coloured raindrops

One of the best gifts provided by providence is rain. The splendor, ecstasy, brilliance of raindrops falling lightly on your cupped palm is simply immeasurable.

Thankfully, the rain-gods have smiled upon Bangalore. At last. I rush out to catch sight of those first few raindrops. And put my hands out to capture them. Everytime. Untill i decide that a particular amount of dampness is sufficient.

Speaking about the rains, it's freshness et al, i'm reminded about the advertisements featured on rain. A telecom service saying that their network is accessible through rough weather. Another is that of a beverage.

This ad that Reliance gave, it's beautiful. Various frames are shown with different locations. With raindrops falling in the background coloured with subdued pinks, greens, yellows, blues.... These colours are supposed to spill from the screens of those cell phones. Lovely.

Another ad is that of Limca. Riya Sen is drenched in rain, whenever she sips Limca.(with the spirit of Limca filling her body and soul?)

One thing that is common between these two ads is the variety of hues that is offered to the viewer. Vibrant and enchanting.

Colours and raindrops. Aha!

New diseases approach mankind. Scientists say that this trend will continue. For Nature has always been on the recieving end. A very bad end.

Amongst probably malaria, tuberculosis, AIDS... cancer is also on the spread.

Cancer. It can be very scary. Painful too. Of late, i've heard quite a few people suffering from this. I heard about the first one somewhere in the beginning of this year. Tears collected at the fringes of my eyes. Being the first one to hear about this, i found it difficult to break the news to my classmates. I had to do that, for we appreciated Mrs. V a lot.

We came across the other three within a short span of time. I am still shocked that such relatively young ladies are diseased. Though our relationship was a lecturer-student one, we bridged the gap easily. Classes were fun-filled, learning was made enjoyable.

The wrinkles on their face.. those few strands of hair where eyebrows, eyelashes stood.... the weak smiles... the wigs... the chemotherapy and radiotherapy sessions... Despite all this, they attend college on a daily basis and impart education to students. Their children, some of them being kindergarten/primary kids.

God save such wonderful women!

Inshallah!

There is more to things than what we assume it to consist of. Perhaps, our sense in this regard explains our narrow-minded thinking, or our ego.

At present, almost each and every person i come across, encourage me. To get me out of the knots that i think i'm tied up in. Mind you, it's not nice, feeling vulnerable. Lecturers from college, friends, M, her friends try to lift my spirits, whenever i speak to them.

Imagining... well, it takes different shapes. Some nasty ones, some appreciable images. But, then that isn't the way i would like to see myself. A bitter way of viewing my surroundings.

Then why do we proceed so? Conceiving not-so-pleasant ideas... I'd rather spend time on other things, than pondering about it. That's what i told M. I'd paint, write short pieces on prose, talk with a friend, than crib about what's happening around me. Positive thoughts. I realised this a few days back. And i'm happy i did.

All said and done, i'm not sure if i'll be able to abide by the new statements that i now regulate my mind with. I remind myself, every now and then. It makes sense as this notion is fresh. It may perhaps, lose significance as time proceeds.

Now that i've put my thoughts onto something hard, i'd better be guided in a likeable manner. Moreover, M and i have talked about this, she would expect me to a good job of opinion. People around me undergo the same, or must have passed through such a phase. Otherwise we wouldn't have those memorable instances of celebrations.

Anybody would want me to, including me.

That leaves me confused. A positive aspect is that i hope, inbetween troubled moments. I think i do hope. At times.

Inshallah!

a girl child-on her way to death

Most of us have this inkling that a boy baby be born to us. It is a generalisation, i agree. Perhaps, the trend is now changing, but in a very slow manner.

Being a woman myself, i've faced discrimination. On the road when i'm walking home, or by neighbours. And a woman is troubled at home because she gives birth to a girl. I've seen a situation, where the daughter-in-law was thankful that her second child was a son lest she be thrown out of her husband's house.

And now, somebody plans to legalise foetal gender selection. That's disturbing, to say the least.

Nature has its own ways of balancing. I saw a programme on alligators the other day. It featured the nesting habits of the same. Nature makes one alligator to maintain higher temperatures in the nest which brings out males from the hatched eggs. Another's nest has a lower temperature, wherein females alligators are born.

Mindblowing. Nature brings about the balance of the sexes in a very delicate manner, without the knowledge of individuls. If such is the case with alligators, a similar rule holds good with respect to human beings too.

Viewing from a broader perspective, the sex ratio of humans is counterbalanced. Quite precisely.

The present sex-ratio is not something that is to be smiled at. It is worsening day by day. Female foeticide is rampant. Apparently, statistics say that three million female infants will be killed in the coming few years. Trying to comprehend the number and the magnitude that it portrays will take me some time. Three million lives lost, down the drain simply because somebody does not want it.

And if a legislation is passed which allows gender-selection, the society is doomed. For sure. People will become more selfish. If not anything else. This happens when, India, Nature, the Ganga, the Cauvery are chacterized by feminity.

Female infanticide/foeticide is enhanced(for want of a better word) by the socio-cultural practises that we've established amongst us. This write-up throws more insight. Why and how, i don't know.

Where are we heading? Doomsday awaits us. To think about the repercussions is scary, to say the least.

And we call ourselves human... God save us!

Some interesting links:

http://www.indiatogether.org/2003/aug/wom-sexratio.htm

http://www.icmr.nic.in/ijmr/2007/april/0416.pdf

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sex-selective_abortion#Societal_effects_of_sex-selective_abortion

PS: I googled to search for some articles pertaining to this subject. Along with the above-mentioned sites, i found one which offered me 96% chances of bearing a baby boy with no ill-effects. One amongst hundreds. Maybe thousands even.

sanctity of the moment

She got down from the bus. It had been a long time since she'd visited the hill. Considered a part of a growing city. Tranported back a few years, she recounted the wonderful time spent at a hill-station in the north-east. Nine years have gone by me, she surmised.

They walked to the counter where one had to deposit footwear. After shaking their feet free, they neared the entrance of the temple.

The weather was perfect, clouds were within the limits of the hand, a low temperature which did make a few people shiver in their clothes. A variety lay before them. Colours-pinks, greens , blues, whites, yellows, reds... Textures-cottons, silks, polyesters, wool.... Amongst the various shades of brown that coloured different bodies and faces, indicative of their origin. Reasonably.

She accompanied five others to the temple. There was a line snaking in neatly arranged barricades. After a few minutes of discussion they decided to join the queue. Somebody told that the wait would not be a long one. Anyways there was a lot to be exchanged. Recipes... movies... the whereabouts of a lone cousin... future prospects... The group had come together after a distant period of time.

The wait began. The women looked back now and then. When the men joined the discussion, enriching the git-mit of the crowd. Some additions, some deletions, some clarifications, some specifications to the ongoing talk. She mentioned words occasionally. By and when she was jolted from her reverie, by the loud voices around her.

A mobile started ringing, a popular film track played on untill the call was recieved. 'Hello! How are you? I'm here.....' A bunch of college students chatted rapidly, answering and questioning at the same. An aged lady walked with footsteps laid carefully, supported by a walking stick.

She was asked, 'You must be enjoying the weather... right?' In reply, she nodded. Soft raindrops poured from the heavy sky intermittantly. Grey-blue clouds hid the sunshine. Walking barefoot she entered the temple-complex. The slabs of stone around her felt cold. Floating clouds hid the main tower, and the walls which limited the temple.

The temple was old, she was told. 'About 800 years or so.... Imagine how labourers transported huge blocks of stone. In the absence of motorized vehicles...' She listened further. Tourists never miss this place, she assumed. In accordance she saw a couple of white-skinned people emerge out. They had a bright red dot of vermillion on their forehead. Bright against a pale exterior.

While the others' prayed to the goddess, with heads bowed in submission, she observed the black idol studded with precious stones. The exuberance, the brilliance of the jewels struck her eyes. Sacredness ruled their facial expressions, as the devotees submitted themselves to the almighty. Drowning the incantations of the priests, muttered in a sing-song tenor.

She walked out of the temple proper through a side door. Adjoining shrines attracted quite a number of people. As she out of the complex, she climbed the three steps that lead to a platform. Wet waves of air currents hit her face. 'Aha! This is life', she celebrated.

Wandering in a meandering fashion, she noticed a pariah dog. An elderly man was feeding it with pieces of bread.

Upon hearing her name being called, she blended with those five people. Her soles were dirty. Muddy water clung to her skin. Strapping her footwear on, she strode to the bus-stop. Back to the mundane days ahead.

The sanctity of the moment played on her mind. The goddess had smiled on her. For once, she pushed thoughts which made her weak and vulnerable to the depths of her being.

I have a small blue book. My precious, where my friends' lines are preserved for me. It's been just a month since i finished my exams and i've already read it ten times or more. The reading experience makes me relive those wonderful moments spent in their company.

Amongst the various sentences written, many adjectives(nice ones) have been used. Describing me. I have the deep feeling that people actually mean what they've said. For S always tells me that i'm famous in class, for whoever the person i am, or for whatever the characters that i possess. I shrugged at it. Almost everytime.

Nowadays, i've started believing in S's statement. There have been times, when M and a few others wanted to hug me just for the fun of it, or when J told me that she'd missed me on the day when i had absented myself from classes. Or when V complains that i've not spoken to her that day. 'I' thanking me for being the motivator that i am.

A smile is present when i scan the pages which inform me of myself, my thoughts, my attitude towards whatever it may be. Invariably. These words surprise me. It gets me into thinking. Is this true, am i really not aware of myself and the 'qualities' that i hold?

This is what S tells me, time and again.

What makes one term another nice, good, wonderful, amazing....? I think, in the usage of these words, we tend to go beyond the literary meaning. Or is my reasoning wrong, as we recognise and appreciate these based on what they mean, and what we are supposed to make sense of it(literally)?

Perhaps, i'm digging at something flimsy. I don't know...

PS: Me and Myself. Totally!

working with oil medium

Medium: Oil paints on oil paper.

This is one of my works. Well, the shot could have been taken more prettily. I regret for having let father capture the picture. He's a quite a pro in photography, but i would have enjoyed clicking this one.

spotting sparrows

Of late, i've noticed sparrows in the area where i live. And i felt glad about it.

They had disappeared from the scene for quite a few years. It's not a good sign when one knows that your regular neighbours are given a run for their money. Especially, when speaking about the friendly sparrows/house sparrows(Passer domesticus). I was disappointed at not seeing them.

When i did see them last week, i was pleased. To quite an extent. Perhaps, it was a dream, thought i. One morning i woke up to bird calls. Dominated by the chirping of the sparrows. I felt blessed, truly.

B and i were taking a stroll in the neighbourhood, yesterday. Two sparrows were perched on an electric line. Typical of them. Clinging on a electric poles with the claws curved around them in perfect array. Brown-grey on the underside. Various shades of brown colouring the feathers on the dorsal surface. They are said to feed on insects and larvae.

Gone were the days when kids were shown the sparrows from a close distance. Shrill excited voices could be heard from an excited child. Sparrows in kannada are known as gubbachchi. Formerly, children were threatened that they would be carried away by the gubbachchi, if the former threw tantrums while doing anything... when being fed food, lulled to sleep, or when playing.

Tales used to be spun around these small birds. Imagination taking wings, with a gubbachchi king, queen and the little one who was naughty. The grand end appears where lessons are learnt by the young one, who transforms into a good being. Attached with morals, and happiness returning to the royal family, it served as an excellant bed-time story.

At home, shreads of chapathi, or morsels of rice were placed at a corner of a parapet, for the gubbachchi to come and feed. With sharp eyes, it's not difficult to spot the quick, up and down movements of the beaks, when they swallowed down some grains of boiled rice.

Though, it is long since the practise has been discontinued, observing a sparrow and it's nuances will always be an enjoyable pastime.

touring the north

Our family has been a part of three tours. I mean, long ones. I so hope, we undergo more of these. Futile thoughts...

Father and two enterprising friends planned things well. We three families have visited the north, north-east, and the western parts of India. Those were the days. At get-togethers, most of the time is spent in reliving those moments. Amazing ones.

When we look back in time, it surprises us. Amongst the various surprises thrown in, i realise that i'm grown up, and pretty old.

We visited the north in 1994(?).

Some memories:

We alighted at Agra. Two days and a night inbetween was spent journeying to the north from Bangalore. That was the first time i saw samosas' and jilebis' econsumed for breakfast. Ewwww! How can anybody eat those for breakfast? Moreover people ate them without cleansing their mouths. It made me gag, if nothing else. A first insight into the ways of north-indians, such as this, for a child is not so pleasant.

If i remember right, the first place that we saw was the Taj Mahal. Excitement ruled me, then. One of the seven wonders of the world.... mausoleaum in marble....this and that. The exteriors was maintained in a very shabby state. Red stains, chracteristic of pan decorated the outer side of the compound wall. I thought, 'Do we really have to see this place?' Thankfully, the area inside was comparably well-kept. I hope it is tidy these days.

We were to catch a connecting train to Delhi(?) fom Haridwar(?). While waiting at the railway station at Haridwar, PLG uncle, somebody else and me were watching a nearby cart. The vendor(not older than 25) was selling some mixture, with lots of boiled potatos. A number of people did buy from him. We were jobless. Uncle suggested we buy a plate of whatever-chat that was. The three of us shared it. I guess, i never took to it. We disposed the leaf in which it was served, along with plenty of chopped potatos.

Our first night at Delhi, and we dined at Dasaprakash. Were we glad to eat proper south-indian food?! Ordering full meals for everybody despite the age, we gobbled the puris', rice, sambhar, rasam... like we've never tasted south-indian fare before. Manna from heaven!

From Mussorie we planned to go to Dehradun. I was so adament to visit Dehra and the Garhwals. I wanted to roam on the streets used by Ruskin Bond. To visualise Dehra from Bond's angle is enchanting. Unfortunately we couldn't make it to Dehra due to some reason. It left me upset and disappointed. To a great extent. I still desire to holiday at Dehra. With a Bond in my hand.

One of father's close friends' had shifted to Lucknow. Thus, we headed towards Lucknow. We hired a vehicle. It looks like an auto, and can fit more than ten people. Try imagining an enlarged version of our auto, with more seats in an extended posterior. Gomti runs in the middle of the city, and it stinks!! The water was a dull grey, plastic material, rubbish flowing along with the water. We were shocked to see the Gomti in such a sad condition. One of the many examples of water-pollution. A very good one, indeed!

penning a letter...

Writing a letter is fun. It's a great way to pass time. For you'd have to think pretty hard to pen words for somebody close to you. In order to write matter worth a letter. I always keep this in mind when i start penning a letter. I can digress to a large extent, and i'm sure the recipient will not be pleased to read meandering lines.

I think i started writing letters when i was in primary(?) school. There was a 'friend' whom i'd met at a summer camp. I remember buying Re. 1 inland letters from a neighbouring shop. I must have scribbled some lines and posted it to with affection. It sounds very foolish when i think of it today. But isn't that the ways of childhood. All things, whether silly or not, appeared fantastic. Then.

N went to the US when i was in high school. That was when writing letters became a habit. We used to write to each other regularly. M and i used to wait eagerly for a reply. M and i used to put in our share of stories. At times, mother also wrote to N.

It gave way to exchanging greeting cards. Wishes for impending new years, birthdays, festivals flew back and forth between her and us.

Friends at school who did have cousins abroad, hardly wrote to them, apparently. I used to be proud of this practise of ours. How exciting it was to read from somebody who cared for you! To feel the dents on the smooth surface of paper, where the pressure of the hand is applied. To see a fat blot of ink at the end of a sentence. Perhaps, the pen was leaking.

To flatten out papers folded stiff. To cut open an envelope carefully with a pair of scissors, so that the letter is safe from any damage. To hear the crispness of starched white paper.

M had bought a colourful letter pad. Each page had a picture Alladin and the Magic Lamp at a corner(with the genie in it's characterisic blue hue). She, later bought a pack of envelopes with floral prints in shades of lavender and purple. I still have them with me. I finger them lovingly. Reminding myself that they are to be made use of.

Some letters never reached their respective destinations. Laziness prevented me from posting them. On reading them, i recall those movies, incidents, news that i'd seen, participated in, and so wanted to pass on to her.

We, then got a computer system at home. But, the ritual continued as it took time for the internet connecton to be installed. Some of those lavender envelopes were relevant. Most of them still remain enclosed within a thin sheet of plastic wrap.

I've persuaded myself to start writing again. I've been successful to some extent. The World Wide Web exists to make the process of e-mailing letters a very easy task. But, reliving the joy of putting thoughts onto paper, being gung-ho about an anticipated letter is oh so! wonderful.

feeling good

All of us possess the quality of goodness in us. It's disappointing that we don't realise it. Most of the times. We try to measure it on a scale which is limited. Why do we restrict ourselves from thinking about it? Or perhaps, even practising it.

Not that we don't practise it. At the same time, i think we can do more. Making a known face feel happy.

As mentioned before, we try to quantify it using avenues which are few in number. When we do spend on a second thought, it seems pretty shallow. All of us have been gifted with benevolence. I think, this quality and it's significance diminishes as time passes. It's disheartening.

Everything around us abounds with good-will. We don't take note of it. Do we allow it to fade? Is the decline imbibed in us without our knowledge? We fail to appreciate it even if it appears before us.

Feeling good, making others' feel nice, it all sounds so wonderful. The gracefullness can be observed and obtained from many entities. Be it, seeing a colour that's pleasant to the eyes'.... or a favourite shirt.... to hear from somebody whom we care for.... writing a short paragraph... etc.

It makes one feel glad and light-hearted.

going back in time

I enjoy every moment spent in B's company. I've learnt quite a lot in the process. The hide-and-seek that we play, or the pleasure that i obtain when i carry her in my arms.... those unforgettable moments.

My parents treasure her. At times, i feel that she recieves more love than what i get. They've seen many a child grow up, at close quarters. This is my first. Folks at home say that B and i resemble, to some extent. In our habits and characteristics.

At times, after having played with B the entire day, my parents go back in time. They start recalling events, incidents when we were small. Like the way my father used to give us rides on his shoulder... or the trauma that my mother underwent when M and i were sick.

Today, i place B on my shoulders' and tour the house. I visit a neighbouring shop with her, knowing that she'll be gifted with sweets. Perhaps, i used to be petted in the same fashion.
I prod my parents to tell more stories from the past, when M and i were young.

The story-telling will continue for some more years to come. As and when my parents are reminded of a little act that took place twenty(or more) years back. Reminded by a smilar act preformed by B before their eyes.

It's wonderful, to know of your childhood. To be told of all the innocent happiness, freshness, enthusiasm, wickedness that ruled our minds then.

I see a twinkle in my parents' eyes' everytime they go back in time. And the joy with which they guide B is immense.

Inshallah!

at karanji kere

An attempt at photography. These two were taken at Karanji Kere in Mysore. It's a beautiful place. All one can see into the far end is greenery and nothing else.

Karanji Kere has a variety to offer to tourists. It has a butterfly park, a small lake, and a small aviary. We couldn't visit the lake and the butterfly park due to lack of time. But the aviary is mind-blowing. I mean it. It is a small enclosure, which has mesh limiting it from all possible sides.

The fascinating bit is this: a path meanders inside the aviary. One comes in close contact with the birds. Real close; i almost touched the peacock.

Various species of pheasants are also maintained in addition to the peacock, the great indian hornbill(Buceros bicornis), wild hens, ducks and the likes. I was indeed lucky to picture the hornbill. Though the top portion appears to be chipped.

And need i say about the peacock. We got to witness it dance in the rain with it's tail feathers spread in a semi-circle. How majestic!

A slight drizzle to accentuate the enthusiasm. A water body close by amidst lush green surroundings. Aha!

git-mit on a journey

A: You know what? It hardly rained in Bangalore, while it lashed heavily day and night in this city.

B: And still, we have powercuts in Bangalore. For long hours.

C: Kumaraswamy is pretty ok as a cheif minister. I mean, he fares better than the previous CMs'. Sir, what do you say?

A mobile phone is ringing in the backdrop, the ringtone is a popular track... Some of them start nodding their head to the tune. C recieves the call.

C: Hello; tell me, what's the matter?

D: Yes, he is young and has a positive attitude towards things. But....

A: He still has to do a lot of good for the state if he isto appreciated. What he has done is very little....

E: Consider this, he has done something, atleast, something good. A coaliton government. God knows, how long it will last....

D: How many kids do you have?

E: I've two sons. One is six years old, and the other is 11.

D: Both of them go to the same school, is it?

E: Yes.

F: Educating children... it's so expensive. We paid very small amounts as fees.

A: Come on, the times have changed. People have money with them, they spend. What else can it be used for?

B: Youngsters today spend quite a lot. You know, malls and the works...

A: Malls are boring. One simply roams about the place, and if possible, feeds on some junk food.

F: Where do you stay?

C hangs the call.

C: Isn't the song nice? The movie is still running to full houses.

A: Yes. The songs are lovely.

D: They've struck gold. The producer is minting money....

Travelling in trains is eventful. We meet different people, hear different stories, opinion...

We tend to be open with strangers. Disclosing, probably, even dark secrets which we fear to share with our friends.

Do we itch to get started? Fortunately, i've journeyed with amicable people, those who talk with strangers. I belong to that category too.

It's interesting. To converse about various subjects. And we comfortably shift between topics. Quite easily, like we've known each other for some time. And most of this happens without us knowing the other person's name. The liberality behind this surprises me.

Ranging from behaviour of kids.... money... lifestyles.... education... products of a particular company.... the weather.... movies.... soaps.... stories about a far relative.... prospects.... aspirations... food... At the end of it, we talk about everything under the sun. Sharing knowledge, learning about something new..... what not!!