Beautiful Life & Bare hands

Hijacked to Hills

2011-09-20T19:27:00.000-07:00

I felt like going there.I decided last night .It is not very far.We used to ride our bicycles all the way during school days.The distance totals up to around 20Kms.I took the 102A.When i got down at karamadai my bus No.8 has already left at 9.30 am.I slowly walked towards the theppakulam stop which divides from the MTP road to Tholampalayam.I got on no.3.

The road was challenging even for SUVs.But the bus challenged the road and roared with the scretches and vibrations that shook every part of the bus.I have to get down at pirivu and walk 2Kms towards the temple.Except for the few bumps the ride was comfortable.The road was dotted by pultry farms,saw mills,Workshops and old fashioned petty shops.Newly painted Real estate boards were visible all the way.On getting down i feel that iam a stranger.After meeting innocent glances and curious eyes i slowly made my way towards the temple.Occasionally old fashioned YEZDIs and Once road ruling RAJDOOTs reminded one who passed by that those motoring marvels still s in these villages.It demanded respect from passersby with its impressive thundering strokes.They still could race with pulsars of youngsters.
The corriander farms fill our nostrils with spicy fresh auroma.The breeze gently invites you into the farms.The wild tulsi bushes are delightful and with their herbal reputation not anyone ignores them.The farmer warmly chit chats on his morning even with a stranger like me on his morning stroll.His eyes are gleaming with pride about his village.
Being a government holiday,the neighbouring village boys had sneaked inside the school playgrounds to get into the national madness of cricket.On moving further the rocky back of the mount was visible.With a single curve i was once again distanced from the view of mountains.It seemed like some sort of hide and seek that never seemed to end.
On my way i was doubted for a smoker and the sheperd offered me generously his puff of bedi.But when i bent down to feel the soft fur of the goat that licked my fingers instantly.He just smiled and disappeared into his smoky dreams.His distant stare made one doubt if his dreams were projected on the distant horizon.
When i finally reached the foot hills,i left my footware at the shop that sold the flowers,and other pooja items.I sprinted to the peak to reach the lord.He was pampered with pure ghee,milk and abhishegam.A very devoted family of worshippers were religiously making appeals to the Lord.I joined them to explain my reason of being there.
From the distant coconut farms to the green farms everything created a soulful bliss.One more time i rehearsed my plans goals and aspirations.Everything seemed logically and practically feasible from such a breathtaking view.My purpose of the visit was over.When ireached the pirivu to take a return bus i overheared politics,inflation and woes boiling in the tea shop.
My phone rang bringing me back to reality.Come soon it said.I had commitments, undone halfdone assignments , a busy week ahead.No one cares out there.The 102A at karamadai was the newly added trailing version with two coaches.It was really out of place when it steered its long coaches between the narrow market lanes.

I will keep coming back thats what i say everytime.I really missed the Camera to capture the memories to store just in case i disappeared inthe wilderness of my dreams and aspirations.But i know for sure that anything remarkable in life is the result of the long deep breath that i took on many of those peaks..

Celebrating goodness...

2011-01-14T21:39:00.000-08:00

With every festive and the short vacation from routine brings back to us nostalgia.It seems that we overrate our past with a tinge of fiction magnifying happenings and coincidences otherwise is insignificant in Life.But we all still do it.Its a way of justifying our past and appreciating the goodness we have enjoyed.

When the breeze is soothing and calm.We sit back. Honor our past.

We turn old albums preserved in safes.We search for the one particular photo that seems to have disappeared.We mourn the loss of dear ones who have silently slipped away into eternal darkness.Haunting stirring memories visit.Senses at a state of imbalance seems detached from the present.Emotional heart pounding creates distress.

Search begins for the contacts you have lost over years.Then you are not sure if you have to call.Then you finally call.Someone picks up just to say its no longer in use.Feeling dejected the receiver in place staring at the still phone we knock back ourselves to present.Who wants an ice cream or a pizza ? you announce to the surprised nephews and niece.They are still in disbelief.You grab your wallet and spin your car keys in mid air with a mischievous smile.Then the fun begins.Someone carefully fires some shots from their HD mobiles and instantly twit-pic or blog them.The next time you see them with tailing comments.

Sunday, Four o' Clock in the morning........

2010-02-19T13:48:00.000-08:00

           It was Feb 14th Valentine's Day.But it was different for me.We were preparing for Lijin's House warming Ceremony,Nadeeparambil House.Suresh,Albin,Mohan and Myself filled in to prepare for the big day.Staying awake all night we finished the work and swept the floor by Three.Exhausted and tired we dozed off for a while.I assured albin that i would stay awake but as usual it was one of those failed promises.Albin woke up before me.They started off to get ready.I strolled the house when they zoomed off in pulsar.It was then that i recieved that call from my Mom.It was Four o' Clock in the Morning.
           My Uncle has passed away earlier that day by three o clock.I felt sharp pain.It was known that he had little hope of walking again.He has been paralysed for the past 3 years.It was pitiful sight to watch him sit with eyes wide open and making simple gestures to greet us when we went to visit him.One of my Aunts has not picked the phone.So i was asked to inform her and bring her along.I kicked my suzuki and it started in the biting chillness without much fuzz.When i drove on reflex i felt pain from racing memories.
          Sreenivasan Uncle was widely known by his baldness.He would come pedalling every day after work.he would have a little chit chat and caringly share chaya without milk if compelled.His eyes always reminded me of soothing kindness which often i relate to that of old folk from my native place.Now he is gone.
         When i reached there he was laid on a mat eyes wid open.We bathed him and covered with purest white dhoti through an elaborate ritual.covering his eyes with sandal and tying the ritual knots on his head,paws and feet we laid him to rest in the hall.his head has now been decorated with rupee coin with head facing up and the other tail side rubbed on betelnut.Then we had to wait for people to come and grieve the loss.Cries.Everywhere.I have never cried for anything.

At moments like this i feel the intensity of consequences which burdens the heart rather than the actual loss.My cousin was limping with bandaged knees with few stitches and a deep cut wound on ankle.It was his bike,has Skidded on a new road which had gifted him the double suffering.His pain added mark of suffering on his broad dark face.He was short and stout.He was completely broken.I had nothing to say to him.just held his hand and slowly moved away.

...................Contd.

When i stared into empty sky and open sea...

2009-12-14T14:39:00.000-08:00

On 28.6.2009

I got down the Nilgiri Express.My eyes were red.I was listening to memoirs of geisha on my ipod ripoff.It was about to die.The audio book was an addiction i was used to along with the pain it caused to the ears.The first thing i did like many was to head to Saravana Bhavan.They were serving good tasting breakfast but in ridiculously small quantity.I got myself my share.Its almost 6:30.
Got on a bus that took me to marina.It was the only inviting place on my mind where i could check in.Of course i had friends.But i preferred marina.I got down and walked the sands which were dirtier than the previous time.A carousel reminded me of J.D salinger and Catcher in the rye.I walked towards the waters.I had no intention of getting my feet wet.A few where challenging themself with excersices.Others where tiring their nike on the sand.Lonely strays wandered scavenging.I sat there in the filth.I sat there staring at the ocean late until the heat radiated and trickles of swet rolled my forehead.I got up walked back.
I had to wait.I went to the benches and sat there wondering wats next.My cellphone rang.I found it it in my inner pocket.It was Guhan.He was interning in chennai.He was a CA to be.He shouted on top of his voice-enga da irukka *****?(where the hell are you?).I could hav lied but -machaan marina da."Theriyum da unna pathi,Kannagi silai pakkathula vaa da".I was stunned.I slowly picked my bag.Shoulderd it and walked.
He was pleased to see me.He was staying at a mansion at triplicane.It was a surprise to me that triplicane was very close to the beach.He took me to his room.I reported my mom that i hav reached chennai safely.We had those long "apparam da machaa," A never ending conversation loop.Then i took as bath.He took me to a good Tiffan house.After Kesari,idiyappam and pongalHe paid the bills.He wasgiving me a hands on on Chennai Survival tricks.
Chennai was fair enough to me.Nothing unusual.I started off at 11 to Nungampaakam.Loyala College.It was on my B list of college after school.But never applied.PSGCAS took me in which came as a surprise.I was there for an Bank Exam.I walked the campus.Found directions and reached my hall at an obscure corner on third floor.Found my seat and sat there.
The test was nice and challengiing.It gave me a good feel.It filled the emptyness of abandoning mock CATs after nov 2008.Got to park station.Walked straight to the Internet centre and went online.Had my nights share.Grabbed a coke and when i was about to get on the train.Ran into a friend Varun from Bsc electroonics.For odd reasons he was also at the same bank exam.But he had preferred to take bothe morning and afternoon sessions to tryhis luck unlike me.
I got myself good company.Got into long time no see chat.
Then the train threw us into Deserted end of Coimbatore Station.I got myself on 32C and took out the 5Re Coin.
I feel very glad that i took the test.It dawned on me what destiny was.Until then it was one of bollywood masala.Destiny.
I got through and had to visit Chennai one more time.

Summer Samba

2009-09-22T19:07:00.000-07:00

We changed to a local train.It was unbearable and nasty.But i had my dad close to me in his uniform with decorated sleeves.He fixed me a seat on the suitcase.Finally we reached Samba.It was not a big station.The platforms were open without roofings.I spotted few tents on unused railings.We had to wait until the ride arrived.I was hungry.We walked and found a grocery shop.We had the only choice of buying leftover laddu.It later upset my stomach.
The Jeep arrived.It appeared larger with roaring engines.We loaded our baggage and started off to the quarters.There were others with us.Few returning back to service after visiting families from far end of countries.Everybody had a warm smile and stern look.It was already evening.I saw fireflies for the first time.They were everywere.They created a visual treat.They were swarming the bushes everywhere.
We were alloted quarters and we checked in.It was a wonderful experience of starting a new way of life in new home.The beautiful home had a backyard where you often run into neighbours.After a fence there was a steeping slope.The quarers was huge two storeyed structure with a dozen of families.The first thing i noticed was the woodpecker.It was one strange bird.I have never seen them and was amused to see them peck the wood at a alarmingly faster rate like a mechanical drill.To my surprise they were in flocks.The extensive area in front of the stone quaters blocks facing each other was full of grass.Everyday evening all the families would come outside and we spent our time over ther.I remember my dad buying me a shuttlecork from a local market.We used to play there often.Other things i remember are the dinners we got invited to.The stern looks on men guarding my dads office were always very kind.I used to visit my Dad at his office.He was always busy with paperwork.

iBlaze September 2009 Issue 1

2009-09-01T11:12:00.000-07:00

This is the first issue of iBlaze.This is going to be a magazine centering around my passion and interests.Enjoy reading.

At Scribd

http://www.scribd.com/share/upload/15234769/es6tqyhmx5lz0q67umb

I request you guys to read it.Just take alook at it.Nothing much to read.

Last Jamoon...

2009-07-15T23:57:00.001-07:00

The last jamoon can say lot of things.It stands as testimony to how much you care for the person whom you offer it.It is like the present tense.You choose to do whatever with it as it pleases your mind.The sugary syrup drips and creates an echo in the empty container that holds the single jamoon.The lonliness of the jamoon is a sweet sorrow.You can let it go easily but you resist it.You put it back and close the lid for someone else to have it.You feel proud.The temptation is irresistable.Turning back you try to invent million reasons why you must have the jamoon now.It might go stale.It is not much.Its not something special.May be no one is interested.May be its for you.It is a very simple thing to do.Just go for it,and its gone.A never ending tug of rope, just for this last jamoon.

There are many sweet sorrows in life.The last day at school,last day you took off your uniforms,Last puppy at the pet store, last ticket that you grabbed for a show,the last seat empty of a train on a tired day,the last bus that can take you home,the last smile of the person you love the most, the last coke,the last point of charge on your mobile,the last rupee note in your purse,the last rupee balance in your mobile and many more things.But nothing is special as this last jamoon.The single most delightful bite that gives you ecstacy, either you take it or leave it.

Soft petals and Sling shots

2009-07-10T06:02:00.000-07:00

Things get complicated when choices have to be made.Solid and single minded decisions which will define the things to be.Choosing to stay back,a salubrious comforting life which holds the pleasure of leisure.It's challenging to beat your one self.To tame the beast within.To generate positive force massive enough to engulf the evil within.The comforting couch,the ultimate freedom to live your life the easy way.When you have to slow down and stay back when everyone else are sprinting towards distance.A slow down that hits you hard.The burden that you have to face.Convincing yourself and start focusing towards one single minded intention.Your ultimate agenda to achieve perfection and beyond.

The cause of your own self.The explanations and reasoning for all those who think you are not unusually unfit.To fight temptations,Job offers and monetizing oppurtunities which will sway you from staying focused.It all lies over there,the distant birds cry is your call.The sling shot that will hit hard.The target itself gleams with a speck of illumination which is your key to satisfaction.The reason for your very existence.The change that will elminate misfortunes,vauge and general way of living.It will put you on track.

On your mission to achieve your selfishness.Your single minded intention to do things that are common otherwise,if not for the emotional tag attached.The cause and a sound reason behind an intention makes way for a solid target.The one thats worth aiming.The sling is powerful.The projectile the dart takes will be rapid.The wind will be strong.The target will be slayed with one shot.The soft petals are here.A nice wrm life with little surprises,a usual way of living.The most common thing to do.But the sling is all set for the target.After that more targets lie beyond.But there is little time to lay back on these soft petals.

A choice to make.A aim to take.A target to aim at.A sling shot that will whizz into the future,the path it takes,the strong wind it breaks the force with which it hits the target.Those are things that are important.Not the Soft petals.Not the way things should have been.

The sling will slay for sure......

Damp Walls and moist Leaves...

2009-07-04T20:25:00.000-07:00

The chilling morning breeze kisses your senses,on a pleasant morning The drizzling does spray painting on the dry inner walls through the open windows.The chirpy tunes of little birds that hops by the window pane flutters away to perch itself on the low compound wall.The wall is damp and moist.It looks like some relic.The white patches add to the rich texturing.The newspaper flies into the porch.Its damp too.The man smiles and pedals away as he had made another safe delivery.Walking outside i find everything fresh.

The little leaves attract attention.They dance in the gentle breeze balancing the little rain drops on the edges.

Sipping Hot tea brings back senses to life.The laziness is gone.The newspaper supplements are more attractive than the main page as it always has.The Budget is commented criticized and a host of reforms are recommended.The lonely kid who cycles in circles on the vacant land whistles a tune.The dog follows him.The villagers all packed head for the weekly market.The vegetable prices sky rocket.The tomato smiles at you and your purse gives a exhausted look.

The pool of water on the eroded road makes the passers by to perform gymnastics as the speeding bikes splashes water indiscreminately.The water that has been stagnant on Sun shades,terraces flow as the owners clear the debris on the outlet.

The sun comes to rescue the stray cats,dogs and men.It dries them of the dampness.The damp walls will soon be dry.

Ferrying Stretches of Vaikam - Part II

2009-06-23T23:52:00.000-07:00

The Jetty sits at the end of a street.We had to walk past a wooden bridge.Then the ticket counter.These Ferries were making round trips across the backwaters.The water was magical with turquoise flat stretching with fishing boats,country yatches and speed boats criscrossing.The water almost opaque with green floating weeds,hydrophytes and palm leaves filled the mind.

The Rs.2 ticket takes to the other side.You can choose between the passenger boat thats almost like a bus,the exception being that it is two storied and the driver in this case steers the boat sitting on a elevated platform on the last seat or a larger one that carried cars.The ferry was filled with workers returning from nearby factories and school children.The engine was noisy and a lot of vibration was felt all the time the boat tried to steer away from floating buoyant holding fishing nets.The suns rays left golden ripples.Untiring sight that relaxed most passengers after hard days work.'Gods Own Country',gave its subjects few moments of escapade from exhaustion.If only we had something in our Cheran Transport Corporation buses...hmmm

I chose to stay there when my dad had something official to do.I sat on the concrete wall and stared at the boat shaped building that looked like a hotel.It turned out to be the KSTDC(Kerala State Transport Devolopment Corporation)Bar.There was a counter despatching Toddy.There was not even a single tourist around.I wondered what they were devoloping.But families with more than one earning member in middle eastern countries could afford to spend lavishly,which in this case covers most of them in kerala.

Then i started ferrying to and fro.The ticket counter man smiled at me playing the game.I chose the Open ferry which carried the Cars and trucks because it was big and open.You can feel the wind combing your hair.This ferry had something like a dredge in front to clear weeds.The centre of the boat had a huge diesel engine that pumped out clouds of smoke.It moved slower than the passenger boat but you can walk the decks freely or lean forward on the steel pipes and enjoy yourself.

By Nine i joned my dad and we returned to our room.We went out again to have dinner.I was really hungry and went ahead with parotas,puttu and egg curries.I was really afraid to order Meat because most restaurants served Beef.Chaya always followed any eating session.Then i tiredly fell into the bed.I saw my dad smile before he closed his eyes to drift away.I smiled too.

The next day we went to an island on a speed boat.It was my first experience on an island.It was strange because you felt very insecure and still clung to the coconut trees when water splashed.It was very small one with just a single hamlet.There was a single oil lamp and a transistor was humming inside.After sometime the speed boat was about to leave and we jumped into it.The Yamaha Engines fitted to the boats cruised it splashing jet streams of water.The boat touched the water only near the propellers.After sensing my fear the man smiled wickedly and increased the throttle.Every one had a big laugh when i tried to hide my fear with big ..ho hooo.As if being excited and wanted more.

Then we went to Cochin to meet someone on business.The skyscrapers that dotted the shore had great views and had names like 'Link Heights",Heavens Path etc.We went to one such apartment building directly overlooking the sea.The ships were leaving the docks towed out of the port.The sirens and blasting horns.Then after getting on a bus we travelled non stop and reached Kovai at midnight.The last bus to Mettupalam was about to leave by 12:30.It was completely packed and to worsen it,it was sunday.Movie goers and people returning to next days work.We got inside and squeezed inside and reached Home.

Reaching home i wondered what reason would keep me from going to school next day.Fell into bed and i woke up by 11 A.M.I thought i was dreaming.But my mom asked if i was going to attend school that afternoon.I shook my head.I could see without turning what my moms face looked like.I couldnt help myself smiling.Whats there to eat ma?....i yawned...First brush your teeth ,my mom rushed away to the kitchen.

Ha,How nice it is to travel.I eagerly waited for my next trip.It was a trip to masinagudi and another one to Kothagiri.I guess that could fill up the blogs to come.

Voidness....

2009-06-21T17:19:00.000-07:00

You feel it when you get down at the last stop of that bus,ike the empty space of a barrel of a gun when the trigger has been squeezed and the bullet has already taken its projectile you feel the voidness.Some times you feel it often when your are done with the last pages of the book reaches the cover,when the cast of the movies crawl through the screen,when the phone line on other end has gone dead.

I have seen it in few when they extinguish their cigeratte.Their eyelids half shut,a vague look.The look that signifies nothing.You can see that even for a moment when you stare into the eyes of the stray dog or cat which lasts only for a second.When you turn off your ignition,when you have flushed it down the drains,when you have secured a seat in a bus struggling.When you have to leave it to that old man who bears the same look as you.Voidness.

Its the feeling that dominates when you achieve everything or nothing.It's special because other thought streams rushes in to fill in the space.

The star gazing moments are actually moments of joy when you dream of everything that can happen to you.The moment of realisation is only after voidness.It can never be clearly defined for those who haven't felt it often just shut their eyes for a moment and wonder what's next.But for someone who are fortunate for being void relish the voidness in them.The regal pleasure that enshrouds them from all other things that was never part of them.

Voidness...Experience it when you run out of dreams,while travelling alone ,in Journeys that seems to last for eternity,crowded buses and trains,long queues in front,in government offices,hospitals,feel those moments of voidness..

Its these moments that you try to look at people around you.They are exhibits in the real world each one in a peculiar interesting manner.These moments let your heart live the moment are for sharing tired faces,frustrating swear word,yawns and unusual chit chats with strangers.These things you would never experience with strangers the yawns,tired faces with short smiles,the sigh and whining of personal grief,confessions of ones's mistakes in younger days of life,a free dash of moral advices,political opinions,profitable and secure investment and the list never ends.Goes on and on.Just like one of my nostalgic blog posts..:-)

So,Guys experience this voidness.It brings a surge of relief that you are the one.The one who can handle the situation.By now the bullet must have served its purpose.It must have hit the target.I hear the barrel reloaded for the next shot.The voidness is gone.

Never feel Bored again.

Ferrying Stretches of Vaikam

2009-06-14T18:03:00.000-07:00

Ferrying Stretches of Vaikam

This is one of this trips with my dad and his office colleague. It was a weekend during my school days. My dad had an official trip to Vaikam.I was asking lots of questions about the nature of work at vaikam and kerala.He startled me by inviting me with him. I readily agreed which however must have surprised him. But as a man of his words he agreed to take me, on one condition that it was not a tour and he was not to be blamed if i got bored.

I had my new Canon camera which i had bought for Rs.650 after saving the sum with thrifting policies and starving temptations. I had almost 20 shots left and took it with me. I took very few shots with it. I still have them scanned and digitized.

Then there was this book in Tamil from my local library. It was "Pazamudirkundram" and i never remembered its author. Later on recently i found out that it was an adoption of the famous,” The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain" written by Ivor Monger and later directed into a movie by Christopher Monger. It’s however originally about a village which is being surveyed by a English draftsman who marks a mound as a hill and not a mountain as expected by villagers. Then the villagers heap up a temporary mound and convince the draftsman to mark it as a mountain for retaining their pride. The little village would have lost its only pride if it has not been done so.

I still remember reading that book perched on a cement bench in front of a small government office in Kerala. It gave me great pleasure to have read the story in Tamil long back when i had no idea that Mongers piece of literature existed. The trip itself was exciting.We started from Coimbatore junction in a passenger train. It was filled with students and workers returning from Coimbatore to Palakkad. We got down at Shoranur. Then after some waiting at the Deserted station with stunning backdrop of green fields, we moved on towards Ernakulam.From there took a Bus and reached Vaikam.

We took a room and three of shared it. It was wrong choice and was dusty. But we had very few options to switch in the middle of night. We vacated in the dawn and my fathers friend suggested a better place to stay. We checked out and hired an autorickshaw.We then reached Kalakal Lodge. The name sounded to me like a tribe of that region but it was good with a clear view of the Famous Shiva Temple and its West temple complex, were E.V.Ramaswamy Naicker gained his acclaimed title 'Periyar' by marching in the untouchables into the Temple premises.

We were on time to have the opportunity to worship the lord when he was waken up by the namboodris from nithra.We had to take off our shirts inside the temple. No exceptions. I grinned however bot of them laughed. Then after offering 'vedi valibadu', which is nothing but offerings to god by sounding of a crude cracker made instantly for 5Rs. and fired on the spot. My dad explained me how they made it with Sulphur and coal powdered and fused to burst on impact by smacking it on ground.

Then had the Puttu and Kadalaikari,and Vadai.It was good to have a filling meal. It tasted healthy and less spicy. After that i was assigned my dad to take some Xerox of some papers. I was quite surprised because i was able to locate a shop and when i asked for Xerox them, a lady in thirties sighed back. Do you mean Photocopies?, I was stupefied and stunned. It was still called Photocopies in Kerala while I called it Xerox still making fun at them pronouncing Lorry and College.

After spending time in old cornered record rooms of government offices and friendlier chats with the staff, I felt a good feeling about malayalees.This helped me remove my differences which have long been in my mind. Later on i had more friends who had their origin from this Gods own country. The offices followed a strict schedule and punctuality even though the red tapism and usual devils of govt. departments existed. It took some time for me to find out that my dad has put on his hat and was deep into work to be interrupted. I walked outside and went around the place and also went to a bank to bring chalans.

I had lunch at Indian Coffee House. It has a grand name but its a simple decent restaurant in that small town. But the biriyani was sweet and oily with lot of dry fruits it spoiled my apetite.Had some milk and some bananas though. Next thing in the evening we moved on towards the Jetty’s. And then.....

To be continued...in the next blog

Trade Era- Madras

2009-06-13T03:37:00.000-07:00

To start with Parry's,EID Parry's(India) Ltd. is the oldest surviving name in Chennai.For 200 years from 1790's company co-founded by Dare and Parry grew into a industrial giant manufacturing and selling sugar,confectioneries,ceramics,fertilizers and many products.Today the company HQ still stands in the Parry's Corner,a bustling business zone.Headed by Ambitious Murugappa Group,the company today commands presence in Sanitary ware through itsParry's range launched in 1952.Nellikuppam,cudalore is credited to be the first sugar refinery in south india,so in a way Parry's introduced sugar into our lives.

Binny's in fabrics is also a 1814 company which established itself as a cotton textile,woven wollen clothes manufacturer and man made blended fabrics.Today they are a household name.

Among the buseinesses that failed Arbuthnot & Co. was notable one.It had largest number of fixed deposit holders a staggering 4000 even todays standards is huge.

Spencer's in 1863 marked a era of business in Madras.It was so prominent that people miss the grandeur of the spencer building now replaced by ultra modern shopping destination.The modern one has three phase construction with remarkable glass roofings.It was once the only shopping mall in south Asia.

Addison's in 1873 was remarkably major step in forming business coglomerates.Amalgamations group one of the best known groups in chennai includes the Oakes 7 Co,Higginbothams(1844),besides few other companies founded later on.

P.Orr & Sons in 1849 started business as jewellers and expanded in a chain of premium watch and silver wares showroom with the remarkable three faced clock tower that is a landmark itself.So most of chennai's land marks are either trade establishments,memorials,Head Quarters or functioning government establishments.

These fragmented pieces are not the only known trade developments in Madras.They are just few that amused and influenced people and are still remembered.To have a complete view of what really happened refer to this time line link posted below....

http://www.google.co.in/search?q=chennai+trade+history&hl=en&sa=G&tbo=1&tbs=tl:1,tll:1600,tlh:1649&ei=yZs1SsfaHITg7APsiIzHDw&oi=timeline_histogram_nav&ct=timeline-histogram&cd=1

Madras is something new to me..so please post comments on mistakes omissions and blunt errors..I suspect i should have made because of my limited knowlege on this great Metro city...

One Way Tickets and Unreserved Train journeys-Part two

2009-06-09T01:49:00.000-07:00

Contd....(See previous post...)

The overcrowded compartment steadily moved getting an upgrade of few coaches and powerful electrified engine replacing the diesel engine that towed us from mettupalayam.The night as a dark heavy blanket hung around us,shimmering distant lights and lonely houses with lamps dotted the tracks.Slowly there was a creepy silence.Staring straightly into closed eye lids and sleeping people stirred eerie thoughts.Grown up men sleeping like babies cuddled in twisted human spaghetti forms.

Everything normal to a train journey do happen here.Half closed eyes and the bizzarree sorrounding prevented me from my deep sleep of four hours which i enjoyed at home.On reaching Chennai Central i slowly moved outside.Carefully using the subways reached the otherside and waited there for 2A.It took me to Marina Beach.Morning 6 AM was pleasant with the sun light doing magic on the salty puddle-the ocean.

I expected lot of morning walkers but to my surprise there were only few.I walked towards the splashing shore avoiding barking dogs and middle aged men burning fat running the stretches of the littered sand.Crows and pegions scavenging on the previous nights spoils in polythene bags,crushed newspapers and the sand fluttered its wings overhead.The patterns on the sand of the birds made interesting textures.I always felt the reluctance to step on the waters due to its unpleasant form.But bearing it was not much when compared to sharing a general compartment with fellow citizens.Our country's spirit combined with surival instincts makes us perform guiness records everyday from 160 passengers moving on a single bus to bikers riding over 90 km/hr on a crowded street.

We feel sometimes that we are a lot of people whose lives are governed by convention but somehow we blend into the present world of Sonic jets but still long for bullock cart rides.We are people who defy western philsophies and psychological theories that predicts mans behavior.A complex community of a vibrant colours dashing with surprising traditions and simple believes.One is contended to believe in destiny and karma as he seeks his blessings from the streetside deities dotting the nation's stretches,crossing oneself hurriedly before once again clinging to the footboard of fast moving buses.

We are people of multitudes.We are Indians.After my work getting done,i met my sibling and all the pamperings and purchases i found myself moving once again towards the Sea shores.On reaching there like a rythm of clock work my friend called me.He came all the way to take me to his place he has moved in.We spent for some three hours chatting.When the evening sun glistened i remembered the unreserved journey back and dashed to railway station.Luckily i got on the train first and had the choice of picking the seats.After the usual filling up of the compartment,we started after two long hours inside the train.A sigh of relief soothed me on seeing the howrah express and all the chaotic fights between north indian migrant workers.Biharis are their common name.I was relieved to have got a pack of college students around me.After repeating the routines of the tiring journey coimbatore was the promised land.The early morning aavin hot milk at the kiosk,started off in the 32 towards home.

I remembered what a unplanned short trip can do to me,i never took the "Maximum city" to read,Even the Audio books in the iPod had to wait.It was surprising though to think it over what had happened in two days.But there was one feeling that got stronger.I really missed travelling.Thats what made me comfotable with unagreeable propotions of hardships of travelling.It was another experience which leaves you exhausted with no sleep and a great deal of focus of work to be done ahead.Robert frost's lines echoed back, "miles to go before I sleep".Sure it was....

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Only hope that keeps us from exhaustion is that a better tomorrow,a ray of hope...the sole force that makes us move from place to place hoping for better things to come-education,career and it will be long before when we think that we need a vacation.

One Way Tickets and Unreserved Train journeys

2009-06-08T20:23:00.000-07:00

Leaving behind wonderful rain beating down heat prepared to leave to chennai for a days visit.It was one of these un planned unscheduled visit.I started packing the back pack with just"Maximum City " and few audio books loaded on iPod.But when i was standing in the long queue stretching front like a snake,i felt my back ache with all the stuff that have finally been packed.It included towel and toileteries,snacks,noodles and water bottle.Nothing of which i expected to carry.

When i entered the Mettupalayam station at six, I enjoyed the steam engines retrieved from the mountain train and being parked in their space.A few proud railway employees ran to attend it as if it was from a F1 track.When i turned back i found out that one has to line oneself in a queue to enter the UR Compartment.I lost the last strand of hope slowly of getting a ticket.

Travelling alone gives a sort of timeline where you have a complete focus of things ahead and it completely puts one at ease.I had in my hand a open ticket to reach chennai.Unreserved journey is awfully discouraging but sometimes makes you enjoy simple pleasures.When i got in i found that all the seats have been taken.The Eight hours before me made me feel sick and put me in bad mood.But got a seat when a granny got down at coimbatore junction.So i jumped happily filling in the space.The standing from mettupalayam tired my knees.I settled down and hesitated and slowly following others unpacked my savouries and emptied it driving hunger away and inviting slumping sleep in.

To be continued

(too sleepy guys will write after waking)

Empty Class Room Benches....

2009-06-05T05:42:00.000-07:00

Staring at the window antony sighed.One more boring day in first bench.But its something that will never change.Same class for three years,inspite of sprawling huge campus and classes studded in the long narrow corridors,just like prision cells.The walls side walls sorrounding the corridors fitted with those black iron grill.Perfect.With numbers on the doors and each person who enters the roll given a number.Its a prision one can never break.The emptyness and exhaustion of not gaining much hurt inside.

It was surely better than other places.It had a good appealing exterior with lush green pastures where squirrel and sparrows hoped pecked and played adding a serenity.The tall buildings with a touch of dark brown borders and the stenciled department blocks outlines the arts and sciences taught inside.A chain of friendship extends within those stone walls which sorrounds the campus.Names forgotten but faces etched in heart.It will remain forgotten in deepest mist.Surfacing with blushing sigh.I knew it was you.thats all you could say someday somewhere far away.

The wooden benches bent like a hag was uncomforting and creaking.But four friends sit comfortingly synching their phones with bluetooth.The Fm stations streamed RJ voices into the tiny earbuds hidden under those dark swirls of hair.In a Corner bench the sculpture chisseld out on wood.It had so many sacred layers of sculptures formed with creative tips of bored students for years.

The crows outside mocked the professor.The novels and magazines hidden on lap silently devoured by ardent readers puzzled their bored friends who tried to act they were listening.Some soul who really has mastered turning a treacherous afternoon class into a slumping nap dreamed of Katrina kaif in godly forms.

The watches ticked away killing brain cells.The watches admired by their masters stared back refusing to move any faster.Afterall they never listened to boring lectures or un savoured classes.When it was time everything ended.

The empty benches stared back at antony who stood now on the other side of the window.A grown up he was.A moment of displeasure and grief.A simple smile.Empty though escaped the twisted lips.College life was good,he thought.It was damn good.Friends lost into oblivion.Haunting empty benches moved him outside.He searched for his keys found it on his front pocket.Moved towards the parking lot.Quickly turned the ignition on entring into his capsule.The door shut seat belts tightened,he moved on into the traffic.For a moment he considered deleting the snaps in his phone.The pictures were damn good,better the ones he took on his VGA phone years ago.The empty benches stared at him in the LCD screen of the Camera.Its damn good he thought.

Detecting frauds and accounting gimmicks

2009-05-31T04:47:00.000-07:00

The recent financial scam has aroused greater interest into accounting and forensic nature of auditing.It is a eye opener because for so many years corporates and investors rely on the figures and fate deciding financial statements to stay successful.These facts like in any other system can be manipulated by attacking certain loops and filling gaps.Certain basic tricks followed commonly to make the financial statement positive can be classified under this head.

Recording Revenue too soon – of questionable quality

Recording revenue before fulfilling obligations

Revenue received before order as advance

Revenue from Selling to agent

Grossing up revenue before provisions

Recording bogus revenue

Recording sales lacking economic substance

Cash received in land sales

Revenue from merger

Investment income shown as revenue

Boosting income with one time gains

Selling under valued dead assets and showing proceeds as revenue

Speculative gains and sale of company holdings

Reduction in operating expenses

Restructuring and manipulating balance figures

Shifting current expenses to a later or earlier period

Amortizing too slowly

Changing policies and provision/discount rates

Improper recording

These transactions are legally recorded and valid but tends to misrepresent the current financial position of the business.The investors are tricked into believing that the company is promising and yields lucrative returns and the stock will gain in future.The manipulators enjoy an advantage over competitors even though they are delivering less in business and the company actually is degenerating income.

These misrepresentations go unnoticed if the company regains its lost position and posts returns the later years or else they use the same old dirty tricks of manipulating the profits.Within few years the overheads are staggering and topples the confidense and goodwill of the company leading to confessions,allegatons and unearthing of unethical corporate practices.The game has a very bad ending but as for as the people concerned they just dive into oblivion unnoticed and settle down for a sunbath in a beach resort sipping cucumber and lime.The investors move on to look for greener pasture.The legislation proceeds with what has to be legally done.But the mllions which disappeared will never surface not until end of the world......

Obituary-Lost souls- My favourite books

2009-05-31T01:54:00.000-07:00

In memory of books lost

1.Here is your war-Erne Pyle

2.Geetanjali-Rabindranath Tagore

3.Da Vinci Code

4.The Patriot Games-Tom clancy

5.And few others who never made it here.................

I slaughtered them.

I handed them to killers

Maniacs and psychopaths

Flushed down the drain

To some old papermarts

Some lucky ones make it

To the attics and barns,

Devoured by termites and pests

Put to slow death.

I long for them

I feel for them

And curse myself

for not being selfish

I should have had them

For myself

The sickening smell

Of old books and the smoky dust

on the covers cast an auro

A spectrum of Old thoughts So

Tender and subtle

That makes you long for past

I miss you I miss you

Forever..

(Also in memory of all those cds,DVDs,Magazines,Semester notes and all those things that got an one way ticket out of my table...)

Story Telling for better Managemnt skills-Around the Corporat FIre....by Evelyn Clark

2009-05-09T15:58:00.000-07:00

Pre Historic men, women and children sat around First fire tightly and listened to the headman. He was a vivid intriguing master Story teller. He had a premature language a action packed narrative, fascinating things that existed everywhere around them, things that was happening in the dark world where the rays from burning fire failed to reach.

The warm fire was enough to sleep into the darkness. But the young and the old alike liked to listen to the stories with open ears eyes wide opens, senses tingled. The lead man was passing on the treasure of knowledge his forefathers have left before the beasts dined them during last raid. Mans first story was about Staying alive and inevitability of death. Later he moved on to staying together which was unity, striving for perfection which guaranteed stomach full of hunt. Then came learning quickly, fighting the odd and standing against things that exceeds human strength but somehow can be subdued to submission.

There began the story telling. Now men are close to being a supremo. An ultimate being striving for a balance. All the instincts of dark ages have adapted to the new world. The world of corporate comeptence.The best evolutionary state man has ever reached.

Around the Corporate Fire by Evelyn Clark. She herself was motivated by stories.

She brings to the reader a good collection of simple ordinary stories that motivate and maintains a balance in the workforce. The stories are not slaying the dragon kind. They are not rags to reaches stories. Rather they are how people used common sense and daring decisions to keep up with their motive and did what they wanted to do. Succeed.

“The day I paid $248000 for a golf round” about CEO of Armstrong International. Its about a assistant manager who struck a deal saving a great deal for the company without consent. The catch being that he was to spend only $20000.He wasn’t fired but celebrated. When the decision was made the CEO was playing golf.

Did you know Phil Knight CEO co-founder of Nike took off from breakfast tables when he felt inspired by waffles on his plate? The swoosh symbols are the wings of Greek goddess Nike. It was created for a fee 0f 35$.And as the name stands the Greek goddess of Nike did win. Initially it was started based on Japanese adidas look alike (fake) sports gear producer. Also the legend of Bill bower man crisscrosses in the success story.

The story about 3M is all intriguing and inspirational. William L. McKnight was a bookkeeper before 20 years 1949 when he was the President of the giant Corp. 3m was a pioneer with the 15% rule that’s similar to now popular Google s 70-20-10.

Fred Smith of FedEx in 1971 obsessed with time value of business committed him to overnight delivery system which he formulated in his Harvard MBA paper but was not liked by his professor. In two years 389 FedEx employees drove rented cars and what not to deliver what their founder has committed to.14 Falcon jets flew the air strip of 25 U.S cities that was now the Business Battlefield. Now 5.4 Million packages are delivered. Stories keep adding on like when a chief executive showed up silently and handled cargo when there was additional one million packages to be delivered due to strike by UPS. They deliver Whales transporting them between sea world in Japan and san Diego .At ninety degree Colorado heat Schott borrowed a bicycle to deliver goods strapped to his back as his car broke.

If you worked in Medtronic you would say every day,” Dad I saved a life today”. They produce a range of life saving equipment which includes deep brain stimulating treatment for treating Parkinson’s disease.

“If you feel inclined to smoke, step onto the wings and become a performer in our upcoming movie, Gone with the Wings” it’s not a TV show it’s a flight attendant says in Southwest Airways. They promise cheap point to point services with fun packed takeoffs. It really did takeoff.

Recreational Equipment was inspired by a mountain climber’s quest for safety equipment. It all started with an ice axe.

Costman Co smiles with stories of selling Calvin Klein jeans for 29.99$ and selling Salmon for 4.79$ a pound. A terrific deal for common men.

Sometimes the task at hand can be daunting if your story is too good and you have to keep up with it.Eastmen Kodak declared you press the button we do the rest. The bold statement was really hard to faces With changing technology. Kodak faced extinction as it had to improvise catching up with digital technology. Some signature products have to be stopped. New alien projects have to taken upon. But it did survive.

Stories can be never ending as long as the audience are interested and the spirit flows from within. A few stories are bland and boring. But they all have one thing in common they have the freedom to cross boundaries and reach People.

Stories are fiction till they inspire nobody to be somebody……

Happy story telling ……

Simply Khaki by E.N Rammohan....A Policeman Remembers

2009-05-04T04:15:00.000-07:00

These are from Simply Khaki by E.N Rammohan.This memoir brings to us Some 35 long years of untiring civil service by an IPS officer of 1965 batch.The book is a good one with varied political situations like Indira Ghandhis emergency rule,Rise of ULFA,infilteration,foriegners agitations,and the usual Corruption,working with CBI at hyderabad and retiring as Advisor to Manipur governor.

This books brings to life a passionate and undettered personalities of life through the corrupt and power hungry politics and bureaucracy of our nation.A must read for person who dreams of IPS...An excerpt from Simply Khaki by E.N Rammohan a resident of New Delhi.

"My posting at Tezpur was memorable in many ways.We will always remember the beautiful places that we saw.Among the unforgetable places was Bhalukpong, wher Zia Bharali thunders down into the valley.Beyond that was the marvellous orchidarium at Tippi.The forest inspector Bungalow at tippi is one of the lovliest places we had ever seen.We had just reached there that afternoon,when we heared the whistling calls of the Great Himalayan Hornbill.There were four of them and they were literally frolicking among the tall semul(silk cotton) trees.Later sitting on the verandah of the forest bungalow,in the gathering dusk,watching the river rushing by ,we could see elephants coming to the opposite banks to drink water.

One afternoon in the rainy season,sitting on the verandah of the house,watching Bhramaputra flow by,suddenly we saw a family of three elephants ,a bull a cow and a baby,climb on to a sand bank just about hundred yards from the bank of the river.The three were shining black because of their long swim from the opposite bank.There was great excitement in kolibari village and a number of people gathered.........."

The narrative is simple,bold and actually contains names of politicians,minute details of small cases,situations of a Administrations,Political hurdles,Communal violence,Life death and Fanatism all powered by power and money.

INDIALOG PUBLICATIONS..

New Delhi..

ISBN 1098765432

hAPPY rEADING fOLKS....

...

Mansion Square......

2009-03-11T15:29:00.000-07:00

Except for the small wooden windows,narrow staircases and the odd partition walls that never touched the roof the manison was normal.It was owned by a typical woman entrepreneur who happened to run the place in addition to the construction and interior decor work she handled.It used to be a girls hostel and now has been turned into Mens mansion for a speculative reason.For those wondering whats special about mansions,Don't have to worry.Its a typical living space where most ,educated,uneducatedemployed,unemployed,placed !!! youngsters and students in pursuit of higher studies spend a timeline of their life swearing at the pathetic living
condition.There was one thing that was true and special about this place.Nothing changes.Its maintanance free.Yes,no one cares about maintaining them.It makes not much difference.
There are few interesting characters whom we surely think are out of the box.These are
people from ordinary lives leading extraordinary living.They makes us enjoy simple pleasures in life.They make us feel the core of ourselves.For some strange reason they seem to be unconditionally loving and caring except for those soaps,deodarants and our clothes they share with you.Later these people vanish into oblivion.They are washed away.You loose their contacts easily,turn your head lesiuerely when you see them on any given day in life.You dont need them anymore.Like someone sid,"Few people are like Party baloons and snow sprays,They are
important but not so important.These party baloons brings the party mood.But they loose shape and fall silent after all the fun.
Life here is nice.You meet strangers.Its the only place other than schools there are almost no differences atleast until you stay together.You can get help from anyone.You get to know things that has never been part of your world.You learn to appreciate and experiment with fantacies of others such as knocking others doors and running away.You cant miss them.They give you this kick.stealing someones pillow and bedsheet when one is completely lost with dreams is real fun.nothing gives you fun.Apart from this you can boast of a unlimited combination of wardrobe.You can call favours to drop,pickup and makeup stories at times to create impressions whom you are crazy about.You can share everything from childhood to utopian dreams,things that make you happy,sad and jump with joy,cry and loose heart all over a single line.You dont even think about it again.Trust me,you wil never regret it.These secrets are like world war I warships and planes lost in bermuda.They will never surface.
If you havnt lived one life like this,Dont miss it.Its like one of those bus rides you go crazy and hang on the footboard.You can easily avoid it.But it gives you a insight, a inner strength a national liberation,a feeling of oneness and survival instinct that you have left behind due to the well beaten up kind of life we have led.
So next time when its a posting outside hometown,a long stay at a metro,a job hunting expedition,or a typical student life with budget constraints shake off those weird looks,dont make faces.Just jump in.Let your life loose.Expect every thing i told you and more.
Life is fun filled saturdays,but at office being lonely stuck with a back breaking work load.But the silverline is your boss is nowhere to be seen.you can occasionally sit back and fall into memories which trap you and brings back smile on saturday evenings at office,which is very unusual.

Silhouette of Birds

2009-03-06T09:08:00.000-08:00

Silhouette of Birds

There is something strange and common about these birds.They are graceful,sweet and lovely to watch.They never seem to care about those strange humans staring at them.They go on and on and on with their activities.It looks as if they do nothing in life and all they do is to sing and fly from one greener branch to other greener ones.They are perfectionists.They peck their feathers and wet the tip of feathers.It looks as if they are styling themselves with bryl hair cream to look stiffer.They never let you get very closer to them.They fly away like shying bride.Unreachable.

Once for all we wish that we could be birds flying all day.The commonest of all and most attention demanding of all birds are the crows.Not many admire them.They are black,they are crooked,they crow,they are rally disgusting.But i like them.They dont have really special adaptions gifted by nature such as the aerodynamic albatross or eagles with binocular vision,But they are common crows.They survive.They are in a way like humans.They are exposed to all risks.They live in groups.They make a great messy mourning with all that crowing and flying around when a fellow crow gets a death blow from the swinging electric poles.They protect their nests by pecking anyone who passes by their tree where the nest rests.They never touch their food alone.They keep calling for company.When once they have got good company they start their fight for their share.That sounds very human.

They know for sure what humans are.They know by instinct not to trust them.Its them learn our tricks.They enjoy pecking lonely dogs wagging tails when alone.They fly around with nothing to do.They have a choice over the menu being served.They are nowhere to be found when we have something to offer.They are daring to snatch away stuff from kids when its really tempting deal.Its risk worth taking.
I miss them during diwali.They are suddenly silent.They almost disappear.They are frightened.They are scared to death from the crackers blowing and smoke choking their rough throats..

Not many miss them.For they are the lowly creatures with unpleasant tounge,black feathers and filthy habits.But we still love to call them our ancestors reborn. Sani bhagavan rides happily.Who cares,atleast he could be a private jet equalent to one of our mighty Gods.Crows

Really cool lines from Danny boyle's movie Trainspotting

2009-01-31T08:43:00.000-08:00

The movie trainspotting is all about drugs.The directors obcession with trains continues in his movies.In "Millions" two brothers come across a whole bag full of money worth over million pounds...the rest is left to Danny boyle...The two brothers ...the train..little bit of indian masala...young indians dream to be millionaire overnight...the call centres...slums...and of course A.R.Rahmans scores..Slum dog millionaire is good to watch.But i feel kind of sadistic.You would feel the same if you had already seen the beggars beating themselves piercing the flesh and blood..It is that kind of feeling that you get when you watch the movie.The indians are no longer Snake charmers,Naked gurus of spiritual enlightment,they are the third world,the coolies,the slum dogs,did you forget the fact that the foriegn hotels had a sign that said"dogs and indians keep out".Think over again.This is not hatred campaign.There is reality there truth but where is the morality of choosing the best for the audience who really love the way movies are made.But here i have my favourite line from this now favorite directors movie trainspotting.here we go....

(starts this way)

Choose life. Choose a job
Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television
Choose washing machines, cars,
compact disc players, electrical tin openers.
Choose good health,
low cholesterol and dental insurance.
Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments.
Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.
Choose leisure wear and matching luggage.
Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase
in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering
who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on a couch
watching spirit-crushing game shows...
...stuffing fucking junk food
into your mouth.
But why would I want to do
a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life.
I chose something else. And the reasons?
Who needs reasons
when you've got heroin?

You bring me down
a fucking smoke.

Now I've justified this to myself
in all sorts of ways.

(ends with these lines)

So, why did I do it?
I could offer a million answers, all false.
The truth is that I'm a bad person.
But that is going to change.
I'm going to change.
This is the last of that sort of thing.
Now I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on,
going straight and choosing life.
I'm looking forward to it already.
I'm going to be just like you.
The job, the family,
the fucking big television.
The washing machine, the car,
the compact disc, an electrical tin opener...
..good health, low cholesterol,
dental insurance...
..mortgage, starter home, leisure wear,
luggage, three-piece suite..
..DIY, game shows, junk food, children,
walks in the park, 9:00 to 5:00...
.good at golf, washing the car,
choice of sweaters, family Christmas..
..indexed pension, tax exemption,
clearing gutters...
..getting by, looking ahead,
the day you die.

Thats the beginning and end of the movie trainspotting.Really good movie to watch.

Google -my virtual world

2008-11-26T04:08:00.000-08:00

I start a day not with coffee or tea because these two things are addictive. But I ended up addicted to the virtual world so much that i start my day with igoogle page.Then the mail box where lots of newsletters, updates and update on my favorite blogs appear. After making lousy reply to all mails that drop by i venture into orkut.Chasing all the people that i have known who have virtual existence i request them I sheepily ask if I am still remembered (most people don’t remember).They sort of find my profile and stuff all gleaming with lots of info put a thought in their mind that this guy can be put to use someday. In most cases they hope that they can find some lost friends and create new bonds that has faded now. So they let me in. that’s good.

Next i go for my previous days unfinished web pages saved safely in bookmarks. Then loading my torrentz for the day. I proceed to Google everything from meaning for "quantum of solace" to Kalashnikov’s Birthday. And the day when i searched turns out to be his birthday(November 10th)....Feeling little paranoid i brush away that its just another coincedence.But its not easy to take things like sharing your birth day with Mohammad atta (September 1,1968),Adam gadhn (September 1,1978) who blew the twin towers. By the matter of fact I was born on 1.9.88(1988) September 1st 1988).Its ok...after all they are just coincidences.

After that one thing leads to other. New movie releases in imdb and reviews are on the way. After crunching some movie reviews its time for hunting down the image at high resolution that will live the short life of being my wall paper less than a day.

I hesitantly logout of the internet.Then its time to read those ebooks that lie on the desktops with unfinished pages.I just go for them and spen my time that i have rationed among those books.Finally the movie that appears from Nowhere on my PC.I watch them.

Then the PC burns some DVDs requested by friends.My 3d projects get some new ideas and some parts of projects are done from ground up.THen the power goes off and i save my 8mins of ups backup by switching off the moniter and eventually shut it down when iam still not done.

What i found in my pocket-G.K.C

2008-11-14T20:00:00.000-08:00

This is an essay from English reader of class 8....It was good essay with humour and sense...
Once when I was very young I met one of those men who havemade the Empire what it is--a man in an astracan coat,with an astracan moustache--a tight, black, curly moustache.
Whether he put on the moustache with the coat or whether his Napoleonic
will enabled him not only to grow a moustache in the usual place,
but also to grow little moustaches all over his clothes, I do not know.
I only remember that he said to me the following words: "A man can't
get on nowadays by hanging about with his hands in his pockets."
I made reply with the quite obvious flippancy that perhaps a man got
on by having his hands in other people's pockets; whereupon he began
to argue about Moral Evolution, so I suppose what I said had some
truth in it. But the incident now comes back to me, and connects
itself with another incident--if you can call it an incident--
which happened to me only the other day.
I have only once in my life picked a pocket, and then (perhaps through
some absent-mindedness) I picked my own. My act can really with some
reason be so described. For in taking things out of my own pocket I
had at least one of the more tense and quivering emotions of the thief;
I had a complete ignorance and a profound curiosity as to what I should
find there. Perhaps it would be the exaggeration of eulogy to call me a
tidy person. But I can always pretty satisfactorily account for all my
possessions. I can always tell where they are, and what I have done with
them, so long as I can keep them out of my pockets. If once anything
slips into those unknown abysses, I wave it a sad Virgilian farewell.
I suppose that the things that I have dropped into my pockets
are still there; the same presumption applies to the things
that I have dropped into the sea. But I regard the riches stored
in both these bottomless chasms with the same reverent ignorance.
They tell us that on the last day the sea will give up its dead;
and I suppose that on the same occasion long strings of
extraordinary things will come running out of my pockets.
But I have quite forgotten what any of them are; and there
is really nothing (excepting the money) that I shall be at all
surprised at finding among them.
. . . . .
Such at least has hitherto been my state of innocence.
I here only wish briefly to recall the special, extraordinary,
and hitherto unprecedented circumstances which led me in
cold blood, and being of sound mind, to turn out my pockets.
I was locked up in a third-class carriage for a rather long journey.
The time was towards evening, but it might have been anything,
for everything resembling earth or sky or light or shade
was painted out as if with a great wet brush by an unshifting
sheet of quite colourless rain. I had no books or newspapers.
I had not even a pencil and a scrap of paper with which
to write a religious epic. There were no advertisements
on the walls of the carriage, otherwise I could have plunged
into the study, for any collection of printed words is quite
enough to suggest infinite complexities of mental ingenuity.
When I find myself opposite the words "Sunlight Soap" I can
exhaust all the aspects of Sun Worship, Apollo, and Summer
poetry before I go on to the less congenial subject of soap.
But there was no printed word or picture anywhere; there was
nothing but blank wood inside the carriage and blank wet without.
Now I deny most energetically that anything is, or can
be, uninteresting. So I stared at the joints of the walls and seats,
and began thinking hard on the fascinating subject of wood.
Just as I had begun to realise why, perhaps, it was that Christ
was a carpenter, rather than a bricklayer, or a baker,
or anything else, I suddenly started upright, and remembered
my pockets. I was carrying about with me an unknown treasury.
I had a British Museum and a South Kensington collection
of unknown curios hung all over me in different places.
I began to take the things out.
. . . . .
The first thing I came upon consisted of piles and heaps of
Battersea tram tickets. There were enough to equip a paper chase.
They shook down in showers like confetti. Primarily, of course,
they touched my patriotic emotions, and brought tears to my eyes;
also they provided me with the printed matter I required,
for I found on the back of them some short but striking
little scientific essays about some kind of pill. Comparatively
speaking, in my then destitution, those tickets might be regarded
as a small but well-chosen scientific library. Should my railway
journey continue (which seemed likely at the time) for a few months
longer, I could imagine myself throwing myself into the controversial
aspects of the pill, composing replies and rejoinders pro and con
upon the data furnished to me. But after all it was the symbolic
quality of the tickets that moved me most. For as certainly as the
cross of St. George means English patriotism, those scraps of paper
meant all that municipal patriotism which is now, perhaps, the
greatest hope of England.
The next thing that I took out was a pocket-knife. A pocket-knife,
I need hardly say, would require a thick book full of moral
meditations all to itself. A knife typifies one of the most
primary of those practical origins upon which as upon low,
thick pillows all our human civilisation reposes. Metals, the
mystery of the thing called iron and of the thing called steel,
led me off half-dazed into a kind of dream. I saw into the
intrails of dim, damp wood, where the first man among all the
common stones found the strange stone. I saw a vague and violent
battle, in which stone axes broke and stone knives were splintered
against something shining and new in the hand of one desperate man.
I heard all the hammers on all the anvils of the earth.
I saw all the swords of Feudal and all the weals of Industrial war.
For the knife is only a short sword; and the pocket-knife
is a secret sword. I opened it and looked at that brilliant
and terrible tongue which we call a blade; and I thought that
perhaps it was the symbol of the oldest of the needs of man.
The next moment I knew that I was wrong; for the thing
that came next out of my pocket was a box of matches.
Then I saw fire, which is stronger even than steel, the old,
fierce female thing, the thing we all love, but dare not touch.
The next thing I found was a piece of chalk; and I saw
in it all the art and all the frescoes of the world.
The next was a coin of a very modest value; and I saw in it
not only the image and superscription of our own Caesar,
but all government and order since the world began.
But I have not space to say what were the items in the long and
splendid procession of poetical symbols that came pouring out.
I cannot tell you all the things that were in my pocket.
I can tell you one thing, however, that I could not find in my pocket.
I allude to my railway ticket.

Gulmohar tree-Lunch break

2008-11-06T02:20:00.000-08:00

The Gulmohar was flames and fire.,the soft petals in hue of yellow& red flowers.It was simply irresistable.We had two Gulmohars behind the Siddhi Vinayagar temple.The two trees were like twins.They were just few meter away.We used to spend sunny afternoons chatting under the trees.

One can never forget those lunch breaks when students religiously fought for the shady territories.It was all on first comer basis.The most athletic ones made a good sprint for the shades and reserved it.The usual puffy guys arrived after a reasonable time.Twelve thirty to one o clock was the break.

The crows would flock and mischievously trt to trick the kids all the time.The lazy ones went and waited patiently near the wash were the boys dumped the unfinished meals.They would cautiously come closer and wet their throats from the open taps in the wash.Even crows were admirable during those dull sunny afternoons.One can see grace in nature.In crows.If only one wishes to.

Apart from the gulmohar there were other smaller neem trees.

Sharing and snatching was the order of the game.We enjoyed it a lot.We used to chase dragon flies and run behind butterflies.Sometimes the whirlwind would spin the dust and the spores from the nearby thorny shrubs into magical lumps which roared and swept the red sandy grounds.We would chase them too.

At last when it was time we would reluctantly retire to the classes from where there was no escapade.The classes lasted 45 minutes each with interval breaks of ten minutes between every two classes.And after two such session in the morning was the Lunch break.

There was a canteen.Everyone brought their own lunch.Cool drinks, icecreams, and snacks was all you could buy.Of course they sold pickles ,wild berry jellies,crude coconut toffees etc..

We had little or no pocket money.We never used to mind because there was not much one can choose to eat there.

Palani was an element worth mentioning.He was more like a scavenger.He had a smile that appeared more mischievous.We boys would always prefer keeping a distance from Palani.He was a part of the lunch break at least for us who found interesting to make him run behind us.But after few years we never saw palani when we returned back after summer.Valli was a common name anyone who have deep ties with school will remember for ever.There was always confusion between periya valli and chinna valli,but it doesnt matter.It is enough if one remembers the warm patience in their face reflected.

When i completed my schooling ,there was already invasion of concrete expansion blocks.Of course we enjoyed those audio visual projectors,LCD and other cool interactive stuffs that crept inside our school life.But when i take a shortcut during long drives that takes me near the school my heart pounds,blood surges.I will keep my eyes focused on road not caring to take a look at my second home for some fourteen years.It has left some creepy memories and deep sorrows too.Some one said the trees were almost gone.I never tried to look behid the high walls.Few things are better when left alone.Cest-la-vie.This is life.

A day at School

2008-10-29T23:19:00.000-07:00

The bell rang breaking the restlessness of students who briskly answered attendance calls.Students from other classes were already racing the corridors.

Manivasakam was staring at a distant compound wall,where a cuckoo was perched below the shady gulmohar.From the last desk the bird was a perfect silhoutte.Santhosh moved closer munching his snacks.He peeped the window and doubted if the distant black clouds near the mountains would bring unpresidented showers and ruin their games period.They had ten minutes. The water from the sprinklers blew a mist of droplets into the air.The grasshoppers merrily jumped the grass.the window was a great escapade for mani who liked to watch outside when every body was busy with whatever work.It was his world were every thing had a language where the question of syllabus pronounciation and spellings took complete leave.But still he heared the voices that were unique and special.It made him special too.

The bee from the rose garden across the window ,flew towards the tempting jasmine that sat on savithri's oiled hair.She screached and other girls started screaming.Jagdeesh climbed his writing desk waving his racket at the bee which flew for its life.

On a train to samba

2008-10-22T00:20:00.000-07:00

We left for a months stay at samba in Jammu and Kashmir. The train Jammu Tawi Expess was scheduled for a three day journey across the length of India.I was really happy about the summer trip for two special reasons.One was that i will spend the whole two months with my dad,the other one being that i have never been to any place of significance except of my place of birth,Arruppukottai. We left from Coimbatore railway Station at wee hours in the morning.We were all set to go.I was not really indulged into details because i was very much awed by the new experience i was to gain that summer of 1993.It was one inspirational trip.I remember watching the movie ROJA with its theme set in kashmir.It has really left an impression in me regarding the trip.

Everything was fine for till it dawned. The train moved slowly into the diverse lands.The scenic beauty of the country side and the vast stretch of land that lied like a untouched sanctuary all along the way was like another world. The pauses at stations were like punctuations. One would become familiar with the yellow boards that always spelt in more than one language. You can neither spell them right nor can remember it. The best part about train journey is the people you get to know.I remember them like ghostly images. They were diverse and strange. But once you make acquaintances they are almost related to you.

I remember a team of volunteers who were from MADRAS and else where,they were planning to start a school and orphanage in Jammu.I got really interested in them because they seemed to be intellectually loaded. They talked about things i hardly knew. What i understood from them is that they had taken a step to bring change to some one else's life that no others dared to care.

I met a sadhu who was educated.He was in his sixties.I remember asking him if i can touch his beard as i have always wanted to do so.He did some tricks for me like things that created illusion.He was simply superb. He was filled with memories that seemed to haunt him in a strange away.He advised me that i should always be fair and honest al-through my life.He was detached from the fun and frolic in the coach.Thats what i remember about this man.

When we were crossing Andhra pradesh we had to say good bye to idli ,dosa and vadai as it was no longer to be found on the way.My mom has packed a lot of tamarind rice and coconut pachadi.It lasted for two days.I complain mom that she has never again prepared a tasty cocunut pachadi after that trip.My mom simply gives back a smile and retires into her thoughts.

I remember the train passing through sanctuaries where giraffes where sprinting elegantly. When we moved across the sacred rivers that intersected the wheels on rusty bridges were creating little shock waves. Few people threw coins as offerings into the river. I made a funny remark that when in summer the river dried up people around this place will be rich. Everybody laughed. The state of the rural settlements loose their gloss when we move towards the core of the nation. What we see is absolute poverty.I remember the vultures feeding on dead cattle dumped near the tracks on abandoned farm lands. Recently i learnt that the diclofenac in the dead cattle resulted in the renal failure and thus extinction of the the long-billed, slender-billed and oriental white-backed vulture It turned out that they were feeding on dead cattle and other livestock that had been treated with an anti-inflammatory drug.

Ok thats one big recap.Its of very little significance but this is my channel to keep my memories alive.More on the actual stay in Samba later.

Freedom

2008-09-25T06:18:00.000-07:00

We witness the futile terrorist attacks,Storming arrests and encounters.We try to justify the role of the characters in this events peeping into the windows that reach us bringing home all those events in one single package.It may be in the form of 6'O Clock paper ,the power packed morning News which goes well with the break fast.Its like the Doors of open closets in "MONSTER INC." that brings home the monsters that frightens kids and juice up their world with energy from their Screams.This is what this modern day Windows do.We happily pack our heads with comments fragmented news on newspaper kiosk and loud gossips by college kids at our Bus stand.Then we strom our offices,classes and workplace everything is set and its time to rock and rumble.

This is how everything starts.Our earning for gossip should be prehistoric.Thanks to them our epics and great works have flourished into a craftmanship of unknown faces and timeless ages who have rendered their part without receiving royalty.

When it comes to terrorism we have strong opinion that we should oppose it.But when it comes to personal feelings we sometimes really do feel that few people like us are victimized,erased off the face of earth and subjected to terror thats greater than anything that we society has large suffer.

When you are a corrupt government officer you become a celebrity overnight(you would have been a millionaire already).When you are a petty thief you get smashed.When you are regular visitor you get everything like biriyani,beedi and anything thats of your habit.They do respect your right as a "Human".The human rights commission never praises cops for providing those .They walk the streets like old buddies.

But once you are a a communist, or a mere rough voice of a group that lives on a day with a single meal and is suppressed minority then you are a convict of terror.If you had luckily educated you are a technically skilled terrorist trained abroad.You don't even have the right to remain silent.Believe me the best stories are tailored for media which earns promotions and awards the senior police officers and anyone who's against it is wiped off(they are honoured after demise).

This is democracy.We should vote for a better tomorrow.Lets not turn against the government afterall its our cousins uncles aunts and dear ones who have tried hard?! and settled on a govt. job.Let them live instead think over when you extend your hand towards a corrupt.it all starts here.

Earning for the past and eagerly waiting for the future

2008-09-25T06:10:00.000-07:00

Life starts with a smile.So does a recollection of the past. You have a dream all through your life and i think its allways good to think of the past so as to let it guide you through the pith black darkness -the future.

At Point black..there are memories that flash ,fades silhouttes of people places and what not.You have to enrich your life with Selfishness,cowardness,greed,hunger,insanity to be rich famous,powerful and felt..Not neccesarily you can choose to be on the other side of these people.You will be selfless,sacrificing,bold,inexhastive,and sound with love,kindness and some debt...Its a representations of money so dont worry.Your heirs will take care of them.they will be dealt with so dont worry..

So dont earn for the future..Dont long for what you have not earned..Cheers are always there with hands raised.raise yours to pair up.Cheer up..

C.N.Annadurai- in Guiness book of records

2008-09-14T17:46:00.000-07:00

He was born on 15 September 1909 in the town of Kancheepuram . After attending Pachaiyappa's High School, he worked as a clerk in the town's Municipal office. In 1934, he graduated with a B.A. degree (Hons) from Pachaiyappa's College in Chennai. He followed that up with a M.A degree in Economics and Politics from the same college. After having been employed as a professor for a short period of time, he began involving himself in journalism and politics.

And thats how it started he went to become the first non congress C.M(1967-1969)"

He was bold and was at strong hold expressing his dreams on society.Arya Mayai" (Aryan Illusion) where he scathingly attacks the Brahmin/Aryan combine and portrays them in poor light. He also wrote Kambarasam, a highly controversial work that attacked the Kambaramayanam in an indelicate fashion.

In 1969 feb 2nd he died of oral cancer(result of inhaling tobacco).Recently the procession of his death with estimated 15 million people was a guiness record.

This day is significant because...i am starting to blog.So started out with this blog.This day also hurts inside for some personal horror,a loss that will leave some empty space in mind.The unspoken misery of tears.....