Idle Thoughts

Main tumhari maun karuna ka sahara chahta hoon

2012-01-26T20:39:00.000-08:00

I had read this beautiful poem in school, but like many such gems, it was lost. I had been looking this poem for a long time, and finally re-discovered it around a year back.

मैं तुम्हारी मौन करुणा का सहारा चाहता हूँ

- रामकुमार वर्मा

मैं तुम्हारी मौन करुणा का सहारा चाहता हूँ

जानता हूँ इस जगत में फूल की है आयु कितनी,
और यौवन की उभरती साँस में है वायु कितनी,
इसलिए आकाश का विस्तार सारा चाहता हूँ,
मैं तुम्हारी मौन करुणा का सहारा चाहता हूँ,

प्रश्न-चिह्नों में उठी हैं भाग्य सागर की हिलोरें,
आँसुओं से रहित होंगी क्या नयन की नामित कोरें,
जो तुम्हें कर दे द्रवित वह अश्रु धारा चाहता हूँ,
मैं तुम्हारी मौन करुणा का सहारा चाहता हूँ,

जोड़ कर कण-कण कृपण आकाश ने तारे सजाये,
जो कि उज्ज्वल हैं सही पर क्या किसी के काम आये?
प्राण! मैं तो मार्गदर्शक एक तारा चाहता हूँ,
मैं तुम्हारी मौन करुणा का सहारा चाहता हूँ,

यह उठा कैसा प्रभंजन जुड़ गयी जैसे दिशायें,
एक तरणी एक नाविक और कितनी आपदाएँ,
क्या कहूँ मँझधार में ही मैं किनारा चाहता हूँ,
मैं तुम्हारी मौन करुणा का सहारा चाहता हूँ,

Raat ke shaane se

2012-01-24T20:50:00.000-08:00

Another one from archives (Oct 2010) ...

रात के शाने से आँचल नींदों के ढलक जायेंगे
गिरते सँभलते यूँ ही जबीं-ए-सहर तलक जायेंगे

दर आँखों के बंद कर लो कि ये एहसास छुपे रहें

पलकें अगर खुलीं तो ये दर्द छलक जायेंगे

ख्वाब फिरते हैं हकीक़त के शहर में बंजारे से

सफ़र पे निकले तो ये मुसाफिर दूर तलक जायेंगे

तमन्नाओं के बेबस पंछी बैठे ज़मीं पर तकते हैं

मिले अगर परवाज़ तो फिर बाम-ए-फलक जायेंगे

बेफिक्र सी हंसी पर कभी गौर भी तुम करना

इस मद्धम सी धार में तूफान झलक जायेंगे

The Immortals of Meluha

2012-01-20T00:33:00.000-08:00

The Immortals of Meluha - Amish Tripathi

I read/heard a lot of raves and recommendations on 'The Shiva Trilogy', from friends (though in all honesty, I think the news reached me only after the second book had been published). I love to read fiction based in mythology (Mrityunjay and Yajnaseni are amongst my favorites). So, the "description" of Amish Tripathi's book(s) - a radically new interpretation of life and times of Lord Shiva - interested me a lot, specially because of the fact that it presented a different perspective altogether of what we understand from mythology.

The story is set in 1900 BC, and is centered on the premise that Shiva was an ordinary mortal, who came to be revered as a God, acquired the title of 'Mahadev', through his actions. It continuously takes references from mythology, as well as from history, but it is essentially a work of fiction.

The first book in the series, "Immortals of Meluha", focuses on details and sets the context for the story. Shiva is the leader of a small Tibetan tribe, fraught with a struggle for day-to-day existence. He accepts the invitation of the Suryavanshis, who are the descendants of Lord Rama, to settle in their country, Meluha (what we now know as the Indus Valley Civilization). The immigrants are amazed by the prosperity of the country, which is due to the extreme stability and planning of the society, based on strict rules and regulations (believed to be proposed by Lord Rama himself). Though over the times some of the rules have been bent and diluted (by and for, who else, but the nobility - the people in power). This seems to be an ideal society, an Utopia, except for a few rules that Shiva finds unfair. The country is however on an edge, feeling the presence and power of strong evil, and Shiva is soon recognized as Neelkanth, the savior from the evil.

The people believe, and convince Shiva, that the evil is represented by Chandravanshis, who live in the opposite side of Indian subcontinent, in the area between Ganges and Brahamputra rivers, which also includes Ayodhya, the birthplace of Lord Rama. There also is an indication of presence of the Nagas, people who are physically deformed, and believed to be evil and sinful beyond redemption, and therefore held in extreme dread. Although the Suryvanshis find it impossible to believe, it appears to them that Chandravanshis have enlisted the help of Nagas to launch surprise attacks against them. This belief leads Shiva to lead Suryavanshis in a difficult war against Chandravanshis' much larger army, on an unfavorable ground. With their skill, organization and will, the Suryvanshis manage to win the war. And then comes the intriguing part - the Chandravanshis also believe in the legend of Neelkanth, and have also been awaiting deliverance from evil!

The book offers very interesting, imaginative views on the origin of some of the aspects of mythology - the invocation of "Har Har Mahadev", Shiva's Trishul, the role of Shiva as the destroyer (of evil). The credibility of the story is built through elements like gradual development of Shiva from a brave warrior who is uncertain of the faith that is entrusted in him, to the confident leader. Adding to the flavor is quintessential struggle to identify good and evil, and the mutual disbelief of two complimentary powers in their ignorance.

One significant jarring note for me was the language - a little too modern for the era the story is capturing - with use of terms like Immigration department, Weapons of Mass Destruction, Radiowave communication, etc. But it was not big enough a deterrent to enjoying the story. Also, it was a little slow, but I guess that is to be expected, as being the first book, it has the onus of creating the background. In all, I liked the book, with all its premises and imagination, though not to the extent the reviews extolled it, but enough to go for the sequel(s).

On coding and Debugging

2012-01-12T21:22:00.000-08:00

It's such a pain to ship my code -
It runs very well in the debug mode.
But when I give a demo and hope to make a splash,
All it does is throw up a crash.
And the customer consigns it to the trash!

* This one's from the archives (Sep 2010) .... thought of sharing the few things I have written in this long absence, on the blog. Will post more over time ...

I want to ...

2012-01-12T00:30:00.000-08:00

... have my cake and eat it too!!

One evening Sid was asking for a chocolate, but we were not too keen on giving him one. Now, he, as all other children, loves lollypops, but they are quite a rare treat for him. So, I considered giving him a lollypop instead. Not a very good option, I admit, but given the relative size, I think it is the lesser of the two evils.

As I placed the lollypop in his hands, he was very excited and overjoyed! Hugged me, said thank you (ever so sweetly), and kept repeating this for next 20 minutes or so, while he kept licking his treat, and we took a walk in the park. As we were coming back, we told him that it was finished, and he needed to throw it. He replied, "Nahin, dekho abhi laga hua hai ye orange sa, dekho!", and showed us the candy still left on the stick - the size of a grain! Finally, he licked off every single molecule, and only then gave up the stick, and let his face be washed.

And then, he came up to me, stood with his hands on his hips, and asked -

"Aapne mujhe chocolate kyun nahin di, jab maine chocolate maangi thi ?!!!!"

[Why didn't you give me chocolate, when I had asked for chocolate?!]

Random thoughts and rethoughts

2012-01-11T00:17:00.000-08:00

After almost 3 months of activity, which I had hoped to increase, my blog is unfortunately back to lean times. The culprits are mostly the usual ones - a long-due break, holiday season, and hectic routine. And inertia, with me, is great as usual. I never make any new year resolutions, but one thing I really want to do is revive my blogs this year. :-)

A few local and out-station trips, and my new-found interest in photography, have given me ample matter to revive my travelogue. The good thing about travel (and nature) blog is that I dont feel the need to maintain a "continuity" there. The bad part is that the inertia is still there :-) And its a bit of work, to select photos to post, from a mound of them.

In last few years, I have only managed to read while traveling - alone, of course (and which is rather rare). On one such journey, I was finally able to start with Amish Tripathi's Shiva trilogy series. I only got the first book for this journey, but I liked it a lot, and was compelled to buy the second one - which turned out to be really engrossing (more about it later, hopefully, some time soon). Pity that the third part wont be coming for another few months. Anyway, its been a while since I read the first two, and I should write the "review" soon, before it completely fades away - as a colleague recently quoted, memory is the most unreliable organ of human body!

Revolution 2020

2011-12-28T22:38:00.000-08:00

Revolution 2020 - Chetan Bhagat
... and on Chetan Bhagat in general.

Quite a lot has been said about the publicity strategy of Amish Tripathi's Shiva Trilogy - a youtube video that went viral. I think that though the form is new, the strategy - Internet publicity by a first-time author, targeted for the "intelligentsia" - has actually been put to use much earlier. How many of you heard of Chetan Bhagat, before his first book, "Five Point Someone" was published? Well, I was amongst the ones who did - by virtue of being an IITD alumni - I received a mail on the IIT e-group, announcing the forthcoming launch of his first book - from an IITian, about the IITians. The very fact, and an excerpt from the book, was sufficient to arouse curiosity and interest, and I waited in eager anticipation for the book.

I must say that 'Five Point Someone' lived up to the expectations. I loved it, and so did almost everyone whom I recommended it to. Anyone who has stayed in a hostel, specially in an engineering college, could identify with it; being an alumni of the same college as the novel is set in, I could identify much more with the places and the lingo. By his own admission, Chetan Bhagat didn't have any literary pretensions, but it was definitely a good story. And it naturally created a lot of expectations from his future works.

Then came the second book, One Night @ Call Centre. The bad reviews not withstanding, my hopes/expectations led me to go for it. And what a waste! To say that I didn't like it at all, would be an understatement. And after "Three Mistakes of My Life", I finally gave up on Chetan Bhagat. It appeared that he had stopped writing for the sake of telling a story, and instead started writing in order to make a movie.

So, when "Revolution 2020" came out, I didn't have any intention of reading it. But some of my friends recommended it quite enthusiastically, so I picked it up for a journey I was making alone (and therefore had time to pass).

The book is set in the town of Varansi, and traces the journey of its three main characters - two guys and a girl - from childhood to adulthood, as they struggle to decide and achieve what they want from life. There are little successes, and a lot of failures, which is what life usually is. The one who aspires and craves for what he considers "success" is far from it, while the other who does not want it, wins it easily - the irony of life! The concept/story was good, but the treatment could have been much much better. The tracks that it narrates are quintessentially bollywod. There is the love triangle - both guys love the girl, the fight between mind and heart (money vs principles) - one guy on either side, and the girl is in an unimaginative dilemma. Apart from the melodrama, I found the character of the girl quite badly developed - little more than a prop, and as unpredictable as the cliched college-lore wisdom portrays them.

If the book tried to give us a flavor of Varanasi, well I did not get it. Could it be because I have never even been there? Because, a friend who hails from Varanasi, really loved it and said that it gave her a nostalgia. I think it was much better than the previous two works of his that I read, though not as good as the first one. Is it because his are essentially college stories, and we have outgrown them? I'm not sure I would ever be able to get an answer to these Qs.

All said and done, I still have hope that Chetan Bhagat can be a good writer some day. I loved his first book, and also liked his non-fiction articles that I came across in newspapers or Internet. I feel that the reason his first book was such a success because it was honest, a story he wanted to tell. So if he just tells a story, and stop worrying about the commercializing part (read, making a movie), the commerce part will take care of itself.

Can you count?

2011-12-15T20:12:00.000-08:00

The learning abilities of kids are really amazing - you dont even know what they learn from where. This is a phase that all children go through, but its quite a revelation for first time parents.

We were quite amazed when, at around 3 years of age, Sid could recognize all the numbers from 0 to 9, even though all that we and his playschool teachers had been trying to get him to recognize, was the alphabet. Soon we realized that he has learnt to recognize numbers from using/being in lifts.

Many of you might have heard the joke where a gambler's son recites the counting as : A, 2, ... 9, 10, J, Q, K. I no longer think that it is a joke. Because, I recently got to hear from Sid this version of the nursery rhyme "Five little monkeys":

5 little monkeys jumping on the bed ...
...
1 little monkey ...
0 little monkeys ...
'Basement' little monkeys ... ?!!

Plan B

2011-12-13T09:44:00.000-08:00

Preparations for Christmas celebrations are on full swing at Sid's school, and he has been seeing Christmas decorations coming up in markets. So he is quite excited these days, and believes that Santa will be bringing him whatever he wants (and oh, is the list long! and comprises entirely of toys, almost all of them cars!!).

It has become almost a daily ritual, usually a bed-time one, asking/telling what gift he wants for Christmas. Yesterday night, he said that he wanted Lightning McQueen's friend (He's big time into "Cars" movie these days). Then he added that he wanted another McQueen. And another car, and so on.
Us: You cannot get so many gifts. Santa cannot bring so many toys for you.
Sid: Santa has so big bag.
Us: Par usme sab bachhon ke liye gift hote hain. Santa cannot get so many gifts for one kid.
Sid: But I want so many. [again, repeats the endless list].
Us: Agar aap itne sare gifts mangoge to kuch bhi gift nahin milega.
Sid: Kyun Papa? I want all of these.
Us: Santa can only get you one or two toys. If you ask for so many, Santa will get confused and not get anything for you.
Sid: To ham shop se le aayenge!!!

And then followed an uncontrollable fit of laughter and giggling, which didn't let us keep our faces straight either.

First Things First

2011-12-13T02:29:00.000-08:00

This sunday, coming back from weekly grocery shopping we got late, and decided to stop at McDonald's as Sid was hungry. He got all excited at the prospect, and asked for French Fries (I wish he would prefer burger, as it is more filling, and relatively less unhealthy, but he does not like burgers).

At McD's while N stood in the queue to place an order, we waited. But within a few seconds, Sid saw the display window for the current toys they give with the "Happy Meal", and went to admire the toys (though he doesn't yet know the concept of "Happy Meal", he sure knows all about toys. And how to manipulate parents. And I'm sure other parents hate their marketing strategy as much as I do!). Then he started pulling me to the display, "Main aapko ek cheez dikhata hoon" - there, on display were toys with the "Puss In Boots" theme. Sid started asking for a toy, "mujhe bhi toy lena hai", in that smiling-pleading-naughty-insisting tone of his. I told him that he couldn't get it, and as he started throwing a tantrum, I asked him - "What do you want, Fries or Toy?". He calmly replied, "Fries", came down to the table with me, sat down, patiently waited, and then cheerily had his fries. When he finished, I took him to wash his hands and face, and he easily complied.

And only while coming back from the washroom he asked "Now can I get the toy?"

Irrefutable Logic

2011-11-30T23:29:00.001-08:00

You cant argue with kids' logic. However funny it may sound, however unthinkable it might be to grown-ups before you actually hear them say it, you can't really refute their reasoning.

One evening I reached home to find Sid's jacket sleeves all smeared up with something, and asked him about it.

Me: "Ye aapki jacket par kya laga hua hai?"

Sid: "Paint. Maine aaj school mein painting ki."

Me: "To aapne jacket utari kyun nahin? Dekho sari gandi ho gayee."

Sid: "Nahi to phir shirt gandi ho jati na."

Sid has so far been a bona-fide momma's boy. Despite all that papa does for him, getting him ready, feeding him, playing with him, and being more patient with him than momma is, time to time, for no reason, he'd state "Papa gande hain", "papa nahin achhe lagte", "momma chahiye, papa nahin chahiye" etc ...

When he stated this yet again one evening, I tried to correct him once more: "Nahin beta, aise nahin kahte sare time. Papa aapka kina dhyan rakhte hain, aapka kaam karte hain, aapki niche lekar jate hain, aapko subah van par chodte hain, shaam ko ghar lekar aate hain ..."

So, Sid, all innocence, asks, "momma phir aap gande ho kya?"

Usually, Sid is always going on about growing up big, and growing up fast. But sometimes, once in a rare while, he wants to be cuddled and babied.

Sid: "Mumma mujhke phir se bahut little baby banna hai"

Me: "Aisa to nahin ho sakta, chote thodi hote hain. Aur aapko little kyun banna hai?"

Sid: "Nahin mujhko phir se little banna hai" [kids dont always give a reason, just state the facts as the reason itself :-)]

Me (wistfully): "Beta phir se little to mujhko bhi banna hai"

Sid (in fight mode): "Nahin aapko nahin banna. Mujhe banna hai"

Me: "Par kyun? Mujhe kyun nahin banna?"

Sid: "Phir main kiske pass rahoonga?"

Prejudices at Work - Part 3

2011-11-28T23:41:00.001-08:00

(I am changing the title of these posts, as the original one seemed to convey something else than what I wanted to express, though I am not sure if this one is much better).

I think discrimination is nothingbut bias exaggerated, and it may be difficult to define a boundary between thetwo. At times, the discrimination can be stark and direct, and there are lawsto deal with it, though the effectiveness of these laws has always been aquestion. But most often, it is subtler - indirect hints that keep affirmingthat despite your competence, you will never be considered at par with yourmale colleagues, that you will never be one of the team. Let me share twoincidents, which are work-related, but not entirely professional, which go onto show the inherent behavioral insensitivity towards women.

The global head of the group myfriend K works for, came to her site for a visit, and the site manager invitedall his managers for dinner with him. That is, all the managers except K, who,being the only woman in the group, was conveniently forgotten. Only when theyreached the restaurant, the site manager was reminded of his omission. Hecalled up K (even apologized!), but by then it was too late for her to makesuitable arrangements for her family and reach there.

Another time, my group planned aday outing to celebrate a major release. The fun activities planned for thegroup consisted of rather physical games of football and cricket – which thefew ladies in the team just watched on, feeling left-out, and somehow,betrayed.

Most of the corporates today denyhaving a glass ceiling for women, but practically, is it difficult to detectits existence? Though this was not the idea behind this set of posts, it wasperhaps inevitable that we touch upon this point as well (Perhaps because theinitial title was not very apt). Anyway, I had a long discussion on this withN, but he does not agree with me here. But in my view, though the gender ratioat the entry level is same as that in engineering colleges, it gets more andmore skewed as the levels increase.

In my decade long stint in myprevious company, in the India office I saw only one woman who was a Director(though in a non-product group), and none who was an Architect. [Just toexplain the terminology used there, a Director is the owner of a product or anarea from management perspective, while Architect is the owner from technicalperspective]. I am citing here the experience from my previous company, as I amrather new in the new one to comment, but I strongly suspect that the thingsare more or less the same.

So, almost all the seniorexecutives in the company were male. And rare few of them had working wives.Most of the wives quit working after marriage/kids, to take care of thehousehold, since the high-flying executives were often busy and/or away onbusiness, gearing up the power ladder, and could not be depended on to consistentlyattend to domestic responsibilities. I’m sure all these ladies are happy andproud of their spouses’ success, and only sometimes do they wistfully mentiontheir own abandoned dreams. But how many of them have their contribution tothis success acknowledged? Mostly, it is just shrugged as a matter-of-fact – “Oh.She quit after we got married”. A gallant way indeed to thank the ladies fortheir support, sacrifice and hard work.

Here are:

Part 1

Part 2

Prejudices at Work - Part 2

2011-11-15T08:57:00.001-08:00

I intuitively suspect a man’sgeneral regard for women, if he talks about specific woman(en) in a demeaningmanner, to me or in my presence. It is worse when the man in question is a colleague. The worst is when the woman he makes degrading statements about,happens to be his wife – who takes care of the entire family, and may havesacrificed her own career and interests to do so. [I am more tolerant of jokesagainst women in general. I view them as fun extracted by majority at theexpense of minority, as the gender ratio at workplace is still heavily inclinedtowards men].

Why do I think this kind ofbehavior makes the matters worse, when exhibited at workplace? Because, I wouldthink that being highly educated, and after years of working alongside womenwho have similar accomplishments as themselves, these men would be able to castaside their prejudices. However, things do not seem to have progressed much inthe last decade or so, since I started working. Despite active and increasingcontribution from women, the IT industry is still male-dominated, and itfollows that you will have many more male colleagues than female, and willfrequently encounter prejudiced individuals.

After a few times you have heardyour colleague(s) making degrading statements, you start wondering what kind ofregard they have for women; and specifically if they have any respect for you, onto whether they take you seriously at all. As it is, women have to work harderto prove themselves and attain any kind of success, in a male bastion, and itbecomes very difficult to keep yourself motivated, when you feel that yoursincere efforts are being undermined, just because of your gender.

Some people I know, do not accordmuch importance to the work of their wives, implying that it is undertaken justas a pastime - since the ladies are holding a teaching job, or are workingpart-time or freelance. Even though, many of these ladies have quit theirfull-time jobs to look after the family. So much for their selflessness.

Many of them do not want theirwives to work, or want them to quit, so that the family can be takenappropriate care of; at times expressing it in blatantly honest terms – so thatthey always have good, warm, home-cooked lavish meals (of course, withouthaving to contribute any efforts towards the preparation).

I have friends, who, afterworking hard for a number of years to build up a great career, quit or took abreak for some years, to spend time and enjoy with their little ones. Do youthink this was what they achieved? The result was – the family figured thatsince they were home full-time, they had a lot of free time, and they weretherefore swamped with all the chores, leaving them little time for what theytook the break for.

As progressive they might believethemselves to be, quite a large percentage of the men still believe that devoting themselves tocaring for house and family is the duty of women, and it is their primaryresponsibility. And sadly, many women are also conditioned to believe the same.Don’t get me wrong, I do not have anything against women who prefer to stayhome to look after the family [though I firmly believe in the importance offinancial independence], but note the emphasis on “preference” here.

The bottom-line is, if you lookat it, it is hard to be appreciated either way. Go to work, and you are guiltyof neglecting the family. Don’t, and there’s not much worth given to you. Can we hope for a time, when women have the complete freedom to make their own decisions, without the burden of expectations fromeveryone around them? And whatever this decision is, be respected for it?

Here is : Part 1

Simple questions - no answers

2011-11-13T21:05:00.001-08:00

Its no secret that I am rather fond of old hindi movie songs. After only a few times when an old song was playing on TV, and Sid was told, "yeh mumma ka song hai", he also imbibed this fact. Thereafter, whenever an old song comes up, Sid states, "yeh mumma ka song aa raha hai" (though how he makes a distinction, we have absolutely no idea).

Yesterday evening I was sitting alone in the TV room, and Sid was playing and running about. He came into the room, noticed "Kajrare" playing, only for a moment, and told me, "Ye to aapka song nahin hai!".

I borrowed his favorite phrase, and asked "To kya hua?"
He replied, as a matter-of-fact, "Phir kyun dekh rahe ho?"

***

Sid: This is not your song

Me: So what?

Sid: Then why are you watching it?

Prejudices at Work - Part 1

2011-11-10T00:13:00.000-08:00

Gender bias and stereotyping has left me concerned andunnerved quite often, more so in the work environment. It does mean not that Ido not see or feel the bias in the social or personal setting – I have gonethrough phases of realization, frustration, revolt and resignation, in thiscontext. But right now, it’s in the context of professional environment, that Iwant to rant against.

Let me clarify at the beginning that I am not a hard-core male-bashingfeminist [the diametrically opposite stereotype, if I may so call it so].However, I do expect, and demand, a dignity and empathy for women and arecognition of their efforts in different aspects of life. And this should be awoman’s fundamental right - whether she is working (full-time, part –time, orfreelance), or is a home-maker. This is a post that I have been thinking of writing for along time, but which was always getting deferred, and was finally precipitatedby an incident at work today.

I was having lunch with two of my (male) colleagues, let’scall them P and J [and no, this is not a PJ ;-)]. To set a bit of context, theyhave only been slightly acquainted with each other, but I know them bothreasonably well. During the course of conversation, they discovered a mutualinterest in consumer electronics, they are both gadget freaks, owningfull-fledged home-theater systems and what-not. Finding that J is quite knowledgeableabout deeper technical aspects of all these things [no surprises there actually– J is a hardware engineer ;-)], P sought his advise on buying the latestiPhone (4) – which model to buy, and how to get anunlocked one from US (lower cost there). While discussing pros and cons, pricing and timing, ofdifferent models, P mentioned that he wanted it for his wife, who only uses her phonefor calls, and sometimes for mails (a condescending tone there – at her notusing the advanced features of smart phones, and I can assure you that it is not because of the lack fo capability). And J promptly replied – in atone I found even more condescending to women - then you can buy 3Gs only.

I am all for buying (and paying for), only what youneed/use. But I object to the tone and the attitude, reserved by men for women, for certain matters like technology.

The conversation continued in this vein (like, P said hetried to get his wife to use FB on her phone, but she didn’t, and J said thesame about his). For a while, I put up with it. Then I finally reacted (with asmuch dignity and humor I could manage), and said, you sound almost like aracist there. And then, the fire was directed at me

P/J:, do you use iPhone?

Me: Only some times, since its not mine, but I use iPodtouch for net access.

P/J: How many apps do you use on it?

Me: (Thinking and wondering): I don’t really use apps. I don’tneed ….

P/J: See, there! Anyway! So, what do you do with it?

Me: (rightfully indignant) Well I do all my net access at home through it, my mail,FB, LinkedIn, Browser etc. Don’t really need to access net for anything else.

P/J: Well, you know, there is a difference between accessingFB and Gmail through the apps and the browser … you can access using browser aswell ….

Folks?!! Come on!! I take it as a gross insult, for myself,and the whole of woman-kind. We may be from Venus, but the gravity there is not highenough to pull down and out, all of logical reasoning from our beings. I wasmad enough to shout at them, but was held back by the decorum demanded by theworkplace (and not to mention, my personal incapability of coming up with anacidic retort at the right time).

Of a copy-cat and sleepy conversations

2011-11-08T00:49:00.000-08:00

I dont know whether other kids his age do the same, but Sid is a total copy-cat. He wants to do/get whatever other kid(s) he is playing with has. He is also a human version of a repeater station - echoing the actions and words of the child he is playing with - creating funny scenes more than a few times (and sometimes not-so-funny ones, at least for us).

Since we moved to B'lore, Sid has found a playmate in A, the boy next door, who is a few months older than him; the two create a storm all the time, and are pretty much inseparable. Sunday morning, they were playing together when A had to leave as his parents were going out. First, Sid threw a tantrum that he has no one to play with - "Ab main kiske saath kheloonga" [crying with copious tears]. At such times, he refuses to acknowledge that he has loads of fun doing crazy stuff with us at other times - "main aap dono ke saath nahin khel sakta" [more crying]. After a while, he got into his head, that since A has gone out, he also has to go out - anywhere.

Trying to pacify him, I told him, OK we will also go somewhere. We had to go to the market in the evening, but he had to have lunch and afternoon nap in the meanwhile. Calmer, he started asking when will we go - "ham kabhi kayenge", "ham kahan ja rahe hain". Ok, so, out of the frying pan, and into the fire :-) Trying to think of a way out, I told him that we'll go when papa has taken his bath and is ready, hoping he'll get busy with something else and forget it. After few minutes, Sid cheered up and started playing, and I heaved a sigh of relief that my trick had worked. But as soon as N was out of the bathroom, the questions started again, "ham ja kyun nahin rahe" - so much for my smartness!

With much difficulty we managed to get him to have his lunch, telling him that we would leave after lunch. And then tried putting him to sleep, promising that we will go after he wakes up. Anyone who has kids would know what I am talking of; anyone who hasn't, can't imagine the challenge :-)

Anyway, he always resists sleeping (as most kids do!), even if he is literally dozing standing up, and on this particular day, he had an alternate agenda. When he gets quiet sleepy, he gets rather confused, gaining hold of conciousness in bursts in between, resulting in some amusing conversations.
"mujhe nahin sona"

"acchha mat so, bas let jao"
"main to nahin so-oonga"
"acchha eyes close karke let jao"
"Ham kabhi jayenge"
"Abhi 10 minutes mein jayenge. 10 minutes ke liye eyes close kar lo"
"mujhe neend nahin aa rahi"
"main theek se nahin let pa raha"
"mujhe kahin jana hai"
"mujhe poora blanket ke andar kar do"
"ham ja kyun nahin rahe"

We can barely control our laughter at the flip-flop, when all of a sudden he gets alert and says, "mere pet mein bahut zor dard ho raha hai". I get slightly alarmed (as he had had a slight upset the previous day, and had thrown up his evening milk, along with the lunch and snack he had earlier), but I'm not sure there is actually anything wrong, so casually ask him, "potty to nahin aayee?".
"nahin uske liye nahi ho raha. potty nahin aa rahi"
"To phir kis liye dard ho raha hai"
"Ham kahin gaye nahin uske liye ho raha hai"

Hats I win, tails you lose!

2011-11-03T09:48:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned earlier, Sid is under an (obviously mistaken, from our perspective) impression that he has grown up "big" and can accomplish a lot.

One day, as he was on a swing (with me pushing him), he started leaning fully backwards, and doing all sorts of acrobatics.

I cautioned him, "Aap gir jaoge"

Sid: "Main nahin giroonga. Main aise kar pata hoon, main big ho gaya hoon"

(pointing to some younger children): "Woh to aise kar bhi nahin pate. Woh itne big hue bhi nahin hain"

Me: "OK, aap big ho gaye ho na, apne aap jhool lo" (stop pushing him)

Sid: "Nahin abhi main itna bhi big nahin hoon!"

*** *** ***
Me: You will fall down
Sid: I wont fall. I can do this, I've grown up! They cant even do this, they are not as big as I am
Me: Ok, so you are big, you can swing yourself
Sid: No, I am not that big yet!
*** *** ***

These days, whatever we tell him, he has a ready response. And its always like, hats I win, tails you lose!

The Collector's Wife

2011-10-31T01:49:00.000-07:00

The Collector's Wife - Mitra Phukan

I had heard neither of the book, nor the author. So, this is one of the rare books that I bought on the basis of the blurb on the cover, and which did not disappoint.

It offers a wonderful insight into the life in a small town in the north-east. Set against the backdrop of insurgency in Assam, it is a poignant portrayal of the changes brought about by militancy, in the lives of people there.

The protagonist of the novel, Rukmini Bezobaruah, is married to the District Collector of a small town called Parbatpuri in Assam. It is easy to believe that she leads a very comfortable and content life, as part of privileged/elite section of the society. As the DC's wife, she enjoys the luxury of a big house located in a picturesque location, well staffed with servants, and an official vehicle at her disposal for any traveling she wants to do. However, in truth, she finds her life a banal monotone. Her husband is not able to spend much time with her and is becoming increasingly remote, primarily because of the demands of his job, but perhaps also because of the dullness brought about by years of matrimony. She is not yet a mother, and at times, faces contempt because of this reason, despite her elated position. Her own ambition of becoming a writer, or even of holding a regular job, have been thwarted, because of the society's expectations from her as the DC's wife. The only suitable (or perhaps, least disagreeable) work she can find, to fill her time, is as a part-time lecturer at the district college. Even here, though she is able to connect with some of her students, she is unable to interest them in poetry, or even in learning, as they become involved in the agitation. The tasks that she is expected to perform with easy grace - heading various societies, hosting community functions, visiting local club - she finds extremely boring and unsuited to her skills and her intellect. In all, she is facing an emotional and intellectual deprivation, and has more or less resigned to it.

She is able to beat this monotony and find some cheer in her life, when she finds a friend and a source of intellectual stimulation in Manoj Mahanta, a tyre salesman who visits her town once in a while. Her loneliness and distress leads to an intimacy between the two, and she reaches the cross-roads of life, a great dilemma.

However, the grip of terror has been tightening in the meanwhile, with frequent reports of kidnappings and murders, some of them close home. And then, the great turmoil of her life terminates with horrifying and tragic end.

Usually I do not prefer to outline the story, but in this case I felt a need, to be able to describe my impressions. It left me sad, thoughtful and moved, but overall I found it a good read. I wouldn't say that the story is something new. But the narrative is threaded together well, the main asset of the book though is the author's ability to convey the "mood" - the loneliness and desperation of Rukmini, the excitement of meeting someone new and of defying conventions, the freshness of love, despair and grief in the face of terror, are all very well described, are all very real. One can readily feel and empathize with Rukmini as she moves through various phases. The end is tragic, but then, so is life.

Down the Memory Lane - X

2011-10-24T03:57:00.000-07:00

One good turn ...

My father worked for a manufacturing unit of an industrial house, and the company had a residential colony for its staff, which was something of a mini-city. The (single-storey) houses were called as “quarters” (Back then I didn’t give much thought to it, now it seems rather funny to me).

At one time, our house was next to the one allotted to the colony doctor. He used to play bhajans every morning, and it amused me no end to listen him playing this one (by kavi Pradeep):
“Doosro.n ka dukhda door karne wale, tere dukh door kare.nge Ram!”
[You, who alleviate the pain of others, your pain will be alleviated by God]

The Lonley Sea

2011-10-20T02:24:00.000-07:00

The Lonely Sea – Alistair McLean

‘The Lonely Sea’ is a collection of all the short stories written by Alistair McLean over his entire career, starting with his first story ‘The Dileas’, that launched his career as a writer. The stories encompass a wide range of plots; the common thread, as the name suggests, being a connection with the sea, in one form or other. He has an unmatched gift in writing about sea, and I think it would be his career in the Royal Navy during the war, that armed him with this skill.

Nearly half of the stories in this collection are non-fictional accounts of wartime encounters – tales of heroism, sacrifice, bravery, as well as of tragedy, and bureaucratic blunders. The stories are extremely well written, vivid, and engaging. Unfortunately, I didn’t like these so much, because after a point they started having a lot of similarity, but more so, because they are invariably gory, depicting massive destruction, tragedy and loss. Such stories leave me quite sad, and disenchanted with humankind.

The others are fictional, with quite a variety in theme and tone, some of them are light-hearted, and some serious. These, I loved. Most of these have a twist in the end, very like O. Henry (another author I love!).

The edition I have also includes a newspaper article by McLean, titled “The Rewards and Responsibilities of success”, an interesting read. The highlight of the article would be an honest opinion of himself as a writer – he admits to no literary pretence (let alone greatness), but his purpose to entertain the readers. Or, as we can put it, to give everyone (the publisher and the readers) a worth for their money.

The Way to Dusty Death

2011-10-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

The Way to Dusty Death – Alistair McLean

The background is Formula 1 racing (and perhaps the onlybook I’ve read with this context), and quite interesting as such. The storyitself is not so much about racing, but about more sinister under-goings, - not unexpectedlyso, as McLean’s forte is spy thrillers. But I do not want to divulge the actualtheme here for anyone who may happen to look at my post before reading thebook. Only a hint, in words of Johnny Harlow (the hero of the book) - "There are other ways to a dusty death than losing control on a racing track".

I enjoyed this, as always is the case with McLean for me. The suspense,the turn of events at a pace that you can’t even blink your eyes, the protagonistwith no training in any related field, but skills that turn out to be extra-ordinary than an intelligence officer, are sufficient to keep one engagedand at an edge for a few hours. However, it doesn’t compare too well againstsome of his other works, like The Guns of Navaraone, Ice Station Zebra, TheSatan Bug. A typical characteristic of McLean’s novels is that nobody and nothingare actually what they appear to be. It’s true to a large extent in Dusty Deathas well, but only for the majority ofother characters of the book; for the reader, the suspense is more or lessuncovered quite early in the book.

As a die-hard McLean fan, I would recommend it to anyone wholoves thrillers. It has all the content for an action movie (even a romanceangle, unlike most of his other novels). I am aware of many movies based on hisnovels, have seen a couple; I hadn’t heard of a movie based on this one, but aquick search revealed there is one. Whether or not there already exists a movieon this one, I think Indian movie makers could do well to take an “inspiration”from this book, should do well in the view of the F1 fever gripping the countryright now :-P

The Inheritance of Likes

2011-10-18T09:55:00.000-07:00

It is not just qualities/characteristics/traits that weinherit from our parents. I believe we also inherit (or perhaps, some wouldsay, develop) likes and dislikes from our parents. When my brother and I wereyoung, our parents inculcated and encouraged a reading habit in us. Dadused to get some very nice books for us whenever he went on trips, and weinvariably bought books from those “Wheeler & Co” stalls at railwaystations when we traveled by train. Living in the small town that we did, wedidn’t have any other source for reading material. So, as we grew older, weresorted to experimenting with books from Dad’s collection. And that is fromwhere I acquired a liking for Alistair McLean, Desmond Bagley, and Gardner’sPerry Mason – he had a huge range of these.

McLean is a particular favorite of mine. I love his style (Ithink I’ve mentioned that earlier in this blog) for the fast paced action, andwitty dialogue exchanges. I read many of his novels from Dad’s collection, andover the years, proceeded to complete reading and/or collecting all of hisworks. Between three of us (Dad, Bro and I) we should be having most (if notall) of McLean’s novels, likely with some duplication.

I haven’t read much in last three years, and thereforedidn’t buy anything, except perhaps some books for Sid. Another reason for notbeing able to buy is unending interruptions from Sid whenever I enter abookstore. Finally, last month I had some uninterrupted time to spend in abookshop, and bought some books after a long time. Any surprises that two ofthese are by McLean – The Way to Dusty Death (which I’ve read before) and TheLonely Sea (Short stories, which I haven’t read). I also got Love in the Timeof Cholera – of which I have heard a lot, but never got around to reading.

Bas Itna Sa Khwab Hai

2011-10-14T03:39:00.000-07:00

As all boys do, Sid is extremely fond of cars. And, like allboys [young or old ;-)], he thinks – bigger the better. Yesterday, as N wasreading the newspaper, he saw the picture of a car,

Sid: “papa, ye wali car le lo”.

N: “Nahin papa ye wali car nahin le sakte”

Sid: “kyun?”

N: “Papa ke pass itne paise nahin hain”

Sid: “To kya hua?” [incidentally, his one of his favoritelines these days]

N: “Nahin beta papa ke paas itne paise nahin hain.Papa bik jayenge to bhi ye nahin khareed sakte”

Sid: [Not understanding a word, specially of the secondsentence]: “Papa ye acchi car hai, aap ye le lo”

At this point, I asked what car was he talking of. It was aFormula F1 :-)

N: [Trying a different line of reasoning]: “Saath mein yewali car road par nahin chalti. Ye to racing track par hi chal pati hai.

Sid: “To kya hua? Racing track bhi le lo”

We burst out laughing.

Me: “Aap Vijay Mallaya ko kaho ki aapko adopt kar le”

N: “Aap Mukesh Ambani ki beti se shadi kar lo”

We: “Phir aap car aur track dono le sakte ho”

And Sid looked on bewildered at both of us laughinghysterically.

Changing Strategies

2011-10-14T03:38:00.000-07:00

Sid’s methods of persuasion have changed rapidly in last fewmonths – from requests to threats.

A few months back, if he wanted something,he would use the following sequence of statements:

) “Mummy/papa,… kar do”
) “Please… kar do na”
) “Mainplease bol raha hoon, ab to kar do”.

Now, its “Mummy/papa, … kar do, nahin to …”, a common onebeing “nahin to main aapke saath kheloonga nahin”. A few times we triedresponding with, “Ok. Hamare liye to accha hi hai”, but sarcasm is obviouslylost on him. But often we humor him, and say, “Nahin, aap please khelna meresaath, abhi kar dete hain”.

A few days back, when I was putting him to sleep, he againtried the his tried-and-tested stratagem:

Sid: “… kar do, nahin to ….”

Me: “Nahin to kya karoge?”

Sid: [thinks for a while] “Nahin to main aapko chod karchala jaoonga”

Me: [suppressing my laughter] “Kahan chale jaoge?”

Sid: “Main aapko chod kar bahut door chla jaoonga” [and,adds as an afterthought] “papa ke saath”

Me: [Now laughing] “Accha jaao”

Sid: Nahin kal jaoonga. Abhi jane ka time nahin hai.

Concepts of growing up

2011-10-04T03:10:00.000-07:00

Kids seem to think that they have always been this old (as they are at any given time), think of themselves as very big and important, and of younger kids as rather insignificant, and cannot imagine that they themselves had been younger at one time. And this makes for a lot of interesting discussions.

For a while now, Sid is taking a lot of pride in being "big, of three years". He thinks that he can do a lot of things, which "little babies" (in essence, all kids younger than him) cannot. The littlest babies are of "0 years" and cannot do anything at all. And he hates [a blow to his ego? :-)] that some of his playmates are older than him. For example, he'll start crying that 'A' is 4 years old, while he is only 3. We try to console him that on his next birthday, he will also be 4. Then he cheers up a little too much and says that he will then be 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. We then have to inflate the balloon of his happiness, that 'A' won't stay 4 forever - he will be 11 when Sid is 10. And this is a frequent theme of conversation in our home.

Also, though he cannot quite understand that he had been much younger and grew up, he has accepted the fact from our regular assertions, but he still cannot comprehend that there was a time when he just wasn't there. So, from endless questions, he has developed his own inferences.

Another conversation on these themes yesterday night goes like:

Sid: [another half-sleepy crying fit on being younger than 'A']

Me: [deplyoing pacifying tactics] Par aap 3 years ke ho, 'R' aur 'S' se big ho. Wo to abhi 3 years ki hui bhi nahin

Sid: Wo dono 3 years ki kab hongi?

Me: Thode dinon mein unka b'day aayega, tab wo 3 years ki ho jayengi. [for good measure] Aap to itne din pahle jab aapka b'daya tha, 3 years ke ho bhi gaye the.

[Quite a bit of going around in circles around this]

Sid: Jab mera b'day aaya tha, tab main 3 ka ho gaya? Uske pahle main 2 years ka tha?

Me: [Giving up trying to explain that you grow gradually, b'day doesn't suddenly make you an year older]. Haan.

Sid: Kyun?

Me: [Trying to close the topic and go to sleep]: Kyunki aap 3 years pahle born hue the. aap hamare paas 3 years pahle aaye the.

Sid: [Absolutely no intention of sleeping] Tab mujhe aapki yaad aa rahi thi.

Me: Kab?

Sid: Jab aap mere paas nahin the. Mujhe aapki yaad aa rahi thi aur main ro raha tha.

Me: [Perplexed and alarmed] Ham kab aapke paas nahin the? Ham to hamesha aapke paas the.

Sid: Nahin, jab main sky mein tha.

Me: Aap sky mein kab the?

Sid: Jab main 0 years ka tha uske pahle. Tab main bhagwanji ke paas tha aur main ro raha tha.

Uh oh. Couldnt think of anything but to hug him and tell him, isiliye bhagwanji ne aapko hamare paas bhej diya.

***

A translation of the conversation ....

Sid: [another half-sleepy crying fit on being younger than 'A']

Me: [deplyoing pacifying tactics] But you are 3 years old, older than 'R' and 'S'. They arent even 3 yet.

Sid: When will they turn 3?

Me: They'll have their birthdays after few days, then they will also be 3 [for good measure] You turned 3 so many days back, when you had yur b'day..

[Quite a bit of going around in circles around this]

Sid: On my b'day I became 3? Before that, was I 2?

Me: [Giving up trying to explain that you grow gradually, b'day doesn't suddenly make you an year older]. Yes.

Sid: Why?

Me: [Trying to close the topic and go to sleep]: Because you were 3 years ago. You came to us 3 years ago.

Sid: [Absolutely no intention of sleeping] I was missing you then.

Me: When?

Sid: When you weren't there with me. I was missing you and crying for you.

Me: [Perplexed and alarmed] But when were we not with you? We have been with you always.

Sid: No, when I was in the sky.

Me: When were you in sky?

Sid: Oh, when I was 0 years, before that. Then I was with God, and crying for you.

Uh oh. Couldnt think of anything but to hug him and tell him, That's why God sent you to us.

Some more reading experiences

2011-09-28T22:11:00.000-07:00

Another change in my daily routine is that instead of driving to work, I'm using the office cab. I last used the office conveyance more than 7 years ago, and then it used to be a bus - those were quite fun days. But I digress. So, there are 3-5 people in the cab, some days we chat, some days we don't. In the initial days, we usually didn't. So, even though it was only 25-30 minutes commute, I thought I might utilize it catch up on long-neglected reading. Didnt want to read anything heavy, so started with some relatively light re-reading.

First picked up "To Kill A Mocking Bird" (had read it twice earlier, 13 and 8 years ago, I think). Enjoyed it, as ever. Simple, endearing, enriching. Though, to be honest, read the last part of it in a quiet hour I managed to snatch at home.

Next, I started on "The Bridges of Madison County". Had read it twice or thrice earlier, more than 6 years ago, and had seen the movie as well. I had mixed feelings about the movie, even though it was directed by and starred Clint Eastwood - I found it really well made, but very slow. The book though had a big impact on me - I had found it very intense, and extremely sad - so much so, that for years, I didnt want to read it again. But anyway, I thought it was good time to enjoy it again. Imagine my surprise - halfway through, I realized I wasn't enjoying it half as much as I did earlier. The intensity didnt come through, and there were parts that I found kitschy - particularly the part describing the love affair. I tried to see the reason for this extreme difference in experience. You change with time, and experience is undoubtedly a factor of the mental state. So was it because I have grown up and matured, that I didnt find the idealistic story quite realistic/creditable? Or was it because I read it on my short commutes, with so many breaks and interruptions, and therefore didnt get involved with the story? To try to get an answer, I looked for some reviews. Another surprise - the book, even though a huge best-seller, was panned as limp and overdone, while the movie was highly acclaimed. Perhaps time to revisit the movie.

There is an amusing incident for me, associated with this book. I still clearly remember the first time I read it - in IITD hostel, lying down in the common room, a borrowed copy. Few years after that, I remembered this book, and wanted a copy of my own. For a long time, I looked for it in all the bookshops, online stores, but it was out of print. Some of my close friends had assisted me in this search and so knew of my near-desperation. After looking for it for months, I finally found it in a bookstore, along with a sequel (A thousand country roads)!! I spared no time or second thoughts in purchasing them both. Barely a few days after this was my birthday, and I received a copy of TBoMC from a dear friend as a gift! And, another set of both books (from then my "good friend", and now my better half), who had located them in an online store and ordered them for me as a surprise!! Patience and perseverance rewarded in thrice? :-D

A Thousand Splendid Suns

2011-09-21T11:13:00.000-07:00

In my new profile of having two full-time jobs (the regular work, and you guessed it, a growing-up kid), one of the things I miss is the leisure of curling up with a book, with no worry of mundane chores, and more important, no interruptions. In this while, I have barely been able to read. Three books in three years - sort of a record for me - a record low, that is :-). And whatever reading I managed was rather hurried, and a while ago. In no way sufficient to write a review, as I had been doing earlier for the books I was reading. Still, I'll try to capture whatever I can recollect of my impressions (for that is what my "reviews" typically are, I do not consciously try to outline the story).

A Thousand Splendid Suns - Khaled Hosseni

'The Kite Runner' had set quite high expectations for this one, and the editorial reviews/comments escalated them further. I was really looking forward to read this one, but by the time I got the book, I had a newborn to look after. To be honest, I almost rushed through it, omitting some parts here and there, that were not kind of contributing to the story, but to the picture. I might have had a different impression, if I had a chance to read it at more leisure, but I don't think I'll pick it up again to see if I missed things the first time around. Though I'm glad that I did manage to get through it.

I must say that it did not disappoint. It is a gripping and touching story, capturing the plight of women in Afghanistan quite well - their sheer helplessness in the face of constant contempt and abuse they are subjected to by men. Gender equality? I think they would be grateful if they are allowed to spend their lives, however constrained, with dignity. It reinforces how grief is a unifying factor like nothing else, and how hope can emerge, sustain, and win, even in the face of absolute dejection. It was highly engrossing - the reason I rushed through it, to at least read the story even if I could not manage to enjoy the book.

However, it did not quite live up the expectations. It seems to lack some of the distinguishing qualities of The Kite Runner - despite the constant feeling of sadness, Kite Runner didn't leave one gloomy. Kite Runner also presented a different kind of background - a land and culture which people in general are not very familiar with. Thousand Splendid Suns did not create that kind of interest, because of the more general theme. Also, I felt that at times, it was deliberately and dramatically stretched to paint a picture of misery so complete, that it was kind of trite. Perhaps this comes from reading more than a few stories by Indian authors, centered around the grief and pain of women that they suffer all alone.

Though I wonder if this is generally true for subsequent works of an author whose first work (or may be the first work one reads) creates a big impact with a radically new context and strong story? I remember this happened to me with Dan Brown - I simply loved Da Vinci Code, but didnt particularly like Angels and Demons. Some of my friends read Angels and Demons first, and admired it, but did not appreciate Da Vinci Code as much.

Soon to follow:

The Collector's Wife - Mitra Phukan

Mistress - Anita Nair

Filling in ...

2011-09-12T02:00:00.000-07:00

Ah. After my determined resolution last week, I seem to be back to the square one - how and where to start. And all of a sudden, those numerous thoughts swirling in my mind seem to have disappeared away. Whew!

I might as well start with the reason for my long hiatus. The last post before my absence was on June 20th, 2008. My "life changing moment" occurred five days after that - Sid arrived into our life, turning it topsy-turvy :-) I now remember with a certain degree of amusement, that before he was born, how I planned to keep a record of his growing up years, his achievements, his deeds (and misdeeds), and my thoughts and reactions to it all, through my blog. And how, after he was here, I was just too occupied in the actual business of bringing him up, to even think about blogging! Now that he is three years old, he demands a lot of attention. To think of it, he did that earlier too - the only difference is that the reason for the demand has gone from physical needs to mental :-) Can I dare to hope for the things to improve, once he gets older, perhaps before the pressure for studies start?

In the last two years, I did get a few minutes to myself, here and there, abbreviated with needs for my intervention or attention, but this is hardly enough to think, and organize your thoughts, leave alone open a laptop (which is something one can't do anyway, with a small kid around). I really don't understand whats it with kids and laptops - the laptops have a magnetic charm for them, even if you never ever play any videos and cartoons for them!

So, in last three years, I haven't blogged, I haven't read (except for a couple of books I managed to read in fragments, on solo flights or metro commutes), and I haven't travelled (except for one vacation last winter). To compensate for blogging and reading, I developed a not-so-desirable addiction for facebook (which is something that can be managed in those short snatches of time, specially with the help of a wireless router and an iPod touch). To compensate for travelling, I picked up a near-obsession for photographing flowers, which is not that bad I think :-) I have been posting these pictures, that I took from my phone camera, in office, apartment complex, parks, or anywhere else I visited, on facebook. A number of times I considered posting them on my blog instead, but oh, the inertia!! This also brings me to blog vs facebook dilemma, but let me save this subject for another day.

The other major changes are relatively recent. I quit my first job after nearly ten-and-a-half years, and moved to a new workplace and a new city - something of a paradigm shift.

In last few months, I checked on the blogs I more or less regularly read (and not to forget, whose authors visited mine :-)). Some of them have stopped writing, and most of the rest are no longer active. Sad indeed.

And so I am back ...

2011-09-09T02:36:00.000-07:00

... neither with a bang, nor with a whimper, but as normal as I can be :-)

My blogs have been severely neglected for over three years now. For last two years, and even more so the last one year, I have been giving a serious thought to resurrecting my blogging activities - there are so many thoughts take a seed in the mind, awaiting germination, taking root in imagination and consideration and concentration, and surface into the world. Thoughts craving for expression. And mind craving for some interaction [beyond "like" on Facebook, that is :-P ].

A lot has changed in this time, creating some real constraints on my activity here, the most significant being little uninterrupted time to concentrate and articulate. Though one of the major reasons is my organized/perfectionist self - I wanted to make my "comeback" well structured - with appropriately described details and chronological events. Finally I came to terms with the fact that this is something that is not possible, realized that this is simply deferring my intent, and so I finally decided to make a start anyway, and with an idea that I'll pick up the threads here and there.

Almost Single

2008-06-20T01:14:00.000-07:00

Almost Single - Advaita Kala

The more I think about it, the more difficult it seems to write something about it. For one, I am not sure how to characterize this book. It might be chick-lit, but not exactly so; it has elements of M&Bs, but altogether its substantially different. Perhaps I would liken it most to what we call a 'masala' movie :-)

It is a story of three bosom pals, ladies who are approaching the dreaded age of 30. One of them is getting divorced, and the other two are desperately looking for a good matrimonial catch [before they hit the expiry date from the marriage market ;-)]. They go through a lot of mishaps - comic and not-so-comic, before the first one frees herself of the trauma of divorce, and the other two find their soul-mates in unlikely places/people.

I looked at some online reviews of the book. Most of them claimed it to be an accurate commentary on urban, single, working Indian ladies - using phrases such as - "you will know a lot about what women think", "it gives you an insight into the minds of women, especially those nearing thirties", "it tells you a lot about relationships" ... you get the drift. From my personal experience, I have to disagree with all these exalting statements. The "relationship facts" seem a collection of cliches to me, and none of the single, working, nearing-30 ladies I know are like the characters in this book - they are too busy struggling to manage the demands of jobs, single-living, and parental pressures, to go partying every night. But then, I do not know any hard-partying, page-3-type people.

What I mean is that I do not think it represents real people, or at least the people of my world. Perhaps my world is too constricted :-) Having said this, I will also say that this is a good fun read, with a lot of humor.It moves at interesting pace, and keeps one entertained - commendable for the first book of an author. If you are not in a mood for serious reading, you can enjoy this book for the comical predicaments of its characters and witty humor it is interspersed with.

Daag Dehlvi - IV

2008-06-19T00:32:00.000-07:00

Agiyaar ke naale to bahut tumne sune hai.n
Mazloom ki taasiir-e-dua ko nahin dekha
[agiyaar=enemy/rival; mazloom=victim]

You listened attentively to the cries of my rival
Have you seen the effect of a victim's (my) prayers?

***

Zindagi mei.n paas se dam bhar na hote the juda
Kabr mei.n tanha mujhe yaaro.n ne kyun rakh diya

In my lifetime my friends didn't leave me for a moment
Why did the put me in my grave all alone

***

tu na kar nakhwat-e-shabaab bahut
hamne dekhe hai.n inqilaab bahut
[nakhwat-e-shabaab=proud of beauty; inquilab=changes]

Do not take so much pride in your beauty
I have seen a lot of drastic changes happen

***

Jis qadar maine tujhse khwahish ki
Usse mujh ko siva diya tune

Mujh gunahgaar ko jo bakhsh diya
Phir jahannum ko kya diya tune

O lord! As much as I asked of you
You always bestowed much more upon me

You pardoned a sinner like me
Then what did you give to the hell

***

Rahti hai kab bahaar-e-jawani tamaam umr
Maanind-e-bu-e-gul idhar aayi udhar gayi

The bloom of youth does not stay the entire life
Its like flower's fragrance - comes and goes away

***

Tangi-e-gosh-e-zinda.n ke ham khugar the
Gor mei.n bhi na kabhi paanv pasaare hamne
[Tangi-e-gosh-e-zinda.n=scarcity of a cell;khugar=used to; gor=grave]

I was so used to the lack of space in a cell
That even in the grave I never stretched my feet

Daag Dehlvi - III

2008-06-10T04:30:00.000-07:00

Now for some couplets from some of his Ghazals ...

Baad muddat ke ye ai Daag samajh mei.n aayaa
Woh hi dana hai jis ne na mana dil ka
[dana=intelligent]

It was after a long time that I understood this
He is intelligent, who didn't listen to his heart

***

Marg-e-dushman ka jyada tumse hai mujhko malaal
Dushmani ka lutf shikwe ka mazaa jata raha

The death of my rival saddens me more than you
The thrill of enmity, and the joy of complaints are lost

***

Hazaaro.n hasratei.n wah hai.n ki roke se nahi.n rukti
Bahut armaan aise hai.n ki dil ke dil mei.n rahte hai.n

There are thousands of desires that cannot be controlled
There are many wishes that do not leave the heart

This 'sher' always reminds me of Ghalib's
'Hazaaro.n khwaahishein aisee ki har khwaahish pe dam nikle
Bahut nikle mere armaan, magar phir bhi kam nikle'
Apart from the choice of words, which is astoundingly similar, I think both try to convey the same thing.

***

Bemahal baat bhali bhi to buri hoti hai
Shukra karte hue darta hoo.n shikayat kaisi
[Bemahal=untimely]

At inappropriate time, even a nice thing sounds bad
I am afraid even to thank you, complaint is out of question

***

Kya us badgumaa.n se baat karei.n
Jo sataaish ko bhi gilaa jaane
[badgumaa.n=suspicious; sataaish=praise]

Tum na paaoge saadaa dil mujh sa
Jo tagaful ko bhi haya jaane

What to talk about with that suspicious one
Who considers praise to be criticism

You will not find another simple-hearted person like me
Who mistakes neglect for shyness

Authors Featured On This Blog

2008-06-09T07:40:00.000-07:00

Advaita Kala
Almost Single

Alistair McLean
The Dark Crusader
The Way to Dusty Death
The Lonely Sea

Amish Tripathi
The Immortal of Meluha

Asha Miro
Daughter Of The Ganges

Audrey Niffenegger
The Time Traveller's Wife

Chetan Bhagat
One Night At The Call Centre
Revolution 2020

Dan Brown
Angels And Demons
Digital Fortress

Dhruva Chak
Chatterjee Babu : His Life And Lies

Gita Mehta
A River Sutra

Ira Trivedi
What Would You Do To Save The World

Ismat Chugtai
Chidi Ki Dukki

Jane Austen
Sense And Sensibility

Jeffery Archer
A Quiver Full Of Arrows
False Impressions
Not A Penny More, Not A Penny Less
As The Crow Flies

Jhumpa Lahiri
The Namesake

John Grisham
The Last Juror

Jug Suraiya
Delhi Belly

Kaavyaa Vishwanathan
How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild And Got A Life

Ken Follet
The ModiGliani Scandal
A Place Called Freedom

Khaled Hosseini
The Kite Runner
A Thousand Splendid Suns

Kiran Desai
The Inheritance Of Loss

Mark Haddon
The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night

Mitra Phukan
The Collector's Wife

Nevil Shute
A Town Like Alice
On The Beach

Richard Bach
Jonathon Livingstone Seagull

Richard Feynman
Surely You are Joking Mr. Feynman

Rider Haggard
She

Shivani
Chaudah Phere

Sudhir Venkatesh
Gangleader For A Day

Tushar Raheja
Anything For You Ma'am

Yann Martel
The Life Of Pi

How can I have sub-categories in labels

2008-06-08T23:07:00.000-07:00

I post a lot of poetry and book reviews on this blog. And I want to have a quick access to the works of a particular poet/author I have posted about. If I create labels for each poet and author, it will make my labels' list unmanageable. And Blogger does not allow me to have sub-categories under a label (ah! how I would love that feature!).

I know the answer is - get your own domain and you can have code that will do this for you. But that is too much work to do when all I want to do is simply to post. Moreover, where will I find time to create and manage a site, when I dont even have enough time to read all the blogs I'd like to, or post on my own.

What I have resorted to for now is create a post, and compile lists of poets and authors in separate posts, and link to these posts on the navigation pane. It is still not a single-click access as I desire, but at least one can manage in two. Any ideas how to do it better?

Daag Dehlvi - II

2008-06-06T01:43:00.000-07:00

Sharing another ghazal by Daag Dehlvi. It is nice, but I find it amusing more than anything else, specially because of the second couplet.

Jab jawaani ka mazaa jata raha
Zindagaani ka mazaa jata raha

Woh kasam khaate hai.n ab har baat par
Badgumani ka mazaa jata raha

Gair par lutf-o-karam hone laga
Meherbaani ka mazaa jata raha

Daastaan-e-ishq jab thahri galat
Har kahaani ka mazaa jata raha

Daag hi ke dam se tha lutf-e-sukhan
Khushbayaani ka mazaa jata raha

When the joy of youth was lost
The joy of life was gone

She now swears about everything
There is no pleasure in doubting now

She has started bestowing favors on rivals
I no longer enjoy her attentions

When the story of our love became untrue
Every tale lost its joy

It was Daag who made poetry enjoyable
Without him, there is no beautiful verse

The last sher of this ghazal reminds me of one of Ghalib's couplets -

Yuu.n to hai.n duniya mein sukhanwar kaii achhe
Kahte hai.n ki Ghalib ka hai andaaz-e-bayaan aur

There are many good poets in this world
But Ghalib's style has a class of its own

Poets featured on this blog

2008-06-05T06:02:00.001-07:00

I make a lot of posts on poetry on this blog. Since it is not possible to have individual tags for each poet (it will make labels' list unmanageable!), I have compiled a list of poets (in alphabetic order), and list of posts for each (in reverse chronological order) in a post. I'll keep updating this list as required.

A.C. Swineburne
The Triumph of Time

Bashir Badr
Bashir Badr - VI
Bashir Badr - V
Bashir Badr - IV
Bashir Badr - III
Bashir Badr - II
Bashir Badr

Daag Dehlvi
Daag Dehlvi - IV
Daag Dehlvi - III
Daag Dehlvi - II
Daag Dehlvi - I

Dushyant Kumar
Saaye Mein Dhoop - IV
Saaye Mein Dhoop - III
Saaye Mein Dhoop - II
Saaye Mein Dhoop - I
Saaye Mein Dhoop - Intro
Ek Aashirwaad

Ibn-e-Insha
Yeh Baatein Jhoothi Baatein

Javed Akhtar
Tarqash - III
Tarqash - II
Tarqash - I

Mirza Ghalib
Open to Interpretation

Nida Fazli
Nida Fazli

Ramkumar Verma
Maun Karuna

Ramdhari Singh 'dinkar'
Dinkar
Parichay

Sahir Ludhianvi
Taj Mahal

Down the memory lane - IX

2008-06-03T01:17:00.000-07:00

The JC Encounters - II

I have posted earlier, an anecdote from my college days, about our professor JC. Apart from being very strict and principled, he had quite a sharp memory. He taught us for two years [he refused to take the final year classes, as according to him, final year students were not serious enough]. When he first started teaching our class in second year, he recognized everyone by their names in one week, and by roll numbers in two. One of my classmates happened to meet him last year, and he remembered her roll number after 8 years!

In the third year, one day there was a highly interesting cricket match going on. Many people would have liked to bunk the class, but JC took a severe exception to mass bunks, so most of the students decided to go to his class, and rely on his generosity. The people who were not interested in the match, would not mind an occasional off!

Once in class, they asked JC to free the class, but he refused to do so on account of a match. The students persisted, that there was no use of staying in class, since they couldn't concentrate on studies. They thought that since JC was passionate about making students really understand (rather that just teach), this should do the trick. But poor things, they didn't really understand their teacher in two years! JC said he could not free the class, but he'd not teach, so we would have a general discussion! We then kept imploring that it would be better to study, but now JC was adamant! And what a unique talk it was! After half an hour we really pleaded to him to teach us instead, but he didn't relent!!

Frustrated, some people started asking irrelevant things. One guy asked, "Sir have you been married?", while JC had turned to face the board. With some difficulty he managed to reply, "No, not yet", his back still towards the class. Thinking of taking advantage of anonymity, another guy shot out, "Why?" The class was really at his audacity, and fell silent. JC couldn't keep facing the board indefinitely, so he turned to face the class. And oh! He was blushing!! He called on the student who had asked the second question [yes! he managed to single him out by his voice, in a class of 60, even though he must have taught a number of batches over the years!], and asked him the same set of questions. Now it was this guy's turn to turn red! He managed to reply, with great difficulty, "Sir, I am not old enough". JC replied, "Same answer".

Chapter closed, and we moved back to few more minutes of horribly boring "conversation", before the hour finally got over, to the relief of all.

Parody time

2008-06-03T00:39:00.000-07:00

Sharing a very beautiful and poignant poem by Gulzaar ...

Subah subah ek khwaab ki dastak per
darwaza khola, Dekha,
sarhad ke us paar se kuch mehmaan aaye hai.n

Aankho.n se manoos thay saare,
Chehre saare sune sunaaye
Paao.n dhoye, haath dhulaaye,
Aa.ngan mei.n aasan lagwaaye,
Aur tandoor pe makki ke kuch mote mote rot pakaaye

Potli mei.n mehmaan mere
pichle saalo.n ki faslo.n ka gur laye thay

Aankh khuli to dekha ghar mien koi nahin tha,
Haath laga kar dekha to tandoor abhi tak bujha nahin tha,
Aur ho.ntho.n per meethe gur ka zaiqa ab tak chipak raha tha,

Khwab tha shayad,
Khwab hi hoga,
Sarhad per kal raat suna hai chali thi goli,
Sarhad per kal raat suna hai kuch khwabon ka khoon hua hai.

***

But does this all matter to a nerdy software engineer? All s/he cares about are awards and bonus ...
With due apologies to Gulzar sahib ...

Subah subah login ki dastak par
mailbox khola, dekha
corridor end wale room se kuch mails aaye hain. (1)

Requirement se P0 the saare! (2)
Issues saare sune - sunaye
Meeting bulaayee presentations dikhaye
Brainstorming sessions karwaye
Aur StageGate ke template mein kuch mote mote docs banaye. (3)

Attachment mein mails mere
pichle release ke project ka award laye the

Aankh khuli to dekha award kahin nahin tha
Test chala kar dekha to fix abhi tak chala nahin tha
Aur hothon par nightout ki coffee ka swaad ab tak bidak raha tha

EPS kam tha shayad (4)
Bonus nahin milega
Samandar paar kal raat suna hai deal huii thii
Samandar paar kal raat suna hai ek aur acquisition hua hai. (5)

reference:
(1) Corridor end wala room - the room at the end of the corridor, which belongs to my manager
(2) P0 - The highest priority customer requirement
(3) Stagegate - A specific (fussy) format in which we are required to write our functional specifications
(4) EPS - Earning per share - which determines the half-yearly bonus
(5) When a company acquires another, its share price typically falls, causing employee bonus to be cut back

PS: Apologies to the readers who do not know hindi, but this is a case where i cant provide a meaningful translation for either the original or the parody ...

Gangleader For A Day

2008-05-23T00:11:00.000-07:00

Gangleader For A Day : A Rogue Sociologist Crosses The Line
- Sudhir Venkatesh

I have just finished reading this recently-published widely-acclaimed title, which is quite different from my usually preferred fare. I am not into gangster stories (leave aside a classic like Godfather), and I rarely go for non-fiction. But I really liked and enjoyed this one. Perhaps because I do like real-life human-interest stories. I had read a couple of reviews, which I found interesting; the author's Indian origins were an added curiosity/attraction. So, while browsing in the bookstore a few days back, I found it on their shelf, I read a few pages. And I was hooked!

The book describes the author's experience over more than 7 years, as he conducts his doctoral research, by having a first hand, close look at the life of his research subjects, the poor black people of Chicago living in a housing society plagued by evils like gang culture, drug abuse and lawlessness. His adventures have a very amusing start as he arrives at the housing society armed with a questionnaire. He is apprehended by the members of the local gang, the Black Kings. The gang's leader, known as JT, advises him to spend time with the people, rather than asking inane questions, if he really wants to understand their lives. Sudhir takes his advice, and goes on to develop a close relationship with JT, and other members of this "society" of people. In the course of time, he learns how mistaken are the perceptions of the outside world, of these people. To begin with, it is assumed that all gangsters are uneducated; but Sudhir finds that JT has attended college, and one of his closes aides is working towards a degree! He has many different unusual and interesting experiences, including the one when JT lets him act as the leader of his section of Black Kings for a day. However, all this does not mean that all is great; there is an ugly side too, though by his own admission, he gets a censored view of that.

The author's research on the economy of drug-dealing made a chapter in the widely popular 'Freakonomics' and was [apparently] very well received. [I did not read Freakonomincs, but everyone I know who has read it, was all praises for it.] Unbiased by this fact [I only realized this while reading 'Gangleader ...'], I found 'Gangleader ...' quite an interesting experience. The 'story' is captivating, and the style is amusing and fluid. I loved this one!

Chatterjee Babu

2008-05-20T22:19:00.000-07:00

Chatterjee Babu : His life and Lies
- Dhruva Chak

When buying books, I usually stick to my favorite authors, or get titles that I have heard of, or that have been recommended (by family, friends or newspapers). Some time back, in order to have a change of pace, I bought a few unfamiliar titles, by unfamiliar authors, going by the covers. And I realized (yet again!) that back cover descriptions and adulations can be very deceptive.

I have read a lot of fast-paced thrillers, set in the modern, western world, and mysteries (Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes) set in last two centuries. So "Chatterjee Babu", set in the latter half of 20th century India appealed to me with its promise of chartering a nostalgic journey through five historical cities, and catching the last glimpses of the dying Raj (British Rule).

But what I got was one of the most hopeless books I've read, both with regards to the story and the style. The writer has used innumerable similes and unending citations, so that he lost the story altogether, and I lost my patience. It feels that all he is set out to do is to prove is his proficiency in English, and his knowledge of literature. Then there is poetry ... the prose is interspersed with verse, that has rhyme but no reason, and certainly no merit. And then there is moving back and forth in time ... I feel that few authors manage to do that effectively, and Dhruva Chak is definitely not one of them. His book is divided into chapters, alternate chapters take the story forward through the past and the present, with no reason, and no effect. The series of past history ends at a point when Hiren Chatterjee suffers a heartbreak and a total breakdown, though why that makes him so malicious, specially towards the young and enthusiastic British manager, is beyond my comprehension. As is the reason why the young manager choses to use no common sense. And the promised journey through five cities is not worth mention either.

In first three sittings I barely managed to read 30 pages (with small page size, and large font size). Extremely disappointing and eminently unreadable.

Inki Boli Hai

2008-05-14T00:14:00.001-07:00

Recently, there was a poetry writing contest in my office. The rules were simple - the second line had to end in a given phrase, the rest of the poem had to be in form of couplets, the second line of each rhyming with the given phrase [I wonder why they didn't simply say - Ghazal!].
The poem could be in hindi or english, the phrase for English poems was 'that is what I call fun', and the one for hindi was 'inki boli hai' (this is how they speak).

To state the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth - I didn't win a prize in the contest; but I was one amongst nine to get a participation prize (though I don't yet know what the prize is going to be).

Dil mei.n liye zeher phirte hai.n
Upar se meethi meethi si inki boli hai

Mahalo.n mei.n baith aaraam karei.n khud
Auro.n ki mehnat pe bharti inki jholi hai

Daulat aur taakat hai.n bahut dikhaane ko
Leking andar jhaa.nko to aatmaa poli hai

Yu.n kahne ko hai.n ye sevak junta ke
Logo.n ke dukh-dard par inki hansi-thitholi hai

Lagta hai mujhko praapya uchit inka
Taaj nahin hukumat ka, bandook ki goli hai

Their hearts are filled with poison
On the surface, they are sweet spoken

They luxuriate in their palaces
While others' toil fill their lockers

They have a lot of wealth and power to show
But if you search inside, their soul is hollow

They are the servants of public, so to speak
But for them the common man's sorrows are a joke

I think that what they rightly deserve is
Not the crown of a ruler, but a bullet

The Last Juror

2008-05-11T21:07:00.000-07:00

The Last Juror - John Grisham

I have read a few novels by Grisham, and I usually find them technical and/or heavy. I had made only one exception till some time back- The Client. But with 'The Last Juror', I'll make another one.

It is a warm story of a young journalist who comes to a small town to work for the town newspaper. After a little while, he ends up buying the paper. In a small town, where people can trace back their generations, a newcomer remains an outsider even if s/he stays on for years. But in an effort to find a way to increase the circulation of his paper, his increasing involvement with the life of the local people, in some time, wins him the confidence and acceptance of the people, and an unlikely friend in an old black lady. About an initial third of the book develops this context, and is delightful to read.

The story takes on a serious note thereafter, when a young woman is murdered, and a young man of the local 'mafia don' family is the culprit. The protagonist tries to find and report the truth as far as possible, overcoming the fear caused by the threats from the mafia family. Then start the games of power played by the mafia family - their money and power ensure that the murderer is not given a capital sentence, is transferred to another area where he spends his time in luxury, is finally released well before term, and the news does not reach the people of the town he lived and was tried in. The protagonist learns about it, however, and tries his best to prevent the release, but is not successful. And then follows the terror - the jurors on the murderer's trial start getting killed .... the end comes as quite a surprise. Like all nice stories, the "good" wins over the "evil" in the end, never mind the means.

I can recommend it, especially to all those who love suspense thrillers.

Daag Dehlvi - I

2008-05-06T00:42:00.000-07:00

Daag Dehlvi was a close relative of the last Mughal Emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar, and a very well known poet. I had bought a Ghazal collection by Daag, quite some time back, but had not had a chance to post on it earlier. The time factor apart (it was quite a while before I finished reading it), I did not like it much - Of the 100+ ghazals in this collection, I could find relatively few ghazals/couplets I enjoyed. At places, his work seems to be inspired by Ghalib.

In this post, I am sharing a ghazal, that I had come across a long while back. It is a lovely one, and I think it has been sung by one of the contemporary singer, though I am not sure about this.

tumhaare Khat me.n nayaa ik salaam kis kaa thaa
na thaa raqiib to aaKhir vo naam kis kaa thaa

vo qatl kar ke har kisii se puuchhate hai.n
ye kaam kis ne kiyaa hai ye kaam kis kaa thaa

vafaa kare.nge nibhaaye.nge baat maane.nge
tumhe.n bhii yaad hai kuchh ye kalaam kis kaa thaa

rahaa na dil me.n vo be-dard aur dard rahaa
muqiim kaun huaa hai maqaam kis kaa thaa

na puuchh-paachh thii kisii kii na aav-bhagat
tumhaarii bazm me.n kal ehatamaam kis kaa thaa

hamaare Khat ke to purze kiye pa.Dhaa bhii nahii.n
sun jo tum ne baa-dil vo payaam kis kaa thaa

i.nhii.n sifaat se hotaa hai aadamii mashahuur
jo lutf aap hii karate to naam kis kaa thaa

guzar gayaa vo zamaanaa kahe.n to kis se kahe.n
Khayaal mere dil ko subah-o-shaam kis kaa thaa

har ek se kahate hai.n kyaa "Daag" bevafaa nikalaa
ye puuchhe in se ko_ii vo Gulaam kis kaa thaa

Whose greeting was there in your message ?
Whose name was it, if not my rival's ?

After killing me, she asks everyone -
Who was it who did this act ?

I'll be faithful, I'll do what you wish
Do you remember whose words were these?

That hearless one didn't stay in my heart, only the pain remained
Whose destination it was, and look, who resides here

There was neither warm reception, nor weclome
Who made arrangements at your gathering yesterday?

You tore off my letter without even reading it
Whose message was it that you listened to whole-heartedly?

That time has gone past, now who do I tell
Whose thoughts filled me day and night

She asks everyone, was "Daag" unfaithful?
Let someone ask her, whose slave he was.

Reading (contd.)

2008-04-18T00:42:00.000-07:00

I have been meaning to post these "reviews" for quite a while now, but it just kept getting delayed. Not much to write about these, at least not enough to make individual posts. :-)

*** *** ***

A Quiver Full of Arrows - Jeffery Archer

I usually like Archer's short stories; more often than not, they have a great plot, and delightfully surprising twist in the end. I found the collection 'Twelve Red Herrings' brilliant. But 'A Quiver Full of Arrows' did not meet my expectations. Nothing wrong with it actually. But I think it just lacks the usual flair of Archer stories. I didn't find any story in this collection particularly remarkable, though I have come across some real gems in some of the other collections.

*** *** ***

The Modigliani Scandal - Ken Follet

Yet another work of fiction based on the world of art - it highlights the hypocrisy exhibited by the collectors and dealers - their allegiance to well-known maestros, and indifference to yet unproven artists (even if they are good); the extremely high stakes involved, and the abounding forgeries.

And like 'A Place called Freedom', it is also quite different from the usual spy/thriller fare of Follet. The author acknowledges that this is an experimental work, and may be disappointing to critics and readers. But I enjoyed it, I think it was quite wonderful. There are no murders, and not too many complications, though there is a chase, but this time it is for a yet-unknown masterpiece. The story progresses at a good pace, and keeps up the interest through the situations that take amusing turns, and the final twist is great. A light, fun read.

*** *** ***

Jonathan Livingstone Seagull - Richard Bach

I finally got a chance to read this extremely well-known and highly commended book. I liked the concept, and the way it is presented. But I am not one to go into raptures over this one. I don't particularly favor works based on philosophy, and this is quite heavy on it. But it is rather light on content - it is quite a thin volume, and most of the pages just have pictures of flying gulls - altogether it is a short story, rather than a novel. It was nice, and one can find some inspiring quotes in it, but it is not something I will read over and over again.

The Inheritance of Loss

2008-03-29T01:48:00.000-07:00

The Inheritance of Loss - Kiran Desai

From what I had heard of it, it sounded a brilliant work. And it had won the prestigious Booker Prize, of course. The media had heaped enormous praises on it (though I would like to know whether these commendations are given or after the announcement of the prize, in general). But I have come to the sad conclusion that these award winning compositions are not my cup of tea. I wasn't impressed with 'The God of Small Things', and found 'The Impressionist' quite trying.

'The Inheritance of Loss' was ok, but I did not particularly like it. I like stories that take a direction, and this one does not seem to move anywhere to me. It is a continuing tale of pathetic life, dysfunctional families, caricatures of ill-placed, ill-timed grandeur that belongs to the past. No single character is rational in his or her behavior. There is no spirit, no strength of character. The past is blemished, the present is chaotic, the future is bleak. Certainly not an uplifting story.

But this is my impression, or rather my preference (A little while ago a friend said I am a tough one to please ;-)]. It has been acknowledged as a remarkable example of contemporary literature, and I would not like to discourage anyone from reading this.

Playing with colors

2008-03-27T00:17:00.000-07:00

I haven't played Holi in ages. But this time, I did play with colors on Holi .... though only on paper - I finished a watercolor I started last year, during the long weekend. It was "inspired" by a photograph of a painting I saw in the newspaper. The painting I made is about 34cmX24cm (the photograph about 6cmX4cm). Given such a small size, I sure took a long time to finish it!

Stage 1: The background.
I managed to splash a few drops of dark color, from which I couldn't recover till the end.

Stage 2: Long break.
This is around where I left it last year .... to hibernate for the winters :-)

Stage 3: Execution complete
Finally ... done ... finishing touches added ... ready to be framed.

A Place Called Freedom

2008-03-23T07:52:00.000-07:00

A Place Called Freedom - Ken Follet

This has a very different flavor from other Ken Follet works I have read. As opposed to modern-world, conspiracy/espionage stories I had come across earlier, this novel is a historical.

The story starts in early 18th century, in coal mines of Scotland, where every miner's sons are enslaved at birth to the lord of the mine. Thus, miners are enslaved generation after generation, and live in torturous conditions till they die of illness or accident. Young McAsh finds out that this inhuman treatment is against the law (though the poor villagers are not aware the law, and the lord refuses to acknowledge it), and becomes determined to fight for his freedom. He rebels, is subjected to savage punishments by Jamissons who own the mines, but finally escape to London. However, his life is intertwined with the family in ways neither can foresee. Jamissons' neighbors are widowed Mrs Hallim, and her vivacious daughter Lizzie. Lizzie does not submit to subordination as the women of their social class do, but defies normal conventions and seeks to live on her own terms. McAsh and Lizzie become aware of a connection between them, but the vast difference in their social status is something that neither of them dares to overcome, and Lizzie becomes engaged to younger Jamisson son, Jay.

Once in London, McAsh tries to stand on his own, but once again comes up against oppression by the rich and powerful. Once again, he challenges the authority of these people to deny him his rights. But he falls victim to the powers-that-be, and later gets convicted because of a conspiracy hatched by Jay Jamisson. McAsh is transported to America along with other convicts on a slave ship owned by Jamissions, while on the same ship, newly married Jay and Lizzie set out to America to look after family's tobacco plantations. But their fates are tied together; while other convicts are sold as slaves, Jay keeps the strongest ones for himself, McAsh amongst them. Jay's fortunes continue to decline through is ineptitude, Lizzie finds herself trapped in an unsuccessful marriage with an unfaithful husband, and McAsh finds it unbearable to accede to the whims of a tyrannical supervisor. McAsh and Lizzie make a escape to wild country; they are chased by Jay and his henchmen, but finally manage to secure their freedom.

The conditions of life in the era are very well described - lifelong slavery and torture under exacting conditions in coal mines, the harassment of unprivileged people trying to earn a decent living at the hands of rich who make the laws, and the brutal treatment of workers and convicts on American plantations in early colonial days. Though the story is predictable, the details are thorough, and cover a lot of ground in breadth and depth. It celebrates the human spirit, which can endure a lot to attain that elusive freedom and dignity of human life. On the other hand, it exposes the mean side of human nature, which can stoop to any level to attain or hold wealth and power. In all, it can be called a very good book. Although I appreciate the thoroughly-researched details, well-developed characters and finely plotted story, I didn't altogether like it very much. It's difficult to reason, but there it is. I like the stories of triumph of the spirit, but do not like to read those of unreasonable and unending treachery and oppression, however realistic - I find them rather depressing. I still less like content of violence, which tends to be downright gory at times.

Landscaping ....

2008-03-17T22:09:00.000-07:00

Some time back a friend asked me to make a pencil sketch for her. A 'Vastu' consultant had suggested that a landscape will be suitable for her, and gave her some specific directions. My friend also wanted me to cheer me up by taking my mind away from my illness and getting me to do something I enjoy. It was some time before I finally started on the sketch, and completed it on a day off. I did enjoy doing it, and was reasonably happy with the result too, and I sent it to her hoping she'd be pleased. But well, that was not to be. She gave me a call, regretfully telling me that though she liked the sketch, her consultant had asked her that her sketch should not have representation of water (it is inauspicious for her). And I guess I forgot this in all the time I took in starting on it.

I had to say ... uski ummedo.n par paani phir gaya ... quite literally.
Well, no problems ... I can make another one.

I made a careful selection this time.

But oh! a flop show again .... the pots represent water :-(

She's ready to give up now ... but I am not. Will try out another one this weekend :-)

1001 Books You Must Read

2008-03-13T02:29:00.000-07:00

I just came across this list : 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. It is a literary reference book compiled by over a hundred critics.

I immediately fell into the obvious trap - how many have I actually read! And I was dismayed to find have read too few, even though the list includes some very well known classics.

I have read about 20:
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time – Mark Haddon
Life of Pi – Yann Martel
The God of Small Things – Arundhati Roy
The Godfather – Mario Puzo
To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
Animal Farm – George Orwell
Of Human Bondage – William Somerset Maugham
The War of the Worlds – H.G. Wells
The Invisible Man – H.G. Wells
The Time Machine – H.G. Wells
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
She – H. Rider Haggard
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn – Mark Twain
Around the World in Eighty Days – Jules Verne
Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There – Lewis Carroll
Journey to the Centre of the Earth – Jules Verne
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
Les Misérables – Victor Hugo
Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
Pity I didn't have a blog sooner ... as early as I started reading!

And read abridged version of these in schooldays:
Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde – Robert Louis Stevenson
Treasure Island – Robert Louis Stevenson
Wuthering Heights – Emily Brontë
Jane Eyre – Charlotte Brontë
The Count of Monte-Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
Emma – Jane Austen
Robinson Crusoe – Daniel Defoe

And saw a few movies ....
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis de Bernieres
Breakfast at Tiffany’s – Truman Capote
Gone With the Wind – Margaret Mitchell

Surprises:
- Nevil Shute's 'A Town Like Alice' made it to the list, but not 'Requiem For A Wren'. I have always maintained that the latter is far better than the former.
- Likewise with Mark Twain - Huckleberry Finn made it, but not Tom Sawyer. Wonder why ...
- I was rather surprised to find 'Alice in Wonderland'. I mean I have enjoyed it since childhood, but a must read?

Disappointments:
- Anne Frank's 'Diary Of A Young Girl' is not there. But perhaps it is an autobiography, rather than a nove.
- So with Henri Cherriere's ' Papillon'
- What about 'Gulliver's travels'?

False impressions

2008-03-09T21:41:00.000-07:00

False impressions - Jeffery Archer

A gripping thriller, one can call it a typical Archer - prodigious protagonists (quick on wit as well as action), unscrupulous antagonists (greedy for money and power, and callous about lives), and innumerable twists and turns (so obviously contrived). The difference is the background - Art. Well-known, and not-so-well-known works of the maestros represent a great amount of money, and forgeries are not uncommon. I have read some fact and some fiction based on this context, but even then, this one introduced me to some new things. This is one thing I like about thrillers by Archer, Follet, McLean, etc - that they are thorough in the research on the background, so you get to know something about it in the bargain.

This novel opens on the 9/11 attack on WTC towers - there is a brief but captivating description of the tragedy. It is cleverly used as a means to cover her trail, by the protagonist, art expert Anna Petrescu; however, it has no bearing on the subsequent events. Anna sets to correct the wrong done by her unscrupulous boss, to an English lady; what follows is a fast track chase through three continents, involving an unaware Anna, a ruthless killer Olga Krantz(who has been a former Olympic level gymnast) hired by her boss, and a FBI agent Jack Delaney who is keeping an eye on both.

The plot is interesting, though there are too many coincidences, and there are times when the story becomes predictable. The story covers a lot of ground, but does not delve deeply anywhere. However, it moves at a fast pace, and keeps up the interest through a lot of action, and I guess that is what matters for a novel of this genre.

Bashir Badr - VI

2008-03-03T21:10:00.000-08:00

This is the last post on Bashir Badr [for now, at least :-) ]

*** *** ***

Isi shahar mei.n kaii saal se mere kuch kariibii ajeez hai.n
Unhei.n meri kuch khabar nahii.n mujhe unka kuch pataa nahii.n

Many of my near and dear ones reside in the same city since years
They have no news of me, and I have no knowledge about them

Ah, how true. It is indeed a selfish world – people forget all about others until they need them …

*** *** ***

Kabhi dhoop de kabhi badliyaa.n dil-o-jaan se dono kabool hai.n
Magar us mahal mei.n na kaid kar jahaa.n zindagi ki havaa na ho

Tere akhtiyaar mei.n kya nahii.n mujhe is tarah se navaaz de
Yuu.n duyaaei.n meri kabool ho.n mere lab pe koii duaa na ho

Give me sunshine, give me clouds, I accept both whole-heartedly
But do not imprison me in a palace that does not get the breath of life

What is beyond your power? Bless me in such a way
My prayers are accepted so that there is no prayer on my lips

These couplets depict another beautiful aspect of [urdu/hindi] poetry – an address to the Lord, whom you believe in, whom you accept as all-knowing, all powerful, and yet to whom you can complain, request about His world …
The idea of the first couplet here is not a novel one, but the presentation definitely is. And it reminds me of another thing about which I have wondered a few times – in Indian poetry, ‘dhoop’ (sunshine) represents hardships, while clouds are synonymous with relief or pleasant times. From my impression based on a rather limited knowledge, the symbols are used in an opposite way in English poetry. Something to do with our tropical summers? ;-)
The second line in the second couplet is quite interesting, I could make two different interpretations out of it (which seem rather opposite) 
- Accept my prayer so that I do not have a need to have more prayers, i.e. all my wishes are fulfilled before I seek their fulfilment
- My prayer is that I do not have any prayer – I want to be completely content with what I have, and do not wish for anything more

*** *** ***

Ik dooje se mil kar poore hote hai.n
Aadhi aadhi ek kahani ham dono

Mai.n dehleej ka deepak hoo.n aa tez havaa
Raat gujaarei.n apni apni ham dono

We are complete when we meet each other
We are two halves of a story

I am the lamp of the doorstep, come o strong wind
Let us both spend the night in our own pursuits

*** *** ***

She

2008-03-02T20:36:00.000-08:00

She - Henry Rider Haggard

"She" stands for "She who must be obeyed", as the local African tribesman call Ayesha - the immortal, extremely powerful and incomparably beautiful queen, whose name they are afraid to speak.

The plot summary from wikipedia:
A Cambridge professor, Horace Holly and his ward, Leo Vincey, travel to Africa, following instructions on a potsherd (the "Sherd of Amenatras") left to Leo by his biological father. (Haggard made a physical copy of the potsherd which is now in the collection of Norwich Castle Museum.) They encounter a white queen, Ayesha, who has made herself immortal by bathing in a pillar of fire, the source of life itself. She becomes the prototypical all-powerful female figure. She is to be both desired and feared. She is a breathtakingly beautiful creature who will not hesitate to kill any one who displeases her or stands in her way. The travelers discover that Ayesha has been waiting for 2000 years for the reincarnation of her lover Kallikrates, whom she had slain in a fit of jealous rage. She believes that Vincey is the reincarnation of Kallikrates. In the climax of the novel, Ayesha takes the two men to see the pillar of fire. She wants Leo to bathe in it as she did so that he can become immortal and remain with her forever. His doubts about its safety lead her to step into the flames once more. However, with this second immersion she reverts to her true age and immediately withers and dies. Before dying she tells Vincey, "I die not. I shall come again."

The book was first published in 1887, more than a century ago. So the style, specially that of the dialogs, becomes tedious. Nevertheless, the story itself is quite captivating. Even though it is primarily a fantasy and an adventure story, it gives an insight into the human nature that one cant help wondering about. The eternal life of the supremely powerful queen is a life of loneliness and yearning. She despises the people whom she rules by force of terror, precisely because of their fear. The explorer Leo starts on a mission to avenge the death of his ancestor on the queen, but ends up enchanted by her beauty. The professor is wise, but still affected. Quite a story of desire and contradiction!

The book belongs to the genre of 'Lost World', not a kind usually favored by me. So there is quite a story behind how I landed up with it. For more than 15 years now, I am more or less a regular on the TOI daily crossword. For a stretch of time, I do it everyday, even looking at the answers next day, and then for a period I give it up altogether. When I was in college, I even used to tear up the crossword from the paper in the morning, to fill it up in the classes. They tend to repeat the clues, so, quite a number of times, I came upon the clue "Rider novel" which had a 3 letter answer; after a while I learnt it was "SHE". This intrigued me a lot ... if the book featured in the crossword so frequently, it must definitely be very famous. So, when I saw it at the book fair last year, and found the description at the back cover interesting, I got a copy for myself.

Daughter of the Ganges

2008-02-22T22:48:00.001-08:00

I am as good as my word ... so here is the first "review" ...

Daughter of the Ganges - Asha Miro

"Daughter of the Ganges" is one of the few non-fiction books I have read, and liked. It is a memoir of Asha, who is adopted from an christian orphange in Bombay at the age of six, by Miro couple of Barcelona. Her adoptive parents have adopted another daughter, and chose to retain the given names of both their daughters; the mother maintains a diary for each daughter, describing her thoughts and feelings as they bring up the daughters from another part of the world. The book starts with Asha's memories of the distant past, interspersed with excerpts from her mother's entries.
In her growing-up years, Asha is troubled by the thought why her biological parents abandoned her, while strangers showed her so much love as to make her their daughter. As with many adopted children, her desire to know more about her roots increases with time. She joins a group going to Bombay to work with the poor, to seek answers and discover her past. In the orphanage in Bombay, she meets a nun who remembers her, but could not, or does not, give her much details about her birth parents. She just tells Asha that she is a daughter of the Ganges. Asha returns, unsatisfied, and still a feeling that her father had disowned her (her mother having died in her infancy).
She writes a book on her experiences, and a few years later, returns to Bombay to film a documentary based on it. This time, she is able to trace back her journey much farther, and circumstances of her adoption. After her mother died, her survival became doubtful. Her father, a very poor farmer, unable to look after two young daughters, requests nuns of a Bombay church to take care of her, thinking that they would nurse her back to health, and he will bring her back once she is older. However, nuns agreed to care for her only if he would agree to giver her up to the orphanage. Desperate to save her life, her father consented.
A helpful man from her village tells Asha that her elder sister still lives in their native village. He brings her brother-in-law to meet her, and then they take her to their village. A sentimental reunion of the sisters follows, even though they cannot understand each other's language. Asha is striken by the poor conditions her sister lives in. From her sister, she is able to learn much more of her father and her family. She also meets her half-sister, who had nursed her for quite a while after her mother's death. As Asha prepares to leave, the people from her native village are unable to comprehend that she wants to return even when she has found her family. But Asha's sister wants her to go back to the family she has known for years, to the life she has been living, life that is not full of hardships as her own. All she asks for is Asha to call her up some time, so that she can hear her voice, even if she is not able to understand what she says.

The book is simple, but poignant and touching. Her reunion with her sisters and family is specially moving. As are her experiences in Bombay, where she stays with a poor but caring family...
... she finds that people are amazed to find that she cannot speak their language although she looks like them
... she tries to discover familiarity with her native languages, but is unable to do so
... she tries to look for something, someone in the population of Bombay who might be her family, but not realistically expecting it, yet filled with a longing
There are points when one is surprised by her astonishment at the way of life in India, specially that of the poorer people - the poverty, the warmth of strangers, the oppression of women ... unexpected indifference, as well as unexpected love and sharing .... hey, come one, all of it is "normal" in our "culture". And then you remember, that although the book is a story of an Indian in India, it is through the eyes of a person who is not familiar with it.
A good read, over all.

Long time no see

2008-02-22T21:55:00.000-08:00

I have been away from the blogging world, and more so from my blog, for a long while. I have visited a few blogs now and then, read posts in my reader for most part, but haven't yet found the energy to get back to posting myself. I hope to gain back the pace now on :-)

In this long absence, since I had nothing better to do, I read, and read a lot. Though I could get a few books that I had not read earlier, mostly I re-read many books, some of them for the nth time. Many times people wonder how I can read a book, even a mystery, again and again. I usually say that I do it just to pass the time, but I think that is not the real truth, certainly not the complete truth. Even though I don't have a definite answer myself, I believe it is just for the pleasure - I enjoy reading. I started reading quite early (I remember reading hindi edition of the Readers' Digest when I was 6 or so), and since then, if I have nothing (necessary) to do, I can usually be found with a book (though more than a few times I have been guilty of neglecting tasks for reading).
Then they are people, who don't read at all (except for a little of newspaper, and some religious text) - they just cant stop wondering how can I read all the time, and why do I have such a collection of books (even though it is not a large one from my perspective). I am amazed how can anyone NOT read? As I said, I read primarily for pleasure, but there are other benefits - you enhance your knowledge about people you will never meet, places you will never visit, and times you will never live in. When you appreciate others' ideas, you broaden your own mind and understanding of humanity - perhaps it is not as good as traveling and meeting real people, but I think it is the next best thing. After all, there is only so much you can learn from the newspaper, and hardly anything at all from the television.

Well, so much for contemplation. I have been reading a lot, but most of it was re-reading. But I read quite a few new ones too. Some of them were Perry Mason series by Gardener, and Three Investigators - they are really good timepass (specially if you dont want to read something serious), but one of them is quite like another, nothing much to write about. On the rest, I'll be posting my impressions, as I have been doing earlier. I dont think of myself as a reviewer, but it is good to collect ones perceptions in perspective. At any rate, it gives me something to write about ;-)

Bashir Badr - V

2007-11-16T07:30:00.000-08:00

Socha nahii.n accha bura, dekha sunaa kuch bhi nahii.n
Maangaa khuda se raat din tere siva kuch bhi nahii.n

Jis par hamaari aankh ne moti bichhaaye raat din
Bheja wohi kaagaz use hamne likha kuch bhi nahii.n

I didn’t think of good or evil, didn’t see or hear anything
Day and night, I asked God for nothing but you

On which my eyes dropped pearls day and night
I sent her that sheet without writing anything

*** *** ***

Mujh se bichad ke khush rahte ho
Meri tarah tum bhi jhoothe ho

Separated from me, you keep happy
You are also a liar like me

Another of Badr’s masterpieces, and beautifully sung by Jagjit singh!

*** *** ***

Koii phool sa haath kaandhe pe tha
Mere paanv sholo.n pe chalte rahe

Wo kya tha jise hamne thukra diya
Magar umra bhar haath malte rahe

Muhabbat, adaavat, wafa, berukhi
Kiraaye ke ghar the badalte rahe

A palm like a flower rested on my shoulder
My feet kept walking on embers

What was it that I rejected
But kept regretting the whole life

Love, enmity, loyalty, indifference
Kept changing like rented houses

*** *** ***

Yuu.n dil ko gududaayaa ki har gham jagaa diya
Usne hansi hansi mei.n hamko rula diya

Poocha bahut jo hamne kis or ab miloge
Chutki mei.n ret lekar usne uDa diya

She teased my heart so as to awaken every sorrow
In jest, she made me cry

When I asked a lot, where to find you
She took a pinch of sand and tossed it away

*** *** ***

Dhadkanei.n dafn ho gayee ho.ngi
Dil mei.n diivaar kyu.n khadi kar lii

Heart-beats would have been buried
Why did you erect a wall in the heart

Sense and Sensibility

2007-11-14T00:56:00.000-08:00

Sense and Sensibility
[by Jane Austen]

I had not read before classics of the 18th century, at least not in the original form; I had only read abridged versions of a few of these quite famous novels, like 'Pride and Prejiudice' and 'Wuthering Heights', but could not find the patience to read the complete versions. I mostly read contemporary fiction, so getting a novel written in early 1700s was rather out of character for me. How did I happen to buy it, is quite another story.

This is the story of two sisters, Elinor and Marianne, who represent Sense (rational thinking) and Sensibility (emotional and impulsive behavior) respectively. The plot is very precisely outlined on Wikipedia.

The story is good, and the characters are finely described, which is perhaps the reason that Austen's works are still popular. However, I found it difficult to identify with, because the complete context is of a culture alien to us, and mannerisms which are outdated even for the current generation of people belonging to that culture. The language, of the prose, as well as the dialogues, was quite flowery, so that it was rather unnatural to me, and difficult to follow in some places. I found it difficult to understand why would people address their own family members in such a formal manner, and why one's mother and sister think it improper to ask what troubles them. Once or twice, it tired me so much that I thought of abandoning it; only the curiosity about the story stopped me from doing so. :-)

In all, I think it was fairly good read, but for now I am cured of "period classics". :-P

Now to the story - and I am still laughing at myself at this - although I knew that it was not my cup of tea, how did I happen to get it. Quite some time back, a book was recommended to me. By the time I went to the book fair, I had completely forgotten the name of the book, as well as that of the person who recommended it. Browsing in the fair, I saw Sense and Sensibility, and thought that the name sounded familiar, and thought that perhaps this was that book. I was also keen to see what it is in these works, that they continue to enthrall people for almost three centuries. So, I went ahead with my purchase. Shortly after I searched my Inbox, to realise that what I had intended to look for was 'Wise and Otherwise' on a recommendation by Cuckoo.

What flower are you

2007-11-05T01:20:00.000-08:00

Came across this fun-to-do quiz while blog-hopping.

This is what it told me ...

This is What Kind Of Flower You Are

You Are a Daisy

"You are just a sweet person. When a friend needs a shoulder to cry on, you are happy to offer yours with a box of tissues as well. Once in awhile, you wish you could be a little more dramatic but then sensibility sets back in and you know that you are perfect the way you are."

What flower are YOU?

The Book Cover Tag

2007-11-02T06:57:00.001-07:00

I have been tagged by Cuckoo. And it was quite an interesting one.

Rule (there is only one):

Go to the advanced book search on Amazon, type your first name into the Title field, and post the most interesting/amusing cover that shows up.

I expected the search for my Id [Sigma] to yield interesting results. But contrary to the expectation, it threw up hundreds of references to "Six Sigma" amongst the top results., which was definitely not an interesting subject. Filtering off the "Six Sigma" results, I still got a lot of results referring to Data converts [Delta-Sigma Data Converters: Theory, Design, and Simulation and Continuous-Time Sigma-Delta A/D Conversion], and also a number of scientific, theological or philosphical organizations/groups [Delta Sigma Theta- society, Sigma Nu Fraternity and Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity]. It was quite difficult to find an article of interest amongst these :-) My real-life name, as expected, yielded no interesting results :-)

Editorial Review

Robert Ludlum's trademark skills of intricate plotting, breakneck pacing, and high-wire drama are all on display in this gripping thriller. After his twin brother dies in a plane crash, Ben Hartman reluctantly takes his place in the investment firm started by their father, a Holocaust survivor. But then an old college buddy tries to kill Ben on a crowded Zurich street, setting off a chain of events that ultimately leads Ben into the thick of a worldwide conspiracy. Behind it is Sigma, a multinational cartel built on the rubble of World War II by industrialists and financiers bent on exploiting wartime technology and protecting their wealth from the threat of communism.

Accompanied by a beautiful American justice department agent, Ben eludes the assassins on his trail and follows Sigma's tentacles across Europe, to Brazil, Washington, and finally to a sanitarium known as the Clockworks in the Austrian Alps, where the horrifying agenda of a perverted new world order is revealed. Ludlum, who died between the writing and publishing of this book, was a master of the genre he helped popularize, and The Sigma Protocol shows him at the peak of his craft.

Reader Review [By Geert Daelemans]
The least you can say about Number 9 is that it is a remarkable book for many reasons. Not a lot of non-fiction books have the guts to address mathematics in such a personal way. The author Cecil Balmond even creates the character of Enjil to accompany the reader during his search for the truth behind the number 9. The claim of the author that it reads as detective story is certainly true for the first half the book. But be warned, you will not get a definite answer to the questions posed. Although more than once the author claims that the riddles have been solved, she does not seem to be aware that her so called solution is actually a redefinition of the same questions. But then again, you can ask yourself if a real solution would have fitted together with the magical atmosphere nourished by this book.
The weakest point, without doubt, is the fact that Cecil completely ignores to place Number 9 in its true context. Never during the whole narrative does she mention that number 9 is only magical in a decimal system. For the same reasons that number 9 is special in a system with ten digits, 15 will be magical in a hexadecimal system. It is clear that this kind of information will diminish the magical power behind number 9, but that cannot be enough reason to just ignore the facts. From an academic point of view such a denial is unforgivable.
But maybe this book was never intended to be an academic thesis and must be perceived as a declaration of love to the exciting world of numbers. Cecil has definitely succeeded in putting her passion for the subject on paper. After reading Number 9, even the most ignorant soul will have difficulties in trying to deny that mathematics is truly the science of beauty.

And now for the victims though Cuckoo has already laid her hands on most of my potential ones :-D]
BendTheRulz
LeziBlogger
Maverick
And anyone else who wants to try it for fun ...

Bashir Badr - IV

2007-10-30T07:04:00.000-07:00

Meri in aankho.n ne aksar gham ke dono pahloo dekhe
Thahar gaya to patthar aansoo bah nikla to dariya aansoo

My eyes have frequently seen both the sides of grief
If it stops, the tear can be a stone; if it flows, the tear can be a stream

Beautfiul! Comparing a tear with a stone and a stream in the same vein!

*** *** ***

Na koii khushi na malaal hai ki sabhi ka ek sa haal hai
Tere sukh ke din bhi kaT gaye, meri gham ki raat bhi guzar gayee

There is no joy, no sorrow, everyone is in the same state
Your days of happiness also got over, my night of grief passed away too

Ah! What a perspective!!

*** *** ***

Na jane kab tere dil par nayee dastak ho
Makaan khali hua hai to koii aayega

Mai.n apni raah mei.n diivaar ban ke baitha hoo.n
Agar who aayaa to kis raaste se aayega

There may be a new knock on your heart anytime
The house has become vacant, so someone will come for sure

I stand like a wall in my own way
If she comes, what path will she take

*** *** ***

Ujaale apni yaado.n ke hamaare saath rahne do
Na jaane kis galii mei.n zindagi ki shaam ho jaye

Let the light of your memories be with me always
The dusk of my life may arrive in any street

Now, this is THE BEST couplet of Badr. Very well known, and rightly so!

*** *** ***

Us moD pe ham dono kuch der bahut roye
Jis moD se duniya ko ik raastaa jaataa hai

Dono se chalo poochei.n usko kahii.n dekha hai
Ik kaafilaa aataa hai, ik kaafilaa jaataa hai

Duniya mei.n inki kahii.n taaliim nahi.n hoti
Do chaar kitaabo.n ko ghar mei.n padha jaataa hai

Both of us cried a lot for some time at the corner
From which a road goes towards the world

Let me ask them both if they have seen her somewhere
A carvan arrives, and a carvan departs

In this world, these are not taught anywhere
There are a few books that have to be read at home

Orkut vs. Facebook - The survey result

2007-10-28T02:18:00.000-07:00

Sometime back, I mentioned that I was invited to join the networking site Facebook by two of my friends, MHP and AD (both of whom were already on Orkut, to which I was also subscribed). Since I was not convinced about maintaining yet another site, I tried [yes, tried would be the right word rather than conducted, given the small number of respondents :-)] a survey of the popularity of Facebook. I sent it to all my "friends" on Orkut, and posted it on my blog as well.

As soon as I sent a mail to the Orkut junta, one of the friends [MHP] who had recommended Facebook, got back to me, rolling with laughter, "dont believe u r taking a popularity poll on this one..."
A few days later, when he asked me for the results, I had to reply with a certain disappointment:
"What poll results?! Out of the 100+ friends I have on Orkut, only 5 bothered to reply. I am wondering if there is any point of any of these networking sites at all!"

The summary of responses from Orkut and Blogger (along with the most interesting responses):

Do not use Facebook (5)
- Have no idea(4)
- Have heard of it(1)
don't use facebook, never heard of it and to be honest am tired of so many sites inviting friends etc. i guess there more sites than i have friends :D

Use both (5)
- Prefer Orkut (2)
- Prefer Facebook (3)
I use facebook a lot and it is much cooler than Orkut and has got good interface and a very addictive "update your status" field. In my opinion Facebook is lot better than Orkut and given a choice, I will go for Facebook. But for some reason facebook is only popular with foreign people while Orkut is full of Indians e.g. I have only one Indian friend on Facebook. This is the only reason why I am still using Orkut.

Neither (2)
- Never signed up (1)
- Got disillusioned (1)
I've an Orkut account - and have stopped using it now...
Though we can find good old friends, it's total time-waster...

The conclusion:

If I assume that ~100 Orkut friends who didn't reply to my message are unaware of anything called Facebook, I can safely conclude that Facebook is not popular amongst my friends. The general feedback I received echos this - people who tried out Facebook, find that it has nice features compared to Orkut, but since they are much more likely to find [Indian] friends on Orkut, they maintain the account there. This is working as a cycle - since there are already so many people on Orkut, newcomers prefer Orkut. It appears that Orkut is more popular in India, Facebook in Europe, and Myspace in US.

I ended up creating an account on Facebook, specially since I wanted to see the large number of photos MHP had uploaded on Facebook. There seemed to be a lot of "fun" things there, but I felt out of my depth, since there was too much to do, and the interface was not easy to use. I remember that I found Orkut very easy and intuitive to use when I first joined it about two years back (when it had not yet been bought by Google). Ironically, at that time, there were not too many people on the network, so after few months I got bored and deleted my account.

And this is what AD said a couple of days back:
I don't get much time for facebook either and now that the initial excitement of the innumerable applications has subsided, I don't log on all that much.

The bottomline is, since my sole purpose to enlist on a social networking site is to get back in touch with lost friends, and I am more likely to find them on Orkut, and I find it easy to use [I dont bother with fancy applications], I stand by Orkut.

Bashir Badr - III

2007-10-27T07:53:00.000-07:00

Most of the visitors to my blog are not into poetry, and some are not versed with hindi/urdu. But I love poetry, and when I come across lines that make me stop, think and admire them, I like to record it, for myself, and for any others who share my enthusiasm.

So, some more selections, from Bashir Badr ...

Yeh dil ki raakh kured mat, use muskura ke hava na de
Yeh chiraag phir bhi chiraag hai kahi.n tera haath jala ne de

Mai.n ghazal ki shabnami aankh se, yeh dukh ke phool chuna karoo,n
Meri saltanat mera fan rahe mujhe taajo-takht khuda na de

Do not prod the ashes of my heart, do not fan it with a smile
The lamp is still a lamp, it might burn your hand!

With the dewy eyes of my poem, let me pick the flowers of sorrow
Let my art be my kingdom, I do not pray for crown and a throne

Again, this is so tender – yeh chiraag phir bhi chiraag hai.n – but it is not utter despair – there is a sense of hurt, but along with a pride – kahii.n tera haath jala na de.

BaDe shauk se mera ghar jala koii aanch tujhpe na aayegi
Yeh zabaa.n kisi ne khariid li, yeh kalam kisii ka ghulaam hai

Yahaa.n ek bacche ke khoon se jo likha hua hai use paDho
Tera kiirtan mahapaap hai, mera sajda karna haraam hai

Set my house on fire, with pleasure, you will not be in the least risk
My voice has been bought out, my pen has become a slave

Read here what is written in a child’s blood
Your singing hymns is a grave sin, my bending in prayer is illegal

These are the lines that I found most powerful and moving, and impressed me most. They are very unfortunately still true, or perhaps truer, decades after they were originally written. The goriest of crimes go unpunished, since the witnesses are bought out, or wiped away, by money or power. There are so many crimes against children, the innocent beings, on whom we rest our hopes of a better future – of what use is the religion, any one them, if we cannot protect their childhood from such trauma.

Khuda hamko aisee khudaaii na de
Ki apne siva kuch dikhaaii na de

Ghulaami ko barqat samajhne lagei.n
Asiiro.n ko aisee rihaaii na de
[asiir = bandi]

May the Lord not reward me with such greatness
That I am unable to see anything but myself

That they consider slavery a blessing
May He not give such a release to prisoners

Ab kise chaahei.n kise dhoondha karei.n
Wo bhi aakhir mil gaya ab kya karei.n

Dil, muhabbat, diin, duniya, shayari
Har dariiche se use dekha karei.n

Now who should I want, who should I seek
I’ve found her [/it/him] at last, now what do I do

Heart, love, religion, world, poetry
Let me look at her [/it/him] through every window

I think here again, the two couplets say two very different things, though it is not a stark contrast. But I loved them both. In the first one, the poet conveys that the longing is better than achieving – it keeps you motivated. In the second, he talks about looking at his beloved from every window[way of looking at things] he has.

Taking back my due from Flickr

2007-10-24T05:22:00.000-07:00

A few months back, I ranted about the issues with Flickr, after I migrated my photos from Yahoo Photos, which was closing down. On my free account on Flickr, I was limited to:
- uploading 100 MB worth of photos in a month
- displaying a maximum of 200 photos at any given time
- having three sets at maximum [sets are equivalent to albums]
- if the account remains inactive for 90 days, it will be deleted

The last two of these bothered me most. I decided to move to picasaweb, but not finding a way to do so, I sought help from the visitors to this blog. I received ample sympathy, and a lot of helpful advice too.

The suggestions were as follows:
http://manishrjain.googlepages.com/flickrfs
http://greggman.com/pages/flickrdown.htm
http://www.flickrleech.net/
http://sunkencity.org/flickrbackup/

I went to the flickrfspage first. A quick scan through it made it look rather difficult to do, so I decided to check out the others. I might have been mistaken in my perception, but I decided to revisit this option after evaluating others.

Next, I tried flickrleech. It seemed pretty easy to use - it could find photos on the basis of username, userid, etc. Though it made me rather sceptical too - since if it worked, it also meant that anyone could download anybody's photographs, in full size too. Quite a violation of copyrights! Still, since was no harm in trying it, so I provided the required inputs. Result - nothing, nil, zero. Perhaps because my photos were private.

On to Greggman's flickrdown. It seemed somewhat promising, but the caveat was, it was available only for Windows and Mac. I was trying out this thing from office [hey! dont tell my boss!!], and I have a UNIX based workstation. So this was out, though I could always try it from home later.

Down to my last choice, I opened the sunkencity flickrbackup page with a sinking heart. A little bit of good news, at last. It was an open source software, hosted at sourceforge.net [which is quite a respectable, I mean reliable, source - I do not want to download viruses along with software!] Btw, inspite of all the disadvantages, there is one advantage of UNIX systems - you have no fear of viruses :-) Further, the software was in Java, so it was platform independent. I downloaded the s/w, unzipped and untarred, and was greeted with some jar files. I have had only a little programming experience with Java, and that was way back in college, so I wasn't sure what to do with the Java files. I wondered that even if I did manage to execute the correct binary, how would it interact with the browser. I tried to search the page for the documentation, or even two lines of "how to", but no help there. After asking around in vain, and some trial and error, I found the key:
java -jar FlickrBackup.jar
Simple, eh? [I also needed to include firefox in my path.] It opened a dialog box, and flickr page in the browser, and required me to authorize it to access my data. It was then I learnt that Flickr has provided hooks that one can use and write programs to customize Flickr! [though don't ask me how.]

To end the story, I did get my photos back, though I got multiple copies of some, and with strange names. But of course, they didn't bother me too much :-)

Down the Memory Lane - VIII

2007-10-19T05:47:00.000-07:00

Try this for Fiction!

Yesterday, I was talking to a senior colleague R, who pulls my leg quite often. During the conversation, he kidded me about demanding a piece of office equipment ...

R: Go and tell GD that the only thing you need in life is a US-connect+caller-id extension phone, rest everything in this world is going great!

Me: I have no great wish for one [and added as a good measure] Only few days back N concluded that I do not crave for any materialistic thing in this world.

R: [laughs] N must be really happy.

Me: Well, I don't about happy, but yes, it is true, that I am not crazy about anything. Perhaps the only thing I am really fond of is books.

R: [dramatically brightened up] Is this really so? [looks around at the technical documentation lying around] I will give all you these conference proceedings, this techinical literature, these publications, when I leave. You can read them with pleasure!

Me: Hold on! Let me clarify! When I meant I like books, I meant FICTION.

R: So?? Who said all of this stuff is for real? They say, do it in this manner, this works great in this way - it is all actually Fiction!

Me: [straightfaced] It is not fiction. It is FANTASY.

Bashir Badr - II

2007-10-18T08:51:00.000-07:00

As I have said many times earlier, one of the things I admire about ghazal (as a form of poetry) is that it does not restrict itself to one single theme – different couplets may express different ideas. One couplet may be sufficient to express one idea, so it is very concise and powerful.

Many of Badr’s ghazals provide beautiful examples of these characterstics. To post here, I have selected one or more couplets from many ghazals, the ones that I found best. [If someone wants to read a complete ghazal, going by the couplet(s) I have posted, do let me know. I’ll send you the complete version, and in hindi fonts, if possible/preferred.]

Akhlaak wafa, chaahat sab kimti kapDe hai.n
Har roz na oDha kar in reshmi shaalo.n ko
[Akhlaak = Naitikta]

Maula mujhe paani de, maine nahi.n maangaa tha
Chaandi ki surahi ko, sone ke pyaalo.n ko

Ethics, loyalty, affection – all are expensive garments
Do not wear these silken shawls everday

Lord, give me just water
I didn’t beg for silver jug or golden cups

It’s beautiful the way the second couplet presents a simple [though not easily understood, or rather followed, idea] – that riches may not be sufficient to fulfil one’s needs!

Yahaa.n libaas ki kimat hai aadmi ki nahi.n
Mujhe gilaas baDe de, sharaab kam de

The dress [appearance] is valued more than the person
Give me a larger glass, even if you give me less wine

And this one presents quite a contradictary view to the previous one!

Muhabbat se inaayat se wafa se chot lagti hai
Bikharta phool hoo.n mujhko hawa se chot lagti hai

Meri aankho.n mei.n aansoo ki tarah ik raat aa jaao
Takalluf se, banavaT se, ada se chot lagti hai

Love, benevolence, loyalty – they hurt me
I’m a shedding flower, the wind hurts me

Come into my eyes like a teardrop one night
Formality, superficiality, style, hurt me

I specially liked the second of these couplets. It is so tender, so vunerable – only a tear can represent the true emotion, even if it is brought about by grief, rest of the feelings and expressions can’t be so pure.

Wo farishte aap talaash kariye kahaaniyo.n ki kitaab mei.n
Jo bura kahei.n na bura sunei.n, koii shakhs unse khafa na ho

Wo firaak ho ki visaal ho teri aag mehkegi ek din
Wo gulaab banke khilega kya, jo chiraag banke jala na ho

For those angels, search in the fairy tales
Who do not hear or speak evil, noone is angry with them

Whether it is separation or confluence, your fire will be fruitful some day
How will he bloom like a rose, he who has not burnt like a lamp

How true! It is only angels who can be so ideal! A normal, mortal cannot hope to please everyone in this world!

Wanted : A Versatile Author

2007-10-16T01:46:00.000-07:00

On my last post, Maverick asked me if I know of an author who is truly versatile. I started composing a reply, but it turned out quite long [Books is the only subject I can talk endlessly on ;-) ], so that it converted into this post.

Frankly speaking, I have never wondered, or perhaps cared, about the versatility of authors. With some of the authors it feels that if you have read one or two of his books, you've read them all [the strongest case in point being Robin Cook]. But usually, find that even though there is a "specialization" in an author's domain, the content is significantly different. For example, works of Agatha Christie (murder mysteries), Erle Stanley Gardner (murder mysteries + courtroom dramas), and Jeffery Archer (stories of personal triumphs) follow one theme, but most of them are significantly different to keep one interested. Similar is the case with Suspense thriller writers like Alistair MacLean, Fredrick Forsyth and Ken Follet. But even amongst thriller writers, there are some who have chosen a wide range of subjects, for eg,
o Arthur Hailey - Airport (air traffic control), Detective (espionage), In High Places (international politics), Moneychangers (stock market), Wheels (automobile industry)
o Desmond Bagley - Bahamas Crisis (politics/espionage), Spoilers (drug trafficking), Vivero Letter (treasure hunt)
Perhaps I'll call them versatile, because their works are very well researched in the concerned domain, and provides you an insight into the working of a field you know little about. Then there are fiction writers, whose work I find difficult to put in a particular genre:
Eric Segal - Acts of Faith, Love Story, Class
Nevil Shute - On The Beach, A Town Like Alice, Requiem for a Wren
Perhaps I can call them versatile, even though these are mostly human interest stories. But primarily it will perhaps depend on what we call as versatile.

As for myself, for most part, I have a few favorite genres, and few favorite authors in each of them, and grab unread works by them :-)) And time to time, I read books that are highly recommended by friends or media. :-)

Angels and Demons

2007-10-15T05:57:00.000-07:00

Angels and Demons finally moved from my "next in my reading list" to "book review" section, many months after I acquired an intention to read it. It must be a rare few who would not have heard of 'Da Vinci Code', the book that took the world by storm, and propelled Dan Brown into fame. Frankly, I had not heard of Dan Brown (or his earlier works) before 'Da Vinci Code' arrived on the scene. When I read it, I adored it [even though there were certain things that were beyond my comprehension because of the context and the culture I am not familiar with] for the ingenious plot, as well as the well done research that tends to diffuse the line between the fact and fiction. Later on, I read his first book, 'Digital Fortress' as well [which made more sense to me, since codes and computers I am quite familiar with!] Earlier, and also then, I was recommended to read 'Angels and Demons'. Some of the people claimed that it was far better than 'Da Vinci Code'!

When a book captures my interest, I do not take long to finish it. So, one day on weekend was enough for me to complete 'Angels and Demons'. It was fortunate that I didn't have much else to do [or else I might have ended up reading half-way through the night ;-) ]. Yes, I liked the book, quite a lot, in fact. It was fast paced, with ample twists and turns [and the inevitable double cross]. It was also well researched, on facts of science as well as the church, as his other books. And it did not require as much understanding of Christian history as the 'Da Vinci Code'. However, to say it was better than 'Da vinci Code' would be quite a stretch. For one, there were a lot of similarities between the two, so it seemed somewhat repetitive. And secondly, the profiles of the murder victims - a Pope and four Cardinals, stretched the imagination too far. Perhaps my bias is in favour of 'Da Vinci Code' since I read that one first. And similarly, it is possibile that people who liked 'Angels and Demons' better, would have read that one before the other.

Seen on a T-shirt

2007-10-11T21:33:00.001-07:00

I took the road less traveled ...
.. and now, where the heck I am?

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

2007-10-11T21:01:00.000-07:00

This novel by Mark Haddon won the 2003 Whitbread Book of the Year, and the 2004 Commonwealth Writers' Prize for Best First Book.

The story is written in the first-person narrative of Christopher John Francis Boone, a 15-year-old boy living in Swindon, Wiltshire. Though it can be easily deduced from the content that the narrator suffers from an autistic condition, it is never stated within the story, but the summary on the book's inside cover states it to be Asperger syndrome. This is wonderfully developed and depicted through the narrator's thoughts and the events that take place in his life.

Christopher is brilliant at mathematics, has a photographic memory, and exceptional observation powers. However, he has difficulty understanding fellow human beings - he is baffled by human emotions, gestures and relationships. He is unable to comprehend facial expressions [for example when represented by emoticons] besides 'happy' and 'sad' and has difficulty in understanding metaphors and jokes. He does not tell lies, because he cannot - he cannot imagine things that are untrue or infeasible. He likes lists and facts, but cannot deal with un-quantitative statements. He loves numbers and puzzles - that is he way of calming down when he is disturbed. He loves playing with numbers so much, that he has numbered the chapters of the book in prime number sequence [2, 3, 5, 7 ...]. But interaction with other human beings, specially strangers, completely overwhelms him. He is oversensitive to more than a little amount of information, due to which he reacts violently - by screaming or groaning, when he has to deal with new people or places.

The title is taken from a remark made by the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes in the short story "Silver Blaze". Late one night, Christopher finds that Wellington, the dog owned by his neighbour, Mrs Shears, has been killed with a garden fork. He is extremely sad to see it, and picks up the dog. Mrs Shears sees him then, and thinking that he had killed the dog, gets him arrested. Christopher's father gets him free, but Christopher resolves, against his father's advice, to find the killer, and embarks on an investigation, like Sherlock Holmes. He believes that since the dog didn't bark, he must have been killed by someone known to him. [That the dog didn't bark, is the curious thing mentioned in the title - this is the similarity with Conan Doyle's story.] He is encouraged by his teacher at the special school he attends, to write a book about himself, and this is "The Curious Incident ...". In the course of the investigation, and the events that follow, he learns more about the world [though barely understanding it], himself and his family.

Well, so much about the book. I'll refrain from describing the story, as usual, to avoid spoiling the pleasure of those who might intend to read it. I really liked the book - I initially intended to read a few pages before going to sleep, but kept on reading late night, till I finished it. The story was good, and very well presented, with subtle humour, and an underlying irony. It gives the perception of the world and "normal" human beings, from the perspective of a person with cognitive disabilities. There are so many things we take for granted, but which are not so easily understood by someone who cannot comprehend the complexities of human nature. It also depicts how stressful it can be for the parents of a child with such disabilities, and how it can transform their lives. It makes one deeply empathise with Christopher, and still more with his father. Extremely touching, and eminently readable.

Nida Fazli

2007-10-11T00:31:00.000-07:00

In my last post, in which I posted poetry by Bashir Badr, I mentioned the introduction of the collection had been done by Nida Fazli. Its a good time to introduce some poetry by this well-known poet too! I have come across some very beautiful ghazals by him, and quite a few of his ghazals have been sung by Jagjit Singh. I admire his poetry for two main reasons - the philosophical bend usually conveyed through everyday objects, and the rhythm.

Right now, I am posting two of his ghazals, that I like most. Will post more in time to come.

*** *** ***

dhuup meN niklo, ghaTaao meN nahaa kar dekho,
ziNdagii kyaa hai, kitaabo ko haTaa kar dekho,

wo sitaaraa hai, chamakne do yuuNhii aaNkho meN,
kyaa zaruurii hai usey jism banaa kar dekho,

pattharo kii bhii zubaaN hotii hai, dil hotaa hai,
apne ghar ke dar-o-deewaar sajaa kar dekho,

faaslaa nazro kaa dhokhaa bhii to ho saktaa hai,
wo mile yaa na mile, haath baDhaa kar dekho.

*** *** ***

Go out in the sun, take a shower in the rains
Put away the books, and see what is life

It is a star, let it shine in your eyes
Is it necessary to see it having a body [to know it]

The stones can also have a voice, a heart
See it - adorn the doors and walls of your home

The distance can be just a perception
You may find it [him/her] or not, spread your arms to find it

*** *** ***

duniyaa jise kahate hai.n jaaduu kaa khilonaa hai
mil jaaye to miTTii hai kho jaaye to sonaa hai

achchhaa-saa ko_ii mausam tanhaa-saa ko_ii aalam
har vaqt kaa ronaa to bekaar kaa ronaa hai

barasaat kaa baadal to diivaanaa hai kyaa jaane
kis raah se bachanaa hai kis chhat ko bhigonaa hai

Gam ho ki Khushii dono.n kuchh der ke saathii hai.n
phir rastaa hii rastaa hai ha.Nsanaa hai na ronaa hai

aavaaraa_mizaajii ne phailaa diyaa aa.Ngaan ko
aakaash kii chaadaar hai dharatii kaa bichhonaa hai

[aavaaraa_mizaajii = wanderlust/habit of wandering about]
[chaadar = sheet; bichhonaa = bed]

*** *** ***

That what is called world, is like a magic toy
If you get it, it's dirt, if you lose it, it's gold
[dirt => worthless, gold => valuable]

A beautiful weather, a solitary moment
Crying all the time is useless crying

The rain cloud is crazy, it does not know
Which path to avoid, which roof to wet

My wanderlust has extended my courtyard
I have the sky for a sheet, and the earth for a bed

*** *** ***

Bashir Badr

2007-10-08T09:39:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned earlier, I bought two collections of ghazals by Bashir Badr. One of them had an introduction by Nida Fazli, another very famous name in urdu poetry. He does not seem of have a very fantastic opinion of Badr - he thinks that most of Badr's greatness as a poet is only accepted by Badr himself, and he has expressed this opinion in quite an amusing and witty way.
"apni kitaab mei.n unhone kamzor shayari ki pehchaan ke saath tandurust ghazal ki bhi kuch nishaniya.n ginaayee hai.n. Kamzor shero.n ki misaalo.n ke liye unhe taqriban 700 barso.n ke itihaas ki khaak chhaan-ni paDi, lekin tandurust shero.n ki talaash mei.n unhe jyada waqt nahin kharch karna paDa. Ghar me allah ka diya sab kuch tha, ji khol kar apne shero.n ka istemaal kiya"
[In his book, apart from identifying characterstics of weak poetry, he has also enumerated the traits of good poetry. For examples of weak couplets, he had to search through 700 years of history, but he didn't have to spend much time in search of good poetry. The lord had given everything at home, he used his own couplets whole-heartedly.]

Fazli opines that Badr is more famous for being part of 'Mushairas' [Poetry recitals] than actually the quality of his poems. Even so, he agrees that Badr's poetry showed more maturity, and finally deviated from the conventional symbolisms, with time, and concludes that Badr is a wonderful poet of the post-independence urdu ghazal.

The introduction was amusing, due to the humorous style Fazli had written it in (even if it was at the expense of Badr). But what was interesting to note was that unlike the usual introductions, which unquestioningly felicitate the author/poet, Fazli expressed his honest opinion.

I am a novice, as far as the history of urdu/hindi ghazal goes, and I am not well versed with individual poets' styles, but I have read quite a few poems by many writers, and have found favorite ones from all poets' works. I have come across some beautiful ghazals by Badr as well, and I was glad to find them in this collection.

*** *** ***

Kabhi yu.n bhi aa meri aankh mei.n ki meri nazar ko khabar na ho
Mujhe ek raat nawaaz de magar iske baad sahar na ho

Come into my eyes some time that my sight is not aware of it
Allow me just a single night, but let not the dawn arise after it

*** *** ***

Mai.n tamaam din ka thakaa hua, tu tamaam shab ka jagaa hua
Zara thahar ja isi moD par, tere saath shaam guzaar loon

I am tired after the entire day, you have stayed awake the entire night
Pause at this very corner, and let me spend an evening with you

*** *** ***

Charaago.n ko aankho.n mei.n mehfooz rakhna
Badi door tak raat hi raat hogi
Musafir hain ham bhi musafir ho tum bhi
Kisi moD pe phir mulaaqaat hogi

Keep the lamps safe in your eyes
The night (darkness) will spread far and beyond
I am a traveller, you are also a traveller
We shall meet again at some corner

*** *** ***

Ajeeb shakhs hai naaraaz hoke hansta hai
Mai.n chahta hoo.n khafa ho to woh khafa hi lage

He is a strange person - he laughs when offended
I wish that if he is angry, he should look so

*** *** ***

Kisi ki raah mein dehleej par diye na rakho
Kivad sookhi hui lakdiyo.n ke hote hai.n

Kadeem kasbo.n mei.n kaisa sukoon hota hai
Thake thakaye hamare bujurg sote hain

Do not light lamps at the doorstep in someone's wait
The doors are made of dry wood

There is such a comfort in old towns
Our weary forefathers rest out there

*** *** ***

Koii haath bhi na milayega jo gale miloge tapaak se
Yeh naye mijaaz ka shahar hai zara faasle se mila karo

No one will even shake hands, if you eagerly hug them
This city has a new mindset, here, meet people at a distance

*** *** ***

Jis din se chala hoon meri manzil pe nazar hai
Meri aankh ne kabhi miil ka pathar nahin dekha

Yeh phool koii mujhe viraasat mei.n mile hai.n
Tumne mera kaanto.n bhara bistar nahin dekha

Since the day I started, I have my sight on the destination
My eyes have never watched out for milestones

Do you think I inherited these flowers
You have not seen my bed of thorns

Whose fault is it anyway?

2007-09-25T10:36:00.000-07:00

Whose fault is it anyway?

Today's newspaper reported yet another unfortunate accident that took place in Delhi. A person was driving a scooter on the wrong side of the road,on a flyover, when a speeding car coming from opposite side hit him. He and his child were fell down and sustained injuries, while his wife was thrown 15 meters down the flyover, and died immediately. The driver of the car is absconding, and a case has been registerd against him.

Now, I will not even remotely disagree with the fact that in general, people in Delhi drive rash. Nor will I not empathise with the poor man who suffered an irreplacable loss.
But I still wonder, whose fault was it (a case of rash and negligent driving has been registered against the car driver). In the city, where people consider it their fundamental right to drive on whatever side they please, whatever lane they fancy, traffic rules like helmets, seat-belts and signals be damned, perhaps one always needs to watch out, even if s/he is following the rules, for people who are not (coming from the opposite side, or jumping the signal).

A colleague of mine learnt this lesson, and more, the hard way, a few years ago. Late evening, he was returning back from work, driving well under speed limit. A person on a motorcycle jumped a light and crashed into him [the colleague was crossing rightly on his signal]. Worse, that person was not even wearing a helmet. My colleague took him to a hospital, and paid for the treatment. After a few days, the motorcycle guy demanded money to keep quiet, and threatened to file a FIR against him otherwise. Now, my colleague, in all righteousness, refused to pay up ransom money. So, the other guy filed a FIR, and my colleague was entangled in a court case for some years. Every two weeks or so, he had to go to the court for the hearing, only to get the next date. On every visit, everyone involved in the process wanted a bribe, including the peon who demanded 50 or 100 bucks only to let him mark his attendance.

Whose leader is it anyway?

I am strictly apolitical, politics is something I find more than uninteresting. But still, the mindset of the people in general, which is still more aligned to monarchy than democracy, amazes and frustrates me at the same time.
For years, Rahul Gandhi has been seen (or projected) as the savior, of THE PARTY and the country. A person who has spent a substantial part of his youth outside the country, and another substantial part safely ensconced in a private world - how can he understand and solve the problems of the common people. Someone who wakes up one fine day, decides that he is ready to assume the supreme responsibilty, and enters politics with a definitely chartered plan [a five-year plan ? ;-) ]. Someone who is so naive to believe, or at least state in public, that the country is only safe in the hands of his family.
The worst part is that there are people who fall for it.

Whose hair is it anyway?

I seriously think that the consumer today is spoilt for choices. Speaking for myself, the choices sometimes overwhelm me so much, I come back without choosing anything at all.
For example, I need a shampoo, for normal hair, and if possible, something that would prevent regular breaking/fall of hair. So I go to a supermarket, and find shelves upon shelves of shampoo. There are old players, new brands, and the ones that have diversified into shampoos, from other items. Each brand has several "specialized treatment" shampoos - for dry/normal/oily hair, for colored/highlighted/straightened/permed mane, with this oil, that conditioner, fruit extract for your crowning glory ... multiply, and how many choices have I got? A hundred? No? Okay, Fifty at least. Will coconut cream do wonders for my hair, or is it the chamomile oil my hair needed? Would my hair love those micro-granules (whatever they are!), or would an affair with apple extract be more fruitful? I start feeling dizzy, and return to the safety of my home, empty-handed.
Ditto for moisturizers, perfumes, clothes, mobiles, cars ....

... and ditto for the topic to blog about. Whose blog is it anyway ? ;-)

Dinkar

2007-09-22T03:59:00.000-07:00

This is the 100th Idle Thought I have had in this space. My blog completes a century! :-)

And what better way to celebrate, than with a long-loved poem, by my favorite poet - Ramdhari Singh 'Dinkar'. A very bried introduction of the poet, for the uninitiated - Dinkar was known as 'Aag ka Kavi' [The poet of fire], for his poems raised the voice of the oppressed - in the pre-independence era, he fought for freedom; post independence, he stood by the poor and unprivileged. His repertoire also includes a number of poems celebrating beauty and love.

Amongst the treasures I found at the book fair, there is a collection of Dinkar's poems published by Bhartiya Jnanpith; the poems selected by the poet himself. It is a lovely, hard-bound edition, titled 'Sanchiyata' [The Collection]. My only lament is that it does not contain two of my favorite poems - 'Aag ki bhikh' and 'Kalam Aaj Unki Jai Bol' [these phrases can be translated as 'Begging for fire' and 'O Pen! Hail those (heroes)']. But what I did find, was a poem I had been searching for a long time [even pleaded bloggers for it :-)] - a poem that I had read in school in textbook - a four para poem, 'Kyun Yeh Aag Bujhaoge' [Why will you douse this fire'. And what I also found was that, those four paragraphs were part of a longer poem 'Bharat ka Reshmi Nagar' [The silken city of India], i.e. Delhi - the centre for power and wealth.

And the lines I had been lookng around for years? Here goes ...

Reshmi kalam se bhagya-lekh likhne waalo.n
Tum bhi kabhi abhaavgrast ho roye ho?
Biimaar kisi bachhe ki davaa juTaane ko
Tum bhi kya ghar bhar peT baandh kar soye ho?

Asahaya kisaano.n ki kismat ko kheto.n mei.n
Anayaas jal mei.n bah jaate dekha hai?
Kya khayenge? yeh soch nirasha se paagal
Bechaaro.n ko cheekh rah jaate dekha hai?

Dekha hai graamo.n ki anek rambhaao.n ko
Jinki aabhaao.n par dhool abhi tal chaayee hai
Reshmi deh par jin ablaao.n ki ab tak
Resham kya? saari sahi nahin chadh paayee hai

Par tum nagaro.n ke laal, amiri ke putle
Kyun vyatha bhaagya hiino.n ke man mein laoge
Jalta ho saaraa desh kintu hokar adhiir
Tum daud daud kar kyun yeh aag bujhaaoge?

And an attempted translation ...

You, who write the destiny of others with a silken pen
Have you ever cried, suffering from acute deprivation?
To be able to buy medicine for a sick child,
Have you ever gone hungry, alongwith the whole family?

Have you seen the fate of helpless farmers
Being washed away by merciless flood waters?
Have you seen them cry out loud, all hope lost,
Thinking, what will they sustain on, the rest of the year?

Have you seen those village beauties
Whose radiance is still covered in dust?
These poor, helpless lasses cannot afford
Let alone silk, even simple dresses.

But you are living luxurious lives in cities,
Why would of think of the sorrows of the ill-fated?
The whole of the nation is ablaze,
But why will you get restless and rush to douse the fire?

Ismat Chugtai - ChiDi ki Dukki

2007-09-19T23:12:00.000-07:00

I had been aware of the name of Ismat Chugtai as a well known writer of hindi/urdu fiction, but had not had an occastion to read any of her works. When I found this collection of her short stories, I thought that it might be a good place to start, in the absence of a direct recommendation from someone who is aware of my taste :-)

The collection is titled 'ChiDi Ki Dukki' [The Two of Clubs], which is the first of the five stories in the collection. All the stories are based on marital relationships in middle class Muslim families. There are certain aspects which are typical of Muslim family settings, due to which I found the stories different from the little of hindi/urdu prose I have read so far. The first story had a bit of humour, and all of them projected the ironies of human life. I liked the stories, but did not find them very interesting. I will probably not read it again, but it was a good one-time experience, and I might explore other works of the author.

The collection had a foreward by another famous author, Manto. He starts with a question he had been asked by a few of his fans [why did he not marry Ismat], and devotes quite a space to his imagination of the events this eventuality might have led to. [BTW, both of them were already married when they first met, so this was just a wild question.] I found that rather absurd way to start an introduction, though later when he narrated his interaction with Ismat, thus describing her personality, it became an interesting narrative.

Till sometime back, I used to completely ignore the forewards and prologues of the books I was reading, in order to get to the story. But, of late, I have found an interest in reading these introductions. It gives me the opportunity to get a perspective from another person who is better informed [than I am :-)], and look at the broader context, the life and times of the author/poet whose work I am about to read, and probably enable me to appreciate it better.

Orkut vs Facebook

2007-09-15T00:16:00.000-07:00

About a year back, I joined the social networking site, Orkut. It helped me get back in touch with long lost friends from school and college. For people who are not familiar with Orkut, it is similar to mySpace, and from what I know, the most popular networking site in India. [For people who are not familiar with either, well, what are you doing online ? ;-)]

Recently, two of my friends urged my to join another social networking site Facebook, citing that it has much more features than Orkut. Now, I get invited to join a new networking site every few days (as I guess would most of you), but it is difficult to maintain membership on multiple sites, so usually I decline or ignore the mails. However, since this time the recommendation has come from reliable sources, and as a personal note rather than an automated mail, I am pondering over it.

For me, a networking site would only be useful, if I am likely to find people I would like to remain in, or re-establish contact with. Frankly speaking, I had not heard of Facebook before, so I am trying to determine its popularity by how many of my friends use it. So, I have requested my Orkut friends to respond back, telling me
- if they also use facebook, alongwith orkut
- if they have friends who use facebook
- a comparison of the two, if possible

Meanwhile, I'll be glad to hear anything anyone has to say on this.

Delhi Book Fair

2007-09-13T22:46:00.000-07:00

The 13th Delhi Book Fair concluded last week. I was out of town in the initial days, and busy with work in the later days of the week, so I managed to visit the Book Fair last Saturday, the second last day of the fair. It was quite crowded, against my expectations, and this time I didn't find it as good as it was in the last few years. The primary focus was on Children's books, and choice of books for adults was less compared to previous times. Penguin didn't have a stall, and Rupa and Rajkamal Prakashan had smaller stalls this time. This was also the first time I saw stall owners selling used books at "heavy discounts" - if one wanted them, one could instead easily get them from different road-side stalls or Daryaganj market at lower prices.

Even so, I browsed through the stalls for more than four hours, specially since the book fair is the only source for hindi literature. One can find english fiction and non-fiction in many book stores in the NCR, but good hindi literature is hard to come by - a deplorable state. Apart from the variety, an attractive feature of book fairs are some very good deals one can get. However, the discounts on fresh copies were also not as high as earlier times - I got a discount of 10% on my purchases.

In spite of these facts, I returned with following prizes:

Hindi/Urdu Poetry:
Bashir Badr (2)
Daag Dehlvi
Dushyant Kumar
Ramdhari Singh dinkar

Hindt stories:
Ismat Chugtai - Chidi Ki Dukki

English Fiction:
Rider Haggard - She
Jane Austen - Sense And Sensibility
Mark Haddon - The curious incident of the dog in the night-time
Erle Stanley Gardner - Perry Mason (2)

PS: Reader reviews to follow later ... :-)

On abusive comments

2007-09-12T23:22:00.000-07:00

Quite a few bloggers, whose blogs I visit, have written about abusive comments they receive, mostly anonymous. I received my first taste of it today - and unbelievably, on something as innocuous as an interpretation of a sher!!
I am more surprised than offended. It was not a heated argument, or even a debate. Why should someone get rude on a thing like poetry? After all, poetry is a subject matter of interpretation.

PS: And no, this reader was not anonymous.

A Town Like Alice

2007-09-12T23:13:00.000-07:00

This is another book by Nevil Shute I had got along with On The Beach. Since I had read it once some years back, and found it fairly good, though not wonderful, it was a long time before I was inclined to read it, though my brand new copy was lying prettily in my shelf, untouched, for almost six months.

The story is set against the background of World War II. The premise is the atrocities of Japanese on the prisoners of war, when they invaded the eastern parts of Asia. The first half of the story revolves around a group of English women and children, who are forced to march on foot, from one city to another, since there is no camp for women. Although the Japanese do not want to cause them harm, no commander wants to take the responsibility of this group. They have to struggle against lack of bare necessities - food, medicines, clothes, while they are forced into an aimless walk, which takes a toll on the group which reduces to half its initial number. The leader of the group is young Jean Paget, who takes over the responsibility of her friend's child after her death. During the march, they meet an Australian prisoner, Joe Harman, who is driving trucks for Japanese. Joe steals food from Japanese for this group, and is crucified for his "crime". Joe assumes that Jean is a married woman, while Jean gives him up for dead. After months of marching, Jean's group finds refuge in a Malay village, where they spend the rest of the war.

Years later, Jean receives an inheritance, and desires to give back the Malay village something for the generosity they had shown her group. So, she travels to the village, and builds a well and wash-house, as the village women had to fetch water, two or three times a day, from a well some miles away. Here, she learns that Joe Harman survived the Japanese torture. So, she decides to go to Australia to find him, although she does not know much about his place, except the name of the cattle station he used to work on as the ringer. When she reaches there, she learns that Joe has gone to England (talk about ironies!). She finds that although the station is huge, the town is very small and dreary, with nothing to do, and so people tend to move out as soon as they grow up - a "dead" place, just as Joe had described it, in their brief encounter in the war. While she waits for Joe to return, she visits Alice Springs, which is also a cattle station, but is a thriving, lively town. So, she comes up with a plan to develop Joe's rundown town into "A Town Like Alice".

Meanwhile, Joe learns that Jean was not married as he had assumed, and travels to England to find her. When he returns (unable to meet her, or even learn of her whereabouts!), he finds her waiting for him in his homeland! Knowing that it would be difficult to settle a family to adjust in his rundown town, Joe talks of leaving his job, and moving to another livelier place. Jean disagrees, mot wanting him to leave the work he loves, and tells him about her plan ...

The story is narrated by an old lawyer, Mr Strachan, who has the responsibility to find the heir to the legacy (Jean), and disburse it to her. He forms a strong bond with her, and helps her judiciously. Overall, a nice, heart-warming story, although predictable. I liked the first part of the story, the war years - they feel very authentic, and gripping. The second part, when Jean goes back to Malay, and then to Australia, are fine, though embedded with too many coincidences. The last part, where Jean (with help from Joe and other) proceeds to build up a whole town single-handedly, stretches the imagination a bit too far.

The Dark Crusader

2007-08-29T04:04:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in the previous post, my most favorite fiction genre is Suspense Thriller. And IMHO, no-one can beat Alistair McLean, when it comes to thrillers. I can state this with a fair degree of confidence, having read 28 of his titles. Many of his books have been made into famous films, eg, The Guns of Navarone, Ice Station Zebra, Where Eagles Dare, Fear is The Key, and many more. Of all these movies, I have only watched The Guns Of Navarone, and I strongly recommend it to anyone and everyone :-)

Generally speaking, what I like about McLean's stories is fast pace, witty style, underlying technical details, and characters who are not superior in physical strength, but in mental strength and dndurance. And then there is drama, twists, and treason. In this way, 'The Dark Crusader' is typical McLean, and thoroughly enjoyable. The 'hero', John Bentall, is a solid-fuel specialist, who is recruited by the Brtish secret agency. He has just returned from a long, dangerous mission, when he is sent on another, with a beautiful female agent, who poses as his wife. Eight top scientists and their wives have gone missing, after they accpted lucrative jobs in Australia. After a while, advertisement for a ninth position appears, and Bentall is volunteered by the agency for the position, under the obvious conclusion that one of the the scientists has befallen a tragedy. He goes on to encounter an eccentric archaeologist and his chinese henchmen, find out what is 'The Dark Crusader', and finally come to a realization that he has been double-crossed! And that is all I'll say for now, to avoid spoiling the suspense in case someone intends to read it. :-)

Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less

2007-08-26T21:24:00.000-07:00

Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less - Jeffery Archer

Archer is one of my favorite fiction authors. My most favorite genre is suspense thrillers, and although his stories are not really thrillers, I like then for their fast pace and lucidity. I had read "Not a Penny More ..." the first time, way back in college, borrowing a friend's copy. For a long while, I have been wanting to get my own copy, and re-read it. However, most of the times, I have new stuff to read :-) But the last time when I went browsing in a bookstore, and could not find anything interesting, so I finally decided to buy it for my collection.

The premise of the story is simple (even artificial, according to my brother), but it is fun nevertheless - a big-time crook sets up an elaborate stock market scam, and four people who have no understanding of stock market, but a fairly good amount of money, get conned of almost all of their assets. One of them is a mathematical mind, he gets all of them to join forces, and plan to steal back there money - "not a penny more, not a penny less". And the way they set about it, is enough to keep one amused for a few hours.

An unlikely experience

2007-08-23T23:52:00.000-07:00

I have been out of circulation from the blogosphere for so long that now it seems to be sheer inertia that is holding me back. Well, that is not exactly true, that (dis)credit goes to hectic work schedule that has sapped up most of my energy for last couple of months.
I have hardly been able to post anything on my three blogs for almost 2-3 months. However, till 3-4 weeks back, I still managed to check on my reader from time to time, and each time it showed 100+ unread items. But now, I am so overwhelmed by the reading I have to catch up on!
In the middle of all the chaos, I managed to get a much needed break, for a trip we had been planning for quite a while - a trek in 'The Valley of Flowers'. The trip was rendered partially unsuccessful by heavy rains and landslides - we could not even get to Joshimath, but we finally made it to Kedarnath. I will hopefully post pictures of the trip on 'Travel Memoirs' soon; in the meanwhile I'll share an unlikely experience here ....
We had planned to travel overnight from Delhi to Haridwar by train, and take a taxi from there for the rest of the journey. The train we had reservations in, goes till Dehradun, reaching Haridwar very early morning. Though heavy rains were reported in the region, the train departed from Delhi in time. But when we reached Roorkee around midnight, the situation in the higher areas had deteriorated, and the train stopped there for a considerable time. After an interminable wait, the train started from Roorkee, but stopped again after some time - in the middle of nowhere. After dawn, when there was some light, we could see it was a very small village station, with no platforms even. One of the attendants informed us that the train will stop there for an undetermined time - there was water on tracks on the way from Haridwar to Dehradun; so the trains scheduled to go to Dehradun had piled up at Haridwar station, leaving no space for more trains to be parked there. The attendant advised us to board another train that was going to Rishikesh (and would therefore be given a pass at Haridwar) which was about to cross. And so, we jumped down on to the tracks (no platforms, remember!) with bag and baggage, stood by the side of the other track (along with several other passengers), and waited for the other train. When it arrived, we waved it to stop, and climbed up!
Though I have had varied experiences in trains earlier, this was something I never expected to have to do!! I have done this number of times in buses - the roadways bus breaks down on the way, the conductor stops another bus going the same way and helps you board that bus. But never ever have I done it on a train!!

Returning to school

2007-07-29T22:46:00.000-07:00

Last weekend when I went to my hometown, I also visited my school, the second time since passing out 13 years back, and almost 5 years after my last visit. This visit was motivated by a desire to meet my mathematics teacher, Mr RS - he was transferred away shortly after my last visit, and I recently learned that he has returned, this time as the Principal of the school. If the wish to meet my old school teacher, after all these years, seems surprising, let me just state that of all the teachers who taught me in school and two colleges, there are two for whom I have a high regard even today. One of them is JC, a CS prof from REC, and the other one is RS.

At the school, I had to leave the car at the main gate, and walk the rest of the distance to the school building. When I was in the school, initially the gate was not there, and later on even when it was placed, it remained open in the school hours. As soon as I entered the gate, I was asked by a guard about my purpose to enter the premises. This was an entirely new development - in fact it caught me by a surprise, for a few moments I didn't know how to explain my purpose. I composed myself, and told him that I wanted to meet RS sir. I was in for another shock - the guard told me that the Principal's visiting hours were over [in my time, there was no concept of visiting hours!], and I could meet him only after the school gets over, in another hour or half. I tried to convince him by stating that I was coming from another town, and it was not possible for me to return back later, or on another day. Finally, he found a "workaround" - in the entry register, I was to record the purpose as just "official" instead of any teacher's specific name. The apparent "anarchy" may be explained by the fact that this was a government run school, in a small town which was not prosperous, and where most of the students came from families which were not well educated. The small percentage of students from well educated background also existed for the sole reason that it was the only school in the town where the medium of instruction was english for science stream.

Walking to the school building, there were a lot of physical changes I observed - on one side residential quarters for teachers were constructed - earlier the area used to be just open land, covered with shrubbery. A "park" which had a little grass and some swings was now in much better shape. Another part of unpaved ground where we used to park our cycles was also organized better, with clearly marked area, fence, and a couple of small single-storey buildings. However, the other thing that struck me was that the distance from the gate to the building was not as much as I remembered, and the building itself was also not as large as I remembered it. This is something that has happened with me before - things that looked or felt huge when I was a child, do not look big now. I wonder, if we determine the largeness of an object relative to our own size...

Of the teachers who had taught me, there are very few who are still there with the school, and who I care to meet. I met my maths teacher of junior classes first, and she was happy to talk to me. To be honest, she did not recognize me, but when she I introduced myself, she had no difficulty in recalling me either :-) There was a repetition of the scene with another teacher, before I was seated in the principal's office. He was teaching the last class of the day at that time, and after that he watched over the students as they left the school. When he came to his office, he expressed his pleasure at my visit. He asked after my well-being, and I asked after his, and that of the school. He grumbled about the students' disobedience, and expressed his disapproval of young people taking extreme steps for small matters. He was interrupted quite often with people needing his attention on administrative matters of the school, and I felt quite guilty in reaching there without an appointment. Finally, after a little while, he asked if there was anything I needed from him. For a moment I was taken aback, but told him that this was not the case, and I was there just to meet him and other teachers, probably my last chance to do so before my parents moved out of town. I think he was a little reserved earlier, thinking that I had come there with some personal interest, because after this he seemed more relaxed. He seemed more pleased, and told me that I had come a little late that day, and next time I should come at some earlier hour, before the school got over, and talk to the students. Though I wonder what good I could do even if I did that - he had just told me that students are no longer willing to let someone talk any sense to them :-P

In the while I was talking to RS sir, one of the teachers came over to the room. She didn't recognize me either, but when she was told that it was me, she was quite happy to see me too - I used to be one of her favorite students. And then, she proceeded to something totally unexpected. In the space of 15-20 minutes, she filled me in with the details of not just her sons and daughters-in-law, but also her neighbors, her relatives, her neighbors' relatives, her relatives' neighbors, etc. Including asking me to look out for a suitable match for an acquaintance of hers! I was completely flabbergasted!! I have come across such people before, who keep on talking without realizing what they are saying, but I didn't expect to find one of them amongst the teachers. But more than being surprised, I was annoyed, because she didn't give me or RS to speak anything, let alone hear what we had to say!

Later on, I gave quite a bit of thought on RS asking me if I had come for something. In fact, I was even a little hurt, because I had gone there only due to the attachment I feel for my school and the teachers, and not because of any vested interest. But then I realized that this is how the things are today - people don't have time to socialize just for the joy of it. They call up their friends or relatives when they need some help. They complain that they don't meet them frequently enough, but never themselves make an effort to meet. In this age of selfish interests, who remembers their school teachers? So, it was not altogether unjustified on his part to assume that I needed his help in some regard, especially since he is in a position of importance.

N teased me later, saying that people in school showed no unbound joy to meet me, and RS even asked me if I came to meet him with some interest. I replied that I didn't expect anything more than that [I really don't know what could I have expected], and then retorted by asking," does anyone in your school even remember you after all these years" :-D. I was one of RS's favorite students, and as I am told by school students many years my junior, he used to cite my example to his classes. But, my academic achievements notwithstanding, I concur it as a good fortune that my teachers remember me after all these years.

Parichay

2007-07-11T04:08:00.000-07:00

This is one of my most favorite poems - Parichay by Dinkar. And to go with it, I have an english translation - done by an expert, so no lousy attempts from me this time :-) [I found the translation on the net, long time back.]

Parichay
-- RamDhari Singh 'Dinkar'

Salil kann hun ya paravaar hun main?
Svayam chaya, svayam aadhar hun main;
bandha hun, svapna hun, laghu vrut main hun;
nahin to vyom ka vistar hun main.

Samaana chahti hai jo been ur mein;
vikal us shunya ki jhankaar hun main.
Bhatakta khojta hun, jyoti tam mein;
suna hai jyoti ka aagaar hun main.

Jisse nishi khojti tare jalakar;
usi ka kar raha abhisaar hun main.
Janam kar sau baar mar chuka lekin
agam ka paa saka kya paar hun main?

Kali ki pankhdi par os kann mein,
rangeele svapna ka sansaar hun main.
Mujhe kya aaj hi ya kal jharu mein,
suman hun ek laghu upahaar hun main.

Jalan hun, dard hun, dil ki kasak hun;
kisi ka haay, khoya pyaar hun main.
Gira hun bhoomi par nandan vipin se,
amar-taru ka suman sukumar hun main

Madhur jeevan hua kuch praan! Jab se,
laga dhone vyatha ka bhaar hun main.
Rudann anmol dhan kavi ka, issise
pirota aasuon ka haar hun main.

Mujhe kya garv ho apni vibha ka?
Chita ka dhulikann hun, kshaar hun main.
Pata mera tujhe mitti kahegi,
sama jisme chuka sau baar hun main.

Na dekhe vishva par mujhko ghrina se;
manuj hun srishti ka shringaar hun main.
Pujarin! Dhuli se mujhko utha le,
tumhare devtaa ka haar hun main.

Sunnu kya sindhu, main garjan tumhara?
Svayam yudh dharma ki hunnkaar hun main.
Kathin nirgosh hun bheeshan ashani ka;
pralay gaandeev ka tankaar hun main.

Dabi si aag hun bheeshan kshuddha ki;
dalit ka maun hahakaar hun main.
Sajag sansaar tu nij ko samhaale;
pralay ka ksubdh paravaar hun main.

Bandha toofan hun, chalna mana hai,
bandhi uddaam nirjhar-dhaar hun main;
kahun kya kaun hun, kya aag meri?
Bandhi hai lekhni, laachaar hun main.

===============================

Identity

Am I a water drop, or an ocean?
The self, the shadow, I am both;
tied down, a dream, shrunken,
else, an elaboration of empty space.

A crippled clamor of emptiness,
seeking to fill the silence in my heart.
I wander, searching for light in darkness,
I am, I hear, a treasury of light.

Night seeks her dawn, burning candles of stars,
I too, await my dawn.
A hundred times, I lived and died,
Have I found yet, the bridge across the Unknown?

In the dew-drop on flower petal,
I am a world of multi-hued dreams.
What care I, sooner or later, I will wilt
For I am a flower, a modest offering,

A burning, a pain, a heartache
Oh woe! I am someone's lost love.
Fallen to earth, from the flower-garden,
beloved son of the evergreen tree

Shouldering my burden of sorrow,
my life is a little sweeter now.
With anguish, precious wealth of poets,
I string together my tears in verse.

Why pride in my own light,
I am but the dust from the pyre, the ash.
Where I am, the earth will tell you,
She who has consumed me a hundred times.

Yet the world looks not with hatred upon me,
For I am a man, a wonder of creation.
Oh Devotee, lift me from the dust where I lie!
I am a garland for your beloved God.

Oh mighty ocean, what shall I make of your roar?
I am a voice, loud, of this age and its mores
A hard fearsome voice of lightning,
I am the twang of catastrophe's bow,

The suppressed fire of a ravenous hunger,
I am the wordless wail of the suffering.
Oh vigilant world, take care, beware!
I am the tumultuous ocean of catastrophe.

A captive storm, forbidden motion,
I am a waterfall dammed.
Who am I, what is my desire,
I am helpless, a pen constrained.

===============================

For those who'd like to enjoy reading the poem in the Devanagari script, here is an image [click on the image to see an enlarged view].

Transition woes once again

2007-06-29T02:23:00.000-07:00

Yahoo recently bought Flickr, another site that manages online photo sharing, and offers many more features. When I learnt of the acquisition, I wondered why did Yahoo buy it, when they already have their own utility. I guess it is all about brand equity; they wanted to get the entire user base of Flickr (which was much more than that of Yahoo Photos), but apparently these business stratagems are not my cup of tea :-)

I do not upload photos frequently on the net. But, for last many years, I have been using yahoo photos to share pictures with friends. I found it quite easy to use, including uploading, organizing and sharing. It is simple to use, and quite sufficient in features for amateurs like me.

So why am I thinking of it at all ?

A couple of days back, I logged onto Yahoo Photos (after a considerable time), and I must admit that I was not really surprised to see that Yahoo has planned to shut down Photos. They have provided an option to the existing users, to migrate their photos to one of their affiliates - Flickr, Snapfish, Kodak Gallery, Photobucket and Shutterfly. I was not familiar with the last two names, and of the first three, Flickr appeared best to me [see - brand name at work!]. So, I selected Flickr, and I was informed that my photos are queued for migration, which may take some time. Meanwhile, I started browsing through the "help", when I learnt the disadvantages. Since I signed up for "free" account [one can sign up for the "privilege" account for a fee of $25 per year], I was limited to:
- uploading 100 MB worth of photos in a month
- displaying a maximum of 200 photos at any given time
- having three sets at maximum [sets are equivalent to albums in Yahoo Photos]
- if the account remains inactive for 90 days, it will be deleted
Now, 100 MB p.m. limit doesn't really bother me, since I haven't used that much of space in last four years on Yahoo. A limit on number of photos displayed is somewhat irksome, but not big trouble for me [though I found that there were users which were really irritated by both of these]. But I find it difficult to comply with the last two - I am rather organized, and like to file all my photos in folders, so I had 10 albums for 250 photos. Also, activity on my photo folders is little, and it is not rare for it to remain completely idle for three months.
I learnt of the limitations after I had requested my photos to be migrated. At that time, I recollected that Yahoo Photos also allowed me to download my photos back to my disk. So I went back there, but my account was locked for migration. And now, my photos have all been moved to Flickr, and Yahoo folder deleted.
Flickr is "happy to inform" me that I can get around the above limits by paying the membership fee. I do not mind paying for a service, but on the other hand, I am not willing to pay for a service which many providers are giving free of cost. So, I decided to migrate my photos to picasaweb, since that is an excellent service, and provided by Google, and does not impose such limits [It does limit the maximum space available, but that is around 3 GB, which is more than sufficient for me.] Now comes the biggest hitch - I cannot download my photos from Flickr back to my disk! I scanned all I could, but found no way to do this!

In conclusion:
1. If anyone is aware how can I download my photos from Flickr, please tell me about it.
2. If you are migrating your photos from Yahoo, please evaluate your options carefully.
3. In case you are using Yahoo Photos, but are not aware of it yet, they propose to delete all non-migrated accounts after Sept 20.

The Life of Pi

2007-06-26T01:43:00.000-07:00

The last two weeks have been really hectic. Not only could I not visit my 'regular read' blogs, I could also not put down my impressions of 'The Life of Pi', as I had been intending to do, all this while. Last weekend, I could just manage a post on 'A Rive Sutra'. And since then, I haven't had time to give even a thought to the blogworld. In face it seems a long time since I read it, and by now my impressions of the book have been overshadowed by a myriad things. So, this "review" is going to be rather abstract.

I liked the book, though I did not "love" it [as did the people who suggested this to me ... sorry folks!] One of the reasons is that I am not much into "animal stories" - I prefer to read fiction that is founded in human character, emotions and relationships. Tales of sorrow, tales of triumphs, but that have human interaction. 'The life of Pi', for most part, describes the adventures of Pi in the open seas, when he has no-one for company save a few animals, and how he deals with them. How he manages the tiger was interesting, but the way animals attack each other was rather gory. In fact, the extensive details (of how the hyena eats the zebra alive, and how Pi catches and eats turtles and fishes, etc) were somewhat repulsive to a hard-core vegetarian like me. Then, the adventure in the carnivorous forest was not only difficult to believe, but also didn't seem relevant to the story, in my opinion.

A River Sutra - Gita Mehta

2007-06-17T03:49:00.000-07:00

This is a collection of interconnected stories, about the life and beliefs of people living on, or travelling on a pilgrimage along, the banks of the holy river Narmada.

The narrator is an old man, who has no family to speak of, and who intends to spend the sunset years of his life in 'vanprastha' [According to Hindu mythology, the life of a human being is divided into four phases, in the last of which a (wo)man retires to the forests, away from the worldly things, after fulfilling all the responsibilities.] So, the narrator, who has spend his working years in civil services, takes up the position of the supervisor of a small govt guest house, situated on the banks of Narmada, amongst hills and forests, isolated from the rest of the civilization.

Here, he interacts with the tribals, who attribute supernatural powers to the river, which is worshipped as a goddess. He meets other people in the area, who also believe Narmada to be sacred, capable of purifying sins by just looking at it [apart from having special powers to cure any kind of madness!]. Myths, beliefs, stories are aplenty, as is the beauty of the place. He comes in contact with different people here, and all of them have a story to tell; and the river, Narmada, plays an integral part in their stories and their lives. As a whole, they bring forth the picture of a culture that exists in the interiors of our country, where people have a peaceful life, untouched by the fast pace of urban life that we are a part of.

The stories are beautifully crafted, lucid and believable (for most part), and spiritual. The flow is good, but the pace is slow, perhaps befitting the laidback life in those regions. You can imagine the serenity of the environs, almost feel the cool and fresh air on the banks of the river .... In all, a good companion on a hot, lazy, summer day ...

On a reading spree

2007-06-12T00:04:00.000-07:00

The extreme temperatures during the days, as well as nights, kept me inside over the weekend. Further, heat and a slight quirk of health kept me mostly in bed. So, I went on to a reading spree, and cleared up a part of my to-read list :-)

I read 'A River Sutra' by Gita Mehta, that my brother had gifted me last week. I had started it the last week itself, as it was indicated as a collection of stories )though interlinked), rather than a novel. If I start reading a novel, I find it difficult to put it down, making it hard to go the office the next day. I finished it late night on Friday. On Saturday, I picked up 'The Life of Pi' that I started reading a month or two back, but put it down somewhere in between, and could not start again. Another late night ensued. On Sunday afternoon, having nothing else to do, I opened 'On the Beach' by Nevil Shute, and didn't do anything else till I finished it in the evening. And yes, that night we went to dinner at a friend's place - yet another late night, and I was no good for anything on Monday ;-)

Of the three books that I read, I first want to write about the one that had the greatest impact on me - On the Beach [The world after nuclear war]. One of the editorial reviews described it as 'the most shocking fiction in recent years'. I quite agree with the assessment - it left me somewhat shaken too. As indicated by the tagline of the title, the story is set in the context of the aftermath of a nuclear war. A nuclear war takes place, arising out of selfishness and misunderstanding, destroying all life in the northern hemisphere. The novel does not describe the nuclear war itself, but starts about two years after the war is over, in the southern parts of Australia, as the last of the humanity waits for the approaching death, as radioactive particles are propelled to their part of the world by elements of nature.

Lieutenant Commander Peter Holmes, of Australian Navy, has not had an assignment for close to a year, and is asked to join as the liasion officer of a US submarine docked in Australia. Almost all the ships and airplanes that are left, are out of commission due to lack of fuel. The submarine runs on nuclear fuel, and is in the charge of Commander Dwight Towers. Although it is known that there is no possibility of life anywhere else, the submarine is sent on a fact-finding mission, first to north of Australia, and later to the USA. As Holmes prepares to leave for a long journey to USA, he tries to prepare his wife for what to do for herself and their little daughter, in case he is not able to return before (or ever) the deathly winds reach them. When the submarine is in USA, it reaches a port town, which is (or rather was) the home of one of the men - against the Commander's orders, he escapes from the sub, chosing to die in his home in a few days, rather than few weeks later in the alien lands of Australia. Moments and incidents like these, are rather heart-rending. The book beautifully describes the psychology of people under such unavoidable cicumstances - some people are in the denial mode, some are at peace with the fate, others chose to make the best of whatever time they have left. As months change to weeks, and to days, as towns fall one after another, helpless people ["innocent victims of an accidental war" as described by another review] continue to work and live as normal, planning for the coming years, even though they are aware that this is not going to materialize. People do not panic and rush south, knowing that they cannot escape the fate - they chose to die peacefully in their homes, terminating the agony of radiation sickness with cyanide. But even though they have accepted their fate, they cannot but help ask, why did it have to happen.

Perhaps all of us understand the futility of wars, but they keep on happening, on different scales of magnitude. This book was perhaps an extrapolation in extreme, of the desctruction resulting from avoidable conflicts, but given the times we live in, this might just actually happen.

Saaye mei.n Dhoop - IV

2007-06-08T22:36:00.000-07:00

This is my final post on the collection of Ghazals by Dushyant Kumar.
Earlier posts : here, here and here.

In earlier posts, I had selected few ashar that I really loved, from ghazals. I am rounding off the series with two (almost complete) ghazals, each and every sher of which is a true gem!

Mat kaho aakaash mei.n kohra ghana hai
Yeh kisii ki vyaktigat aalochana hai

Raqt varsho.n se naso.n mei.n khaulta hai
Aap kahte hai.n kshanik uttejana hai

Dosto.n! Ab manch par suvidha nahi.n hai
Aajkal nepathya mei.n sambhaavana hai

Do not complain about the dense fog in the sky
It might be construed as a personal criticism of someone

For years, blood has been boiling in the veins
And you call it a momentary excitement

Friends! there is no place available on the stage
There are possibilities in backstage these days

*** *** ***

Ho gayee hai piir parvat sii pighalnii chaahiye
Is himalaya se koii ganga nikalnii chaahiye

Aaj yeh diivaar pardo.n kii tarah hilne lagii
Shart lekin thii ki yeh buniyaad hilnii chaahiye

Har sadak par, har galii mei.n, har nagar, har gaanv mei.n
Haath lehraate hue har laash chalnii chaahiye

Sirf hangama khaDa karna mera maksad nahi.n
Merii koshish hai ki yeh soorat badalnii chaahiye

Mere siine mei.n nahi.n to tere siine mei.n sahii
Ho kahi.n bhi aag, lekin aag jalnii chaahiye

The pain has become mountainous, now it should melt away
Now, a Ganga must emerge from this Himalaya

Today this wall shakes like a curtain
But the condition was to move the very foundation

On every road, on every street, in every town and village
Every corpse should walk waving their hands

My aim is not just to create a disturbance
The whole purpose is to bring about a change

If it is not in my chest, let it be in yours
Wherever the fire is, this fire should keep burning

The imagination and the play of words in the first sher leave me speechless - marvelling at thoughts of the poet. Himalayas - not just the tallest mountains in the world, they protect the Asian subcontinent from harsh northern winds, and are therefore crucial to life here. They are considered sacred by the Hindus, as is Ganga - the most sacred river that emerges from this mountain ranges - and believed to absolve one of all one's since by a single bath in the river!

Another thing that struck me was the comparison of a human being - indifferent to his surroundings, and apathetic to misery around him - to a corpse. This is not unusual, but still the context in which it was used impressed on me - a human being who has no 'chetna' [conciousness/awareness] is no better to the society than a corpse.

And, as rightly suggested by Adi, I must include a reference to where it all started from - how did I get introduced to 'Saye mein dhoop' ...

Farewell Song

2007-06-01T05:14:00.000-07:00

This is a short poem I wrote for the farewell of a colleague. For those who missed it earlier, here is the context.

We've been used to seeing him around, forever
Never thought we'll have to see him leave
Not just days, but years to remember
That it's a thing of past, is hard to believe

From noon to night, him you can catch
Doing the rounds with the dreaded list in hand
His passion for "rightness" is hard to match
In "healthy discussion" with him you can hours spend

A great sense of humor, a deadpan wit
He'll not let you get bored the slightest bit
He has driven a car with open driver's door
We heard no-one can beat him on dance floor
On these things and more, we shall dwell
Long after we've wished him a fond farewell

Saaye Mei.n Dhoop - III

2007-05-27T02:24:00.000-07:00

Earlier posts on this collection of ghazals are here and here.
And now time for some more ...

*** *** ***

Gazab hai sach ko sach kahte nahi.n wo
Kuran-o-upnishad khole hue hai.n

Mazaaro.n se duaaei.n maangte ho
Akiide kis kadar pole hus hai.n

It is surprising that they do not speak the truth
Though they have Koran and Upnishads opened in front

You seek blessings from the tomb
How hollow has the faith become

Koran is the religious book of Muslim
Upnishads are Hindu's religious texts

*** *** ***

Bhookh hai to sabra kar, roTi nahi.n to kya hua
Aajkal Dilli mei.m hai zere-bahas ye mudd'aa

Is shahar mei.n woh koii baaraat ho ya vaardaat
Ab kisi bhi baat par khulti nahi.n hai.n khidkiiyaa.n

Bear your hunger, so what if you don't have any bread
The matter is under discussion these days in Delhi

In this city, whether a procession takes place or an incident
Nothing bothers people to open their windows and look out

Delhi - the national capital - represents the government

*** *** ***

Khade hus the alaavo.n ki aa.nch lene ko
Sab apni hatheli jala kar baith gaye

Yeh soch kar ki darakhto.n mei.n chaa.nv hoti hai
Yahaa.n babool ke saaye mei.n aake baith gaye

Everyone stood to get some heat from the bonfire
And burning their palms, they sat back down

Thinking that trees offer shade in the sun
I sat down under a Babool tree

Babool is thorny tree with few leaves, and doesn't really offer a shade [don't know it's name in english]

*** *** ***

Chale hawaa to kivaaDo.n ko band kar lena
Yeh garm raakh sharaaro.n mei.n dhal na jaaye kahii.n

Tamaam raat tere maikade mei.m mai pi hai
Tamaam umra nashe mei.n nikal na jaaye kahii.n

Yeh log hom-o-havan mei.n yaqiin rakhte hai.n
Chalo yahaa.n se chalei.n haath jal na jaaye kahii.n

Close the doors, if a breeze starts blowing
Else the warm ashes might turn into a spark

Entire night, I drank wine in your tavern
Now my entire life may pass in a drunken stupor

Here people believe in fire-worship
Lets us leave here, else we might burn our hands

I do not know the exact equivalent of hom-o-havan, so used fire-worship. Any better suggestion?

*** *** ***

Mai.n bhi to apni baat likhoo.n apne haath se
Mere safe par chod de thoda sa haashiyaa

Allow me to write my feelings in my own hand
On my page, leave a little margin

*** *** ***

Ab ri.nd bach rahe hai.n zara tej raks ho
Mehfil se uth liye hai.n namaazi to lijiye

Now the true admirers are left, let the pace of dance be faster
Those with religious beliefs are leaving the gathering

Namaazi - people who offer prayers five times a day, according to strict Islamic convention
Dance is considered as something evil by those with strict religious beliefs
Ri.nd - someone who truly appreciates dance [as an art]

*** *** ***

Tumhe bhi is bahaane yaad kar lenge
Idhar do-chaar pathhar phe.nk do tum bhi

I'll have an excuse of remembering you too
You also throw a few stones to my side

*** *** ***

Farewell song

2007-05-26T21:43:00.000-07:00

People join and leave the companies, but the imminent departure of one of my ex-managers is leaving me rather saddened. It is not as if I share a deep bond with him, but I still feel rather sad. I have not worked with him now for almost twice the time that I did, but I still share a great rapport with him. When I first joined the company, he was the one who inducted me, he was my team lead for some time, and then my manager. He was the one I could take real "bugs" to.
Even though I am no longer reporting to him, I still work quite closely with his current team. The team started preparations for his farewell few days back [in my workplace, a person who has worked for that long usually gets a grand farewell, perhaps owing to the large number of people s/he has worked with, and the kind of relationship s/he shares with those around , obviously always matter]. Owing to my association with him, I am also involved in these preparations. He loves to crack jokes, quite often at himself, and his jovial nature is widely admired. I am rather known for my poetic inclinations, so I was entrusted with the responsibility of writing a poem for him, with a touch of humor. But humorous poetry is not my forte at the best of times [although people think otherwise, me having participated in a few hasya kavi sammelans on Holi]; and at this time, I do not feel like cracking a joke on him, about him or with him, though I have done it hundreds of times earlier. So, I am writing that farewell poem, and well, I am going to try keep it on the lighter side.

Saaye Mei.n Dhoop - II

2007-05-22T09:56:00.000-07:00

Here are some more excerpts from the collection.

The first 'sher' was posted earlier, but adding again for the sake of context for another 'sher' from the same 'ghazal' :-)

*** *** *** ***

Yahaa.n darakhto.n ke saaye mei.n dhoop lagti hai
Chalo yahaa.n se chalei.n umra bhar ke liye

Ve mutmain hai.n ki patthar pighal nahi.n sakta
Mai.n bekaraar hoo.n aawaaz mei.n asar ke liye

Here, the sun scorches in the shade of trees
Let us leave this place for ever

They are convinced that stone cannot melt away
I am seeking an impact in my voice

The second sher here always brings to my mind this line from one of Ghalib's ghazls -
Aah ko chahiye ek umra asar hone tak!

*** *** *** ***

Yeh saaraa jism bojh se jhuk kar dohra hua hoga
Main sajde mei.n nahi.n tha, aapko dhokha hua hoga

My entire being was bent double with heavy load
You must've been mistaken that I bowed in prayer

*** *** *** ***

Is nadi ki dhaar mei.n thandi hawa aati to hai
Naav jarjar hi sahi lehro.n se takrati to hai

Ek chingari kahi.n se dhoondh laao dosto.n
Is diye mei.n tel se bheegi hui baati to hai

Dukh nahi.n koii ki ab upalbdhiyo.n ke naam par
Aur kuch ho ya na ho, aakaash si chhaati to hai

The flow of this river brings a cool breeze with it
The boat though decayed, still struggles against the waves

Friends! find and bring a spark from somewhere
An oil-soaked wick is ready in the lamp

I've no sorrows now, as, for my achievements
If nothing else to show, I have a vast chest like the sky

*** *** *** ***

Mere chaman mei.n koii nasheman nahi.n rahaa
Ya yu.n kaho ki barq ki dahshat nahi.n rahii

Kuch dosto.n se waise maraasim nahi.n rahe
Kuch dushmano.n se waisi adaavat nahin rahii

Himmat se sach kaho to bura maante hai.n log
Ro ro ke baat kahne ki aadat nahi.n rahii

No nest remains in this garden now
Or, you can put it that there is no more fear of lightning

The close relationship no longer exists with some friends
The intense hatred does not exist against some foes

If I dare to speak the truth, people are offended
And I am not used to pleading any more

*** *** *** ***

The translation, as usual, is mine. Though I feel this is my weakest attempt so far - I managed to get an almost literal translation, but it is not able to convey the sensitivities expressed in the original hindi version. I am not able to put into words the feeling of loss, of hope, of helplessness, of determination, that the poet did.

That brings to me a thought - can one individual really understand the feelings and emotion of another? When one says to another, "I understand what you are feeling (or, going through right now)", is he or she actually capable of it? On my part, if I have had a setback, and someone tells me that s/he understands, perhaps my reaction would be that of resentment. I might be more at peace if s/he tells me that s/he is sorry to learn of the loss.
With something as abstract as an emotion, how can you establish an equivalence?

Law abets law-breaking

2007-05-22T06:04:00.000-07:00

My enthusiasm at having clicked a "breaking-news" kind of pic was kind of dampened - all of the people to whom I showed this pic told me as a matter-of-fact that this was no big deal!!

The dining experience

2007-05-14T21:01:00.000-07:00

... Or the lack of it!

Last Sunday, we went to one of the"decent" restaurants in town [Moti Mahal at Shipra mall, in case anyone wants to be warned]. And we had an experience we are not likely to forget any soon.

There was an extremely noisy live program [hosted by some store to mark its inaugration] going on at the lower ground floor [we were at the third], which certainly did nothing to enhance the "dining experience". We placed our order for the starters, and deliberated over the main course. The starters arrived after some time. The usual practice is to place one or two pieces, and set the serving plate on the side. But the waiter seemed to be in a real hurry - he served the entire contents at once, but he hurried to take back the plate (along with the salad), so we had to ask him to leave the plate on the table. As if irritated, he dumped the whole of the salad in one of the plates. Despite the bad service, we proceeded to eat, when we realized we were one fork short, and had no knives at all. We called out the waiter, who was too busy finding out what was happening on the ground floor, to listen to us. This stretched our patience, and when he finally turned up, we asked him to call the manager. Instead of doing so, he proceeded to another table to take their order. I got up finally to look for the manager, and described the scenario to him. Instead of being apologetic in the least, he calmly informed us he will get the cutlery. And when he did, we still had one knife less! We asked the waiter to get another one, and told him that we want to cancel the rest of the order, but the manager displayed no signs of remorse even at this stage! This was when we paid our bill and walked out. We didn't need to cancel the order, because the waiter had never bothered to take it!!

Whose loss was it ? Ours [it spoiled our dinner], the restaurant's [we are not going to go back, and advise our friends to do the same], the manager's [if everyone faces similar situations, the restaurant is not going to last long, and his job would be at stake] or the waiter's [he lost his tip, and stands to lose the job if the place goes down hill].

I have recounted one of the experience, but this post is not about just one experience. There have been incidents in past, when the poor quality of service in some of the better known restaurants gave a lot of disappointment. It gives me an impression that though these kind of places compete with the best in terms of pricelist, they have no stand whatsoever when it comes to service and/or taste. And then there are the gaffes which can only be considered as faux pas of fine dining.
Televisions may be acceptable in crowded food courts, or in McD, but in a restaurant? Do you want to enjoy the food [which you are paying a good amount of sum for], or do you want to watch TV, which you do anyway daily at home? The place mentioned above had a seating for two, right under a 30-inch flat screen! Perhaps they wanted to give the rest of the diners an option to watch the TV, or the couple, whichever they found more interesting?
And the music? Music might enhance your dining experience, but I think that implies soft music, preferably instrumental. What are restaurant managements thinking of, when they play rock music or local FM channels on full blast, so you have to shout to hear yourself? Or even popular music, or piano tunes of old hindi films, for that matter? Are they trying to distract you from the food? The lesser attention you pay, the lesser the amount of competence required on their part ??

The basic question is, why is there an absolute lack of attention to make dining an "experience"? Is it a perceived lack of expectation on the part of the diners, or an indifference or perhaps ignorance, on the part of the restaurants?

The effect of company

2007-05-13T00:54:00.000-07:00

One of the comments on one of my recent posts reminded me of this sher [came across it on the net, with no credits].

It describes the effect of posting policemen on security duty in kavi-sammelan's [poetry recitals]:

Rafta rafta har police-wale ko shayar kar diya
Mehfil-e-sher-o-sukhan mei.n bhej kar sarkaar ne
Ek kaidi subah ko faansi lagaa kar mar gayaa
Raat bhar ghazalei.n sunaayi.n usko thaanedaar ne

[Gradually every policeman became a poet
by getting posted at poetry recitals
A prisoner committed suicide in the morning
The sentry recited poems to him the entire night]

Flower Fest - R for Rose

2007-05-12T00:50:00.000-07:00

I made my debut at flower fest with Pansies and Petunias. I do not know of any flower names that start with Q, but I am going back for R.

I posted this one long time back on my travel blog

But what can one about a rose?
A rose is a rose is a rose ...

Then there are Ranunculus.

Ranunculus, pronounced as ran-UN-kew-lus, is a latin word meaning "little frog". It has its origins in the middle east, hence it is also called as Turban Butercup.

Ranunculus belong to the Buttercup family (Ranunculaceae) and is the cultured cousin of the Marsh Marigold.

It has bright, rounded flowers atop dense green parsley-like foliage. It comes in a wonderful array of colors, with shades of red, purple, yellow, white, pink, and orange. You can even find copper ranunculus flowers and also ranunculus flowers with dark and yellow circles

Yaadei.n (ek baar phir)

2007-05-08T01:23:00.000-07:00

Memories -

An endless flow
Like water in the rivers
Waves of thoughts
Ripples of faded pictures

Like a cloud in the hills
A wisp of smoke that lingers
Drifts away on closing the palms
Floats from between the fingers

Yaadei.n -

Jaise ek nadi ka paani
Jaldhaaraa bahati anant si
Khayaalaat ki chanchal laharei.n
Dhundhle drishyo.n ki ek tarang si

Parvato.n mei.n Thahre baadal
Dhuei.n ki lakir se
Ungliyo.n se fisal jaate hai.n
Band hatheli ke beech se

Not-so-Great Expectations

2007-05-07T02:41:00.000-07:00

Do not expect anything from anyone - this is a golden rule that I have followed for many years now. It saves one from a lot of pain and hurt sentiments. You expect something from other people - and when they fail to fulfil it, intentionally or unintentionally, you get hurt. No amount of words or self-consolation can soothe the pain that you have thus inflicted upon yourself. So, the best possible way is not to have expectations of anyone else.

Keeping this in mind, I have not kept any expectations when providing help to people, even though going out of my way at times. Many of them were very friendly while they were in the need of my help. As their need reduced and finally ended, so did the amiability. I felt good earlier, and now I feel sad, about the state of things.
This is undoubtedly a very natural process. With the fast-paced lifestyles and ambitious gaols, people do not have much time to socialize without a purpose. Since I realize this, my state of mind causes me to seek an answer.

Am I expecting something that I consciously do not realize?
What was it that I felt happy about earlier? Was it the peace of mind induced by a harmonious existence with your fellow beings and camaraderie brought about by exchange of friendly banter? Was it the feeling of confidence or self-importance arising from "being able" to help?
And what makes me unhappy now? Is it the loss of camaraderie [can perhaps be viewed as a limited case of a "broken relationship"?] Is it a feeling of having been manipulated?

Bringing these thoughts from the sub-conscious to the conscious mind was not an easy task. It was still difficult to put them in words. And it is going to be further difficult, if not impossible, to find the right answer.

Saaye Mei.n Dhoop - I

2007-04-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

It was almost two months back that I expressed my intention to share some excerpts from Dushyant Kumar's ghazal collection 'Saaye Mei.n Dhoop'. Well, better late than never :-)

Here are some of the 'ashaar' I liked ...

Lafz ehsaas se chhaane lage, ye to had hai
Lafz mane bhi chhupaane lage, ye to had hai

Aap diivar giraane ke liya aaye the
Aap diivar uthaane lage, ye to had hai

Khamoshi shor se sunte the ki ghabraati hai
Khamoshi shor machaane lage, ye to had hai

*** *** ***
Sar pe dhoop aayee to darakht ban gaya mai.n
Teri zindagi mei.n aksar mai.n koii wajah raha hoo.n

Kabhi dil mei.n aarzoo sa, kabhi mu.nh mei.n baddua sa
Mujhe jis tarah bhi chaahaa, mai.n us tarah raha hoo.n

*** *** ***
Rehnumaao.n ki adaao.n pe fida hai duniya
Is bahakti huii duniya ko sambhaalo yaaro.n

Kaise aakaash mei.n soorakh nahi.n ho sakta
Ek patthar to tabiyat se uchhaalo yaaro.n

*** *** ***

Well, I doubt that someone is ever going to put them to soft music, and make an album out of these. The sentiments expressed in his words are too stark. They are the words of the common man - who has suffered the sad realities of life, who is pained by the naked truth, yet aspires to bring about a change in the indifferent society. I am really not too aware of the life and times of the great poet, or his political affiliations; but I could sense a distinct socialist inclination here.
It was much later that my hunch about his socialist ideology was confirmed by my father, who was familiar with the poet's name and career, but he did not share my enthusiasm about his poetry - perhaps because he is aware of the social and political scene that existed then, while I am not. I am glad that I "found" Dushyant Kumar through his poetry, his words. And one of the first lines written by him that I read, remain amongst my most favorite poems...

Geet gaakar chetna ko var diya maine
Aa.nso.n ke dard ke aadar diya maine
Preet meri aasthaa ki bhookh thi, sahkar,
Zindagi ka chitra poora kar diya maine.

One-liners

2007-04-25T00:29:00.000-07:00

A collection of one-liners I liked a lot!

Back Up My Hard Drive? I Can't Find The Reverse Switch!
Nothing is fool-proof to a sufficiently talented fool.
Madness takes its toll. Please have exact change.
A conclusion is simply the place where you got tired of thinking.
Diplomacy - the art of letting someone have your way.
If things get any worse, I'll have to ask you to stop helping me.
Tell a man that there are 400 billion stars and he'll believe you. Tell him that a bench has wet paint, and he has to touch it.
No one is paying attention to you until you make a mistake.
To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism, to steal from many is reasearch.
If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.
All those who believe in psychokinesis raise my hand.
Whose cruel idea was it for the word 'lisp' to have an 's' in it?
Why is abbreviated such a long word?
Why are there 5 syllables in the word 'monosylabic'?
War doesn't determine who's right, just who's left.
Help stamp out, eliminate, and abolish redundancy.
I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy it thoroughly.
Insanity is hereditary; You get it from your kids.
I still miss my ex-husband, but my aim is improving.
A meeting is an event where the minutes are kept, and the hours are lost.
I considered atheism but there weren't enough holidays.
A fact is anything you can make someone else believe.
A life? Cool! Where can I download one of those?!
A lot of people mistake their imagination for their memory.
Money doesn't bring you happiness, but it lets you look for it in more places.
Your conscience may not keep you from doing wrong, but it sure keeps you from enjoying it.
Middle age is when broadness of the mind and narrowness of the waist change places.
A person who can smile when something goes wrong is a person who has found someone to blame it on.
Isn't it a bit un-nerving that doctors call what they do practice?
Drive defensively. Buy a tank.
Nothing is illegal until you get caught.
If you cannot convince them, confuse them.
Lead me not into temptation; I can find it myself.
Confidence is the feeling you have before you understand the situation.
Multitasking: Screwing up many things at once.
History is a set of lies agreed upon by the Victor.