Ammamma

“Ammamma”, a name, a beauty, a lady and an epic. That is what we used to call our grandmother. We USED to, because she passed away a few months ago. She was a legend, someone who never considered herself less than any in anyway. She had an amazing charm in her, I am sure; she would be the ‘babe of the village’ in her teens. She was unusual in her family, because all her brothers were dark in colour where as my Ammamma was fair and beautiful. All of us, we cousins would always tease her the same and I am sure my grandfather was completely bolded over her beauty. It was not just that, she was a bit too much of everything. She never considered herself less to anyone in anyway. Though she was not from a wealthy family, she never let anyone knew about her family status.

She was an epic among all her family members. She was loud, demanding and very authoritative. She had five sons and one daughter, who was the apple of the pie of family. My grandmother had her seal everywhere with a lot of talcum powder on her face and a big round bindi (of vermilion) with a fake hair bun (usually shaped like a bread roll) and a lot of flowers on it. She was an example of exemplified Indian beauty. She was indeed beautiful to many of them, men loved her and women envied her beauty. She had too much of hospitability in her and especially to her grandchildren, she was someone to who we were waiting to meet. Functions, festivals and every other celebration at home; she was the main co-ordinator. Not to forget, she was the ideal mother-in-law to all her daughters-in-law with all the regular ‘clichéd’ things between them (both good and bad with more bad than good)

Her death marked the end of all the celebrations of my return to India. She died with disease that was strange to our family. She was in hospital for 20 days and she faced the life with courage. It’s unfortunate that the advanced medicine could not make her do what she wanted to, Live... live longer and enjoy life. It is then, that struck to me, how trivial the science is. It is like, that there is someone who is very thirsty with a pot of water in front of him and he can’t get there to drink it.

Many a times she has been an example to me, though she dint teach me literally. She couldn’t because she was uneducated. She could not write nor read, yet she lived a life the way she wanted to, keeping everything and everyone in control. Considering that, she was a genius in the art of life. I have learnt from her and always have appreciated her ways of doing things. She even taught me something or made me realize when she died; she enabled me to realize how feeble I was, both physically and emotionally. She was there lying on the hospital bed lifelessly in a small room and all the visitors were showing their condolences, some fake and some real. I was near her head which had the gauze tied around it and there were no visitors for around 10 mins. I was alone with her and I touched her forehead. It sent shocks to me; she was cold and not moving. It was for the first time, I realized what death is, I had not seen death so closely till now. I was infect scared for a fraction of second with so many what ifs in my head, What if she would move my hand away? What if she will start talking to me? What if she sits on the bed and pulls her gauze away? Nothing like that happened though.

Her death helped to understand myself better I guess (I am being selfish here) she made me realize that emotions run high, I wasn’t emotional to see her death, I was about to break down when I saw my sister’s hand shivering as she touched her and waived a final good bye and when my aunt wished her the final adieu. I don’t know why, there are a few people who I can’t see crying. I went upstairs to the kitchen and held my handkerchief hard against my eyes. I was actually crying, don’t know the reason, but I was. I learnt something more about myself. I guess that is life...self discovery.

Finally, hats off Ammamma....may your soul rest in peace.

Should I?

Sitting on a luxury couch, listening to some english song which I cant understand, my laptop on me, sipping hot cup of latte which would probably cost me just under hundred bucks. I am in one of the posh bakeries in Koramangala (Bengaluru, India) and watching the rain as I type this. Beautiful it is indeed, the rain, the dampness, the smell, the sound, everything, but this is marred by unnecessary honkers, speeding vehicles and the crap english song. I am enjoying it and am also thinking how different it would be, if it was something more of me in the environment. The same cozy sofa, the same laptop, the same rain, but different song, no noise of vehicles, no expensive coffee. I would have cherished it more with a hot samosa or a hot kachori with boling hot filter coffee or masala chai. Is this the enjoyment what I intend? Dont know. I guess everyone wishes for something more than what they have. I am normal and I am an ordinary human influenced by worldly activities. How do I do something different from the rest of the fellow humans? I think and think again, should I do something different? Should we all?

Randomly

Increasing waist line ............away from mysore.............. pain..........sympathy............suggestions...........time off........advices..............surgery.........extra care................knife....... children........home.........deliberations.........bandage............ movies.............. blood..............hospital.........reasons...........

2007

New year- new job- old company. Well, Dec 31st 2006, I started off again in my old company in the UK where I worked during my MSc, but this time in a manager’s role. Great start for the year, I thought, well, it was indeed. I was sure to go back home this year, so I was just a maternity cover for three quarters of the year. It is here, where I learnt, how tough it is to manage people. My people management skills were tried and tested, but I guess I won in the end. Not everyone was happy all the time, but, if we consider the percentage, the happy people were more than the not so happy ones. I cherished those times and I made some good friends. I impressed many people I worked with and they stumped me as well. I was looking not at their looks, but the inner person. We all are same, irrespective of gender, colour and race. I tuned my people skills, my language, and my accent I guess. It was time for me to leave. Left my job and soon left the country to return to India. Returned to India, bit fairer, but father and bit confused about my future, but, I was glad that I did. I could see a change in my immediate family. Witnessed the unexpected, strange, yet true. Then a new lease of life started, unfortunately had to start from scratch.
I think the distance builds/breaks relationships. I enjoyed one such relationship which had a technology as a base; internet/telephone formed the soul and veins of it. Last few months of my stay in the UK, I had grown extremely close to a girl who I met over the internet. We spoke for hours, from work, on the way, from my house, hours together and I had grown an inclination to meet up with her immediately after I returned to India. Things were fine and one fine day after I returned, don’t know what happened, we stopped speaking for no apparent reason. It made me really think, that distance really can make or break a relationship. I guess I won’t see that girl again. Reason nothing in particular. The father I was, the better it was I guess. My return marked a number of celebrations at home in form of many family gatherings and others. Just after that, a sad fold, my Nan fell ill and died couple of months after my return. Bad, very sad......:(
I started off my new job, completely different from my previous job, a bit more to do with people. I do a more respectable job now, I facilitate people to learn about themselves and develop various skills. I still am an amateur, but the start seems to be great and I hope for the best in the future. Good bye 2007. Welcome 2008!!

The discontentment

I have been pondering over this for some time now. I don’t know why I am like this, still can’t figure out any reason for this behaviour of mine. I am not greedy neither I expect things that are unusual. There is always some discontent in me. I have done many exciting things, seen many beautiful places, have had many thrilling experiences, yet, there is something missing in all of my experiences. Especially, last few years, with a lot of new experiences, this unhappiness has grown, irrespective of what I do. My friends were ecstatic when they saw the Swiss Alps. I saw it as well, but it dint make me euphoric rather it was like any other thing for me. I think I get more pleasure in tidying my room and keep it all organised than watching a blockbuster movie or having the most delicious food. Honestly, I don’t know what makes me happy, I have observed my behaviour, where my happy scale would be showing new highs when I speak and spend some quality time with my school friends and a few more people. I can’t even express this discontentment; I probably would be happy if I do something drastically different than the rest or do something to my standards of perfection.

Final Adieu- Good bye old England

It was 60th year of Indian independence celebrations last week. I was not in India at that time; I was away in the UK, a last few days of my stay. It wasn’t the same kind of feeling that anyone would be feeling a week before they go to their home country, to their families (well, to most Indians at least).

I have been thinking about it for weeks, this year’s Independence Day would be a bit different for me as a person, because, staying away from home country for around three years makes you feel overly patriotic. I have seen the country developing, staying away. The amount of happiness you get when you hear the sensex go up, new things are shown about India in any TV channel and all such trivial things is incomparable. Email inboxes will usually have a few forwards about India and a few web links will be off liners. I never missed anything like that and in fact I have forwarded it to many others including a few British. We have travelled miles to be a part of Indian-ness in the west. All this does not seem strange, because everything suddenly becomes “matter-of-fact” overnight and everyone practical in their thoughts and actions. I have been a part of this vogue for last three years now. I was away and staying away has changed me as a person, for the better I believe and what I believe is true.

My experience here in the UK has been immersed with different experiences, well; I would say learning/observations. Almost three years, life was completely different for the life that spent three years ago and now after three years I am returning to the life that I spent three years ago. I am sure things would have changed a lot there. I can guess that it would be no different to the place where I live now. I am happy in a way that I am following my words. I always used to say “Life in the UK is just an experience and not life!” I would say, that the life in the UK has taught me so many things that I would have probably taken a decade to learn if I were to be in India itself. It has accelerated many things in life, from being independent to appreciating and valuing people of different origins. It is amazing how we all are different, yet we all are same.
As I type this, I have a weird feeling; I am growing increasingly cynical about my return home. How I wished that I would go back when I am here, but now when the time has come, I am sceptical about my life back home. It is not that I am here all my life and am going to a completely different country for the first time, but it is still the feeling of going away from something that you unknowingly adapted and started not to dislike (for e.g. when you start craving for burgers and fries of Burger King)

Finally, a grand SALUTE and BOW to Imperial England!! GOOD BYE OLD ENGLAND! I am sure I will miss you.

PS: This again was written a couple of months back, but posting only now. Better late than never! :)

Life eh?

She was there, standing, was waiting I guess. I came rushing towards her, seeing my watch. Thought I would miss, in fact I was more than brisk walking, I was running. I was all smiling. I was early, rather it was late. I had to wait, so was she. She was restless, lifting her legs backwards at random times. She was smiling though. I was waiting, so was she. I was seated in the waiting area. She was standing though there was some seating. In front of me were the youth of Britain. 4 blond girls in skimpy clothing flashing their latest mobiles were opposite to me shouting and screaming (literally). She was still restless, I could not stand her restlessness any more. I walked to her and offered her my seat. She said, with lovely smile. I should say, she was very attractive. She came to me after that and we started speaking. She said “ I have pain in my legs and they are swollen(she showed me her feet). I cant sit because my back pains as well. I am OK this way sweetheart” I could not say anything, because she could not sit nor stand. I felt pretty bad for her state and asked her why cant she go by a cab and even offered her to call the cab for her. She smiled and her teeth less jaw was visible and she said “I cant afford it love”. I have to stay mum. She continued “ I am 82 love and have 5 children; unfortunately no one is around and I live in an old age home”. She continued her story while the bus turned up and we all got back in the queue. I carefully avoided the seat next to her as I really could not hear her story anymore, but was definitely thinking about her and how her family would be. This is life everywhere, irrespective of east or west.

PS: I had written this blog ages back, but it is up only now because of lack of time/interest.

Reflection!! in just 55 words

She was there; she saw herself in the mirror and touched her image to see if she feels any different in herself. She was experiencing the miracle in her life. She looked different than how she looked a few months back. She saw wool on the ground and the two needles. She smiled with happiness!

Tera, Mera and Uska

Scene 1: Mera: Tera, I am fed of hearing about you, please stop talking about yourself. I have never heard anything more than the ‘I’ word from you. Why do you always talk about yourself? Do you think that people would like it always? Why don’t you analyse the situation and speak, what everybody would like to hear instead of some random things about yourself?...........****Sighs!!!***

Scene 2: (Mera is reading the webpage of Uska, a common friend of Tera and Mera and praising his new article. Tera trying to read what Mera was reading) Tera: Mera, you were accusing me speaking about myself all the time, but now you are appreciating Uska’s article titled ‘Me’. I am sure you can understand that it is all about him and his nature and lifestyle. It is just him talking as a third person, but the crux is still the same, as you say, the ‘I’ word. ……………..*****desperation*****

Scene 3 Mera in his bedroom, on his own, contemplating on the events and the words used in the row, was amazed by the use of words. He thought ‘words are so powerful and the same words mean different when told in different ways. What do you call that, an oxymoron? No…I guess no term for such a thing, but it very frustrating and has put me in awkward situation now, what do I do’ Has Mera committed any mistake? Is it his fault if the words are used in different ways? Is it tough to overcome confusion by explanation, because both of them use the same words or is Mera thinking a bit too much?

Development/Confidence or a bit of boast?

It was sometime in early October 2004, during the first few classes of my MSc in University of Surrey,UK, I was very apprehensive and cynical to open my mouth, thinking that people in my class who were all from various parts of the world (I should say, I was the only Indian) would laugh at my accent and my English. I was very nervous and framed my sentence many many times, over and over again before they could hear anything from me. There was a discussion about argument, how to argue and what points should be covered in an argument and how professional an argument can be at workplace. I have read, believed and it has always worked for me that the best way to win an argument is to be quiet. I had put forward my argument (so to say) to the entire class and to the old aged professor! After much of deliberation I did say what I wanted to and the entire class did go quiet to hear the unknown voice which was too much different from the familiar voices of the Caucasian race. It was an achievement for me!! And from then on there was no debate or argument without me being involved in it in the class.


Three years on, I can see how much I have changed and how I am now, at work, generally and how different I think. I have developed the flair to identify the trueness of a person, irrespective from where he/she comes from and keeping away all the stereotypes that rules most of our decisions. One incident at work last week made me feel really proud of myself. James and Peter (names changed) also work with me and James is the supervisor of Peter (both British). I know both James and Peter pretty well. During my break, Peter comes to me and goes on about how much he dislikes working with James and how unhappy he is in his team. “Guru, there are a few people here in this place I guess who are really worth their jobs and you are one of those mate. Honestly, I have more respect to you that towards James, he is an a***h**e”. ‘James, don’t loose your heart, it is not him as a person, it is the system mate, I am sure you can understand and probably you would have done the same if you were to be in his position’, I said. ‘Go get some food’ I added. The conversation went on to several things and we were about to finish our breaks. Peter, opening the door (British diplomacy) turns back to me and says ‘Can I work for you, Guru?’ I smiled at him and said, ‘I will see what I can do for you’


It is not the fact that I can get him a job in my team, it is the experience/ conversation that makes me feel proud….. A self pat………can I say ‘Well done! Guru’

My walking experiences

Walking has been a vital part of my life, not because it is healthy n stuff, it is because I have a bit too many memories associated with that. I have always walked ever since my school days, long walks with no destination, super long walks with a friend, late night walks just to have a cup of coffee from a street vendor in Gandhi Bazaar (Bangalore, India).

My usual walk will be, well, used to be mostly alone, not on a common route but in a familiar area. Thoughts just flow in my mind as I walk, analysing myself, my day and people, people I meet, my family and the circumstances I am in and the people are in. It has always been something that I would love to do. A good company, a long walk talking to myself as I see and watch things around is like a bliss.

I have been on frequent walks when I was in India, well at least once a week and here in the UK I used to never go for long walks here. I feel it a bit intimidating and like someone is always watching you. I have never felt comfortable to go on walks here because an asian guy walking alone late in the night is an easy target and with all the drunkards around, walk would not be appealing. Lately I had been on a walk, not late night, sometime just after the evening when the temperature was just right for a walk. I was remembering all those beautiful walks in India as I walk and was talking to myself (yes, I always do) and a Brit walked beside me smiling. I smiled back and asked, “Why are you smiling? Did u hear me speaking?” There was a reply that shocked me, guess what?...... He said “I thought you heard me speaking” I was with a blank expression and he walked off. I was smiling after that and was happy to learn that I am not the only one in the world who speaks to himself, there are a few more and I had just met one. Isn’t it cool?

After all everyone is a human

Another quotable experience in public transport, this time not in the train. It was in a bus. Well, I would say an empty bus. One teenage couple; I and a white family with no woman were the only passengers in the bus. It was pretty evident that the woman of the family was not present in their lives. It was a family of two little girls and a father. The father was sitting in the front seat of the bus and the two girls were standing next to him holding the pole. The bus driver was a bit of an Indian auto driver kinds and was speeding in the narrow roads of Guildford. At one point, he applied brakes and one of the girls fell over in the bus. There was an expression in the face of the father. A mixture of anxiety over his daughter and annoyance over the driver. I can never forget that expression. It made me feel that we are all humans, after all humans. We all feel the same; we may be different in the colour of our skin or the way we speak, or the way we live, but all show the basic animal instinct to love and being loved.

Being a Twenty Something

"Being a twenty-something

It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don't recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren't really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at what u are studying or your job... and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and that scares you.

Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn't. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure.

You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love someone! but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you're doing this because you know that you aren't a bad person. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision.

You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself...
and while winning the race would be great, right now you are scared just to be a contender!

What you may not realize is that every one reading this relates to it. Well everyone who is in their twenties or even thirties. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out. "

This is a forward that I got sometime back. I usually wont read many of them (especially if it is an attachment), but this one I read and I feel I can relate to it too much and so you people. Let me know if this makes sense to you.

Alas.................

Alas..................men DO cry

A Perfect Picture?

I don’t work in London nor in one of those high rise buildings in its suburbs. I work in one of the richest localities of the UK in not so high rise retail complex. I sit near the window in the staff canteen, seating on one of high rise chair with my lunch box in front of me, a pack of crisp and a fruit in the staff canteen which has décor similar to a call centre in India. Trying to read a novel, I look around to see if anyone is bothered to see what I am eating/doing. Bored with the book, I see through the window to see this perfect picture (?) A not-so-common bright sunny, yet cold winter day in the UK, traffic signal with the red lights on and around ten cars neatly aligned one behind another within the small lane. A family with teenagers who were surprisingly well behaved, a young mum with the baby in the buggy looking frantic as she cross the road and a group of youngsters with either coke/coffee cups in their hands. There I sit on the high seat with a crisp in my hand and mouth open and look amazed. Just around 200 pictures flash through my memory as it a happens in one of the those old Bollywood films when the hero sees his long-lost twin brother, but here with me no twin brothers, but reminding me of everything I miss. My family, friends and all those lovely and long chats and laughs in my college/school days. The chaotic traffic, the buzz of peoples’ presence (yes, just the presence) all flash in front of me as a collage and I think that was perfect picture!!

My first grey hair :-)

Um….. it is time for me to realize that I am getting old I guess. I have got my first grey hair and believe it or not I have taken its picture. It will be daft if I upload that picture. I am thinking, am I that old or is it because I am thinking too much or is it because a mixture Garnier Fructis, Head n Shoulders, Dove and Himalaya shampoo for a week can cause some greyness? I prefer to choose the third option.

Status Quo

I hate changes... I know ‘change’ is the only thing that can’t be changed; however changes still happen. Things change, circumstances change, ideas change and sometimes people do change. The reasons for this change may be hundreds, but the change is inevitable. I personally don’t like change, and I personally hate if the change changes quite frequently. It disturbs the status quo of everyone involved and it takes all the time to get the quo right again. The reason why I am writing this is because my house mates have relocated. They all are not here right now. It is just three boys now, who hardly speak/see each other. It is just another add on disturbance to the already confused state of mind.

The ‘I’ word

To complement my earlier confabulate article, I am writing this. Its not that I have gone mad with the English words. It’s just my observations and I how relate and connect them, ultimately to bug you. I was reading an article some time back. It was a result of a survey. A survey carried out by a company to find out the most used word in any business conversation and to do this, they could not get any other better place than a call centre. The word/letter was ‘I’. I personally think it is the only alphabet in English which is both a word and a letter. It was found that on an average the agents used the word ‘I’ for 60-65 times in a conversation. It just shows how important the word is. It is not a mere word/letter, it is ‘YOU’ described in a single alphabet. The physical embodiment of you, your identity, your ideas, your thoughts, your life and ultimately ‘YOU’. It is so weird that we don’t think of such things in our daily life. As I mentioned earlier in my ‘confabulate’ article, the ‘ear’s’ wish is never taken into consideration. Observe a typical conversation between any two, you would always see the ‘I’ factor. The person would be waiting to let off some information about him/her and the same holds good to you as well. No wonder there are centres set up just to listen to ‘I’’s story. Did you notice how many ‘I’s I have used in this small article. That is the power of ‘I’.

Ooph!!! Weather !!!

Its been an awful weather here for a few days now. Foggy! Cant see 10m in front of you.The forecast says the highest temperature will be around 3 C for next few days with persistent fog. Well, I would say HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

The above picture is beautiful. It is of the Cathedral in the place I live taken on a supposedly sunny day. Two years in this country, I can confirm that this country is badly in need of sense, spice and sun.

Confabulate: Talk informally, familiarly

I am reading a novel and one of the words in there caught my attention was confabulate. Sounds like a combination of words consulate and fabulous. con·fab·u·late- /kənˈfæb yəˌleɪt/ Pronunciation Key - [kuh n-fab-yuh-leyt], but the actual meaning according to a dictionary and dictionary.com is to talk informally and familiarly. I was trying to relate it to our daily lives. It’s all different and all unique, each one of ours. There are stories of happiness, sadness, laughter, agony and many more expressions and emotions. When I think of this word, I think it perfectly fits in each of our lives context. Each of our lives is a story, a fable. The tinge of ‘fable’ in the word shows how we talk so well about our stories. Always wanting a keen ear to listen to it, irrespective of the ear’s wish to listen or not. I would say that we all are the sufferers of ‘Confabulatism’ (that’s my own word now). Dont you agree?

BORED!!!!!

I guess today has been one of the worst days here in the UK. Reason …um… still reasoning at the end of the day but haven’t come up with an answer. I have never slacked so much at work in my 3-4 years of career life as today. I called in ‘SICK’ to work though I was very healthy. Dint do anything for the whole day, was lying on bed and analysing life for ages, then I could hear voices of my tummy-grumbling, had to eat very badly. Got up and ate some torture sambar (Indian dish) which I had made the night before with Garam Masala (Indian Spice Mix) in it. After dragging myself to the gym, I fell asleep on one of the machines after lifting some weights. I went back to my house and read the blogs that I usually read and surprisingly many of them had things on boredom. It is pretty surprising how everyone would feel bored same time. I have done all to get rid of this state, you wont believe I even ran a search on Google on ‘how not to get bored’ and one of websites gave some wonderful ideas, one of them was great thing to do. It asked the bored person to pull his/her hair and stick the pulled hair on to someone else’s ear. Am sleeping now after a torturous bored day, hope I will be okay after a good night’s sleep.

A story

A 55 word story written on other blog for a friendly contest.

Scene 1

“No Capt. Subodh, Don’t”
“Sorry Sir, I can’t do this to him, It’s our Bopu” replied in a loud voice…… With tears in eyes “My Bopu Sir”

Scene 2

“Capt. Bopanna Ponnaccha, don’t worry, you’re are okay, there is no shelling now”
With pain and anguish “Subodh, I know you will come back for me”

WOW- War of Worlds/Words

I think the 100+ nations in the world have all fought wars. Wars have been fought in one way or another, within themselves or against each other in one way or another. The reconciliation committees, the UN, Anti war groups are a few who try to avoid wars of worlds. In war “Nobody wins, everyone loses” in one way or another. Well, I guess I am not knowledgeable enough to discuss world; however I would like to highlight a simple episode(s) that keep(s) happening between a person who I know for years and its just that two strong personalities having a head on fight. A war of words. Words go out as missiles and arrows against each other and it gets a bit too much when other people try and act as reconciliatory and try to sober our war. When I think of it, it is all for trivial matters/discussions which doesn’t add much value to anything; however it is a race to put another person at shame, make him/her feel bad/guilty for what he has done. It is hard to follow the idealism, I have read and try to implement the concept ‘the best way to win an argument is to be quiet’ but many a times the quietness is misunderstood and is taken for granted. I wonder how people can live without valuing another person. I pity all my fellow humans in all those war ridden countries and also all those waging war as well. It’s a shame. If just words cause so much of thinking and anguish, imagine people who die in war who would have suffered both physical and mental abuse. I dread to think about it. The positives and negatives usually balance but in wars the negatives outweigh the positives leaving a permanent scar. It’s a shame that most knowledgeable creatures on earth ‘HUMANS’ fight. In wars, be it war of worlds/words, “EVERYONE LOSES, NOBODY WINS’

The Infectious Epidemic - SMILE

Every one of us would have received thousands or at least hundreds of forwarded emails about SMILE. All of it would have emphasised why we should smile or something about smile, but if you observe the people around, you may find it hard to locate a genuine smile. The SMILEs now are all tainted, expecting something of it or it would be a sarcastic smile or anything but not genuine. If you consider only the adults, I presume that only around 5-10% of people in the world genuinely smile. A boy smiles at a girl expecting that something would happen between them or a worker smiles at his boss to be in good terms with him. A person standing in the bus smiles at the one who is sitting hoping that person would share his seat. As I said, all smiles are not genuine. I guess it is not hard to recognize a genuine smile. One such smile is of a child, a baby or a toddler. I am telling you because I experienced it sometime back in a train. Yes! You read it correct. In a train. It’s weird how people learn from different things from experiences in different places. Anyways, we all were in the train station (we = fellow travellers) waiting for the train. The train was delayed by 20 mins. Oh Boy! It DOES happen here in the UK and it does happen quite frequently. I was talking about the train delays. Um…. as usual, I saw many people with their books/novels/newspaper reading or glancing act. It’s pretty unusual to see someone to read a 500 page novel standing on a platform. There was another set of young – mid aged people with the earphones of their MP3 players/ipods/radios/ whatever gadgets plugged to their ears. I was there with my book in hand ( which I have been reading only while travelling) and listening to the songs on my MP3 player. It is not unusual of me to do both things at the same time. Though I was meant to either read my novel or listen to songs, I wasn’t doing nothing. I was observing people around me. It was 5 mins for the train to arrive. I saw a woman with a beautiful toddler and his buggy rushing down the stairs to get into the train. The train had arrived now and people were getting into the train. The lady smiled at me and I understood she needed some help and I put her buggy in the train as she got into it with her kid. I got in after the lady and the doors were shut. She managed to get the only seat in the compartment next to an old couple and I had to stand. She unfolded the buggy and made her boy sleep in it. I was busy observing people. The baby was awake and was staring at me. It smiled at me and I smiled back, it smiled more. I started to smile more and make funny faces at the baby. I think it liked it and started smiling more and more. People around started to notice the conversation between me and the baby. They all added their bits to it. After a couple of minutes, the part of the compartment where I was all smiley and people were all smiling and talking to each other as if they knew each other for ages. The books, players were all out for a couple of mins and by that time I had to get down. I was thinking as I walk out of the train station that the genuine smile of the baby made the mood in the train light and lovely. That is the actual potential of the smile. I had read about it, now I had experienced it. A smile is definitely infectious and a genuine smile has amazing powers. Next time, genuinely smile at a stranger and let me know what happened???

Yaava MoHana Murali KaReyiTho

Yaava MoHana Murali KaReyiTho, DhUra ThEerake NinnaNu
Yaava BriDHavanaVu SeLeyiTho, Ninna Mannina Kannanu ……

Its two years now, away from my home, home country, home land and my people. I am not feeling bad or sad for what I’ve done but there is definitely something that I do feel something which really can’t be put in words. I gauge how much I’ve gained staying away and then immediately I also think of how much I missed by not being there in my HOME. I can’t realistically calculate which is better and which is not. I sometimes wonder which is better and which is not. I sometimes wonder what made me come here and also think, what I would have been doing if I were not to be here. Sometimes, I feel, I have known people better staying here and also have known various different kinds of people and their lifestyles. It’s all relative and pretty weird. Well, the time can’t go back now. It’s all happened and now I am here in this country, which has taught me so much that I would have taken more time to learn there. I always knew the pastures always look greener on other end of the river but what is that we don’t have back home that this country has? Well, my experience says ‘NOTHING’. People here get one and loose on ten but people back home may not get the one but they so enjoy the rest they have. My stay in the UK is just an experience, not the LIFE. My experience continues and hopefully it would lead to exploring many other things which are due. I still wonder

Yaava MoHana Murali KaReyiTho, DhUra ThEerake NinnaNu
Yaava BriDHavanaVu SeLeyiTho, Ninna Mannina Kannanu ……

(It’s hard to translate this Kannada poem in English; however this is just an attempt.

"Which Krishna’s flute tune is calling you on the other end, which green pasture is attracting you from your land?”)

Another Satisfactory Day!!!

Well, I am not sure who on earth would be interested in what I do each day, but still, I would write this because it has been another satisfactory day of my life. Such days are to me in the recent past. The uncertain-ness, ambiguity, and many similar 100 reasons have never let me be ME. Anyways, it’s everyone’s meal I guess. Um…yes the reasons why I say it was another satisfactory day is because I tried so many new things and also I had an experience which made me feel good (nothing like what u r thinking). First, I played snooker (Hitting the ball to where it was meant to go with the cue. My earlier attempt with snooker was like shooting in the dark) Next, I tried TRAMPOLINE. (The spring net that shoots you up in the air and where one performs all the gymnastics in the air) It is one such feeling where you are falling down but the next moment you are flying. Also, worked out and played badminton for a while. Well, a lot of physical exercise in a day eh? But none of this was not as good as the last one. The one I am talking about is the gesture, an expression of gratitude. It happened that I was behind an old white couple (probably in their 80s and they were using walking sticks to support themselves) on an escalator in a shopping mall. The old gentleman lost his balance on the escalator and was about to fall. I held him from behind and supported him till we reach the top. I was surprised by my reflex. It was good that I held him; else, he would have rolled down the escalator. We reached the top and that is when the man actually saw me and was surprised to see a non white, but he had an expression on his face. Genuine heartfelt thanks. That made my day (well the rest of the evening). It is a pleasure to be a support to someone at times when they really need it and in this case, I was literally a physical support to the man. The feeling of someone being there when you really need someone is very comforting and this feeling can be a cushion during the frequent ‘falls’ of our lives.

Oh!! What a day???

YES!! 27th Aug 2006, has been a great day for me in the UK.. first ..I did the pooja to Lord Ganesha (Hindu God) because it is Ganesha Chathurthi and later in the evening, I had a small leaving do party in a thai restuarant because I quit my old company and joined a new company, it was a lovely dinner with not so many people, but a few who did make it a memorable evening. I enjoyed it, it was awesome and if u dont find any grammatical or spelling errors in the above lines, it means I am NOT drunk as well :)..........

My 'GOOBE' Friends

It would be a tribute to my friends, an honour to me and you will be the victim as my memories flow. I will try n not to mention anybody’s name in here. It will be infringing into their privacy though they are they are my best buddies and also it is against Guru’s Data Protection and Privacy Act of 1999. Um… it is a group of seven people, four boys and three girls, a perfect mix to maintain the rhythm of our lives. It is almost half my life time (at present) since I have known them, most of them since 12 years or more with two of them joining us a year later. Well, it has been a journey, journey of our lives. The past, the present and hopefully the future. We were all tiny little high school kids when we all first met. Every one of us are unique in own way, talented and blessed in one way or another. We were at an age when none of these really did matter to us when we all first met. It was age when we tried to form meanings to our environment, our people. It was the tender age of accepting mostly everything we were offered. The age when we did not know the meaning of relationships or meaning of friendship. The early teens, the beautiful years of ones life, where you expect all the good to you. Good teachers, good pocket money, good parents, good friends, good looking people as friends, everything around you should be good. The age when we learn about ourselves, our body, mind and also think of future in really weird ways. It was the age when we all met, the age when we all were framing our meaning structure of our lives. So for many of us, the whole meaning of all the things I mentioned above revolves around these people. I am not sure of remaining six, but it is how I have frame worked my thoughts. Said that, I would say, I have been one of the few fortunate people in the world who are blessed with at least a few friends. I mean FRIENDS and not acquaintances.

With few secrets among us, we virtually know everything about everyone and we don’t shy away even if we have to confide for the silliest reasons. Many of us have taken similar paths in career and life style; however there are a few like me, who is still hunting to find a solid base to settle down. It has turned out that at every point of time since we have known each other, two of the seven has been doing similar things, like there are two electronic engineers, two doctors (though they specialize in different subjects) and now two girls are married. The days of our high school, college have been precious to us. It is not that we have no other friends than the ‘Goobe’ gang. Of course, we all have. There are many who have played important roles in our lives, many who have influenced us, a few who have been influenced by us. To me, all the new friendships developed are based on my Goobe gang. I guess they have set standards in my life. Oh! Yes, ‘Goobe’ is not our brand name, is not the way we are known to people, it is just the way we are known to ourselves. Goobe (Owl) is just apt and it rhythms with all our names (E.g.: Goobe Guru) and also the fact that most of we goobes were awake the whole night during our college days.

Over 13 years, things haven’t changed much (which I like) with each of us as growing as strong individuals. We all are now professionals or professionals-to-be and we do not have the time to meet as we used to do. The distance constraint, because many of us are in many different continents which sometimes even make a conference chat or call difficult. Of course, more responsibilities, family commitments all make us stay physically far from each other, we may not see each other for years, may not attend marriages or anything like that, we still have the same spirit, the spirit that binds together. I am sure the remaining six would agree to it.

There were days when we all watched a senseless movie together and tried to make sense of it within ourselves. The beautiful days of long and serious telephonic conversations. The serious silences, the little fights and misunderstandings, the offer of help in so many different unimaginable ways, the birthday parties, the meetings ahead of somebody’s b’day, the time spent in greetings gallery selecting cards and laughing at jokes imagining the person who the card is for. All these petite and lovely memories, locked up in me keep me going on. People say not to live in past, but I think, it is the past that makes the present and the present that makes the future. My hats off to my Goobe friends and my sincere thanks to God.

Self Deception!

I believe in God and good, God is not real. I would have had red cheeks by repeated slapping or burnt marks or broken bones by now if He were to be in real. How self deceiving can I get? I pray to God, quite often. It is one of the means for me to find concentration and solace. A means to believe in a belief. Unfortunately, over last three weeks, I have been mean, a swindler for myself. I have been promising to myself and to God every night that I would pray to Him the day next. The next day morning, I would be convinced myself, it is God; it is okay if I don’t do anything today. He won’t punish me for not doing anything and postpone my prayers. I am sad by my act and I should be sorry for that. SORRY!

The Need to BLOG

BLOG – the shortened form of web-log. I guess there are millions of thousands of websites on internet and millions of thousands of users of these websites. Probably there are a few thousands of websites offering blog services and of course the millions of users of these services. But why do these sites offer these services and why do people blog. The websites, yes, it is a part of their revenue generation, but what do we get from blogging. We here, are all bloggers. As I am writing this I am thinking why am I writing this? What for? Who will read this? There are so many blogs and so many users but the probability of someone reading what I write is say 0.00001% which could not been be even considered negligible.

I have asked people, why they write? They have come with answers like “I like writing” which is agreeable or “I want to share my ideas or thoughts” or a few go on “its happening, it’s a forum to exchange views, opinions” but a few exceptional argue that “I just want to write what I feel, I don’t care what people think, I don’t mind if people leave comments on what I write” which I feel is not real, I think people who say that put on a face and hide the reality.

After some deliberation into the reasoning, I found out the reason. The reason why people blog, a few of them may not agree or accept, but I feel it is the absolute truth. We all blog to be ‘APPRECIATED’!! Appreciated for our work, appreciated by people and appreciation for everything we do. The idea may not be practical and many of us would have not even thought about it, but if we knock the door of basic needs of humans, we would definitely find the concept of ‘Appreciation’. I would say appreciation is as basic a need as food, air or water for human to survive, to survive emotionally, though not physically. The law of Darwinism also holds well in this survival ‘Survival of the fittest’

When we get down to the basics of life to survive, everyone does everything to be appreciated for. A kid may start crying in a crowd thinking that his/her parents are drifting their attention from him/her and he is not being appreciated for what he/she does. If an innocent child is all for appreciation, imagine how much we adults crave for it or as in the phrase people ‘die for it’, either knowingly or unknowingly. They may not acknowledge it or they may substitute it with things like love, hate or something similar which are un-quantifiable by themselves.

Finally, we blog! The need for us to blog is only to satisfy our basic need, to quench our thirst for appreciation. I am sure one would be happy to see a comment on their thought, be it a good or bad, at least it reiterates the probability that someone has read your blog and your work has been appreciated irrespective of it being good or bad to you. I guess that is the reason why you can see ‘Number Visited’ meter at the end of some blog pages.