prabāt

That 23 year old FEMALE (notice the upper case) software engineer in Bangalore, who's idea of a fabulous saturday night is curling up with a good book to read, also known as Shub, is making me pay. You still haven't forgotten the masala tea, eh Shub? Here goes...

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
Kishore – parents call me that
Kicha – friends call me that
JFK – er.. no comments (guess if you can)

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
kichili in yahoo
gkicha in some emails and MSN
(don't use MSN now though, oh ya I can see that disappointment is some of your faces. But I'm cho chorry..)

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
My powerful eyes (if you know what I mean)
I could tell the other two too, but I'm already blushing...

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
My tongue (lets me down when I least expect)
My eyes (observes too much of the surroundings)
My mind (thinks too much too soon)

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
My pillow cover
My pen cap
Me (?)

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
My tongue
Maami gossips during marriages (sometimes very rarely, its funny though)
My mobile showing a call from the office number on a sunday morning

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
Chocolates and chips at my desk
Yahoo messenger
My mobile

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
A mexican hat wth a diameter of 1 meter
Big round sun goggles
Micky mouse strapped watch

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
Love
'Letting go' attitude
Empathy
(Too much ask, eh?)

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE (in no particular order):
I'm working in a Research oriented job (shub, you wanna join in?)
I'm getting married to my girl friend in 6 months
I don't know to shift gears while riding a bike

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
Smile
Smile
Smile

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
Sleep on my desk and dream
Bunk office and run away
Put up this post

THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
Become a scientist at CERN
Become a tutor for Tim-Bernes Lee
Become the chief intelligence advisor for George Bush (he badly needs one)

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
Zurich!!
Australia
And.. Usilampatti

THREE KIDS NAMES YOU LIKE:
Well er.. I'll leave it to my wife

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
Learn cooking and cook for my wife when she gets home from office
Invent an invention that invents inventions
Third one's a secret..

THREE(make that more!!) PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO TAKE THIS QUIZ NOW:
Everyone in My neighborhood (of course, if you have already not done)

I swept myself adrift, wearily enjoying the gifts of providence.

The flow of stream was smooth as ever. A minor jerk here and there, but the flow never curtailed. My energies, bolstered by the ever-prolonging freshness of the brook of life never ceased to swell. Pleasure remained my middle name.

I swept myself adrift, wearily enjoying the gifts of providence. That’s when I met you.

The anguish in my innocent psyche was unimaginable. All that I would have dismissed as a height of juvenile ridicule came roaring up to engulf me. Caught amid whirlpools of tears, reasoning became inert. The composed momentum was a piece of wreck tangled between obvious delusions and obscure certainty. Desolate, ravaged and despondent, I downcast myself into a subdued dame. Distress became my middle name.

I swept myself adrift, lamenting over my lost gifts. That’s when you came back to me.

I began to see light. Perceive the meaning.
Life means to expose myself to the pain of being hurt by someone you trust.
Life means to make my mind up to leap when sleep challenges.
Life means to play tic-tac-toe with my child at one moment and nurse my wife’s wound at the next.
Life means to choose to stay when the world calls.
Life means to stand tall amid ruins.
Life means to confront my son’s birth and dad’s death on the same day.
Life means to say goodbye at your best moment together.
Life means to sit back and wait if you don’t get what you want, because better things are waiting.
Life means to love and to realize that love comes with pain and to still love.
Life means to understand all of this. And more.

I swept myself adrift, distributing my new gifts. Thank you for giving me pain.

...continued from previous post

The morning breeze
flew into the window
and sang a melancholy
to the drowsy ears

She walked ahead
through spotless sunlight
searching the park
for her lost pieces.
Filtering her mind
from the pains of prudence
Clearing her paths
weeding out her agony
Cleansing herself
with episodes from past
Furnishing her steps
with the newness of future
She picks her broken pieces
to weave her new thread
her own new thread.

Wake my child
you have a new meaning
Wake my child
you have united yourself
Wake my child
you have gained your self
Wake my child
you have reasons to joy
Wake my child
the world is at your call

The moon rose
as the first chapter
of her serene solitude
played to its promising start.

The beginning.

The clogging ventricles
pant for something fresh
A gasping choke
searching for a breath

Fatigue and immobile
a heart heavy
and gaining weight.
As the past narrates itself
hasty and harsh
in a drowsy sermon.
Perplexed thoughts
perplexingly simple
and profoundly unkind.
Spilt words
forgotten for long
dance in the dim eye.
Flawed deeds
reflecting over
and relentlessly niggling.

Sleep my child
your meaning is stolen
Sleep my child
your self is broken
Sleep my child
your gains are lost
Sleep my child
your joy is buried
Sleep my child
sleep is all you have

The moon sank
as the long drama
of their interwoven lives
played to its inevitable conclusion.

To be continued...

For a who's who, check out prabhu's post.

All we fellas


The four musketeers

The blog godmother with a section of her disciples

The Marathon man (my future coach)

And this is where it all happened

The Sunday evening was more beautiful than ever. The Bangalore Bloggers meet saw 19 interesting people make out for a thoroughly enjoyable evening. I am loving it. Each one interesting in their own distinct ways. Here’s a few things about some of them.

Anitha. Surprise! The godmother of Bangalore bloggers works in the same company as me. Surprise two! She’s in HR. Hmm.. now I know whom to catch for my next salary hike. ::wink::

Kirubs. The marathon man! Came all the way from Chennai for the run and the meet. A guy with a lot of energy (just like his blogs), despite the fact that he’s married. When I get married, I’ll appoint him as my coach.

I particularly had a memorable time with Prabu, Shub, Muthu and Krishna.

Prabu. He fiddles around with excel, word and outlook and gets paid for that. Guess his designation! ::grin:: A chirpy guy who gave me enough company nagging and making fun of people around us. More like the my-kinda-guy kind of guy.

Shub. Just like her blog! Ate as many rounds as the number of times the word 'eating' appears in the bottom of her blog. We nicknamed her Thillalangadi. Thillalangadi Shub. ha..ha.. Ask her why! And she says I look like a Bengali!! Shooob beti, apne fellow Tam-Brahm ke saath aise nahin karte. And a chamathu payyan at that. ::wink:: She lost one-fourth of her masala tea. Thanks to me.

Krishna. Has a nerdish look. Not all that nerd though, but for 5 years of blogging and a lot of techie blogs to go with that. Despite this, has a lot of fun within him. He too joined Shub's party in telling I look like a Bengali. But what I don't get is, why 'Bengali' in particular. Is there a special identity to it? A special mole or something? But I don't have any special moles.

Muthu. The poor guy! He lost most of his orange juice. Thanks to me. Gave me a good company nagging people with some typically typical slangs. And in the end, he was so happy that he plans to take us all on an all-expenses-paid trekking trip for our next blog meet. Eh, Muthu? So nice of you!! ::grin::

Sigh! And then we all left home. Guess it doesn’t require another blogger’s meet to meet all you people. Hope to catch you all sometime soon. Keep in touch folks!

Here’s to all the bloggers and their blogs.. ::clink::

Some people save 10k while they are earning 20k.
And when they get to earn 30k, they still save 10k!!

So, do we say - consistent saving or consistent spending?

Have a nice weekend..!!

Being in R&D is interesting. And fun too. But at times fun is not all that funny. At least, not at certain moments. Though I couldn’t resist laughing at it later (and I’m laughing even now thinking of it), I was literally hanging myself at that nick of the moment.

We are starting a new task. And we are quite enthused with it. We got all the needed approvals for our idea and broken successfully through the red tape of getting everything going. We let out a final sigh of exhausted relief and get down to business. A wide smile lingering in all our faces. It’s tough trying to convince the senior folks with our ‘innovative’ idea. That’s what we always call them. Everything we come up with is always termed ‘innovative’ by us. Whether it is actually innovative or not, is another matter altogether though. But atleast this thing, was pretty good. Honest!

The week-long laborious efforts paid off when the people who mattered finally began to feel we are after all not talking all nonsense. A little nod and we got the necessary affirmations to get going, along with the usual paraphernalia of best-wishes and stuff.

Now, we are a small team of 4 people including me. We started working on the initial designs and an approximate plan of how we would go about it. The next step is to get enough people so that we could come up with something substantial within the time frame we have promised. And a pretty ambitious promise at that!

Getting people into the team is another headache. But after a little sweating we got a guy to work with us. I took him to a conference room to give him an overview of the concept and our plans on going about it. Starting that minute, I was glued to the white-board. My hand drawing waves of circles and boxes and sketching alphabets trying to diagrammatize everything I was trying to visualize. Once in a while I turn back to him and ask him if I’m clear with my points. He doesn’t nod. But neither does he look as though not listening. That looks good enough and I continue my talking.

After some 30 minutes, apart from the pauses to ask him if he has any questions (he didn’t seem to have any), I let out a heaving sigh. Like Shankar Mahadevan sighs in the last frame of that video after singing the song Breathless. And then, with a mixed bag of emotions with the pressure of promises and expectations to keeping them up and the 30 minute talking, I let a tired smile and ask him 'So.. did you get the big picture?'

With the same nonchalant grim face that he maintained all through the time I was explaining the points, he instantaneously says 'Whose picture?'.

I needed it. Badly.

I looked up to sky. It was flying. I pulled my back pack, stiffened my socks and ran like the hungry beast pursuing his prey. At the far distance, down where the sky met the earth, I could see it floating gently, hopping over the fragrance of soft flowers wetting its feet on the dancing dew. I took to my heels, for the beast that I was, I had sighted my prey. Time moved fast. I got to a hand-stretch from it and drew all my ravaging strength aiming a mighty blow to render it hapless. Meanwhile, it continued to float gently oblivious of my presence. Just when I thought it was all mine, like the feather in a gust it flew out of sight. I rendered my blow, but all I hit was the trail of fresh scented air that it had left behind.

I continued to run in its direction. This was not the day I would falter. Not again. Not this time. Never again. I ran until my foot were worn out. My eyes bulging with the enormous fatigue. My breath becoming perilously uneasy. My tongue drought of any liquid. Then, I saw it. I smiled. This time, just at a finger-stretch. My zapped energy level wouldn’t let me aim any more blows. I sought the easier way. I gently caressed my finger through the scented air and even more gently laid my hand on it. It would be mine at last. I had barely breathed another whiff of air and it flew. Far away. Eluding my gentle reach.

I continued to run in its direction. Again. Puffing and panting with every breath I took. My trembling legs and palpitating heart seemed no friends of mine. I ran braving myself. Against myself. Until, I fell down. Immobile. I felt a thousand hammers pounding my head. My heart was bleeding out blood. I saw planets revolving around my eyes. The nerves felt soldered to my bones. The cry of agony was deafening. I looked up to God and shouted ‘Why would you not let me get it?’. I couldn’t hear my own voice. God did not answer. I lay drenched in my tears. Tired. Barely making a move. Barely breathing.

And suddenly!! It stopped. The tears. The revolving earth. The pounding hammers. The cry of agony. They all stopped!! My heart was pumping fresh blood. There was a resolute silence. The silence at the moment was deafening. It was the moment of truth!! And in that moment of truth, the truth about it finally dawned on me.

It was here with me all along.

Ahale kalam aajao fithur mein thumko bulayey ahalullah
Zikr se badke nahin amal koi hai farma yey rasul allah
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Har gul mein har bu mein
Har shay mein noor ullah
Har dhil mein har pal mein
Rahe zikrein illallah
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Zikr hai behther nafrath se
Zikr hai behther gaflath se
Zikr hai behther hujjath se
Zikr hai behther gaevath se

Where words fail, music speaks.

I’ve listened to the song atleast 20 times since yesterday. And still counting.

AR Rahman’s voice is heavenly. With mild strings playing in the background, the stunning blend of Rahman’s voice with the melancholic waves of every decibel nudging rhythmically to an astounding frequency of Sufi orchestra is dancing on my nerves like nothing before.

The slow melody transforms into a percussion filled chanting of Allah’s name asking for forgiveness and peace. Closing my eyes and listening to the composition only sends me into an ecstatic trance. The culmination of a euphoric harmony!

Yeh jo des hai tera from Swades and Zikr from Bose – momentarily immortalizing the mortal spirits!

It is said, most of us go to our grave with our music still inside of us. Let such heavenly music stir the pent up music within us.

Have a nice weekend..!!

We never know where relationships could begin. It’s a pleasant Sunday morning when she walks down the road to a petty shop. Someone standing next to her is talking in his mobile and quite audible enough for her to understand the words. She hears some words that send a familiar tinge ringing through her ears. She strikes a short conversation only to realize he is her best friend’s cousin. Three years later, she is married to him.

Sometimes we never get to know a person even after watching him for months or sometimes years. The real ‘him’ is hidden deep within the realms of a clandestine heart, hardly raising its head at any eventuality whatsoever. Outside, he’s the most talkative glib tongue, so vibrant and dynamic that he opens up as casually to his seniors as much as he does to his peers and as much to a kid with a persuasively congenial bond. Even in the most frustrating or lackluster of moments he finds some scope for displacing his energy. But talk to him deeply some day and behind all the vibrancy and dynamism is hidden the awkward tragedy that life could never manage to cure. ‘Ok..(sigh) Forget it’ he quips and smiles. The smile is worth a thousand drops of tears transformed for the sake of continuum of the future.

There are times when a common tragedy binds two unknown persons. But tragedies need not even be so large as life can make it. Take some people, strangers to each other, standing in a bus-stop waiting for bus. Each one traveling in their own train of thoughts and an eye on the far end of the road looking for what appears to be the bus they were waiting for. All of them lost within themselves.

Now, let the bus be late for more than an hour or let a gush of heavy rain lash through the place. And suddenly we see more movement. There is more talking. The chains are pulled on the personal train of thoughts and they convert into a collective curse of the late-coming bus.. and how this is happening often these days.. and that man’s similar experience in the same place a week back.. or how the lashing rain affects the city roads and that old lady who has left the clothes hanging on her terrace and that man with the largest umbrella sheltering hitherto strangers and laughing his way to keep them away from the droplets sprinkling its way into the umbrella. They are no strangers anymore.

Strange are bonds. Stranger are how people bond. I told my psychiatrist that everyone hates me. He said I was being ridiculous – everyone hasn't met me yet.

Perception! That seems to be the topic of the town. I’m reading a book Black Cross by Greg Iles. A story set in the period of World War II. Stern is a Jewish terrorist, whose help is sought by the Allied forces to break into a Nazi concentration camp at Totenhausen, Germany. Smith is a Brigadier with the Allied forces. And this conversion ensues at one point.

Stern: What’s the inmate population at Totenhausen?
Smith: Very low. Fluctuates between two and three hundred depending on the pace of the gas tests.
Stern: So we’re going to sacrifice three hundred innocent people to kill half as many SS men?
Smith: No, we’re going to sacrifice three hundred doomed prisoners to save tens of thousands of Allied invasion troops.
Stern: A matter of perspective?
Smith: Everything is in war, Stern. To Major Dickson you’re a bloodthirsty terrorist. To your own people you’re a hero.
Stern: And what am I to you, Brigadier?
Smile: (smiles thinly) Useful.

Black Cross is an incredible story of emotions and survival amid savage brutality. A reiteration of the cruel past to reinforce the value of humanity.

I’ve read only 2 books by Iles. This one and The footprints of God. And if this is any indication, he’s already among my favorite writers.