Sunday, June 24, 2007

duping murphy

Disclaimer: None of what is about to follow is scientific. I am aware that Physics, if given eyes to read this, and hands to wield a hammer with, will read this and beat me to pulp!!!

I think there's a murphy's law that goes something like "only when you absolutely give up on something, do you get it"

Ever lost a key ? You look everywhere, backtrack everything you did from when you last remember seeing it, and then go to all those places and search for it and then never find it. Then you kinda give up. You take the duplicate (thank god you found that one) and begin using it rather remorsefully. You aren't able to really stop searching though. Suddenly, maybe in the middle of the night, you go to the fridge to drink some water and start searching in the fridge (just in case you know ? you've searched in all the right places and didn't find it. maybe you oughtta search in the oddest of places) but to no avail. A couple of days go by. Everytime you use the duplicate you feel slightly incomplete. You miss the old key. You liked the old key. When you had the old key, you always knew that if you lost it, you'll be able to use the duplicate. But now you panic a tad about making a duplicate of the duplicate. You pray that you find the key

Few days later you're closer to giving up. You've given up trying to find it. You've given up missing it. You've even given up being extra careful with the duplicate and decide the time has come for the final burial, symbolized by the making of the triplicate. The key maker asks you to come back in the afternoon. You say ok. Just as you're leaving home, you find the original-staring at you as though it was always there, staring at you as though all the world's a blind spot to you.

I've seen this happen with me so many times (yes -I am in the habit of losing things and often(the definition of often being as vague as it can be) finding them too). But it's always always only once you've truly given up.

In the last one week, by virtue of doing absolutely nothing about it, I've found a shirt, a very important marks card, some more clothes that I thought I'd seen the last of, old memories and so on and so forth.

The trick to getting something or finding something is to do nothing about it. Nothing. The only requirement is that you set the balls in motion. As in, i suppose it's important that you realize that you've lost something, or haven't got something yet and generally let it be known- a plea into the air. You have to let it be known to Murphy's random quark cluster (or any fancy word) that they're supposed to re-aggregate into a key, or a yacht, or a dog or whatever it is you've lost. And then, and I think this particular step is important, you have to let go. Forget about it. Not pretend to have forgotten about it. No- that won't work. Murphy's quarks can sense that you don't trust them. And you see, that, i think is perceived as terribly insulting behaviour. And they will of course refuse to acquiesce to your wishes. Maybe they draw energy from your trust. Maybe they require you to be their moral support. I don't know. But the point is, you have to let go, and decide that your key is doomed for, that your yacht is being eaten by crazy beings deep under and that there's an alien with ten hands somewhere who doesn't quite know how to fit into your two handed shirt, but will choose to keep it as proof of alternative forms of intelligence. You simply have to let go.

And then, the quarks will go about their business, and voila!!!, you've found whatever it is you've lost.

I know this works for small things. But I wonder about big things. Is it possible to get something that I want really really badly, if I really, truly sit and do nothing about it ? It throws the whole "as you sow, so you reap" philosophy into debris. But if it is true, I wonder if i'll ever be courageous enough to try it.

There are things in this world that just need to happen. It isn't about your potential or how much you've worked for it or how much you deserve it. There are things that happen that have no specific relation to the input. They're born from nothing, and they're beautiful and exciting and fulfilling and perfect. There's nothing more you'll need and nothing more you'll want, and there will be no point in remembering a time when you didn't have it, or worrying about a time when you won't have it. for the time they last ( a few seconds to eternity), they define perfection. And yet, i wonder, if i can be lucky enough to get it by simply not bothering about it.

Dare i try ?
Sadly, the answer is- no.
I don't!

But until then, i'm quite content with knowing that i'll never lose what i already have.

Friday, June 22, 2007


dear myself,

it's raining in bangalore.
it's constantly drizzling and i love it. you can walk through a drizzle without really getting wet but by just being barely enveloped by the moisture. it's bangalore at it's very best.

and i'm happy. not just coz it's raining, but coz it's the goodie lucky variety of rain. the kind that brings along yummy presents and gifts.

ya, i'm happy :D :D :D (with all my 31 teeth)

and sometimes, there's no need to say anything else is there.

love, cheers, hugs and kisses !!!

Thursday, June 21, 2007



This one, I uploaded online in May, 2005. I was writing at another site that time, and every single one of the writers there were having a dab at love stories. I kinda had to get on the bandwagon, and came up with this one. Am trying to clean up my desktop, and am recycling all the odd things I've written here and there. But this one, I really like. If i may say so myself, it smells strongly of smart-assishness, and I kinda like that :)

And here we go again

I've never written anything in this genre (if it can be called that at all) before, because its really hard to get away from all oft-repeated plots and say anything new and I don't think i'll ever manage to overcome that hurdle. Anyway, here it is :)

“Why”, she asked him, forcing herself to look into his eyes with what she hoped was a penetrating stare.
“Why do you like me ? I am a smartass, and not one of those pretty babes”
“Don’t kid yourself. You’re no smartass”
“Get your eyes checked. I am not a pretty babe either”
“ I see what you want and I am not going to give it to you”

She wondered if he’d known all along. If he knew how badly she wanted to reciprocate and how badly she detested the vulnerability that always followed an admission of love, even if it wasn’t going to be everlasting. She had never been vulnerable. She’d always detested the feeling of being weak in the knees, and the giddy feeling that she’d read in umpteen romantic novels, and had heard being described by friends. She for one had never let herself go there. She’d always found a reason to “keep standing”, she told herself. Yet, somewhere inside her, she knew it was all a farce. The fact that she had to continually remind herself to stand up straight, continually remind herself to ignore the flutter of the heart when an interesting guy smiled at her told her that she was no different from the rest of them. Perhaps she was even worse. Her only consolation was that she knew the alchemist’s trick. She could always turn her heart of gold into stone.

“No, I don’t want a big romantic speech about love, if that’s what you’re thinking”
“Let’s say it was. But I’m glad you don’t want it because I hate lying”, and he smiled.
“What are you so afraid of anyway?” he asked.
“What makes you think I’m afraid of something?”
“Because I am mostly irresistible, and I’d be surprised if you found me objectionable. I’m assuming it’s my perfection that’s actually throwing you off guard”
“I’m worried about the Cupid impersonators. The kind whose arrows will only ever lead to heartbreak”
“Ah! The smartass believes in Cupid and fairies and Santa Claus”

This time she couldn’t hide it. She let herself do what every cell in her body was demanding of her. She smiled.

“I suppose you think that since you’re smart you can discern every wrong arrow from the right one. But here’s a question. What if you’re not? What if you miss the one opportunity because you weren’t willing to let go of your shield and let the arrow pierce you”
She looked up at him, wanting to run away from there. She couldn’t stand there being exposed any longer. On that bright, hot, day she felt cold, unprotected and unguarded.
“What if you lose”, he paused and then whispered “me”.
“I noticed the dramatic pause. Work at it, will you ?”, she said and started to walk off hastily.
“I’ve decided after all, to make the romantic speech”, he said, rushing after her.
“Here’s what I’d like you to think about tonight. The speeches are cliché, but perhaps it’s so because no one has really been able to answer it, settle the debate once for all, and allow it to accumulate dust somewhere. Love is a matter of the heart. Do you really think you’ll be able to dodge it with your head ?”

She walked faster, not noticing that he had already stopped following her. Why did he think he could get her simply by reading her every thought? She looked back and saw that he wasn’t around anymore. Why did he have to be right , she thought and smiled more fully this time. She truly was no different. Hurt was what she feared. Hurt was what she had never felt. She looked back again to where he last stood when she was still capable of looking into his eyes and manage to hide behind closed doors in her head. Who was she kidding? The door had always been ajar, and he had unabashedly opened it wide and had looked right through. Somehow she couldn’t tell herself to push him out and shut the door on him.

Dear diary,

But it never works that way does it ?
Until I know the answer, I am going to have to lock these thoughts in you. In all honesty, I’ll only be half asleep tonight, waiting for a charming lock picker to come, open you and release me.


I do solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

The truth ? check
Nothing but the truth ? check check
The whole truth ? na uh!!!!
(therein lies my form of deception)
I'll talk but I won't say all.

noah's ark

I've always loved the story of Noah's ark. I don't know how much of it is true, and I don't know how much of it is plain symbolic, and if it's symbolic, I haven't a clue regarding what it symbolizes. The idea of saving the few essential things so that life may continue is simply very appealing probably because, everything we do is somehow connected to avoiding death.

Even today, the concept of Noah's ark is important. We have sperm banks and egg banks and germplasm preservation centres and loads of green money thrown into finding out who we are and where we came from, so that perhaps tomorrow we'll know exactly who to put in the ship.

I am sure governments think about keeping an aeroplane containing important people that it believes will continue mankind's journey to immortality should the ones at ground abysmally fail by very carefully planning nuclear attacks despite talk about deterrents. I've always wondered though. Who will those people be ?

Scientists ? Doctors ? Children ? Saints and priests ? Happy families ? Politicians ? It's an interesting question. What does it really take to make sure man survives ? It's a hugely debatable topic. But it's something I'd like to think about anyway.

Live each day as if it's your last day they say. But wait, I am saying. What about Noah's Ark. How does one buy a ticket into that one ?

I've never judged beauty competitions before. I don't think I ever shall. But if I ever have to judge one, I'll consider asking them "who do you want to be", and I'll accept the answer "one of the people who get into Noah's Ark", because then it means, s/he really did make a difference, and in many ways, that's the only difference that counts.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

billboards and sachin tendulkar

I was in chennai recently, and one of the things that strike you is the huge amount of hoardings everywhere you go. Every rooftop has a hoarding. The sides of every bridge have at least a dozen hoardings- hoardings of movie stars, and movies, saris and soaps, computers and mobile phones all cramming together, yelling at you for your attention. It's not just the number of them that hits you, but even the size of them. They're huge. Every single one of them is at least four times the size of the ones in Bangalore. Even today, if you go around in Bangalore, you'll find several empty ones that say "contact-########", meaning they're vacant and ready to be hired. I couldn't find a single empty one in Chennai.

An Ogden nash couplet comes to my mind.

I think that I shall never see a billboard lovely as a tree.
Perhaps, unless the billboards fall, I'll never see a tree at all.

I've always wondered though. When do they fix up the billboards. A long time ago, people would paint billboards. I remember those days. You could always find a man atop a wooden framework, skillfully painting a billboard with images that bore strong resemblances to real life people. I know today that it isn't at all easy to be able to draw anything that looks like a human being, let alone draw it well enough to be identifiable as a particular human being and not just any random one. Boost sells because Sachin, in particular Sachin, drinks Boost and not any cricketer in general. And billboards had paintings of someone who was without a doubt, Sachin. Yet, I am sure those billboard painters had no idea of how skillful they actually were. Most of them were just earning their bread and butter by doing acrobatics in mid-air and painting in mid-air without real safety precautions except a plastic helmet and faith in the power of life. I wonder if they had training programs and apprenticeships before being hoisted to such an honourable position (all sarcasm/respect intended).

And then suddenly, someone discovered a way to print large size hoardings and just pin them on to the framework of the hoarding. I don't know when that happened, but it did happen. All they need to do today is print out the water proof, weather resistant colossal advertisements and pin it up with a few nails. And I continue to wonder when they do it. Do they do it in the middle of the night when nobody can see ? Do they do it in bright daylight and we just happen to miss them all the time, or do so few of them get changed that at any given point, the probability of seeing a billboard being changed is very few ? I don't know. It doesn't matter.

But what of all those painters ? What happened to them ? Where do they paint now ? In national galleries and billion dollar exhibitions ? I don't think so. Where do they paint ? Or did companies that were hiring them decide to also give them a crash course on printing, so that now they print out the ads ? What of their kids ? The kids that were at least learning alongside their father, the art of painting Sachin Tendulkar. Did they not learn that then because their dad sent them to school by painting Tendulkar ? Or are they not going to school now because their dad doesn't have a job ? I actually have no clue. And at one point, the government of India was considering waiving the import tax on the ferrari gifted to Sachin Tendulkar. It's just very very strange how things work sometimes. Because Sachin was the last person who needed to keep the money. And the government, clearly, was the last organization that needed the money. But people who played a HUGE LIFE SIZE role in creating the idol that is Sachin, bloody well needed that money.

Ya Billboards. When do they change them these days ? And perhaps, more importantly, who does ?

Saturday, June 16, 2007


time : one week ago.
I think I'll like long walks on the beach. I think I'll like walking aimlessly across the whole length with feet one moment knee deep in the waves, another moment ankle deep, and another moment no water at all.

time : now
I *like* long walks on the beach. I actually did it- out there- in reality. Not in my head; not walking like some angelic vision; but actually, in the dirtiest set of *decent clothes so that no one will think I'm some roadside tramp* clothes, and it was every bit as good as the dream version.

And, it was a lot better. There are details that dreams can never get. Imagination, when not informed by brutal reality, is always a blur. Ever wonder why we always get up when we're just about to fall, or just about to hit a car, or maybe just when you're getting awarded some prize, or just when you've finally managed to gather the courage to tell someone something nice/rude/obscene/frank ? If you've never done it before, then there's no way you're gonna know how it'll feel. Not even in a dream. I think, if you haven't experienced falling down a ten storey building, then you're not going to be able to dream the feeling of the bones cracking or the skull breaking. The brain doesn't know, because you haven't felt it before.

Ok- that's my theory (or perhaps I've read it somewhere and now I'm dreaming it's something I came up. Plagiarism is very easy for dreamy souls :D. No ? It's not someone else's theory ? It's mine ? Oh well, take it. It's my contribution to science. Sell the stuff of dreams and give no pie of it to me. I'll dream up the revenge if I have to. Oh wait... I've never taken revenge. Hmm. Never mind. Do whatever you will.) But I digress.

My point is, sometimes things are just as wonderful in the doing as it is in the dreaming. I dunno how many things are. I dunno if becoming a movie star is the same as dreaming of being one. Somehow, I don't think it is. But something like being a mom, is probably going to be better than dreaming it. Or something like walking along a beach is going to be absolutely delicious.

It was ten thirty at night. There weren't too many people. The two people I had come along with didn't want to wet their feet. It was just right. I walked one way and then the other and then this way and then the other again. Each time felt different. Each time felt wonderful. Each time was addictive. I would've loved to scream at the top of my voice; not in a God! help me kind of way, but in a happy, ridiculously elated, God!Thank you kind of way. Thank him for nothing in particular. If every atom/gluon/mesons etc were truly in his control, then thank God in a making them atoms move about such that somehow I came to stand at that beach that night sorta way.

Oh and if God, you were pleased with my presence at the beach that night, could you maybe also at some point during *the rest of my life* make things happen so that I am standing in a large stretch of real snow and fir trees ? (suitably warmly clothed, with suitably warm persons around, with suitably pleasant things to say) Just a thought :)

Sunday, June 10, 2007

unfinished business

i like making lists these days. nice long lists. so here's a list of stuff (odds and ends) that need doing. i'd like thing that i'll actually do these things (they absolutely have to be done) but no- i'll prolly look at this list and feel something in the zipcode as "ah! how pretty" and go right back to not having done 'em.

1) fix camera. its ***** broken.

2) get camera batteries and charger from the person who has it *name undisclosed for privacy purposes*

3) get all my horcruxes *stuff of mine, that other ppl have, that have actually come to define me*

4) drink water *i have an obsession with wanting to drink water, but never actually doing it*

5) return horcruxes that other ppl have *stuff I have of other ppl*

6) find out if horcruxes is a word in the oxford english dictionary. its about time they added it.
the world can be defined as before christ and after death (yes yes i know its anno domini and not after death) or more appropriately (before harry potter and after harry potter)

7) book the seventh book

8) consider allowing mom to read seventh book before i do. it seems like a nice touching thing to do.

9) actually do it ? naaaaaaaaa

10) actually no. maybe. depends. dunno/ can't say.

11) get new comp/fix old comp/throw old comp

12) find out if the US universities let students bring along their dogs. i umm... dunno who to ask.

13) if yes - get a dog. if no- wait till mom retires. that ain't ever happening from the looks of it.

14) one of those huge dogs. like a collie

15) buy sari. only bottle green sari. do not succumb to anything else - like bad customer service and aching heels and sweating, or the smell of the sweat of the huge guy standing next to you soaking in this super "non absorbent" cotton shirt, waiting for his wife to select a sari, who of course is oblivious to her husband's sweat (either that woman likes shopping too much or her husband too much). yuck. it's madras. the huge sweating guy is only to be expected. these madrasis are jatravartids

"Jatravartids, who live in perpetual fear of what they refer to as "The Coming of the Great White Handkerchief." This is their cosmology's version of the end of the Universe, and can be explained by the fact that they believe that the Universe was sneezed out by a being called the Great Green Arkleseizure.

The Jatravartids are also unique because they were the first people in Universe who invented the spray deodorant before the wheel"

16) catch up on movies like h2g2. haven't seen it yet. (shit... loads more to watch actually)

yep... and ravens have intelligence apparently. ya- i haven't read abt it yet, but i'm gonna. i'm convinced that the only non intelligent race is us human beans. very convinced.