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Showing posts from February, 2012

LA NATURA E L'ARTE DI DIO

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"I love to think of nature as having unlimited broadcasting stations, through which God speaks to us every day, every hour and every moment of our lives, if we will only tune in and remain so."      7 AM. 7 AM. 7 AM. (the Android phone screeches). Why did I install this application that tells me the time? I roll off the bed (literally), rub my eyes and walk to the front door. The newspaper is out there, and so is a packet of milk.      "Sneha, make some tea." I spread the newspaper on the floor and commence reading from the sports page. I hate politics (which covers most of the front page), and don't have a keen sense for business or gossip (without taking potshots at leading dailies). And then, my mind wanders (lonely as a cloud, that floats on high over vales & hills - dedicated to Wordsworth). (Kowsalya supraja Rama poorva sandhya pravaarthathe ...) 6 AM. I don't need an alarm to wake me up. The radio awakens me with a soothing ef

Growing Young

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"Education is what survives when what has been learned has been forgotten."      We did a play in high-school about an adolescent who returns to school 20 years after he graduated. The theme of the play was simple, the guy felt that he had been cheated of a proper education and wanted his tuition fees reimbursed. A set of funny sequences follow, he meets up with each his teachers and they put him through tests. The teachers work on proving him wrong by asking silly questions (How long did the 30 year old war last?) and the student tries to outsmart them (he answers 7 years). The tutor eventually proves that his answer was right.       At the end of the final rehearsal, we were informed that the play could not be performed due to a restriction from the Ministry of Education (Sultanate of Oman). They felt that it would portray education in bad light, and make a mockery of it. When the tears subsided, I felt he was right. The traditional gurukul system would remain in

Blood Positive

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“I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat.” ~ Winston Churchill       August 2010, (A lazy Saturday afternoon): My room-mates were planning the evening's itinerary. Our Saturday's schedule generally included late lunch followed by a couple of beers and probably a couple* of pegs (*couple is a relative term) . Out of the blue (no disrespect to Aakash Chopra), a friend called up. They urgently required A+ve blood for an acquaintance who met with an accident. They were finding it hard to get donors without traces of alcohol in their blood. Possibly, the aftermath of a Friday night.      We reached the hospital within the next 20 minutes. Along with my friend, there were a couple others who had come over to donate blood. They were in need of 12 packets of blood, a sizable amount. We got our weight & blood pressure checked, filled up a couple of forms and donated our share of blood. Next morning we were informed that the patient had survived a 4-hou

The sound of silence

"I'm a man of many words, and choose to remain that way." - Skv       Friday was hectic. Really tiring. Having spent over 6 hours of my day in meetings, conference calls & training sessions, I was left with a throat as dry as the Sahara (not the one that deserted the BCCI). I had to catch the train home, so there wasn't any time to cater to my throat's demands of hot water with honey, ginger & lemon juice (ah, a shade of brandy would set the thing on fire!).      My post is not about grand-ma's recipe for cocktails. I wish to reflect on the nuances of our senses (the poems are getting me to rhyme in prose as well). We ideally have 5 senses (the 6th exists in Bollywood & 7th in Kollywood only); sight, touch, hearing, smell & taste. I highly value & appreciate the efficient working of these senses. But, I have always held a greater preference towards speech. I could imagine ( disclaimer: imagination has no limits ) survivi

Paradise of Love

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   Amidst vast deserts lies an oasis, Among the deepest oceans there exists Islands, In the depth of my heart lies your soul. An image, a gesture, the complete you. In the fortress of my domain, Your shadow develops silently, As a boulder rolls over a meagre pebble, That clings on to the edge of a cliff. Our love becomes eternal and divine, When our souls solely combine. Do not deceive, do not betray, For I am an incomplete being; Without the fulfilment of your love. These plaintive verses will never equal, The harmony of love in me for you. Always disclose the truths, The unbiased, impartial and formidable truths. My benevolence that prevails over you, Is like a memorabilia presented to the sky, A twinkling star that wholly resembles you, An unfinished destiny, an undecided fate.                                                                           - Skv P.S: This was the first poem that I wrote, and so holds a special place in my heart. I wrote it in the Physics Lab (I

As we part

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“The squirrel that you kill in jest, dies in earnest.”      I've hit a block. On the contrary, it would seem highly pretentious to term it as "Writer's Block." The dearth of topics are not confounding me, rather I do have a long list of topics (including an unfinished novel) that needs dedicated attention, but finding time to write is the primary concern. So, I've found an alternative. I'll introduce my collection of poems to this blog (been a decade since most of them were penned) over the next couple of weeks while the new posts get created. As we part In my darkest hour, Devoid of thoughts, A touch on my shoulder, that reassuring smile, Brightening the journey ahead, "Its not over yet", you said; "At the end of the day, you'll be at your goal." I moved along, slowily but steadily, Growing from strength to strength, Crafting a path of fame, All because of you my friend. Now when the end is in sight, You're bidding goo