Let’s admit it. Mail (or snail mail as the urban dictionary would say) has certainly taken a backseat and e-mail is the preferred mode of communication today. Thus said, how do we like people to address us? Say, singletomingle@gmail.com , or the oft-quoted example, hotmale@hotmail.com. While your name is widely known all over, you are the bloke with qualities made obvious in your email address when the sender writes to you. So, what are the ‘amusing’ email addresses in aid of?
Studofblr@yahoo.com. Yes, it takes a few moments to decipher it before we realize that we are addressing the stud of Bangalore! Quite likely that the owner of the address is indeed so, but forever? Wouldn’t it be amusing to visualize a very successful advocate with an email identity as legaleagle?. Or a psychiatrist with shrink2011, and a college student with slimshadydude?
There is indeed a fun element in email addresses that sound cool, but it’s a fact that they end up confusing people, especially when distributed en masse. First off, though they know it is you they are writing to, there’s every chance that they would go back to the address, just to make sure. Secondly, you have the problem of identity. If it is Kumar, a kumar in the email address would be easier to relate to, than a kumisindian or a 666_beast. If the intention is to publish our affiliations, there are scores of social media that would serve just the purpose. Finally, we don’t want to paint a picture of ourselves contrary to how we appear.
It is indeed a smarter option to just have our name as it is, for our email address. With over a billion users the world over, names are bound to be in use already, but we could certainly do with permutations and combinations. Say, a Jack could have his email identity as Jack1 or Jack_321, and still be the same guy everyone knows! Don’t these plain names give a sense of purpose in all communication?
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
You’re telling me stories!
“There’s an electric thing about movies!” said Oliver Stone, the man who gave us the insightful Wall Street and the Academy Award winning Platoon. Indeed. For nothing has told us stories better than how films have.
By the way, don’t we all like to tell stories, fiction or not? Presumably we do. So how do you like to tell one?
You can tell a story, by having your gang of buddies over at your place for a drink. If you are of the kind who would start and finish the narrative in a single tone and strain, chances are that more than half of the crowd would either wait for the end of it, or feign concentration or still pathetically, drift off. Well then, you can tell a story by simply writing one. Well, I read so I’d risk reading yours too. How about the bloke next to you who clenches his fists when you open your mouth, let alone read what you’ve written! Is he not missing something?
Simply, make a movie.
“Who, me of all the people?"
Yeah, why not? Did you ever want to be a film maker?
“Well, I don’t know. Nothing like I never got the idea.”
Then you have the worm inside you. Get it out or get going.
Technology is out there to be used. All you need is a good story to tell. A narrative on film is experiential and has the potential to arrest the imagination of the audience for the while you choose to. Effectiveness is the key word here. What speeches couldn’t achieve alone, OHP slides did. PowerPoint presentations overcame the shortcomings of the transparent sheets, with images and sound. And now, videos are increasingly doing the talking at meetings and conferences.
I tried telling a story above, maybe it didn’t quite hold you. Let’s try it this way. If you ever wanted to be a pilot but couldn’t make one, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make a movie. No, not on how to be a pilot, unless you choose to, silly! On the big screen, on the TV or on your camcorder, the medium is your choice. Make a movie and take me on your flight. I’m surrendering my imagination to yours. If you’re selling a product, I’ll buy the idea and maybe the product too, if I get taken in. If you’re taking my trip, I’m ready, only that I need to fly. And if you are simply telling me a story, I’m all eyes and ears!
Shoot, not with an automatic but an auto-focus. Shoot pictures, which move. You have shot and captured scenes for eternity. The time, the location, the light, the sound and the motion are all framed for everyone to see. All at the press of a button. The power of shooting is enormous, which you’d agree.
Did I tell my story yet? If I did, I’m still good at my craft. If not, no worries. I’m off to get my HandyCam and some folks like me to get in front of the lens. It’s an electrifying feeling.
I want my story to be told, at any cost! Well, almost any!
-Met
By the way, don’t we all like to tell stories, fiction or not? Presumably we do. So how do you like to tell one?
You can tell a story, by having your gang of buddies over at your place for a drink. If you are of the kind who would start and finish the narrative in a single tone and strain, chances are that more than half of the crowd would either wait for the end of it, or feign concentration or still pathetically, drift off. Well then, you can tell a story by simply writing one. Well, I read so I’d risk reading yours too. How about the bloke next to you who clenches his fists when you open your mouth, let alone read what you’ve written! Is he not missing something?
Simply, make a movie.
“Who, me of all the people?"
Yeah, why not? Did you ever want to be a film maker?
“Well, I don’t know. Nothing like I never got the idea.”
Then you have the worm inside you. Get it out or get going.
Technology is out there to be used. All you need is a good story to tell. A narrative on film is experiential and has the potential to arrest the imagination of the audience for the while you choose to. Effectiveness is the key word here. What speeches couldn’t achieve alone, OHP slides did. PowerPoint presentations overcame the shortcomings of the transparent sheets, with images and sound. And now, videos are increasingly doing the talking at meetings and conferences.
I tried telling a story above, maybe it didn’t quite hold you. Let’s try it this way. If you ever wanted to be a pilot but couldn’t make one, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make a movie. No, not on how to be a pilot, unless you choose to, silly! On the big screen, on the TV or on your camcorder, the medium is your choice. Make a movie and take me on your flight. I’m surrendering my imagination to yours. If you’re selling a product, I’ll buy the idea and maybe the product too, if I get taken in. If you’re taking my trip, I’m ready, only that I need to fly. And if you are simply telling me a story, I’m all eyes and ears!
Shoot, not with an automatic but an auto-focus. Shoot pictures, which move. You have shot and captured scenes for eternity. The time, the location, the light, the sound and the motion are all framed for everyone to see. All at the press of a button. The power of shooting is enormous, which you’d agree.
Did I tell my story yet? If I did, I’m still good at my craft. If not, no worries. I’m off to get my HandyCam and some folks like me to get in front of the lens. It’s an electrifying feeling.
I want my story to be told, at any cost! Well, almost any!
-Met
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Jabberish
With loquacious folk, it would be unsurprising if you even found them talking to themselves on a fine afternoon. Better still, if there was someone who listens to and engages in active conversation with them, it would be a gab fest every day apparently. It is no unfair classification of Roy the Stud, in this group of verbal heroes.
Roy’s mother is his confidante and alter ego. And when it comes to his ways and means, she can be his nemesis. Ray is her name and her mind is one hell of an X-Ray. When she’s in search mode, nothing escapes the scanner. She is smug when she claims that she’s seen the world through its population and most of them have submitted a sample of their psyche to her. And our friend but adds to her belief in more than generous measure. While it is nice to share thoughts with people, the idea of blurting out everything may not be most appealing to everyone. Roy just about manages that, yes.
Sample this.
Roy: Mom; Mom: Yes; R: Planning to buy a Jeep; M: Yeah? What on earth for? R: To drive around, mom; M: Why not the car we already have? R: Jeep is good for taking off on cross country trips; M: When did you last do your cc trip? R: Last year; M: Very recently, I must say! And you did that in the one rented from the cottage you stayed in; R: But that’s because I don’t have a Jeep to go around in, mom. M: Who typically goes with you? R: Mmm, well, not anyone that I can think of; M: So you want to drive alone? R: You and dad can always give me company; M: High hopes! Get married and buy a truck if you please; R:Huh? M: Yeah! Grow up, kid!
This, as anyone would agree, is a conversation totally uncalled for. For one, he wouldn’t get a Jeep for himself in the near future even if his desire to do so burns bright. This is quite simply for the fact that there’s no space for a second vehicle in the patio of his house. Secondly, Jeep is not a family car and his family does not fancy a rattle-ride around the city, when they already have a comfortable little hatchback. Of course this small talk only helped his mom to fire the last salvo, serving to reinforce her assumptions about her son.
Roy works for a huge multinational, more in name than in character. His weekday evenings at home are spent chatting about office and his weekends, about books movies and women. So who’s his audience? There are no prizes for guessing. If Ms. Ray were to do some trend analysis, she would only have done fair to arrive at some conclusions. Some of her frequently heard statements as a result:
“The time you are using to read ‘Lonely Planet’, could perhaps have been used to brush up SAS”
“You see, it takes people like SV Rao to make an organization tick. If you can’t beat them, join them”
“So why don’t you talk to the girl who you said stares at you? That’ll save me the trouble of looking for a match! Did you say she’s a Brahmin?”
“Get talking to your VP in the US, and tell him you’d love to be invited to dinner at his place!”
“C’mon we only watch SaReGaMa, when you’re not watching Rajini flicks. You need to be fair!”
“Can you run our family next month onward?”
The other day I happened to meet Roy when he was busy typing out fiercely on his notebook. I asked him if it was a document of national importance he was creating, and he corrected me with ‘Global’. Was I being too curious to know what it was all about? He said not at all, as it was a brief statement that would go on his blog. The post is out now and reads as follows:
‘If you really are of the type who can’t keep their thoughts to themselves, key them in, like I did just now. It helps! Verbal transparency can leave you exposed top down!’
-Met
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Stars and Stripes
America! America!!
Whence came the love of this land?
Chances aplenty they say;
Prod ‘em long and they’d say
Chances aplenty but they take.
Greenbacks have turned us green
The trend can’t be turned by any hand.
If your folks are in America seen,
simply know if they are at the Bay
and ask if they’d ever come back to Motherland!
Whence came the love of this land?
Chances aplenty they say;
Prod ‘em long and they’d say
Chances aplenty but they take.
Greenbacks have turned us green
The trend can’t be turned by any hand.
If your folks are in America seen,
simply know if they are at the Bay
and ask if they’d ever come back to Motherland!
For the Ball
‘Twas a weekend the world couldn’t wait for;
‘twas a game none could miss for
‘twas against a side the most pined for;
History were the Albicelestes made of
The Deutschen, as steady as a rock and full of
determination were. The latter hammered one
after the other. Four to zero and they’d sure won.
Upsets marked 2010. The quarters said them all.
Game after game, the titans were but made to fall.
The finale next Sun is something we simply are waiting for.
-Metafore
‘twas a game none could miss for
‘twas against a side the most pined for;
History were the Albicelestes made of
The Deutschen, as steady as a rock and full of
determination were. The latter hammered one
after the other. Four to zero and they’d sure won.
Upsets marked 2010. The quarters said them all.
Game after game, the titans were but made to fall.
The finale next Sun is something we simply are waiting for.
-Metafore
Monday, June 7, 2010
Fancying Punches
“I know you’re a daddy now. If the project doesn’t get completed at the earliest, you’ll soon be a Mummy!”
Forceful dialogue is something all of us fancy and rightfully so. It may however border on the amusing, if people make a conscious effort to make grand statements all the time. Like the chap who said in staccato fashion -‘When you gotta shoot, just shoot. Don’t talk’ - the legendary line from The Good, The Bad & The Ugly. He apparently was only egging his buddy on to finish up the work in double time. But even for the mildest cynic, he was probably trying to show off his taste for classics or simply his reverence for quotes. If the author were to be in our friend’s place, he might have taken a meaner route to see that no time was wasted in work and later perhaps had a nice little chat on Sergio Leone and his brand of films, of how Clint Eastwood suited the role and why the lines from the film became history.
What have people achieved by often spewing big lines, famous and otherwise? Once a person becomes predictable in his/her style of talking, it wouldn’t be hard for others to smirk and nod their heads to all he or she utters. The author had asked of an acquaintance, who he had wrongly assumed was a good friend as to why she didn’t bother to stay in touch. Her reply came pat “I’m hermit-like and prefer to remain a recluse! When people need my help, I’m there for them.” Intentions were perhaps true and honest, but the way the words came out simply smacked of pomp. Such lines would probably serve to offend the other person at the least, if he/she were to be slightly more discerning. There’s every chance that people firing punch lines are looked on as having stock ideas in mind and center their conversations on those ideas. Typically they’d visualize the world as revolving around them. Narcissists if you please. The author uses the word, as inflated ego is a very essential ingredient of Narcissism. Their views are generally contrary to reality and tend to be exaggerated.
Using quotes per se is not a mean thing at all, lest the reader begins to assume what he’s reading is a tirade against one liners and quotes. They do act as garnishing to a conversation and help make it spicy. A line referred to as a line has always found favor with audiences. A dialogue which warrants quotes is bound to be an extremely interesting one. There was this gentleman who was talking about how we take ourselves too seriously and that we look at life like we are on battlefield. His talk was agreeable in parts no doubt. What impressed some of us was the way he signed off, quoting Sir Charles Chaplin. “In the end, everything is a gag!” On the contrary, sample this. A bloke who generally felt the world around him was divided in every way was always caught making statements that begin with, “You see there are two kinds of people in this world…” While it cannot be denied that two-kinds-of-people lines are hugely popular, excessive usage of those lines in normal conversations may strip variety off the dialogue.
Without more ado, lets just suffice to say that variety is the spice of language as much as it is of life. Preserve variety and get rid of stereotypes!
-Met
Forceful dialogue is something all of us fancy and rightfully so. It may however border on the amusing, if people make a conscious effort to make grand statements all the time. Like the chap who said in staccato fashion -‘When you gotta shoot, just shoot. Don’t talk’ - the legendary line from The Good, The Bad & The Ugly. He apparently was only egging his buddy on to finish up the work in double time. But even for the mildest cynic, he was probably trying to show off his taste for classics or simply his reverence for quotes. If the author were to be in our friend’s place, he might have taken a meaner route to see that no time was wasted in work and later perhaps had a nice little chat on Sergio Leone and his brand of films, of how Clint Eastwood suited the role and why the lines from the film became history.
What have people achieved by often spewing big lines, famous and otherwise? Once a person becomes predictable in his/her style of talking, it wouldn’t be hard for others to smirk and nod their heads to all he or she utters. The author had asked of an acquaintance, who he had wrongly assumed was a good friend as to why she didn’t bother to stay in touch. Her reply came pat “I’m hermit-like and prefer to remain a recluse! When people need my help, I’m there for them.” Intentions were perhaps true and honest, but the way the words came out simply smacked of pomp. Such lines would probably serve to offend the other person at the least, if he/she were to be slightly more discerning. There’s every chance that people firing punch lines are looked on as having stock ideas in mind and center their conversations on those ideas. Typically they’d visualize the world as revolving around them. Narcissists if you please. The author uses the word, as inflated ego is a very essential ingredient of Narcissism. Their views are generally contrary to reality and tend to be exaggerated.
Using quotes per se is not a mean thing at all, lest the reader begins to assume what he’s reading is a tirade against one liners and quotes. They do act as garnishing to a conversation and help make it spicy. A line referred to as a line has always found favor with audiences. A dialogue which warrants quotes is bound to be an extremely interesting one. There was this gentleman who was talking about how we take ourselves too seriously and that we look at life like we are on battlefield. His talk was agreeable in parts no doubt. What impressed some of us was the way he signed off, quoting Sir Charles Chaplin. “In the end, everything is a gag!” On the contrary, sample this. A bloke who generally felt the world around him was divided in every way was always caught making statements that begin with, “You see there are two kinds of people in this world…” While it cannot be denied that two-kinds-of-people lines are hugely popular, excessive usage of those lines in normal conversations may strip variety off the dialogue.
Without more ado, lets just suffice to say that variety is the spice of language as much as it is of life. Preserve variety and get rid of stereotypes!
-Met
Sunday, February 7, 2010
A Weak Two Weeks
The day of the delivery of the big project was two weeks away. The client was nervous, given that the whole business worked on the offshore model, and sending critical and highly visible work to the East was apparently a gamble for them.
The run up to the D-day was not extremely hectic and there was plenty of time to plan the execution out. Things had gone without a hitch so far. And that’s perhaps why the nerves of the blessed soul working on the project were all bundled up. The calm before the storm is generally eerie and this was no exception. Roy, working solely for the client, was ever mindful of Monday the 10th. He had only himself to parley with, for that alone seemed to work well to iron out uncertainties.
“Heck, I shouldn’t let these people down, but there’s so much of data that there’s bound to be a miss somewhere!” said Roy. “But what makes you think you’re going to miss something?” This was the collective voice of his nerves, which were actually putting up a brave act of composure. “Well, the tone of the clients is very alarmist and panicky.” His nervous system dropped guard for a moment, but came back with a reassuring, “You know that’s the way they are. It’s not them you’re worried about, but the output at the end. Just think the data is most critical to you.” Our friend thought he felt better and resumed his work. Before long, it was weekend and Roy watched films and birds. It was now Monday and there was still a week to go. The emails were all harmless, save for one, which really didn’t mean harm. “Hi Roy, you know we have a week to go and I hope everything is on course?” This time, Roy’s nerves broke the silence. “Man, you’re sure you’ve got everything covered?” He was now at his irresolute best. He revisited all the files and put automated quality checks in place, but wasn’t at peace anyway. Roy felt his nervous system had only served to make his days terrible.
It was consequential that he resolved to wreck his nerves, obviously in sub consciousness. It’s the next weekend already now and time to rebuild all of it, if only for dear life that would be at stake come Monday.
-Met
The run up to the D-day was not extremely hectic and there was plenty of time to plan the execution out. Things had gone without a hitch so far. And that’s perhaps why the nerves of the blessed soul working on the project were all bundled up. The calm before the storm is generally eerie and this was no exception. Roy, working solely for the client, was ever mindful of Monday the 10th. He had only himself to parley with, for that alone seemed to work well to iron out uncertainties.
“Heck, I shouldn’t let these people down, but there’s so much of data that there’s bound to be a miss somewhere!” said Roy. “But what makes you think you’re going to miss something?” This was the collective voice of his nerves, which were actually putting up a brave act of composure. “Well, the tone of the clients is very alarmist and panicky.” His nervous system dropped guard for a moment, but came back with a reassuring, “You know that’s the way they are. It’s not them you’re worried about, but the output at the end. Just think the data is most critical to you.” Our friend thought he felt better and resumed his work. Before long, it was weekend and Roy watched films and birds. It was now Monday and there was still a week to go. The emails were all harmless, save for one, which really didn’t mean harm. “Hi Roy, you know we have a week to go and I hope everything is on course?” This time, Roy’s nerves broke the silence. “Man, you’re sure you’ve got everything covered?” He was now at his irresolute best. He revisited all the files and put automated quality checks in place, but wasn’t at peace anyway. Roy felt his nervous system had only served to make his days terrible.
It was consequential that he resolved to wreck his nerves, obviously in sub consciousness. It’s the next weekend already now and time to rebuild all of it, if only for dear life that would be at stake come Monday.
-Met
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Flash Fiction
Wikipedia says "Flash fiction is fiction of extreme brevity. There is no widely accepted definition of the length of the category. Some self-described markets for flash fiction impose caps as low as 300, while others consider stories as long as 1000 words to be flash fiction".
The following is the first of my attempts at this form of writing. Looking forward to brickbats, along with bouquets!
-Met
The following is the first of my attempts at this form of writing. Looking forward to brickbats, along with bouquets!
-Met
Of Glances!
Yesterday, I rented this film from the local rental. The store chap was no more in the know about it than I was. It was not the most popular one to have hit the screens, but had made some noises when it was released. With an intriguing name as ‘Loubonamy’ for an English flick which meant gibberish at best, I was quite eager to watch it at the first available opportunity. I had decided against surfing the internet to read more, given that it was common knowledge that it had abysmal rating on IMDB.
Eara, my beloved and a greater film buff than me, was almost getting done with the wooly she was knitting. Loubonamy reining our thoughts, we were done with our prior occupations very soon and all set to get the film started. A thought gradually came over. Was it one of those B-movies that came and went under the guise of parallel cinema? I didn’t want to counter Eara’s knowing glances in the next few minutes if it was indeed so. She wasn’t loath to sexual matters in any way, but certainly wouldn’t want to end a Saturday evening reserved for great cinema with repulsive images of lust. The credits started to roll. I noticed that the film had not been made by any of the studios I could recognize. Taking my optimism to greater heights, I reckoned that it was perhaps made by extremely creative & independent film makers who didn’t win great support from the big bosses.I stopped concentrating on the names and began an impatient wait for the real picture, as the images in the background now were generally of little spots of light flashing on and off.
The film started spectacularly, with a car chase. But when the talking happened, it was English all right, but with a more-than-liberal dose of seemingly meaningless words. Eara said she wanted it on pause, while I could check the internet for what it really was all about. Google search led us to a website that congratulated on our being some millionth visitors to a one-stop-shop for all ‘accessories’!
I did get Eara’s glances after all!
Eara, my beloved and a greater film buff than me, was almost getting done with the wooly she was knitting. Loubonamy reining our thoughts, we were done with our prior occupations very soon and all set to get the film started. A thought gradually came over. Was it one of those B-movies that came and went under the guise of parallel cinema? I didn’t want to counter Eara’s knowing glances in the next few minutes if it was indeed so. She wasn’t loath to sexual matters in any way, but certainly wouldn’t want to end a Saturday evening reserved for great cinema with repulsive images of lust. The credits started to roll. I noticed that the film had not been made by any of the studios I could recognize. Taking my optimism to greater heights, I reckoned that it was perhaps made by extremely creative & independent film makers who didn’t win great support from the big bosses.I stopped concentrating on the names and began an impatient wait for the real picture, as the images in the background now were generally of little spots of light flashing on and off.
The film started spectacularly, with a car chase. But when the talking happened, it was English all right, but with a more-than-liberal dose of seemingly meaningless words. Eara said she wanted it on pause, while I could check the internet for what it really was all about. Google search led us to a website that congratulated on our being some millionth visitors to a one-stop-shop for all ‘accessories’!
I did get Eara’s glances after all!
Friday, November 27, 2009
Stranded!
Hi! I’m one of the few survivors on the shiny surface of the great Mr. Jack’s noggin. His name really is Jakaram Gafur, but he has always taken a fancy for shortened westernized names, and ‘Jack ‘is but consequential.
During his heyday, when he was all of twenty five, and when there was a lot of might in his arms, we were a happier lot. For starters, there were many of us. I had my position right on top of the pate, while there were so many on the extreme left and right, and the new wave flowing down to the neck. Not to forget a strip running alongside his big wide ears! That was some crop, really! We were a well groomed lot, and we smacked of richness. Jack would carry us on him to places high and mighty! We all got to see the hottest looking lasses in sizzling attire, we got to see men with crop as great as ours, but in varied styles.
The scene was slightly different when Jack was a student though. He would use coconut oil to see that we stayed strong and healthy. I never got an opportunity to sniff myself, but my neighbors didn’t smell great anyway! In fact, I haven’t rued my life on his top more than the extent to which I did those days! It used to remind me of the ghettos of the turbulent past. A bunch of seniors and I used to regularly agree that he needed to learn a thing or two about fashion and good looks! Hell, he used to stifle us with a round cap quite porous in nature, which was but a lid on our freedom. I remember one chap quipping about the dome, which would fall on us once a week. “Gentlemen, get ready for the blindfolded walk!”
One day, somebody suggested that he had it in him to be a model. Chiseled features, what? Of course, Mr. Somebody also told him that he had a fantastic mop which only added to his appeal! Beautiful people, weren’t we? So off set Jack, to a nearby studio. The bloke behind the lens did a fine job of capturing him in complete style. Armed with a portfolio, Jack met a famous designer the next day and it was the beginning of an era of fame and fortune. ‘Jackie Walker’, his bosom pal had apparently called him! Our lot started seeing better days. Gel! We could finally say we gelled well with Jack! A thick and a caring shampoo , and a comfortable shower from warm white water diving from fancy bath fittings later, it used to be time for the crystal blue paste (what everyone prefers to call Gel), to get spread on us. Wow! That was some massage! And we just became more fragrant! In length we grew, and in strength as well.
We basked in such glory for a good few years before I started seeing some of my buddies just vanishing. They were the ones who stood at the front. I reckon it’s a universal phenomenon that people at the front are the ones who give their lives, be it war or the head. His forehead clearing out, everyone could see the lines of worry writ large across. And we were worried no less! Jack’s friends said it was hereditary, and the blighter accepted it. Those were the days when treating loss of folks like me wasn’t very popular and was extremely expensive. So he just let be! It was sheer apathy, we felt. It was about the same time that his contract with his studio bosses terminated. His dad, who had none of our ilk on his head, strongly advised him to quit walking about and help him in business. And that my friend, signaled the beginning of the end!
As I tell you this, I hold one of the last remaining bastions of hope. I’m frail, and I’ve lost color. I along with others have grayed with age. I’m not long enough anymore. Sun light hurts me, as it does to his head. I need to be cut regularly, so that he doesn’t look like Einstein. I haven’t smelled gel in years. We are a dried up lot now. Mind you, his sideburns are still a stronger patch, and an attraction. It probably helped them to have remained on the sidelines!
In a while, Jack will set off to visit a chap who claims to bring back my folks, from the dead. I personally haven’t bought the idea, but one cannot question science. I have lived my life on one head, and seen great and not-so-great times. I’m not too keen on meeting an entirely new bunch of artificially created sprouts who, in every possibility will be showing off. Gosh, please help me tide over the coming ordeal and have a natural passage! I’m stranded like never before!!!
During his heyday, when he was all of twenty five, and when there was a lot of might in his arms, we were a happier lot. For starters, there were many of us. I had my position right on top of the pate, while there were so many on the extreme left and right, and the new wave flowing down to the neck. Not to forget a strip running alongside his big wide ears! That was some crop, really! We were a well groomed lot, and we smacked of richness. Jack would carry us on him to places high and mighty! We all got to see the hottest looking lasses in sizzling attire, we got to see men with crop as great as ours, but in varied styles.
The scene was slightly different when Jack was a student though. He would use coconut oil to see that we stayed strong and healthy. I never got an opportunity to sniff myself, but my neighbors didn’t smell great anyway! In fact, I haven’t rued my life on his top more than the extent to which I did those days! It used to remind me of the ghettos of the turbulent past. A bunch of seniors and I used to regularly agree that he needed to learn a thing or two about fashion and good looks! Hell, he used to stifle us with a round cap quite porous in nature, which was but a lid on our freedom. I remember one chap quipping about the dome, which would fall on us once a week. “Gentlemen, get ready for the blindfolded walk!”
One day, somebody suggested that he had it in him to be a model. Chiseled features, what? Of course, Mr. Somebody also told him that he had a fantastic mop which only added to his appeal! Beautiful people, weren’t we? So off set Jack, to a nearby studio. The bloke behind the lens did a fine job of capturing him in complete style. Armed with a portfolio, Jack met a famous designer the next day and it was the beginning of an era of fame and fortune. ‘Jackie Walker’, his bosom pal had apparently called him! Our lot started seeing better days. Gel! We could finally say we gelled well with Jack! A thick and a caring shampoo , and a comfortable shower from warm white water diving from fancy bath fittings later, it used to be time for the crystal blue paste (what everyone prefers to call Gel), to get spread on us. Wow! That was some massage! And we just became more fragrant! In length we grew, and in strength as well.
We basked in such glory for a good few years before I started seeing some of my buddies just vanishing. They were the ones who stood at the front. I reckon it’s a universal phenomenon that people at the front are the ones who give their lives, be it war or the head. His forehead clearing out, everyone could see the lines of worry writ large across. And we were worried no less! Jack’s friends said it was hereditary, and the blighter accepted it. Those were the days when treating loss of folks like me wasn’t very popular and was extremely expensive. So he just let be! It was sheer apathy, we felt. It was about the same time that his contract with his studio bosses terminated. His dad, who had none of our ilk on his head, strongly advised him to quit walking about and help him in business. And that my friend, signaled the beginning of the end!
As I tell you this, I hold one of the last remaining bastions of hope. I’m frail, and I’ve lost color. I along with others have grayed with age. I’m not long enough anymore. Sun light hurts me, as it does to his head. I need to be cut regularly, so that he doesn’t look like Einstein. I haven’t smelled gel in years. We are a dried up lot now. Mind you, his sideburns are still a stronger patch, and an attraction. It probably helped them to have remained on the sidelines!
In a while, Jack will set off to visit a chap who claims to bring back my folks, from the dead. I personally haven’t bought the idea, but one cannot question science. I have lived my life on one head, and seen great and not-so-great times. I’m not too keen on meeting an entirely new bunch of artificially created sprouts who, in every possibility will be showing off. Gosh, please help me tide over the coming ordeal and have a natural passage! I’m stranded like never before!!!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Unified
The Wall fell in Eighty Nine,
When I was hardly nine
Since then, stories I’ve heard many
about East and West Germany!
Heck, the first half was bloody and the second was cold
Around a century of wars made the land wizened and old!
Its twenty now in two thousand nine, and the nation says
Twenty first is mine!!!
When I was hardly nine
Since then, stories I’ve heard many
about East and West Germany!
Heck, the first half was bloody and the second was cold
Around a century of wars made the land wizened and old!
Its twenty now in two thousand nine, and the nation says
Twenty first is mine!!!
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Tony Traveling
(All characters and situations fictitious. No connection to anyone or anything in the big bad world around us!)
Tony, boy, was he glad! He managed to get a seat on the bus and it was a great feeling indeed. A long and slow journey waited, and within minutes the bus would be inching ahead to full capacity.
The Jantivahana from Yeshwantpur to ITPL winds along one of the longest routes in Bangalore city. Not that there’s no shorter route to reach the destination, but the state-run bus service means to connect as many areas as possible, given that ITPL is nestled in the distant suburbs of the city, and not many private carriers operate from different localities to here.
The traffic was monstrous enough to drive anyone crazy. Presently the bus left the station and started plodding along the central business district, and Tony closed his eyes, hoping to catch up on some lost sleep. He had a long day at work waiting.
Flop! Somebody sat down heavily on the seat next to his, and he felt slightly displaced. He was forced to turn and look at the source of such an impact. It was a rotund personality, dark in complexion, a thin moustache running above his lips. He had unkempt hair which smelt of coconut oil, wore a shirt with floral patterns and the top two buttons removed. The man purchased a ticket to Maharani’s college stop. Not a great distance at all. Tony looked out the window for a second and went back to his nap. Just that he wasn’t getting lulled to sleep however much he tried. His thoughts kept going back to the individual seated next to him. It reminded him of a person who looked similar. He tried recollecting his memory.
“For men may come and men may go, but I go on forever”. Tony found the line by Alfred Tennyson very apt for his tenure in the company he was working with. He quoted this, while he was walking down M.G.Road with a pal, and looking at the back lit hoarding that had the picture of a svelte woman advertising a brand of Whiskey. He bumped into someone coming the opposite way. “I’m sorry, please excuse”, he said and moved on. The person, to whom he said took a few steps back and stopped Tony. “Hi, you look familiar. Do you have a minute on you?” “I’m sorry I don’t know you.” “You’re Tony aren’t you?” “Yeah, that’s right. Tell me, how could I help you?” “That’s great then. You see I have to deliver this package to you. I was told that you would be waiting near the Metro station. I’m sorry I’m late that you started walking away. Thankfully I found you!” Tony was zapped. He suspected foul play immediately, and started walking away quickly. He didn’t even stop to pull his buddy out from there. It couldn’t be denied that fear gripped him. So much that he found himself running. He ran till he was out of breath, turned to an alley that connects M.G.Road to Church Street, reached for the nearest wall he could crash on to. Who on earth was the stranger? Most probably a bagman. When he could breathe normally again, he flashed out his mobile phone and called his friend. “Where the hell are you?” “You tell me where you are? Everything ok with you. Is that bloke still after you?” “Nope, I’m alone and walking back and forth looking for you. So where are you?” ‘Oh, I’m near the back door of Emgees. You know, where you can get on to Church Street.” ‘Ok, hang in there, and I’ll join you in a minute.” When his friend did join him, Tony saw that he hadn’t come empty handed. In his hand was the package that he had run away from. “You ran like crazy! This IS the thing you were waiting for” “What! You ok? Now don’t try funny business with me.” “Of course I won’t, you know that” “C’mon man, tell me what the deal is.” “Easy go! It’s just that the courier that came from Oracle didn’t reach you, as you were out the whole day. I wanted to surprise you, so I called up this chap who had brought the package to be delivered, arranged for me to come here and give the stuff to you personally!” “Hell, why would you want to do THAAT? Like a parcel can’t wait for a day!” “The parcel could wait for sure, but I couldn’t!” “You’re weird” “Why don’t you open it and see what’s in.” Tony had no choice but to humour his pal. He opened the parcel gingerly, and realized at first glance, that it was a job offer from Oracle, with a handsome pay pack and a fancy designation!
The traffic was painfully slow-moving. So was the bus. It was nearing Maharani’s college and the courier-agent lookalike was getting ready to alight. Tony smiled to himself. He never found out as to why his M.G.Road pal wanted to be present at the moment he saw his offer, but he did realize later that the latter was interested in some research on logistics management.
In a couple of minutes, the next to him was filled by an elderly woman who was waiting for the seat from the time the bus departed from the terminus. Goodness, would he ever get a face even remotely interesting as a traveling companion? The conductor came by, and she bought a ticket to Marathalli. Heck, that was some distance! He looked away, and caught sight of a lady with a crimson top, on a scooterette. She was not too bad looking. He tried to fix his gaze on her as long as he could. All that came to his mind now was the Jasmine seller two streets away from his house. He turned his head back in and looked at the occupant in the next seat, and let out a big sigh!
“It’s going to be a ‘memorable’ journey, and I’ve nearly had it already!”
-Met
Tony, boy, was he glad! He managed to get a seat on the bus and it was a great feeling indeed. A long and slow journey waited, and within minutes the bus would be inching ahead to full capacity.
The Jantivahana from Yeshwantpur to ITPL winds along one of the longest routes in Bangalore city. Not that there’s no shorter route to reach the destination, but the state-run bus service means to connect as many areas as possible, given that ITPL is nestled in the distant suburbs of the city, and not many private carriers operate from different localities to here.
The traffic was monstrous enough to drive anyone crazy. Presently the bus left the station and started plodding along the central business district, and Tony closed his eyes, hoping to catch up on some lost sleep. He had a long day at work waiting.
Flop! Somebody sat down heavily on the seat next to his, and he felt slightly displaced. He was forced to turn and look at the source of such an impact. It was a rotund personality, dark in complexion, a thin moustache running above his lips. He had unkempt hair which smelt of coconut oil, wore a shirt with floral patterns and the top two buttons removed. The man purchased a ticket to Maharani’s college stop. Not a great distance at all. Tony looked out the window for a second and went back to his nap. Just that he wasn’t getting lulled to sleep however much he tried. His thoughts kept going back to the individual seated next to him. It reminded him of a person who looked similar. He tried recollecting his memory.
“For men may come and men may go, but I go on forever”. Tony found the line by Alfred Tennyson very apt for his tenure in the company he was working with. He quoted this, while he was walking down M.G.Road with a pal, and looking at the back lit hoarding that had the picture of a svelte woman advertising a brand of Whiskey. He bumped into someone coming the opposite way. “I’m sorry, please excuse”, he said and moved on. The person, to whom he said took a few steps back and stopped Tony. “Hi, you look familiar. Do you have a minute on you?” “I’m sorry I don’t know you.” “You’re Tony aren’t you?” “Yeah, that’s right. Tell me, how could I help you?” “That’s great then. You see I have to deliver this package to you. I was told that you would be waiting near the Metro station. I’m sorry I’m late that you started walking away. Thankfully I found you!” Tony was zapped. He suspected foul play immediately, and started walking away quickly. He didn’t even stop to pull his buddy out from there. It couldn’t be denied that fear gripped him. So much that he found himself running. He ran till he was out of breath, turned to an alley that connects M.G.Road to Church Street, reached for the nearest wall he could crash on to. Who on earth was the stranger? Most probably a bagman. When he could breathe normally again, he flashed out his mobile phone and called his friend. “Where the hell are you?” “You tell me where you are? Everything ok with you. Is that bloke still after you?” “Nope, I’m alone and walking back and forth looking for you. So where are you?” ‘Oh, I’m near the back door of Emgees. You know, where you can get on to Church Street.” ‘Ok, hang in there, and I’ll join you in a minute.” When his friend did join him, Tony saw that he hadn’t come empty handed. In his hand was the package that he had run away from. “You ran like crazy! This IS the thing you were waiting for” “What! You ok? Now don’t try funny business with me.” “Of course I won’t, you know that” “C’mon man, tell me what the deal is.” “Easy go! It’s just that the courier that came from Oracle didn’t reach you, as you were out the whole day. I wanted to surprise you, so I called up this chap who had brought the package to be delivered, arranged for me to come here and give the stuff to you personally!” “Hell, why would you want to do THAAT? Like a parcel can’t wait for a day!” “The parcel could wait for sure, but I couldn’t!” “You’re weird” “Why don’t you open it and see what’s in.” Tony had no choice but to humour his pal. He opened the parcel gingerly, and realized at first glance, that it was a job offer from Oracle, with a handsome pay pack and a fancy designation!
The traffic was painfully slow-moving. So was the bus. It was nearing Maharani’s college and the courier-agent lookalike was getting ready to alight. Tony smiled to himself. He never found out as to why his M.G.Road pal wanted to be present at the moment he saw his offer, but he did realize later that the latter was interested in some research on logistics management.
In a couple of minutes, the next to him was filled by an elderly woman who was waiting for the seat from the time the bus departed from the terminus. Goodness, would he ever get a face even remotely interesting as a traveling companion? The conductor came by, and she bought a ticket to Marathalli. Heck, that was some distance! He looked away, and caught sight of a lady with a crimson top, on a scooterette. She was not too bad looking. He tried to fix his gaze on her as long as he could. All that came to his mind now was the Jasmine seller two streets away from his house. He turned his head back in and looked at the occupant in the next seat, and let out a big sigh!
“It’s going to be a ‘memorable’ journey, and I’ve nearly had it already!”
-Met
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Stomacracy!
“Plenty sits still, hunger is a wanderer!” The Zulus of South Africa were a wise lot apparently, given the punch they’ve packed in the simple yet powerful quote in the preceding line.
Indeed, the quote seems to hold true for X these days. As the handful of people who know him would agree, his appearances are in no way suggestive of his ever increasing appetite. Till a few months ago, X was as thin as a stick, had hairy hands and bent shoulders. And he used to just nibble at the food on his plate. We could vouch for rats to be better players at the game! Came June, and what gripped him was the fever that has caught the fancy of the young brigade en masse’ these days. He started attending the local gymnasium, as he says, to ‘stay fit and healthy’. Really, wasn’t his move suspiciously suggestive of his desire to bulk up and get a sculpted body in the meantime?
Cut to the present, and X’s got a figure not-too-bad. He could do better with a more regular workout. But this in itself has brought about a sea change in his desire to eat. His breakfast spread reminds you of the imperial one at the manor. And his time at the table runs long enough for the first morsel he took to have already gone halfway in the digestion process. That’s not all. Psychology happens to guide his ever growing hunger pangs. The advice of his psyche would read something to the following effect; “Hey, don’t you forget that you are gymming, son! Think about all the calories you burn, and how much more you need to be taking in. Have you been able to go beyond the 12 pound barbell? It wouldn’t be a surprise if you start losing weight instead of gaining!” Sounding as it does, like a warning from the skies, X goes about with single minded dedication in laying his hands on anything edible, till he’s stuffed to the neck! With the belly fully fed, he sets on his way to work on a cab ride that serves to aid quicker digestion of his morning’s intake. No sooner is he done with the greetings and other niceties before starting work for the day, than he realizes it’s lunch time. Strictly speaking, his hunger hasn’t returned yet, but it’s all in the mind you see! His colleagues are satisfying their hunger, and he thinks he should follow suit as well. But at the table, his way of consumption is a sight to behold! X takes in the stuff in a way which would amaze the most aloof of cattle. And his expressions would be akin to that of womenfolk during their defining moment!
With a fully loaded pack below his chest and not an iota of space left for anymore, our friend slogs through the afternoon. His instincts tell him to skip the snack early in the evening when others go, for fear of a ruptured stomach. He isn’t a binge eater anyway, is he? The status quo is short lived it appears. There’s an hour left for the end of day, but X is back to hungry ways! When he returns home, all that his folks can read on his face is hunger. Hell, he could eat a horse, his expression says! Well, he’s given a fair quantity and certainly not the steed from the stables! He’s done with ‘dinner’ as his folks would have him believe. But there’s more to come, as the satisfied half moon is yet to grow between his years! Very soon everyone’s called it a day, and X tiptoe to the kitchen and checks to see if there’s anything stomach-worthy in the cool confines of the refrigerator!
If we’ve observed, there’s been a slow but sure transfer of power. Hunger indeed has taken over the mind!
-Met
Indeed, the quote seems to hold true for X these days. As the handful of people who know him would agree, his appearances are in no way suggestive of his ever increasing appetite. Till a few months ago, X was as thin as a stick, had hairy hands and bent shoulders. And he used to just nibble at the food on his plate. We could vouch for rats to be better players at the game! Came June, and what gripped him was the fever that has caught the fancy of the young brigade en masse’ these days. He started attending the local gymnasium, as he says, to ‘stay fit and healthy’. Really, wasn’t his move suspiciously suggestive of his desire to bulk up and get a sculpted body in the meantime?
Cut to the present, and X’s got a figure not-too-bad. He could do better with a more regular workout. But this in itself has brought about a sea change in his desire to eat. His breakfast spread reminds you of the imperial one at the manor. And his time at the table runs long enough for the first morsel he took to have already gone halfway in the digestion process. That’s not all. Psychology happens to guide his ever growing hunger pangs. The advice of his psyche would read something to the following effect; “Hey, don’t you forget that you are gymming, son! Think about all the calories you burn, and how much more you need to be taking in. Have you been able to go beyond the 12 pound barbell? It wouldn’t be a surprise if you start losing weight instead of gaining!” Sounding as it does, like a warning from the skies, X goes about with single minded dedication in laying his hands on anything edible, till he’s stuffed to the neck! With the belly fully fed, he sets on his way to work on a cab ride that serves to aid quicker digestion of his morning’s intake. No sooner is he done with the greetings and other niceties before starting work for the day, than he realizes it’s lunch time. Strictly speaking, his hunger hasn’t returned yet, but it’s all in the mind you see! His colleagues are satisfying their hunger, and he thinks he should follow suit as well. But at the table, his way of consumption is a sight to behold! X takes in the stuff in a way which would amaze the most aloof of cattle. And his expressions would be akin to that of womenfolk during their defining moment!
With a fully loaded pack below his chest and not an iota of space left for anymore, our friend slogs through the afternoon. His instincts tell him to skip the snack early in the evening when others go, for fear of a ruptured stomach. He isn’t a binge eater anyway, is he? The status quo is short lived it appears. There’s an hour left for the end of day, but X is back to hungry ways! When he returns home, all that his folks can read on his face is hunger. Hell, he could eat a horse, his expression says! Well, he’s given a fair quantity and certainly not the steed from the stables! He’s done with ‘dinner’ as his folks would have him believe. But there’s more to come, as the satisfied half moon is yet to grow between his years! Very soon everyone’s called it a day, and X tiptoe to the kitchen and checks to see if there’s anything stomach-worthy in the cool confines of the refrigerator!
If we’ve observed, there’s been a slow but sure transfer of power. Hunger indeed has taken over the mind!
-Met
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Limericks - Twisted to Convenience
Limericks are basically five-line poems originally from Ireland of the 18th century. While experts maintained that a true limerick, as a folk form is always obscene, there have been varied versions of this amusing form of literature. Also, apart from violation of taboo, limericks haven't really stuck to the standard five-line rule!
Following are a couple of my attempts at presenting a newer style of limericks. They come with an underlying theme, and not necessarily obscene, though folks can have them in good measure too!
-Met
Following are a couple of my attempts at presenting a newer style of limericks. They come with an underlying theme, and not necessarily obscene, though folks can have them in good measure too!
-Met
"Book the ticket', said his pal, "book the ticket!"
Else, he feared, she would ceate a racket
Try as much he did, no ticket was on the book,
and all his pal did was cock a snook!
Alone, he started on Holmes, and found a new pal in the book!
-Solitude begets new friends, at times!
Sexy was Suzy, so bloody that none would get lazy
while on bed with Suzy!
Too hot to handle was she, with one hell of a puzzy.
The morning after, he realized that life was all but easy!
-Lust always doesn't do just!
Else, he feared, she would ceate a racket
Try as much he did, no ticket was on the book,
and all his pal did was cock a snook!
Alone, he started on Holmes, and found a new pal in the book!
-Solitude begets new friends, at times!
Sexy was Suzy, so bloody that none would get lazy
while on bed with Suzy!
Too hot to handle was she, with one hell of a puzzy.
The morning after, he realized that life was all but easy!
-Lust always doesn't do just!
Monday, October 12, 2009
No Divine Talk
Divinity is something humans love to behold, and not without reason. The very fact that there are things that make us realize their greatness in form and effect, and our own magnitude when juxtaposed with them, is reason enough to strike awe in us in general. While the majestic Himalayas leaves us humbled, the Sahara with its expanse has us breathless, and the Diamond makes us pale into insignificance. Here’s assuming the reader agrees that the earth forms mentioned above are inherently divine indeed.
In most of the old civilizations, including India’s, everything godly is considered divine. Rather, divinity is but synonymous with sacred things. This concept has defied ages and generations. And this is where one can experience the surge of all humanity to behold icons of religious legends. So much so that, faith gradually morphs into fervor, and people do whatever it takes to add in to the numbers. The author got more than a feeler of this phenomenon the past weekend, when he visited Tirumala and Tirupathi shrines, to get a glimpse of Lord Srinivasa who is the residing deity there. The Tirumala temple is situated on the top of the Seshachala Mountain, which is a culmination of Seven great hills. That this is the place where the Lord descended and set up his abode is stuff that beats every legend around. It’s no wonder then that the place is referred to as BhooVaikuntha or roughly, Heaven on Earth. Multitudes of people undertake an arduous climb up the hills; wait in serpentine queues for days together, chant Govinda! with gusto, all to get a glimpse of the bedecked Lord in peaceful poise. Not to forget the wads of currencies they drop in the Hundi as a token of gratitude and respect. He is said to be the boon-giver and a champion of peace & prosperity. There are people all over, in wait, in devotion, in hunger, in thirst, in tonsured heads, and in hope! Now this is what anyone would call the God rush*.
Oddly enough, though people did witness divine structures, ate divine food, read divine literature, there is a growing feeling that somewhere, men and women are making trips or paying visits quid pro quo. It is not essentially give and take, but more of promissory resolutions to keep in the instance of wishes coming true. While the statement by an anonymous author that ‘we have to pray with our eyes on God, not on the difficulties’ is not wholly justifiable here, a visit to a holy place could be worth all the while if there was more of marveling the nature, and the dazzling brilliance of the deity. And that’s where we feel that the thin line between religion and divinity is getting blurred. A bath in the Alakananda is sure to leave you numb and freezing, and you know you have met your match with nature. That’d make you say, “I bathed in the Holy waters”, and most probably warn others of extreme climatic conditions. But then, you’ve encountered divinity. The world probably hasn’t seen anything more perilous than a trip to the Moon. The folks who went up there saw it all. From a distance they could see Earth, in all its green and blue glory. But on the Moon, they saw death. Not a stone moved, not a whisper came! The silence was morbid. And that, as a creation of God, was divine. For it is a fact that human ascent always reaches new heights, but never really conquers nature! Divinity is something we only end up marveling at.
At the risk of sounding didactic, Nature is God’s creation. Stop. It’s not up for grabs, which is what blood-thirsty corporate are assuming. But it sure is lying there all to be discovered. And that doesn’t really need a divine intervention!
-Met
*New coinage. Not hitherto published
In most of the old civilizations, including India’s, everything godly is considered divine. Rather, divinity is but synonymous with sacred things. This concept has defied ages and generations. And this is where one can experience the surge of all humanity to behold icons of religious legends. So much so that, faith gradually morphs into fervor, and people do whatever it takes to add in to the numbers. The author got more than a feeler of this phenomenon the past weekend, when he visited Tirumala and Tirupathi shrines, to get a glimpse of Lord Srinivasa who is the residing deity there. The Tirumala temple is situated on the top of the Seshachala Mountain, which is a culmination of Seven great hills. That this is the place where the Lord descended and set up his abode is stuff that beats every legend around. It’s no wonder then that the place is referred to as BhooVaikuntha or roughly, Heaven on Earth. Multitudes of people undertake an arduous climb up the hills; wait in serpentine queues for days together, chant Govinda! with gusto, all to get a glimpse of the bedecked Lord in peaceful poise. Not to forget the wads of currencies they drop in the Hundi as a token of gratitude and respect. He is said to be the boon-giver and a champion of peace & prosperity. There are people all over, in wait, in devotion, in hunger, in thirst, in tonsured heads, and in hope! Now this is what anyone would call the God rush*.
Oddly enough, though people did witness divine structures, ate divine food, read divine literature, there is a growing feeling that somewhere, men and women are making trips or paying visits quid pro quo. It is not essentially give and take, but more of promissory resolutions to keep in the instance of wishes coming true. While the statement by an anonymous author that ‘we have to pray with our eyes on God, not on the difficulties’ is not wholly justifiable here, a visit to a holy place could be worth all the while if there was more of marveling the nature, and the dazzling brilliance of the deity. And that’s where we feel that the thin line between religion and divinity is getting blurred. A bath in the Alakananda is sure to leave you numb and freezing, and you know you have met your match with nature. That’d make you say, “I bathed in the Holy waters”, and most probably warn others of extreme climatic conditions. But then, you’ve encountered divinity. The world probably hasn’t seen anything more perilous than a trip to the Moon. The folks who went up there saw it all. From a distance they could see Earth, in all its green and blue glory. But on the Moon, they saw death. Not a stone moved, not a whisper came! The silence was morbid. And that, as a creation of God, was divine. For it is a fact that human ascent always reaches new heights, but never really conquers nature! Divinity is something we only end up marveling at.
At the risk of sounding didactic, Nature is God’s creation. Stop. It’s not up for grabs, which is what blood-thirsty corporate are assuming. But it sure is lying there all to be discovered. And that doesn’t really need a divine intervention!
-Met
*New coinage. Not hitherto published
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Not-too-Young, Free & Single
It takes a lot of convincing to let know that you’re better off single.
Living and working in your hometown, with your parents, is such a cool thing. Especially, if it’s a place like Bangalore, it can only get cooler! I’m trying to go beyond the obvious reasons - economic freedom and general security. This is not a bold and controversial statement I’ve proposed to make. And the previous two lines are not a blanket rule to every other individual around. Folks who are born and bred in Bangers typically would relate to my thoughts, a wee bit at least. And a chap who’s been to and done things at places that typically mark the essence of the cosmopolis the city is, wouldn’t disagree heavily either.
I don’t intend to write a eulogy on Bangalore, but I think it sounds good to set some very basic records straight. You see, Bangalore is not all about good software jobs & better pay cheques, multi-cuisine options and a great many places to booze. The city also serves to address needs somewhere higher up in Maslow’s famed hierarchy. I’ve seen social networking (not those internet sites, silly!) happening with such effortlessness that it’s just amazing to one’s mind. This of course, bearing in mind our labyrinthine social structure. Then you have languages. From vernacular Indian languages to French & German to Russian to Mandarin, options are aplenty. I picked languages, because they are the primary gateway to any culture worth its name. And then the numerous forums. For the book lovers, movie buffs, writers, quizzers, adventurers, motor bikers, lead guitarists, ikebana specialists and more, there are myriad avenues. Tai-chi, Jiujutsu, Kalari are just a few of the exotic martial arts taught here. To cut a long story short, the point is there’s so much to discover and enjoy in a city that carries a global image. The chap who went to and did things at the great places would surely not be an idler without a penny to part with. If you are someone who believes in following your heart and doing things dearer to it, you’ll see that the advantages of living with family are various and tangible.
For many, thoughts evolve as they get exposed to newer ideas. They don’t take things lying down, and would not mind challenging the most widely accepted theories. Perhaps an evolution to this extent may not have been possible a couple of decades earlier. People who didn’t think seriously about the way they wanted to direct their lives now have so much more meat in their thought.
Amorous relationships, unless they are equal to those of commitment, are not bound by rules of extreme patience and empathy. For, in an ‘evolved’ climate, everyone has in place, his or her own plans of carrying their lives. The idea of true love is reserved for ‘the ideal situation’, it appears. And for a commitment to happen, you need to know for sure what the other person’s scheme of things is. If that’s not to be, in the hustle and bustle of the big city, isn’t it pointless to go looking for love, with the apparent objective of tying the knot for the long term?
It’s not half as difficult putting such thoughts to paper, as it is trying to put across the same ideas while speaking with family and friends, face to face.
Really, it takes a lot of convincing to let know that you’re better off single!
-Met
Living and working in your hometown, with your parents, is such a cool thing. Especially, if it’s a place like Bangalore, it can only get cooler! I’m trying to go beyond the obvious reasons - economic freedom and general security. This is not a bold and controversial statement I’ve proposed to make. And the previous two lines are not a blanket rule to every other individual around. Folks who are born and bred in Bangers typically would relate to my thoughts, a wee bit at least. And a chap who’s been to and done things at places that typically mark the essence of the cosmopolis the city is, wouldn’t disagree heavily either.
I don’t intend to write a eulogy on Bangalore, but I think it sounds good to set some very basic records straight. You see, Bangalore is not all about good software jobs & better pay cheques, multi-cuisine options and a great many places to booze. The city also serves to address needs somewhere higher up in Maslow’s famed hierarchy. I’ve seen social networking (not those internet sites, silly!) happening with such effortlessness that it’s just amazing to one’s mind. This of course, bearing in mind our labyrinthine social structure. Then you have languages. From vernacular Indian languages to French & German to Russian to Mandarin, options are aplenty. I picked languages, because they are the primary gateway to any culture worth its name. And then the numerous forums. For the book lovers, movie buffs, writers, quizzers, adventurers, motor bikers, lead guitarists, ikebana specialists and more, there are myriad avenues. Tai-chi, Jiujutsu, Kalari are just a few of the exotic martial arts taught here. To cut a long story short, the point is there’s so much to discover and enjoy in a city that carries a global image. The chap who went to and did things at the great places would surely not be an idler without a penny to part with. If you are someone who believes in following your heart and doing things dearer to it, you’ll see that the advantages of living with family are various and tangible.
For many, thoughts evolve as they get exposed to newer ideas. They don’t take things lying down, and would not mind challenging the most widely accepted theories. Perhaps an evolution to this extent may not have been possible a couple of decades earlier. People who didn’t think seriously about the way they wanted to direct their lives now have so much more meat in their thought.
Amorous relationships, unless they are equal to those of commitment, are not bound by rules of extreme patience and empathy. For, in an ‘evolved’ climate, everyone has in place, his or her own plans of carrying their lives. The idea of true love is reserved for ‘the ideal situation’, it appears. And for a commitment to happen, you need to know for sure what the other person’s scheme of things is. If that’s not to be, in the hustle and bustle of the big city, isn’t it pointless to go looking for love, with the apparent objective of tying the knot for the long term?
It’s not half as difficult putting such thoughts to paper, as it is trying to put across the same ideas while speaking with family and friends, face to face.
Really, it takes a lot of convincing to let know that you’re better off single!
-Met
Sunday, March 1, 2009
About Time Too…
Its two months into the New Year now, and you can see people talking about the end of the first half already. A bloke who joined an organization around this time last year would say he’s almost a year and half old in the firm. It’s a good half of the year that you know you’re coming to the end of, in no time. And that, my friend, largely exemplifies the age old idiom, "time flies"!
It’s remarkable how psychology influences beliefs about efflux of time. We’d attended the wedding of this buddy of ours in the winter of 2007. And by last summer, he comes home bringing news that he’s a soon-to-be father. There has been no anticipation in the entire process of childbirth obviously, but the moment we heard him out, we were wondering if it was really nearing nine months since he tied the knot! While there was no doubt that we were not time warped, we were also convinced that here was a chap who made things happen, on the double! If this was something not everyone can relate to, bang-on, our beloved government’s hundredth day celebrations should be a better example. You have barely voted them into power, than they start their celebrations, ‘beautifying’ the city in the process. Banners, buntings, cut outs and what not. Of course, hundred days are up in fact, and we the people fail to watch them tick in the hustle and bustle of life.
There are many who aver that time goes by quick, as a function of an individual’s busyness. But hey, we do know people who are, err, great thinkers. Those who have points aplenty, to ponder over. Ask them if they are happy with the time they have with them, and they’d say “You think so? Barely have I started getting my ideas right than its noon!” A writer who “added a comma in the morning, and removed it by evening”, hardly has time to overcome his writer’s block!
Running a race against time, for 27 years now, I can safely bet that time takes a break, only in our mind. In our mind, when our wait for something gets unending. When all we want to see is tomorrow. It’s time’s way of saying “you’re yet to live the day today, my friend! What’s the hurry?” After all, everyday counts!
-Metafore
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
TROUBLE WITH RISK?
“If you don’t risk anything, you risk even more!” is a legendary quote by Erica Jong, the American author best known for Fear of Flying. It does really appear a pointless exercise to elaborate on what the line purports to convey. Because we are in such times that ideas as these are assumed necessarily, before embarking on anything. Without much ado, let us look at it from a different angle.
Endeavors fraught with risk are generally reckoned with awe and the result coveted by many. Fair enough, given that it is such a high feeling you get after having done something, which most others would chicken out of. So do we believe that all things that are potential deterrents of a given exercise are risks, characteristically? Risks are often debilitating in nature and sometimes act as known side-effects of a particular action. And going ahead with resolve, to get to the end despite such odds, calls for cheer. But there is this thing about hassles in life. And I’m confident not many would disagree that these are things we could do away with. When hassles take over every stage of an activity, they start morphing into hurdles so prominent that they are regarded with annoyance and eventually, with trepidation. And that’s when they get a tag of a risk. So, “risk is not all glory, but an unnecessary pain, nobody would lament its absence” is how it comes to be argued. Such a shame! We could really do without hassles. Mind you, the author is not for a moment suggesting that everyone can steer clear of all bother. Unfortunately, the magnitude of efforts is in such proportions that there is bound to be a spot or two here and there. What’s essential (if I may use the word) is it may make sense to show a cold shoulder to occasions which have trouble as a part of the package. Especially, if we already have things going fine and dandy. There’s this bloke the author happens to know, who was apparently in rapport d’amour with a sprightly young lady. Or so the latter believed. From what we saw of her, she is quite an emotional girl, who wears her heart on her sleeve and trusts people a tad too easily. Now, our lad is said to have lived in this idyllic world wherein he would find the lady crafted for him, someday. Not that he dismissed the proposition that lay before him outright, because hope springs eternal in the human breast! Now he would argue he was being a man enough, and almost risk-loving, in giving someone a chance. Fair enough! Just when we thought he was pulling along the yoke of life, along comes this girl who is smart and funny, and projects a firm head on shoulders. And quite chatty when it matters. She takes an instant liking to our man in question, and he doesn’t see anything obviously wrong in it either. A fine situation to be in, eh? And this, the author would agree, is a spot of bother he could have well avoided. Now that the first mentioned is not someone known to be impulsive enough to snap ties for good at the first available cue, he is all but peaceful within. It may appear that he could have traded the trouble for the risk! Well, these are matters of the heart, and it’s agreeably criminal to speak of them in such a fashion.
From the spectrum of humanity we interact with everyday, there are many who would narrate to us how they have things going well for them, and some who say are still yet to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Isn’t it generally the situation that folks who genuinely are thankful for their state of well-being are those who wouldn’t want to face situations that disturb the peace that prevails? If such a chap were to embark on a road trip across the breadth of the sub-continent, he wouldn’t shy away. There are inherent dangers in the very nature of the expedition, but the very thought of reaching the finish line after many grueling days, would be sure to send him into a tizzy. Or another of his ilk may vow to cram up and come out tops in Civil Services entrance, in spite of being employed in enviable capacity. That’s akin to challenging limits and works towards greater objectives. And there are many who believe who have so much to do and have to do so much more to reach the set objectives. It’s just that the end point moves with time, back and forth. Because the distance to the finish line from the point of progress appears to be proportionate to the quantum of hurdles that come in the way of reaching them. (This, the author argues is his line!) He would like to clarify that he doesn’t necessarily mean hurdles in concept, but other overheads – read hassles - which eventually would end up being major concerns. Disentangling oneself from red tape when a chap has it going easy with what he owns, raising Cain over a non-issue that has only grazed someone’s ego, and other phenomena on similar lines. It is apparently a vicious circle and it only widens the deeper one gets into it.
It is an amazing feeling to go about life like it was on a roll, and avoiding anxiety if we could help it. The person, who put pen to paper here, believes it was a big risk that he chose to write on something that he is no expert on, and did it straight from the gut. And argues that he wasn’t hassled one bit when he set about doing it.
-Metafore
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
ಧಾತ್ರಿ - The Accordion Meets The Harmonioum
A talented team of musicians from Bangalore have come together to meld the best of eastern and western musical traditions. Their latest musical effort with original compositions, is a world's first - a CD compilation of music from the Accordion and the Harmonium.
Having the production and sales support from Amazon.com they are now offering the CD for sale at https://www.createspace.com/1724383.
Do let your musical minded friends know about this CD and post reviews wherever you see fit. That's like applause in the Web space!!
Please also note that the album is available on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001J548NA
You could also download as MP3 at the following link:
http://www.amazon.com/Dhatri/dp/B001KR6164
Thanks!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)