The Princess felt lonely in the dungeon. There had been muffled voices from beyond the walls, but that was all. Surrounded by darkness, she felt like she hadn't even opened her eyes. Now, as she got pushed out of her prison, her heart leapt with anticipation of never being lonely again.
I stand at the docks, looking at the Arabian Sea reflecting the
night sky. Inshallah, tomorrow I make my first voyage. People warn me about strange
lands and sea-monsters, but... A strange sense of destiny seems to be calling out
to me. My first mate asks me, “Sinbad, do we sail tomorrow?” “Yes,” I reply.
Felt inspired to write a short story for Children's Day today. Also, decided to challenge myself and stick to the 55 word limit. Racked my brains about for a bit for a story when the idea struck me while I was in...
Just go ahead and read it, will you?
Happy Children's Day.
The Happiest Downpour There Ever Was
Unsupervised and thoroughly drenched, seven year old Akash joyously
danced naked as refreshing cold drops of water descended upon him. “Nothing feels
better on a hot summer morning.” Just when he felt he could go on like this for
ever, he heard his mother, ‘You’ll be late for school. Get out of the shower
NOW!!”
My first attempt at writing a 55 word story. Also, hoping this helps me get back to writing. Anyway, here goes:
Mask
The pain was unbearable. Ashish lay quietly as his torturer
leaned over him, his mask hiding a sinister grin. The naked bulb right over
Ashish’s eyes notched the torture a degree higher. A final drill and then…
sudden silence. The torturer took off the mask and smiled. “See you in six
months,” said the dentist.
A little post halfway through Hunger Games, I came across a lullaby, which I strangely found rather sweet. Here it is:
Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise.
Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.
Deep in the meadow, hidden far away A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray Forget your woes and let your troubles lay And when again it's morning, they'll wash away. html ] Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.
This is the first book of Osho's that I have ever read.
I had quite a few pre-conceived ideas about Osho till now(not all of
them complimentary) based on whatever I had heard about him over the years. The
irony is that most of the times, the people who were speaking to me about him
were actually praising him. However, the idea was firmly set in my mind that
Osho’s teachings were the direct opposite of what Vivekananda, a hero to me since childhood, professed.
Perhaps this was why I could never bring myself to actually
read much of Osho’s works. A paragraph here and there was fine but I really
couldn’t shake off the idea that here was essentially just an intelligent
man playing to the galleries.
I still don’t agree with everything that Osho writes, there
are still questions unanswered, doubts which raise their head when I traverse through
some of the answers that Osho gives, but it is difficult to refute the fact
that one is forced to think, and think hard, about some very interesting ideas
that Osho discusses. And that is what makes reading Osho so much fun.
“Krishna – The Man and His Philosophy” is basically
conversations which Osho has with his followers during a ten day meditation
course at Manali in 1970. What begins as a free-wheeling discussion on the
personality of the historical figure called Krishna becomes nothing short of an
interpretation of the essence of The Bhagavad Gita.
Nor is Krishna the only personality discussed. Constant
parallels are drawn with Buddha, Mahavir, Christ and Mohammed. What is
refreshing to see is that Osho doesn’t just extol the virtues of any one of
these great personalities. He points out the ideologies of each of them,
leaving for us to decide which “path” we choose to seek.
Seekers such as
Diogenes, Ramakrishna, Vivekananda, Tagore and Krishnamurthy are also spoken
of. Enjoyable, memorable and hence, recall-worthy anecdotes about each of them
are scattered throughout the book. Sri Aurobindo of Pondicherry (whose identity
I was initially confused about since Osho kept referring to him simply as ‘Aravind’),
however, comes in for severe criticism.
What made the book most enjoyable was the fact that Osho
keeps narrating one anecdote after another to drive home his point. Albeit
these sometimes simplify the message to a great degree, they are nonetheless
essential for a beginner (like myself) to understand the core of what Osho is
trying to convey.
A great book, if for nothing else but for its ability to
force you to think (rethink?) about religious and spiritual stand-points. An
absolute must-read.
And living in India means you cannot escape the Indian Premier League (IPL).
And how could you miss it? The silken drives of Dravid, the brilliance of Jayawardene and Sangakarra, the fiery pace of Dale Steyn and the fearsome accuracy of Malinga... these and many more cricketing delights are on offer.
Yet...
There was this post by Tom Alter on watching Sunil Gavaskar, his cricketing hero, reduced to a gimmick on what they call 'Extraaa Innings'. "Cricket," writes Alter, "is reduced to a sideshow of a sideshow."
And that is when I realised that the game of "cricket" that I knew and loved had been lost.
In the last couple of weeks, when I had crashed onto my bed at night, excited tweets of "Chennaaaaaaiiiiii.....you rock!!!!!" didn't spur me out of bed to switch on the TV, but those describing the courageous declarations of Michael Clarke and the close finishes that the test matches of the West Indies vs. Australia were producing, did.
Someone wrote about how IPL is the perfect "timepass" for a country which loves "timepass". David Dhawan-Govinda movies worked because they were "timepass", so will the IPL. It is entertainment for the masses.
I realised today how true the "timepass" tag is for the IPL; I now keep the TV on mute and go about my daily chores as I normally would. The game is itself of little consequence; watch a bit of it when passing by and move on.
Mukul Kesavan in this article hit the nail on the head on a number of reasons why the IPL is more a farce than cricket. He compares the IPL to WWF; of how the two are nothing but orchestrated entertainment orgies. It has become a carnival of big hitting where all the audience wants to see are sixes. Sixes did you say? Well, let's sell that and make it a "DLF maximum". Stunning catch? Why not "Karbonn Kamaal catch"? And ultimately, it is all about stringing together "Citi Moments of Success".
Its like selling the soul of cricket to the devil.
Of course, you should completely forget how rules are tweaked and conflicts of interest are shoved under the carpet (and I'm talking about YOU Mr. N. 'India Cements' Srinivasan).
Where the question "Why Munaf Patel and Harbhajan Singh, team member and captain of Mumbai Indians (owned by one of the wealthiest men on the planet), should not be banned from subsequent matches after a behaviour like this?" is never asked.
It is not that the IPL doesn't bring forth moments of cricketing joy. There was *that* six by Sachin off Albie Morkel in the first game of this season's IPL, awesome enough to inspire Sidvee to write this post.
The "away" game that Saurav Ganguly played at the Eden divided loyalties in the city. Sidharth Monga aptly described the excitement and the anxiousness of the days prior to the game and during the match itself.
Then there was that over that Dale Steyn bowled to Richard Levi. Six balls of sheer brilliance, resulting in a maiden over. The last ball of that over was a perfect in-swinging yorker that bowled Levi. And here's what breaks my heart. When today I search for the words "Dale Steyn Richard Levi" on YouTube, all that is available is the last ball of that over. This is the perfect example of what we have reduced this great game to.
Not a game. Not a celebration of skills. But a tamaasha.
If it wasn't evident enough that this was a tamaasha, there are the "cheerleaders". Thankfully, a PR lady in Bangalore interviewed these beautiful girls and showed us how they are actually well qualified young girls from respectable families. Unfortunately that is not how the Indian masses switching on TV see them. Most of them, I'm sure, are waiting to ogle at the slow motion replays of these girls dancing.
But don't I watch the IPL myself? Have I too, like millions others, sold my cricketing soul to the devil? Have I too not defiled the sacred game that was handed over to me by Dad when he took me to Eden Gardens on a chilly winter morning to watch a Test match between India and England?
And then, it struck me. The answer lies in this ad for the 2012 IPL.
I was like the two boys who are discreetly looking for some entertainment. Some "tamaasha". The carnival. Where I can watch the greats of the game peddle their craft for a few coins. Where girls dance atop platforms in front of the crowds. Where the thrill is heightened by the sense of excitement at having watched something which I know was impure.
Is this cricket? Of course not.... "Yeh IPL hai boss!!"
You know how they say that it is because of Twitter that the number of blog posts have gone down.
Well, today is the day blogs pull back one of their own. For here is a post inspired by a Twitter trend.
Sometime earlier today, self-confessed Calcutta lover @thesatbir started the hashtag #ThingsILoveAboutKolkata innocently enough. "Please contribute," his tweet read.
What followed was bizzare. The topic trended at number one in India for most of the afternoon and it is almost seven hours later that the hashtag is still trending at the number 3 spot as I type this.
There was no way I could've put together *ALL* the things people said, but here are some of my favourites:
#ThingsILoveAboutKolkata That I cannot fit in 140 characters (@diptakirti)
Balwant Singh Dhaba ka chai, doodh cola and old Sardarji at the counter (@anushreekejriwa)
Usha Uthup (@vijaypandey)
Flury's
'Bhar' (earthen pots)
Satyajit Ray
Saurav Ganguly (Dada)
Yellow Ambassadors as taxis
White sarees with red borders
Tarka dal at Azad Hind Dhaba (@kavibhansali)
Maacher jhol
'Roshogulla'
'Sondesh'
'Mishti Doi'
K C Das
Ind vs. Aus 2001 test match Dravid and Laxman (@dev8th)
The Bengali accent
Calcutta paan
And here are some that I put forth myself:
Fuchka
Bob Biswas
Jhaal Muri
College girls in bright sarees on Saraswati Puja day
Netaji's statue
Eden Gardens
@seemantinibose pointed out "In a packed bus "Dada ektu shore darate parchen na?" and the fight starts :)" which reminded me of my friend Rahul Chawra's (@srahula) debate histrionics when he said the following
Conductor shouting at the driver, "AASHTE.... LADIES... KOLE BACCHA..!!"
It is not often that I lose sleep over an article that I read in a business magazine. I admit it used to happen a lot when I was in college, but not any more.
Which is why the last few days have been unusual.
I came across this on the Harvard Business Review blog the other day.
In 2009, when Tim Cook was asked by an analyst how Apple might change if he (Cook) were to permanently replace Steve Jobs (who had just taken a leave due to ill health), Cook's reply was little short of awe-inspiring.
"We believe we are on the face of the earth to make great products, and that's not changing."
"We believe in the simple not the complex... We believe in saying no to thousands of products, so that we can really focus on the few that are truly important and meaningful to us."
Even if this were a doctored answer, what hit me the most was the conviction that Tim Cook's words seem to have.
As the article goes on to say, "It's not what you sell it's what you believe."
Walking in the footsteps of a great is a special joy reserved for few. And uncovering a path which has been previously explored by someone and was thus far hidden from you means that the joy reaches another level altogether. The serendipity of stumbling upon something which was left there precisely to help you can bring a smile to your face. The student always remembers what he learnt by doing or discovering something himself rather than learning by rote.
The Shiva Panchakshara Stotram took me a few weeks to memorise. The stotra praises Lord Shiva and each stanza ends bowing to the five letters (hence 'Panchakshara') that constitute Namah Shivaya.
It isn't that the meanings or the words are difficult to understand. What I was grappling with, however, was the order in which the stanzas were to be recited.
Till one morning, while I was reciting the said stotra during my morning prayers, it struck me like lightning: as a mnemonic clue, the first word of each of the stanzas begins with the letter in the order in which it appears in Namah Shivaya.
The thrill of excitement that I experienced with this discovery cannot be expressed. More than the fact that I will never get the order of the stanzas wrong, I was super kicked about the fact that I had discovered this clue on my own: no elder or website or book had alluded to this hidden fact.
For benefit of the readers, here is the text of the Shiva Panchakshara Stotram:
Swami Vivekananda and Osho are two intellectual greats who I have always admired. Whilst in college, one of the earliest salaries from my job was spent on the 12 volumes of the collected works of Swami Vivekananda. To this day, they remain a source of inspiration and guidance whenever I feel lost.
Osho's works, on the other hand, are a source of great joy. The refreshingly different look at the world and the concepts that we have been fed from a "conventional" point of view always make me smile when I read his works. It is not only the sense of challenging the accepted truth but the very logical arguments that he presents to state his case which are a joy to read.
For those who would like to read more:
The complete works of Swami Vivekananda can be found here; and
Quite a few of Osho's ebooks are available here for free download.
Last weekend, I was in Agra to attend Herbert's sister's wedding. The fact that this wedding brought together so many college friends was an added bonus.
Bulla and Budhau came over from Calcutta, Pauki came from Bangalore and yours truly took the Agast Kranti Rajdhani from Bombay. Also joining us from Delhi were Rohit and Daddu.
Short trip, majorly sleep deprived.. But it is a special joy to meet old pals and wish a friend's sister all the best for a happily married life ahead.
From L to R: Budhau, Pauki, Traveller, Herbert, Rohit, Bulla, Daddu and Herbert's Jijaji
Whatever you can do, I can do one better. At least, that is what it seems my Mum is hell bent on saying/proving.
So, in keeping with her newly found tech-savvy image, she sends me an e-mail informing me that come this Sunday, she is participating in some sort of a charity run. The distance? 5 km.
My heart skipped a beat when I read that. Mom? Seriously? The woman who is way past her prime? And not to forget, is also an asthma patient?
I immediately called home to speak to her about this. "Listen, there's no need to worry. If you could run long-distance, I am your mother and am perfectly capable of running/speed-walking 5 kms," is all she had to say.
And you wonder where I get my eccentricities from, huh?
It is funny how things happen in a continuity at times.
Let me explain.
For some reason, was reminded of Rudyard Kipling's "If" today.
I have spoken about Kipling's "If" earlier (Wow! It has been five years since that post and so much has changed. Was just incredible reading the comments section and remembering those times. I know I sound like an 80 year old but what the heck...) and the poem inspires me as much as it did then.
And then, in the evening, chanced upon the remix version of Rabindranath Tagore's "Ekla cholo re" from the upcoming Vidya Balan starrer "Kahaani". Here is the translation of the original poem in Rabindranath's own words:
If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou unlucky one,
open thy mind and speak out alone.
If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou unlucky one,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.
If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou unlucky one,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone.
And this brings me to a nice poem which, I feel, has been too commercialised these days. The poem is "Agneepath" by Harivansh Rai Bachchan.
Hope everyone had a beautiful Shivratri yesterday.
Personally, had a wonderful day. Prayed and pulled off a long fast: 30 hours without food or water. It wasn't as tough as I thought it would be, albeit was feeling a little heavy in the head in the evening.
Here is a picture of the mandir at my home right after the aarti I did in the evening:
The traveller's first international holiday and, as it happens, first post from outside the country. I'm in Dubai on a company sponsored holiday. Will post details of the trip in a subsequent post.
