Raining Thoughts

The plates of the earth are forever shifting, at times causing the planet to shiver in shocks of fever, causing waves of destruction, manifesting as tsunamis, quakes, landslides and so many other unforeseen catastrophes that threaten to shake the very foundation of life and intelligence on the planet. Being a resistant strain of life, determined to survive the vagaries of this planet, humans were astute enough to install, on and around the planet, state-of-the-art infrastructure to ensure that they be signaled in advance with signs and warnings that would enable them to gear up in resistance to such impending natural dangers. The plates of human existence are also in motion now, causing the entire humanity to shiver in shocks of indignation and outrage. The atrocities that now mar the human race are beyond any rationale. No machine has been designed to gauge the vagaries of the human mindscape; no state-of-the-art infrastructure exists to signal in advance with signs and wa

Lil'D: Amma, it's December, isn't it? A:   Yes dear. Very much.  Lil'D: Why isn't it snowing in Pune? A:   Darling it has never snowed in Pune. And I don't think it will, very soon. Lil'D: But Amma how can there be Christmas without snow? How will Santa come riding then? A: Oh, Santa has access to other modes of travel when in Pune. Besides Santa lives close by, you know? * Guiltily thinking  of ''Shanta'' aunty who lives in the opp. flat * Lil'D: Amma you're lying, I know. There cannot be Christmas without snow!!! A: Says WHO dear?!, Says whoooo??? Lil'D: Peppa Pig. A:   Huh! Peppa Pig? Did Peppa say anything else dear? Lil'D:   Yeah... Peppa also said Amma dunno anything about Christmas... AND... A:   Sighhh... AND...  Peppa's always right...... Pic Courtesy:    Google 

There’s something that I share in common with the famous fictional Prof. Robert Langdon.  No…it’s neither religious iconology nor his love for dead languages. Neither do I have Cordovan loafers or a signature Mickey Mouse watch to match. Not his eidetic memory or his un-paralleled swimming skills either. In fact my memory has always been as dusty as the old soda bottles in some Abdu Bhai’s paan shop and if dropped in water, I might as well just go down gurgling and sit there ogling at the piranhas getting thrilled about my arrival… Ever felt the fear of being stuck in crammed-up spaces?  This is the part where I empathize with Langdon. It is this fear of enclosed spaces that has always haunted me ever since I could remember. Elevators, basements, crammed dentist cabins and even spa cubicles scare me. I have tried this so-called psychological self-counseling therapy during such claustrophobic stints. It sure is useful to a certain extent, until the moment you start hummi

The Chitharal Hill Temple The day had dawned with a forewarning that Sunday. Various meteorological sources across the nation & the world, had issued warnings that the ominous Hudhud was expected to hit the northern Indian ocean & its coastline during the early hours of the day. Having lain to rest our much-awaited Kanyakumari beach plans at the ominous newscast of the storm, we continued to watch the news channels race to make hay out of the disarray. Kanyakumari might have been well out of the path of Hudhud’s destructive agenda, but one never knows... Nature has always been a mystery woman with strange whims and fancies … What followed soon after was nothing, but a perceivable void in space & time, as there was practically nothing to do that morning. All possible routines and chores had been completed well in advance in view of the trip that was planned for the next day. However the vacuum didn't exist for long as Sir. FB chose to ride in, clad in shin

            It was that particular epoch of existence, when my life revolved around Salman Khan & roller skates. I’m talking about the pre-historic 3rd Std. goer - me - of the 90s surviving through childhood and its vagaries back in time when Salman Khan wore clothes and sported a gap in the middle of his front teeth and appeared to be as seemingly innocent as those darling Kabootars he was seen fondling lovingly from scene to scene in Maine Pyar Kiya .              Days used to dawn way earlier then, say as early as 6 A.M.! Did I just perceive gasps of gastroenteric shock from diverse quarters? (Well… hold your gastrics ye merry pre-dawn souls, we’re dealing with a late a.m. birdie here). So I was saying… I was passing through one of the most thrilling phases of my moppet life. I’d sit quivering with excitement like a bullet waiting to be released on Achan’s trembling Yezdi until we reached the Museum grounds, which would've already become dotted with the pre-dawn types

“Furthermore, he asked the committee members to make the new capital unique and slum free.” I read the line a few more times to confirm if I was reading it right. Yes ‘slum free’, like ‘bacteria free’, ‘pest free’? Well, no, this should have to be the 'slum-free' as envisaged by the several propitious-sounding poverty eradication programs set up by the government to provision basic social amenities to the urban poor, the slum dwellers. The words above had poured forth from a political wizard envisioning a master plan for the building-up of a full-fledged township which would soon take shape to become a brand new State capital. Curling back in to my couch and re-adjusting my tea cup to relieve the strain on my index finger, I muse on... ( ah...the woes of an arm-chair activist.. ) Well, who would want to live alongside slums anyway?.. The arm-chair aadmi  flares up within and.. * ek tight thappad * . 'Who would want to live in slums anyway?'.. I correct m

                             What's it with tea shops & me…? The connection is hard to explain as it closely borders on those realms of attraction based on ethereal abstractions.  The sight of a tea shop gives me goose bumps and lights up my life in ways manifold that cannot be penned down in words. I collect tea-shops & can smell a tea shop from miles away in fact. And once out of one, I'm infinitely haunted by those dusty corners, clinking of glass and the fleeting aromas.. for eternity.                    Speaking of tea shops I'm not hinting at the cozy-couched, coffee-machine powered, spic & span coffee-shop of a tea shop,  But the thatched, leaky roofed, wooden-bench lined, smoke-filled, glass-shelved, heavenly smelling tea shops where the smell of freshly brewed tea that is poured out and mixed from pot to pot in a rather distinctive stretchy frothy style transports the drinker to magical worlds.  Though I've tried re-creating this '

                   I've developed a most annoying habit of frequently missing buses. This often happens due to the various ad hoc  undertakings that I manage to get involved in, be it at home, in the office or anywhere for that matter. Most of these events manifest abruptly and at the eleventh hour…often leaving me to grapple between odd options.           Not long ago, one such last-minute feat left me with a Hobson’s choice between taking a dive into an already crammed bus and missing, what looked like, one of the last buses available during that hour of dusk, heading towards the part of the city where I lived. As it was getting late and dark, I didn’t want to wait any longer or waste time considering different 'imaginary' options.            Along with the tussling techies, certain North Indian building laborers were also trying their best to throw themselves into the bus. They were pushing and spading out a way for themselves among the crowd with thei

               It’s awfully painful for me to part with any piece of material reality that has a memory attached to it. In my case the pain extends to my old archived mails, ancient greeting cards dating back to my primary school days, strangely shaped dried leaves collected during old walks, old note-books (especially the ones with graffitied back pages!), dried up ink bottles, pebbles collected from stream & river beds (from the Kallaar stream-bed to the Ganges river-basin, as well as a few odd ones from an old decommissioned aquarium of ours)… Oh... and I could go on and on with this list forever.                I've recently discovered that my hoarding skills can be paralleled only by my equally honed misplacing skills. I do not misplace important objects like my pebbles, my pet jars or my toy pandas, but only petty things like our house keys, car keys, medical prescriptions, marriage certificate and the like. Recently, during an ongoing battle of survival betwe

Even the noisiest marketplace fascinates me. The rich colors, the spicy aromas, the bustle, the abundance & the variety of the scene where life meets its needs, and the plethora of sights & sounds that surround it have always captivated my mind. Occasional doses of the noisy local Madiwala Market, the SG Palya Kerala Market or the Saturday Market of the Chandapura Circle in Bangalore with their share of cows chewing up leftover radish leaves, cats mewling & drooling at the torpedo sized tunas on display, mounds of coconuts, flowers, vegetables and fruits, had often proved to be miracle stress-busters for us every once in a while. A natural retail therapy that unwound us from the continued stress build-up that often arose out of spending a lion’s share of our lives caged in enclosed air-conditioned office spaces. In my family, a visit to Ooty was never considered complete without a trip to the famous Ooty vegetable market. The fresh veggies grown on the terraced fa

'I don’t know how much of 'subtle' phallic symbolism can be impregnated into my words if I say; every popular world cup ever played on this globe had always been about men & balls... Well, women may have rocked a million cradles. She might have made fundamental contributions to arts, science, math or sports. Women might have made the world go round, and eyes go 'rounder' in this microcosm where she gets stared at hard, by a certain section of the society that suffers from a condition of the worst kind, a certain species of mortals who cannot help but stare on, indifferent to her age, appearance or emotions. And at the end of it all… no golden cup awaits her, no golden boot laces to tie...' I had switched off close to around 29.5% of my consciousness concerning my immediate surroundings as I sat immersed in such random rants at one of my most loved vantage points in the world, the bus window seat. It was not raining outside anymore & the fresh

My near-exhausted quest for clear bespectacled vision & the perfect scratch resistant spectacle lens has once again been rendered null & void as my eyes are laid to rest upon one of the most recent scratches on my supposedly 'scratch-proof' lens. It leaves a minute gash across my visible truths for a little while, until my vision becomes accustomed to the slightly distorted reality within a matter of hours, sometimes even minutes. And so is the very nature of life itself, which makes room for every blemish within & beyond, and flows unimpeded by the umpteen specks of dust, wounds, gashes, imperfections and upheavals, so effortlessly fluid & unfaltering in its course.  Scratch-proof lenses are as mythical as a life free of imperfections.

Well, years & years back I must say that there were days in my life when I was practically ready to give  donuts or even Zillion dollar lobster Frittatas to get Orkut up & running.  The concept of Orkut was so new & fresh then. We took to Orkut like fish to water. We took no time in adding    into our day to day lives;  scraps, communities, fans!, profile pictures, testimonials, our very first social, professional & personal profiles..., profile visitors and every teensy bit of thing that Orkut had to offer. Orkut was our primary school of social networking. With the passage of time the Alma Mater saw her wards move on...leaving behind countless scraps, pictures & migrating to upper-primary, high-school &  universities of networking. Somewhere along the way we forgot her, but now we've been rudely jolted back to her memory by her own creators who have now slated her decommissioning on Sept. 30 2014. "Like a patient etherized upon a table"