Luminous Infinitus

The Other World

2009-01-11T17:24:00.000-08:00

"Ankle deep, he waded through the bluebells. His spirit rose and exalted... as he breathed in the sun-drenched air. The glorious day was in its last decline. Long shadows lay on the sward... and from above the leaves dripped their shimmering drops of gold-green light.

Moths and butterflies swarmed in merry hosts... flittering here, glimmering there.

But, hush. Could that be a deer?"

When we were searching for "Tess of d'Urbervilles" in the library memories rushed in, almost overwhelming me.

Memories of school days when I would look at a bookshelf and see different worlds,

when Hercule Poirot and Dirk Pitt and Sherlock Holmes loomed larger than life,

when the reality of life was less real than those in books,

when my sadness and happiness and mood changes did not depend on what happened in the life I was living but in the lives of characters that I was closely following,

when even though the only place I had been to, other than Bangalore, that too occasionally, was Pathanamthitta in Kerala, I felt as thought I'd really travelled allover the world - London, New York, Paris, Venice, Rome, you name it .. and not only to the 21st century versions of foreign lands but also in the 20, and 19th and 18th and 17th and even backwards into the past even though I seemed to linger more in the 17th and18th century country side England.

I haven't seen a movie that showed this more clearly than Howards End. The passage at the beginning of this post is from the movie when Leonard Bast gets lost completely in what he is reading.

Well, why "Tess " ? Why were we searching for Tess ? A was channel surfing and accidentally halted at a channel which was airing "Tess of d'Urbevilles - Part 1". Sometimes I think my zeal to tell a story runs ahead of me and I tell the important points, mainly glorifying the best aspects beyond what they are. I've pumped so much of awe and mystery around my favourite novels, mostly "Kane and Abel", "The Godfather", "The Bourne Identity", "Atlas Shrugged" .. , that most of my friends did read them eventually. Sometimes I feel if you praise something so much, the person who is listening to you almost feels obliged to try that at least to make you happy.

But to be fair to her, she saw the movie for sometime and actually liked it. Luckily the channel did not air part 2 and I wasn't ready to tell her the ending. Only mentioned that it was a tragedy.

For long, I've been wanting her to read "The Return of the Native" (I think I've told her the story of the novel twice already) and other novels of Hardy. Afterall, he was my fav author at one time. For now she's said she has to read Tess. Ah ! so be it.

A new beginning

2009-01-04T14:26:00.000-08:00

More than a year whizzed past without me writing anything here.

When you're working for a company that does more than double the work in less than half the time that the client does it in and if the cient happens to be this uber-fast techie company that rolls out 8 million lines of code once every 2 weeks with almost 50K lines of code changing every week, time is a pricey quantity. It is a given !
But to get a chance to walk shoulder to shoulder with giants, ah ! other concerns vanish into obscurity.

I have a new plan. I guess one should plan things with the view that the world goes around in 8hr cycles and force oneself to get stuff done. 8 ? Why not 12 ? 8 is too less. I always aim to finish something faster than the target and finish on target. I tell A, give me 2 hrs and I'd be done with it and it might usually take 3. I used to do this every night in the initial days. "Here you go.. we'll sleep at 12. ", "1 O clock, surely" but the offshore calls would make it slip a bit always. But now I 'add the buffer' as they they during scoping times.

Anyway, for a long time I've been thinking that I'll get up in the mornings and write at least 152 words even if they don't mean anything.

[152 ?? See 'You've got mail'. And it adds up to 8 ;)]

I'm particularly attached to the number 8, not because I was born on 8, not because it can represent all the numbers and letters in the English Alphabet in the digital world, not because it symbolises infinity (tilt your head 90 degrees and look at eight), not because it represents Oxygen, not because it is connected to Music, (ah.. you see i've done some research on 8 ! yeah.. during my OCD college days) but because, many times things arnd me have added up to 8 and they've worked well for me. A, who actually knows Numerology and about all these things, keys in nature, I'd say, maintains that the number that is good for me or ppl with 8 is 4.

Well, I guess everyone goes about life, first seeking the patterns that they identify with intimately, second recognizing the pattern in all things around them and third fighting with their life to hold on to those. May be that's why we become less broad minded as we grow.

Now that I've blown the dust off my writing desk, I guess and hope I can come here often.

We must go to the forest, To seek a new beginning. Come, 'Turtles Run' (Apocalypto).

How do I make this a multiple of 152 ? I guess it's done !

Write now, right now. Or else ..

2009-01-04T13:55:00.000-08:00

A has given me the ultimatum.

"It is too much. You've been fooling me for more than a year. Write now. Just 10 minutes. Whatever comes to your mind"

She's been hitting the url for over a year expecting me to surprise her by writing something and I've always been saying.. I will, I will.

But more than a year of procrastination is bad I guess. At least for your loved one's patience ...

It's coming, the pasting of a new rainbow butterfly in a fresh page.. in moments.

10 minutes if you want to time it.

Go, now !

Astral Blueberries

2007-11-13T03:19:00.000-08:00

I’m lying flat on my back and looking at the open sky. It is clear. There are no stars. Only a single moon.
Is the queen of the night sky smiling at me ?
Or at the seabird sitting at the stern.
Or at her own beauty that is reflected by the sea ?
Well, at least I’m happy that she’s there and she’s smiling.

The seabird has been sitting there, at the pointed end of the boat, quietly, for hours now. She didn’t bring the astral blueberries this time. She couldn’t have forgotten for sure. May be she gave them to others on her way, ones who yearned for them more than I did. May be she traveled too long and couldn’t bring it this far. Had I come that far? In my quest to see new places, to uncover new truths, to discover new wonders, I’d rowed faster and faster towards exotic places in the far corners of the sea. Had I gone too far ?

The astral blueberries, the melodies that resonate my soul - I’ve almost forgotten their taste. Sometimes I feel I’m chewing on to one – one of those soft fleshy fruits which melt in my mouth and taste like honey .. and then suddenly wake up to find that there is nothing. I lick my lips and close my eyes – to feel the long lost taste. Renewing remembrances – those old songs – they do play a tug of war with my heart.
Ttime, time, time, take me back.

A seems to always have them. How does she manage? Maybe a singer always takes them along, in a tiny chest in some unknown corner. May be a singer has a bottomless bowl of astral blueberries. She threw one at me yesterday. I bent down to pick it up and I saw three more. Quite a magic! We ate them together.

I’m in need of them again

I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!

There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.

~ Elizabeth Bishop

Reminsc..(what was that word ? I forgot how to spell it)

2007-11-09T21:48:00.000-08:00

I was* so preoccupied with my ever growing to-do list (one of which was to write this ! and this.. was not at the top of the list. Hey, whatever happened to doing priority tasks? ) and this general feeling of “Aw ! I should’ve done this yesterday” , that I couldn’t sit in a place and gather my thoughts, my rainbow butterflies.

Why haven’t I been writing? I guess I haven’t been thinking at all. May be I shouldn’t be staying a hop away from home. And even that hopping distance, may be I shouldn’t be covering in car !

Those days in which I stayed far away from home, when I used to travel by train, those dreaming-thinking-talking**-sleeping-writing-reading-thinking-dreaming travels. Oh ! I wish they were back.

*was? I still am ?
**talking not with self like a madman (used to do that when I was a kid though. I gather I’m more self conscious now!) but with fellow passengers.

--------------

Oh my ding ding, what do I write ?
What did I do last week ?

Friday evening 6 PM – the beginning of a weekend
Imagine your buddy comes from the other end of US(okay, almost the other end), that too for a weekend and comes to meet you and you are in a conference call talking about a production bug which according to someone is the end of the world.
I look at my pal, he looks at me.
I point him to the phone .
He listens to the ‘boom baam boom’ (the phone’s on speaker), nods his head and goes away.
I being me, feel guilty, leave the call there, run behind him and say “Gimme 10 mins. I’ll catch up with you”. I come back, finish the call, sit at my desk, forget everything else and work for another 2 hours.
Then a bulb glows. I was supposed to meet V and R (not a simple R, but Dr.R) at 8 PM. I was meeting Dr.R after 5 years ! He was my classmate who went on to do .. well, let’s say he went to UK to do great deeds.
I call up V and he says – “It’s ok. It’s ok. You finish your work and come”. Ah ! how great it is to have sweet pals. One wouldn’t mind skipping meals and traveling 1000 miles to meet them.
I immediately take a print out of the map, take kittu(my car) and rush. After 30 mins, the address is not accurate and am lost on El Camino Real(means ‘The Royal Road’ if you cared about such trivia). I call up Dr.R, speak to his sis and somehow get there.
We meet, we eat. In between, KP calls. That makes 4 of the classmates talking.
Anyway, let me fast forward.
I almost reach home and suddenly remember that it is too late to call A. it is already Saturday there and what if she wanted to go out somewhere? What if she has already gone out? I sent a mail that I’d be late, but what if she didn’t read it ? I pull the car to the roadside and call her. And there she is. Always just a call away. Whenever I call, she is there. And I’m talking about a landline here. Oh la la ! this is some magic. Ok that’s it. The curtain is drawn. End of day.

Saturday - the day before engagement
I wake up, call up A.
Skip 2 hrs.
AG, my full-of-enthu roomie has started making a full course meal.
Good good good ! let me help him in my minor way.
What do we have here ? Believe it or not. Rasam, Dal fry and Egg curry. With appalams and pickles, the stomach is just jumping with joy.
Then I remember , my pal( and ex-roomie) from the other end of US, yeah, the same chap who’d come to office yesterday.
I go over to apt 52 (that is where K is set up temporarily). And invite him for lunch.
We all have a sumptuous lunch and talk and talk.
Then I call up A.
Skip 2 hrs.
I call up Samson and he says we’ll go out and I go over to Mountain View. A heavy dinner at a Hyderabadi restaurant.
I come back. Meet my pals in the parking lot. They’d seen my car while going out and came back to take me to this bowling place that they were going. I say I wouldn’t be able to go today. I need to talk to A. Afterall our engagement is happening in India without us.
I get home, call up A.
End of day.

Sunday – the day of engagement
4AM – sister calls up telling they’re in A’s house. Everyone’s happy-happy. “Good good good”, I tell her. I call up A and tell that things’re rosy-rosy.
I go to sleep. Wake up and get ready to go to church. Just before going I call up and they say, the engagement is done, parents exchanged (I don’t know what they do in an orthodox engagement) whatever, Priest blessed and the first stone to the rainbow path was laid.
A Syrian priest (am not saying his name, but the credentials that he had, were mind boggling! How could a normal man achieve such heights in a lifetime? He must be a blessed one for sure) and deacon had come to church as guests. The Qurbana was in Syrian. He would say in Syrian and we would respond in Malayalam ! Speaks volumes about the orthodox way of worship. It is the same anywhere in the world. And it has been like this for centuries.
It is Parumala thirumeni’s perunal. So the service is longer than normal. After other activities and lunch, I get to leave only by around 1 – 1.30. Before reaching home, I pull up the car to a cross road and call A.
I reach home and call her again.
Evening.
Night. Offshore call.
End of day.

Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Friday
What happened ? In the blink of an eye, they’re gone!
Oh ! forget it ! let me hop on to the weekend train.
Rush. Rush ! it’s too late. Before the doors of the speeding train shut, I have to take a leap. With a backpack full of to-do lists, the chances are 50-50.

Rainbow Butterfiles

2007-11-09T20:38:00.000-08:00

Thought of finally taking a break to roll up my sleeves, blow the dust off the writing desk and sit and gather the fluttering paper rainbow butterflies and stick them to the book.

They’re around, just a catch away. The touch of the rainbow butterflies, oh boy ! they almost take my breath away. I kiss each one of them and stick them to the book. They’re mine and they’re beautiful. How I miss them !

The other day A shouted from her boat.
“Look, Look !”
I watched.
It was a bright one.
Bright ones are usually flapping around the boat, within my hand’s reach at anytime.
But this one was almost in the water.
Ah! May be the wind carried it down.
It twisted and turned. Turned and twisted.
It stood there for a moment, mustering all its strength to defy gravity, hoping that the eastern wind would carry it to me.
But it met its end, the frail paper and its seven colors.
It touched water. Did it shiver?
It floated for a brief second and faded.. into the blueness of the sea.
Before it vanished, did it grow eyes to look at me ?
I looked around for others. I saw them falling too. Like leaves in an autumn tree.
Soon it was dusk and I could see nothing.

They take birth everyday, the rainbow butterflies. When the dawn breaks I see them fluttering around my boathouse so energetically. They are of a million colors. Strange hues that I don’t even know the names of.
May be A might know. She knows so many things, so many strange esoteric secrets. When is she coming on to this boat ? I’ve made so much of space for her. Right out of nowhere I tell you. It is just magic.

Sometimes I wonder if they are new ones or the old ones reborn. I wish I could hold on to each one of them before they’re lost. At least then, I’d know whether they are new.
But they make everyday colorful.
A beautiful colorful day – may be that’s all that matters.

A loves them, these rainbow butterflies. I’ve stuck some of the beautiful ones to our Sycamore Tree. She’s stuck hers too. No wonder the tree is more colorful than green. And what more, it looks different from every angle. And it makes our island look different.

I wish I hadn’t lost them. My dear rainbow butterflies.
Now I know, it was my preoccupation with the fishes that cost me my rainbow butterflies. I made bigger nets and cast them wider to catch bigger fishes. Now I begin to wonder, are the fishes taking revenge? Are they eating the rainbow butterflies that I gave up to the sea ? Are they conspiring with the sea and the winds to gobble up my rainbow butterflies?

What do I do ?

Do I fight the fishes ?
Or safeguard my rainbow butterflies ?

Do I make bigger and bigger and bigger nets and capture all the fishes so that they might let my rainbow butterflies be ?
Or stop catching the fishes and tend to my rainbow butterflies ?

What if, after I travel across the sea and capture all the fishes, there are no rainbow butterflies left ?
What if, after I gather all my rainbow butterflies and make my boat colorful, I lose my strength to fish ?

A Poet's Corner

2007-08-07T01:49:00.000-07:00

Relived a wonderful moment when I accidentally read one of my old scribblings.

There are some places where the moment you go, you feel completely at ease ; you’d stay, transfixed with a longing in your heart to be left there forever! It could be a library, a church, a temple, top of a mountain, a beach, an island, a hut in the middle of a forest, a river bank .. it could even be someone’s house.

S’s house, it’s not a house, it is a being. The moment you enter, you feel a warm, smooth embrace. There is certainly something there.. something in the way the house was built, something in the way things were arranged, something in the way lighting was set up, something that kept you suspended in a dream-like state.

The flute at the shelf near the bottom of the stairs was lazily placed but you felt as though it blew music into your mind. The winding stairs that led to a small study upstairs beckoned you to go up and when you did, it wasn’t merely going up in space, you felt as though you were elevated to a higher state.. you floated into heaven.

In the small study upstairs, the books on the shelf didn’t seem like sad children who were forcefully disciplined to stand at attention.. they seemed rather relaxed and smiling, leaning on each other, beckoning you to hold and touch and feel and experience.

You might end up standing there forever, wishing that the moment never went away..

But if you did, you’d miss the patio and the overlooking swimming pool and the painting stand by the side.

Dear Poet, thanks for making my day memorable.

When I think back, there is much more to describe. Much more beyond description.

Waking Dream

2007-08-05T04:07:00.000-07:00

In my dream I was sleeping. A was shaking my hand.

“Achaya..wake up.. wake up.. I can’t find the books.”

“What books ? ”

“The ones I kept in the box yesterday. The box is empty now.”

“Yeah, the books walked away. You ignored them for too long. You know indifference is a punishment more severe than hatred.” (Sorry. I’m sometimes sarcastic when woken up from sleep)

“He he ! stupid joke.” (clap, clap ! here is someone who doesn’t take offense.)

I went with her to the inner room. She was showing me the empty box.

“How could it be. I’m so certain that I took all the books sprawled under the bed and put it into this box. ”

I gave a sheepish smile - “I know I know.. ”

I took the box in my hand and turned it upside down. Opened it from the other end. All the books were there.

“Wow !”

“This is a magician’s box.”

I wanted to show her the trapdoor and explain it to her.
But at that moment my eyes caught ‘Histories’ - Histories by Herodotus.

Suddenly, everything dissolved. There was no box. There was no A.
I was looking through a window into a room in which a nurse was reading this book to a burnt, faceless man on a bed. The man was recounting his past and the scenes were flashing on the wall behind.

I could see Katherine reading the book by a fire - time leapt forward - now Almasy is leaving the injured Katherine in a cave - is walking in the desert for days - tragedy ! - he is captured by Germans - now he is back in a glider - carries her dead body in his arms - ....
It was a story in which everybody had a story - a sad story. Afterall it was a time of war.

The movie ends with Hana reading Katherine’s words written on the margins of the last few pages of Herodotus. As Hana escapes from the monastery, Katherine's voice is heard ..

"We die. We die rich with lovers and tribes. Tastes we have swallowed... bodies we have entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we've hidden in, like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. We're the real countries. Not the boundaries drawn on maps -- the names of powerful men. I know you'll come and carry me out into the palace of winds. That's all I've wanted. To walk in such a place with you. With friends. An earth without maps."

I bought ‘Histories’ the next day after I saw the movie, but never read it.

Now it’s 4 AM.
I’m awake wondering why I dreamt about 'Histories' and 'The English patient'.
I’ve taken the book out of the shelf.
It’s totally unlike the worn out, dog eared one in the movie, the actual kind of books that I love to read. It is fresh and new. I’ve always loved the old books. The books which someone has read. To think that someone went through exactly the same experiences as I’m about to go through makes me happy I guess.
I’m sitting here thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same feelings, of the undercurrent of undying love in ‘The English Patient’. I close my eyes and I can see the images flashing. Can I go back to my dream now ? After all, it is the dream that got me this feeling. Can I go back to the dream through this feeling ?

The Blue Lenses

2007-04-19T08:46:00.000-07:00

A recent trip to Mount Shasta became more memorable due to me losing my glasses. When the optician asked me if I wanted the sunlight coating, I said yes. Well ! when someone sounds as though she’s offering the best thing in the world, you’ve got no option but to have it. Moreover insurance covered it (Insurance ! The secret American Ace). Just think of having a pair of glasses that turns black when you walk outside in sunlight and turns plain inside. Great ! I ordered one and the moment I started wearing, I didn’t like them. It looked as though I was wearing sun glasses all day.

But suddenly every day was a pleasant day. Be it sunny or cloudy, the day looked the same. Set me thinking.. Why do some people always see goodness ? Because they wear sunglasses in their minds. When they look into the world, they don’t see the scorching intense heat but pleasant evening. Always.

Reminds me of a duMaurier short story that I’d read sometime back - ‘The Blue Lenses’. The book which contains this story has another story you might’ve heard about – Birds. Yup. That famous Hitchcock movie was based on this.
Coming back, Imagine ! You suddenly turn into a person to whom the only thing that is obvious about other people are their bad attributes. You look at them and you see them as .. animals.
They talk to you and you cant talk may be because of hatred or may be dread.
That’s exactly what happens in The blue lenses. The main protagonist undergoes an eye operation where she is made to put on a pair of blue lenses before the actual lenses. She begins to see everyone strangely – all humans with animal heads and human bodies. One nurse has kitten’s head, the doc is a terrier, sis nancy is a snake. First she thinks it is a joke but she realizes it is not. She mentions this and gets varied responses. Mostly others are offended.
If you perceive something/someone as bad, should you tell them ? Is it because they’ve suddenly metamorphosed into something bad or your outlook has changed ?

The Spice of Life - Movies and Songs

2006-08-12T22:45:00.000-07:00

S called. Before he started speaking, I knew what he’d say. Let’s meet up and study something. Yeah ! it’s been over a month since 2nd semester started and we hadn’t even looked into the books list. EC1 was a couple of weeks ahead. It was time.
He was in Stanford meeting up with some friend. He wanted to catch up with me in the library after lunch.

S - “Library le meet pannalam. Books list eduthuko. We’ll find them there and also plan for studying for this sem. ”

Me – “Wokay. I have some work in the bank. Athu mudichittu, I’ll leave to library.”

As planned, we met in the library but couldn’t find the books. They’d all been taken. After talking about textbooks for a while, the conversation just slipped into movies and songs.

Me - “Have you heard this song ‘Ragasiyamanadu kaadal’ ? A gem of a song. I was listening to top 10 on raaga yesterday and came upon this .. Quite accidentally”

S - “Haven’t heard of it. New song ? Which movie ?”

“Kodambakkam”

“k. Have you listened to ‘New york nagaram’ ? A R Rahman is back to Tamil. He’s simply awesome. You heard his other songs ?”

“Sure. I love his songs.”

Soon we were talking about movies. He’s a big time Kamal fan. So spoke about the much awaited ‘Vettayadu Vilayadu’ and old hit movies like 16 Vayathinile , Apoorva Sahodarangal, Indian …

I sometime feel that talking about a movie brings the best out of a person. Being a movie buff myself, I've felt really happy whenever I’ve lost myself fully into a movie. A good movie is like a drug. When you’re seeing it the surrounding just disappears. Same with a good song. You could close your eyes and totally get lost in it.

As I was listening to A R Rahman’s ‘New York Nagaram’, I thought I’d write down my top 5 movies and songs. Also, I’d been wanting to put such a list in orkut for long.

Movies

English
The Matrix
Forrest Gump
T2
The Saint
The Terminal

Malayalam
Thalavattam
Manichittrathazhu
Veendum chila veetu kaaryangal
Kireedam
Sanmanassulavarku samadhanam

Kannada
Ramachari
Muthina Haara
Nammura Mandara Hoove
Rayaru bandaru mavana manege
Amruthavarshini

Hindi
Sarfarosh
Deewar
Rang De Basanti
Anand
Ghulam

Tamil
Indian
Gentleman
Apoorva Sahodarangal
Basha
Roja

Songs

English
Wind of change (Scorpions)
Turn back time (Aqua)
Tourniquet (Evanescence)
Chiquitita (ABBA)
Dreamy Eyes (Aguilera)

Malayalam
Pinneyum pinneyum (Krishnagudiyil oru .. )
Ponveene ennullil (Thalavattam)
Aayiram kannumay (Nokketha doorathu …)
Kanneer poovinte (Kireedam)
Ithiri poovinte (Manivathoorile aayiram sivaraathrikal)

Kannada
Aakashadage(Ramachari)
Jothe jotheyali (Geetha)
Hindustanavu endu mareyada (Amrutha Ghalige)
Cheluve nanna (Suprabhata)
Manadaase Hakkiyage(Nammura Mandara Hoove)

Hindi
Mere rangon mei (Maine pyaar kiya)
Jadoo hai tera hi jaadoo(Ghulam)
Khalbali(Rang de basanti)
Pehla Nasha (Jo Jeeta Woh Sikander)
Dil kya Karen (Julie)

Tamil
Chinna chinna aasai(Roja)
Pachai nirame(Alaipayuthey)
Vaseegara(Minnale)
Onra renda(Kaaka kaaka)
Ragasiyamanathu kaathal (Kodambakkam)

Mal Gospel
Aayiram soorya golangal onnichudichalum
Mohathinte therileri pokaruthe
Dukhathine paanapathram karthavente kayyil thannal
Paithalam yeshuve
Raathri rathri rajatha raathri

Is Infinity lit ?

2006-08-10T00:02:00.000-07:00

He was standing near the sun. There was brightness everywhere, almost blinding him. He could see the rays going away – far away to distant lands, giving light, feeding happiness.

But he couldn’t stand there for long. Some strong force was pulling him away. He clenched his teeth, tightened his muscles, held his fists in a tight grip, He tried .. to hold on for longer. It broke. But he wasn’t ready to give away, not yet. He leapt, stretched his hand and grasped a light ray. In a moment he wasn’t himself. As the luminous shaft shot ahead with break neck speed, his vision became blurred, he ceased to think.

When he opened his eyes, he was far away. He was still riding on the light ray. But there was no sun, no planets in the vicinity. It was mostly dark. At a distance he could see specks of light from stars, light years away. He could feel that he wasn’t traveling as fast as he was in the beginning. Was the ray weakening ? A dread swept through him. What would happen ? Would the light die leaving him in groping in the darkness ? Without being able to see something, to hold somewhere ?

It came back suddenly! The talk. That was a different time, a different age, a different place. SN was talking.
"You can see light only when it hits some object – say dust, and gets reflected. If there was no dust, no matter, i.e if there were only vacuum here, we wouldn’t see light. So, actually the universe is full of light. We cannot see it because of vacuum. In vacuum, light travels till infinity. It never reduces, never falters."

He looked down. The light ray he was traveling on, it wasn’t there ! It struck him then, there are infinite rays of light around. He just couldn’t see them. He reached his hand above and felt another ray. He jumped on to it. The traveler continued his journey.

The destruction of Sennacherib

2006-07-05T02:45:00.000-07:00

Some days you get up slowly ..
sit or sometimes sit n sleep on the bed for sometime ..
wait for thoughts to gather, slowly come into terms with the world – as though you need time to gradually transition from one world to completely different one – as though you just came out of water and you’re gasping for breath.

Yet, Some other days you get up with a jerk – immediately springing into action – as though the very reason that you got up was to do that . It’s as though you’ve been awake all along but had just closed your eyes temporarily..

Today was one of those ‘some other’ days.
It was a holiday but I just got up and immediately wanted to check out ‘the destruction of Sennacherib’. I wanted to read the Biblical passage which mentioned this incident.

This out-of-ordinary behavior was because just yesterday I started with this book named "Familiar Poems, Annotated" by Asimov.
For starters, Isaac Asimov was a master science fiction writer, the most famous in his time and the best of them all. He was a child prodigy who started writing books at the age of 7 and has written books on almost topics .. even Bible & Shakespeare.

"Familiar Poems.." is not just another compilation of poems. It is a glimpse into the times.. into history. The poems are arranged chronologically. After each poem he gives a backdrop.. So when you read the poem, read the description and once again read the poem, you don’t see beautiful words strung brilliantly to produce rhythm and rhyme but the play .. the actual scene being enacted right in front of your eyes.
"The destruction .." was the second poem , Ozymandias being the first.

So I got up ..
reached under the cot for the laptop & specs..
googled..
2 Kings Ch 18 & 19.
The Bible says 18,500 people were dead .

"Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed:
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! "

I finished reading it .. also read the wikipedia article about it. It said that the biblical account was one sided and actually Judah had lost to the Assyrian King. Whatever !

Came out of the room and found that T and his friends were almost ready .. his friends had come from different places in the US to visit the west coast and he was kind of taking them around. They were going to San Francisco today.
Since I’m a sleep-early (actually sleep-more) kind of a chap, and they came over pretty late, I never got to speak to them. Thought I’d get acquainted in the morning and now they were about to leave..
Their departure set me thinking .. Did they eat anything in the morning? Gosh ! May be I should’ve asked them if they wanted to have something ! Frozen Idiappam ?
Nah ! People brought up in Kerala usually don’t brighten up so much when they hear ‘idiappam’/ ‘kappa’ / ‘aluva’ ..etc in comparison to those brought up outside.. Well! there was nothing much to eat anyway !

When you’re staying as a bachelor and when friends’s friends usually drop in .. you kind of lose the host-guest feeling .. You’d slowly tend to stop worrying about such things.. bachelorhood..decadence of social skills ?

That’s ok.. Things can only get better in future..

Had breakfast ..
Saw the spelling bee contest .. Gee!! how do these small kids know the spellings of all those difficult words. amazing !
Watched soccer.. I was routing for Germany and they lost ! 2 – 0 . Whatta disgrace .
Went to San Francisco in the evening to see Independence day fireworks.
We could see them only from far. So didn’t enjoy it as much as the new year fireworks.
But the number of people ! There were so many. I guess I’d been missing a real crowd for a long time
End of Day.

Fermat's Last Theorem - Amir Aczel

2006-07-02T23:44:00.000-07:00

Amir Aczel’s "Fermat’s Last Theorem" begins with this amazing quote by Andrew Wiles.
Yes ! he is the one .. the mathematician who solved the most famous unsolvable problem in the history of Mathematics . Over a span of 3 centuries, thousands of brilliant and hardworking men and women were at it.. and in the quest had discovered so many ground-breaking theories ..even new branches of Maths!
I was just dumbfounded the moment I read it - at the sheer truth behind it. Here it goes ..

"Perhaps I could best describe my experience of doing mathematics in terms of entering a dark mansion. You go into the first room and it's dark, completely dark. You stumble around, bumping into the furniture. Gradually, you learn where each piece of furniture is. And finally, after six months or so, you find the light switch and turn it on. Suddenly, it's all illuminated and you can see exactly where you were. Then you enter the next room . . . "

Exactly !! I think this applies to most situations in life!
I’ve been in this groping-in-the-dark-what-do-I-do-next state so many times !
May be that’s the joy of teaching.. you see someone groping in the dark and help him/her to the switch and when the room lightens up .. the look on the bright face..that look is the bliss of teaching. And vice versa.. anyone’d be really happy to be with a person who ‘knows’!

There are so many mathematicians mentioned in the book.. Euler.. Gauss .. Galois .. Sophie Germain .. I can see them all..as though they spent their lives on earth just recently.
Whatever was written about Gauss in the book, I already knew.. even the story of his teacher giving the 7 yr old Gauss with a difficult monotonous problem like 1+2+3+..100 as punishment and him solving it in a couple of minutes !
Galois was a revelation .. I was reminded of Marlowe.
A really bright star who came in, brightened the whole sky with brilliant blinding light , then swiftly disappeared.
He was so brilliant that he could solve most equations in his mind. In fact he couldn’t get into the most famous college at that time because he wrote the answers directly without intermediate steps. While still a schoolboy, he’d learnt all the higher level mathematical theories extant at that time and had developed the theory in his name – the Galois theory !
Galois died in a political duel. The night before the duel.. he was so convinced he would die, that he wrote down his complete mathematical theory and sent it to his friend. At the time of his death, he was just 20!

Message in a bottle

2006-05-19T02:12:00.000-07:00

Though sleeping, reading and watching movies were the only major things that I did during this weekend, what I really wanted to do was to go to a beach, write something, put it into a bottle and throw it into the sea.
Yeah ! Yes ! just like that !
Much as I'd like to think that someone'll pick it up and read and mail and ..
Nothing..

Appearances are deceptive !

2006-05-15T00:07:00.000-07:00

Gosh ! I jus came to know that A’d changed from specs to lenses. When ?
Now I got it ! I met him last week.. that too after a gap of a year ! he asked if I noticed any change in him. I get into this confused-i-wanna-chicken-out kind of state when someone asks me this !
I think I’d said
“haha .. you look exactly the same. You don’t eat much. Do you ? I guess I too haven’t changed much.”
(A might’ve been thinking – ‘bummer! I’ve gotten rid my specs and you don’t even notice the difference ! grr !!’)

This’s been a problem which, for a long time I never knew ! Some friend wears a new dress or gets a new get-up and I never notice. The fact of the matter is, this hurts people…sometimes.
Once I thought I’d fix it …
had told myself “watch it ! from today .. I’m gonna get more interested in the ‘appearance’”

The very next day I caught P coming to office.

Me – “hey P, you look different ! you’ve started wearing specs, haven’t you ? Cool ! I must say you now look your true intellectual self.”

I was really happy I that I noticed some change as soon as I wanted to. Man ! there is nothing in life that you can’t learn once you put your mind into it.

P’d looked at me curiously and laughed – “what’s wrong with you? I’ve been wearing specs from high school”

So much for bothering about looks ! I guess I’ll have to stick to what people feel, like or read !

A time to celebrate

2006-05-07T00:06:00.000-07:00

St.George’s festival. Theophilus thirumeni (formerly MC Cherian achen) went over St. George’s life – the same story that had been told to me many times as a kid – more so because I had this paranoic fear of snakes. I’ve had moments in which I missed stamping on a snake or a snake bite by sheer luck ! If you said there was just one in a million chance to see a snake in the city of Bangalore.. yes.. may be.. but there is that one in a million..
We had a photo of him, St.George – an old, almost faded, small but framed one, in which the brave hero stands face to face with the dragon with a spear in his hand on a white horse . He is staring into the dragon’s eyes and the open mouthed dragon is lunging towards him. The dragon isn’t afraid and he isn’t even a bit scared !
Takes me back to the times when we used to go to kerala during summer vacations. Everything seemed to happen right during that time. Mango’s came at that time. It rained at that time. And this perunal too. It was one time we could have the most delicious of kozhi (chicken) currys.

It was also the day of Mexican celebration – Cinco de Mayo (simply means – the 5th of May). As I was returning home I could see a lot of people on the streets holding the Mexican flag.
We went to the park in the evening. Guardalupe park was full of people. After coming from India I’d never seen so many people together in one single place. There were many stalls. There were a couple of stages in which some bands were playing. The music was good. There was a dancing corner. But I didn’t try it out.
There are a few things that I can best do alone ! dancing may be one of them !!

A beautiful day

2006-04-30T23:58:00.000-07:00

"...bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings,
These are a few of my favorite things."
- 'The Sound of Music'
The first thing that I did was to watch the rest of 'The Sound of Music'
The 'favourite things' song was still afresh in my mind. I'd watched it till Maria stealthily ran away to the abbey. D had said it was the best of movies ! must-watch-should-not-be-missed kind of movie. It is a musical about a wannabe nun being a governess in a Captains house (palace!) gaining the confidence of his 7 kids. It’s a classic. It’s a jolly ride, I’d say – jolly roller coaster musical flow in and out of good times.

By the time I finished everyone was awake..
N, reading paper – "They’ve opened a new park near downtown. Let’s go."
Me – "Yup..I anyway needed to go to the library."
N – “ok. We’ll cook something, take it and eat it from there.”
Me – “We’ll eat here and then go there. I don’t like to eat in open spaces.”
N – “It’ll be cool to eat in the park. It’ll be like a picnic. We’ll eat there.”
May be because I’ve seen too many parks littered with leftovers .. I don’t like to eat in parks. Aren’t parks meant to be .. I don’t know .. heaven-in-the-middle-of-rubble or something ? a serene place ? a place where you just sat silently or walked slowly or.. whatever.. well ! it’s my personal prob. I’d rather not impose my ideas into someone else.
I went to the library .. and to my surprise saw that there was a book sale going on there. Bought some books. That kind of put me back into good spirits. Called up N to find out if he was coming to the park. He was ready. We found the park, sat on the green grass.. Using bag as pillow I lay flat on the grass and started reading ‘message in a bottle’.
N unpacked and had his lunch.
After a while he turned towards me ..
“How was the sale ? what did you buy ?”
“Not many .. arnd 5.”
N inspected . he put aside ‘Frenchman’s Creek’ , ‘Life of Pi’ …and other books. I knew his eye’d stop at Republic and it did ! ‘Plato’s Republic ! boy ! I always wanted to read it..’ He started reading it and before long, WE started reading it. The whole book’s in the form of dialogues. He read a dialogue and I the next. We played Socrates, Polemarchus, Thrasymachus alternatively .. and even as we were returning home.. we were arguing .. about ‘justice’

All in a day's work !

2006-04-22T23:54:00.000-07:00

Today’s story
Jigs n reels – Joanne Harris
The best thing about the stories in the book are the short notes just before the stories – words telling you the inspiration behind each story.

The first story “Faith and Hope go shopping” is about 2 elderly ladies who escape from an old age home to fulfill their long-standing-utterly-wild-dreams , i.e to buy ‘Lolita’ and a pair of designer shoes. One’s bound to a wheelchair and the other is blind !

I’m in the 5th story in which a set of classmates from a magic school decide to meet after 25 years. The main protagonist arrives earlier than the rest.
She sees her friends arrive one by one – everyone, the hated and the loved alike, she observed had been practicing magic – one had become famous amongst the gliterrati, another had a shop, another was consulting..and so on. She’s afraid because, she is the only one who’s been out of touch and has lost her magic. As she keeps hoping that none would question her about it, the worst thing happens – someone asks her to perform the simplest of magic – lighting a candle !

Has a book caught your eye at the very first sight ? There are some books like that – a mere look at the book and you stop ! It is as though your instinct tells you – ‘here it is .. something that you’d love’. That’s how I found Jigs and Reels that too not at Barnes and Noble, not at the King’s library that I frequent, not in places where I could go and hope to find something of that kind, but at Costo !

Today’s movie
Mystic River.
All I knew was that it was an oscar winner! Which/who/when ? don’t remember ! I left quizzing long ago and don’t tend to remember facts well enough now.
The cover came from blockbuster a couple of days back but none of the guys seemed interested to see it. Saturday evening – K’d gone out to play, N’d gone to library, J’d gone out, T was playing Tennis in his laptop and I was sitting idly. Here we go – Mystic River.
The movie was a gem !
The best character that I’d like was that of Jimmy Markum.
There is this scene in which Jimmy rushes to see his daughter’s body and is held by the cops. As he struggles with the cops, the camera focuses on his face , you could see the broken heart, the deep anguish of losing someone whom you love most. Slowly the camera is pulled away and taken to the top. Here you see the crowd from the top – as though you were God watching the spectacle from high above, the cops in black and Jimmy in white struggling to getaway from them.
Who is this actor? Who is Jimmy Markum ? I wanted to know his name. I waited till the movie got over to get the name. Sean Penn. Sean Penn ? Madonna’s ex-H ? Gosh ! Is this how he looks like ? It was like knowing someone for long but not knowing him by face.

Today’s poem
“They flee from me, that sometime did me seek” - Thomas Wyatt
Just when I thought that I’d cast of my fickle-romantic-I’ll-fall-in-love-any-moment self and was becoming more tougher, more practical and normal, I found this audio book and am back into the old mood again. Back to that one year in Chennai when I had the most romantic people I’ve met, with me.
Classic Hundred All-Time Favorite Poems is a great collection. It’s got the best poems I’ve read. All of my favourite Donne and Shakespeare poems.
I’ve saved the poems into my ipod. Though I play it through the whole journey from home to office and back, I listen only while walking since I read something while in train. Can mind do 2 things at a time? Or is the subconscious listening to the songs while the conscious is reading the story ?
Wyatt ! the name inspires me ! Remember ‘Wyatt Oils’ in Atlas Shrugged ?
The title made me expect something else – something on the lines of ‘when to the sessions of sweet silent thought’ by Shakespeare. Thought it was about friends going away and someone reminiscing. In a way yes ! But it’s about a lover. I’d say it is more about the ‘hunter being hunted’ !!

Today’s work
Think of some questions to interview a couple of people tomorrow. duh !
Why do people know lesser and lesser and talk more and more nowadays ? Why are increasing number of people becoming better at managing / being shrewd / finding opportunities to take advantage of someone / playing politics / … than doing some actual work ? Or is it just that my circle of interaction has changed and am still the same ?
Digression ! What’s the question in the mind at this moment ?
Java - Say you land upon an object at runtime. Can you determine the class of the object? Can you determine its superclass or the interface(s) that the class implements? Can you determine its methods or attributes or their access modifiers ? Can you determine its constructors ? Can you create a new instance of this class? Simply speaking, can you get into the mind of the object and make it ‘reflect’ ?
A programmer is an investigator of truth.

UML – Is a class diagram static or dynamic ? How do you represent a class in a CD? What do the 3 boxes contain? How do you differentiate between members with different access modifiers? How do you represent an abstract class or interface ? how do you show association/aggregation/generalization? How do you represent one to many / many to many relationships ?
A designer is an artist .. of beauty.

Magic Magic

2006-03-06T23:51:00.000-08:00

Am I psychic ?
Or am I becoming more psychic day by day ?
Some things happen and I’m like – wow ! I knew this’d happen.

I was up above in the mountain by Lake Tahoe and something triggered the memory of H. The very next day what do I see in my mailbox? A mail from H !! That too after a gap of almost 1 year.

Was watching this movie named ‘The Italian Job’(a must-watch-movie - splendid cinematography & superb music to go with it). That triggered memory of P. P had been all awe of the movie and we’d discussed Charlize Theron over a year back.
I just opened Cogni mail(my idea of multitasking is to check mails/start server/update clearcase view/… while watching movie/tv in the night) and there it was – a mail from P.

It was around 3 to 4 months since I left Portland and I’d forgotten all about the people over there (that’s a serious problem that I have to solve. I mingle too well with people whom I interact on a day-to-day basis, almost as though they are my siblings but at the same time completely forget my earlier pals and sometimes even family!) . Suddenly one day while I was returning in train, I thought of V and within moments he called ! The earlier apartment’s advance money had come and he wanted to know how to send my share !

Miracle ? Magic ? Am I hallucinating? I am !! stop it.

Why is it ? Why is it that everyone wants a shortcut – an easy way to do something ? Why does everyone want to have some special power to get an edge over others ? why can’t we simply do our best and accept what comes our way ? why should we plead God for miracles(why in the name of heaven does God grant them? God does it, often [speaking from personal experience]) ? A hundred million whys..
Well ! As P says .. whatever !
If you look closely , everything is mystery .. and sheer magic.

Through the testing glass

2006-03-02T23:37:00.000-08:00

Surprise ! Surprise !!
There is none who surprises himself more than me !
Am I a nerd? Far from it.
Did I answer the questions wrong ? Nope.
P had a single word answer for all unanswerable-incomprehensible questions -
"Whatever !"

He never knew they’d oppose so greatly to it. They were his close pals. He knew they’d tell things only for his benefit. But he’d made the decision already.
Him - “Guys, I’ve signed up for MS.”
K - “MS, you ? Robbie, you must be doing an MBA dude. That suits you more.”
N - “MS doesn’t make sense to you at all.”
T maintained silence.
**lot of talk/arguments for the next 2 hrs**
They were not the first ones. A lot of people had told him in the past to do MBA. He used to wonder – do they perceive him as a dumb techie ? did he actually have ‘it’ in him to be an MBA – to manage people, projects, to lead ? ugh ! he’d rather sit in a corner, read a book or just do the task that he’s assigned with.
How could people perceive him as a person different from the one whom he thought himself to be ?

It is a mystery .. this perception business is !

tahoe remodeled

2006-03-01T00:30:00.000-08:00

10,000 feet towards heaven

2006-02-28T23:12:00.000-08:00

How does it feel to be woken up at 5.50 AM in the morning, that too on a Saturday and asked to get ready in 10 minutes to go to Lake Tahoe – a skiing resort ?
Like a dream !
The day went like a breeze. I’d seen cable car and skiing only in movies. There I was .. traveling in a cable car and feeling like being a bond movie, skiing (and falling, though I found skiing to be easier than ice-skating) and feeling like being Levin in Anna Karenina…
Before we knew, it was time to return and only thing that remained was feeling of having spent a great day.

Eater's dilemma

2006-02-22T22:53:00.000-08:00

Just on the day when I made a curry in a hurry , forgot to put salt, worse, forgot to taste it, I got it to office and got to have lunch with a bunch of folks who believed in this ‘give-it-to-everyone, eat-from-everyone’ principle. A la potluck.
Thank God I had the sense to taste it before offering.
Once I realized it, I was in a catch 22 situation.
How could I take theirs if I can’t offer ?
But how could I stick out like a sore thumb without taking anything?
Giving or not giving is equal embarrassment.
Big deal!
Took a bit of K’s pongal, N’s chatney, V’s idly.
I didn’t offer mine. They didn’t ask. Did they feel offended?
What the hell ! sach bolne se kya nuksaan?
Me - “I’m becoming worse at cooking day-by-day. Forgot to put salt.”
N - “So you were good before?”
Me - “No. bad to worse”
N – “Oh! It is 0(zero) to – (minus) whatever. haha”
Everyone laughed.
S – “Time for you to get married”
Me – “What if she doesn’t know?”
Laughter again.
Now I wonder. Were they laughing at me? Here is a bugger who can’t manage to get the ideal Indian I-have-a-million-credentials gal who could do a godzillion number of things simultaneously – cooking being one primary ‘thing’.

Him – “I wouldn’t want anything to do with cooking. Seems boring.”
P – “Don’t you have something favourite? Wouldn’t you want to know how to make it? I guess you’d depend on your wife to make it.”
H – “Nah! I have no favourites. Am ok with eating anything. I wouldn’t expect my wife (if I were to marry) to know cooking. If she knows and wants to do it's fine.”
P – “How will you both survive if none of you cook?”
H – “We’ll go to hotels”
P – “Daily?”
H – “Yup. Daily. There are too many hotels to try from.”
P laughed.

Why does one look back at the past and think.How could I ever have made such a statement?

The pulse of the world

2006-02-21T23:38:00.000-08:00

“Bhoogolathinte spandanam Mathematics aanu.”(Mathematics in the pulse of earth) – The gruff voice of the one-n-only inimitable Thilakan still rings in my ears. In ‘Sphadikam’, it is told in a sarcastic way as though to tell us that the father’s insistence on son learning Math wrecked his(the son’s, I mean) life.(wrecked? Umm.. for all you know, there might be folks who want to emulate aadu thoma!)

Why math all of a sudden? Had done a project which dealt with encryption a couple of months back and got hooked on to cryptography. Got around reading some books too. Nothing heavy. Some light yet stimulating reads.
“In Code – A mathematical Journey” by Sarah Flannery
“The code book” by Simon Singh..
More about them later..
N was telling about how interesting he found “Gödel, Escher, Bach” to be. Read the first chapter. Too good. Yet another must read.

Back to cryptography, it is strange.. how one gets interested in some subject. How something catches one’s fancy for no reason. I got into its fold when I came across RSA.

“RSA and SN were his closest pals in college. RSA was someone who was everyone’s favourite. Talked less but well, was good at games – be it cricket, football or basketball, best at organizing – be it class tour or department fest or a technical symposuim, seemed to have answers to everyone’s problems, guys who couldn’t see eye to eye with each other were perfect friends with him, thought amazingly fast, someone’d throw a puzzle and he’ would solve it the fastest amongst them. One could just say – almost perfect.”

ps: a note on RSA & RSA129.
In cryptography, RSA is an algorithm for public-key encryption. It was the first algorithm known to be suitable for signing as well as encryption, and one of the first great advances in public key cryptography. RSA is still widely used in electronic commerce protocols, and is believed to be secure given sufficiently long keys.
It was invented by 3 MIT students Rivest,Shamir and Aldeman and is based on the fact that large numbers are very difficult to factorize.
RSA129 was a certain 129-digit number containing a coded message published in Scientific American. It was said that it would take 20,000 years to factorize it. Well ! it took 17 years to devise a calculation that took less than a year from start to finish. In ’94, the 64 and 65 digit prime numbers which were its factors were found.

spectacle without spectacles

2006-02-10T22:24:00.000-08:00

I spent a whole day with out it .. without the most important thing that adorned my face for so many years(well ! not so many.. just 5!) – my specs. Such a thing had to happen. Especially since I’m prone to falling into this very-absent-minded-utterly-oblivious-to-surrounding state.
I searched everywhere. Inside the Fridge, inside my bag, inside the microwave, on the TV, under the table, below the cot, in the toilet.. I must’ve kept it somewhere. I’ve kept things in strange places before.

It is a strange feeling – to be without specs for a day. To feel the wind on the eyes , to look at the mirror and see a different person, to be able to touch one’s face without obstructions, to be able to not feel the presence of something on one’s head, to have the feeling of sudden freedom.
But what is freedom at the cost of pain ? a severe ache on the left side of my head in my case.

The Storyteller’s creed

2006-02-08T22:33:00.000-08:00

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge.
That myth is more potent than history.
That dreams are more powerful than facts.
That hope always triumphs over experience.
That laughter is the only cure for grief.
And I believe that love is stronger than death.

This is from a book named ‘All I really need to know I learned in kindergarten’. D was so ecstatic about it on the phone that I ordered the book online as soon as I got a chance. If not anything, I was enchanted by the name. It took 2 weeks to get shipped to me though. Got it today .Smiled and laughed all the way to the end while reading it.

I am you, You are me

2006-01-27T23:36:00.000-08:00

Chinese new year !
C took us to the most famous sea food restaurant here. ABC seafood center ! We spent a good 20 minutes to find a place to park only to find over 20 people waiting in line. But luckily C had arranged for everything and we just had to go to the table where he and other team members were sitting. But I wondered.. why so many ? what do they sell here? why so many people ? The restaurant was a huge circular hall and it looked same from all sides. Seemed as though there were circular tables all over and the same group of people sitting around every table. I looked again .. and again. They looked so alike. It is difficult to tell one Chinese from another and the big crowd in front gave the impression of 100s of duplicates sitting next to each other and chattering. There .. a vision of unity, of co-operation, of singleness of purpose.

Some days all he did in the college was to speak to SN. When it came to philosophy, about the purpose of life, the meaning of life and things around, there was none better than SN. It sometimes seemed to him as though SN had a complete grasp of the whole universe. There were so many things that SN seemed to know. Those days SN was learning Sanskrit in his spare time.None could fathom SN's knowledge from outside. SN came across as jolly-jovial-loved-by-all chap. SN was very clear in his speech. Very lucid. One would never miss a point when SN spoke. SN never hurried.

Once SN had come to his home. The moment they saw him, his mother and sisters had exclaimed. ‘Oh ! he looks so alike you’, they told him. SN’s parents too were surprised at the similarity. Those days a stranger might easily have taken them for brothers.

He later looked at himself in the mirror. He was never one to bother much about the way he looked. So he couldn’t tell if he had changed or not! But he found that he spoke slower that he used to. Words were not gushing out of his mouth anymore. They were coming out slowly, purposefully. They soothed him and those whom he spoke with.

The Master of the Game

2006-01-26T23:37:00.000-08:00

For three days he has been working on it.
Finally he got it. ‘Is that it? That’s all ?Aww’ he thought. He could now do it in a mere two hours. Instead of rejoicing that his labour had finally borne fruit, he was unhappy. A person with experience could do it in 2 hours. But could anyone have experience in every minute thing in the world?

Experience means recognizing patterns. Attribute the observed pattern to something that you have already done. If you have competence in that field, you must have done something similar. You must have read about something on similar lines.

Some time back RV had told me what he had learnt in some programme that he had attended - about different levels of competence. There are 4 levels of competence
1. Unconscious Incompetence
2. Conscious Incompetence
3. Conscious Competence
4. Unconscious Competence
You are in the first stage if you don’t know that you don’t know. The second stage is when you know that you don’t know. The third is when you know that you know. The fourth when you, after having transcended the knowing stage, aren’t even aware that you know. For instance, when you become very adept at driving, you can do it skillfully without even concentrating on it. Is it possible that you have qualities that put you in level 4 directly with regards to doing things ? That you are gifted from birth ?
Nah ! you gotta work for it. Only experience can get you to level 4 when you can perform the magic of doing a task in 2 hours which a CC would take 3 days, CI couple of weeks and a UI cannot hope to do.

He doesn’t remember why they were on the dark unlit road. But there he was.. listening to R as he was walking. R’s words sound so clear even today - “When a master does something, it appears as magic to you. But what you fail to see is the effort that had gone before it.” R was a master at public speaking. Did R mean that he practiced hard at home to deliver beautiful speeches? Excellence in speech seemed natural to him.
They keep talking..
Suddenly he realizes that it is too late. He has to get home. They run towards the bus stand and he manages to catch the last bus to Thiruvanmiyur in the nick of time. Things are so calm and quite in the bus. He looks around and realizes that he is the only passenger. He thinks over everything that R had said. R seemed like a prophet. He had felt so many times in school too. Sometime later he looks into his bag. It is heavy. R had given him a lot of books. ‘Take how many ever you want’, R had said. There were 2 boxes full of books. He had taken around 8 or 10. He now takes them out one by one and starts reading the back covers. Somewhere in the middle of the journey he sleeps.

A sanguine tale

2006-01-25T23:56:00.000-08:00

The good soul decides to do something good.
He feels happy about the great deed he is about to perform.
In his mind he sees obscure faces of people whom he might save.
When he had done it in the past, he had felt weak and had gone home and slept .. slept and slept. As it happens with him often, he sees himself in the future. He sees him self after the deed. He sees himself being weak, weak to even type. He sees himself being drowsy in the 3 PM meeting which he is required to attend. His colleagues ask him why he is so pale. Is he not well or something ? He wants to tell them. But he says ‘Nothing, nothing .. I’m OK. Just didn’t get enough sleep. It was too cold yesterday.’

The clock strikes 2 and he gets out of the reverie. It is time. He gets up with a smile and heads towards the gym. That’s where the blood donation drive is to happen.
He returns faster than he goes. He is seen smiling wildly as though something’s hit him. Internally he is laughing , laughing loudly at the ridiculousness of it all.
Meets V on the way.
V – “Where were you man, went out ?”
H – “Yup..Thought I’d donate blood”
V(with this what’s-wrong-with-him kind of look) – “Really ? ”
H - “Couldn’t do it though. The doc says - India is (blacklisted as) a malaria-prone country. You need to be in the US for 3 years(continuously) to give blood.”

All charged up for nothing..

2006-01-23T22:12:00.000-08:00

Ever started your day in the office with a rude shock? I mean, shock in the literal sense. I’ve discovered that being a good chap who switches off his monitor before calling it a day (to save power!) has its disadvantages , especially if he is a ..err..'static electric' person – someone who gets a shock even before he touches the metal switch to turn on the power. If I were a man of action I’d be benumbed for a second, taken aback by the momentary loss of sense before coming to terms with things around. But no..I’m what you could call as a man of dreams (If you ever catch me smiling/laughing/angered/dull or exhibiting some out-of-the-place emotion while idly walking on some road alone, be not alarmed, you’ve not lost me). So, this shock is usually a jolt from the dreamy-unreal-fantasy world to the present. It’s as though some one’s stopped me on my tracks.. "Boy. It’s time, time to work. Ready .. Steady .. Go."

9.30 AM
Yes. Time to work. Do one thing at a time, I tell myself. No dreaming and letting the mind wander. I let my mind and fingers take over me.

11.00 AM
My fingers are tapping the unfortunate keyboard incessantly and furiously. I suddenly stop. Something is disturbing me. What is it ? I look back. Sheesh ! someone’s opened the darn window. The wind’s blowing. I go towards it and before I even touch it …trrrr.. I get a shock . I look here and there. To see if someone saw. None. I close the window. pull the strings down.

1.00 PM
I’m hungry. But V likes lunch only after 1.30 ..closer to 2.00 if he has urgent work. So I decide to grab a coke in the meanwhile. I tell myself – ‘This coke machine always gives me shock. But not this time’. So to ‘discharge’ static electricity off me, I touch everything around, the chair, the phone, the table and set off. On the way I think – ‘anyway I’ve got up. Let me take a leak’. 100 out of 100 times I meet up with a few friends in the restroom. We come out of it, talk this and that and head to the pantry. N goes for apple juice, S goes for pepsi and I go for coke. The moment I touch the ‘diet coke’ button, a shiver runs though my fingers. Duh ! so much for my preparation.

4.00 PM
I sense a presence. It is A, a Mangalore chap. (Why in the world did they change Bangalore to Bengalooru? Why not name Mangalore as Mengalooru? To the kannada deprived, “Men-gala-ooru = town of men” Well ! May be the name is reserved for future men-only cities which could spawn up due to the high rate of female infanticide). I try to shake hands with him and you know what happened (by this time you are the i-know-what-happened guru). I just barely touch him and …Trrrrrrr.
A - “En siva .. electricity ittkondu oodadthiya ?”
(“What buddy, you walk around with electricity or what ?”)

7.00 PM
I decide to blog the events of the day. It’s been sometime. I mean since I’ve written something. Boy, whatta day. Someone could as well say "Robin, I think of you and I see sparks flying!" 
I take a walk. Conjure up what to write and bingo !

ps:
Wouldn’t it be fanciful to visualize me sitting in a place for a long time, building up so much of static electricity that with a stroke of a finger, I could light a bulb.
That’d be pretty cool.

pps :
Gosh ! why do I never talk like an engineer ? I might be the only engineer who limits logical reasoning only to work and nothing beyond ..that too only if I’m asked to!
Forget that.. Why does this happen ?
The actual reason(s) could be one or many of
a. dry skin
b. clothes
c. complete lack of moisture in the air
d. what-ever-you-want-to-assume to amuse yourself

Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier

2005-12-29T00:13:00.000-08:00

Was it worth all the wait ? I thought I would read the best of du Maurier after I’ve finished all her other books. Each book I read was better than the other. Each transported me to a world where I wished to remain forever. Each story lingered somewhere in the back of the mind, some scenes coming back often, enabling me to relive the magic.

So I started Rebecca , understandably with great hopes. Could it be better than ‘The king’s general’? Could it be more suspenseful than ‘My cousin Rachel’ ? Could it be as nail-biting as ‘The Scapegoat’ ? Could it be as thrilling as ‘The House on the Strand’ ?

The most intriguing thing about the book was that the narrator didn't have a name ! You turn page after page expecting to find her name in the next but it never happens and even when the story ends, even as you feel that you just drank with her, her cup of sorrow, insecurity and fear , even as you just feel as though she were a part of you , the story is over and you need to close the book , worse - from then on you walk with this feeling of having bid adieu to someone very close.

The pace was kind of slack in the beginning. The suspense and twists in the end made up for it all. You are slightly edgy, almost on the hook when the end is near and when it is done, you utter a sigh of relief.

The moment the story starts you feel sorry, sorry for the young heroine, our narrator. You see her subjected to constant criticism and ranting of the haughty Mrs. Van Hooper. But since the narrator is recounting the past, you know that it wouldn’t last for long and the owner of Manderly will take her to Manderly. You are, at that moment, just waiting for the knight to make appearance. Soon they get acquainted with Mr. de Winter – that he is a middle aged widower doesn’t make a difference to our heroine, she falls in love with him. He is caring, he is wonderful and he owns Manderly – a place where she always wanted to go. Without heeding to Mrs Van hooper’s warnings, she gets married to Maxim – becomes Mrs.deWinter. After honeymoon they go to Manderly.

But the way things always turn out, her moment of glee is shortlived. At Manderly things are not as pleasant as she thought they would be. She is not accustomed to the grandeur of the house and immediately gets to feel that she is ill equipped to live in the house as the lady of the house. The situation is made worse by Mrs Danvers , the housekeeper who takes an instant dislike to her. Mrs. Danvers doesn’t spare a chance to make her feel that the house was beautifully managed by Rebecca and she was nothing in comparison. The heroine sees Rebecca in all small things and doesn’t seem to be able to escape from her influence. She gets paranoid. She even begins to feel that her husband preferred Rebecca more than her. At the height of her self-doubt, Mrs Danvers tries to make her commit to suicide. But right at the nick of time, they hear a big noise - that of a ship that crashed on the bank. When the crew tries to fetch things that had sunk into the sea, they find a boat under the sea and a dead body in it.
This is the twist that makes the story. From here on things are so swift that it holds you in a holding-your-breath kind of state . Maxim tells the heroine that the dead body is of Rebecca , that he had shot her, that shot her because he despised her, that Rebecca was far from being good in character, that she was completely evil. Instead of being shocked, you are relieved , as is the heroine. She keeps telling herself ‘maxim doesn’t love Rebecca. He never loved her!’
(to be continued..)

The Judas Tree - Cronin

2005-12-24T02:07:00.000-08:00

I was through just a couple of pages into the book and I knew it would be a tragedy. Many times I tried to stop reading, fearing an ending so shattering that it could upset me terribly. But curiosity got better of the fear ; curiosity to know about David Moray , an orphan whose childhood was a complete misery and hardship, who in a moment of confusion, chose money over love, betrayed the woman he loved for another with money..

He had everything going right for him but he failed. Why? Was it because he wanted more out of life - see better places, live in grand houses, move about with the nobility, collect great artworks, have a lot of money to spend ? was he too ambitious ? was he just an opportunist? No..no..no, none of these. It was because he was too sensitive; tried to be good to everyone, he let others do his thinking for him. There is a saying in Malayalam which probably befits him – ‘Shuddhan dhustante phalam cheyyum’.

No loitering

2005-12-03T02:53:00.000-08:00

N – “look around”
I looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of some good looking gal, some Indian gal? – yeah! they are a rarity for one.They are few and all are taken. One rarely gets to see a desi girl group here.It's either couples or guys-only-grps. Anyway I could see none. What’s he up to now?
N – “What do you think these people are doing ?”
Well ! what are they doing. I suddenly noticed that there were many people about the place. Yeah, with a theatre behind and starbucks in front of us, there had to be some crowd.
Why was he asking ? Was he suggesting that Americans waste a lot of time or was he suggesting – look at the guys hanging out with babes. Why are we like this ? or was .. well !
I was confused. He was still waiting for my answer.
“Well! they are doing several things. everyone is doing what he/she wants to do.”
N – “What else”
Me – “They are moving about. Here and there. Some standing , some sitting. Chit chatting.”
N – “Tell me what they are doing in a single word”
I gave N a blank look. “Pal, come out with it. I am dumb !”
N - “Look straight, do you see a board there”
Yeah – there in bold letters was “NO LOITERING”

S and b(l)ackmail

2005-12-03T00:44:00.000-08:00

S mails me.
I reply back.
S replies.
I reply.
Then S doesn’t bother to mail.
I stop.
I wonder.
What happenend ?
It is like talking to someone and that someone suddenly stops taking.
Makes one wonder.
What did I do ?
Did I say anything wrong that might’ve possibly offended S ?
I go through my previous mails .
Nothing . I see nothing amiss.
"Oh, did I say something which could’ve contradicted what I’d said months back? May be!"
Like a madman I go through all my correspondence with S.
I spend days wondering why S never mailed.
This is bad. Why isn’t S mailing ? why don’t I mail and ask what the problem is ?
No , may be S doesn’t want to see my mail. May be S hates me.
This is bad. I’ll never speak to S again.
Then, a month later S mails.
"whats up ? why don’t you mail? don’t tell me you are that busy."
Now, I am at the wrong end !
But its fine.
The fact that S is still my friend makes me happy.
All losses restored. All sorrows gone !

L quotes

2005-11-09T22:24:00.000-08:00

Sometime back, D had sent me the best love quote I’ve ever read
“If love is the answer, could you please rephrase the question?”
(Lily Tomlin)

A few other love quotes ..

"Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds."
~ William Shakespeare

"Love makes the time pass. Time makes love pass."
~ Euripides

"Love conquers all things."
~ Virgil

"Love is an irresistable desire to be irresistably desired."
~ Robert Frost

The Scapegoat - Daphne du Maurier

2005-11-07T23:43:00.000-08:00

Imagine a situation wherein your identity is taken away from you. That you have to, from one sudden day, become another person. That is exactly what happens in 'The Scapegoat'. An evening in Paris, a chance meeting with a frenchman who looks exactly like him, and John’s life turns topsy turvy. From an Englishman, he becomes a Frenchman ; from a bored professor who taught French history, he becomes a French landlord; from a loner he becomes a family man, from a life without worries and troubles he gets into one which is full of it.
The story is about how John manages to get into the skin of Jean deComte, how he discovers past one by one, constructing it bit by bit, as in a jig saw puzzle, from the daily conversations, observations and many things by chance. How he slowly , sometimes suddenly discovers that Paul is the brother, Renee brother’s wife , Marie Noel , his daughter , Bella his mistress, __ his wife , the servants ….
The book is a real page turner. Breathtakingly pacy. You read page after page, with this what-will-happen-next feeling and before you know, the story is over.
Highly recommended.

I feel the need, the need for speed

2005-10-05T02:31:00.000-07:00

Maverick: I feel the need...
Maverick, Goose: ...the need for speed!
(movie - Top Gun)

There was a time when I used to do things real fast – talk fast , walk fast , write fast , read fast – do everything fast. Something used to itch if I was ever action-less for a second. After continuous scolding by parents and other well-wishers I mellowed down. I consciously began to ‘think’ before I acted. But now, am feeling really bored . am wondering if I have become a slow, lazy individual !

The need for speed I feel.
For speed I feel the need.

The need I feel for speed,
To meet only speed can succeed

The feel of speed I need
To do many a great deed

The House on the Strand - Daphne du Maurier

2005-09-20T21:54:00.000-07:00

On a vacation at an ancient Manor house, a young man takes an experimental drug that transports him 600 years into the past , while leaving his body in the present.
The result, you wouldn't know if you are not in it , is , to put it in simple words – an-outstanding-must-read book.
This might be the best du Maurier I've read..

K for Kannada

2005-09-12T01:44:00.000-07:00

I spoke to K yesterday , that after a long long gap. He made up for it, for the lack of talk all these months, told me so many things that even if we’d been speaking everyday all this while, I wouldn’t ve had this much of info in my mind at this moment.
K – my chennai pal - the one who ate, drank, slept, talked, walked in Kannada, one who cursed Chennai in every breath he took. Not a day passed without hearing him spewing out an expletive or two against poor citizens of the place whose fault it seemed to me was that they either loved their language too much or simply didn’t have the ability to pick up other languages quickly. ‘Language fanatics’ he said, ‘narrow minded’ he swore. Probably, being a chatterbox all his life, he wasn’t used to being a mute spectator amongst people who talked more than him, that too in a language completely alien to him. Probably he was jealous of them since he didn’t have the passion for his own language as they had. Probably Chennai made him learn that one must love ones mother tongue !

The first time I went with K to dinner in Chennai, I was taken aback. He spoke to the waiters in Kannada. After the initial shock, I offered help, said I’d talk in T and make the orders.
"kall nan makklu kano. Nammural bandu avara bhashe maathadthare. Nan yaake hang maad baradu ?"
("Cunning folks buddy; they come to our land and speak in their language. Why can’t I do the same here?")
He stuck to his guns and spared none – to waiters in hotels, auto drivers, shop keepers he made it a point to talk in kannada. I’d say his victims became adept at reading hand signals or may be they just guessed… or may be some never cared. But I never got a chance to witness K being snubbed.

May be K's got a point there. If we don't speak our mother tongue, who will? My pals who are mallus - F, R , F , S, J .. oh ! I've never spoken to them in Malayalam. It's always been Enlglish ! May be I must try it when I go back to India. Atleast to see the shock/surprise on their faces :)

The flight of the falcon - Daphne du Maurier

2005-09-10T06:17:00.000-07:00

Do you like flashback movies/stories ? The stories where past is slowly revealed to you, wherein during each small incident you are carried back in time to something that happened long ago , those stories where as you go on living in the present you catch glimpses of the past , where present floats along with past.
I love them.

The first such book that comes into my mind is “Wuthering Heights”. It is not the chief protagonist comes back to his home kind of story. Well ! you can say that about Heathcliff. But the seeker of past is Lockwood, a person who comes to stay for a short while in the Yorkshire moors, it is his curiosity to know more about his landlord that lets Nellie, his maidservant unleash the tempestuous past into his mind.

It is the reason why I liked “God of small things” too. This is more dramatic. The present belongs to Estha and Rahel. But the way you get to walk along their , their mother’s , uncle’s, grand-parent’s past, would grip you into the novel. Here you are , in a moment reading about Pappachi and his moth and the next moment you are looking at Estha and Rahel going to airport to receive their cousin and the next moment you are in present. The best thing is you seek next page to next page trying to get to know how Sophie mol died or what actually happened to Ammu.

Even “Paradist Lost” followed this style of story telling. Starts in the middle and reveals the past slowly as you progress along present in the story.

Which are the other such movies/stories that I remember ?
Books : Lord of the Rings, Memories of another day, The Catcher in the Rye, well ! even Harry Potter for that matter. ….
Movies : Thalavattam, Titanic ? .. I guess a lot of Malayalam movies are told in this fashion. Probably that’s where the beauty of these movies comes from.

“The flight of the falcon” is one such book. Here it is Armino Fabbio, a tourist guide, who goes back to the place of his childhood, to Ruffano.

"Stipendium peccati mors est"

2005-09-09T20:52:00.000-07:00

The wages of sin, is death.

Paradise lost – satan and here I am, thinking of Dr.Faustus. This doctor was someone who went too close to the sun and burned himself (figuratively speaking of course. He did no flying towards the Yellow Star. In the legends it is Icarus. Well Icarus makes me think of Ludlum’s 'Icarus agenda'. that gives me a topic for another blabbering). He knew too much and he wanted too much.

In the first scene of the play Faustus tells us why he considers medicine, philosophy, theology and other studies as worthless. He says the only worthy thing is necromancy – black magic. He sets out to learn that and how ! before long he has Mephistophilis, Satan’s messenger standing infront of him. Mephistophilis tells him that if he is ready to give his soul to Lucifer , he will give him all the knowledge and power. Faustus agrees. Says he will give his soul after 24 years.

Faustus becomes great within days. His fame spreads far and wide. He meets Pope and becomes invisible , he meets great kings , he speaks to the spirit of Alexander the great ..well, well he also gets to see Helen – Helen of Troy ! The verses there about Helen are brilliant. As faustus says “Make me immortal with a kiss.. Heaven is in those lips …All is dross that is not Helena” .

All this while the time keeps ticking and as the day gets closer , Faustus panicks. He is gripped with a fear that he is going to be banished in Hell for eternity. He repents. He pleads . He curses . The play closes with him being carried away by a group of devils.

Just 27 years and Marlowe had immortalized himself. He was the greatest dramatist before Shakespeare. More on him later..

Agatha Christie Week

2005-09-05T19:30:00.000-07:00

The week of September 12th to 17th is 'Agatha Christie Week'.I’d love to be there now. But what could/would I do/see/read if I were there?
Well ! I just wish i was there, though !

quote

2005-09-05T19:08:00.000-07:00

"Earth's crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God;
but only he who sees takes of his shoes."

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The city of lights

2005-09-03T17:27:00.000-07:00

Paris – gosh ! it brings back a flurry of memories. Stephen wants to go to Paris, Clym(The Return of the native) returned from Paris, Philip(Of Human Bondage) went to Paris, Larry(The Razor’s Edge) went to Paris. What is it ? what is it about Paris that beckons men of art ? If there is a heaven on earth , is it Paris ? Isn’t heaven a place wherein music is played all day? I guess music throbs in every soul in Paris. I see the whole city gyrating in a heavenly tune. How I wish , how I wish to be there .

Speaking about Paris , which are those books , those books which had Paris ?
1) The Return of the Native – Thomas Hardy
2) Of Human Bondage – Somerset Maugham
3) The Razor’s Edge – Somerset Maugham
4) A tale of two cities – Charles Dickens
5) A thing of beauty – A J Cronin
6) Agnes Grey – Anne Bronte (I don’t remember well, I think Agnes went to Paris)
7) Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy(Don’t Vronsky and Anna go to Paris when they run away. They do. And stiva does visit Paris often.)

Is that it ? gosh ! I thought I'd read a ton of books with Paris in the backdrop . Let me think. I guess I could get a few more if I think. I'll edit this post then (highly unlikely though.)

well ! one more ..
8) "The da vinci code" - Dan Brown.
(this , though is one book i wish i hadnt read !)

A thing of beauty – Cronin

2005-09-03T07:20:00.000-07:00

Stephen has finished his education at Oxford and is back to his hometown Stillwater , to his dad , Bertram Desmond , the Rector of Stillwater , his mom , Julia Desmond , a self indulgent lady who is bothered about none but herself, his cute sister Caroline who adores him , his epileptic brother David and his love Clair . Everyone is very happy at his arrival . His dad is happy and proud and dreams of the coming future wherein his son would succeed him after his ordination. He rests all his hope on Stephen , in him he sees the efficient curate that he wanted to be , someone who is loved by all and someone who’d take good care of all.
Things take a gloomier turn when Stephen tells his dad that he wants to go to Paris since he is interested in painting. His dad tells him of his epileptic brother ,almost invalid mother, himself old and ageing and tells him that paining is just a whim which he needs to leave away and continue with the good life there. Stephen assures him that he will give it a try. He will try his best to be a priest but will give up if he cannot.

Stephen’s friend Gyn plans to go to Paris to do painting but just before he goes he fuels the fire in Stephen’s heart by telling him that he’d make a poor parson and that what is suited for him is what is his heart’s desire which is painting and he should go to Paris to pursue painting.

To the library again

2005-08-30T18:12:00.000-07:00

Went to the library to return the books that I’d taken. Wanted to take Shannon’s way by Cronin. But it wasn’t there. Took ‘A thing of beauty’. I don’t remember the complete poem ..but Keats wrote a gem there -

"A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams …."

Hatter’s Castle - Introduction

2005-08-20T11:30:00.000-07:00

I know I have left the previous reviews(summaries rather!) unfinished. It’s like I love to write when I am reading. It’s a great feeling to relate what one has just finished reading, to relive those moments with the hero/heroine in the novel, to regroup the thoughts in your mind. But once the book is read fully, I lose the interest to write. Some how the specifics are lost (excuse me, but it is much like local variables going out of scope once you come out of a method !!) and what remains in the mind are the unforgettable scenes , memorable dialogues and the complete story itself. At this moment I could start off afresh and write again , now about the whole story but not from where I had left my narrative earlier.

Well ! Now that I am all set to write, I have nothing to write about the story. sad !! writer’s block ?? no, this is not called as writer’s block. It is when a writer runs out of a topic to write, right ? Mary meets with Denis again , Matt has reached calcutta and sent a mail. Yes , the whole thing is in my mind. But I think I need to read a bit more to write. Or is this a story which you feel in your heart but you can write about ? I don’t know.
Let me see if I can write something else ?
Just something else ..

Listening to the wind of change

2005-08-13T22:07:00.000-07:00

My life is changing. I can feel it. I am Listening to the wind of change. May it carry tidings of good news .. only ..

This song is a gem. I can lend my ears and mind to it again and again and again ..

Wind of change - scorpions

Follow the Moskwa
Down to Gorky Park
Listening to the wind of change

An August summer night
Soldiers passing by
Listening to the wind of change

The world is closing in
Did you ever think
That we could be so close, like brothers

The future's in the air
Can feel it everywhere
Blowing with the wind of change

Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away
In the wind of change

Walking down the street
Distant memories
Are buried in the past, forever
I follow the Moskwa
Down to Gorky Park
Listening to the wind of change

Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow share their dreams
With you and me

Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away
In the wind of change

The wind of change
Blows straight into the face of time
Like a stormwind that will ring the freedom bell
For peace of mind
Let your balalaika sing
What my guitar wants to say

Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow share their dreams
With you and me

Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away
In the wind of change

Into the best place here - Portland Public Library

2005-08-13T16:22:00.000-07:00

Before I could even get to completely see the fiction section, it was closing time. Gosh ! 3 hrs and I didn’t do anything but browse through a few books and did I love it .You bet.
If I was happy arriving at the library being dropped by a bus driver who let me come here for free since I didn’t have a dollar change , I was completely gleeful at this time – the gladness of having done something for the day. Well ! at first he didn’t let me in the bus since I hadn’t change with me. I gave him 5$ and said it’s fine. I had to go to the library. He said it is fine.
I’d come into the library , registered , got a card and had gone straight towards Literature section. As always in a library or a bookstore , I sought Hardy first. Greeted Clym, Michael, Bathsheba, Tess and moved on to the previous row – ‘D’ – duMaurier world. Holding “The King’s General” felt like holding a prestigious medal. If his statue had replaced the faceless soldier at Monument square, wouldn’t I have sat there looking up to the stately figure for hours ? Well ! It is not that the square doesn’t look good. It is fabulous and when you read that over 4000 men had gone from Portland to fight in the war, you are even taken back through time into the times of war and warriors.
I looked at Rebecca again. For the hundredth time I read “Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again” – Yes ! the book has it as dreamed and not dreamt ! but no, I am going to read Rebecca in the end. I read the back cover contents of other books of hers including ‘My cousin Rachel’ . ‘The flight of the falcon’ had something arresting in it.I felt I had to read it. Immediately ! It was safely in my hand as I moved to Cronin – ‘the citadel’ guy. I love Salinger for having given Cronin to me. ‘Catcher in the rye’ was such an influencing novel that I told all my friends about Holden the day after I read it. While one friend heard it as “Catch her in the eye” , another discussed blake’s “coming through the rye” and another told me about “a pocket full of rye” and it was then that I had heard for the first time about Cronin. “The Citadel” had left a lasting impression but I’d never got a chance to read another Cronin. There it was – the book that I wanted – “Hatter’s castle”. I browsed through the cover summary . It was about a man who had a vicious grip over his family members. I saw Heathcliff in front of me , then Hannibal.Well ! I took the book.
I was loath to get away from there. If it was open the whole day , whole night !! I remembered to put 2 dollars in the bus back and started with the book right away.
Right into the world of the hatter – James Brodie , his mom , his wife , his daughters Nissie and Mary , his son Matt.
I’ll get back to you later.
Let me read the book now :)

The Pelican Brief - John Grisham (contd)

2005-08-06T05:09:00.000-07:00

The FBI and CIA are frantically searching for a clue towards Rosenberg and Jensen murders. They dig up old cases , follow up menacing threats , look out for the vicitms' enemies ..but no avail. they cannot pin anything down to the dozen or odd theories floated.
Darby , on her own , spends days and nights researching. comes up with the pelican brief , her theory about why the justices were murdered , gives it to her bf-prof Callahan . Callahan gives it to Gavin Verheek,his close pal in the FBI casually asking him just to look into it . soon it finds its way to higher ups in FBI and then to the president himself. the president is shaken by the contents of the brief.
barely 24 hours later a bomb meant for Darby kills Callahan.
Darby knows that they are gunning for her and want her to be dead.
Darby runs..
and i slept :) couldnt read much more though. was dead tired.

The Pelican Brief - John Grisham

2005-08-03T22:07:00.000-07:00

yet another action packed , non-stop thriller with a lot of legal jargons thrown in ? if "To Kill a mocking bird" (Harper Lee) made law a noble career, "A time to kill" , "The Firm", "The Client" make it a challenging , in modern('american' rather) terms , a coool career.
but whatever anyone says a John Grisham is almost un-put-down-able !

Pelican Brief - 100 pages through the book and I still dont know what it means !
Two supreme court judges are killed and the whole world (the whole of US rather!) is in search of answers - what is the motive behind the killing ? who killed them ?
Darby Shaw , a second year law student , who is brilliant , who is also beautiful , who also sleeps with her talented con-law prof , is also in search of these answers.
(ps : con-law = constitutional law . i have a hunch here that she will beat the fibbies and come out with answers first. what else are heroines for? well ! pardon me , it is a crime to jump the gun. let the story flow its flow.)

A Cry in the Night - Mary Higgins Clark

2005-08-02T22:31:00.000-07:00

I'd heard a lot about Mary Higgins Clark , but never read her.
so when I chanced upon one recently , I just bought it.
"A Cry in the Night " - took me back to my sidney sheleon reading days though. Did i like it ? I dont know . I didnt dislike it though. But the fact of the matter is , I finished it in a night.
Started and there was no stopping.
Jenny , a single parent , struggling to make ends meet with two kids to raise and an ex-husband who keeps asking her money , is swept off her feet when she meets Erich - a perfect man, a darling with her children , someone who loves her passionately. Within no time she leaves everything , marries him and moves into his bungalow in a ranch with her children. She slowly begins to discover Erich's unusual attachment to his mother(Erich marries Jenny since Jenny looks like his mother Caroline). Things take a sharp turn when Jenny's ex-husband Ken who comes to visit her is murdered. All fingers are pointed at her. She also hears from others that they'd seen her walking around in the night. As things become unbearable , she plans to escape from the ranch. That very day , her husband takes the children away and threatens her. She discovers that the real murderer is Erich.
sheesh ! I made a mess of this story :(
am sleepy .. really

The Dante Club

2005-07-31T21:23:00.000-07:00

"What kind of madman would be recreating the gruesome deaths depicted in Alighieri's Inferno ?"
As a group of eminent literary men including HW Longfellow are in the process of translating Dante's "Divine Comedy" into English , putting their heart and soul into getting the first American translation into print , a serial killer kills people - people who have sinned in someway - punishing them in the exact manner as given in the Inferno and this he does as the "Dante club" translates. So when they translate the part of the punishment a person who creates divisions in society gets - contrapasso , they find a person killed in exactly the same manner. It is as though a ghost is watching them translate and wants them to stop !
they find him in the end ..
the story as such is good
but i bet da vinci code was better . inspite of its bad ending and heretic stuff , davinci code was a real page turner
this was .. yeah .. good .. one gets to learn a lot. but not very scary as such.
(may be i feel this way since i have seen too many movies which have sadists/psychos)

readings in the last month

2005-07-31T21:10:00.000-07:00

one month .
what did i read ?
nothing ? only project documents :(
gosh !!!
but i guess i did squeeze in a novel there .
"The Dante Club" - Mathew Pearl
I've been wanting to read "The Divine Comedy" from a long time . Never felt mature enough to read it . Never could invest that much of time to read and research. Well , I'll swim into Milton's waters before Dante's.
But this book has assured me that wanting to read Dante was good all along . it is a masterpiece. it is a must read. But since Virgil is the person who helps Dante through hell , strengthening him whenever he is weak , I guess I must also read Virgil . Aenied of Virgil.
oh ! man , I sometimes set the bar too high and achieve nothing - expect for dreams ; the fact is that manytimes i feel much happier in getting something in my dream than actually getting it.

F5 ! F5 !! F5 !!!

2005-07-31T20:44:00.000-07:00

(for those who dont know this most famous short cut key , F5 = refresh)
Refresh! Yes.
Just when I thought I didn’t have an audience to reach out to , just when I thought that the only person missing my blog is myself , i get friends asking me why I haven’t been blogging. Today when one of my closest pals asked me, that was it - i told myself , Robin boy , roll up your sleeves.
I have a lot to write about. The sad thing is I have already written about them , in my diary - actually putting pen on paper – about..err… my trip to fort Williams beach lighthouse, how I found out about the closest orthodox church here , my first visit to Boston St.Mary’s , church picnic to Hopkinton’s state park , visit to New York to see relatives , old orchard beach outing … oh ! can't copy all that :(
well ! as someone said , retelling your story can only add beauty to it. Probably I might .. lemme see . but let things happen slowly .
slowly slowly , ahista ahista

My Cousin Rachel – Daphne du Maurier(contd..)

2005-06-21T02:47:00.000-07:00

On the way he gets a mail from Ambrose asking him to leave to Italy immediately. With great difficulty he get to Florence and when he reaches the Sangaletti villa, he is informed that Ambrose is dead. Philip is almost devastated and inconsolable. He could not even imagine that he would never see Ambrose again. He comes to know that Rachel has left the place taking away all of Ambrose's possessions except for a hat. Philip takes the hat and sets out to meet Rachel's friend Rainaldi. Rainaldi is a matter-of-fact businesslike person and Philip takes an immediate dislike for him.
Philip sets back to England. After a few months , he is called by his godfather Nick who tells him about a mail from Rachel. Rachel was planning to come to visit them.

My Cousin Rachel – Daphne du Maurier(contd..)

2005-06-20T01:17:00.000-07:00

It’s a flashback. Philip’s flashback. It’s about him recounting the events that haunt him. Philip ? Philip in ‘The Mill on the floss’ had a hunchback , Philip in ‘Of Human Bondage’ had a clubfoot , what disadvantage does this Philip have ? None? He is orphaned, yes, but none with his physique, something with the psyche though.

When the narrative starts with Tom Jenkyn’s hanging that he had witnessed in his childhood, you wonder why he is telling about it and as you go further , you tend to dismiss it as some bad happening that he had witnessed as a kid.

Having lost his parents at a very young age he was brought up by Ambrose, his cousin. Ambrose was everything to Philip , He was Philip’s father , mother , guardian , teacher, role model – all in one. Ambrose is unmarried , is very passionate about garden , always trying to gather some rare shrub to plant.

The story starts with a middle aged Ambrose not being able to withstand winters in England. He is advised to go to a hotter place and this time Ambrose decides to go to Italy. From Italy he writes to Philip often. In one of his letters he mentions about meeting a distant cousin of theirs, cousin Rachel. In the next few letters he is all words about Rachel, describing her interest in gardening and trees. The letter after that comes with the news of him being married to Rachel. This is a shock to Philip and he feels as though someone has taken Ambrose away from him. But he conveys the news to his neighbours who are really happy upon hearing the news. The letters from Ambrose stop coming. After a long time, Philip gets a very short letter from Ambrose , in illegible handwriting , hinting that his wife is trying to kill him. Philip gets alarmed, speaks to his godfather Nick Kendal, who says Ambrose might not be well and that he might have tumour in the head that his father had.
Philip sets out to Italy.

My Cousin Rachel – Daphne du Maurier

2005-06-17T00:17:00.000-07:00

It was Krishna’s wedding. Krishna, my closest pal during childhood; my first best friend (first best friend !! does that sound strange ? well ! at different times in life I had different best friends. Guys with whom I had nothing to hide and who hid nothing from me. My brothers.) All day I was wondering what to give . He generally was fond of things carved out of glass. The only doubt was whether he still liked showpieces . well , I thought I’d go to the shop and decide. Brigades was on the way. I decided to put at stop at Archies there to choose a gift. As always there was no place to park. Went downwards along Church Street looking for a space. Drove , drove and drove .. finally found a place to park. Turned around to see something that I would always love to see. Blossoms. Something was going on. Was it being renovated ? No , this was the newly furnished ground floor and was still being filled with books. I went to the first floor – straight to the du Maurier section. Eyes sought ‘My cousin Rachel’ . There it was – a greenish book with a lady draped in a green shawl looking directly at me. Behind her was a house , a villa. The villa was a bit far off. Between the villa and her one could see a lot of greenery. Trees all around and a well maintained lawn.

I turned the book and started with what was written on the back cover (I hate reading whatever is written in the back cover. I feel it somehow gives away the author, somehow cheats me , somehow doesn’t give me the right to let the events unwind in my mind since I start expecting things to happen. My best readings have come from books of which I hadn’t read an introduction , of which I knew nothing , expected nothing. I don’t know how many of you like to see movie trailers or would enjoy the movie after you have been told the story.) Anyway , the crime was committed. I read it in a single go ..

“Ambrose married Rachel and never returned home. His letters to his cousin hinted that he was being poisoned and when Philip arrived in Italy, Ambrose was dead…”

I’ll put a stop to Gorky and start with du Maurier. Shouldn’t one go after ones heart’s desire than fame ?

Makar Chudra – Maxim Gorky (contd..)

2005-06-15T23:20:00.000-07:00

At once smitten by Radda’s beauty he tries to woo her. But she finds his talk humourless, finds his music bland, she doesn’t in anyway relent to him. Zobar plunges into deep despair and is seen playing his fiddle throughout the night. He is so brilliant with the fiddle , that his music melts everyone’s heart.

“You felt that tune with every fibre of your body, and you became a slave of it. And if at that moment Zobar had called out ‘out with your knives, comrades’ , every man would have bared his knife against anyone he pointed out. He could wind a person with his little finger, but everyone loved him dearly”. Such was Zobar’s effect on all. Yet Radda would have nothing at all of it. She mocked him continuously. While all others appreciated every song that he sang, she vehemently criticised them.

Not finding a way to make her approve of him directly , Zobar approaches Danilo , Radda’s father. Danilo approves ; says “Take her if you can” . Radda is seen sitting on a horse and Zobar approaches her. He says he has seen many a woman but none as fiery and beautiful as her. He asks her to be his wife but warns her that being his wife doesn’t mean that she would be able to curb his freedom. In reply she lashes her whip at him. The whip catches his feet and pulls him down. He falls on the ground on the back of his head. Radda has a wild grin on her face.

As he limps away Radda dismounts from the horse and comes towards him. As soon as she is near him , Zobar goes for his knife , Radda pulls her pistol out. She tells him that she is ready for truce , that she finds him the bravest man in the whole of steppe , the only one who could ever stand up to her. She presents a proposition before him . If she has to be his wife he has to touch her feet in front of every one around and then kiss her hand. She tells him that her passionate kisses and caresses are just waiting for him. Under their effect he will forget the brave life he led in the past and be a servant of her for ever.

Everyone finds is distasteful that Zobar has to touch her feet. Zobar says nothing , he goes away. He is seen thinking the whole night , sometimes playing sad tones with his fiddle in the night .
The next day comes . Zobar tells his comrades that he will touch her feet but he needed to test how strong her heart was. Zobar walks towards Radda , goes close to her and plunges his knife into her heart. She pulls the knife out and moments before life went out of her she said “Farewell Zobar. I knew you would do it”. As the stunned crowd sees a lifeless Radda fall down , Zobar throws himself on her feet. Moments later everyone is still silent as Zobar gets up and starts to walk away. It was then that Danilo Rushes towards Zobar and thrusts his knife to the back of his heart. Zobar falls.

The image of Radda and Zobar lying dead keeps circling in the authors mind, but Makar continues smoking his huge cigar.

Makar Chudra – Maxim Gorky

2005-06-15T01:29:00.000-07:00

With no offence to gypsies , the name reminds me of some below-the-belt curse in hindi or Malayalam or tamil . some bad name ! but that particular fact would make me not forget this name. it’s stuck to my mind.

The story starts with Makar , an aged gypsy conversing with the author. It is dark , the wind is heavy , the campfire is blazing furiously ..yet Makar , smoking his huge pipe , was unfazed. It was as though these heavy conditions never affected him.(reminds me of Vikram-Betal stories of chandamama ! it was dark , the night was heavy , yet Vikram was unfazed. He climbed the tree , pulled the corpse out . as he started walking away with it , the corpse on his shoulder came to life !!!) .

Makar is of the opinion that people are born to travel; that there is nothing better than traveling. “A curious lot people are ; they herd together trampling on each other when there is so much of space-” . he asks why a man should be ploughing a field . “A man who ploughs land pours his strength into the land. He not only loses his strength but also his freedom. He is tied to the soil. I have traveled so much , seen so much and learnt so much that you would require a 1000 bags of paper to put them all in.”

Wait , wait ! what’s happening ? is this the story of an old gypsy and his philosophy ? dear pal , it certainly is not. who , in reality is he in the story ? No one. He is less significant that the phone operator in my office who connects me to some important person outside whom I wish to speak to . The story belongs to the fearless youth Loiko Zobar or does it belong to the beautiful but vicious Radda ? Let us pace towards them.

The talk stops when they hear Nonka , Makar’s daughter singing. The author looks at her and is fascinated by her beauty. Makar says “you would like to have a beautiful maid like her to fall in love with you . wouldn’t you ? No good for you. Put no faith in women. Once you kiss one , all your freedom is gone. You will come to ruins. Let me tell you a story -”

Loiko Zobar was a fearless youth who was famous across the whole of steppes. If he ever took fancy to something , it was his . He traveled hither and tither as he pleased. There were at least 10 men in each village who had sworn to take his head. But they couldn’t even touch a hair on his head. It was said that he could even knife the devil if he came in his way.
“His moustaches swept down his shoulders , where they mingled with his hair; his eyes shone like two bright stars, and his smile was sun itself. ..When he looked into your eyes, your soul surrendered to him, and instead of being ashamed of this, you were proud of it. You seemed to always become better in his presence.”
(Though I see Richard Grenvile in every brave man whom I read of , if I were to write about Richard , the description would match the one above – word to word.)

Radda was the queen among beauties. A man could not but be rooted to the place where he stood if he saw her. “No words could ever describe Radda’s beauty. Perhaps it could be played on a violin , but only by one who knew the instrument as he knew his soul.”
Many many men asked for her hand but she refused. A rich man was so dumbstruck with her beauty that he was ready to give away everything for her sake. But she was too haughty. To the rich man her reply was “if the eagle’s mate went into the nest of a crow of her own will, what would you think of her ? ”. Likewise she mocked at everyone who asked her hand.

In one of his travels , Zobar chanced to come to the camp that Radda was in.
….

The King's General

2005-06-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

The “The Kings General” is unlike any novel that I’ve read. It’s as pacy as any modern day thriller. Reminds me of “Gone with the wind” though. It is about Richard Grenvile , the king’s General in the west , the bravest amongst the brave , the lion of the times , the king’s darling , the rebels’ dread and about the only woman in the world he cared for : Honor Harris – a beautiful lady who was crippled just a day before their marriage in a tragic accident.
The novel is a first person narrative by Honor and from the time it starts with her brother Kit’s marriage to Gartred Grenvile , events unfurl one after another so quickly that within no time you would find yourself in Menabilly amidst a raging civil war between the forces of the King and the Parliament , pausing probably in the middle during the accident which cripples Honor , more due to shock than because the story slackens in pace there.
(i'll edit this to put in more about the novel later :) )

about not wanting to buy so many books

2005-06-10T23:30:00.000-07:00

Much as I want to buy as many books as I want , I don’t like being forced into book-buying , to feel that I’ve done something which I could’ve avoided. That’s exactly what happens when I go to Church street / MG Road. Blossoms, Gangarams, HigginBothams, LB publishers, Crossword ; so many book shops each just a hop away from each other that almost all the time , I’d just enter one , lose my whole evening , and most of time feel : “this is the time to buy , what if I am short of cash tomorrow ? What if I get so busy that I cannot come here? Moreover I’m getting a discount here” … mind always finds some reason. Only after I leave the book shop would the impact hit me ; that my pockets just got shallower.
The latest book-buying was just a couple of weeks back. Had gone there to meet a friend. Saw Blossoms. Thought , 'I anyway have another 30 mins to go. lemme check out the books. just see not buy.' Went in and immediately remembered my friend telling me about “The King's General” by Daphne du Maurier. OK . Bought that and 3 more - Barclays study guide to St.Mark’s Gospel , S K George’s Story of Bible and an omnibus containing all Sherlock holmes stories. Regrets ? No . I love these books.

here cometh the time to blog

2005-06-07T03:16:00.000-07:00

everyone seems to be blogging.
is that why i want to blog ? nopes . i have this strong tendency to go retro from the direction that the crowd is going . so thats not the reason. anyway , let me make my tendencies a subject of another post.
back to why i thought of blogging , i am freeeeeeeeeeeeeee
so totally free that i need to just come to the office , drink coffee , have lunch , drink coffee again and then rush home . well ! somewhere in the middle , i stuff in a task called "check mails" .
moreover i always wanted to 'write' something.
now that i have time and have done the great thing of starting to put pen on paper (ePen on ePaper rather) , i guess words will flow .