Satan's Saturday

The sky rains fury,
Hoary winds rip apart
The small dreams of ordinary people.
The grounds shake beneath
Blind causes and convictions.
Cursed be the violence.
Banished be the hatred.
Stop this gross war.

A appeal to stop violence against innocents.

To

Did I realize then
Such a one walked beside me
Smiling and loving.

Did I realize then
Such a one walked the earth
Smiling and loving.

Stairway to Heaven - Led Zeppelin

Theres a lady whos sure
All that glitters is gold
And shes buying a stairway to heaven.
When she gets there she knows
If the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
Ooh, ooh, and shes buying a stairway to heaven.

Theres a sign on the wall
But she wants to be sure
cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
In a tree by the brook
Theres a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it makes me wonder.

Theres a feeling I get
When I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen
Rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who standing looking.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.

And its whispered that soon
If we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason.
And a new day will dawn
For those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter.

If theres a bustle in your hedgerow
Dont be alarmed now,
Its just a spring clean for the may queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by
But in the long run
Theres still time to change the road youre on.
And it makes me wonder.

Your head is humming and it wont go
In case you dont know,
The pipers calling you to join him,
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow,
And did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind.

And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How evrything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.

And shes buying a stairway to heaven.

Sanity in an Inconstent State

Case 1

Was engaged in a casual conversation with one of my colleagues about the rule to make wearing of helmets by motorists compulsory.

I heard of this rule coming to effect from 1st June, 2007, about some 3 months back. Everyone knew this. When I woke up on D Day, the headlines screamed “Wear helmets from today – else face fines”. I left for office on my motorcycle, the whole road was dazzling with people wearing new helmets. New helmets have this sheen that older ones like mine lose over time.

Someone was asking me what to do if he wants to buy a helmet for his son, who he drops at school every morning. He couldn’t find the size that would fit him. He bought a bicycling helmet from a sports shop!

Then this person files a PIL – how can women and children wear helmets? There are the usual traditional hair dos and the flowers. The court raised the question of the health hazards that could crop up if helmets were to be worn in a hot country like ours.

The court’s judgment is awaited, and women have stopped wearing helmets altogether, and during the past few days even men have stopped wearing helmets.

In the meanwhile, helmet prices have shot through the roof. Good, branded helmets cost 1000 rupees (earlier 600-700 rupees) and dubious roadside helmets sell for 500-600 rupees (earlier 100-150 rupees).

The common man is buying a helmet for the first time in his life. He is paying dearly!

It gets incredibly hot inside a helmet in Chennai. One feels like dropping the vehicle on the road itself and running for cover – throw off helmets and clothes!

Now no one knows whether one has to wear a helmet or not. The police are not enforcing it; if the rule has been made void - the government is not publicizing it too. Now people don’t know what to do with their helmets!

Case 2

This is about another instance of inconsistent policy making by the government – closely related to my field of work.

School buses the world over are painted Yellow. Yellow is unique in buses – no one paints it yellow anywhere – better visibility for the buses in traffic and the highway – better safety for the children inside.

December, 2006 – The government comes out with an order changing the color of school buses in Tamil Nadu from Yellow to a color called Shell White.

No one knew about this till about February. One fine day, someone in the hinterland woke up. We were asked to repaint our buses to this new color to get them registered – but the catch was this  NO ONE IN THE GOVT KNEW THE COLOR CODE FOR THE NEW COLOR!

We ran pillar to post to find this, convinced our plant up north to produce this color for us alone. We were proudly displaying these buses, when another manufacturer coolly registers yellow colored buses.

So we decided to go meet the top guy in the concerned department to be clarified. He tells us in an offhand, casual manner that the plan to change the color has been put on hold – due to resistance from the general public!

No new order was issued in the gazette to revoke the old order. We got raped by the plant for changing the color specs twice in 2 months – which entails a day’s loss of production.

The Layman's Debate

Was driving down to Madurai from Erode. My car has just an FM radio receiver. So I had to listen to whatever Kodai FM, Kodaikanal was playing at that time.

This is one of the many times when I have been left to the mercy of this radio station. Usually the songs played are ones one wouldn’t hear in the normal course of time. With no offence meant to their DJs, the programs are more or less boring.

Then there is this program at 10 am – a debate on simple topics – with views put forward on a topic by the laymen of Tamil Nadu’s hinterland. The moderator is a professor, who tries to make the arguments sound simple than what the respondents put forth originally.

Today’s topic was “Does comparison of oneself to others lead to good or bad?” The topic seemed fairly innocuous for me at the beginning of the drive. The respondents to this debate will be the kirana shop owners, men who run telephone booths, unemployed people, etc.

But when the arguments started flowing in, I was amazed at the quality of the responses. The ideas expressed were original with a very good mix of real life, cinematic, lyrical and inspirational allegories.

One person from an unknown village near Kodumudi in Erode put forth the following argument:

“comparing oneself with others makes one lose his/her individuality”

This I think is the essence of the whole discussion. He was referring to the moderator as “ayya”. He told the moderator that he was just a 10th standard pass out, running a kirana shop. Intellect is not dependent on education and social upbringing. It is imbibed through something other than mere institutions.

Katrin Mozhi...

Kaatrin Mozhi...
Oliyaa.... Isaiyaa.....
Poovin Mozhi....
Niramaa... Manamaa...

Kadalin Mozhi...
Alaiyaa... Nuraiyaa...
Kaadhal Mozhi...
Vizhiyaa... Ithalaa...

Iyarkkayin Mozhigal purinthu vidil
Manitharin Mozhigal thevai illai
Ithaiyathin Mozhigal purinthu vidil
Manitharkku Mozhiyae thevai illai

Kaatrin Mozhi...
Oliyaa.... Isaiyaa.....
Poovin Mozhi....
Niramaa... Manamaa...

(music)

Kaatru veesum poothu
thisaigal kidaiyathu
Kaadhal paesum poothu
Mozhigal kidaiyathu
Paesum Vaarthai pola
Mounam puriyaathu
Kangal paesum Vaarthai
Kadavul ariyaathu

Ulavi thiriyum kaatrukku
Uruvam theetta mudiyathu
Kaadhal paesum Mozhi ellaam
Sabtha koottil adanggathu

Iyarkkayin Mozhigal purinthu vidil
Manitharin Mozhigal thevai illai
Ithaiyathin Mozhigal purinthu vidil
Manitharkku Mozhiyae thevai illai

Kaatrin Mozhiyee...

(music)

Vaanam paesum paechu
thulliyaai veli aaghum
Vaanavillin paechu
niramaai veli aaghum
Unnmai Uumai aanaal
Kanneer Mozhi aaghum
Pennmai Uumai aanaal
Naanam Mozhi aaghum

Oosai thoongum Jaamathil
Uchi Meengal Mozhi aaghum
Aasai thoongum Ithaiyathil
Asaivu kooda Mozhi aaghum

Iyarkkayin Mozhigal purinthu vidil
Manitharin Mozhigal thevai illai
Ithaiyathin Mozhigal purinthu vidil
Manitharkku Mozhiyae thevai illai

Kaatrin Mozhiyee...
Oliyaa.... Isaiyaa.....
Poovin Mozhi....
Niramaa... Manamaa...

Kadalin Mozhi...
Alaiyaa... Nuraiyaa...
Kaadhal Mozhi...
Vizhiyaa... Ithalaa...

Iyarkkayin Mozhigal purinthu vidil
Manitharin Mozhigal thevai illai
Ithaiyathin Mozhigal purinthu vidil
Manitharkku Mozhiyae thevai illai

Kaatrin Mozhiyee...

To hell with time

Give me a vision to cherish and
I would sing alone those lonely roads
Swinging, swaying with the tunes
Mile upon mile I would fly;
Like the butterfly’s gentle caress
I would glide past the road’s woes.
The sunset would be rapturous;
The night sky starry, moonlit.
The horizon would come nearer.
I would turn off time and fate;
I would drift on to the end
Of the road and dreary life,
Humming the honor of captured time.

Kill'em All

I brought home a mosquito swatter last week. We still have those mosquito repellants, vaporizers and nets, but this seems to be a contraception designed to kill mosquitoes and to satisfy our anger toward those parasites.

It gives me immense pleasure to sit watching TV and casually electrocute one mosquito after another. They literally burn to death. Their bodies seem to explode into little pieces. Those buggers deserve death for biting me.

There have been few other gadgets that one would relish using for the gore quotient. One example I remember is what they call the “pestoflash”. It similarly electrocutes flies to death in convention halls and small hotels.

But in the latter, the gadget would be placed in a corner and flies would flock to the blue light and die a very voluntary but gory death.

But the all new mosquito swatter is better in delivering a mental kick to the user.

a. one can kill a number of flies and count them too
b. one can sit idly and really have a good time
c. one can buy it at 100 rupees with a rechargeable battery
d. one can walk in the road carrying it around and kill flies all the way during the evening walk
e. it is shaped like a tennis racquet, so one can practice serves, forehands and backhands offhand too
f. one can, above all, abuse little mosquitoes when they are dying

These past 3 months have seen these swatters enter every household in chennai. One can buy it from any street corner. I can even now hear the tut, tut from a similar thing from my neighbors’.

To Think

I hate to go away to the city
From the valley of elephants;
Fragrant music fills the silence
Chirping birds, talking reeds
Fill my heart with beauty
As through the dusk I wander
On the slopes, thinking.
Its worth the labor
To think in silence
To wander pointless
With a mountain in the horizon
With the mind’s aspect bent
To just think and remember…..

Lovers, lovers and lovers

There are lovers, lovers and lovers……
And then, there are the people who cant stop loving.
Extraordinary fortitude they silently endure.
Theirs is the true love, the love that remains immortal.
They seek love as a need, and they are compulsive lovers.
Crushes and affairs leave them with wonderful essences that last forever.
Theirs is not the love that withers.
Love for them is sustenance.
Love is self actualization.
Love is an instinct.
Love is devotion.
Love for them, is God.

Rich Justice - Poor Justice

22 skeletons of children found in a gutter in Nithari, near Noida. Killed, raped later, hacked to pieces, body parts possibly stolen, flushed down the shit hole.

This hasn’t been a bizarre high school shoot out. Not the madness of one insane hour, but the cold, calculative, cunning series of acts over the course of 2 long years. All this happened in one little village. One of the countless villages that fall prey to the encroaching Indian city. Where landowners sell off their land to hungry realtors and become domestic servants a decade later.

The accused, a sardar, a person educated in the best school and college in India, with an adult son. Living estranged from his family. Possibly a person of some intellect by the sort of books found in his house.

The accused co conspirator, a young man, working for the former for Rs. 1800 per month. Bonuses for delivering children to the master of the house. Himself the father of a 2 year old child.

The area has reported 50 people missing in 2 years. 45 children and 5 more young women. All cases were reported to the local police station. There was no criminal angle worked in the whole episode. The women were accused by the police of having eloped and the children to have run away somewhere. In a different country this would have become a legendary story, like the tracking of Buffalo Bill.

In India, the bureaucracy, the judiciary and the police are still heaped in a feudal system of working. The value of a crime, a law or an infringement is seen by the material value of the person in society, rather than the wrong that the crime has perpetrated in society’s midst.

Thus a drunk Salman Khan can run over sleeping pedestrians and still be at large. Thus a Sanjay Dutt can possess arms, be proven guilty and still Bollywood will start a signature campaign to let him off, shamelessly.

After 60 years of calling ourselves an independent nation, widespread campaign was necessary to get justice in a case as simple as the Jessica Lal murder case. Shot right in the middle of a restaurant, but the case wound on for a decade. The best criminal lawyer in the country appears for the accused. The case is won and is considered a milestone in India. Why? The rich villain was caught at last.

There was this poll going on in a private channel – “do you think justice in India is different for the rich and the poor?” – 99% of the responders felt the poor get a raw deal when it comes to simple social justice.

If we still lived in the jungles, if somebody was hurt, the accused would be killed in retaliation. Though this may sound hoary, but this is precisely justice. Undeveloped man, in his raw, native style used to get justice with his own hands. But in a developed civilization like ours, there are still the ugly beasts that kill, and there are the vultures than eat the carrion, and there are the maggots that clean up the remainder, and there is the herbivore who is as hapless as on the day he was born. Yes, that’s you and me.

The End

It all peters out in the end.
The end is forever a tomorrow.
Like the horizon is a mere line
Converging from vastness….
Everything becomes simple
Lines and lines for everything.
Futile, are all our schemes.
Mundane, are all our emotions.
Ennui, are all our philosophies.
Pointless are argument and theory.
Of no consequence is the present
With the end being its essence.
We are made humble in the end.
Everything evens out in the end.

Red Diamond

I could have stolen the thing,
Out of spite, from Hell.
Fire dancing, guilt frothing;
Yes, miracles are possible.
Dizzy dreams I had of it;
On my love’s treasured breasts,
On her soft fair temple,
In her deep nubile navel;
In a swanky necklace wrought,
With fine platinum clasps;
Adore her grace and charm
Adorn her black eyes’ sparkle
Celebrate her youthful beauty.
I saw today a red diamond.

Today

A bird in full flight over the horizon
I beheld one morning on a ride.
Every morning has it thus flown
Lashing out toward life’s tides.

The quiet air was applauding
This riot of light and speed
Coming alive from its musing
Of the night’s dark mead.

Could be heard was the moan
Of darkness which fell to light.
Time had crossed the night’s moat
To welcome another day’s blight.

The ghosts are gone for today
Welcome is another new day
With its many a play and foray.
We have sowed freedom for today.

Happy Birthday!

Yet another year is over for me, and yet another is starting, my 27th. Life has moved along since last year this day.

1. I am in Chennai now
2. I am in a new company
3. I am engaged
4. I will be getting married this year
5. I am being paid 40% more than last year
6. I am carrying less emotional baggage than the past 3-4 years

While the downsides have been a steadiness in emotions, style and habits to the point of complete lack of inspiration, the consolations have been consistency and resolve.

I have witnessed a complete change in myself in relationships and my decisions to keep them where they are meant to be. I think more from the mind and less from the heart. There are a lot of actionable and fanciful impulses that never find expression now. I am more like a mute spectator to my passions than writhing in their futileness and exalting at their power. I am suffering less from life than the past 3-4 years. I am living more in the real world than ever before. There are moments when all this lack of impulsiveness bullies me into a quiet spell. But I come back sooner than before.

There have been periods when my personality has been unable to cope with my profession. Now I am an integral part of my profession. I am more ordinary. I am more docile to emotions. I am able to hold back my impulses. I am smarter now than the tottering idealistic bravado. I am more with the ways of the world.

All these years have been, the past 3-4, a learning experience with adulthood. Now my sights are set toward making money, being successful in my career. To a point entering into marriage has been a major catalyst in this change. I am now thinking of TV cabinets, refrigerators and the necessity of a microwave at home than poetry. I want to buy a car in 2 years, when I will have a kid. I need to have a house by that time. My salary would have to double for that. I need to be selling more trucks today for all that.

Happy Birthday!

Love her so

We shared the evenings
We shared our lives.
But when we quit it all forever
Sorrow came down in showers.
It took so long to realize
That it was the last goodbye
Now all my days are quiet.
But its way too late now
To part with my shadow.
We still share the stead.
My heart is blinded,
By her brightness.
I love her so
I’ve let her go.

My father and me

My father has been at my place in Chennai for the past 3 days. This night, he left for Dharmapuri, where our home is. This is a strange feeling I have felt for him. I seem to miss him now.

When I was a kid, I used to worship him. Going around wherever he goes, doing whatever he does. I would never leave his side when he was home for the weekend. He used to work somewhere far away, and my mother used to run the house.

Through our lives we have seen each other in many perspectives. I have him as the proud father whenever my sister won a medal. She was an athlete in her school days. I have made him proud too. And we just used to adore them.

I guess things go wrong between fathers and sons when sons go out into the world. They see the vices of the world and practice some of them, and see the same in the fathers also. Then the super human image of dads just fades away. After which I am an adult and my father is an old man.

Things started going wrong between us when I was graduating. My father was becoming steadily a drunkard. My mom was breaking down into alternating fits of hysteria and depressions, though I think she managed things extremely well for a middle aged lady. I got into my post graduation and went away to hostel. My dad has a heart attack, then the bypass. Then the second heart attack, then the onset feebleness.

I am still unable to accept my father as being unable to beat me in arm wrestling. My arms are a sorry excuse for a full grown man’s. Slowed down. Absent minded. This cant be possible. Will I be like this someday? How would I look?

When you send off an old man, a person who has suffered for his actions, who is still suffering, who is still fighting to come to terms with his present physical and mental exhaustion, what would you feel? You will feel scared at the vision this offers. There will be a day when I will be emotionally alone. When I will be unable to connect with the age and the generation. When I will a fool at using the “in” gadgets. When I will be scared of trusting my reflexes. When I will be feeble. When I will be senile. What would I feel then?

I wandered lonely as a cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: -
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -and gazed -but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.

Memories

Memories never fade away,
Never melting into the dark.
Restraints forced into sway
Smother just its spark.

Tipped toward the earth
Is today’s harsh reality.
Launched toward the sky
Is yesterday’s lost vanity.

Sometimes time wanders along
In meandering, unending monotony.
Then memories awaken from beyond
The conscious mind’s soothing melody.

Love is best made and squandered.
Wars are best fought and regretted.
Beauty is best sought for and detested.
Life is best lived and remembered.

Disorganized

I am disorganized, in everything I do, everyday.

I drove my car, oops, my company car into the bumper of a bus this morning. I drove it to Trichy from Madurai. I left my luggage in the boot, and I forgot to take it out. Now the car is at the tinker’s shop and I am unable to find him!

I ordered for 10 passport size photos to apply for a driving license, but I haven’t got it from the studio for about 10 days.

My bus to Chennai tonight starts at 11 pm. I am still sitting in the dealership, not knowing how to kill the 4 hours in between.

I haven’t booked tickets for my travel next week.

I haven’t put money into my other bank account. A cheque could bounce in a couple of days.

I am getting married in January, but I don’t seem to have the money to pay for the big wedding. I could end up borrowing money. I haven’t saved in 5 months.

I feel like having a cup of tea now. But I am not going!