tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-237378632024-03-08T02:54:45.829+05:30LEMONY SNIPPETSTHE SWEET, SOUR AND BITTER TASTES OF LIFEMMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-58758668396328945632018-06-18T22:22:00.000+05:302018-06-18T22:22:40.075+05:30Happy Father's Day!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4wxUbjiGl83yadnW7F9sfppxXhwAohaPfbQX-AA0ap5ys-0yNedzKkVFwm2TBeKO6B1vyEq0cFCxGmsqZX3pQ19DEqEfyHotzLItoty_b2iVhqYHjtOOJ4dFwjA-GnRIS4bs/s1600/IMG-20180618-WA0020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1207" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4wxUbjiGl83yadnW7F9sfppxXhwAohaPfbQX-AA0ap5ys-0yNedzKkVFwm2TBeKO6B1vyEq0cFCxGmsqZX3pQ19DEqEfyHotzLItoty_b2iVhqYHjtOOJ4dFwjA-GnRIS4bs/s320/IMG-20180618-WA0020.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-89181932693288177022018-06-01T08:17:00.000+05:302018-06-01T08:18:21.845+05:30Happy Happy! :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some memories last a life time and never fail to bring on the smiles :)</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Write a book, write a book Novartis man<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Write me a book as fast as you can!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Of Incredible India and Egyptian sands<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mesmerizing tales of mysterious lands<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Of handsome Gandharvas in a land of their
own<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A political system to mankind unknown<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The secrets of Egypt in deep tombs hidden<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Revealed by hieroglyphs impressively
written<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Or simply write a book, on simple ways to
cook<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So people like me know where to look! ;)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Oh write, write, please write, write fast
and soon<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">A book that is so good, to Man Booker a boon!</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then we can celebrate, and people will say
“Jeez!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Look what a grand party, with sparkling wine and
cheese!” :P</span></span></div>
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-6509838536343769592018-05-13T20:55:00.001+05:302018-05-13T20:55:50.801+05:30Mummaaah!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Happy Mother's Day to the World's Best Mum!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTXMXmJWnJY4Ff26knNFmAjJq6q_vT_62OH6VcYHbNxERsFjDxN5k0ifENQnw-zTRorik3S-UyxfPaEI3iwH8vyQ3b6qPG7JWkirRDE9xOtCe-A3wcB56yFovIjzbTDpv8FZU5/s1600/IMG_20180513_204022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTXMXmJWnJY4Ff26knNFmAjJq6q_vT_62OH6VcYHbNxERsFjDxN5k0ifENQnw-zTRorik3S-UyxfPaEI3iwH8vyQ3b6qPG7JWkirRDE9xOtCe-A3wcB56yFovIjzbTDpv8FZU5/s320/IMG_20180513_204022.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-48731557216685758002018-04-22T12:39:00.003+05:302018-06-02T09:17:58.581+05:30Adventures of the MaMu - 5: The Sanyasi on Synapse<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">It's rare that one encounters interesting individuals –
individuals who excite you, inspire you, who live by principles that arouse the
highest ideals in you. As she was walking down one of life’s narrow by-lanes, our dear MaMu bumped right into one such interesting character – a Sanyasi – a Sanyasi
on Synapse!</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The sanyasi had been pedalling away furiously on his bicycle
– a sleek white Cannondale Synapse. He was tall, dark, focussed, with an
intelligent glint in his eyes. In place of the ochre-orange flowing garb donned
by folks of his kind, he wore neon synthetics instead. The impact of the collision
made him jump off his bike and look disdainfully at the floundering
figure of poor MaMu fallen on the ground. Who was this creature that had interrupted
his resolute journey? For her part, MaMu was gawking at the Sanyasi in complete
astonishment, having been unexpectedly knocked off her feet (quite literally) by this
new-age recluse.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With the sanyasi staring down at her in a piercing
gaze, MaMu scrambled to her feet and apologized for the inconvenience
caused (although she didn’t know if it were her fault at all!). The sanyasi impatiently nodded his head and turned to go. MaMu’s curiosity got the better
of her – one doesn’t bump into a sanyasi often, and a modern one at that!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">“May I ask you a question, Sir?” she enquired politely, and</span></span><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> before he could even answer, in her inimitable
style, proceeded to ask him ten!</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Her brief tête-à-tête with him gave her an insight
into the life of a modern-day sanyasi. Although she would have liked to know
more, the sanyasi wasn’t very forthcoming and held on to what he would have perhaps liked to say. The conversation turned interesting (and inspiring for MaMu)
when the sanyasi mentioned that he led a frugal, spartan life - a simple, sustainable, eco-friendly one in harmony with nature - away from
the hustle-bustle of fast-paced city life. That was right up MaMu’s lane! He
cycled to work to save fuel (yes, he did have a regular job and 3 bicycles!),
hung dried his clothes to save electricity, carried meals in a steel
container to avoid using disposable cutlery and generating unwanted refuse, and
harboured dreams of building a house run on solar power. “Refuse, Reduce, Reuse, Recycle” seemed to be his mantra, as it was MaMu’s. The sanyasi was witty,
well-read and a globe trotter who had many a story to tell that he magically wove
into a mesmerising bouquet of fact, philosophy, humour and wit. He was a champion of
social justice and child rights, and actively engaged in promoting these. Oh,
and he loved to cook! All this at the age of 42! But then, maybe it is the
right age for wisdom to flow – after all, 42 is the answer to the meaning of
life, the universe and everything!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With that brief yet meaningful conversation concluding, the sanyasi cycled away, just as easily as he had cycled into her life, leaving in his wake an awe-struck and stirred-to-the-core
MaMu. She was much more aware now than before of her strength, her potential,
her weakness and her goal in life. She had been tested in a way that only she knew how, on past lessons learnt, and was enthused into action to achieve what was meant
to be achieved by her. Although MaMu would have liked the association to
continue, it was time to move on. After all, he was a Sanyasi – a wanderer – a nomad
in search of his next destination, his next adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sometimes, the greatest adventure is simply a conversation.<br /> ~ Amadeus Wolfe</i></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So it was for MaMu.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJHvhiBEdMknlve5IHbzDUZYvCt3szuaD2VMaEuKVRbBAeHo7lg6lZYem_fiI7KNw9Vn4jsZfQ-OZXOstFmqzJfJ9n0Q_PubnwT4mAFaIdm8sazslbL8dXtBrgvQlIgQXrieL/s1600/Synapse.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJHvhiBEdMknlve5IHbzDUZYvCt3szuaD2VMaEuKVRbBAeHo7lg6lZYem_fiI7KNw9Vn4jsZfQ-OZXOstFmqzJfJ9n0Q_PubnwT4mAFaIdm8sazslbL8dXtBrgvQlIgQXrieL/s320/Synapse.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Images: Pinterest</span></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 17.12px;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Post Script: </span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 13.91px;">The handwritten letter shall remain unposted. </span>The polymer clay birthday gift will eventually see the light of day. And the Sanyasi shall definitely be missed.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Happy 42, Sanyasi! Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish.</span></span></i></div>
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-18657405128459917942017-03-28T20:18:00.004+05:302017-03-28T20:18:52.739+05:30New Year, New Start! :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbjJJVaa37q7f960x846TThMtKtODQOzyUr5TsHnseryouQuR37Aarm9QXwCAHqXxqqUjOFGfRCHeIZ8JBqk9-1u0T5eCwQzhOQJrx1U8K4BC5_VBo-WxKI8Cjg8EA9y5AF9oE/s1600/Ugadi.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbjJJVaa37q7f960x846TThMtKtODQOzyUr5TsHnseryouQuR37Aarm9QXwCAHqXxqqUjOFGfRCHeIZ8JBqk9-1u0T5eCwQzhOQJrx1U8K4BC5_VBo-WxKI8Cjg8EA9y5AF9oE/s320/Ugadi.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-67551259728832885712014-07-13T23:56:00.003+05:302014-07-14T20:28:55.252+05:30The Music of Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A wet, rainy afternoon. Pitter-patter, nay, the beating down
of large, heavy raindrops. Blazing disc of the sun, meek, against the invading
army of dense, dark clouds. Ferocious wind surging in and out of the house,
rattling frail window frames, flaying hapless curtains. The monsoon war rages
on…</span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oblivious to all this,
I am at complete peace with myself, with the world – transported to another plane
altogether by the lilting tunes of Bhimpalasi flowing like nectar from the mellifluous
voice of Gaan Saraswati Kishori Amonkar – drowning me in the melodious ocean of
the seven swar's – the saptasur. As she
meanders through the raag, light-footed here, a heavy step there, I am transported
back to my childhood, to the commencement of the journey, my musical journey
through life.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I remember waking up every morning to the strains of Hindustani
classical music in the sonorous voice of Pandit D V Paluskar. I recall seeing father
meticulously going over his collection of old and new gramophone records,
choosing the appropriate one to play, depending on the time of day/night and
the mood. His gentle humming as he affixed the record onto the player, the
sparkle in his eyes and the childlike eagerness with which he awaited the first
notes of music to issue forth as pointed needle met revolving record. Eyes mist
out at the thought of the days gone by, but the smile plays on, to the music
that never ceased…</span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Throughout the day, there would be music all around – the sound
of birds chirping, water gushing, leaves rustling, animals frolicking, even
snakes slithering and lizards crawling! I would climb up my favourite mango
tree (or the guava, or the neem!) and sit still for hours together, fascinated
by the wonderful sights and sounds of nature. The growling of an empty stomach
was the only sound that would induce me to step inside and head towards the
kitchen. And then, the kitchen sounds – the
vessels clanging, the mortar-pestle thudding, the grinding stone grinding, the masala
and seasoning spluttering, and in times of the harvest, the threshing outside
and the winnowing of grains inside! Oh, the joy of playing in the rich harvest of
pearly rice, golden dal and earthy wheat, as mother and grandmother cleaned,
winnowed and stored them, all to the humming of some old folk song handed down
from generation to generation – I was the richest princess on earth! :)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Come evening, and the chirping of the crickets signalled the
time to light the oil lamp and recite the evening prayers and tables. Evening
prayers in grandmother’s firm yet melodious voice is a memory treasured by not
just me, but the entire family. The calmness that her rich voice brought was akin
to the application of a cool, soothing balm onto the hot, stuffy tiredness of the
day’s toil. We all sat down to dinner in a much pleasanter mood after that. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After shatapauli in the shimmering moonlight, we came back
inside for a sweet dessert of night raags. As sleep took over the child that
was me, mother gently gathered me into her arms and rocked me to sleep by
singing sweet lullabies in Konkani and Marathi. Mother and mother tongue, simple
and unassuming, yet leaving a deep impression on one’s mind.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Music continued, and music training too, not just in a music
class, but by being taken to night long concerts at the community hall and even
to Nashik city. Every Saraswat household is blessed with atleast one vocalist,
instrumentalist and several connoisseurs of music. Visits from relatives would
invariably turn into impromptu maifals with everyone wanting just one turn to display his/her
talent, and getting several – one fuelling the other – unending music, unending
fun! I especially remember one such family gathering when I was all of 3 years old,
in which Sriram bhaiyya sat down with my harmonium after the afternoon meal and
doled out dish after dish of delicious bhaav geets, bhakti geets and natya
sangeet. Enthralled by his mesmerizing voice, I didn’t realize when I fell asleep,
only to be wake up in time for the evening tea. Not one to let beauty in any
form remain unappreciated, I promptly went up to him and innocently said “Bhaiyya,
you sing so well! I slept so peacefully after hearing you sing!” As bhaiyya
picked me up and gave me a hug, I wondered why he and everyone else in the
house were roaring with laughter! To this day, Sriram bhaiyya maintains that it
is the best compliment he has ever received for his singing! :D</span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">School, college, IIT and IISc – I looked for and found music everywhere. In college, I was an active member of the Indian Music Group and helped organize and
compere the JanFest that year. As part of the ArtMan (Artist Management) team,
I had the good fortune of interacting </span></span><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">at close quarters </span><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">with the stalwarts of Indian
classical music. Running around to Anna for hot tea and cool sandwiches for Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia, the vacuum sealed thermos that won’t
open and was ultimately opened by the handsome and talented Salil Bhatt, being
addressed as ‘Mayaji’ by Parthosarathy Chaudhuri, the lightening speed with
which Pandit Vijay Ghate’s fingers teased the tabla, the exhilaration at
hearing the haunting tunes of the Pahadi played by Pandit Chaurasia late at
night even as the police came to ensure the stop of the programme at the
designated hour – the memories are many, rich and vibrant! Who can forget the
race against time to cover up the green room (which was indeed painted green)
because Kishori tai was not fond of that particular colour! How we rushed to the market,
bought bales of white cloth and painted a beautiful peacock on it, even
decorated it with shining mirrors, and managed to cover the walls only a minute
before the lady herself walked in! Dr. Ashwini Bhide-Deshpande so liked our art
work that she asked to take it away with her after the programme – we were more
than pleased! </span><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I also
vividly remember the morning of 26</span><sup style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> January 2002, when the flag was
hoisted by Kishori tai- there was a slight drizzle, and after the hoisting, Father
Principal made an announcement that brought the house down – the government of
India had conferred on to Kishori tai, the Pada Vibhushan, and Pandit Vishwa
Mohan Bhatt, the Padmashri that year!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #b45f06;">At IIT too, music greeted me. My roommate, my ‘roomie’ ,
used to wake up early in the morning for her riyaaz. In order to not disturb
me, she would climb up to the hostel terrace and practise there. Her
beautiful singing would wake me up and lure me to the terrace too. A golden red sunrise
and Hindustani and Karnatic shastriya sangeet being practised by one passionate about it – one
has to be blessed to enjoy all three together!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At IISc, music was the solace to my PhD-battered soul. The extremely
talented Rhythmica group breathed life into all their performances and into
their listeners. How each member of this team could sing well and play most, if
not all, instruments, just as pros, is something I wonder about even today. Then
there was the time I feigned illness and bunked lab to stay up at an all night classical
programme organized by the IISc Marathi Mandal in the gymkhana. After a
wonderful four hours of listening to Ashwini tai with my talented, young junior Nishad
giving saath, I stood up in the break time to stretch myself, only to find the
Boss looking daggers at me from the 1</span><sup style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">st</sup><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> row of the VIP sitting,
right behind the baithak! I immediately sank back into sukhasan, only to rise up with the morning sun the next day! I had to face an altogether different kind of music in
the lab that morning </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">:D</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That wasn’t the only time though - history repeats itself,
and the Boss soon understood the strong correlation between my falling ill and
the probability of a music concert in the vicinity. It had it’s advantages too – once when the Boss was gifted passes to a high profile music concert (tickets
to which were too expensive for the torn pockets of a poor grad student), he promptly
gifted them to me! So I had the good fortune of not just listening to Ustad
Rashid Khan, Aman and Ayaan Ali Bangash and several South Indian Vidwans and
Visdushis, but also to witness Pandit Birju Maharaj live, in person! I was
in 7</span><sup style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> heaven that day!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #b45f06;">Life, however, is not always as musical. Sometimes, all
there is to hear is empty, soulful music. At such times, I remember father’s words – “Divine music can be created even from a hollow flute that is
full of holes. It matters not how hollow or how many holes, but it matters
whether there is the will to create music.”</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At that, I surrender and let the music of life envelope me.
It accepts me in all my emptiness, in all my entirety. When the mind is atune
with the anaahat naad, one is at peace with oneself, absorbed in divine bliss. As the nectar of life’s music begins to flow, I begin to live... immortally...</span></div>
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-3360816104423182562013-06-05T23:59:00.001+05:302013-06-06T13:55:39.734+05:30Racing ahead... wisely<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5th of June</span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> is proclaimed to be ‘</span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">World Environment Day</span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">’, the right day I think to shell out my two cents on the recent ‘Turn-Mahalakshmi-race-course-into-green-garden’ political play. For once, I think the politicos have the good of the city in mind, despite the obvious political undertones.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Mahalakshmi Race Course is sprawled over a vast 225 acres right in the heart of south-central Mumbai. In 1914, the land had been leased out by the then government to the Royal Western India Turf Club for a period of 99 years, which expired on the 31st of May 2013. While RWITC applied for an extension of the lease, Shiv Sena supremo the late Shri Balasaheb Thackeray's son and hier, Udhhav Thackeray, proposed that the huge area be converted into a public garden instead. The Chief Minister of Maharashtra was approached with the ‘blueprints’ of the proposed plan for the garden to be named after the late Sena supremo, which is believed to be an alternative to the unsuccesful attempt at building a monument in his memory at Dadar's Shivaji Park. Uddhav Thackeray’s son, Aaditya Thackeray, the head of Shiv Sena’s youth wing posted these pictures on his Facebook page –</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRmrWiM4ZcjWgaNidHWK9E97dT-5m2MOWJRPxwLurqDr2UkUIxuK_Ijcv-HWW4XwA8jeGtsui_IBRIDUfctI5DtQGaPWSqRmVjAsgDAVZCdGBn4b99ei8HCvr3uUpLblMZUoE/s1600/983973_4732569122418_1236435916_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRmrWiM4ZcjWgaNidHWK9E97dT-5m2MOWJRPxwLurqDr2UkUIxuK_Ijcv-HWW4XwA8jeGtsui_IBRIDUfctI5DtQGaPWSqRmVjAsgDAVZCdGBn4b99ei8HCvr3uUpLblMZUoE/s320/983973_4732569122418_1236435916_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aerial view of the Mahalakshmi Race Course as it is today</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmej6YJ6zd64BTFmvtUKnHJmrZh0RgHuxe81Sfx_OdZcGVyE6mQHvCkUX17yiJk8owXIRVJ7WTqOHMf2g9UX_PAqbmS9ox4f86T2EaO7Z4YQE47obUlcCV40y5XH_S66PHqRRU/s1600/980254_4732569642431_713219460_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmej6YJ6zd64BTFmvtUKnHJmrZh0RgHuxe81Sfx_OdZcGVyE6mQHvCkUX17yiJk8owXIRVJ7WTqOHMf2g9UX_PAqbmS9ox4f86T2EaO7Z4YQE47obUlcCV40y5XH_S66PHqRRU/s320/980254_4732569642431_713219460_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aerial view of the proposed garden, believed to be an image of Monaco, Monte Carlo (<a href="http://www.dnaindia.com/mumbai/1842361/report-aaditya-thackeray-posts-a-vision-of-mahalaxmi-racecourse-on-facebook">http://www.dnaindia.com/mumbai/1842361/report-aaditya-thackeray-posts-a-vision-of-mahalaxmi-racecourse-on-facebook</a><span style="color: #990000;">)</span></td></tr>
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This is what the Sena has to say about it –</div>
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"This garden will have open spaces to run, jog, cycle, skate, fly kites.. a water body for boating, relaxing. cultural sites for open air music concerts, theatre, poets and plays.. small gardens of flowering trees and plants."</div>
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Whatever the reasons behind the proposal of the garden, political or otherwise, I am all for it. Although I will miss the enigma of the race course, I eagerly welcome the idea to create a much-needed breathing space in south-central Mumbai. </div>
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I endorse the plan proposed by the Sena, adding my own two cents to it –</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">1. While open spaces for running/cycling/skating/flying kites are most welcome, and so are the small gardens of flowering trees and plants, let the proposed public garden be a </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">real jungle</span><span style="color: #990000;"> among the concrete jungle. What this part of Mumbai is most in need of is not just a breathing space, but </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">strong, powerful robust lungs</span><span style="color: #990000;"> that will clean up the heavily polluted air. Planting as many trees as possible is the need of the hour. A beautiful wooded area can be planned out with settees and rustic benches for people to enjoy the cool shade, and a cosy little footpath for the walkers to enjoy a memorable stroll in cool, fresh air.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">Left to me, I would plant an entire grove of </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">neem trees</span><span style="color: #990000;">. The air-purifying effects of </span><i style="color: #990000;">Azadirachta indica</i><span style="color: #990000;"> are well-documented scientifically and I have experienced it personally too. I would also have a special area ear-marked for </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">medicinal</span><span style="color: #990000;"> </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">herbs</span><span style="color: #990000;">, shrubs, plants and trees – a nice way to make people aware of our rich native vegetation that has untold priceless health benefits too. And maybe a small place for the </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">‘Rashi’ and ‘Navagraha’ trees</span><span style="color: #990000;"> of astrological importance. Their significance has been vastly undermined, but more on that in a separate blogpost.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">2. ‘Water body for boating and relaxing’… well have boating if you must (generate funds to maintain the garden?). I would counter-propose a beautiful </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Zen garden</span><span style="color: #990000;"> complete with water-lily and lotus ponds, bamboo groves (doubt if they will grow in the Mumbai weather, no harm trying though), crystal clear streams of cool, sparkling water bubbling over stony pebbles and wooden bridges. Maybe even a bonsai or two thrown in, and of course green lawns where one could sit and relax or simply read a book.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">3. The stands and viewing boxes at the race course can definitely be fashioned out into an </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">open-air amphitheatre</span><span style="color: #990000;"> – imagine concerts and plays right under the blue sky, or the starry night! (Sadly, dark starry nights are a thing of the past what with all the super-bright ‘diffused’ light in the city. Also, the Mumbai monsoons would necessitate the need for alternate arrangements, but hey, getting drenched while listening to a concert is so much fun too :) There should definitely be a covering over the dias, goes without saying!). While some shows can be free of cost to the public, the theatre may also be lent out for shows to corporates for a reasonable amount, proceeds being used for the maintenance of the garden.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">4. Another extremely important issue is, to use the buzzword, </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">‘Sustainability’</span><span style="color: #990000;">. Using </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">rain-water harvesting and composted/ vermicultured soil</span><span style="color: #990000;"> to maintain the greenery of the garden, using </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">solar power</span><span style="color: #990000;"> to light it up, providing separate dustbins to </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">segregate waste</span><span style="color: #990000;"> generated, and informing and educating Mumbaikars (and Indians!) about the significance of all this and how it makes a big positive contribution to our save our environment – these are </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">MUST DO</span><span style="color: #990000;">’s! As also hefty fines for littering and nuisance-making!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">5. Dedicate the garden to Mumbaikars and hand over its </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">management to the citizens</span><span style="color: #990000;"> of Mumbai - the residents of the locality and anyone else interested, especially the youth. If one wants something in life, one must work for it. Leaving the management entirely to the government/ corporation would serve to make the garden an entertainment spot. Citizen involvement would generate a sense of belongingness and responsibility, ensuring that the upkeep and maintenance of the garden would be seen to by not only the present, but also the future generations of proud Mumbaikars. (In this respect, a very minimal fee may be charged for entry into the garden. Free things are taken for granted creating indifference in the minds of the people. A small charge will get such atrocious and harmful attitude back in line).</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">6. Let not political whims and fancies take centre stage. Let this be a shining example of the </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">people and politicians working hand-in-hand</span><span style="color: #990000;"> for the betterment of the city they love. We needn’t be at loggerheads every time, need we?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">7. But these are only my ideas! Let us collectively come up with ideas for the beautification and improvement of the garden, see how these can be incorporated practically, </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">make this all happen, continue to keep it that way</span><span style="color: #990000;">, and rejoice in the contentment of a job well done! :)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">All in all, this is my plan is to convert the Mahalakshmi race course into a dense Indian jungle cum Bangalore’s Lalbagh Botanical Garden cum Mumbai’s Jogger’s park cum New York’s Central Park cum a beautiful Zen garden. News has it that the lease has been renewed and RWITC will continue to hold horse races as it has always been doing and that there will be no garden at Mahalakshmi. Yet, no harm in letting the fertile imagination run wild. I hope this wishful blogpost has led to small,</span><span style="color: #6aa84f;"> </span><span style="color: #990000;">green ideas being planted and taking roots, providing blueprints for future gardens that are/ will be planned.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;">Happy World Environment Day! Let us be the green change we want to see!</span></div>
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-53793105722101275582013-05-09T08:21:00.002+05:302013-05-12T15:48:22.612+05:30Soul Kadi - Breaking In, into the Real World<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s surprising what PhD can do to one. One takes the best and most productive years of one’s life and shuts them away behind the closed doors of a laboratory, researching a topic one hopes would make a difference to the world some day. For grad students doing basic research, this translates into a really long wait wrought with innumerable frustrations, punctuated with fleeting ‘eureka’ moments of joy as they watch their ideas materialize into applications that can finally be put to some good use. But these moments of fulfillment and satisfaction are few and far between and often take more than the graduate life span. PhD life then mostly exists as a dull, monotonous routine of ‘Work- Eat- Sleep(?)– Work– and Work some more’. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Pardon me, but I am of the opinion that (higher) education is meant to enlighten and liberate, not turn one into a mechanical humanoid working day-in and day-out till the thesis is written and the manuscripts are published, and sometimes even after! Where does all the joy and inspiration go, the one with which we start out as fresh PhD students? It is lost somewhere down the line, in the black hole that consumes grad students across nationalities, across the globe. Since this is a universally observed phenomenon, is it right to assume that there is something terribly wrong with our current system of higher education? Some issues definitely need to be worked upon and the wrinkles ironed out from the rest. Or is it the lack of understanding, appreciation and recognition from peers, advisors and/or family that causes this depression? Does the fact of seeing the world racing by as one struggles at the work bench with no clear end in sight lead to all the misery? At the time when peers are settling down into secure, salaried jobs and starting families, PhD students are only just getting started on their dissertations. Or is it the uncertainty over the future that burdens PhD life? By the time the doctoral degree is awarded, grad students realize that they are way overqualified and will be underpaid for most jobs they apply for. That isn’t too bright a future to look forward to, is it?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Whatever the reason, going to
grad school is a choice one makes knowingly, a decision to single-mindedly dedicate
one’s most productive years in the pursuit of science, for science’s sake and
for mankind’s sake (I sincerely hope this is the mind-set with which at least a
few people join grad school! All is not lost then!) It is a decision one stands
by till the very end – the happy(?) ending when one graduates with a doctoral
degree and is ready to make a fresh start, taking the first few independent
steps into the ‘real’ world. And that’s when the ‘PhD bubble’ actually bursts.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Life outside academia isn’t all
hunky-dory. One dreams, one imagines of settling down, slowly yet surely, taking
one step at a time, committing fewer mistakes. But life has other plans. One crack of life’s formidable
whip and all well-laid plans go for a toss! Rumble, crumble, slip, fall! The only
alternative is to pick oneself up out of the rubble and get the act together
again, not one-at-a-time (no time for that anymore!), but many, parallely. This
is the first lesson life teaches. Lessons in life, from life, for life.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Life has its own way of wielding
the whip - sometimes gentle, sometimes a little hurting, but most of the times,
sheer deep painful. However, there definitely is a positive learning at the end
of each whip crack, and looking back, I see that I have shaped up for the
better from all the whipping – gentle and harsh alike.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Take for instance, the time when
life gently goaded me to go clothes shopping. For a girl, who dislikes shopping
(except of course for sarees, shoes, jewellery and farm-fresh fruits and
veggies!), it was quite some task. I find it much easier to shop for others
than for myself. And when it comes to clothes, God help me! The realization
that my PhD wardrobe (read a couple of T-shirts with the institute logo and a
pair of worn out jeans) is so totally unfit for the ‘prospective employee’ role
I am currently playing, finally made me drag myself out to the stores. So here
I am now – all shopped and suited-up, making a style statement of my own – simple,
understated, yet elegant (I hope!). There’s scope for improvement I’m sure and
I’ll learn on the way.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That’s about it about life’s gentle
persuasions.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Life is more of an expert at dealing it out up close and personal.
*Slap!* Crisp and tight, smack in the face, shaking you out of your delusional reverie,
bringing you back onto hard, solid ground. This happened to me during a discussion about jobs,
people and life styles outside academia. I had my set views on how the academic
world is a lot more about altruism and working for common good than the big, bad
corporate world would ever be; and on how one’s attitude makes all the difference in life. (</span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The right attitude does matter! The Bhagavad Geeta says, one must perform one's duty sincerely, responsibly, and live life in accordance to one's means, position and status. And yet, one must remain detached from the fruits of one's labour, expecting nothing in return. This is the key to true happiness. Also, comparing oneself to others beyond a limit is extremely injurious as it leaves one unhappy and dissatisfied, always wanting some more. This hinders the path of progress to the great heights that one can reach in life. Please don't do that!). </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As I rattled away in the same vein, </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">my exasperated friend suddenly pointed out that I had
been behind closed doors in the research field for too long and was looking at
the world outside from the very same keyhole all the while. Said my worthy friend unto me,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*Slap!* Silenced me at that word, it did! Hard though it was to accept this fact (oh, the egoistic “I” gets in the way!), I had definitely not looked at things from any other perspective than my own. Even more shameful because scientific training teaches that no single view be overlooked. I remained silent for the rest of the conversation, giving things a deep thinking-over. Although I still stand by what I said, I am looking at things from various angles now. I am no longer one of the three blind men describing the elephant, each from his own point of view, as the old story goes.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But that's not all there is to life. There are those extremely painful times when life punches one real hard; not once, not twice, but thrice, Hindi daily soap ishtyle! *Punch! Kick! Punch!* Life knocking the life out of you! This is especially true when one tries to get one’s own way in life: life punches back even harder. The only recourse then is to let life take its course.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVmptslglSXf0vlLNES9QRAL-xW4qYWBCSteijT-uuzC0JhnYq3X4YlUXL4_3eG3PWZwqe_AyFaysMFpGES1AjaWcQDSS3RZqtUFO5W8uaarOEe9yP1Uu61FYETcdouZEgENb/s1600/Just+breathe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVmptslglSXf0vlLNES9QRAL-xW4qYWBCSteijT-uuzC0JhnYq3X4YlUXL4_3eG3PWZwqe_AyFaysMFpGES1AjaWcQDSS3RZqtUFO5W8uaarOEe9yP1Uu61FYETcdouZEgENb/s320/Just+breathe.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Does that mean one gives in without
a fight? Absolutely NOT! One does not give in! Fighting to get one’s way in
life is indeed a very unique fight. Extremely difficult no doubt, but
exhilarating to the very core. I quite enjoyed mine (but this is only in retrospect; back then it was very painful). One stands up for what it is one wants, puts up
with a lot of resistance from all sides, learns to be soft, diplomatic and firm, all at the same time, trying best to ruffle as few feathers as possible as one
treads on sensitive and delicate grounds. One keeps going despite all obstacles,
keeping only the ultimate goal in mind. Hurdle
after hurdle is leapt over, until the final hurdle is all that remains - the last bridge that separates one
from one’s goal.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As one starts to walk across this bridge, one
is forced to look back. For some, the road traversed holds very little, the
future holds a lot of promise. And for some, it is a lonely route. Although the traversed
road has let go of its obstacles, the road ahead doesn't reassure. There are no signs of welcome, no acknowledgements of the efforts put in, not even
subtle hints... anywhere. One dips into the past and searches the present, but comes up empty-handed, both times. That is when one stops - and thinks - has it been worth all the effort? Realization dawns. <a href="http://meditativemind.blogspot.in/2013/05/the-true-path.html">The true path is chosen by the ability to love it, not suffer for it.</a> In life, many-a-time</span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, the hardest and the right decision are one and the same. </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One slowly turns and starts walking back.
The fight ends.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Is one disappointed? Yes, naturally. Hurt? A lot, obviously.
Regrets? None what-so-ever. When one gives one’s best shot and does all that can
possibly be done, leaving no stone upturned, there are no regrets. </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn. One</span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> rests assured in the knowledge that one has at least tried.</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Like they say, " </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Take risks. </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If you win, you will be happy. If you lose, you will be wise."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Post Script</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">: Life is like the
ever-popular, much-loved Konkani appetizer ‘<a href="http://amchirecipes.com/content/sol-kadi-kokam-kadi">सोल कडी</a>’ – आम्शे, तिक्शे, मिट्शे, गोड्शे – sour, spicy, salty and sweet - all at the same
time. One must learn to accept, appreciate and enjoy it in its varying tastes and
flavours; only then can one digest life’s offerings and let out a satisfied
burp. This, I am learning to do.</span></span></div>
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-2273449607333856602010-10-26T14:29:00.001+05:302010-10-26T14:29:47.494+05:30Funny post :D<a href="http://devadutta.blogspot.com/2010/09/this-is-how-north-indians-see-south.html">http://devadutta.blogspot.com/2010/09/this-is-how-north-indians-see-south.html</a>MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-79211440856994501892010-10-21T18:09:00.001+05:302010-10-21T18:10:42.821+05:30Grad School Muse-icals by Czuee MoreyAnd here is the comic strip... Thank U so much Czuee :) </p><div><a href="http://gradschoolmuse-icals.thecomicseries.com/comics/5/">http://gradschoolmuse-icals.thecomicseries.com/comics/5/</a></div>MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-10134284533138130792010-08-17T11:01:00.006+05:302010-08-17T11:36:38.093+05:30The 5th Year of Ph.D!<span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p> <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p> Tuesday one-on-one with the research advisor: </span></p></p><p><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Boss: "So Maya, tell me..." </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Me: "Over the past week I've been trying to... (experimental blah blah)" </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Boss: "So you mean to say that this experiment you were doing did not work." </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Me "Yes, Sir." </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Boss: "And the one you did last week, that was a negative result too?" </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Me: "Yes, Sir." </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Boss: "And nothing with the RNaseH assay?" </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Me: "Yes, Sir." </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Boss: "So basically, nothing is happening." </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Me: "Yes, Sir." </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Boss: "You don't really care about what I say, do you?" </span></br></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "><br /> </span>Me: "Yes, Sir." </span></br></p><p><p> :O !!! Didn't even realize I had said a 'Yes' to that until the damage had been done!!! :O </p></p><p><p> Thankfully, Boss was in a good mood today and let me off without the usual dressing down... 5th year effect rubbing off on him too I guess :D </p></p></span>MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-91735744910200855512010-08-10T09:53:00.003+05:302010-08-10T13:23:11.964+05:30The Knots Prayer<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Truly beautiful! </span></p></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><p> Dear God,
</p></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Please untie the knots
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">that are in my mind,
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">my heart and my life.
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Remove the have nots,
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the can nots and the do nots
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">that I have in my mind. <p></p></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Erase the will nots,
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">may nots,
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">might nots that may find
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">a home in my heart. <p></p></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Release me from the could nots,
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">would nots and
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">should nots that obstruct my life. <p></p></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And most of all,
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Dear God,
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I ask that you remove from my mind,
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">my heart and my life, all of the 'am nots'
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">that I have allowed to hold me back,
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">especially the thought
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">that I am not good enough. <p></p></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><p> Amen </p></span></span></span></div>MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-7276888504350326642010-08-09T09:29:00.008+05:302015-09-25T23:53:37.427+05:30Realization... and a promise to keep<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Why do I seem to relate to these quotes all of a sudden?</span><br />
<div align="center">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: small;">"Take extra care of 3 things in life:- </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span>1. Trust</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2. Promise</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">3. Relations</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Because they don't make a sound when they break" </span></span></span></div>
<div align="center">
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;">I can be very stubborn and rigid at times, alright, most of the times. Mom keeps telling me that. But Mother's words are taken for granted. Realization struck when a friend said that to me, and it pierced through my ego like the proverbial dagger through the heart. A lot of introspection later, I realize I need to change. My stubbornness, arrogance and rigidity have already done a lot of damage, hurt a lot of feelings. I really don't want that to happen any more. I promise to change, a promise I will keep right from this very moment.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-21258264243860390982010-02-27T16:08:00.005+05:302010-08-10T13:16:01.107+05:30Silhouette<div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">Miditha 2010, the IISc Institute Fest is on. On a whim, I decided to participate in the Creative Writing section. 4 topics were given on spot: "Now", "Silhouette", "FacePalm" (please tell me what that means!) and another topic that I've now forgotten. The alloted time was 2 hours. One look at the topics and I was all set to get up and go away, but the writer in me said an emphatic "NO!" Hey, I wasn't there to actually compete. I was there to see what remained of my writing skills and creative thinking. I hadn't been writing in a long long time. So I sat myself down once again and spent the first hour and half trying to figure out what topic to choose and then, on what to write on the chosen topic. What I finally submitted at the end of two hours was a hurriedly written (I just had 20 minutes left after all the 'creative thinking' I did ;)), shortened version of the full story that I present below. Maybe I should have participated in the 'Cartooning' session as well, coz the topic there was "The Long and Short of It". What I finally submitted was a short essay, what I write here is the long of it :D Let me know if you like it. <p></p></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">
She stood silhouetted against the setting sun, the gentle sea waves playing upon her feet. They came and went, bringing on and taking away the sand with them, forming a slight hollow where she stood. What was she thinking about? What were her feelings? <p></p></span>
I sat in silent contemplation, sipping on coconut water as I watched her. I had moved into my new seaside bungalow a week ago, and not a day had gone by without her coming to the same spot, same time, on my private beach. Today, I decided to take matters into my hands and speak to her sternly about it, after all she was trespassing on my private beach, invading my privacy. <p></p>
I walked up to her. " Excuse me, Ma'am, but this happens to be a private beach. You are trespassing. Didn't you read the sign board? Please go away before I call the security." </br>
"Oh! I didn't know that. I'm sorry", she said and started to walk away. <p></p>
Something about her gait struck me as odd. Was there a slight shuffle - as if she was uncertain on which direction to take? I watched until she was a tiny speck on the horizon then went back into the house.For a long time afterward her face did not leave my mind. It had been a beautiful face, a face that radiated true inner beauty, an attractive magnetism. But her beauty was marred by some deep unknown sorrow. What was her suffering? Dead parents? A lost lover, perhaps? I fell asleep with these thoughts on my mind. <p></p>
The next day, I sat on the veranda, sipping my evening glass of coconut water. I had had a hard day at work. A million dollar deal had gone awry because of my own stupidity, and I was upset with myself. I sat there, thinking angry thoughts and cursing myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a silhouette on the beach. The mysterious lady was there on my beach again! All my anger precipitated and she was the target. Had I not asked her to leave yesterday? This was <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> beach and she had no right to be on it! I got up and angrily went up to where she stood. If she could not comprehend politeness, I was going to be rude today, very rude! <p></p>
"Hey you! Didn't I tell you not to come here? This is a private area. It's <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> beach. Get it? It's <span style="font-style: italic;">mine</span>! Go away this instant before I set my dogs on you! Do you hear me? Go away!" <p></p>
She turned towards me, tears streaming down her beautiful face. A sudden pang of guilt hit me. Maybe I had been too harsh on her. But before I could find something a little comforting to say, she had moved away and was gone. Remorse filled my heart. I had not always been like this. I had been a happy, successful businessman with a bright future and a lovely wife. Then one day, my wife had died in a car crash. I was still to come to terms with her death. Her sudden death had converted me into the hard-hearted, bitter young man that I was now. Thoughts of my personal loss bogged down my spirit further. It seemed to sink with the setting sun. <p></p>
The mysterious silhouetted lady never came back after that day, and I soon forgot about her. <p></p>
A couple of months of hard, back-breaking work at the office, and I was a complete nervous wreck. Lack of sleep and over work had turned me into a zombie. That is when I decided to call it quits. I took a break and immersed myself into charity work that my loving wife had so often wanted me to do. And soon my soul felt lighter and happier, and a smile often played upon my lips. As I sat sipping coconut water on the veranda overlooking my private beach. '<span style="font-style: italic;">My beach</span>' - ha ha! What a laugh it sounds now! Days of social work had made me realize that nothing was mine - or for that matter - our, his, her, or their. The humbled soul realizes that all is His. That was when I remembered the mysterious, lovely silhouetted lady. I felt truly ashamed of my behaviour and wanted to apologize to her. "Oh God, please give me one opportunity, just one! Please!" <p></p>
An opportunity I did get. I met her again, but this time she wasn't silhouetted by the setting sun, but was under the spotlight on the dias, introducing me, the Chief Guest, at the annual convocation of the 'City School for the Blind'. She stood there - confident, beautiful and radiant as ever. She was a much loved teacher at the school and was BLIND! That explained her shuffling gait when I had ordered her away from the beach.A small chat with the school principal brought out the fact that Maria, for that was her name, had not always been blind. She had been born with sight, a happy, observant and inquisitive girl. She had wanted to become an artist and paint Mother Nature in her full glory. She had wanted to show people the beautiful colours that wove life together on earth. But that was not to be. Fate had other things in store for Maria. Once when she had gone to the beach to paint the lovely sunset, a couple of drunken youth had thrown acid into her eyes and blinded her for life. Her colourful dreams had died a sad death that day on the beach - <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> beach - the exact spot where she had stood in those days gone by. I deeply moved and vowed to do something to make her life better for her, to bring back the smile on her lovely face. <p></p>
Five years down the line, I'm leaning back on the couch on the veranda, coconut water in my hand. I watched Maria stand silhouetted against the setting sun, the very spot where she had stood so many times before. She looks even more radiant in the golden red sun rays with her hair blowing in the cool, gentle breeze. I decide to walk up to her - but no, no shouting this time. What reason do I have to shout at my beautiful wife? After all she has all the rights to stand on the beach wherever she wants to - on <span style="font-style: italic;">our</span> private beach. <p></p>
I gently walk up to her and put my arm around her shoulders. She smiles and rests her head on my shoulder. We are enveloped by warmth and love as we stand together and watch the sunset, she with unseeing open eyes, and I with seeing eyes, recently opened. We stand there silhouetted against the golden red globe, hope and joy filling our hearts as we wait for another beautiful day to dawn.</div>MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-23547261308238910802009-09-01T09:22:00.003+05:302009-09-02T14:06:18.320+05:30The Power of SilenceA beautiful passage I read somewhere... <p>
<p>
Listening is not just about listening to someone else or yourself talk. Listening is also about listening to the silence that is in us, around us. All our talking is just waves upon an ocean of beautiful silence. <p>
Have you ever heard silence? Create space and time in your life for listening to silence. Make a practice of spending some time everyday doing this. Don't listen for the sake of hearing anything, for the sake of getting some information. Just be a wave; be open to silence. It is in silence you learn the most. Only in silence can you truly understand life, poetry, nature. This silence is not a passive silence, it is a positive, listening silence. It is the silence of deep communion. <p>
There is a big difference between communication and communion. Communication is the science of conveying information in words and action. Communion is the pure transfer of energy; it is beyond words. Communion is the gift of the Master. It does not need words. In fact, the Master can give you more with his spells of silence than with his words, if you know how to listen. <p>
When you listen to the Master, listen as if you would listen to the birds or the wind. When you listen to the birds, do you believe or disbelieve? Do you agree or disagree? Neither! You simply allow. It is not an intellectual process. Simply listen with openness, with receptivity, and you will automatically enter into deep communion with the Master. <p>
Silence is a beautiful way of entering meditation. In fact, silence itself is a great meditation technique. It is a great healing and rejuvenating power. <p>
~ Swami NithyanandMMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-28340656009932158382009-07-23T08:53:00.002+05:302009-07-23T09:00:04.683+05:30The Diamond Ring<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeOwovYvVRL1LFzPaaztya6mAS_hS1y2rO2MLocSEA9OcwCXlAe096SP0hkDvuAm4F996LXryJkiO1fhd9u3WhD8fO-RUQZPDpUcIa4vHXU5vyjd30Y4Qwi_C7mW6ms6TZoN3/s1600-h/diamond+ring.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeOwovYvVRL1LFzPaaztya6mAS_hS1y2rO2MLocSEA9OcwCXlAe096SP0hkDvuAm4F996LXryJkiO1fhd9u3WhD8fO-RUQZPDpUcIa4vHXU5vyjd30Y4Qwi_C7mW6ms6TZoN3/s320/diamond+ring.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361491482208235490" border="0" /></a>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Sigh... when will I get mine?</span>
</div>MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-19845183457248029772009-07-18T13:29:00.007+05:302017-03-09T19:52:48.735+05:30A Healing Zephyr<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: rgb(153 , 0 , 0); font-family: "trebuchet ms";">PhD life tends to become very boring and monotonous. For a period of 5 long years (sometimes, even more!), the daily rut consists of going to the lab in the morning and staying there till late in the night, working on a research project that no one in the 'real world' actually cares about. The only highlights in this drab existence are the rare occasions when one's experiments work and take one a teeny-weeny step closer to completion of the PhD thesis. There is hardly time for anything else and hobbies and creativity become things of the past. Any little leisure time is wasted wallowing in self-pity. Social interactions and outings are limited to lab meetings and conferences. Normal social skills become a big zero. Friends and family are forgotten in the pursuit of science. Life takes a back seat.</span><br />
<span style="color: rgb(153 , 0 , 0); font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span>
<span style="color: rgb(153 , 0 , 0); font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Some people enjoy such a 'scientifically fulfilling' life, in fact, they thrive in it. But for the vast majority, it is a complete misfit. I fall somewhere in between. I try hard to strike a balance between 'Grad life' and the life I love. Not that I don't like doing a PhD - I'm here by choice - but I would definitely like my existence to be peppered with some more of the delicious ingredient called 'LIFE'.</span><br />
<span style="color: rgb(153 , 0 , 0); font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span>
<span style="color: rgb(153 , 0 , 0); font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Rarely do I meet people who share my view, least so in the field of science. When I do meet like minds, it's like a breath of fresh air, a healing zephyr. But these occasions are few and far between. And so, when a young little zephyr blew into our lab, I made most of the moment and let my hair blow in the refreshing breeze. </span>
<span style="color: rgb(153 , 0 , 0); font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The young zephyr brought in a whiff of another world, a world without a care, a world where one did what made one happy. It brought in laughter and music, fun and play, and a little bit of science as well. It was full of life and zest - filled to the very brim and overflowing. It infused me with new vigour, or should I say, brought back my old self - the self that used to laugh and sing, and write and play, and be happy and free, just like the breeze. A forgotten world jumped back to life - poetry and paintings, photography and philosophy, books and animation films, fun and laughter. And I promised myself that I would not lose sight of this wonderful world ever again. </span></div>
</div>
MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-35785284719812366532009-05-29T09:51:00.004+05:302009-07-19T11:19:05.109+05:30<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Hi Dad,</span>
<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Wishing You Many Many Happy Returns of the Day :) <p> </span>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >It's been a long time since I wrote to you. Thought I should give you an update about myself, Amma and things in general. Amma and I are fine, missing you though. Amma keeps shuttling between Mumbai and Bengaluru. She gets bored in Mumbai since I'm not around, and bored in Bangalore since I'm still not around... you see, I spend the whole day (and sometimes the night too) in the lab! I feel bad, but what can I do? I need to get a PhD, right? I've promised Amma that I won't work on Sundays when she's in Bangalore and spend time with her. Sadly, I've yet to keep that promise. Amma's very understanding about the whole thing, but I do feel guilty at taking her for granted each time like this :( </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >About my PhD... well, it's moving on, at a snail's pace though. Thought I'd hit upon something at long last, but then things stopped working. I've been trying different experiments, different ways to prove my hypothesis, but it remains elusive. I just hope and pray that no one catches up upon the same idea before I publish my results! I'm sure thousands of other grad students are praying for the same! </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Aani kalle naa. I visit the Math whenever possible. Amma attends the Sanskrit Sambhashan class regularly and took part in the Sanskrit program when HH was here for Yugadi. She was a superhit! Her Prahelika and Family introduction got a thunderous applause from not only the audience present but from HH himself :) I've put up the photos in my Picasa album. You can have a look there. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Hope you are doing fine up there. How do you spend your time? I'm the proud keeper of your entire Wodehouse collection. Reading them reminds me of you and the laughs we shared together, and I know that even today you share the jokes with me; that I never laugh alone. I just wish that you were here all hale and hearty, so Amma, you and I could share those wonderful times again. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >That's all for now. Please pray that I finish my PhD soon and get more time to spend with Amma. There are other matters to be attended too, other than the PhD, right? You are also looking into them I hope ;) </span></p><p style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Lotsa love.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Yours,</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:Trebuchet MS;" >Tee.</span></p>MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-83517810164482164922009-04-29T11:28:00.004+05:302009-04-29T11:44:11.842+05:30BEING IN TWENTIES - SOMETHING... :)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvF92Lsjfhr8XBeP-QxBvQvbfjaWBA_79ivsZdNCaXazM1wvvVr5Rw2V1FAJVbJf3irGEQmOdN7WV4D3cqJcxnMiPs1aDWKOgBxknxh0zbplbhbIWenZGu_z6PD5xhm7mX5Xck/s1600-h/midlifewebpix.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvF92Lsjfhr8XBeP-QxBvQvbfjaWBA_79ivsZdNCaXazM1wvvVr5Rw2V1FAJVbJf3irGEQmOdN7WV4D3cqJcxnMiPs1aDWKOgBxknxh0zbplbhbIWenZGu_z6PD5xhm7mX5Xck/s320/midlifewebpix.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329990505183018290" border="0" /></a>
<span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Nice e-mail fwd from PS. Thanks PS :) <p></span>
<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now. <p></span>
<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don't recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren't really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you. <p></span>
<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You look at your job... and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and that scares you. <p></span>
<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn't. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure. <p></span>
<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward. <p></span>
<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love someone but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you're doing this because you know that you aren't a bad person. You want to settle down for good because now all of a sudden that becomes top priority. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic. You begin to think a companion for life is better than a hundred in the shack and for once you would not mind standing tall for that special someone which otherwise you had never thought of until now. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision. You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself... and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender! <p>
</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What you may not realize is that every one reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out. Send this to your twenty-something friends.... maybe it will help someone feel like they aren't alone in their state of confusion... <p></span>
<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We call it the "Quarter-life Crisis" </span> </span>MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-77230582204965899442009-02-28T17:15:00.004+05:302017-03-09T19:39:24.834+05:303 Idiots… and a 4th!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;">“What did you say? You are coming to Bangalore! That’s great news! When, where, how? When can we meet?” I couldn’t contain my excitement!<b></b></span>
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;">I’ll be coming down with my ‘play group'” Maggu replied. I giggled. I was all for Maggu’s witty one-liners! “We’re staging the play version of ‘Five Point Someone’ at Rangashankara. I would like it very much if you could make it there.”<b></b></span>
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;">“Of course, Maggu! I will be there. And I promise to bring my IISc gang along. How do I get tickets for the show?”<b></b></span>
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;">And then, Maggu being the wonderful friend he is, immediately blocked 8 tickets for us. That was how we all ended up watching an amazing theatre performance at Bangalore’s famed Rangashankara auditorium. We all had a fantastic time, start to end, and a little before the start too, as you will see... Here’s the entire story...</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It did not take any convincing on my part to get my IISc friends to come along. Half of us were from IIT’s as it were, and the rest were all great fans of Chetan Bhagat’s first attempt at writing. How well we could relate to the story of those three friends! Didn’t we suffer similar pain and anguish at IISc too - broken hearts, fallen grades, fire-breathing professors and an occasional spark of genius now and then!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">The boys decided to start early and visit Forum Mall for some bird watching. Paro and I gladly rejected their offer to tag along and left directly for Rangashankara. We had no clue as to the whereabouts of the auditorium, but a Google search located it to be somewhere in Jayanagar area. So away we went on a delightful bus ride on a wonderful Sunday evening with a cool breeze blowing through our hair (and me getting all upset about looking like a scarecrow by the end of it and scaring poor Maggu away!) </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">We got off at the Jayanagar bus stop and looked around. We saw (in the order): 1. An empty ground with a huge white building at the far end with a colourfully painted water tank atop it, 2. Two florist shops, 3. A toy shop and 4. A huge hospital on the opposite side of the road. But contrary to what we had been told, Rangashankar, we did not see. Being girls, we did the most sensible thing to do under such circumstances: we asked for directions. I pretended to select a bouquet of flowers for Maggu while Paro did the talking. But the florists were of no help and so Maggu’s bouquet remained with them (Sorry friend!). We tried the toy store next. The owner spoke nothing but Kannada and we knew nothing of Kannada, so it was a vain attempt yet again. However, a young couple with a cute little kid told us we just had to walk straight down and take a right. Rangashankara would be a 20 minute walk from where we were. We thanked the couple and moved on as directed. How could we have forgotten the basic rules of Bangalore: Never to trust directions given by strangers! Bangaloreans, inspired by an extreme urge to help those in need, freely give directions, even wrong ones, if need be! Walking a good 30 minutes still didn’t get us anywhere close to our destination. We decided to trace back our steps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;">As we rounded the corner near the traffic signal, my eyes lit up, </span><span style="color: #660000;">“Paro, dekh! Young people wearing Evam t-shirts!” Evam alongwith the Madras Players theatre group were organizing the show. “Let’s follow them. They must be heading towards Rangashankara”</span><b style="color: #660000;">
</b><span style="color: #660000;">And so we stalked the Evam-ites right up the street, round the corner, followed them through the gates straight into… their Hostel Complex!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;">“Eh, er… excuse me. But this doesn’t look like Rangashankara!”<b></b></span>
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;"><b>“</b>Oh, so that’s why you’ve been following us all this while, haan? You kept us guessing!” a smart young man grinned at me.</span>
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;">“Oh, ah…well yes. We lost our way, and saw you wearing Evam t-shirts and decided to follow you and…” I blurted out.<b></b></span>
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;">“Oh, don’t worry about it” a pretty young girl smiled graciously. “Just follow the same route back, cross over at the signal and Rangashankara’s the big white building with the painted water tank right next to the huge empty ground, 5 minutes from the Jayanagar bus stop”.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">“Thanks so much” I gulped, turning a beetroot red. Paro giggled away to glory at my side. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">Aargghh!!! I had to mess it up, didn't I? That too with so many handsome boys around! Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhh!!! Luckily, Paro promised that the boys would hear nothing of this, and am I glad she’s been keeping her promise still! Thanks PS :) </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">After our little (mis)adventure we managed to reach Rangashankara without further humiliation and joined the boys who were into their second round ‘eye-warming session’. Uff! Boys will be boys!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">We collected our tickets and soon as the doors were thrown open, rushed into the auditorium to get hold of the best seats. We managed to bag seats in the second row quite close to the stage and waited with bated breath for a house-full show of ‘Five Point Someone’ to begin. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">At 6 pm on the dot, the doors closed, the lights dimmed and the auditorium was enveloped in complete darkness. The stage lights slowly came on and focussed on the three friends Hari Kumar, Alok Gupta and Ryan Oberoi, sitting in a triangle on the Insti roof, discussing the failed Operation Pendulum and the DisCo that succeeded it. Alok got up, moved slowly towards the edge, stood undecided for a while, and suddenly jumped! Jumped down the nine stories of the Insti building! </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">The story swept into flashback and recounted how the three friends had met, their vain attempts at studying to get above their five point something GPAs, the fun they had, hot paranthas at Sasi’s, Hari and Neha’s romance, Alok’s cribbing about his family and his sister’s marriage, Ryan’s fantastic ideas, the handsome Prof. Veera (sigh! Why couldn’t IISc have profs like him!), the super strict Prof. Cherian (an even bigger sigh! All profs at IISc are SO like him!), the DisCo… and back to the present. Not once did the audience bat an eyelid, taking in all the actors had to offer. There was no doubt then, that at the end of the play, after a minute of pin-drop silence that was needed to come back to reality, all the artistes received a thunderous applause and a standing ovation! :) </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">A special thank you note to Nikhila Kesavan and her team for an excellent adaptation and direction of Bhagat’s book. It did complete justice to the book. Thanks also to Evam and the Madras Players group for putting up such a wonderful show and entertaining us thoroughly. Special thanks from Paro and me to all those lovely people at Evam, for correctly directing us to Rangashankara - we would’ve missed the show otherwise! And of course, many thanks to dear Maggu for the advanced intimation so I could make it to the show without upsetting any experiments or the Boss; for the tickets, for answering my phone call 5 minutes before showtime, for doing justice to Hari's character, and, for being such a wonderful wonderful friend. Am proud of you Buddy! :) </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">That’s my account of an evening well spent. To hear about the show from the horse’s mouth, do visit Maggu’s blog... </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;"><a href="http://kedar-mavinkurve.blogspot.com/search/label/Five%20Point%20Someone">http://kedar-mavinkurve.blogspot.com/search/label/Five%20Point%20Someone</a> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">Maggu thanks for the invitation. It was a real treat to watch you perform. I had a wonderful time and wish you all the very best for your future ‘playful’ endeavours (Am I allowed to call u a ‘Playboy’ now? :p) </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">P.S: There is a time for everything. Work done at the right time bears good results. Procrastination leads to a dead-end. One might keep a promise, but what use, if one takes months to keep it? Especially if doing the job immediately would have put a big smile on a dear friend’s face. <b></b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 85%;">Maggu, I try and make amends here, but am aware that they might not be enough. I won’t give any excuse this time. I want to apologize for being such an idiot and keeping you waiting so long for this piece. Hope you like what I’ve written!</span></b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b>~ MM</b></span></div>
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-84354809939523296182008-04-10T08:37:00.003+05:302015-09-26T01:03:35.054+05:30New Year Celebrations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: red;">चैत्र</span><span style="color: red;"> </span><span style="color: red;">शुद्ध</span><span style="color: red;"> </span><span style="color: red;">प्रतिपदा</span><span style="color: red;"> </span><span style="color: red;">शके</span><span style="color: red;"> १९३०
</span><span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms;">First day of the Hindu New Year based on the lunar calendar. They say whatever you do on this day, you will do throughout the year. So being Mommy's good girl, I woke up early in the morning, had a bath, draped a sari, went to the temple, went to lab, worked a bit .... n then... went <span style="color: #cc0000;">Ugadi shopping :D </span></span>
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Here's me at the end of the first day of the New Year 1930... </span></div>
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[Photo credit: Bhai :)] </span><br />
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-55611154731254534492008-03-20T09:23:00.003+05:302008-03-20T09:48:34.208+05:30Peg after Peg<span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">An excellent forward sent by CB.... the author couldn't have put it better.... <p>
</span>I never take risk while drinking <p>
When I come from office in the evening, wife is cooking <br />
I can hear the noise of utensils in the kitchen <br />
I stealthily enter the house <br />
Take out the bottle from my black cupboard <br />
Shivaji Maharaj is looking at me from the photo frame <br />
But still no one is aware of it <br />
Becoz I never take a risk <p>
I take out the glass from the rack above the old sink <br />
Quickly enjoy one peg <br />
Wash the glass and again keep it on the rack <br />
Of course I also keep the bottle inside my cupboard <br />
Shivaji Maharaj is giving a smile <p>
I peep into the kitchen <br />
Wife is cutting potatoes <br />
No one is aware of what I did <br />
Becoz I never take a risk <p>
I: Any news on Iyer's daughter's marriage <br />
Wife: Nope, she doesn't seem to be that lucky. Still they are looking out for her <p>
I again come out; there is a small noise of the black cupboard <br />
But I don't make any sound while taking out the bottle <br />
I take out the glass from the old rack above sink <br />
Quickly enjoy one peg <p>
Wash the bottle and keep it in the sink <br />
Also keep the Black Glass in the cupboard <br />
But still no one is aware of what I did <br />
Becoz I never take a risk <p>
I: But still I think Iyer's daughter's age is not that much <br />
Wife: What are you saying? She is 28 yrs old... like an aged horse <br />
I: (I forgot her age is 28) Oh Oh... <p>
I again take out potatoes out from my black cupboard <br />
But the cupboard's place has automatically changed <br />
I take out the bottle from the rack and quickly enjoy one peg in the sink <p><script>["mb","\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nShivaji Maharaj laughs loudly\u003cbr\u003e\nI keep the rack in the potatoes \u0026amp; wash Shivaji Maharaj\u0026#39;s photo \u0026amp;\nkeep it in\u003cbr\u003e\nthe black cupboard\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nWife is keeping the sink on the stove\u003cbr\u003e\nBut still no one is aware of what I did \u003cbr\u003e\nBecoz I never take a risk\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nI: (getting angry) you call Mr. Iyer a horse? If you say that again, I\nwill\u003cbr\u003e\ncut your tongue...!\u003cbr\u003e\nWife: Don\u0026#39;t just blabber something, go out and sit quietly...\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nI take out the bottle from the potatoes \u003cbr\u003e\nGo in the black cupboard and enjoy a peg\u003cbr\u003e\nWash the sink and keep it over the rack\u003cbr\u003e\nWife is giving a smile\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nShivaji Maharaj is still cooking\u003cbr\u003e\nBut still no one is aware of what I did\u003cbr\u003e\nBecoz I never take a risk \u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nI: (laughing) So Iyer is marrying a horse!!\u003cbr\u003e\nWife: Hey go and sprinkle some water on your face...\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nI again go to the kitchen, and quietly sit on the rack\u003cbr\u003e\nStove is also on the rack\u003cbr\u003e\nThere is a small noise of bottles from the room outside \u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nI peep and see that wife is enjoying a peg in the sink\u003cbr\u003e\nBut none of the horses are aware of what I did\u003cbr\u003e\nBecoz Shivaji Maharaj never takes a risk\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nIyer is still cooking\u003cbr\u003e\nAnd I am looking at my wife from the photo and laughing \u003cbr\u003e\nBecoz I never take what ???\u003c/font\u003e\u003cfont face\u003d\"Tahoma\" size\u003d\"2\"\u003e \u003c/font\u003e\u003cfont face\u003d\"sans-serif\" size\u003d\"2\"\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003c/font\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cspan style\u003d\"font-size:8pt;color:rgb(0, 0, 0)\"\u003e---\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\nThis e-mail may contain confidential and/or privileged information. If you \u003cbr\u003e\nare not the intended recipient (or have received this e-mail in error) \u003cbr\u003e\nplease notify the sender immediately and destroy this e-mail. Any \u003cbr\u003e\nunauthorized copying, disclosure or distribution of the material in this \u003cbr\u003e\ne-mail is strictly forbidden.\u003c/span\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cspan style\u003d\"font-size:8pt;color:rgb(0, 0, 0)\"\u003eBest Investment Bank India 2007 - Euromoney\u003c/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cspan style\u003d\"font-size:8pt;color:rgb(0, 0, 0)\"\u003eBest Private Bank India 2007 - Asiamoney\u003c/span\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003cspan style\u003d\"font-size:14pt;font-weight:bold;color:rgb(0, 128, 0)\"\u003e",1] ); //--</script>
Shivaji Maharaj laughs loudly <br />
I keep the rack in the potatoes & wash Shivaji Maharaj's photo & keep it in the black cupboard <p>
Wife is keeping the sink on the stove <br />
But still no one is aware of what I did <br />
Becoz I never take a risk <p>
I: (getting angry) you call Mr. Iyer a horse? If you say that again, I will cut your tongue...! <br />
Wife: Don't just blabber something, go out and sit quietly... <p>
I take out the bottle from the potatoes <br />
Go in the black cupboard and enjoy a peg <br />
Wash the sink and keep it over the rack <br />
Wife is giving a smile <p>
Shivaji Maharaj is still cooking <br />
But still no one is aware of what I did <br />
Becoz I never take a risk <p>
I: (laughing) So Iyer is marrying a horse!! <br />
Wife: Hey go and sprinkle some water on your face... <p>
I again go to the kitchen, and quietly sit on the rack <br />
Stove is also on the rack <br />
There is a small noise of bottles from the room outside <p>
I peep and see that wife is enjoying a peg in the sink <br />
But none of the horses are aware of what I did <br />
Becoz Shivaji Maharaj never takes a risk <p>
Iyer is still cooking <br />
And I am looking at my wife from the photo and laughing <br />
Becoz I never take what ???
</span>MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-38557395235306482008-02-08T08:55:00.001+05:302015-09-25T23:58:10.151+05:30Of Bulls & Bears<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms;">The wheeling and dealing of share markets the world over takes place somewhat like this :D <br /></span><br />
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-63618235966347067232007-12-25T11:14:00.000+05:302015-09-26T00:06:21.792+05:30Merry Christmas :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://s477.photobucket.com/user/Nixie_tab/media/Gifs%20and%20Animations/santa-reindeer-dance-ag.gif.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo santa-reindeer-dance-ag.gif" border="0" src="http://i477.photobucket.com/albums/rr140/Nixie_tab/Gifs%20and%20Animations/santa-reindeer-dance-ag.gif" /></a></div>
MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23737863.post-10763890342083538082007-12-08T14:40:00.000+05:302015-09-26T14:43:29.259+05:30Amchis Meet Again!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms;">... but in IISc, not IIT-B! </span>
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms;">In keeping with the tradition of finding Amchi people wherever I go, I was glad to find at least 2 other Amchis on campus besides myself - CheBa (0) n NiNa (1) :) Then of course, there had to be an Amchi Me-Eat, held at, where else, but Kodial's (कोडीयाळ) at Malleswaram 8th cross. A small place serving mouth-watering Amchi delicacies - starting with the various </span><span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms;">लॉण्चॅ, वड्यॉ, खोट्टे, पानपॉळॅ , दीव्कड्गी सुक्कॅ, दाळी तॉय- शीत, and much much more, all washed down with yummy सोल कड़ी. The sweet taste of the शेवई-रस्सू still lingers in the mouth.... yummmmm!!!! :)
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: trebuchet ms;">A few pics... </span>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">Had lots of fun... n waiting for more! Thanks NiNa for the wonderful treat :)</span><br />
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MMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05579579398172316855noreply@blogger.com6