One more in the Crowd

Another day another dream

2010-09-09T22:23:00.000-07:00

Today, I dreamt in my afternoon nap. It was a surreal world, far away from mine. Let me narrate the event in the dream first. The dream was set in a camp of sorts. The tents which accommodated tens of people together, were set up near a sandy beach right next to a steep rock.
I dreamt that I was in the company of a person that I liked (say Phy). Phy was a fresh acquaintance. I was happy, smiling a lot and was confident in the way I behaved. It was probably because, I was enjoying the somewhat subtle yet poorly hidden attention from Phy. He was amidst some friends of his, and still watching me once in a while. I knew that. I had climbed up the rock to go up and gather some coins for the donation box (Please bear with me the nonsensical scenario of donation gathering on a beach beneath a rock; it was a dream for Pete's sake!). When it was time for me to go to the tent, suddenly, I was totally afraid to climb down the rock that I had so expertly conquered before. The idea of placing a foot in a crevice that I don't know if exists, was scary. I started fussing about, and eventually jumped down. It spilled all the coins on the sand. I gathered them and went about my business fully aware of the eyes that were following me.

Later in the day (I imagine), I went in to the tent to put the coins in the box next to which, Phy was laying down to nap. I guess he woke up due to the noise. When I bent down to put the coins in, he sat up resting on his elbow, and casually sat me down next to him. He made small talk and asked me why I was scared to come down that rock. I said, I was just scared, a momentary panic that is all. It was just a carefree conversation

I don't remember the rest of the dream. What I do remember rather vividly is the touch of his hand that held me down to sit next to him. The casualness of the gesture yet the conveyance of its intention, or what seemed liked the intention. Both of us pretending to be casually talking, while we knew that something was going on underneath. The tension was priceless. I landed in the situation partly because of my curiosity of where this will head, and partly because I did not want to care about repercussions. The world in front of me was inviting, open ended..... ripe with possibilities. The excitement, and the feeling of nascent love(?) brought back memories from far and wide..distant now in space, in time, in life.

I may be happy in my current life. I smile at least a few times a day. I could not live without the love and companionship that I have.

But the beginning of attraction my friend, ...now THAT is something else!

To Compromise or To compromise.

2010-04-17T22:36:00.000-07:00

In all other fronts one can fight, strive, demand and get what one wants. Not love. Let me qualify that. Not love the way one wants to be loved.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. There is a problem with that. "They" are "they".."they" are not you. They will only do what they perceive is a gesture of love. If you do not try to alter "them", your deed/love, when it comes back to you, may be camouflaged in an unrecognizable/unpalatable form. If you force them to change to your liking, then, you would be puppeteering a show of love towards yourself. Now that is pathetic, ridiculous, not to mention terribly lonely!

The alternative is to change yourself. To accept what you get as love. With a faith that what you give to others has to come back to you, even though you may not see it. It is a tough task to keep doing something without seeing any gratifying feedback. You are struggling to get something that you know you will not get because the giver does not know what you want. That one-sided single-minded giving of love is also lonely.

Either way, trying to snatch something you want out of a place where it does not exist is futile.

You may want to be the center of their world; their world may be donut-shaped!

Wish List for my birthday

2010-04-06T21:24:00.000-07:00

1. Good health for my Anna ..
2. Peace of mind for Amma dearest..
3. Happiness with their beloved ones for Kanthi and Koochu ..
4. Enriched life full of opportunities for my son ..
5. A world that recognizes the truth and beauty of his soul.. for my husband ..
6. Unending Closeness to my family for me ..

Long live the Queen!!

2010-03-19T21:04:00.000-07:00

Ajji went through the ordeal..

Amma and all her sisters pleaded her not to do it.. and cried with broken hearts.. in devastation.. Some people talked (in private) of how a revolution should happen against such rituals.. Some of the grandchildren whimpered mild protests.. All in all, each one of came face to face with the darkest of our fears..and saw how incapable we were.

All of us showed our support to Ajji..tried to comfort her by proclaiming our admiration, love and care for her. At the least, parts of our family came together in trying to help Ajji come out of this. We felt good about our plans to help Ajji deal with the misery.

But in truth, Ajji amazed all of us by her strength, grit and her spirits. We were only weaklings who were trying to hide our fears/inability under the scapegoat of our compassion towards her. Not only did she face the ugly eventuality, she slapped it in its face, and came out unscathed. She once again, proved to be the source of strength to all the family.

Amma told me the story in bits and pieces. At first, I thought I should not write this..exposing her private moments to the world.. But then, I hope that I and others who read this, can derive some inspiration from her story.. I hope that I can get at least a fraction of her strength in the face of adversities.. What she has, is not just strength... it is the unbelievable spirit of life! What a BRAVE, INVINCIBLE SPIRIT!! A spirit that REFUSES to feel down.. victimized... which can evaporate any sorrow by sheer denial!!

I tried to imagine myself in her shoes.. I would be feeling sad at my state, angry at fate, and bitter about the rest of the world. I would probably spend the rest of my life surrounding myself with that misery.. by allowing it to take over my thoughts and disposition. In the unspeakable cruelty of the misfortune and of the barbaric brahmin superstition, she is marching ahead with a courage, I can only dream of!

It breaks my heart to write this. Amma said, after the ritual, she asked for a pair of golden bangles, and a gold chain.. Apparently, simple jewelry is allowed in viduity. She told to her daughters, "I won't just give away all my silk sarees, I will keep them and wear them".. What a brave heart she has and an unrelenting soul! Our queen has once again staked claim to the throne as the rightful leader :-)...and we are ever so grateful for that.

Being a Brahmin..and his wife..

2010-02-27T13:00:00.000-08:00

My Ajja, grandfather passed away today. He was the imposing father of seven daughters and two sons, the respected grandfather of 23 grand children, and the mild great-grandpa of 16 children to date. He was a Vedic scholar, a man of strictest religious principles. He lived on very little. He lead his life studying vedas and scriptures and teaching them to people. He was well respected in Maadhwa brahmin community. He was 87 when he passed away. He suffered from diabetes for a long time. He spent most of his senior life eating less than a single meal a day which did not help his ailment. He has been delivered from his suffering by the Lord he so much was a devotee of.

My Ajji, grandma, has been taking care of Ajja's family for all these years. While he spent his life being the pious scholar and teacher, she has given birth to 12 (13 ?) of his offsprings, and raised the 9 survivors with the meager income that he would bring home. She has followed the infinitely many rituals, and strict guidelines of his brahmin life. She has cared for all the daughters through their pregnancies and deliveries. She has fussed over every one of her grand children's well being. Her journey steering a large family through poverty (with many daughters) and ruthless religious regulations is an epic on its own. So tough has been her struggle, that it is difficult for her to feel content and rested even today.

To me, she is a shining example of femininity. No matter how tough life has been to her, she has had the spirit to snatch her pleasures from life as well. In all our social events, beginning from cradling ceremonies, anna-praashanas, choulas, threading ceremonies, weddings, and numerous other festivities, for as long as I remember, my grandma has been on the forefront as the "hiri-muttaide".. a woman held in high respect for her age, her marriage, and her role as the wife, the mother and the grandmother. A fertile woman bearing a plentiful family full of children . Women seek her blessings in being able to be a good mother like she is. Young couples have sought Ajja's and her blessings to have a lasting marriage. People touch her feet and hope the richness of her life passes on to them. This has been the one pleasure that she has gotten to enjoy in all the different phases of her life.

Ajji was married off at 12, I believe, and she is 78 now. She has been a muttaide all her life.

When I imagine Ajji, the only image that appears, is that of her in a bright colored 9-yard silk saree, the broad crimson spot on her forehead, a glittering diamond on her thin nose, her grey hair (and an pitch black extension, chauree, made of yak's hair) tied in a bun ...sometimes with jasmine flower and an old golden brooch. Back when her back was still strong in her fragile frame, she had the most elegant style of walking. A brilliant smile, a frown, or a scornful roll of her eyes, whatever it was, it came from the truest of her feelings. She is grace personified.

From today, she is considered a widow. She is no longer the lioness that strolled with pride. I don't know if they will make her a "madi-hengasu", holy woman. I cannot even bring myself to think about it.

All the holy women I have seen, have shave their head, drape themselves in dull simple sarees (whose one end covers their heads), and spend their life in cooking and caring for the families that they live with, feeling like they are a burden on the earth..waiting for their time.

She will still be respected, and invited to social gatherings and ceremonies, but she will choose to be in a corner hiding in sadness and a sort of shame, as though it is her fault that Grandpa is no longer there. Perhaps, this is the reason why women of the previous generation wished to be dead before their husbands.

I hate this aspect of the brahmin life. I want to take her away from it.. I want to shield her from this part of life. But I believe that she won't want to go away. For a woman who has spent her entire life being the wife of a true brahmin, the only honorable ending would be that of a respected widow. Possibly a "madi hengasu"..I still cannot come to think of Ajji as that.

In a life of my own, that is far far away from the brahmin woman's struggle, all I can do is hope that she, with her infinite zest for life, will thrive through this.

On the way out of the bath room, here is a tidbit of my life...

2010-02-12T16:56:00.001-08:00

I know one reason why any new mom (at least this new mom) puts up so many pictures of the little one ... the lil one is pretty much the definition of her life from day 0.

How would it be?

2009-06-29T12:30:00.001-07:00

If every time I thought something about someone, the person I am thinking about knew what I was thinking?

Would Amma, Anna take comfort in the fact that I was thinking about them a lot? Or would they think , "what's in thinking ? thoughts are dime a dozen, why can't she be here?", Would they be disgusted by the dreadful thoughts that fill my mind when I panic how my life would be meaningless without them? and even in that, I am thinking about myself?

Would my husband know, how much or little I love him? and would that change anything in the way he feels about me? Or would he see the inseparable selfishness that comes with my love?

Would the people I care about, who don't care back, care any more ? or less?
I dare not imagine what happens when people I don't like, but tolerate, know how I feel!

More importantly, What would I think? knowing everyone can know what I am thinking? Would I train myself to go blank? Will I try to think only good things, so that I appear good to everyone? Will that altered version even be "me"?

What will I get to know if people are thinking bad things about me? How will I change then?

Where will my hypocrisy lead me in such a crisis?

My mind is getting overwhelmed by the repercussions, the possibilities, and the mysterious questions therein. I think there is a HELL lot to this question.. I need more time with it... but office hours are not the time to go chasing this line of thought.. :-)

Stripped off..

2009-05-16T19:00:00.000-07:00

My house was broken into. They robbed us off of everything.. all my precious jewels full of memories..I had.. ring my husband gave me for my anniversary.. the earrings I got from my friend from Philips, the inexpensive trinkets that I bought from when my husband and I traveled across the world, everything is gone..

Our pictures.. of our home in Venezuela, and from India, our videos of Prince's Grandma, everything.. I don't even want to look at what is gone and what is left..

We have now, No TV, no video cam, no digital SLR, no lenses, no audio mixer, 2 laptops (the one I got after 2 others were stolen 2 years ago about the same time) ..no hard disks full of pictures, music.. memories..

everything is gone..

On top of this, I changed my passwords of an email account I have had since 1998.. my first email address,.. And now I don't remember what it is .. so I lost all the emails I have saved since then.. 11 years of my emails.. fond words, heart breaking messages, memories.. stories ..everything I had never thought I would have to part with..is gone..

I guess I am being.. neatly stripped off of things I used to feel homely with.. Things I identified myself with..

I am not OK.. Although, I am much less emotional about it now.. having told the template-story to everyone who called... I am not OK.. I feel very helpless... I don't want to think about it..but I have no choice!

Latent currents

2009-05-04T06:55:00.001-07:00

Things have been going on so fast, I have not had time to catch my breath.. At the same time, things have been so stagnant, I have no motivation to breathe in... yup that is my regular life..

I had a dream again yesterday, one more of those things where I must have picked a small scab and it all came flooding out..

The dream went like this..

I was in some house.. In my dream it was ours. I don't know who else was there, and we went to the terrace. to look at something.. can't remember what it was.. I think the curiosity was that probably a neighbor Q, had set up a small junk yard up on their terrace, and we wanted to look at it. It was a exotic collection of things.. almost like a small world.. a pretty one.. on their terrace, in the sun and the sky..

And while I was looking, my mom (I think) started telling me about this other neighbor P, who had a monkey, and he used to play with it up there in his terrace. Neighbor P was there wearing a big gown of sorts, his back to us (the kind you see in Harry potter or Lord of the rings or such stuff).

The monkey was happy, it was finding ways to tease him, annoy him, seek his approval. It would fetch little nothings to Neighbor P just to get ruffled on its head. I think we watched it for a while to see the various antics and I felt like a kid watching a show, an innocent, lovely show.

Once when Neighbor P bent down to ruffle his pet, with a smile on his face, and he happened to look at us. His was a face I can never forget. His face made this a dream I can never forget. When he recognized who it was, It changed slightly.. from a congenial smile, to a little sad, that is still trying to smile, and fell short of either. But his eyes..there was the depth of emotions in it, that had no limit. There was care, (did I see a hint of joy..?) and a lot of pain.. There were millions of stories in the eyes, that I knew would never be told.. but wanted to be conveyed. It was like this one look, was going to be the one that summarizes everything, the millions of seconds of our histories that divided us, and every inch of the miles that had taken us in separate ways, every thought that had gone on in our minds in between. I felt the gap of the two terraces dividing us ever so badly..

When I saw who he was, and how he looked at me, I took one deep breath, and it never came back.. What came out was a deluge... and I burst out sobbing.. Not a sniffling sob with silences in between. But, one that just comes out in floods.. and never stops.. and I cannot control it.. and the more I shed tears, the more I want to drown in it.. and I wailed.. and loudly and uncontrollably.. on that terrace.. in the open sky..

2009-02-20T23:34:00.000-08:00

Three girls are sitting here.. with their long-forgotten coffees,,
Talking about other girls.. other girls' brothers, and their families..
Sharing questions, answers, sharing gossip, stories..
Their phones, their calls, their homework, grades and parties..

All I hear is their laughs..Then I realize, why it is different..
Why this laughter strikes so close to heart but yet feels distant..
Over the time, I have been on a path that seeks a supposed betterment,
I have built my own time-space-thought capsule..minus the human element

Things that I spend my time on, are not the things that make it worthwhile..
Things that I deem important, do not cause a random smile..
A mobius strip within my mind has made my journey somewhat futile
It is no surprise that I have not laughed in quite a while..

It has been a while since I felt at home with my life, my way..
It has been a while since I woke up and grinned to greet the day..
I drain out slowly as time goes, no flash floods not even spontaneous spurts
It has been a while since I have laughed till it hurt... and it hurts

Addendum to the Worst Lyrics Songs

2009-01-23T14:13:00.000-08:00

Jaane do na - Cheeni kum !

No rhymes.. no reason.. no friggin nothing!!

If you remove "na" and "do" and "tho" from the song.. There is NO FRIGGIN SONG!

garbled shabbily assembled badly metered dog-crap of a song!

I just feel real real sad.. Especially since the original song is so pretty.. and young...

The closest I ever came to quarter million dollars

2008-11-25T08:40:00.000-08:00

2 days ago, when I went shopping with Prince, I wanted to buy a bag.. Prince said.. "why don't you check it online? perhaps you will get it cheaper?". "If only, I could check it right now..", I said to him.. "May be we can develop an application, to take a picture of the bar codes of products and do some basic image processing to get the UPC code and do a google product search.. won't that be cool?" He said "yeah.. but I bet, the shops will prohibit you from doing that.. bla bla" .. and we got lost in a digression..

Today, I got an email from Graduate Women in Computing (UT AUSTIN) , inviting all students to compete for a workshop.. When I browsed through the website, I saw the Google Android Challenge. I called up Prince immediately, and asked him, "why don't we participate with our idea of the bar-code scanner + google product search?" . He said "sure, sounds like fun!". Then, I went to see the details of the challenge..

It turns out, that my idea has already been thought.. and IT HAS FREAKING WON a $ 275,000 AWARD!! ..

Well....

Moral of the story: GO SHOPPING MORE OFTEN!

Quote from a Quote from a friend

2008-11-10T14:09:00.000-08:00

"...Ivan Illych as he awaits the great leveler, contemplating a past which was throughly dominated by others, a life in which he had given up control of himself in order to fit into a system.

"What if my whole life has been wrong?"

It occurred to him that what had appeared perfectly impossible before, namely that he had not spent his life as he should have done, might after all be true. It occurred to him that his scarcely perceptible attempts to struggle against what was considered good by the most highly placed people, those scarcely noticeable impulses which he had immediately suppressed, might have been the real thing, and all the rest false. And his professional duties and the whole arrangement of his life and of his family, and all his social and official interests, might all have been false. He tried to defend all those things to himself and suddenly felt the weakness of what he was defending. There was nothing to defend.

"But if that is so," he said to himself, "and i am leaving this life with the consciousness that I have lost all that was given me and it is impossible to rectify it — what then?". . ."

I think I faked a shit load of emotion today..I am pretty sure..

2008-10-05T20:49:00.000-07:00

How do you know you honestly feel something? Why does anyone want their emotions to be known, if there is nothing can be / needs to be *done* about it? Is it because, you just want to be known for having had that emotion?

When you say something out loud how do you know you are not modifying your feeling to be more expressible? to fit the need of the audience?

Suppose, someone expected you to be proud, and you are talking of your achievement, if you pump it up a notch to make the impact? isn't that not pathetic and hypocritical?

Suppose, someone expected you to be guilty, and you started talking about your guilt, and if you end up repeating some sentences about your guilt that you had said before, how screwed up is that?

Why do I notice in myself, a constant need to be perceived as someone of this or that quality?
Why can't I just be ?

Where do you go when you have no where to go?

2008-08-06T18:01:00.001-07:00

A few days ago, I watched the "Last Lecture". The guy is smart and he had some good things to say..He said, "when you are making mistakes and no one cares enough to tell you, then you are *really* are in a bad state". I thought about myself and my pursuits and my lack of direction.. and it felt right.. what he said felt right.. that perhaps, i am going on a track to ruins and no one will tell me i am being wrong.. either because they don't want to hurt me.. or because they don't care..

Today, another friend of mine told me, something interesting. We were talking about two great people say, A and B. A does not allow people to get away with mediocre quality work.. He grills them until they turn up right.

B on the other hand, thinks that if some X is doing mediocre work, it is not his job to tell him. X deserves to find his own direction and can go to hell if he wants.. B will even facilitate this ignorant journey towards mediocrity.. because he does not believe in interfering.. He believes that every one deserves to struggle, make their mistakes and find their place.. He knows what their place is, but he wont tell them.

So perhaps my universe, my B, is watching, amused at my miserable attempts to win over an invincible fate.. Perhaps I am sitting on this high-and-mighty pile of sand of my ego , and the universe is just laughing its a** off as to how by the end of my life, this BIG MOTHER deluge of a wave is to going to wash me away like a twig.. and how then it would be too late..

My friend told me, not in so many words, but in essence, that I was one of the idiots on the ignorant band-wagon on my way to mediocrity.. who was not being told so by my B.

It is strange.. this feeling.. There is a deep sadness and there is a sense of calmness that comes with confronting truth. I ask myself at this point, where would I go now.. I don't know any other way.. but to do what I am doing.. I would rather be a failure at this than a success at something else, I guess, .... so I go on.

Some times it is just too good to know there are good people around!

2008-07-07T15:28:00.000-07:00

I have often feared idealistic people. They make me feel insufficient, uncomfortable and in summary, miserable. It is because, they make me realize where I need to improve, how I have been too lazy to get off my butt and put in the effort and see how far I can go. I have always taken shortcuts..I have always leaned on supports, always forgiven myself with fake reasons. I have never kept my words, never resolved my resolutions, never ever been happy with my results. It is ridiculous to even say "I" and "Idealism" in the same sentence unless it has "am-not-remotely-associated-to" in the middle.

But once in a while, when I am not full of myself, I get a rare vision of perfection for its own sake distanced from my banal comparisons. I see people around me, intelligent, talented, saintly in their existences, some what, yogis in their karmas.
They exceed their own limitations by the simple rule of giving-everything-they-possess-for-the -cause. They lose their boundaries from their skills. They lose them selves in their pursuits. Greed, vanity, conceit, have vaporized in melting out this pure gold. Whatever was superficial and carnal in their existence has burnt in the friction of them accelerating towards excellence.

To watch them do the things they do, is a pleasure so pure, that it is hard to be selfish, to compete, or compare, or even recognize your trivial existence in the presence of such perfection. I am glad that at least once in my self-obsessed while, I get to see a vision so sacred. Thank god for them. Above all, thank them.

Inner lies

2008-04-21T22:27:00.000-07:00

There are some things, (I won't call them facts or thoughts or beliefs) in my life that I hold so dearly close, that it will shatter my very foundations, if I were even to question their veracity.

For some people, it is THE truth. These are the people who just know things.. they are perfect colors, be it black or white or even beige. They live and die happily.

Then, there are some other people like yours truly, just do not identify with anything of a definite shade. They are just floating clouds of grey in the plasma of indecision. They desperately seek things to give them shape, color, meaning, identity.

For example, I can never question that there is hope. I can never question that there can be change. I cannot help but think that people can rise from their worst and improve. But you already can see, even as I write it, I would not have had to cling to these thoughts unless I had not already feared (perhaps even accepted) defeat.

I can see this in many other people around me too. People spend lifetimes clinging to things that they wont question for a moment because it is the dearest thing that they have. A self image that is closest to what they would want to be. Sheltering themselves from whatever the reality (whatever that means) is. Remarkable is the power of self delusion.
Is it worth a try to wipe this mirror clean? Why do we lie to ourselves? Why is truth so ugly?

30 today!

2008-04-07T20:26:00.001-07:00

I am 30 today, it may as well have been 40, 50, or anything like that.. or even zero years old for that matter. Nothing has changed really. Nothing ever seems to change. I am as helpless as the day as I was born. Unable to change myself or anything around me. Misery and Suffering are everywhere around me. I dont even have to turn and yo! it is grinning in my face. The only way I can handle them is by forgetting about them temporarily. I can understand why people need to get high, like never before.

If there is anyone called God, it is high time he showed some grace. Should it be really my helplessness and sorrow, that should make me start believing in such a thing? The other option being, have to face my utter pathos and inability to help anything or anyone. It is at these times.. that I wish there were a god.. and he would listen to me praying. I mean, the God, the creator of the Universe, shouldn't he have a more pleasing way to make people look towards him?

What do you know!

2008-01-23T09:38:00.000-08:00

I miss Kannada. I don't speak enough and I want to keep in touch with it. I am not a chest beating lobbyist. It has a unique vocabulary, that is insufficient in some aspects but has a most beautiful collection of words in some other aspects. I like my mother-tongue.

So, once in a while, I read a blog called churumuri. What is Churumuri? Well, the name is known to all Mysoreans. It is a delightfully light, crispy, spicy (read salty, tangy, hot), mouthwatering, closest-your-tongue-can-get-to-heaven evening snack. To me, that is how home would taste, if it were edible. It is exactly what I crave for. That is exactly, what you cannot make even with the finest ingredients from the US of A. Sorry, it is hard not to get distracted with a thought of churumuri.

Coming back to Kannada and the blog, I ended up noticing this song:

The lyrics are SO lovely, I haven't come across such original poetry in movie songs for a long while. I am happy I am in touch with Kannada! I tried to translate it, but English is not just sufficient.. dark-clouds can never sound and feel like "kaarmugilu", turmoil can never sound like "miditha" .. but for what it is worth, here it the translation:

The endless silence that my breath whispers in a monotone,
The colors of my dreams dissolve on the brim of eyes that overflow,

killing me, is a love that won't step into my heart's abode,
Lining the dark clouds of my mind is agony's rainbow..
A perennial solitude,that's what is love..

The endless silence that my breath whispers in a monotone,
The colors of my dreams dissolve on the brim of eyes that overflow,

The nectar that takes your life, Can you name it Love?
The disease that saves your soul, can you call it Love?
In the sheets of a golden dream, sleeping on a bed of thorns,
When a smile emerges at pain, when the tears in my eyes dry in vain,
chanting her name, that's what is love..

The nectar that chokes your soul, Can you name it Love?
The disease that saves your life, can you call it Love?

In the four words of a poem, can you describe the throes?
In the three notes of a sonnet, how do you let your heart flow?
A passionate song moans in a flooded throat,
A dead poem laughs in the sobs of an aching heart..
The master of loneliness, that's what is love..

Rewind: The revelation called New Delhi Railway Station.

2008-01-18T08:06:00.000-08:00

I am back from India. It was a hectic, unfinished trip. I was in pain, ill, tired most of the time. During the rest of the time, I was upset I was all that. I was with my family, with my father, and mother, and my sisters. I am happy I went. I will write about the things I felt strongly about whenever I find time.

We went on a lovely trip in Northern India. The trip took us from New Delhi to Haridwar, Rishikesh, JoshiMath and Auli. I got to see a tiny glimpse of the unbelievably magnificent Himalayas. I saw heart-stopping gut wrenching, car wrecking dangerous roads, and brave people cruising them elegantly. What I remember most is some unbelievable glimpses into human nature.

We began with a very traumatic escape from the Hyena-looking, very desperate taxi drivers. It seems like such a ridiculous thing looking back, but even then, I wouldn't wish it upon anyone to reach Delhi Railway Station without your cousin to pick you up from the platform. I hated New Delhi Railway Station. There is not a more dirty under-maintained over-abused place in the world. Beginning from the police, everyone looked like crooks, who wake up in the morning and decide that they will cheat anyone who will take it. Their hovering around you, their following you silently from one dirty corner to another, tens of them surrounding you, when you are just figuring out what you want to do, it is scary. We were begging them, asking them, yelling at them to leave us alone and then running away from them. It affected our psyche so much, we fought amongst ourself for silly reasons after that. My sisters, probably they anticipated such a deluge, dealt with it better than I did. But, still, I bet it left a scar on all our minds. I am not kidding you. We ended up being cheated by a taxi-crook anyway.

I was so overcome with my disgust for this aspect of human behavior, that I failed to protect my family from its trauma and just withdrew in to a silent hateful bitterness. I was disappointed to see myself transform from a earthy i-can-take-it desi to a scared-clueless prey. Well, it is not like I don't know that the desperation of seeking a livelihood can make people break down all norms of privacy and dignity. I guess I was secretly wishing it would not be divulged to me in such a ghastly fashion. I am scared now that I have been away from India for too long.....

One Perfect Sight

2007-11-20T21:28:00.000-08:00

On my way back from school today, I was walking up the hill to reach my apartment. My back was hurting due to my heavy backpack and I started walking slowly ..close to the play ground where kids of the community play. Just when I was passing it, one of the kids playing inside the fenced area, came running.. He had seen his mom park her car behind me. He yelled with the purest delight "mama! mama! mama!". He then talked excitedly about some thing in chinese.. she was answering him with equally loving voice. The boy was pulling the plastic bag she had in her hand to look what she brought for him. And the mom started talking with the grandma of the kid and so on..

But, what I wanted to record is, what I do not want to forget is, when the boy who was sufficiently occupied in playing, turned around and saw his mom, and came running, and was shouting "mama mama" and was eagerly banging the fence with his palms.. I just cannot write down how it felt. The happiness shined through his eyes.. the smile was so pure..and perfect..
This is by far, the happiest face I have seen.

Bad mood bitching

2007-10-02T21:22:00.000-07:00

My back is hurting. All the driving is taking its toll I guess. So, I take this unique opportunity to bitch against people who take me for granted. I hope I am mistaken, and there are genuine reasons for people behaving like they do, but the bottom line is I am pissed by people who take me for granted. Be it my time, my acceptance of mediocre behaviour, my patience, my help and things like that.
Case 1:
I don't like waiting. Irrespective of what pathetic a use I put my time to (when I am not waiting), I don't want to spend it waiting. Today, at 12:30 in the noon, I waited for a student who made an appointment with me to discuss some homework assignment, and did not show up. Not only did he not show up, he did not apologize when I met him in the class later. The cheek really!
It makes me think.....Was he so self-obsessed that it did not occur to him at all? I am pretty self obsessed myself but, I try to control the damages of my self-obsession affect very few people. Okay one people. My husband. So, I wonder.. what was he thinking.. Did he really think that he did me a favor by asking for my help? Just because I grin more often than necessary in the class, does it mean I will lap up any offer of contact with my oh-so-precious students? Did he think that he can get away with it, since I am so distant that I will not be forthright in expressing my discontent?What is it?
Case 2:
Also, I do not like people who think that since, I am generally nice, I will be quiet to any unfairness. One of my acquaintances just made a decision on my behalf and refused to acknowledge that I was left holding the sack and that what was done was unfair. So much so that I had to nudge, then ask and then fight about it. Since I have an inertia against raising hell in confrontational situations, people think I can be herded to any damn cowshed. Is it that people think any unfairness is OK as long as some one does not pull the corpse into the sun?
What is it?
Case 3, 4, 5,,, STOP:
I also hate people who basically expect help without even making the slightest of efforts to do things themselves. Add to that, people who will just assume that you are going to listen to hours of how bad their life is because they have only a 35 K and fully loaded BMW 3 series is above their reach. Worst are the people who think they are being cute when they ask help.. oh let us not even go there... My head is going to explode and the fountain of plasma will burn through my couch... We don't want that when our backs are hurting and our butts weep at the mention of hard-backed chairs... do we?

Although, at more level headed times, I tell myself that I should give people the benefit of doubt. I cannot possibly be objective in judging people, since I cannot really get inside their heads and read their preoccupations. Also, most of the times, I cannot tell off people because,... I don't know.. May be I am a chicken, or perhaps, I think I should not jeopardize my relations due to petty incidents. But, at the same time, I also wonder, how is it that such things as courtesy, fairness, and responsibility to commitments, etc. do not occur to people by nature. I don't know!! I am angry! I am angry because people are screwing with me.. and I am angry at myself at being so angry!

where did it all go?

2007-09-19T22:50:00.001-07:00

It is close to 1 AM. I am laying down on my stomach.. reading a paper while madhursangeet.com plays the sweet melody of "neend na mujhko aayein..".

I suddenly recall the cold nights that I used to spend on the terrace in our mysore home under the yellow light that dimly lit the terrace and pouring over my 10th (all the way to 2nd year Pre University) class notes. I remember the radio beginning my post dinner study at Chhayageet at 10 on vividh-bhaarati, to go to a national public radio kind of station that went on until 4 AM. I would wander among random morse-codes like things sometimes playing on short-wave. All kinds of news, classical music, western, chinese even turkish and russian music some times.. whatever the waves spilt on my shores were welcome in those lonely silent hours.

I would look at various neighbor's lights going on and off .. watch strangers' silhouettes going to bathrooms, getting a drink of water, smoking..and turning the lights off again. I remember some odd guy riding the bicycle on the street, I can hear the goorkha's eerie whistling and beating sticks at the stone-walk-in's of different front yards.. And mesmerizing tunes of Rafi... aasha bhonsle's sweet voice.. Hemant Kumar's melancholic calls.. and some times Karachi-radio's kawwalis.. I would immerse myself in their music.. digress.. but eventually, I would return to my notes looking yellow in the 60-watt bulb light in the dark night..
I miss the yellowish dark nights, I miss my terrace and my notes.. I miss me back then.
Where is all that gone?

I can drive between the two ends now!

2007-09-18T11:29:00.000-07:00

Although it is delayed information, I am delighted to share with the reader, that I can drive the car now. I carry a TX driver's license with me.. and I am not afraid to use it. Here are the perks:

I can drive without going on unstable transient oscillations of the steering wheel at every lane-change, (they are quasi-stable nowadays).
I can drive without shooting over to the oncoming traffic at every right turn.
I can drive now without having my white-hot nerves burst out of my skin.
I can drive without needing a psychiatric evaluation at the end of every point-A-to-point-B.

I ride the motorbike to school everyday, and drive every weekend to Houston for my conjugal visits :-). As you may know.. I lead a double life in every way. In Austin, I am a semi-hippie motorcyclist, In Houston, I sit on the passenger seat checking my hair and makeup. In Austin, I wake up in the morning or early afternoons to gulp cereal and speed to school. In Houston, I make sure the previous night that the dosa-dough dish has a plate underneath it so that it does not spill over on the counter! In Austin, I don't eat or I eat ice-cold-the-only-veggie-option-left-from-last-year greek wraps. In Houston, I discover new exotic spices and recipes to please my husbands gastrointestinal tract. I am a jobless-lazy-superficially-intelligent grad student on weekdays. On weekends, I am a narcissistic-insecure-possessive-extremely-house-wife-y spouse of my caring husband. On the wheels of my cooper, I love both the ends of my spectrum!!

Old mails..

2007-08-21T12:44:00.000-07:00

It scalds me from inside.. I am writhing on the floor..
I try to rub it off..The acid seeps in more..
If Macbeth saw my state, she would thank her good fortune..
Arabian perfumes can't hide the fleshy fumes..

Read old mails to relive, .. what my life has been..
Only this time, I know, what was really happening..
I don't have the coziness of what I believed..
All I have is how I had myself and the world deceived..

I don't have the warmth of self illusion and conscience fakes..
I don't have a chance in the world to undo my mistakes..
Not a single possibility of reinvesting my stakes..
There is no forgiveness, There are no second takes..

Your words leave no refuge.. I simply can't escape
Even now, poetry apart, your mails make me suffocate..
How I wish I had read your mails then, the way I read them today..
All I can do, is stare in hatred at my own dark silhouette..

Balaji and I

2007-06-27T11:55:00.000-07:00

I was in LA 2 weeks ago. My in-laws, their family, Prince, and I were in a car going to Universal studios and my friend Nagendra called me (or I returned his call perhaps) and he told me, "Of course you know Balaji right? He is no more. He committed suicide". I yelled at an appropriately
shocked tone (I suppose) "WHAT ?". I think I kept saying "ayyo.. ayyo.. shit..., anyaaya" and other appropriate exclamations for about 10-15 minutes.

I called a friend of mine to get me the number of Vamshi (a friend of me and Balaji from NIE). She searched through my mail and gave me his 2003 number . I tried in vain. I called her again.. she, this time, realized her mistake and gave me the 2007 number..
I called him.. Until then, I had not cried.. I cried a couple of drops..when i told him the news.
Vamshi said, "Shit, why did he do that?". I could only speculate about what the reasons could be
from our chat conversations a month ago.

He asked me, "How are you holding up?". I said (I think, ), "I am OK. Nagen told me just now, and I am in the f***ing  Universal Studios, it is ridiculous".  He said, "Dont beat yourself up
about it. It is done, nothing can be done about it now". The day went on amidst special effects
of Universal Studios, among rantings about which house featured in which Desperate
Housewives' episode, fire, flood and earthquake effects.
The blow was not bad. you know? I occasionally forgot about it.
I even laughed a bunch of times I think.

In the evening, when the show was over, it came back again.. I called Nagen and we talked
about Balaji and why he could have done this, and that, how he might have felt, etc etc etc.
The typical (I suppose) postmortem (no pun intended) of a disaster. I said to him,
"Nagen, it is such a shame, I feel so weird talking about him and his stuff with you..
what is even more embarassing is that such a close friend is gone, and I have not cried..
and it worries me that I am not affected by it as much as I thought I would be.
Not only that, I am even more ashamed that he is gone and all I can think about is,
how I am feeling, and how I am not feeling.. how self-centered does it get? ".
He like a good friend, annointed my self-doubt saying it was natural to question yourself
and it is sometimes not possible to cry for friends whom you have lost touch with ..
but it is not self-centered.

The thoughts came in and went out occasionally.. I tried to remember how he laughed..
I got some other laugh.. it was not his.. I tried to remember things about him..
I was and I still think I am strangely distant from his going away.

Once we came back from California.. one night, I sat and talked for hours about things Balaji did. when we were in college together.  He was an brilliant mind,
a confident person, excellent singer.. among many other things.
I sat on the floor, and sang that evening the song that he sang so perfectly,
still i did not feel much, but just a bit of sadness thinking that he is gone.

Yesterday, I had a dream.. it was actually a dream within a dream.
I dreamt that I was asleep and in my sleep, I dreamt that I was in Mysore.
I wanted to go to his house perhaps to offer my condolences to his parents.
when I went to his home, he was there.. I knew it was his spirits perhaps. he talked to me..
I dont remember for the world what he said to me. He made me go to the terrace of his house.
He patted to a corner on the parapet wall of the terrace, and asked me in his style, "kootko keerthi,".
I sat there balancing myself and feeling scared that I might fall. He talked a lot..
I dont remember anything.. but I do remember that he was peaceful.. may be even happy.
He pulled out from the attic a beaten up guitar. He started playing it ( I dont think he played any instrument other than occasional mridangam in his real life).
It was a strange guitar.. the moment he touched it, pleasant music started pouring out of it.
He talked for a long while.. he showed me from where he had a view of girls hostel..
we laughed.. I knew he was OK. He was not sad.. he was content.
I don't know what made me feel it, but I felt in my dream that everything was OK.
I climbed down the stairs of his ancient looking house, ( I have never been to his house in reality)..
and I came out without saying any condolences in his parents.

It was already midnight in my dream-within-dream, and I was clutching my heart like I had something precious in my hands
and I did not want to lose it and I was running among slums..
I saw some old-tired lady asking for help and another working-woman returning home refuse to help her.. and me making my way through clothes
hanging on lines and walking briskly to make it to safety.

Then I woke up from my dream-within-dream. I was still in the other dream mind you. Then suddenly, there was an avalanche of memories in my head.
I remembered how he used to hold his first two fingers opposing his thumb
and make scoops in air to prove an intricate point in his conversations.
I remembered how the words at the end of his funny sentences would float over his nasal voice.
Finally, at last, I remembered his laugh.
I remembered how his brows would knit and there would be a vertical wrinkle on his forehead
when he was  rejecting an idea for its stupidity.
I remembered how he would add the name of the person he was addressing at the end of his sentence.
Some times, he would say "hangallamma" or something like that like a typical kannadiga.
I remembered how he had the most perfect set of teeth when he laughed.
And a straight nose capable of many emotions on its own.
How he rarely wore t-shirts, mostly stuck to shoes+half-sleeve-shirts+belt (Oh yeah, he did have a dark-green plain round-neck t-shirt).
I remembered how he would blush when people called him Tommy and
teased him about a girl in the class.
How he would offer occassional loopholes for people to tease him.
I cant recall all the things now, but in my dream, It was a deluge of memories.
In my dream, I thought, OH SHIT.. I am going to be awake in a while and forget all this..
and I need to remember this .. this is his true memorial. I need to write it down. I remembered Balaji in all my honesty, and I missed him.

Then I woke up..

The story of a wave

2007-05-19T21:31:00.000-07:00

No! It is not enough that the waves pass by the shore..
The open arms of my surf forever come back for more..
I don't want to see what the blue horizon has in store..
My realm seems to end, right here, at your door..

Deafening roar I may, But, I cant speak out a word..
The tempest in my mind.. has my speech slurred..
The sigh in every storm..is still echoing unheard..
The Life in waiting of death..the gap is all too blurred..

Perhaps this time, My Shore, the tide wont pull us apart..
Perhaps this time, My Earth, I won't trample your heart..
May be If I hold on to you..I can redo from the start..
I cling to your loose sands... while once again, I depart..

Is it wrong?

2007-05-10T22:48:00.000-07:00

I was listening to Mehndi Hassan today.. while working on my term project.. I heard the verses
"mere zindagee ke maalik, mere dil pe haath rakhnaa.. , tere aaney ke khushee mein, meira dum nikal na jaayein! Mein nazar se pee rahaa hoon yeh samaa badal na jaayein..Na uthaao tum nigaahein, kaheen raath dhal na jaayein".. such beautiful words full of love..I agree it is not the soul-to-soul deep-emotional-bonding that he is talking about, the poet. He is talking about romance in typical urdu poetic style.. One can almost say it is cheesy.. But, that is not what I was thinking about.. I was thinking about what happens in peoples' mind when they are in love.. when they feel so strongly.. when the cheesy cliched words *feel* like the perfect things to say..I thought about how it felt to fall in love.. It is really intoxicating..It is probably the strongest emotion I have ever felt.. and believe me, I am capable of some strong emotions.. I wonder if others feel like this too.. when you settle down.. but you miss the unsettledness.. when you are blissfully satisfied.. but silently crave for ecstasy.. I wonder..

I want to go back... to the days of my first romance..
To the slow-breathing, heart-racing, trance..
Sweet caressing,with no-hands-touching dance..
when worlds were made or shattered with a fleeting glance..

I remember of times when I would float in the clouds
when your look, I imagined, undressed me in the crowds..
I remember how I sank in to the dark deep abyss
and when you went past me not knowing any of this..

When I searched for private messages in any common phrase..
When bumping in to you set my skin and thoughts ablaze..
When you and I, and I and you, were in our own secret maze..
Running, yet chasing, hiding yet seeking, oh! our never-ending race

Back when every rain made rainbows with colors in perfect blends..
Back when me and my ideal self were still good friends..
Back when world was full of purity, possibilities, and happy ends..
Dreams didn't compromise.. and expectations didn't make amends..

My days, nowadays are relentless what-ifs
My nights toss and turn in unanswerable whys
Is walking on a plain better than a fall off the cliffs,
When you have had that one blissful soar to the skies?

Well, I had lost, and I am even, what now, do I expect to gain?
Why do I want the roller coaster of pleasure and pain?
Is the wait beyond contentment, for exhilaration in vain?
Is it wrong to wish to fall in love again?

Gone!

2007-05-02T08:12:00.000-07:00

My Toshiba Laptop and my Apple Powerbook are both gone..
Stolen from my apartment..
I hate it.. I have cried the whole of yesterday night..
I dont know what to do.. I have all my memories in it.. I have all kinds of pictures .. and documents in it.. I HATE to lose it..

I dont know what to do .. I am miserable and dont know how to get back.. There is no relief..

Another day in Project work.... another treasure hunt

2007-04-04T16:47:00.000-07:00

Well... you know those times? when you are supposed to be doing something else? and you are doing something else? (like reading this stuff when you could come up with at-least 20 things that you would be better off doing?).. I had one of those times.. and I went on hunting for ghazals.. and I ran in to ..rather clicked in to (Gee, I wish there was a smart-ass word to rephrase that) this site for urdu lovers: http://www.aligarians.com . I loved the site and I am going to be visiting them often. Here is a gem of a ghazal I found there... written by Jigar Muradabadi, and here is a rendition by Begum Akhtar

In case you are too lazy to go to that site, here is the ghazal:

tabiiyat in dinoN be-gaana-e-Gham hotii jaatii hai
mere hisse ki goyaa har Khushii kam hotii jaatii hai
qayaamat kyaa! ye ai husn-e-do-aalam hotii jaatii hai
ke mehfil to vohii hai, dilkashi kam hotii jaati hai
vohii mai-Khaana-o-sahbaa, vohi saaghar, vohii shiishaa
magar aavaaz-e-nushaanosh maddham hotii jaatii hai

(mai-Khaana-o-sahbaa : tavern and the wine; saaghar : goblet; shiishaa : glass; nushaanosh : ?)

vohii hai shaahid-o-saaqii magar dil bujhtaa jaataa hai
vohii hai shammaa lekin raushnii kam hotii jaatii hai

(shaahid : witness; saaqii : cup-bearer)

vohii hai zindagii lekin “Jigar” yeh haal hai apnaa
ke jaise zindagii se zindagii kam hotii jaatii hai

Here is what I think this poem intends to say:

My spirits, is benumbed to sadness little by little, of late..
It feels like my share of every bliss is shrinking, little by little , of late.. .

Apocalypse? To me, this seems like the beauty of both worlds..
Although the crowd is the same, i feel the charm withering little by little, of late..

It is the same tavern, the wine and the very same glass..
But the murmur of splash seems muffled little by little, of late..

It is my same old cohort, serving me, but my heart suffocates..
It is the same old candle by the light seems to dull little by little, of late,

Life is still the same, but Jigar, My state has come to this..
that, the very life in my life seems to diminish little by little of late..

It is hard for me to even bring out a small fraction of the gradual and painful decline of the spirit of life that he is describing.. English simply fails me.. I wish that I was equipped with better faculty than translation to share the feelings I get when I read these verses..

Translation of an Anonymous Shaayar's Kalaam.

2007-03-29T16:28:00.000-07:00

Sitting by yourself, alone, don't keep thinking..
These thoughts will take your life.. don't keep thinking..

A couple of moments of love is good for life..
about truths and lies... don't keep thinking..

It abandons you in the scorching sun..
Why so this shadow.. don't keep thinking..

Curbing your true self that wishes to be,
What is it you achieved, don't keep thinking..

One whose destiny is to take your life..
It will kill you any ways, don't keep thinking..

Another Gem by Ahmed Faraz

2007-03-18T21:55:00.000-07:00

Phir isee raahguzar par shaayad
Hum kabhee mil sakein magar....shaayad

Jinke hum muntazir unko..
mil gayein aur humsafar shaayad..

ajnabeeyat ki dhund chhat jaayein
chamak utthein teiree nazar.. shaayad.

Jaan pehchaan se bhee kyaa hoga
fir bhee ae dost gaur kar shaayad..

Jo bhee bichardey woh kub miley hai Faraz,
Fir bhee tu intezaar kar .... shaayad..!!

A most touching and delicate rendition by Ghulam Ali .. which brings out the pain and the desperation of a dying hope .. A hope of redemption..of love.. of return to life..
This song brought out an unshed tear hidden in for a long time!

Thank God for Ghulam Ali and Faraz!

Some one has gotta stop this..

2007-03-14T15:28:00.000-07:00

The kind of rubbish lyrics have been written in Hindi movies ... Do you ask me what else did I expect????
I know.. I understand that there is a LOT of stinking pile of crap on that lot...... but... such lovely music goes straight to the drain..
Songs with good music... how can dum- asses be allowed to sit there and fit crude and unpolished words in to harmony and rhythm.. when all they can think of is the cliched GIGOs over and over and over and over again! Oh GOD!! It is almost sad .. that I am not immune to the disgust that they create every time..EVERY TIME, EVERY FREAKIN TIME, my brain cells fry in their own heat..and become some what similar to a grey migas in a cheap mexican restaurant... I almost always end up thinking about how many beautiful things could have filled the void between music and lyrics..

Here are some of the songs that I SO BADLY ITCH TO make nicer lyrics for (in no particular order of hatred):

1. Sazaa-e-Kaala paani
2. Every song of Hum dil de chuke sanam (I HATE .. ABSOLUTELY DETEST THE way in which 5 syllable words are filled in to places where hardly 2 can go)
3. Rangeela (oh DONT even TRY to get me started on this)
4. Bombay (2-3 songs at the least)
5. I cant think any more... I am choking on my bile..

Where is the happiness?

2007-03-07T15:31:00.000-08:00

Where is the bliss in life?

No sweet smiles.. No fascinating adventures.. No beautiful stories..
Just routine.. mundane.. daily misery..

Good people suffering.. my friends and family in pain..
Not of existence.. but of futility of existence..

Why can't mind be controlled to ABSOLUTELY LOVING what we have .. so that it never feels the lack of something? Is the bliss of having the same as of not having and not realizing?

How can I help? What can I do?

Why isn't there a shortcut to living life? Why isn't there a bridge ?at least for those who don't know how to swim through?

All I can do is .. pray for the good .. and hope that there is a God up there to listen..

el voz de llanero llama me!

2007-02-16T13:00:00.000-08:00

Well you know, I am studying... and I am listening to music while I am studying..
And now a days I listen a lot to musica espanola (pronounced espanyola) ..
It is weird.. that when I listened to that language in music.. it brings back a flood of memories..

of infinite trips between ciudad Ojeda and Maracaibo.. that would never end.. I would listen to the music.. and feel drowsy.. until I was close enough to the Maracaibo bridge traffic jam.. and my driver took a toilet break right... until some vendor tried to interest me into his merchandise through my taxi window.. and then ..

Of the trips to Merida, canaima and other lovely places.. when the radio of some shop on the road side would narrate the story of his daily routines and supposedly funny (although indecipherable) tales..
I suddenly recalled the tunes that are very local to Venezuela.. the voices of llaneros.. (the llanos (pronounced yanos) are the savannah plains..llaneros, the men of the plains).. their voice was so simple.. their guitars were very small and colorful.. and they had nothing but that guitar of 4 strings.. and bongo drums.. and singing on and on.. not much variation to the tune.. but still.. it was nice to listen to an old man sing..
This brought back the memories of the bus trip from North Venezuela to its southern tip.. Our trip to trek to Roraima.. On the way, due to heightened security (since the drug mafia had killed the military heads daughter) we were subjected to a search and passport verification all along the way .. made to get down in the dead of the night every 2 hours or so.. We were tired dry by the trip .. and exhausted due to lack of sleep.. and it was cold to get down from the bus at 3 am.. and we were scared of the guardia... (the national guards equivalent).. because they are famous for taking law in to their own hands ever so often.. In this state of exhaustion, anger, annoyance, fear and drowsiness,,, the only sense of normalcy in the situation .. was .. the tune of the llanero..

And now that I am listening to their voices again...the drowsy coffee breaks.. the half-yellow-lit high-way side restaurants/cafes/memorabilia shops..and the dirty toilets sin papel, the venezolanos who were curiously throwing sideways glances.. and the aching sleepless bodies, along with... the thrill, the unexplainable sense of being the absolutely tied-loose (of any sense of security or turf knowledge) stranger in the place.. the fear..and yet the joy of being so close to unbelievable natural beauty..everything.. comes back to memory... and i feel that the best part of my life probably just went past me.. and here i am sitting in a coffee shop whose brown paper-cups.. has an old map of Venezuela on it!

what is in a dream?

2006-12-15T09:05:00.000-08:00

I had a dream yesterday.. you and I.. we were together..
I was at your home.. walking around like it had been mine forever..
You had accepted me in your arms.. I dont know what that meant..
I was not in heaven.. I was not ecstatic.. I was just ... content..

Your friends were talking to me, like they knew who we were..
I felt like I belonged there more than I belonged any where..
There was the kindness in your eyes, that comes out of pure love..
Then, I woke up..thinking, I dont deserve what you can bestow..

What is in that dream that I dont forget it like the rest?
Why the craving to clutch the twigs in the tempest?
Is it the hope of a wish that is impossible?
Is it the wish of a hope that is just invincible?

I wake up and I see your memory afloat..
And my breath tightens a death grip on my throat..
It has been years that you are gone..
Why dont I want you to leave me alone?

Lethargy

2006-12-12T13:41:00.000-08:00

Here I am..

Motivated by looking at great men ..
I am dreaming the dream of being some one I look up to..
What am I doing towards it?
I sit around .. most of the time.. like the time spent sitting, is worth its own while..
Doing the do's of gaining knowledge..only when the needs call..
Listening for ideas to spawn..hoping for a better tomorrow...
waiting for things to happen.. sometimes just waiting..

feeling worse and worse by the days? weeks? months? or I have lost track of time ?
and of course .. blogging about it!

I don't know where I am going..
I don't know if that is where I want to go..
But on the other hand, where would I rather go?
Would it be to a place that makes me better for the lazy-ass I am?
Should I rather go to a less demanding place.. where just my "natural charm" will earn me money? hah!

Why? I am doing things that make me feel better about myself..aren't I? (or so I believe). I have actually reached a place where pleasing some random set of people whom I care to please, is far gone (or has it become so seamless that I think that I am my own boss even when I am being lead by others?). This to the best of my knowledge(or ardent belief) is the thing I want to do with my life.

But, I am not working.. I am avoiding work.. I am scared of being mediocre as always.. but that doesn't force me to improve either. When things are going so that I understand them, and see a point, it is all fine. But, the moment, there is a ramp required in my learning, a ramp that requires me to breath harder and climb, I would rather let my inertia take over. I am not remotely inspired by complications and intricacies of the hoops that I need to go through in order to master anything.. I am not ready to put in the effort.. and what I want is just the fruit of it..And nothing less will please me!

Yeah yeah, I know it is every one's story..

To me, it is *MY* snowflake!

I dont love any one!

2006-12-01T09:36:00.000-08:00

This is what I have realized.. I am too selfish to love any one too dearly! And I am not ashamed of it at all! Nope, this is not the exam time depression speaking.. This is not loneliness induced obsession speaking.. This is not any kind of pre-or-post MS speaking..This is no cynical philosophical BS speaking.. Yessir! this is plain old keerthi. original uncut version.

I do all the loving gestures to people.. I care for them.. I do things that they will like/ be happy about. But, I don't love them.. I just love the feeling that I get when I do these things.. The smiles, the thank yous.. oh yes the thank yous (I will talk about this later) and similar responses make me happy. I don't care about them.. I care about myself..I do the right things to instill the right responses.. and then Voila! Experiment is a success! I don't care about the guinea pigs any more!

Another equally important reason for me doing the things that I do, other than the experiment being a success is the impression that I create. Oh my god! Do I EVER run behind impressions! I am SO PERENNIALLY confused between what I am doing for myself and what I am doing for the impression of it, I don't even know when I am faking emotions! I dont like my husband if he does not reciprocate the love I give him.. I don't like people who take favors from me and are not grateful.. so much so that... the whole thing loses its value for me.

It is a tango.. if the other person doesn't dance along, the whole fun is gone! I dont care about ni-swaartha prema! I want what I want.. if you can give it to me, fine.. or else .. I dont care about you!

There is something terribly wrong!

All this and I have a lot of free time on my hands to write all this BS about! hurray ! my life rocks!

Attention? Appreciation ? Flattery? Validation?

2006-11-29T17:33:00.000-08:00

I want to be my own boss..
I want to do what I like to do..
I DONT want to care about any one else's opinion/wish/judgement..
These are my favourite lines.. Or atleast I think I pretend they are.

Then WHY ?
Why why why the hell does it matter so damn-freaking-much to me what some people think? Although, this domain of people affecting my value is not big, It is still NON-ZERO.
I hate it.
I hate it.
I hate it.

Stupid-hollow lines of flattery from these people make my skin glow, make me grin like a freaking dumbass!
And when this group does not recognize what I do, It makes me angry, it makes me frustrated, I hate their taste, I hate their lack of interest in me..
So, much so, although sometimes, I regain my composure quickly, I do feel like everything I do is worthless! YEAY !! kudos to my self-esteem!!

About Borat

2006-11-23T22:47:00.000-08:00

This is amazing. How people can pay and watch a guy crapping about people/countries/races/cultures.. It is weird and morbidly fascinating at the same time.
I saw the movie.. I thought that the idea was novel.. and quite smart.. but why does the quality of entertainment have to plunge SO low in order to entertain people? why does every show nowadays have to be a freak show?
Ofcourse no one would be entertained by uneventful movies.. but you dont have to exploit the cheapest sense of humour in order to make people..

The idea of the movie shows that clearly, the cleverness has not died.. but still it needs the crutches of below the belt action to keep the money rolling in.
THe idea could have been used to address/mock the supposed "american ignorance" about issues that are really worth issuing. I can imagine a million awkward questions that can be asked about their knowledge in communism, foreign affairs, the people's ignorance about other countries.. it did not HAVE to be "sexy time" with mother in law or carrying potty in to a dinner.. Indecency ruined the idea and the point of the movie.

I dont know.. I am deeply disturbed by the movie.. and sad that a whole country not only accepts the cheapness but rewards the guy with millions of dollars... Prince says that different people.. different tastes.. and so why am i bothered? I dont know.. I cant quite put my finger on it.. but it is disturbing.. very disturbing..

Hey some pics

2006-11-20T20:20:00.000-08:00

Although i was limping all the time due to my bad knee, this motor bike show was very enjoyable. we got to saw some of the sexiest bikes on earth.. also, we got to see some of the most weathered riders.. and some of the strongest cult followings.. It was cute that men and women of all ages are huddling up in same colored t-shirts and pins and weird regalia.. they were cute, and yet spooky. There were some men who were 50 or so and looked like they could live another hundred before complaining of a cold! They sat on REALLY over sized bikes..and the bikes seemed to humble (if there is a verb like that) some how! Here are some pictures..

From It is Che time!

This is one aspect of America that is really attractive to me..

You are my wings..

2006-11-09T17:56:00.000-08:00

Come with me my dearest,
I want to fly a world with you..
I want to swerve the gorges,
soar the heights, build a nest with you..

I want to huddle on a damp branch
watch the rain fall on your plumes..
drops trying vainly to soak you soft..
and then, I want to plunge in to the small clear puddles
and shake the drowsy numbness off

I want to watch from heights the world playing,
tiring, and sleeping after the day..
I want to hop a little, skip a little,
hope a little, for the home that we share..

Out in the wild, with you by my side,
feeling at home,in the endless skies
curled up by your fire, fuzzy with laze,
still feeling the freedom in your eyes..

About what C says

2006-10-18T12:07:00.000-07:00

C is one of my friends whose opinion I value very much. Probably THE person whose opinion I value. I listen to him.. I argue with him.. I put my points and wait for him to respond..and I accept what he has to say if I find it sensible.. COMPLETELY and wholesomely I accept it..if it strikes to me as sensible.Today, I talked to him about a friend who is very passive atleast in the physical sense of the word.

She feels her life is something that she has to go through.. When I ask her, what is it that motivates her to keep going.. if everything that is going "on" in her life, is something that she has to go "through".. She says, " I dont know, and I dont spend time thinking about it". I asked her, why is she sad.. and how can she just surrender to being sad all the time.. Why cant she buckle up and fight it rather than just let it be.. She said it is like this.. there are many people in the world who dont know where their life is going.. They are not in LOVE with where it is going, but they are just not sad enough for them to do something about it. There is a general sense of dissatisfaction with work, with companions, with everything around them.. but it is not bad enough that they need do something about it.

I tried to tell her, Get up! wake up and try to do things that keep your mind OFF of such things.. The things that build up within your mind and you cant get it out of your mind, unless you fill your mind with stuff so that, you can literally smoke these thoughts out of your mind.. Like pumping water in to a well untill the silt rises up. She said "yes, yes, I completely agree with you" .. Although she said that, I got the feeling that my saying all this would have been more useful infront of a tone-deaf .. rather than her. I felt that the only reason that she was saying "yes, yes" was just to shut me up from further talking.. She did not consider my advice worth even a logical consideration.. She did not argue against it, she did not put the idea on a level ground against what she has right now.. and let them fight.. her idea and mine.. She just gave a decent goodbye to that idea, even before it arrived..

I was mad, sad and hurt. I thought, since her system of thinking is not working for her, the least she could do is try to see if there is any sense in mine..atleast try to give me a reason as to why she thinks my idea is not worth implementing.. or do SOMETHING..
I wanted her to pay attention so badly, not to me.. but to my idea. Not because it was MY idea, but just because her idea is not working for her.. I was hurt that I am incapable of saying anything to her that will actually help her. I was sad that she will never try out anything that I have to say.. and she will continue to be sad..

I told all this to C. I told him about everything.. and I said, why cant she even *CONSIDER* the possibility that it might be worth paying attention to.. I asked him, "Is this all I can do? just wait around seeing her waste away?"..

He said, he is somewhat like my friend, and he can understand where she is coming from. He said, "Her passivity might be the result of her having already thought of what you suggested and considered it not worth her while". He said "Most of the times, I dont seek other's opinion to solve my problem.. I think that If I cant solve my problem, any body can come up with something DRASTICALLY revolutionary in comparison to what I have already thought, that can help me solve the problem inspite of the constraints that I have". In that way, he says, my suggestions are probably going to be nothing that great or revolutionary paradigm, that will bring miracles in to effect. I said, "well, when your method is not working, say for example, in a math problem: u have used everything that u know and you cant arrive at a solution, the least you can do is consult someone, who has been through things like this before. May be he/she not an expert, but if there is an alternative path to be tried out, why not give it a shot?". He said, if I dont heed to what others have to say, it is mostly because he has already thought of it, and disposed it as useless.. In that sense, any advise given to him, would be redundant.

I asked him, "then is that it? how do you get to a solution?". He said in his case, "luck". I said, " I am asking any one to start implementing other's suggestion without considering its merit. But,atleast hear me out".
He said, "well what is the use, if you are going to say the samething which doesnt work for me?". So people who cant suddenly shift in paradigms of thinking,(which is most people in general), will have to just wait for life to shower them with solutions. Or, wait for luck to make some switch go off in their head, which makes them change their point of view.. so that they will think of doing things differently. I asked him, "So, all I can do is wait around and let her suffer, and not say anything until she figures it out in her own sweet time". He said, "well, you should keep putting alternative thoughts in her mind, whether she receives them or not, because when she wants to get out of her loop, she will have your offerings to choose from".

NOTHING THAT I SAY WILL HELP ANY ONE! They all have to figure things out on their own.. so I should shut up. once and for all.

Non Markovian Mind

2006-10-12T17:10:00.000-07:00

I feel like I have to go back to past. My current state of mind, is completely dependant on history. I feel like I have to go back.. unearth all the dead and burried,the decaying and the dried up. I feel I have to soak them in water and bring life in to them..Shake them, ask questions.. get answers.. set it ALL right..in black and white.
For good or for bad, I need the truth.. I need to find the truth, and then I can burn all the corpses... The shraaddha of past..and launch the ashes in to oblivion..
I want burn the leper wounds that stick to me .. and eat in to me day after day..I want them gone.. I want to make a fresh start.

I want to come back and make a fresh start. Past is heavy.. unerazable.. and moving is hard. Raising my eyes to look ahead hurts every time. The intensity does not go down
no matter how when or what..

Another evening at random .. Napflio, Greece

2006-09-15T13:07:00.000-07:00

This is one more of the posts.. that I promised myself I will finish some day.. and since the homework is due on monday, now seems to be the perfect time to finish another installment!

If I were to owe my life, my happiness, my admiration, my sense of pride, and my reverence to a man, two men actually, it would be to my father, C.N. Nagaraj a.k.a Daasaru (to his reverant desciples), and my advisor Dr. Aristotle Arapostathis a.k.a Ari (to his reverant desciples). I could write songs about them..(dont worry I wont get in to that right now).. I could just watch them go through their daily lives.. (doing Sandhyavandana, or having a smoke (respectively their most favorite activities)) and feel exhilerated.. feel satisfied with my life because I caught a glimpse of it..They are the men, I wish to live up to some day... perhaps ...

Ok, not getting too distracted, Aristotle Arapostathis is my supervisor.. One of the most brainy people in the world (from whatever I have seen of the world). He is also, a coffee, wine, cigarette, music, Mac, standard transmission driving, stochastic systems geek among other things! Dr. M. K. Ghosh, (close friend of Dr. Ari from IISc) mentioned to Wei so knowingly.. that Dr. Ari is one professor who has never outgrown his bachelor's student enthusiasm! I think that every one who knows him will agree ! He was born in Athens..and the fountain of culture, class, knowledge, that vibrant LIFE, that spurts out of Athens, finds it channel through him .. in every which way..

Actually, that whole last paragraph was a distraction.. but anyways, we met Ari in Athens. We told him, we planned to go to Delphi, (overnight stay) Drive to Olympia( another night ) (third day undecided)and then take a ferry to the volcanic island Santorini. He in his wise greek fashion, with a thick accent said.. You MUST .. ABSOLUTELY MUST go to Napflio.. waving his hand like he is spinning a key chain at the end of his forefinger (that is his style).. he said "I strongly recommend it" .. We thought why not !

As per his emphatic advice, we did not stay overnight in Olympia, instead drove a killing 6 hours to reach Napflio.. I say killing because, on the map provided by greece tourism center, they say, the road from Olympia to Napflio via the village Tripoli, is a highway.. YEAH RIGHT !! it is about 10 feet at its widest.. and it (i swear) really goes half a foot next to some of the most vertical earth-cracked-open cliffs of the earth !! Prince is one of the safest drivers on earth.. to whom, driving comes naturally.. Watching him drive is like watching a gracefull ballet dancer.. and HE WAS SWEATING in fear of losing control!! and believe me .. that says a REAL LOT about the terrain !

yada yada yada, we reached Napflio. Oh my god !! What a delightful place it was !! It was about to rain.. so all the amazing things you hear about the Greek bluest seas and beaches, were ALL THE MORE TRUE about it's blue-green-greys too !! I wont say more.. i am too lazy to type.. + anything I say can only be de-meaning to the beauty the place holds ! To any one who is willing to take an advice, GO TO NAPFLIO AND SEE IT FOR YOURSELF !!

2006-09-15T13:06:00.001-07:00

All the evening, we manouvered through the unbelievable deep gorges of Pelopenes to reach Napflio, Dr. Ari's favourite city in Greece.. It is a feast to your eyes, your skin, your nose ..and to your heart ! .. the breezy, blue, heaven :) Dr. Ari told us it had served as capital of Greece for a while in history.. Now, it is the rich Athenians weekend getaway.. whatever it is, we fell in love with it, the moment we parked in the public parking spot in the Port of Napflio.. Oh Napflio.. How I love you!

2006-09-15T13:06:00.000-07:00

The view of the fort right in front of our balcony.. this cute, small fort is on an island not bigger than a house plot in Austin.. and it proudly stands there.. against the background of the rugged, feel-nothing blueish grey mountains..and in the middle of the undescribable hue of blue and green and orange(!) sea.. it looked .. content!

2006-09-15T13:05:00.000-07:00

It was one of those evenings when it is ALL ready to rain.. winds are already carrying the smell of dry earth soaking in the fresh wetness somewhere,... NOT here, but some where expectantly close :) .... every tree is waving.... a grand welcome to the clouds.... But then, rain is pompous, and is just playing hide and seek... Now you see me! now you dont ! although we were DEAD tired, we walked around the city...... it was a place full of secrets...each alley a delicious fortune cooky.. each corner turning in to a cheery peek-a-boo... and everywhere, people seemed so happy ! we roamed untill our feet could take it no more ( i am going to be saying a lot of this sentence.. when describing my trip to europe ! )

2006-09-15T12:41:00.000-07:00

We walked back to the street where our hotel was. The street is bordering the sea.. but it has many many restaurants with hotels on top floors.. All these restaurants seat their winers and diners, right on the street beneat their huge huge tents .. Now each restaurant has a central walking aisle.. and on the two sides of the aisle, there are many many cozy couches. On one side, all the couches face the sea... and on the other, all the couches face the HUGE TV screens... I guess this was an arrangement to accomodate FIFA ! but it was lovely... we ate a pizza (Prince is strictly against testing unknown terrains in alien food .. i dont know why) .. It (sorry to all the italianos) is the best pizza i have eaten so far ! And it has this cute cute greek flag on it ! we watched the game .. I cant quite remember who was playing who.. but it was lovely ! and I remember calling amma to tell her in very very .. shaky voice with cold .. as to how incredible this place was.. almost like a dream.... and she listened... attentively (inspite of the fact that i woke her up at 4 AM .. I was always confused about what time it was in India when i was in europe).. and said.. "idu ninna adrushta kaney"

Quicksand

2006-09-13T21:32:00.000-07:00

To each, their own battles, Every one is fighting alone..
If you are lucky, it is your victory, if not,your own head stone..

I sweat every day to unearth my treasure of dreams..
I am burried in by the night, left alone to hear my screams..

I try to scrape off the scab, to make the scars disappear..
Darn! I tear too hard, and out in the open is my fear..

I run to a corner, close my eyes.. Perhaps I wont see it any more..
I am locked in with the monster.. no use banging the door..

What do I do, whom should I call? who will give me a hand?
Loathing my helplessness, I whine, I sink in my own quicksand ..

1 random morning

2006-09-11T15:53:00.000-07:00

I am really tired of waiting for the right time to organize and edit and summarize the trip of europe..I am TOOOOOOO lazy and too guilty that I would be wasting time ( although i do other equally useless things all the time.. )

So here are some pics .. randomly chosen dates and times (of the day).. My blog will be as random and non-chronological and chain-reaction like.. as my current memory of my trip is.

The day I have chosen is ...(camera says so) July 25th 2006. One day in Germany.. We had driven all evening the previous day .. through German Alpine Road. We had really under-estimated the real meaning of what appeared to be a few "jagged lines " on the map..It turned to be a real roller coaster..and when I forced Prince to stop before we completed the entire journey to Fussen (with the u with 2 dots above it), it was not the beauty of the place but, to find a hotel just so that I can puke in to it's sink! And we thanks to our lucky stars, found this gem of a hotel..As usual, I dont remember its name.. but I do remember how it looked like.. it had a bunch of old really old trunks and old chests of drawers all around it..and its breakfast place had a disturbingly large number of stuffed birds.. (i mean the ones hunted down and stuffed with preservatives to look real.. not the happy and snuggly baby toys). So we chose this hotel..and said yes to the hotel runner .. and came out and found (not so much to our surprise) that it was double the price of a hotel in the next block.. I did not care .. I wanted to puke.. So, between the yes to the hotel runner, and the white marble of the sink, I consoled myself about the high price (from whatever we could make out in the hazy, fog covered view)..thinking that this hotel opened to the lake. Most of the previous night, went in keeping my food down. In between the self sympathizing whines, I told princy, we can make good by enjoying a good walk in the morning by the lake.

The next morning, we opened the porch door, we had this heavenly green lake surrounded by the giant alpine ranges.. It is called weissensee.. I think that means white lake.. I have forgotten my german..so much so that, all my recollections of meanings of words turned out (to my embarassment) to be the harvest of my fertile imagination! Anyways.. That is the lake..

All the time when we were there, the birds went round and round and in random patterns shaking the crystal clear water in to beautiful patterns..

I have taken about 15 pictures of this view.. and still could not feel that I have captured really how it looked and felt..

There were these guys who were in this motor driven rubber boat.. and one guy went in to take measurements.. and the other guy kept writing it down.. seemed pretty serious research.. How I could kill to make system theory research to include such activities!

And then, when we walked further, we found this guy sitting there on the chair facing the lake (not clearly visible in the pic) .. after a refreshing (not to mention cold) swim, .. just sitting there.. eating his oatmeal and sipping his coffee... WHAT A PERFECT MORNING!
How the day progressed... I will blog some other time (when my guilt for the past 1.5 hours of blogging disappears.. )

Another look at future

2006-05-30T17:54:00.000-07:00

I am watching out of the window...
Hopes are torn bit after bit after bit..
The tears well up and almost spill..
And go back pondering the futility of it.

The breeze of the sea hits me with passion..
My hair and clothes flutter to the force..
Who can blow the breath of life into the soul..
Who can come in through those sealed doors..

The corpse being shred open by vultures..
Still keeps staring at the skies..
Look not here for its all gory red..
Look up at the blues .. there the future lies..

Memories arent kind..

2006-05-18T22:19:00.000-07:00

It is one of those days..

When things are peaceful, and waters are still..
There is whirlpool inside..circling.. ready to kill..
When will I stop struggling for breath? when will I reach the shore?
When will all be gone? Why wont it be like before?

Why cant I stop looking back.. Why is that my favourite place?.
Why do I feel that I have to retry.. redo..retrace..
Why cant I look up, at the horizons ahead and fly?
why wont the tears I shed.. let my wings dry?

when past seems perfect .. and future seems dull..
When memories beg closure .. and hope feels null..
Oh I want to sleep.. I want to close my eyes and mind..
But these memories of you... they have never been so kind..

I think of you ....

2006-05-15T15:35:00.000-07:00

Now that you're gone, I think of you... often.. at innopportune moments..and random times..
I think of you ....often..with my passing life...in happy moments and heavy sighs..

Let me see .. what do I think of you?

I think of your fingers.. how they were short, strong... typing..like dancing a religious dance..
I think of your posture..tired and wrong... yet ready to pounce at the slightest chance...

I think of your smile... softly burning...of vile mischief yet innocent mirth..
Your laugh..teasing the sadness to laugh along ..like death of one hope is another one's birth..

I think of your eyebrows.. dark and knit..to run the tips of my fingers on...
I think of your palms to cup my eyes.. to shut it all away .. make it be gone.....

I think of your voice.. so soft..like a child..It was always right in what it said..
saying to my conscience to follow the truth but, my dear do you know? it was always dead..

I mourn.. I sigh.. I turn around..to face the oncoming storms and fights
I think of you my love, in sad solitude, as well in the not so lonely nights..

Memoirs of the Margarita Isles.... (The pearl of the Carribean)

2006-05-14T11:50:00.000-07:00

The following are pics that me and my friends, David and Rodrigo took in our tour to Margarita way back in March.. I found the time to put them up now..

2006-05-14T11:41:00.000-07:00

When the spirits are on fire.......

2006-05-14T11:38:00.000-07:00

Every one is invited !

2006-05-14T11:34:00.000-07:00

El sapo.. the pondering frog

2006-05-14T11:28:00.000-07:00

What is a tour of a place with out buying the junk ! I bought all kinds of coral/shell jewelry that i will never wear again !

2006-05-14T11:23:00.000-07:00

The congrejo de brazo azul ( it is not the binomial nomenclature.. just me saying blue armed crab in spanish).. there were many of these beauties in El Restingo

2006-05-14T11:12:00.000-07:00

I remembered the poem "rise brothers rise .. the wakening skies"-- Sarojini Naidu..

2006-05-14T11:02:00.000-07:00

The Parque nacional de El Restingo.. is a network of canals.. we found in the canals.. Rodrigo scared the daylights out of me.. by putting one next to me.. when i wasnt looking.

2006-05-14T10:56:00.000-07:00

the brightness of the blue is undescribable.. We could not capture the real color of the place in any camera.. it is for one to see and cherish in a happy corner of one's heart.

2006-05-14T10:52:00.000-07:00

The solero beer.. the best regional beer. i have witnesses.

2006-05-14T10:49:00.000-07:00

The car on the right is a quite common scene ..the people run them as taxis-- shared by multiple people.. more like shuttle services .. "carritos" they call them.. Even without the accident, the cars are not much prettier.

2006-05-14T10:42:00.000-07:00

The graffiti supporting Chavez. After the country wide rebel and strikes in 2002, there was a referrendum to throw him out. This slogan asks Chavez not to go.

2006-05-14T10:35:00.000-07:00

People wait at toll booths on roads and sell anything from FM antennas to peanuts to cell phones ..to PARROTS !! just about anything !!

2006-05-14T10:33:00.000-07:00

And you thought "It happens only in India?"

2006-05-14T10:28:00.000-07:00

Our proud guide at juan griego... who told us the story of the place..in a rapid-fire style.. we never knew what hit us

2006-05-14T10:25:00.000-07:00

A view of the pueblo from Juan Griego.. a historical place where freedom fighters fought for their country and sacrificed their lives..

2006-05-14T10:21:00.000-07:00

Sun bathing isnt only for hot chics !

2006-05-14T10:18:00.000-07:00

it was like living inside finding nemo.. such a noisy crowd this..

2006-05-14T10:14:00.000-07:00

riding in to the sun...this was exhilerating i tell u....if the wind is in a different direction (best when it is 45 degrees to the direction of ur motion).. the waves hit the base of tthe vehicle..and make it jump up in the air.... It is heavenly !!

2006-05-14T10:02:00.000-07:00

blues of the three kind

2006-05-14T09:58:00.000-07:00

Failed expert 1

2006-05-14T09:55:00.000-07:00

Failed expert 2

2006-05-14T09:52:00.000-07:00

my wind surfing course 394K ended up to a floating 202 class

2006-05-14T09:41:00.000-07:00

we went to a restaurant called "vino del mar" .. the place serves the freshest of sea food.. i had never seen actual sea shells and octopus inside a dish ! That day was a forced ekaadashi for me..

2006-05-14T09:33:00.000-07:00

the typical group snap .. these two girls (veronica and Maryhebert) have been the kindest .. and most helpful friends here.. mary says .. ' it must have been fate that brought us together.. I believe her..

2006-05-14T09:30:00.000-07:00

when i bought these oblong shorts ...it beat all the principles that venezuelan ladies stand for !! the lady kept saying "esos son para nin(y)os" those are for boys ! i am watching my steps so that i dont get sand in my sandles.. that was a futile attempt

2006-05-14T09:26:00.000-07:00

You see me happy with my canon rebel !! ( what u dont see is the wrap-around almost dropping a second after this pic)

2006-05-14T09:16:00.000-07:00

At last.. falafel in the local shopping mall.. the vegetarian survives yet another arduous challenge!!

2006-05-14T09:12:00.000-07:00

The last view of the pearl of the carribean

Cloudy day in Ciudad Ojeda Part 3

2006-05-08T22:33:00.000-07:00

Then the clouds rush in to sweep the loot .. washing away anything and everything..

Cloudy day in Ciudad Ojeda Part 2

2006-05-08T22:29:00.000-07:00

Then the winds strip of all trees of anything that is ready to break free of earthly ties

Cloudy day in Ciudad Ojeda Part 1

2006-05-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

First things look normal.. beautiful.. almost placid..

The terrible trip to Punto Fijo .. The Fixed Point!

2006-05-02T10:47:00.000-07:00

Ok,... this eagerness to do something is gonna kill me some day,..

After a long deliberation on how to spend some good time..
Prince: Let us sit at home and play Net-hack..
Me: Let us go out.. see another part of Venezuela.. Coro and then Punto Fijo..

We went to Coro.. a long .. booooooring journey.. None of the trees on the
way were above 12 feet tall.. None of them had a leaf bigger than 1 sqcm.. thorny
dry bushes.. and dry land.. and dry everything.. for 4.5 loooooong hours..
And then .. Vola ! an abandoned city..Believe me, People in Venezuela take their vacation very, .. VERY seriously.. Not a door open..
We were so hungry.. we could go cannibalistic at the slightest pretext.. But NOTHING !! we were so disappointed ..
The websites said there is a very ancient church.. we went there .. it was not so much ancient as.. delapidated and closed for repair..
Prince's friend said that it is one of the most spectacular cities... he was exaggerating.. to say the least..
Our driver was in ever-so-much-hurry to reach Punto Fijo.. Apparently it is a Libre-zona.. duty free place.. (so .. you know how that goes with people who want booze and tax-free electronics)..
So.. we bid a momentary adios to COro and went on to Punto Fijo.
On the way though, we reached this most unexpected desert.. some what similar to
tale-kaadu near mysore.. a sandy, duny.. singing desert in the middle of no where!
that was nice.. We walked around.. in a minute.. sand was all over us.. and in every orifice you can respectably think of.. we walked around.. and... feet dug in to the scortching sand.. The only interesting thing was the guy who was riding his dirt bike on the sand.. i wanted to try it with him.. but Mr. Prince thought other wise..

And later.. we reached a church.. a small church really called a santuario de Gusape. It was FULL .. i mean LITERALLY FULL of .. plaques of gratitude to Jesus.. for granting people their wishes.. so many people thanking god for their cars with plaques carrying pictures of cars..... so many people thanking for children (attachments: pics of parents and children). we lit a candle their.. and bought
an overpriced straw hat.. hoping that i could put it to good use in the beach at
Punto fijo.. and some local sweets.. (ugghhhhhhhhhh.. it had sand in it)

Then after another hour of boring driving we reached Punto Fijo.. Believe me..
the WHOLE BEACH was a parking lot.. !!! People had put up their trucks one
next to the other.. with its trunk facing the waters.. they put their plastic chairs and table.. and men drank .. 2 feet further towards the water..women..and dozy men were sun bathing.. 1 foot ahead..kids.. ran around.. and building castles.. and
1 foot ahead.. was WATER !! if you wanted to walk on the beach.. you would trample
over some serious lard ! I couldnt tell the difference...if it were people sunbathing and .. sperm whales washing up !!
I was SO SO damn pissed off,.. we didnt stay there for a grand vacation of 3 minutes
and we were on our way back...
The return journey was .. event less.. and here I am writing about it !!

2006-05-02T10:45:00.000-07:00

My glasses on sand.. the dune blowing sand over it

2006-05-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

The che replica in Medanos del Coro

Thoughts on a still night

2006-04-27T18:51:00.000-07:00

The dried flowers smell of a glory past..
the warmth of my sheets cant kill the cold..
the cold inside .. of a dead hope..
of a hope so withered .. so gone.. so old..

The song begs for memories to rise..
to sway in rhythm with the quiet
the violin stirs a vague recall ...
of a sonnet i am too scared to recite..

Obscure lights keep the night from dark..
Silence cradles.. the mist in the air...
Everything is still...tense for the climax..
I am awake . but, i cant move .. its not fair..

Oh, the stranger i met on my way,
we walk along but yet alone..
Oh the person sleeping by my side..
i wont breathe, dare i miss a stir or a moan..

My paintings

2006-04-21T14:01:00.000-07:00

These are my new paintings..

The Al- Azhar Mosque is in Egypt.. I only saw it from outside..but it is a beautiful piece of architecture.. intricate.. delicate.. strong... and seems like it has come out of prayers .. of all the people who go there..

The other one is a recreation of a picture I downloaded from http://www.dpreview.com. The picture was a sample shot for one of the cameras.. That is the website to refer.. if you are looking for cameras..and dont know what to buy..

Mosque is water color.. i dont like it so much .. coz i really did not use the brush at all.. the brush was more like a pencil.. however, i loved oil.. it is amazing how the colors move under your fingers.. the feel is great..
I respect water color more.. it is hard... coz it needs a lot more control.. there are no do-overs. And.. Oil colors are more vibrant.. and it is beautiful.. i want to try more of this..As you can see it is still incomplete.. When I went to Houston, spent a couple of hundred dollars on supplies. Cant wait to do more.. but have been so busy !

It will have to wait.

Ab Ke Hum Bichde-- Ahmed Faraz

2006-04-19T17:48:00.000-07:00

I am listening to ab ke hum bichde sung by Mehdi Hassan..In the live performance, he says " this raaga is made with a komal daivat in bhopaali .. isee daivat mein saare bichardne ka dukh saamne aajaata hai"...

The ghazal mourns for a past that is gone.. of a past that wrenches the poets heart..It picks on the deepest wound.... until it becomes raw... slowly .. a bright red spot of blood appears..and widens...... and then flows down with your most merciless tears, of regret. of a madness that once filled every thing in and around you.. .an aching known only to who have loved ...truly with their mind... with their heart... their existance.... and then lost it..

Ahmed Faraaz, the poet.. he knows how to pluck the right strings to trigger a silent sigh.. that grows in to a thunderstorm of pent up sorrow..

Now that we are apart... perhaps we will meet in our dreams ...some time....
like finding a dried flower in an old book....

Search for the pearls of trust in broken hearts..Perhaps you will find the treasure in those ruins... The more devastated I feel about my loss, closer i am to how i felt when i was in true love...Perhaps I can find the treasures of my lost faith in love in the ruins of my broken heart...

Now that you are gone.... when i feel low...devastated with even mundane disappointments ... the most i miss is how i felt in the times bygone.. I drown to new bottoms... and a piercing ache.. a dismay that has no remeday at all..... settles on my mood.. there is a strange kind of satisfied feeling in drowing in the sorrow.... of you... of me... put together with everything that could have gone well....Perhaps you should mix the pain of the world with the pain of love... After all, when one wine mixes with another, you can atleast lose yourself in the heights of intoxication..

You are not God.. neither was my love divine.. when we are both human... why did we meet each other so many pretences... "donon insaan hai tou kyon itney hijaabon mein miley?"..... i cant find any way of restating what the poet is saying here.. He knows exactly what I would feel like.. I feel that poets like Faraz are the best friends to share your sorrows with.. they take your most tearing pain .. and turn it in to something so beautiful....

I loved the idea of loving you.... you loved for what you thought I was... I hid my self behind so many masks... Neither of us could confront the truth of what we were... why did it have to be like that? when we are only human.. why do we chase the image of divine love.. never seeing one another for what we are..

Now, I am no longer what i was before... you are not what you were .... the times we had together ..are gone ...long ago..it all seems so surreal.... nothing seems real.. not you .. not me.. not our union.....the we way we met in life .. seems like
a union of two shadows in the mirage of wishes....

I am unable to get out of that mirage.. I am lost in the ruins of my lost love...All that is left ... tears... and a lingering wish of seeing you... in my dreams.... in future .. some time.. some day.... some place....... I hope.... to find that dried flower in my book...

Stay on the cloud

2006-02-19T12:06:00.000-08:00

Be the cloud.. lead the dunes..
stir the stars..dissolve the moon..

Dont stop moving.. dont say its fine
Dont compromise on the joy divine..
Leap at the joys and cry rivers of tears..
Enough with the subtle.. grab the sublime..

Sing with the radio, remember times past..
let your tunes reverberate the vast..
Dont sit there and suppress the rage..
Break the spells that monotony casts

Feel every feeling let it quiver your soul..
smell every smell be it sweet , be it foul..
No one in this world should dictate your terms of life..
Nothing that moves you, be kept in control..

Philosophy of living life to the fullest..

2006-02-09T18:07:00.000-08:00

My friend Sandhya and I were talking the other day.. about how to live life to the most..
It is a strange bargain.. I will back up a little and go all over..

I went to Merida twice.. Once with my husband.. and another time with Sandhya.. Prince is the type who doesnt work too much with words.. Sandhya knows how to talk.. The first time I went in to the place.. I was mesmerized.. I am not finding fancy words here, mind you..The place is just too big .. too silent.. too cloudy.. too colorful.. if a walk through merida isnt a walk through cloud nine., i dont know what is. We roamed and roamed.. if I saw a steep slope going down thousands of meters.. I just wanted to get out of the car.. and merge in to the open vastness of the landskape.. It was like the valleys just opened their arms to embrace the vast universe.. the spaces were of unimaginably vast proportions.. If you go there once, you get an idea of how big the earth is. you can stand in MILES AND MILES of vast solitude.. and feel like the only offspring of nature.. feel one with the force life hails from..

I can go on and on about the thunderstorm of emotions I felt when I went there.. I couldnt stop drawing breaths deep in to my lungs until they hurt.. It was like a BURST of memory recall of all the poems which were tooooo poetic to be true.. loving.. praising.. adoring the nature.. trying to put in words.. the most undescribable feeling of awe. .. BUT, that is not what i wanted to say here..

I felt like crying.. that I have not been able to spend more time like this.. I was in tears about the perfection of the picture, the feel of the breeze, the perfection of the touch of clouds, of the speed which moved over the mountains.. of the perfect shades of brown, green, grey and peeping blues.. of the perfect smell of green, the perfect serenity of the water...and the perfect brilliance of the sun reflecting off the waves...of the perfect temperature, of the perfection of creation.
BUT, that is not what i wanted to say here..

Aah but, what the heck... I will stop writing now.. and go back to feeling like that again.. I will write about whatever title I put above .. when I feel like it.. I know for sure, it is an important thing.. and I will address it at a later point of time.

Chorroni.. the beach washing the feet of Tropical forests

2006-01-04T21:11:00.000-08:00

Look at the tropical forests.. behind the beach.. the mountains are so huge and so wild and so steep.. some times.. our taxi had to go in reverse to accomodate an oncoming car.. place was so steep that they had to carve in to the rock to make a road.. some times rivulets flowed over the road.. i cant say how pretty it was..

2006-01-04T20:37:00.000-08:00

In the state of Bolivar, is the place Canaima. Imagine the wierdest and most awe inspiring piece of nature that you can... Go ahead... try all the ultra-zoom-out shots from The Lord of The Rings, use every piece of wonder from Harry Potter, sky is no limit... Now... open your eyes.. and look at the Amazonas in Canaima.. the color of the deep red wine caressing the pink beaches.. the lushest green if ever there was one.. the myriad of shapes of the leaves .. and the infinitely streched .. tall table-top mountains.. called Tepuis... You will, I assure you throw all your DVDs, and games.. down the drain. and never ever think of human imagination being better than nature's creation.

We, Prince, Sandhya, Elvira and myself, took a most fortunate excursion in to this land of wonders. It was too short, too wonderful.. TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE. But luck gave it to us and we bathed in its abundant blessings.
I took my new camera. Digital SLR Canon Rebel XT 350D, with its most amazing Sigma lens. We tried to capture the GREATEST beauty in 2 dimensions. In vain to say the least. I put here some pictures of us taking the trip.. I will however, put a photography page up some time.. but .. right now., this is it.

2006-01-04T20:35:00.000-08:00

After an infinitely long journey from Chorroni to Cuidad Bolivar (including a 5 hour taxi.. and then 10 hour bus) .. we are at the Bolivar airport.. When there is such a small plane.. there has got to be a miyaan beewee and the small plane photu.. no?

2006-01-04T20:28:00.000-08:00

The fancy airport at Canaima.. we wait for some other people of the group.. and I load up on my daily doze of caffeine.. love the place already... inspite of the coffee.. not up the the venezuelan standards..

2006-01-04T20:25:00.000-08:00

We wait for the boat to take us to the Ucaima base.. one place with a shed full of hammocks and a kitchen.. right next to the Hacha falls.. the realitiy of this place is still to sink in to me.. I am looking at the red water.. believe me .. it is not muddy water.. it is crystal clear .. but looks like.. cococola.. or .. beer.. or.. something.. just pure RED water !! .. and pink sand.. and pink pebbles... of the color of strawberries.. of .. flesh... of .. all shades of pink... amazing is not even close..we wait for the boat.. looking at the serene.. yet wild beauty of the place.. i remember all the beautiful poetry.. that describe the creator called nature.. "yeh kaun chitrakaar hai?"

2006-01-04T20:14:00.000-08:00

This is the red I am talking about.. crystal clear red water!! ... it is the first level of unbelievable things happening to me..