Maybe, I won us the games ;)

What games? Both IPL T20s. The latest one? Kings triumph over the Daredevils. My bro was on the phone, basically saying “so, we lose, yet again”. That was after Dhoni and Kapugedara (Ok, I cant get that name right ever) were out caught off successive balls. That meant Goni and Badrinath on the field, two new batsmen. But I had seen them bat before and got this feeling that we were gonna win today. I told my brother “Dude, we are winning”. I wasn’t just saying it for the heck of it, I was calm, smiling, super-confident and in fact, it seemed like they had already won.

6 balls & 15 runs. I tell my mom, “six over midwicket”… if you think about it, its not gonna take much to guess that its going to be over midwicket. But then, I somehow knew! I wasn’t guessing. And the first ball sails over midwicket. Then I say “four over the bowlers head”. It was four alright – but behind the keeper. But where was Goni heaving it? Straight behind the bowler. I knew I was having an effect on the game and all I had to do was think positive! I answered my bro’s call.. “Sonnomillaaa…..”

That by the way was not the first game. The first one where I had a telling effect was against RCB. We hadn’t put up a huge total on the board and the way the game was progressing, with Taylor flaying us all around, it wasn’t a pleasant sight. But all along, I kept telling my roomie (who happens to be a RCB fan and was mocking me) that it was a matter of time. Then it happened. The prophecies came forth. Every time I stood up, hands on my sides, confident that the next ball would be a wicket – Lo and behold! There it was! Four wickets in a row… and RCB were reeling. And yeah, every single time, I knew there was gonna be a wicket off that very ball. The prophecies had come true. The next morning, I put up a poster next to my cubicle.

So then, maybe the Chennai super kings need to look outside their squad for a winning hand. And hey, they don’t need to worry, I will be right here.

By the way, I realized that the games that we lost, I had lost my poise - was down with CP and wasn’t concentrating. Let’s pray I don’t do that again ;)

Go Chennai!! (That’s what my poster reads).

Kaani nilam vendum...

Nestled somewhere in southern Tamil Nadu, on the banks of one of Cauvery’s distributaries, imagine a small rustic village. The river gushing past with a lazy elegance, the water fresh and sparkling - showing no signs of the long tiring journey. Lush green fields envelop the village in perfect contrast to the red of the evening sky. The temple bells ringing and birds roosting noisily to announce the sunset. The village slowly winding down to a halt for the night. A little wooden bridge across the stream is crowded with kids lining up for a dive and a dip into the river before they are summoned back home.

This village could very well be my dad’s native place, near Kumbakonam. I have been there a few times. And every time I was there I brought back memories. Memories of the river, the fields, the streets, the people and the temples – There is a famous Amman kovil there. We still have some people we know out there. Not relatives – some long standing friends. And in the last 6 years perhaps they moved out too – leaving behind nothing but memories of that beautiful place. But then there is something I come across often in my life that reminds me of this place. What is this something? You will know as you read on.

Out in a corner, right by the fields is a small farm house with tiled roof and pillared halls. Standing next to a well, the water as sweet as the water from the tender coconuts from the trees lining the garden. Ten or twelve of them standing in rows. A little coir cot lying amidst those trees. A breeze strong enough to carry with it the fragrance from the nearby jasmine gardens. One could hear the cuckoo’s solitary call above all the hubbub. Is he searching for his mate? Oh wait! There are two of them calling out to each other!
My great-grandpa’s house used to be on the main street. A house that stretched out to a little stream being fed by the Cauvery. If one was to peep in to the front door, he would see corridors and hallways – all the doors in a straight line – leading out to the back yard. There were granite pyols on either side of the front door. I would love to lie down on those pyols lazily gawking at the street vendors and school kids walking up and down the street all afternoon. The backyard was full of coconut trees climbing into the sky and all I had to do was to walk a little further to get a dip into the stream. I don’t recall it much, neither do I have photographs of that house – all I have is a vague mental image of what I saw years and years ago.

A faint odor of smoke is lingering in the air. The sun is down and the village is immersed in darkness. Only briefly. And as the clouds scatter, a far more brilliant light – one that’s as white as a new born pearl fills the expanse. The moon, is shining in all its splendor. A man and his wife are talking a different language out there – a language of smiles and meaningful glances - as they go over their dinner on that coir cot out in the open. A language of love and sharing. In a blissful state, they talk, laugh and sing together – oblivious to the surroundings – unknowingly creating the sweetest of memories – a story they will tell their children and grand children from nothing but memory. This would be a tale of two people – a tale of love. Zoom out slowly and you see these lovers, the house, the farms - this perfect setting and in the back ground you could see the temple gopuram towering over the village offering that unfailing sense of security and reassurance. A dream realised!

Whose dream? Your dream! My dream! Everyone’s dream! That day – the day when the dream comes true - I will look into the sky and will search for a star caller Bharati – and tell him - “Don’t worry sir – your dream has been realised”.

It is this dream in the form of a song that keeps my memories fresh. For those who wonder what this dream is or what the song is – here it is.

“Kaani nilam vendum, parasakthi kaani nilam vendum,
Angu thoonil azhagiyathai nanmaadangal thuyya nirathinavai,
Andha kaani nilathidaiye ore maaligai katti thara vendum,
Angu keni aruginile thennai maram keetrum ilaneerum.

Pathu pannirendu thennai maram adhan pakathile vendum,
Nalla muthu chudar pole nila oli munbu vara vendum,
angu kathum kuyil osai satre vandu kaadhil pada vendum,
endhan chitham magizhnthidave nanraay ilam thendral vara vendum.

Paatu kalanthidave ange oru pathini pen vendum,
engal kootu kaliyinile kavithaigal kondu thara vendum,
Andha kaatu veliyinile amma ninthan kaaval ura vendum,
entha paattu thirathaale ivvaiyathai paalithidavendum.

Kaani nilam vendum, parasakthi kaani nilam vendum!!”

Spare them a thought! (aka Kingfisher girls)

I was sitting idle on a sleepy afternoon at work. My colleague was busy booking his tickets for some official trip he was making the following week. His eyes lit up as the HR came by and said his tickets were booked. No, the lighting up was not just for the tickets. There was more.

One other evening as I was discussing my weekend plans with a friend. She was particular about finding out which airline I was taking. I happened to mention which one and a seemingly meaningful grin broke out – more of an all-knowing smirk.

On both occasions, the airline carrier was none other than kingfisher. Get the point? If you don’t, let me clarify. It didn’t matter that they were a premier airline or the only first class airlines in India, neither was it about the service they render. It wasn’t about the frequencies or the routes they fly. Nah, it wasn’t about Vijay Malya either. And if you are into the IPL frenzy, it’s not even about being an RCB fan. It transcends all these materialistic pleasures.

So then what is it? Ah come on! As if you didn’t know! It’s about the beauties in red. Scampering about in their short skirts and high heels, swarming all over the airport, and not to mention, onboard the flights as well. In the best of their make-up, sometimes putting to shame even the queens from Bollywood.

Ok, may be I am being a bit hypocritical here. I used the word beauties, which goes to say I have glanced at them as well. It also goes to say I do behold that beauty, but then I think one needs to draw a line somewhere. Just as there is a huge difference between a casual glance and what we call ogling, there is also a huge difference between being presentable or pleasing to the eye and being a glamour doll.

No, I am not blaming those girls for what nature bestowed upon them. Neither am I blaming them for playing the role of an exhibitionist that they have been commissioned to do. One can’t blame them for a profession they choose among others. On the contrary, I come out in their defense. I am asking the men to spare a thought and let them be. I am blaming the airline companies for putting them on the spot. And I am blaming the men onboard a flight who make them all the more self-conscious. Yeah, some of them girls revel in that spotlight, but hey, I bet I see more expressions of embarrassment on their faces than expressions of pride.

Imagine the early morning flights between two metros. The flights typically carry 90% men. That’s an understatement when talking about the ratio of men to women on these flights. And Imagine 80% of them staring down the aisle at the two girls making their way down serving the morning coffee. That would make me squirm in my seat, let alone the girl who knows every inch of her is being watched.

I talked about ogling earlier didn’t I? Well, as in all cases, if there seems to be that mutual interest, I have no issues. He came, he saw, he conquered (the heart) types. But in most cases, why would some men think something can spark mid air, thirty thousand feet above sea level when it doesn’t click on solid earth? Just because they got that courtesy smile from her? The ogling is followed by a barrage of beeps asking for personal favors. Anything from an extra bottle of water, which in most cases remain unopened, to the utterly unneeded question– “how much longer is the flight?” Oh for god’s sake the whole flight doesn’t last an hour! They want to strike a conversation. Age no bar, Class no bar. And the girls just have no choice than to be accommodating. The best they can do is to throw hints which are never picked up and if picked up, ignored.

We can’t blame the men either can we? Yes they play the active antagonists in this case. But then the instigation perhaps comes from the culture which unfortunately encompasses the skirts, high heels and the sweet words. Very few spare a moment to think of what the girl might feel when she is being stared at, from head to toe. They then go on vying with one another for every little bit of attention she can shower upon her. For them, it’s an hour’s flight, there is beauty to be enjoyed and they will do just that – be it within or beyond the moral or ethical bounds.

So who exactly is to be blamed then? The airline companies perhaps? Yes I spoke about Kingfisher alone, but you must be grossly mistaken if you were to think that’s the only big fish in this pool. I wonder what justifies the airline companies to do the cost cutting on the food or beverages served onboard; while they might go on to pay the big bucks to the girls to deter them from joining the competitor. Isn’t it supposed to be a better way to attract customers with service rather than glamour dolls? But wait, does the public prefer the later?

This is a chicken and egg problem. And the ones who get the raw deal in the end are some of those girls who don’t necessarily want to be part of it all, but are in it since they have no options. Spare them a thought oh mighty men!

Socrates series – part 1. The Onion philosophy.

Life inherits a lot from the onion. They must have shared the same genetic pattern I guess. Or why else would there be such a striking similarity?

This thought occurred to me a few months ago over a casual lunch. I was having onion dosa, perhaps all by myself on a loaded workday. Yeah yeah… a lunch with myself! I need to get a life isn’t? But wait! Had that not happened, I would never have discovered that my life shared its genes with the very onion I was eating.

Okay, for those bemused, let me explain. At some point of time, in every one of us, a thought might have crossed our mind. What are we doing here? What is the purpose of life? What is life? Right fellas? Or if the thought hasn’t occurred to you yet, then trust me, those questions will come up – most probably on the eve of your 25th or 38th or the 53rd birthday. When it does, some of us might set out on a journey to find the answers. The answers that you perhaps won’t ever find, even if you sold your Ferrari and migrate to the Himalayas. So what do you do? How do you find the answer?

Well, here comes the onion. Let’s say you start peeling off an onion. Layer by layer, peel after peel, you strip away. Hoping it would end somewhere and you might find what lies beneath. And when you are done, you are suddenly faced with emptiness. You are left with nothing but the umpteen layers that you peeled away. Right? Life is like that. We search for a meaning in life. We spend day after day, each passing moment, looking at what is to come. Sooner or later, we stare down the barrel. And in the event, we lose those moments that could have made the difference. For, the essence of life lies in those very moments. Try living life instead, or you may just forget to enjoy your onion dosas. Ironical! Isn’t it? ;)

Yaam petra inbam peruga ivvaiyagam!

Why blogging? Why now? Some may ask – well, forget the asking part, I still want to give you the answer damn it! The second question has a straightforward answer – I got time to kill. And what better way of achieving that high purpose in life than to immerse this whole wide world in the sea of my thoughts? “Yaam petra inbam peruga ivvaiyagam” - Let this world bequeath the pearls of my wisdom. After all, didn’t Socrates do just that? So I choose to put my name alongside the greats! God bless me!

Come to think of it, what is the purpose of life?! Isn’t the purpose to live that very life? Which in its most trivial form is to kill time? Wow, I guess I have inadvertently stumbled upon perhaps the greatest revelation in life that people have been searching for all over the place for ages together! And trust me, this will be an entire blog by itself and that piece might either wake up Socrates from his grave or make him turn at the least.

‘The calling from the inside’ – is what I would like to call the subject matters or rather the content of these blogs. Over the years, this calling has gone unanswered. Not anymore. Or so I hope. I remember those numerous occasions when I wanted to vent out the steam from the conference room or those lobbies lined with cubicles. Those moments when I was at the receiving end of those endless words of advice. What about those life changing ideas that my brain dares to conceive? Or just those colorful pastures of my dream land? Where do I paint them all? Right here in my blogs!! For those who want more variety, don’t you worry, you will get them all.

We sure can associate colors to that calling from the inside, to that inner voice. For some, the green might signify how dear a memory is, the red could highlight the so called profoundness of that thought or the white could speak about the lack of an emotion at that moment. I begin painting my canvas with a mix of colors, and hope to make portraits that one can relate to.

As I sit on the verge of becoming the next big thing in the writing world, I realize its about time I dove in. I do have a penchant for writing you see, which may or may not be much appreciated in this morbid world. But that’s beside the point. After all, it’s my birth right to express my thoughts on anything and everything. And being born in the world’s largest socialist republic, it would be injustice if I don’t give form to that very right. So world, here I come. For now, I can live with your hats, the brick bats be saved!