tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43886452414794426442024-03-12T16:01:33.796-07:00spiral architectSoinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-49740532037983691862016-05-25T12:37:00.000-07:002016-05-25T12:37:47.120-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9jFI9O-QQ6c/V0X99vMqxVI/AAAAAAAAE9k/Rlld3iN8DT4_huH6fOdnFvqNFJ5BUqe8QCK4B/s1600/CjUtEqhUUAAddUi.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9jFI9O-QQ6c/V0X99vMqxVI/AAAAAAAAE9k/Rlld3iN8DT4_huH6fOdnFvqNFJ5BUqe8QCK4B/s320/CjUtEqhUUAAddUi.jpg" width="309" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
i dont think sea & rock works. too rough. i prefer the wind & the rock. long slow changes, each influencing the other. so let me just write this out on an impulse, before i think its too bad.<br />
<br />
she. she just needs to be there. flawed like a broken marble. Or smooth like a polished marble. it does not matter. she just needs to be there. she has to be there, running her fingers over the rough big rock which lies on the mountainside. she can see the rock for the unshaped gangly thing that i am. or feel the smooth edges, shaped by time. if she whispers, the rough become smooth and the smooth becomes rough. there is no ego in me. how can i harbour any ego when she is my wind? if she wants i can become a rolling stone. or a big rectangular boulder, holding its ground. anything she wants me to be. i want to just listen to her. and then be that rough boulder, she might cut her hands with, as she runs her hand over the rock. i will end up hurting her, like i hurt others. flawed. but i will be her rock. and she will be my wind. her hair deciding which way the leaves will sway, as she wishes. and if they dont sway i shall sway the leaves for her. and wash that blood away with the wind. and she shall forget the pain, that i caused the blood. and just feel simple relief that only the wind can bring. we shall live off each other. not within each other. we will travel, as wind and rock, around the world. she moves me, i shape her. we shall give when we can. and take what nobody wants. we shall enrich each other, love each other, hate each other. at the end of time I, the rough uncut boulder ignored by time,<br />
shall swear that there is no wind like her. and she shall say that i was the best rock she ever touched. we shall then be forgotten.<br />
<br /></div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-76033273617586990752016-01-01T11:47:00.000-08:002016-01-01T11:47:36.941-08:00Its been 2 years<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I used to write here, with a mandatory year end post. They serve you well, when you read them years later, chuckling at some thoughts, at some choice of words and sometimes at the memories. But then, that was before.<br />
<br />
There is no longer a need to write, to be heard, to explain your thoughts or to project your philosophies to be absolute. There is no need of anything, really. It's important, but not that important. Not everything worth doing, is worth doing well. There is no place for cynicism that can keep you away from new experiences. Arrogance & ego decrease drastically at a point, just like it has for most humans who grow old. The shell is gone. People & settings no longer intimidate. Gone are the awkward, serious cynical replies & sulking. No one is sure of anything. You know yourself really really well, yet there is no brake on you. The basic wiring, bias & spontaneity are intact. Soon that should lead to better observational skills, less interruptions & less talking. Hopefully. Yet parents remain a pain, i suspect that it will always be that way. There are now more women than ever before, albeit all being temporary. Patience remains elusive. I no longer leave people behind. And i love living alone, i used to think i could never do that. Silly is fun, intellect has its time, trick is to know when to be what. Toxication does not make living better or tolerable, it's just practise & chemistry now. Decisiveness & impatience are very different things.<br />
<br />
Loads of firsts this year, much more than ever before. Never felt this good.And that is about it. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-3083719483752411722013-12-30T11:02:00.002-08:002013-12-30T11:02:49.406-08:00i am a ranter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When i was in college i dint know what hipster meant. i googled it. "Definitions are too mainstream.Hipster's can't be defined because then they'd fit in a category, and thus be too mainstream.". Yay i am a hispter! But then everyone seemed to be a hipster, at least according to urban dictionary. I am drinking 60 rupee whiskey. It has done the job rather to well. Today i am celebrating new year, because celebrating it on 31st midnight is too mainstream. This hispter thing is not making any sense at all..<br />
<br />
I am down to bare bones, financially. There has been no income for the last 6 months. There have been days of hardwork, some days just idled away. Days idled away looking at facebook albums of places i wanted to visit. Fareaway distant lands. South America, Africa and then Europe. First football stadiums in these places, then lost old places and the cultural hubs.My friends, who have studied well, did their MS are now doing that. I am here in India, broke and trying to get our start up and running. I am also looking at pictures of some of my batch mates posing in akward photos with their wives. While they are getting married, i am trying to figure out content branding and how social media works. My marketing friend advised me to use posts that are short, can be understood fast and are "share-worth". i prompted, dumb? Yes. Considering dumb is easy and natural, coming up with dumb posts is proving to be difficult.<br />
<br />
free</div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-77925206340755328372013-07-06T14:05:00.000-07:002013-07-06T14:05:26.219-07:00aval<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;">‘காலத்தின் விதி மதியைக் கடந்திடுமோ?’ என்றேன்</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;">‘காலமே மதியினுக்கோர் கருவியாம்’ என்றாள்.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;">‘ஞாலத்தில் விரும்பியது நண்ணுமோ?’ என்றேன்;</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;">‘நாலிலே ஒன்றிரண்டு பலித்திடலாம்?’ என்றாள்</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;">‘ஏலத்தில் விடுவதுண்டோ எண்ணத்தை?’ என்றேன்.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;">‘எண்ணினால் எண்ணியது நண்ணுங்காண்’ என்றாள்.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;">மூலத்தைச் சொல்லவோ வேண்டாமோ?’ என்றேன்</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;">முகத்திலருள் காட்டினாள் மோகமது தீர்ந்தேன். </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Latha; font-size: 12px;">-mahakavi</span></div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-8952954967717639152013-04-27T15:05:00.001-07:002013-04-27T15:05:36.161-07:00Exam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"what happened?"<br />
<br />
"it is done."<br />
<br />
"how much?"<br />
<br />
"affordable. don't worry"<br />
<br />
"thank you"<br />
<br />
"just make sure its put to good use"<br />
<br />
................................................................<br />
<br />
"please sign here. Please show me your hall ticket"<br />
<br />
"here"<br />
<br />
"hmm you seem familiar. which year are you from"<br />
<br />
"second year"<br />
<br />
"no, i remember you are from fourth year"<br />
<br />
"please mam, lets talk this over"<br />
<br />
..................................................................<br />
<br />
"i was caught"<br />
<br />
"What? no no no..."<br />
<br />
"I am sorry"<br />
<br />
"You told me you will give me a fresh start. look at this. i was going to loose a year at college. now i will be debarred. and married off. fucker"<br />
<br />
"what about me?"<br />
<br />
"what about you?"<br />
<br />
...............................................................<br />
<br />
"remind me how long its been"<br />
<br />
" 4 years"<br />
<br />
"how have you been?"<br />
<br />
"i am, ok. you?"<br />
<br />
" well i am married now."<br />
<br />
"i have my own bushiness now"<br />
<br />
"good. what do you do?"<br />
<br />
"i dont know what i am doing. but i know what i did. i was going to go to mumbai to join a job, in my final year. and i saw this second year bengali girl. and she asked me write her arrears for me. and i thought whats cement and civil engineering have to do with IT? so i agreed. it was money. i was caught. i tried to do things within the system. dint work. so i used my world talents. i sold owls, old coins, antiques. used the camera to click good image, edit and mask them to look good. put it on the net and sell to fanatic foreigners. then i smuggled a device for a pharma r&d, through the nepal border. and i made a lot of money. there is an old man in guntur. he keeps secret rooms at secret places. and he lets you keep your secrets there. he doesn't care what you keep in there. just pay him. i put my money there. and here i am trying to act like i am doing something and slowly spending it away. the girl is marries and asked me 'what about you?'"<br />
<br />
.............................................................<br />
<br />
" where are you going?"<br />
<br />
" i forgot my hall ticket madam, going to hostel to get it"<br />
<br />
" ok hurry up"<br />
<br />
....................<br />
<br />
" why hasnt he come yet?"<br />
<br />
"dont know mam"<br />
<br />
" poor kid must have lost it and must be searching for it"<br />
<br /></div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-55469696003815753532013-04-04T14:58:00.001-07:002013-04-04T14:58:42.409-07:00virtually real<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
While my extensive experience as an Indian Cinema viewer has lead me to a disdain for flash backs and flash forwards, and all such tricksy gimmicks, I believer that if you, dear reader, can extend your patience for just a moment, you fill there is a method to this tale of madness. A Kind of retrospective reflection of the past that all just comes together, just for you , just in one moment, just the kind which will make you, dear reader, to agree with me. I presume so..<br />
<br />
I was looking at my dried, but once not-so-dried mashed potatoes, sitting right on a nice wooden plate. The cabbage was floating in the air, burnt into the wind, light in light and heavy in smell. I never knew a full piece of beans, which is just boiled with salt, could taste so good. Yes, not as good as that parupusili cut-beans, which are conjured by mylapore witches. (Yes they do come with the broom, but they use it to whack you). The cabbage. Yes, cheap leaves of a flower so large. If, cabbage had been small like say a jasmine, would it have been eaten like it is now? i checked the time.<br />
<br />
"one last question"<br />
<br />
"yes?"<br />
<br />
"hmmm.. would you know where to score in mumbai?"<br />
<br />
"what do you want to score?"<br />
<br />
"the halfling's leaves, you know"<br />
<br />
"no"<br />
<br />
"ok, so where do you get"<br />
<br />
"i think a person in my office smokes, i can ask"<br />
<br />
"can you ask now?"<br />
<br />
"now?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, right now. i need to have one right now. Also can you tell me where in this dirty big city, can i sit, roll around and sleep?"<br />
<br />
"i do not know"<br />
<br />
"oh, back home we had that beach and the small road along it. stop any where. roll around. sleep. no problem. and then in the other city, there was a 6th century Muslim ruler tomb, some famous ruler who i can not recollect now. and a big wood and lake near it. we used to roll there as well. there's got to be a place in this city, some where"<br />
<br />
"i can ask the same person you know"<br />
<br />
"ok, thanks"<br />
<br />
"well the person says, the leaves grow in the person's house. You can go there, i can take you. You stand on the road, i will go and get it from the person"<br />
<br />
"that will do. and the place?"<br />
<br />
"the person denies the existence of such a place"<br />
<br />
"ouch. can i smoke in this said person's house?"<br />
<br />
"no, the person does not want to you to know who the person really is"<br />
<br />
"ok. all i need is 5 minutes and am gone, i have work to do"<br />
<br />
"in that case you can come to my place, my room mate is away"<br />
<br />
"cool"<br />
<br />
"your place is cool.way too clean"<br />
<br />
"you are here on the annual clean your room day. you are lucky. so here it is"<br />
<br />
"ok thanks. btw will you join as well?"<br />
<br />
"me? i got some small office work to do"<br />
<br />
"so do i. and i enjoy working after this"<br />
<br />
"ok i can try. i have did this before, just that i have this work"<br />
<br />
"yeah dont worry. i do it all the time"<br />
<br />
"ok this feels weird"<br />
<br />
"woah, have you actually done this before?"<br />
<br />
"yes, but it felt weird the last time as well"<br />
<br />
"ok, no problem. this is your place"<br />
<br />
"yes, but i got the work. my boss would kill me"<br />
<br />
"ok i actually have no where to go and i have work to do. i was going to sit in the park opposite, the king's park. So you can bring your laptop with me and work"<br />
<br />
"oh no i cant come out. need papers"<br />
<br />
"ok then let me sit here and i will work. that way you will feel like working as well. I will be gone in some 20 mins, once you get working. then you wont stop"<br />
<br />
"ok thanks"<br />
<br />
"you were right. it felt good to do it, right now. like this"<br />
<br />
" i told you"<br />
<br />
"and the music was good"<br />
<br />
"yes, just the kind of music that was needed. nothing more. simple songs. you seem to read a lot"<br />
<br />
"yeah, but i have not managed to read a lot of late. i work a lot"<br />
<br />
"ah yes, the old i started to work and don't have time. you are just lazy"<br />
<br />
"no, i am actually exhausted"<br />
<br />
"then it might not be actually love"<br />
<br />
"get out. right now. get out"<br />
<br />
free<br />
</div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-78865336074976920332013-03-31T12:37:00.002-07:002013-03-31T12:37:26.733-07:00so it starts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
i had a tub of black Belgium chocolate ice cream. a small bucket cost 300. it still lays open. like a half finished love affair. why would anyone compare a book to a love affair? i have a book half open.. or rather a page some where near the half way mark, is now open on a cheap muffin tablet. it was chance that brought this cheap tablet to me. this had originally belonged to a company which tried to sell hotel feedback software in tablets to India high class hotels. obviously the company folded. and it payed it employees in ipads and cheap android tablets. two such android tablets ended up with a Chennai sales man, who in turn started up with my friend and is now my new room mate. and he said these were use less and now its all mine. revived. am using it to read books. i had read a small quantity of books earlier in school. but frankly, i have never been a book kind of person. they take time, patience, slowly unraveling over 300 or 400 pages. its the unraveling which keeps the bookies to the books. and the other bookies to the crooks. i do not have that kind of patience. because when i do, i rather write. write such possible pages. there is a joy in being able to write so clearly in a language which does not belong to my land. no sir, we have our own language.. yes just our state.. our small race of people.. so that our failings and sadness stays with in our people.. but we built good temples, so that the tourists saw only happy things. the sadness lay in the words. and that's the problem with books. with books you can describe sadness in all the dimensions you want to encompass it in. and so you can get depressed with books. generally people who read a lot, they are introvert kind of guy or way too hyper. you don't see normal guys like us read books. yet i am suddenly hooked to books. i am laying down and reading. thats how i used to read. i remember very well, when i was in 9th standard i got hooked to a book my aurbindho..have never read anything that complex.. on the corner of the bed, with my legs vertically up against the wall.. and my upper body being my lower.. i keep the book cover facing the ceiling and read on.. or i lay in my living room floor and keep my feet on the sofa and read on.. but i hate going out to buy books.. i always borrowed.. i have read so many football biographies, but all was borrowed. and i hate books. no feel.. no smell.. and you need to read it sitting, from my desktop.. aargh it kills.. but now the tablet.. i am back to my old legs against the wall and tablet screen facing the floor.. and the ciggarrette lay in my mouth.. it has lay there for the last 4 hours.. unlit.. i am trying to cut down.. before it cuts me down.. the last three years have been as toxic as a man drinking grease every day morning . but smoking is an art.. an experience.. and i believe everyone should go through the smoke,addict and quit cycle. and i read this catcher in the rye.. and then i shall read woodhouse or what ever he is called.. whats all the hype about.. i still prefer movies. not as much as music, but just after music. but books might not be bad, as there are so many original stories already for a lifetime. whereas music and movies, the ones you see usually suit your taste. it takes 2 minutes to find out. but a book. even if its a bad book, you will read on for alteast half an hour. and may be thats a good alternative to ciggs, when i need a break..a half finished book is a half finished bath. you dont feel sad like you feel with a half finished love affair. you feel dirty, for not finishing the author. not respecting his effort. yes, he dint ask you to read. but now that you have picked up the book, as well as finish it off no?<br />
<br />
so now i am in a new room, with a new room mate. i like this constant shifting. the room is perfect. its on the terrace of an independent house. loads of big windows which keep the room bright. and the left of the terrace is covered in false roofing. and then the solitude. i always wanted to experience this. no human contact for a week. but i think i need people around me, all the time. loneliness sucks man. and here go the pictures, of the old and new room. never leave behind anything or anyone without saying good bye. you own them that much..<br />
<br />
Delhi is beautiful in the winters..<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nl8_IYqYvsw/UVQDAeKfL3I/AAAAAAAABiI/C9bdn9eN9Oo/s1600/_DSC0015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nl8_IYqYvsw/UVQDAeKfL3I/AAAAAAAABiI/C9bdn9eN9Oo/s320/_DSC0015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
the view from my old room..<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pXcgRnFVcuU/UVQC3zfe1uI/AAAAAAAABho/J8YuvIV3wb4/s1600/_DSC0022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pXcgRnFVcuU/UVQC3zfe1uI/AAAAAAAABho/J8YuvIV3wb4/s320/_DSC0022.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
its raining again..<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AAxWbaZDmzc/UVQC6V2m76I/AAAAAAAABiA/Ar1vboYSQMA/s1600/_DSC0034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AAxWbaZDmzc/UVQC6V2m76I/AAAAAAAABiA/Ar1vboYSQMA/s320/_DSC0034.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
the shop in my old apartments<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-58GRvDa5laQ/UVQC0PPMg6I/AAAAAAAABhg/GtUGu8sHAEI/s1600/_DSC0025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-58GRvDa5laQ/UVQC0PPMg6I/AAAAAAAABhg/GtUGu8sHAEI/s320/_DSC0025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
the view from my new room..<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cTtYhVCGo9Y/UVQC4QntPSI/AAAAAAAABhw/_fZ03TJ3oJ4/s1600/_DSC0032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cTtYhVCGo9Y/UVQC4QntPSI/AAAAAAAABhw/_fZ03TJ3oJ4/s320/_DSC0032.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
old neighbor..<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dtFZ4vXmZLw/UVQC6A3eznI/AAAAAAAABh4/gjEFbarpD4U/s1600/_DSC0036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dtFZ4vXmZLw/UVQC6A3eznI/AAAAAAAABh4/gjEFbarpD4U/s320/_DSC0036.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
new neighbor..<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9fSboJGzEjo/UVQDA8Em6CI/AAAAAAAABiQ/o-p5pUhtR-c/s1600/_DSC0041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9fSboJGzEjo/UVQDA8Em6CI/AAAAAAAABiQ/o-p5pUhtR-c/s320/_DSC0041.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And all this becomes clear. too clear that it is annoying. the separation between idealism and realism is just an illusion. as RF says "My life extends far beyond the limitations of me". Change has to be. Change it for all. Change it for him. Change it for her. And change everything.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-84498055933078081792013-03-27T06:19:00.000-07:002013-03-27T06:19:08.020-07:00here....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
the f&b industry is utterly disappointing. everyone some how has come to the conclusion that loads of sugar= loads of sales in India. 5star. tcha..dairymilk..worstest sweet.. even hide and seek strawberry flavor is just hide and seek sugar cream flavor. there is so much artificial sweetness in India and its kind of making you numb. its holi today. i never understood the whole color throwing business i know its fun, i have been told. but no thank you, like Bilbo i refuse to go for an adventure. life looks good from behind my desktop, thank you. Yet, you know sooner or later this limbo will automatically die and one will be forced to go out. without knowing where to go. like pi, struck in the ocean. there was so much life around him all the time, but in the ocean. and Pi felt alone. I was fucking bored in my demo yesterday. When i say it aloud it feels nice.. sit in a cafe in hauz khas with your laptop.. you keep getting requests from the portal and i keep manually clicking and playing them.. thats like 30 secs in 5 mins.. the rest of the time i was free to sight the birds.. fight the mosquitoes.. and read absurd articles.. one was sent to me by an idiot, the article was how indian start up guys never get girls for kalyanam ouak samandham..back to the cafe, and i also get free good food. nice job. yet i am so bored. i know i just wanted to do something. but it feels.. kind of forced. like i just sat sat and sat till all my options expired/rejected automatically and was left with all but one choice.. to face the long dark of moria..its supposed to have some breath taking moments.. but mostly dangerous and boring and hard.. when life was all comfy and simple, you wanted something exiting.. but just when you are about to try something, you feel the cold feet. all this comforts need to be given away? and all i am going to get is satisfaction? i totally now understand how all the guys get either money/girl for satisfaction and use the other to get more money. it makes sense. and coming back to pi.. what a cruel book/movie that was.. show us all that is beautiful with the world.. construct it.. and then in two minutes to the japs, break that so cruelly.. i mean i was imagining Tabu's body floating in the ocean, bleeding and shark approaching the body and pi shutting his eyes.. now if only, the movie had shown the actual shark eating human scene.. common be bold, dont let us imagine such a gory scene and make us guilty.. just describe the whole tore here bit by bit.. frenzy feeding.. the murder's face changing from gory to human, before he is about to surrender to pi.. fucking morons these writers are.. no one ever accuses them of spreading violence.. there is so much hate that, stopping its propagation might be beneficial.. its the coward's choice, but hey who cares.. just let us shut out from it.. as i was climbing the metro today, i remembered a lady was shot in the same metro station yesterday.. there was no mark.. just gone.. and she was someone was a distant shitty toi article, who will be promptly forgotten.. you know all this twitter.. real time sharing.. its just to make you consume more.. consume, not understand.. you just keep on reading so much that, it becomes just reading.. there is no time to reflect.. to learn.. and you start having standard responses.. outrage.. no one in india accepts if you tell them that you are arguing it for the heck.. i mean people want you to take a stand that you support the idea and hence are arguing for it..why cant one just argue for one subject, knowing very well its the wrong one? its amusing no?<br />
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free</div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-38385660939116934322013-02-12T10:04:00.002-08:002013-02-12T10:04:21.932-08:00red and white<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
there is nothing like a well made theratipaagu... made on a wood fueled stove. imagine the heat, on top of the madras heat. and you boil freshly... is extracted the right word? the cow never gave us the permission, did it? so fresh milk it is.. boiled over hours.. being slowly stirred all the time.. lest it should leave a taste of fire in it.. and after 5 litres of milk, it comes down to a small ball of pure white moon like thing..on a green plantain leaf.. shining in ghee and melted sugar.. no its not that sweet.. just the pure taste of milk, given the correct amount of escalated sweetness..and 4 hours of work from a diabetic 60 year old paati.. and you will finish it in exactly 40 seconds.. when its hot.. and easy to just swallow..<br />
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there is nothing like a well made kajar halwa..carrot shredded to the right thickness, so that you know its own big heap.. but its thin nonetheless..and then cooked in freshly minted milk.. now wait.. can milk be minty? i mean like always . imagine cows eating only mint leaves.. podra bussiness planna.. rightu.. the fresh milk and carrot cooking in it.. and at the exact time you drain the excess milk. all the time watching it, braving this cruel 2 degree gurgaon cold..the carrots are cooked so that they look like rice.. but they are softer.. and sweeter.. extreme sweetness.. but a neutralizing agent of mawa, which has now lost its raw annoying smell..and all these held together by the just the right amount of desi ghee.. and of course nuts.. and thats another 4 hours..and hot, easy to swallow food..<br />
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maybe its not all that different?</div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-58936331526406543332013-02-11T07:33:00.001-08:002013-02-11T07:35:08.561-08:00free<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
this time when i was returning from chennai by train, we had a 27 year old bengali ponnu who was doing some research and a sardar with us.. now this girl got on the train and slept.. slept all the 40 hours through to delhi.. but our sardar made sure she had to wake up atleast once.. first he snores like a.. like a..helicopter taking off.. audible above the beat of the train.. on the track.. with the leaking windows acting as wind instruments..and this fellow snores.. i feel so sorry for his wife.. btw can you search matrimony websites, filtering out people who snore? i wish we could filter room mates based on that.. anyways bad bad snoring.. and then at 4am he played some punjabi devotional songs.. from his walkman.. in full sound.. fucking woke everyone up.. then the bengali girl woke and first scolded him in bengali.. and then hindi.. and the sardar switched it off.. next day when i woke up i coudlnt find my slipper.. slipper lost in the sleeper.. tcha kavidhai.. kavidhai..<br />
<br />
i still cant understand how cloud atlas dint even get near the Chinese factory where the Oscars things are made. it is way too awesome, just because of doing so well with such a complex concept. and less miserable was well, less miserable. on first watch. but i loved it the second time i watched it. and that pichakari lady who gets shot, she is tharmar jingli. but sadly in other photos outside the movie shes attu. that reminds me of every other girl i see on facebook. anyways both movies had awesome music, but of course no where near what Yann Tiersen did. how can anyone be that much genius like he is, total thalai-var only..<br />
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how hard is it, if you just keep travelling.. like with no home.. just a bag.. basics.. you cant be robbed.. or so i presume so... now thats dangerous because the idea is to set out to know what desperate is.. travel along.. wash cups at corner tea shack.. make ten rubees and take the bus to the next location.. and shoot.. shoot a lot of people.. you might need a 300 wala lens.. and thats it.. no plans.. just set out.. fix the period you are going to come back for the first time.. lets says pongal'14.. start where you last left off.. it was in erudapetta.. kerala-tn border.. that blissful place.. where road side waterfalls and pope-sanctioned saint churches were common.. where the house was big and had 2 streams of clear water converging in the back yard. a garden which yielded rubber primarily and hence life.. then there was the pineapple, jackfruit, cocoa, coffee and cardamom plants... and honey combs.. and coconuts, loads of it.. the pineapple's ancestors were buried in the earth beneath... pineapple wine for christmas.. the rest of it all comes together beautifully, to make up 2 breakfasts. one when you wake up, the other after you finish your 3 hour swim and come back all hungry..and the feeling of being silently carried away by the gentle stream.. noiselessly.. it was like rajalakshmi said- pin drop silence, finger on the lip.. that much silence.. that much awesome..<br />
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and its free!!! i loved that trip... the last trip before i was called back to hell by my respected current employers.. actually its not their fault, just that corporation culture and me dont get along well.. infact we might need to be pulled apart at times.. but then like any hungry husband who goes back to his laptop for more porn, i need to get back and get my salary..but like sendhil thalai told me in my dreams, infarmasion is velthu.. you should know where to beg, other wise you are a normal beggar.. i mean how awesome it will be if you are THE best at something? like being the best beggar in india.. ok thats tough competition , lets say madras..right thats also too much, considering harris jeyaraj lives there.. what about say, mylapore.. no that is the harvad of respectable pichakara thanam.. but i might have to reconsider, when my mind goes to t nagar, west mambalam .. the t stands for thanni.. the h2o thanni.. thats the only thing which gets offered in that area.. but you have to understand, water is the most precious commodity there.. i still remember that moment when i first used a west mambalam kakoosee..in my pati's house in west mambalam.. it was in a street called baroda street.. i never understood what baroda has to do with west mambazham..and the road was narrow.. and considering the people there, it should be called buruda street.. anyways i was 7 or 8 years old.. i went through my ritual and when i opened the tap..aaragha.. the tap infact farted.. now this was the first time i have seen this miracle, i was then in pondi.. and in pondi every one had so much water that they used to use yelaneer to make lemon juice..i was astonished when they told me that the moving railways toilet and the stationery west mamablam where one at the same.. later after seeing those numerous housing units, where all you had was a hall. common room and a small kitchen.. and a common bothroom.. i guess west mambalam is infact the indian railways.. imagine if west mambalam people can book for water bottles through irctc only.. or infact book viswaroopam tickets through that only.. no moon ki ban.. ban the un..<br />
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Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-73915932225016961892013-02-08T23:34:00.002-08:002013-02-08T23:34:39.912-08:00parpull<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: DroidSansRegular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Start wearing purple wearing purple</span><br style="font-family: DroidSansRegular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="font-family: DroidSansRegular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Start wearing purple, for me now</span><br style="font-family: DroidSansRegular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="font-family: DroidSansRegular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">All your sanity and wits, they will all vanish</span><br style="font-family: DroidSansRegular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="font-family: DroidSansRegular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I promise, it's just a matter of time</span><span style="font-family: DroidSansRegular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /> </span></div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-33086378459018417122013-02-07T11:47:00.000-08:002013-02-07T11:47:13.366-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
And so to know thyself is only possible through the eyes of the other. The nature of our immortal lives is in the consequences of our words and deeds, that go on and are pushing themselves throughout all time.<br />
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Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-56731067768141539992013-02-03T00:29:00.000-08:002013-02-03T00:32:49.162-08:00Dubbu stepu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
there is this beauty with ratatouille, that anyway one can cook. even a mouse. and now with a mouse, we can make music. apparently. anyone can make music, thats what dub step seems to be telling me. But, what we have chosen to do with, is entirely another thing. We have started to use the sound of all things around us. No, not the audible everyday sounds. but the inaudible sound, of all this data being exchanged, almost magically. wireless..and its actually using the waves around us! and thus we have chosen to interpret this sound. the sound of engineering. inaudible, it has been given form. a feel. the sheer beauty of industrial sound. and the beauty, anyone can do it. yes most of them are shitty, but you can still compose. most of you can not compose a carnatic song. but we can dub..its been made so easy, its astonishing.. revolutions are instigated by corner table conversations.. and now its made from behind desktop.. the true industrial revolution, blending with everyday lives..and the sound of it being music to our ears.. the beauty of it is not in the quality, but the quantity..<br />
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free<br />
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http://thesocietypages.org/cyborgology/2012/01/21/the-popularization-of-dubstep-full-essay-parts-1-and-2/</div>
<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F77634120" width="100%"></iframe></div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-13608665797926131662013-01-26T00:32:00.001-08:002013-01-26T00:32:24.855-08:00the phython<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">moving to a big city from a small town is always a big ask. especially for a 9 year old. the new school was nice. a small english convent. shady ground, mini zoo and not much of books. four houses. each after a saint. there was the brother who also co-incidentally the head master of the high school. and it was this brother who was opening a white envelope. with the bank logo on it. no not bribe. A's appa was too upright for that. instead it was a letter of recommendation. guilt free. and just free. there was A and A's younger brother. A was neatly combed and was in as gentlemanly way as a gentle man of 9 years could be. an indian gentle man you see. you could see a think long dent on his forehead. and A's brother was doing his best to look as life less as he can. he was a sleepy boy. in that small town school he was happy. he used to sleep through classes. sleep at home. somehow pass as the last rank. always. amma did her best to look earnest.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">the brother said something about high standards and to go and meet the head mistress. and A and little A were convent students. the 90's mylapore. the traffic free luz corner where you go to the bombay sweets for chaat. A's appa was posted north when A was born. and he loved eating. here ends the heaven part. then there was this joint family. and a she cousin who was one year younger but still managed to be in A's batch. and she had a younger brother, who was younger than little A. she cousin's little brother played mirdangam and A played mirdangam as well. A was already dead.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">the school was wonderful. there was a small dog. there were three Pomeranian dogs. and one lazy long shorty dog. then there were geese. mongoose. and some birds. all was well. till the tamil teacher came into A's life. Rajalakshmi was a 64 year old tamil teacher. the other teacher in the tamil department was 65 and serving her last year. Rajalakshmi was from the usual orthodox mylapore aiyar setup. she had a doctorate in tamil. and also elephantiasis when she was just 39. she was now to teach A. she can not climb the stairs. so she teaches under a big banyan tree near the zoo. no boards. just words. she was strict. the bringer of death. once in every 3 months rajalakshmi will climb the 2 floors, to enter A's class. that meant exams. and she will dictate notes for all the lessons for one semester in one go. and she would go. she always took the last class of the day. but would not let the students bring the bag down. chinna vaisulaye somberithanam. the other teacher. she had passed her sslc. loved tamil. the tamil that was still spoken. she was an ardent periyar devotee. she had been jailed with him for protests. and she would ounce every strength to get through the first 20 minutes of the class by just reading from the book. and for the next 20 mins she will tell you stories. of struggles. of the atheist. of godlessness. and the bell would ring. and she never finished her syllabus.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">A failed Ralakshmi's first exam. ooru was to be kootified. kummi was to be adichified. but A sssed. there was a escape route offered. a role in the tamil club drama in the annual function. a sadhu role. A was happy. small A was cast as the sleeping tree in the kinder garden play. A's parent were thrilled. A and small A had not shown the paper of course. small A had failed all the subjects. so his class teacher put him in her play. thankfully they were mid-terms. do it in terminal and A knew he would bleed with blood. A's role required make up. which would cost a bit. but others dint need any such make up. A was given two lines. the play was for 5 minutes. A was thrilled. his father payed, or appai karandi only. A just aced through the play. small A had slept in the class when they were putting on the costumes. so instead of a sleeping tree which was to wake up after the fairy had won, there was nothing. and the play was called the sleeping tree. the fairy had just defeated the evil witch to free the tree from the spell. of course the nothing was not like the nothingness in human life. there was a really thin mass of bones and tissues trying to support a green jingu jakka costume and a thermocoal tree cut out. and the tree promptly fell down when the fair was just introduced. and the head mistress proudly announced that a benefactor had donated the school a python. a fully grown big evil python. god's creation she said. children learn nature. it was all A needed. he would eat lunch near its cage. big empty cage with the majestic being curled in a sad mass. much like humanity it self. the only way A knew it was alive was when he saw it shed skin. he would stand near it till the assembly began.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">one day Rajalakshmi cornered A. she had borrowed 2 rudraksha malai from the temple priest for the play. for the sadhu in A. and now rajnikanth wanted one of the rudraksha kottai for the arunachalam movie. A said he forgot to get them. Rajalakshmi became livid. A told her than he can go and get it after school. my house is next street only miss. world peace. A's house was far away. he ran like the runny nose. cousin;s first birthday. everyone at the hall opposite the family home. A got it and returned it to Rakalakshmi. she was fuming that he was 30 mins late. and the next day Rajalakshmi climbed upto A's class. A could not believe it. wasnt it just yesterday when the drama was. how could exams come so quickly. this time it was the terminals. funny coinage.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">A went through the vishnu sasranamam a 100 times during the exam but wrote nothing other than his roll no and date. the mani aduchified. he could hear the sangu. it was announced there would be a PTO and the terminal papers would be given. A thought about it. he asked for saravana bhavan dinner. he ran errands for his amma. he did sandhyavardhanam. the next day came the dragon. A had gone to the temple and had all the necessary facial patterns that would repeal away evil. the thin dent on his fore head was bleeding with blood. there was rajalakshmi sitting near the phython cage. she looked like she was just asked the direction to a saraku shop. A promptly put up the i am samathu, yennai kapathunga look. rajalakshmi dint say anything. then she asked A's amma- neenga ayengara? A looked up. amma nodded. rajakshmi reached down for A's paper.- yenaku theriyadhu. nan nenachen yedho north indian paiyannu. therinja andha rudrakshamum iyer makeupum poda solirunka matten. paiyan nalla pannirunkan. 90 marks. aduthu classuku promoted. A vowed to do sandhyavardhanam, thrice. daily. there was a god. just then there was a strange clattering noise. a crow had entered the pythons cage and was struggling to get out. the phython raised its sleepy head. it slowly climbed along the steel cage. a straight vertical slow climb. and in one sweeping move it had the crow between its jawless jaw. Rajalakshmi looked on, a blank face. amma was aghast. this definitely meant something, she had to ask patti. A was thrilled. he went home and saw ninja roberts. and waited for cybtron. that was all he needed.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">free</span></div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-66057390477110287072013-01-22T09:14:00.000-08:002013-01-22T09:14:19.244-08:00B for back<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Never has the sound of promise sounded so promising..free</div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-23930313396580999732012-11-23T22:22:00.001-08:002012-11-23T22:22:13.923-08:00why hate hate?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
you always wonder, why so much hate. but as you browse through so much news, you realize. without hate, there would be no human spirit. we are just bored of hate from other species. hate from another human, is what i think is the driving force of human spirit. Ego stems from it..without both we would have been bored to death. hate keeps humanity alive and visible.. </div>
Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-66091890174428100772012-08-10T11:13:00.001-07:002012-08-10T11:13:37.865-07:00kiln<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
there was once a poor family, who used to make bricks. there was another person who put the bricks together. there was another person who designed a house. there was another person who built it. i do not know any of their names. humanity is dead. that will be all..</div>Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-28558794122813218422012-08-07T20:27:00.002-07:002012-08-07T20:27:18.076-07:00life of a hobbit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
hobbits are short creatures. they are lazy. they rarely do anything expected. even if they did, no one would let them know. they indulge in farming, where the risks are low and the return minimal, but largely assured. after some time they will have to give up farming. because the farming lands will no longer be the farmers's. they will be controlled by a few wealthy hobbits. so would the hobbits rise up in revolt? no they will simply find another profession where the return is assured and the risk is low. fake education. they were once a formidable race. now forgotten. the big folk are reminded once in a while that hobbits do exist, when once in a century a hobbit does something unexpected in the land of the big folk. no one cares of what the hobbit did in the shire. for the fellow hobbits do not care. the hobbits raise up their head and see that the anamolous hobbit had done something different, their recognition that big folk had recognized you. not that you did something different. then they go back to work. some hobbits who have left the shire often fail outside, for they are unprepared. they have very few people to learn from, and hence the limited knowledge of the world of the big folk.they might turn to new lands and bonded labor to survive for some time, but not for too long... and soon they will perish. the question is will they pretend to be asleep as their lands are burnt by the filthy rich hobbits, or will they raise up for once and face whatever be the end. with the kind of no-knowledge no-fear recklessness they once might have had. it would be sad if they died pretending to be asleep, for the world could have done with the little people's revolution.<br />
<br />
often you are mocked for not confining. where you simply do not fit into the hobbit's world. sure, people might celebrate with you if you achieved something, for the achiever is recognized as a hobbit. but nothing more. the government might give them a small piece of land, so that they could go back to their lives. but there is no going back. if they did try to fit in back, they lie and become a lie onto them selves. they lie so that the other hobbits accept them back and tell them they are cool. its kind of scary when even the definition of being cool, is defined by the other hobbits. so where does this leave them? how defying all logic, the hobbits as a group continue on a mind numbingly boring life and try to convince their kids to do so as well. keep your noses clean and no trouble will find you. and i do not like the fact they i noticed all this about my fellow indians, only when i was pushed to the limits of having to do something which is the polar opposite of what i wanted to do? i am one of them.. the confining indian..hey atleast i have an identity..<br />
<br />
stop complaining and get on with your life i am told. people hate other people who crib. people hate im-mature people. cribbing can once in a while can incept a revolution, they will throw you away to keep that revolution purely personal and an isolated case. thats how system works to keep itself within itself. to throw they away. to deny them respect and anything else a conformant has access to. very few reach the promise land, yet a billion indians live in the hope of finding the promise land. i guess once you start travelling, you hear stories of the promise land. where there is money and everything else money can buy. what use is money if there is nothing to buy with it? so they keep walking, braving spits of rain, stories of your parents ash in a far away distant land which was once home and they keep walking. that kind of determination to just walk along is amazing. where did we ever find it? how did a billion people convince them selves? and why is believing in something that is believed in by a billion people so hard? thats what my parents asked me. the answer that am an individual doesnt cut ice with them. they say billion individuals believe in it why not you? do you think you are better than all of them? or worse than all of them. no, you are just part of a bell curve, dont look outside it and fall of the cliff and hurt your self. avoid risks. it is kind of maddening, as they never have interfered until now. they never knew that their normal looking children are unaccepted weirdos outside their home. its like when your parents come to visit you in hostel, the other room mates make them believe that their child is normal. the other room mates, like my parents might have believed that i would at some point of time grow tired and simply confine. i did. it was way too easier. and now i see my brother, who said his life ambition was to grow to grow huge forests, but waste land and keep planing and farming. it was heartening to see that an iim was not his answer. all it took him to convert to a conformist, was a facebook interview.<br />
<br />
once shouldn't underestimate the conventional system. it has harbored many a brilliant mind. it has awesome comforts like the ability to control your room weather, insulate your self from what is happening out there and a soft warm bed to curl up in. simply, the system offers the best in class luxury with minimal risks. how could you say no to that? i think its very childish to simply pin point the love of money. its much deeper than that. the money is a symbol, like batman. one can keep wondering for their entire life. but what we do with the time given to us? knowing very well that what we do is going to be consequential for most of humanity. most would have never heard of it and wouldnt care what you did. where then do you draw fuel to keep you going? never ever think that you could do anything without expecting reward or recognition. photographers need to share photos on facebook, poets need to blog the poems out.. its only in ayn rand's books that you can see people who do things of genius and do not want recognition. hell even rand formed a society and all that, its that recognition which is the fuel. i have taken in monetary loss for recognition. it feels good and gives the fuel you and your ego need.<br />
<br />
and do you need to be really good at something, when the something you do is out side the system. have you ever seen a human who is worse at painting than a five your old kid and still paint for the sheer joy of it. do nothing else. nah that aint possible. so to go out of the conventions it seems necessary to be really good at something. most of the time you keep doubting and loose valuable time that could have been spent discovering things which you are good at. new things. philosophy and such questions generally bore people. parties and booze interests them. because most of them have gone through such questions and have generally come to the conclusion that its all worthless. gyan bores them. so its the question of the value you place in human life. if its way too valuable to be spent doing nothing or is it so useless than you can do anything and enjoy the time given to us. you are generally given examples who have made it big in fame or money, while being non-conformists. yet again the creame of the creame. how many thousands of aspiring photographers have ended up with studios where they click marriages and shoot smiling people for their passport photo, which they will paste on a passport and fly to usa?<br />
<br />
and like the hope of the honeyland, the hope that there is something you will find and is worth doing, keeps me going. its might not exist, but neither does the honey land for 99% of my fellow beings. when you start writing or taking photos, knowing very well that you might suck at it, gives you the license to be boring and crap to others. and it is very important to grab that chance, as it has no risks. i should be able to forgive myself at some point no? else whats the point? trying to confine makes you lie. and you are a fucked up person. you lie to say cool things happen to you. but if you are consistently do that your entire life, its plain simple truth that you dont fit it. why do you want to achieve all that your parents want? to feel a part of a billion strong family. and that is indeed enticing. its kind of surprising when suddenly your parents ask you of one thing, first time ever. you wonder that i had freedom all these years and was allowed to do what i want without question, then you realize that they presumed you already knew that you had to succeed. it did not need telling was their perspective. and you realize the gap between actual expectation and your idea of expectations is bigger than the original expectation itself. in such time it is charming to be a hobbit.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
i moved in with new room mates this may. a nice apartment on the eight floor. booze, booze and poker always available. the apartments around are posh. a lakh a month rent apartment behind ours. roof top swimming pool, flood lit tennis court and hot chicks in both. room mates who have studied in iit and earn triple of what i do. they keep telling me.. run and reduce weight.. shave regularly.. study for cat.. money is the most important thing.. and i cant believe that they actually are convinced by this frame work. they bring girl friends home. i sit and ignore them. its beautiful. and when they talk about marriage and stuff i get up and walk. these are scary things. i still think that am a kid, maturity being the definition of confining with the system. how come you go from living in a bubble, insulating yourself from everything, drawing oxygen from within the bubble.. to a life where you step outside the bubble? how do people just live with another person, for long infinitive years.. waiting to be consumed by death? waatha dei..idhu velaiku aagadhu... need to murder something or someone soon..<br />
<br />
free i will be soon<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-48950046391387630362012-06-15T09:31:00.000-07:002012-06-15T09:31:09.195-07:00satthumudhu killed me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
there are few moments when you realize that a childhood memory still resided in your brain. very very vividly. its almost like you can picture it. they seem to come to you when you are down, or atleast i thought so. but now i know its not. but they do come along when there is kinda sharp feel of pain. low level. but its just so beautiful. its so subtle that you dont know when it was there, but you just know it was there. a clear sign is there. you see it for a moment and its that django line. machi you have my curocity.. now you have my savudhaan.. now you see this word has killed many a young gentlemen in the making.. like me.. you think scount and guides.. army school.. ncc.. army.. kill you fucaackers and shoot your own aapicers.. then disappear into the himalayas..live.. die without anything.. anyways in my case it was my tamizh teacher who put me away from my dream..real hitler.. in tenth standard.. he will teach you 1 mark grammer questions.. three types they came in.. then 3 mark short questions about 5 mark answers.. then you have the essay types.. you have 8 lessons.. and you had just 2 choices given to you.. he used to spend first 5 mins asking people 1 mark questions.. in line.. the whole class.. and if you dint answer.. the guy who finally answers gets to give the kottu on your ucchai thalai.. a knuckle on your head.. man.. you had some real kolaveri pudhicha idiots.. animals.. if its a guy its a hard type.. you had the rajni style where it is sound and pain.. then the kamal type when there is just pain but no noice.. people think that nothing happened.. only those who sat through know the pain.. then there is vijay style.. where its just sound but no pain.. of course ajith style for the girls.. no sound.. no pain.. only routing .. anyways the tamizh sir, yeah hitler.. i started to finally run a bit and have some fun.. i started the long runs.. first time i ran 1500 for the school, i finished second last. this guy came to me and said.. dei iyer.. why dont you eat curd rice and sit in your home and study.. then i went for high jump too the next day.. hitler there.. it was a small confined place.. into sand pit of course.. i surprisingly got through few rounds.. then i found out that they had put the sand on top of a cricket pitch's end. i had my hand literally twisted.. and again he was like thaiyar sadham go sit at home and study.. and he was the ncc sir as well.. and i went the first day morning with the form signed by my appa.. and i heard him shouting.. saavudhaan.. savudhaan.. i let go of my pride and went back home.<br />
<br />
so you the subtle sharp pain.. now i kind of understand what one girl once wrote on a blog about cutting herself.. in my case it was quarter cutting.. there it was the red volcano. ready to burst and skew out hot lava. and there i was .. trying to save my ring... my precious.. and as the lava broke through the white mountains.. i dipped my hand into white hot ash.. searching for my ring.. my precious..and as the lava washed through my hand.. and my whole body.. i dint let go of the precious.. i pulled out the ring out from my hot pepper rasam rice.. i threw the fucking ring aside and devoured the sathumudhu rice like an ant eating onr whole particle of rice.. and i remember when we used to sit in mylapore..and amma would serve the vegetable first. then rice.. then ghee.. then a bit of dal.. home made appalams when you are lucky.. and then switches off the stove and brings the boiling rasam to the hall and i pour it into the carefully constructed pit of white mashed rice, shimmering with that thin coating of ghee.. and as it threatens to break the dam.. i mix it together.. and that subtle sharp moment of pain..<br />
<br />
free</div>Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-55714581431576633912012-05-18T13:48:00.000-07:002012-05-18T13:48:10.344-07:00last restart?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
hello anyone still reading/ writing blogs? or has the new age truly dawned upon us? <br />
<br />
been some time. know not how long. strayed out of time.there is nothingness. every where. and the small pleasures of the lesser known things. and am oscillating in between. where have all the people and time gone? how did this ever come to this? why is that life chooses to live on? i always used to think that people figured something out later in the life, that they live on. but now i cant see it. does that mean everyone's just alive and dead? i guess all this might seem stupid, to think of. but the question is always there. insignificance and uselessness i can accept. just not the permanent nature of it.<br />
<br />
its maddening when you are suddenly awake after 20 years. cant i just sleep blissfully? you can always point to more desperate and empty lives. compare and feel good. but even that is of no comfort to me. i need something precious. for the first time there is a need. before i could just live on. not any more. you can always stray a little from the path, but keep the destination in mind. or you could stay on the path and pass the destination, keep walking further. but what if you stray and everything is blank?<br />
<br />
you know whats maddening? no, not the state of life. but something which just does not let me end my life. i mean simply- i see no point. then ending life should be the logical answer. but i just cant. the last 2 years have been pretty much hazy. i can not re-collect a single incident from the last 2 years! 6 months into the new year and i still write 2011 every where. i dont know the date. i have been home for 7 days in the last 2 years. no person i can remember. honestly, i can remember what i did my last birthday. i cant take this no more. i have tried to hang on to each and everything i can, making it the last straw of life. to hold on. i know it will seem rich, when you have a job that pays for the food and roof. when you can fly home. there are people with no roof. no land. maybe its that sense of survival which is driving them on. i guess survival is default state now.<br />
<br />
few years before i would have laughed at a person who would said such things. people scoff when rich footballers moan about something. but how can humanity be valued? how can any object change humanity? that which eggs all life on, without much purpose. its a very difficult task indeed. every day i wake up. and then i sleep. there was once an empty carefree jolly good life. now the simplest of things irritate. every person irritates. how do people ever work them selves out and live on?<br />
<br />
when i was in college i used to presume that people eventually figure out something, somehow live on for something. now i see its was utter foolishness. what now? how do you people just wake up, dress up, work and sleep? is it the intricate struggles in between which keeps you going? a bloody knuckle later, it feels as blank as the first sleep.<br />
<br />
where is the free gone?</div>Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-52170347618306267232012-04-17T09:49:00.000-07:002012-04-17T09:49:14.981-07:00free<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">does duality imply a cycle? duality just seems to say that a positive and negative do exist, they are equal and hence shall eventually meet. it does not say what will happen. but cycle means that they may either co-exist equally or super-exist over samples of time. now i dont expect us humans to sit and think consistently what the fuck am i doing here? some are so held over that they dont even stop to consider that such a question might need answers sooner or later? am i free? i mean not as a human. but as an animal am i free? can i walk when ever, to where ever i want? without any askings or tellings? can i just close my eyes and sleep when i want to? can i learn when i want to and waste away when i want to? it seems the answer is yes for most of these basic questions. if i wanted to sleep at 11 in the office, i can. microscopically, yes. but i were to do it for the heck of doing it again and again attempt it, do you expect the same result? all i mean is to do something when i just wanted to do. not do something over and over again to prove that some other thing can be done?<br />
<br />
so i do not think about freedom as such often. but collectively, as a society is that what we will eventually ask? it seems inevitable. a society has to go through every emotion atleast once. so i say a revolution will come. they do take time. but they do come. and when it does come, what will govern our freedom? still rules set by another human? a human who sat in a dingy lit room in delhi and imagined what all a human should be allowed to do, say if his life was taken away? how can he feel revenge and emotions? is the present law not too bland? by stating that there has to be a universal law of morality, we our covering the cracks. can we still not accept that another human need not think the same? yes, when we started out we started confining for primal stuff, food..shelter..security.. but now the world is crowded, if you are not accepted here you can move on. why now are we still sedated? why is that we are still largely rooted? i am not talking about continents. i am talking about a few hundred kilo meters.. dont worry, there is always enough time.<br />
<br />
but what will happen say, when we start to come to the end of the beginning? am not talking of death and destruction. am talking of a restart as a race. as human. has the impact always to come from outside. i always get a feeling that we as a race are waiting for a jolt from the sky to wake up. till then petty squabbles. are entertainment enough. there is enough time for battling the stars.and when we do restart, will we restart as a society of all? can we ever forget everything we have ever learnt? there was once a time man lived alone. in high warm areas. and low cold areas. and then he began to settle down. and now he doesnt want to move. but he will have to move. and will have to move on for ever. before he can settle down again. freedom awaits then.<br />
<br />
</div>Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-36952981931121641572012-02-29T12:55:00.000-08:002012-02-29T12:55:54.927-08:00i got to go away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">all that he had to do was leave. its simple. if one does not find true happiness and love one leaves. of course it is not simple enough. the very idea of love and happiness are vague and scoffed at. if you however do accept such ideas do exist, you need to start looking. thats work. then theres that comfort. of a warm bed. of nicely fried small potatos. the right amount of ghee and spices. a nice mashed up rice and sathumudhu. and you just eat it and curl up in that warm bed. this comes at a cost of course. the illusion of comfort. the glorious land of laziness. where its just easy to swim with the current. just go with the society. but something tells you all this is not real. you know it is not real. acceptance is the first problem. remembering your acceptance is the second problem. the third problem is the solution to the first two problems of course.<br />
<br />
but leave he should. left it all behind. leave for a place that may be some where else. just kept walking. just keep walking. eating from the bin. it is food none the less. eat all you can. forgot that wonderful rasam rice. just eat from the bin. eat to stay alive. eat all you can to stay alive. and keep walking. and keep seeing. there is no point in thinking. in learning. in understanding. in remembering. there is just no reason. they just dont seem to be worth it. you just dont feel like going through the whole civilization. of course this will seem to be a pure rebellion of the perception of life. there is no other way about it. its the way it is. its the reason why 1 was not 0. <br />
<br />
he could stay of course. eat that rice. sleep that sleep. go with the society. without knowing why. whats the point of knowing? there is no point. there is no point in anything. in life. in death. there is nothing. but you are not troubled. yes one or twice that occasional pang of guilt. that you dreamed so much. that you are better than this. nope. dont overthink it. just go with it. where ever it is. you never know where. you can step out and get lost out there. or you could lock your self in a room for 20 years and then find our you are lost again. you could sit and marvel at the fact that there is no one single thing which is absolute, singular.. and its that way all over the universe. like a obscure concept like force. which i feel all the time. which stars are supposed to feel as well. isnt force a bigger mystery than god?<br />
<br />
so it comes down to 0 and 1. if he has to stay or go. you can not explain why it has come down to just 2 choices. and there is no reason to choose either of the numbers. you could never choose too. and let it just go. and then die. or you could choose. either way it doesnt matter. the ego in the brain seems to be bigger than everything else, so it hurts to find out that you are as insignificant as it can be. but i guess you exist none the less. there is no answer. but i will read the problem again and again till the answer is either 0 or 1. like moisture. its either there or not. the same moisture which is the essence of life. without which we were not to be. but we are. i guess thats the ultimate question. why am i here. wherever i am. why am i there?<br />
<br />
of course i have searched. within and without. i cant understand of course. but will have to keep looking i guess. till i see a 1 or 0. i somehow do not trust other humans to solve this for me. they might solve it for themselves. but not for me. buddha cant do it. if love was what he preached..well can you preach that? isnt it something natural and what keeps us alive. so how can love be preached? may be it was an old tale that is a religion and a man. maybe he was just another man.<br />
<br />
i guess the very essence of it all is to keep looking. not knowing if there is an answer at all. keep searching. till the day the answer is 1 or 0. and then you can jump around and shout that you found it. found the answer. and then die.<br />
<br />
free</div>Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-65352222488494589692012-01-17T11:38:00.000-08:002012-01-17T11:38:40.081-08:00paper<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">a long thin line. no stops. no turns. no corners. just straight. with no end in sight. no other line in sight. a dot or the edge of the sheet should do the trick</div>Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-11421981976170960132011-12-11T06:53:00.000-08:002011-12-11T06:53:29.383-08:00rubber<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">so why where you running?<br />
<br />
i dont know<br />
<br />
you dont know?<br />
<br />
yes<br />
<br />
do you sleep walk?<br />
<br />
what? no!<br />
<br />
well if you dont sleep walk and you dint know what you where doing, then it disturbs me that you were running like that<br />
<br />
i was not out of control, i was just jogging<br />
<br />
jogging? well that was not jogging<br />
<br />
yes it was. all i wanted was some air you see. it was suffocating<br />
<br />
suffocating? what in your room?<br />
<br />
no, not the room.<br />
<br />
i cant understand it.<br />
<br />
well you wont be able to<br />
<br />
let me get this. there you are running uncontrollably. wild long steps, like you were running away from the demon. then you come and fall here<br />
<br />
i never thought i will jump into a yatch<br />
<br />
the water?<br />
<br />
no! i never intended to jump atll<br />
<br />
ok. what do you do?<br />
<br />
depends on what you call doing. is writing accounts doing?<br />
<br />
so you write accounts?<br />
<br />
no i do not. i just wanted to know what your defenition of doing was<br />
<br />
well that is doing enough for me. i started with accounts. if you were not running away from the devil, what were you running away fron?<br />
<br />
not away,no. to<br />
<br />
to what?<br />
<br />
things<br />
<br />
what things?<br />
<br />
well lot of things. things i wanted<br />
<br />
and what did you want?<br />
<br />
many things<br />
<br />
well how many is this many things?<br />
<br />
well i dont know<br />
<br />
so you were running towards countless things?<br />
<br />
no. no not at all. well lets say i wanted about 20 things<br />
<br />
20? well 20 is not bad. i would have said 500<br />
<br />
i dont know<br />
<br />
well how many things have you had till now?<br />
<br />
what?<br />
<br />
you said you wanted 20 more things. but how many things have you had till now?<br />
<br />
well how can you count them?<br />
<br />
well you seemed to know<br />
<br />
since i opened my eyes i have had many things. they can not be counted<br />
<br />
well, you are not making any sense. none at all. you want 20 things that you dont have now. some you might have already had before. and you have had countless other things.<br />
<br />
it makes perfect sense,yes<br />
<br />
ok. maybe, yes.<br />
<br />
how many things have you had? you seem a rich man. i suppose you own this yatch?<br />
<br />
well yes i do. and i have had many things too. countless things. but i never needed countless things. all i needed was with me<br />
<br />
everything?<br />
<br />
yes here just with me<br />
<br />
dont you feel lonely at all?<br />
<br />
no i have my shadow<br />
<br />
there i have switched off the light. are you lonely now?<br />
<br />
i suppose<br />
<br />
you are not. i am here<br />
<br />
well yes,, but i dont own you<br />
<br />
so you want to own things? i just wanted to have them<br />
<br />
ah. i see. and how do you have things without owning them?<br />
<br />
take this money. i had it. but i dont own it<br />
<br />
you seem depressed<br />
<br />
i am not. all i need is a little air and i will be fine<br />
<br />
a drink?<br />
<br />
yes. whiskey<br />
<br />
i suppose you like to float<br />
<br />
we are floating now<br />
<br />
-- a bubble pops</div>Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4388645241479442644.post-75587611766487298512011-12-02T23:50:00.000-08:002011-12-02T23:50:06.715-08:00suicde letter of a chemistry teacher<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">the thing is i have nothing to say. for i do nothing. for i am nothing. there is no point in writing when there is no doing or thinking. one excuse would have been the spontaneous expression you could have had, but that usually will be a cribbing.<br />
<br />
i dont know what to do. simply i do not know. or rather i dont know what i would like to do. its easy to like many thing. for things are generally likeable, am a human. i think i am not able to love a single thing now, because things are changing too fast. what was, is gone. it had to go i know. but not so fast. not like this. i just can not remember what i did two hours back. and i do now know what to do a couple of hours later. its just emptiness.<br />
<br />
a simple mind must think that best shot at getting your love back, any love would be a common thing. you just want to feel the love for something. so it chooses money. the most common, easy to get thing. as charlie's grandpa says, they print more everyday. so i went for it. it dint help. now i have to ponder hard. what next to go for. and i have been pondering for too long. never i had to ponder for more than a day. now months later am still here. blank. its infuriating to say the least. and frustrating and depressing at times.<br />
<br />
i always use to think growing up was fun. i use to frown at people who claimed they dint want to grow up. you learn a lot. see a lot. but now i fully understand why one should not grow up. its tough in unexpected ways. its the expectations. yours and others. of course nothing gets said. when you a were a boy and all you wanted was a toy. and when you dint get, you get upset for two days and move on. thats what is so wonderous. that you could forgot so many things. so many people. easily. very very easily. but over the years the brain gets trained to retain things.<br />
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you see humanity is designed that way. the school teaches me to retain the hellvolhardzelensky reaction. where the cooh bond is opened up by a .. never mind. i was not properly trained. i never used to consider the past. but now when you do not know where to go, you begin to doubt. and you try to remember what had happened. how did you end up here? now when you want a thing, its a thing with high stakes. because you earn the things you wanted before have low risk. low stake. you dont want that do you?<br />
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and so i am trying to remember. and what i remember is not good. but that may be because am seeking that moment which started the rot. and every moment you remember seems to be the start of another rot. it may be not. its just the mirage of what would have actually happened. i can never be sure of that either. am just trying desperaretly to pin the responsibility on a event, rather than myself. how easy it would be is a event actually started the rot and not you? how wonderful it would be.<br />
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but after months of seeking, i have to concede defeat. its just not there. inspite of my polarized version of my past. and i always knew that you can not start to rot, unless you start to rot from within. and its so hard to accept that. i would guess thats how it is for all. i hope so. i know it is. but if that is the case, had hummanity started to rot from the moment it has bee into life?</div>Soinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05708544526844237025noreply@blogger.com1