The Anemic Hemophiliac

 prompt 'bleeding heart' 

                                 

                  

Bleeding heart

Don’t let it start

It will never stop,

Till it one day drops.

Then please bring out the harps

and the orchestra and what not.

 

Nature or nurture?

Just cannot escape these vultures

Feasting on the flesh of my heart

At one point I just let it to rot

Forgetting they were cannibals after all. 

 

So better to bleed boldly

My love and care and worries

Along with the hemoglobin

Towards humanity & you

Than zombify myself   

And project coolness

Only to be lifted on a coffin

On the way out.

 

 

My

Bloody heart beats for you &

Bleeds for humanity

Bends down for humility &

Bombards for atrocity

 

Blood is a sign of oxygen pumping

Bathing out our concern in a 

Bright red colour.

 

Pain is a sign of growing

Past the vultures

Who are a sign of success.

Keep feeling

One day it will lead to fruitful action.

 

 

 

Nirvana

 

 My poem is response to the below sunday muse picture prompt. you can find other entires on the link here

 

I stared at god

With my sorry eyes

Was he a benevolent being

Even 

after all he is seeing?

Or 

just another soul fleeing

from 

What he was actually feeling

In pursuit of a deeper meaning?

His eyes look tired

All seeing

Pain ensuing no doubt

A deity is a constant state of being

Feeling for all of humanity

I hear his silent prayer,

When he sees his little kitty,

For all my seven lives

I gave him a thankful purr

For giving me strength

We embraced,

I was born.

 

Second Wave

 As I am sitting home testing positive for COVID, all i can think of is this virus. I am writing for the being hunted theme of Poets and Storytellers united. This Second wave has been devastating, so many of my friends and family are positive and admitted. Do your part and stay home and follow the lockdown guidelines and donate to those in need if you can. 

How do you run from a virus?

It is in the air I breathe,

The Food I eat,

The words we speak and

The fear we breed.

 

All I had to do was stay home,

But too late I have it now.

The second wave has crashed India

With a sickening spell

All I can do is watch,

Already infected,

From the comforts of my home.

While I watch my country be persecuted

By a pernicious pandemic,

Preying on the poor and the privileged  alike.

 

Virus does not discriminate,

But people definitely do.

While some of us stay at home,

Others beg for beds, oxygen and then some.

 

This is the time to for the former

Predator and prey to join hands,

Make astute amends &

Bring this pandemic to a hopeful end.

 

The third wave Is already waiting for us,

What are we waiting for?                          

Blames can be shifted after the fact,

Now is the time to act. 

 

 

If i were to die soon

 

Credits : Deviant Art

If I were to die soon

It would be probably be my greatest undoing

At the peak of my youth

I may have succumbed to a bit too many

Seductive sins.

Maybe it was just the lightning

Since I am a rod to one too many 

frightful happenings.

I would say sorry to all my darlings,

I have definitely lived well

A frog in a peaceful pond

I am not averse to the urban land.

The skies however make me giddy,

Motion sickness has made to not look up

So far.

I have definitely lived well

And I look forward to what comes up

Beyond life as well.

Will there still be a I?

Will this I look into the god’s eye

Or just be a digit in the proverbial pi?

I am ready to find out

Not just right now!

Loved this prompt from the Poets and story tellers united where they challenged us all to picture ourselves in our deathbed!

 

What once was

  

We are plagued by memories

By what once was

Ours to cherish

But not cherished.

 

To collaborate with &

Not compete against.

To break a for given bond

Without any thought given

Absent mindedly

Like how dusts of disinterest and distance

Began to gather over us

Together.

 

But we are still friends,

Still as dead water.

Of silent tears

Which were (never) cried.

 

Bottle Tree

Alas! 

I am just a glass bottle hanging from a tree, 

oscillating in an orbit of pain

to the tune of my circumstances.

My emotions are somewhere sealed

inside that airtight bottle,

I think they are transparent

But ofcourse!

They are actually invisible to the onlooker.

And he asks,

What are you a glass bottle doing

clinging on to a bare tree?

I'm better off with my fellow bottle mates.

But once our paths collide,

Won't we just crash and break 

and let loose that noxious subtance 

which man calls love and

I call pain?

Written for Sunday muse's picture prompt.

Hoping

Hope springs eternal they say

Only for those who bloom with sunshine

It didn’t

Give me a rope already

To hang ‘out’ with.

How can

Snaps and flashes of happy

Really compensate for this life

Which is so crappy?

Tell me really

I am trying so hard

To things not to get under my skin

Maybe a dark soul I am

For nefarious I feel

A true villain I am.

Insatiated with my genesis and growth &

Too proud to acknowledge my misery

I still give it company

I don’t want to give into this darkness

Where I seem to navigate seamlessly

When I see a happy person

I wanna dent their teeth and

Wipe that elusive smile off it

Thinking that I grit mine

And flash a fake smile and move

So what is the end you may ask?

To fit in by killing my self or

To stand out by killing myself?

Maybe it is to simply wait for a tomorrow

And hope that hope springs from within 

8

Hi readers! Thanks for sticking around even when I don't write for months. I was having a writer's block of sorts and generally a rough phase in my life. The poem I'm publishing below is a very personal one and took a great deal of bravery from my side to be even posted. Many friends dissuaded me from sharing this particular chapter of my life. I have written on what it is like, to feel like a failure even when you know that you aren't one. It might seem like a small problem to most of you but I assure you that it has taken its toll on my life. However , I've recovered enough to talk about it now and share it with others , for I know that I'm not alone and want others to not feel alone too. This post does not intend to be negative , it just captures one of the darker phases of my life. There is always light at the end of the tunnel , I just chose to project the darkness this time. Thank you. 

People who get 98 start behaving like a 98

The poor ones who get an 8

Can’t help but feel like one.

Especially when you shower them with

Your 98 tonnes of optimism

It is not you , it is not them

It is the 8

Not the end of the world

But an 8.

Supposedly a learning curve

But unfortunately

Mostly a slippery slope

A direct downward spiral

Into the invisible abyss

Of mass mediocrity .

Which they have been trying to avoid ,

Even when they were at their

Personal Everest of fame.

What can you really do?

When your personal brilliance

Gets scraped off your skin

With the harsh gravel

That is your education system.

Don’t worry about your results.

Just give your best every time

Even if you fail almost every time

For faults that you never made.

Don’t worry , Don’t feel , Don’t care

Just play fruit ninja

And believe that it is not your fault

That you failed.

Keep playing fruit ninja ,

Knowing you did nothing to deserve that 8 .

Keep playing till you break all levels

Till you start doubting the veracity of your claims

Till you start doubting the obvious.

You know you did nothing wrong.

But where is the proof?

Who feels like shit?

Not that you know how shit really feels like

But you get the gist.

Who feels depressed all the time ,

Not able to cope with a seemingly

Erroneous failure ,

You or university or god?

Till the day of hopefully inevitable rectification

Who has to squirm every time they hear an 8?

The number you once loved

Because it was so easy to draw

Till you found out 2 O’s wasn’t the way anyways.

The number which you mastered

To apply for license .

The number you cannot help but hate irrationally.

Now.

If what happened was so irrational

As everyone makes it out to be,

Why can’t we have our own irrational outburst to it?

Functioning after a failure is tough

Even for the best of us.

It is like learning to walk

With broken legs

Which aren’t set properly.

Extending the stick called sensitivity

Is more than welcome.

It might be not as grave as it sounds

But it certainly feels that way.

Outpouring of grief on virtual paper

Might never solve anything ,

But what else can one do really?

No one can control anything.

Except the person who gives me

Marks it seems. 

Samyuktha Semi Jayaprakash 

Mummy

What is truly left of a person after they die? She wondered. It was a lazy Friday afternoon , S’s college wouldn’t open for another month at the least and the Chennai heat was doing its usual wonders. An afternoon well suited for endless T.V marathons and phone calls to plan useless beach meetings with her school friend. Yet her brain wouldn’t compromise today! Her mind wandered past countless thoughts while her fingers fiddled with the ring which belonged to her recently deceased grandmother.

It was a sturdy little ring , silver in colour and probably made of it too. It had a little black stone embedded onto it. An understated , rough little ring which was simple yet elegant at the same time. It used to grace her grandmother’s hand roughly a month back. She wore it regularly nowadays. It helped her to remember a person she loved

.

Not in the intense , immediate , breatheless way that hits after their death in a few days.

But in a more melancholic , quite , sad way which washes you gently yet completely

When a random old lady wears red sari like Mummy did and walks purposefully on the road

When anyone forced her to eat even she had already stated 84 times before that , that she wasn’t hungry.

When they mentioned an incident involving her sweet grandmother

Grandmother.. She was never allowed to call her that.

Mummy was pretty insistent that everyone should call her mummy ,

Or alas! Her youthful energy might suddenly disappear.

She was a tough old bird who worked in the hospital as a nurse till the day she fell ill ,

She was admitted for a small illness and passed away rather suddenly.

So abruptly that I never got to say goodbye properly.

Can’t narrate in 3^rd person anymore – I’m sorry.

I was in Pune preparing for my exams when my mummy bid adieu to this world.

Even though I couldn’t be with her that day physically I believe I connected with her soul.

Or how else could I have a dream with her the exact same day she passed away.

The dream was after I heard the news – not claiming Nostradamus like powers here.

It may have been my brain’s way of consoling my heart.

It was so real that I still hold on to it today and can visualise it pretty clearly.

Me and Mummy were together watching a movie in a theatre

Funny , because we have never done that together before. We always watched movies in her favourite  Ktv channel ( she wouldn’t change it even during ad breaks!) or old CDs of some classic Kamal film.

I find the movie boring and walk out. Probably reflects how I was pretty absent around her the last time we met..

Then there I am checking out clothes in the mall and mummy comes right behind me , I look very surprised to see her and give her a hug. I am not a big hugger but I still remember how I hugged her in that dream. She was wearing a grey colour silk saree and I was holding on to her like I’ll never let go.

And I still remember the crying and telling her , “ I’m so sorry mummy” , I  wasn’t aware that she passed away in the dream.. and I suddenly woke up and realised I’ll never get to watch a movie with her or hug her ever again.

That realization was one of the worst moments of my life. I cried forever , my roommate freaked out and had to lock our room door. It was bad.

Reverting back to 3^rd person.

Now here she was - almost 37 days later. Still rotating her grandmom’s ring.

People say time heals all wounds. The wound still exists. The pain too. We just learn to live with it.

Just learn to live without mummy.

Without her the world was definitely a less better place. Less brighter. Less patriotic. Less everything.

She was left with more sadness than before with all the thinking. What else did she expect?

This post isn’t about mummy or her awesomeness per se. It is about coping and belated grieving and search for closure I realize.

I also realize that I have been constantly shifting from first to third person. Reflects my mental state maybe.

I know you all will apologize. Mummy definitely will.

She was such an amazing woman. Obsessed with gods. More obsessed with serving people. She wanted us to join the army or be doctors. Whatever she did she gave it her all. I still remember the banana milkshake she made me once :D She has been through a LOT . Stuff which I hope never happens to any other woman. Things I can’t reveal in the name of family privacy.

She bounced back with so much optimism that I bet that the gods, she was so obsessed with, could have done nothing but grin at this old looking young woman – frail looking strong woman.

I still remember mummy giving her phone number to a pseudo religious guy and when we told her how unsafe it was , she wanted to change numbers lol

She was one of a kind and is irreplaceable.

I love her and miss her,

Please come back mummy! :’(

Daddy's lil girl

It was a breezy sunny evening , one of the better days of pleasant weather in Chennai. The dad and daughter combo slowly embarked on their healthy journey  towards Elliotts beach , also popularly known as Bessie beach. 

Preethi was not pleased with her dad, pushing her successfully to walk with him. He had won another battle , like he always did with her. She had thankfully inherited her mother's petite frame - one which would make a yoga trainer proud- yet she still gave her dad company. For among other things , he was an ideal candidate for replacing yo mama as the heavy icon and had the potential to make the yoga trainers very rich. 

While she was brooding about her dad's obesity , he was wondering how to broach the subject of her marriage. He built up his courage and asked , " Can you please do me a favor , dear? " 

She had had enough , " I cannot jog for you pa , because that is impossible" 

"I know that dear. That's why I didn't ask you. But can you get married this year for me? That would cure me of all diseases!" he cheerfully proclaimed after the initial stumbling . 

The reply came back in rocket speed . With such spontaneity that, you could swear without knowing that ,she had already given the topic a lot of thought , " a) that will cure none of your diseases dad .In fact it would worsen your health. b) Me running for you is more possible than my getting married for your sake"

Daddy sighed so deeply that she thought he had an asthma attack. But then , she was not going to care anymore. This was where she drew the line . Her marriage was her choice. If not the groom , the timing atleast.. She didn't want her dad to get hurt but and so she chose to not get married. Long run always topped short run.

Somehow he never understood that. Impulses ruled and controlled him to such an extent that it could potentially destroy him. He always HAD to get what he wanted. The latest longer iPhone , another sip of his favorite drink , the next series of bmw ... the list elongated to eternity and she didn't want to be a part of his checklist. No sir. But she knew he always got what he wanted. Eventually at least. 

For he was a man of style, this Venugopal Iyengar. Only Dumbledore could beat him in a swag contest. And the knowledge of his own powers relaxed him. He didn't need to coerce preethi . Because she knew he wouldn't . And because she knew he loved her . 

Sometimes love needs to be stated over and over again. Such relationships are at best superficial. Venu never needed to tell Preethi that he loved her. Few dads ever have to . He never bought her things to satisfy her wants and buy her love. Few dads try that. He wasn't a great believer of spending 'quality time with the kids' , true . They watched cricket matches and movies every Sunday . That was about it. 

Dads have their unique ways of showing their love. The unnecessary over protectiveness while dealing with all male elements of her life , the side glances of affection when he thought she wasn't looking , the casual hand over her shoulders and  the best of it all -the feeling of his soggy hands holding her hands firmly and assuredly whilst crossing the road was when it strikes her how much he loves her or at least how much she loves him. She belonged to somebody – somebody who would put himself to danger to protect her.

Thank god she had ended up in his side after her parents divorced. 

What was happening?! She couldn't wake up from her reverie of affectionate thought. She couldn't go back to the great road leading to Elliotts beach where her dad was calling out to her.. whispering with his usually deep voice " pree...thee.." "pree...thee" . Sounded like he wanted her to pray for him. Pray thee! Why is dad using archaic English? Why is he whispering? Why is he sweating so much? This was all but a bad dream. But wait.. she could feel his soggy sweating hands hold her tightly. Grasping her with such desperation. 

Then like a thunder hitting the tree the thought struck , but she pushed it out of her mind. The usually cool venugopal kept moaning “pree..thee” She could feel a crowd forming around them. Something was very wrong. All were senses were screeching at her . But she couldn't come back to the great grand road leading to elliots beach. She could be floating with the stars.

What was the last thing which happened before she jumped into this never ending train of thought?

Oh shit.

Her dad was most probably having an asthma attack or worse -a cardiac arrest! She could feel his soggy strong grip and his face..tears were raining down his cheek. She had never seen Venu appa cry. Not even when their mom left them. There was a legend though that he had cried when she was 2 and had broken her head. Cute baby face full of blood was what it took to make the man cry. She was getting lost again.

She must face the problem. Drop back to reality. Do more than hold his hand and most importantly save him.

Forming words seemed like an alien task. Her parched dry mouth was forming the words and she was pretty sure that she was talking. But she couldn't hear a thing of it. Screw it! Her weak body and emotionally inept brain must have gone into shock. Her dad was probably dying and here she was dillydallying with shock.

Finally she could here it “ I am here daddy!! Someone save him please. Someone call for an ambulance!”

Yippy . The devoted daughter has finally spoken.

Thankfully some random aadmi must have already called for an ambulance. She could here the sirens. The cute paramedics were coming fast with their stretchers towards them. She held venu’s hands very tightly , “ Don’t worry daddy. I will take care of you. I will  marry for you . I will run for you. Heck , I will even cook for you “

He was crying alarmingly now , bringing her hands close to his chest. He must really be in pain. His face was full of sweat and tears. Like her , he couldn't form any words . only tears .

The paramedics finally came and lifted her off the ground. “Not me you idiots! My dad is in danger. I am only suffering from shock” she said with true horror and dismay. Stupid paramedics they have these days she mused -cute but stupid. Being the lawyer she was , she vowed to sue them after this mess got cleared. “Where is my dad?” she wailed. That was when the needle pricked and reality finally hit.

“……truck out of nowhere doctor. PLEASE SAVE HER…. daughter. She is the only thing I love in life doctor”  ha and you’re the only man I will ever love , dad. The drugs are reallly starting to kick in lol

“…..miracle ....... she being....... still conscious”

The siren kept shrieking . God!,Why can’t they just shut it off?

And he did shut it all off. 

We could have it all.

Sometimes when your immediate environment gets entangled in a certain mood , the said mood tends to stick on to you. In this case, the death of a close relative of my friend caused the effect and set my mental wheels into motion. The following points are my abstract thoughts on 'loss'. There is no context for this loss - it can be something as innocuous as losing your favorite toy or something as devastating as losing your limbs. I have presented my thoughts to you in the raw form as it came to me . No explanation ; open to interpretation :) 

1.

When you lose something , it hits you .

Most often like an epilepsy attack

Ugly , painful and most importantly 

SUDDEN. 

2.

It is most important to acknowledge a loss 

when you're down and out. 

However more vital it is for you to 

appraise loss, from a position of 

strength - that so occasionally enraptures you and gives you space to lock up your unresolved emotions-.

3.

We actually never lose anything .

People - good and bad -

become memories - good and bad- 

Skills lost are actually just converted into new ones. 

Energy diverted from one focal point to another. 

4.

Sometimes some one else's loss hounds us so much that 

it haunts us to a point that 

we start imagining their losses as our own

or fantasize those losses in our already pitiable life. 

Not too healthy .

5.

People survive loss of limbs , deaths of loved ones , the vanishing acts of love and a 100 million more life changing horrors everyday and conquer it with panache. guess what? You can too. 

So just take a deep breathe . Close your eyes . And believe. 

Only your belief can save you from your mind manufactured hell . Reality is not the culprit it is your perception -who is your enemy. 

6.

Ain't nobody got time for feeling like a loser

when there is a whole world to win out there

or atleast live.

The Sickbird

I found this short story in my draftboard and was appalled that a) i wrote this in 2010 b)forgot that i wrote it c) my english was so bad xP I did find it a bit intriguing and so i am posting it. Don't ask me where i got the story line from - I am as clueless. 

Everyone got sick of the sickbird after one point or the other. She always complained about some pain or the other.At first they thought they were real and sympathized with her.That was true even for our hero Hari. She was a distant aunt to him and had come to stay in his house for a week for some unknown reasons.
The event thus follows their first meet : 
Hari came home after playing bone breaking , eyeball scratching basketball and came home with legs full of bruises and tee shirt full of dirt. He headed directly to the bedroom and locked it before his mother could stop him.He started removing his tee shirt and headed to the bathroom which was attached to his room.He was about to open the door when the door opened by itself and a small lady was there in her towel. "AAAHH" he cried out. "Abishtu! Abistusheshu!" yelled the puny lady.
"WHO? who are you?..." 
"I should ask you that, young man! How dare do you come inside an occupied bathroom"
"I.......er.....didn't know. SORRY"
"what sorry? blah blah blah etc etc.....*fie minutes later* OK who are you?
"well, I live in this house........"
"Oh !! HARI!! Ayyo evalavu valandutha!(u have grown so tall!) YOU are leela's son right?!"
"no! she's my mom" he grinned.She didn't get it. Anyways that is the weird introduction


Getting to know the sick bird:
After she finally left his room , hari had a hot shower and came down to have dinner.There only the small lady's voice could be  heard. She was telling them, " Hari is soo naughty! He was waiting outside the bathroom to scare his poor aunty! He doesn't know that I have heart problem.Shiva shiva! My BP seems to be high and heart is slightly starting to ache! Do you have jfienjadj tablet? NO! Oh my god it is such a important tablet nowadays what with all these boys screaming and yelling.........can u buy it......its only rs.200....I will soon pay it back....."
and that was only the beginning of a long list of ailments Hari had never before heard in the 13 years of his life put together , let alone in one place affecting a single woman! Immediate sympathy and impulsive concern were slowly replaced by obvious disbelief and the inevitable deafness that teenagers develop after being over exposed to adults. 
He had no idea who she was and how long she was going to stay. But he was sure as hell that he didn't care about her whereabouts and her illness. He wanted that tiny bundle of sickness to leave his abode ASAP. This apparently exaggerated hatred finds more context after we learn that the sickbird has nested in hari's room and that he is forced to sleep on the hall sofa - ouch. 

Shooing the bird : 
He decided to make her life a living hell - atithi devo bhava not withstanding the test of times - . He couldn't openly ask her to get out, for he would be thrown out if his parents heard of it. So passive aggression won the day.
At first it happened by turning a deaf ear,
"dei hari kanna! I feel very weak , can you go buy me a dozen bananas from the shop?"
Christ! What do bananas even have to do with feeling weak?! He simply continued tying his shoe lace and walked out with his basketball . When he came back two hours later , sweating from head to toe after  playing two practice matches at a trot , the sickbird was still sitting on the same sofa in the exact position from 2 hours ago!
She opened her eyes and very casually asked " Where are my bananas?" .
The next step was learning to say no. So he grinded his teeth and said " No aunty , I am very tired , I am going to sleep".
"WHAT?! tired at this young age? It is no excuse! When I was your age I used to walk 6 kilometers to the railway station and another 5 before I reached my school. We never got fancy footwear and clothes like you kids and ate very spartan food . Now go buy me my bananas or else I'm complaining  you to your parents * all in chaste tamil - translated for you *
Bewildered by her sudden outburst he did end up running the errand for her .

a hopeless hypochondriac or is something graver?

Telling  mom -
6 weeks flew by and there was still  no reprieve for Hari . It took him all his 13 years to convince his parents to give him his own room and yet all it took was an annoying aunty to intrude it! Oh how he would love to play a prank on her. However , firsthand experience had taught him that he would be the one that was crying by the end of it.
Amma was busy in the kitchen cutting vegetables. He pitched in and started cutting the onions. His mom's curiosity got aroused and so she asked , " Fine . What do you want? ".
"Nothing , i just decided to help my mom"
" On a sunday , by cutting onions! Comedy pannadha hari" ( stop trying to be funny hari )
" I know right. I'll tell you a better way - stop inviting guests all the time. That too ones who never help and never leave."
She gave him a long stare - one that usually shushed him and secretly scared him out of his wits - and then after a long silence began speaking.
"Geetha aunty is not an unwanted guest. In fact , we're the ones who forced her to stay here. You do not know anything about her and I am going to tell you some things so that you will truly understand and respect her. However , this should remain a secret and never leave these 4 walls , understand"
Hari nodded his head vigorously.
"Geetha is a very distant relative of ours . I don't want to bore you with details. Two years ago , while traveling to your poonal ceremony , she lost her whole family in a car accident and is suffering from PTSD or post traumatic stress disorder. She believes that she shouldn't have lived and that is why she keeps complaining of ailments which she doesn't seem to have. I need you to be a little patient and sensitive with her hari . I know it has been rough for you , giving up your room which you love so much. Growing up is not only about having your own room but also being sensitive to ones around you"
Hari was stunned by this over load of information and needed time to process it all and hence he simply muttered , "okay".
"Also I never ever want you to judge a person by their appearances and behavior"
"I never did!" he shot back
" I am your mother darling. If someone is unpleasant to you or asks you to do something you hate , promise me that you will try to see their side of the coin also"
"i promise"

Later that evening , Hari's dad Mr.Swaminathan was pleasantly surprised by his son's extremely courteous behaviour to their overstaying house guest. Seeing his wife's mischievous smile he asked her what was happening , to which she replied , " Hari still hasn't matured enough to respect his guests - so I told him a small lie" she winked.
" By the way when is the sickbird leaving? I'm sick of her trying to make me believe that she has pulmonary edema and that her blood vessels are leaking blood or some other impossible medical condition...! "
" I never asked you before swami... but why is she like this?"
"Oh this! She has just been craving for attention since birth - a hopeless hypochondriac . Hope her husband picks her up soon enough."

Indian mothers! xD

Hari never learnt that it was a lie and went on to become a very hospitable host in life( so much so that many relatives had a 'hari day' in their calendar and visited him atleast once a year).Geetha aunty aka sickbird continued to complain of weak blood vessels and hernia and even dyslexia wherever she went. Leela died a contented mother filled with secrets that made her son into a fine young man.
 

Food for thought

"I should totally blog today."

you can succeed only if you try

After 21 days of fruitless inaction , I thought it was my mind playing mirage-like tricks with me again. Then I realized it was my lack of determination and fear of writing bad posts, that has caused this drought .  Remembering  what Hrithik Roshan said after his disastrous 'kites' in Kofee with karan  - it was something like ," You have to do something in the first place for it to be right or wrong. Worrying about an exam before writing it won't get you anywhere" Thank god he did write his exam - and we got zindagi na milegi dobara :')
So I should totally blog today. But I'm not guaranteeing you any quality.


 Ironically QUALITY has become my biggest problem right now. I don't even know what I mean when I use that word. But , I read all the blogs out there - enormous amounts of talent and potential :O and the sheer amount of posts in a month stun me. However there tends to be more misses than hits when you generate 50 posts a month ( or so I think ). When I was young, I used to cry to my mom about how my friends always wrote more pages than me during an exam and she calmly reassured me that ' quality is more important than quantity'. So I try to give my best every post and pray that at least half of what I hoped to convey reaches you.

I do promise you one thing ( i hardly promise anything in my blog - as I almost never keep it up :P) I will concentrate on writing more in this forum for at least my sake, if not yours.

 Sorry for the writer's rant :P I am sure fellow bloggers will understand. I needed to let it out of my system to progress . In this post I hope to 'rebuild my empire '  and give you tidbits of insights that have struck me this summer.

1)  Food for thought - I watched master chef USA 3 as it aired on t.v . I was never a huge fan of  the USA version in comparison to Australia as the former relied more on drama and antics, than anything remotely related to food. However ,since becoming the admin of 'Gordon Ramsay memes' ( see how I subtly put it? :P ) I felt an overwhelming sense of duty to watch the show . And surprise! this season was more about the food than about hate speech towards one other! :O And the most surprising of all - the winner of a cookery contest was blind. I heard tales of 'fixing' permeate the room but the truth is always far more inspiring :)
The finale was between the industrious josh and artistic christina. It reminded me one thing about food which we tend to forget somewhere in the over complicated world of reality shows - taste always triumphs . Josh produced stunning looking dishes with complex techniques but Christine simply made food full of flavor and yumminess . At the end of the day ,we do not care if the food is sauteed or grilled as long it tastes heavenly :)

2)That moment- After reading Agatha Christie's innumerable mysteries , I was very keen to get an idea

The eye in your mind paints things differently

about what went through her head and picked up her autobiography. Surprise! She led a very normal Victorian life , befitting the era. She puts us at such consummate ease, that her writing tips made sense to amateurs like me :') Among other things , she was a world traveller at a time it was enormously difficult to global trot for women . She didn't want to re visit countries she had already been to - she didn't think she could re capture the magic of the first venture. And somehow I totally emphasize with her . If she is scared of revisiting her favorite spots on earth , I am afraid of re reading my favorite books for the same reason. Every book has some poignant memory associated with it , and it is tough to breach the same ground without the feeling that it won't be as good as the first time. Sounds like blasphemy - but I haven't read even Harry potter more than once! :O

*Wow this post has drained me already :/ *

3)  The end? - The greyest book I have read in recent times is Dan Brown's Inferno . Among other things the book's plot is about the threat of overpopulation and that it will lead to extinction. Ironically living in India , I haven't really thought about that angle much. The 'antagonist' wants to wipe off 1/3rd of world's population , so that mankind can survive from extinction for a longer time . Is man made disaster the answer?  Should humans take this matter into their hands? Genetic engineering looks appealing from the outset , however its potential for danger makes it scarier than nuclear bombs. Should we interfere with evolution just because we assume we are 'superior' races? but what is the alternative - waiting for the inevitable? That doesn't sound very homo sapien -y :P I am asking instead of answering because I'm very confused about this topic and I don't want to make an uninformed statement or create an opinion too fast. If the book was true , you'll forget what you just read and deny that overpopulation maybe the end.
The book does conveniently ignore the enormous amount of resources trapped with the very rich - which has already resulted in general squalor in the 'bottom' rungs.

"The darkest places of hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality during times of moral crisis "

cheer up till then
semi :P

Trendistan: Ze gods!!

Lets take a moment off and acknowledge the fact that there is going to be a post. I have been mentally planning and constructing this post for soo long ( since NOVEMBER 2012! :O ) I never thought it would see the daylight. Ladies and Gents , here it is ze 'trendistan' . Semi's version of 'my fives / my lists' :P The lists are random as they get..

Soo what is it going to be this time?! Religion , god ......... INDIAN MYTHOLOGY. Well this trend has been in vogue for the past....3000 years .But in the past few years , it has been trending a lot thanks to Amish tripati's Shiva trilogy and Ashwin sanghvi's - Krishna key , chanakya's chant... ( This is what we get when we stop writing romance...BRILLIANCE) and an all new serial of 'Mahabharata' has started in sun tv on a magnum opus budget. All these egs show us that Indian mythology is definitely trending and I am going to analyse the lesser know characters of Mahabharata .
Before going into the topic , i want to dive into one more seemingly tangential issue - the ever growing zest to curb Right to freedom of expression , in favor of  religious fundamentalism and bigotism. Bal thackeray - facebook issue , my name is khan, vishwaroopam (which was nothing but a dumb action film) ,Salman Rushdie's and Taslima Nasreen's continuous saga with Calcutta and countless other instances has shown us at least one thing. There is a need to understand religion and the true meaning of secularism . Through this post I want to tell you how authors humanized godly figures - and how we seem to cling onto the belief that the opposite is true. Every god went through a hurdle to show that everybody has faults. We should always keep this in mind.
ok chup.

My fascination with Indian mythology was an early one - grandmother telling stories of ramayana during power cuts ( so obviously quite a lot :P )  , dad buying me colorful books of Mahabharata to read - I was this strange kid who loved to spend her sundays watching the tamil dubbed version of mahab on sun tv.

To all those who have been frowning quizzically at the word 'Mahabharata' - It is nothing but an enormous Indian epic about two sets of warring cousins - kauravas and Pandavas of the kuru ruling lineage , who fought for power in a HUGE war of kurukshetra for over 20 days. And duh the good guys, the pandavas won - Yudhishtra , Bheema , Arjuna , Nakula and Sahadeva ; Arjuna's uncle lord krishna xD ; their polyandric wife - Draupadi. The kauravas composed of 100 brothers of whom we get to know much , only about duryodana the eldest and dusadana. We also have Karna the generous who was duryodhana's best friend and also the secret brother of the pandavas.
And I haven't even scratched the surface yet! It is an enticing tale of love , power , greed , jealousy , vengeance and WAR. I personally prefer it over Ramayana because a) the characters are closer to human b) More divine weapons / astras  and awesome description of war and the futility of it all in the end.

Characters from Mahabharata who needed to be known/understood better.

#Respect#

1. Bhishma - Not to be confused with Bheema , he is the grand uncle of the cousins. Mahabharatha starts with him when he decides to adopt celibacy in order to get his father (shantanu) married to his step mother - Satyavati , a fishing woman. It is the descendants of this couple who give birth to Dhirithirastra and Pandu , who in turn give birth to kauravas and pandavas ( quite elaborate eh? :> ) Coming back to Bhishma , the great son of goddess Ganga - He was so upright that the gods decided to give him the choice to decide his death! So live long he did , but never once desired for the throne which he gave away to his brothers , nephews and grand nephews happily! Yet it was his shrewd mind that kept the kingdom up and running through the unstable periods of times. If everyone had been like him - there would've been no need for Mahabharata. When he decided to die during the great war - both sides paid homage to him and even adjourned  the war for him and his death anniversary is worshipped as Bhismar shanthi , where everybody has to do the funerary rights for him as he left behind no children . 
Even though bhismar was undoubtedly the greatest administrator and warrior , the epic teaches us that he couldn't control the greed of his grand nephews and couldn't side with the 'right' people in the war.

Remains anonymous

2. Yuyutsu , yes you hear me right! I am not referring to any chinese epic here but our very own Mahabharata  He is one of the least known characters of the epic - partly because he is mentioned in maybe 2 verses of the 100,000 versed anthology.   Still he stands testimony to the fact that stereotyping is always innacurate and there is always good in bad and bad in good (yin yan xP ) He is one of the 100 kauravas - yes the evil , greedy , malicious ones. He is the 100th brother or some say 101th kaurava (they didn't have calculators back then) and he was a good man. During the evil game of dice , where the pandavas were lured into gambling away all their wealth xP , freedom and were exiled to the forests , he was the only one who stood up and said what was happening was not fair. We don't know what happens to him after all that - he only has a line. A pretty poignant one if you ask me.  And he also switched sides during the war and joined the pandavas :O I readthatjustnowinWIKI. What a man link-----------> here 

credits - some awesome website-> here

3.Mahabharatha is a very male dominated story . There are few women who can be called brave in the story and among them AMBA stands tall. Hers is a fascinating story which i am going to share . Our great Bhishma was an unmatched warrior and hardly did any mistakes during his lifetime. However , when he decided to find wives for his step brother vichitravirya - he went to the swaymvar ( brides pick their husbands) of Amba . Ambika and Ambalika. Their people misperceived that he himself had come to marry them and ridiculed him - calling him old. This enraged him and he defeated every kshatriya there and abducted the princesses . Sadly Amba was attached to king Shalva and refused to be forced into marrying vichitravirya. Guts. Bhishma sent her back to Shalva , who refused to marry her as he had been publicly defeated by bhishma. Obviously honor > love. Now vichitravirya already had two wives and didn't want another one - who had someone else in her mind (irony of it) and even the old Bhishma had to refuse as he had his vow to uphold. Sick of being played volleyball with , Amba turned her hatred toward Bhishma , as she felt that he was the root cause of her suffering. As no man could beat him , she did a long penance to lord shiva who said she can defeat him in her next birth. She was born a girl in her next life - daughter of king drupada. Annoyed that she was born a girl ( girls can't fight)  , she further penanced and became a man - Shikandi and got her/his moment of glory when she defeated bhishma ( with the help of arjuna) during the war.

This is the closest we get to a courageous women story and must applaud her determination and penance.

p.s - Wow all my spellings are underlined in red o.O


Someone who missed the list by an inch - Veera Abhimanyu :') _:'(

Hope the #trend stays