Raining Thoughts

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 etherize...

... The magic of a hundred brilliant specks of light darting through the darkness, the Christmas night of so many years past when as a little girl I watched along with my cousins the countless fireflies released from a jar into our room  by one of our naughtier elder brothers ... ................................ ... The lonesome walk to nowhere on one of those indescribably beautiful overcast afternoons, lost in the crowd ,lost from the crowd, with the rain-promising wind on my face, thinking of absolutely nothing, lost in the ebb and flow of unpredictable nature ... ................................... .... The experience of taking in the aroma and swirls of steam arising out of my red mug enjoying the absurd romance of tea at the safe haven of my writing table and wondering why has not anyone thought of the concept of a tea mug to be as romantic as that of the stereotypical coffee mug ... ...................................... .... The tw...