Isn't it true that we know not whom we meet, while some make your heart wildly skip a beat, there are others that make enduring them a feat, the few with who you dream, hang out and eat, its with those that your heart’s free of deceit. when they leave, you are lost and dazed in confusion, but, embrace it even if it seems without reason, for what you feel now makes you distinctly human, no wonder they say, for anyone with an ounce passion, cruelest and hardest are goodbyes in any season.
Love this poem written by Relax'singh' (and thats not me). I wanted to have a honest blog but somewhere in the journey of being a time-pass-blogger things changed and I felt it wasn't 'honest' enough. But I do know these are true feelings and thoughts of the author and to be precise even the author's friends and in fact its so universal that it had to be in www somewhere.
It's not just the place. It's not just the human psyche, playing games, matching places with emotions. Its not purely rational either. Its a bit of everything, culminating at times, into pseudo masculine tears, wanting to break out, because the emotions causing is like the place itself, a myriad mixture of nostalgia, sadness and pride.
Madras, now Chennai, has turned 369. Not that I need a day, a certain "Madras Day", to yearn for such a heavenly place. Like every thing great, it has its own peaks and fissures, making it a naturally beautiful scoop of Arun Vanilla Ice cream. Imperfect, hence beautiful. Like the scars on the moon.
I miss, a million genuine brown faces; the world famous Kaapi; finite but uncountable number of pullayaar Koyil; extremely unhygienic road side kai yendhi bhavans, being partial and waiving off the diseases, to people who shall eat there with hunger and compassion, feeding the road side rabid dogs; shirtless young boys sweating out in sun, playing cricket with a plaster of paris bat and stone stumps; dames with malli poo on them, strolling around the sannidhi's, multi-tasking, sneak peaking at the sneak peaking vetti male youth oglers; egg puffs at bakeries; bicycle doubles and triples ride; foot boarding pallavan transport buses; vetti jay walking at the spencers; soccer and beach bathing on saturday mornings at the marina; 12 Rs bajji plates at bessie; mun vaasanai, sondha mun vaasanai after the first few rain drops; Slum side carrom board competition, standing all the while; 15 rupees bottomless juice shops; karumbu juice and elani during agni natchathiram; innovative auto drivers mocking the west; deadly kosus and omnipresent household disgusting pallee's and the non perishable karapaans/paatchaas.......
"I remember a place...a town, a house like a lot of other houses....a yard like a lot of other yards...a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is....after all these years, I still look back...with wonder." Wonder Years.
Happy B'day Chennai! I truely love you. I dearly miss you. I promise and pray with great hope, my last breath will be in your arms. Your loving son, Kaevy
P.S This post comes after a long hiatus. Not that I wasn't writing, but its just that I dint feel like posting them. I shall try to be more regular.
Tickets from Chennai to SFO for 2: 130,000 Rs. Flight tickets to Buffalo for 2: 5000 Rs Ride on the maid of the mist cruise: 1500 Rs. Watching my parents become children again: Priceless.
There are some err... many things money can't buy, for everything else there is mastercard.
Masters Degree! 6 years of hard pointless education in a field which now I think is not suited to me and to celebrate that huge Fiasco they dress people like clowns(as shown left) in gowns(irrespective of gender;unisex, one size fits all cap... COOOOOLLLLLNESSSS) that would make any clown proud and make the whole world laugh and smile with you. May be that happy moment to all those who are watching(parents, friends, significant other, roadside stranger) makes the 6 damned years of 'bits and bytes' worth it. If you think that's a cynical view, you may be wrong.
My parents were glad to see me all Gowned up and pretty like a historic Greek Parliamentary Chick. Nice innit? Few of those clowns who thought they can contribute to the society in a small way and felt they still have some passion for their realm, made this beautiful innovative app for Orkut. Its called Ortist. Its something like MS paint. It lets people share scribblings. Those constant notebook scribblers and caricaturists like me would love that. It can do a bit more. It will let the receiver see the sequence of strokes the sender had made to create that final image. They do this with a 'play' option. One of my close friends helped Ortist become a full grown adult application with his insatiable enthusiasm. If you are in Orkut, you can try it out and am sure if you have little creative juice in you, you will love it.
I have lots of thoughts pending and I have very little time to write about it. They are getting lost in my brain. Hopefully that will change and I will blog more frequently in the near future.
"What's the most you ever lost on a coin toss ?" - Javier Bardem , in 'No country for old men'.
Anton Chigorh, a psychopath serial killer, from the oscar winning movie, posts this innocuous question to his victims, before he kills them. It would have been definitely nerve wrecking, if the victims knew that their life was at stake. Seeing them, knowing that they would die if they lost in the coin toss, was a saliva swallowing moment.
Chance has this effect on men. Not being in control drives us nuts. To take a ride on a mule, through a very narrow path, with gorge on one side, overlooking the river and the steep hill on the other, scratching its beard, winking its eye majestically at the moksha seeking soul, on the way to see the source of ganges, the Gaumukh, the old pilgrimages have their heart besides their molar, bulging through their cheek. Why? Of course, of not being in control of the mule. We humans are hysterical about taking things in control. The greatest of drivers squeamishly squirm when they are the pillion riders. Some people like this adrenalin pumping, no holds barred, purely luck driven outcomes. Hence, Las Vegas.
163,000 American Dreams at stake. What? - The number of people seeking work visa(H1B) in USA in the year 2008 has surpassed the set upper limit. 163,000 applicants. A computer-based random number generator(albeit, a pseudo one, unless their random function takes as input a truly random input such as stray radio signals coming from cosmos) will choose 85000 applicants, who will get to stay in US (legally) with a work visa.
If (you_hate_math == true) { gotothe_paragraph_after_this; }
else { //read
Its a career deciding lottery. My career is at stake too. Take an envelope and a pencil and lets do some basic probability. The 163,000 applicants will fall in to 2 categories: "masters" or "graduate" applicants and the "open" quota. Students like me who has gone through 2+ years of graduate school hell in US, will fall under the masters quota. The rest, namely the people who happily forward cute pictures of cats and babies sitting in the cubicles of Infosys, TCS, Wipro etc, will fall under the open quota. Masters has its own upper limit of 20,000. According to USCIS, they have received 31,200 applications. The people who do not get through this lottery(i.e choosing 20000 from 31200, leaving 11,200 master students) will be spilled over to the open quota. So the open quota lottery becomes choosing 65,000 from 143,000. So for a masters quota applicant to get rejected, he/she should be left out in both the lotteries. So if we do the math right it should point to a golden value of 0.2301. }
the_paragraph_after_this: I have a 77% chance of getting that visa.
There's a leeway for certain companies, which are registered under USCIS in a certain program(E-Verify program), where in employees of such companies who do not get their H1, can legally stay for 17 more months in USA as a student and hence apply for H1B the following year. Unfortunately some companies do not register under this program. More importantly mine hasn't.
So, my American dream (if any), my career, my way of life, will be decided by a stupid algorithm (How cynical of me to call a PRNG algorithm stupid, esp being a computer science graduate). I'm all but frustrated. In fact I'm excited about it. Looking forward to the lottery. If I do not get it, I would be a tad disappointed, but that can wait. I can blame it on fate and leave home for good. I have a beautiful car. Its well maintained and pristine, just as new, used only for office commuting..... err... even the craigslist advertisement can wait. For now its the wide eyed me, looking for the lottery result. I have already delegated to many people the task of calling upon their super powers, their prayers. I need that badly. I need it to shine on me like a crazy diamond. Thanks a lot folks. I'm so excited I even spewed out this:
Its mundane and mostly insane To load 0's and 1's in vain
Occasional geeky satisfaction At the cost of free mind and passion
To be honest, I like my Job I must warn, I do lie like the mob
What my life needs is some spice As I speaketh, I'm done by the dice
Sad ain't it. I meant the poem. My life just got a bit interesting. I thought I would share it with the world.
P.S I actually do not hate my job, I wanted a cheesy poem thats it. I do hate it though, when I compare it to other jobs like, the person who is paid to watch videos in youtube and filter the porn or the one who tastes chocolates and rates its taste. I actually day dreamed the fictionary youtube job when I was at work asleep, google must have a cheesy algorithm for filtering I bet!
Being a rock music lover, I do follow Indian rock and its products. They come and go like lightning. There is Parikrama(probably the best of the lot), Sceptre, Moksha(Lead vocals passed away, Leon- RIP), Brahma, Pin Drop Violence(Nu, death, trash, contemporary metal), Thermal and a Quarter(again a mallu band, but vocals in English though, comprising of 3 mallus and a guy whose grand pa is a mallu and hence the band name; thermal ~ 3 MALlu, quarter- grandpa is 1 full mallu, dad is .5 mallu and the grandson is quarter mallu). I haven't heard any indigenous Indian rock band that vocals in their vernacular. There is a Tamizh rock band called Kashmir stones from Malaysia which had a good number or 2 and they faded into oblivion just like every other small band. Then, came Avial, from the God's own land. Musically sound, supposedly deep well written lyrics and very professional in their approach. I have been addicted to their music. Nada Nada was my first love but Karukara takes my cake, a beautiful composition. Though not a mallu, I feel extremely proud listening to them. I hope they are here to stay. We just have to wait and watch/listen. BTW I might get their Album this May. Thanks to Cassius.
Moving to silly things. My parents are flying this summer for my convocation and I'm already nervous. I almost brushed my teeth with my facial wash cream and the vice versa almost happened today morning. My mom was right, I can even forget my own ass at times. I remember this quote from my best friend's apartment watchman and it goes like this: "Manushanukku rendu idly; 1000 rooba note irundha, oora(soak) vechu thinniduvaya?". Funny and intellectual, I thought it deserves a place in www. There's this girl, who makes my heart beat faster everytime I see her, though not very often. Just like it happens when I see Shirya on the screen, only this is just a bit more intense and real. She isn't the dancer chick referred in the prev post.
I 'm not a big fan of tagging but I think this time I would give it a shot as I keep forgetting the thoughts worth blogging and time has become so scarce suddenly. Brat tagged me, but that wants me to be honest and I need an Ipod and it seems like its time consuming, so thats for laters. So I'm going to oblige Macadamia the nut. Here goes :
Last Movie I saw in theatre: "21" worth watching
What book(s) are you reading? Fountain Head and 'The name is RajiniKanth' The latter is badly written and if not for the content, I don't think its worth the 1000 Rs shipping cost i spent on it. The former is lovely so far.
Favorite Board game: Dhaaya kattai - the ones you see in mahabharatham. Miss those summer family fun times.
Favorite magazine: Reader's Digest Miss it in a way.
Favorite smells: Mun(sand) vaasanai aka the smell that rises up from the soil, right after the first few rain drops. I think I haven't had it for almost 3 years now. Smell of Amma's rasam.
Favorite Sound: when i call home and my mom goes "vijay chella kutti... eppidi da irukka?" apparently she also bags the most annoying sound when she screams vijaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay to make me stop playing in my terrace and come back to do some home work.
Worst feeling in the world: Serious: The feeling "I'm going to die", when I for sure thought wouldn't come out alive out of those rapids of Ganges, in Rishikesh, May 28th 2006. Silly and Gross: You think its a fart and you let it go and it is actually shit. Shit!. My 'upset-tummy-24X7' days are gone, thankfully.
First thing you think of after you wake up? Hope its 7 30, hope its 7 30... ah crap its 8 30, Not again!
Favorite Fast Food : Kai yendhi bhavans (street side shops) of Chennai. Cheesy Fiesty Potatoes(i hope i got that right,i miss it every time) from taco bell.
Future Childs Name: If its a girl, its Amudha. Boy, haven't decided (@self: get urself a gf first u dickhead!)
If I had a lot of money I'd.... try to find a 1000rs bill, when soaked in sambhar tastes like idly!- courtesy Srinivasa Apts watchman. Have some and donate the rest, very realistic don't you think.
Do you drive fast ? Depends on the music I'm listening to and the mood. If its 'Fuel' or 'Motor Breath' by Metallica or 'Highway Star' by Deep Purple.... i go 'gimme fuel, gimme fire, gimme that which I desire'
Do I sleep with stuffed animals? seems like I have to in the near future. 23 yr dry patch.
My first car? Toyota Scion Tc '08. My second love. First Love is my Mac.
Storms - Cool or scary? Cool
Favorite Drink Water, closely followed by Kaapi.
If I had the time I would... {day dream, dance, sketch, play cricket, blog, read}.
Do you eat the stems of broccoli? This Q is, IMHO, aimed at 'cho-chweet' girls. Supposedly very random and cute. My foot!
If you could dye your hair what color would it be? Though I have substantial count of gray hair(i'm 23 and not 43), I wouldn't dye for life. I need to have something very big at stake to force me do such things. Like 'if you dye, Actress Shriya will date you' then I would probably think about it.
Name all the cites you have lived in. I'm answering with the same hope an 'on-site' wannabe "Americanised desi" would answer this Q. Thiruvallur, Chennai, Chicago and now Sunnyvale.
Favorite Sports to watch. Oiled women wrestling, Oiled women wrestling, cricket ... in that order
One nice thing about the person who tagged you. My fav blogger friend, who happily agrees to disagree and as the name says, a humourous wierd nut.
Whats under your bed? An incomplete pencil sketch, 20 odd pencils and a putty rubber.
Would you be born as yourself again? Of course. If any change, it would be me minus my lizard phobia.
Morning Person or Night Owl? From a morning person to a night owl, now I have become the Afternoon Hyena.
Over easy or Sunny SIde Up? Sunny Side Up
Favorite place to relax. Kabaleeshwarar Temple, Mylapore, closely followed by marina beach.
Favorite Pie. None actually. Pi is more like it! BTW belated Pi day wishes.
Favorite Icecream flavor. Dulce De Leche all the way!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Of all the people who you tagged who is more likely to respond first. Mirror mirror on the wall Who's the vettiest of all... warm sea.
People I tag Umashankar Vamsee
P.S You owe me a post with my blog name on it! Yeah 'you know who'!
"If I could tell you what it meant, there would be no point in dancing it" - Isadora Duncan
We were driving along foothill express heading North, when S almost carelessly rammed his car into the median following a left turn. He was pre-occupied with something. Thanks to his cognition, resurrection of his senses and some timely "not-so-loud-i dont-want-to-panic-u" alarm from his co-passenger, S lifted his head in time and cried "&^%#" with a much needed steering away from the median. A few deep breaths later we were at Roble gym, Stanford University, were we learned "swing". Swing as in dance and not as in what Sir Wasim Akram would associate himself with.
Swing, is a ballroom dance of sorts mostly to jazz music and has many variants. Men usually lead while women usually follow. For couples who do not think straight this may change.
Its an ideal medium to communicate. A treat to your senses. You see, smell, feel, listen, smile, think, count and communicate all at once. All overlapping. Synesthesia !
I didn't find it vulgar or arousing. I'm single. So definitely not vulgar or arousing.
Its romantic. I'm single. (read romantically challenged) So its definitely romantic.
Its already on the bucket list, to swing with that special lady, my better half.
We had a girl in mind. She had a simple smile. Genuine and elegant which applies to her dancing too. We changed partners every 5 minutes or so, so as to promiscuously promote flexibility in partnering. So we knew how every lady in the room looked like and danced like. Sometimes even how they smelt like and vice versa. In short, we clearly knew whom we liked.
The previous class, I had decided to ask her to be my dance partner, if she had plans of taking her swing skill further. I told this to S and he had a liking for her too. So, we being good- friends, good-Samaritans and half baked computer science wannabe geeks, decided that FCFS i.e "first come first serve" was a good way to elect the winner. So if one of us ask her the other should back off. Keep in mind that this is not equivalent to asking someone out, this is asking someone to learn dance with you. To feel the chemistry and hence be able to enjoy the dance better.
The dance class started, luckily S had her as the first partner and I was right besides him so if he missed I would hit her next, when we switched partner one place to the right. We agreed upon a 'sign', (as in a gesture) which meant S has nailed it and I had lost and vide-versa. He missed it, then I missed it and it went on for a while. Understandably we, or at least I, was engrossed with fox-trot and jitterbug tips that our tutor was explaining. Also being this 'courteous gentleman' to your partner, took more CPU time than the dance itself (especially for people like me who are inept at being overtly courteous).
The class was about to get over and with time we moved apart within the hall. When it was over, we were at diametrically opposite ends. I was standing with this beautiful old lady who danced better than most of the other ladies in the room and S was with her. S started talking to her, when the tutor started his farewell speech. S got her email Id. I got the gesture from S. S won and I lost.
For some reason it never bothered me, which was surprising to me. My ego was intact and unhurt. But 4 weeks earlier, during the first swing class when there was exactly one less lady and I was 'randomly' chosen to stand alone until a lady joined the class late and I stood for 5 minutes ALONE, waiting for a illusive latecomer. It almost made me cry, mostly because it was the first valentine's day I looked forward too; It was indeed a great improvement to be unhurt. S had the balls, and he swung them well. For me its fate, luck, destiny et cetera. A weird feeling swept through me. It was exactly half way through "happy" and "sad" and its very hard to explain in words. If I could tell you what it meant, there would be no point in dancing.
A free mind. In that its got few strings pulling its skin, painful yet with a purpose it pulls away. It perpetually thinks. Seizing to think, it knows, will make it not learn any more. Confused, and in an ironic way is the only very clear and simple fact in itself. It likes people and probably not the whole society. For it thinks that society is one of those strings. But ironically it looks upon people like a curious kitten wanting to be killed by a black Mamba. Life , Love, Universe, Truth have simple meanings. For it, its the only purpose of anyone's life. To seek the meaning of such simple yet profound words.. err concepts. For it is my mind.
