Madness Continues

Beyond the windows, into the stage

2008-04-08T21:11:00.003+05:30

He barked "You can't slay my baby like this. You do not recognize how dear it is to me. Just stop the torture and start over again".

It was 2 am in the morning, and there I stood sodden in sweat carrying an empty oxygen cylinder in the computer science lecture hall. I wanted to flee from that chaos. All I wanted was to head home and sleep. There were classes next morning, and I needed at least 4 hours sleep.

"What the hell are you looking at? You stamped on my baby and is still waiting like a mule? I told you to go and start over again”. I had no other go. I ran back to my position and on the clap, turned myself into that edgy hospital cleaner with appalling dust allergy. Aashan kept weaving his fingers through his long hair staring through his glasses to catch the slightest mistake made in my movements. I had around 32 entries in the 30 minute drama, and had to be at my toes for the whole of rehearsal. It was tough.

It was 8 years back when we started the rehearsals of the 'Janalakkapuram' (Beyond the windows), which won the B-Tech and University arts festival for best Malayalam drama, and then went ahead to get us the 'Premji award' for the year. It all started with that initial excitement when PP came and told me about the selection for the year's drama. It was just too overwhelming for me to even attempt acting in a drama directed by a 'School of Drama' product and starring 'Kunju', the boy wonder who acted in the famous serial 'Mandan Kunju' and many movies (he was our senior in college). We were damn thrilled when PP, Appoopan and me got selected among the 8 actors in the drama. But when the actual rehearsals started, it was much different from what we had in our mind about acting. We knew that Aashan was an intellect (Buji) who was a specialist on stage direction. What took us by surprise was the seriousness and professionalism that he showed when he made students like us work on his script named 'Janalakkapuram'. Starting off with making us read the script multiple times, going through the austere routines of stretching /face exercises, and then on to the real rehearsal sessions where he used to go real wild when the smallest slip was committed. He was vigilant to the extent of checking tones and pitch variations during dialogue delivery. It was tough for us since the rehearsal used to start only 10 pm after Aashan reached some 'form' thanks to the supplements, and used to carry on till early hours. The tension grew when the actual dates of drama neared, as Aashan turned more vigorous with his approach, making us endure the toughest of rehearsals. There was constant swearing even when a minor tone was missed during our dialogue delivery. As we were collecting the dry leaves for replicating the stage during rehearsals, I and PP used to think about just quitting since the tension was starting to hit our mind hard. However, the knowledge that we were all working towards the common goal pushed us on. All the hard work resulted in jubilant triumphs in actual stage behind the curtains, as roars of applause from the crowd continued for endless moments and we won the coveted awards.

As time went by, many a times I used to wonder what our Aashan would be doing... At times I used to slip back to those memory lanes where my hospital cleaner was yelling 'Niratho? Neelathadakamo? Athu verum vazhiyanu. Mortuaryilekkulla vazhi! Mortuaryilekkulla vazhi!'. Me, Appoopan and PP would talk over these dialogs every now and then, as we sat in front of the TV in Bangalore. We always ended up wishing our best to our Aashan from the depths of the heart.

Come 2008, there comes a news that catches my eye. It’s about a drama where Mohanlal and Mukesh were acting, and was produced by Kalidasa Vision. Named ‘Chaayamukhi’, the drama was directed by one familiar Mr. Prashanth Narayanan. Yes, it was our Aashan. Finally he was catching the headlines, reaching the pinnacles he should have scaled much earlier. Although its the presence of Mohanlal & Mukesh in a drama (after Kavalam's Karnabharam) that captured the news attention, the fact remains that the great actors was impressed by the script of Chaayamukhi....That too to an extent where they admitted they were deeply moved by the concept. That’s where the credit goes to our dear Aashan. So much talent, so much emotion towards the art form, so much of intense dedication....We all hope that this is just a beginning, and that we are going to see a director of the class of Adoor or TV Chandran. We wish you the very best, dear Aashan!

Back to the Blog

2008-01-29T21:37:00.000+05:30

Happy New Year to all my friends!!

I am writing this in the hope that there are still a few people who visit my blog, even after my lingering absence for the past 3-4 months. There have been many who asked me the rationale for this desertion. Well…there was no particular reason that I could tell. I have not at all been really busy like the Infosys days, I had not decided that I will stop blogging, I did not have any major change in personal life….Its just a patch of time where I just did not blog…Void of any particular reason. Just fell into a hole, I guess.

Anyway, I have decided to lay low this long absence and come back to the blog world. You can expect more posts, and expect more madness to continue in 2008.

The day I return though, is a sad one. One of the finest actors in Indian cinema, ‘Bharat Gopi’ passed away today. The man who arrived in cinema just because of his love for the art form, the man who won ‘Bharat’ award for only his first major role in ‘Kodiyettam’, the man who put that brave face and fought ahead with his life even after a severe attack of paralysis, the man whom each Malayalee will keep as a treasure in their mind – Bharat Gopi. Be it the innocence of the protagonist in ‘Kodiyettam’ who tells ‘Pho! Enthoru Speedu’ with sheer adoration in his face as his new dress is splashed with dirt by a passing vehicle, be it the comic role of panchayat president in ‘Panchavadipaalam’, be it the crooked ‘Maamachan Muthalaali’ in ‘Kallan Pavithran’, be it the malicious tabla artist of ‘Yavanika’ – Bharat Gopi has done what only he can do – Give the trademark of being an actor who stamped his ability to portray a range of roles to an inimitable perfection. We place you at the pinnacle of acting, and not many would touch that zenith during our life time. You will live in our hearts forever, Sir.

A fading icon

2007-10-09T08:39:00.000+05:30

The high pitched petulant tone of the calling bell sounded like an old soiled audio tape. Three youngsters were waiting in the verandah when she opened the door. Though couple of them seemed modern, it was the dhoti clad man who energetically greeted her with folded hands.

“Yes?” Gloria Fernandez sounded impatient.

“Jeffrey’s friend referred us. Though we do not know Jeffrey by person, Emil told us that we can meet him. Is Jeffrey around?”

“He has not come back from church. Can you please wait? He will come now. What’s the matter?”

“Heard that there is a car for sale here. We came to check that up.” The dhoti clad youngster directly jumped into the matter.

Oh Christ! Although she was expecting it to happen sometime, this arrived as a shock for her. She wanted to hide somewhere. She should have guessed it, when they were looking around to spot the car shed. She had kept quiet whenever Jeffrey asked about it, and finally he took her hush as consent.

“Please sit. Jeffrey will reach anytime.” She wanted Jeffrey to handle this mess.

The youngsters seemed to be perturbed by Gloria’s abrupt bout of depression. “Will things go fine?” One of them whispered to Ravi, the dhoti clad man. Their hopes were on his business flair.

Gloria felt that the folks waiting in the verandah had come to steal that final physical presence of love. She knew that the bungalow also will be lost soon. But then, the car had a lively charisma around it. When she looked through her window, she never observed the flat tires or the tons of dust that engulfed the car – All that came to her mind were those flashbacks of memories rushing through the narrow bridge of tears.

Fifteen years back, as they marched with swift vigor in business, Melvin Fernandez waved his magic surprise wand at her in the form of a black ambassador car – A souvenir to her on their fifteenth wedding anniversary. As she gazed at that car, she could see all those reminiscences about Melvin unravel. She could remember that day when a ten year old Jeffrey jumped around with bliss, and the way they danced after sharing some wine. All of it seemed like yesterday. The progress in export business came rapidly for Melvin. From that small rented house to the bungalow with a garden and pool. Soon the car arrived. Even when the business grew to sky, Melvin never thought of changing the car.

From then on – To church during Sundays, To beaches on evenings, To the shopping centers of the town, To different ceremonies, To hill stations whenever he got a couple of free days…. those pictures floated as bubbles in front of her. In all those images, she saw Melvin behind the steering with a Ray Ban glass, and to his left was Mrs. Gloria Fernandez. That car has been an inseparable part in their life for fifteen years. Even if it was almost pressed to the ground for the last six months, she was sure that the interiors will still have that fragrance of State Express and Brut.

Her son Jeffrey, who is planning to drift to Australia, will never comprehend this. After the unforeseen demise of Melvin, he viewed the car as a white elephant. “Should it corrode in this sultry climate, with no one even starting it? Why is mother so stubborn? Anyway we are going to leave this place for our ‘home’ climate. If you just keep acting out of emotion, the car will be of no use for anyone.” This is his standard argument. He cannot understand…..His age is like that.

Gloria could hear the sound of Jeffrey’s bike at the gate. “Hello! I am Jeffrey. You…?” She could hear Jeffrey speaking.

“Emil referred us to you. I am Ravi, and these are Soman & Sasi. We came to see the car”

“Oh! Please come. Did you see the car? Please note that we have already paid this years tax and insurance. No one has touched the car except Daddy. ‘Single Owner’, in its literal meaning. There will be some dust since no one has touched the car for past six months. No Bargaining. I should get 65.” Jeffrey directly got into the substance.

Everyone walked to the shed with Jeffrey. Ravi started to inspect the vehicle in detail – He energetically ran around the car, looked under it and started knocking at different places to check the strength. Watching him looking at the car from diverse angles, Gloria felt that he would be an ideal person to choose animals for slaughter. She was watching them through the window. She saw Jeffrey coming inside to take the key. Gloria took the key in her hand and pressed her face into a pillow as she wept. The keychain was made of brass with a shape of Lord Ganesha, and it had the words G F Fisheries embedded on it. (G F for Gloria Fernandez). Melvin was very obstinate about having Lord Ganesha as the logo, since he believed that it would give his business a good prosperous start. He ignored the teasing words from Gloria, and told “An out and right Christian, and an out and right businessman”.

“Mom, Where is the key?” Jeffery came to her after searching the desk.

“Why are you crying, Mom? Anyway we will be parting this place soon. So what’s the sanctity in keeping that piece of junk? Please give the key.” He grabbed the key forcefully from Gloria’s hand.

Yes. He will not understand. For him, it is just another junk piece of metal. He has been like this all the while. All that Jeffrey learnt from his father was his business mind. He never absorbed the values of Melvin - who made it a point to have some light moments that he enjoyed with his family in spite of the busy working hours, who put a heavy price tag to human emotions. When Jeffrey learnt that Australians allow Anglo Indians to migrate, he started running around to abscond from the place where he lived all the while. ‘Home country’, it seems! How can he even consider leaving these local boulevards through which the nomadic guitar tones linger, the gorgeous Chinese nets, the Gulmohar flowers and their sleepy fragrance, the melody of the lake and sea, the languid and loving people, the garden with chrysanthemum, begonia and anthurium in its borders and this bungalow that has Melvin’s breath in every corner? Yes. Jeffrey will never understand. He has always been like this.

“Mom, the deal is fixed. 62000 Rs. Not a good profit, but not a loss either. They will come within two hours, with a good battery”

“Jeffrey, you may go to the tea shop and get them something to drink. I am going to Elizabeth’s house. I will come back in the evening. Anyway, I can’t bear the scene.”

Gloria took the umbrella and opened the door. She burst into tears as she approached the car for one last time. As she kissed the steering wheel, she could smell Melvin’s cologne in her nose. She wiped her face and stared on, till she felt like leaving. Is Melvin opening the front door of the car and coming out? She could hear the sound of his shoes. She could feel his presence near her. Gloria did not know how long she stood there.

“Mom, have you not gone yet?” Jeffrey’s question brought her back to the world. Gloria opened the umbrella and slowly started walking - to those memories rushing through her mind, to the air that smelled cologne, to the frames of life frozen with Melvin's picture.

- Translation of a short story written in Malayalam by my Achan (which was published in a magazine). Today, it’s 5 years since he left us.

Lets confess - We are bloody bureaucrats

2007-10-08T11:22:00.000+05:30

First Rank in Kerala State SSLC
First Rank in University during Plus Two
Tenth Rank in IIT Entrance Examination
Offered Scholarship in prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Rejected it for his moral obligation to the nation.
First Rank in IAS Entrance Examination
First Rank in IAS Training Institute

Most of us know whom we are talking about. It’s about one extra ordinary person who remains stubborn and refuses to budge to the corrupted bureaucracy bludgeoning over him. He created mayhem among ‘officials’ when he widened the sides of a very congested and busy road in Thrissur town. He practically slapped on the face of a local minister who wanted to turn his hospital to a medical college without any mandated infrastructure. He sacrificed his marriage to stand by his principles of intolerance to corruption. There are many more incidents to be quoted through, but you know where I am getting to. This stubborn gentleman who had made/is still making a huge impact among the youngsters in Kerala is none other than Mr. Raju Narayanaswamy. He was transferred a million times and insulted another zillion times by our government, before he escaped as he took leave for serving the UN who were excited to get a person like Mr. Swamy on their rolls.

Time passed by, and a new government under VS - the very last comrade of a generation of inspiring ‘genuine’ Marxist leaders, came into power. Things started to look rosy when VS personally handpicked Swamy, Suresh Kumar and Rishi Raj Singh for handling the Munnar encroachment issue. Munnar might be that ‘one-off’ incident where the government itself supported a motion against corruption to such a large extent. There has been lot of pressure on VS, and he retorted to them saying “I have sent three cats to Munnar, and I don’t care if they are black or white. What matters is if they catch mice — and they really catch them, both big and small”. For the first time in my life I proudly heard a common passer-by shouting in the rain - ‘Leaders should be like VS, without bending his knees to the money of these big-shots’, as I watched JCBs bringing down those encroached structures at MG Road in Cochin.

Things went on well…..ahem…not for long. In a typical case, a land scam involving a local minister would have bitten dust in the collector’s office – but not when Mr. Swamy is the around. The repercussions of the land scam came out loud, and a certain TU Kuruvilla resigned from his post. Quite obviously there were too many concerned faces in the assembly, as Mr. Swamy went ahead strong on his attempt to wipe the system clean. When he started exposing the illegal land holding of PJ Joseph and his kin, the ‘system’ started showing its clever face. VS was jolted on his rib by a hand that came from the back seat of a plane (yeah!! You guessed it right – the same hand that grabbed at a lady), and he suddenly, out of the blue, realised that Mr. Swamy was very inefficient in executing his duty as a district collector. Yes folks, the same VS who brought him back from UN to wipe Munnar clean got an ISD call from God - a divine intervention. VS made the announcement that Mr. Swamy was an inefficient district collector. The best part was yet to come – since he was inefficient as a district collector, they transferred him to be the….errr…..the…. district collector of Pathanamthitta. The mind-blowing solution suggests that all you need, to sort out your inefficiency, is to just switch the district. So all those failed cricketers, inefficient salesmen – here is the new mantra from our government, Just jump on the next KSRTC bus and move to the next district :). And what does the highly knowledgeable PJ Joseph say about Mr. Swamy? “This person has been transferred through 6 districts in 18 months. He is an immature official; he will be liability to whichever district he goes!”. Yes Sir, PJ Joseph! That was a hilarious joke from you and the UN is a bunch of idiots. We know that he was transferred because of only one reason – He is born as a man of ethics and he stands by it, like a man.

These are not scenes from a Suresh Gopi movie. It’s something that has been happening right in front of us – making all of us citizens a bunch of sleepy hoodwinks. Shame on you, old comrade VS. Being a person who still admires the ‘real’ Marxian principles, I had a tinge of hope that you will do the state proud. But, shame on you! We know that you are powerless against the goons that actually rule the state. But I would rather throw the bloody chair and walk, rather than bending my back and my principles. I would hold my head high and take a stroll.

These politicians, irrespective of left or right, just stamp their foot on the face of innocent people and stroll with that pompous charisma – And all of us just stand by and watch like corpses, without a reason. Even when the government puts its hands on the pockets of the poor working class to collect a day’s salary for ‘disaster management due to rain’ while it gives 5 lakhs to Sreesanth (who has enough money in his kitty); Even when the government doubles the road taxes while thousands of common people rupture their spine and die, as they laboriously move through our damned roads; Even when these ‘leaders’ make a mockery of democracy and accuses rare talents like Mr. Swamy of inefficiency – We stand paralysed. We remain as dumb as a piece of wood. We do not have the time or patience to move even a finger. And that’s because we have mutated ourselves to be a part of this system. Let’s confess – We all are bloody bureaucrats……

Review - Shyamaprasad's Ore Kadal

2007-08-30T12:34:00.000+05:30

I had been waiting for ‘Ore Kadal’ to release; right from the time the news about Shyamaprasad’s new movie based on Sunil Gangopadhyay’s novel ‘Heerak Deepthi’ started doing its rounds. Lot of things happened in between: Controversies involving novelist Subhash Chandran and Shyamaprasad, association of KR Meera in the script – but finally, the much-awaited movie released. Essentially ‘Ore Kadal’ analyses the intricate nature of human relationships through an in-depth portrayal of four complex and emotional characters. Making a movie that can belong to any contemporary time period/geography is a challenge of its own. Shyamaprasad can be proud of achieving just that.

Mammooty plays a renowned economist Dr. Nathan who does not believe in any emotional relationship, and trusts that his mind is not to be bound to any specific individual or liaison. The careless debonair of an alcoholic intellect and the overwhelming guilt of being dispassionate, looms over the character of Dr. Nathan. Mammooty portrays the divergent images that take his mind between a rough unemotional exterior, and a warm confused interior, with ease. Meera Jasmin plays Deepthi, a mother and housewife who has the strings of her mind being pulled by the isolation that she despairs to leap out of. Deepthi has a gentle psyche that brightens on the unexpected love it finds, moves into a frenzy as it evolves through lust and reaches a devastated stage where she is caught between the passions in her relationships. As a person who thought that Meera often goes over that narrow border between acting and overacting, I should acknowledge her phenomenal performance in 'Ore Kadal'. At times I feel that the class of an actor is not in expressing strong emotions for short durations, but is rather in displaying the subtle tenacity of light emotions with consistency – Meera has done just that. If she could win Urvashi for T V Chandran’s ‘Paadam Onnu: Oru Vilaapam’, this should be a cakewalk. Ramya Krishnan does a fantastic job as Bela, a very mature character. She acts as the alter ego of Dr. Nathan, which acknowledges the weaknesses of Nathan’s character and tries to let Nathan observe it. The bottomless melancholy of grief from the hard times of her life shines through the hazel eyes of Bela, through her occasional glance here and a short dialogue there. In a cast jaded by superstars, Ramya does her part without a lot of drumbeats and applause – quietly going about her job and all the while exemplifying that her acting skills stands much taller than item numbers. Naren stars as the husband of Deepthi, a normal middle class person who tries to make ends meet for his family and at times is reduced to be a mere spectator as the drama of life evolves.

For a movie that has most of its screen time indoors, the scope of impressing the people through camera work or technical gimmicks is almost negligible. Azhagappan accomplishes the near impossible - Using the light as a delicate background to the movie’s theme, and presenting some exquisite visuals. Editing a movie that moves between four diverse poignant characters, without the observer experiencing the turbulence of impulsive transitions requires a lot of skill, and the efforts from Vinod Sukumaran are laudable. The art direction and costumes made sure that the negligible space in Nathan’s flat was exploited to set up the careless slapdash attitude of his character. Unlike the so-called ‘mainstream’ movies, the music of 'Ore Kadal' had released devoid of ‘noise’, but it truly takes away the cake for being the vital part of the movie. Ouseppachan might have just made the best music of the year, especially handling the tough job of composing 4 different songs in the same raga ‘Subha Panthuvarali’ to match the moods of the movie.

Shyamaprasad has returned with a bang after his 'Akale', which did not strike the right chord with audience. Although Shyam has handed over the accolades to his remarkable cast, the movie is essentially teamwork – A rhythmic coordination of a team striving for perfection. And for that to happen, we need a director who has a lucid idea about his theme and an approach to let his audience perceive it. As a director, there are umpteen occasions where he could have slipped off that narrow ridge, and fallen into the deep gorges of overemotional melodrama, lust or vulgarity. Shyam stays away from all of it, distances himself from forcing any judgment on the viewers and most importantly facilitates a rare opportunity for the spectators to come up with their own verdicts on the deeds of the characters. I felt couple of glitches in the movie when common sense gave way to continuity, but then - what is perfect? Dealing with such a sensitive thread of infidelity and betrayal, which often presents that thin line of morality to the viewers, is a colossal challenge by its own. We see a director’s shining signature that was displayed with ease in ‘Peruvazhiyile Kariyilakal’ and ‘Agnisaakshi’ reaching its pinnacle during ‘Ore Kadal’. Be it in that symbolic frame that occasionally interludes to cast the image of a secluded electric pole where a lot of power lines meet & disperse to new directions, Be it in the revelation that there is a ferociously lashing sea of ‘Self’ between the shores named ‘You’ and ‘Me’.

The crowd expecting an outright 'masala' entertainer seeing the cast lines of Mammooty and Meera might be disappointed – as I could guess from the cat calls in the theatre. But, I regard a movie worthy if the mind lingers with the visuals and characters of the movie for days. 'Ore Kadal' has been so enticing that we could see ourselves standing next to Nathan & Deepthi, wandering in that dim apartment trying to reach that narrow frame of light through the balcony - all the while trying to come up with a conclusion on these complex yet amazing characters. That is exactly what I call triumph of a director and zenith of recognition for a movie.

Verdict – Recommended, with Two Thumbs Way Up!

Chickens Run for TV air time

2007-08-22T22:39:00.000+05:30

In the interview with a Rediff correspondent, Ronen Sen (Indian ambassador to US) had made the statement “The agreement has been approved here (in Washington, DC) by the President, and there (in New Delhi) it’s been approved by the Indian cabinet. So why do you have all this running around like headless chickens, looking for a comment here or comment there, and these little storms in a tea-cup?”.

The statement was obviously aimed at the news correspondents who twist the facts to increase the circulation multiple folds.

The fun starts now: Guess who got so hurt and was all tears about the headless chicken?

Sushma Swaraj, the BJP leader and former minister made this comment – “Today the ambassador has said in a statement that those who are opposed to the deal are headless chickens. We have demanded such an ambassador should be recalled,"

Well…This comment by Sushma did not come as a surprise since her chief focus as a minister was on banning a few channels in the pretext of maintaining ‘the so-called’ ethics and spoiling the name of national awards by giving it to naïve performances of Anil Kapoor/Saif Ali Khan (Kamal Hasan, Mammootty and Nasseruddin Shah might have dumped their Bharat awards when they saw the news), when the National Information and Broadcasting industry was being shredded to dumps.

But what surprised me was when comrades like Prakash Karat/D Raja did not even glance through the essence of Sen’s statement and start crying aloud with a kerchief on their hand about chickens. People like us who ‘ve read Marx and Engels with respect and has soaring regards to their ideologies, have no much choice but to despise the state of the ‘new-age’ leftism which gazes for just some ‘air’ time in the controversy hungry news channels.

If Sushma/Karat/Raja read between the lines and assumed that they were THE headless chickens, then I should appreciate that their self-evaluation is quite a matter of fact. Who else will waste the 22-lakhs/hour rate of running the parliament for such an amateurish self-appraisal?

And I hope that the actual headless chickens would not file a case against the three for bringing their name to disrepute. :)

P.S -> This post is not aimed at analyzing the content of the agreement or on discussing any views regarding the authenticity of the agreement. Its directed at these ‘politicians’ that make a mockery of the parliament time when there are far more important things to be looked at in India, than their ego.

An experience of lifetime - Himalayan Odyssey 2007

2007-07-18T07:32:00.000+05:30

Jhooley, friends.

I've been protected by some unknown forces and has landed back safe n sound after a 14 day trip to the planet named 'Himalayas'.

(Warning: This is a long post)

Rewind….. July 2006 – Dhanush and Me watching Himalayan Odyssey 2006 in NDTV with awe, in Bangalore. Months of planning. Mixed emotions. The ecstasy given by the very deliberation of disappearing to the highest motorable roads on a Bullet. A bit of hesitation. Getting the bike in shape for taking the trip by its horns. Some Confusions. Transporting the bike, and hesitantly adjusting to the fact of not riding it for a month’s time. Medical checkups with extensive tests to make sure that I am physically fit to take the expedition. Phone calls with Dhanush every evening to confer the preparations and strategies. That feeling of guilt for taking a break from work when my presence was really needed, and that prick of conscience of leaving Amma for 2 weeks. Answering the same old question most people had “Have you really gone crazy?”, as if this is the first time I am going insane ;-). Then boarding the flight to Delhi in Air Sahara on 22^nd June. That’s the last I remember about this corporeal world. Being transported to a different planet is an experience to be enjoyed in person.

It all started in the dry scorching heat at around 45-48 degrees in the Delhi-Chandigarh highway on Day 1, with a more human climate between Chandigarh and Manali on Day 2. The opening day was inauspicious for me, with a fuel overflow recurring at regular intervals due to the impure petrol from Delhi – but I was fortunate to get it solved by shaking the carb, and was even more lucky as that was the sole problem my bike showed for the entire trip. The second day was quite appalling for our group, as some among us had pretty ghastly accidents though luckily nothing was too somber. As the third day started we observed a Buddhist Llama doing some poojas for us, and when our organizer Sachin told “Picnic is over. Real trip starts now” we got an insinuation of the ominous things in the offing for us. We passed a lot of tourist traffic till Rohtang pass, and from then on traffic was merely zilch except for a rare truck or army vehicle. The road to Keylong from Rohtang set things in perspective, as the whole concept of ‘Road’ started depleting with every kilometer and all that was residual was a lot of rubble with sand and mud from landslides.

The much acclaimed ‘water-crossings’ started to present themselves in front of us. The streams just surge down the mountains and rule over the path, leaving it to our luck to negotiate the slippery rocks that are hidden inside the gushing water - the depth of which remains abyss. During a lengthy stream-crossing, the front tyre of my bike hit a rock that concealed itself deep inside the torrent, changing the direction of the bike to head right at the visage of our photographer Sundar who was kneeling down on the banks of the stream with his camera focused on me. Thankfully, somehow the direction of the bike got changed towards that of a narrow gap between the cliff and mountain named ‘road’and I could observe the amazingly quick reflexes of Sundar which made him run a mile atop the nearby mountain in 0.85 seconds to escape my bike maneuvering skills in streams :). Another 50 kms drive and we stopped at the fuel station at Tandi to top up our tanks. A signboard near the fuel station read “Next filling station 365 kms ahead”. I’ve never seen a signboard that has a better impact on your 'shiver' cells!

At Keylong, the snow-capped mountains were luring us and it was sure that one of those mountains could be Baralacha La. The next day hosted the nastiest road that we encountered in the trip (from Keylong to Sarchu). As I read somewhere during the research before the trip – Baralacha La is known as the ‘Killer Pass’, since it’s the first time we are to climb altitudes of the magnitude of 16000 ft and Acute Mountain Sickness will hit you out of the blue. The climb to Baralacha La started from a small camp at Darchu, and hardly 5 kms drive through pebbles and dust from Darchu we were welcome by an insane sight. Rubble was dumped to a height of around 10 inches in whatever was residual as ‘road’, that too for a stretch of around 4 kms of steep climb – Maybe for tarring the road in future. As we ran our bikes into that mess, an enlightenment of the intricate task at hand flashed right into our eyes. The tire was unable to grip at the layers of loose metal, while the ardent task of giving enough power for the bike to maneuver the acute angle climb was already making the journey thorny. People were using both their legs to gain balance and everyone knew that one false move at the right end of the road would take them down the cliff. Many bikes got stuck in the metal, and some went off balance. However the riders were up to the challenge and after some real testing moments, all of us managed to cross this unbelievable terrain. There was dust all around and we could see people gasping for breath after crossing this section. Personally for me, this was the most notorious part of the whole trip. After many more water crossings and non existent roads which were competing to give wake up calls to our spines, we reached Baralacha La. The presence of life had almost reduced to void with hardly any signs of civilization. It was just mountains, mountains and more mountains – snow capped ones, brown ones, green ones, rocky ones. The oxygen levels started to hit an all time low and I could feel it while driving, as I started to breathe harder. Even the activities that we normally regard as inconsequential were taking a toll on our body and no one was stopping at the chilly Baralacha La for taking snaps. All I could manage was to sit in the bike to take the camera from my pocket to take a snap of the signboard ‘Baralacha La’.

By evening 4 pm we arrived at our camp for the day at Sarchu, where tents were setup by our logistics teamm. Mountain sickness had started taking toll on the group, and some people were in doctor’s tent under oxygen support. As night fell, my headache aggravated to an extent incommunicable and sleep was hard to come by. At times I could feel myself slipping off to that narrow gap of unconsciousness. The night was very long with the frosty cold and mountain sickness holding hands to deprive me any sleep, with a very jealous me looking at the peaceful slumber my friend Dhanush was in. I could feel the dawn break around me, but the lack of sleep and the painful headache was making me feel disoriented and it was tough to get the head upright.

Next days drive covered the steep climbs of Gata loops, Naki La, Lachung La and the second highest mountain pass in the world Tanglang La. After some contemplation on taking the day easy by loading the bike on the truck and taking respite in the support vehicle, I decided that I could not let pass the fun. Quite a few people from our gang were already traveling in the support vehicles due to mountain sickness. It was tough to drive due to the disorientation that troubled me profusely during the 21-hairpin climb through Gata loops to Lachung La, compelling me take it easy and slow during this stretch although the roads were pretty ok. The key to driving a bike in Himalayas is to make sure that you do not gaze at the spectacular sceneries that unravel before you – A slightest slip in your concentration, and there you head into a part of road eaten off by the landslide.

By the time we stepped on the 42 km cold desert at More Plains, I was physically doing far better, although the bike had lost a lot of its pulling due to the severe lack of oxygen. The view of More plains was just too celestial that it immediately froze a frame in my mind to treasure forever. A huge expanse of desert, surrounded by brown mountains at the horizon with an outline of clear blue sky - Words can’t describe the beauty nature lends to your eyes. But, the route through More plains is not as nice as its sceneries. Roads cease to exist at regular intervals and you are left to do some off road driving to negotiate the sand in the desert. Driving the bike on lower gears through the deep sand is a skill that we got first hand training on, in More plains. Many of the bikes were stuck in the sand, and we had to stop at times to help those people to move out.

After successfully negotiating More plains, a grand snow capped mountain which sheltered the worlds second highest mountain pass ‘Tanglang La’ loomed over us. With great reverence to the pass, we embarked on the steep ascent to the top of Tanglang La which lasted for around 24 kms. The air was very wintry, with the wind chill making the effect worsen. No one even thought of stopping at Tanglang La and just drove on to flee the brute of nature. The days halt was at Rumtse, a valley right after Tanglang La. Yet another night where mercury dipped to unimaginable limits which left us shivering through yet another bout of mountain sickness. Sleeplessness had become a habit by now.

The following day’s ride from Rumtse to Leh was a nice and relaxed drive of just around 80 kms. We drove into Leh before afternoon in a 2*2 formation, the same way we did in all cities to make sure that no one loses their way. The next 1.5 days were to just relax, to complete all the repair activities for the bikes, and to make a small trip to the Buddhist Monastery at Shey. The visit to Khardung La, the highest motorable road in the world at 18380 ft, marked the half way mark of our trip – amidst the celebrations and cheering from the whole group. Surprisingly, the climb to Khardung La was far easier than the ones we had at Tanglang La and Lachung La. Since Khardung La was just 40 kms from Leh, we could wrap up the visit before noon to have rest for the remaining part of the day. Reaching till this point was a delusion for lot of us just two days back, when we were driving through the rivers and rubbles with attempts to just stay alive for the day.

If the very thoughts of going through the same hardships on our way back were insane, we were up to the task in following up the madness. But the return journey was far easier since our body was acclimatized with the oxygen levels in the mountains and we were familiar with the roads. We stopped at More plains for an official photo shoot, since this might be the only place where all the bikes could be sheltered in a solitary snap. The distance that we covered in 3 days on the onward journey was covered in just 2 days during the return leg, with the only stay being at the Military camp in Pang. Living your life in that vacuum at Pang is not really human, and the first hand experience of what our soldiers are going through made all of us spare a thought for them. With the admiration for the border protection force going up multiple folds, we headed to reach Keylong through the minor snowfalls at Lachung La and Naki La. We covered around 340 kms through the toughest roads in just 2 days. The route we were supposed to take from then on (through Sach Khas-Chamba-Dalhousie) to reach our ultimate destination Amritsar, got blocked due to a landslide near Udheypur. After deciding the alternate route (Manali-Dharamsala-Pathankot-Amritsar), we visited Triloknath temple near Udheypur before heading to the camp set up near Chenab river in Udheypur. Rest of the journey involved just driving on the plains, with maybe the hilly stretch from Mandi to Dharamsala deserving a special mention for the joyous curves the route provides to the bikers. The numerous accidents involving our group as heavy rains lashed out between Manali and Mandi was probably the only difficult part during this stretch. It reminded me of the curving roads of SH33 from Kattapana to Thodupuzha that we took during the Bangalore – Cochin trip.

The last day of the trip seemed to arrive in a flash. . The route from Pathankot to Amritsar deserves a special mention - for the ruthless high speed drivers irrespective of the vehicle they are driving and the presence of flies. After covering the 275 kms between Dharamsala and Amritsar in around 5 hours, we promptly headed to the Wagah border to watch the famous India-Pak flag retreat. The body did not accept the sudden increase in temperature, and lots of us were totally dehydrated by the time the retreat was over. Next dawn was spent in packing the bags, and parceling the bike back to Kerala through GATI. The chequered flag of the trip was marked by a quick visit to Jalianwalah Bagh and Golden Temple.

The fact that the dream trip had ended hit me hard while sitting in the train from Amritsar to Delhi. The wonderful people that we got acquainted with in the trip and the blissful places where we drove on - all of them hung as frozen frames in my mind. The helping hands that we got from the support engineers from Royal Enfield, each of them – Jagdish, Vinil, Alex, Lovely, Solomon Annan and Ganesh enabled our group to ride on, in spite of the rough terrain, rivers, oxygen issues. The wonderful logistics arrangements by Ashokji combined with the organizing efforts from our leader Sachin, made the trip such a pleasant experience to remember through the life. A special gratitude to our team doctor Dr. Bishan for giving us the required support in spite of the harsh conditions at those altitudes. The oxygen cylinders certainly benefited many team members to survive. Then the terrific Mallu gang that came with us – Anoop and Gopettan - The encyclopedias of bikes, giving us the much looked-for gyan on many things that we didn’t know about the technicalities of bikes, Aravind with his daring attempt for doing such a grueling trip on the oldest bike of our trip – a 1987 model Standard 350 – Me and Dhanush rode with Aravind for most part of the journey and always tried to stay behind his bike due to sheer respect for the pioneer, Then the energetic spirit of the oldest participant of our group – Balettan, the 50 year old banker who led us by example in keeping our energy levels high and spirits upright throughout the journey. One mandatory thing during a trip, especially an arduous one like this, is a group of people of comparable wavelength and that’s unerringly what we had in this one. Then, of course, one Mr. Dhanush is always there – from planning and execution, to closure – suffering from acute chalu sickness due to my presence – without whom, the whole trip would have still remained a dream for me.

You tend to forget the unhappy incidents in the trip – the accidents and health issues of many team members (most of which I have not mentioned here), and take your psyche back to the breathtaking memories that nature gave you. What I experienced was totally different from what I had thought as a naïve thrilled biker who wanted to just roam through places. The resilience test that you will be put through is much harder than what you imagined. But, you emerge a much strong hearted person and the memories can’t be more rewarding. I close my eyes and can see those gorgeous brown mountains capped with snow, gradually merging into the dazzling cerulean skies. Those castles carved by wind on the faces of mountains, the eerie stillness of the valleys that you see for miles below, the twisting winds that roam freely in the cold deserts, and a mere mortal watching it with awe…. It’s just a ‘once in a life time’ experience. Between 24^th June and 7 July, I was ported to a different world altogether. A world where you had two wheels instead of two legs and your heart was a 350 cc engine that religiously took you from one destination to another. A world where you can turn your head around to see no signs of life for miles to come, but yet feel to be in the company of a heavenly power. A world that makes you realize how stunning this abode named earth is. A world that heaves you into vacuum, a world that throws you a foreboding challenge every single second of the journey through the toughest of terrains and most scenic of surroundings. A world that shows the insignificance of something named ‘me’ and makes you lose your identity. A world that makes you just surrender yourself to the overwhelming aura of nature. That’s Himalayas for you. For me, it will take some time for the reality to sink in. Half of my mind still roams in those gigantic peaks….among those valleys and snow clad castles, with one hand on my faithful partner - my Bullet.

Friends, what are you waiting for? Go for it. The Manali-Leh highway is open only between June and August end. Hurry!! :)

My complete set of snaps from the Odyssey are available at http://picasaweb.google.com/abhilash.kishore/HimalayanOdyssey2007

A video from the sand dunes at More Plains is available here

Reached Leh

2007-06-29T18:01:00.000+05:30

After 6 days of the toughest terrains and endurance skills, myself and Dhanush has reached Leh safely with our bikes in good conditions. The ride was much more difficult that what we thought it would be.

Will update more once we are back home on 9th of July. The roads back till Amritsar is supposed to be even more difficult.

Cheerio till then!

Onto the sunbright summit merging with the sky

2007-06-21T14:12:00.000+05:30

After 11 months with the Royal Enfield Thunderbird, after two long cruises in the bike, the ultimate dream of heading to the mountains in the Bull is coming true.

From June 24 to July 7, Dhanush and myself will be a part of the Himalayan Odyssey biking expedition conducted by Royal Enfield. The expedition starts from Delhi, proceeds through Chandigarh, Manali, Rohtang, Keylong and heads into the mighty Himalayan passes like Baralacha La, Lachlang La, Tanglang La into the grand More plains and Pang Lake before reaching Leh. A visit to the highest motorable pass in the world – Khardung La at an altitude of 17,582 feet, and return to Amritsar through the newly carved course through Sach Khas.

It will be a test of the utmost kind for the man and the machine. There are going to be bouts of High Altitude Mountain Sickness due to the lack of oxygen, mucky snow covered pathways for major stretches, streams running gallantly right over the roads….. But that feeling of having snow covered mountains all around us, with the crystal blue Pang lake staring right on our face just makes the heart salute the thought.

So, here we come! Through Delhi, Punjab, Himachal Pradesh and Kashmir...To the most beautiful place on earth.... To the mountains…. To the snow filled gradients of Himalayas.

Friends…see you all in 15 days time!

A bargain for future

2007-05-30T17:06:00.000+05:30

Location – Palarivattom, Cochin.

Boisterous group of drunken 17-year-old kids, in a bus from South Kerala. Blue flags adorn the sides of the bus, representing a grand meeting of a famous students union to be inaugurated shortly in Cochin. Alcohol bottles kept swapping around in that bus. Suddenly, the intoxicated student union members notice a group of school going girls in the private line bus moving in the parallel lane. They proclaim their presence with swear words and filthy language. A group of student politicians extend their hands from their window trying to grab at the little girls in the bus. Groups of shell-shocked people sit frozen in the line bus. The girls gaze around for any retaliation from the crowd. No action from anyone. The boorish paranoia persists. Aged people, Family heads, Boiling young people of ethics and values – everyone remain silent in the bus, ignorant of what they were hearing, ignorant that one of those girls could be their immediate relative. The only thing that was fighting the ongoing licentiousness was the paralysis of our crowd. And among them, I see myself waiting for a spark to ignite. Everything goes dark. I too started to melt into a paralysis… spineless!! I was a lingering shadow.

In the background, I hear an announcement – “Welcoming you all to the footsteps of Gandhiji. Our ‘prasthanam’ of young people following the principles of Gandhiji invite you all to attend the all Kerala convention of QQQ followers. Join us and follow the footsteps of father of the nation”. Through the darkness in my mind I see a spotlight where a dhoti clad old person stared at me. He had tears in his eyes. He kept his hands open as he asked for mercy. I tried to shout. My brain switched off. Again…paralyzed. Everything was pitch dark. Nothing, but vacuum.

Student politics for the greater good of nation, it seems. Indeed, my dear leaders…. indeed! These young students are your future. Lure them to a path of darkness, and let Churchill’s half naked fakir weep. Let him beg for clemency.

Blogless Moments

2007-05-16T08:58:00.000+05:30

Confusions & Inconclusive Decisions
Dreams. They keep us going, right?
Embarrassment, which rarely happens.
Missing that old hand of support, yet again.
A bit of nice work, for a change. Doubt if am in a roadside motel to take rest and move ahead?
Owner of a moving gymn – A car that has its power steering stuck, which is now used to enhance the biceps. Seems Schwarzz (whatever his spelling is) is trying to become Cochin Mayor to gain access to this new facility.
Met the old gangs and just relished their company. Blore Boyz - You are the ones! Premier No. 1 s.
Good Positive Thinking.
Lots of Laughs. Lot more smiles.
Attend 3 marriages every weekend. Seriously doubt if some kind of ‘emergency’ is declared in Kerala?? Are people in a hurry to stop enjoying life? ;-)
Tiny personal achievements including addendum of loans! But sure will think twice before doing anything related to construction/renovation of a house or buying land. Just eats your time.
Many more movies, very less books (Strange!)
Missed both Aaraatupuzha and Thrissur pooram. Fortunately caught Irinjalakuda pooram on time, with a satisfaction of having attended the closing pooram of the season.

Sorry gang – 50 days that was, without blogging – I am going to be back soon.

Have a Good Night, Sir!

2007-03-20T20:40:00.000+05:30

Just as his security manager had directed him he bowed his head ever so slightly without his security cap falling off, to be on a subservient note, as he held that glass door open with his mouth whispering the same repetitive tone “Have a Good Night, Sir”. The bending of head is supposed to prove the submission before the exquisite knowledge and talent of the kids who just walked out of college to the ever-so-fascinating stream of IT. Bending the head is very much a part of being a security, he was told. And like his foot he cared! He wanted to catch that idiot who had this heavenly light in his head about bending the head down to prove you to be meek. It’s just another gesture for earning his salary of which each tiny bit builds the food for his family, and there’s absolutely no more meaning attached to that. You bend your head down, and you earn your money. He often wondered what made the software engineers so hot, to let them earn so much money. Damn…He works much more than they do, that too on a 12-hour shift, to keep the floor secure, to jump up and open the door whenever someone decides to leave, (oh yeah! With the head bend down!), to carry all those gizmo computer stuff that arrives at the doorstep to the network store rooms of the company, to bring coffee to the managers, to save electricity when employees leave, and…. Well, it’s difficult to list everything down. Anyway, who cares?

It’s always interesting to watch the IT whiz kids work. A walk through the lobby and you realize that software is the best job in the block. You see most of the people working on some programs named orket or rocket or something. It seems this is the latest technology and the kids are really enthusiastic about learning it completely. Then there are chat specialists, who have around 10 chat windows open in the monitor and move their fingers with the mastery of Yehudi Menuhin to maneuver between these windows. They say that these chat windows provide a world of ‘opportunities’. It’s pretty amazing how they can think about opportunities, when they are working on a job that remotely requires you to do anything at all. Man is a greedy animal, indeed! Now we walk into the gossip zone. You see so many heads sealed close together as a huddle, and you wonder if it’s the cricket team. Then you understand that guys/girls are secretly devising the strategy to spy on the new beauty/hunk that’s joined in the block. He felt like saying “Ladies, if you looking for a hunk…. me the man, baby!”, but holding on to his security cap seemed to be the right priority at that moment. The manager was pretty busy as usual, as he was in the phone talking to his wife about the EMI rate comparisons and location of the flats. Manager had asked him not to forward any official calls to his extension, since his wife had this nice habit of cleaning the broom on his face if she’s stopped in between her conversation. Amidst this chaos, he used to see a few people who work like no end and he didn’t know how they could adjust to this crowd. The most interesting part about all these IT people is that when he bends his head down in the morning and evening, they pretend to be so full of work that they don’t even smile. Aaah…They had forgotten to smile. The only expression in their face is ‘frown’ and some extremely privileged people keep their face ‘plain sad’. He always wondered how they could earn astronomical salaries and still be unhappy, when people like him are struggling to make both ends meet and still manage to smile all the while. The key to good life might be less money, as someone great told. But he acknowledged that he too didn’t mind being a bit sad for some more money…. And then he cursed himself “Hey…I need to stand by my principles…but…ahem ahem”. But he had no doubt in his mind that the most hyped up career was that of an IT person’s. They don’t do anything that’s so worthy of the bloated up salary that they get, and they just make the life of common man so difficult by reducing the value of money. He always believed that those military personnel or a doctor or even a casual laborer deserved much more than these whiz kids.

Next day, he woke up in his hopes. He kept getting these visions about future in his sleep. He saw years flying past him, as he closed his eyes to a generation groomed with only the words ‘IT’ in mind. Nature and Greenery became an alien in this world. The world gradually fell into a dark glassy concrete alley where it finds no food but lots of computer programs. It kept growing till that black day came, which decided the paradigm shift. The Gates and Balmers just realized that they couldn’t eat windows and their attention rightly shifted to food. The world had completed that vicious circle of technology evolution and was heading right back to those ages of farming. He saw himself sitting in front of an infinitesimal paddy field, which was secured by huge walls. He opened those glass doors to the farmers who swiped in, to earn 6 figure salaries. These farmers work hard for their money the whole day and did a worthy job in that too. There were no complaints, no gossips and every face was gracious for this new world of light after a long stretch of darkness. More than anything he accepted the smiles that they gave him when they left for the day. It’s with a look of contempt that he tore off the resume of that useless IT manager who wanted to apply for the job of farmer. And he smiled at that beautiful sight of sun setting into the orange horizon as the green fields and shining silver streams danced together to that old song of nature. Now, he did not mind extended shifts too, when he stood right at the edge of that serene greenery, enjoying the waft, knowing that the world has become just that tad fairer as it ought to be. The night was as beautiful as it can get. The cool breeze rehearsing the paddy foliage to dance in the music of nature, an occasional shooting star sketching designs on a sky painted with blinking stars, the soft yellow candle lights wobbling at the distant houses, the slow rhythmic giggling of the flowing water…His world had become beautiful and his heart was never as full as it was. He slipped into a serene slumber, with a light heart. To peaceful days…to his dreams.

The knocking on his desk by the security officer disturbed his sleep. He heard the familiar sound say “I’ve to stick with the regulations. Another day’s salary gone…gone with your sleep. How can you be so irresponsible?”. He realized that he was still sitting in that old chair in front of that IT company. Nothing had changed, and his beautiful world seemed to be a dream. As his officer further despised his laziness, he smiled coldly. He could not have cared lesser about a day’s salary being lost. He knew what was holding for the future. He knew that the darkness will soon shed and the days of luminous moments will resume. Those expectations will fuse through, soon. And he could hardly wait, as he stood with his head high and said "Have a Good Night, Sir!".

The real leaders!

2007-02-04T16:10:00.000+05:30

They say some leaders are born, and some evolve due to circumstances. They say leaders are populace who lead from the front, distributing the flowers showered on them to their cohorts and taking the brunt of hard-hitting brickbats single-handedly. Although the illustrious high profile leaders readily appear in our minds, have we ever contemplated about the less famous leaders whom we might have met in our lives, who have led astutely but yet remains just one among us? Well, this has been one thought that has been ringing bells in my mind for sometime, and I’ve been trying to recollect those who caught my eye as leaders even in a small inconsequential endeavor. Here are three among them.

Right towards the end of a very dull Michigan winter, I got a call from one Mr. Kapil Arora from JDM Systems Consultants asking about my interest in joining a new cricket club he was forming, to participate in the Detroit Cricket League. He brought together a group of enthusiastic cricket lovers for the team, and we christened the team as ‘Titans’. Kapil was the sole organizer and captain; he bought the cricket kit, arranged the practice sessions, scheduled practice matches with professional teams, maintained scores/statistics and got a bunch of novices to play the professional cricket league. He never got tired despite our team of amateurs loosing all the practice matches we played, despite the difficult job of pleasing everyone in the team by giving them chances to play in matches while making sure that we had a good enough team, and more than anything, making sure that all of us enjoyed spending the moments we spent on cricket. For all the days and nights that he spent for motivating the team, I am sure that Kapil Arora would have been the proudest person when his team Titans went on to win the Detroit Elite Cricket League, upsetting all the favorites en route. Cheers to one of the most honest, trustworthy and motivating leader I have - Kapil Arora, who deservingly remains as the president of DaimlerChrysler Cricket Association in Detroit.

Then there was our dear friend Choodan aka Anoop, who was the heart, vein and blood for the IT festival that we conducted in our B-Tech days. In the midst of other leaders who were given leadership tag-names for coordinating various activities, it was very evident as to who was the real leader who kept motivating us by his ‘no-talk, only-act’ attitude. He was omnipresent - for setting up the stalls, putting up the banners, running around for gathering enough PCs for the gaming area and even bringing water and food for the ‘otherwise’ busy guys. If we could point to one reason on why our first IT fest in Cochin University was a huge success, the fingers direct to one person who belonged to no committee, who just helped everyone day and night with an untiring ethic and non-egoistic attitude, who didn’t want any credit or tag for the work he did – our Choodan!

As mentioned in my previous post, Velu Appoopan, who was spending his life as a beggar after devoting his entire life for leading a miniscule village in Tamil Nadu to self-sufficiency, is the most inspiring. A man who gained nothing out of giving everything he had, to get the uneducated poor farmers to stand on their own feet. He defined some dimension of his own.

We tend to close our horizon with a defining boundary named ‘famous’, when we talk or think about leaders. Once we move out of that Horizon, we are exposed to an inspiring world of small leaders – the ones who do things differently in the tiny society that they live in. In a world where some people call themselves as ‘Leader’ and bribe the Guruvayoorappan for the forgiving the sins they’ve done during their tenure of ‘leadership’, I place my small leaders who remain bright in our day to day life, much higher – They are the ones that really matter. Maybe they are the ones who really makes us discover ourselves, who change our world!

Great leadership is about human experiences, not processes. Leadership is not a formula or a program, it is a human activity that comes from the heart and considers the hearts of others. It is an attitude, not a routine. -- Lance Secretan

As Appu lost himself

2006-12-01T22:08:00.000+05:30

Appu was sitting in the veranda of his home, watching those raindrops percolate through the coconut leaves and shatter into a million minute droplets as it fell on the pebbles. The petite pools of water around seemed to linger for those tiny droplets, like a hungry cat waiting to devour its own litter. Rains always carried a wide range of emotions with it. He was reliving those old days, when that tender cold drizzle somehow rendered his psyche gloomy, when that sudden gushy flow of torrent made him march ahead with inspiration, when the flowing rhythmic rain slowly rambling on the leaves made his teenage life romantic. Rain always seemed to mystify him; he understood that rain had always remained a part of himself. And there he was - after all those years of roaming around, back in that old chair watching that slight drizzle turning into a ferocious downpour. There he was - drinking a glass of black tea, with a book in his hand. It was on the same chair that he let his adolescent mind wander free in those rains as the heroic Dostoevsky of ‘Oru Sankeerthanam Pole’ or in search of that lost ‘Athiranipadam’ of ‘Oru Deshathinte Kadha’. It’s been ages since he got some time in peace to himself, like this- with just books for his company. When he looked outside of the compound wall he felt that years had not moved at all, as he watched those different shades of umbrella cloths traipse through the road as if they had lives of their own – poor ones, elderly ones, indignant ones, bouncy ones and even colored ones. An old gray umbrella that walked quite slowly, took his mind to those old days.

It might have been in his school days when he was studying for the exams, that Appu noticed a hand with a gray discolored umbrella opening the gate to his home. It was raining from morning, and he saw an old hand clasping tight to the cloth bag that hung from the shoulder to prevent it from getting wet. As that gloomy shadow turned in the rain, he saw an old man with a wrinkled face and pure white beard walking towards him. He saw a kind smile on the old man’s face and the presence of a crude walking stick told him that the old man was a beggar. When he dropped a 25 paisa coin to the old man’s hand, he saw a kind grateful smile and a kind voice that seemed to come from his beard said “Let Murugan shower you with all the blessings.” The downpour had reduced to a drizzle when he saw the mystifying character closing the gate. That was the first time he saw ‘Velu Appoopan’.

Velu Appoopan used to come to his house every Saturday noon and call ‘Appooo… Dharmam Thaayo…”. And Appu would take the coins that he used to collect for his pocket money to raise a rupee for Velu Appooppan. Velu Appooppan used to tell the stories about his small hamlet near Palani, where they had lot of land in which they used to farm almost everything in the fertile soil, where the green paddy fields meet the blue sky at horizon, where the ‘Jallikkattu’ race is so much a part of everyone’s life. Their conversations went on for weeks, and Appu shared many a joke sitting in that veranda with Velu Appoopan when rain was lashing its soul out. He remembered putting his books down and listening to those tales from Velu Appooppan with an open mouth, with lot of worship. The stories ranged from the floods of 1950s that erased quite a number of souls of his farmer kin, the killer malaria which followed, that took his wife and sons with it, the cock fights and murders following that which used to ensue after harvest festival at his village. Appu was largely inspired and thrilled when he heard about how Velu Appoopan organized his villagers with his speeches and poems, even after he was down and out with the killer disease that took his family with it, how he built a farmers union to fight the case for the grand of agricultural land and how he became the chief of that village. Appu was mystified about why a village chief would roam around begging for food and coins. All Velu Appooppan told was “When everything is lost for yourself, and then you go through the process of gaining everything for others….there comes a time when you realize that you have served your purpose. If you are lucky, you reach that phase of your life - when you realize that you can keep smiling and you become a part of those clouds that travel places to keep raining with no tomorrow. But most of the people would be unlucky, as they keep standing in that rain, looking up at the pouring heavens, shivering in the cold, wondering when the rainy days would be over. I am glad that I am lucky to be a cloud that cools down places with these rains!”. He did not see Velu Appoopan after that…Maybe the cloud moved on to create new rivers…

Appu woke up from the trance and kept his glass down. The black tea had gone cold. He wanted to go back to those times; he wanted to become a child, sitting in that veranda hearing those heroic stories again. He wanted to see that wrinkled hand holding the gray umbrella, and the kind old face that told him inspiring stories with that constant wheezing of the raindrops in background. He wanted to gape his mouth in adoration, and dream about being a good man in the future. But…there he was. Sometimes years stop passing by, and you realize that it’s not Time that moves ahead – it’s just yourself that’s moving ahead and the time actually stands still. He walked into the rain. He felt those drops kissing his palm. He realized that he was smiling….he was floating around, in those clouds just like his Appoopan told him.

It took him sometime to realize that the music he was hearing was not that of nature, but of the mobile in his pocket. The usual voice told him “Test case 248 is failing. Report immediately. Priority 1”. Appu jumped back to the veranda. His mind wandered to the test case and the priority deadlines of the work. He looked up into the pouring skies, shivering in the cold, wondering when the rain would stop. As he cursed the rain, little did he realize that he was that unlucky human, just like Appooppan told him. Appu just kept looking at the firmament….And rain fell down in buckets. He kept staring at the horizon, as the rain began to blur his vision … He steadily dissolved in it, as he lost himself.

* - Picture courtesy - Dhanush

Indefinite Strike strikes again!

2006-11-07T08:57:00.000+05:30

Private bus owners in Kerala were definitely on ‘Indefinite strike’. Well, Yet again! And No – This time it’s not over the mounting gas prices. They were protesting against the Supreme Court order of putting speed governors in the bus. They had affirmed that this court order was gross ‘injustice’ to the work ethics of their ‘very quick’ community. Their points were very legitimate and I feel that government and justice should not haunt these poor bus owners with ‘inhuman tactics’ like speed reduction. Let them contribute further to the nation.

These were reported to be their contributions to the nation as mentioned in bus owners/operators petition to the government:

1. We, the peaceful bus operators, know the worth of time. We made a decision - for our country, for its GDP rise, with nothing other than ardor in our mind – that we will risk our own lives to take our passengers at 120 km/hr so that time is not lost. Sometimes they don’t reach the correct place, but they still reach a place where they should reach eventually –Mortuary! See – We deliver the passengers early, sometimes by years.

2. While many research scientists in US are trying to crack the speed of light, we regularly shatter it with an extra 100 passengers through a special skill called ‘matsara ottam’ (competitive racing) in a special environment that can hardly be termed as road. You guys will realize our worth only when we get the Nobel Prize for this remarkable achievement next year.

3. All the big people made their mark by knowing the difficulties in life, and then climbing the ladder to their destination. If you see our bus in the morning, we train a lot of guys to become excellent people by making them climb the ladder behind the bus, and take them to destination. Some fall by, some reach there – but hey, that’s life!

4. When governments and police are trying hard to evacuate roadside shops in the midst of all these mobs, we easily manage to evacuate them by running into these shops every now and then.

5. We are able to envisage the future. Many a times, in traffic signals, we get the intuition that the signal will turn green within a minute, through our sixth sense. As described in point 1, why squander time when you know what’s going to happen – so we set an example by racing our bus immediately! Some idiots driving their vehicles seeing the green signal, without being able to predict their future signal to be red, become ‘futureless’ in the process. Very natural indeed.

6. Major aim of our nation is to reduce population. Leave the implementation part to us. Trust us, we will deliver. We do a CMM level 5 business. Maybe we will come up with some service license agreements with national population control forum.

As I was coming home sometime back, I saw a couple of flashily colored private buses full of people from North Kerala whizzing down NH47 for NCP-DIC merger, and prompty swearing in the most uncivilized language at a family with little kids in a car, for the heinous crime of stopping at a red signal. The merger is unquestionably heading to be a huge success for its 'humanitarian values', not to mention the liquor bottles that were circulating freely on the bus. And, just 2 weeks back, I saw a private bus running in Aluva-Ernakulam route overspeeding and jumping the HMT Signal, hitting an old man driving a scooter. As the man was lying in a puddle of blood, the private bus driver didn’t even show a bloody human emotion to stop and see if he was alive. Thankfully a flying squad came flying, and the man (who happens to be a shopkeeper near my place) escaped just in the nick of time.

It’s high time that some one jumps in and does something about these ruthless rogues. The callousness needs to be snapped by the décolletage. Be it through speed governors or through modern ‘Anniyans’!!

Motorcycle Diary - Ramakkalmedu

2006-10-29T00:46:00.000+05:30

Trip Date:

October 21, 2006

Destination:

Ramakkalmedu, Idukki, Kerala

Start Time:

6:30 am - Oct 21, 2006

End Time:

7:00 pm – Oct 21, 2006

Total Drive Time:

9 hours, rest accounting for breaks and sightseeing.

Riders:

My Cousin Manu and Me

Vehicles:

Royal Enfield Thunderbird (Me) and Kinetic Blaze (Manu)

Distance covered:

346 kms with around 300 kms of hill route. Although my previous biking trip from Bangalore-Wayanad spanned 800 kms, it had very less hill route drive.

Top Speed:

74 kmph, while overtaking a Truck in the beautiful MC Road. Otherwise maintained consistent speeds of 40 kmph on hill routes and 60 kmph on normal roads.

Fuel Consumption:

The giant 350CC engine of Thunderbird drank just 7.85 liters of petrol for the 346 kms, giving me a record mileage of 44 kmpl, for a trip that had almost 300 kms of hill route drive. I salute thee, the Legend!

Tour Bag:

Cramster Stallion Military Camouflage biking bag.

Tour Kit:

Spare Clutch & Accelerator cables, Spark plug and Fuse for the Thunderbird, Extra Cloths for the riders, 5 litres of Tang, Registration & other essential papers for the bikes, First aid kit, Chocolate bars, Canon Powershot S50 digital camera, Flashlight and Swiss Knife

Route to Destination:

Kalamassery- Aluva- Perumbavoor- Kothamangalam- Neriamangalam- Karimanal- Cheruthoni- Kattappana- Ramakkalmedu through NH47, NH49 and majority through normal broken roads

Route from Destination:

Ramakkalmedu- Kattappana- Cheruthoni- Thodupuzha- Muvattupuzha- Perumbavoor- Aluva- Kalamassery through SH33, MC Road, NH49, NH47

Road Conditions:

Hats off to Kerala State Government for that State Highway 33 from Thodupuzha to Kattappana. Spectacular would be a lesser word about this road – Spotless and Perfect with great road grip. Great curves made very safe with correct bordering of tar and warning signs. Awesome drive. MC Road is also in a great condition, and looks like interstate highways of US. But, NH 49 is nothing short of pathetic reminding me of soil excavations at places, while NH 47 is just ordinary. NHAI really has something to learn from SH 33. The road to Idukki through Neriamangalam-Karimanal is quite bad, but the ride offers quite a lot of beautiful views.

Destination Features:

Ramakkalmedu is a beautiful view spot in Tamil Nadu-Kerala border, giving breathtaking views of Kambamnaadu villages in TamilNadu on one side and the villages around Kattappana in Kerala on the other side. The view and greenery is nothing short of spectacular, and the gushy wind proves that this place is one of most windy places in South India. The giant 40ft statue made by sculptor CB Jinan, depicting Kuravan and Kurathi (tribals) is nothing short of spectacular. Being a lesser-known tourist location makes the place even more peaceful and blessed. In short Ramakkalmedu is 'Where wind plays its heavenly bliss!'. Feels like God’s own country, indeed!

Interesting Conversations:

I was coming out of a local hotel near Karimanal on the way to Idukki, when this seemingly well-dressed and educated gentleman approached me, after keenly monitoring my Royal Enfield Thunderbird for a few minutes.

The Gentleman: Your bike?

Me: Yes, Sir. (Thots: He’s noted it! )

The Gentleman: Hmmm… (looking at the sides, handle etc)

Me: :) (Thots: Seems to be a bike lover. Must be a knowledgeable person)

The Gentleman: My son also has a Thunderbird

Me: Wow! (Thots: So this guy is an expert!)

The Gentleman: He bought it 10 years ago.

Me: Ehhh? (Thots: Oops. That must be a mistake. TB is 2002 release)

The Gentleman: His Thunderbird had right side gears.

Me: Oh ohhh…(Thots: Syntax Error. Only left side gear found. )

The Gentleman: Handle was not curved. It was straight.

Me: Ngeyy?? My Gawd! Ahem..Push slowly sir. (Thots: My god. Bulls horns are straight?)

The Gentleman: How many gears?

Me: 5 (Thots: Now, Whats that question for?)

The Gentleman: Might be a cheaper version. His one had 6

Me: Including neutral! :) (Thots: One must be spare! OR He must have had a bulldozer, sir)

The Gentleman: And he bought it new for 55,000.

Me: What a Deal! (Thots: Next he will say - in spite of being offered a minister post, Karunakaran rejected it!) and I start running towards my bike

The Gentleman (shouting over my shoulder): And my son’s bike engine was……….

Me: Thumppp…Started the bike and escaped!! (Thots: his son’s engine surely was Google Search Engine!)

Other Bikers:

Not many. Saw a Foreigner driving a brand new Royal Enfield Thunderbird (black/silver) to Kattappana through the SH 33, and he had a ‘naadan’ chap with a ‘lungi’ as his pillion and guide. Then saw couple of ‘real’ bikers with long hair, beard and cup type helmets driving on an old Bullet Standard 350 – the moment they saw the Bird, they started shouting and waving the hands! Was nice to see the long runners!

Incidents:

None, except almost every single person on the road ogling at us and hearing comments like “Nokkedaa!” (“Look there!”). Had a nice time when we overtook a school tour party and the kids started clapping and whistling…

Overall Ride Feel:

Safe, Beautiful and Serene!

But, I missed the company of Dhanush’s Red Bird as much as I missed his Chikmangalur trip. I hope we make the Bangalore-Pondi trip soon!

Ride Safe, All!

Alexis' Tag - II

2006-10-18T00:26:00.000+05:30

The versatile Alexis Leon tagged me almost 2 months back. And the eversolate me is finishing the tag only now!

I am thinking about how I can make my carpenter finish the furniture work at home that he should have finished 40 days back. The best scheme till now is to assault him with my Chalus (PJs).

I said what I said. I am trying to take some back, but can’t. Seems there is some error in my system. :)

I want to do something that makes me feel contented when I seal my eyes. I might well be on the way for it.

I wish that world is a better place, which does not make me feel undeservingly fortunate.

I miss no no. I mister :). I miss a person who used to give me answer to all the questions I asked.

I hear the silence and start dissolving in it. Then I hit my head in the keyboard, which made me wear a helmet, while sleeping at work. :)

I wonder if the valley would turn green tomorrow. I wonder if tomorrow would rise as a Utopia.

I regret absolutely nothing, except a few things ;-).

I am a mystery to myself. I hired Scotland Yard to solve it. They committed suicide.

I dance when I hear ‘duppankoothu annaachi’ songs.

I sing and they declare Nationwide Hartal.

I cry in my mind, without tears.

I am not at all a serious chap as people think I might be….

I write stuff that basically can be termed as crap.

I confuse myself by thinking what I would do if I was the person I see in front of me. I think I have exhausted a key fraction of my life doing this.

I need my thoughts, my drive towards my dreams and some time to let it evolve.

I should try to control my temper, which I only show to people really close to my heart.

I finish only when I get finished. Till then, let the madness continue.

Anyone interested can pick this tag. Alexis - This one was real nice.

The fall into our heart

2006-09-14T23:30:00.000+05:30

He was still falling, facing the firmament above, with the advices about the Swami still lingering in the back of his mind. They, the society, were creating a racket about those protracted journeys of endurance that Swami went through to attain the state of definitive knowledge. He expected the halo of awareness that was possessed by the Swami to change his world over. But he was helpless, he was diminishing everyday.

It seems like a long time since he enthused away from his world. He seemed to be isolated into an act, with hardly any streak of light around. He could hear the movements around him – the sense of breath and anxiety that spread. The vicious sorrow that surrounded him seems to have gradually sunk into the environment. The dear ones realized it and have moved into the reality of day to day life. Life started moving on, and he still tried to spread his age old graceful self, but he was miserable, the descend never stopped. Then, as it was destined, days after he met Swami, he decided to do exactly what he was supposed to do.

He went back to those early days…His mind was nomadic….It moved across those blue oceans and hopped on to relish those green meadows. It played with the white snow and walked beneath the calm silence of the palm trees. It ran through the heights of the tallest peak, and it was there – capturing the essence of life. Yes, his mind was at its zenith, its best. But all of that eternal luminosity was suddenly blinded by that deep plunge into the gorges. He knew he dived into that…So much was the temptation. He was pulled in by his craving. It’s not fair, because he knew his mind swept itself to unknown territories. Still, he was sucked in by the vacuum. He has been falling deep down for years now – and the worst part is, he is not over yet. He tried holding on to those hands trying to save him, but in vain. He seemed to be trenching into a journey of his own…He started to think that he liked where he was going, but those around him did not. He tried to escape, but the attempts were rendered futile. Suddenly, It grabbed him…Swami’s hands were neat. They tried to inject that passion to move ahead. At least in a direction that everyone around him thought was forward. Swami was ever smiling, with that narrow of sense of guilty tenacity around his smile. He could feel strength emanating from the hand that held him. Swami’s hands were guiding him. Swami’s voice filled his psyche – ‘Bury your past. Gaze only at the future.’

He started packing. He started searching his brains. He picked out those spots, those binary chips that held his memories. He started piling them into that black box. It was tough. There was too much of data he had to scrape through. But he knew his life. He had his memories, which always cheered him up, which made him smile, and which made him dive into that deep valley of unknown. He packed them all. With his new felt energy, he started digging deep in the soil. He pushed that black box into that hole in the hot core of earth, and closed it. His heart felt lighter. He started to float around. There were claps all around, the society around him applauded as he became a new being. He felt elated. Swami was great – Swami managed to hold on to him, and make him divert the journey to a better path. They all were so right, everything felt so much in place.

As he started to walk back, he noticed that his foot imprints were no longer binding on that moist beach. His evening shadows seemed to be missing, and he saw that he no longer cast any physical attributes. He felt disturbed. He jumped head first into the rocks, but there was no pain. He was not himself. He saw that his individuality has been robbed. He transformed into a walking ghost with his identity buried. He could not stand it anymore. The pain was unbearable. He ran back to that hole and started digging….he was very far, but still….

It might be late, but he was sure…Contrary to what they say, it’s not about burying your past, it’s more about building on your history. He decided to persist his fall into that spacious and green valley which made his dream. He ignored the loathe of society. He kept on digging. He thought he saw Swami's hands burning in that heat. He kept excavating deeper. He needed to liberate his memories and be gratis. He wanted to drop free. Into the nadir…into those remote trenches. Again....Yet again…He wanted to fall into his heart....

Out of my comfort zone

2006-08-09T14:50:00.000+05:30

Changes are inevitable, and they keep following us through our lifespan. They may catch us unaware at many times, they may take ages to arrive after playing in milieu, they can make you happy, they can render you gloomy, they may bring a brilliant sense of expectation around which you fondly call hope, and they drive us through this journey named life. On hindsight, it’s changes that put together our existence.

Such a change is lingering right beside me, staring at my eyes with a smiling face - it arrived through a lot of contemplations and reached me quite gradually. Yes, I am leaving a much celebrated, coveted family which started out 25 years back with 7 sturdy pillars holding their hands together with nothing more than loads of determination, a place which used to be in the dreams of all of us while we studied, a family which adopted my career at its infancy and made it grow to what it is now, a name that earned me the best hug of my life from my father when they selected me, a company without which I could never dream my life to be what it is – a magnificent place named Infosys. Moving from such a status-quo domicile to a small-by-comparison organization in Cochin raised a few eyebrows. I refrained from giving a bulleted reason list, and reduced it to one easy word of truth which people don’t tend to question further ‘Personal!’.

The life with Infosys family has been a grand ride - with lots of new thrilling experiences during the journey, a lot of passengers – old and experienced, young and thrilled – all who gave a lot of lessons to me, most of the times we went through bumpy landscapes – but that allowed us to cherish each and every destination that we stopped by. I am sure that I was able to imbibe a lot of new thoughts, study specific behavioral details that made some excellent managers here, create a lot of friends and few not-so-good ones, help many of my team members to imagine and work better, tell my opinions frank-on-the-face to people irrespective of their level – which sure resulted in some happy and unhappy incidents, but more than anything this place has paved a way to crystallize my thoughts about what I want to be. The values followed by the founders really makes you aspire and reverie that you can be a person of your dreams. Yeah, I agree that it was not an eternal easy ride; there were moments of frustrations which can clearly be seen in some of my previous posts - On Retrospection, An offer Coolie could not refuse, Ruthless, Well-Balanced Life. Then there was this new high level manager who claims himself to be a ‘great-attitude’ person, who learnt that I am leaving and asked me – “I heard that you are leaving due to some health issues of an immediate relative. You are not lying, right?” – I was wondering if anyone who has a sane heart would lie about these things…So much for culture and professionalism of that person. But, that sure arrives as a ‘part and parcel’ of any large corporation. My life here for past 5 years has been nothing less than good - I was recognized, valued and there was lot of visibility for career growth. I could learn from some exceptional managers in Mohan and Shashank who would really be the examples to follow in life and career, I could lead some exceptionally intelligent talents in Sudhesh and Anirban, both of whom I am sure would soar to radiant heights in their life.

Yes, it would have been real simple to move ahead in this habituated circle of affairs, when you are comfortable with the present and secure with the future. Then there is that human element of change-resistance, where you have that inherent lack of confidence about the new environment and challenges that you are going to be stacked against, and a conscious apprehension about how you will embark upon it. On the top of all these, there are those claws of a circle of distant-relatives, which form that creamy layer of the ‘society’ around you, who will pounce on you with that ‘I told you not-to’ façade, should my new step falter a bit. And stupidly enough, when odds are stacked against, I thought this is the perfect time to call for a change. It’s a road traveled less, a deviation from the abode of opportunities and I am ready for the adventure :).

Also, there is a tenderness that engulfs me, when I know that the gorgeous winged beast that has been carrying me around for the past 1.5 years is no longer with me. We had a great time together, our long trip to Wayanad being the best among the lot. All those early mornings and late nights to/from Infy during my past two ultra-hectic development projects, when the mind would be saturated with the stress surrounding the work, the red Honda Unicorn acted as if it had its own mind. It took my tired physique promptly between places, and carried me around like a close comrade would do. He has been a kind friend, and was too close to me to be drawn apart. The risk involved in transporting him from here to Cochin in freight, the running around that needs to be done with the RTO offices to get him registered in Kerala made me a bit hesitant to take him with me. But, more than anything, the love that struck me when I met that uncomplicated country maiden - a bird that flew with an imposing aristocracy which left me awestruck, made me decide that its time to part. I handed over the keys of my dear friend; to a person I am sure will take care of him like family. Yes - I also bought a Royal Enfield Thunderbird back in Cochin, which would be waiting for me once I get back there. Hopefully, me, PP and Dhanu will all fly in our birds in the 2008 Royal Enfield Himalayan Odyssey.

As I stare at these changes, I realize that the fact is that I have been too used to this life. I was too familiar with the place I was employed, I was confident about the work I was doing, I always had a great time from my gang at home, I have been very unperturbed and easy – and it’s been too comfortable to face any sudden turbulence. Just like it was when in US, I am getting into that narrow zone of ease, that zone of pure comfort and relaxation, which I don’t savor too much for long durations. There is more to life than that, there are more challenges to take and live with. It’s more about reaching forward, clinging to your roots and dragging it along with you. It’s more about striking a balance between life and career. It’s more about doing what you believe you are capable of. It’s mostly about realizing the price tag that you put for yourself. At least, I wish so – when I drive out of the land of opportunities, the garden city of Bangalore which was my home for past 5 years, on August 12, 2006. There is a long long way to go, and I feel sure that I have made the initial few steps right. Or so I hope….as I take leave from my routines, as I move out of my comfort zone....

And quiet flows the river

2006-07-28T13:53:00.000+05:30

It took some genuine compulsion from my cousin Manu to pull the lazy me for a swim in Periyar. The water seemed so untainted. The Aluva manalpuram (sand banks) and the Shiva temple which lie a stones throw away were almost deserted, quite unlike what it is during Shivarathri. In the dawn, the manalpuram would have many people who come to do the final rites for a deceased relative, by breaking and immersing the mankudam (sandpot) with chithabhasmam (ashes) into the river. I could see the stones through the sparkle clear water near the kadavu of the manalpuram, and it all seemed so alluring. I walked through those steps and was soon immersed in head deep water. There were some boundaries marked with boulder pillars, beyond which the waters are supposed to be dangerous. People who knew swimming were venturing near those columns and the amateurs were sticking nearer to the steps. I started floating and swimming around, sometimes throwing the plastic balls back to the kids who were playing near the steps. It’s been a real long time since we got a chance to enjoy a quiet bath in the river, with the fresh evening breeze negating the otherwise humid weather. I was quite surprised when a young kid hardly 12 years old, dived into the water and started swimming beyond the stone pillars. He kept on swimming, and to the amazement of all the people in the kadavu (shore), easily managed to carry on and cross the river, which was around 400 meters wide, through that brawny current.

As night started to prowl in from the horizon and shadows set in, the crowd started dispersing, leaving only a handful of people in the river. Sinister clouds were gathering around from the west, and the menace of shower loomed around in the horizon – the monsoon in Kerala was predicted to be earlier this year. The reflections of the gloomy sky darkened the clear water that was flowing around me. I must have floated around for a while, facing the dark skies above watching the clouds move by swiftly in the gushy wind and abruptly, the torrents from heaven started pouring in tons. The river that was flowing like a beautiful country lass started to scuttle profusely like a model on a pageant. I watched the lights inside a train starting to move in the railway bridge at a distance, through the hazy weather. I could hear the rhythmic rattle echoing through the subtle surface of the river, and noticed that the train looked like a stretched snake moving rapidly to catch its prey. As I fell in love with this vicious flow of the river, as I was energetically swimming against that surge almost like a challenge, as I started to dissolve in that looming obscurity and silence, as the chilly gust started to freeze my mind into a single photo frame, I felt myself gripping my toes on a piece of sand pot which would have carried the ashes of a deceased body (chithabhasmam). In the shock, I started to move away, but I was too late. A hand grabbed me from the darkness of the water below. As I tried to scamper my way out, I saw the smile in the cold boyish face of my friend who had drowned in that river 12 years back. I instantly recognized him with panic, I felt the weight of his hand on my shoulder just like he used to do in school, I sensed the world shrinking, and my mind was dazed in that thunder. When I broke free and swam frantically for the steps, I noticed through the darkness and heavy rain that the distant yellow lights from the train were disappearing and the rattling sound was fading out. Panting heavily as I stood on the soggy sands of the manalpuram, I noticed the yellow boards on those boundary pillars with poems written on them. Through the downpour, I read those chilling Malayalam lines. ‘Little do you know about thrill and enjoyment! Little do you know when you take pleasure by going beyond boundaries. Little do you know how the serene tranquility can turn into brutal vigor. Little do you know about the tears that have flown into this river. Little do you know what you lose, unless you suffer. Little do you know the pain and void that death creates. We know it more than you. We are the souls that sank into this river in a small pot. We have seen it all’

I was poignant in that depressing silence. I walked back with Manu to my car as the heavy rain evolved to a light drizzle. It was a bit late into the night, but the lamps in the Shiva temple were still burning hazily in the gust. As I drove through the ‘Marthanda Varma Bridge’, I glanced down at the manalpuram - The leaves of the banyan tree in the temple which were lashing against the fierce gushing wind was flagging around peacefully, the wild flow of the river had turned into a calm walk and I realized that the unruffled beauty of that maiden named Periyar was luring me again. The traffic signal ahead indicated green. I kept going, I could not turn back. And underneath the bridge, even now, quiet flows the river.

A Combat named 'Badla'

2006-07-12T10:11:00.000+05:30

“It’s not a cakewalk. I never expected it to be. I sense I had a terrible accident. My head was whirling, and I stood facing the wall, with repugnance to myself. But there was no one else to blame. I need to face the anguish and pain myself. Why else should I try to play a pull when the ball is so short, quick and directed at my face? I missed the ball completely and it battered me right on the sweet spot in the wedge of my nose. There I was, batting on 29, on the verge of a triple century to reach the highest ever score in our Playground, but hit the 7th time precisely on my face by a short quicker one from Guru. I needed to focus. I needed to take those moments off my memory, and concentrate on the next ball. Guru has already declared that it would be his last ball. After this Dhanush would start off his whizzers, that shoot off like a bullet from good length on leg stump and whizz past the off stump. It will be difficult for me to adjust quickly to that, and there are chances that I miss out on my first triple century. Guru is ready with the ball looking ominous from his hands. I forget my pain, I try to focus. I try to see only the green patch of tennis ball and the movement of fingers holding the ball. I see that slinging yorker, that Guru often gets me out with, wriggle out of his hands and loom towards me like a speeding bullet. I see the green circle that’s approaching me and I bring down the bat to my legs. I hit my toe on the way to meet the ball, but yes – my bat met the ball on yorking length, and it bounced off the pitch to the wall – I hit the first triple century. While jumping around from the pain on my toes, I slowly and proudly raised my bat at my opponents, the fiercest enemies when in The Playground – Guru and Dhanush. And shouted at them… Badlaaahhhh”

This was a scene at midnight, couple of weeks back in our house. There have been lots of queries raised to myself and Dhanush, on what exactly is this ‘Badla’ that features in our blog often. Hence, we decided that we would handle ‘Badla’ in the blogosphere together.

Let me issue the warnings first.
Those who are not aware of cricket might find the post a bit absurd.
Those who are aware of cricket will find the post totally crazy.
And for us, the world consists of only these two kinds of people :).

Basic intent of this post is to popularize this variant of cricket named ‘Badla’, and to get some money stinking big-shot to buy our ground-breaking scheme so that we can earn millions of dollars as patent privileges. (Ahhh – A slight compromise– millions of ‘Rupees’ is also ok. No more negotiations please!)

History of the game

Well – It all started when Guru moved in with me and Aravind at our rented house in Bangalore around Jan 2005. It took some sincere compulsions and lot of big time ‘therivilis’ to make him shift with us from a dingy PG, but since we all closely knew each other for around 9 years he was quite apprehensive about the madness that’s going to follow. Anyway to cut the long story bermuda (aka short) Guru moved in with us. The first weekend itself, we declared the bigger bedroom in our house as ‘The Playground’. No one would sleep there, no furniture, bags etc would be allowed to be kept there. The biggest room in the house would be rendered for only one purpose – ‘The Playground’. We went around and bought a small size ‘MRF’ bat from roadside at a fair cost of 22000 Rs, with a tennis ball made with original gold feathers which we decided would be used only inside the house, so that we can keep the painted walls neat (Neat – gulp! – You should see it now!)

The Rules

There were no well-defined rules in the beginning. We started off with the usual indoor rule of direct hit on any walls being out, in addition to bowled and catch. Over-arm bowling was allowed, and that made batting even more difficult with the pace, bounce and movement that can be brought by that variation. Any shot hitting the walls after pitching the ground is rendered as a run. On due passage of time, the average winning score was found to be around 2-3 runs, with anything greater than 5 runs being a huge total. Scoring 10 runs has been declared as a century, and the batsman would raise the bat to the huge applause of the crowd watching the match. (If crowd is not there, bowler will applaud the batsman – mostly with swearings). Also, there is no LBW or hit wicket to ‘favor’ the batsman. There were some other rules like – If you wear specs, keep a spare ready since the ones that you are wearing can be broken at any time, If your blood group is rare, then please arrange for a bottle of extra blood before coming to the game etc etc.

The challenges

It won’t do any good if you are a fine cricketer on the cricket field. The concept of Badla is totally diverse. The challenges are very intense; chances of injuries are very likely, saving the proud face while returning is an unattainable solace. Bowling bouncers that hit right on the nose bridge is usually a source of inspiration for the bowler, almost everyone bowls bouncers to consciously injure the batsman and hence break the morale of the player. One lapse of concentration and you will either get an edge or have one banged on your nose pretty strong. The pace of the deliveries combined with the mix of spin/swing makes it thorny for even good players to survive. And another big challenge is for the close in fielders (again – the room is so small that everyone is close-in :)), to make sure that they don’t get hit in the face by the edgy shots. We have 2 pairs of broken specs, 3-4 instances of swollen eyes, blood oozing from the mouth etc as deterrents to the game. But still we play on – We enjoy the challenge - after all, we are real fighters!

The name of the game

How did the name ‘Badla’ evolve? I needed to think quite a bit into history to remember the rationale, and a smile braces me when I get the memories about that day. Guru was hell bent upon on winning the game, after a disastrous six months of 'Badla' – he used call himself by superhero names (Spiderman, for instance) for winning the tournaments, but nothing was working out. He saw a series name in ESPN, and declared that from that day onwards it’s the revenge time for him. He named the game for the day as ‘Badla’. After bowling every ball he turned himself back to the wall and shouted in a ‘Kroor Singh’ish way ‘Badlaaaaahhhhhhhhh’. Somehow those moments were too full of hilarity and wit which eventually made the name ‘Badla’ jammed to this game. It’s still going on every night, with me, Guru and Dhanush skirmishing it out with all our might, to earn the all vital distinction of becoming a champion. We still thrive for it and we pay hard with our time, our sweat and our blood!

The opening and closing ceremonies

The opening ritual of every match is marked with all of us shouting together ‘Badlaaahhh’ and throwing off our shirts to start off the game topless ;-). This is usually accompanied by the famous dialogues from Guru to the non-players at home (Now - PP and Aravind) ‘If you want to see Abhi and Dhanu with a smiling face – see it now. When they come back from the game, they would by crying with embarrassment of defeat and humiliation’. The closing ceremony of Badla is usually marked when someone slips, falls down on the ceramic tile floor and loses couple of teeth, after the floor gets completely wet with sweat. This is followed by a ‘Tang Refresher’ session when we prepare couple of big bottles of Tang that we devour in a flash while the one who has lost his teeth would be searching for the lost glory. Most of the times, even after the refresher session, we observe our eyes meeting again indicating that its time and everyone nods their heads in approval, and we walk back to ‘The Playground’. We are ready….And the cycle continues. (Couple of us have lost all of our teeth…We are growing them back by drinking Kamilari. And Eureka - its working!)

You can find more details about Badla in my dear friend Dhanush’s blog here. All the gorgeous caricatures and stunning sketches for this post were drawn by Guru and his friend Teju. Our sincere thanks to both of them!

Badla is not just a game for us. We cherish each and every moment that we spend for it and I am sure that it will adore our memories for times to come. Of course, it does not come easy. It needs you to have the zeal for waking from sleep at 2 am for the sake of the game. It mandates you to have a cold heart, coz you are going to have quite a bloodshed there. It’s a passion. It takes some grit and lots of mental strength to participate. No wonder ‘Indian Miscellaneous Games Association’ certified the game as ‘Adults Only’ because of offensive language and excessive use of violence. For facing this music, you are all welcome anytime to our abode!
Come, join the mighty combat!

Text Copyrighted © by Pophabhi & Dhanush ®
Images Copyrighted © by Guru & Teju ®

The Picture Tag

2006-07-10T16:08:00.000+05:30

I was tagged by Silverine, long time back. As usual I am awfully late, but I did complete the tag. :)

1. Most Desired Celebrity

Julie Delpy

Comment: The character, Celine, that she played in the movies Before Sunrise and its sequel Before Sunset made me adore the incandescent expressions, reflective charisma and the uncomplicated beauty of this wonderful actress. I don't know whether I liked the character Celine more than the actress herself, but the way she has portrayed the role was so captivating that the subtle touches of her natural, intelligent acting gets you arrested. Julie is just amazing!

2. Want to do this someday

Cycling past the Sunflower fields of Burgandy

Comment: Its been a dream in my mind. To cycle past the sunflower and lavender fields in Burgandy which extends to limits unknown, To just stand by them and watch them make a magnificient beautiful world of colors for me, To just whizz across those yellow petals in an evening with the setting sun illuminating the twilight skies with flames of yellow. Wow! I guess I need to carry a very good camera to capture those moments. Nice dreams. But what dreams can't come true?

3. Want to visit this place

Golden sands of Bharathapuzha

Comment: To idle out. To simply lie down on those sands where heritage and culture grazed. To hear the songs of mamankam. To smile at that tender breeze that kisses the neck deep water. To just sleep in that cold moonlight rendering the psyche to hypnotesis. To relax. To float. Those sands can do it all for you.

4. Random Favorite

Barkha Dutt
Comment: The most popular, daring, eye-catching reporter I have ever seen. One of the rare breed journalists who put their lives into risk to bring in the nations most momentous minutes right into our home - Be it the mindblowing coverage showing the sacrifices and valor of our soldiers during Kargil war when bullets and shells were spraying all around her, Be it the monster cyclone that shook up the heart of Orissa or the ruins of Gujarat, when she stood amongst the debris of the very broken souls of these states, Be it the enormity of the tragedy that was brought about in Tsunami - This brave lady has destroyed all the boundaries of traditional media coverages. That new emotional and personal element she has brought into news has not only negated the time acclaimed ruthlessness of journalism, but has also brought about a new found emotional and personal pathway between media and the viewers.

5. Tag Origin

Comment: My apologies for not 'pic'ing the origin of the post from Silverine. Please see her tag here.

The Theory of 'Well Balanced Life' (WBL)

2006-07-05T15:40:00.000+05:30

I still remember those days during the project that I managed 9 months back. The project used to sap up so much of my time, that I used to reach back at my abode at Bangalore only by 1 am in night, that too when work was ‘less’ and application was in production. It usually occured to me that I never see or talk with my gang at home, since they would be deep in sleep for the duration I am at home. The one who reached our home earliest was Mr. W, who had just joined one of the famous firms around Bangalore, and didn’t have too much of work to extend his working hours to night. Others at our home had enough work to hold them back till around 10 pm.

I remember - it was on a Wednesday, when all of us had come home by 9 pm (an occassion that demanded celebration - NASA reported that this occurs once in 2.65*e598 million years -which is approximately equal to the probability of driving through hosur road without getting caught in a traffic block) that Mr. W taught us the theory of ‘Well Balanced Life’. It seems one of his GMs had come from US, and he had given a talk to the employees in India about striking a balance between work and life. This was precisely the most confusing thing that intrigued me, since I moved to the ‘less’ work period which made me sit for 18 hours at office and I was still recovering from the 20-21 hours that I used to spent during the ‘actual execution’ of the project. I found it really difficult to even think about my existence, about my family, about my life, during this period. It was like I was ‘in a hole’ for a respectable span of time. I used to look jealously at my roomies all the time, especially Mr. W. That day was a similar day when Mr. W started giving this theory of ‘Well Balanced Life’, which he called fondly as WBL. He was telling that we need to fix our priorities, utilize the time effectively, get some free time so that our mind would be liberated for the apt amount of rest that it needs, endure in giving the body enough relaxation by sleeping 7 hours etc. Mr. W had his usual style of attacking us, especially me, telling ‘ I need a passport size photo of yours since I don’t know when I would see you next’. The usual retaliations and arguments did not happen, because for once he was making a strong point – he was having a well balanced life. We were all convinced about it. He was managing things effectively. He was implementing the principle of WBL. He was practising what he preached. He was having a life, he was enjoying it and most importantly he was able to rub salt into our sad misery. :)

He told us – ‘The key is to have a Well Balanced Life, like me. Practice WBL, guys. Otherwise you will keep suffering!.’

Was'nt he spot on?

In a totally unrelated incident, Mr. W was moved into a new project the very next day. And since then, we saw him only for brief spans of time, that too during weekends – He always comes so late that we would have slept by then, and he leaves the home before we even get up. Mr. W was renamed as Mr. WBL, and we all make it a point to unleash the hell for him by holding inspiring talks about ‘striking a balance in life’, whenever we see him. No need to mention that Mr. W had a ‘Well Silenced Life’ at our home, till he moved into his next project.

So much for WBL – or ‘Well Balanced Life’. WBL stands as a cliche now, whenever we are into a difficult project. :)

Tag of four

2006-07-03T13:31:00.000+05:30

Dhanush has stamped his foot on me with this tag - I don't have an escape and hence I am finally taking it.

4 jobs I’ve had:

- Developer/Marketing for our small venture right after Engineering.
- Near 5 years with Infy
- Shift worker in Achan’s chemical plant
- Car Driver (But no salary :( )

4 films I could watch again and again:

- The Shawshank Redemption
- Before Sunrise/Before Sunset
- Thoovanathumbikal
- Jakob the Liar

4 places I’ve lived in:

- Kalamassery, Cochin – Home sweet Home
- Cherai – All vacations and most weekends at my native place
- Auburn Hills, Michigan for those 20 cold months at customer site
- Bangalore

4 TV series I like to watch:

- Just for Gags in Pogo
- Whose line is it anyway in Star World
- Raagotsavam in Kairali
- The old ones – Crystal Maze & Wonder Years in Star Plus

4 places that I’ve been on vacation to:

- Goa (The great Goa Poa trip with the Boyz - Kichan & Seena, Dhanush, PP, Guru, Jyothi, Aravind!)

- Florida (With Auburn Hills gang - Sreeraj, Ganesh & Preethi, Santhosh, Prashanth, Mani and Dhanush who joined at Orlando)

- Wayanad (Our biking trip – 800 kms in 36 hours! - with PP, Aravind, Guru and Visakh)

- Michigan upper peninsula (With Mohan chettan and Pavan)

4 websites I visit everyday:

- Blogsites of my blog-friends
- Cricinfo, Prem Panickers blog in Rediff
- Wikipedia
- Gmail

4+4+4 books I’d love to read again and again:

- Janitakam by M.Sukumaran
- Samanathaalam by Radhakrishnan
- Any Basheer book
- Aithihyamaala by Kottarathil Sankunni
- Verukal by Malayatoor
- Bobanum Moliyum (I confess)
- Oru Deshathinte Kadha, Sanchaara saahityam by SK Pottakkad
- Screenplay of Moonampakkam, Thoovanathumbikal by Padmarajan
- Some Camus books – I haven’t half understood them yet!
- Rita Hayworth & Shawshank Redemption by Stephen King
- Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
- Calvin Hobbes by Bill Watterson

4 favorite dishes:

- Maangatholi (Dried mango with lots of chilli powder, salt)
- Puttu, Njaalipoovan pazham and sugar
- Kappa Meencurry
- Dosa and Mulaku-chammanthi that Amma makes!

4 places where I’d like to be right now:

- Home
- The green Chrysler Grounds, Auburn Hills where we played Detroit Cricket League
- Those golden sands in the banks of Bharathapuzha, Thirunavaaya
- Driving a cycle through Central Europe

4 people I’m gonna tag:

- Anyone interested can take it!

An insignificant puzzle

2006-06-23T11:40:00.000+05:30

“It would be good to see your blog being updated more frequently” – chanted some of my friends.
I have been out of the blog world for virtually a month. It’s been a bit of a crazy time. (Only a bit?? Quite a paradox when I am involved :) ). Well - Lots of imperative decisions. Heaps of out-of-routine behaviour. For instance, I didn’t visit the blog-spaces of my friends during this time. This is the second time I am doing this scandalous offence of moving to a different orb, the first being mentioned in Desert Roses.

And when I return, I appear with quite some trivial judgments. I have been plagued with thoughts about the insignificance of life. It feels so dull when you discern that whatever you perform is so meaningless, when you are uncertain about the moment at which you dispossess all that you have/want and then abscond to some anonymous consign or entity. Yes, I am puzzled (yet again!) with this mystery around Death. There might be different incidents that trigger these tantrums in me, and I am sure that I have experienced it multiple times. I must have gone through scores of personal opinions from people who have lived less/more, innumerable pages of religious and philosophical arrangements of words, scientific and modern logical thoughts and even the ramblings of human gods. They just drove me through various roads. I saw different patterns and colors in the sky. At times, the occasional brightness blinded the eyes for brief spans – and they claimed “See – Everything is clear. This is the sunshine you were looking out for!”. But I could still see the clouds. And when I alighted from the drive, I still felt insignificant.

Don’t get me wrong – I am neither depressed nor philosophical. I still wake up snoozing the alarm three times, I still leave office in the evening thinking about the world cup matches, I still play “Badla – the indoor cricket” with Dhanu and Guru, I still keep laughing at the chalus with Bangalore gang and I still keep breaking the promise of sleeping by 11 when I hit the sack at 1 or 2. See – I told you – I am still the crazy me.

Still, I am fazed by these disconcerting thoughts, at irregular intervals. And, the truth is - I still have those insignificant questions. I will keep looking out for an answer.

In Silence

2006-05-25T09:44:00.000+05:30

She was enjoying it. She listened to the ripples of music sweetly brushing against her soul; she reached the peaks of harmony in variations of pitches and tones of the musician. She had always loved hearing those melodious timbres from times unknown. It’s been her greatest joy in life to walk through those theoretical time structures between sound and silence, that they fondly called music.

It was like a stride through her life. It carried all the beauty and pain of loneliness in which she was dwelling. She saw the stings that pricked her mind and the memoirs that evoked smiles. She saw the candles of timbre light up the beauty of conscience, lingering as a shadow behind the rhythm. At times she felt that she can rewrite her script to experience the wholesome harmony. She could see it all in music.

She has been carrying the pain with her. She was lacking something that most others had. She could sense the vibrations of loneliness all around her. She felt that she was singled out, that she was an object of sympathy. That’s when she started to hear those voices. She sometimes heard her own conscience weep in patterns, which she felt was musical. At some point of time, she started to harmonically chant sequences of voice in her mind. She freely wandered through the mountains and valleys of pitches and tones that she never anticipated to attain by herself. She had set herself on a magical journey. She blazed into the voyage that cut through the borders of tones and silence, of patterns and combinations, of culture and humanity, of melody and harmony, of rhythm and timbre, of tears and smiles, most importantly of conscience and pain. She wriggled into the space between tones and turned her back against solitude. She won her fight.

When she closed her eyes she traveled some years back and she heard the doctor tell her “There has been no other option but to perform total laryngectomy to remove the cancer. Without your vocal cords it will be difficult for you to talk again”. When she opened her eyes she had tears in her eyes, but a peaceful Mona Lisa smile sported her face as she alighted into her new world filled with beautiful notes. Her heart was so quiet to hear the music in the air around her, the music amongst the trees and mountains. She set her foot on a confident new journey, which was about to turn her life around.

How true are the words of Yehudi Menuhin, the great violinist - “Music creates order out of chaos: for rhythm imposes unanimity upon the divergent, melody imposes continuity upon the disjointed, and harmony imposes compatibility upon the incongruous”

- This article is dedicated to a person, who had achieved new heights in her small world of music, who had created a life for herself out of void when falling into that black hole was so likely, who inspired all of us who knew about her, who realized there was a music even in silence.

The long wait for the new Zeus

2006-05-02T00:53:00.000+05:30

I stood in that gloomy valley, facing the magical beaming light which showered its golden rays across the horizon into my very enticed retina, which has not seen light for past thirty years. The light was so soothing - I acknowledged the new found warmth and freshness from it, the nice invigorating cold zephyr around me and I felt that this was it – I have attained what I was looking for. Destiny always finds you a bit late.

I had been idling in that dark valley for quite some time, and was waiting patiently for the better force to show me the way and take me with it. But HE had different ideas…It seemed as if HE knew the mission of my life and would not take me to the eternal bliss without letting me fulfill it. With that supernatural light fading, there was a torrent current in the air, the strong wind almost making me fall over, losing my balance. I could see a long rope being thrown at me, and through the darkness which still haunted one side of the valley, I could see four dark human shadows tied tight together at the other end of the rope. I strained my eyes to get a sight of their identity, but all I could see were four distinct figures taped tight in mysteriously black attires that hid their whole body. I could faintly recognize that they were wriggling in the tight bonds they were in, and their distant wails seemed to strike me hard. An unearthly voice whispered to me from eternity “Take them towards the sharp rock at the eastern tip of valley, which points to the unknown depths of grey gorges of suffering. Tie them to the rock and I will guide you from there.”

I was haunted by questions countless, as I pulled those distant voices to the east. I felt that I did not know who I was or what I was doing there, in that dark arena of mystery. I wondered if I was going to have a bout of nervous fits, but I realized that I was experiencing an unusually peaceful aura in mind. Although there were many a things that were unanswered around me, I was trying to be consciously edgy. I must have walked for ages, but I did trample down to my destination. The rock at the eastern tip shaped like a huge sharp nose, and there was an evil presence of the gorge, which seemed like a black hole sucking even the air around the rock. With a bit of difficulty, I managed to tie the four human figures to the rock. They kept on wailing and wriggling, even after being sealed strongly to the ropes. I slowly dropped off to a distance and got a resting place near the stream of sweet crystal clear water which I savored till it quenched my thirst, as I waited for that better power to guide me and take me further. My identity was still a mystery and I was hoping that I would be deprived of that pain as early as possible. I tried to look at the clear stream to see myself, but I was even dispossessed of reflections.

I was woken up by the cry of vultures from horizon. In the pale mysterious light that was peeping from the west, I could see the shadows of a number of vultures fast approaching. The scavengers neared within seconds, and headed straight towards the rocks. Hiding behind the trees, I looked at the horrible sight of the vultures hungrily devouring parts of flesh from the bodies of the four figures tied tightly to the rocks. I could hear the loud clear screams of pain that was endured by them, I could see the dark red color of flesh all around and I was engulfed by the nauseating smell of fresh blood in the air. I could see the vultures tearing off warm meat from the body and faces of the poor sufferers, and all I could do was stand helpless hoping that they would die faster void of all the pain they were suffering. The faint magical light started to fade out, and strangely, the vultures quit their cruel task and flew back towards the light. Life had not left the preys, and they were wailing from the pain they were enduring. I wanted to offer some water to them, but I could feel myself being tied down near the stream, unable to walk, unable to tender some helping words. They might have suffered for more than a day from that never ending pain, but never fell unconscious as if some mysterious force wanted them to suffer. By nightfall, the magical beam of light appeared above the rock and before I could get up it showered its rays on the victims and disappeared. I noticed that the wounds of the victims had healed up and the deep wailings of pain had stopped. I heard the healthy breathing as they fell asleep after giving some deep sighs of relief having been acquitted of all the pain. Before I could even think about the meaning of the drama I was seeing, I noticed the vultures arriving from the horizon yet again. Their cries of evil hunger woke up their preys at the rock, and they started screaming, knowing the dark fate that awaited them. Same trauma awaited them, and by the time the vultures left the same old chaotic atmosphere had sworn itself into power around me. These might have continued for days altogether. All of it looked like the story of Prometheus, who was destined for similar fate by Zeus, the god of gods. My thoughts became even hazier. Seeing the sufferings endured by them, tears started flowing from my eyes and as I wiped them off I could realize that my face was old with lots of wrinkles on it. I cried aloud for the magical force to come and take me – I had seen enough of these cruel sights, I had been hit hard by them. I prayed for my identity, I wanted to wipe off that mystery and the destiny that made me to see these people suffer.

Out of the blue, a bright sunlight engulfed the valley and I saw the rocky terrain lighted for the first time. I eagerly looked in the stream to see who I was. I saw myself – A strong old man, with sharp pointed eyes with lots of depth in them, determination radiating from each miniscule of the face, grit and strength written all over the psyche. I recognized myself – I was the father of Rajan, who died mercilessly in police custody around 30 years back – I am the professor who had advised words of wisdom and knowledge to generations of students – I am the man who suffered endlessly in the hands of tyrants, I am the man who endured the worst of fears, the worst of pains – I am the man who had been pricked by a thousand needles falling on me in the rain, when I heard the cries of my son who has been calling for me in the pain for past 30 years. Yes, I am the same helpless man, who fought years for justice, for bringing out the truth to public, for creating a new dawn in the place I was born – all as the last rites for my son. I am Professor Eachara Varier - I was pushed into dark by some heartless forces. They gave me a dead son, a mentally ill wife and an even darker 30 years to live. But I had the rage, I had the spirit to shout against the advent of dark….I, being an old man, needed an outstretched hand at times, but was deprived of that too. But, I fought. I fought hard with vigor, with verve.

The mystery about my self was solved, when I saw my face in the bright light. I turned back towards the rock and I saw the faces of the people who were enduring all that pain. The same people for whom I was sympathizing while wondering about the heinous crimes they did to get so much pain that was mounted on them. I could clearly see the visage of each person. The same faces that were pricking my consciousness for ages. The same faces which made me, wonder whether I can ever forgive them. The same faces that created doubts in this old man’s mind whether I had tiny droplets of vengeance in me. They were

Mr. KK, a well-known bureaucrat in Kerala who believes that every evil that he did in his holy life can be wiped out by visiting a holy temple. The state home minister during the time of emergency, who fought vigorously for injustice to prevail.

Mr. JP, Deputy Inspector General of Crime Branch - who personally orchestrated the sadistic entertainment of implementing heights of physical torture. The man who proved to the world that such nazist treatment can be implemented as a part of democracy as well, at the well-known Kakkayam camp, where Rajan was brutally murdered.

Mr. PN, the duty officer who supposedly kicked the life out of Rajan’s body on the nod of Mr. JP. From the descriptions of the fellow students in the camp, Rajan was pleading for his life when Mr. PN kicked him. I saw the images of Rajan’s young face begging for some more years in this earth, all nights for last 30 years. Will Mr. PN ever know what I lost?

Ms. IG, the mastermind behind hundreds of brutal deaths like these. Under the pretext of securing the country from danger, a single leader who was the Prime minister of India then brought in emergency which stayed from June 22, 1975 till March 21, 1977. Just before she had declared emergency, she was defeated in elections. She filed election petitions, filed cases in different courts of law, in vain. There comes declaration of emergency, and the darkest age of Indian democracy has come into existence as a result of the search for power from one tyrant person.

These were the people who contributed most for ruining my life. These were the people who killed my only son. Now, I can hear their cries closely. I see the pain that they are going through. I see their red tears flowing down their facade. I see their open flesh being torn apart by vultures. I should be happy. I should be celebrating. But….But, I am in a vacuum - I don’t know whether this is what I sought for. I am not a person who believes that counter sufferings would open the world for me. All I was looking out was for confession – Blunt confession for all the sins that this world has done to me.

Then, I saw the magical light again. I knew that the better power had written this verdict for them. I knew that HE wanted me to accompany him only after my destiny was fulfilled. I walked with HIM, hand to hand. I whispered “Free them. Let them learn”. I saw the smile in HIS face as we walked, and I heard the four mouths chanting confessions aloud from behind. We kept walking. When we neared the golden forest ahead of us, the chanting ceased and I turned back. There was no nose-shaped rock facing the evil dark gorges of the east. It had fallen. It fell to the depths of the valley where darkness of anguish lurked. I turned back. As I walked into tunnel of light with him, I had tears in my eyes. “Please let them learn. Let them have a chance, which they never gave my Rajan. I rest my case”. HE smiled at me again. At the very end of that tunnel of light I saw the shadowed silhouette of a young man with open arms welcoming me. He looked happy to see me, after 30 years. He brought hope in my mind, after 30 years. I….I realize that it’s the end of my journey. I smiled…with tears in my eyes, as he held me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since the moment I finished reading "Memories of a Father" - The autobiography by Prof Eachara Varier, I have been disturbed. I think I dreamt about it that night when I slept. I saw those vultures flying in, and I was happy. That's when I thought even more deeply about the professor and his life. The above reflections are my fiction and not a part of the book. Please use the link at the end of the article to see the book.

I remember Achan narrating the horrible incidents that happened during emergency (some of them in which he also suffered) during our long talks in the terrace. Although I had heard lots of stories about emergency from him and his books, I did not possess much info about Rajan murder case, until our dear Dhanush (Thanks to you!) passed the autobiography of Sri. Eachara Varier - ‘Memories of a Father’ (Translation to English by Neelan). I started the book at 1 am after I reached back home from work, and finished it by around 3 am, with a heavy heart. The pain and suffering that Sri Eachara Varier had undergone is beyond comprehension. If I had read this book before, I am sure that I would have given a visit to this great person before he passed away. Let there be more people like him who grace and touch the heart of our God’s own country. Let there be more warriors who are embodiments of mental strength and spirit. Let there be more people like Adv. Ramkumar (who was with Sri Varier from beginning till end, as an ace support in the fight for justice), Mr. Appukkuttan Vallikkunnu (the journalist who brought the inside story of Rajan case), Adv Eeswara Iyer (who took the case in court), Mr. Vahabudeen (the then, principal of REC, Calicut who assisted Sri. Varier for finding the truth). Let there be more people who can impart some change. Let there be more of us with open eyes and warm heart.

As has been mentioned by the translator (Neelan – An amazing job of translation by him), when we finish the book we feel that we are drenched in a rain. We feel that there is much more to be done to make ourselves more beautiful. It takes a lot to do something which can make our mind feel lighter and better. Let me stand in this rain for some more time, searching….yes…searching for a new Zeus, who can bind these dark forces to the rocks….I am waiting, with water in my eyes. It’s still raining and the horizon is dark and cloudy for me, with no magical ray of light or hope in the vicinity. Let it rain, let us drown in it.

http://www.ahrchk.net/pub/mainfile.php/mof/– Get the book from here.

Journey to the Roots!

2006-04-14T19:16:00.000+05:30

Today is Vishu, and yet again – for the third consecutive year I am missing home…errr…missing Vishu.

I miss those days before 2001, when I savored each and every Vishu at our ancestral home at Cherai.

I miss the wake up call from Amma at 5 am, when she used to close my eyes with her hands and lead me to the beautiful vishu kani, (the lucky sight with coconut, grains, vegetables, money, gold, lot of lighted golden lamps and silk in the pooja room), and open my eyes to relish the beautiful sight and pray. At my side would be Amma, wearing a beautiful Kerala kasavu saree with her face glowing with all the reflections in the yellow shades - being a kid, I used to think that she was the goddess herself (Well, she is, I admit! :) ).

I miss the moments when I used to be seated on the kitchen step and observe Amma and Chitta prepare Vishu Kanji with Pananchakkara, under the vigilant management of Amoomma (Grandmom).

I miss the time when I used to open the hidden enclosure (called ‘ara’) behind the Pooja room, to take the tiny statuettes of our ‘Karanavanmaar’ (Ancestors), bathe them in fresh water and apply ‘bhasmam’ and ‘chandanam’ on them.

I miss the time when I used to feel so pompous when I used to carry the Karanavanmaar to the Kalasham Room, light the lamp there and serve the vishu kanji and sadya to them. And of course the thrill of watching the envy of my little cousin sisters through the side of my eye when I did all these, since this chore should be carried out only by male members of the family.

I miss the time when me and my cousins used to go for distributing the vishu kanji (basic motive is to extract some kaineetam) to the scattered roots of the family which are spread across the vicinity due to constraints of time and money, as it happens in an old Nair family.

I miss the sumptuous sadya that we used to devour with so much thrill, and those moments when we looked like animals who haven’t seen food for months.

I miss those times when I used to run behind Achan’s bike when he used to reach Cherai after having lunch with his parents, and the mischievious smile he used to have when he hides the hundred rupee note behind the ten rupee note while passing the kaineetam to a ‘very-disappointed’ me.

I miss the times when I used to stroll around the big parambu (land) near the house holding the hand of Achan in the night, and the wonderful discussions that we used to have about almost anything under the sky while sitting on the steps of the pond in Vadakke parambu (North Plot) and watching the evening heavens with shooting stars.

I miss those luminous days….

Now, I am staring at the computer while creating some useless report which is going to be looked at once, and then thrown into garbage. After this I will create some schedules and update the project plan. So and so it goes…. So much for this Vishu!

But hey – If I was sitting back at home without any job, would I even care about Vishu? I would have been deliriously crazy, praying to give me a job - at least in a small networking firm as far as Thumbaktoo, even as an apprentice. So is there any room for after-thoughts or regrets? No - An absolutely blind No. Still, my mind is so juvenile – it’s still wandering like mad, it’s still searching for the roots, just like Malayatoor had written!

These fluctuations, these aberrations, these minor foibles – they beleaguer me more than anything. These are the times when I feel too small, too vulnerable, too insignificant…..and too human. I want to wriggle out of this sticky plethora of consciousness and get back to a unique world. But…..I remain conscious. So do many more of us….We all will remember the trails we hiked through!

Let our madness continue; let us dwell in these obscurities –

Meanwhile, Happy Vishu to all! Enjoy the new dawn of the new year!

An offer Coolie could not refuse!

2006-03-30T00:43:00.000+05:30

This is the story of Mr. Hernandez Coolie.

He works for one of the fêted bubble gum companies.

He was born there, he was brought up there, he lives there, he feeds there and he sleeps there. (And he thinks he will die there).

He has been working indefatigably for a long period with the company, in an unbelievable co-existence of reciprocal consent and reverence. He was loved by all and he enjoyed his freedom of not enjoying more freedom. Charachterwise, he was a philosopher and he always made it a point to employ his philosophical ideologies in his life.

His Don’s were always concerned about him, because they just loved him too much. They never wanted him to be sitting jaded and idle. They said they respected the abhorrence of Mr. Coolie towards free time. They asked: “Hey Coolie, You are anyway working till late, why don’t you take up this work as well. It will just take 2-3 hours more.”

Thus Mr. Coolie kept on working for blowing the big bubble even bigger.

Although there were times when he grew sentient about superior ‘mouth-freshening chewing gum’ firms outside, he never moved out. There were moments when he told his Dons that he has decided to move ahead, but the loving elders always used to say that he is one of the best people they had, and that they would provide some bizarre protein supplements for his ‘growth’. Every other occasion where he almost had a foot stamped outside, he realized the truth that these well wishers are never going to let him go easily – not without creating lots of problems. The supplements never came and he imparted in his psyche a ‘selective amnesia’ to the thought of moving to ‘mouth freshening chewing gum’ companies – It’s his destiny to ‘learn’ and ‘grow’ by being an ethical bubble blower – Anyway, he was loved so greatly and cared so vastly by his Dons, so why look for greener pastures? Many a times, many a things, he forced himself to believe – Being a philosopher helped him a lot.

It was on such a week that the organization triggered a survey named TIMEPASS which is the supposed to be the abbreviation for ‘Campaign Against Replanting Trees Which Are Already Replanted’ (abbreviation?? – aah..Whatever - Dons can’t be wrong!) survey. Various departments organized diverse backstabbing techniques in getting more people participate, since the department who gets maximum number of participants will have their department name pasted in the company boundary wall and the Dons in the department would win a free Dairy Milk chocolate.

Mr. Coolie ignored the campaign since he really did not mind replanting trees that are already replanted. He was a man who had a clear judgment about philosophical things (as I already mentioned!). The campaign TIMEPASS was supposed to end by Friday.

Meanwhile, the Dons had recently read some books about team motivation –They even had some sessions by experts about providing motivation to the team and leading by example. They were brooding for a chance to apply their leadership ideas and tactics - TIMEPASS is their golden chance and they see the guinea pigs grazing in front of them. Dons starts injecting motivation to their employees through a rapid operation portraying 'leadership by example' named ‘Operation Fool’s Gold’.

Monday morning: Mr. Coolie sees a mail from his Don Apostrophe, copied to his whole department. Don wanted the department name on the boundary wall.
“Our department is now 82nd in ratings. We need to pull ourselves up. Do your TIMEPASS.
I have done my TIMEPASS. What about you?”

Coolie thought "Wow!! Even Don Apostrophe did TIMEPASS. This is really motivational"

Wednesday Morning: Mr. Coolie sees a mail from the Don Semicolon (who is the Don of Don Apostrophe), copied to his whole department.
“Do your TIMEPASS.
I have done my TIMEPASS. What about you?”

Coolie thought "Wow!! Even Don Semicolon did TIMEPASS. This is really motivational"

Friday morning: Mr. Coolie sees a mail from ‘Don of Dons’ Don Full Stop (Don of Don Semicolon), copied to his whole department. Don Full Stop is a ruthless person who would do anything for a Dairy Milk.
“You cannot pay abstinence to TIMEPASS.
I have done my TIMEPASS. What about you?”

Mr. Coolie who had done lots of research and even discovered the close relation between replanting of trees and evolution of 45th leg of centipedes, was disappointed that he could not pen down his thoughts due to the workload he had been given by the Dons. (Coolie is not very clear on his thoughts, now – although he still remains philosophical!)

The disappointed Mr. Coolie did not think further when he replied to Don Full Stop with CC to all the people in the department:

“I didn’t do TIMEPASS.
I have work. What about you?”

That's it. Within a couple of weeks, the affectionate and compassionate Don Full Stop himself took the initiative in allowing Mr. Coolie to explore the world outside. Don Full Stop told Don Semi Colon “He might have been a great Coolie, but he deprived me of a dairy milk, and also let the whole department know about it. Don’t worry – We will get another Coolie from somewhere, there are so many on the prowl”.
Don Semi Colon told Mr. Coolie in 'Don Michael Corleone' style “I will give you an offer that you can’t refuse!”. Mr. Coolie did not refuse it and in the process achieved what he could not for the past 10 years!! He finally moved into a ‘mouth freshening chewing gum’ corporation.

In an unrelated incident, a bubble started to burst elsewhere.

Hernandez Coolie lived happily ever after.

Heirs of Earth

2006-03-24T09:53:00.000+05:30

I just saw a report with a great news. It seems Vaikom Mohammed Basheer’s celebrated chronicle ‘Bhoomiyude Avakaashikal’ (implies – Heirs of earth) is shortly going to be a motion picture, that too, right from the hands of my favorite movie director – TV Chandran. Now, imagine who is playing lead – Yes!! It’s Mohanlal himself. For a change, his co-stars in this movie would be spiders, ants etc. I am as thrilled as any avid Basheer fan, and I just savor these moments during which I envisage how the lead character will be thrown into the intellects of the audience, how the movie will portray the subtle moments and humor in the story etc etc etc...The thoughts go on.... In short, just by visualizing frames in mind, I feel I am back - alive and kicking!!

At any rate, it’s the best accolade that can be showered on one of the best writers to grace the soil of Kerala – Vaikom Mohammed Basheer!!

Ruthless

2006-03-20T09:10:00.000+05:30

There are times when I need to be callous. Although I have come out of the supple crust at times and made some impact on higher ups right on their visage, I think I am not doing enough. I see gross injustice, I see people who put genuine efforts suffer and people who masquerade labors enjoy. We need to be professional and antagonistic, but not at the expense of lives of sincere people, not at the expense of a few enjoyable moments that might blaze in the future and never ever to swathe the screw ups that some losers do in the quest for more ‘tags’, ‘promotions’ and ‘so-called organizational growth’.

At times you need to start believing in ethics, which are supposed to be in existence. At times, you need to raise your voice in a way that it’s heard. At times, you need to pull yourself out from cleaning up and let the mess others create remain a mess in their face. At times, you need to hit them hard on the face and let them realize that this is not the way to be. At times, you need to Ruthless.

I am not frustrated, but I guess I need to do a Quentin Tarantino.

If it’s just us...seems like an awful waste of space.

2006-03-19T22:01:00.000+05:30

Updating yet another experience:

It started with:

Young Ellie: CQ, this is W9GFO. CQ, this is W9GFO here. Come back?

It gave two quotes which will persist animated in my mind for quite a while, for sure…

One:
David Drumlin: I know you must think this is all very unfair. Maybe that's an understatement. What you don't know is I agree. I wish the world was a place where fair was the bottom line, where the kind of idealism you showed at the hearing was rewarded, not taken advantage of. Unfortunately, we don't live in that world.
Ellie Arroway: Funny, I've always believed that the world is what we make of it.

Two:
Unknown: You're an interesting species, an interesting mix. You're capable of such beautiful dreams and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you're not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other.

It illustrated the resolve, doggedness and persistence of a convinced mind:

Executive: We must confess that your proposal seems less like science and more like science fiction.

Ellie Arroway: Science fiction. You're right, it's crazy. In fact, it's even worse than that, it's nuts. You wanna hear something really nutty? I heard of a couple guys who wanna build something called an airplane, you know you get people to go in, and fly around like birds, it's ridiculous, right? And what about breaking the sound barrier, or rockets to the moon? Atomic energy, or a mission to Mars? Science fiction, right? Look, all I'm asking is for you to just have the tiniest bit of vision. You know, to just sit back for one minute and look at the big picture. To take a chance on something that just might end up being the most profoundly impactful moment for humanity, for the history... of history.

It ended with (guiding all of us to a larger picture):

Ellie Arroway: [to a group of children] I'll tell you one thing about the universe, though. The universe is a pretty big place. It's bigger than anything anyone has ever dreamed of before. So if it's just us... seems like an awful waste of space. Right?

As many of you might have known already, I made Contact. From the great director of Forrest Gump, Robert Zemeckis and from the Pultizer winning writer Carl Sagan, came this breathtaking movie - “Contact” - with Jodie Foster as Ellie. PP da, You got me bowled with this one.

Me: All, This is AK here. All, This is AK here. Don’t come back – Go see Contact.

Out of the world!

2006-03-12T23:17:00.000+05:30

Implausible – That's what I felt when Mark Boucher lofted a full ball from Brett Lee over mid on for a boundary. It’s hardly half an hour since I saw the best one-day match of my life.

ODI Match number 2349 - South Africa v/s Australia at Wanderers. Australia score 434 in 50 overs to become the first team in the history of the game to surmount the 400 run barrier. As obvious as it was, the rest of the game was supposed to be merely academic. But then, destiny had unusual things in mind – the probability of something happening 1 out of 100000 came about today. A man named Herschelle Gibbs took the game to a new echelon – with an amazing 175 off 111 balls! Making sure that the hard work was not for a losing cause, was an indomitable being named Mark Boucher who was exiled from the team hardly 4 months back. No more frozen frames – Just get a DVD of the match and watch it.

For once, I am so happy for switching off the bike and skipping the plan of going to office on a Sunday evening, when I heard Tony Greig shout "What a six! What a six!" after Gibbs hit that six over extra cover. Myself, Kich and PP were holding our hearts in the hands during the match, and sure would have been all the people who were watching this spectacle. I don’t think we have been so dumbfound by any victory by India. It was entertainment of the utmost class. Hats Off to Gibbs, Boucher, Smith and Van Der Wath (in that order)!! Such a warm, sweet revenge for the 99 World Cup semifinal.

On retrospection...

2006-02-20T23:35:00.000+05:30

It’s with an itinerant mind that I boarded the train to Bangalore from Alwaye railway station. There has been some questions raised on the authenticity of the work that I did in my previous project, and I had exhausted almost one whole day on telecon at my home to solve the issues. In the interim, I could not complete much of the personal work that I had to, at home, much to the dismay of my mother. Perplexed a propos whether having such a thankless job is worth my time and career, my deliberation route was preset. The whole process of boarding the coach, getting seated after keeping the luggage, and whatever I did in the train seemed to be a perfunctory procedure. Although I took out the novel ‘Thanalidam’ authored by Radhalakshmi Padmarajan that I had bought from the station, my mind was still roaming untamed about my choice of life. Maybe it’s the same ignorance that I had toward the book in my hand, which made me overlook the 50 odd year old person sitting right in front of me. All the while, maybe in my subconscious mind I was seeing this person who was the only other guy in my cube in the train. Anyway, now in hindsight, I do remember that this person looked like a simple Keralite, maybe an ordinary government employee, isolated from the present with something grave bothering his psyche. I must have seen him looking at me when I took out the book, and at times when I lifted my head, I could see that he was appallingly uptight with some despondency in his mind. At an instant or two, I wanted to wallop a tête-à-tête with him. I don’t know if it’s because of recalling the obligation for seclusion that I hunt for many a times, or my egotistic aim of clutching to something in the book without any disturbance, that I thought it would be better to leave the troubled man to himself. But why did I ‘fail’ to perceive that he was about to say something to me, when I got up to toss away the coffee cup? Is it just a reluctance to communicate with a fellow being who might be as old as my father, or is it just my mind trying to hold itself to the meaningless thought about same old life and career?

Anyway I am sure that this ignorance would turn out to be the final one that I give in my life. After expending some time trying to get through the first 2 pages of the novel, I decided to resign to my berth and roam around further in the mysterious terrains of my mind. It’s amazing that sometimes you love your journey to home and back, because those are the times you usually get your brain and mind for yourself. I think, maybe around midnight I slipped off to sleep, and all the while I was watching that my partner in despair was studying the unbounded darkness while he was sitting in the side seat that he got exchanged with someone who boarded from Palakkad. Even when I got down to wash my face just before I slept, he was gazing at me through the faded blue light in the compartment. Did I see a longing to let out something that has been gripping him for long, in his vulnerable eyes? Again the irrelevant deliberation about getting some sleep before I work on the design for the new project crept on me, and I conveniently ignored the elderly man. Quite amazingly, I slipped off to slumber within an hour and had been in the same state of sedate, peaceful unconsciousness for couple more hours.

It was the loud conversations below me that woke me up. I saw a small group of people, the TTR and a doctor with a stethoscope, leaning over the silhouette of a man who was on the train floor. I immediately jumped down to see what was happening. I saw the face of my silent friend, now gratis from all the despair, lying with a peaceful smile and closed eyes. The doctor who happened to be traveling in the same compartment as ours, told the TTR with a grim look “He is no more. Looks as if he had a major heart attack.”. I felt that the globe was whirling around me. I don’t know why I had my heart beating so quick as if its going to stop abruptly, that too for a person that I had barely noticed. The very thought that the sorrow and despair of that man could have been erased to an extent if I got him to talk and allowed him to vent out whatever was disturbing him, made my mind freeze. I still don’t know who this being is, or what sting he suffered from – but I got to realize that there are some things in life that you would want to change, however small they seem to be, while you think on retrospection. Sorry dear friend, I might have had a chance to save you, but I was too busy thinking about inconsequential concerns – I was too intimidated by my ego to even notice you. Now I know you, now I remember the moments in which I noticed you and communicated with you in silence, but all of this – only when I think in hindsight. If only I could turn back time, if only I could make a small correction, a small amendment in my mind – If only I could talk to you again, this time not in silence!

War against (T)Error?

2006-02-04T20:12:00.000+05:30

UN Security Council completed the voting which would decide the action against Iran for the ‘acts favoring nuclear enrichments’. Surprisingly, India has decided to stand with US and support the allegations that the Uranium enrichment that’s being done by Iran is in the prospects of endangering human kind. Is India’s stand wrong? I can’t arbitrate that it is wrong, since any kind of nuclear research has chances of endangering life and the red flag needs to be pulled at the right time. But my question is “Why just Iran?” Why the so called ‘War against Terrorism’ is concentrated in towards the Middle East? US just finished cutting the blood supply of a nation named Iraq. Recently US ambassador appealed against the joint decision made by India and China to buy an oil field in Syria for $573 Million. Reason: Syria is short listed as a probable territory from where terror campaign can arise, and if such hefty amount of capital is going to be floated in the country, they might start acts of terrorism. Maybe it’s because of the force named China standing by us, - our Foreign ministry made a brawny reply asking US not to teach us how to control our own economy and foreign policies. Getting back to main topic, US had already short listed Syria as ‘terrorist’ probable realm. Remaining powers of Middle East, Saudi and Kuwait are ruled by Sheikhs whose identity cards would show the portrait of the US president. :)

What is this leading to? It’s quite palpable that the hottest commodity for next century would be natural gas. The largest producers of the same have already taken the lead roles in the movie directed by US. But the intelligent wolves are well aware that the sum of natural gas deposits of other Middle East nations would make a substantial quantity in the global market. After having a bout of selective amnesia which makes them fail to remember about Afghan and Pak, the focus is diverted to uranium enrichment program in Iran which is the 4th largest natural gas producer, oil field sales in Syria which comes in top 10 natural gas producers. Now the whole world can turn a blind eye on the nuclear researches happening at the ancestral homes of US, France, UK and other biggies.

I am sure that it’s not very hard to make out these facts. But then, why are other biggies like India and China not retaliating to it? I don’t think that nations like China, Germany and Russia are just imprudent enough to ignore it, which means they might be scheduling some games in the backstage. Would our Bharat also be planning some strategy behind these enemy lines? Is it already signed a clandestine team up with China on this?

Anyway the way things are going does not point to a peaceful 21st century – whatever strategies these biggies are planning, it does not seem to be in the best interests of the earth and its inhabitants. All we can hope is for level-headedness to prevail, Earlier the better.

Desert Roses

2006-02-03T22:31:00.000+05:30

I have been arrested. I have been regularly irregular to the blog. It’s even more scandalous that I have not been penning any of my thoughts in here – which, by the way, has been the prime provocation of transforming myself to a blogger. Well, let the time take me there (That’s the usual escapade – Time and Fate ). Till then let me ramble into unfamiliar trails.

I don’t know if this happens to everyone – Something that you might have read long time back abruptly creates lot of clamor in your psyche as if it’s a bhoot trapped in an ancient vessel. Abusing your seclusion, it breaks the fetters, pokes the intellect and directly cancers your brain. Without any provocation, in one of my journeys back home in the company bus, an article I read in a Malayalam magazine unexpectedly popped out and lay bare in front of me, as if questioning my ignorance that stayed afloat till then. Anyway, holding further crap-talk about how I (selfish me :) ) am involved in this, let me dive into the matter.

The piece was about the large populace who leave our ‘Mera Bharat Mahan’ in search of a career at the abode of ‘revelation to wealth’ – named Gulf. In the text that elucidated an assortment of faces and facades involved in the posh life of Middle East, the part that jammed my attention was a mention about shepherds in the desert. Lets take a peep into their career: Every shepherd would be given a herd of sheep that he needs to take around the desert to stumble on pastures where they can feed. The sponsors would arrive once in a week at some pre-decided meeting point to endow the shepherds with food and some very vital necessities. The shepherds would be taken once in 3-6 months to the settlement, for a haircut/shave. I remember that this segment about shepherds had caught my eye, and I might have pondered a minute or two thinking about them. Yes I confirm!!– They were the culprits. It’s those shepherds who had jumped right in front of me, at 10 o’clock in the night while I was traveling through the dusty Hosur Road. And well, I had not choice but to become a shepherd - not that I wanted to. But they begged, coaxed and threatened me to it. Yes I became a shepherd. One among them. Teleported from Hosur Road to a desert in Middle East , with the only similarity being the dust.

Here I am, in the middle of a desert under baking sun, with no one for company other than 40 sheep who are as famished as I am. It’s been a long walk, and at times, I feel that my sense of direction in this unbounded ocean of sand is deceitful to me. It’s only one more day to reach the base camp, and my sponsor would have come with new stock of ‘Kubboos’ which would let me survive for yet another week. Yes….it’s been a long, dusty and daunting walk, just as it has been for the past 8 years. But the sandstorm that hit me a couple of days back was certainly having a distinct identity. As always, I was leaping down and hiding the face with the blanket and moving the body between the herd, to keep myself in the team. It’s never a nice feeling to have sand trickling down to the lungs, but after 2 hours of duel I managed to escape the blizzard with a loss of 2 sheeps. Sandstorm came swirling in to shake my mind, but also took the price of two sheeps from my hard earned income – as loss of sheep is accounted on inefficiency of the shepherd. There are many more shepherds like me who would be nomadic in the desert with herds. Only God knows, how many would have survived the storm. In this desolate tract extending to perpetuity, we live alone, fearing the wolves and desert cats that come to hunt sheep, vigilant for the noxious snakes that can appear at any time, we find our life being hotter than this desert. It’s not these external menaces that devour me; it’s rather the loneliness that I face. Sometimes I cast myself into a sheep and talk with my herd. The hope of finding another shepherd is very remote in such a big haystack of sand. You might as well say "Hey - it was your choice to end up there". But you need to understand, none of us landed up here for adventure or amusement. We do not cherish the heat and moonlight that’s extended on our body and mind; we suppurate seeing our lives fried in this scorching heat. It’s this heat that is getting converted to the fire in the stoves of our families back at home. It’s our existence that is being smoldered to get our children educated and to allow them grow up with a decorum that we never had. And it’s those smiles that we see in our families, that make us strive deeper into the deserts – it’s those little moments of bliss which transforms into a mirage in our desert. No.....Don't change it with your sympathy. Let it remain so. Let me linger through this solitude of heat till I may be given gratis.

I don’t know if people who stay in cities in Gulf would know about these poor mortals, but these realities of life did spur some waves in me. For a moment, I learned not to crib about anything around me, I thanked Him for holding me here and prayed that He will learn to balance the world and turn it to Utopia – The land in Marx’s dreams, and a land in the dreams of all these ‘Roses of Desert’ who would still be wandering incessantly in the deserts. World is never fair, is it? Now, don't start to be optimistic. Life is also not fair. Let’s hope it will be – but when? After we become a part of this desert?

I believe I can touch the sky

2006-01-30T20:53:00.000+05:30

Yes, People - I turned into a bird. On that Thursday Evening (19th), I took my first flight as a bird. I grew my wings, and I took off from the ground without even realizing it. I stayed buoyant for a while, and then started on a journey that lasted for a couple of hours to places unknown, to corners of solitude. But sure, being afloat in the air with no force holding you up, slowly pacing up to the evening firmament n stars, and then descending with your eyes closed and body still like a hawk – it was wonderful. When I landed back on the ground, I could not believe that it was real. I tried it again, but that mysterious force which seized me had gone astray. I became a typical worthless mortal again.

But, now there is a change – I don’t just believe I can fly – Coz I already flew, and touched the sky.

Wondering what happened? One person with a miniature piece of Bamboo tenderly took a swarm of 5000 humans for a paranormal flight. Two hours of magic by a simple man named Hariprasad Chourasia. It was an evening to remember!

Blog: My cup of tea?

2006-01-20T08:49:00.000+05:30

Scene 1:

Date: A Saturday in June, 2004 – Location: Auburn Hills, Michigan, USA – Actors: Mr. Mohan Krishnan and Mr. Abhilash Kishore

Time: Early morning (11:30 am)

Blog !! Now, what’s that? This was precisely what passed my mind when Mohan Chettan (my good friend, philosopher and guide) mentioned about reading a blog of his friend. Although I could not make out the head or tail of what a blog was, I acted as if I am the blogmaster and did not need any guidance to what that means. The closest meaning I could think of blog was that it could be a cousin of BLOBs that we use in databases. (Excuse for the PJ – that one was natural!! Hehe) Mohan Chettan was too pre-occupied in playing Kho-Kho with his techie friends, Mr. Hibernate and Mr. Data Persistance, and did not notice the unsure conjecture that I showed beneath the screen of confidence. Going through the url he gave, I enjoyed what I saw for a couple of reasons – His friend was an excellent writer, and her fields of interest made me think (which by the way, was a process that faded to oblivion once I reached US). After spending a lot of time reading through her previous blogs and contemplating on what blogging means for people, the usual laziness crept around and I drew myself to spend time on more productive activities like watching movies, playing cricket and sleeping. Now that’s curtains for you, Mr.Blog, for another year and half.

Scene 2:

Date: A working day in Jan, 2006 – Location: Bangalore, India – Actor: Mr. Abhilash Kishore

Time: Evening (6:30 pm)

Finally having some time for myself after a project that sapped around 20 hours/day time for 6 months, after which I felt that I spent 183 good days of my life for absolute hollowness. Its during one of those empty hours that my tranquil mind solders an idea to check up the blogspot of Sridhar (one of my good friends, an IIMB passout and my fellow warrior in Dravid support). It was enchanting to read something really good, after a long time. And since it’s from Chilli (Sridhar), the contents really matched my frequency and I could feel the waves of thoughts that were triggered in my mind while going through many of them. After spending another 3 hours going through some other blogs that I could grab hold of, I decided that I will also make an attempt towards blogging and see how long it would be able to catch my interest. Although I have my own apprehensions on how good I can be on this front, I am positive about giving a hand to this new eye-catcher.

Thus was born a blog named ‘Madness Continues’ (Clap! Clap! Clap!!) :) Welcome !!

Happy Birthday, God!!

2006-01-11T18:40:00.000+05:30

After days of lazy thoughts about my first posting, the day January 11 answered the puzzle for me. Yes people, its the Birthday of Rahul 'The Wall' Dravid, one and only GOD of cricket.

Wishing you a wonderful birthday and hoping that you would take Indian Cricket to new heights this year.

Happy Birthday, Great WALL of India!!