terrestrial amphibians ?

50+ degree north. Cold day. Crisp sunshine. Clear sky. Windy. Thin air. As if I was 2000 metres a.s.l.
And then a plane flew over me. As I saw it's trails, I realised they look like what the wake of a powerful boat might look like.
What makes us believe we are not underwater as well - where the clouds are waves and the sunlight comes dispersed?

भ्रम के भूत

एक सोच, जिसको मैं मैं बुलाता हूँ,
चल पड़ा एक रथ की सवारी पर,
खीचा विचारों के घोड़ों ने,
पहिया चले समय का।

चलते चलते, मिला सैकड़ो ख्यालों से,
कुछ साथ चलते, तो कुछ धोका देते,
कुछ अपने सफ़र में मस्त।

रास्ते बदल दिए,
ताकि मैं खो न जाऊ,
ताकि मैं मंजिल तक पहुच जाऊ,
शायद मैं संभल जाऊ।

चौराहे पर रुकता, और फिर चलता,
मन के नक्षों ने किया तैय सफ़र।।

Biting the Bullet

I don’t generally write without thinking. Nor do I generally write while thinking. But today, I will. Write while thinking, i.e. for the record.

I am ecstatic. I have booked a Royal Enfield Bullet. It is due in a promised 6-8 months, but I know it is going to get delayed. Honestly, I can wait. I have waited for atleast 4 years for this bike, and if you consider waiting for a ‘dream’ bike, it’s been more than a decade since I knew that Yezdis were available in the used bike market as second hand or third hand bikes for pretty low prices. It is only now that the minimum cost for a fairly well restored Yezdi has started creeping pretty high. For several ‘reasons’, I am not buying the Yezdi, a decision I regret today and will, even in the future. Just the way the bike is pumped before starting it, the rhythmic engine beats as they settle down after over-shooting the idle rpm, the twin silencers, the tank, the elongated headlamp, the simple handlebars, the mechanism of putting the bike in first gear by using the Achilles tendon and the way the bike accelerates. It is a living legend refusing to die out even though it has been out of production since 16 years. It is a moving piece of metal which gives me a lump in the throat. Always.

Regret apart, I am ecstatic. I just can’t wait for the bullet to be ready, me to be running it in and getting used to it, listening and learning its sounds, learning how to release the clutch, and learning at what pressure application the brakes really bite, how the bike changes direction, how it feels in long rides, measuring how it leans in corners and how it stops. I am eager to know how heavy it feels since it is the heftiest bike I will have driven till now. I am curious about how well it navigates in city traffic when I absolutely have to take it out in that mob. Will it cause back pain or pain around the shoulder blades or in the bum or none? What kind of leg guard should I put? How interesting is learning the maintenance of the bike going to be? What should I draw on the massive tank? A map of India, maybe? Or the side view of my own Bullet? It’s surprising how ‘life-less’ pieces of metal joined together can infuse so much energy into us.

There are plans of making road trips, exploring this unbelievably diverse country in bits and pieces, forming a bigger collage my perception of things changes with time parallely.

Thanks to some moments of clarity and in no small amount to a few very important people in my life, I do want to make a difference in my lifestyle though. I want to minimize consumption of ‘things’. I know it sounds contradictory when I am buying a big, cruiser bike and talking of roaming around to places which are accessible by public transport as well, but I am prepared to take out ‘want’ out of pretty much everything else to try and compensate for this love of the bike.

So, I am going to minimize all kinds of consumption which pollute, especially which don’t bio-degrade easily, and I am making a list of items which need to go out.
In no particular order, some of these are  Packaged biscuits – outer package plus inner tray-like package to ensure biscuits don’t break. This will be replaced by cookies which are sold loosely. Wafers and chips – big plastic packets for 20 grams of chips. Ridiculous. Soft drinks in PET bottles are out. I am switching to fruit juices and lemonade. Packaged chocolates are out. I will switch to Ooty chocolates and Coorg chocolates, when necessary, which are available easily in South India. Tea and Coffee in plastic and paper cups are cancelled with immediate effect. I will visit restaurants where they serve it in glass / ceramic cups if I have to. I don’t smoke, so nothing to be done there. Of course, public transport for commuting to the office continues. I will fit my bicycle with gears so that I can reduce that as well. Growing a few vegetables in the balcony at home will continue. I am going to stop buying from malls where they wrap individual vegetables in plastic sheets. Fools. Basic segregation of waste will be started. For watering the plants, I want to learn how to manage grey water. I also want to buy one solar panel and try to use it somewhere. I will also continue avoiding flights to and fro as much as possible. I want to join some organization which helps people reduce this plastic menace, pollution, and the slow rape of the earth. I am going to continue googling, a little more extensively on how to save energy in day to day activities like heating/cooling food, among others. This list will only grow.

Ever since I have booked the bike, I have been constantly seeing more and more avenues where I feel I am being wasteful and am consuming things mindlessly. I want to stop all of them as early as possible.

I’m finding this whole experience energizing and I get the feeling that it is going to be easy to do so especially since I want to be able to ride once in a while, just for the sake of riding, without thinking of right or wrong. It is a little paradoxical, wanting to consume less and then buying a bike, it is confusing as well.

I may be wrong in thinking the way I am, and I need to sit and think whether I am or not, but at the moment this sounds like a good start to improve.

It is remarkable how a bike, this weakness of mine, can strengthen me.

Laser guided train. Of thought.

How is darkness not a passing tunnel
in the diurnal journey of Life?

Aren't frowns inverted smiles
especially when joy, and sorrow, give tears?

Why is simplicity a moving target
in spite of us chasing it everyday?

Why do the clouds shield the Sun
when He forms them every-time?

Why go for surety
when the purest joy is unexpected?

Isn't a heartbeat
another musical beat?

A wonderful stranger

his canvas is an infinite spread

he paints portions of it green,

and folds and shapes part of it without coloring it,

he makes mountains

he paints the sky blue

sends a soothing breeze

he makes some water,

and breathes in life.

he lights up the sky with his millions of stars

while we chase a completely different million,

he runs his hand, on our heads, pampers us,

don't you feel the clouds roll by

he shows himself in every way

to console us he is there,

he shines on us and makes our day.

he makes landscapes when he paints

and reshapes and alters them still

he is still at work,

he plays in the sand and caves are formed,

his green fingers plant forests,

his campfires erupt lava,

his presence, like him, is infinite.

we must thank him for

he is allowing us to sample his creations

he is the one who invented our discoveries,

I'm glad to be able to sense Him.

Loneliness

When a week turned into a year,
and the night was a week long;
when joy broke down to a smile,
and a smile sank to sorrow;
i pulled on.

then: you were tense,
i went calm,
and you were relieved,
and so was i.
and then, you laughed,
i remember it clearly,
because when you smile,
i do too.

if you are changing
you will stay you.
you'll never be alone,
just alone together.

when tomorrow begins,
you will be here,
because you need to be here,
for it to dawn.

a common emotion emerges,
at the speed of thought,
traverses, embraces everything,
including us.

the colorful shadow of a dark present

everyday,
and everynight,
i look behind me,
at time gone by,
and the seasons that have changed.

I see my shadow,
colorful,
in happy kaleidoscopic shades of yellow orange red and laughter,
and contrast it with what it is becoming today,
a dark and a darker black.

black out of being burnt out,
black out of ignorance.
black of denial and
black of being blind towards seeing me.
a black of mourning regret and repent,
the black question mark following all the what if's and if only's,
a black of gloom and failure.

my ghost like shadow - longer stronger darker when i am made to believe it is,
and shorter weaker and disabled when i want it to.
there is a dichotomy, and a different perspective,
when only black defines white.

little did i know that,
black is just all colors put together,
and that without different shades, there will be no black,
and in black there will be no shades.

a black of being able to share and absorb thoughts willingly,
a black of a vast night sky,
a black of beauty.

i just needed to unchain the colors,
and, set them free.

A slice of Utopia - 1

A house with a carpet of leaves,

and a roof of stars,

with tree trunks as pillars,

and creepers as curtains,

with birds providing the music,

and streams as bath tubs,

with rainfall as my shower,

and moonlight as night light,

with flowers as "room" fresheners,

and a garden in place of a grocery store,

with the breeze as my balm,

and deadwood as fuel,

with daily celestial shows as my primetime television,

and my circadian clock the only one,

with a calendar on a log,

and my commute ending as it begins,

but continuing still,

with wild grass like wilder brush-strokes,

and the rising red moon defying words,

with me leaving it to your imagination,

underneath clouds as my umbrella,

and my feet as my vehicle,

all, with my mind as my canvas.

proxy

set sail to sea but pulled off course by the light of golden treasure.
was he the one causing pain with his careless dreaming?
been afraid, always afraid, of the things he's feeling.
and how can i blame you, when it's me I can't forgive?

the seas and the skies

the sea is not always labor,
it can be a medium which can take me to a beach,
a place where the sky reflects the seas and the white clouds look like breaking waves,
a calm sea merging smoothly with the curved sky
a turbulent one mirrored by the even more turbulent skies
with raging waves which break, and clouds which roll and crash.

waves born when they break out of exertion,
out of not being able to stand up to their own expectations;
clouds defined when they sink in their own gravity,

when the waters inside me calm down, so does my world outside,
and i follow.

anticipatory highs

Stepping out from a stream of sorrow - both wide and deep simultaneously,

following directions and routes joyously,

fueled by memories from a previous trek, memories which still cast a colorful shadow,

breathing now, from much more than muscle memory,

looking forward to breathtaking sights of the high and humbling hills,

as opposed to tall urban egotic monuments of greed,

sri aurobindo wrote beautifully that 'delightful things remain,but dead is their delight.'

but this is not true this time.

Definitly not, when anticipating and waiting for a journey.

unlike m.k.g.

my life is not my message.

Dudhsagar Falls - Scenes from a memory

A joy as pure rose as the water which fell,

that whistling bird whose echoes floated into me,

that gently lounging butterfly gliding in the breeze,

the hypnotic rythm of the waterfall,

the tiny gurgling streams joining hands with their louder elders,

stitching the green fabric with their silvery glistening threads;

the rickety yet sturdy bus carrying our brittle selves

the falls turning adults into kids,

the clouds opening , the rain pouring,

the falling water, seemingly powerful enough to destroy Matter,

the rocks holding their place and flinging the water away, not budging,

a spectacular perpetual battle,

the sky at its dullest gray but never feeling so.

we baby-stepped towards our destination,

through soil which looked squeezed out and became a water body,

streets which had turned into streams; open 'grounds' into lakes and potholes into beautiful puddles,

ego and urban fatigue flattened beyond recognition like the coin over which rolleth the train,

the 'I' in me humbled by the hills, silenced by the roar of water,

the illusions of control washed away by showers of rain;

a pair of red leaves in the green,

a contrast a thousand times brighter and livelier than old memories.

bred and surviving on flat lands,

the mighty showcase of gravity lifted my spirits,

defying my stagnating flat inertia and slow-but-certain fall,

an endless torrent of water breaking the endless spirals of thought.

scream

3 hours to commute 17 km,after waiting for a bus which did not turn up for half an hour,a flyover erected to ease the flow of traffic ending up being loaded with it. All the people everywhere - angry irritated furious zonked outraged bored cursing impatient.

my scream drowned out by those soothing rain drops and blown away by the cold monsoon breeze.

the train-centric model

The dark night was to be a constant, beautiful and featureless companion while the train slid past, leaving behind almost everything; something that i can do easily too when sitting in a window seat, looking opposite to the direction of travel. The trees flew backwards as I lay below a star studded blanket with pupils stretched out supine and relaxed.

The occasional light on a pole at a railway crossing streaked past like a bright comet, burning my eyes, and blinding me. As my eyesight returned, smaller and dimmer lights a little farther away from the track streaked slowly past.

The train took a turn, quite quickly. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked outside and caught a glimpse of the entire train 'behind' me. Being a completely air conditioned train, the symmetry was perfect - all rectangular windows with no people/objects silhouetted against them. Just several solid, regular rectangular boxes of light. While the train negotiated the turn, the lights of the tiny town floated away outside at different speeds depending on how far they were from the track.

In one joyously enriching vision, i saw the train as a giant skyscraper on its side, with me looking out of one of its windows, sliding across cities; a feeling that the train was at the centre of the world with smaller cities flashing across and revolving around it.

While the trees flew past, the stars appeared stationary, but also seemed to be guided by me, following me till day came.

It all became clear when i peeped above the stupid, hazy ceiling of light pollution that comes free these days.

concentric, confusing and intersecting circles

A walk - measured in degrees, while crossing and following lines drawn on the globe. Ambling across the land, maybe along the equator and across it? At a leisurely pace, dictated only by will and ability. Limited only by enthusiasm. Stopping, only to rest, recharge, rejoice and rejoin. A new horizon everyday? A new memory daily? A fresh summit, a self-defined one?
So little covered, and so much more to come. Until a rebirth and rescue – an endless circle of life halted by connecting with this oblate spheroid. Earth, this “beautiful decrepit debauched disintegrating paradise”.

charge - discharge

went in search for a matka (earthen water pot) so that i could have cool water without using the refrigerator, now that summer is here. Went till Marathalli bridge where i (believed, and was told) would find one. After searching through hundreds of street vendors selling socks, school/college bags (seriously, how does one lose a pair of socks so frequently??) and hundreds of acres of HAL-concrete-posing-as-parking-area later, i discovered a pile of earthen ware, but no one to sell them.

The ever-helpful-neighbouring-storekeeper said the pot-owner would be selling only the next day. So, back to home it was, wading through the above-mentioned sights and 'stores' and through a few thousand cigarette shops..

I decided to walk down 5+ km at 2.30 pm..and it turned out to be a good decision. The non-circulating stale air i am forced to breathe in office and the buses had stifled me. An hour walking in the sun and breeze (with little traffic, thanks to it being a saturday and probably since there is some cricket match with india involved going on), i am alive again.

Now, one of the joys of a summer saturday - a quick siesta. :-)

realisations - again and again.

Imagining people walking for kilometres to fetch water or sell their produce or just go to school, and then recognising myself cursing when i don't get a seat on the way to office. Why do i get angry? Knowing that traffic is erratic and irritating, and being aware that grumbling under the helmet is of no use, why do i still suffer from road rage?

Then, imagining everything that we're exposed to in a city, at work, in a big, goal-driven society; crudely cocooned there.

Of what 'use' is this frantic hurry and want, when you're eventually going to lose? why not enjoy each moment? is being relaxed or is taking one's time being unproductive? or unambitious?

time to get a 'grip' on myself.

Bengaluru -> Bangalore -> Jamgalore -> Bengaluru -> Jamgaluru

that about sums up the various changes that i've felt for this city. Well, Jamgalore is the appelation i gave it. Once upon a time. very recently.

It may have people playing tetris on the road, in the way they drive their vehicles, and in the way they park and walk and cross the road and fill in the gaps in traffic jams; it may be the only game of tetris which is played with those blocks coming in from all directions at varying rates; blocks of all sizes and shapes. It may not be the best city around, but it has been home and it feels nice, enough number of times and with enough severity to 'forgive' it when it doesn't.

Hereby, I mean it when i call Jamgaluru home.

Clarity.

Leadership proactively encourages seamless building of hand-holding-team-members using continual innovation arising as a result of leading through initiatives and passion and developing global leaders from local talent pools sustainably while providing equal opportunities to enhance consistently the capability of competency at optimized expenditures to cement position across universal vertical, horizontal and diagonal paradigms with increasing efficiency following process-oriented-processes of tracking, estimation and utilization through system specific generic tools budgeted through architectures in all flavors with necessary and sufficient metrics with bottom end output.

Of course.

Peace.

Peace? In the midst of a city? In a city which looks like a lot of chaotic noise on a huge oscilloscope??

the joy of small joys.

It's a funny mapping of small joys to satisfactions..funny, but welcome..the smallest of the pleasures,sometimes,gives greater satisfaction than what is thought possible. Waking up without an alarm clock, self-prepared tea with your favorite biscuits, reading yourself to sleep, the list is far from small!

Light and shadows

These writings sketch my shadows, which although fleeting and composite ones, will be at their longest at twilight and the sharpest during mid-day. They will also be the haziest and the most amorphous when the sun eventually sets, when ‘It’ wins its daily race against time for the final time. At my expense. This crumbling self fills my ink-pot, and the dust gets shaped into alphabets; some to be blown away and some which might harden,stay and maybe cast other shadows.

Mutter

Die Tränen greiser Kinderschar
Ich zieh sie auf ein weisses Haar
werf in die Luft die nasse Kette
und wünsch mir dass ich eine Mutter hätte

Keine Sonne die mir scheint
keine Brust hat Milch geweint
in meiner Kehle steckt ein Schlauch
hab keinen Nabel auf dem Bauch

Mutter...

Ich durfte keine Nippel lecken
und keine Falte zum verstecken
niemand gab mir einen Namen
gezeugt in Hast und ohne Samen

Der Mutter die mich nie geboren
hab ich heute Nacht geschworen
ich werd ihr eine Krankheit schenken
und sie danach im Fluss versenken

Mutter...

In ihren Lungen wohnt ein Aal
auf meiner Stirn ein Muttermal
entferne es mit Messers Kuss
auch wenn ich daran sterben muss

Mutter...

In ihren Lungen wohnt ein Aal
auf meiner Stirn ein Muttermal
entferne es mit Messers Kuss
auch wenn ich verbluten muss

Mutter...
oh gib mir Kraft.

As said before, "That old saying, you always kill the one you love, well look, it works both ways."

of AVO's.

Left late from office today and immediately (and predictably) got stuck in traffic. Horrible and selfish traffic. Most of the traffic was caused by people in cars. And to make matters worse, most of the cars had only one occupant in it.

It is great how a bus can accommodate more than 150 people (I counted them) during the route i take. By 150+ people, I mean people who used the bus service for some or more part of the journey.

During the same time, I also counted the number of cars which passed the bus I was in and the number of cars the bus overtook. It came to about 80 cars. I also counted (with a fair bit of accuracy, but with some tolerance thrown in) the total number of occupants in the cars. It came to 106. A 106 people with their self-indulgence, sloth and gluttony exposed, thanks to their seat-belts.

Shocking.

Compare 150+ people in 1 bus with a 106 people in 80-odd cars. Outright shameful. Yes, I agree cars can be convenient, better for older people, women, possibly better for school kids and so on. But, really, is this kind of vehicular occupancy (106/80 = 1.3 people per car) going to help the traffic/pollution problem? Think car/bus footprint. Think emissions/km. Think running costs. Think fuel consumed per person. Multiply with the number of cars and buses. Compare.

Bangalore has a bus day every month when extra buses are run. It's on the 4th of each month. Is it enough? Do we need a no-car day? All car drivers should take the public transport system more regularly. What is the advantage of sitting in a car in traffic? Might as well take an air-conditioned Volvo and sit in it and do something selfless along the way.

I know this is an estimate and there would surely be models for calculating vehicular occupancies and a lot depends on the bus routes, time of the day, day of the week and many other factors, but for me, it seems almost criminal to drive a car with just me in it, always. One must pool or alternate with public transport more often than not.

They say 1 bus can remove 40 cars from the road. If only it got some help.

Lost.

"Western man is so surrounded by ideas, so bombarded with opinions, concepts, and information sources of all sorts, that it becomes difficult to experience anything without the intervening filter of these structures. And the natural world – our traditional source of direct insight – is rapidly disappearing. Modern city-dwellers cannot even see the stars at night. This humbling reminder of man’s place in the greater scheme of things, which human beings formerly saw once every twenty four hours, is denied them. It is no wonder that people lose their bearings, they lose track of who they really are, and what their lives are really about.”

- John Michael Crichton

Hellmet

It is hot outside. The traffic is heavy and slow moving. It is a dead straight road. The maximum speed I can possibly sustain for more than 3-5 seconds is a jaw dropping 15 kmph. I never get beyond the 3rd gear on my bike. And then, after what seems to be an eternity, you hit the dreaded and long-since-hoped-against red traffic light. Now, there is no breeze either. The head reels thanks to the still air. I sweat. Profusely.

It is a narrow lane. It’s quiet and deserted. At every road intersection there is a speed breaker. Between every pair of speed breakers, there is a small rut/pothole. You can’t cross 15 kmph if you care for your bike, back or both.

While I do have a head, and since helmets are to protect those with a head, helmets and I should go hand in glove. But it’s a rather head-to-head relation, sadly. I drive in only the above mentioned two situations – bad traffic jams and narrow empty lanes which are punctuated by speed breakers and back breakers. Of course, to be fair, helmets do block the dust and pollution and most importantly, offers significant safety as well.

If you ask me, the helmet is needed only under certain conditions. We are responsible people, we know when we should be wearing it. Let’s not enforce it, always and everywhere. Maybe wearing it encourages rash driving and road rage. I have seen dozens of people stuffing their phones between their ears and the helmet’s inner ‘wall’ and chattering away. Of course it’s safer to talk that way, now that both the hands are on the bike’s controls. Plus, now they might just protect their phones as well.

In the driving situations, which I drive in, it is complete redundancy. I need a smart helmet. G-sensing, roll-pitch-yaw-sensing helmets with collision detection. Forget smart phones. My helmets should normally be wrapped around my ears, like a big pair of headphones, and then, in times of need (God forbid), just pop open. In 50 milliseconds. Best of safety and convenience. It’s funny, but do we ask car drivers to drive with their air bags inflated always? Just in case?

A festival of smiles

Celebrated the festival of lights which happened to be the festival of smiles this time around. A lot of boxes of sweets, a few boxes of crackers and a nice collection of memories in the taking. This Diwali was spent with near and dear ones - with 3 kids in the thick of action. Also spent some good time at home. Wished neighbours with whom I had not spoken previously. And vice-versa. Burst some crackers with bro and felt nice to feel the way diwali used to earlier.

Ever since we've become more aware about the hazards of crackers and smoke, bursting crackers is reducing. However, for this edition of the festival, we did allow ourselves some, since in the past one year we (dad, bro and I) have planted a total of 76 trees back home in Bhuj.


Would forming a good, clean, eco-conscious habit every time a festival comes around, not guarantee a more honest smile?

'The Miracle drug'.

Bumped into Fate a while ago,
And She must have been happy that day,
because I bumped into ‘her’ next.
I see time fly past me,
I know my clock ticks backwards,
But with her around me, I don’t age nor tire.
I’m far from greedy and comfortable being content.
On this trip, with every mile, a new smile, which lasts,and
Holds memories forever formed in these 2 years.
I try to capture, futilely, in words, this feeling called love.

of orange!

It's a holiday tomorrow and am really looking forward to a nice session of physical activity outdoors..cycling? running? just a stroll?
it's been ages since i've not been confined to either office, or to classes or to the insides of my helmet..
am longing for some nice sun...the kind that paints everything yellow and orange.

THAT-ZZAT

A game which needs people who can run for a while, take a final, awkwardly scary leap (which is basically a nice run and a good jump spoilt), and while landing rotate their arms quickly and ‘deliver’.

A game which needs people who can rotate their arms and back while shuffling forwards or backwards or sideways, and while also tiptoeing or bending from the knees.

A game which needs people who can run occasionally, generally stand (somewhat attentively) and clap for a long time patiently, catching the ball as safely as possible, and sometimes diving to prevent the only people who are getting some exercise from doing so.

It’s the game which needs the one odd guy who can keep sitting down, squatting and standing up continuously, every minute or so. He should be patient and stupid enough to keep tightening his gloves, strangely every time before he begins his squatting business. (why not get gloves which fit?) Further he has to keep shouting, to the ‘category-1’ guy and the patiently standing attentive gentlemen (‘category 3’), words of encouragement. Some gentlemen of this category, though it’s not restricted to them, try to distract and de-motivate the ‘category-2’ people

Finally there’s the most important man, the one who must be quick enough to take split-hour decisions. Of course, he is also involved in the press conferences. If his team has won, he has to say that ‘the boys played well’ and if he loses then something like ‘we got complacent” or “the pitch slowed down” or “maybe the better team won” or something else. Who cares anyway? Being second is to be the first of the ones to lose.

No points for guessing, the game n question is the gentleman’s game.

I fail to understand a great, great deal about this game. Where else would the sport be so cruel as to force a bowler (people of category 1) to bowl again, when it was he who couldn’t bowl within a meter of the stumps in the first place? Or when he was unable to control and stop his weird run-jump-land-swing arms routine before a highly visible white line?

There is even a method of dismissal called ‘timed out’ where the next/new batsman has to come out to the crease within 3 minutes; else he is dismissed as ‘Out’. How hard can it be for any kind of sportsmen to be able to walk 100 odd meters in 3 minutes? How unfit would he need to be?

Then there are matches which are inconclusive even after 5 days. These encounters are real tests of endurance, and are rightly called test matches.

The act of ‘walking’ – declaring oneself out when the umpire or other players may not have appealed – although honorable and full of sportsmanship (or maybe an euphemism about the ineptitude of the umpires?), might just well be a good excuse to rest in the pavilion, and enjoy the view of the green field.

While the discussion is fresh, let’s try and put things in perspective via a quick comparo, with unarguably the fastest and most technical sport, Formula 1 motor-racing.

Talking about participants, most of the formula 1 drivers lose more than a couple of kilos of weight during the average race day. That sport is that demanding on the body. I am pretty convinced that some of our ‘gentlemen’ might actually be coming out weighing a bit more, what with lunch and tea and the relatively mild expenditure of energy in activities like spitting-on-ball-or-hand-followed-by-rubbing ball-on-pants-in-areas-where-it-is-not-gentlemanly-to-scratch and clapping-words-of-support or sledging. Of course, for batsmen, swinging their arms and backs while shuffling around might get tiring, but they can always call for a runner. I clearly remember when an Indian batsman, batting in India, made some 93 runs and got dehydrated and had admitted to the hospital. Why did he not ask for a runner and some drinks? I guess he was just too tired. Collapsing on the field was easier and harmless. Ever heard of the F1 driver who asked someone else to race instead of him midway through the race, or passed out on the steering wheel, just because he had been racing a while now and had just set some fastest laps?

For that matter, ever heard of the driver who stopped by and changed his gloves since his hands were sweaty or removed his helmet during the race since his head was itchy? “I am sorry to ask you to stop, fellow drivers, but hey Alonso, could you tie my shoelaces? I don’t want to bend down. We’ll stop the race for a few seconds”. Heard that before?

How many times has the batsman suddenly walked off the pitch, just when the bowler was about to leap scarily and awkwardly, citing a reason that there was ‘movement’ near the sight-screen? Reminds me of the Monte Carlo (Monaco) Grand prix, where drivers exit a dark tunnel right into bright sunlight at about 280 kmph and immediately have to find out the braking zone and turn to avoid a barrier. All of this, while their pupils are shrinking to adjust to the light. I guess, they would appreciate a sight screen too.

What about wet weather and dew on the outfield? Oops, we can’t play now. The ball is also slippery now, you see?

I also wonder why the aerodynamics team don’t spit and polish their F1 cars with their pants till they shine, so that they could also be slippery and turn corners better.

And then there’s the technique and the (mostly contradictory) volumes spoken on technique. A batsman can use (at least) one of the following to boast about his run making ability – technique, power, timing, footwork, balance. The funny part is that when a batsman is actually scoring runs, the lack of one of the above may be overlooked. But the minute he fails, there is a full blown debate about why he failed. One’s reason for failure could very well be another’s strong point. “So what if he does not have footwork? He has timing.” Or “His placement is good”. Why define field positions elaborately if the batsmen have ‘evolved’ and are finding the gaps using their superior placement?

On the other hand, the stopwatch does not lie. One may have a smooth, aggressive, defensive, conservatory etc. driving style, but one is either the fastest, or the 2’nd fastest, or so on. At the end of the day, only the clock speaks. What about wrong footwork in F1? It can only spell a--b-i-g--c-r-a-s-h.

Also, I’ve never heard of the rival driver who’s bitten the tires off a Ferrari, thinking that the red/scarlet car was a berry/apple.

Cricketers and cricketlovers (and that is not a swear word, I promise), you better keep ‘playing’ your self-confessed funny game in your separate grounds, or on your dedicated media/TV channels.

Do not interfere with us, normal people, on the basketball court/football field/on the roads and, equally importantly, particularly during a formula 1 broadcast.

In a rut?

I think (and even feel) that I’m neither left brained nor right brained.
I probably lie in the fissure, the crack, of my brain.
Perfectly balanced? Good for nothing? Or equally adept?

A change of seasons

I remember the first 4-5 showers of the average monsoon season in Baroda. While the season’s 1st rains came and washed down all the dust and pollution out of the air and diluted the tag of acid rain, we were actually waiting for the 2nd rain. The 2nd shower would give us a chance to bathe in it, to get rid of the seasonal ‘prickly heat’ boils, to smell the earth, and permit us to wait for the next couple of sessions of rainfall. The subsequent rainfalls would mean a lot of fresh groundnuts and a hot plate of bhajjiyas/pakodas (definition, (courtesy Google): a small, spicy fritter containing pieces of vegetables or meat, made usually with a batter of chickpea flour and deep-fried) cooked by my granny. Everyone used to be so happy, happy knowing that the 4th, 5th and 6th showers were not just some passing thunder showers, but were instrumental in cementing the monsoon in place. All of Baroda could be seen on the terrace, bathing. The cyclists used to wear the blue polythene bags on their heads to keep themselves dry. Kids used to jump around and cycle wildly, aiming to hit the middle of the puddles, while another bunch of kids would be sailing boats and yet another would be playing football or cricket. My elder bro and I used to wash the car while it rains, thinking we would be reducing water usage by doing so.

I used to be playing and ini (grand-mom) used to be cooking bhajjiyas, since deriving joy by cooking and feeding others came naturally to her and was one of the things that she enjoyed doing. Then, we would sit outside together and eat them with ketchup, while still piping hot. More than any of the other things, this is what I associated monsoons with, along with having her around.

5 monsoons later (since she’s moved on), the seasons have changed significantly.

What is it about grand moms and granddads that makes them so endearing? Is it their tens of wrinkles which underline and frame their emotions when they smile? Or is it their laugh lines which etch them in my permanent memory?

The end of the road for Science?

Man has achieved a lot – beginning with the rubbing of stones and producing a fire, inventing simple stone and metal tools, to inventing the wheel and so on. Then came the telephone, television, satellites, the internet, orkut and facebook. Everything became controlled through touch and everybody wanted no wires around their devices. They all wanted connectivity throughout the day and everywhere they went. Want preceded need. People did everything on these gadgets, from talking to buying to getting entertained. However, that’s not what I wanted to write about. All publicity is bad publicity when the product is superfluous. Somewhere along the line, a bunch of people departed from the thought of making the wheel rounder, smoother and ‘grippier’, and (wisely, since you asked) began working on medicines and understanding the human body. Now we can go into the brain without opening it, we can change a person’s heart; we can even cut him open and stitch him back, without him knowing it (at least till he wakes up). Specialists have become so specialized that no one understands them anymore. I am sure that within the next decade there will be people specializing in such minute and detailed parts of the human body, that to talk about/cure an ailing organ would need (at least) the same number of doctors as the number of cells in that organ. So, a brain infection would need, umm, how many, 1 million billion doctors? They might probably even be enacting functionalities! I guess they could also share and tweet about it. By now, you mustbe wondering as to the source and the reason for this rambling.

Keeping the above referred background in mind, how hard can it be to make a common man’s commonly available tablet for common cold not taste repulsive? My survey shows that the number of tablets which I don’t like exceeds a mouthful. Is it a scientific challenge of medical/astronomical proportions to coat tablets (sugar or chocolate, please) such that they could actually taste a little pleasant? While at it, a separate survey conducted over several cuisines and over a large number of years in several cities, indicates that my taste buds are generally in agreement with the ones belonging to mass public, so it’s proven to not be a question of bad taste. Well, pardon the tasteful pun, but, it is and it is not when one bad tablet is enough to spoil the breed.
Further research and deep diving into the topic reveals that I might have some scope for improvement left in the procedure I follow for swallowing a tablet, but then, science surely can work around it too now, can’t it? Why, where I work, a whole lot of interdisciplinary science allows one to compensate for the generally-and-thankfully-found-in-males-heavy-right-foot disorder and for the slow-closed-loop-control exhibited by the automobile driver, to say the minimum.
If science fails to make a better tasting tablet by the next time the season ‘changes’ (since that is the cause of at least the common cold), and a tastier tablet irrespective of swallowing procedure, it is the end of Science’s road, as far as I am concerned.
Not the peak, nor the pinnacle kind of end, but the dead end of a road or a broken bridge on a swollen river.

The death and murder of a language.

The past few years, according to me, have seen the slow, constant and agonizing death of English (at least English, as far as right now is concerned). It is dying, one language structure at a time.
Take verb conjugations. We have been taught several, the rules for which have been taught to us. The fact that we have forgotten the rules of conjugation is something else. But, that should not be an excuse for using what we are seeing/hearing/texting nowadays – I likes (when you like something), I wants, ‘you wanna hang out?’ and so on. We were not taught wrong grammar; we just learnt/use it incorrectly. Then, all those spelling dictations that your primary-school language-teacher took have gone down the drain. This becomes dis, that-dat, why-y, my-mah, awesome - ossum, with –wid and the heart pains to write more. Then there are new and horrible onomatopoeic words like – muaah (shudder). The noise in question is apparently made by the murderers when they distribute their (OMG, chho chweet) kiss of death. Terrible abbreviations like – LOL, ROFL, ROTFL, LMAO, LMFAO, ROTFLMFAO, etc. have been invented and disseminated. This enables the murderers to save time so they can do what they do best better – murdering. What about the misplaced sense of addressing people – dude, dawg, waddup, guys (ever heard a girl calling out to a bunch of her girlfriends using the word? “you guys?” Bell ringing?). Of course, the next challenge was to use bad verb conjugations to form bad questions like – you likes?
I have realized that most of these mistakes have, along with the grammar, all their vowels missing.
If one has to use this ‘language’, why don’t we actually use it in someplace useful (perhaps cell phone texting is fine), like, maybe the print media and save precious paper and ink and all that, while dropping vowels and bits of grammar? (OMG, I might have created a monster. The murderers might use “going green” as an excuse now).
There are times when going through these social networking sites just irritates the hell out of me. Being on these and surfing them was intended by me to be a small session of distraction, but it often is turning out to be a stressful experience.

My only message to all these murderers is dat IMHO, y’all shud STFU. You gets?

That smiling face at the beach.

Toiling in a sea of labour,

Seeking a beach on the horizon,

In a world with never ending horizons

And ever-increasing seas.

Marooned in the sea,

Paddling and flapping,

Running out of breath,

And, time.

Paddling and flapping

Out of duty and concern,

And out of compulsion.

Rescuing and guiding my fellows

Cross their choppy patches/currents,

Neglecting their slaps on my boat.

Want to dig a bed in the beach-sand,

And smile at the waters just crossed,

I fear by staying out at sea for too long,

Unknown appears the beach.