Way to go - 2012

If somebody thought the emotion might dry up after a week, somebody was wrong. With over 2,500 pics already collected, and almost as many more yet to be collected, with injuries yet to be healed and stories yet to be shared, the Suri & Co trip for 2012 to Wayanad is still a BANGG in our hearts. It will be etched in our memories for as long as we live, I am sure. And it will keep us all close together, for much longer than that. Everybody is sure!

Here's the Ballad, that sings of our days in God's Own Country. Hold on folks, for if you are familiar with the roads in Kerala, you will very well know that this one is a long and bumpy ride!

Day 1
It was the day we decided, that even if we spend the rest of the week sleeping in our hotel rooms; the time, the money and the energy we spent to go to Wayanad will be Vasul. Such was the magnificence of the Soochipara Waterfall!
But it will be unfair to start Day 1 from Day 1 itself, because the story actually starts from the night before. My buddy and I made it to Chennai Central right on time and the sight we saw opposite Saravana Bhavan was simply exuberant. Around two and a half dozen of our office folk, clustered around the luggage, wasting no time to pull out their cameras and click everything in sight, chattering, high fiveing and getting ready to rock and roll. But that was of course was just the trailer. The movie started with the train pulling away from the station. That was when the "screaming restriction" was lifted - and the wildebeests were let free.
We had a photography marathon for starters, and main-course included a game of anthakshari on one side and one of truth or dare on the other (which was indeed satisfying, in terms of its share embarrassing truths and dares, much worse - if you know what I mean). And for dessert we had, what I would like to call... ummm... let's just call it "TOOTHPASTE" (For those readers who weren't there for the trip, it was a game were a genius among us decided to apply toothpaste on the face of anyone who was sleeping that night)
Breakfast at Mysore, from where we caught a bus to Wayanad. Let me tell you friends, I will never forget that bus trip - ever! That was the ride where I tore away my inhibitions and let the dance floor on fire! Well, that was what I thought I did. At a later stage of the story, one of my friends was kind enough to say that I suck and also call me a "left-footed dancer". However, fate had something else in store for my brother - Mr. Red Chutney, who also marked his debut in the aisles of the very same bus. I should also thank a couple of wonderful girls who were kind enough to share their dancing secrets, and also rocked the stage!
And then came Soochipara! I will just say this much - you don't have to die to go to Heaven! One kilometer walk in a narrow slope, fenced with exotic plantation, feasting on scenic beauty as nowhere in the world, and the majestic waterfalls to top it up! Cloud 9 was too low, my friends, as the water pounded against my spine, as I swam on rocks and breathed in the.... I don't have a word for what I saw from there. Looking at the water fall, from below the waterfall. What do you call that?
I said goodnight after watching Batman-Begins in my room.

Day 2
As much as I hate him, I have to thank James Bond incarnate for being punctual and waking me up on time. Not to mention my bro who accompanied me to watch Manichithrathazhu - the best movie ever! There is another bro, whom I am not mentioning right now, as he features prominently in Day 3.
Well, frankly, Day 2 was boring. Except the climax..... shhhh, I will say that in the end. We went to Lakdi view point and saw the chain tree, went boating, again went boating, saw an elephant and a Dam. Hey, don't forget the swing! Man, that was a riot!
And we did miss our ever enthusiastic cameraman. And I have to say, without you, the days were a little less fun. Wish you good health my bro! Same with you girls who skipped Day 3. Next time, we will drag you along and you better be prepared!
And now for the climax - Campfire! Boy, did we dance like wild men. This time again, I wasn't shy. The fire dazzled, just like our trip.
One more thing, this day saw an improvement. Because at the end of our first day, our bus had nearly turned into an ambulance (thanks to a cute little puppy - hey, don't get annoyed, I did say cute). On this particular day, we had no casualties. Everybody was in good health. You needed that. For what was in store for you, was something you needed a tough gut to digest!

Day 3
This my friends, is a whole new story. It is the story of inspiring Black shirts, of how we learnt that your gender is not your weakness, of a song "If you can do it, so can we!", of giving a helping hand (Hey little sister. Let me tell you, you were the one who gave me the helping hand all along), of pushing your buddy to his limits and much beyond (My dear chappal friend. We made it with nothing but will-power) and most of all, it is the story..... Where determination takes front seat! The blood that pulsed through our veins when we made it to the top, it was red with glory!
And don't forget how much fun it was. Trekking wasn't just about a breathless exhausting walk. The journey till the heart-shaped lake, through the wild and narrow road, we couldn't see anything beautiful over there. Because we were standing at the most beautiful spot!
(Special mention to our cameraman for the day! And to Dilli Wala who helped us all, up and down)
Ahoy, not to mention the game of dumb charades that night, or as I like to call it, "The night I was cursed by the angels" (pun intended)


Day 4 
The Grand Finale. On the down side, two of our colleagues went off to their home towns. On the up side, one of the girls missed her bus the previous day. Or was it the other way around? Well, everybody was happy. And we made it, to probably the most exotic spots in our itinery - The Kuruva Island!
Let me just run you through the highlights of the day - Chechi who was freaked out by monkeys, got a pic of my favourite actor, had a bloody good swim, a new record lung power of 85 second underwater (awesome dude!), another record lung power of 4 seconds underwater (forgot if it was skinny or Mr. Toothpaste. Well, both of you were useless and I strictly advice you to stay away from water!), sun-bath (you HAVE to try it... And thank you Spiky, for the idea!) and personally, sitting on wet pants in the bus for over an hour!
Yeah, that was pretty much it. The place was just fantastic. And I have to appreciate them for maintaining the island in such fashion, the authorities have done a brilliant job in flourishing tourism and at the same time, preserving the riverine island, as if away from any human intervention at all.
The rest of the bus trip was sleepy. Mr. Skinny showed off his dancing skill (which was, I must say, impressive)! Or was that on some previous day? I don't know. Special mention to two baby elephants (no offence) who executed the Gangnam style better than PSY. Mr. Red Chutney will be awarded the best dancer, while the wild bug will be the Best Sleeper of the trip.
Sambar Mami and our Manager were simply unbeatable at Anthakshari and they shall be crowned the woman and man of the match respectively. Ummm... I am totally running out of nick-names, especially for all my akkas, one of whom I owe an apology for my disastrous prediction by palmistry, and another who insisted that I don't call anyone akka, but my friend, that is a promise I cannot keep. And my dear chechis who cajoled me for the window seat all along, cajole being a drastic understatement, love you a lot! And one of them made it to the top on Day 3 - High Five!
Woah! How could I forget the captain of the game. THE TOUR OPERATOR. Machaa, you did a fantabuloustically superb job. Awesome work. You totally deserve a para for yourself! Hats off Bhai!

And then the trip, back home! Well, just one more thing to say. Two actually. First of all, hey fellow blogger, I made it first! And most importantly...

WAYANAD TOUR KKU ORU O PODU!

SURI & CO KKU ORU O PODU!!!

Love

The Leaking Lilac

Good Morning folks!

Welcome to the story of 'The Leaking Lilac'.
Once upon a time, in a little town in a big world, a baby was born.
A little baby which cooed and cried, and everybody went, "Awww..." when it smiled.
The baby grew up to become a young child, filled with energy, bouncing about - the Midas of smiles.
The child learned what it was taught.
Whatever it saw, whatever it heard, was engraved in a heart, pure as gold.
This child could grow up to become an athlete, or a musician, or an actor.
Or maybe a lawyer. Or a Doctor. A dentist maybe? Or a vet!
Or a terrorist. A murderer. A rapist.

Gang rape in Delhi. Girl battles for life:
We shed our tears for you. We take a moment of silence for you.
You will be in our prayers. May the world never witness this again.

I was angered when I heard about the tragic incident in Delhi. It was a tragedy. A disaster. And the nation mourns for her. My fingers tremble as I write these words. Reading about it in the newspaper was just the most horrifying thing to do. The brutality of it, it pains my heart, overwhelmingly. Words can't express sympathy. Maybe silence can. Could you all please take a moment of silence and prayer? Maybe it will bring some peace? Maybe such a thing won't happen again. Just a moment of prayer for her. For women. For peace.

Ah! Well, life goes on doesn't it? Yes, we have to go on. So let us take a laugh, a laugh for the magnificent future we have up ahead and move on. Well, for those who are reading this, it may not be so magnificent after all, because this article just got started! Fasten your seatbelts!

Right now, I am sick to my gut; the entire nation a.k.a all my Facebook friends are clamouring for the hanging of those responsible for the gang rape in Delhi. Well most of them are. Some of them suggest more brutal measures like castrating them, or chopping them into tiny-tiny pieces and keeping them just alive, drowning them in boiling oil and what else? Well, first of all I appreciate the creative fervour of those master-minds who came up with these amazing ideas! Bravo! And second of all, could you just shut up and get back to your work? And if you have no work, then go the sleep. Or read my other posts in this blog; trust me its worth it (Whoa! Somebody was right. I am turning into a blog marketing maniac!)

All jokes aside, there are things to be asked. Things to be talked about. And everybody fighting for death must introspect. When has killing ever solved the problem? Has death ever been a cure? Who came up with this crazy idea that death can be 'compensated' with death? That rape can be compensated with torture? An eye for an eye! What a mantra!? Or do you believe that a strict punishment will instill fear in the minds of others and thereby reduce crime? You are going to fight crime with fear? Fight violence with violence?

When I started writing this article, I did a brief research on Chauri Chaura. All of us have learnt that story in 8th std Social Studies, how 22 policemen where killed in a place called Chauri Chaura in UP and the Non-Cooperation movement was called off. I don't want to deliver a history lecture as I had intended to in the first place. But just a gentle reminder of how the greatest battle in history was fought, the battle for India's independence. How we never compromised with peace and tolerance. How we held strong to ahimsa. The fabric of our society and any stable society in the world in built on non-violence (want to google "The Arab Spring"?) Ahimsa is not just about winning independence, or getting rid of the British. It is the understanding that only through love, compassion and tolerance will we be able to carve out a better society. In 1947, we did not just earn our independence, but a much deeper knowledge of how inevitable non-violence is. And every individual, who adds up to the society, that makes the nation, is answerable to the nation. Every action of ours tells a story. A story that subsequently shapes the society. the choice is always ours. Violence or Non-violence. Vengeance or forgiveness?

Why does crime happen? Why do people kill? Or rape? Are these killers or rapists born evil? Are these people God's special creations just for the purpose of ruining lives and destroying the society? What is the colour of their blood? What are their hobbies? What is their favourite food? What is their favourite sport? Ask these questions, and answer them yourself. Who is the criminal? Who is responsible? And can he or she be forgiven?
 Enjoy!

Want to hear the story of the Leaking Lilac again?
Once upon a time, in a little town, in a big world, a baby was born.
A little baby which cooed and cried, and everybody went, "Awww..." when it smiled.
The baby grew up to become a young child, filled with energy, bouncing about - the Midas of smiles.
The child learned what it was taught.
Whatever it saw, whatever it heard, was engraved in a heart, pure as gold.
This child could grow up to become an athlete, or a musician, or an actor.
Or maybe a lawyer. Or a Doctor. A dentist maybe? Or a vet!
Or a terrorist. A murderer. A rapist.
Whatever is written in the child's heart, will resonate to the society.
Kill the terrorist? Well, that might send a strong message to the society about the guts of the government. But every killing will write a different story in the child's heart. Chauri Chaura wrote one. The shootout at the school in US wrote one. Killing the killer will write another.

What story are you going to write?

Love

Stuck

I am stuck, between the past and the future!

Hello folks! Been a while I guess. I have been a little busy; read "The Casual Vacanacy" by JK Rowling, went to Kumbakonam for an audit, so couldn't update my blog for a while. Around two weeks I believe. Anyhow, I am back, and so are you I hope. Enjoy!

I am stuck, between the past and the future!

Really annoying. Incredibly frustrating, this overwhelming nostalgia.
As memories sweep through my mind, taking me to another Universe, that fills me with awe - the past
How many memories, sweet-bitter, but each so delicious. I desperately crave

Internation Indian School, Riyadh - IISR - What I called my Azkaban
An abominable place, but today, I am in love with it. I miss it
8 periods a day. A lunch break after the fourth, and Salah break after the seventh
Sometimes I went to the football ground, for a game of catcher-catcher
We sat around and had our indoor fun, for Salah breaks
And those P.Ed periods that I bunked to lazily sit in class
Those monumental home-works, that we competed to finish in class itself; for a tranquilizing day at home!
(How much I wrote in those days. How many notebooks! 
The smell of those books, still floats in my nose)
Those amazing teachers, whom I can never shower with enough praise
Their love and affection, their care and their faith, I owe them my life 
They taught me the definition of 'awesome', something my friends might not have agreed with
But I was awesome
And my best friends - Pakkaran and Sasi!
We discovered the mysteries of teenage, and ventured into the world that 'adults' monopolized
And we did make - Award Winning Jokes!
And a bunch of other friends, 'Wallahi' their Malappuram accent has always fascinated me
10th Board exam, and the tragic study leave that preceded it
(Mugging, revising and mugging again. Until the words flow out of you, in a smooth wave, like glistening water)
And I loved it all! 

There was the day, that I did my business in my pants
There was the day, when my classmates tweaked RAMON to suit their convenience and earn my umbrage
They treasured it alright, my umbrage
There was the day, when I got beat up (Now when I look back, I think I asked for it)
There was the day, where we ventured out after school, to the shopping malls and the pastry shop
Celebrating the freedom after exams...
And I love each and every one of them! I miss them terribly

Reciting poems, reading for the class, elocutions and debates
It saddens me, that that Universe is away from me.
That I shall never be there. Ever again

St. Thomas Central School - The love of my life
It brought out the best in me
As our Principal always said, you come in here as boys and leave as men
I learnt patience. I learnt to be positive. I learnt optimism
I learnt to speak in public. Even better,
I learnt to speak to girls (That, is another story altogether!)
I learnt, to keep in touch. With those angels, whom I cannto dream to loose!
I learned to love, because everything around was just so precious
2 years over there, seemed like 20! Totally worth it

School life is over, and it has been 2 years. Now as I revisit the past, my eyes swell up
When I went back to IISR, to visit my teachers, 3rd std, 5th std, 6th and 7th std. 
Most of them remembered me. Some did not
As I walk through those magnificent playgrounds of STCS, and suck in its beauty
Nostalgia - you torture me!

Not just school. Remember those summer vacations, where you did nothing!
Most of mine where in Ambalapuzha. Where I fancied climbing trees and playing cricket.
In that vast field that can blow your mind! Swimming in ponds, afraid of frogs
And the vacation in Riyadh? 12-12 sleep. Days where I didn't know AM

19 years of past, how can I recite you in 19 words. 

But wish that was it. As I seek to delve into the past, another Universe pulls me in
The Future
It is mysterious, it is powerful and it is inevitable!
If nostalgia was torture, curiosity is the cruciatus curse!
What does this world have in store for me? Where is the roller coaster taking me?
I don't know what lay ahead, and I am dying to know
What happens tomorrow? Or the next year? Or 10 years in the future? Just show me a glimpse?
Just one glimpse

A tug of war is going on. These mighty worlds, sucking me in
And I am stuck. In between them

I am stuck, between the past and the future!

Love

SURPRISE!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMMAA!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: This Blog post is specifically meant for my my dear, sweet Amma! If anyone else happens to see this, please scroll down for my latest story and other blog updates.
Thank your
Enjoy!!

Hey Amma!!!
Happy Happy Birthday!!! So, it seems you have found your surprise gift. I assume you have searched a lot, and worked hard for this present. Well, if not, I don't mind, for all the wonderful, beautiful and spectacular things you have done for me, isn't this the least I can do!?

As a writer I have a policy, never write about my parents. Whenever I express gratitude, I don't mention my parents. Because I know that even the epitome to literature cannot express a fraction of the love I have for you. And you know very well that not a thousand poets from across the seven continents, not even the pinnacle of literary prowess can tell the world how much you have cared for me and how much you love me!

But today, I make an exception. On this birthday of yours, let me make an attempt to pen down my gratitude for you. No! Gratitude is the wrong word. Such an understatement. What is the word? Devotion? Nah, too melodramatic. Affection? Nah, too childish. You see, I am already fumbling for words! This is a tough job, you have to give me credit for that. Anyway, what is the right word? Ahhh... Love! Good enough...

Thank you Amma, for tirelessly giving me company as I said all the question and answers in Hindi. Remember correcting my poems and essays, the one's I used to write before every exam as practice. Let me ask you Amma, how much patience did it take to go through all that again and again. Correcting it, and making me write again. And more importantly, after every attempt, you used to tell me what all were the mistakes. You used to teach me how I could avoid them. You used to write with that red pen of yours, all the mistakes and make me study harder. Every mark I have earned, in my school life and in CA, it is all for you Ma!

Teaching me school work was just the tip of the ice-berg. You taught me how to be a nice boy. You taught me how to behave, you to be polite, how to be nice and how to treat everyone. Even today, when I go shopping and buy my stuff, I remember to smile at the shop-keeper. You taught me that Amma. You taught me not to hurt people. You have taught me, how wrong it is to hurt somebody, and you taught me to be careful not to offend anybody, ever. I will be careful Amma.

You taught me to make friends. I always remember you telling me, "Have a lot of Girlfriends. And a lot of boyfriends too. Everybody should be your friend!" If I have friends, it is because of your lessons. And let me tell you, I have some amazing friends.

But my best friend of course, is you only. My ultimate secret keeper. Is there anything I cannot tell you? You are just so amazing. Even on my exam eve, you pull me out of the study room to show me if there is a nice movie on TV. You let me know, even if I forget, that the cricket match is going on. You proposed to keep the TV, and the computer, and the video and what not, in my room itself! You insisted that I buy a new mobile phone. You bought me an MP3 player even when I said I didn't want one. You ordered Pizza to surprise me!

Oh my God! Amma, I can go on and on and on and on, till the end of the Universe. And I will. I will surely! Before I loose control of myself, and set off into a mega-drama-spree, let me sign off. With lots of Love! Really missing you!

Take care Amma

Love

Chennai at night...

Here's another story. Enjoy - Chennai at Night:

Ever wondered why the tree rustled in the dark. Ever wondered what that voice was. That inaudible one, but you could swear you heard it. That eeriness and spookiness that darkness gives you. Well, it's all thanks to me. Who am I? Why, I am you humble neighborhood ghost!

Don't worry. I am not in the neighborhood anymore. As a matter of fact I am just leaving my hometown; after 17 years of life and 8 months of death. Figured no village deserved more haunting than that. Not that I freaked the hell out of anyone or anything. I was a harmless fellow. But I did have my share of fun. In life I was a good boy. A diligent student, who never went after any mischief. Well, now you are dead. Whom are you going to impress? 

But not everybody has the same idea of fun. That is totally unfair. I mean when the naughty child breaks the pots in your kitchen, it is cute. When I do it? What kind of havoc you make!? And the worse part is people know it's me. They scream, "Oh! It is Akhil's ghost! We have to get rid of him! JEEM BOOM BAM!" They all knew I was a nice kid at school, then why the hell are they afraid of me? Anyways, that got totally boring in the end and I decided to flee. Find some place new to haunt. Hopefully someplace with a sense of humour. 

Didn't I tell you about the rustling in the dark. I don't know what you feel about it, but I really enjoy it! And Heaven, how many trees do you have in Kerala! Amazing! Beautiful! I have always known its beauty during day time, the lush greenery, those splendid lakes, magnificent paddy fields, grasslands speckled with cows having the fiesta and the milkman his siesta. And now I cherish its beauty at night. Swimming through the ice cold lake, brushing through the mid-night trees, listening to the songs of the nocturnal, and scaring the crap out of every Homo sapien on the way; that is Life. No! That is death.

How I died you ask? Car accident! You see, how much God has given Kerala, that much humans have managed to take away from it! Cut down trees, build roads and do whatever you want on it. Throw you garbage on it, spit on it, piss on it, and when it comes to driving, kill on it. I was one of the victims. Never went to find out who the killer was,what good would that yield? His conscience will serve his punishment. He or she might not even know what happened. You know how they mix drink with drive. Wish those nocturnal's ruled the cities instead of humans. Well, if you consider mosquitoes nocturnal, I guess they do.

Did you know, that blind people can hear better and deaf people can see better. When God takes something away, he gives you something in return. God took my life away; well, God or that stupid fellow needs to take driving lessons, but he did give me a bunch of awesome super powers in return. And he means God, just to clarify. Why so, feminists may ask. Just to annoy you actually! I don't know God's gender. You expect the dead to know all this stuff. Well, I have been too busy haunting people to find out. Hey, don't blame me! I died at the age of 17, 12th board exams just got over, I still have a LOT of fun to have!

I was talking about the super-powers God gives the dead right? Well, one of them is super-speed. Other's include invisibility, mind reading power and many more. Death kinda rocks actually. I laugh my head off when I see people crying for the dead. Only they know who much fun they are having.

And using that super-speed, in a matter of minutes, I reached Chennai. Random choice! Was a huge Rajni fan! And let me tell you, it was kind of like how Rancho and Farhan went to Raju's house in 3 idiots. All of a sudden, everything changes to black and white. Well, in the particular case, the transition is from lovely and beautiful, to horrifying and ugly. Been through the streets of Chennai at night? When all the pollution of the day settles down, and the ghosts wake up! Even I felt haunted.

"New to the city huh?" A fellow ghost asked me. I spoke too soon I guess. I don't know how he looked for ghosts don't have looks. Yes, ghosts don't have fangs, they don't drink blood, and they don't wear old shabby clothes. Although this new friend of mine seemed to satisfy all the conditions. He did creep me out.

"Yes, sir" I blurted. I was afraid he wouldn't understand English or Malayalam. But he didn't have to. Ghosts can read minds, remember.

"Sir? Well, respect always sounds nice. Anyway, what I need right now is some sleep. So GET LOST!" He sounded rough. And I got angry! But I wasn't stupid enough to shout at some strange person. And moreover, I too was pretty tired. Maybe he could find me a place to sleep. And yes, ghosts do sleep.

"Oh, okay! Well, I am new to the city and don't know the place. Could I come over to your house?"

"Oh sure. You are always welcome to my 'house'. Would you like to use the bath-tub, or maybe have a shower before you sleep? I even have a jacuzzi, would you try that out." Epitome of sarcasm. I could smell the bitterness in the old man's voice. "Dude, since as long as I could remember, I have been sleeping over here. On this road! The new prince of the city may find it hard to believe but this is how things are." And no he didn't say 'dude'. I just made it up. For effect you see. 

But even I couldn't sustain the humour. I could almost see the old man's red eyes, and tired body. His rib-cage showing, clothes shabby and torn, hair undone. I could his stench from his voice. His words stabbed my heart, as if stopping it for the second time. "You might find this ghost business difficult. You might find it hard to stay in your home-town and might have to run away. You might keep running away for the rest of eternity, not finding salvation anywhere! But I don't feel anything strange about this. I have always been dead. There was never any purpose. And there was nothing I could do! I have always been worthless. And now, so are you."

"You are wrong!" I shouted. Was it the conviction in me, or the fear that he might actually be telling the truth?  But I couldn't bear his words. 

"Get lost you quirt! Leave me alone..." He didn't have to complete his words before I dashed from the place. Vanished from his vicinity. But however fast I moved, I couldn't ignore what lay around me. Everywhere people lay on the pavement, curled up under a tattered blanket. Men and women.

There was water on the road. Gutters were open, pavements were dirty, the floor was dusty. The stink of latrine was there in every corner. And as saw each blanket, my mind raced back to voice I spoke to. Reluctantly I reached into his mind and saw glimpses of his life. How he lived in the streets all his life, the odd jobs he did, and the contempt with which everyone treated him, no matter what he did. Be it work, be it stealing or be it begging -  he was scum. And he was convinced of that. 

These thoughts troubled me. Ugh... they didn't trouble me. They tortured me. Raped me again and again. To imagine being worthless. Being unable to do anything. Was that where I was going? Pulling silly pranks and scaring village folk, was that all I could do now? Years of imagination and ambition. How I had excelled in school. What all I wanted to achieve. All of it was reduced to this? Worthless! Useless!

The wind went through me. I had stopped moving. Everything stopped moving. And I started to walk back. What was it you call it? Introspection. All of us, youngsters, chanted all the time - Nothing is Impossible! We admired challenges. We looked forward to obstacles that life threw at us, waiting to opportunities to do the unthinkable. We had always known, that we were the west wind. Nothing could outrun us! 

I flashed towards to electric train that ran across the city. It was mostly empty at that time of the night. But who I was looking for was in the train. A blind boy singing praises of the almighty God. And his mother, holding him by his elbow, bent over herself, guiding her son through the train and collecting the blessing that the benevolent passengers poured upon her. She was the wife of the voice I had met. And he, his son.

The blind boy was my same age. He walked in his father's footsteps. Worthless scum! "How are you?" I whispered in the boy's ear. "Who is that?" The boy asked back in his mind. Blind people could hear very well. 

"I am..." I stuttered a bit, but the right words rolled out, "I am your conscience"

"What is that?" The boy asked innocently.

"I guide you", I whispered into the boy's ear. And I swear on everything good and true in the world, he smiled when he heard that. "Your mom seems to be doing a decent job already. And I cannot do what she does. But I can help you out"

"My mother is tired and weak. She won't be with me for long. I want her to take rest. And fed well"

"I will guide you" I could not let him be worthless.

"I will help you" I could not let him be scum.

"You will be happy. I promise!" I entered the boy's mind and occupied a tiny corner of his brain. I became his conscience.

I had to make a few sacrifices. Just like the boy, even I lost sight. I lost all the memory of worldly knowledge, like how to use a computer, how to speak English and all that. But only as his conscience could I speak to his heart. And I spoke to his heart. Filled it with imagination and ambition. I filled his mind with colours. And he saw many colours, much more than a normal person could see. For he wasn't limited by his eyes. I inspired him. Taught him that there is more to the world. That great things could be done. I convinced him, that he could rule the world if he wanted. I forced him, to use every last drop of his potential. Everyday, every second, I encouraged him. Every time the world said he was scum, I asked him to prove them wrong. I supported his adventures. I cared for him when he suffered. I protected him, when they tried to corrupt him.

What happened from there on is an entirely different story? That is his story. The story of the blind boy, who reached greatness. I can only tell you two things; 

I did the impossible. And we both lived...

Happily Ever After

Love

A Story of Fear... of Friendship

Somethings should not be postponed. Somethings cannot be postponed. Even as my eyelids struggle to stay open, my fingers run through the laptop. Here's my story.... Enjoy!

What's worse than death? A dementor's kiss, some might say. Even Ratna thought of that answer. But such fantasies could not occupy her mind. Nothing could. Her heart was numb, her fingers trembled, tears rolled out of her eyes. She looked out of the bus and saw trees running away. A cold wind blew against her face. It hurt her eyes. Normally she would have ignored that and would even have drawn her face closer to the half open window to feel the speed in her face, letting the wind run through her lush long hair, fantasizing about everything beautiful in the world. But all she could do was stare at the trees running away. Couldn't they run faster? Can't we move faster? No, she didn't ask all that. She was too numb to think. The sky was morphing, from blue to black, showing off every colour it could adorn. Violet, red, yellow, pink. Ratna stared at the trees running away.

She had to be there in time. There was so much to say.

Fear. So much fear that every tick of the clock kills you. No, it does things to worse that that. Fear. That is what is worse than death. Fear. That was what flooded Ratna's mind. For 17 hours. Or was it 17 years? She couldn't say.

Maria's face; she pictured it in her mind. Every tiny detail of her face. Ratna formed a portrait of her beautiful face. Again and again. She held her hand tight and talked to her. Laughed with her. Again and again.

Preparations for the bus trip from Chennai to Thiruvananthapuram would start exactly 45 days in advance. The first stage, deciding to travel home. For a CA article that is a hard thing to do, for you never know what will happen tomorrow. You could be send of to some corner for the world for a whole month. No excuses. And why would you want excuses. These are things you look forward to. But Ratna had an uncanny way of seeing what lay ahead, and her plans never faltered. She would know, 45 days in advance, how long a vacation she would be having in her home town. But alas, that wasn't long enough to get you train seats. No worries, because first class air-conditioned buses are always at your disposal. Bookings open one month in advance. Ratna would undoubtedly be the first one to book a seat.

Maria's face was covered in blood. Blood had splashed all over her body. Her hips had been crushed. Her spine was broken. The thought choked Ratna.

For a person who traveled with nothing less than first-class luxury, that particular trip was unimaginable. But she didn't have to imagine traveling, like she would usually. Even as she boarded the bus, with the last ticket available, in the last bus available, and occupied the last seat in the back of the dingy bus with two men on either side, she had no clue what was going on. Her friend was breathing her last. Ratna was barely breathing.

Ratna picked up her mobile and went through her call register. Maria's name was not there in it. She searched her message inbox, hoping to find atleast one SMS. There was none. Everything had been deleted. Erased from the world.

Maria and Ratna have been friends for exactly 24 months. No, 26 months actually. Before things started breaking down. But what a relationship it was. Truly magical. And why was it so? Just two ordinary girls. Studying in an ordinary school. There was nothing that stood apart. Nothing special. Then why was everything so magical and blissful when those two were together? Probably because their relation was special. They were friends.

"He asked me out!" Maria screamed over the phone. "I am so happy for you", Ratna said shyly. Chennai life was starting to suffocate her. She needed to breathe the air of Trivandrum. She wanted the comfort of her own bedroom. 

Anyone can write an essay on friendship. You can write poems about it. About the love. About the care and affection. But friendship isn't about just that. Those minute nuances make this relationship something out of the world. Theirs was special. They talked on phone for hours at one stretch. Swore at each other when they realised, at the end of the conversation, who actually made the call. And after the mobile balance was completely drained, then only would they realise that the phone call was made not to discuss movies or boys, but to clarify some doubt regarding homework. There was little they didn't talk about. Leaning on one pillar in the balcony of the school, they would go on talking from one bell to another, stealing looks at every passing human being. What did they discuss about? Nobody knew. Not even them. But they talked, without fail. It was as if they did not know the purpose of "Lunch Break"

Ratna prepared a speech in her mind. She wanted to tell Maria everything. Every single second of her Chennai life had to be shared.

Ratna shoved off every thought that came into her mind. Shut her eyes and tried to shut her mind. It wasn't that hard. Traveling in a bus is always tiring, and that particular trip was particularly exhausting. And it was already will beyond mid-night. She adjusted her seat to the most comfortable position possible, and dozed off.

Maria always had a hard time with high heels. But however, insisted on wearing them. She walked on the footpath gingerly, but still tripped a couple of times. The fall was saved however. But the third time, she fell, on the middle of the road.

Ratna jerked awake with a scream, waking up some of the other passengers too. "She tried to crawl away, but the bus..." Ratna heard the weeping voice on the other end of the phone. By the time the call was cut, Ratna had headed towards the bus-station. She couldn't bear to think of Maria lying on the road. The red coloured bus speeding towards her. Fear. It is worse than death.

"Very Critical", read the SMS 

It had been four months since she talked to Maria. Why didn't she call? Why didn't Maria call? Those nuances of friendship, they can make you and break you. Neither of them talked about it. For they were best friends. It would be rude to complain. But they both thought about it. Nothing specific. "Why didn't you enquire about my life in Chennai?", "Why didn't you console me when i missed home so much?" They didn't say anything. They thought it over. And they never said anything ever again.

"Please God! Don't take her away!"

Ratna didn't know sleep. She was fighting herself. Fear had consumed her completely. After 17 hours, the bus stopped at its destination. Ratna rushed out of the bus to be greeted by a crowd of rickshaw drivers. "SUT Hospital!" Ratna dashed through the hospital, screaming for help and guidance. There were a lot of people outside the ICU, most faces that she recognised. She walked towards the door, but wasn't allowed in. She pushed everyone away, but wasn't allowed to see her. "She is stable now", someone said. Ratna sat down.

Hey Ratsy! No.... Rattie? Rats? No, you need something original. You are going to hear it everyday for the rest of your life my dear friend! What to call you? Ahhh... here's the perfect name

Love

Failure - Come to Daddy

Before I begin this article, rather my take on the whole concept of 'failure', I believe I should let you know about why I am writing this.

My first inspiration was something Arundhati Roy said in one of her essays in "The Algebra of Infinite Justice". Forgive me as I cannot quote her words. Forgive me if I have read her wrong. But what I made out of those few words really inspired me. She wasn't even talking about failure. The essay had something to do with Dams, or nuclear bombs or something. As a preface to her essay, she added a personal note about how her first novel became a so-called success and how she is looking forward to writing a bunch of worst-sellers  soon.

Now, God of Small things was an international best-seller which also won the Booker Prize in 1997. According to the author, it was a so-called success. "So-Called!" And as I read her words, I could hear her giggle about penning a few worst-sellers. The ease with which she blurred the line between success and failure, the freedom with which she spoke of her writing and how much she enjoyed what she was doing. That really moved me. Success meant nothing to her. She cherished failure.

A couple of weeks back, enjoying the most beautiful moments of my Chennai life - being away from Chennai, I happened to catch a few scenes from the movie 300. The story of Sparta! Ahh... lying down on the sofa of my living room, in the comfort of my home, breathing the air of my home-town, dinner being cooked by my dear Amma.... I MISS MUMMY!!! I WANT TO GO BACK TO TRIVANDRUM!!!!
Ramon - Focus!
Alright, alright, sorry to get distracted. Don't blame me! The mere thought of Trivandrum wets my eyes. As much as I enjoy this bachelor life in Chennai - Articleship, homemaking, movies, books and blogging; as much as I am celebrating my own world, celebrating the independence and the responsibility, Chennai does not stand a chance against Trivandrum. It isn't so much about which city is better. It is about being fed and nourished with every luxury imaginable against fending for yourself with limited means and no television. Do the Math!

300! 300 spartan soldiers against the world's largest army. 300 men against the world's mightiest empire. Before the battle began, one of the Spartan soldiers had a look at the monstrous Persian army he was about to face. With full knowledge that what was before him was merely the tip of the ice-berg, he smiled. He welcomed the challenge. No, it wasn't the challenge he welcomed, it was the failure. Or probably, the opportunity of failure. And for that soldier, like any other soldier, failure meant death. But he welcomed it. With a smile! Every braveheart in the Spartan army did. They laughed as it was raining arrows. When they were warned that the Persian army will, "Blot the sun with their arrows" they laughed; "Good! We will fight in the shade!" The army failed. The movie was a success.

Failure is hard. Heartbraking! What is worse is listening to a lecture about how failure is a stepping stone to success, and why you shouldn't get depressed when you face a failure. As Chaten Bhagat mentioned in one of his articles, it is perfectly natural to cry when you fail. It is just human, perfectly natural. But what I am talking about is the idea of failure.

Right now I am fumbling for words. It is hard to say what I want to say without making it sound like a philosophical lecture. And there is no way I am going to disappoint my readers by giving them a lecture. So lets forget words and go for the next best thing. Equations. Here's mine:

                                                                  Success = Failure

It is time we forget the idea of success and failure. It is time we stop equating success to happiness and failure to bitterness. It is time we understand that failure and success are just residual matter. Waste. Insignificant by-products. Does it not seem to defy logic that all the hard work and effort we put into something is finally judged by a silly little climax? Is it not stupid that our struggle, which might have been a fight that lasted for years, is being judged by someone else? In terms of Success and Failure. Has this 'somebody' seen the effort we put, the pain we have been through? After all, who is a better judge than we ourselves? Is it not enough that we satisfy our conscience? Is it necessary that we convince ourselves to every somebody and anybody? Isn't it the journey we have been through that is important?

Failure is about confidence. It is the epitome of courage. It is the symbol of struggle, and only the mighty warrior can earn it. It takes a mammoth to fight a battle. And an even bigger one to take failure head on!

Failure is about optimism. The firm belief that whatever happens in this world is for our well being. In the end, everything adds up. Failure and success and just a part of the journey. Part and parcel of the game. In the end the world becomes a better place. And failure is a part of this building process. Every failure makes us better. Improves us! Haven't you noticed that happily ever after is always preceeded by failures and disasters! A realisation that there is somebody up there. And he or she will always set things right. And since we are talking about setting things RIGHT and not screwing things up, it is most probably a HE!

Read Alchemist? Paulo Coehlo's book. Well, I did and it wasn't my favourite. And right now I don't even remember the whole story. But I do remember that it was something about omens. In the beginning of this article did I not mention why I am writing this. Well, here is one more. Because I have been getting a lot of omens. The other day there was an article about an entrepreneur who started 10 companies. Of which 6 where failures. And his favourite company, happened to be his biggest failure. And failure over here means millions of Dollars! My favourite star - SRK, revealed in one of his interviews that more than 50% of his films are flops. It was just a matter of time that I revealed my take on "Failure".

Live life and be happy. Blur the lines between success and failure and move on. It doesn't matter if the odds are stacked against you. Because when the world turns its back on you, you turn your back on the world. Realise how strong a fighter you are and give it the best shot. With pride and confidence, go for it! And when you feel you have that starting trouble, that trace of fear seems to be holding you back, you can choose from an array of punch dialogues. Aal izz well! Spartans - ATTACK! And the best of all...

Hakuna Matata

Love

The Little Kid

Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UPP!!!!! Yes, I am talking to you! No, not the one who is reading the post,I know you  are awake. You are reading this aren't you. I am asking the little kid to wake up. Don't know when it happened, or exactly how it happened; but it just happened. All of a sudden. Out of nowhere. The little kid just slept off. And never woke up.
Or was it a gradual process? Shedding its consciousness, bit-by-bit. And finally, dozing off into an eternal  slumber. Forgotten in some unseen corner. The little kid, who was once full of colours and life, is just lying in one corner. Idle. Dusty. Don't look around, I am talking to you MISTER! You put that bubbly piece of joy  to sleep!
Which kid? Still don't get it? Well, the answer to that Million Dollar question is......... YOU!
Alright alright, enough of blah-blah-blah, buk-buk-buk. I get really bored and totally annoying when I start to digress. So let's hit the point, straight-drive! I am talking about you, when you were a little kid. Remember those days? Remember the joy, the carefree wonder, the miracle believer, the dare-devil and sometimes even the touch-me-not. The original version; no moulding, no chisling, the plain and simple version. The innocent person, who didn't know the laws of the world. Where is that little fellow?
And I ask so because I really miss those people. I am frustrated whenever the little kid falls asleep. Afraid if people stare at me, or laugh at me. Am I doing things right? Will my friends approve of me? Have I impressed them? I this good enough for the society? Is it alright if I laugh now? Can I smile now? Am I supposed to be sad? Am I supposed to be afraid? Will it seem weird if I do this? ARGHHHH!!! I WOULD RATHER DO NOTHING AT ALL! What is worse then being a slave to the norms of society. A mere robot who is dictated by EVERYTHING BUT YOU!
How bad can things get? We all have a guide with us. Someone who knows for certain, right from wrong. Our dear friend, whom I call Conscience (Co-incidence, so does the English dictionary!) But today nobody listens to that. Nobody talks to their conscience anymore, because if someone looks at you, he/she will think that you are talking to yourself and might throw you is a mental asylum. We are nothing but slaves. And not just slaves, as in those who are obliged to do as their master demands. We are slaves of a worse category. We are those who have to do things out of fear!

Things seem worse? Well, seems you will have to find a new word for negativity, because that's where things are heading. Ok, let me explain. Look back, really back..... And now answer this question: What do you want to become when you grow up? What was your answer? Doctor? Police-man? Superman? Yeah, that is what you may have said out loud. But what was it that you said to yourself? "The Doctor, who cures the most deadly diseases with a flick of his finger and saves the world on a daily basis!", "The policeman, who strikes fear in the hearts of every person with the slightest trace of guilt in his heart. The legend who brought to his knees the scariest, and the most evilest criminal of all". That was what you all wanted to become! SUPERHEROES! LEGENDS! Have you ever seen a little kid say he/she wants to become an engineer?
Now it's official - It is a tragedy! Because we have put to sleep, along with the little kid, the one thing that drives us. Ambition - Our personal Nuclear Energy! Nobody wants to save the world now. Nobody even dreams of all that. Now our brains are pre-occupied with the exams up ahead, and at best - a good salary. 3 digit marks and 6 digit salary, end of story.
The little kid didn't want that to be the ending of its story. The little kid wanted an adventure. Miracles, magic, a superhero who turns the super-villain inside-out, save the princess and have one heck of an ending. It was never just happily ever after. It was tons and tons of crackers, explosion, music, applause, laughter and an eternity of celebration. Millions of people cheering for us as we wave from the top of some tower, or something. Where did that go? Our dreams have fallen asleep huh?

Well there is only one person who can save us from this crisis. Is it a bird? Is it an aeroplane? No, its THE LITTLE KID! Wake that dare-devil up, and laugh your ass off. Don't give a bird-poop for what your neighbour thinks. Live your life, be yourself and have the journey of a lifetime. Have the adventure you have always dreamt of. Give that fear in your heart piece of yourself. Rock and Roll!!!

Let me end this post of mine, with my usual personal touch. I am a little kid, and I always will be. Don't stare when you see me talking to myself, because I do that all the time! Bah - I flap my hands all crazy and fly across the seven seas! I am a super-hero who will stop at nothing but saving the world! Call me crazy, I don't care. For I am...... The Little Kid!



And once again, the Day is Saved. Thanks to "THE LITTLE KID" (A thousand points if you recognize this dialogue!!!)

Love

A Day of Learning

Dedicated to October 24th, Vidyarambham. The day of learning.

I actually wanted to make this post on that day, just pen down all the lessons I have learnt, and share it with all my loving fans! But on that day, I did something much better - watched two movies, dined with friends and glued myself to the television all night. Life could not get any better. Love you Thiruvananthapuram! Love you vacations!

Before I go any further, thank you -  to those few, amazing and precious readers that I have. Who go through all of my blogs and also give me valuable feedback. What I am amazed about is that this is not a big budget movie. This is not a best selling blog. And my posts are not very small either. Yet you take your time and go through my posts, and give me suggestions. Help me improve. It's not like you think I am going to become Salman Rushdie tomorrow. Your advice may yield no fruit at all. Yet you support me, as if fighting for some great cause. My friends have shown genuine interest in helping me write these posts, and I will always be gratified for your blessings. Thank you fellows!

Today, I want to clarify a few things about this blog of mine. Writing is my biggest passion, and when I write this blog, I pour all my love into it. That is not actually a hard thing to do. I just love the feeling of clicking the keyboard in this smooth streamlined motion, thoughts flowing out so freely. This little page is truly a sanctuary. But leave that. That is all about me. What is this blog about? About me? Come on, that would be too shallow, even for Ramon Dharma Rajan. Is it about science, or politics. Nope? You need some amount of knowledge to write about any of that. Is it about love? Well, I am not Stephenie Meyer. Not yet. Ok, lets just say this blog is about everything (mostly digression)

Maybe it is because it is MY blog. I never stick to one subject. I choose to learn a wide range of topics than delve deep into a single one. I like to have a broad portfolio. Similarly, my blog wants to cover a wide range of things. Every post must be broad. This approach has definitely earned me criticism. I suck at connecting the different topics that I talk about. And I am too lazy to do a little proof reading (hence the spelling errors!) But I think it is a cool idea. I think it does away with boredom. For ne as a writer and for you as a reader. You are not being sucked into depths of something that you have absolutely no concern for. You are just skimming through a bunch of stuff, which I think sound rad! Well, I give you value for your time.

I know, it is really annoying when the title has absolutely nothing to do with the content. Exactly what I felt when I saw "Ayalum Njanum Thammil", Malayalam movie starring Prithviraj. Beautiful movie, a little boring at parts, but a must watch on the whole. A movie about growing up. The same genre as of "Wake up Sid" and "Vinodayatra". But much better - Trivandrum Lodge! It was truly amazing to see such a bold movie. What was thought to be a conservative film industry, actually pulled off all this perverted stuff. That too, in style. And the best part, in the midst of all those vulgar dialogues, it really moves you. Touches your heart. The idea of a One Woman Man, really inspiring!

And those are the two movies that made my day in the day of learning. After watching those two movies, back to back with my buddy, went off for dinner with friends. Came back home. Planned on making this post, but then, the vacation mood just caught hold of me. It is a hard thing. Vacation blues. From celebrating the laziest week of your life to washing all your clothes after a full day of office. From getting dinner stuffed in your mouth, to having to fetch for it all by yourself. From being spoon-fed, to having to fend for yourself. It is depressing. But then again, when you use words like, "Having to fend for yourself!", it does sound kind of cool. Worth it!

What more to say? A lot more actually. Went to a temple on Mahanavami. Wanted to speak a lot about the kind of rush at temples. People are so darn impatient when they approach the deity. Pinnacle of irony if you ask me. There was the same look on everybody's face, "Let's get this done with" and not "Thank you my Lord for this wonderful experience". All the pushing and jerking, just short of swearing. A temple is supposed to be the place of peace. Take you to the epitome of happiness, joy and comfort. Soothe your sense organs. And most temples do just that. Your mind is cleared of all worry. How easily you wear a smile when you are at God's home. But alas! When people come there just to catch a glimpse of the deity, and when the city folk, who as usual, are in a hurry to do that, it completely spoils the experience!

All this and much, coming up on the next post at Ram Positive. Till then...

Love

That's when u fall in love!

"thats when u really understand the whole story
then u start digesting the story
thinking about it
and thats when u like
totally fall in love with it"

This was I had to say about the movie 'Barfi'. Really beautiful movie, and I don't think anybody would disagree. But the fact remains that I didn't actually enjoy it, due to the following reasons:
1. My dearest friend (how much I "love" that friend is for another essay) sent me an SMS in the middle of the movie saying that I was needed at office.
Did I say 'reasons'? Well, this one is worth a hundred as far ruining a movie experience is concerned! Not just ruining the movie, but also turning a comedy into a thriller! A nail-biting thrillier, you have no idea how tensed I got about what kind of welcome I would receive when I finally reach office.
But, to be fair, I can't put all the blame on this little fact. The movie was not exactly one that called for applause in every scene. It is not the kind of comedy that would make you laugh your guts out. It is a pretty boring movie to be honest with you.
And then after the movie, I rushed to office, and there was no trouble - thankfully. Office was great as it is always. Don't remember exactly what I had for lunch or when I reached home. But later that day I chatted with my "grand-daughter", to whom I narrated the whole story. I explained the movie to her, scene by scene, recollecting almost every minute of the movie, understanding the narrative, the fine gestures by the actors, the comedy, the tragedy, the message. And... I fell in love with the movie!

But before I move on to why I am really here, let me thank my handful of readers for their review about my previous blogs. And you know what was the best part of all those reviews? They were exactly what I had expected. That actually felt better than getting a good review! Thanks a million friends!

It is a real bother when you lose your flow. I like to write at one stretch, ideas just flowing through my head to the tip of my fingers, one streamlined motion. It is beautiful. But the bigger fact remains that everything that happens in life is just to make it a thousand times better. Think over it. Every single thing that has happened to you, since your birth to this very moment! Has it not made you life so much sweeter! Think over it, and the next time you get angry at something, stop for a second and think, should I actually waste my energy?
As I was saying, there was an undesirable break in flow, but that really made a change. I bought a table and a chair. This is cause to celebrate, because this piece of furniture has come home after a long time. Every week some interruption happens, and I postpone the purchase. Well, finally I have done it! Huzzah!

"The deviation is not to waste time but only to keep your attention intact." One of my favourite teachers, Shri Vikas Oswal, used to say this. In the middle of his lesson, he would take a break and tell us a really interesting story. And before starting every story, he used to say this line. Every single time. Amazing Man! However, let me get back to the topic, before I myself forget it. Barfi! No, that isn't the topic. I haven't reached that part of the story yet. The part where I tell you what the topic is. It is yet to come. So, my dear readers, bear with your humble blogger as he slogs on and on about his personal..... ummm.... can't get the right word! Well, you get the idea.

Lot of Amazing friends I had, at school. You know what's the best part. The sentence I just said is grammatically incorrect. It's 'have' not 'had'. And I am totally in love with them. They are in another state, and call rates are much higher, yet I call them. Almost ever week. They tell me in full length, about what happened during the entire week, because I was the one who called. They tell me if they met any new cute girl. They advice me if I happened to meet any cute girl. And most of the times, the advice goes like this, "Wear a helmet before you talk to her". They know me so well. And as the days fly by, they know me even better.
Friendship is like wine. The longer it stays, the better it tastes. Distance binds you closer. As you go apart, go to a different part of the world, meet different people, see new places, thats when u really understand the whole story, then u start digesting the story, thinking about it, and thats when u like - totally fall in love with it! The story of your friendship.
Not just friendship. It is love. True love. No, love is not always Romeo and Juliet and dancing around trees. It is that phone call you make to that friend who knew you inside out, reminding those hims and hers that you still remember and you still care. And that you are still in love.
Hmmm... If my memory is right, I have written the same thing around two posts back. Well, my apologies, but don't you think it is worth another post.
So, let this wannabe preacher give you his fortnightly dose of lecture. Think back friends. This is not just about friendship, or movies. Think of all the homework you did in 10th standard. All the games you played in 3rd standard, all the video games you finished during your vacations, all the imposition you wrote, all the thrashing you got, the stars in your books and the numbers in your report card. Take a second and think about it. You will fall in love with it.

Ramon Dharma Rajan

With a promise not to lecture you or advice you the next time
And a hope that you will not commit suicide on reading the words "next time"

(One more thing. Thank you my dear friend, for listening to my narration of the story, and selecting the topic for this blog! This is a tribute to.....)

Love

Big Bang Blog

Finally! Finally! Finally!
Finally, got through the final obstacle of figuring out how to "Create a new post" to be over here. Writing in such a hurry, afraid that thoughts might slip out of my mind. Can't waste a single thought. Have to make up for the time I have lost. After weeks of deliberation and debate with myself, pondering over and over again about what to write, when to write, how to write, and after infinite frustrating postponements, I have Finally reached my much sought after destination. Just like how the UPA gave the much awaited "Big Bang Reforms", I have arrived to produce, my Big Bang Blog (Look at the superstar addressing his Thousands of Readers. :P It would be miracle if the number of readers reaches two digits. Bigger miracle - if those who make it to my page read this line and don't say, "Chalu!!")
Yes, I am pretty sure that most of those who read this page will say that word. Because just as I propagate my Chalus, I have also done justice to the Mighty word by telling my office about it. And it did have a warm reception.
Well, what else? Hmmm..... ARGH!!! This is what happens when you procrastinate. All the things that you wanted to write about bounce into your head together and you end up having absolutely no idea what to write! A writer must never procrastinate (especially one who has to look up Google to find out how to spell it!)  Here, I am going to take a minute, to think about what I am going to write. Usually I hate to break the flow while I write, but today I am just too excited about writing. After such a long time naah! Nothing can kill the mood....

Alright, so we will go with her I guess. She was the first one that popped into my head. And thus, I believe, deserves to be first. And yeah, I do believe my ideas are female. After all the Sidney Sheldon I have read, although some of my friends might find it hard to believe, I have become a pucca feminist. And I know for sure that the brilliant ideas up there, in my head, are female.
Note: They are not ABOUT female!

Started reading Economic Times! Yep, I am announcing it. Annoyed? Here it comes again. Started reading Economic Times! I believe that gaining all the knowledge from all that you read and understand (note that you understand barely half of what you read), is just half the benefit you get from reading ET. The other half - is telling people about it. Well, not always in such a blunt way. Mostly by peppering words like "fiscal consolidation", "fiscal deficit" and "inflationary pressures" in every sentence you say. Just like how I use the words "Client Office" and "Statutory Auditors" in each and every sentence whenever I talk to my non CA friends.
And actually enjoying it. I mean, reading ET. Yeah, i enjoy bragging too, but lets get back to what I wanted to say. Gosh, I swore I would cut down on my Chalus atleast when I am blogging; that too about something i believe is noble. And pretty serious.

As you learn, you start having doubts. The more you learn, the more doubts you have. That is the fundamental law of every educational process. As I read economic times everyday, this one doubt keeps getting bigger in my head. As I hear Economists argue about bring the fiscal deficit down to 5.1% of the GDP and cutting down subsidies being the major reform to be taken, even though I understand that cutting down on subsidies purely justified as the Government is only denying support to the rich and powerful industries, this question bugs me. Are we seeing only India as a whole?
Step out of your house my friend. Just walk along the main road, if you don't mind the scorching heat. Because the crippled beggar doesn't. He doesn't mind that he has neither the food, nor the fingers to eat. He doesn't care about dignity. He doesn't bother about stretching his arms, or falling to the feet of every person passing by. All he probably cares about might be "The Fiscal Deficit!"
That is one person you can see. What about the millions who were displaced by dams. Those millions living in slums. No toilets. No food. No money. No education. Survival? Barely. Living? Big no! As these newspapers flood our minds and instruct us about, "What really matters?" are we forgetting what really matters? Today, and I say this with all due respect and admiration to the media, today, as the media dictates how the state should be run, as we rate the changing governments based on what the TV reporters tell us, and as the top level politicians do things only for people who can watch what they do on television, are we turning a blind eye to those millions who can't afford a television? Those who can't read the newspaper.... can't read anything at all!
When was the last time talked about them. When was the last time we thought about them. 2002 probably, because in my knowledge (which I believe is certainly wrong) that's when Arundhati Roy last wrote about them. I am not pointing fingers. But I am talking about all of our mentality. We have forgotten half the country. Those, who according to Aravind Adiga, live in the darkness.
I am a CA student, and I am trained to cater to only those who can afford to pay tax. And those who pay tax, are just 3% of the entire population, if I have my stats right. I am trained to ignore 97% of my country. The engineers are no different. Doctors, none that I know of. Who wants to spend crores on a medical seat and end up taking care of those impoverished, illiterate beggars?
When do our newspapers report on their troubles. The lady who lost her 12gram gold necklace is news. What about the lady who can't afford that much rice? Those who don't have 12gram rice.

Don't donate a lot of money. Don't go to the slums to check on them. Don't take an initiative to give them the minimum infrastructure (the biggest mall in India is for 2000 Crores, and we want more infrastructure. Wonder how much it will cost to build a few toilets?). Don't shed tears over those children whose eyes are drained out of tears. Just, spare them a thought. I did today. Thanks to "The Algebra of Infinite Justice" by Arundhati Roy. I just happened, to read about those who live below the destitution line. The refugees and all those people. And I thought, it is a shame if we live in two worlds. It is a shame if we live in a world, were we don't even know that these people exist. Just spare a thought - to the whole country

Jai Hind

Love

Lines

What is the first thing you need as a teenager? Something that will put you ahead in the race. Well, the earlier the better. In high-school, you need this to be in the race. Because almost everyone has it. And those who don't are the sad and depressed nerds who write essays like the one I am writing right now. Alright, sometimes I get depressed! Well, with all the bullying and the underlying desire to be 'one among them' or even 'popular', it is just natural that you wish you had one of these. To those tube-lights that haven't lit up yet I am talking about the doll game that all teenagers play.
Line!
An advice that I got all the time. Not an instruction or an order. Not something that was told to me to stop me from doing something stupid. But this was like a mantra that was always told to me all the time, "Have a lot of friends. Girlfriends and boyfriends. Don't draw a line in between them." I heard this statement so often, that I never actually understood the difference between a 'friend' and a 'girlfriend'. Why do we have to add an ugly grin and an air of victory when we say the word 'girlfriend'? Never befriended a girl before?
On a more mature note let me add, this is no lecture. I am not advocating anything and I don't intend to repeat the cliched opening line that every first time blogger uses so that he/she won't be offending his millions of readers. And I am not Judging anyone or anything  I am asking questions, about things I have never understood. The 'Line' that I used in the title has a deeper meaning.
Why do we draw lines?
Draw a line 20 feet ahead of you, which only your friends can cross. Another one 10 feet in front of you which only your good friends can cross (so you have bad friends too?). A line 4 feet in front of you which only your best buddy can cross. And then the line, a few inches from you, which only your girl/boyfriend can cross.
Why are relationships defined? Why do you give names? The new generation did away with a lot of blood relations and replaced it with Uncle and Aunty. So simple. Maternal relation, paternal relation, second cousins, third cousin, all of that is now just Uncle, Aunty, Bro and Sis. But now, friendship is a lot more complicated. A 'relationship' has come into the system. And many of those 'In a relationship' don't even know why they have a relationship. Is it because of true love? Is it because the person you are in a relationship is really "Hot"? Or is it just to show-off to your friends that you are "in the game" (watch a lot of Star World and you learn such phrases which just pop out. I find it highly annoying).
Such a complicated relationship. Dating! Shouldn't the person you like the most be the person you should be most honest to? The one to keep all your secrets? Then why keep secrets from your partner? If your really enjoy the relationship, why put so much effort? Why try to impress the person again and again? Why be protective or suspicious?
And if you love that person, why break up? What, all of a sudden you don't love her/him? Multiple personality disorder? Bored of the relation? Found somebody else who is even better?
I honestly don't understand this relation. Every teenager has infatuations. Everybody gets crushes. But is that true love. Is that enough to be committed to a person? True love is not what you find in movies, but it certainly is not what you feel when you see an attractive person of the opposite sex.
I have always felt friendship as a very lovely relation. I don't know if I have offended or hurt any friends, but I can tell you from the bottom of my heart that I have always wanted to give as much love as I can to all my friends. And I would love to believe that irrespective of their age or sex I have loved everyone who is friend to me. And I feel it my duty, as a human being, be devote a large part of my life to these wonderful relationships, that protect me with a blanket of love. I cherish these relationships, take them in as family and personally take an oath to never let go.
And I know that is what every friend feels. Love is the most natural human emotion and Friendship is the best way of expressing it. And I would never want to segregate one person into a "special" category called 'girlfriend'. Devote some extra love to her. Spend a lot of money on her. Spend less time with other friends. Completely avoid other friends of yours who happened to be girls.
Well, I have returned to the art of blogging after a while. A really eventful while, with the exams and a lot more. Would like to thank a bunch of my wonderful buddies who started blogging recently and a doing and ASTOUNDING job! And a small disclaimer, everything I have said here is based on the information I have received from soap operas, teenage tv shows, and stereotypical posts on Facebook!

Dedicated to all my FRIENDS!
Ramon Dharma Rajan