For the joy of achievement

If I were to ask you to complete the sentence, ______________ makes me happy, what would be the one defining statement you would give me? What is THE one thing that makes you happy? After 22 years of existence, I can tell you I have been able to solve the mystery of my life. All along, I really used to wonder as to what keeps one happy. A lot of us like to call it passion. Some also believe it to be the 'purpose of life' used interchangeably in most cases. Personally, I would get too lost if someone asked me what my life's purpose was. I might even run. So I'll give my inner wisdom some more time till it retrospects to those subtleties of life.

Drifting through the vicissitudes of living, it is easy to ignore what one likes and what keeps one happy and supress the voice of the soul. But it took ages till it dawned on me as to what kept the senses of my inner voice gratified. Achievement. Of course, finding this out has been anything but easy.

As a 9th grader, I remember dancing out of sheer ecstacy on the eve of the last exam. Grandiose plans of a class outing to the nearest eat-out needed to be charted out. The telephone line was constantly engaged discussing who all would be able to make it and who would not. Blackmailing sessions ensued, threatening the other of not talking if they didn't turn up. It was going to be a great day. Man, what would a world be like without a 'cool' gang of guys and girls hanging around at arbit eat-outs. Friends meant the world, really. Come exam day. Such days are the ones that constitute the vagaries of life. Now who on earth could think about studying for the exam when so many things were pending on the To-Do-List. No prizes for guessing, if I say the exam was a disaster, I would be making a gross understatement. I know God exists because I live to tell you that I passed that exam. Anyway, so it was party time now? Time to celebrate life. And where was I? Home. With a face like that of a convoluted rattlesnake, in order to stop those watery things get out

of my eyes. The 'gang', fun, chilling out.. everything took a backseat when I had not ACHIEVED my goal. Things havent changed much over the years. Just that I live in constant realisation that all these things follow when you have achieved what you set out to achieve.

I dont intend to cloud the emotion I attach with the word achievement. It doesnt always refer to achieving academically. At this point in time, I am reminded of a quote that I stick to the letter to.

Trust yourself. Create the kind of life you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into the flames of achievement.

Foster C. McClellan

College was a tale of sorts. There were relationships. And there were break-ups. There were right things. And there were wrong things(which of course seemed right back then). Phone became an indispensable element of livelihood. In all of this, died a weak soul which hardly got a chance to speak up.

Here, I pause to think of the day 'complete' in all of its meaning. Getting up at 5 in the silence of the night(5 is night in winter if you are in Delhi, though our maid would disagree), with a space for myself, when I get to take complete control of my thoughts to get a bird's eye view of where life is heading gives me more perspective than chatting on the IM client for 2 hours with a friend. I am not even remotely against spending time with friends, chatting on the net etc. After all, what life without sharing a laugh with an old bud. But I somewhere life is more than that.

Lasting happiness was indeed, possible only through personal achievement. When you and the soul, grow together. When you kindle the inner fire that lurks within you. Achievement defines me. When I achieve, I keep others around me happy because I AM happy. I live with more vitality and add meaning to my life. I make my life more richer and delightful, and thereby, yours.

I continue to advance confidently in the direction where my goals are. If I could wish one thing for you, it would be this. As for me, life has come full circle.

Abhi tumhari beti zinda hai maa!

Little girls are so cute, I tell you! One such bundle of joy is my sister. I shall fail to do justice to this post if I start writing about her and what she does, and how we argue and bicker, and then laugh and laugh till we cry for no reason, and how we have whispered our deepest secrets to each other that only we could share, and how sometimes(umm.. many-a-times), I feel she is way too mature than I am and could ever be,though I am the elder one and how she always.. always knows when I need a hug, and.. bleh!

Ok, I think I have done enough justice to the profound talent I possess - that of deviating from the point :D

*

A prelude to the narration was deemed required by yours truly and hence, here it is.
#1 : 'The little sister'(wherever mentioned) is a 14-year old who has been learning (and continues to learn) Bharatanatyam for the past 5 years. This story dates to the time when parents of yours truly and 'the little sister' had Arangetram plans for the latter.

#2 : Arangetram(the same as mentioned above), happens to be a slightly costly affair. 'Costly' would be a purely relative term, and hence, 'slightly' costly. It happens to be an event where the teacher is to be gifted 'Pattu Pudavai'(silk sarees) as Guru Dakshina. A major chunk of expenditure on an Arangetram would be the rent for an auditorium, remunerations for the accompanying musicians etc. Round about 2.5 lakhs of raw cash goes into this affair(this is again an approximation; it could get more grandiose).

#3 : 'The little sister' who happened to be listening to all of this planning managed to make mental notes of the same.

#4 : 'The little sister' is given a pocket money of Rs.500 with no fixed scheduling period, which she keeps in a little maroon purse. Apart from this fixed amount, she also accumulates what is given by visiting relatives after 1000 namaskarams that she is made to do.

*

As the story goes, this is what happened one fine day.. Yours truly needed a little money for bus fare to go to a friend's place. It is usually publicly known, adding much to the disgrace of yours truly, that yours truly would any day go trouble her little sister(read monster when it comes to lending money) for a little change than show bus-wallahs 100-rupee notes and earn their innocent sugar-coated replies. At the time of this event, 'little sister' supposedly had (or claimed to have) only Rs.200 in her wallet and hence, blatantly denied the request.

Excerpts of what ensued is produced here :

YT : Yours truly
TLS  : The Little Sister

YT : Tere paas change hai? (Do u have some change on yourself?)

TLS : Nahi. (No.)

YT(poking) : Mujhe pata hai, tere paas hai. (I know you have it)

TLS : Fir kyun poocha? (Why did you have to ask then?)

YT : Please dede. (Give it to me please) *Yes, occasionally we do beg each other*

TLS : Yaar, sorry main nahi de sakti. Main apne arangetram ke liye bacha rahi hun. Mom dad ko support karungi arangetram organise karne mein. (Sorry, can't lend it to you. I am saving all this for my arangetram. I'll support mom & dad for the arangetram with this.)

YT : *no words* :D

 *

The usage of 'yours truly' multiple times in the passage is intentional. The author of this post derives inexplicable sadistic pleasure by irritating noble readers, who would cringe at its usage.

EDIT : Some of you seem to have mistaken the 'support' part of the post. Though I agree in every way that TLS is a responsible child in the true sense of the word, 'support' here was not meant supporting our parents by providing a stable income to the family :D I dont mean to humour such a sensitive thing, but what I had really intended to say was that at that point of time, she thought of lending a helping hand to my parents for the arangetram by saing up herself out of her pocket money. That was really cute! :D

Its finger-licking good! - Creativity without bricks

Wake Up Sid - the review

A Word From The Author

When the world is hopping from Skoda Laura to Audi, a scooter ride isn't really what one goes back to. But anyday more appealing to me, than a car drive. I love the feeling of the wind blowing through my open ears and my hair flying in all directions... Somehow, at that point of time, the blob of facewash that is gonna go in order to remove all that dirt and grime and hours of conditioning that my hair would require later didn't quite make its entry into my nimble brain that time.. There's so much freedom in the open air! So off we went.

You don't have much scope on the TV on Gandhi Jayanti when they have decided to repeat Lage Raho Munnabhai and Gandhi everytime the calendar shows Oct 2.

OK, so once in a while, all of us get lucky and yesterday was my day. Defying the worth of Murphy and his laws, MY queue TOO moved pretty decently. What followed was an intense discussion amidst a solid state of confusion between the guy at the counter and my dad. Aah! So my dad had asked for tickets for 'What's up Sid?'. How can dads get the movie name almost always wrong? Beats me. Obviously, the poor guy at the counter couldn't decide upon whether it was 'What's ur raashee?' or 'Wake Up Sid!' that we wanted! Blame me and my sis for that, I say. Who asked us to turn the world upside down early morning debating over which one to watch of the two. My dad has this uncanny knack of guessing movies tht have Saif starring. It was just the other day that they were showing trailers of 'Love Aaj Kal' on the TV. And he promptly said,"Arre, Salaam Namaste!" :D

THE REVIEW

Um.. So let's see.. KJo has managed to come up with this extremely novel plot this time up.... Sid is this really cute bacchha(read slacker), who is unaware of the vagaries of life and is busy happily spending his dad's not-to-mention hard earned money on parties, friends and what not. And somehow, things happen that transform him into this responsible young man. Oh so unexpected!

 But all said and done, the movie, though very predictable from a broader perspective, doesn't fail to strike a chord with you instantly. For bits and pieces, it reminds one of Dil Chahta Hai. Maybe Lakshya too. So much so that it might sound cliched now. Don't believe it. It's like none of the two. Like any other KJo movie, this one too had brilliant colours, that cannot escape your eye. The tinge of creativity that shades the theme deserves a good applause. One gets to see a bunch of new faces like Rishi(Namit Das) and Laxmi(Shikha Talsania), who have done good justice to their roles with neat acting. Perfect.

This is Ayan Mukherji's directorial debut for you.

Aisha(Konkona Sen) is an aspiring writer and a newbie to Mumbai and its ways. She finds her first friend in Sid, who though is very very different from her and her independence-seeking self, is honest, sweet and fun-loving. Sid's life revolves around his best buds, Rishi and Laxmi and all is breezy till one day he is thrown out of his dad's house(and obviously property). And the rest is so known.

Few moments in the movie take your breath right away. Aisha's birthday celebration with Sid's bread cake, for one. You hear yourself going, "Awww....!". Rishi's and Sid's laughter moment on Rishi's break up, for another. And when he finally gets the omlette right.

The movie lost me at the climax when Sid reads the mag to find out how Aisha feels for him. But hadn't she shown him the article before itself, where he makes suggestions and edits to the story, which later get appreciated by the editor? There is an outlined mismatch.

Sid sweeps you off your feet and into his world very naturally. Most certainly, he is sure to remind you of your college days. And more so, 'coz he has mastered the art of sending across the message so realistically. Konkona Sen, needless to mention, gives the movie its calming effect with effortless yet stupendous performance. Both of them definitely look great together and the onscreen chemistry quotient is very high. But better as friends, maybe. An awesome-looking Rahul Khanna could have been used in a better way. He hasn't been given much scope in the movie. Anupam Kher, as usual, is wonderful. Supriya Pathak is nice in her own way, though a stronger connection between the mum and the son could have been portrayed. Kashmeera Shah has well-delivered her bit. The Mumbai Beats office and Aisha's house are a piece of icing on the cake. Brilliant and award-worthy creativity and an eye for detail there. Music by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy is melodious. 'Iktara' is simply amazing.

The movie is sure to be a hit amongst its target urban audience. Anywhere between a 3.5 to 4 for sure.

Broken

Sitting across the verandah of her palatial condominium, she was lost in thoughts of her own when a silent tear found its way on to her skirt, only to get lost in the ocean of thick fabric. It was raining quite heavily outside. A headache that had been smoldering for the past half an hour finally matured and hit her hard on the middle of her forehead. An early darkness was slipping down. Her eyes settled on the pillar across in a flat, unblinking way, while the state of her mind was quite the opposite. It had been a nomad since she had grown to know about it in vivid detail. She knew she had to act like lightning, else she would sink into spaceless chasms beyond the control of her mind. It amused her how the climate was perfectly analogous with what was happening in her life. It had been pouring off late. She could only wish it were good things. This was the perfect time to treat herself with a strong cuppa coffee. Or maybe, masala chai. She headed to the kitchen leaving behind a trail of thoughts directed elsewhere. An oversized white mug emblazoned with red letters : ‘What would I ever do without you’, glared at her. She smiled. She drained the lukewarm tea.

Another little stream of drops trickled from her eye onto the basin. She realized she had been smiling to herself all this while. Feeling silly, she gave herself a tap on her head, as if talking to her thoughts. The mention of masala chai always sent her into a surrealistic world of nostalgia. Those days. Those days when they used to sneak out of hostel at midnight just to catch one cuppa ‘garam masala chai’ at Venu’s. Many-a-times, it was only the two of them at the shop at that time, otherwise usually accompanied by truck drivers on the highway. It was times like these they longed for. When they used to dance on the lonely highway, and tickle and chase each other till they rolled down in laughter. Ah, young love, sweet love. She almost had to shake herself out of her reverie each time she followed this trail of thoughts to nowhere.

It had become routine now. Coming home to a silent apartment, the silence of which, she thought, would drive her mad someday or the other. She would climb into the shower and let ice cold water course its way through her shoulders, wishing it would wash away the loneliness of the present and the doubts of the future. She would bite her lips, as she thought of all his sacrifices and all her selfish choices and of all those times when she had been wrong. Completely wrong.

She often tried to hug herself, wanting to fill him in the space between her arms. She gave up. The pain had boiled up inside her, and she feared it would keep simmering and would eventually burst out of her tubes if she didn’t find a vent. She longed for that feeling of completeness. The perfect gift that he had given her. She couldn’t have asked for anything more. He was God’s answer to her prayers. But now, there was no telling what the future held.

There was no shortage of space in the two-storied home they had built together. The Ganesha on the door was meant to ward off evil. They were on a high dosage of happiness. They would need it. The purport of it stared at her as a living irony right on her face. The house, their house, they called it ‘Swapna’ - their dream. They had yearned for it as much as they had longed for each other. There was so much to plan, so much to do. They had painted it in a theme of crimson. The study was an antique in itself, with all manner of memorabilia tacked haphazardly onto the softboards – the pictures - those of frequent group hugs, of the gang’s day at the beach, of the shadow dances they did with their hands, of the long walks they took hand in hand, of the day they decided to tie the knot and of the day they did. The lampshade was his choice. She knew it didn’t fit into the theme of the house in any way. But he had wanted it there. Just right there. She realized now how perfect it was. How differences blend and make the scheme of things perfect. The shelf held all the junk he was so fond of collecting. The things she had gifted him, volumes of letters that she had written to him and everything that he deemed precious and was ‘of her’.

So this is how it felt to lose a part of you. So this is how it felt when death crumbles your world down. And her tears started to flow all over again. It was time to declutter, not only the shelf, but also her mind.

The idea for which I live and die..

What I read in the news today was appalling to say the least!

24 people committed suicide and nearly 100 others suffered heart attacks as YSR Reddy was buried at Cuddapah yesterday. I am not delving further into the 'Why did they have to' part of the incident. This post is more of things that intrigue me and stir my soul.

For someone who had long been in the political front of Andhra Pradesh and had done so much for the people.. so much so that they would would contemplate suicide upon his death. For the records, this man had initiated free power supply for farmers, made strides in the irrigation facilities for the rural masses, and been the harbinger of a health insurance scheme that required the government to bear the price of a surgery upto 2,00,000 Rupees. He also initiated small businesses and entrepreneurships among the people from backward sections. Though I don't know much about the sort of person that he was, considering he was a politico nevertheless, I have reason to believe he must have done some real good for people, don't I? How many people will vouch for you for the same reason?

Are you sure of that one person who WILL shed a tear when you die? (I am assuming you'll be discerning enough to not say Family here)

Have you given enough to the world to be able to say, "My work is done here"?

How close are you to the ground?

Was your purpose only that of visiting this world?

Have you freed what waits within you?

Are you beyond human differences and limitations?

Are you tuned into 'Good Thought Station', 'usually' atleast?

Have you ever thought today might take you into the cottage of darkness?

Robin Sharma, in his book, 'Who will cry when you die?' says, "When you were born, you cried while the world rejoiced. Live your life in such a way that when you die the world cries while you rejoice."

Time, I guess is no more than an idea. You and I could be sharing the thickest possible bond today. Tomorrow I die. You will be nothing but a different assemblage of energy, residing on a different realm to me then. So while you and me continue talking eternally on existentialism and this apparently meaningless world, let's just do some little bit of giving back to this world too. If I have been arrogant, God, forgive me.

News courtesy : http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/news/india/For-whom-the-bells-toll-YSR-And-124-others/articleshow/4974222.cms

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/news/city/hyderabad/30-YSR-fans-die-of-shock/articleshow/4969990.cms

The Swine Flu Song

A pig's outcry! Must watch! :D

A quest unknown...

I read this, say a few months back somewhere.... I duly apologise for not linking the blog address since I can't seem to place it.... I couldn't stop myself from taking it down on a piece of paper.. And here it is for all of you :

I put myself under so much stress
Cause myself so much pain
Making others sorrows mine
Why do I even try

Why do I even try
To make this world a better place
To make everyone feel happy
To bring a smile on every face

Why do I even try
To think solutions to problems of all
To be always there for others
Forever ready to take the fall

Why do I even try
To carry a smile on my face
To make people think I am happy
Living my life with style and grace

Why do I even try
To ask if everything is hunky dory
To try and correct whats wrong
Always repairing what is gory

Why do i even try
To water all the plants there are
To give every passenger the perfect shadow
Make him rest if the destination is far

Why do I even try
To prove that mankind isn't doomed
To prove that things are still all right
Just that they are taking time to be groomed

Why do I even try
To always change the status quo
Never happy with what I have
Looking always to the hill brow

Why do I even try
To explain myself to one and all
To change others' perception of me
To answer everyone's beck and call

I am fed up with all
and hence I now turn back and cry
I walk on the road I have never walked before
And exasperated I shout aloud
"Why did I even try"

Brilliant to say the least. Maybe more so, because I can relate to almost every single word of it.

Fiction 55 - Geometry

Colossal perpendiculars and parallels, chords and tangents, altitudes and medians, did iterative rounds inside my head, actualising a whirlpool; one that was soon going to eat me up. I had to get this one right, a meek voice from within amidst the intermittent explosion said. I was defenseless; I cried, "IS JUNGLE SE MUJHE BACHAO!!"

Washington Post Neologism Contest

People, I am a self-proclaimed linguaphile, alright? But some of these made me laugh so hard, I can't tell you! So here I share :

Once again, The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.

The winners are:

1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.

2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.

3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.

6. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.

7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.

8. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash

9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.

10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.

11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.

12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by Proctologists.

13. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.

14. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms

15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.

16. Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

The Washington Post's Style Invitational also asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are this year's winners:

1. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

2. Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

3. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

4. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

5. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

6. Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

7. Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness.

8. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease.

9. Karmageddon (n): It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

10. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

11. Glibido (v): All talk and no action.

12. Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

13. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

14. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

15. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.

And the pick of the literature:

16. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an a******.