Like Uncle Osama leaks videos of himself to prove USA has not nailed him yet, this is just to say that I'am not dead, terminally ill, or kidnapped by aliens.
Just on a wonderful break from online civilisation, and plain old lazy.
See ya soon.
Be Good.
Actually, be bad, it's more fun that way ;)
Cheers
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Confused Encounters of the Worst Kind
Why is my country in such a state of confused mess these days? No, honestly! I’ve often been called confused and lost by more enlightened amongst my friends, but I pale in comparison to the venerable men and women who are in charge of running the mammoth (and the metaphor is for size, not extinct value) that is Indian democracy.
Let’s take a look at the events that have been making headlines in the past month.
Kaun Banega Rashtrapathi (oh I love lame lines)
All segments in the political streets must be collectively berating the day they came up with the brilliant idea of pushing Kalam for the President. The man who showed the promise of being the poster boy for the secular happy family of Indian politics, turned out to the Prodigal son who never returned. He made himself shamelessly popular as the People’s President, won everyone’s heart (except for the politicians, who dragged him to The Big Bhavan in the first place) with his ready smile and wannabe curly locks. He poked his nose in their decisions, brought the much forgotten, and “eminently avoidable” (that’s what some news paper called it) issue of the Office of Profit debacle to the forefront, generally cared to be a little more than the proverbial “rubberstamp”, while forcing them to pull their acts together.
So when the talk can of re-election started, the political brotherhood forgot their differences and said a unanimous “Nought!”. That did in a common bee in their collective bonnets, but it posed the next problem—choosing the next candidate. Everybody who was somebody had his name being thrown in for the race—from The Big Bee Bachchan to Big Mentor Murthy. Bachchan mercifully saw the ridiculousness in the situation and refused even before they could offer. The county turned to Mr. Narayan Murthy to be Bharath’s First Bacha. But just as things were looking promising, he went and proclaimed in full media view that he found singing the national anthem embarrassing. (this of course is the classic example of media misquoting the innocent celebrity—what he actually said that they played the instrumental version of the anthem, instead of singing it in Infy in a ceremony that welcomed President Kalam because they “had a number of foreign delegates in the gathering, and it might have embarrassed them while we sing the anthem”. Of course this statement makes no sense whatsoever, so I guess the media’s twist at least made for juicy news watch).
Anyways, just about a week after the current Mr. President proclaimed that Mr. Murthy would make a wonderful Next Mr. President, the “corporate leader with a good heart and a golden vision” had his fall from grace, as the media gleefully pumped holes into his hitherto impeccable image. Suddenly he became the man who “shows his ignorance of India's caste struggle and its background” for his views on reservation, his views on Indian languages “lacked self-respect and pride” and “his corporate philosophy allowed no space for healthy cultural pride”. Having burnt their fingers once with a non-politician, the county’s elected rulers decided to play it safe—they could hardly go after a man who had such prideless views, when all we Indians collectively puff up our chest at the sound of the national anthem. So after some star struck followers of Murthy indignantly proclaimed that the whole “national anthem” issue was blown out of proportion, we just decided to put that chapter behind us, and move on.
It was then the mad race to choose the Next Indian Political Idol (to be sure, the President is really just expected to stay put and be worshipped as the democratic God). And all parties left no stoned unturned to look at all the ageing candidates who were in the trishakhu stage of pretty much not doing anything (okay, so if we agree to make you the President, will you please get off our face?) Karan Singh? AB Vajpayee? Bhairon Singh Shekhawat? Sushil Kumar Shinde? Or can we just quickly check if Pranab Mukherjee will like being the President better than being External Affaires Man? Or if Somnath Chatterjee got bored of being the Speaker? The Left considered name dropping to be beneath themselves so they came up with “job requirements” for the profile: the candidate should have “secular credentials, experience in public life and Parliament and one who could ensure balance between the judiciary, Parliament and the executive.” Just add water, and your President is now ready to be served!
The Presidential elections are less than a week away, and it seems it’s our very own Home Minister, who has agreed to be disposed off. It has been a tough battle folks. The super intelligent posh IT guy from Bangalore wanted His Mentor to be P, and Paaji from Patiyala and Munnu from Mumbai along with Amar Singh and Anil Ambani, wanted Bachchansaahab to be P, BJP wanted the VP to be P, Congress wanted EFM or HM to be P, Left wanted a miracle to be P, and my friendly neighbourhood doodhwala wanted his angreji speaking son-in-law to be P. If you have a candidate to be the first servant of India, don’t be disheartened, one week is seven days. As Udhay Chopra famously proclaimed in a very forgettable movie, “Saath din mein yeh duniya saath baar ghoom jati hai”, you never know.
The Indian Idol, Part 2, Meets The Great Indian Comedy Show
I’m referring, of course to the long drawn, nail biting, extra large bucket of butter popcorn demanding selection of the great Indian Scapegoat, a.k.a, The Indian Cricket Coach. The BCCI had decided that it had enough with the players getting so much attention for being Gods, and they feeling all left out like the 12th player. It also had enough with coaches who made presentation on their laptops on how BCCI sucked and decided that the next coach should be the epitome of cricketing brilliance, someone who can handle tantrums of players, and politics of selectors, and be the darling of the media, drop charmingly funny, and brilliantly lickass soundbites about how the boys tried real hard, and how it was just bad weather and lack of addidas shoes that lost the match, and how the BCCI was the best thing that happened to him. Of course he should be able to handle the occasional slap that came hurtling out of the bubbling blue billion.
After going around the world in little more than eighty days, the BCCI cracked the difficult task of finding Bharath ka Cricketing Dronacharya, who would make the Aussies cut their little finger and present him as Gurudakshina, so that his Indian Arjuns face no real competition. Ladies and Gentlemen, please make way fooooorrrrrr…Graham Ford. And in walks the suave and soft-spoken Ford to replace the nasty Chap.
But what do we hear now? Soft spoken Ford, turns sneaky little Ford, and delivers one tight slap right across the BCCI’s face, and says, he’s really happy with his cosy little job with the Kent, thank you very much. Ladies and Gentlemen, at this juncture, we pause for the shocked silence reaction…………………………………….
And the pandemonium breaks loose again! How will be the next? Ford said no. Embury said no. Ravi Shastri said no. Sunil Gavaskar said no. Er…can we just pretend to throw out Dada again, and then offer him a comeback as Coach? Or now that Sehwag is not playing, he can step in?
Our cricket team has been getting more than its due of flak after the dismal performance since the World Cup (the 1983 one I mean). Yeah so they didn’t do all that well in the World Cup (again), in fact they were quite bad, in fact they lost to Bangladesh (haawwwww!), but then they did beat Bangladesh in their own soil you know (serves them right too! I mean, that will teach them not to mess with the bestesht Westside clothed, Pepsi drinking, Sahara flying, Videocon watching, Nike sporting team in the whoooo-oo-ool world, ha!). Does not mean that they be treated like kids who were denied TV because they flunked in their high school exam! Good that bad bad BCCI got its due of tight slaps to. But question still remains, who will be the next slapgoat?
So there. The next person who calls me confused in life will get a sixer hit right on his/her face. Hrrrummmpph!
Let’s take a look at the events that have been making headlines in the past month.
Kaun Banega Rashtrapathi (oh I love lame lines)
All segments in the political streets must be collectively berating the day they came up with the brilliant idea of pushing Kalam for the President. The man who showed the promise of being the poster boy for the secular happy family of Indian politics, turned out to the Prodigal son who never returned. He made himself shamelessly popular as the People’s President, won everyone’s heart (except for the politicians, who dragged him to The Big Bhavan in the first place) with his ready smile and wannabe curly locks. He poked his nose in their decisions, brought the much forgotten, and “eminently avoidable” (that’s what some news paper called it) issue of the Office of Profit debacle to the forefront, generally cared to be a little more than the proverbial “rubberstamp”, while forcing them to pull their acts together.
So when the talk can of re-election started, the political brotherhood forgot their differences and said a unanimous “Nought!”. That did in a common bee in their collective bonnets, but it posed the next problem—choosing the next candidate. Everybody who was somebody had his name being thrown in for the race—from The Big Bee Bachchan to Big Mentor Murthy. Bachchan mercifully saw the ridiculousness in the situation and refused even before they could offer. The county turned to Mr. Narayan Murthy to be Bharath’s First Bacha. But just as things were looking promising, he went and proclaimed in full media view that he found singing the national anthem embarrassing. (this of course is the classic example of media misquoting the innocent celebrity—what he actually said that they played the instrumental version of the anthem, instead of singing it in Infy in a ceremony that welcomed President Kalam because they “had a number of foreign delegates in the gathering, and it might have embarrassed them while we sing the anthem”. Of course this statement makes no sense whatsoever, so I guess the media’s twist at least made for juicy news watch).
Anyways, just about a week after the current Mr. President proclaimed that Mr. Murthy would make a wonderful Next Mr. President, the “corporate leader with a good heart and a golden vision” had his fall from grace, as the media gleefully pumped holes into his hitherto impeccable image. Suddenly he became the man who “shows his ignorance of India's caste struggle and its background” for his views on reservation, his views on Indian languages “lacked self-respect and pride” and “his corporate philosophy allowed no space for healthy cultural pride”. Having burnt their fingers once with a non-politician, the county’s elected rulers decided to play it safe—they could hardly go after a man who had such prideless views, when all we Indians collectively puff up our chest at the sound of the national anthem. So after some star struck followers of Murthy indignantly proclaimed that the whole “national anthem” issue was blown out of proportion, we just decided to put that chapter behind us, and move on.
It was then the mad race to choose the Next Indian Political Idol (to be sure, the President is really just expected to stay put and be worshipped as the democratic God). And all parties left no stoned unturned to look at all the ageing candidates who were in the trishakhu stage of pretty much not doing anything (okay, so if we agree to make you the President, will you please get off our face?) Karan Singh? AB Vajpayee? Bhairon Singh Shekhawat? Sushil Kumar Shinde? Or can we just quickly check if Pranab Mukherjee will like being the President better than being External Affaires Man? Or if Somnath Chatterjee got bored of being the Speaker? The Left considered name dropping to be beneath themselves so they came up with “job requirements” for the profile: the candidate should have “secular credentials, experience in public life and Parliament and one who could ensure balance between the judiciary, Parliament and the executive.” Just add water, and your President is now ready to be served!
The Presidential elections are less than a week away, and it seems it’s our very own Home Minister, who has agreed to be disposed off. It has been a tough battle folks. The super intelligent posh IT guy from Bangalore wanted His Mentor to be P, and Paaji from Patiyala and Munnu from Mumbai along with Amar Singh and Anil Ambani, wanted Bachchansaahab to be P, BJP wanted the VP to be P, Congress wanted EFM or HM to be P, Left wanted a miracle to be P, and my friendly neighbourhood doodhwala wanted his angreji speaking son-in-law to be P. If you have a candidate to be the first servant of India, don’t be disheartened, one week is seven days. As Udhay Chopra famously proclaimed in a very forgettable movie, “Saath din mein yeh duniya saath baar ghoom jati hai”, you never know.
The Indian Idol, Part 2, Meets The Great Indian Comedy Show
I’m referring, of course to the long drawn, nail biting, extra large bucket of butter popcorn demanding selection of the great Indian Scapegoat, a.k.a, The Indian Cricket Coach. The BCCI had decided that it had enough with the players getting so much attention for being Gods, and they feeling all left out like the 12th player. It also had enough with coaches who made presentation on their laptops on how BCCI sucked and decided that the next coach should be the epitome of cricketing brilliance, someone who can handle tantrums of players, and politics of selectors, and be the darling of the media, drop charmingly funny, and brilliantly lickass soundbites about how the boys tried real hard, and how it was just bad weather and lack of addidas shoes that lost the match, and how the BCCI was the best thing that happened to him. Of course he should be able to handle the occasional slap that came hurtling out of the bubbling blue billion.
After going around the world in little more than eighty days, the BCCI cracked the difficult task of finding Bharath ka Cricketing Dronacharya, who would make the Aussies cut their little finger and present him as Gurudakshina, so that his Indian Arjuns face no real competition. Ladies and Gentlemen, please make way fooooorrrrrr…Graham Ford. And in walks the suave and soft-spoken Ford to replace the nasty Chap.
But what do we hear now? Soft spoken Ford, turns sneaky little Ford, and delivers one tight slap right across the BCCI’s face, and says, he’s really happy with his cosy little job with the Kent, thank you very much. Ladies and Gentlemen, at this juncture, we pause for the shocked silence reaction…………………………………….
And the pandemonium breaks loose again! How will be the next? Ford said no. Embury said no. Ravi Shastri said no. Sunil Gavaskar said no. Er…can we just pretend to throw out Dada again, and then offer him a comeback as Coach? Or now that Sehwag is not playing, he can step in?
Our cricket team has been getting more than its due of flak after the dismal performance since the World Cup (the 1983 one I mean). Yeah so they didn’t do all that well in the World Cup (again), in fact they were quite bad, in fact they lost to Bangladesh (haawwwww!), but then they did beat Bangladesh in their own soil you know (serves them right too! I mean, that will teach them not to mess with the bestesht Westside clothed, Pepsi drinking, Sahara flying, Videocon watching, Nike sporting team in the whoooo-oo-ool world, ha!). Does not mean that they be treated like kids who were denied TV because they flunked in their high school exam! Good that bad bad BCCI got its due of tight slaps to. But question still remains, who will be the next slapgoat?
So there. The next person who calls me confused in life will get a sixer hit right on his/her face. Hrrrummmpph!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Tag Thee Well
Gah! I have been tagged. That too by my well-meaning friend Tsu I no, I'm not going to pretend that I did not enjoy this, or try too hard to make it interesting. :P
Let's do this the old fashioned way of "ours is not to question why...."
Rules are (yeah there are rules and rulers and all that):
* Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
* People who are tagged need to write posts in their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
* At the end of your post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
So here it is:
1. "Weird" is my most abused word. I use it at least 347 times a day, for everything from the way my boss acts to the colour of that-guy-on-street-with-a-disapproving-look's face when I stuck out my tongue at him for staring. "Weird" is the new "cute" for me...while other gals use "cute" to describe their puppy dog's wagging tail, and their boy friend's antics, I use "weird" with just same the passion. And yes, I have different shades and grades of "Weird". I know...that's weird :P
2. I firmly believe that UFOs are NOT cover-up for the air force's secret mission leaking out, somewhere in this world, there HAS to be a Hogwarts, and that someday machines WILL take over the world. And Oh, I HATE the idea of AI.
3. I can believe in absolutely contradictory things, and not be freaked out by it. Like I believe in love and I believe in arranged marriages, I hate wannabes, but I feel sorry for them. There are times when my mind neatly divides itself into teams and tangents, and then dashes of in different directions, leaving the rest of me to figure out which direction it (the rest of me, that is) should follow, or whether it should follow at all.
4. I often use words that I heard someplace, but I really don't understand the exact meaning of, and get away with it. For example, I do not really know what tangent is doing in that sentence in the previous point, but I bet the life of the ant-running-through-my-desk that it did not seem out of place for you...till you read this that is.
5. I can read Mills and Boon to wash off the aftermath of reading two Ayn Rands in a span of 6 months.
6. I can tell you the color of your dress when I was introduced to you first (that is if I care for you enough) but miserably fail to recall where I left my cell after I attending the call, just five minutes ago.
7. If someone sings a song that I don't like in front of me, or I hear it on the radio, then it gets stuck in my head, and can refuse to leave. I will keep playing in my head, I will unconsciously start humming that song, and then get pissed with myself when I realize what I am doing.(I could NOT get Paris Hilton's Stars are Blind out of my head for THREE days. And I did NOT enjoy it)
8. I feel connections with random story that I read, random movie/soap that I watch when I'm confused. Its like I'm looking for an answer, and then God just slaps it right in front of my nose, because it is that obvious, and I still refuse to see it.
9. I can lose COMPLETE sense of time when I'm doing something I love, I can get throughly lost in a place I don't know, because my sense of direction is PATHETIC. But, BUUT, I will always always find the way too. So don't ask me why you should take a left here and a right there...I can't tell you why, but I can tell you that you need to...just.
And oh they asked only for 8...my blogger page just refused to have anything more to do with weirdness. For those who still wanna know about my weirdo-meter, you just have to want for a couple of decades when my complete and unabridged version of my autobiography is out.
Oh, I'm supposed to spread the joy and pass this to 8 more souls. So here goes nothing:
1. Lash...because he would JUST refuse to take this up, or even consider the offer. He would scoff at the futility of this exercise, and how it is beneath his dignity to even consider this. AND now he might just take it up to prove me wrong. (sits back with an accomplished evil grin to see how he reacts ;))
2. Er...Mathew. Because I stole his tag. Or well I said I would. (If you have done this before, too bad, you'll just have to figure 8 more weird facts bout thyself :P)
3. Vodka, because she "found me" and "she needs to spend more time on blogosphere" :P
4. Goldenash...because I just got reminded of her RIGHT now for some inexplicable reason
5. The first person who reads this (every likely he/she is bored too)
6. Anyone born on the 26th of October ( just for the heck of it)
7. Anyone who likes listening to Stars are blind
8. Anyone who uses cute more than twice on a daily basis :P
Let's do this the old fashioned way of "ours is not to question why...."
Rules are (yeah there are rules and rulers and all that):
* Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
* People who are tagged need to write posts in their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
* At the end of your post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
So here it is:
1. "Weird" is my most abused word. I use it at least 347 times a day, for everything from the way my boss acts to the colour of that-guy-on-street-with-a-disapproving-look's face when I stuck out my tongue at him for staring. "Weird" is the new "cute" for me...while other gals use "cute" to describe their puppy dog's wagging tail, and their boy friend's antics, I use "weird" with just same the passion. And yes, I have different shades and grades of "Weird". I know...that's weird :P
2. I firmly believe that UFOs are NOT cover-up for the air force's secret mission leaking out, somewhere in this world, there HAS to be a Hogwarts, and that someday machines WILL take over the world. And Oh, I HATE the idea of AI.
3. I can believe in absolutely contradictory things, and not be freaked out by it. Like I believe in love and I believe in arranged marriages, I hate wannabes, but I feel sorry for them. There are times when my mind neatly divides itself into teams and tangents, and then dashes of in different directions, leaving the rest of me to figure out which direction it (the rest of me, that is) should follow, or whether it should follow at all.
4. I often use words that I heard someplace, but I really don't understand the exact meaning of, and get away with it. For example, I do not really know what tangent is doing in that sentence in the previous point, but I bet the life of the ant-running-through-my-desk that it did not seem out of place for you...till you read this that is.
5. I can read Mills and Boon to wash off the aftermath of reading two Ayn Rands in a span of 6 months.
6. I can tell you the color of your dress when I was introduced to you first (that is if I care for you enough) but miserably fail to recall where I left my cell after I attending the call, just five minutes ago.
7. If someone sings a song that I don't like in front of me, or I hear it on the radio, then it gets stuck in my head, and can refuse to leave. I will keep playing in my head, I will unconsciously start humming that song, and then get pissed with myself when I realize what I am doing.(I could NOT get Paris Hilton's Stars are Blind out of my head for THREE days. And I did NOT enjoy it)
8. I feel connections with random story that I read, random movie/soap that I watch when I'm confused. Its like I'm looking for an answer, and then God just slaps it right in front of my nose, because it is that obvious, and I still refuse to see it.
9. I can lose COMPLETE sense of time when I'm doing something I love, I can get throughly lost in a place I don't know, because my sense of direction is PATHETIC. But, BUUT, I will always always find the way too. So don't ask me why you should take a left here and a right there...I can't tell you why, but I can tell you that you need to...just.
And oh they asked only for 8...my blogger page just refused to have anything more to do with weirdness. For those who still wanna know about my weirdo-meter, you just have to want for a couple of decades when my complete and unabridged version of my autobiography is out.
Oh, I'm supposed to spread the joy and pass this to 8 more souls. So here goes nothing:
1. Lash...because he would JUST refuse to take this up, or even consider the offer. He would scoff at the futility of this exercise, and how it is beneath his dignity to even consider this. AND now he might just take it up to prove me wrong. (sits back with an accomplished evil grin to see how he reacts ;))
2. Er...Mathew. Because I stole his tag. Or well I said I would. (If you have done this before, too bad, you'll just have to figure 8 more weird facts bout thyself :P)
3. Vodka, because she "found me" and "she needs to spend more time on blogosphere" :P
4. Goldenash...because I just got reminded of her RIGHT now for some inexplicable reason
5. The first person who reads this (every likely he/she is bored too)
6. Anyone born on the 26th of October ( just for the heck of it)
7. Anyone who likes listening to Stars are blind
8. Anyone who uses cute more than twice on a daily basis :P
Sunday, May 27, 2007
No This is Not The New Femina Ad
I refuse to walk with me head bowed down
I refuse to cringe when they throw filth at me
I refuse to be taken advantage of
I refuse to be considered weak
I refuse to stop walking just because I feel faint
I refuse to acknowledge the cretin in this world
I refuse to hate this city because of one creed
I refuse to stop enjoying the rain because of one night
I refuse to avert my eyes from that non-entity's pathetic face
I refuse to yell at those who don't care
I refuse to feel for friends who were not there
I refuse fear
I refuse guilt
I refuse to give up my freedom
I refuse to live my life on any terms other than mine
I refuse to cringe when they throw filth at me
I refuse to be taken advantage of
I refuse to be considered weak
I refuse to stop walking just because I feel faint
I refuse to acknowledge the cretin in this world
I refuse to hate this city because of one creed
I refuse to stop enjoying the rain because of one night
I refuse to avert my eyes from that non-entity's pathetic face
I refuse to yell at those who don't care
I refuse to feel for friends who were not there
I refuse fear
I refuse guilt
I refuse to give up my freedom
I refuse to live my life on any terms other than mine
Friday, April 20, 2007
Of Serenity, Prayers and Acceptance :)
"God, Grant me the Serenity,
To accept the things I cannot change,
The Courage, to change the things I can,
And the Wisdom, to know the DIFFERENCE."
The Serenity prayer. The only one I believe in, completely,
unquestioningly. It's everything you need, you'll ever need. And it's
the hardest thing in the world.
I found these words somewhere long, long ago, and I have believed in
their power ever since. It has helped me hold on when everything else
was hazy, even dark. And it always comes back to me.
I've never been such a sucker for custom made prayers. I remember when
me and my bro were kids, in Calicut, it was our job to light the vellaku
(lamp or diya that you light before a deity) in the evening. I was not
allowed to handle fire so chettan (my bro) would light the vellakku, and
I would light the agarbatties from the wick in the vellakku. And then we
would recite our prayers (we had this prayer in Malayalam, which is
usually recieted by kids, "Daiyame Kaithoram,kelkkumaragannam , paavaam
aam enne nnee kathumaraganam..." I hope I got the words right, but I
have a sneaking suspicion that I didn't. Loosely translated it means
God, I'm folding my hands in front of you, please hear my prayers,
always watch over me...). Somehow this little daily ritual got lost in
the daily busy business of growing up. And then I developed a whole
different perception about praying and my relationship with God.
I have not believed in mouthing pre-ordained words to pray for a long
time now. It always seemed so distant. For me God was always a personal
friend- someone I raved and ranted to, someone I loved and fought with.
But this one little prayer stayed. And it the only one that I actually
believe in. I don't know its origin, neither have I ever made an attempt
to find out. Perhaps because I have found my meaning for these words,
and now I don't want that coloured by any history, or anyone else's opinion.
Why all this now? Well, I've been deliriously happy these days. Confused
at times, more sure of myself than ever at times. And worried and unsure
at times. The mother of a good friend of mine told me once, "Everyone
has an allocated quota of everything in life-of falling down, of
learning to walk, of happiness, tears, joy, stupidity, everything. If
you don't finish your quota when you are supposed to, then you'll have
to make up for it sometime later." I kinda believed in that. And then
someone I have come to love and trust so much insisted recently, that
there really is no need for sorrow in life. You can find happiness in
everything, everywhere, all the time. Honestly, I'm torn between the two
beliefs. But are the two really different? Aren't both just really ways
of acceptance? For me, it is just saying that life comes in many
flavours. Yeah sometimes you end up with a crappy taste in your mouth,
but even that can mean that you have taste (notice the pun??). Life does
not have to be perfect to be wonderful.
It is perfect because it is wonderful.
To accept the things I cannot change,
The Courage, to change the things I can,
And the Wisdom, to know the DIFFERENCE."
The Serenity prayer. The only one I believe in, completely,
unquestioningly. It's everything you need, you'll ever need. And it's
the hardest thing in the world.
I found these words somewhere long, long ago, and I have believed in
their power ever since. It has helped me hold on when everything else
was hazy, even dark. And it always comes back to me.
I've never been such a sucker for custom made prayers. I remember when
me and my bro were kids, in Calicut, it was our job to light the vellaku
(lamp or diya that you light before a deity) in the evening. I was not
allowed to handle fire so chettan (my bro) would light the vellakku, and
I would light the agarbatties from the wick in the vellakku. And then we
would recite our prayers (we had this prayer in Malayalam, which is
usually recieted by kids, "Daiyame Kaithoram,kelkkumaragannam , paavaam
aam enne nnee kathumaraganam..." I hope I got the words right, but I
have a sneaking suspicion that I didn't. Loosely translated it means
God, I'm folding my hands in front of you, please hear my prayers,
always watch over me...). Somehow this little daily ritual got lost in
the daily busy business of growing up. And then I developed a whole
different perception about praying and my relationship with God.
I have not believed in mouthing pre-ordained words to pray for a long
time now. It always seemed so distant. For me God was always a personal
friend- someone I raved and ranted to, someone I loved and fought with.
But this one little prayer stayed. And it the only one that I actually
believe in. I don't know its origin, neither have I ever made an attempt
to find out. Perhaps because I have found my meaning for these words,
and now I don't want that coloured by any history, or anyone else's opinion.
Why all this now? Well, I've been deliriously happy these days. Confused
at times, more sure of myself than ever at times. And worried and unsure
at times. The mother of a good friend of mine told me once, "Everyone
has an allocated quota of everything in life-of falling down, of
learning to walk, of happiness, tears, joy, stupidity, everything. If
you don't finish your quota when you are supposed to, then you'll have
to make up for it sometime later." I kinda believed in that. And then
someone I have come to love and trust so much insisted recently, that
there really is no need for sorrow in life. You can find happiness in
everything, everywhere, all the time. Honestly, I'm torn between the two
beliefs. But are the two really different? Aren't both just really ways
of acceptance? For me, it is just saying that life comes in many
flavours. Yeah sometimes you end up with a crappy taste in your mouth,
but even that can mean that you have taste (notice the pun??). Life does
not have to be perfect to be wonderful.
It is perfect because it is wonderful.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
I Me and My DNA
Why? Coz everyone seems to be getting one. And "go with the flow" is my flavour of the month.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Rang Kitne Rang ke Hote Hain?
Celebrating Colors in a Black World...
a trifle belated, but Happy Holi everyone!
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