. It read as such
"Dear Juliet
Somethings are very easy to be understood but very complicated to explain. What you saw at my house was something as such. It would have been left unsaid if you had not found it all for yourself.
Today is Christmas night and on Christmas, one should tell the truth. Words cannot measure the love that I have for you in my heart. To me you are perfect. And my wasted heart will love you...forever....and ever.
Yours
Mark"
She smiled and kissed the letter sobbing. About 200 feet away Mark watched this and walked towards his house. All the words that he could say were "Enough...enough for a lifetime..."
P.S: From Love Actually
P.S1: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
Monday, December 18, 2006
I am NOT what I am
"Hey Maathu, What do you want to become after you grow up?" I asked the 3 year old daughter of my cousin who was enjoying singing along with the cartoon character on the TV.
"I wanna become a rock star" she replied. A simple line from that child led me into a serious of question answer sessions with myself. What did I aspire to become and what am I right now?
Believe it or not, at the age of 13 I wanted to become an actor. Yup, you got it right. And that too a HERO (!).Perhaps I wanted to entertain people. I did mimicry in my childhood days which eventually led to an always huge gathering surrounding me in any family function and nothing thrilled me more than the smile on the face of the public. But when you look like a walking and talking version of size of a Godzilla, and are referred by names as "aaloo", "motu" and "haathi" and puberty fast approaching the girls don't even care if you are alive or dead...you have to reconsider your options which I did.
The final nail in the coffin was laid when my class teacher asked me to play the part of Santa Claus in the school christmas skit as she said that I was the chubbiest and sweetest guy in the class. May the Hero rest in peace. You can be happy that I was born in a middle class family and not to a one-ring-in-each-finger wielding Sethji who finances the movies or some B grade sleazy Film director. Who knows, and then I could have become a Hero. Worse enough, unknowingly you could have been my die hard fan who doesn’t miss the first day first show of my movie :-)
At the age of 15 I wanted to become a pilot or a sailor. As Nandoo used to say that in that age every boy wants to become a pilot and every girl a teacher. Thanks to my hereditary, I ended up wearing spectacles which in turn disqualified me from both. So what do I do next? Ask my relatives and cousins. The unanimous verdict is to study engineering and become an s/w engg. What about becoming a cricketer, singer, painter, journalist ect. Nope.Why? Because all my cousins are engineers and have been earning enough money to buy a palatial house, car and settled in abroad as well. So there I am...after 50 odd papers and useless practical exams I was given a BE degree which at times sounds to me as Brain Empty. Contradictorily I got placed in the campus as well.
When my cousin's daughter mailed me asking what she could do next after 12th I was the only one who replied her asking NOT to take engg. This family had supplied enough enggs to the country more than the required quota and had taken enough lives. But I did advise her to do the same by going for Medical. She is doing something less lethal than what I expected by opting to become a Dentist.
Sometimes when I work in my desk I wonder what I am doing here. All right the paycheck is ok, I can buy what I want, I can help other people (which I love doing), I blog which has given me so many friends. But does this work make me happy? I envy someone as Mr Kamalhaasan who enjoys doing his work and also makes a living out of it. How many of us can say that we do that?
Last but not the least, I live in the hope that one day I will be doing what I will enjoy doing the most. I am waiting for the time and opportunity.
"Hum Honge kaamyaab.....ek din...
"Man mein hai vishwaas..pura hai vishwas....Hum honge kaamyaab ek din"
"I wanna become a rock star" she replied. A simple line from that child led me into a serious of question answer sessions with myself. What did I aspire to become and what am I right now?
Believe it or not, at the age of 13 I wanted to become an actor. Yup, you got it right. And that too a HERO (!).Perhaps I wanted to entertain people. I did mimicry in my childhood days which eventually led to an always huge gathering surrounding me in any family function and nothing thrilled me more than the smile on the face of the public. But when you look like a walking and talking version of size of a Godzilla, and are referred by names as "aaloo", "motu" and "haathi" and puberty fast approaching the girls don't even care if you are alive or dead...you have to reconsider your options which I did.
The final nail in the coffin was laid when my class teacher asked me to play the part of Santa Claus in the school christmas skit as she said that I was the chubbiest and sweetest guy in the class. May the Hero rest in peace. You can be happy that I was born in a middle class family and not to a one-ring-in-each-finger wielding Sethji who finances the movies or some B grade sleazy Film director. Who knows, and then I could have become a Hero. Worse enough, unknowingly you could have been my die hard fan who doesn’t miss the first day first show of my movie :-)
At the age of 15 I wanted to become a pilot or a sailor. As Nandoo used to say that in that age every boy wants to become a pilot and every girl a teacher. Thanks to my hereditary, I ended up wearing spectacles which in turn disqualified me from both. So what do I do next? Ask my relatives and cousins. The unanimous verdict is to study engineering and become an s/w engg. What about becoming a cricketer, singer, painter, journalist ect. Nope.Why? Because all my cousins are engineers and have been earning enough money to buy a palatial house, car and settled in abroad as well. So there I am...after 50 odd papers and useless practical exams I was given a BE degree which at times sounds to me as Brain Empty. Contradictorily I got placed in the campus as well.
When my cousin's daughter mailed me asking what she could do next after 12th I was the only one who replied her asking NOT to take engg. This family had supplied enough enggs to the country more than the required quota and had taken enough lives. But I did advise her to do the same by going for Medical. She is doing something less lethal than what I expected by opting to become a Dentist.
Sometimes when I work in my desk I wonder what I am doing here. All right the paycheck is ok, I can buy what I want, I can help other people (which I love doing), I blog which has given me so many friends. But does this work make me happy? I envy someone as Mr Kamalhaasan who enjoys doing his work and also makes a living out of it. How many of us can say that we do that?
Last but not the least, I live in the hope that one day I will be doing what I will enjoy doing the most. I am waiting for the time and opportunity.
"Hum Honge kaamyaab.....ek din...
"Man mein hai vishwaas..pura hai vishwas....Hum honge kaamyaab ek din"
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Deja Vu
"Bharathi. Be ready. They could be here any moment." shouted Bharathi's mom Mrs. Durga.
They had done this whole thing a dozen times before and still every time she did this, she felt panicky. She wondered if at least this time it could end happily for all. Her thoughts were cut short by the arrival of the Blue Sedan outside their house. From the car Ramani's parents alighted followed by a beaming Ramani. Durga and her husband Mr. Krishna welcomed them into their 600x600 hallway. Ramani's parents sat on the couch for the couple even as Ramani sat on the single chair facing the 42 inch huge Philips HDTV. Durga could sense that the drama had just begun.
After 10 minutes Bharathi entered the hall with a silver dish with 5 cups of chicory coffee and sweets and savories which nobody would touch. Some things never change with time and perhaps this tradition was one among them. A bored Bharathi sat on the opposite single chair facing Ramani wondering what was going to happen.
"So all looks fine. I believe that the silence of the groom and bride seems to say that all is well and we can take the next step" said Ramani's father Mr RaviPrasad looking at his wife Mrs Raji. Whoever wrote that silence is a sign of acceptance may rot in hell thought Bharathi.
"Yes Sir. Please tell me what you expect from us." said Mr. Krishna as-a-matter-of-factly.
"Well. Apart from taking care of the marriage expenses, you would have to have to gift a car and flat on Ramani's name and they should be handed on the day of marriage. And I assume that you do have 250 sovereign gold in addition for marriage" said Mr. RaviPrasad.
He was talking to them as if they planted and grew money on the trees outside their house. But Mr. Krishna felt that this was better than the previous party which asked for 10 crores and 500 sovereign Gold. At that time he felt like killing them and dumping them on moon. But then there was little someone could do in these circumstances.
"Ok Sir. We are fine with it. We will get the date of the marriage and engagement fixed from our astrologer and call you soon." said Mr. Krishna looking at Mr. Ravi.
Durga could not believe herself. When she got married, she was allowed to enter the house only after her father got them a brand new car. It was a humiliating experience for Durga to see her father's lifetime savings go into thin air in a day's marriage.
She was sad and happy at the same time. Sad because all their savings would be spent on their son Bharathi's marriage and dowry to marry that girl Ramani. Happy because as a woman she felt that although the redemption was only financial and not emotional....at least there was one now.
P.S: Read this and wondered what if and why not.
They had done this whole thing a dozen times before and still every time she did this, she felt panicky. She wondered if at least this time it could end happily for all. Her thoughts were cut short by the arrival of the Blue Sedan outside their house. From the car Ramani's parents alighted followed by a beaming Ramani. Durga and her husband Mr. Krishna welcomed them into their 600x600 hallway. Ramani's parents sat on the couch for the couple even as Ramani sat on the single chair facing the 42 inch huge Philips HDTV. Durga could sense that the drama had just begun.
After 10 minutes Bharathi entered the hall with a silver dish with 5 cups of chicory coffee and sweets and savories which nobody would touch. Some things never change with time and perhaps this tradition was one among them. A bored Bharathi sat on the opposite single chair facing Ramani wondering what was going to happen.
"So all looks fine. I believe that the silence of the groom and bride seems to say that all is well and we can take the next step" said Ramani's father Mr RaviPrasad looking at his wife Mrs Raji. Whoever wrote that silence is a sign of acceptance may rot in hell thought Bharathi.
"Yes Sir. Please tell me what you expect from us." said Mr. Krishna as-a-matter-of-factly.
"Well. Apart from taking care of the marriage expenses, you would have to have to gift a car and flat on Ramani's name and they should be handed on the day of marriage. And I assume that you do have 250 sovereign gold in addition for marriage" said Mr. RaviPrasad.
He was talking to them as if they planted and grew money on the trees outside their house. But Mr. Krishna felt that this was better than the previous party which asked for 10 crores and 500 sovereign Gold. At that time he felt like killing them and dumping them on moon. But then there was little someone could do in these circumstances.
"Ok Sir. We are fine with it. We will get the date of the marriage and engagement fixed from our astrologer and call you soon." said Mr. Krishna looking at Mr. Ravi.
Durga could not believe herself. When she got married, she was allowed to enter the house only after her father got them a brand new car. It was a humiliating experience for Durga to see her father's lifetime savings go into thin air in a day's marriage.
She was sad and happy at the same time. Sad because all their savings would be spent on their son Bharathi's marriage and dowry to marry that girl Ramani. Happy because as a woman she felt that although the redemption was only financial and not emotional....at least there was one now.
P.S: Read this and wondered what if and why not.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
New
"If a man opens a car door for his wife, its either a new car or a new wife."
What is it that fasinates us so much to something that is new to our life? The general pattern of behaviour of humans that responds to new things is almost the same. Try to remind yourself about the last the time you behaved when you bought something new for yourself.
We become very self conscious and cautious when we wear a new dress and take the best care as to not to spoil it. I remember my faculty explaining us NOT to wear anything new for any interview for the same reason. I remember how brat I was when the whole colony had to work together to send me off peacefully to my school in my LKG. But in UKG I was jumping with joy and couldnt wait to reach there. Reason? New School dress and shoes. I would polish my shoe daily and walk slow and steady than the beauty at the paegeant. It was over after 15 days. By the end of 5 months the shoe looked in the front to qualify as another ozone hole.
When I got my new IPOD, I was very very careful. I had a cover on it everytime. I used to lock it in a locker when going for lunch or meeting. The rest of the time it stuck to my ears as if i was some reincarnation of karna. Now? Although I listen to it regularly, it looks like Ipod was invented centuries ago and mine looks line one from the stone ages. I have also seen the effect of new things in relationships. One of my friend found someone "special" and that was the end of rest of us. We ceased to exist. I agree that it is something that varies on a case to case basis but arguably this is a general pattern.
I got my new laptop after months of self debate and research. Its a new HPDV6000t and I had been tracking it since the day I booked to the day it got delivered to my home. This time I did not have it wrapped in a cover after I used it and just kept it in one corner of a room. Come on...how long can a person lie to himself :-)
Do you have had any such special memories about anything new?
Btw..I also started a new tamil blog. Just check it here.
What is it that fasinates us so much to something that is new to our life? The general pattern of behaviour of humans that responds to new things is almost the same. Try to remind yourself about the last the time you behaved when you bought something new for yourself.
We become very self conscious and cautious when we wear a new dress and take the best care as to not to spoil it. I remember my faculty explaining us NOT to wear anything new for any interview for the same reason. I remember how brat I was when the whole colony had to work together to send me off peacefully to my school in my LKG. But in UKG I was jumping with joy and couldnt wait to reach there. Reason? New School dress and shoes. I would polish my shoe daily and walk slow and steady than the beauty at the paegeant. It was over after 15 days. By the end of 5 months the shoe looked in the front to qualify as another ozone hole.
When I got my new IPOD, I was very very careful. I had a cover on it everytime. I used to lock it in a locker when going for lunch or meeting. The rest of the time it stuck to my ears as if i was some reincarnation of karna. Now? Although I listen to it regularly, it looks like Ipod was invented centuries ago and mine looks line one from the stone ages. I have also seen the effect of new things in relationships. One of my friend found someone "special" and that was the end of rest of us. We ceased to exist. I agree that it is something that varies on a case to case basis but arguably this is a general pattern.
I got my new laptop after months of self debate and research. Its a new HPDV6000t and I had been tracking it since the day I booked to the day it got delivered to my home. This time I did not have it wrapped in a cover after I used it and just kept it in one corner of a room. Come on...how long can a person lie to himself :-)
Do you have had any such special memories about anything new?
Btw..I also started a new tamil blog. Just check it here.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
The Diary pages
Dear Diary
Today was a very important day in my life. What I did was perhaps unacceptable by other people's standards, but either way it doesn’t matter to me anymore. If being oneself is a crime in the court of life, then I stand to be convicted and would love to face the rope of destiny.
What was my fault? That I fell in love...maybe. But the fact that I fell in love with someone who turned out to be a philanderer was my destiny. I was a matured woman who had finished her degree at IIT Chennai and who worked as a top consultant in a leading firm. I fell in love with my co worker Arvind and it all looked like a dream come true. Perhaps....someone just woke me up to make me realize that it was all a nightmare. Arvind was a Romeo on fly and my love life crash landed immaturely.
My only solace was my friend Krishna who made me laugh among all the sorrows I was surrounded with. If not for Krishna maybe I could have done something stupid. You may wonder that how come someone educated in IIT speak as if without clarity, but remember that the heart and emotions remain common to one and all. Krishna and I used to go to the Besant Nagar beach where we would talk for hours about everything and sometime about nothing.
Every time my mom would begin the topic of marriage I would skip with something irrelevant and divert it. But eventually it failed one day and some people gave a surprise visit to have a look at me. The groom was some computer junkie settled in US and had Green card and everything in place that any normal girl would fall for. Perhaps it’s silly to note that I was still in love with Arvind and didn’t want to get married until I got over with it.
I had rejected way too many proposals by then and one day mom confronted me. She knew the reason for my denial and gave me one last choice. She wanted me to ask Krishna to marry me. That was the last thing I wanted. Krishna was my best friend and inspite of whatever people thought or said, we were friends without anything else on our mind.
Why is it that a woman needs to get married? When a man can remain a bramachaari for life and be appreciated for it, why can’t a woman do the same? Why these double standards? The reason always given is to protect her from the society and to have a support in her old age. I don’t give a damn about society and why waste your life now thinking about something that is going to happen 30 or 40 years later. Is it wrong if I have a belief that loving someone and sharing your bed and life with another is inappropriate?
I have decided to break all the barriers and do what I want. Today is not just a very important day in my life...but for many others as well.
Love
Shreya
As Shreya closed the dairy she smiled. 10 years had passed since she had written this and from time to time she would visit this page to remind her of her purpose in life.
"Madam. A journalist from India Today has come to take an interview about you and the children of our home" reported the assistant. Shreya, the head of the Helping Hands Home for Destitute children put her ghosts of past to rest and was on her way to a glorious future.
Today was a very important day in my life. What I did was perhaps unacceptable by other people's standards, but either way it doesn’t matter to me anymore. If being oneself is a crime in the court of life, then I stand to be convicted and would love to face the rope of destiny.
What was my fault? That I fell in love...maybe. But the fact that I fell in love with someone who turned out to be a philanderer was my destiny. I was a matured woman who had finished her degree at IIT Chennai and who worked as a top consultant in a leading firm. I fell in love with my co worker Arvind and it all looked like a dream come true. Perhaps....someone just woke me up to make me realize that it was all a nightmare. Arvind was a Romeo on fly and my love life crash landed immaturely.
My only solace was my friend Krishna who made me laugh among all the sorrows I was surrounded with. If not for Krishna maybe I could have done something stupid. You may wonder that how come someone educated in IIT speak as if without clarity, but remember that the heart and emotions remain common to one and all. Krishna and I used to go to the Besant Nagar beach where we would talk for hours about everything and sometime about nothing.
Every time my mom would begin the topic of marriage I would skip with something irrelevant and divert it. But eventually it failed one day and some people gave a surprise visit to have a look at me. The groom was some computer junkie settled in US and had Green card and everything in place that any normal girl would fall for. Perhaps it’s silly to note that I was still in love with Arvind and didn’t want to get married until I got over with it.
I had rejected way too many proposals by then and one day mom confronted me. She knew the reason for my denial and gave me one last choice. She wanted me to ask Krishna to marry me. That was the last thing I wanted. Krishna was my best friend and inspite of whatever people thought or said, we were friends without anything else on our mind.
Why is it that a woman needs to get married? When a man can remain a bramachaari for life and be appreciated for it, why can’t a woman do the same? Why these double standards? The reason always given is to protect her from the society and to have a support in her old age. I don’t give a damn about society and why waste your life now thinking about something that is going to happen 30 or 40 years later. Is it wrong if I have a belief that loving someone and sharing your bed and life with another is inappropriate?
I have decided to break all the barriers and do what I want. Today is not just a very important day in my life...but for many others as well.
Love
Shreya
As Shreya closed the dairy she smiled. 10 years had passed since she had written this and from time to time she would visit this page to remind her of her purpose in life.
"Madam. A journalist from India Today has come to take an interview about you and the children of our home" reported the assistant. Shreya, the head of the Helping Hands Home for Destitute children put her ghosts of past to rest and was on her way to a glorious future.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Ever After
The Kashi Vishwanath Temple in Varanasi was crowded way beyond than usual numbers. Seems the number of god worshippers had increased....or was it the sinners? The pujari was having a feast time with collections sky rocketing like the sensex index. He may just be able to get his daughter the new cycle she had asked for New Year.
But all these did not bother Abhi and Aishu. They walked past the crowd hand in hand which looked at them mesmerized and awestruck. In India a man and woman have to get the license of marriage to hold hands and roam around or else tongues will wag and rumors will fly around. By the time you cross one kilometer here, the rumor would have traveled to your uncle in Kashmir and Aunt in Kanyakumari.
Love is an ecstasy which drugs people way beyond these silly stupidities. Abhi's friends openly objected his affair with her. He let out the usual dialogue of "We are just friends" and for sometime they were also convinced. But its hard to hide the enthusiasm and anxiety to the outside world when in love.
Finally he did propose to Aishu when they went first day first show to "Dhoom 2". The whole world appeared blurred to him when she said yes. Oh sorry....that was the due to the byproduct released from his eyes. It was a tradition in their family to begin a relationship in the Kashi Vishwanath temple and today they were here offering puja to the lord for their well being and prosperity. Abhi was curious to know the reason for the huge crowd today. And then he found it. It was due to the presence of their famous name counterparts Abhishek bachchan and Aishwarya Rai.
It was amusing. Abhishek Varma, the owner of the tea shop outside the Sankat Mochan Hanuman temple and Aishwarya Shukla, the Garland girl near the Kashi Vishwanath temple didn't know if their famous name counterparts were going to tie the magical knot or not...but they had just done that. They left to their new home to live happily ever after.
But all these did not bother Abhi and Aishu. They walked past the crowd hand in hand which looked at them mesmerized and awestruck. In India a man and woman have to get the license of marriage to hold hands and roam around or else tongues will wag and rumors will fly around. By the time you cross one kilometer here, the rumor would have traveled to your uncle in Kashmir and Aunt in Kanyakumari.
Love is an ecstasy which drugs people way beyond these silly stupidities. Abhi's friends openly objected his affair with her. He let out the usual dialogue of "We are just friends" and for sometime they were also convinced. But its hard to hide the enthusiasm and anxiety to the outside world when in love.
Finally he did propose to Aishu when they went first day first show to "Dhoom 2". The whole world appeared blurred to him when she said yes. Oh sorry....that was the due to the byproduct released from his eyes. It was a tradition in their family to begin a relationship in the Kashi Vishwanath temple and today they were here offering puja to the lord for their well being and prosperity. Abhi was curious to know the reason for the huge crowd today. And then he found it. It was due to the presence of their famous name counterparts Abhishek bachchan and Aishwarya Rai.
It was amusing. Abhishek Varma, the owner of the tea shop outside the Sankat Mochan Hanuman temple and Aishwarya Shukla, the Garland girl near the Kashi Vishwanath temple didn't know if their famous name counterparts were going to tie the magical knot or not...but they had just done that. They left to their new home to live happily ever after.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
The Return
He was not nervous. Anxious? Perhaps. He checked the presence of the Walther P99 gun with him and the fact that it was loaded, gave him some strength and comfort. As usual he was alone. Infact he had no partners and had never wanted one. While the rest of the world lived a life where each day was almost the copied and pasted version of their previous day, he lived one where there was no today, leave alone tomorrow.
He tiptoed into the building with the alacrity of a cat and went to the unclassified place as he had planned. The door was locked from inside. Well that was the least of the problems for this highly skilled man. He opened it and went inside as if he would enter the town hall. There were 5 men in the room and they did seem surprised by his entry.
He shot the first and second straight in the head. The third tried to run and got shot in his back. The fourth pounced on him as the fifth tried to run. The gun spilled from his hand and the fourth one hit him hard on his face. Blood oozed out of his mouth and he fell hard on the floor and got hurt on his head. The fourth one relaxed for a second. Mistake.
He bounced back and hit him hard on his face. It was such a powerful shot that even her majesty would have stood up and applauded. He took back his gun and shot the fourth and fifth. Perhaps he had been born as a cold blooded bastard and he was proud for that. He took the unclassified file on the desk as planned and called his superiors to let them do the cover up. Nobody would know about him and as usual he would go on a hiding.
He walked to the headquarters to return the file. They took him to the meds and the nurse came in with the first aid. She seemed new as he had known every staff on the building by their first name. As she nursed his bruises she asked him "May I know your name?"
He smiled. It was a smile that had made women swoon at his feet. Then he uttered the most famous words spoken by any spy on earth "The name is Bond....James Bond".
She gasped with disbelief and immediately smiled flirtatiously. She was not the first and she won't be the last.
He tiptoed into the building with the alacrity of a cat and went to the unclassified place as he had planned. The door was locked from inside. Well that was the least of the problems for this highly skilled man. He opened it and went inside as if he would enter the town hall. There were 5 men in the room and they did seem surprised by his entry.
He shot the first and second straight in the head. The third tried to run and got shot in his back. The fourth pounced on him as the fifth tried to run. The gun spilled from his hand and the fourth one hit him hard on his face. Blood oozed out of his mouth and he fell hard on the floor and got hurt on his head. The fourth one relaxed for a second. Mistake.
He bounced back and hit him hard on his face. It was such a powerful shot that even her majesty would have stood up and applauded. He took back his gun and shot the fourth and fifth. Perhaps he had been born as a cold blooded bastard and he was proud for that. He took the unclassified file on the desk as planned and called his superiors to let them do the cover up. Nobody would know about him and as usual he would go on a hiding.
He walked to the headquarters to return the file. They took him to the meds and the nurse came in with the first aid. She seemed new as he had known every staff on the building by their first name. As she nursed his bruises she asked him "May I know your name?"
He smiled. It was a smile that had made women swoon at his feet. Then he uttered the most famous words spoken by any spy on earth "The name is Bond....James Bond".
She gasped with disbelief and immediately smiled flirtatiously. She was not the first and she won't be the last.
Monday, November 13, 2006
V for Vetti
A shopping mall is the best place to look around for characters if you are a writer. You get to see anything and everything. One gets to see patterns in the people of the same ethnicity and it really surprises at times. It’s easy to spot Asians because they always tend to travel in groups. Particularly Desis are famous for that. If you happen to see someone taking a snap of another in a long shot, when no one else in the mall thought of doing that...its gotta be a desi.
During Halloween time it was even funnier. There was a woman walking in the mall with wings like a witch and a saber tooth like a Dracula. There was one thing that I observed in US when I landed here on first day. There are only 2 categories of people in terms of size. Either they look like straight-out-of-gym types or like honey-I-blew-them size. In short they are either very fit or very fat. There are people walking around calling themselves as School students, but by their size and build even I looked like a Kindergarten kid in front of them.
There was a Caucasian family where the parents walked in front leaving their children behind as if they had got the children for free from some fair. Behind them was their 4 year old kid who was pushing the perambulator of her 2 year old sibling who seemed to consider that having a feeding bottle nipple in mouth and locked to the machine was a better option than being an s/w engg. The kids are very cute, but beware before you set your eyes on them. If they happen to see you around looking innocently at their kids as such, the next thing you could know might be being frisked away by cops being implicated of acting (?) like Michael Jackson.
The best characters however are the "Yo Guys", "Brother" or our African-American brothers. I have no idea on earth how they grow their hair in all sizes and shapes. Irrespective of men, women and childern, they grow it vertically, horizontally, diagonally, plait them, and have beads around like Henry Olonga and god know what. They wear their caps on their head at an angle greater than 15 degree and less than 365 degree which in straight words can be explained that they NEVER wear their caps straight.
Even the men wear so much of jewellery and diamonds that an average Indian father could get all his 5 daughters married and settled if he were to rob just one of the "brother". They have a distance walking style limping around like as if "their mom just forgot to give them their quota of polio drops" (as quoted by my friend Jithu). Their dresses are so big and loose enough that an average Indian can raise his family, 2 kids and his dog if he were to make a tent out of it.
Just as I was thinking these, a woman just looked at me and turned her head in disgust. Wondering why I went to have a look at myself in the mirror around and found out the reason. I had stubble for 4 days and it looked like I had mourned the death of my dog and had buried it in a cemetery nearby. My eyes had swollen due to lack of sleep and so I looked drunk. That’s when I remembered the immortal last lines uttered in the movie Some like it hot
"Well, nobody's perfect" :-)
During Halloween time it was even funnier. There was a woman walking in the mall with wings like a witch and a saber tooth like a Dracula. There was one thing that I observed in US when I landed here on first day. There are only 2 categories of people in terms of size. Either they look like straight-out-of-gym types or like honey-I-blew-them size. In short they are either very fit or very fat. There are people walking around calling themselves as School students, but by their size and build even I looked like a Kindergarten kid in front of them.
There was a Caucasian family where the parents walked in front leaving their children behind as if they had got the children for free from some fair. Behind them was their 4 year old kid who was pushing the perambulator of her 2 year old sibling who seemed to consider that having a feeding bottle nipple in mouth and locked to the machine was a better option than being an s/w engg. The kids are very cute, but beware before you set your eyes on them. If they happen to see you around looking innocently at their kids as such, the next thing you could know might be being frisked away by cops being implicated of acting (?) like Michael Jackson.
The best characters however are the "Yo Guys", "Brother" or our African-American brothers. I have no idea on earth how they grow their hair in all sizes and shapes. Irrespective of men, women and childern, they grow it vertically, horizontally, diagonally, plait them, and have beads around like Henry Olonga and god know what. They wear their caps on their head at an angle greater than 15 degree and less than 365 degree which in straight words can be explained that they NEVER wear their caps straight.
Even the men wear so much of jewellery and diamonds that an average Indian father could get all his 5 daughters married and settled if he were to rob just one of the "brother". They have a distance walking style limping around like as if "their mom just forgot to give them their quota of polio drops" (as quoted by my friend Jithu). Their dresses are so big and loose enough that an average Indian can raise his family, 2 kids and his dog if he were to make a tent out of it.
Just as I was thinking these, a woman just looked at me and turned her head in disgust. Wondering why I went to have a look at myself in the mirror around and found out the reason. I had stubble for 4 days and it looked like I had mourned the death of my dog and had buried it in a cemetery nearby. My eyes had swollen due to lack of sleep and so I looked drunk. That’s when I remembered the immortal last lines uttered in the movie Some like it hot
"Well, nobody's perfect" :-)
Monday, November 06, 2006
True or False
She was barely out of her teens and looked very fresh. Aslam, the film reporter of a local newspaper was looking at the new Mumbai heroine Savitha. It was the shooting of the movie "Paapa potta Thaapa" (The girl who locked the latch). While purists argued that the title sounded pornographic, the producer and director didn’t seem to mind much. They were happy that this title made them use double entendre intentionally in the movie with hell lot of glamour and oomph targeted at their youth audience. What more, they would also get tax exemption from the state government for naming their film in Tamil :-)
This was the Mumbai Girl Savitha's first Tamil movie. Her mother was seated nearby and as per heroine's mother’s norms she was having all her share of apple juice and throwing tantrums at the hapless Assistant directors. The make up girl was applying more rose powder needlessly to her already rose colored cheeks. She was reading Sidney Sheldon’s' Best Laid Plans. Aslam didn’t know if really heroines did read Sheldon or pretended to do so as he had seen most of them do that.
Aslam: So where are you from?
Savitha: I am from Mumbai. The director approached me after he saw me in an ad.
Aslam: How do you find TamilNadu?
Savitha: Oh it’s a nice place. Ennakku tamil konjaam konjaam teriyum. Is this rite?
Aslam: Wow you are good.
Liar. She was running a bulldozer over Tamil with intensity greater than the Tamil TV comparers and a touch lesser than Udit Narayan. May the noble souls of Valluvar and Bharathi rest in peace.
The physics of Indian male is funny. They fantasize heroines as their lovers or wives. That’s why the Indian heroines have not been successful playing title roles after marital bliss. Heroines were dumb and stupid or had to act as such. Those who didn’t follow the convention found themselves playing sister, mother or grandma (in worst cases) to heroes who were old enough to act as their great grandpa. The more lucky ones became mega serial heroines who cried at a drop of a hat. The rest chose to become some Durga, Lakshmi or Parvati or whatever goddess with all jewels locked in RBI and seated over a fake tiger. After the shot got over, Savitha and her super mom went inside the caravan van to take some rest. Aslam's interview was over and he just had to spice it up a little for his gossip loving public.
Inside the caravan, the following conversation happens in chaste Marathi
Savitha: I hate to do this. Why can’t I tell that I am a tamilian settled long before in Mumbai and have to lie about this?
Mom: Are you stupid? Except Trisha and Sneha how many Tamil heroines do you know in the movie industry? Nobody knows this truth about us. Look, your market rate is just based on the fact that you are from Mumbai.
Savitha: (sobbing) But I hate this mom. Did you see how that son of a bitch reporter was ogling at me? I feel uncomfortable doing this mom.
Mom: Savitha, dont become emotional. Just do a few more films. Wait till we find some rich business man or a producer's son. Do you think I want to make you go through all this?
Savitha didn’t say anything. She looked outside the caravan window. The sun was going deep down behind the mountain and nobody around seemed to be in a mood to appreciate it. She was having a sense of Deja vu.
This was the Mumbai Girl Savitha's first Tamil movie. Her mother was seated nearby and as per heroine's mother’s norms she was having all her share of apple juice and throwing tantrums at the hapless Assistant directors. The make up girl was applying more rose powder needlessly to her already rose colored cheeks. She was reading Sidney Sheldon’s' Best Laid Plans. Aslam didn’t know if really heroines did read Sheldon or pretended to do so as he had seen most of them do that.
Aslam: So where are you from?
Savitha: I am from Mumbai. The director approached me after he saw me in an ad.
Aslam: How do you find TamilNadu?
Savitha: Oh it’s a nice place. Ennakku tamil konjaam konjaam teriyum. Is this rite?
Aslam: Wow you are good.
Liar. She was running a bulldozer over Tamil with intensity greater than the Tamil TV comparers and a touch lesser than Udit Narayan. May the noble souls of Valluvar and Bharathi rest in peace.
The physics of Indian male is funny. They fantasize heroines as their lovers or wives. That’s why the Indian heroines have not been successful playing title roles after marital bliss. Heroines were dumb and stupid or had to act as such. Those who didn’t follow the convention found themselves playing sister, mother or grandma (in worst cases) to heroes who were old enough to act as their great grandpa. The more lucky ones became mega serial heroines who cried at a drop of a hat. The rest chose to become some Durga, Lakshmi or Parvati or whatever goddess with all jewels locked in RBI and seated over a fake tiger. After the shot got over, Savitha and her super mom went inside the caravan van to take some rest. Aslam's interview was over and he just had to spice it up a little for his gossip loving public.
Inside the caravan, the following conversation happens in chaste Marathi
Savitha: I hate to do this. Why can’t I tell that I am a tamilian settled long before in Mumbai and have to lie about this?
Mom: Are you stupid? Except Trisha and Sneha how many Tamil heroines do you know in the movie industry? Nobody knows this truth about us. Look, your market rate is just based on the fact that you are from Mumbai.
Savitha: (sobbing) But I hate this mom. Did you see how that son of a bitch reporter was ogling at me? I feel uncomfortable doing this mom.
Mom: Savitha, dont become emotional. Just do a few more films. Wait till we find some rich business man or a producer's son. Do you think I want to make you go through all this?
Savitha didn’t say anything. She looked outside the caravan window. The sun was going deep down behind the mountain and nobody around seemed to be in a mood to appreciate it. She was having a sense of Deja vu.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Kannum Kannum Nokia
The germ for this post was sown by the 1st standard studying cousin of my roommate. When my roomie asked him what he wanted from US, he replied without any hesitation - CELL PHONE. I was wondering why a 6 year old kid needs a cell phone. When I was in college, there was only one guy in our hostel who had his own cell phone and we looked upon him as if he was Lakshmi Mittal and we were iron scrap merchants.
Back after college, my parents insisted that I get a cell phone before I leave for job. But an adamant idiot that I am, I had always wanted my cell phone to be bought out of my own money and so I waited for my first month salary and bought a Samsung C100. In my training period, one of my fellow batch mate asked for my number and when I told him that I had no cell phone, he looked at me as if I had just told him that Bush was gay.
"No Cell phone? What’s your problem dude?"
"Anything wrong with it? What are you, some Mr. I-was-born-with-a-cell phone-in-my-hand? "
Indeed it seemed to be. Back in 1997, I remember cell phone was a status symbol when the incoming and outgoing were charged at exorbitant prices and you were looked upon as if you had booked Rajini for a movie. But enter Mr Ambani and his "Mera sapna Sabka Apna" and every body on the street was out with a cell phone. The ad of “Viru ki Maa” became the butt of all jokes, but who cares. You see a reliance cell phone with someone and look upon them as if they said that Vijayakanth was the most handsome man in the world.
Some of the stupid instances are the Customer Care calls. Once my friend received a call as such
She: "Sir, I am calling from XXXXX. Would be interested in taking a personal loan?"
He: "No Madam. I am leaving for a meeting now. And I don’t want a loan"
She: "Sir we offer premium rates and there is no limit as well"
He: “Does it come with a steal-the-bank option?"
She: "Sir...."
He: "Because I am already buried neck deep with hell lot of loans and if you force me to take this, I don’t think I have any other option of paying you back"
By the time he replaced his phone, she must have mumbled "What a jerk" and must have wished him luck to not even find a burial place in Kannamapettai in his last days. Every day there is a new model with a new feature. By the time you buy some model wondering what more can be done, there is another one in the market with something extra. It has an FM, MP3 player, TV, Mailbox, Chat, Bluetooth, GPS...I wonder if the only things that are left to be added to it are Washing Machine and refrigerator. Some common traits of cell phone using people are numbers marked as HOME, OFFICE, INDIA, and RELIANCE and so on.
The consummate users of cell phone are the love-and-flirt pairs. They begin their day with a good morning for their beloved and go to bed with their good night. They won’t let their cell phone go from their hands for their lives. A typical conversation is as such between the kadalai ppl
He: "Hey, so what’s the Tiffin?"(Thanks to CUG (Closed User Group) I dont need to pay for this)
She: "Its idli" (Jerk, he doesn’t know any other opening line)
He: "Was it chutney or podi?" (Why doesn’t she eat anything other than idli)
She: "It was chutney" (Oh moron, ask something else)
He: "Why, you don’t like sambhar?" (What should I ask next? This is going nowhere)
She: "Oh C’mon Bharath. You know I don’t like Sambhar for idli" (He cant even remember this about me?)
He: "Meena, this is Arvind" (Who the hell is Bharath?)
She: "This is Asha"
Thattam Gatam. End of conversation (perhaps relationship). Agreed, it is one awesome tool for communication. It’s a hell of a safety tool for working women and college going girls to communicate to their parents. You think of someone special sometime, just open it and boom....there you go. Life was never so easy. But we have also heard about blank calls, obscene sms and so on. One stupid case I heard recently was where a woman complained receiving obscene SMS and when traced, it was from an unlisted number....owned by her husband.
Let’s admit it, haven’t we all lost our privacy? As every technological innovation, this too has a dark side when all it was invented was for one major purpose - Connecting people.
Back after college, my parents insisted that I get a cell phone before I leave for job. But an adamant idiot that I am, I had always wanted my cell phone to be bought out of my own money and so I waited for my first month salary and bought a Samsung C100. In my training period, one of my fellow batch mate asked for my number and when I told him that I had no cell phone, he looked at me as if I had just told him that Bush was gay.
"No Cell phone? What’s your problem dude?"
"Anything wrong with it? What are you, some Mr. I-was-born-with-a-cell phone-in-my-hand? "
Indeed it seemed to be. Back in 1997, I remember cell phone was a status symbol when the incoming and outgoing were charged at exorbitant prices and you were looked upon as if you had booked Rajini for a movie. But enter Mr Ambani and his "Mera sapna Sabka Apna" and every body on the street was out with a cell phone. The ad of “Viru ki Maa” became the butt of all jokes, but who cares. You see a reliance cell phone with someone and look upon them as if they said that Vijayakanth was the most handsome man in the world.
Some of the stupid instances are the Customer Care calls. Once my friend received a call as such
She: "Sir, I am calling from XXXXX. Would be interested in taking a personal loan?"
He: "No Madam. I am leaving for a meeting now. And I don’t want a loan"
She: "Sir we offer premium rates and there is no limit as well"
He: “Does it come with a steal-the-bank option?"
She: "Sir...."
He: "Because I am already buried neck deep with hell lot of loans and if you force me to take this, I don’t think I have any other option of paying you back"
By the time he replaced his phone, she must have mumbled "What a jerk" and must have wished him luck to not even find a burial place in Kannamapettai in his last days. Every day there is a new model with a new feature. By the time you buy some model wondering what more can be done, there is another one in the market with something extra. It has an FM, MP3 player, TV, Mailbox, Chat, Bluetooth, GPS...I wonder if the only things that are left to be added to it are Washing Machine and refrigerator. Some common traits of cell phone using people are numbers marked as HOME, OFFICE, INDIA, and RELIANCE and so on.
The consummate users of cell phone are the love-and-flirt pairs. They begin their day with a good morning for their beloved and go to bed with their good night. They won’t let their cell phone go from their hands for their lives. A typical conversation is as such between the kadalai ppl
He: "Hey, so what’s the Tiffin?"(Thanks to CUG (Closed User Group) I dont need to pay for this)
She: "Its idli" (Jerk, he doesn’t know any other opening line)
He: "Was it chutney or podi?" (Why doesn’t she eat anything other than idli)
She: "It was chutney" (Oh moron, ask something else)
He: "Why, you don’t like sambhar?" (What should I ask next? This is going nowhere)
She: "Oh C’mon Bharath. You know I don’t like Sambhar for idli" (He cant even remember this about me?)
He: "Meena, this is Arvind" (Who the hell is Bharath?)
She: "This is Asha"
Thattam Gatam. End of conversation (perhaps relationship). Agreed, it is one awesome tool for communication. It’s a hell of a safety tool for working women and college going girls to communicate to their parents. You think of someone special sometime, just open it and boom....there you go. Life was never so easy. But we have also heard about blank calls, obscene sms and so on. One stupid case I heard recently was where a woman complained receiving obscene SMS and when traced, it was from an unlisted number....owned by her husband.
Let’s admit it, haven’t we all lost our privacy? As every technological innovation, this too has a dark side when all it was invented was for one major purpose - Connecting people.
Monday, October 23, 2006
The Departed
"Pachchas rupya do saab" (give me fifty rupees) demanded the autowallah as he dropped me outside the Delhi High Court. I didn’t haggle with him and handed over a 50 rupee note and walked to the Courtroom. Even though I have a car, I can’t come in it as the press knows my car and they will hound me like vultures surrounding a dead body. I walked as fast as I can so that I don’t want to get mobbed by anyone and settled in one end of the court clutching my bag closely.
"Today we will have the verdict for the case between Priyadarshini Vs Santosh" declared the judge. Priyadarshini. My dear daughter could have been a successful lawyer, a more-than-average-singer or an obedient wife and a nice mom. But what did she become? An objection of obsession of a psychopath who had stalked her for long, who one day ended her life after a gruesome rape and left her dead in a pool of blood. Every time the press and the court when ask me to repeat the details of the crime, it was like being hanged to death without any sentence.
The case has been in hearing for the past 10 years and it has been like 10 centuries. The worse day of my life was when in 1999, a court judge declared openly that he was acquitting the murderer even though he knew he was the culprit, because of lack of evidence. My whole world turned upside down. It was a blow on the face of justice. Worse was that the murderer Santosh cleared the Bar exam and is now a practicing Lawyer.
What makes these people commit such crimes? Is it the fact that our justice system has so many loopholes that even a dinosaur can walk out of it? Is it the support of their strong connections with powerful men in positions where anything and everything can be compromised? Don’t these senseless bastards think that the women to whom they do such gruesome acts are women as their own mothers or sisters?
The judge cleared his throat and brought me back to the shore from the sea of questions and doubts. "The trial judge acquitted the accused amazingly taking a perverse approach. It murdered justice and shocked judicial conscience. Santosh is found guilty of murder of Priyadarshini under Indian Penal Code sections 302 (murder) and 376 (rape)."
As he delivers his sentence, there is uproar in the room, but I would not hear it form sometime. Tears of joy flow down my eyes and it’s a sign of perseverance of the 10 years I spent to hear this verdict. I know that by hanging him dead I cannot bring my dear daughter back from dead. But why I need this verdict badly is to prevent more men from turning into maniacs as Santosh and stop women being victimized as my daughter.
As I leave the court I take my hands out of the bag that I was clutching. The press swarms up to hear my opinion on the verdict. "Finally justice has been delivered" I say plainly and leave the premises. I am happy that they didn’t make me use the gun I had in hidden in my bag as the very last resort.
P.S: Dedicated to Priyadarshini Mattoo. Finally Justice has been served.
"Today we will have the verdict for the case between Priyadarshini Vs Santosh" declared the judge. Priyadarshini. My dear daughter could have been a successful lawyer, a more-than-average-singer or an obedient wife and a nice mom. But what did she become? An objection of obsession of a psychopath who had stalked her for long, who one day ended her life after a gruesome rape and left her dead in a pool of blood. Every time the press and the court when ask me to repeat the details of the crime, it was like being hanged to death without any sentence.
The case has been in hearing for the past 10 years and it has been like 10 centuries. The worse day of my life was when in 1999, a court judge declared openly that he was acquitting the murderer even though he knew he was the culprit, because of lack of evidence. My whole world turned upside down. It was a blow on the face of justice. Worse was that the murderer Santosh cleared the Bar exam and is now a practicing Lawyer.
What makes these people commit such crimes? Is it the fact that our justice system has so many loopholes that even a dinosaur can walk out of it? Is it the support of their strong connections with powerful men in positions where anything and everything can be compromised? Don’t these senseless bastards think that the women to whom they do such gruesome acts are women as their own mothers or sisters?
The judge cleared his throat and brought me back to the shore from the sea of questions and doubts. "The trial judge acquitted the accused amazingly taking a perverse approach. It murdered justice and shocked judicial conscience. Santosh is found guilty of murder of Priyadarshini under Indian Penal Code sections 302 (murder) and 376 (rape)."
As he delivers his sentence, there is uproar in the room, but I would not hear it form sometime. Tears of joy flow down my eyes and it’s a sign of perseverance of the 10 years I spent to hear this verdict. I know that by hanging him dead I cannot bring my dear daughter back from dead. But why I need this verdict badly is to prevent more men from turning into maniacs as Santosh and stop women being victimized as my daughter.
As I leave the court I take my hands out of the bag that I was clutching. The press swarms up to hear my opinion on the verdict. "Finally justice has been delivered" I say plainly and leave the premises. I am happy that they didn’t make me use the gun I had in hidden in my bag as the very last resort.
P.S: Dedicated to Priyadarshini Mattoo. Finally Justice has been served.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Choose the Best Answer
By the time Ashok reached home it was 8.30 at night. It had taken him more than one hour to reach Adayar from the busy streets of Anna salai. He was so hungry that he could have gobbled up a piano with tomato sauce and chutney. He was not surprised to see his two month old wife Anitha sympathizing with a mega serial heroine who seemed to have a summation of all the problems of an entire country in her single family.
After freshening up, he opened the hot box with lot of anxiety and tons of hunger. The supper was Idli, dosa, Sambhar and chutney. Awwww. The idli looked hard enough to cause blood flow if hit on head. The worse part was that the Sambhar was so much liquefied to make it look like rasam and chutney didnt have any coconut in it. The dosa looked like some piece of rug. When Ashok had first met Anitha, her mother claimed that she had cooked all those delicious delicacies. But her brother told him that Anitha was so bad at cooking that she would read the instructions to cook Maggie noodles at least 5 minutes in those 2 minutes.
"Do you know that Mrinalini's father-in-law passed away today?" asked Anitha.
"Mrinalini? Is she from your family side or mine?" asked Ashok mechanically eating one of the idlis.
"Budhdhu. I am talking about the heroine in Kabhi Bahu bhi Saas baneggiii" said Anitha.
Ashok never understood 2 things. One, why did all Ekta Kapoor's stupid serials need to start with the letter K and have unspellable spellings. Two, why did women refer to mega serial characters as if they were close enough as neighbors next door. Ignoring these ridiculous doubts aside Ashok chomped the idli with sambhar with the expression of Narasimha Rao meeting his ministers. She was still in the learning phase and Ashok was prepared to wait. And then as he feared, the inevitable question popped up.
"So how is the dinner? Is the sambhar as nice as your mother makes?" asked Anitha.
Most of the men in the world would be ready to fight a lion barehanded or attempt IITJEE question papers rather than answering this question. Ashok’s mom had been cooking since the age of 16 and was famous in the colony for the tasty south Indian dishes she made in festival times. If he were to tell her that it was nice, then she would get the wrong impression and would continue to cook this horribly and drive him mad. If he were to say that it tasted like garbage, she may start sobbing without any glycerin and may even fight and make him mad. If he were to say that both were alike, then maybe she may get angry that her cooking was not good than his mother’s.
Hell, if he could think of so many possibilities, he could put Vishwanathan Anand out of business or topple Topalov and become Chess Master. The bottom line was that he didn’t want to hurt her as he loved her a lot.
Hesitant he played on neutral grounds “Ani..its nice. It’s not like what my mom makes...but it’s nice. Tell me one thing. Why did you have to make these when you could have simply made something like noodles that’s very easy to cook?"
"Because I want to make you happy" replied Anitha.
Ashok turned silent and kissed her on her forehead and ate silently. The sambhar did not taste that bad after all.
After freshening up, he opened the hot box with lot of anxiety and tons of hunger. The supper was Idli, dosa, Sambhar and chutney. Awwww. The idli looked hard enough to cause blood flow if hit on head. The worse part was that the Sambhar was so much liquefied to make it look like rasam and chutney didnt have any coconut in it. The dosa looked like some piece of rug. When Ashok had first met Anitha, her mother claimed that she had cooked all those delicious delicacies. But her brother told him that Anitha was so bad at cooking that she would read the instructions to cook Maggie noodles at least 5 minutes in those 2 minutes.
"Do you know that Mrinalini's father-in-law passed away today?" asked Anitha.
"Mrinalini? Is she from your family side or mine?" asked Ashok mechanically eating one of the idlis.
"Budhdhu. I am talking about the heroine in Kabhi Bahu bhi Saas baneggiii" said Anitha.
Ashok never understood 2 things. One, why did all Ekta Kapoor's stupid serials need to start with the letter K and have unspellable spellings. Two, why did women refer to mega serial characters as if they were close enough as neighbors next door. Ignoring these ridiculous doubts aside Ashok chomped the idli with sambhar with the expression of Narasimha Rao meeting his ministers. She was still in the learning phase and Ashok was prepared to wait. And then as he feared, the inevitable question popped up.
"So how is the dinner? Is the sambhar as nice as your mother makes?" asked Anitha.
Most of the men in the world would be ready to fight a lion barehanded or attempt IITJEE question papers rather than answering this question. Ashok’s mom had been cooking since the age of 16 and was famous in the colony for the tasty south Indian dishes she made in festival times. If he were to tell her that it was nice, then she would get the wrong impression and would continue to cook this horribly and drive him mad. If he were to say that it tasted like garbage, she may start sobbing without any glycerin and may even fight and make him mad. If he were to say that both were alike, then maybe she may get angry that her cooking was not good than his mother’s.
Hell, if he could think of so many possibilities, he could put Vishwanathan Anand out of business or topple Topalov and become Chess Master. The bottom line was that he didn’t want to hurt her as he loved her a lot.
Hesitant he played on neutral grounds “Ani..its nice. It’s not like what my mom makes...but it’s nice. Tell me one thing. Why did you have to make these when you could have simply made something like noodles that’s very easy to cook?"
"Because I want to make you happy" replied Anitha.
Ashok turned silent and kissed her on her forehead and ate silently. The sambhar did not taste that bad after all.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Match the Following
"Again less marks in Maths. 180 out of 200. How do you think you are going to make the top grade Kaushik?" yelled Dad. I hate this whole exam system. Worse I hate is this enquiry after each and every exam. It’s as if I am a militant on an execution row.
"Look at me Kaushik. Your brother Kishore scored centum in 3 subjects and was the second in district. Dont you want to match him?" Match him my ass. My elder brother Kishore was bloody bookworm who knew nothing about life. All his life was spent reading subject books. He once asked me if VijayKanth and Rajnikanth were siblings. At times when my dad is out there comparing me with my brother, I feel like killing Kishore by the scruff of his neck. But then, that poor fella also got unfavorably compared to my elder cousin Ravi.
Why do we need to be compared with someone? Life is a whole lot comparison cycle. As a kid you get compared to your siblings or cousins. At work place you get compared to your peers (I heard about Appraisal from my cousin). And if you are unlucky enough at old age, your kids may bitch you comparing about the standards you provided them with the rest. I wonder now how unfavorably the wards of famous politicians, artists, sportpersons are compared with them. Aren’t we all individual entities? If we are all the same, then what’s the point?
"Don’t you want to become an engineer like your brother Kaushik?" asked Dad. There we go. The number of engineering colleges was already more than the Punjabi Dhabas and Muniyandi Vilas all over. I had heard that the tea master near our house was also an engineering student who had arrears more than the political parties in India. Why couldn’t I become a painter by enrolling in an art school? I have always been good at drawing. Hell, papa would say that if you had to tell that your son is a painter to the relatives, then the next thing they would do would be to ask to paint their house for Diwali. Here you can be either an engineer or doctor or a cricketer to be regarded respectful.
"Are you going to study or Graze cows?". Man, papa really looks angry. But hey, even this is a good idea. I can have 2 cows and milk them and sell it to the tea boy next street. Maybe I will ask Kishore to lend me some money and buy more cows. With little time I will open a Dairy of my own and import cows from New Zealand. I can even ask Asin to model for my dairy products. Who knows, she may ask me to marry her. Mom can easily be cajoled. Dad? Ahhh...who cares.
"Are you still day dreaming Kaushik?" dad had reached the boiling point.
Grandma came running "Oh Ashok. Is this the way you treat your kids? Have you ever seen you brother Ajay treat his kids as such?"
For the first time in an hour I laughed aloud.
"Look at me Kaushik. Your brother Kishore scored centum in 3 subjects and was the second in district. Dont you want to match him?" Match him my ass. My elder brother Kishore was bloody bookworm who knew nothing about life. All his life was spent reading subject books. He once asked me if VijayKanth and Rajnikanth were siblings. At times when my dad is out there comparing me with my brother, I feel like killing Kishore by the scruff of his neck. But then, that poor fella also got unfavorably compared to my elder cousin Ravi.
Why do we need to be compared with someone? Life is a whole lot comparison cycle. As a kid you get compared to your siblings or cousins. At work place you get compared to your peers (I heard about Appraisal from my cousin). And if you are unlucky enough at old age, your kids may bitch you comparing about the standards you provided them with the rest. I wonder now how unfavorably the wards of famous politicians, artists, sportpersons are compared with them. Aren’t we all individual entities? If we are all the same, then what’s the point?
"Don’t you want to become an engineer like your brother Kaushik?" asked Dad. There we go. The number of engineering colleges was already more than the Punjabi Dhabas and Muniyandi Vilas all over. I had heard that the tea master near our house was also an engineering student who had arrears more than the political parties in India. Why couldn’t I become a painter by enrolling in an art school? I have always been good at drawing. Hell, papa would say that if you had to tell that your son is a painter to the relatives, then the next thing they would do would be to ask to paint their house for Diwali. Here you can be either an engineer or doctor or a cricketer to be regarded respectful.
"Are you going to study or Graze cows?". Man, papa really looks angry. But hey, even this is a good idea. I can have 2 cows and milk them and sell it to the tea boy next street. Maybe I will ask Kishore to lend me some money and buy more cows. With little time I will open a Dairy of my own and import cows from New Zealand. I can even ask Asin to model for my dairy products. Who knows, she may ask me to marry her. Mom can easily be cajoled. Dad? Ahhh...who cares.
"Are you still day dreaming Kaushik?" dad had reached the boiling point.
Grandma came running "Oh Ashok. Is this the way you treat your kids? Have you ever seen you brother Ajay treat his kids as such?"
For the first time in an hour I laughed aloud.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
"Hairy" Potter
"And what’s that Porcupine doing sitting on your head?" asked my roommate looking at my new haircut as others join him.
"Very funny. You are jealous because I look smart" as I say this even I can’t stop smiling and they break into a hysterical laughter.
Oh come on. What can I do if my hair looks like the lightening arrestors on the top of the buildings? Its been the same throughout my life and perhaps will be the same till I go ba(l)d. Infact it has been a part of my identity wherever I have been. Ask for Harish in the class and they will answer like "The one with the spikes on his head" or "Porcupine head" or "Dish Antenna" or "Brush mudi" and what all.
Ever realized that how young and vibrant we feel after a haircut? The immediate urge is to roam around and show everyone as "Look Dr. Jekyll is out and this is Mr.Hyde". I guess girls must be having a tough time in country like ours....atleast the ones I knew did. My cousin had a huge fight as she wanted to crop it short and my aunt was against it and it looked to me like WW3. Good heavens she didnt propose her original agenda to color it.
In my childhood days my mom insisted to get the summer haircut irrespective of the season around. It was more than getting your head shaved and less than grabbing the hair with your fingers. The best you look like is as if you are an inmate of some mental asylum. In recent years, once I was in a project where we worked continuously for 3 months and so I hardly noticed and before long I had horribly lengthy hair. My colleagues would start like "Hey Remo (from Anniyan)...which is the component you are using?". Poor Vikram would have died out of heart attack had he heard this. Worse was when I went home after 2 months my mom just looked as I rang the bell and said blindly "Oh these beggars. Now they have begun to enter the buildings as well. Po ppa..my son will arrive soon". I had to show my birthmark to make her believe that I was her dear son.
But the worse thing happened in my college. It was one day evening when we 4 friends got bored and were walking around. Suddenly out of nowhere a fight erupted between 2 of them and one of them challenged the other to get his head shaved bcoz this fellow had just done the same in his hometown. The next thing we realized was we were before a barber shop where 2 guys got their head shaved. 3 out of 4. And they were like "Dei Harish...you too join the party"
As if it was easy as joining the congress.It takes 3 bloody months to grow and you end up looking like a goon. But it fell on deaf ears. Finally we made a pact where the fate (?) would be decided with a spin of coin. Heads - Escape and Tails - gone. Needless to say that my luck with coin was worse than Harvey Dent. It was tails and off went the hair on my head.
Those from college would vouch for the fact that the Mechanical and EEE Dept staffs would always be branded Psycho dept because of their NICE staff. The next day we all 4 were in the same lab when our dear prof came and enquired "arisu (grrrrr)...ennapa...gang form pandreengala?". "No sir..Summer cut". He really got pissed off and went by. Aalavandaaan got released at that time and so all the 4 of us got some cooling glasses, and picked a knife which wouldn’t even cut butter and posed like KamalHaasan. Had Kamal seen those horrible pics he would have shelved Aalavandaan and quit filmdom forever.
As of now, I am happy with whatever is around. Because I have a bad feeling that in 3 to 4 years its gonna look as empty as the rocket launching grounds in Sriharikotta and I may have to resort to a Vin Diesel/Cho Ramaswamy cut to restore some dignity. Moral of the story: Be happy with whatever you have at the moment :-)
"Very funny. You are jealous because I look smart" as I say this even I can’t stop smiling and they break into a hysterical laughter.
Oh come on. What can I do if my hair looks like the lightening arrestors on the top of the buildings? Its been the same throughout my life and perhaps will be the same till I go ba(l)d. Infact it has been a part of my identity wherever I have been. Ask for Harish in the class and they will answer like "The one with the spikes on his head" or "Porcupine head" or "Dish Antenna" or "Brush mudi" and what all.
Ever realized that how young and vibrant we feel after a haircut? The immediate urge is to roam around and show everyone as "Look Dr. Jekyll is out and this is Mr.Hyde". I guess girls must be having a tough time in country like ours....atleast the ones I knew did. My cousin had a huge fight as she wanted to crop it short and my aunt was against it and it looked to me like WW3. Good heavens she didnt propose her original agenda to color it.
In my childhood days my mom insisted to get the summer haircut irrespective of the season around. It was more than getting your head shaved and less than grabbing the hair with your fingers. The best you look like is as if you are an inmate of some mental asylum. In recent years, once I was in a project where we worked continuously for 3 months and so I hardly noticed and before long I had horribly lengthy hair. My colleagues would start like "Hey Remo (from Anniyan)...which is the component you are using?". Poor Vikram would have died out of heart attack had he heard this. Worse was when I went home after 2 months my mom just looked as I rang the bell and said blindly "Oh these beggars. Now they have begun to enter the buildings as well. Po ppa..my son will arrive soon". I had to show my birthmark to make her believe that I was her dear son.
But the worse thing happened in my college. It was one day evening when we 4 friends got bored and were walking around. Suddenly out of nowhere a fight erupted between 2 of them and one of them challenged the other to get his head shaved bcoz this fellow had just done the same in his hometown. The next thing we realized was we were before a barber shop where 2 guys got their head shaved. 3 out of 4. And they were like "Dei Harish...you too join the party"
As if it was easy as joining the congress.It takes 3 bloody months to grow and you end up looking like a goon. But it fell on deaf ears. Finally we made a pact where the fate (?) would be decided with a spin of coin. Heads - Escape and Tails - gone. Needless to say that my luck with coin was worse than Harvey Dent. It was tails and off went the hair on my head.
Those from college would vouch for the fact that the Mechanical and EEE Dept staffs would always be branded Psycho dept because of their NICE staff. The next day we all 4 were in the same lab when our dear prof came and enquired "arisu (grrrrr)...ennapa...gang form pandreengala?". "No sir..Summer cut". He really got pissed off and went by. Aalavandaaan got released at that time and so all the 4 of us got some cooling glasses, and picked a knife which wouldn’t even cut butter and posed like KamalHaasan. Had Kamal seen those horrible pics he would have shelved Aalavandaan and quit filmdom forever.
As of now, I am happy with whatever is around. Because I have a bad feeling that in 3 to 4 years its gonna look as empty as the rocket launching grounds in Sriharikotta and I may have to resort to a Vin Diesel/Cho Ramaswamy cut to restore some dignity. Moral of the story: Be happy with whatever you have at the moment :-)
Monday, October 02, 2006
Blog Tagged
Krithika has been bugging me long for writing this tag...and at last...I am done. Marutham's tag is still pending...oh boy...I have been kept busy :-)
1) Are you happy/satisfied with your blog with it's content and look?
When have we been happy with anything that we have had? Its juts a sort of temporary adjustment and as of now I am fine. Maybe when bored….will change it :-)
2) Does your family know about your blog?
Nope. No idea whatsoever.
3) Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or you just consider it as a private thing?
Yeah. Some do know and comment as well.
4) Did blogs cause positive changes in your thoughts?
Absolutely. I feel like Nostradamus. When I see any event I try to judge the past, gauge the present and predict the future...in my own way.
5) Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or you love to go and discover more by yourself?
Nope. I Comment wherever I find something interesting. It’s the other persons personal wish to comment on mine or think "this guy is nuts" :-)
6) Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures?
Real pics? Are you kidding? Am I supposed to scare them from reading my blog or what? Let this Man remain behind the Mask.
7) Admit. Do you think there is a real benefit for blogging?
A Lot. In a way I am satisfying my urge to become a writer…perhaps a New York Times Best Seller List may not be possible immediately...but you priceless comments do make up for it :-)
8) Do you think that bloggers society is isolated from real world or interacts with events?
No. I guess we have pulled from every trivial issue. Why the hell did you think that they banned blogging during the bomb blasts if it weren’t serious?
9) Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it's a normal thing?
Its better. That’s how one knows if he/she is right or not. (perhaps that why I stopped writing in tamil :-))
10) Do you fear of some political blogs and avoid them?
Never heard of any.
11) Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers?
Arrest? Am I on moon or did it happen?
12) Did you think about what will happen to your blog after you die?
Simple. No stupid stories to tell any more.
13) What do you like to hear? What's the song you like to put its link in your blog?
Hmmm...one song every week. For this week it could be "Khoya Khoya sa" from Shabd.
14) Five bloggers to be the next "victims"?
Neah. Lives spared :-)
1) Are you happy/satisfied with your blog with it's content and look?
When have we been happy with anything that we have had? Its juts a sort of temporary adjustment and as of now I am fine. Maybe when bored….will change it :-)
2) Does your family know about your blog?
Nope. No idea whatsoever.
3) Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or you just consider it as a private thing?
Yeah. Some do know and comment as well.
4) Did blogs cause positive changes in your thoughts?
Absolutely. I feel like Nostradamus. When I see any event I try to judge the past, gauge the present and predict the future...in my own way.
5) Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or you love to go and discover more by yourself?
Nope. I Comment wherever I find something interesting. It’s the other persons personal wish to comment on mine or think "this guy is nuts" :-)
6) Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures?
Real pics? Are you kidding? Am I supposed to scare them from reading my blog or what? Let this Man remain behind the Mask.
7) Admit. Do you think there is a real benefit for blogging?
A Lot. In a way I am satisfying my urge to become a writer…perhaps a New York Times Best Seller List may not be possible immediately...but you priceless comments do make up for it :-)
8) Do you think that bloggers society is isolated from real world or interacts with events?
No. I guess we have pulled from every trivial issue. Why the hell did you think that they banned blogging during the bomb blasts if it weren’t serious?
9) Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it's a normal thing?
Its better. That’s how one knows if he/she is right or not. (perhaps that why I stopped writing in tamil :-))
10) Do you fear of some political blogs and avoid them?
Never heard of any.
11) Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers?
Arrest? Am I on moon or did it happen?
12) Did you think about what will happen to your blog after you die?
Simple. No stupid stories to tell any more.
13) What do you like to hear? What's the song you like to put its link in your blog?
Hmmm...one song every week. For this week it could be "Khoya Khoya sa" from Shabd.
14) Five bloggers to be the next "victims"?
Neah. Lives spared :-)
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