The Poochas :)

Pardon the quality and my lack of photographic skills :P

Poochas ( Mallu tongue for Cats)

The mommy cat

Lowe :)

It has been a while since my dad read the newspaper

Update...

This post has been written at least ten times and found its way duly to the dustbin (precisely the Recycle Bin). I just cannot seem to think of anything to write about. Have I become so unimaginative that nothing seems to excite me anymore? Have i become a tired, world-weary cynic? Is this how rock-bottom feels like? Or have i just grown lazy?

The five minute walk to my office has been reduced to a two minute walk. And thanks to my dad, who found a short cut, it is now just one minute. Apart from the lone, old dog that barely glances at me and that too with maximum disinterest, there is not a soul on the road.

My neighbors seem to lead interesting lives though. The kid next door keeps bawling all through the night, and her mom and dad have little arguments that whiff by, across the cooker whistles. A girl who lives on the floor above me has a boyfriend, who tries to smuggle in everyday in broad daylight. He tries to look nonchalant and casual when he climbs the first floor, and then panics and rushes through the other floors to reach her room as quickly as possible.

Then there is a college kid who listens to loud music in the night. So loud that i can hear it even from the other side of the wall. He also lives alone and does not turn off the lights in the night :), which i certainly do find funny because, though he looks macho and tough in the mornings, with gelled hair and pierced ears, the baby in him refuses to switch off the lights and turn off the music in the night. And I derive a certain joy from that :)

So, apart from churning out articles on cats, dogs, old men, and business, the free time i get is spent on staring at neighbors. An occasional splurge at Fabindia, a lunch date with myself at the mall, and frequent visits to the supermarket punctuate the pretty simple, calm, and quiet life I lead here in Bangalore.

Finally here again...

After a brief hiatus, yes I am back to do my bit in adding to the already vast amounts of junk on the Internet. The past two months have been one helluva ride. Finding a new house, getting adjusted to the orange walls, making friends with my neighbor who plops her baby right into my arms claiming that the barely-three-year-old misses the ‘Didi’ already…

Finding a shortcut to my office which is only five minutes away even in snail mode, icing up the lady who comes to clean to arm-twist her into cleaning properly, feeling the breeze softly nudging against the curtains, waking up to a shivery cold morning, clattering my way through in the kitchen to make a hurried breakfast/lunch…though not as fancy as they sound, they are the little drops of happiness I find in an almost solitary existence.

With an extended vacation in my home town coming to an end in a few more hours, now it is time to come back to the Orangeness… :P I know this trip has made changes that can never possibly become alright anymore. I cannot offer anything but a meek apology for all the hurt caused intentionally or unintentionally. I also understand that it wouldn’t change anything but it is the least and the best I can offer before I get buried under the pile of pending work that makes me shudder even when I am only thinking about it.

And another update would be on my cat’s wonderful ability to produce kittens like popcorn. They just keep popping out of her every three months. So the latest addition to our family would be the completely adorable four little kittens that keep meowing the whole place down.

Every morning when they greet me with their big round eyes full of optimism and joy, I remind myself - life is not all that bad after all… :)

Courage...

This girl was easily the most silent one in the PG. As language was a huge barrier, both of us restricted our conversations to various degrees of smiles and nods. Once, during a power cut both of us were pitted in the dark against each other and that slowly got us talking.

She spoke about her Mother who passed away in a freak accident a few years back, her Father who became a little disoriented after that, how he was pressurized into marrying another woman, how her siblings had to discontinue their schooling for two years…

It brought a huge lump in my throat and I asked her if she ever visited home. She told me she doesn’t want to and couldn’t even if she wanted to. My question opened another series of wounds she was healing with her almost tranquil existence.

Her step mother had sexually abused her sibling who then tried to commit suicide. This girl was apparently the only one gutsy enough to go to the police and report the incident. The lady was imprisoned and is still in jail. However, the step-mother’s brothers threatened to harm this girl if she stayed in her hometown. Thus she packed her bags and left the house, never to return again.

Child abuse is the most dreadful form of sexual abuse. It ruins your life or at least leaves an everlasting scar. The trauma and the pain you endure can never possibly be erased completely. That surge of anger, the realization of helplessness, the quiet retreat into solitude… The sibling even now apparently has nightmares and has completely stopped studying.

I couldn’t but help admiring this girl, for the courage she had to stand up to a group of blood thirsty men for her family. The quietest girl amidst us had suddenly become the greatest too.

Aaaaaand

Tada!!!!!!!!!

New Template :)

Grrrr

Apologies for the mess my blog looks like... Been trying hard to set it right... :( Grrr.....I hate you Blogger.com...

Five Minutes of Bliss

It is a five minute walk to my office. And the sights I see are so varied each day that I look forward to the walk. The road is narrow and lined with trees. As the road bends to encompass a huge playground, I can see frenzied players shouting at each other, engrossed in the game. One of the apartments on my left has a wind chime that welcomes me with a tinkle and automatically brings a sense of peace from within. The house next to the apartment is a small one with a line of shrubs in front. A yellow bulb hangs precariously from the roof; a newspaper lies unclaimed in front of the door, and an unswept courtyard has dry leaves playing their own games.

I turn to an even narrower lane, and see white and pink flowers that remind me of peppermint candies. I pass a house that has a book cupboard in the garage. A small boy starts trotting beside me. He has a full white uniform that has light patches of brown – the mark of a sincere mother who would have spent hours scrubbing it. He is singing loudly and picks one of those flowers. Balancing his lunch basket in one hand, and adjusting his heavy school bag with a complicated jig of shoulders, he smells the flower and puts it carefully inside his basket. Suddenly he becomes excited and shouts loudly, waving frantically at a small boy, quite at a distance in front of us. The small boy takes a while to comprehend and then recognizing his friend, laughs and then falls down because he has not been looking in front. This boy bursts out into peals of laughter and I join him heartily. The other one brushes the dust away and starts laughing too.

Abruptly they realize I have been given admission into their private moment; the boy grins coyly and runs in front to join his friend. As for me, I feel strangely light and carefree. I hum a tune and push the office gates open. It has hardly been five minutes, but I have already had a great day. :)

Waka Waka...

Errr... I lost this post..:( Thanks to my tampering with HTML codes... Anybody who has a copy :P meaning someone who saved this brilliant piece of art as a personal copy, help me retrieve it :(

Rains Once Again...

The rains are beautiful in Bangalore. A gush of nature’s fury at times, incessant at others, but pitter patter mostly. The power goes off almost immediately and sometimes never returns. I sit in the dark by the window and listen to the relentless tapping on the roof. I can hear a kid reciting his lessons, a flick of a matchstick, and slight traces of an argument next door. The watchman taps his stick on the gate to chase a stray dog away and lights his cigarette. I can smell the tobacco. Somebody has turned on a radio and bits of kannada drift across.

The lights flicker and the sounds increase. There are more conversations and movements. I can smell a burnt out candlewick. The watchman almost trips over a loose stone. My roommate slowly shifts and looks up at the lights. They flicker more intensely and then die out. The watchman kicks the stone and it hits the gate with a mighty clang. The sound reverberates and the apartment is silent once again.

Unrelated Thought: Lovely Song - Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head - B.J. Thomas and Even Lovelier Lyrics.

Updates...

Things are moving at such a fast pace that I can hardly keep up. Sorting out issues, bidding a million farewells everyday, packing bags, hunting for accommodation, meeting friends... the list is actually endless. I am moving on to bigger and better things. (At least I hope they are :P)

I am moving to another big bad city. I wouldn't exactly call it a city, because the place I would be living (in another ten days) is about 25 kilometers away from the city - Whitefield. And true to its name, it really has lots of barren space interspersed with high-rise buildings and malls. Whitefield is to Bangalore as Nanganalur is to Chennai. Self-sufficient, and comfortable, it has a rustic feel. Untouched by the maddening pace of the city, it is confidently sleepy.

It would be a while before I actually start liking the place, because at the moment, I am too emotional about leaving the city I have grown up with. Of course, not to mention a truck load of friends I will be missing like hell.

I would be learning new things, letting go, meeting new people, exploring the place... Yes Bangalore, I will surely love you…One day.

Senile musings...

Equations change. Priorities too. Rejection comes easily. So do tears. On a cold dreary night, you look at the ceiling to wonder if you truly deserve all that you get. You are petrified about losing the crystal you posses. Afraid of breaking it into thousand pieces. Driven by your fear, it has rolled off to a furtive corner. Never can it be reclaimed. You long for it but do not want it either. You wish you could close the door, latch it tightly, and never look back.

You have moved on, the room has been rebuilt, but the crystal still remains, haunting you with its absence.

March...

Went on a trip. Made friends. Ate like a pig. Walked myself into a nasty tan. Gave exams. Watched a long-forgotten Disney movie. Missed school. Made truce with a cousin. Met an old buddy. Almost saw her cry. Went for a drive. Felt guilty. Attended a zillion weddings. Finished a book. Worked like crazy. Got a new lappie. Named it ‘Toshitop’. Tripped on my cat thrice. Finally opened up to a close friend. Cried and laughed together. Cried some more alone. Broke my umbrella. Became indifferent to reality. Explored a whole new dream world. Watched a Hindi movie. Was gruesome. Planned a surprise ‘send-off’ party. Called it the ‘go away’ party. Took a day off. Had a bad headache the whole day. Slept peacefully.

Seven days, seven learnings...

Seven days at the temple city for a seminar on advertising and PR.

Results:

• Got burnt, fried, and scalded under the unforgiving sun.
• Walked at least six kilometers everyday surrounded by trees, evil noises, and nothingness.
• Perfected the 'zombie-like' walk while staring into the never-ending road.
• Got a tan that made/makes me look like a half-rotten vegetable. (Sigh..you know dark brown in some portions and normal in others)
• Understood that peacocks are the probably the most ungrateful creatures ever born on the face of earth.
• Made friends, a few of them, I am sure, for a lifetime.
• Became conscious of the fact that the time for taking a hard decision had finally come.
  Of course, learnt something on advertising as well :D

Happy Vday

Sigh…As I celebrate more than two decades of singledom, I wish all the losers in love with full bitterness a very happy valentine’s. However, there are things that can possibly be banned on Vday without hurting sentiments of love-sick puppies:

Red accessories: Almost every idiot on the street wears a wannabe red shirt. In fact, girls are no less. I saw one with red nail polish and earrings.

Celebrity interviews on TV: Yes. A lot of these frustrated single celebs, who go on and on about how Vday is for everybody and give free advice on how to gift flowers for mom, gran, and the dog next door. Ough!! Repeat after me: Valentine is not for everybody. It is meant for people who are so much into themselves that they can afford to blow up money in tacky places stuffed with pink balloons and red confetti.

Flowers: Last year, my roomie got flowers from her ‘actually-he-is-not-my-boyfriend-because-it-is-not-a-right-thing-to-do-according-to-indian-culture-but-he-pays-for-my-shopping-trips-so-just-to-please-him-let-us-call-him-my-very-very-very-close-companion’ friend and decided to put it right next to our bed. After 24 hours, the room started smelling of dead rats and I hinted that she throw them out. She looked at me like I was not human and scooped up those flowers to smell them. “These flowers remind me of him”, she decided finally after stuffing them into her nose for a whole minute. I was tempted to reply, “Eww. Does he smell that way?”, but I kept quiet for the fear of changing her mind about the flowers. “With people like you, the world will soon come to an end”, she finished and took her flowers away. Thank god.

Talk shows: Last year, there was a debate on the lines of how falling in love could ruin your possibilities of running for presidency and how youngsters insult the illustrious lineage of their ancestors (who all had two wives)by putting their family names at stake. The dude mediating the show was clad in a suit with a tie, but patronized the viewers endlessly on the ill effects of western influence.

Hearts: Every damn thing is heart-shaped on Vday. I know love comes from the heart, but heart-shaped hair clips is taking it too far. They look incredibly stupid, and should be banned.

History of Vday on papers: Who cares! Everybody parrots the same lines, “Vday is actually celebrated in memory of St.Valentine” This is a gimmick to justify that Vday is not a figment of imagination and that there was a solid dude whom we can blame for dying and thereby single-handedly destroying the very and probably the only premise of conservative Indian culture, “All Indians are my brothers and sisters”

Yes. This was written out of pure boredom as I consciously stay away from the outdoors to avoid frequent gagging and disgust on Vday. Well, this may all become tolerable one day maybe, if I manage to keep this post away from dad. Thinking of that, the guy at the bus stop with a red tee was kinda cute. Hmmm…maybe next year...

I want

• My cough to go away.
• To lose my frog in the blender voice.
• My book backlog to stop making me feel guilty.
• To take an already delayed decision before it is too late.
• To forgive, forget, and be honest.
• My assignmetns to magically complete themselves.
• To stop falling in love with bulleted text.

Ayirathil Oruvan – Movie Review

Hmmm…let’s see…What do you get if you mix The Mummy, Gladiator, Alien, and any other sci-fi/ adventure English movie you can think of with a liberal dose of bollywood ishtyle dance routines – voila! Ayirathil Oruvan!!!

Daringly different, gripping, and visually appealing, AO, is a class apart – until the interval. It is a story of an archeological group that goes in hunt of a statue stolen by a group of Chola warriors from the Pandians, god knows how long ago. To reach the place, the group has to cross seven obstacles and dangers.

This simple and a promising plot could have been well-executed, only if the script-writer hadn’t fallen asleep after the first two hours of the movie. What starts of as a racy plot, sags, and dies an unnatural death, a few minutes after the interval. The adventure suddenly turns into a ridiculously melodramatic story that suddenly has one of the lead actors playing a queen in stupid outfits.

The highlights of the movie are the actors, visuals, and crisp editing. Karthi, as the daily wage laborer/hero, scores a million points for his acting skills. He is one of those rare actors who can prove a point with just a nod. Both of the heroines are supremely hot, but considering that it is a movie, the sugar babes could have also acted a little bit.

The music is forgettable. One of the songs with a popular Tamil devotional tune with English lyrics sounds preposterous. Evidently, the music (which is usually a trend-setter in all Selvaraghavan movies) fails to impress.

Graphics are first-rate. A scene which has snakes crawling all over the tents looks so convincing. There are a lot of horrific murder, human sacrifice, and war scenes in the movie. The war scenes are extremely visually appealing and notable.

This movie is a classic case of an excellent script, with an exceptional director, and extraordinary actors, but too many concepts. My verdict – It is definitely worth a watch, for the attempt.

Apathy...

Life's small moments teach you a lot more than you can envisage. Years of classroom lectures can probably help you rattle off point-after-point in a heated discussion, but basic lessons in sharing and love is something you can never find inside an air-conditioned room.

For instance, I happened to notice a group of gypsies, whose house was the platform, on my way to office. Two little famished kids, stark naked, were sipping tea from one small glass. That probably was their breakfast. Along their way came a dog, wagging its tail at the tea. One of the kids quickly pulled a broken plastic toy, which doubled up as a plate too, poured some tea into it, and offered it to the dog.

Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw such a magnanimous action two little souls were capable of performing. Inspite of giving away the little they had, they were content. It was charity in its purest form and found only among people who had nothing to give.

Even I, who passed them everyday, who could have bought them breakfast, had selfish walls built around me. With thoughts of reaching office on time, I had walked away like the rest of the crowd, pretending to ignore the blatant poverty on the other side of the road.

Indeed, what have we as humans conquered, if we have not the heart to stop for a minute to show empathy?