Real learning

Have you ever felt like you were reading too much but not applying it? Well, I do. For some time now. The quest for knowledge seems to be too much and even though I know deep down that I need to apply it, embrace it, to let it really sink in before I can be sure that I really know it, I am not doing it.
Here's reminding myself to start applying - bit by bit and watch it grow.

Into Murders...

On my reading front, for the past few months I've been hooked up on only thing : Murder mysteries. Somehow I didn't come across a good book that makes me laugh and I thought that I'll explore the detective stories. I've already read Sherlock Holmes and have been a big fan of his but the recent entry into my list is Hercule Poirot. There's a whole of discussions about who's better but I think they've both given me enough pleasure.

The last 10 of my 11 books have been those of Hercule Poirot and I found a few of them really gripping. Makes me wonder what happens when a murder mystery author commits a murder ! Surely, it wouldn't be found ? Or looking at it another way, we don't know of any famous murder mystery author arrested for murder, isn't it ? Is that a success in their favor ? The kind of things these people think up to plot is amazing. It must be rather hard to write a plot and think up of ways to make it difficult for a reader to spot the murderer. Quite a spectacular feat !

(My book shelf here)

Before Midnight not opening in India

It's really sad that some movies do not open in our theaters. The latest, for me, in this list is the movie "Before Midnight" - the third one after the "Before Sunrise" and "Before Sunset" series. I really liked the movie
"Before Sunrise". It is more of a dialogue, something like you are watching a conversation between friends and you're not talking, just watching. Unfortunately, the third part isn't coming out in India. Ah!

(I wanted these posters to show up in their original size and hence the wierd post view)

Of greatness and inspiration

Any greatness inspires us. A great sculpture, a great piece of music, a great effort, a great act of nature - anything great - anything indeed serves as an inspiration. When I go to a vast field, or see the vast sky above either in its azure blueness or in another of its million shades, I find inspiration. I see the many possibilities - of what one can do, of what we can achieve, of all the life's possibilities - everything right there for our taking. I believe I speak for a lot of people when I say this.
It is to this inspiration that Miss Rand refers when she says this. It speaks of a man who was in love with music, who didn't know what to do with life and was seeking for an inspiration. He was a young college student who was walking in the woods and this is what Ayn Rand says:
"He had always wanted to write music, and he could give no other identity to the thing he sought. If you want to know what it is, he told himself, listen to the first phrases of Tchaikovsky's First Concerto - or the last movement of Rachmaninoff's Second. Men have not found the words for it nor the deed nor the thought, but they have found the music. Let me see that in one single act of man on earth. Let me see it made real. Let me see the answer to the promise of that music. Not servants nor those served; not altars and immolations; but the final, the fulfilled, innocent of pain. Don't help me or serve me, but let me see it once, because I need it. Don't work for my happiness, my brothers - show me yours - show me that it is possible - show me your achievement - and the knowledge will give me courage for mine." (From "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand)

I just went through the following quote today and was struck by the truth in it and made me write all this stuff down:

People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.

- St. Augustine

(I hope I'll write more on this later. The subject is vast and I have written only a few lines...)

...

Who, having seen the sun set, can not be romantic about life ?

The Times of India "Spot the news" contest

Welcome to The Times of India "Spot the news" contest. Contestants will be given a Times of India newspaper and the first person to circle where the News item is actually present on the paper will be the winner. Quite simple, isn't it ? Or so one would think.

There are two rounds in this contest. In the first round, contestants will be given a weekday issue of either the main paper or the supplementary "Hyderabad Times" or "Bangalore Times" or other such editions. After the "slow and dumb" contestants are eliminated, the ante is upped. The contestants will be given a Sunday edition where it is very tough to spot the News item amidst the plethora of Ads.

Contestants are advised to go through all the papers, as many as one can lay hands on, and try to find the "News" in the Newspaper. You'll be amazed at the number of Ads that are present and the corners to which the News items are pushed to.

Next up: Count the Ads in the Times newspaper. 

Why Hindu Gods and Godesses have many heads and hands

(This post does not induce religion or encourage Hinduism in any sense. It is only my view of why Hindu deities have many heads and hands.)

After reading a few times about how westerners, or non Indians, view a Hindu deity as someone who has 8-12 heads and many hands, I thought I'd present my view on this subject. There are a lot of pictures like the one here that show a Hindu God/Goddess having many heads and hands. 

This led to the belief that a Hindu deity is multi-headed and "spider" handed, sort of. In fact, I find many Hindus refer to God as someone with the same physical description. 

This is what I think:

In a picture, personality traits / characters are depicted via a face. So a gentle character has a gentle face, an angry character has a red face, a frightening character is depicted as someone who has gorging eyes and probably a tongue coming out of mouth. When an artist wants to show the various traits/characters (read "faces") of a Hindu god/goddess, there is a dilemma. A single face won't be able to cover all the traits. Hence, the artists chose to give the god/goddess the many heads - in fact many faces.

Hands denote ability. Even in English language, the use of the word "ambidextrous" is used to denote skill of the person and not just "someone who can use both hands with equal skill". To show that a person is skillful at sword fight, a sword is painted in his hand. Thus, to denote many abilities, the artist drew many hands, each  depicting a particular skill. 

Thus a Hindu deity is shown having many heads and many hands.

(This explanation is entirely my own and I find this quite logical. If someone else has said the same thing, I haven't read it.)

...

It's in you.. the life.. the blood that runs through you.. the strength in you.. the miracle of life.. the best of the possibilities.. it's here.. it's in everyone of us.. The question we have to ask ourselves is "What have I done lately ?"

Refresh

We all know what we want to be, but somewhere down the line, we lose track of that. Like a slate wiped clean. Nothing in our minds. It's like you've got to start afresh. All the incidents and events of the previous days are just things that happened to someone else. We see a face and we think we know them. Knew them. Saw them somewhere. It's familiar. We might have been the thickest of friends or greatest enemies. But now they are friends or enemies of someone else. Its like you've been taken out of yourself and given a new form. And the road ahead is a new one. And then we snap back. And then we have those two of us within one. It takes time to settle down.

I am writing

The sky is dark

The wind is hard

I just came out bathed

Suddenly I got hold of something

Something that I've been thinking for so long but didn't get the words right

It struck me now

The words come to me

I have to write them down now

Lest I may lose it as I have lost others like this

I get to my pen and paper and start writing

The lights are out and all that glows is the moon outside and it enters my room

The back door bangs now, the wind blowing even harder

I can't stop now

I can't go to secure the door

I can't even go to switch the light on

Lest I may lose it as I have lost others like this

I am writing. I am writing...

Musings...

Life. How do we measure it ? For each, his own ? A different yardstick for each of us.

How do we start ? We go a way. We find a crossroad. Roads to be taken. Roads to be left. How do we know which one to take ? Should we go left, or to the right ? We choose a way. We go ahead.

We grow. We feel. We make friends. A few great friends. Some talk to our soul. We realise we're not perfect. And find warmth in knowing that they aren't either. Or not. But that they accept you for who you are.

We work hard. At home. At office. Some dreams have to be left. Some visions shatter. We seek other things. Some opportunity lost. Some door closed. Some opened. Hope fills our heart. We move. Some hold promises. Some hold challenges. Yet we go ahead.

When you are old, do you remember the boss that hurt you when you hadn't worked on a saturday ? Or do you remember the time when you ran in the rain, ran with your swimming suit and a t-shirt, ran from the edge of the hill to the tea stand, to have a small cup of tea. With your friends. To finish the last sip. And then look at who's going to pay the bill. To find that we hadn't known that there wouldn't be an ATM on such a hill. 

We laugh. We live. We marry. We find that there are still things to learn. We still have to grow up. And we grow up and raise other little ones. They form the center of our world. Some forget to give their spouses the time they deserve. Some do. We go ahead. We keep walking.

We start our lives making promises. Every couple start their lives dreaming that theirs would be the ideal marriage. Some live up to it. Some don't. All part of it. Some promises are broken. Some such promises break our hearts. We still move on. Some die in the process. Some find more passion to keep things lively. Some sing. We listen to an old melody as we pass by a hotel. Reminding us of some things we could have done some other way. Only we haven't. Some remind us of the best times we had. And we smile. We come home from work. Suddenly there's a rose waiting for you. Beside it is a letter. "Darling, I'll be late". Simple things, they restore our faith. Faith. Spark. The candle that burns within. Illuminating spaces in our heart that are too precious. 

We regret. Only, the most precious things in life are never meant to be regretted. You preserve them. You hold them deep inside. When you go on, you find that some aren't regretted.

A Spark. The small thing that marks the difference between caring and loving. What is it that makes us see through broken promises, still keeping our love for each other intact ? You are dead angry against him. He did something foolish, something stupid. Some dust speck falls into his eye. You go over, to blow it off. How does our blood rush when you hear their voice? How do we still love with all our might ?

We fight. We love. Sometimes something is amiss. Some hollow in the heart. You miss something. You don't quite know what it is. You seek for answers. You drive your bike at a hundred. You aren't thrilled. You find chaos, when there's silence around. Its the peace. The peace that is sometimes lacking. The inner peace. You have to find it. You struggle through to find it. You have everything in your life, still you have to find it. You find it, then the others can be set straight. 

We have to find it. Find the inner peace. When you've found it, you'll have a solemn silence, when there's chaos around. Cause when you find it, you'll be. You'll live to the fullest. When you've found it, guard it. Its a small candle. The light of hope. The small spark. Our life.

Rs.2 extra for podi, babu

Tonight I went to watch "Orange" - second show. First day. You'd know how things would be on first days. Late night shows. Crowd waiting to catch their idol in video. Hero worship, you know. This is India. Well, Tollywood !
Anyway, I was too late. The line was too big. I already knew by yesterday morning that I won't be able to get direct tickets. It had to be something in 'black'. Black market. I hate to promote it. But I did. Rs.200 for Rs.40 ticket. Not even balcony. For a flop movie. So they say. I had to watch it on the first day. I wanted to do that. Long time, you know. First days, front rows. Never been there. Front rows on the first day, I mean.
Got out to have something to eat. The roadside idly/dosa/etc wallah was not too busy. I touched the Mysore bonda. It wasn't hot. Bad to eat. Had to go with my fav idly again. Atleast it was in a box with a lid. 4 idlys. Little chutney, and some masala powder (we call it podi in telugu). Two idlys later I had to refill the chutney and podi.
"Rs.2 extra for the podi", he said.
I have to agree I thought that the cost per plate of idly may be more, but extra charge for podi ?
"Extra charge for podi ?", I said laughing. I'd like to keep it cool.
"Tell me one thing babu. You don't look like you've got tickets to the movie by standing in the line. You would've got it in black. Very costly. You pay so much for that ticket and you can't give Rs.2 for podi ?"
I thought. No, wait a minute. I didn't. I laughed. "My friends got them for me", I lied. Both of us knew. He was about to start a lecture and spoke the first two words (I guess) when I interrupted him. "I didn't say that I won't pay for podi", was my reply. That stopped him. I gave him Rs.12 more out of an "its alright" funda.
Now that I think about it, that was really crap. The logic, I mean. His logic. The movie tickets were in demand and his idly/vada/etc were not. I wanted to watch the movie, its difficult to get the tickets. I wouldn't mind eating pani-puri (whose price wasn't hiked up. I know - I ate them too.) instead of his idly. Demand-Supply => price, right ? It doesn't matter how the movie was. It was packaged well, it had high demand. Marketing, direction, previous movie performance, etc., you know. His podi had to be worth the Rs.2 that he demanded.
I don't like giving charity when it isn't worth it. Be it Re.1 or whatever. That is why I think I won't pay extra again if it isn't worth it and when I have a choice (supply, remember?).

Business

(Just one of my stupid philosophical musing):

Technology is growing to speed up our life, right ? So it is basically to improve our quality of life by saving more time (things are getting faster because of growing technology). All this stuff (whatever we are doing, including our job, other's job, all the companies) is to do things faster so that we'll get more time. Of course, we'll get richer in this process. But whatever products / services that are offered will not be a hit unless they are faster than they used to be. ATM's came for easy access of money so that you get the money faster. Call centers came because you want your issues to be resolved faster. Doing things faster is the mantra of this century ( i guess i can take the liberty to say that). Sure there are other advantages like ease of use for customer, lesser burden on the customer also, but the fundamental quality for almost all the changes is : making things quicker.

Now, doing things faster is saving time. If it is saving time, how come we are not meeting more often ? Remember the generation before two generations were also in the same situation. Still they had time to do so many things and friends and all. Now, in order to go to Tirupati, we hav to make a schedule which meets everyone's availability. In order to meet my buddies, they should be free. I mean, what is happening here. What happenned to the "Time bachao" movement? No output of that ? All the new gadgets etc are supposed to save time right ? How come we are not meeting often then ? Ya i know the ans is more responsibility, new family for married couples, etc. But take ten friends from 1980 outgoing batch and any current batch. They had responsibilities coming out of college too, they married too. But i guess they met often. We do not. As a generation, are we slowly shifting towards busier lives? If so, Why ? Why are faster things not enough ? Does everything have to happen at the click of a button ?

Are we living for business or are we in the business of living ?

(there are always exceptions to the discussed scenarios. but I have my questions. Is this the question that makes ppl go mad and finally become a sadhu ? In that case, I am in for a diffucult time. Or lighter time. Just my musings. You need not be very serious abt wat I am talking )

I don't want the multiplex

Damn these multiplexes!!

They are legally robbing us and we are letting them.

I dont want to pay in full when I sit in the front row to watch a movie. I dont want to pay for the overpriced popcorn-thums up-sweet corn during the intermission. I cant stand the attitude they display at the theatre.

I love the ordinary theatres. They are big, have a bit overpriced rates for the popcorn (what's movie without a popcorn, huh?), they have different prices for different seating locations and mostly, they have the crowd that boos, cheers and comments. That's fun! I don't know wat we'd become when the movies don't hav such crowds. Without the newspapers being torn and thrown high, without the whistles and comments(read "nasty"), without the dances, without the difficulty of getting to hear and/or watch the movie on the first day of its release (obviously, of a bigger star). Hmph, thats one sad life without all of it.

Seriously, I mean, I can't pay so much for a flop movie, right? Plus these guyz form these alliances and then decide which to play and which not to. Where are the PEOPLE ? The juntha. The population. The power holders in a democracy. Well, they are busy watching pretty girls. We are the ones that run the movies, not these multiplexes. Apart from the pretty girls over there, what else is so worthy? Unless it's an IMAX screen which is the largest screen in India, the rest of the mutliplexes, often, fall short in quality to the regular movie halls.

Somebody somewhere should be sharing my views. With all the english films being screened only in the multiplexes, I miss watching them in the regular ones and stopped buying popcorns.

Painting a picture

Walking on the road
I see the sun shine
I couldnt tell if it was sinking or rising
Lots of birds chirping
I think its sinking
Evening time
More than a gentle breeze
Trying to disturb by unruly hair
I reached a park
Small one near our place
A swing there was, another broken
A slide there was, with a ladder to climb onto it
Children were on the swing
There were some on the slide
Some climbing up
Some sliding down
And both happy
Sun is behind the trees now
Hitting my face through the spaces
I think I can paint a lovely picture
But realize its incomplete without you.

Some were playing cricket
With stones as wickets
The others just sitting on the wall
Chatting about the movie tickets
There sat a couple
Looks like they are in love
Whether lovers or brother-sister I dont know
Whichever love is love after all
I think I can paint a lovely picture
With the sun sinking in
And the sky growing golden
With the kite flying above
And the one holding the thread
But I realize its incomplete without you

Now where should I put you in
On the wall ? its quite silly
On the slide ? still the same
Playing cricket ? its mad (sure love is)
In the swing ? looks right
Beside me ? Oh wait,
I wouldnt be painting if you were beside me
All I would do is to stare

Where is the Love ?

(This one hasn't any particular direction. Just some musings put together.)
The valentine's day has passed. No news of bombings anywhere. Thank god, I say to myself. Valentine's day. The day that sells many greetings. Many flowers. What about the ones on the other side of the line ? The ones that wreaked havoc lately, with their bombings and shootings. What would the valentine's day hold for them ? The boss says it's a holiday for us today. He's going out with his wife to a dinner tonight. ??? What about these guys ? Quite young. With frequent rushes of blood to the heart. The adrenaline rush. Cold blood to the heart or blood to a cold heart ?
It's not like they have thought it from the time they came to senses. What would they have thought when they were 10yrs old ? What would you have thought of when you were 10yrs old and one amongst them ? You look at the grocery store wondering how lucky his children are because they need not work much because they already knew what they would do when they grew up. Owner of the grocery store...the place where people get vegetables from, their daily essentials, not guns. Yes knives. Only that they are used for cutting vegetables.
You look at the ice cream walah. Like a magician who takes a rabbit out of the hat, he takes the ice-crotes from his dabba. Look magic. Smiles on the faces of the children surrounding him. I want to be a magician, make people gasp, make magic. Look magic. Everyone claps. Nice show, sir. What show is this now, where's the rabbit ? Only that its not a rabbit, it might have been an AK or a grenade. No claps. Only hands, detached from their masters.
You watch the television. Big cars and smiles all around. Enough dough in their pockets to buy lots of icecreams and chocolates. I want to have them too. Except that on their way up, they forgot the things that gave them satisfaction, the things that they wanted. Aspirations grow. People change. But when you listen to a wrong voice you make a wrong choice.

How does it work? What you think is wrong, is right for one. What brings you tears brings a smile for someone. How does it work? How does one know what's right ? What's right need not always be good. What's good or right need not always be the thing that should be done. Who decides these? Who dies and who lives? You there, you are wearing that blue pants that I despise. You will pay for it. Is that it ?
What about their valentine's ? They say everyone has a someone who thinks they are the angel on Earth, the blessing from above. Everyone has a someone who has robbed of their hearts. And in some cases, minds as well. That one girl that used to grin, through the veil, when she sees you.What about the one for these guys? Holding roses instead of guns. A bunch of roses for you miss. You stole my heart. I am heartless now. Sarcastic, no. Tragic. Maybe there are the only ones who can stop them frommarching ahead.

So, where is the love ? In the world, is growing unrest. My darling son, you are home. How was the school ? He's safe today, she says to herself. One more day of being safe.
We went for a small trip to Basar, to visit a temple. On the way, we stopped to eat the puffed rice, lemon rice and chapathis that mom made. We stopped near a lush green field. It was an onion and potato field. There was water running through the pump that was in the field and we thought it good to stop there. We had just finished eating the food and had taken a few snaps and were contemplating on leaving when a little girl arrived. She was the daughter of the farmer that owned the field. She was all smiles. She stretched her right hand and we saw that there were a couple of roses in it. There were two of my sisters with us. It was for them. They were only too glad to accept it with a smirk. Her dad had plucked those roses (there were a few rose plants on the far side of the field and we didn't notice it. Probably he planted them for his daughter) and gave it to her daughter to give it to these girls. No one has asked for it. It was not at all needed. But it was love. Love for his daughter as well as these daughters of some father that he didn't know. An act of good will.

One can blast such people. Can grind bullets through them. But cannot touch what's within. Of what one holds inside.They can make love take a back seat for some time. But cannot destroy it. It's here. It's all over the place. It's everywhere. For we are, still alive now. It wouldn't have been without enough love to hold on.

Book review : The Fountainhead

A spectacle. This book is one of the strongest and heaviest books that I've read. Its strength is evident in almost each of its dialogue. Heavier on the mind with each page. It is not the one that you can while away your time with. It requires your full attention, if you are to understand it.

It has a good plot. One that brings out the virtues of the hero easily and shows at the same time how difficult it is to have them. The hero is portrayed brilliantly. I cannot think of anything else I've read that depicts the hero so wonderfully. It is conspicuous that each of the characters are built with a lot of thinking. The things written are not an outcome of a passing thought, but of one that took quite an effort on the part of Miss Rand, or no effort at all if one can be born with such rare talent.

There are five chief characters according to me. A simple plot, if one looks only on the outset. You have a victim, the man who wants only publicity. There is a villain, the one who pulls down all the things of greatness to mediocrity and with such ease that almost appears effortless. He is a power seeker and the worst bilge rat amongst the many that he rules over. There is a helpless bystander, who could well have been the hero but couldn't endure the path nor the resistance in the path. Not at the cost of his life's greatest work. Then there is the hero, the noble soul, the fountainhead of all achievement. And the heroine, the one who believes in the hero and suffers and endures it, though many times I felt she is deranged.

This is the story of a man against the world and its prejudice, human will against a blind majority. I do not believe in everything that has been said in this book, but I can say with conviction that what has been said was someone's greatest beliefs. You can see it in the way in which it is told.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this book, though in the middle and at more than a couple of occasions I felt quite annoyed. I must say that I couldn't put this book down even then.

There are some books that I can't compare to anything else, books that I don't feel should be compared with anything else and that it would only be an insult to it, and the mind behind it, if that were done. This one would go without any doubt into that category and I am glad that I've had the chance to read it. It is not often that one comes against something spectacular and notices that even after 49 years of its first release, it still is a best seller and that it has a long way to go.

That day in the sunset...

It was time for sunset when they were sitting there. They had come there for a drive, a thing that both of them love to do, more so when they were with each other. But he always hated driving. "I am sick of this traffic and pollution", he once said and she knew he wasn't ubercool. She always knew it. But far away from the city and its dust, they were happy that they drove there. She loved to come with him. Anywhere he was, she likes to be around. He was happy that it was mutual.

The trees beneath where they were were very thick. What this meant was that it formed a dark background behind her and it contrasted perfectly with the yellowish-orange salwar that she was wearing. As they were holding hands, a rather troubling frown covered her face. Those two wide eyes narrowed a bit as she was about to speak. She looked to him, opened her mouth and quickly dropped the thought as though it was forbidden. It was too late now, she knew. Everytime she had some stupid doubt, he would come and rub it off, as though it was a small dust speck on an otherwise flashing mirror. And everytime she thought it was better to shut her mouth than ask another one of those not-so-silly-to-me doubts, she would have already made her intentions clear that she was about to speak. Knowing this, he placed his arm across her lovingly, and asked what it was that dared to bother his darling.

"You shouldn't lie, okay?"

"Okay. You know I won't do that when I am with you"

"Okay then. It was something that this stupid guy was saying"

He wanted to say that it was foolish to think about anything else when they were together, but he knew he makes lots of mistakes and having quickly got this thought, he immediately rejected it and regretted having even had such a thought. Saying that would not only darken the mood, but also the vanilla who said it. He did what he should do. He listened.

"You see I am really not worried much about this. You know me. But sometimes it bothers one. Why should he be telling me things? I know it's just a joke. But sometimes it really bothers me. Sometimes you make such stupid jokes too. But not regarding this one and I know you won't", and she smiled. It seemed to make her happy that he didn't do many things that bothered her. Or having learnt that some things bother her, he began to avoid joking about them. She liked him for it. For changing himself to prevent making her sad.

Then as though someone was trying to hear her, she looked either ways, then looked straight at him and asked the million dollar question.

"Do I look fat?"

She paused. She was still wondering if she should have asked him that. But he was, as Rachel put it in Friends, "The apple of her eye" and she would ask him anything and everything. It wasn't even a second that she was in thought that she felt the arm across her shoulder loosen. "Have I said something wrong? No, I was just asking him. He loves me anyway, have I spoken anything else?"

The hand that loosened across her shoulder took her left hand, then clasped it with both his hands and said

"Dear sweet vanilla ice-cream, you look lovely" and then blinked both his eyes in a flash. This was something that he learnt from her, apart from learning to live, learning to love and many more. This was her signal of love and affection. That she liked him, even during the times when they were only friends. She felt happy now. She was expecting something like "It's the dress", "Not at all", but she knew she was a bit on the other side of the weighing machine's pointer.

A smile. Then a small giggle. It was more than a mere giggle. Then a hug.

"Am I really lovely? You know, I think that I am lovely too. But it was only my mom who said it first"

"Dearest, you were always lovely. I change the tense, you are always lovely. Even in that horrible nightgown that you wore that wednesday, you were charming. And now when the sun shines on your face and you look with those wide eyes with full of innocence, I'd bet those Greek warriors who launched those thousand ships would have said "ahoy there" and stopped filling fuel to stay till the sun went down. Now, they would've probably stayed on but I would be too angry to have you there in front of them and hence would have talked them into going to Troy for keeping their promise, however absurd it might be"

"That's sweet of you. You know you talk too much sometimes. Give explanations that are really out of the blue. But I like you for all these"

Then after she had him hugging her till her heart felt that it was now okay again, and until they rocked sideways for a good long time, she broke loose and scurried across to fetch her camera.

"Hey, it's a bit dark now. I should've taken it earlier. I will still get a print of this and write what you've told today"

"You remember all of it?"

"Not the garbage. Only.."

"Hey..."

She giggled. "I like to do that to you. Okay baba, I remember most of it. If I ask you again, you would come up with another way of saying that. I know", she said smiling.

"Yeah, yeah. Apni hi kisi ada se poochlo. You are the one who makes me say things, so they're not entirely my words"

"Done, now. Lets go and have pani-puri"

" I thought you don't like them much"

"Yes, but you do. I'll be happy to see you eating"

She had that angel smile on her face again. That was her. She does things that make him happy whenever he makes her feel good about herself. Cursing why the sun sets so soon and thanking at the same time that she was with her during that sunset, he started his bike.

"It's a long dusty way back. Wanna do something to make up for this ?", he said with his mischeivous smile.

"Ahahaha. Idiot"

Not that he wanted anything apart from her majesty's presence the next time, but he wanted her to say that and smile again. Sometimes, being called an idiot actually makes him feel that he's on the top of the world.

Crazy are the ways of love.

Those Lucky Chimes

Ever wondered why those wind chimes of Feng Shui bring luck to the people who keep them in their houses? How can four hollow metal pipes hung in a room where most of the wind flows, bring the Lady Luck into their home ? This is just a musing.

Well, I am not going to answer these questions sensibly, but I’ll tell you what I feel about these chimes and the luck they bring. You see there are a number of things involved in this. First, we should agree upon what luck is and that depends mostly on whether you believe in it or not. Luck is something that happens out of the blue when you do all that you can and the rest is left to the other external factors. Good luck or bad luck depends on the individual. Good luck now, may, in the long run, be actually bad luck. Anyway, that is what I think of luck as, and you need not agree with it. No problem, amigos.

I’ll let go of the other things we should be aware of, thinking that you already know them. So you see, I was home the last Saturday and we had this wind chime hung in the middle of our hall, just beside the dining table and that’s a place where lot of wind flows. It was tinkling around and was pleasant on the ears. It felt good to hear that sound after all the noise I’d been through to reach my home. In the afternoon when I decided to rest (as I was feeling terribly tired, thanks to the new four lane roads from Hyderabad until Nizamabad, where we take a turn). Anyway, I just laid down on my bed and was going into deep sleep when I was interrupted, I mean when my sleep was interrupted. “Tinkle, tinkle”. I didn’t have much energy to open my eyes and look at what caused that. Owing to the deep slumber, my mind wasn’t functioning properly and it was only after a couple of minutes that I realised that it was those damn wind chimes that were causing a hindrance to my sleep. Of course, they need not be damned, but when you are out of sleep on a bumpy bus the whole night then you’d expect some solace when you are at home. The music was good though. But it was so occasional that it started to disturb me. I thought the whole point of having that was to soothe our mind and now here it was working against its whole purpose of existence. It was then that it dawned to me (you are free to disagree again) that may be this disturbance, this thing that I considered then as "nuisance" might have a meaning.

I thought about these mysterious four-piped metals and found that these things were hanging near the windows of many of my friends homes as well. But when I went back after a couple of weeks or a month, they were gone. Either they were packed and kept in the store room or they were moved to a place where the wind blows infrequently. Either way, they were not in the path of the wind anymore.

I asked others as well and they came back with the same reply “It tinkles quite frequently and in a manner which would make me go mad”. But now I think it is to be kept in windy places with a purpose. As you go on hearing it tinkle, you build patience. My inactivity, my laziness, my whatever-you-call-that-thing-when-you-can’t-wake-up, led me to the discovery that these chimes also build patience. And may be, just may be this might also be one of the reasons why it exists. As you build patience, you grow up to be a better person, you do things better way (or not!). Mostly, being patient pays off.

And this might just be one of those silly reasons that I search for. At least this discovery made me sleep that day amidst those tinkles, and not just sleep, a peaceful sleep.