BLABBER GOB

where am i?

2007-08-03T09:10:00.000+05:30

This is where i am nowadays:

http://scribbles.bravediary.com/

Wind Chime

2007-02-04T23:06:00.000+05:30

An angel spoke to me,
In a soft dreamy rhyme.
Like a gentle poem,
Like the whispering wind chime.

Then the angel giggled
at my helplessness.
I was smiling too,
and wafting in weightlessness.

Prometheus' Deception

2006-06-24T17:00:00.000+05:30

Conceited Mortals, How could you forget

the hand that crafted us?

Upon trivial comforts you whine and fret,

while our Creator hangs over Caucasus.

Hephaestus' gifts of fur and feather

were not lost in vain;

Our clubs clothe us in leather,

Behold! the provider of clubs and plough,

passes each moment in pain.

While your blood curdled in the cold,

and through the torments of diseases untold,

did you not grumble and curse?

Remember mortals! the heart so bold!

Remember the wisdom of fire he bestowed!

You cooked your kill

And sat around the bright fire.

Warmer, and healthier are the blasphemers,

but none the more wiser.

O Prometheus!

Prometheus, our maker hangs in the cold

and Ethon the eagle pecks upon his liver!

What hath come upon you all?

Do you not hear Prometheus' bawl?

Unconscious by Pandora's gifts

and lulled by the camouflage of conceit

you squander away time in deceit.

Alas! mere mortals, you do not see,

this is how Zeus wanted things to be.

While you are blinded by earthly needs

On Caucasus your hero bleeds!

Prometheus suffers for his care

and his helplesness he did share,

with his sister Anesthesia.

Anesthesia, the dreamy eyed!

She cast her enchanted spell,

and into slumber Zeus fell.

Our master then braved the Titan's wrath,

and brought us the gift of fire .

Zeus awoke and nobody spoke,

but the king was to understand.

Prometheus pays the price of affection,

but the Gods, they call it,

Prometheus' deception.

Afternote: I always loved the story of Prometheus. During the reign of the Titans, Zeus was the King of Gods. Prometheus is the creator of humans, unfortunately he takes too much care and time to create humans that he forgets that his brother Hephaestus has been using fur, feather, fangs, claws and other gifts of Zeus on other creatures. Finally when Prometheus completes making the first human, he is left with no more gifts to give. Humans are born weak, so Prometheus starts to teach humans secrets of the heavens, like farming, hunting and brick laying. This makes the humans comfortable and in their new found wisdom and comfort, humans forget the Gods above them. This enrages Zeus, who forbids Prometheus from making a visit to earth.

Prometheus, lured by his fatherly love and care, asks Anesthesia to put Zeus to sleep and makes one final visit to earth and shares the secret of Fire. Zeus wakes and comes to realize the deceit. He punishes Prometheus to hang by a mountain while an eagle is made to peck at his liver. Every morning, Prometheus' wounds heal automatically, and the eagle starts pecking all over again.

If you like ancient greek mythology, let me know.

The Story So Far

2006-06-16T14:23:00.000+05:30

After being tagged by Prmod and having passed the buck to others, I was just about catching my breath only to find myself re-tagged by White Magpie .... re-tagging is against the rules, even in case of a new tag, I just referred that from the Official Rule Book on Tags.

3rd June Saturday. One of my friends(A) was leaving to Bangalore and so he hosted a party in our friend’s(S's) house. Music, food, lights and booze was arranged for the party. The party was kick started with a toast; within seconds people were dancing, hooting and having a great time, while in the background snaps were being clicked. All of us were unaware of the world below us. Slowly my speech became slurry and I felt tipsy, and all of a sudden a fat old man barged right into the middle of the party with his sons…he wasn’t one among the invitees. This is what ensued:
Fat Old Man: “What the hell is going on here? This is not a disco…blah blah blah”
A: “Sir, Actually…”
Fat Old Man: “…blah blah…Residential Area…daughters…blah blah… alcohol.. girls..dancing…blah”
A: “I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience and I assure…”
Fat Old Man: “blah blah blah…this will be your last warning!”
…saying this the Old Man and his sons disappeared in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

Music off. Silence.
A muffled curse…a few giggles.

“Lets all go on a long drive…whadd’yall say”?
Cheers. Flourish.
Ya, I know drunken driving is illegal, but nobody admits to being drunk at times like these.
Some of them wanted to be dropped off at their/friend’s homes. The others joined the drive. 40 kms from where we started it started drizzling, a very thin sheet of rain. The drive was through paddy fields and marshy areas. Our headlights startled a host of rabbits, rodents and other scurrying animals that fled away from the road. There were eriee noises and an orchestra of crickets and toads. Slowly the drizzle turned to rain. Most of us love getting drenched in the rain. So we all braved the rain. Sneeze. We got lost, and discovered a new way back into the city. Sneeze. Got home at 2:30 am. Sneeze. Zzzz…

04th June Sunday. The whole ob nesht day went bery norbal, eshcept obcourshe for the darn cold.

05th June Monday. I started feeling feverish as I approached office in the morning. I brushed the feeling off as Monday blues and recomposed myself. I scanned my official mail for threatening mails, found none. My Project Lead passed by with his characteristic snicker, and just then I felt an eerie sickness overcoming me. It was like a sour, cold thing passing through my body. I was feeling cold. Concerned colleagues told me I looked pale and gave me weird looks all the time. Soon people started standing up and sticking out their necks from their workstations to catch a glimpse of the medical disaster that was me. All the attention psyched me into sickness. We have this very good lady in our project who came up to me touched my brow and asked me to leave by the very next bus. God bless her. I went home with an aching throat and slept.

Next day(06th June Tuesday) the doctor told me I had Pharyngitis. (Defn: Pharyngitis is the inflammation of the pharynx). In English, we call it throat infection. I was advised to stay at home for at least two days and follow the course of antibiotics. I was to gargle with some diluted brown goo that I imagined to be tasting like turpentine (No, I haven’t tasted turpentine). After my buddies left the house I started to miss being in my workplace. I tried watching TV, there were ads of great programs to be aired the next week, meanwhile I had to watch repeat shows of Investigation Serials and football match highlights. Suddenly as i surfed the channels, I happened to see this cooking show and a lamp glowed over my head. I called the provision store below our appartment and asked them to send over the grocery required. I started cooking. I made omlettes, French toasts, Macaroni and lots of Tea. 3 days of rest, cooking and Roald Dahl followed.

Soon the weekend arrived and early Saturday(10th June Monday) morning I flew for Bangalore. Bangalore had a great weather. My sister and my nephew (8 yrs) were at my parent’s in Bangalore for the summer. I spent most of my time playing with the kid. Puzzles, scrabble, computer games. I suddenly decided that the kid needed more activities outdoor so armed with badminton rackets and a shuttle cock I dragged him out and handed him the racket. Soon we were playing a great game; he loved to smash. Things were just turning to be good fun, suddenly the kid trips and bruises his knee and ankle. So much for physical activities. Something told me my sister wasn’t very pleased with the outdoor activity idea of mine.

I wanted to take the family car out for a spin. My dad told me the car had ‘some’ problems, I agreed to look into them. When i took the car to the service station the technician told me the battery had to be changed and the headlight switch assembly had to be changed this was going to cost a lot of money, and the fuel prices put together I was as close to being broke as I had ever been. I used most of the money I had left and bought myself a bus ticket back home.

This week one of my buddies went back home as he is getting married on the 22nd . Nothing else happened this week. Absolutely nothing.

The Weird Thingy Tag

2006-06-03T14:00:00.001+05:30

What you need to do:
1) post a blog with six weird facts about you
2) tag 6 people at the end of ur post...victimize them unawares and pass the buck
3) post a comment in their blogs letting them know that they’ve been tagged and ask them to visit your blog for info.

6 weird facts about me:

I speak gibberish – There are these solitary moments when I don’t have anything to do in particular…and nothing to cook my noodle brain with, well at these times I speak nonsensical stuff. I can converse with a 1 year old baby in her own lingo. I can coochikoo with the ladies without making sense.

I like the classical styles of poetry – I like the works of Shelly, Keats, Wordsworth and Edgar Allan Poe.

I like wet messy kisses – u heard it.

I watch Cartoon Network and I like reading comic strips – Bugs Bunny, Dexter’s lab, Pinky and the brain, Johnny Bravo, Courage the cowardly dog... are my fav shows. Calvin and Hobbes, Dilbert and Garfield are my fav comic strips. Conan the barbarian, Batman are my fav action heroes.

I love to burp out loud – All the girls I have ever known think it’s barbaric. I love it when I conclude a good meal with a lion like roar. It’s a man thing, I could never explain it to the girls. While I believe that a burp is a symbol of power, the ladies would like to think that it’s a fart that lost its way!

I love to procrastinate – We’ll speak about this sometime later.

Prmod - Its all his fault...he made me do it.
Now for the nominees who will carry the baton (In alphabetical disorder):

Sophia - happy, loving, caring

White Magpie - opinionated, frank

Jac - flora and fauna

Aria - hello this is my world

Eating poetry - poetry personified

Ben - loves Sharmi

Fool's Dream

2006-05-23T09:44:00.000+05:30

You are deeply mistaken,
Yet you continue to assume.
The castles you built will be broken,
Your paradise will be consumed.

What will you do my dear friend,
when nothing around you remains,
when realization brings you to an end,
when they finally walk away?

They'll pretend they didn't notice,
The moisture in your eyes.
You'll gift yourself a loser's smile,
and tell yourself you're fine.

Eventually the night will embrace you
A little colder it will seem,
With glimpses of a fool's dream,
A paradise that wasnt meant to be.

One wedding, a paper presentation, an appraisal and two funerals

2006-05-12T01:35:00.000+05:30

I am all torn and overused like a stuffed doll. I was doing a million things, a few are worth mentioning.

Lets start with the wedding – ‘M’ who happens to be a friend and colleague waz getting married, and bcoz I have this additional responsibility of being an event manager in my workplace, I was blessed with the duty of collecting contributions for the combined gift, arranging transport to the venue and buying the gift for M.
Everybody contributed a little amount of money for the gift and a colossal amount of suggestions. Some of them held their contributions in their hands until they were satisfied with their elaborate description of what they considered was the ‘ideal’ gift. The ecstatic ones were performing incredibly with their unfailing frequency of an idea per second. “…Or we could buy her an ipod, u know it’s light and easy to carry…How about a dining set...A wristwatch maybe...”
As the auspicious day approached we were approaching some sort of agreement on what the gift should be. Many agreed on jewelry. The reason for the unanimity was partly because the planets had begun aligning themselves in a good way, and partly because the enthusiasts were dwindling in numbers fearing responsibility. The day before the wedding everybody somehow agreed on a pearl jewelry set, and swoosh!! the very next moment I turned to see everybody back on their desks with noses buried in their monitors. Okay, so I had to buy the gift myself. I bought a pearl set, arranged transport and finally made it on time with the team to the venue. Our team wished the newlyweds, the entire team shook hands with the bride and groom in a giffy and quickly took formation around the bride and groom and smiled into the cameras forever.

Next, the two funerals – last Saturday I lost a very dear friend from my school days. He died of a motorbike accident in Bangalore. My sister’s mother in law expired earlier this week. I was held up at work and I couldn’t leave Hyderabad to attend either of the funerals. May their souls rest in peace.

The appraisals – Our company has a scheme of annual appraisals where once every year the employees rate themselves on a scale of ‘Star’, ‘Meritorious’, ‘Adequate’, ‘Reasonable’ and ‘Trailing’(S.T.A.R) over various hard and soft factors, that’s the easy part. Next the associate’s manager gets his much awaited chance to vent his frustrations by rating the associate against the ratings that the associate had previously entered. Both of these ratings are then sent to the next higher manager who has the privilege of driving the last nail into the coffin.
At each stage the associate is allowed to disagree and discuss the ratings given by his managers. Flattery is to Managers what Diesel is to Trucks. Pea brained colleagues who made good use of their tongues verbally and otherwise, came out successfully with S and M ratings. I was given an A. Luckily a feeling of revolt mushroomed and I called for a discussion. I spent a valuable God given hour letting the jackass know that ratings were supposed to be based on hard work and intelligence. This involved reminding him my track record, drawing charts, keeping him interested in the conversation, comparing brain sizes of the various species in my project, displaying appreciation mails that I received from the client and a whole lot of persuasion. Finally he reluctantly improved my rating to M. Phew!

The paper presentation – We have an annual technical paper presentation event. Ten best papers are selected and then the best three papers are rewarded. About a month ago, A mail announced May 10th as the last day for the final paper submission. I sat long hours into the night combating sleep and drafting a paper. I worked beyond office timings because the last day was quickly approaching. In the early hours of 10th may, as the whole of Hyderabad slept, I submitted the paper and went home. I was back in office at 10 am that morning, and there was this unread mail in my mailbox. On openining the mail it read – “The last day for paper submission has been extended on public demand”. If some lawyer out there thinks I can claim a million bucks if I sued the company for all the strain that this ‘postponement of last date’ decision put me through, contact me, I’m willing to split the moolah in half.

I was living in an insane world the last few weeks…I am happy to be blogging again.

What I need

2006-04-21T21:26:00.000+05:30

This isn’t a poem.
Sorry. It lacks a poet and it lacks rhyme.
What it has are words of a mortal fool.
A fool who has it figured out.
Yes, I know what I want.
What I want is another God.
They taught me a praise,
They made me sing,
He’s got the whole world in his hands.
Great thing to do, thank you very much.
Hold the globe in your hands,
And run around the sun.

I need a God with honor.
I don’t want the bad guys to always win.
Why let them win?
I couldn’t watch the devil hurting my dear ones.
I have dignity.
A bearded man told me
He lets the bad guys win because He is great.
Was he a Mullah? A Swami? A Rabbi?
Or a priest who doesn’t shave?
The bad guy wins because God is great?
I don’t need greatness.
I need justice.
Heaven is Ostentatious.
Kashmir is burning.

I want a poet, not a mute.
Praise my beauty, chide my wronging,
Warn me before I make my mistakes.
You are a God,
Don’t sit there and watch Discovery channel.
And in the end, these books decree,
He’ll say, “I told you so”.
I want someone with an opinion.
Someone who will let us know.
When I fell a tree too much,
Warn.
When I quarry the mountains
Protest.
When I pollute,
Punish.

I need a God with fairness.
I don’t need Africa and America.
I need Utopia.
I don’t want black, white, brown, red and yellow.
I want colors not skin tones.
I don’t need tornadoes and hurricanes,
Tearing down homes,
while a hundred miles away,
the landscape scorches in famine.
Give us sunshine, give us rain.
I don’t want pygmy, and paratroopers,
I don’t want bow legged bushmen and Versace,
Give me a farmer, give me football.
Give me a patch of grass,
Give me the shade of a tree and a stream.
Let us drink nectar, chill.

Set forth your angels,
Bring wrath upon the war mongers,
Bring down the symbols of man.
No children born with ailments,
Don’t test, believe.
Why tempt and torment a few,
When you can give the others?
Don’t expect faith, prove.
If you have created faint hearted
Volcanoes should spare the good people.
Tear down the skyscrapers that challenge nature
No babel, No tongues.
Tongues of flames.
The city is Hell,
Infested with rabid rodents and roaches,
Tear it down.
Don’t let them destroy the Amazon,
to build Disneyland.

Yours, In all earnestness

2006-04-17T18:25:00.000+05:30

I am the faint hearted angel,
The one that cries as you sleep,
Who hopes that you’ll never know,
that it’s not for me that I weep.

My shoulder, my hands, my heart
I offer unto you in eagerness
My tear, my smile, my sympathy
Were yours in all earnestness.

The cries of a thousand Gods deafened me,
I turned to see an infant cry.
The divine candescence that blinded me
Was a rusty lantern in a poor man’s shack

I gleefully painted your colorful dreams,
Long after the bedtime story,
I returned the tears I wiped off your cheek
As dewdrops on the morning glory

A butterfly alit upon my shoulder
A rainbow adorned the sky,
Everything changed and it hurts no more
For now, I chanced to see your smile.

Afternote: I dedicate this poem to Sophia Prakash who probed me to think in these lines.

On embers I dwell

2006-04-10T15:36:00.000+05:30

Mistaken, misinterpreted, misunderstood,
On embers I dwell
I am the beast, the cynic,
ostracized from hell.

Hate, Anger, Claw and fangs
Aren’t the only things,
Hidden somewhere within this beast,
Are bruised and broken wings.

They decreed me dangerous,
And sequestered my smile
You seethed the venom in me
till my muse turned violet and vile

Kindle my abode with words,
Burn it down with bellows,
Soon within your hearts will be a cenotaph,
Uncontrolled my memories will grow.

V for Vendetta

2006-04-04T22:23:00.000+05:30

The milieu:
9:30 pm, 02-Apr-2006.
I was waiting in line at the Prasad’s Multiplex in Hyderabad to try and get tickets for my friends and myself to any damn movie, to kill some time. Now this Multiplex happens to be one among only 220 venues in the world to house an IMAX 3D screen, also this Multiplex features the world's most powerful projector that beams on 29 meters wide and 21.93 meters high screen, but frankly, I wasn’t thinking of all that, I just stood there in line amusing myself with all the eye-candy in the vicinity, and before I knew it, it was my turn to ask for tickets, and thanks to good karma, he had just 3 tickets, the last three tickets for the night. The tickets were for a movie, I had never heard of before (I am ashamed of myself for this now), and they were considerably expensive as opposed to other movies being screened at the time, because this movie was being played on the IMAX screen!

My friends were highly skeptical about the movie. They pointed towards the movie’s poster and gestured me to look, grinning all the time. The poster showed a bald girl and a funnily masked guy, this brought fresh doubts into my mind, I considered returning the tickets, and quickly decided to nudge my luck a little more and hope the movie turned out good. Nearing the entrance to the hall, I heard my friends scornfully murmuring to themselves that “V for Vendetta’ could be part of a sequel, whose first movie was probably called ‘A for Apple’!!

The history:
05 – November-1605, The Gunpowder Plot.
Guy Fawkes is arrested while attempting to blow up the Parliament of England.

The poem:
"Remember, remember, the 5th of November
The Gunpowder Treason and plot;
I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot."

The participants:
V (lead male) played by Hugo Weaving
Evey Hammond (lead female) played by Natalie Portman.
Director – James McTeigue

The movie:
The movie is set in an England of the future. (No, its not sci fi). America is in Civil war, and England is ruled by an extremely right leaning government. The government is shown to posses all the undesirable characteristics that governments in the big rich democracies of the world today seem to have. The government has controlled media, secret police, surveillance and the government works by scaring the people with hoaxes and prearranged catastrophes, and finally the government has voters thinking the way the government wants them to think. An example quoted in the movie is that after an outbreak of Avian Flu, one pharmaceutical company shows profits in millions, and the chief of the company turns out to be a top party worker for the government. Slowly the people lose confidence in their government but the government’s chief, Adam Sutler, has created a post called the Vice Chancellor and exercises a whole lot of power, and continues to rule the country, using brute force, lobbyists, religion and whatever it takes to stay in power.

Evey, a girl working for a popular TV station breaks a curfew and is harassed by the secret police. Out merges a Masked Man to save the girl and an amazing action sequence ensues. The masked man then invites the girl to witness the blowing up of ‘The Bailey’, he claims responsibility to the illegal action, and his actions were meant to outdo the government, to bring down symbols that represent the government. Later he hijacks the most popular TV station (which is obviously fabricating news in favor of the government), and relays his plan to blow up the parliament one year from then, on the next 5th of November through this station. This causes the government to go after the masked guy, and a surveillance camera, reveals that Evey was with the Masked Guy on the day the bombing of ‘The Bailey’ occurred.

Then we get a peek into the life of this guy who wears the mask of Guy Fawkes, loves Shakespeare, is great with alliteration, sword fighting and possesses extremely sweet manners and calls himself V.

After this the movie gets all the more interesting, the story grips you to your seat!
The movie has spirituality, motivation, politics, action, poetry, suspense and everything required. I was a firm believer in the system of democracies, this movie opened my eyes to a new hidden dimension.

There are a few extremely cool dialogues in the movie, just like in ‘The Matrix’, well weighted and precise, such as:
“It isn’t the people that should be afraid of the government, governments should be afraid of its people”

My overall rating of the movie: 8/10.

Gasoline

2006-03-29T14:01:00.000+05:30

The day Innocence confronted the Divine Playwright

2006-03-22T11:20:00.000+05:30

Ma, when will I get a new dress?
Soon child, sometime soon.
Ma, I want one just like Anita’s.
Okay. Are you done with your homework?
Please ma, every girl talks of her new dress, they asked me when I’d get mine.
Hmmm…
Ma. I’ve decided I’ll go for the same design as Anita’s but not pink like hers, let us buy one that’s orange in color. I love the color orange.
I’ll stitch you a better one sweetheart.
But ma, I want a dress just like Anita’s, all my friends liked it so much. I don’t want you to stitch one ma.
You cannot have a dress like that child, we cannot afford clothes like that.
Please ma, why can’t I have a dress like Anita’s? I have been a good girl ma, haven’t I? Please ma…please…sniff
Stop bothering me now and go do your homework, I’ve got loads of work to finish
Sniff…you always say that…
You want to know why you cannot afford a dress like that. You want to know don’t you, you little fiend? Because your daddy is a poor loser, that’s why….
What do you think you’re telling that girl you wretch?...

"For thyn is the kingdom...power and the glory...forever ....and ever...Amen"

The Blessed Damozel - PART2

2006-03-19T18:12:00.000+05:30

Sunday 8:00 am. Vicky was up and awake. Her trained eye was now at work scanning the room. She was yet to spot what she was looking for when Jim awoke. Jim did not appear pleased seeing her in his shack. Jim cursed her in a mumble. Vicky’s profession had taught her resilience when it came to customers behaviors. Jim’s mumble and many other words like that weren’t a curse to her anymore she only looked at him and her mind was preoccupied with something else. She remembered he was smiling the previous night when they were together. Now the expression was demoniac, it was the same with every man, no matter how much they enjoyed the broad’s company, the next morning the men always woke up with a “holier than thou” attitude. The whore is never offered coffee for her previous night’s services, and they are trained not to expect such occurances either, because Jim and every other man on earth are hypocrites. Vicky got off the edge of the bed and was now sitting on the floor pretending to be searching for her clothing while actually she continued to look around. He cursed her again and threw money on her face and was threatening to smash her face if she didn’t get her filthy body out of his place the next minute. Vicky stooped down to collect the fallen notes when she noticed it. It was below his bed glistening, it was his saxophone.

Vicky collected her money and walked out, on her way back her mind raced back to two years ago when Jim had promised the world to her, and she had believed him. Jim was an aspiring musician. He was working on shifts as a delivery man, and practicing his saxophone. He had a dream of making it big in the world of music, and Vicky had her share in that dream, it was their dream. Vicky was a waitress at the bar, and he would pick her after her work. He would play to her his compositions and Vicky thought Jim was the best. Soon Vicky realized that she was pregnant with Jim’s child. Jim had been happy to hear the news and they had exchanged rings. Soon the child was due in a couple of months and Jim began to change. He would come home late at nights, drunk and angry and curse her and the unborn child for having screwed up his career and life. Vicky would cry herself to sleep most nights, and hope things would better. Vicky was being cared only by another co waitress at the bar, who’d come in after Jim had left and be out before jim could arrive. The child soon arrived into the world, a sweet little girl. Jim wasn’t pleased as Vicky thought he would be. Jim hardly caressed the child or cared for its mother. Vicky cried for a change, and the one day it happened. Jim came home smiling in his hand was a pacifier he had bought for the kid.

Vicky was glad to see him smile. She was glad she waited for him, glad that she’d be able to live their little dream. He went up to Vicky’s side on thee bed, held her close whispering little promises of love and finally told her, he needed her help. There was this guy at the radio station who had promised to record his numbers. But he wasn’t going to do that for free. The cash he had saved was used up for Vicky’s and the child’s medical expenses. Both their little savings couldn’t possibly amount to his demand, and that was where Vicky could come in...he whispered the rest into her ear. It was necessary to whisper this part because Jim knew he wasn’t doing the right thing, so he whispered as if the baby would understand his words. Tears streamed down Vicky’s cheeks, she sniffed for about an hour and finally told him that she loved him and would do what he thought was the right thing to do, because she dreamed his dream....

-- Sujay Sukumar

Epilogue:
The Blessed Damozel
- Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

The Blessed Damozel - PART1

2006-03-11T14:45:00.000+05:30

8:30 pm Saturday. The man Jim saw in the broken mirror in his shack was unshaven; he had unkempt hair and a permanent frown. It was a face that made kids look away, but the face appealed to Jim, it was a man’s face. Apart from that face, Jim owned 2 pairs of jeans, a couple of t-shirts, a knife, a Zippo cigarette lighter, and a year long subscription of Playboy. There was something else he owned from a pretty long time that was put away in some corner in the shack, but it didn’t occur to him now. He still wore the ring that Vicky had slipped into his finger the previous year, or maybe the year before that, he couldn’t remember exactly. The ring did not mean much to him anymore; it didn’t remind him of much either, and it wasn’t important anyway, nothing was.
He didn’t have to make deliveries on Saturdays, so he’d done what he usually did on Saturdays – hang out at the bar. He had come home early from the bar that evening, he was hardly drunk. He was looking into the mirror now and started to run the comb over his hair, today he would spend some cash on the broads, the thought excited him and he grinned exposing his nicotine stained teeth.

10 pm. Jim walked towards the alley, and everything in the neighborhood looked familiar. It was as if the same scene was being played out by a bunch of actors every night. Even the street cat seemed to play its role perfectly for the hundredth time, puffing its fur and looking at Jim from the corner where the overflowing trash cans were. The place even smelled the same. And now the whores were in view, he no longer cared about the scene or the smell, all that mattered was the woman he’d take to his shack. He stopped short of crossing the road, and a car zipped by, Jim cursed loud enough to cause the vagabond sleeping at the street corner to shift sides, nothing else changed. One of the broads seemed to be looking at him from across the street; soon a couple of them had noticed him.

‘Rose’ wasn’t a selling name, but it hid her identity well, just like the makeup that hid the dark circles around her eyes. The name did not make her ashamed of what she was doing. When she went by that name, she felt as if she was looking at the world through someone else’s eyes, sometimes she even heard the thoughts of that person, but the person wasn’t her at all, the person was a hooker called Rose. But then who was she? How had things gotten so crazy? It was precisely at this point that she abruptly ended the stream of thoughts every time.

10:04 pm Rose was with the other girls that Saturday night looking out for customers when she felt a car approaching them. Suddenly her composure changed and she was soon giggling. She felt something being released into her blood on the sensation of that car, soon the instictive crazy feeling followed making her do all the right things that made her a successful broad. Her instincts were great. Today her instinct made her stare at the road for a fraction of a second longer than she usually would and she noticed somebody emerging from the darkness of the alley. The approaching car had now pulled over next to the group of girls and the guy at the wheel was nervously smiling at her tapping his fingers on the steering wheel all the time. It's that high school kid again,Rose told herself. The kid was too young and too rich to haggle with her prices, and he did not spank or hurt her, he wasnt into bondage and fetish like her other rich customers, he was almost certainly her favourite customer. And then she glanced back at the alley, and swallowed hard.

In a flurry of nods and gestures, signalling to the kid and the girls, she sent the kid off with another girl and waited for the man approaching from the alley. Something made her wait, suddenly she wasn’t Rose anymore. Vicky recognized that walk, and she was scared of something she couldn’t tell. Jim had crossed the road and was soon walking towards the girls. For a fraction of a second their eyes met, he quickly turned them away. Jim was deliberately looking at every other girl on the street apart from than Vicky.
Meanwhile Vicky was unable to hear any sound, her legs trembled, and she saw things in little jerks. She watched him as he enquired with the girls, she saw him growing increasingly annoyed trying to make a deal with the girls, Then she saw him throwing an cold stare at her, her fear grew, little droplets of sweat were forming on her brow. Then in a flash she saw Jim approaching her, she heard him curse his job for not paying him enough to afford a decent hooker, and before she could react he was dragging her by her hand, and she wasnt protesting, it was as if she was hypnotized.

To be contd...

A well deserved break

2006-02-28T18:08:00.000+05:30

Things I did with my friends on my trip to Mumbai:
Drive on Mumbai-Pune Expressway
Breakfast at McD', Tilaknagar.
The overcrowded public train to Bandra
Mental floss at the abstract works in the Jehangir Art Gallery
Pizzas at Pizzeria alongside the Marine Drive.
Walks and photo sessions on Marine drive.
Vada Paav at Chowpatti
Photo sessions at the Gateway of India
Ferry to Alibagh on The Arabian Sea
Night stop at a beach view hotel on the Island
A game of carroms, the girls were horrible at it
ZZZZZ....
Got ourselves a local car with air conditioning to take us around
The Nawab's palace
Ferry to Murud
Exploration of the Janjira fort
Sun, sand and hammocks on kashid beach
Ferry back to CST (railway terminus)
back to our rooms in Navi Mumbai (New mumbai)
Hot baths and Refreshments
To the Disco 'Seven' link road bandra west at 11:30 pm
Danced till 1:30 am
back to rooms exhausted
ZZZZZZZZZZZ....
woke up late next morn
Brunch and puzzles at Cream Centre
Trivia Shoppin at Fashion street
Awestruck at the real estate around Hiranandani's
Coffe, Conversations and the hookah at Mocha
The girls were happy expelling the smoke through their nostrills
Bus back home :(

India detects its first cases of the deadly H5N1 bird flu strain

2006-02-21T14:50:00.000+05:30

Cock-a-doodle-doo!
aint nothin we can do.
We've got to avoid the stew,
coz them chickens are down with flu.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!

-- Sujay Sukumar

‘Boot Your Boss’- an ode to the hectic week that went by

2006-02-20T16:46:00.000+05:30

Addressing a gathering of global techies,
Once I found myself speak,
“I speak just not for myself”, I said,
“but for the oppressed and the meek”,
“four long days we shall humbly work”, I say,
“and in return just one day we seek”
“Boot-your-boss-day we shall call this day,
this special day of the week”.
“On this day we give it to our bosses
untill they finally freak.
The day shall help to vent frustration
as we beat those beasts till they leak.
We pound their behinds black and blue,
We strike them till they are bleak”
And all the techies arose in ovation
I couldn’t help my crimson cheek,
Suddenly I am woken on a Monday morn,
woken up by the alarm’s shriek.
Then I hear my conscience
Whisper in a tone so weak
“Let’s just get back to work brother”, it says,
“Before they turn your rear to steak”.

-- Sujay Sukumar

The Kite Runner - A book review

2006-02-13T20:15:00.000+05:30

Somewhere towards the start of the book, well within the first ten pages, the narration stopped and all the characters in the story emanated from the book and began to talk to me. Hassan, Aamir, Toofan Agha, Ali, Rahim Khan, Assef, Sanaubar, Soraya et al were around me, gesturing, smiling, talking to one another and sometimes talking to me. I’d find their faces in my office cab, there was no mistaking them, their faces and their personalities were painted so brilliantly in the book. I’d find them in street corners, in the bazaars, among school children, I’d find them wearing the masks of my friends, colleagues and relatives.

The book follows the journey of a man in search of his friend (I don’t want to give away more). The journey is so eventful, I found myself relating to most of the happenings in the story. Sometimes the book left me smiling as I reflected on the pranks that I had played as a little schoolboy, sometimes the book left me thinking about the unfairness in the state of things, and yet sometimes I was wondering about what the future might hold for me.

Let me now give you a background of how I came across the book. I had been to an annual kite flying event on the day of ‘Sankranti’, and I was really happy flying the kite and reliving one of the pastimes of my childhood, when I reached our apartment, I realized that my friend had this book with him, the name had something to do with kites, and on that day, the name just compelled me to borrow the book and take a peek.
If you have ever flown kites, then please don’t miss this book, however, kites aren’t a prerequisite for the book in any way whatsoever.

Khaled Hosseini is a connoisseur of narrative skills, he paints Afghanistan, America, Pakistan and India in their true colors, and it’s almost like being there with the author. He also uses methods like flashbacks and metaphors plentifully in the book. The book has a very strong presence of creative techniques like irony, cynicism and humor.

I had established a very strong connect with the book while I was reading it. My friend warned me that sometimes the moisture in his eyes had betrayed him, and he’d quickly recompose, because it was merely a book. Although I have read a whole lot of tragedies (I’m not suggesting that this book is a tragedy, in fact it is quite the contrary), this book was different somehow.

Just read it alright…I could go on and on, and you’ll never really know till you’ve actually read it.

Random thoughts of a voyager aboard a Ship of Fools

2006-02-09T22:27:00.000+05:30

Here I am in a ship of fools, a ship that went unnoticed in time.

I don’t belong here, but I’m not allowed to say that, am I?

My comrades aren’t possessed, they need professional help,
Or maybe divine help, and they need lots of luck.

My ship (No its not!),
Is blue in color,
It’s wobbly and huge,
It keeps going in circles,
Round and round,
The wise men called it ‘Earth’.

Tell me Freud isn’t born yet, or tell me I’m living in a stupor.

I’m seasick, I’m ‘hear’sick, and ‘talk’sick
Basically, I ‘feel’ sick.
The whole ship stinks…

Ahoy, who goes there?
A Nazi? A Moslem? A Chinaman? A Caucasian?
A Hindu? A Buddhist? A believer? A Democrat?
A Communist? An agnostic? A Vagabond? A jehadi?
A junkie? A veggie? A nigger? A Spaniard? A hippie?
……my list is long…

S.O.S – Terrosits aboard !

This ship doesn’t have a raft; it doesn’t have a lifesaver either.

We’re running short of supplies…God (In case you exist) help us!

Oh man, we need fuel to keep this ship going….
These guys will stop at nothing to get their hands on the fuel.
I heard them conspiring war.
They’ll kill babies for fuel they said, and their comrades applauded.
They called it Justice.

There’s enough ammunition on this ship to destroy it 6 times over.
Noah, where are you?

Thyn presence

2006-02-08T20:40:00.000+05:30

Liquid intelligence,
Convenient thoughts,
Evaporation and Overflow,
Casual trickle, silent flow.

Tingled senses,
Festive sounds and sights,
Musk, Marigold and Miracles,
Shooting stars and starry nights.

The book I'm reading...

2006-02-04T15:23:00.000+05:30

I am now reading,
'The Kite Runner' by Khaled Hosseini

SLOG...SLOG...SLOG...

2006-02-03T12:44:00.000+05:30

I have loads of work!!!
Thursday was bad, Friday aint looking any better.
God...I need the Weekend!!!! Please !!!
Do you have to squeeze in all of the 24hours into everyday?
Can't you hold back a few hours for the weekend?

That’s it !!! I’m quittin on you God…I’m siding with the Devil.

Saturday...where art thou?

Statutory Warning: Work can be hazardous to life

It’s that headache again

2006-02-01T18:13:00.000+05:30

Curses! It’s that headache again,
Sickly feeling, unbearable pain.
No one else will ever know,
And on my face it will not show.
Silly, it’s just a headache.

Thoughts fly past my mind in regret,
Not wanting to be pondered upon.
Although the mind wants to forget
They fly right back, in scorn.
Silly, it’s just a headache.

Now it seems to slowly grow,
I feel the pounding on my brow.
No balm, no caffeine, no soothing words,
No friend to caress although it hurts.
Silly, it’s just a headache.

-- Sujay Sukumar

2006-01-31T14:44:00.000+05:30

Jan 31 - I am Happy. Its My Birthday Today !

What is India?

2006-01-30T16:30:00.000+05:30

On Jan 26, India celebrates Republic day.
Early that morning, thanks to our Worldspace Radio there was an overwhelming backdrop of patriotism in the air as we all went about our morning routines. One of us was setting up a little tricolour flag in the living room; another was reading the newspaper while ‘A’ (I’ll call the person A to protect identity) asked a question.
A’s question: “What is India? Is it about you? Is it about me? Or is it a concept?”
I heard this question very feebly amidst the chaos of bathroom singers, the radio, and exasperated complaints of misplaced socks, while I was getting dressed for office. The question kinked my head. I ran up to the living room to confirm if I had actually heard the question right. ‘A’ confirmed.

The question stuck in my head and I kept mumbling it every now and then.It kept ringing in my head, always prompting me to think in those lines, although I wanted to keep myself occupied with other things, I couldn’t get myself to ignore it. The question kept on probing me like a new pimple that makes you want to touch it with your fingers although you know that touching it can only make things worse. Then I gave in to the urge to try and answer that persistent question, here is my answer:

India, on the 55th anniversary of Republic, still remains a mere concept.
The country is the biggest democracy in the world, and exercises freedom of thought and expression. Every Indian has a very private view of the country, a very unique understanding, and a very unique plan for its betterment and future. The India that Gandhi foresaw cannot be the same that Nehru did, the India that I am hoping to see is not the same that my parents would want to see.

Even with our different understandings and views, India has survived as a working democratic nation with the highest number of religions, languages, castes and races in the world. I attribute the country’s success to its existence as a concept, a possibility, an opportunity. Thank God we live in a country that can be built on thoughts and moulded by minds. Jai Hind. (Jai (jay): victory, Hind(hindh): India, short for Hindustan)

As I conclude, I find myself humming a song from the movie Exodus,
“This land is mine, God gave this land to me...”
- Blabbergob
(Sujay Sukumar)

A treasure that’s forever

2006-01-30T13:41:00.000+05:30

Romancing the fringes of reason
like dewdrops on daisies,
these memories linger
eluding erasure.

Captive emotions stir
and escape in an effervescence,
and then dance in step with
violet butterflies.

THE ‘UN’COMMON MAN

2006-01-23T21:53:00.000+05:30

Saturday 21 January 2005 - I personally met and interacted with the most popular humorist of India, R K Laxman.
Two art savvy friends of mine (I’ll call them C and G) and I had registered ourselves to an event “Face to Face with R K Laxman” held in our organization. The program was to start at 10 am, thanks to the nocturnal nature of C, we were all late by half an hour, the delay proved to be a boon in disguise, because we got to see the icon himself ,up close, in the parking lot as he dismounted the car that brought him to the location. I had goosebumps all over as I watched him. Although aged, his personality radiated sharpness. He was wearing a red shirt and black trousers. He was accompanied by his wife, and he needed assistance to walk. He saw the three of us, watching him with gaping mouths. I’m not aware for how many seconds his sharp eyes met mine, but it seemed too short a time for me to cover up my excitement.
The program began with a book reading session; excerpts from his books were being read by some fat ladies (boring!)…The three of us were broke as usual, so we ran to the ATM counter meanwhile to draw money for his books being sold at a special counter.
We made it before the Q’n’A round. Most questions were asked by all the kids who had gathered to meet “Laxman Uncle”. The following section is entirely based on the memory of a forgetful person- Myself, so omissions and mistakes are an integral part of it. The questions and his responses as I can recall were as follows.
Q) A little girl: “Sir, what was the first cartoon you ever drew”?
A) “ I don’t remember, it was long ago”, then he noticed the little girl’s face fade he quickly added, “I think it was of my nephew playing in the garden”
Q) A gentleman: “Sir, name one politician whose cartoons you enjoy drawing most”?
A) Laloo Prasad Yadav
Q) A young man: “Sir, will ‘The Common Man’ ever participate in the events around him or will he always be an observer”?
A) “He will always be a mere observer”
Q) Me (I had to move up real close to him to ask the question, I was asking him the question to his face.): “Sir, I have seen a lot of your works on crows, what medium do you prefer when drawing crows”?
A) Lamp Black.
Q) A gentleman to Mrs. Kamala Laxman. “Do you get to advice or suggest him on his art and works”?
A) “I don’t go anywhere near him when he is at work” .
....And many more questions and answers that I can’t remember… Finally, the moment arrived when we could take our books to him for his autographs…C was leading the way, followed by Me, and G wanted the moment captured forever so he was persuading one gentleman to click his photo as the artist autographed his book.
Dr. R K Laxman, winner of Asia’s top journalism award, Ramon Magsaysay Award, and India’s prestigious award Padma Vibhushan, smiled at me, signed his name for me on his book “The Distorted Mirror: Stories, Travelogues, Sketches” .
He also drew the common man in my book on my request.
The day was fantabulous!!!
-- Sujay Sukumar (Blabbergob)

COMPUTER CACOPHONY

2006-01-19T22:15:00.000+05:30

After an Engineering degree in Electronics and Communication, and having worked as a Software Engineer for two years you’d expect a person to know “The Computer” like a friend. Not true in my case, the hideous thing just isn’t a friend; to me it’s a stubborn 6- year-old with unpredictable mood swings. Yesterday, my comp in my workplace gave me one of those “I-am-going-to-be-difficult-because-I-can” days.
As soon as I logged in I noticed that my system was real sluggish and the cursor made trails of its image (like a string of white arrows) wherever I moved the mouse, being used to such occurrences, I smiled, “the loading of a high resolution wallpaper usually causes this” I reasoned.
In a Support project, we need to check mails from the users of our software solution, so I tried to open my mailbox, “funny”, I thought, “I’d typed the password correctly, just like I’ve done a hundred times before”, but it prompted me to retype the password. Strange, but no explanation offered itself.
I proceeded to connect to the Application, It was slow in logging me on, and periodically the application would go back to the login screen. “Now what could this be”? From the multifarious tangles of my brain noodles an explanation took form, “Voila!! A session expiry”!!. “But what could have caused that”? I imagined some freaky network technician vigorously shaking the network cables.
Suddenly, almost in unison, all the softwares and tools that I use in my system began abusing me with errors and hexadecimal swear words. I imagined an irate kid throwing a bat at me. Vanity joined forces with Reason and launched a surgically guided thought into my dormant brain, “Cool it dude!”, the thought told me, “just restart your thingumabob”. I followed the divine cerebral intervention, and…. “Crap!!” the bloody thing blacked out on me!

Later a dirty goat from the Network and Security team came in, spent some time on my system, offered no explations, told me I could log-in and walked off. He was wearing an expression that seemed to tell me “You’re an awful parent”. “C’mon, give me break, I’m dealing with Calvin here”.

---Blabbergob (Sujay Sukumar)

Confess

2006-01-18T22:58:00.000+05:30

I am tired of pretending,
I want to rush into those arms,
shut my eyes and forget the world,
alas, here I am acting clever,
and eventually looking stupid.
But, yet the twinkle in your eyes...
Are they mocking me?
-- Sujay Sukumar

Scars

2006-01-17T22:13:00.000+05:30

Little hearts pounded in fear
of fat teachers with spectacles and canes;
for unfinished homework was looming tall
besides the holidays of innocence that lay slain.

The kite was torn and tangled,
forgotten; while it hung on the electric wires;
freedom was being taught in the history class.

The crayons and pastels unreachable,
safe in daddy’s cupboard, while
a geometry box encroached the artist’s desk.

Snatched and put away in the corner,
was an aspirant’s bat, the spelling test
had words like ‘effort’ and ‘determination’

Wounds inflicted by the bicycle,
heal, and are soon forgotten.
It’s the impositions and punishments,
that leave lasting scars of humiliation.

-- Sujay Sukumar

ASTRONOMY DOMINE

2006-01-16T20:25:00.000+05:30

Ya know, I dig astrology, the thing kind of works for me. I read my daily horoscope evryday.
I know people who ditrust and discard the whole affair as rubbish; these agnostics argue that astrology doesnt have a scientific significance, these very same people emphatically uphold Astronomy. The truth is, man was always interested in the stars, the moon and the celestial activities much before the first scientific theories were recorded. Now although it is very convenient to assume that all that early man did was gaze at the night sky and utter barbaric growls, my intelligence tells me otherwise. Obviously these people noticed cycles in the patterns of the sky, noticed the moon cycles and noticed the connection bertween childbirths and moon cycles. They went on to study the sky and agreed on a few recognizable constellations and clusters. Further they systematically tried to understand the impact the stars had on their lives. They noticed similarities in the behaviours of people born when a particular star was directly overhead. They Observed, theorized, formulated and Inferred systematically and Astrology was born, a science in every respect.

Advocates of astronomy will agree with me that the moon causes tides, the practical implication of this beleif is that the person accepts that a celestial body situated 384,400 kilometers away(closest distance) from the earth, can actually cause the total sea line to recede by hundreds of kilometers. This is no joke, every cubic meter of sea weighs over a tonne, and if the moon's gravity can cause such an effect on the sea, and if newton was correct when he said that gravity is directly proportional to the density, then it is apparent that, Stars with higher density, greater radiational activity, bigger radii and greater presence in the sky obviously affect the human body not just with gravitational forces but also through radiations and magnetic activities.

Here my argument reaches a point where the non-beleiver of astrology will say, "So according to your argument since the same stars appear visible from anywhere on earth on a particular night, they must have the same effect on every man who sees them ", well these guys are partly right...each constellation does carry a characteristic effect. But logically, the effects of these bodies must be highest on the most succeptible entites. Children born under a constellation or a star are affected most, since their brains are in the early stages of formation. The alignment of electially sensitive receptors, the ratios in the hormone levels are all affected in accordance to the stars above them, causing similar patterns in brain development in children born within certain time slots. That should explain zodiac signs for all of us.

Astronomy is a science that was born out of Astrology and took a slightly different path, just like electronics was born from physics, only difference being that the proponents of Astronomy discarded it's origins as baseless. alternatively if the learnings of Astrology were preserved and researched we might have had a science that could be directly utilized in our daily lives, and found more meaning in our day to day life. I can easily imagine a world where we would have managers making better descisions following an advanced astrological software, doctors making better desicions based on astronomical data and astrological deductions. This I see as more practical than a few wise men arguing the presence of Black holes and the big bang theory.

And here is a good one for the advocates of Astronomy.(I sincerely beleive in astronomy as a pure science and do not rubbish astrology either)
"If the Universe is everything that exists around us, and science tells us that the universe is expanding, then what is it expanding into?"

good night,
No, make that a starry starry night,
Blabbergob

2006-01-13T12:04:00.000+05:30

Finally, a place where I get to say all the things that I wish to say.
This is probably what the Beatles sang about, the Nowhere land where Mr.Nowhere Man is free to make his Nowhere plans for Nobody. This was what the poets called The Island of the Lotus Eaters, Utopia, Xanadu or Wonderland.

I'll be talking about a variety of things like Travelling, Poetry, Music, Books, Science, Philosophy, Adventure, Automobiles, Religion, Epics, Sociology, History and Spirituality.

The views or opinions that I express here are my very own, I do not intend to offend anyone with my views. In case you are offended by my writings or illustrations, go ahead and feel offended, I thrive on your offendedness.

"I shall be heard"
- Sujay Sukumar (Blabbergob)