tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5800823964428967102024-03-06T02:12:51.700+05:30To Be or Not to BeA place to type out my thoughts when I am not lazy. ;)Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-30222468183991643482014-01-22T23:34:00.000+05:302014-01-22T23:34:04.636+05:30All India Radio<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
No I am not 50 years old. And no I did not grow up listening to the <i>Binaca Geet Mala. </i>And no impressions of Ameen Sayani do not impress me too much. But why do I feel like I am in this ethereal space when I listen to the Radio?<br />
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Is is because I hear most of the tunes on my dad's old stereo from the time he was my age?<br />
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Or is it because I like the feeling of sitting in front of my heater on a cold breezy evening with nothing to do?<br />
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Or is it because I like the fact that I actually hear what the other person is saying?<br />
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Or is it because I know I can do something else while the radio plays? <br />
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Or is it because there is mystery to what I might hear next? Or the spontaneous excitement of hearing the song I was just thinking of.<br />
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Or it might just be cause I know that at the hour every hour I know I'll hear the news. And because I know that if I tune in to 102.6 at 9am I would get to start my day with the Matchless Music Hour and hear some Simon and Garfunkle or Floyd with a mini detour to the bollywood of the 50s. And I know I can expect a match commentary on FM gold. <br />
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Or maybe I just like All India Radio and the classic broadcasting format.<br />
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Who knows? And who cares as long as I smile to myself listening to Neela Aasman on a cold windy night....<br />
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Take Care <br />
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Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-77072465384830455042012-03-20T03:27:00.001+05:302012-03-20T03:30:32.289+05:30Mobile Post : From the city RediscoveredSometimes there is nothing more beautiful than seeing the sunset over the mountains with wind in your hair. It's even better when there is melancholy in the air. That sweet mixture of happiness and sadness. Sometimes there is nothing better than a feeling that all would be well. When trekking up the hill to a temple which claims to fulfill wishes, and you actually hope that your wishes come true. That desperate yet thought evoking behaviour of complete submission. Sometimes there is nothing better than <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">twinkling</span> lights by the lake side on a beautiful moonlit night. As if the water and the quite would transport you to a place of joy. Sometimes there is nothing better than mundane conversations without care and thought. Of sipping coffee and making the silliest of conversation with your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">lil</span> sister, about the latest item songs. Sometimes there is nothing better than flying confetti and the dancing drag queen, celebrating a festival with strangers in a crowded market place. Sometimes all you need is to drive on without respite. Without fear through the crowd. Sometimes all I need is a bit of this home town should I call it; to be happy when I'm also a little sad.Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-44174949960734026322012-03-20T02:21:00.003+05:302012-03-20T02:41:47.578+05:30Embracing my Inner RomanticSomeone just told me that I was a romantic and I really couldn't disagree.<br /><br />For I can't help but think...<br /><br />That there is nothing better than smell of rain, that umas from the hot scorched earth when varsha ritu comes home. Of dreaming of long walks on moonlit paths. Of the idea of living in the 60's and waiting for letters. Of making iced tea at home starting with actually boiling some tea first. Of looking at lights from hill tops. Of sunrises and sunsets. Of cool wind blowing in my face. Of water gently lapping at my feet. Of kids running with phuljhadhis on Diwali. Of firecrackers and bright lights in the sky. Of summer nights on rooftops looking at the sky, finding new constellations and catching some shooting stars. Of talking about life with a like minded stranger. Of seeing a one toothed old man smile, as you stop your car to let him pass. Of laughing in my head when noticing people impatience, of smiling to myself when I remember my own such times. Of being stuck in traffic jam with your favourite song on the radio and not a worry about the destination. Of crossing bridges by road or by train. Of listening to train tracks when the metro approaches. Of spending an afternoon look at the sparrow and hearing it chirp. Of spending hours playing with a half filled bottle and catching the light. Of coming up with many thoughts, hoping that I'll blog and then lazing away with them tucked away at the back of my mind. Of thinking that the Hijra at the signal is a friend, cause he always says hi but never asks for money. Of loving the thought of an orange bar on a hot summer night. Of standing at the train door looking the world go past. Of being happy and of being sad. Of being lonely and a little thoughtful. Of feeling blessed and dejected at the same time. Of friends and family. Of me and myself. Of my future and of my past. Of myself in an avatar quite free and not just cast.Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-73763250804284358592012-02-17T00:42:00.000+05:302012-02-17T01:10:49.682+05:30The Birthday Blog!I may sound this way because it is a little late at night. I may sound this way because I have seen something I somehow relate to. I may sound this way because I remembered something from my past after something I read.<br /><br />It was my birthday 2 days ago. I really didn't care much for it. But maybe because I knew it was my birthday, ordinary events leading up to that day felt like an epiphany after the other.<br /><br />I was on my way to the metro station. Holding my second Kulfi, laughing about French grammar. It was almost careless, the laughter. Till I helped a blind man cross the road. From what I have heard my entire life, this gesture is supposed to make you happy and satisfied. All it left me with however was shock and grief. I don't know if you have felt it, that numbing sensation that sort of removes you from the world around. Gosh! I couldn't help but ask why was this happening that day.<br /><br />My birthday, I spent my day in travelling to and from Agra. I was covering an election rally. A staged election rally, with the sun shining in my eyes for 3 hours. The crowd around me seemed all paid. RG gave his 10 minute speech after making us wait for 3 hours in the sun. He took out his neatly folded piece of paper and got the crowd holding forced banners and flags. Democracy failed for me that day, as the masses repeated practiced slogans and cheered not because they really understood what the really reason for a rally was supposed to be. Maybe it was just that horrid Congresses UP election version of Jai Ho! The last rally I went to had really lifted my spirits. It had convinced me that there was something right about our democracy till it came crashing down that day.<br /><br />Everywhere I go, I see suffering and poverty and apathy. It makes me feel guilty for being privileged. It makes me feel guilty when I crib and because I am sad.<br /><br />I read these two Status Messages todays, on gtalk of two of my friends. One of them has his birthday today. His reads " A soul in tension is learning to Fly ". Maybe he is in that state of mind too. But there is comfort there in the next SM " A sole intention is learning to fly ".<br /><br />My soul does hurt. I just wanted my birthday to go by. It gave me so much to think about. But not a single solution. One of the major reasons I had accepted the Agra assignment that day, might just have been to escape. I just want to escape. But wanting to escape also makes me so guilty. Stupid convents I studied in told me to count my blessings. So now I am caught in this limbo. Shuttling at the speed of light between the want to just disappear to wanting to learn to fly.<br /><br />I think I need that helping hand here. This is my birthday blog. A few epiphanies. I few dreams. With the really strong desire to escape and an equally compelling one asking me not to...<br /><br />I think right now, I am just a soul in tension.<br /><br />Take CareSanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-24125113267220013482012-02-02T10:44:00.000+05:302012-02-02T10:45:54.610+05:30Ears OpenIt's been images till now. Snapshots of memories. Like scenes from flashbacks in movies. This time however, it's a little different. I don't want to take back with me the views and vistas but the sounds of Sikkim.<br /><br />The chant of Buddhist verse at the Phondong Monastery. The chirp of the little sparrows at Rumtek. The turning of prayer wheels as Ranka. The crunch of gravel walking up a hill. The sound of the cars approaching on a turn. The continuous hammering of the stones on the way to Nathula. The silence of the border of China. The flutter of the Tricolour when the winds picked up along with the gentle metallic clink of the flag mast hitting the flag pole. The sound of the fog creeping in suddenly on a bright and sunny day in the snow clad mountain. The bustling of the market on MG Marg and my mother's voice in an empty silent restaurant overlooking the hustle of the market below. Sikkim Tourism playing Pink Floyd (Wish You Were Here) to my utter surprise on Bose speaker in the promenade with the interwoven mix of Nepali, Bangla, Hindi and English. The shuffling of papers in the permit offices and the comforting sound of our room heater in the biting cold. How can I forget the the sounds of our car as it went over mountains and crossed bridges both metallic and wooden; Sometimes bare and more often with the fluttering flags red, blue, green and yellow. The squeaks of the ever curious Red Panda's to the sweet roar of the snow leopards. The rustling of leaves and the flapping of wings. Even the silence of it all.<br /><br />I wasn't really awestruck by East Sikkim, but I wish I could take back with me the sounds, for they are worth recommending to another wanderer.<br /><br />Take Care.Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-29941209803312631202011-11-20T19:18:00.000+05:302011-11-20T19:45:21.461+05:30Letting Go!I am a junk collector and come from a like minded family. For a bunch of three wandering souls we have a lot of stuff between us. It finally got to us. We had to let go.<br /><br />Dad and I started work on a room aptly defined by us as our cloak room. At home we always have people in transit; and this room yesterday resembled the "Room of Requirements" (for all the Harry Potter Fans out there). You could find anything in that room. It could have been a "lost and found" at a busy railway station, considering the number of bags that room contained.<br /><br />It was a treasure trove of our lives. As we threw away the many empty boxes of things gone past. I relived the last few years of my life. I found a 2001 cd of Encarta Encyclopedia and laughed about the progress we as humanity had made with technology. We wondered what to do with our large number of cassettees ( They are still with me, I wonder if I can throw them away) and played the old music in my head. I found my college notes and the large bunch of research papers I had read, which made me look back at the life choice I left behind. I found an old postcard from a dear friend with a painting of a Parisian day in the rain ( That got tucked away in my treasure trove, wasn't junk was it). I threw away a lot today and helped my dad get rid a lot more.<br /><br />Junk was it? Well it was... But letting go was just as hard. I feel good that we let go... Life goes on and we need room for new memories and new mementos.<br /><br />Take Care.Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-49242114162244666622011-07-27T20:04:00.000+05:302011-07-27T21:26:51.818+05:30I don't think I can be a travel writerBill Bryson has this amazing ability to write a travel log. I dunno how he does it! Here I have an amazing story to tell and I can't find a decent enough way to start.<br /><br />A lot went through my mind today, as I walked the 15 mins from Chandni Chowk metro station to Red Fort. Having being cooped up inside the house for five straight days, all alone, I had had enough. It was decided, Lal Qila it was.<br /><br />I have always prided myself, for having lived around the country, having lived the life of so many places, of shared cultures and regional emotions. Having lived mostly in the metros offlate, I seem to have forgotten the real India.<br />Chandni Chowk that way was incredible. It reminded me of a city described by <span class="st"> Dominique Lapierre</span> in the city of joy. Yes, this is not Calcutta, but the hullaboo was all there. There was rhythm in the chaos. Stark poverty contrasted with the bustling commerce. There was a temple right next to the gurudwara, which was a stones throw from the mosque. The myriad attire ranged from the flaming orange of the yatra devotees to Linkin Park tee shirts, from skull capped heads in white to sequined pink saris, from the dirt on the clothes of the street beggar to the man with the sharp black tie. I dunno why, walking down this bustling crowd, through the dirt and the muck was exhilarating. There was nothing right about the place but neither was there anything wrong.<br /><br />The energy was contagious, it stays with me right now too.<br /><br />Take Care<br /><br />P.S. Frankly, Red Fort was a let down. With all the security checks, and the fancy tickets all I can say is that the Archaeological Survey of India better buck up and get something done. For a national monument and a world heritage site, it feels like ruins are better maintained.<br />But, the thing about going to a national monument in India, is not all about seeing the place. Its like a trip around India. You usually end up hearing 70% of India's major languages, you get to hear at least 4-5 regional songs, get a look at the dress code in the country. Its like the annual day in school, Unity in Diversity. All that combined, you also get a sneak peak into world. ;)Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-49898511741576449772011-07-21T23:15:00.000+05:302011-07-21T23:55:39.122+05:30The Sign<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDz6t6FVficJyhrgnrTCHEpbVcvyg_sGL1RzxAoUawU2LZqpHCLzB7xa6DtCKB9CAqBAXSKiEQnRkVYpg9E1BH5ELGWrxw75JN5LmguYJR2OlFUkxmnsB6g4dO-kpmv8aeVjc2lJVE26q9/s1600/272040_10150244777167157_568947156_7517961_483734_o.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDz6t6FVficJyhrgnrTCHEpbVcvyg_sGL1RzxAoUawU2LZqpHCLzB7xa6DtCKB9CAqBAXSKiEQnRkVYpg9E1BH5ELGWrxw75JN5LmguYJR2OlFUkxmnsB6g4dO-kpmv8aeVjc2lJVE26q9/s200/272040_10150244777167157_568947156_7517961_483734_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631871453247192402" border="0" /></a>A friend of mine posted a picture of this 'EXIT' signpost she found.<br /><br />As you can see, below the exit it says '<span style="font-style: italic;">Live Beyond Yourself </span><br /><br />I heard this speaker the other day, he said "Our generation cared only for ourselves and our self promotion, I think you generation seems to want to do a little more than that. " I dunno if its true or not. ( The 'angel' on my shoulder is convinced its true and<br />the 'devil'; well, is in this position : ROFL ) ( Personally, I think the devil and the angel are inter-changeable, I believe in relativity, no absolute good or bad )<br /><br />Or is it like the skipping a generation issue? We had the grand nationalistic pride for like 25 years after independence (pre emergency sorta), we had the self serving middle class for the next 25 and we seem to be entering an era where people do seem to care about the country again (Again, Are we? ). Extrapolating, should I expect my kid to be self centred? This is assuming, I am nobel. ( I guess by this time the devil on the shoulder is banging his fist, clutching at his sides and begging me to stop )<br /><br />Whatever it may be, the sign is powerful. It's not telling you exactly what to do. It allows you to interpret it anyway you want. You might just do that by say, posting a blog about it ( this was not the intention :P ) or making charity a habit or taking out time for your family or simply by not thinking about the 'Faayda' in every decision of your life.<br /><br />The next exit takes you to 'Living Beyond Yourself'. The best thing about it, it will come time and again. So don't worry, you'll never miss the opportunity to take it. <br /><br />Take CareSanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-56505528223422845242011-07-07T22:04:00.000+05:302011-07-07T22:05:05.412+05:30Mailing YouHey,<br /><br />I dunno why, I thought I should write you a mail. :)<br /><br />This won't be long or even have anything to say in particular.<br />But the thing is I like getting personal mails especially when its to say hi or something insignificant.<br /><br />Social media is killing inter personal relationships I tell you. When there is something interesting that happens to you, people just want to say it, out there.<br />I miss getting the mail. Chats give you instant replies, but its never like reading someone's thoughts in a flow.<br /><br />I think this mail is stemming from the fact that I haven't blogged in a while. But then I don't have the time required to put in a post.<br />The other day in the metro I thought about writing a political/issue based blog. I seem to be reading so much and in such depth, I however am never supposed to give my opinion on the matter. But those blogs need time. So here I am blabbering. :)<br /><br />We both seem entangled in this life that we brought upon ourselves. :P<br />It is my contention that we enjoy it too. So here's too what we seem to want to learn and seem to want to do.<br />Notice my "seems". Life is uncertain. Why set it in stone?<br /><br />Anyway. Here's where I sign off.<br /><br />Take Care You.Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-45999029651139723612011-05-26T00:12:00.000+05:302011-05-26T00:30:26.871+05:30Its a little 'Monsoony'I wish I could take a thousand pictures from the bus today.<br />Pictures of memories that flashed by looking out of the bus on this rainy day.<br /><br />Of hot coffee had standing in a coffee shop. Of smiles on my face looking up to catch the rain. Of guilty joy of being drenched while everyone around you ducks for cover.<br />Of being part of a group of strangers under the orange <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">gulmohor</span> tree. Of smiling at them as if sharing a history. Of hearing the tipper tapper of rain, on the classroom window. Of gleeful childhood plays, making paper boats in the puddles near by.<br />Of sweet rainy kisses shared away from the watchful eye. Of singing songs which I remember only when it rains. Of looking out of steamy-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">streamy</span> windows in the car.<br />Of halted drops on the little flower. Of my blue checked dress under my red raincoat. Of umbrellas pink and black. Of the tiny smile which I have right now.<br /><br />I wish I could have a picture of them all.<br /><br />A little memory of the what just flashed by.<br /><br />Take Care<br /><table id=":8y" class="cf gz" cellpadding="0"><tbody><tr><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td class="io"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-55487143473892712902011-05-18T12:02:00.000+05:302011-05-18T12:24:38.809+05:30a universal feelingUnrequited Love!<br /><br />According to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">wikipedia</span> it's a universal feeling, by estimates affecting 98% of all people in their lifetime.<br /><br />There is such a beautiful longing to it isn't it? It's the reason why so many movies do so well...<br />We really want the two protagonists to get their happily ever after or die trying. Funny isn't it!<br /><br />The romanticism about it; it is always a good story. And when you hear about it's triumphs, we usually emote great joy. We like the happy endings...<br /><br />Somehow even the unhappy endings seem OK, we relate to it at one plane or the other. We understand it and we accept it.<br /><br />Every love story I hear about, proves to me how we are so human, we strive for personal triumph... Always ready to outshine , compete ; even kill to achieve our goals... but when we fall in love we might even be ready to lose everything we ever worked for.<br /><br />That I think is the true beauty of nature! Darwinism best explanation....<br /><br />Survival.... we are after all social creatures... And love is its best explanation!<br /><br />Take Care<br /><br /><br />P.S. Don't read too much into this. This happens after a lot of TV Dramas :)Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-21562068632693148752011-04-26T23:01:00.000+05:302011-04-26T23:31:10.879+05:30the same storyIt started with the song today. Now on the cycle of infinite repeats...<br /><br />First the joy of the soothing voice and the comfort it provided...<br /><br />Then like wine getting better with age... its depth struck me!<br /><br />"What is<br />This bond between us<br />That indefinable something?<br />Where these fates are tied<br />To make us inseparable? "<br /><br />How life is linked to me and I am linked to life... Two different entities in this bond whose fate is tied to the future...<br /><br />"We advance<br />Over time<br />In the wind ...<br /><br />We live day to day<br />Our desires, our loves<br />It goes without knowing ..."<br /><br />How days just pass by with carrying with it like grains of sand in the wind my hopes and desires...<br /><br />Now me and my life look to tell the same story...<br /><br /><br />(Inspired by the song La Meme Histoire<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqdZKhiqWrY&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqdZKhiqWrY&feature=related</a>Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-19294278914012013132011-03-02T22:02:00.000+05:302011-03-02T23:02:16.444+05:30Seemingly InsignificantI just saw the final overs of a match thought to be seeming insignificant. Quite contrary to expectations Ireland beat the might of England (in cricket). This wasn't the way I thought this post would start.<br /><br />Well, while reading the newspaper today, I realised that it had been almost eight years since the US forces attacked Iraq. It was their war against dictatorship and they thought themselves the messiahs of democracy ( Who cares if the ulterior motive was well, Oil ? ). Then this thought struck me, what if there had been no war on Iraq ? If the people had been so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">distraught</span> in their homeland, they would have surely revolted last month, inspired by Tunisia and Egypt. They would have started their own <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Satyagrah</span>, would have become their own messiahs of democracy.<br /><br />My argument is seemingly insignificant today in that war torn country, just as are now the predictions of the many gurus of cricket who would have been sure that the match would go England's way.<br /><br />Take CareSanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-23676888779568520502010-12-05T14:17:00.000+05:302010-12-05T14:25:20.082+05:30Two PostsSo these are a few things that I typed out some time ago on my phone, thinking that I would post them soon. Kinda late now but here are the two posts:<br /><br />1) I'm Beautiful<br /><br />I'm reading this book Eva Luna. Had bought it because I thought I should read some classics and this one was based in Argentina ( Deep down, am fascinated by South <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">America</span>, maybe because I know so little of this continent). The protagonist is this girl who decides at 17<br />that she is beautiful- for the simple reason that she wanted to be. I'm inspired. Its this inner confidence which we all question. We all look for acceptance. For social gratification. For our egos to be soothed.<br />Won't it be so much simpler to say I'm beautiful.<br />Anyway we all seek happiness in life. Right?<br /><span style="color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"><br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">2) Night Lights and other thoughts<br /><br /></span>I stepped out for a few moments tonight to close the door and feel the chill of the dark moonless night. At first I was quite blind and then my eyes found the colours of the night. The orange of the horizon that seems to absorb all the cities light, the green and red and blue <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">twinkling</span> of the stars. The dark <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">silhouette</span> of the tree from a distant street light. The many shades of the night so similar and yet so distinctly different. I think a night is but a shade of black. Always there to swallow any darkness around.<br /><br />Take Care<br /><span style="color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"><br /><br /></span>Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-75971483964018669062010-11-22T00:59:00.000+05:302010-11-22T01:03:17.330+05:30TonightSo <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">I'm</span> sitting on the roof tonight. Its been twenty <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mins</span> since the date changed. The moon is so bright that I can almost feel the rays on me. And I can't help but hear the sounds of the night.<br /><br />The barks of a thousand dogs. The chirping of the crickets. The whizz of the far away automobile. The cry of a bird who seems to have had a bad dream. The flapping of the wings of the bat that just flew overhead. The buzz of the mosquito near my ear. The sound of my fingers scratching the mosquito bite on my ankle. The cool gentle breeze across my face. The rustling of leaves of the tree close by. My breath as I sigh and the thoughts in my head as I write.<br /><br />These are the sounds tonight.<br />Take care.Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-46595947464449693682010-10-31T21:51:00.000+05:302010-10-31T22:36:13.071+05:30DiwaliI am really trying hard to start writing this post and not make it sound like an essay which all of us have written at one point of time in school. You know the whole, the coming home of Ram and the Nirvana for Lord <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Mahavir</span>, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Laxmi</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Pooja</span> and Kali <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">pooja</span> and some more thing I can't enumerate right now. But for me Diwali is all about the little things.<br /><br />I love waking up in the morning on Diwali day buying garlands of marigold on the way back from the temple. Then spending the morning putting up these flowers all around the house. Then there is the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Rangoli</span> which mom usually ends up making but where I butt in putting my touches here and there. The casual lunch that we have with something simple but what we all like a lot.<br /><br />But its evening what I really wait for, when we all spend time filling up what seem like countless number of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">diyas</span> with oil. And as it starts getting dark outside, we light those up and there is this heat they emit and the smell of oil. Then the hour that we spend keeping them all around the house. I like the smell of burning crackers that fill the air as the night goes by. And then the refilling of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">diyas</span> when the oil seems to be ending. I like the lights and the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">sparkles</span> in the sky. I like how everything looks and clean and then the roads become littered with the cracker paper at the end. I like the sweets and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">chaat</span>. I like how its a little cold(at least in the north) and how the lights bring a little warmth.<br /><br />I like how all the roads seem to shine and all the shops are well lit. I like the few days around this time when everything seems to wake up at night and make things shine.<br /><br />I really like how Diwali make this whole country bright for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">at least</span> that night. Its just Diwali and I look <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">forward</span> to this one.<br /><br />Hope you have a blast.<br /><br />Take CareSanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-26128403340035114262010-10-25T23:39:00.000+05:302010-10-25T23:53:53.437+05:30Status MessageMost of us read too much in a status message. I am sure we spend at least 5 minutes of our day, reading what people on our Gtalk list (and whatever else) have to say about themselves, their lives and their thoughts.<br /><br />We think a lot about what our status message should be for the day. Some of us are witty and come up with something which brings a smile to the readers face. Quite a few decide to copy a quote or a saying. Then there are a few who actually tell everyone what they are really up to.<br /><br />I think status messages are banners, almost screaming out in pin drop silence. They are a window to what you want to show the world about yourself. But the only problem is like House says, Everybody lies. OK not really lies, but why would you want to tell the world that you are so really want to kill the guy next door cause he is really driving you nuts, so your message reads instead 'To Kill a Mocking Bird'. We like sounding smart and well read.<br /><br />I just got asked what the smiley on my status message meant. I guess a just did not want to be left with busy or available, but that's never an acceptable answer.<br /><br />I love reading status messages. And I think they are a beautiful window into somebodies mind.<br /><br />I wish I wasn't always expected to keep the window open.<br /><br />Take CareSanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-59492345976453838412010-10-08T23:06:00.000+05:302010-10-08T23:52:39.614+05:30Day 4These days my evenings are quite occupied by the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">CWG</span></span>. Here is what I have liked the most till now:<br /><br />i) The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Bodhi</span></span> Tree in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">CWG</span></span> opening ceremony<br />ii) The constantly changing games on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Doordarshan</span>. I mean, you can see Badminton, boxing , weightlifting, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">TT</span></span>, Lawn Ball all in the same hour.<br />iii) Real fun <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">advertisements</span>, like the देश का मेल भरतीय रेल ad, रूपया बोलता है ad by RBI and some national integrity ads by the govt.<br />iv) Standing up for the national anthem, a little too many time. ;)<br />v) The way soldiers march the winners to the podium for the medal ceremony<br />vi) Smiles on winning<br />vii) Smiles on losing a well fought game.<br />viii) Smiles of relief<br />ix) Smiles after a long rally<br />x) Smiles of people in the crowd<br />xi) Missing Delhi<br />xii) Indian Flags in different shades :P<br /><br />These are just a few that I thought I'd share<br />Happy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">CWG</span>!<br />Take CareSanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-21864893723193582642010-10-06T14:15:00.001+05:302010-10-06T14:33:17.722+05:30Chaos TheoryFeeling a little patriotic today.<br /><br />I often wonder, if not Indian, which nation would I like to belong to. I have really thought about it. But it is one of the many questions I have no answer to. (If you have read my blog a little you will realise that I have many questions unanswered and its these questions that define me)<br /><br />There are many things I like about India(supposedly the land where Indus flows (another of my many regrets, India and Pakistan not being one nation)) , but what I love most is the utter chaos. The utter chaos in which I find inner peace and belonging.<br /><br />Chaos drives me forward. It urges me to find answers. It propels me to find reasons and gives me a direction from the many directions to choose from.<br /><br />Being from a land of more than a billion, there is a lot to be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">achieved</span>(And I don't really need to point that out). But I hope we never really lose the chaos that defines our country and makes it so lovable. I am sure it is this chaos that drives almost everyone in the country to do what they do (just the way it drives me).<br /><br />Chaos makes us uniquely Indian, branding India as the Fastest growing Free market democracy.<br /><br />Chaos makes us Incredible India.<br /><br />Take CareSanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-25436594431764231212010-10-05T23:56:00.000+05:302010-10-06T00:05:38.138+05:30LostI dunno what I am writing about. I dunno what I am writing for. <br /><br />To be or not to be seems so apt today.<br /><br />I am. What am I? What are you? Are you there or not? Am I here or not? To be or not to be.<br /><br />I know I sound stupid right now. But I am what I am.<br /><br />I am lost or just unaware of where I want to be?<br /><br />Questions, those unending questions.....<br /><br />Do I really need to know their answers? Is there truth?<br /><br />Why? What? Where?<br /><br />Take careSanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-26748365171381718422008-01-11T20:01:00.000+05:302008-01-11T20:10:58.884+05:30To write a blogHolidays... The time when people out of sheer desperation turn to blogging to spend some time.<br />I myself did the same. During those times we can come up with the most <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">random</span> topics to put our views forward. But then we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">come</span> back to college and we somehow run out of what to say.<br />Does college really make us stop thinking about random things, or is it that we do the most random things here in college?Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-79036332345625135112008-01-03T23:01:00.000+05:302008-01-03T23:04:09.073+05:30Vincent and IVincent and I are good friends.<br />He makes me think.<br />He makes me smile even in my darkest hour.<br />He makes me analyse.<br />He makes me question.<br />He makes me realise what a great life I have.<br />He has been my companion in those sleepless nights these holidays.<br />People say he was psychotic, but I think he had a great vision.<br />He made me think I could paint. ( If only using crayons.)<br />He can make me lose myself in his array of colours and brushstrokes.<br />He make me Happy.<br />I wish I could thank him, Vincent van <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Gogh</span>Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-43039546703492577942008-01-02T23:27:00.001+05:302008-01-02T23:39:53.053+05:30HEROESWhat If we all had a superpower, what would it be?<br />What would it be like if we could perform magic, walk through walls, read minds, fly, heal, or just be a genius?<br />We must have all thought about what powers we would like and imagined what we could have do with it.<br />I sincerely wish at times that I could apparate, in other words teleport.<br />I could go to any place, with no time wasted, see the whole world without having to worry about the costs. And more often than usual, get the chance just disappear.<br />What power would you like to have?Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-40267942900387067472008-01-02T23:06:00.000+05:302008-01-02T23:27:11.499+05:30Home DecorI know that for all of you who would be kind enough to read my blog, the whole title would sound <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">wierd</span>.<br />This all started with me reading the India Today Supplement called Home and obviously the Real Estate boom that is in news almost everyday.<br />I have always imagined my home, the space where I plan to lead a happy civilian life( that comes from being an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">IAF</span> kid) my Dream House.<br />When I flick through the magazine I pick out the sofa I would like to have, the curtains, and the other nick<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">nacks</span>. (Sorry, this is not the purpose of this post)<br />But then I look at the cost of the items mentioned, and the only thing that strikes me is can a middle class Indian really afford to have a stylish, elegant yet simplistic home ever?<br />When a simple light fixture can cost <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">up to</span> Rs 5000. Is the ordinary Indian supposed to live with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tube lights</span> alone. The whole thing depresses me.<br />Am I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">suppose</span> to spend close to 2 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Lakhs</span> in getting decent house appliances ( without furniture that is) when the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Tata's</span> are planning to launch a Rs 1 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Lakh</span> Car.<br />So the question I leave you with is " Should an Ordinary man dream of a dream house in India?"<br />Take Care.Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-580082396442896710.post-20245710850896836862008-01-02T22:37:00.000+05:302008-01-02T23:04:40.592+05:30Questions...As <em>Homo <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sapiens</span></em> we are meant to think and for most parts it is asking questions.<br />There are questions that we get an answer to easily, then there are questions that are simple but at times leave us confused, finally there are questions which we really want an answer to, we can discuss it for hours at an end but we never get an answer to satisfy our brains appetite for reasoning.<br />I can give you an example of the first two categories by a simple example,<br />Lets say someone comes and asks you, " Are you hungry?"<br />The answer might be a simple yes or no. But maybe for a person dieting the question can be a huge dilemma ( the person thinks,"Am I hungry? Maybe I am. But should I eat now. No I think I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">shouldn't</span>. I am hungry, but I don't think I should eat. But then should I say yes or no?")<br /><br />But it is the last type of question that intrigues me most.<br />There are always questions like "Does God exist?" Always a question not answered, If answered it is ones Faith.<br />But the question that leaves me thinking often and never <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">leading</span> to anywhere is<br />What is the purpose of this Universe?"<br />Why are we born?<br />Why do we live?<br />What is the purpose of life?<br />Who created us? And Why?<br />Is there a creator?<br />Why did it all begin?<br />Is there a beginning?<br />Will there be an end?<br />I guess too many questions for now.<br />Till questions part 2...<br />Goodbye amigos.Sanskritihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10715060298308317725noreply@blogger.com0