...as seen by...

First fall in my life

2009-10-20T18:57:00.007+05:30

"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower" - Albert Camus

Everyone had warned me about it. I had seen pictures of it. I had read about it. So I thought I was prepared, with my camera. I had framed my shots mentally, even found captions for it. I monitored foliage news constantly, and planned trips around the fall-peak. But finally, when it came, I was so overwhelmed, like a kid who forgot the first lines to utter on the stage. All my carefully charted out plans suddenly seemed like a chaotic mix of things to do which was not important at all. Maybe for the first time, I felt as if my camera is totally useless in my hands. The pictures I took screamed of my ineptitude. The plans, though executed, seemed hardly appropriate, or meaningless in the grand scheme of things. I was simply blown away by the beauty of fall.

Finally, I decided to relieve some stress from myself. I told myself, it's okay if you cant capture it all, it's OK to feel frustrated to see a long line of trees, glowing in the evening sun in bright yellow orange and red, while you are unable to stop by and take a picture. Maybe its all part of the feeling that is 'fall': that beauty is so ephemeral, that we're never capable enough to scour down all the beauty that we see around us. Just dont forget to cast a passing glance at something beautiful, and that flashing image will create such an elaborate and vivid imagery in your memory, and that's often more than enough!

Read this if you want (me) to make money for free!!!

2009-09-02T22:36:00.002+05:30

I did a remarkable thing today.

I 'monetized' my blog. Like many of you, I didn't know what the hell that means. But fortunately, our brains and eyes are hardwired to cling on to anything that has the letters M-O-N-E in it. Even if the 'Y' is absent. Wow, I just made a super-cool statement! Good start!

Bottomline, I signed up for google's adsense. So If I am smart enough to make a few people come read my blog, and they are prudent enough to click on any of those links, and a few and then a lot many of such clicks happen, google will send money to me! By the time I finished writing that, it has already started to sound like a bummer! What do I write, that millions of others cant write about? I have had many starts with this blog in the past, and many false starts too. By far, the most successful streak has been the time when I started it, when we had a bunch of friends who had time at their disposal, and I used to be a very active member in blogger cicrles. Means, I used to read and comment on other blogs, and they used to return the favor, even maybe in an obligatory sense. I used to track the traffic in my page, check for comments every hour etc etc.

But now, who has got time? From my own experience, my attention span has dwindled to at least 10-20% of what it has been in the last 4-5 years. I cannot even make myself sit and read a full article on Time.com now. Gosh, now I see myself in a supernatural status when I recollect that I studied and passed ME 305 - Metallurgy and Material Sciences, about seven years ago! In any given 5 minute break during work, I browse the entire spectrum of NYTimes, Time, Manorama, TimesOfIndia, Deals2Buy, Twitter, Orkut, Facebook, and Berlytharangal.com, not necessarily in that order. Given that scenario, who's got time to read a blog which is 2 pages long, and talks about one person's constrcited view of the world? When we have actors, sportsmen, scientists, and even politicians blogging and twittering like mad out there! The question is, would you rather follow Priyanka Chopra or me?

All that said, I am going to try and see. I dont care much about the money. Not like I dont care about money at all, but am pretty sure its not big money that I need to really care about. This is an experiment with my own ability. To see If I can make people read my blog. From a probable starting readership of one (which is my wife, that too if I promise her something really nice) to maybe a few hundreds in a few months. And, in the process, If I can make money out of this. Believe me, thats just secondary. And I am pretty sure, wont happen any sooner to make me lose sleep over, thinking what to do with it!

Many many happy returns of the day? Maybe not!

2009-02-06T07:24:00.010+05:30

Thus, Bejoy Babu enters into the thirtieth year of his great struggle for existence against the elements of this planet last week. Like his very first year, he did it again in a hospital room. Talk about the ironies of life. Back then, he had a young and energetic father, who had sat hours on end admiring the red little thingy in a white wrapper (am hoping he did, most newly promoted fathers do, don't they? At least Ross Gellar of Friends did when Ben was born!). And now, 29 years later, his father was lying down weak, with tubes attached to his body, while he sat hours on end looking at him. Not admiring, but worried when his father will become alright, he will be able to go back, whether his leaves would affect his job, how the great plans of a first birthday together with his wife was spoilt etc etc. Oh 'cmon, there's no use being pretentious about it. Nobody enjoys this particular disposition. He didn't do it either, and he managed to kill time with 2 activities.

1. Looking at the nurses.

They were all kinds. Young ones, old ones, the haughty kinds and the hottie kinds, ones more slender than the needles they beheld, and the ones so plump, it makes one wonder whether they dont get any coscience attack when they say. "Uncle, your BP is shooting up, you gotta reduce your weight!"

So he looked at all of them, and didn't have any reservations about it. As many of you would agree, this is one thing the male species enjoy about being in a hospital. Aren't there numerous great tales of men who turned into pussydolls in the presence of these loving caring always-smiling clad-in-white angelic creatures, hopelessly fell headlong in love with them and never wanted to leave the hospital? - One affliction turned into another.

But his case was a little different.

Wasn't he morally obliged not to look? Yeah that 12 letter word of ridicule you just uttered was audible enough. But wait, there's more to the story. He was morally obliged not to look, starting the day he decided that he had found the match of his life, but that never really made him stop looking. It wouldnt be fair to call him fickle minded, for he had made an attempt to avert his gaze during the initial days of his romance. The profound question that had hunted him down was "What the hell am I looking for now, am I not supposed to be loyal to my girl?" But then later, he understood one more truth about life. A man cannot help looking. But something had changed about the way he looked now. While he was single, the look was at its purest, most natual form, which even contained ingredients of a small chance of attainability. ("Yeah you're Angelina Jolie, I know, but what the heck, look at me, am single!"). Now, that he was married and had pledged his loyalty to someone special, the look was different.

He particularly enjoyed to feel the air of tension, the restraint that was written all over their faces, while he looked at some of them. They would be undergoing a great deal of consternation internally, trying to concentrate on the syringe and the vein, while being aware of the fact that someone was staring at them. Two of the most conflicting aspects of their womanhood would be drawn for battle against each other, knowing that whoever wins ultimately, they themselves would fail. They would not even dare to steal an occasional cold stare back in defense, for it would be betrayal against all that they tried to represent. He enjoyed thinking about all these a great deal while looking at them, drawing a kind of sadistic pleasure. P had told him the same day - "Dey podey ketti kazhinjaalum vaay nokkam" (Its okay to stare at women even if you're married). But it was never the same!

The things mentioned above were purely his fantasies, and they could be factually very wrong, the women readers be advised. But nevertheless, why shun from saying the truth, being concerned of propriety!

2. Reading about the Mediterranean

"The pillars of Hercules" is undoubtedly the best book he has read in more than 6 months, and by the way its shaping up, likely to become one of the best ever. Don't be misled by the numbers, because the list of books he read in the past 6 months is not particularly deep, running into a whole of 2 books! The other being "The Last Mughal". While the former could be termed as un-put-downable, the latter was very, err... put-downable. And hence the 6 months. But it would be blasphemy to call the book bad, its a fine book indeed. Only that he found it hard to read.

Maybe he'll talk about the book himself sometime later in the blog. But, in a nutshell, thats how he marked the beginning of his 30th year here. Yeah, there were other things too. But I dont think anybody would be particularly interested as he was, on how a flock of cranes spent half an hour circling the same locality trying to figure out which tree to spend the night on.

But considering all the previous birthdays were uselessly spent cutting cakes and drinking wine, this was quite a feat, wouldn't you agree?

The nomads

2008-07-07T13:23:00.008+05:30

I have lost the knack of waking up to the alarm. I cant believe I used to wake up at 5:45 every day, and go for a jog. The pox had rattled everything. Now all I can do when I hear the alarm is: turn it off (even snooze aint an option!) or even better: not hear it at all, so that I can throw a tantrum when I wake up finally, some time when the sun has reached directly above the head. So last Saturday, I set the alarm at 5:40, as I was supposed to meet some friends at Madiwala at sharp 6:15 AM. And so, it was riding the bike at spine-numbing chill winds at 100 kmph, and jumping the traffic lights (its no harm when you are the only person on all the four sides of the junction, right? And besides, obeying rules is my principle, but its no use being a fool about it) Finally I met them at madiwala by 6:40. Turned out that they waited for a long 2 minutes or so. Afterall, we're all running on IST(Indian Stretchable Time)!!!

We proceeded to our destination, which was in front of the Yeshwantpur railway station. Despite the way it sounds, yeshwantpur is not in UP, its right in namma Bengaluru. Though the effort involved in reaching there can be considered somewhat equivalent! We reached there by sharp 7, and was glad to see some people already present at the meeting point. Together, we proceeded to the 'Rajasthani settlement' of nomads near Dasarahalli, which was our shooting location for this weekend. As it turned out, the Rajasthani settlement was not Rajasthani in its entirety. There were people from almost all parts of the country. The illusion of them being Rajasthani was created due to the presence of camels, in large numbers.

Some more people came in, and after all the customary hand-shakes, ogling at expensive equipment and introductions with the newly-met, we trickled down into the slums. A girl who I was meeting for the first time seemed a bit surprised that I was married. "You look too young to be married", she remarked. I would have pondered more into the meaning of the statement, its possible rammifications, its potentital etc etc (as I had done several times in the past and failed miserably) had it been a different situation, but, I just brushed it aside with a smile. One of the things you pick up, as you learn to live as a married man!

The dwellers were just about waking up and going about their morning chores. Their initial reaction was surprise, bordering on hostility, as they saw this large group advance towards them with big fat black ugly looking equipment in their hands. But later, we split into small groups and tried to befriend them, explaining to them that we're from a photography college, and we were doing this as part of our project etc etc. That little innocuous lie has worked well since a long time back. In fact, its not entirely a lie too..

But all were not as friendly either. One elderly woman was not at all amused when I tried to take her picture, and she even tried to pick up a stone! That as the first time in my adult life I was being threatened to be pelted! I fled the scene immediately! I don't completely understand their apprehension towards being photographed. Of course, my own reaction would not be very different either(not the stone-throwing part) if a total stranger tried to click my picture, but that would be upon concerns of compsomising my privacy. Whereas, for these people, its something else, as I have come to experience. They really loathe us for what we have, and they do not. They think we want to make more and more money by just photographing them, and publishing it somewhere. They feel extremely miserable in their situation, and that feeling is exacerbated when they see these people wearing neat and expensive clothes, talking in langauges they cant talk, and having money to squander on expensive toys! And they feel we're completely unable to empathize with them. They are human beings, and they hate being treated as objects. But as we speak to them, and show genuine concern for them, they turn friendly immediately.

In contrast, children were really enthused to see us and flocked around us. As some of us began showing the pictures in our LCDs, the children grew in numbers, all of them chanting, "Uncle, ek photo! Uncle mera/meri bhi ek" While were zeroing in on some interesting subjects, and was just about focusing, a group of children would come and stand right in fron of the camera, grinning. It was annoying and amusing at the same time!

I talked to a thin, friendly looking young man. He could not have been more than thirty. He was from MP. It was now close to a year since they left their homes. And about 3 months since they came to Bangalore. They generally look for work, sell stuff, offer camel rides etc. They stay in one place for about 3-4 months and then move on. Some people visit their homes in between, but mostly it will be another year or so before they see their homes again. He said to me, "Its nice to see all the things you are doing, but will it benefit us in any way? We are really poor, and if you can do something for us, we'd be really grateful." Just that I didn't know what that something could be! Is 'this' something? Or do I need to do more? Of course I can do more if I wanted to...

I met the school-teacher too. The 'school' was nothing more than a slightly bigger shanty, with a blackboard, and the children sat on the floor. Only that there were no children. It was funded by the government, he said, but the real issue was getting the children to come. He had to go to literally each and every tent and pull them along. Even the parents were least interested in educating the children. He seemed really excited when I told him I was working with computers. To him, it was a world far beyond his reach. Maybe he can help some of the chidren reach there, someday..

They offered us camel-rides around the place for Rs.50. I did not feel like doing that. Somehow, it felt humiliating. Reminded me of elephant safaris in national parks and stuff.

No, it was wrong. Very very wrong!

See the pics at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lazystrokes/sets/72157603421425757/

waking up...

2008-07-03T15:58:00.009+05:30

I guess I have been quiet for a while.

I knew that nations won’t go to war if I stopped writing. Heck, I thought no one cared. But what happened last week challenged all such notions of mine. I was asked 3 times, in a span of 48 hours, why I had stopped posting. And considering the fact that everyone suddenly got concerned after a span of almost 2 years, I have reasons to believe that the blog had started turning in its grave. Yes, I had decided to burry it. Now I need to dig it up, and create some magic, like Dr. Frankenstein did. And one of the three people who asked the question, happened my own dear wife, so I couldn’t just push it away. Hmm, well, you see, quite a few things happened in my life during this period. (We’ll talk about that, hold on…) So seeing this sudden spur of interest in my long-lost habit of blogging, I went back to the blog, and read it. It made me smile, several times. And then, I was convinced, I should resume writing.

So let me write about what I did last Sunday.

One of the best things that have happened to me after coming to Bangalore is BWS. BWS or Bangalore Weekend Shoots is a bunch of loonies like me, who want to make a life out of photography, (“A life”, not “a living”, there’s a considerable difference between the two, as you would notice) who consider their cameras and lenses as the most important possessions of their lives. (Contentious topic, I know… my reasoning is that you can’t consider your life-partner as something you possess!) So these guys, they get together on weekends, and shoot pictures as groups. Streets, markets, festivals, parks.. pretty much anything under the sun. So this weekend, I and a couple of guys from BWS went to a place called Shettihalli. This place has the ruins of an old church. I was out of action for nearly 4 months, so I thought, OK, come let’s shoot some church ruins and crank me up again!!! As it went, it ended up being much more than just a church-shoot.

We started early in the morning, by around 4:30, and my dear ikon was put to duty once again. She behaved impeccably during the entire trip, as usual. :) We managed to do Bangalore-Darshan for about 3 times before getting on the highway. For the un-informed, Bangalore-Darshan is what you do if you are not dead sure of your route. Bangalore-Darshan is what you do if you were chatting your way to bliss with your co-passengers in the car while unknowingly passing that free left turn. Bangalore-Darshan is what you do if there is a huge bus on your left side waiting to turn right, while you want to turn left. And Bangalore-Darshan is what you do if you find cops on the other side of the signal. We finally found our way out of the city, and were soon on the highway. I had to put all my driving skills to test while passing the huge trucks that ruled the road at that time of the day. Once we took the turn at Nelamangala to enter the NH48 which leads to Mangalore, driving was was back being enjoyable.

Before reaching Shettihalli, we stopped at two places, once near Kunigal, and again near Hassan. Okay, that doesn't make any sense, I know, so let me rephrase. Once near an old brick factory, which apparently belonged to a Mallu (wow!) and again, near a field were a man was tilling with two oxen. I was struck by the fact that how friendly the people were. After living in Bangalore, I somehow had developed this misconception that Kannadigas are not a friendly bunch of people. But as it turned out, they are much much more friendly and hospitable than my own state folks. Just so happens that Bangalore is..well, you know...depressing topic, let's leave it!

We took the turn from the Mangalore highway approaching Hassan, and suddenly, enchanting sceneries began to appear on both sides of the road. We were denied many an opportunity to shoot because of the intermittent drizzle. We kept going, fighting the deep urge to stop and jump out of the car despite the threatening rains, mentally noting down the places where we wanted to stop on our way back. We reached the church finally by around ten o clock, and all my weariness of driving so far gave way suddenly.

I dont want to try to elaborate the beauty of the place in words and ruin everything, just look at the pictures! (link provided in the end)

Weather kept playing cat and mouse game with us, and every ten minutes or so saw us running towards the shade, tucking our equipment inside our shirts. Well, if you can really call roofless walls as 'shade'! After a while, the sun peeped out for a few minutes, giving us the opportunity to click under blue skies as well. We decided to call it quits by about 1 o clock and as we were walking back, we spotted a group of women involved in planting paddy saplings. And how could we not!!! It turned out that we spent more than an hour with them, and as we stood up to leave, a small group of women and children came with food for the working women. And they asked us to have food with them. Though I was expecting it seeing the nature of people so far, I wasn't expecting them to be as persistent as they were. We tried refusing initially, but finally gave in for 2 reasons, One, they were extremely friendly and hospitable, and the offer was not just formality, they really wanted us to have food with them. And two, we were extremely hungry and none of us had any idea were the nearest restaurant was! You dont think much further when you have 'extremely' in both of the reasons! The food turned out to be good, and we collected addresses from them and left, promising to send them pictures by mail! I am sure they will be waiting for that!

And the weird thing about the entire episode was, none of us spoke very good Kannada, and they didn’t speak anything other than Kannada. At the risk of sounding platitudinous, let me surmise - When human beings connect, language is hardly a barrier.

And here are all the pictures for you:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lazystrokes/sets/72157605948634238/

when the rainclouds paused for a while...

2007-06-23T21:45:00.000+05:30

There are no rain pictures this week! Because it has been raining incessantly for the past 48 hours or so... So I cant go out and take a rain picture. I cant go out and take a rain picture when its not raining either. Catch 22!

Anyways, there's been this wonderful sight that has been raising my hormone levels whenever I go to drop my sister in college. Naah, its not girls am talking about, I have grown out of it(pretension, nevermind!) Its the lush green paddy fields on the way. So I took a calculated risk, and ventured out with my bike, when the rain seemed shying away for while today afternoon...

I took a deviation from the main road, and I wasn't disappointed at all. There was this narrow pot-holed road lined on either side with trees, and beyond them lay the vast expanse of green green paddy fields.

***click on the images to enlarge

Two women were cutting grass to feed cattle. They would have made a pretty picture. I contemplated walking upto them and asking for a picture. But then, they began eying me suspiciously. And I suddenly realized that something has upset the fine balance of this perfect calmness here, and it was nothing but me, in my bright red T shirt and bike, with the camera... duh! I dropped the idea and backed out.

Walking around clicking pictures of totally unsuspecting subjects sounds like a good idea. Only thats it is tough to put it into practice. I walked around, totally lost in the beauty of the place around me and having confronted with the problem of plenty. Timidness too, if you insist.

There is something with red clothes and cattle. Bullfights and matadors come to mind, but, here, it was a harmless buffalo, who seemed intimidated (or maybe just irritated) by all the sudden attention. I hung around until it began bellowing.

And yeah, my parked bike looked absolutely gorgeous amidst all the greenery. Won't you agree?

And before I sign off, here's another attempt at creating an HDR. This one from the office parking-lot again...

monsoon musings - 2

2007-06-17T14:44:00.000+05:30

Friday: This was taken in office, on Friday, just after I got into the car, relieved to have pushed one more week aside. This is my office building, all drenched in rain. Looks beautiful doesn't it? If you are being subjective about it...

Today: The rain is arresting today... quiet literally!I remember someone saying something about the rythmic beat of the rain... No its not the normal pace that you're talking about... the rythm of the rain, starting.... getting stronger, then waning out into a drizzle, then heavy showers accompanied by winds.. and then calm for a while... That rythm. I've been meaning to go out and try some shooting this weekend, but somehow, found myself confined to home again..

Another day perhaps... I have a few more weeks before I leave this place.. and the monsoon is just about getting into its groove..

monsoon musings...

2007-06-10T14:35:00.000+05:30

Am back! Yeah back again. I wanted to make a series on the monsoon. Yes. monsoon in Kerala. With pictures. Thats where the rub is...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It wasn't raining when I woke up. There was a queer silence around. I strolled outside... Yes it had rained yesterday for sure. But I cant hear the toads anywhere.. Where have they all gone? Perhaps they've already found their mates. And don't want to be disturbed on a rainy morning, from their sleeps, from the cozy comfort of having their loved one near.. Toads!!

So here's one to start off...

***** click on the pictures to enlarge*****

The 'chembila' as it is called. Used to double up as umbrellas for school-children caught unawares by a sudden drizzle without warning. That would make a great shot, if I could get one.

This is the June- 2nd week moss. Very adolescent. Very soon, this guy will start sprouting little shoots red and green in color with little bulb-like thingy's in the tip. We used to play duals with those. The red one was feared all over. The big dark green one, with a red tip used to be nasty. But there used to be days when a lean mean simpleton green would steal the day, and make a fortune for someone! That was another age!

Here's another version of the moss!

It was amazing, to see life taking every opportunity to flourish, every little inch of space being taken. The sole objective of life is, to exist. To come into being. It will find the ways and means in the most unlikeliest of circumstances..

The whole place had become green so soon, with shrubs and weeds and all sorts of little insects.. I took a step and suddenly a swarm of mosquitoes rose, attacking me all over. I spotted this -->

..and wondered...The thing(vazhakkoombu) must have fallen before the weed grew over it. And it couldn't have been here for more than a night, it looked somewhat fresh. So the weed grew within a few hours time. Things are happening pretty fast over here. Monsoon is like big-city-madness in these parts. Suddenly the vision of a buzzliing starwars city came to my mind, mosquitoes being the airborne pods zooming past and all sorts of activities happening in the ground below..The murky world of bacteria and other malicious creatures..whoa!

Am sure you all have seen this somewhere, at least in a dream. (To the male readers only) A beautiful girl, after taking bath... water droplets scattered on her face... and a couple of strands of wet hair sticking together, and fallen over her eyes. Suddenly takes you to somewhere doesn't it??

And then the sun began peeking out from behind the clouds, and the droplets shone like luminous crystals. Time for me to go. One more and I am off for today.

Coming back to the point

2007-01-22T15:52:00.000+05:30

Someone said yesterday, "You've thinned down a lot". I've been used to that for quite a while. While folks at home are on the verge of a collective nervous breakdown over the issue of my thinning down, friends and acquaintances put it in a more comforting clothing, by asking "How do you manage to stay in shape?"

"Oh its no big deal, I just go on a 5 km jog near my home everyday, and once in two days I play tennis. When I dont play tennis, I visit the gym. I don't know swimming otherwise I'd have loved that too, and yeah, I dont even look at fried or fatty food!"

Truth is, I do nothing. And I am a big fan of potato chips, dark chocolate and and late night movies, in reverse order. Which should be your one-buck-ticket to obesity. Yet people have managed to say I have thinned down every single time I see them without fail, no matter how frequently or rarely. Which is kinda unsettling, if not exactly worrying. Unsettling because, at this rate, I can see the day when....

"Honey I am home..."

"Where? dont pull that trick on me, where are you, behind the curtains?"

"Am here, right in front of you. :(( "

"Wait, let me get my infrared goggles..."

Thing is I don't want to invest in infrared goggles when I should be worrying about car EMIs, home loans and primary school education. Hmm unsettling, indeed.

Well thats not the point.

The point is, this is my re-entry to blogging, after a long gap of 4 months or so. So naturally you'd expect this post to be my pièce de résistance. Which should stop my erstwhile readers in their tracks wherever they were going and make them sit down and take notice, and bookmark the page. Yet I chose this as the subject, How boring!!!!

Well you're advised to wander away... While I will be back with some more self-indulgent stuff later.

Of killing the past...

2006-08-10T17:21:00.000+05:30

Life's all about moving on. Shedding the scales, and getting a new one. Well, easier said than done. Because, accept it, we all love our pasts. We would be happier if one day, we could just walk back to our house and find it as it was ten years ago, those days when you were spilling over with the excitement of having discovered something called"college". Your room would be adorned with posters of Gabriela Sabatini(remember her?) or a very boyish looking Sachin Tendulkar! You'll once again open and adore the new "action shoes" that you recently bought. You had just heard about Nike and Reebok then. You're discovering the first signs of real conflict with your parents, when you've just hung up after that call from a girl in class. "Oh come on! She's just a friend. You guys just dont understand". Its another matter that you secretly admire her and you, with a couple of close confidante friends are plotting big time to break it out to her one day, soon. You throw the slingbag to the bed and settle in to the tune of "Paint my love" or "Sleeping child". The world seemed just too big and too exciting.

These are just sidetrack thoughts that formed in my mind when I heard a piece of news today. One friend from the old company who chatted with me today said - "Ananthu is being demolished for technopark expansion". I can see a few hearts sinking, a few of those who're reading this....For others - Ananthu is the place we used to have lunch from.

No, that is a huge understatement.

Ananthu is about five or six kilometers from the campus. We have to ride through the byepass in bone-breaking heat to reach that place. There are about ten other restaurants inside the campus and several outside on the way. But, come 12:30PM, we chose to ignore them all, and head to Ananthu. That about sums up what Ananthu meant to us. Its a very small, unassuming shack-like place along the byepass. You're sure to miss it the first time you go looking for it, as we did. There is a name-board of sorts which says "Hotel Ananthu" in Malayalam. But its hardly noticeable. Maybe its that feeling that evokes memories of the food from your grandparents' place still lingering in your toungue, maybe its just the way the place looks and feels, you connect to the food immediately. Its not special. Its not pompous. And the menu is not worth advertising. There is absolutely no interior deco, save a few burnt agarbathis and the icy cool of the thatched roof. But thats just what you love about the place. A few of us had kep the secret closely for a few months like the closed community in the movie - "The beach" until others discovered about that place and began to come flocking in. Then the inevitable happened. It lost the very Ananthu-ness in all the mayhem. P had called it "globalisation" then. We had reluctantly started to look for other places to lunch. But the taste remained in our buds. It does still.

Memories are there, just to taunt us. And the sad thing is, they cant be run down by earth-movers like Ananthu is being done, right now!

A night's tale

2006-07-11T16:17:00.000+05:30

It was really uncharacteristic of me to wake up in the middle of the night. I mean, I dont usually get up in my sleep even to piss. But here I am, having woken up like a shot bang in the middle of deep sleep. Wondering what was it that caused the sudden rush of adrenalin, I try to close my eyes and retrace the fading realms of any dreams I might have seen... or more likely, nightmares. No, there isn't any. I am wet. Err, I mean, I am sweating. I sharpen my ears to listen to the drone of the ceiling fan, which has a habit of melting in your ears once it goes on for a while, pretty much like the tick of the clock. You cant hear it unless you really strain your ears and concentrate. No, I dont hear any. The power must have gone off. And that explains all the sweat.

I scrambled up, almost stumbled upon the bean bag, but found my way to the blacony door and opened it. Ah! what a relief. It was so cold and crisp outside. There was no moon but I could see the silhouettes of trees. And there was this peculiar smell, too. Nothing like I have ever experienced before. I stood there for a while before I went back to my bed, leaving the door open. That smell is really getting to my head...

I dont remember how long I slept, or whether that I slep at all, but I opened my eyes, sensing some movement about the balcony door. My blood must have turned into ice and my nerves must have stopped transmitting to the limbs, for I could not move a finger, even after the visual impulses set about a flurry of activity in my brain which under normal circumstances would have caused such a big rush of adrenalin that would make me either scream, start to run or at leat bloody get up from the bed. I saw the silhouette of a female at the door. Her hair was loose and flew about her head in the cool breeze. I could not see her face. It must have been a gown she was wearing, but I could trace all the lines of her body as the strange green light from behind weaving through the cloth of her dress. She put her foot forward and her face came into the light, and if ever there were any active nerves left in my body, were turned immobile by that sight.

I was frozen by the thought that all the fear in my body had given away to a strange sort of longing now. I realized I no longer had any control over my mind, or body. She moved towards me, her steely eyes piercing deep into my psyche, sat on the bed, and smiled. Well, how do you normally react when you find someone has got a set of canines that grows long when she opens her mouth? I don't know. And I haven;t had the chance to meet anyone who knows. I think I just sat there, unable to react, and let her come to me. The canines felt icy cold when they pierced my neck, but there was no pain whatsoever. I closed my eyes.

* * * * * *

It lay by the side of my bed when I woke up. Initially I was perplexed by the little black mass that lay on the floor. But as I tried to touch it, t spread its wings and there was no mistaking the wings of a bat. A bumble-bee. It looked cute until the point I decided to lift it up and look at its face. Man, there's nothing else in that face, but pure evil. But it was lovely, in a devilish sort of way, and quite immoble. I dont know what happened, it must have hit the fan or something. I took it, and placed it gently on the floor outside. It crawled to a corner and sat there, never looking up.

A perfect start to the week!

2006-07-03T05:38:00.000+05:30

It took about 38 Megatonnes of will and 5 snoozes on the alarm and 2 phone calls to make me lumber myself out of bed today, limp towards the bathroom, spend a rather unsuccessful 15 minutes there, and treat myself with a bone-chilling bath at 3 am in the morning. Am no masochist, mind you, all this because Sydney runs four and half hrs ahead of us. And my client happens to be there.

So I drive 27 kms to office, kill two toads and almost kill a cyclist on the road, sing aloud with Alanis Morissette to keep myself from dozing off while driving, reach a deserted and ghostly looking office (duh! I need more choices in life, I sure do) and wonder why there aint been a call on my mobile yet, despite I being 10 minutes late for the meeting...I will most surely sleep off in the meeting, coz I was late to bed yesterday, after having a rather harrowing experience in trying to reach home in an overcrowded KSTRC superfast. With all this conflicting deliberations in my mind, I open my calendar, to discover that the 5-day early-morning exercise planned for this week is from Tuesday to Saturday, not Monday to Friday!

Amen!

wait a sec..

2006-06-26T16:21:00.000+05:30

Somewhere inside my head, there still lives a faint memory of those days when the first thing I used to do after coming to office would be check my blog, reply to comments, wonder why there are no comments, check statcounter and see who all were reading my blog.. then think about the next post etc...go blog surfing...

I realize I need to stop, and take a breath. And look behind, and around. I've been so really out of my own being I realize. Thank God there's at least a saving grace!

Pictures...

2006-05-30T17:59:00.000+05:30

My camera has been largely lying idle for sometime. But this is what it has been doing in between.

Monsoons!

2006-05-26T16:42:00.000+05:30

It has started.

As always, the metereologists' hit the bull's eye this time too, they predicted the monsoon will start exactly on May 30th, 11:23 am, right after you'd have pulled up your zippers after taking the first break of the morning. So it started last week. Actually I don't remember when, but today I suddenly realized it had, and had been for quite a while. We were just about to finish our lunch and I heard the noise, sudden, unmistakable. The sound of approaching rain. And it came down with quite a brute force, some people in the restaurant actually got scared and deserted their lunches halfway and ran for their lives. And before they could complete two full steps in the open, they were as wet as they ever knew. Each drop was the size of an ostrich's egg. Thinking what's with the raindrops and ostrich eggs? You should have paid attention in 12th grade when they taught about terminal velocity and surface tension and stuff like that, instead of sizing up the physics ma'me. I hate to explain such silly things. The former. Latter, with pleasure!

The entire srroundings take a pregnant, aching and vulnerable look. (This line is borrowed). Evenings are so beautiful. Yesterday I was so struck by the blueness of the night when I came out of office, that I stood there with my mouth wide open and hands on my hips for quite a while. It was not the blue you normally see, it was so unreal. Then I realized there were some people staring at me. One of these days am gonna get that into my camera. Some very pleasant, cliched, nostalgic, evrlasting imageries from the monsoon season -

Kids going to school with their multi-colored umbrellas, splashing each other with water by rotating those...

People wearing raincoats in scooters.. though those in bikes are not as pleasing to the eye..

The working woman in saree, balancing the umbrella btween her shoulder and neck and holding up her saree from wetting, displaying a good-looking leg or two...

Areal view, a sea of blackness...

Mist on the windshield...

Transluscent atmosphere...

It makes you want to weep, sometimes. Along with nature.

I coudn't help but compare..

2006-05-11T17:02:00.000+05:30

I guess, I just wont have enough of comparing...

Then: It's a sin, sitting a minute more in the office after 6. My fingers find its way immediately to Windows+L, and I spring up. Watch all the ladies hurrying towards the door, grabbing their falling handbags, lunchboxes, shawls, sarees or whatever. I make way for them, wearing a weary smile. 6 o clock is normally the time for the top-rung managers too, the suits (none of them in a suit, actually) looking at their watches and walking swiftly, those leather-finish laptop bags on their shoulders... Whereas the menfolk are waiting impatiently, to let their ties lose and start getting a bit loud now.

I come out, pick up the helmet, and run down the stairs. Am in no hurry, but I just love running down the stairs. I reach the bike-parking lot and try to remember where I parked mine. There are a few guys smoking and chatting with each other, with coffee in one hand. I find her, from among a hundred others, stuffed into every inch of space aviable. I carefully draw her out, and kick her up, and let her loose.

It's a sudden transition from the noisy highway as you take the turn at Chavadimukku. The road is relatively quiet. There are bunch of engg students, totally absorbed in their own world, oblivious to all those eyes staring at them. As I take the turn at the engg college junction, the settings take an even more rural character, with the devotional songs playing from the krishna temple nearby, people returning from the temple after the deeparadhana, sound of chenda and stuff. Eerie stillness everywhere. I reach home, unlock the gate. No one else. I park the bike, sit on it for another 5 minutes, lazily. Then I put the helmet down and walk, with my hands in my pockets, to get that pack of cigarettes.

Now: It's still a sin sitting in the office after 6, if u can afford getting out. My fingers find a way to Windows+L again. But there are very few other people who've contemplated moving from their seats. With a shrug, I walk out. Some people are staring at me. Like I care. I walk down the stairs. The parking lot has fewer bikes. She's wearing a thin sheet of dust, thanks to all the construction taking place nearby. I kick her up. She fires up rather haggardly and catches on. The longer commute to work daily is taking its toll on her as well. And I realize my attention towards her has dwindled a lot I find my way through the maze of crazy evening traffic @ Kochi, survive a few traffic signals as well as life-threatening auto and bus drivers, and reach the highway. which is the slightly enjoyable part of the journey. But the heavy traffic spoils all the fun.

I reach home, pull her up, and sit on top of her for a while. Mom opens the door and demands to know whether I've had tea or not. I reply absent-mindedly. Smile at her or try to crack a joke, either of which must be really unconvincing, as she quietly goes back to her serial at 7. I feel wierd that I dont miss that cigarette anymore. I go straight up to my room, grab a book/turn on the music.

Then I wait...

10 things I miss from my previous job

2006-05-04T17:15:00.000+05:30

Read someone's meme and thought about this. Mind you - this is in no particular order.. oh yes, it is in the order that it came to my mind, and you know things can get pretty messy out there, wherein the first thing I think about after waking up in the morning could be taking up a netflix subscription when I go onsite, after which, comes relieving myself off 8 hrs of liquid waste! U get the idea..

1. Evening tea at Hotel California: If u r in technopark, dont be surprised by conversations like these -

Software Engineer No. 1 (SE1) : Hey man, how ya doin?

SE2: Awesome! havent seen you lately?

SE1: yeah I had been onsite... California! Came back yesterday. U seem to be in a hurry?

SE2: yeah, going onsite man... coming?

SE1: Sure, lets go!

SE2: And lets go to California after that, u got a bike na...

Naah, we dont have such motorcycle buffs out there who'd think of taking up a world round-trip in their bikes.. anyway not since I left. Hotel California, alias Cali is the little tea-shop nearby, where you get steaming hot and crisp vadas, ethaykkappams, deep-fried houseflies etc and tea - custom made to your choice of strength (of tea-leaves that is). And cigarettes of course if you're of that smoking kind!

And onsite smells heavily of odonil/urine depending upon when was it cleaned last.

2. The balcony and birdwatching : Lunch-break was the best time to do this activity. This is best enjoyed in the company of a few experts, whose knowledge in ornithology might come handy while analyzing certain features of rare and migratory birds. Such sessions would mostly come to a close after mourning ebout extinct species.. dodos and the likes..uknow!

3. Rainy days: Rainy days meant sleeping till 8:45. And then a couple of frantic calls here and there, to people who've got a car for a lift, only to learn that they're already gone. Then the inevitable, change back to homewear, and get that remote! Or just sit about and chatter away. Its another matter that anyway you'll end up reaching the office wet, which classifies the time spent above as a waste! Or is it?

4. The three humps: I loved the three humps on the uphill/downhill road to bhavani. I loved braking hard in front of those humps and feeling the gentle roll-up in my tummy while taking them. The second was the loveliest, coz we had the TCS training centre right in front of it, and I have to say the hump played a major part in reducing the number of motor-accidents in that vicinity. But they do happen nevertheless. And ch loved taking on the humps with his hands off the handle. God, let me live till the day which finds him flat on the ground, which shouldnt be very far. And which is pretty difficult I mn considering the way his tummy is challenging him, its hard for a flat-fall, it would be more like rolling down. Whatever!

5. The technopark club: If you'd ask me which was the best place on earth to booze, this was the answer. used to be. :( . Several factors made it unique. Hard day? Just stroll down after getting out from the office, and there you are, the great Vyshakha lawns of the club, the night sky with all the stars, music, and yeah, I have to admit that the food used to be good too. It was another matter that we've never left the place without being involved in a brawl with the waiters about something, like the fries being too oily or the beer bottles having a wierd green color or that the toilets used to be on that side of the pool when we came here last time...

They closed it down a few months before I left. Compelling reasons? Maybe.

I guess thats enough for one post. The remaining five will follow in the next...

Non-starter

2006-04-24T17:18:00.000+05:30

I dunno what is it that makes words drain out when you have a lot to write. I have the world to tell about, and I cant find a single word to start the proceedings. If you dont believe me, this is the fifth time I am starting off, and hopefully the last, before deciding this is the worst start I could ever hope for, only until I started again! I realized my problem, just now. These things I want to write about, are of gargantuan dimensions for sure, but they are so, just for me. Neither do they possess the the quality to create any interest in an audience like the Friends - season 9 could, nor do I possess that quality to make it sound interesting as someone like Dave Barry could. So having realized my handicap, and having set the expectations straight, its much simpler now. I am just going to write for myself.

One would never really get a true list of the happiest moments of his life until the moment he dies, as was seen by Lester Burnham, as was told by Sam Mendez. I liked that scene like no other, and it continues to be one that really touched my heart. You'd recollect If you'd seen American Beauty, and u'd understand me if I say this weekend conatined a few. Probably.

All the fun that is there in a bungee jump is because u know you'll die, if the chord snaps!

I am just going to revel in some precious memories and stop bullshitting.

Trivialities

2006-04-12T11:07:00.000+05:30

I'm simply astounded by the capacity of the human mind. To sink down deep into an abyss one day, to bounce back and fly high the next. To love unconditionally. To stubbornly believe in individualism but be ready to sacrifice everything for another. To find strength in the weakest, bleakest of moments, and pass on the strength to someone else. It's then that the age old Hindu notion of mind/soul having an existence of its own begins to make a lot of sense. Its just unacceptable that something of this immense profoundness shall perish along with the mortal physical state of existence. Just unacceptable.

After 2 months long and arduous effort, I managed to finish “The motorcycle diaries” and move on the next book. Arduous was other things, due to which the reading had suffered, and not reading in itself. Otherwise, it’s not at all a tough book to read. The resemblance to “zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance” is just in the name. There’s no metaphysics of quality here, just the exuberance of the youth, free spirit, and the making of a revolutionary that was Che Guevara.

So, its “Remains of the day” now. Already liking its crisp britishness, for a change.

The pain, killer.

2006-04-10T17:08:00.000+05:30

I had waited a few weeks for this. To find some time. To get out. To be alone. To face the wind. Finally, after all the pitching and rolling, and the settling in of dust, I found myself wanting to get out this last weekend. And I did. I threw the camera into a backpack, and hopped on to the bike, and set out.

And I would never know what was it that I forgot to take this time. I listened to the sound from the exhaust, and all I could hear was the mechanised drone, and not sweet music. I missed the wind on my face, then realized heck, I had the helmet on. What was the helmet doing on my face now??? I felt irritated at the thumpings from the road, transmitted uncomfortably through some delicate parts of my body where it came in contact with the bike's seat. I watched in silent indifference as I saw fishermen, with their precise, dance like steps threw their nets into the water, neither feeling the temptation to suddenly park the bike and run along to get a snap nor see what catch was in there for me!

Everything looked a pale, dull grey.

I walked along the beach, stared at the lighthouse. The sight could be termed as something equivalent of 'magnificient' or 'awe-inspiring', had it been another day. another time of my life. The green, blue and beachsand of the land succumbed meekily before the ever-expansive might of blue sky, stretching all around, the view from the beach was indeed inspiring. But I couldn't just find that inspiration today.

I watched my footprints in sand behind me. One pair of feet. It looked desolate. Wanting. I kept on walking briskly, to pacify a throbbing heart. There were several sights, multi-colored catamarans lined up along the shore... children playing atop them, the faint lines of a liner in distance against the red cherry of the sun... But my camera remained inside the sack. Nothing. Nothing can fill that void today.

Some other day, perhaps.

Some day!

2006-04-01T00:00:00.000+05:30

I used to wonder what's with the April Fool's day on April 1st. Until I met this person and she told me when her birthday was. Then it all began to make sense.

Happy Birthday, N!

Your carma just ran over my dogma!

2006-03-30T16:44:00.000+05:30

"Open the bonnet..."

"Err, huh?"

"The bonnet! Open the bonnet"

Wait a minute, I thought I told you to do the 'vahanapooja' for my new car, not the Engine inspection. And I thought you were a priest, and not a mechanic. And what with all the costume and the pot-belly and stuff? Mechanics dont have pot bellies, for God's sake. They need to get pretty deep under vehicicles, and pot-bellies don't help. In fact pot bellies wont help if you want to get deep anywhere, for that matter, if you know what I mean. Thats why they say get settled and get over with everything before you start getting those dreaded roundies, or else, be smart enough and make enough money to hire secretaries. I'm digressing!

I opened the bonnet. He took a coconut and cracked it open on the floor, lighted agarbatthis and smeared 'kalabham' over pretty much everywhere. The 'Rocam' engine, air-filter, fuel injectors, batteries, radiator... god, he knows where it matters. Probably he took automotive as his elective in the final semester or something.... duh! I dont know how these poojari's are trained! He did a lot of stuff which I didn't understand, including asking me to place four lemons in front of all four tyres and run the car over it. The lemons, all got crushed and their juices squeezed out to the pavement. To me, that looked as if it symbolized something, and I shuddered! And thus, having got all the necessary blessings, (this he wont give until I had given the dakshina...) I hit the road, in my brand new car, all excited and thrilled and all that.

The excitement lasted about as long until I hit the highway. National Highway -17! Do you know what that means? If you don't, I'll tell ya! 6 lanes of speed regulated (I mean lower limits, stupid) sooper smooth tarmac,with all the bright road markings and signs and vehicles zipping past at such breakneck speeds, It'll put the autobahn to shame! Oh, by the way before I forget, only one among the six lanes is currently operational, the 2nd being the road - shoulder, also called road-under construction which has been squatted upon by roadside vendors and other commercial establishments... Signs of India growing. 3rd was being marked by a stone, which lies in Mr Appukkuttan Nair's courtyard, 4th and 5th being in his toilet and borewell respectively. And the 6th? Well, even 85% adherence to international standards is too much in Indian context, whatdooyuthink? Road signs? Yeah, everywhere, "Thankappans jewellery", "Ormma marble palace", "Ittichan and sons", "If you like the Congress party, vote for CPI(M)"..being a few. I call these road signs because, well, what else do you call what's placed on the road?? And, yeah enough kidding, I wasn't joking about the breakneck speed, mind you! The buses never run on anything lower than a decent 80 Kmph. If you're on the way, and can't find enough space to move, well, close your eyes and start counting, dude! And hope you paid for the insurance! The vehicle's, and yours too!

I can go on, about the railway gate that remained closed for nearly 20 minutes, leaving queues kilometers long, the traffic police who asked me to take free left and take the U-turn another 2 Kms down the road, because the traffic lights were broken, and I just wanted to cross, to the other side goddammit! And, by the time I reached office, all the spaces in the parking lot had been occupied, which left me with only one option, park in the open, which meant, I was fried when I got into the car in the noon.

You know what, I loved my bike, I still do!

P.S: - The title was a bumper sticker I liked, btw, I didnt run over anybody's dogma!

peevish...just!

2006-03-17T11:57:00.000+05:30

I started this post as a comparison between now and then. Then being the time immemorial when I was leading the lazy spoiled bachelor life in a town far away from my home. And now being, ugh, no, don't get me wrong. I am still single for Pete's sake. Now I stay at home. Just.

Which means there is the bed coffee, folded sheets, pressed clothes, good healthy food, mother's love and a multitude of other comforts which just escapes me at the moment. But it also means, there are no cigarettes, no rumbled and soiled sheets, no stuff thrown around untidily in the room, no magazines to rummage through before I could find one to go to the toilet with, no bad food, no noisy bowels, no headaches due to hangover...

I woke up in the morning today and saw mom buying fish from a vendor, in a boat, in the river. Took my camera and took a picture, immediately, and settled down to read the newspaper with coffee in one hand, in the balcony, facing the river. How peaceful is that? A little too much perhaps? I miss all the noise, all the aberrations of not finding the right things at the right place. I miss all the fun of being difficult to live. Consider this, I cant even skip a meal now! I am being finicky, I know. But I am. Just for the time being.

Just that I needed to complain about something

Wayfarers...

2006-02-09T16:41:00.000+05:30

I didn’t recognize him first, as I entered “Vishnu”. Vishnu is a small restaurant, “Hotel-tea shop” as they call it, and serves food fresher and tastier than any of the much more expensive restaurants around. It was dark inside, and my eyes took time to adjust, so I dismissed the dark silhouette as just another of those unhygienic lost-in-darkness kind, the kind that you see on the road every now and then, the kind that you take extra precaution to avoid. And then I realized he was staring at me.

I almost gave a start when I looked at him. His eyes were completely devoid of any sign of life, face unshaven, hair unkempt, and he wore something that looked like it has been ages since it has seen a drop of water or a pressing iron. I tried to smile, and later corrected myself, when I saw him failing miserably attempting to return the gesture. I sat down by his side, and ordered food.

He went on with his eating, raising his head occasionally to look at me. He seemed like begging, without saying a word. In his eyes I saw the look of a man so deprived, he couldn’t even make himself up to ask for mercy. I tried to make a conversation.

“So are you taking the restricted holiday today?”

He stared at me, puzzled. He obviously didn’t have a clue about what I was talking about. And later, when I succeeded in getting him to talk, I learned that it has been three weeks since he came to office, the first two were on leave, and on the third week, he just didn’t go.

He was a colleague; in fact we entered the company together, and had training in the same batch and all. He was a slightly laid-back personality, but everybody suspected there’s something going in inside his head. His classmates used to say he was brilliant, had very high marks in college, and later he repeated the same performance in training and scored good marks for the tests and all. And then one day, he went down with Chicken pox. In retrospect, I can see that, that incident actually cut the first strand in his relation with the outside world. He couldn’t make it with his batch, and when he resumed, he seemed even more distant. But I knew I always kind of liked him.

We used to see him once in a while, at office, always alone, and barely managing a smile. I don’t remember when was the last time I saw him. I remembered a friend once telling about him, apparently he hated his folks a lot and had stopped going home, too.

“I am stopping it all, I can’t do this job”. He said. For a moment, I had a flickering doubt in my mind whether it was the job alone he was referring to.

“I wanted to study, and my folks wont let me. But now I have decided, I am going to study.” I asked him what his plans are – of course, for ordinary people like me, everything has to have a plan backing it, the money, the time… but he didn’t seem to have a clue about all those details. He said he was preparing for the GATE, but had lost concentration in between due to pressures from home. And he was not going to make it this time. I advised him to go teach somewhere, maybe as a guest faculty, that would help him in his preparation also. He seemed to like the idea. After briefing him about the formalities of resigning, I waved good bye to him, reluctantly.

Before going, I went to him, put my hands on his shoulder, put on my best reassuring smile, and told him, “Just give a try, don’t know, maybe you’ll be able to make it this time itself”. He made an attempt at smiling back, but I saw my words fluttering into thin air. And when I looked in those eyes again, I couldn’t help feeling a bit concerned whether he’s going to make it at all.

And I don’t know whether I should hope he does, too…

How blind we become...

2006-01-31T11:17:00.000+05:30

The chair was comfortable. Very comfortable. Perhaps this is the only time I’ll be able to appreciate it. I looked at the floor. A few fluorescent lamps glistened on its mopped luster. I registered all the shapes, the angles, and the symmetries and asymmetries of the lounge. I will never see this place like this again. I will become one among the people hurrying past, never having to bother to appreciate the room and its features. I felt like that person in a music video I had seen, standing still while everybody hurried past. The room and myself, still, and conversing to each other, without making a sound.

It is three years since I had done a similar thing. Another place, another office, similar situation. Then I so comfortably slipped into the role of the passer-by. Often trying hard not to notice the people waiting in the chairs. Familiarity makes you take things so much for granted, that you fail to notice them. Only until the moment comes, when you stand to lose them. Then the shapes begin to reappear, what passed off as noise, gradually transforms into resonating, rhythmic music, and the place starts looking fresh again.

Probably that’s the same with our lives, us being able to appreciate it only twice, at the beginning, and then again, at the end!