When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane :)

Promotion again…. From the most loved position to not-yet-fond-of position.

All these days riding my bicycle (BSA SLR – Light & Sporty) and then my mo-bike (TVS Scooty EZ) was itself a mind blowing, emotion filled time for me. After more than a quarter century of two wheelers bliss, I decided it was time for a promotion.

Just last week, I completed my 9 days of the 10days’ 4 wheeler driving classes. At last I’ve crossed another milestone in my life. My wish to meet the growing traffic face to face, taking charge of the wheels, from within an enclosure named CAR, became true. This of course is an achievement to me, to drive out into the raging motor world not knowing who or what is on your left or right or below or behind. Ok people… stop laughing now… am talking about the first few days when I actually started driving.

Let me tell u wat happened since the day I went to get my Learners License. One such other day, my friend from office kept telling he had to leave early for the day & had some very IMPORTANT personal work. As with all, I bugged him to tell me abt it and his reason was to collect his Driver’s License from the RTO.

The little devil in me tempted me to take up the driving classes the very next day. I went all geared to the Driving Institute with 6 fotos, pport copy & other proofs. Got enrolled… met the assistant RTO… she assigned me to the written test to get the Learner’s License… I came out with flying colors…. Not on paper, but in my face. My face held the colors of shame, ignorance, embarrassment, etc … ‘coz I failed the test :D

With a never say No attitude, I went back after 2 days to get my LL. This time it was an Oral Test and I transferred the colors on my face to the result sheet and came out with a victorious grin.

From next day to the next 9 days, in the wee hours of the day (6.30am – 7.30am), began the wonderful adventure. With ABC started my class… Accelerator, Brake & Clutch.
It went on like left indicator… half turn to left… indicator off… right indicator on… full turn to right… slow down clutch break… clutch that gear.. clutch this gear, left-right-straight reverse… etc and more etc. Uffff…. What an experience…. Not to me but my driving instructor.

I know he would have seen more difficult students. But the tension I built up every time I saw a heavy vehicle near us, pushed the extra heat to him as well. At last day 9 class to is over. At some point during these days, I felt I should have opted to become a pilot 'coz I would’ve been able to drive alone on the run-way and fly alone in the sky-way J.

Am now waiting for the D-day when I can utilize the last hour of training and feel good that the 3000 bucks I paid was of worth only after I get the much esteemed Driver’s License.

Did I tell u something… I still don’t know how to use the wiper, parking light indicator, open the bonnet or the one behind… or to double park or to have a relaxed expression on my face while driving. I’ve to learn all these except the last point before I face the RTO officer. The thing abt the smile… I believe I’ll get it as my driving days keep increasing.

To tickle your funny bone a little: You know, somebody actually complimented me on my driving today. They left a little note on the windscreen; it said 'Parking Fine.'

Slow.. Slower... Slowest... thats the mantra....

'The victory is not always to the swift' but 'Slow and steady wins the race'

This happened a few days back when I was traveling in a city bus in Pune, India (one of my very few bus travels there) and was wondering how could a bus possibly be able to travel at the speed of, say… 10 – 20 kmph. It was that slow that I looked out the window and saw the walkers on the pavement overtake the bus I was traveling.
Just then did I realize that the reason for this super speed of the bus -- an imp of a guy, determined to ride his bicycle in the middle of the road, just in front of the bus in just the speed to irritate every one around.

As always, I was immediately transported to my childhood days in our residential quarters. That fun filled days of bicycling our way through all the blocks in the campus still lingers in my mind.

Come weekends & vacation and so will come my dads ideas to escape from us. The look on our face when we beg dad for 1 re each… for me & my brother… the look on my dad’s face not wanting to part with coins every other hour on all those holidays … is just toooo unforgettable. Wondering why?? Those are the times when just one or two kids in the block had a bicycle on their own and all other kids would run to the cycle shop that rents out cute little cycles for 50ps per hour. Then again, we had only 2 cycle shops in our locality at that time and its on first come first basis & we were like so MANY kids around.

Even today, when I feel the top of my head… I remember the knuckle knocks my brother so very lovingly implanted on my head to teach me to ride the tine-vine bicycle. Going on wild races with buddies in our residential block… like I would definitely say ‘Feeling the breeze in my hair’ was an experience by itself. What do u say?

Some times, when I think of some of my friends who came from the richer crowd, I really do pity them. Yes of course, they had their own bicycles but not the fun to be the first to run to the cycle shop and rent out the bicycle that was just right for ur size. Yes... they did have friends to play along with… in closed compound walls, with just one bicycle… either theirs or their friends.. Wherever they were at that time. But us… it was all the crazy kids could care for… hoots & yells & giggles when one crashed into another... not intentionally though. A crash here when few of us were learning to ride it, another bang since the brakes had failed or rather never existed, a crash there when the more experienced show off & bang into a hard wall… what fun those were.

Now all set to ride the bicycle in good speed & good balance… we thought & knew it was an achievement. Then came the Republic Day sport competition in our quarters.. and there were words around that cycling competition was introduced for the first time. This time it was dad who asked us to take part. By this time, my brother had a cycle of his own & he very caringly went out early & got me a rented bicycle.

We were there all fresh & saluting our national flag… orange mittai (sugar candy) distributed, cheeks bulging, tongue colored and too eager that our enthusiasm was infectious. First came frog race, then sack race, running race, and and and… it went on. Finally they called in the participant for slow cycling race. Hello… am I hearing it right? Did we hear it right? SLOW cycling? Cycling to us was always synonymous with SPEED. We looked into each other’s face & thought, what the heck - we’ll do it.

And we did it as well. Of course we dint win. Our society secretary’s kid won the prize… a cute little stainless steel tumbler and we were jealous. We dnt know anything about the race and he did it like an expert. The slowest and the steadiest won the race. How wonderfully the proverb suits this event.

I did take part in many more slow cycling events but never did I win any. I realize now that I did it to prove myself that I tried doing something against the law… against the word wat bicycle stands for… speed & equilibrium. But, I think nature wanted me to take things as they are meant for... something different at times & try that as well. All is fair in luv & war (ok... races).

By the way… I also know ‘Too much is too bad’… So here ends my gibberish about one of my childhood freak-outs. If I had some how rekindled some long lost memories of yours... somewhere that was deep within you… I’m happy & glad that that I could touch someone’s heart in a nice way.

Being a leader is not power, it means responsibility.

“As a child of God, I am greater than anything that can happen to me.”

What a verse… what perseverance… some day, when I own a house, this phrase is sure to hold a framed position in my meditation room, to keep me reminded.. This too will pass.
I know as usual am confusing my lovely readers with the difference in the blog topic and the above couple of lines. This time… am all set to write about a person we all know and never got to know him well enough.
Yeah… as the picture would ‘ve spoken to u already, am definitely going to talk about our one & only Dr. Avul Pakir Jainulabdeen Abdul Kalam (Birth Oct 15th, 1931), the 12th President of India (18 July, 2002 – July 25th 2007). My major reason to be attracted to him other than him being the President is our mutual luv for the color BLUE.
Here, I sincerely hope I don’t republish wat we’ve known thru fwd mails --- about the handful of civilian awards that were bestowed on him, his contribution to the astro world, his luv for the humanity, languages, Bagavath Gita, Quran, Thirukural or being a vegetarian food, teetotaler, with a vision of developed India, a poet, orator, author, etc. All I want to think is about how much did I learn from him. Lets say, may be a percentage of around … may be… a null percentage. I can claim that 90% of my readers feel the same way when we look back & realize if we really appreciate his presence in his 5 yrs tenure.
The day he was sworn in as the president of India, my happiness knew no bounds, I literally shed a tear of joy to know that some one I’ve heard abt as a intellect is goin to rule the country. Hello… this does not mean that other presidents were not as good as him or anything… its only that am not a very politically inclined person & know nothing more than the names of the president, prime minister and chief minister of my state as of today. That’s it.
I’ve lived 25yrs of my life in a government owned residential quarters… similar to Kalamji. Ok, to be Rashtrapathi Bhavan is also a govt. quarters, but to the President. Though I claim to be a very fwd minded, independent woman, I doubt if I would let strangers walk into my garden to admire the beauties it with held. When we couldn’t decide on our own house, I really appreciate the way Dr.ji trust his fellow Indians to walk his grounds. I’m learning to TRUST from him.
Ardent Muslim, devoted to Bagavath Gita as well… did I hear right about this news about him? An acquaintance told me that it’s a rumor, just to create a sense of unity btwn the Hindu & the Muslim citizens. But then, I don’t believe he had to be reading it all through his life and following the lessons in the hope that he would one day be a President and show case this habit. From this, I should be learning EQUALITY IN RELIGION and their values.
The first time his permission was sought to nominate him as for President, though with reluctance, he did agree. After 5 long years of Presidential experience and when few good souls requested him about his idea for a second period… I read him as saying, ‘If you would give your word that I would be elected again, then I would compete’. No wish for the power or greediness to the throne could woe him. He’s a great learner, to know the truth of politics from experience, good or bad. From this I learn to be GOOD JUDGE OF SITUATION.
I can go on like this… but this being a blog, I stop myself from writing a book. I’ve not paid much attention to any one in politics as much as I did on the last day of Kalamji’s job as a President. Once again, just as on his first day as a president, I shed few more tears… with hopes that India would get a visionary like him as a ruler again & hopes to see a developed India by 2020. I’ve begun to dream of self growth… for I believe, mass growth of individuals both economically and as a person, means the growth of the nation.

My only concern is, when the effective leader has finished with his work, I hope the world doesn’t say it happened naturally.

Jai Hind.

The modern little red riding hood, reared on singing commercials, has no objections to being eaten by the wolf.

"If you don't get noticed, you don't have anything. You just have to be noticed, but the art is in getting noticed naturally, without screaming or without tricks."


This is yet another addition to the things I admire with awe. It has become part of our life… juz like most other things we see everyday and take it for granted. There had been more than one instances when I’d actually missed the usual one or one of my favs.

Straight to the point is what my friends want me to do. Before I go on abt it, I owe a Cornetto if u’ve guessed by now wat I’m yapping about. (No cheating…okie?).

Its all about the make believe world of Advertisements. The first ever advertisement that I remember is that of Hamam soaps. The way the ad of this company has evolved over the quarter century is overwhelming. The ads match the latest trend in every way. This is just an example that jumped out of my memory. The adv, which I admired recently, was the Sony Ericsson mobile fones… where they replace the word LUV with their marble logo. Something like I walking in the rain… I music, I missing the last bus, etc. Very creative… Very impressive.

The first thing that crosses our minds when we think about Ads is the LOGO. By the way… do u know wat LOGO means --- its Logic Oriented & Graphics Oriented (read this is a CSC book of a 10yr old kid).

The creation of logos, I trust dates back to the stone age when people started to mark their territory or clan with symbols of their own, say images of animals, nature, etc. In this cosmo era, the logos that various corporate exhibit are mainly to tap the potential customers in their respective domain. The term ‘Corporate’ should not just remind u of Nike, Adidas, Sony, Benz or Chevrolet. Do u remember the Re.1 pickle packets or 1.ps toffee that we get in our granny’s village… did u notice the logo there? Thanks for remembering them… yes… they too hold a pretty logo speaking for itself.

Creating Logos is the base of the Ad world, coz most of the times they bring out the life of the product. An apt example is of ADIDAS that has to be read as All Day I Dream About Sports [my friend once said S stands for ‘Shree’. Of course I was on Cloud 9, no doubt on that ;)]. But then again, I wud like to ponder more about the creative gray cells that work together or even against each other to come up with catchy, competitive Ad films, hoardings, pamphlets, digital scrolls, etcetera.

Any public relations team cud of course tell these Ad Experts wat they wud like to niche with the new advertisement. Getting into the minds of the requestor, analyzing the market of the product, their expectations and other core things is the most debilitating of all influences in the creation of good advertising (I can’t think more… coz I’m not even close to an amerture in this context). What actually runs into their minds when confronted with an assignment is wat I wud like to ask them if I confront them some day in the near future. Shamelessly copying from the net, I would second the thought "Ads are the cave art of the twentieth century". Won’t you?

Every dark cloud has a silver lining… & so far we’ve been generous enough to see the silver side of this dreamy, floating mass. I won’t do justice to my wicked soul if I dnt write about the darker side as well. Do the advertisements really mean wat they say? Are they true to their word about wat they hoard about? I also believe in wat Will Rogers (psst... I dnt know him either) said - "If advertisers spent the same amount of money on improving their products as they do on advertising then they wouldn't have to advertise them". Wat except money do they gain by luring people with film stars, catchy captions, tempting visuals and lying thru their teeth. I can feel the heat of stare as I hear u say, ‘as if she works in an IT firm for social service’. Hehehehe cunning amn’t I?

Say wat ever, Ad Film making is an unfulfilled dream career of mine & I wud cherish & admire forever & ever.

"Creativity is an advertising agency's most valuable asset, because it is the rarest."

Jef I. Richards

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder

By plucking her petals, you do not gather the beauty of the flower. ~Rabindrath Tagore


This blog is dedicated to people who think beauty is not just skin deep & something more personal & intimate. Beauty is not in seeing a little of a person, but admiring them as a whole flower. A guy made me feel so recently, and few others in the past too (many of whom I felt never really existed – that’s my ego speakin). I was juz wondering wat runs in the minds of those people who FEEL beauty in a person, rather then see it, like the rest of the world.

As usual, I read in the net, a quote by Helen Keller, which goes as ‘The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched ... but are felt in the heart.’ The truth ... as is.

Born & brought up in India, hogging at the filmi queens & heroes in the 1000 & odd films that get released per year… beauty to me meant glossy hair, smooth, freckle free skin, pearly teeth, beauty contestant figure, hi-fi clothes, luxury cars… mmm ok… I’ll not list out wat all of us know already. While in school, when teachers spoke of inner beauty in our Moral Science classes, I strongly believed that it was to make the not so pretty kids feel a little better about themselves. Those ideals brought no sense to me… until a few months back.

In my recent past, my fate took me face to face with the wickedness of wat lost beauty cud cause or wat truth it can reveal. This is not about someone I know of, but then it has affected me in a way, which I intend to take to my grave or spread across the world thru my ashes. It was in a hospital where I witnessed this scene. A guy suffering from third degree burns was so lovingly attended by (just) his girlfriend. His parents?? That’s whom I was searchin for too. I was told that they were too embarrassed to even claim this burnt mass as their son. But, the dedication with which the gal (not yet his wife) cared for him as if he was still the handsome guy she fell in luv with, brought tears to my eyes. I was moved by the incident… but still it dnt remove the etch in my brain that said ‘Beauty is wat is visible to the naked eyes.’

Now comes the part when I my heart carved the words "No object is so beautiful that, under certain conditions, it will not look ugly” (Oscar Wilde quotes (Irish Poet, Novelist, Dramatist and Critic, 1854-1900)). I’m an amateur fotographer and was goin thru my album filled mostly with people I know & some strangers who’ve looked into the lens when my camera focused them. Each of them… different skin tones, different smiles, different kinda beauty, a tear filled eye, a appreciative hug, a deceptive look, a disappointed shoulder, etc. Lookin at it again, I realized that most people I deeply loved ‘ve are not the smooth skinned beauties I mentioned earlier. The wrinkles on my granny’s face reflected the pains she had gone thru to rear us, the look on my friends’ face… portrayed her concern for me & her disappointment in my mistake, etc & me. Aren’t those what beauty is all about?

In the recent days, I’m closer to the person who has made be believe in myself…. Like he always says… Weed is a plant whose virtues are not yet been discovered (he got this from the net too). He keeps telling that looks acquaint many people but those who remain with us see more than looks in us. I was impressed & my emotions come out thru my only vent … my blog. He made me feel beautiful -- juz like the quote 'You don't love a woman because she is beautiful; she is beautiful because you love her'.

Did u guys think of this at any point of time? Even for a minute? I’ve .. a lot before… but without understanding wat beauty actually is. My perspective has changed & I trust, so has my life.


That which is striking and beautiful is not always good, but that which is good is always beautiful.

I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.

God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars. ~Martin Luther

It is still like yesterday when I first met her and before I could realize, it’s almost 7yrs since I am friends with her. In the past years, her beauty has decreased... like a gracefully aging gal, but I do miss the one I was got acquainted to.

It was a chill evening in December 2001… first day since I came to Bangalore (Indira Nagar). Knowing new place, new people, new responsibility and new friendship all happened on the same day & was too much for me. Planning to take things gradually, I walked out of my cramped up, noisy hostel & a few meters away, saw her & also noticed many being attracted to her. And I was no exception to that.

That day was the birth of a new friend I wud cherish for ever… and I christened her ‘my park’. It was a Sunday & when I reached the park, which was a small abode of beautiful fauna (the chirping of birds can b heard only in the silence of the soul) & flora (which can speak volumes to an admirer), it was dotted with kids, all in various color outfits and most of ‘em younger than 5yrs old. And the kids chaperoned by young parents, hyperactive older siblings, grandmas & grandpas, lovers with hopes & dreams… a lovely sight that was to behold.

It was a chill dusk… all in their sweaters & warmers, but the beauty of this scene was that all wanted to be near the fountain to feel the spray of water on their uncovered face and palms. My fav spot too became the arena bench near the fountain. After that day, every time I’m with my friend ‘my park’, am always in my fav spot or wait until someone who has occupied it to get lost & sit there until the park closes at 7.15pm.

As I sit there, I look at the kids play together with a ball from one household, a bat from another, something else from yet another. Which part of their childhood do kids suddenly get to realize some things belong to THEM? Juz a thot that crossed my mind… I don’t ponder on it much and move on to see the other people in my friend’s stretched out hand.

Bordering the park were few eatery stalls, filled with the teenage crowd happily munching away & I thot, how many of ‘em wud ‘ve got on their mom’s last nerve for not eating even the required serving of home-made food prepared with so much care & affection.

Days fly, I left my friend & with hope I said ‘meet ya soon’. I move to Coimbatore, then Chennai in the following years and also, I move back to Bangalore in December 2004 to build my career. I could’ve settled down anywhere in the wide city but as luck wud‘ve it, I came to Indira Nagar again and closer to my friend.

In the years I missed being with her, I noticed a lot of changes as she would’ve of me. In the place of the fountain, now stood three pipe stumps that remind one of the beauties that once used to attract so many. It was like the crown which an old lady won when she was a titled Miss Beautiful ages ago.

Nothin had changed much… except by the years that‘ve passed by. I met some of the most important people of my life in the same park and all of us cherish the time we spent there. At any moment, be it in the hot sun or the cool evening, I feel a sense of belonging when I’m in that park… feel one with the nature. As William Hazlitt (English essayist, 1778-1830) once quoted -- I can enjoy society in a room; but out of doors, nature is company enough for me.

Talking about nature, I read a quote …"What a country chooses to save is what a country chooses to say about itself."( Mollie Beattie, Director, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service from 1993-1996). How true. Let us preserve something today for the tomorrow to be proud of.

We generate our own environment. We get exactly what we deserve. How can we resent a life we've created ourselves? Who's to blame, who's to credit but us? Who can change it, anytime we wish, but us?”
Richard Bach quotes (American Writer, author of 'Jonathan Livingston Seagull', b.1936)

Today the ringing of the telephone takes precedence over everything. It reaches a point of terrorism, particularly at dinnertime :)

How about a day without cell phones???

I know it’s an out of the box topic to be blogged about. Was discussing with my friend abt wat to write next. She suggested this one & I thot…. Y not?

It was one of those days I had gone to my native for a weekend visit and had not activated my roaming facility on my mobile service.

I had called up my parents’ abt my arrival & as a grown up gal, declined my dad’s offer to be picked at the bus station. I reached Coimbatore the next morning with heavy luggage & thot it would’ve been better if someone was there to help me with it. I know dad was always within reach, pulled out my mobile & realized too late that I wouldn’t b able to make any calls. I instantly regretted my forgetfulness to activate my roaming facility.

It was too early for the public tele booths to open up. So had to drag my luggage & reach home happily, everything alright except for a small bulge on my back which hurt. For around 2-3 hrs, the realization that my mobile will be dead for a couple of days did not reach me until couple of my very concerned friends called on my dad’s mobile to check if I was safely home.

I didn’t miss it one bit the whole morning. No calls from office asking abt scenario execution, no calls from banks offering life time free credit cards with only annual fees for a decade, no calls from strangers, no calls from beloveds, no calls from enemies (I do get calls from them.. don’t gimme that look), no call from anyone. It felt like I was havin the whole world for myself… reading stuff I wanted to… watchin TV, havin a lazy bfast, listening to distant sirens… all of it felt so wonderful.

Slowly, the weirdness of not holdin a mobile set it. Now it was like WHY no calls from office, WHY no calls from banks, WHY no calls from strangers, WHY no calls from beloveds & WHY no calls from enemies. I felt like being cast away… suddenly into a world where one wanted to talk to me. Its funny how people‘ve two different opinions abt the same thing. It’s like the light & night of a day.

Two days later, when I reached Bangalore & heard my mobile ring…. It felt like a resurrection had taken place... me & my mobile were once again part of the fast moving world.

I read somewhere … “If we discovered that we only had five minutes left to say all that we wanted to say, every telephone booth would be occupied by people calling other people to stammer that they loved them”. Is it y cell phones were invented… so that if such a situation arrived, we could’ve our own booths to tell our last few words…. OK OK… am not getting sentimental….

On the lighter side… before I used to own a cell phone, I gaped at people & wondered why people always gesture with their hands when they talk on the phone? Since they keep moving while on cell phones (most often), do they think they can actually reach the person & the other person wud see their gesture & understand wat they say? Or is it that they feel closer to the person while on a mobile than on a fixed line?

Before I close, I ask myself, why do people use phones even if the other person is reachable in person?? Is it that we use mobile technology because we hate being close together all the time or are we scared of being alone?

Dint get the answer to anything yet… but I luv being part of this gadget savy crowd… takin pride in owning a cellular phone all for myself. Though I do get a mild heart attack very month end when I get the bills.. Im still happy that I’ve my OWN telephone booth ;)

Art is to me the glorification of the human spirit, and as such it is the cultural documentation of the time in which it is produced.

Art is much less important than life, but what a poor life without it.

With that caption & this starting line for the blog, you would’ve guessed that the content would be about Vincent Van Gough (Expressive Dutch master painter 1853-1890) or Leonardo da Vinci (Renaissance master painter and inventor 1452-1519) or Pablo Picasso (Leading modern artist of the 20th Century 1881-1973) or may be Raja Ravivarma (All time famous Indian artist). Sorry to hurt ur ego… its not about any of them. My blog talks about more simple yet brilliant art I’ve ever known. Read on, I won’t let u down.

Born & brought up in Coimbatore, India has implanted in me a thirst for knowing different cultures, life styles and people. Once famous as the Manchester of South India (it still is called so), Coimbatore has attracted people from all over India and with them the varied cultures.

Wondering y im talkin abt cultures here? Though I‘ve not traveled much, I am and will always be a wanderer… searchin to feast my eyes, heart & soul with new ideas, practices, etc. Until recently, I had no clue about the cultures of my ancestral homeland (I was told my ancestors were from another part of India and not from TamilNadu, which I respect so much). I don’t regret that either. What my birth place holds is more than enough to quench my autumn thirst for witnessing people & their habits… or should I say their ethnicity.

Of the varied traditions followed in TamilNadu, the one that touched my heart & brain most is the practice of drawing KOLAM (in Tamil).

For those of u who are new to this term--> The colorful Kolam tradition dates back to the Indus Valley Civilization (2500 B.C). Kolam is a form of design or pattern drawn with coarse rice flour on the floor with bare fingers using predetermined dots by female members of the family in front of their home, especially near the threshold. Kolams were often drawn with rice flour since it served as a food source to nature's creatures like ants and crows, a daily tribute to harmonious co-existence. Rice flour is seen as an offering to Lakshmi, the goddess of rice and wealth.

A Kolam is a sort of painted prayer -- a line drawing composed of curved loops, drawn around a grid pattern of dots. The dots are either connected together to make a pattern or loops are drawn encircling the dots to complete a motif. A Kolam looks more or less like a sand painting on the floor.They are generally symmetric. The patterns range between geometric and mathematical line drawings around a matrix of dots to free form art work and closed shapes. Folklore has evolved to mandate that the lines must be completed so as to symbolically prevent evil spirits from entering the inside of the shapes, and thus are they prevented from entering the inside of the home. (Excerpt from my INET world)

All through my school & college days, we lived in a government owned residential flat (My parents were very dedicated & sincere govt. employees till their last day in service). Where we lived, only the ground floor residents had the privilege to‘ve lovely gardens and front yards for themselves. And along with it their happiness in decorating their yard with lovely, intricate, sometimes complicated Kolams. Every morning, on my way to school, I used to admire that lovely art on the grainy ground. When I saw how beautifully they were, I used to think y I dnt know how to do it. One such holiday morning, lookin at my gloomy face, my granny explained the secret of the art I luv so much.

She told me, that when she used to be a kid herself, every morning all the women in her village draw Kolams on the ground with white rice powder. Through the day, though the drawings gets erased; new ones were made the next day. It was a way to tell that though things can change the beauty of a thing, perseverance is needed to recreate the beauty again & again. Granny said, the Kolams are generally drawn while the surface is still damp so that it is held better. Her lesson from this was that one should prepare the necessary ground before tryin to achieve a masterpiece. Finally was her advice for fitness from these lines, dots & curves. The shine in her eyes when she started to speak abt this cannot be underestimated. The benefits for the artist to bend down each morning – she said, is to help her digestive system, reproductive organs and to help overall stretching of the body. It used to be a matter of pride to be able to draw large complicated patterns without lifting the hand off the floor (or unbending to stand up). My granny’s favorite month is the month of "Margazhi" (late Dec & early Jan), and mine too since then, ‘coz all the gals in would then showcase their skills by covering the entire width of the road with one big Kolam. It was indeed a test of mastery, as one cannot repeat a pattern for 30 days.

Wouldn’t then been so much fun. Wish I was born during that era when drawing on the roads were appreciated & encouraged so much. When I was still in my primary class, mom introduced me to my first Kolam.. drawn with juz 4 dots and one continuous curve and I was hooked to it for life. The numerous papers that got erased & redrawn & torn, if could testify, would tell about my attempts to master it. Every time I thought I’ve mastered it, I was introduced to a more complicated & interesting one.

My luv and respect grew to a higher level after my first visit to the temple town Chidambaram in TamilNadu. Known world wide for the famous Natrajar temple, I believe should be marked in the world map with a bigger insinuation for the various simple, humble lanes of the town made pretty & catchy with those different Kolams on every door step. Those that I saw there were nothing like the ones I was so used to. These were very different and portrayed a whole new meaning for the Kolams & the meanings they convey.
I like watching them so much… some times I feel they actually talk to me… reach out to me & say something or give me an answer to a question which I’ve not yet realized is haunting me deep within.

Those are the by-gone days when I would settle down in the comfoy of my bed with a notebook and a pencil & get entangled in their intricacies & learn slowly to untangle myself from its loops in a neat clear picture. Now, when I think of those pleasant memories… I wish I could go back to my younger days when a dot & line could make me happy, relax, think, decide… of all - be myself.
If only I could be innocent & free as before… I’m all ready to fall in luv with it all over again… and again… and again.


I don't believe in an art that is not born out of man's need to open his heart
.::: Edvard Munch :::
(Don't ask me who Edvard is... dnt know much abt him... except he has shared beautiful quotes about art)

The Wright brothers flew right through the smokescreen of impossibility.

"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned upward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return."
— Leonardo da Vinci. (1452-1519) Italian artist, inventor and painter

I read this somewhere in the wide INet world. How true that is.

It’s early 1980s. Was 5yrs old then … the first time I realized wat the big bird in the sky was. Until then in was just A for Airplane. The sound of the propellers… people walkin in with their trolleys, huge sunshade glasses, power shoes… I think how rich, successful & happy people are to fly in that mammoth bird. I vowed; I would one day be like those people who fascinated me… only ‘coz they were actually getting lifted off the solid earth and are in the free air.


Years flew by and with it my desire balloon kept getting bigger and comfortably swayin in the paths of the airplane… waitin for a day when I wud actually be boarding one. After my college days.. I moved on to Bangalore, India with hopes to fly high in my career as well. As fate wud ‘ve it … I was very lucky to travel every day through the famous Airport Road in Blore… in our high company bus. Those few minutes we take to traverse parallel with the runway…. Was juz soooooo amazing. Now here…. am NOT exaggerating a single bit.

The trees that lined the compound wall of the runway, I would say are the strongest and most loved in the entire area. Everyday, they provide seating to 100s of fascinated people (of all age groups) like me, to climb on to them and watch the magnificent creatures land & take off with such a beautiful grace.

Our bus driver was no exception to that. My friend literally makes sure she keeps her eyes straight ahead on the road to make sure our bus doesn’t collide with some other vehicle. ‘Coz on that stretch of the road… our bus driver, one of the members of my aviation lovers club keeps his eyes on the runway and the light in his eyes tells me that he wud rather fly the bird rather than our bus ;)

The first few months of our daily trips on the airport road, me & my friends used to get busy on the net first thing in the morning… to Google & check which airplane we saw on the run way that day.. which country it belonged to and the model of it. I know u guys wud be thinking… can people really get this crazy… yes we can. My friend I was telling about, who makes sure we reach office safe by being an extra pair of eyes to our bus driver…hates flying. But she is equally in awe for these beauties. That’s the magic it can impose on people. Luv it.. hate it… u can’t juz ignore it.


Then, many years after I was 5yrs old, I had my first chance to fly (Jet Airways). It was a very short trip.. hardly an hours trip… from Coimbatore, my home town to Chennai. After 10min inside my dream machine, I knew my feelings for her all these years were not an infatuation at all… nothing but true love. Every minute was mind blowing. My first aerial view of my hometown, the roads I’ve traveled numerous times, the places I’ve read in geography text books in school, rivers & mountains I’ve see in the state maps only in my atlas… smiled back at me. I realized wat nature and human brain can impose on you. I felt one with the universe once I saw the cloud pass by my window of the plane. May be GOD does exists.

During those few minutes, I was wondering wat it would be like to fly in the space rockets & the space ships. Ok.. I know it’s a far fetched dream. Lemme stop here… only the talks about my desires about air planes… but I push off another day waiting for the day when I cud fly again for long in the fabulous, magical machine.


There are no signposts in the sky to show a man has passed that way before. There are no channels marked. The flier breaks each second into new uncharted seas.
Author: Anne Morrow Lindbergh 1906-, American Author


The aeroplane has unveiled for us the true face of the earth.
Author: Antoine De Saint-Exupery 1900-1944, French Aviator, Writer

"Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day."

Traffic Security Guy on the Road

Its one of the hot, bright, sunny morning...just around 8 AM and it is still early March. We are on our way to our office.... comfortably sitting in our company bus, listening to the not so interesting chit chats and songs on the FM, grudging and complaining about the traffic jams and the weather. And there I saw him, standing in the middle of a busy junction (where the brookefield road takes a diversion to ITPL in B’lore). Dressed in the very common security guard uniform, sweating and tired, he was very successfully trying to manage the unruly morning drivers who realize only when stopped, that they are the ones destined to save the world in the last minute.
Now, I can hear u askin... so wats the big deal about this guy. It was his SMILE. Yeah... I know everyone of us smile, but its often when we are happy. But none of us smile when we've to stand in the hot hoT hOT HOT sun.. atleast I don't. I see him pass on his infectious smile to the thousand strangers he sees in the junction & help them pass it smoothly without much trouble. I regret I don't get to watch him work (with a smile, of course) for long, 'coz I’m one of those people who thinks of my destiny & move on. But then, I don't fail to catch his infectious smile, pass it on to my best friend sitting next to me.... with hopes and trust that the smile he shared will be spread to many more.

Resolution for today ---> Got to find his name, tough.

SMILE, IT COSTS NOTHING....

SMILE, YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN SOMEONE WILL FALL IN LUV WITH IT

SMILE IS A CURVE THAT SETS EVERYTHING STRAIGHT