After a series of long stretched confused moments, i finally managed to buy a pair of goggles. Here is what a dear friend had to say about it:

Congratulations on your new-found courage a la "goggles".

While it is true that sunglasses are made for the 'Singhanias' and 'Singhs' , 'Kapoors' and 'Khans' in the Indian Context, I'm of the opinion that the 'Srinivasans' and 'Sampath Kumars' must nevertheless feel free to give it a shot. Now, I perfectly understand what you exactly feel after trying dozens of glasses. While you feel discouraged at finding out that not a single pair suits your face well enough, take heart in the fact that people who hail from South of India were never the target customers. They drew the line big and bold along the borders of Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh and planned to omit the population south of the line. Bangalore was, however, pardoned.

Now that you are assured, you aren't the sole guy spending thousands on a pair of sunglasses, that you are sure, suits your slick Northy friend better, it's time to take heart in a few details.

First off, you never need one. Our ancestors already passed us sunburnt genes. The genes that missed the sunburns were not spared either. Our ancestors made sure the "day long" homams were properly roasted. Therefore, any attempt at protecting your eyesacks from UV rays is not worth all the effort because we are born with dark circles. We live with it and die with it, happily, unworrying. Not our fault. Blame the generations that passed it along.

Now since we know we are not truly protecting anything with the glasses, we might rather spend on one expensive pair and have them dangling by the shirt's V as you put it, or safely rest it on the head so you can be sure you are not going wrong with the right pick by actually wearing them and the upside, you get congratulated on the handsome pair of glasses.

Thirdly, be happy you didn't grow up South of India. In Madras, when young men wear sunglasses, women do avoid taking a second look at them, but for entirely medical reasons. The only time that they see men wearing goggles is when they have contacted conjunctivitis.

Have you thought about the other advantages, like how a woman gets attracted to you by the sheer display of courage in proudly sporting a pair of goggles when you know very well that they were better off behind the sparkling glasses at the store? And you paid for them. It is telltale sign of your character man. Way to go!:)

Now, did you finish reading 'Survival of the sickest'? Didn't you get anything from the author's argument that sunglasses actually do more harm to the body than good? Didn't you read his points supporting his argument? That could always be your weapon of defense for 'no sunglasses, never sunglasses, damn sunglasses, burn them all' stand.

The rain poem

In little drops i count the rain,
sliding off the roof sand gliding through the panes,
It pours in millions, in a dance of beats,
yet my heart goes thump, on the little one's tweets,

She waits on the corner ledge , afraid to fall;
She bounces in herself as if gathering her breath in all,
I catch her midway , careful not to let her splash,
She imbibes my hand, with the fragrance of the sky,
and i lift my arms as the angels fly;

In the falling millions I found my drop,
Lost she nay, as in my hand she lay,
water in my hands and my hand in the air,
In the dance of the rain, I lost her again,

I sent a boat, as i sat on the stair,
"find my drop", I shouted , in the watery fair,
"tump" she fell again, in the ridges of my palm,

One for the love, one for the moment,
one for life and one for its fragrance;

Testimonials to my little sis

My little sister has been haggling me to write her a testimonial for a while now. So I decided to pen down a few:

I always had this Question, would it have been better, if instead of a sister, I had a Dog ? In fact my father thinks , not too fast there. It was hell of a job bringing her up. A "dog ", no way. So I corrected him, I mean dad, either Satya or a dog. "Hmmmmmm" he said. My dad is usually a quick and decisive thinker. "Hmmmm"... , for once his answer seemed to hang on suspended reality. I guess he was counting the number of clothes he's bought her, and hence the time lag. Yeah, that explains it.

Anyway, back to Satya, well she's cuter than a puppy definitely, ahh the smile( when she does) . Less destructive too, no tearing curtains or scratching the bed sheets. She also dosn't bite ( as frequently that is). No finger nail trimming, she bites it off herself. She eats 1/100 th of a labrador, dad pointed out and cooks very well, I added. Mum then quietly pointed out at the kitchen mess. She just made some raita .. "Hmmm" we all said together. And she sounds 2db less than the loudest bark you ever heard.Hmmm.....



Satya makes awesome bhelpuri!. And thats not the only thing she is awesome at. If I were to list things out, it would have to be an experience equal to eating a rich yummy chocolate pastry at Birdy's. Hmmm...yummm. Its better at Hyatt's and Oberoi's she corrects me. Thats Satya for you.

You always think you figured her out, and in a moment of self indulgence, you relax back with hand on your head and legs on the table. And... you made the mistake of your life. You just not there yet, you just not figured her standards yet. And you probably never will. Its not your mistake, she just has that taste.

No she's not snubby, in fact she would be the warmest person you could come across ( and probably some hot lava , if your timing's awry). Catch her smiling and she would make you feel its the happiest day of your life and expect nothing in return. Well, you may by then be tempted to treat her for your month's hard earned salary. But hey, isn't she like the best friend you had, since you were 5?

Books Me and an Unfinished mail

I have never read books, I have always been a part of them..


I was the blue jackal in panchatantra.
I was the blind man trying to walk straight after drinking, when i read the "childrens knowledge bank".
I was buzz aldrin, peeking out of the appolo mission capsule, orbiting the moon.
I was the vikramaditya who carried the ghost on his shoulders.
I was mandrake the magician, who made the thief see a 100 images of me.
I was phantom in the skull cave who fought pirates and smacked a guy and left a skull on his face.
I was Howard Roark, stiking clean lines on a sheet of paper, while my love married my worst enemy, and slept with me on her wedding night.
I was Harry potter who fought so valiantly for his friends and to whom prof. Dumbledore so simply explained the power of love.
I was Siddhartha, the fearless in heart, who went in search for the meaning of life and became a buddha.
I was one of the hardy boys who solved mysteries and lived life on the edge.
I was Brida in search for her soul mate.
I was mithrandir who came back from dead to help mankind conquer Saruon.
I was karna, a man of his word, a warrior king of great courage and strenth, who died for his word.
I was the monkey which decided the fate of a bread to be shared between a dog and a cat.
I was John galt, who decided to stop holding the world and stop its engine.
I was .....
I am my dear, a man with the heart of a little 5 year old boy. Its a strong heart mind you, capable of holding immense weights and expressing immense love. it can feel immensely hurt, and yet It knows how to let go of one disappointment and live another day and as an entirely new person in an entirely new world. It holds the hands of people who carry a free heart, it enjoys watching the stars, the moon and the colours of rainbow with people who wear no colored glasses.

I cannot read a book, without being a part of it, without imagining myself to be riding the waves of emotions and adventures that a story carries. I have never written a book, but I have never come across a book i liked, which i thought I couldn't have written. I have never come across an interesting person, whom I felt I couldn't be or someone I couldn't admire or love immensely.

I will not finish this mail as I want to let it hang on, fill it as you feel right, imagine it as your hear flies, and if at any cafe along the way you find sitting quietly, sit by me and tell me a story.

As cheesy as I can get

Can I be your Nano ?
A little snuggly bucket in bright canary yellow and twinkly eyes,
I will creak and move as you get in or out, the little bend as a small bow for you,
I will run slow, but then will make the whole world rushed and you in peace,
I wont give you a boot space, but then I teach you to hold snugly to all your latest purchases on your lap,
I will turn small, so you can keep me for your DOG and imagine my small turns as chasing my tail,
I have spartan dashboard, give your kids a chalk and see their creativity grow,

I will be a personal slide, for you and kids;
I will be purr, no macho farts,
I am easy to push for starts,
You can take off my engine and run your Fridge,
and I wear my heart on my BUM.

So girl make me yours, and give me a kickstart ....

joy of debugging

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/dan_dennett_cute_sexy_sweet_funny.html

Li, Copula madness and a Sordid Boss

http://www.wired.com/techbiz/it/magazine/17-03/wp_quant?currentPage=all

Car AD Hunters Golden-eggs ... SPLOSH ... Let the goose live

Why do Car Ads always show, what it looks from the outside ... set in a landscape, shadowed by stylized silhouettes. Never showing what it must be to look at the outside world, sitting inside it. The car is someone else's creation and the admiration is in the beholders eye . The only part you play is the a twist of jealousy you pour to another's heart, when you step out. A little burn like the twist of lime of a sweet tongue.

A trophy car, a trophy house, a trophy wife, trophy caste, trophy religion .......... man ... hunter. Hunt and collect trophies and show, its such a fundamental instinct that drives the sophistication of all life around. Its fascinating to observe what 5000 odd years of progress has achieved. Better packaging.

Needless to say, the other facet of man is the exhilarating sense of free creative spirit, see the Yin needs the Yang. The spirit to create, to create the balance with yoga, the spirit to create the perfect automobile, to create the perfect AD for the hunter, to create/become the perfect trophy person to be acquired, lauded and cherished. To toil in the soil of everyday life and create a symbol of his or her work. the symbol worth hunting for and be hunted for, to be put on a pedestal, to shine on someones Armour.

If such be the innards of life's, why do the hunters not let the creator free. Why is the the trophy maker made a trophy. Why is not the goose allowed to lay an golden egg, as it pleases!. Go pick up she doesn't care. The scramble , the mad scramble, infused of greed and reeking of fear, out to catch the egg . BUM DUM SPLOSH there falls another egg, a half fried omlete on the heated earth.

The creative one must not suffer, not be pledged to lay the egg everyday. Is she ?, and so understood our forefathers better. They attributed all creative geniuses to spirits, and protected the precious. Ramanujam the great mathematician , always attributed his work to his house goddess, who would wisper ideas in his head. Interestingly, I came across this beautiful lecture at TED's by Elizabeth gilbert, where she discusses the idea of nurturing creativity:

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

A Letter to my Future Girl

Adventures do have a price, they take conviction and a true heart, and none better food for a long journey than love. Its a long travel, and any traveler knows, that to reach the destination, was never the point of the it. Be brave, come along and there is much to see, to discover the expanse and meaning of your life. There are fruits to pick up and people to meet and cultures to explore. You will fall and get pushed and get hurt. Occasionally the warmth of my arms may not be enough, and in those moments you will have to find the steadiness of your own heart. And then you shall know, you have grown wiser. You see, my love, Roses for all their beauty, do have thorns. Yet in history one man outstretched his arms through the bushes, to pick one. Bruised, he discovered their fragrance.

Its not about bearing each other, but about accepting the other as a fellow traveler, whom you trust. Each one has his powers to give, If I can think kite flying, you can probably do kite flying better than me consistently, everyday. What my imagination starts, your discipline completes. When my love makes your nights wonderful, your energy makes my days delightful.