Bedtime Stories

Weekends are just empty if I don't update my blog. It doesn't matter whether I posted something yesterday or the day before, but a weekend update has become mandatory. Just doesn't feel good, so here goes. But before I get started, let me fill you in with the latest news.

First of all I express my deep disappointment caused by the highly reckless and inappropriate behaviour of the wild bug, who promised to make it to my place but has failed to do so. Secondly I would like to give a thunderous applause to, The Critic, my most amazing genius of a friend, who promised to review this blog 3 months back and has done an utterly despicable job in "finishing her work in time". Bravo! Next up, my Best Friend celebrated his 20th birthday this week and I feel so proud that I did my bit in making the day memorable. Bought him his favourite Pizza. Hope you had a Big Bang Birthday Bash Blast! And by the way, I also wanted to apologize to my dearest Lollipop Chechi for the repercussions of my previous post. Sorry Chechi! And to all my well wishers, today I cooked. Paneer Butter Masala. Pray for my soul, just in case!

Well there's your starter. Hope you enjoyed. Now feast on the main course:

The story happened a pretty long time back, but it is still stings my heart. Her face still makes me cry. It all started, well, this is the thing with real life stories; they don't have a proper beginning. Neither do they have an end. These stories are like line segments, a small part of an infinite line which you cut out using two points. You don't know where it started. It never even started. An eternal flow. Well, for our convenience let us start the story from the beginning of 7th standard. And the star of the story, let us call her Baby. I have my reasons.

Baby was smart, but not very often did that reflect in her results. Her results were, not bad, but not good either. It kept swinging, 50-50, khabhi khatta tho khabhi meetha! And that never bothered her. But there was this burning ambition within her, just like it is there in every student, not to get great marks, but to impress your parents. Make them proud, and I swear, to do that a child does not have limits. No boundaries, no ordeals will stop a child from making its parents proud. A mother's smile is an award that knows no value. And for that priceless reward Baby decided to give it her best shot. 7th standard final exams. Maths was her villain and if she could conquer that, victory would be hers.

And hence the epic war began, Exam vs Baby. She won all the battles in her way, procrastination was killed, television shows received a blind eye, video games were ignored and discipline was brutally enforced - some achievement for a 12 year old. A feat to be honest.

And then the day of her Maths exam arrived. You know how you feel, walking into the exam hall with your stationery, finding your place and getting ready for the paper, taking deep breaths as the bell rings and the invigilator begins to distribute the question paper, the thin sheet of paper falls on your table and you grab it in a flash.

Baby was stunned - to find the easiest questions of all stacked over there. Her face was glowing as she read her once dreaded enemy, question by question, taking no time to answer them all. Her pen raced through the answer sheet and with two hours remaining, the answer paper had been handed over to the invigilator! "Take that Mathematics!"

Baby rushed to her home to announce victory. "Amma the paper was so, so, so simple! I wrote it with my eyes closed. Finished it within an hour Amma! Hundred out of Hundred CONFIRMED!!!" And she did get her reward. Amma beamed at her.
"Here, see!" Baby pulled the question paper out of her bag and showed it to her Mother, the flipside of the paper facing herself. And as if with the push of a button, the radiant face dropped dead. Tears started to rush out of her eyes, Baby started to weep. "What happened?" Amma asked.
"Amma..." Baby struggled with her tears, "I didn't... I forgot... I didn't notice the questions on this side of the sheet!" Three questions carrying 6 marks each.

Her face, it still makes me cry.

BURP! For a blog, I guess that was a satisfying Main Course. You don't thing so. You are right, a meal is never satisfying unless you end it with a dessert. Enjoy:

This story is set in... Yesterday. Yeah, happened yesterday or the day before I guess. The star of the story is a 6 year old Macho Man! You know what, little children are perfectionists. You tell them something and that will be done 100%, right down to the tiniest detail. Every fragment of your instruction will be followed accurately, and the younger the child, the greater the accuracy. And among the lot, this child is a perfectionist. And he is going for his first ever Fancy Dress Competition, dressed up as the Father of the Nation, Mahatma Gandhi. He is a skinny kid and bald caps are easy to arrange, so victory assured.

Here are the rules, you are to dress up as a Freedom fighter, go to stage and speak about your character for 3 minutes, piece of cake!

Day of the competition, the costume is ready, the stage is set and the speech is good to go! And this little 6 year old is on fire. He may be just 6, but the stage is his friend and the mike does not scare him. How to speak in public has grown into his genes. You always start with a Good Morning and greet the audience, "Honourable Judges, respected teachers and my dear Friends. A very Good Morning to you all". Then you introduce yourself and tell the audience about what you are going to say. For a fancy dress competition you just introduce yourself, "My name is Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and I am known as the Father of the Nation. Most people call me Bapu. I was born on October 2nd, 1869 in Porbandar Gujarat. I studied to become a lawyer and went to South Africa to practice as an Attorney. Over there I fought for the rights of the racially discriminated natives and against the British colonial rule. Later I came to India and fought for the freedom and unity of my country. I preached non-violence and advocated harmony among people of all religions. My greatest dream was to see India as an Independent Nation where all the citizens live in brotherhood." And you end your speech with a Thank you and bow for a Namaste! "Thank you!", he said and walked out of the stage. Oops, forgot to say Namaste!

For little kids, little things matter. After the competition, he had lunch from a restaurant and went home by noon for his nap. And in his sleep, he kept muttering, "Namaste! Namaste! Namaste!" One word! Who would have noticed. Would it ruin his brilliant speech? Doesn't matter. He didn't say it. He is just that far from perfection. And it disturbed his sleep. Don't know for how many nights. But he didn't get it right. You think that's no reason to cry? Think again.

And I thought I had issues. Well, I have served you a pleasant meal I believe. And now it is time for mine.  So till next time...

Thank you

Namaste!

Love

The Lollipop Girl and The Black T-Shirts

Procrastination - Why do you deny my readers their basic right to enjoy this blog? Well, if you think you are tough, think again! I climbed the Chembra Peak, all the way! If I can do that, then I can do anything; and crushing you into oblivion is the first thing on the list.
"I know what my next post is going to be", these were my first words after I got back from the 3.5 km hill. Well, I have not been true to my word, but I am not going to go back on it either. Enjoy:

Lollipop girl - Do they call her that because she nearly tore the skin off her best friend over a lollipop? Or is it because she looks like one? A really tiny person, whose head might be the only visible part of her body. Well, she was just the lollipop girl before. And then, Chembra peak happened. Now we call her a champion!

They still laugh at what one of the guys said when he first started walking along the foot of the mountain, "Are you sure this is trekking? It looks more like strolling!" It didn't take him a long time to take the words back and gulp it in! As if with the press of a button the entire landscape transformed. The path became narrow, forcing us to move in a single file; the road was replaced by a bunch of rocks scattered on another bunch of rocks which made up the floor, often intervened by the roots of trees which fenced our paths, protruding themselves in awkward shapes every now and then! After every five steps we saw a steep incline, which would take everyone a while to figure out. None of them went alone. Groups of 2-6, holding each others' hands and pulling each other up the hill. Traversing that was... fun!

And lollipop girl did a jolly good job leading the way, bouncing along the crooked paths. While some of the less fit folks fought to catch their breath, our protagonist was gliding along, singing her favourite song, "Arikathayaaro, Paadunondo atho ente manasaano?" The scenery around them was magic, as the trees fencing the path slowly made way for really tall trees, a little waterfall on the way and giant rocks which made excellent spots for refreshing, and posing for photos. The view was simply spectacular, and the sun was kind upon them. Not beating on the trekkers, but gently showering upon them. She did sweat, but as each salty drop slid down her face, her lips twitched upwards. And then she laughed.

A chorus would join in. Slowly everybody got the hang of it. They all bounced along; getting into the rhythm of nature. And then like a magnificent climax, the scary steep bowed down and the trekkers were greeted by the most beautiful body of water in the world - the Heart Shaped Lake. Shoes were just tossed in the air and it took them great restraint, not to dive into the cool pond. Everybody bathed their legs in the blissfully cold water. Just lay back on the dry grass, open a packet of biscuit, have some glucose powder and stare at the water for a while. The trekkers earned it.

Ever seen those movies which go on and on, a joyful, musical, funny, romantic journey which gives you a great time in the theatre. And all of a sudden the word, 'Interval' appears on the screen. Only after that do you realize that the nerve wrecking, adrenaline pumping, roller coaster movie had just begun! "How many of you are going the rest of the hill" All the way to the top. Another 1.5 kms.

Some of them gave up. The others were like, "We climbed 2 kms already. It's just another Kilometer and a half! Let's do this thing" And the same guy said once again, "This is so much easier than before. More like a stroll."

The mountain was literally perpendicular and your thighs had to be built out of cement to ignore the pain. There was no more rocks, just sand. And long grass for meagre support. You never got the right footing. You placed your foot 2 metres ahead of you, and the sand down below pushed it back half a meter. You needed to pull yourself up with the help of the grass. But then again, your palm had to be made of carbon fibre to not get cut.

"Don't come along? It just gets worse!", two black shirts leading the way shouted.
"Well, if you can do it, why can't way?" Lollipop girl shouted back.

30 of them dragged themselves through hell. 10 of them couldn't get past the trailer - they retreated. "Well, if you can do it, why can't we?" was replaced by, "They couldn't do it, how can we?" The girl who ran up the first half of the hill, started to have her doubts. She was panting painfully. "What to do?" thoughts popped up. Inertia carried her forward a little more.

They reached a steady rock, Lollipop girl along with her companions. She stopped to think, "How high is this thing? How much more do I have to climb?" She began to wonder, "It keeps getting harder! I am starting to feel hungry." She began to doubt, "Getting down is going to be much harder! I don't think I can do it?"

"You guys move on. I am getting down. I am all out!" She announced. The lollipop face had shrunk, drenched in sweat, which no longer made her smile.
"Hey, you made it till here! Let's go a little more!" Her friends insisted
"No, I don't think I can."
"Come on, you can do it!"
"You don't understand. How will I get down now? It is too hard. I am a girl."

She convinced her friends, who moved on only to leave with her words. Not encouragement. Not consolation. Just words, "Being a girl is not a weakness!"

Lollipop girl stared downwards, but she couldn't start. Her feet wouldn't allow her to move downwards. Her heart was flying, all the way to the top of the hill. Her conscience wouldn't allow her to stop. Just like falling in love, the classic brain vs heart battle ensued. Reason fought emotion. Exhaustion fought ambition. She sat on the rock.

Cold winds blew her long hair over the mountains. Beads of sweat were wiped off in the graceful breeze. The scenery down below could never be penned down. The Heart Shaped Lake, shining down below! She could see the entire city from up there; the hills around her, the lush greenery and a few buildings peppered down below. The sight would make anybody exuberant!

"What are you doing over here?" Another fellow trekker approached her. There was another bunch of them racing up to the top.
"Thinking of going back."
"You made it till here. We will go a little more. Come along!"
"It is difficult!"
"Well, if they can do it, why can't we?" Two black shirts moved over the mountain

The climb resumed. The real journey began! Very soon lollipop girl realised that half way through was nowhere close. But she didn't take one step backwards. The group of 7 pushed themselves through the sand and grass. They didn't pull each other up. Enthusiasm did. The Black T-Shirts did!

Thighs muscles wear torn apart. Knees caps were knocked off. Fingers were slashed by the blades of grass. But nobody stopped moving. The pinnacle was so close, Yet so far! "No it isn't far! It is just there. We are almost there" Lollipop girl told herself. She re-assured the group. Nobody believed her. "We are nowhere close", everybody knew. But they moved on.

And no rocks threatened them. No climb intimidated them. They pushed along, chasing the Black T-Shirts. "We are almost there! We can do it" Lollipop girl announced! They doubted her. "Still a long way!"

The heart shape still shone in the distance. They were on top of the world. The breeze re-assured them. "We are almost there" Lollipop girl shouted. "Yes we are", they knew it.

Pulling themselves over the big black rock, greeted by the cheers of the Black T-Shirts and the brilliant forest on the other side of the mountain. She had made it. They had made it. And just for the filmy effect, Lollipop Girl was the first girl to touch the pinnacle!

"Being a girl is not a weakness"

Names were inscribed on the rocks. Pictures were captured and songs were sung. Some even dared to go, "Oppa Gangnam Style!" There was not one drop of pain in anybody's body. Just energy! There was no sweat, there was no exhaustion. Just cheers. Accomplishment! They did it!

Well, to be honest, getting down was twice as worse. They were hungry, and the slope was scary! It was hard to get the right footing and the sand was too slippery. But nothing was impossible. They had proven it. 11 of them! Anything could be conquered.

And all the trekkers, happily got back to the foot of the mountain, and from there travelled back to the hotel after a lavish dinner. A good night sleep after a splendid day.

Anything can be conquered.

Love

Sound of Music - 2

That certainly is the sound of music! Your mother tongue. For me, my sweetheart Malayalam! I was inspired to become a writer for the first time in 10th standard, in my Malayalam class, as our was teacher taking taking a chapter on Balyakalasakhi, supposedly the best novel / short story ever written in Malayalam. Every bit as good as the Kite Runner I would say, and similar in a lot of ways too.

Studying Malayalam in 9th and 10th was something else; truly memorable. That literary exposure will always resonate in my words. Kumaran Aashan's Veenapoovu, Changampuzha's Manaswini and a host of other master pieces, learning and re-learning their nuances, memorizing the poetic devices, it was all much more than just exam preparation - I was in Love. And how can you not fall in love?

The first essay I was taught in 9th standard was about 'Mother tongue'. "Nothing greater that your mother, mother land and mother tongue. Protect it with your life". The fight for independence is not just a matter of self-governance. It is every bit as much about cherishing your own language, for our mother-tongue is tied up to our identity, which we are at a risk of losing, if not taken proper care of. That was the content of the essay, in a nutshell.

And ever since, there has been this debate, heating up in my head about how much a foreign language has invaded our lives. English, I am talking about. From school to work, right down to this blog, everything has been outsourced to English. The word outsource may seem to undermine things, but our dependence on this alien language, as everyone knows for sure, is nearing 100%, day by day. Ever spoke a complete sentence without a single English word in it?

But then again is it a curse? Is it something we have to worry about. Sanskrit gave birth to a bunch of languages - Hindi, Malayalam, Telugu, Kannada, etc. Hindi married Persian and Arabic to give birth to Urdu. And on the other side of the world, we had another bunch of languages, evolving, simplifying and at the same time, getting richer with heritage and legacy over time. And now English has walked into our lives, and very gracefully merging with our mother tongues. Technology has facilitated English script to take over our languages. Why this kolaveri and its likes have propagated Tanglish, Manglish and what not? And they are truly beautiful. It's a new era we are staring at, new words being added to our vocabulory every single day, words which are not citizens of a particular language. And as we expand our dictionary, language simply becomes more colourful. And this merger of language is synergistic, both languages develop and grow, eventually wiping out the lines that divide mankind.

You don't expect language to be the same forever. As a matter of fact, you don't expect language to be the same tomorrow! As we evolve, as technology and science evolves, or even at a much faster rate, language evolves. My mother tongue wasn't the same when I was born. But is the speed hurting us?

Language is more than a medium of communication, it is a medium for knowledge, history, culture and heritage. It is in-separably linked to our history and legacy, and hence our own identity. Evolution is one thing, conquest is another. As we take to sms and chats, are we producing a generation that cannot appreciate Veenapoovu and Balyakalasakhi. What will become of Kathakali, will it find a new home? Or will it be washed away in the tide of change? And what about the marvellous movies that we grew up watching. Will we be able to preserve them for the generations to come?

What about over songs? Do we appreciate the genius of the poet who compared the dilemma of a woman caught in a love triangle, to that of the dusk that is caught in between the dipping sun and the shining moon? Or are we destined to hear rap that NOBODY understands. I mean, how ridiculous it is to see the lover boy from a remote village wooing his dream-girl with rap?

Bottom line, have a balance. That is the bottom line of every debate that I have ever had, and it seems to be a sensible one. You don't want your language to remain archaic. You are not supposed to be a guardian of the dictionary, warding off any sign of threat. Open up and learn new words. Create new words, phrases, sentences and newer meanings. If it were all about rules and constraints, you wouldn't call it art would you. But there is this urgency for protection. When our legacy is at risk, we have the duty to lay down everything we have got, to fight for it. We are not mud-heads who just copy whatever happens out there in the west. We have our identity, our culture, which has reined the world all through history, and will continue to do so.

Jai Hind

Love

Sound of Music - 1

After a long, tiring and rather exciting day - half of it at office speculating upon your next assignment, or mission as some would like to call it; traveled to the other end of the city (well, that is almost the farthest I have travelled) for one bloody awesome movie (those who didn't like it - feel sorry for you guys), dropped into my cousin's place for a wonderful dinner - boy, a hearty meal can do wonders to your mood swings and finally reached home only to be greeted by a pile of clothes awaiting their bath and a laptop which does not connect to the internet; this lazy, tech unsavvy person couldn't ask for more. But, TADAA!!! after clicking this and that and every spot the cursor could touch (to quote one of my favourite TV stars) the problem was resolved (see, I am not a techy person. I am a commerce person... "resolved") and I am back to my.... favourite place? the best place? what to call it? Yes - my home on the internet. No, not my home page on Facebook. I am talking about my child - My Blog!

Why am I posting this article now? There are two reasons for me to post any article: one, the fact that I haven't written anything in a long time. And two, the urge to write; when I reach a psychological phase where no longer can I contain the words within me and emotions simply explode with ink.
What is the reason behind this post of mine? Let me tell you my thumb rule of writing - Be Honest! The most basic principle behind my blog; the double entry aspect of Ram Positive. Integrity is certainly something that I will not compromise with. Speak what you think and Do what you say. Be truthful in your thoughts words and actions. It is a utopian ambition; to speak nothing but the truth, no matter what it is. But then again, you don't want ambitions to be too easy, do you?
And applying this idea of truth to your writing... it's complicated. The thing is you cannot speak whatever comes to your mind, literally, when you write, for you are not just trying to fill pages; you also want your precious readers to have a good time. However, no compromising with honesty - period.
So whenever I update my blog just because I have not written anything in a long while, you can notice the dipping quality of the post.

Now, what is it that I want to say? A lot actually. The intense debate surrounding Viswaroopam release, the pathetic political drama, questioning the secularism of our country, the patriotism of a film-maker and not to mention the common man's commonsense. And RSS supporting artistic freedom? Where did that come from? Seriously the debate between the RSS leader and the Muslim League leader made me laugh. This is a tragic issue, which would deserve nothing more than an LOL in the Letter to the Editor column were it not for the fact that poeple residing in Tamilnadu cannot enjoy the movie, which receives rave  reviews from around the world - as if the rest of the world is mocking us.
And then the debate about Lokpal Bill. I have the least regard for the provisions of the bill. What I would like is someone like TN Seshan (Chief Election Commissioner of India ex officio, the reason why The Election Commission strikes fear in so many hearts) or Vinod Rai (from 2G to coalgate, this fellow has ruthlessly whipped our babus) to take up the job first and the system will get cured in no time. Till then, we can only wait and watch, as speculations yield no results, no matter who does the speculations.

But the heart of this post is dedicated to; probably the most beautiful thing in the world. My Mother tongue!

Alas! My energy level drops to "can't think straight anymore" level. Hence, stopping here for now. To be continued...

P.S. Birthday Wishes to our dearest Madame Manager and the littlest child at office!

Love

Blogging

I wrote this one exactly one year back. The emotion is still the same and hence I am re-posting this. Enjoy:

One of the greatest mysteries in the world of blogging, an unanswered questions, something not thought of so much. Probably because we take it for granted. Or because nobody actually cares for it. Besides spending some quality time, not many really wonder what is the purpose after all. Let me phrase it more appropriately. What is blogging?

Earlier when I did not have any readers (not that I have many now), I thought it was equivalent to diary writing. As a matter of fact, my blog was so unpopular that it was more secretive than my real diary, hiding which was an ordeal. So, when I felt bored, or when I felt the urge to express, I posted on my blog. That is the purpose I believe then. To express yourself. You have a wide variety of blogs. And every author writes about what he/she is passionate about. Eloquently, writing your heart out... that is what blogging is all about.

On that note arise two points. What is the point of spending all your energy, if you don't have any readers? Doesn't the absence of readers destroy the entire purpose of writing? Or does it? Something that can be dealt with, with an elaborate explanation. I personally write because I enjoy it. And shouldn't that be the ideal object behind doing any job. Isn't that what drives any person at all to achieve something off-beat. To explore and experiment. Is it not the fun, the adventure that fuels us. But does that make the result insignificant? Speaking quite frankly, this blog has 10 followers and I hope two of them will read this post. Which means that all the thoughts, the ideas, the hopes, dreams, emotions or whatever it is that beats in this message.. just stays there. Ideas that don't flow are like a lost ghost. Singing around, wearing a white saree, under the full moonlight, with long plaited black hair and scary fangs. Wandering crazily. Seeking salvation. Isn't that what matters? Don't these ideas deserve to flow. True that many blogs do get readership, but how many. What is the magnitude of work that gets wasted. Would Harry Potter be this famous if J.K. Rowling had posted her story in a blog. People would turn off their computers because of the sheer size of the story. Even the response to Big B's blog is dull in comparison to the comments on FB or twitter. As a proportion of his actual fanfaronade, the number of comments is nothing short of a classic joke! The most saddening part is the quality of work the flows in this network. Marvelous! Stunning! Anyone would fall short of words.

The second point is the responsibility of each writer. What is the role of a blog as a part of electronic media? Is it just a platform of stressed writers to relax. Or is it something that has the potential to spark off a revolution similar to the one in Egypt? Writing over here, am I not dealing with a Nuclear Weapon? Or even worse! We all know the role of media in our social structure. Media is definitely more destructive, and even more constructive, than any other work of science. In my finger tips I hold the key to a great revolution. Am I using it responsibly? Am I utilizing the potential a blog offers? And am I utilizing it properly? A blog can be of a very personal nature. Or it can advocate against the most controversial political issue. Either one has to be dealt with wisely. And personally, I am a huge fan of those really personal notes that form a part your blog. They come from the heart.

I am addicted to social networking sites, but I have started to begin the accountability and credibility of such websites. They are immature. They are not elaborate. I strongly suggest politicians stay out of twitter. Their work cannot be dealt with 140 characters. Be expressive. Raise your opinion. You are a citizen of a free country! Your forefathers were not!

Love

An introspection

God knows what omen greeted me today morning! But nothing went right. I mean, how many people miss out on two outstation audits on the same day? Well, the entire week has been a rough patch as almost nothing in my goal-book is getting struck off, with cash vouching going at a pace which could lose to snail, a diet which will certainly make any dietitian puke (and some friends go red with envy) and a girlfriend who has accomplished in giving me chronic headache. Not the best way to start 2013, and certainly not the best way to greet my readers with the first post of the year. Sorry folks! Sad times these are.

But as some great soul said, when the going gets tough, the tough get fishing - don't they?

Ever wondered what is Ram Positive? One of my seniors happened to ask me that question the other day (thank you for noticing), but what about the rest of you guys.

Actually, it is based on a simple theory of mine. Call it theory, axiom, philosophy, vetti velai, chalu or anything you want. But this belief - it is the reason behind how I think and what I do; the DNA of my mind. "Everything that happens is good. And if they are not good, then they are GREAT - making way for something royal!" The negative things in life are just an illusion, a fragment of our imagination. Don't you think so?
[Special reference to some engineering students, who, by a tragic twist of fate, have to write a paper on accountancy! Not to mention all my buddies who are facing their CA exams, going through the most dreaded "Exam Leave" and those of you who are at an arm's length from the declaration of Final results. Yup, so now I have everybody pissed off by becoming a boggart (refer Harry Potter if you are wondering what that is)]

An introspection 
"Whenever you feel alone, just remember. The great kings of the past will always be there to guide you. And so will I" One of the best dialogues from my all-time favourite animated movie "The Lion King". What better way to reflect attitude?

Do you believe in Destiny? I do!
I believe that there are somethings that are out of your... Jurisdiction.
Somethings, that you shouldn't bother about.
Pluck that thought from your mind and let it sway in the dancing wind.
Let it float, across the 7 seas,
Because some other wind will get you a better deal,
From across the world.
Let nature takes its course, and have faith.
Understands that:
"Everything that happens is good. And if they are not good, then they are GREAT -
Making way for something royal!"
And cherish it. Fall in love with the trees and flowers,
Because they are nature's children, and they will take you places - for sure

There was a time, in the history of Ram Positive, when I used it like a personal diary. Not because I did not have another personal diary, or disliked writing in pen, but because it was so secretive. NOBODY, absolutely nobody read the blog, it reached a point that this was safer than my personal diary, for there was always a risk of spies in the latter. But things have changed a little now.

And I owe that to Suri & Co, to every article over there - Thank you fellows for reading Ram Positive. Trust me, you people are some serious inspiration (especially those who keep enquiring if I have updated and what my next post will be). And as a tribute, let me recall every moment I spent with you this year.
 1. New Year BASH - Sanjeev's Birthday Party. Sam's Pizza was truly amazing, and I feel really happy that we were able to give our very own CA "The Birthday of His Life!" And also put a decent hole in his wallet. That is after all, what we do best.
 2. Balmer Stock taking - My dear Thriuvanmiyur friend, that little godown which, although was no bigger than a primary school classroom, was a joy. And thanks to the Big Guy who sent me there in the last minute.
 3. Wild Bug's Visit - That was a surprise! Fun times, we can only hope they last forever. Hey, and don't forget they way we played with our little sister! Poor girl, she got seriously annoyed it seems. And to you my little junior, Laugh Out Laugh kiddo!
 4. Kumaran Systems - You know what they say, keep the best for the last! Totally 4 seniors gave me a great learning experience, but special mention to 2 amazing buddies, who have been insisting for the past one week that I write about them in this prestigious arena! Well, here you go! Enjoy the moment! But seriously guys, you rock! Just as much as Planet Yumm (wow, almost missed that one out)

Hmmm.... Somebody mentioned about "Sad Times?" Yeah right!!!

Love

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