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