She can change your life…

“The key to change... is to let go of fear.”

In a sense, yes! She did to mine! May be… just may be… she can change your life too, like she did to mine, though not to the greatest extent. I can tell you how.

In your busy schedules, at times you have the heart to not feel guilty and indulge yourself to a nice hot dinner, a comfy couch (bed in my case) and a TV-DVD all to yourself and no one to judge you about the dress your wear, the angle you are inclined to and the movie you have settled down to watch. Sounds like fun. Isn’t it? In the recent days, I’m seeing more such lucky nights J

And the movie I saw yesterday was Amelie from Montmartre (the English title for the French movie Amélie). I want to write so much about the movie but don’t want to write a review of it and spoil the fun of watching the movie. On any given day, I would recommend this light heart-touching comedy flick.

A one liner about the movie… it is about a girl, obviously named as Amelie (played by Audrey Tautou), who has a cute little mischievous smile throughout the movie. She happens to help a 50yr old man get a glimpse of his childhood through the toys she recovers and how the happy-tear filled face of the man prompts her to help people around her. She goes out of her way to help others but she realizes through another person that ‘self help is the best help’ and finds her love. She understands that letting go of fear can do wonders.

Needless to mention are her wild imagination of things happening around her. The unspoken moments that Amelie shares with Nino (her love) are short and sweet. The extra second that she lingers while kissing on his eyes… is just so cute. And the ‘am happy and contended’ expression on her face when she goes around in the streets of Paris in Nino’s moped seems to make her entire life seem fulfilled.

Coming back to how she influenced me… she made me to realize that helping others is not always the best option… helping ourselves to get what we want is more important, even if the attempts are small and the need trivial.

Definitely a ‘do not miss’ movie… she is out there to change your life forever.

Hero Worship……..

Hero-worship exists, has existed, and will forever exist, universally among Mankind.

Always wanted to write about few people who are in my list of heroes and who I hero-worship shamelessly. In fact my list of heroes is never fixed… it keeps moving up and down like the equalizer in WinAmp with different colors as well. Red for most favorite, amber for steady favorite, green for recent favorites, yellow for those I like but don’t dare to disclose to anyone and those who drop off from my list get merged with the black background.

Anything uttered by Rajini kanth (always red in my equalizer) off-screen can make me ponder over that for many days to follow, even if it sometimes is controversial to his earlier quote or is outright illogical. He inspires me to set a style of my own (no luck yet), to travel around the world, and also to leave everyone I know & abscond to the Himalayas, Rishikesh or Haridwar. Then there is this guy named Kamal Hassan… who haunts my dreams only as the numerous characters he has portrayed or rather lived on-screen. No words to describe that. Any nonsensical so-called-romantic dialog articulated by Ajith and Brad Pitt on-screen can bring butterflies in my stomach. Then I do like Ganja Karuppu (listed under yellow)… with his horribly shabby appearance and funny accent. And I used to be in so much awe for Sidney Sheldon, until I realized the person is a HE and not a SHE. Still I do esteem his books and wouldn’t mind reading all his novels for another umpteen times. I have heard enough to hate Hitler, but somehow, his crude courage in his 5 feet body inspires and shocks me simultaneously. I love Calvin and would do anything to have a kid like that (Of course, if I get the boon of immense patience) and make my life more interesting. Ok…… I know am being silly. But they are few of my heroes and I do worship them. Who is to say not to?

Now is the reality bites part. The sad part is these people in flesh or fiction don’t even know that I exist. Does that make a difference to the way I feel towards them? No, it does not. Neither do I want to meet these folks and spoil the glamour I feel towards them.I was searching for a quote to be used for my GTalk and happened to see this one “Each man is a hero and an oracle to somebody, and to that person whatever he says has an enhanced value”. How true!!

I sit back and think about some people who crossed by path and made a difference. All my friends and relatives are my unsung heroes and I don’t have it in mind to talk about them here. An example of people who inspired me… my teachers Bama(math) & Nagalakshmi (English) in school. Is it because I adored them that I liked the subjects or is it vice versa? No idea. Whichever way it is… both have been a very pleasant feeling. There are many more people who I have come across… who are heroes in their own little and big way.

Hmmm… I thought of not writing about my relatives as heroes. But I do want to write about by brother (anna) who has always been my hero. Is it because he was my first play mate, or was it because he was my first friend, or was it because he was my first study mate, or is it because I realized he was my sibling and not just a play mate, or was it because he is guardian, or was it because he is my role model or is just his presence in my life… I cannot think of which makes him my real-time, all-time hero in flesh and blood.

Whatever it is… he means the world to me yesterday, today and many more tomorrows to come. There have been times when I trusted his every motive to be beneficial to me and the days when he boasted that I am the best sister anyone could get. We crossed days when I thought he was the most selfish person on earth and me the most ridiculous being. There have been days when I did not want to hear his voice at all and then days when he made sure to avoid talking to me. There has been too many not-so-happy events in the recent days where I am put to test about the hero-worship I have towards anna.

I wish people realize that we can create lifelong connection only with some and cannot be forced to stay put with someone just coz someone else wants you to. I wish life was much easier and people can keep aside any hard feelings. I wish, I wish, I wish…. Too many wishes and very little time to wait to for the wishes to become true. I am trusting only on the hope I have, to set me free, coz I have realized that that fear can only hold you prisoner (The Shawshank Redemption)

Gosh… the blog was intended to mean and sound something nice but it has ended in a sad way. I do not have any intention to change it. As I always say… this page is a vent to my feelings and am glad to let out some pressure through this.

So much has been said and sung of beautiful young girls, why don't somebody wake up to the beauty of old women?

“It is now time for another write-up”. This thought came up last night when I happened to read one of the short stories of author Sujatha, titled “V.G.R”… a leaf from his collection called “Sri Rangathu Kadhaigal (devadhiagal)”.

I need not elaborate on the story for Sujatha’s fans. But to others like me… it is about a mathematics teacher who lived long, had a very grand death ceremony, is still remembered and has a scholarship program running in his honor in the school where he used to teach. But the sad part was, he had a slow and lonely death with no one near to care for him.

Neither I am a rightful person to throw light on Sujatha’s work nor am I going to do that. As I was reading the story, my thoughts went around my grandparents for a small fraction of time and wanted to write couple of lines to keep myself a little satisfied.

Saraswathi: My dad’s mom. Never knew anything about her. I heard that she passed away even before her 6 children finished school education. Not a pleasant death though. I wonder at times what it would have been like to have a paternal grand-mom around. Dad has one very grainy photo of her. The few features that can be seen remind everyone of my dad’s second younger sister – Bharathi. This meant we were only able to visualize a shadow of how grandma would have looked like. Mom said that on the day of their wedding, dad asked mom to take care of his siblings the way a mother would. I think she did her part well. In fact, mom named me after grandma… ShreeVani (Vani meaning Saraswathi).

Sundararajan: Saraswathi’s husband. My dad’s father. I and my brother were not much connected to him as the other grand children of his. So was my dad. Sometimes it haunts to think how disconnected a family could be. Grandpa passed away this April (may be on 7/04/08). Dad normally sends him money every month. But since he was abroad during grandpa’s last few months, it was my responsibility to send him money every month. And I am happy that I could see to his needs at least in a small way. Even now when I think about him, in spite of all hard feelings, I still tend to have a soft corner for him, the only reason being… he gave me MY dad.

Krishnaswamy: My mom’s dad. I like him for few things and hate him for one thing. Until he got bed ridden two years before he passed away, he was always active as a bee. He would tirelessly stitch nice skirts, blouses, etc for us granddaughters. I don’t remember if the boys got anything stitched by him. And for his age, he would traverse a might distance during his evening walks. And when he visits us, he would at times (very rarely) give us 50np or so for candies. Any given day I would be grateful to him for having altered my school uniforms from the previous year to be used for the following academic year. I will never be ashamed of that because he used to do such a good job with my clothes. These are few things that I liked best in him. Now comes the reason I hate him. He had a darker skin tone… following which each of his alternate born kids (1st, 3rd – my mom, 5th) were not on the fairer side and that resulted in me having a not-so-fair skin tone.

Visalakshi: My cutie pie grand ma. Mom’s mother. Avva (means grandma. I also read on the net that ‘avo’ – pronounced as ava, in Latin means grandma too) from here on, can be described as nothing short of Mother Teresa or Rani Lakshmi Bai or both or simply comprise everyone into Visalakshi. The way she cared for each of us will make any one see Mother Teresa in her. My mom and her siblings will never forget the days (years???) when avva used to put up a fight to meet the needs of the family and how she taught her kids that self help is the best help and made each of them grow up strong and independent. Know what, in those by gone days, avva has been the Counselor of Pollachi. They say she had actively participated in politics until forced by husband and in-laws to see to the welfare of the family alone. Mom has told us stories about how avva had kept the family stable during financial crisis and helped every one moved on. I sincerely believe that she inherited all the good genes from her father – Nataraj. And by the way, avva is very fair toned and her 2nd and 4th kids (both daughters) are fair skinned too.

Being all this and more does not show a trace now in her life at ripe age of 84. All my aunts, uncle and mom say it is really very difficult to take care of her now. No… neither is she bed ridden nor is disabled. The problem is she has taken refuge in watching TV soaps and reading any kind of Tamil novels. She keeps asking for the time with a phantom fear that she might miss a show on TV or if she has not yet finished reading a book within her planned (???) time schedule. Avva is a person who used to be very strict about the way she wears her saree and how she ties her hair bun. But now, she has moved on and has accepted to wear nighties and has a very short hair cut. Tears crept into my eyes when she looked up from her book and said, “See… how short they have cut my hair ” and went back to reading her no-name novel. The last time I visited her on (16/08/09), she said to me,” Ha… after so many days you’ve come to see me. I like Bholi (a sweet) a lot… nice that you bought me some. It has been ages since I tasted once of these”. This time, my knees went weak listening to an old lady remembering that I did not visit her. Does that mean she would have thought about me once in a while in between her TV shows and reading spree? If she could remember me in her not so steady memory line, why don’t I remember her more often and visit her as well. All said and done… I wish I could life a full life like hers and have a family that would care for me if I happen to live that long.

Etiquette please ......

Ha.. Etiquette for everything and most importantly, of the rest room in common places.

During end of last week and the beginning of this week, there were few emails sent from some RESPONSIBLE female colleagues in our floor at my work place.

The first one spoke about the basic etiquette to be followed and pleading the so called, high paid PROFESSIONALS to help maintain hygiene in the toilets. The event that triggered this event was that some unlucky soul had to finish an urgent nature’s call and finally found that the flush not working. I was one of the lucky few who were not destined to face it. SOS :)

After the house keeping guy came to the rescue, we could breathe again. And on Monday again, there were few reminders of healthy habits and requests, a mail on indirect finger pointing and another mail on standing up for self-esteem to say ‘Do not point finger at me. I am as shocked as you are when I witnessed the scene in the rest room’.
All this made me write about the rest rooms we come across in common places like the malls, movie houses, bus & rail stations, etc.

When I used to work in Chennai, me & my roomies happened to go to a very small theater (near Thiruvanmayur bus stop) to catch a much talked about movie "Engal Anna". I could really kill the person who recommended this movie to us, but wasn’t able toL. That being a small talkie, the crowd that normally throngs the place is of the lower middle class or lower class economic crowd. We were very skeptical about going to the loo during the intermission. But we went anyways and were really taken aback. Yeah, you guessed it right. It had one of the most clean and well maintained public conveniences I’ve ever been to. This made me change my perception of judging a place by it size and crowd.

I can go on describing about the numerous public wash rooms we encounter. But I wanted to write about the unpleasant experience I had in hi-fi shopping malls in Bengaluru.
As everyone know, Bengaluru malls give u snap shot view of how a westernized world looks like, of course until you take a peep into the women’s wash room there. The girls waiting to relieve themselves look so pretty with their cute clothes and make-up that it makes people like me to feel totally out of place in a beauty pageant dressing room.

Then you get your turn to use one of the rooms and all the fairy tale images of the models outside and who just left that room crashes with a loud thud as I drop the toilet seat (of course after draping my hands with almost a whole roll of toilet paper). I was reminded of the funny quote about marriage that goes as "Those who are out want to get in and those inside want to get out". The quote was so apt at that moment. These washrooms are the most disgusting places you could find in a so-called modern hang outs. I really pity the housekeeping ladies there and pray that they do not get infected with some horrible disease. And I do not want to imagine anything about the male convenience room at all. It no wonder that many shops keep their washrooms under lock & key and don’t let customers use them :)

I sincerely wished that day that I had a digicam handy to click the mess they have left, to run around all those gals who created it and yell out in front of their friends/relatives about how stupid they are behind closed doors and stick the photo on their face. These people need to be trained at gun point.

I spoke about the small theater in Chennai before to show you the contrast between the people of the supposedly higher class and the normal people for whom going for a movie once a month itself is a luxury. I am a person who usually has a soft corner for the working class and this episode makes me move more comfortably with them rather than with the "models" beautifying the malls’ corridors.

Blue is my favorite color.... but not today.

I am in one of my colorful moods -blue, red and green. Yeah… I am sad, angry and jealous.
I wish someone would spare some time to ask me what is causing me these mixed emotions. I know it is a very busy world out there and no one have the time to ponder over their own feelings and emotions.
Am sad since I don’t have anyone to trust and belong to.
Am angry because I don’t get to be me but to remain a puppet.
Am jealous as everyone around me seems to be happy in spite of their problems.

Being composed is one thing…. Composing oneself is a different plane altogether
Smiling from soul is one thing… Smiling just with lips is another dimension
Taking the beaten road is one thing, taking the road less travelled is another… Journeying through a non-existent road is where I’m treading on.

Even now I’m wondering why I write this on the blog… but can’t help crying out for peace for my heart that’s in pieces.

Shree's Day Out... Alone

“The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.”
I was unemployed for the first time after a long gap of 4 yrs and 2 months. Unemployed for one day on 15th July, 2008.

My last working day with SRIT was the previous day which ended with a lots of tears (only from my end), gift of a beautiful saree, a grand lunch with team @ Bageecha and of course, the relieving letter at EOD.

I had to join my new organisation today (16th July, 2008). So that meant I had one unemployed day all for myself yesterday. Am writing the following as it happened on 15th July, 2008.

8:00 am
I ask a friend… how much are the tickets @ Lido on a weekday and she says… 100bucks. I wonder… 100rs on a damn busy weekday?? She immediately says… may be its Rs.80. I think… and think and then decided to do the thing I always wanted to do. Go for a movie all alone.Speculated for another 45min, rushed to take bath, packed an apple for snack ;) and was out ASAP.

9:20 am
Am already in bus stop still speculating about whether to go or not. But I have to and get over this mental block I had of goin alone for a movie… I know it sounds crazy for lot of people and I can hear them asking…Wats the big deal here?

Point 1… even now my parents freak out if I go for a movie… with friends… in Blore or Coimbatore
Point 2… am not a person to spend 100rs for a senti Hindi movie in a multiplex.. DVD costs cheaper
Point3… am the club leader of the people who think movies are to be watched with friends
Point4… am not smart enough to face the people who stare at me in the queue when I say “1 ticket to Jaane Tu ya Jaane Na – 10am show”. Yeah.. that’s the movie I went to.

9:40 am
Was in the theater. I thought it will not be crowded. But the ticket counter was crowded, will LOTS of gals’ gangs, which reminded me of my own college days when we used to bunk college (pssst… my parents dnt know abt that yet). While in queue, the guy in front of me got 1 ticket to the same movie. I was happy I was not the only member in the loner club today.

9:55 am
Around 50ppl decorated the hall… almost 80% of the seats were empty. I was lucky (as if) to get a nice seat in an all empty row… imagine that… empty rows to the front & back and me in the middle. Felt eeir but good.

10:00 am
Jana Gana Mana music composed my ARR. Beautiful. Then the movie started… for the first time in my DTS expierence, I could sense the real surround system. The title had a saxaphone playing as the BG score… It seemed to eminate from different corners of the movie hall. It was such a beautiful experience. Now I would say, it was all my mistake that I never cherished the DTS effect in the innumerable films I’ve watched. I did find the difference when I watched Jodha Akbar… but now, it was very much mesmerising since the theater was almost empty. Beautiful is the word for that.

Upto 12:50 pm
Mmmm thats it… the movie went on.. Good entertainer. Reminded me of a tamil movie in which Prasanth & Shalini starred. Had my apple… finished the movie and came back a winner… like in Who Dares Win :)

The existence of forgetting has never been proved: We only know that some things don't come to mind when we want them

For the sense of smell, almost more than any other, has the power to recall memories and it is a pity that you use it so little.

Today morning, while I was on my way to work... I felt some old memories spring up for no reason at all. It took me back to the Ganesha temple near my childhood home. I visualized myself go around the temple.

Then bang.. it hit me why I remembered that place. It was this not so common sweet fragrance that floated in the early breeze of polluted Bengaluru. The melodious aroma of the flowers that used to grown in the temple. I don't know the name of it.. a tiny white flower with orange stalk. This plant was behind the temple and a garland made of this flower ever adorned the deity there.

As usual, this event made me think of many other trivial things that remind us of things we do not give time to think about.

Every time it starts to rain, I look up to see the drops fall between the branches and I get relocated to Bandipur National Forest where one of our teams outing was. And that leads me to have a fast forward view of many other good memories I've had when it rained, like the first time I had to eat ice cream when it rained and how I fell in love with it and made it a habit to yearn for ice creams when it rained heavily.

Just on another hot day, the zephyr took up a role of a mild wind and started a small whirlpool of dry sand and with it all the tiny things on the ground. This brought back memories of my early exploring days in my dad's village.

A good smelling barotta ( thats how the layered paratta is called in my place) takes me instantly to the small food stall near my school. Believe me.. even time I've yummy barottas, I remember the days when dad used to cheer me up by getting it from that shop.

A cool frenzied breeze hits my hair and I recall a beautiful evening in the Injambaakam beach behind the Sai temple. A rounded pebble or shell makes me get into the time machine & travel to either Rameshwaram or Kanyakumari. Any chocolate wrapper brings back the days when there was promotional offers of bring back 5 wrapper and take one candy free or making characters out of the wrappers by folding it in fans and placing a knot in the middle. Looking at the full moon brings back a a smile as I remember how I told a long lost friend that I wanted him to see the moon while I was talking to him over phone, telling how though miles apart we still saw things the same way, etc etc.

I can't claim that I only recollect only sweet incidents. Sometimes those bitter emotions of the past come up to the throat like bile. Life is but a two sided coin that adds value to the journey called 'existence'.

OK... thats it for now. I don't want to keep elaborating more on this. If this article helped you remember tiny such things that trigger long forgotten memories, I'd feel honored for that and very happy if you leave a piece of that memory in the 'Thoughts Expressed' option below.

Books! I dunno if I ever told you this, but books are the greatest gift one person can give another.

Each moment that you are happy is a gift to the rest of the world. And books make me happy.

Back in school, I had access to the library at school and to read the books recommended by teachers and thus they gifted me another new world. Thanks to my wonderful dad as well who gifted me a membership at a private lending library to read all the books that caught my mind and a subscription to RD magazine for more than a decade now. Wish I had the sense to retain all those books, since back then.

Completed school days… lending library closed out… and my reading spree reduced to a great extent until I knew some girls in my college class read books too… but I ended up reading all those the stupid M&B and Silhouette books and very few good publishes. Reading all those M&Bs made me think that all handsome doctors fell in love with the nurse and all CEOs with their secretaries, got married and lived happily ever after. I used to feel sad that having taken up Math as my major in college, I would never become a nurse or a secretary in this life :(. Then there was this Sidney Sheldon’s fan image you have got to have. If you have not read them as a being from Venus, then you are not worth calling yourself a literature fanatic.

Having friends with similar interests is a boon… at least when it comes to reading a lot of books… just so that you could share the books and save a lot of money ;)

Sasi was one such person who liked books… not exactly the kind I was used to, but then I am really glad she introduced me to Om Sri Hari Puthar (my way of pampering Harry Potter).

Then comes Sansu* (name changed to protect privacy :D) with all the qualities of a prefect (courtesy HP) who could suggest, lend and later gift very good books too. I read books to remind myself that books are fun and of course, to keep my imaginations alive.

My love for books got revived in Pune when I got to live with Anjum for 5 long months, for a project. Every minute of my time outside work was devoted to the VAST collection of books she had. Thanks to her… I never realized until then about how much I missed the divine moments alone with the books.

Now, most of my friends with a flare for books are not very near to me physically. But, the fires that they helped rekindle keeps me reading everyday… rain or shine.

This month’s books craze shopping got me 4 books and got all of them as gifts from our favourite book store Blossom Book House in Brigade Road, Bengaluru (Sansu introduced me to this place). To me, its the only good place in that zone, next only to nothing. I would recommend any book lover to try this rocking place.

The books that I got by luring my friend were...

1. The Name is Rajini Kanth – Dr. Gayathri Srikanth

2. Silence of the Lambs – Thomas Harris

3. Message in a Bottle – Nicholas Sparks

4. Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus – John Gray - (Borrower is yet to return it).

I know this month is going to be fun with all the reading... Shree is all set to enjoy her days with her best friends.

Anyone who says they have only one life to live must not know how to read a book. ~Author Unknown

Reading between lines and frames :)

I’m very famously infamous among my friends for the speed in which I read any of my books. I always knew that it is because I cherish each word in the story I read before moving to the next. But somehow, when I read academic books back in school & college or even now when I read some techie stuff to keep myself updated, I can literally see the pages fly off very soon. Am really not sure if I did read anything on this techie pages, let alone actually learn from that intellectual stuff.

I got to see this beautiful movie ‘The bridges of Madison County’ last year. Cherished every single frame of the movie. It is about a true love story that went unnoticed while the couple lived and made history after their death. No… am not going to write a review on that.
Last month, I got lucky to find that book (original print) in an Old Book Stall in Coimbatore. When I read the book, I felt the characters come alive and felt the movie repeat telecast to me. I was able to visualize every move of the people in the book. This, I thought was because I had already seen the movie.

“Not so fast”, said my heart, “this is what you do with all the books you read. That is the reason you take forever to finish a book”. I realize its the truth. May be everyone read by imagining the characters do the opera for them when they read any book. But to me, my heart and mind waits until even the back drop and the music match to the text that dances in front of my eyes. May be that’s the reason I take so long to read.

The same happened with me when I read ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’ (Waiting for a chance to see this movie as well, to see if the visuals are as good as my imagination). The story was set in a time period similar to ‘Gone with the Wind’. Trust me… it took me nearly 2.5 weeks to complete the book with all this imaginations draining my energy :) This is what I would call ‘Reading between lines and frames’. I wanted the whole frame to be ready before I could let the characters do anything next. But it is really fun to read it this way. By the way, did I tell you, my great buddy Jesh introduced me to the classics like Gone with the Wind & Bridges. I wish more such recommendations come from him.

If one has the patience and love for imagination, I think everyone should try this. Only advice is, if you had borrowed the book from a friend, foe or a lending library… try to increase the pace of the creative thinking, finish the book without damaging it and PLEASE return it.

To me Books are my Best Friends.

God!!! We Survived

Guilty as Charged… But never on parole :)

I came across a post in a Discussion Forum reading 'TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED the 1930's 40's, 50's, 60's and 70’s!!'

It was all about kids born before 1980 and the joy they felt as born-free humans. I noticed that it was not just me who very often pondered over the memories of childhood (like kolam, bicycle masti, etc).

It is so true that we were more crazy than the kids we see the since the past two decades.

The post had a lot of memories listed down... the few that reminded me of my own childhood are here...

* First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us, giving a chance to our children to be proud that their mother too didn't smoke or drink.

* We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took talking to strangers.

* As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags, just in case someone gave us a car ride.

* We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.

* We shared one soft drink with four friends (pitching in everyone's weekend allowance of 1re each), from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.

* We ate cakes and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!

* We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

* No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.

* The one photo session day in school was one of the most hated days of the year but still we got our uniforms pressed for the great day.

* We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

* We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents. Most often, our friends became the doctors treating us ;).. Lest parents knew about it

* We made up games with sticks and rubber balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.

* We rode bicycles or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them!

* This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

* We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!

And if YOU are one of them… CONGRATULATIONS!

I wish our kids would get a glimpse of the funny, cranky life we had and know what they actually missed. I bet my life to the fact that all the latest gadgets available could never show them the bliss we experienced years back.

If you remember such events from the past and that which are hard to see in today’s world… do drop a few lines about them. I know each one of you are thinking about them with a smile on your lips .. :)

I love walking down the street and seeing faces and drama and happiness and sadness and dirt and cleanliness.

Yesterday I was hurrying to catch my office bus when I noticed the huge trees on the 100ft road in Indira Nagar getting a trimming. When I say huge trees and trimming… I want you to imagine the magnitude. Thank God, it was just a grooming business that happened and not a complete destruction of the being that has seen more generations pass by than any human. I was wondering what it would feel like to get on top of those trees and do the task of chopping it off.

All said & done, who clears the mess that was left behind. This blog is not about cutting or planting trees. Today I write about the people whose life keeps haunting me since the day I started working in Chennai. My job there required me to start to office by 6.50am…when the city was just waking up and prepare for the bright day ahead.

My hostel was just around the normally very busy area of Adayar where people of all working class flock together. The few minutes I wait for the first bus to go to my office will remain ever green in my memories. The bus stop was just opposite to a Hindu temple and adjacent to a mosque. The heart melting music from the temple and the verses read in the Dharga failed to impress me over the other sound that fell as music to my ears.

It was the sound of the brooms of the street sweepers. I bet no one is as dedicated and patient like these people who do this not very pleasing job. Of course, they have taken up this job for feeding their family. In their hardship, I saw the gods I failed to see in any of the holy places.

The area I’m talking about has lots of petty food joints and Biriyani centers. With no proper garbage disposal system, the road corners become the major dumping zone for all the wastages. The stink & the mess would make anyone to puke if they stay there for more than few minutes. The workers I saw every morning cleaning up these mass looked more pious to me than Mother Teresa. But by the end of the day, it is back to square one.

In Bengalooru too, I push myself to work in the IT sector after having a glimpse of these divine beings every morning. Few of the regular cleaners see me almost everyday as I rush to work and know me too, that we smile at each other and move on.

After knowing the life of these people, I vow to myself every now & then not to litter & pollute my surroundings… but habits die hard. My attempts to store the biscuit/ chocolate wrappers, bus tickets, etc until I find a garbage bin have failed 50% of the times. I know am not a perfect citizen… but am still trying to help stop pollution. I wish you would too :)

Certainly this is a duty, not a sin. "Cleanliness is indeed next to godliness."

There is no real evil in life, except great pain; all the rest is imaginary, and depends on the light in which we view things.

For the first time in my very short blogging experience, today I write about some unpleasant thoughts that keep haunting my life recently…

Many know me as an extrovert, fun to have me around, bubbly, mature, etc. May be I am all that to the outer world. Only those very close to me realize that am a wet blanket at many occasions, a pain in the neck, and an indecisive, callow person.

Who actually am I? Why do I appear as two different person to myself and to those around me? I do not know. But the only truth I can stick to is… I do not fake about what I am to others, and NEVER to the ones close to my heart. Is that why they find me to be such a weirdo? If am a weirdo, why do I still find them close to me? What am I?

Too many questions… too many answers with lots of ifs and buts. Where would I find a teacher who would look into my answers to the questions I throw at myself and evaluate what is right and what went wrong. God… it’s a very complicated thought that keeps running in my mind and takes me into a labyrinth of unwanted ideas. But who decides which idea is necessary and which is not.

I know am rebellious in many ways compared to the kith I grew up with. Though the elders around knew what I was asking or doing was most often logical and practical… I was forced to succumb to the “society” culture that’s prevails. I’ve tried to be part of the so called ‘live & let live’ life and have often let others live their life rather than look back and decide to LIVE my life. I know that’s a huge sacrifice that I did. The worst pain a human can suffer is to have insight into much and power over nothing. That’s my story.

Love… what a complicated four lettered feeling. I’ve read --> “Love means exposing yourself to the pain of being hurt, deeply hurt by someone you trust.” Does it mean that to trust and love your family is to feel pain all your life? If I had known and was taught that love brings pain, I would have remained an atheist to love.

I would quote Vivekananda here - ‘This misery that I am suffering is of my own doing, and that very thing proves that it will have to be undone by me alone. That which I created, I can demolish; that which is created by someone else, I shall never be able to destroy. Therefore, stand up, be bold, be strong. Take the whole responsibility on your own shoulders, and know that you are the creators of your own destiny. All the strength and succor you want is within ourselves.’

They are too good to read and fathom the words. Wish I could get the strength to take the responsibility for my own miseries.

Sometimes waiting for a solution is the best solution. Other times, forgetting unpleasant moments are the solutions. “Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering.”

Sorry this one is a little depressing… I just found a small vent to my thoughts through this… I believe this outlet will take me through this day in a better way.

To all readers...Have a Great Life ahead :)