Disha, thanks for this

This is our age, our time.

Instead of enjoying the youth, exploring the world, being adventurous and finding ourselves, we go about working tirelessly for causes we dont believe in, wasting every second of our lives...

When will we live???!!!

We are losing our uniqueness everyday and becoming part of the crowd of people who have given up!

roads....

not referring to country roads. not even referring to the analogy of ' down memory lane'. today i took two modes of transport (which i usually dont in hubli) that compel me to write about these roads... (u usually dont realise what i did on four wheels... two wheelers n those three wheeled rickshaws tell you loads)



the bike: had to come home with a colleague on his bike this evening. i was starched holding the handle n keeping my eyes shut. while i got a complete body exercise! all i told this guy was, i just hope i dont fly off the bike n land on the stony road.




the rickshaw: on the way to the gymkhana to play badminton ( my daily ritual i've now resumed after school...hmmm... been ages) my head thumped the rickshaw rod and to make it worsse the smart rickshawala would just not negotiate his exhorbitant fee (unreasonable...without the meter!) and that storm of dust left my eye watering....

a myriad experiences, that shook me, literally! devre!! (translated from kannada to english means god!) what bad urban roads we have! that have dents like craters (actually...) and raise dust like a hurricane (this is a slight exaggeration)! heavy rains n this is what's revealed-the seven inch tar roads have just an inch there the rest gone up in corruption n public rape of the tax-payer!

villages u can forget about.......they dont even have proper lanes... but cities and towns? well, they have those ruptured roads that only are a showcase of integrity of the damn buffoons we vote each time (or may be we dont vote)...

i truly think we live in magnificient urban jungles where the wild beasts are all of us-- those buffoons and us citizens included (who just get frustrated with the roads one day n learn to take the roads the way they are the other day). we have such wonderful rustic roads, so earthy and divine that we not only to get to smell the earth but also have coats of it on our faces and clothes too.

that's when am left with this song in my head..... (pardon my version of the awesome original)

mama, take this dust of me

i cant take it anymore

its getting too bumpy with bumps to my bone...

feels like am knocking on hell's roads.....

knock(ed) knock(ed) knocking on hell's roads!!!!!!

id prefer to leave on a musical note----will prepare me face the music da next time am knocking on hell's roads.....

few things i want to do before i die

a quote i read, got me to jot few things i want to do/ have/ accomplish/ be.... before i leave...

the quote reads-

"make a list of 25 things that you want to do before you die. and keep it with you, wherever you go" author unknown

here goes my shot at it-- extremely utopian...

1. farmhouse abode by a riverside with my music, books. where id till the earth organically.
2. travel n explore the length n breadth of my marvellous country!
3. drive down peninsular india, basking-in the seaside roads, gushing in waves of delight
4. wake-up at 6 every morning
5. go to vrindavan, the birth place of lord krishna
6. sit by a river one whole day, just watching it in a mountainous landscape. a book for company would be perfect
7. adventure sports of land sky n sea... m leaving out space!
8. social entrepreneur
9. always be there for my inner-circle
10. film few documentary
11. write travelogues
12. learn to play a musical instrument
13. do my bit to educate kids in my country
14. keep my parents n siblings happy
15. make candles n bake
16. grow younger each year

to be continued......

ps: am far removed from all of the above right now.... but, am fast reaching there. very close to atleast a few things... if not all.

Ranga

It's amazing how he connects with u.

It's in the way he leaps in joy when he sees u.

It's in the way he runs and his ears flap like wings of joy.

It's in the way he digs his face to the floor, n toys his eyes all around.

ranga's a pure vegetarian

loves fruits right from apple, papaya to watermelon n oranges. bananas too.

gorges on cauliflower, cabbage, carrot, potatoes n many more

adores buttermilk, relishes cereals and pulses

he sniffs and looks around, if there's no bread he boycotts his meal!

LOVE YOU RANGA!

Ranga, first syllable (ran) pronounced as in 'run' and the second syllable (ga) as in going 'ga ga'.

in vain...

one of those days that rain ......

in pain and disdain

in hurry and so much worry

in rubble and immense trouble

in puddles of muddles

tangles of bangles

and

u end (and the day ends!) in a

circumspect of retrospect, prospect and also something that they call introspect...

where have they gone...and why!

looking at that canopied road through the window, i see those strolls i took on the lane by my home. it used to be a walk of hi's and hellos....how r u's and those long chats one has with neighbourhood pals...

at other (special) occasions... the ganapati festival was a time when we all got together brewed a dance or skit, played a game or two. sang and danced till two... the new year parties were freaking times with bon fire and all... diwali came by with its calories and savories... to say the least.

when i take that stroll today, Prasanna's in the U.S working with Ford after his M.S there. His sister Renu is in Bangalore doing her M.B.A. Ridima just went to Bombay to do her undergrad in mass com. her brother Manik, is in Gurgaon doing M.B.A. Both her cousins, Ashutosh and Vishal are working in Delhi and Bangalore respectively.

we talk of brain-drain to the U.S. but i have seen it here. in my very own backyard...

and i ask myself... where have they gone? and why?

then i know... what will they do here, unless they decide to be second generation entrepreneurs, not many would choose that over the opportunities of the service-economy the world has evolutionised to be in.

like we say the rich grow richer, the metros in India grow & develop... and that is the call of Urbanisation and bright young lads thronging for fierce challenges, fun n frolic n a fast-paced life... move like atoms in the orbit to higher levels of income, better infrastructure for entertainment... n that much more independence....

now i ask myself... will they ever come back??

ps: unmentioned go the girls who got married and had to move base and change their surnames too.

Lemonade i made...

There are stories, there are memories. And there are recipes. So, here's the story of my memory of a lemonade I made.

Story, memory and recipe- All in one...

Goa, September 2003

Brimming with mirth. Contained by the sea breeze, sun and sand. A night spent by the sea waves and stars. Enthralled by jet skiing and camaraderie, Ashwini and I set out determined, looking for a wholesome vegetarian meal that would suit our nearly-cleaned-out pockets and the hunger pangs, taste buds too.

Time was sparse.

The scheduled departure post-lunch, had left us with little time to say 'good-bye', 'see-u-soon' to the setting sun which would have cast a marvellous glory of colours on the horizon. The point where the land meets the sand and the sand meets the sea and the sea sends its ripples to the glaring-fading sun.

But the sun had some things else planned for us. And we kept walking by the narrow lanes, looking left and right and often at each other. Either out of our budgets or menus a feast for non-veggies, those restaurants just had a way of keeping us out!

………………………compromises. Yes. There are those compromises too in those stories and memories. Hmm…

We settled for a restaurant slightly up our budget. Managed to order a one pot meal-biryani and a portion of yoghurt. That cost us 175 bucks!

And what about some drink to soothe our dry throats? No moolah.

For that, I sat up pretty, head high and chin up. Asked for four slices of lemon… while Ashwini quizzically glanced, wondering what went in my woozy head.

There came the lemon slices and I squeezed it into the tall glass of water laid out for us. “Some sugar please.” I smiled. We stirred away sugar crystals to gulp down the most memorable lemonade of our lives, not once looking around us all the stares the waiters gave us duo…

And when we walked out we were glee with the mischievous lemonade we'd made, and almost satiate with the sumptuous main course.

And forever this would be a lemonade money couldn’t buy!

beats..

search the whole wide world and deep within urself
and u will find a triumphant, feeble yet a steady musical beat..
that of the heart.

what is life without heartbeats.
nothing.

lions and gazellles

am posting something i read along time ago...
keeps resurfacing in my volatile head...

here i go...


Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up.
It knows it must outrun the fastest lion
or
it will be killed.

Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up.
It knows it must run faster than the fastest gazelle.
or
it will starve

It doesn't matter whether you're a gazelle or a lion.
When the sun comes up,
you'd better be running

free? what's that?

nothing comes for free. nothing.
you either trade with your money or with your time.

romantic athiesm

something i subscribe to! completely...

to the 'gentlemen'

ladies and gentlemen, they say, always.

i wonder....

why are men gentlemen and no such adage to women?

may be cos men are harsh by nature. and they need to be specified as 'gentlemen'

and its understood that women are gentle.

so, no such prefix for women.

no, am no sexist.

it was just a thought.....

friend(ship)

'The only way to have a friend is to be one'
- Ralph Waldo Emerson.

My version of it-

' The only way to have a great friend is to be one'

an ode to my sister

this morning i received a hand-written letter from my sister.

i was touched.

so, here goes a poem iv written for her (become a compulsive computer person. have forgotten to write with pen and paper. my hands only jarr into the keybords. they cant write no more)pardon me o' sister divine. cos i emailed this to u.

the finest lady.

embodiment of care, maturity, precision and grace.
here she comes, sister o'mine.

she IS the way to everyone's heart.
cos she cooks food to perfection.
its her art and she knows its alchemy.
the pricest ingredients she has copyright to are her love and passion.

mane like lioness, grace like an angel
lips like strawberries, eyes like grapes, complexion like milk. teeth like pomegranate.
mind-like a garden
heart-pure as gold

she is the life of her life
and sister of a brat
also the sister of 'gentleman kid-bro aka puttu'
she is one of her kind. and there can be none like her. never. ever.

scoot down memory lane. stop. its childhood.
irritate. is wat i did to her.
pest. is what i was to her.
fight we did.
repelled we did. like magnets.

scoot. look back. its adulthood.
of 100 friends, she wished me best.
of 100 worries she helped me out.
she held my ever meandering hand. stood by me. stood tall and strong.

come here. now.
we are still magnets. but we dont repel. we attract.
she is my sister.
she is my mirror. i look into the mirror-with all the happiness, all the tears, the pain and the shame.
she is my voice. she is my song.
my heart happens to be very small.
and in its small space, her place there is forever.

blessed i'am.
kneel i do, oh lord-keep for her life's best.
fortitude for times tough and rough.
make every wish her reality
make every dream her accomplishment.

scoot. go far flung.
we will be together till the end of life.
we'll be parents and grandparents.we'll share life's chapters.

we've grown as kids, we'll grow senile.

till the end. and after it.

reams of dreams

travel writer. mountain-hiking guide. photographer. documentary film-maker.

social entrepreneur. linguist. ethnographer. anthropologist.

its scary when u have dREAMs to do and be all of the above.

(will the doer strike hard and soon?)

going down with the load of reams (of dreams....) my ticket to ride...

still dreaming....

wont stop ever...

Running in circles…

I see a child running round n round in circles…
Circles of joy…
Circles of innocence
She’s smiling to her hearts content
Gurgling as she takes each step
She is joyous.

Her curls flutter in the air, eyes blink but for a moment
Sleep might steal some precious moments
So she doesn’t stop…
Her eyes twinkle like the stars she loves
She needs no reason to run in circles
Love is all around her…
She is soaking in joy!

All she wants to do is run around… in circles of joy!!

illusions...

i wake up in the morning feeling like am in a tree-house.
the trees around my home cast this illusionary bliss.
wats more (un)real is the birds chirping.
no cacophony. no buildings n furniture being made.

and in the night, its starry starry nights.
the clearest skies i have gazed are from the roof top here.
the elevation positions u as being closest to the sky (and not the skyscrapers).

the most real experiences one savors are rather illusionary. blame it on illusionary perceptions...