those hands

Her hand looked beautiful. Those fingers seemed perfect. Tiny and pink, with creases to mark the area where the skin folded over. Each finger appeared so full of blood. Short and plump. The nails were quite hard, considering her age. In total contrast with the pliant nature of the surrounding flesh. Those projections composed of dead cells were pretty long too. When they jammed against the skin, one could feel a slight sensation. Minute entities, and yet they can be sensed.

The fingers were held in a tight fist. What gave them that fierce power. Perhaps, it is the natural position of each finger....Does anybody know?

She was wrapped tightly in light airy cotton material. To maintain the warmth that was entitled to. Hadn't she spent a long period of time in her mother's womb? The hands and legs were placed properly before wrapping her up. There was absolutely no opportunity for her to move those fingers by a centimeter, leave alone fidgeting.

Maybe a pair of hands can bring good luck. It brings in happiness, of course! When growing begins and endues. A long time, for the baby is just a few days old.

biology, yes!

People stare at me, very strangely at times, when i tell them that i love biology. I do acknowledge that it is definately not the trend these days. But i guess adore the subject. To such a extent that i simply can't picture myself not studying biology. Call me a black sheep if you want.

The factor with which i make myself happy is that biology helsp me understand me. The processes which go wrong when i'm ill, the cause due to which unhealthy disasters strike somebody.... Perhaps, it comforts one, you know, you know the reason, perhaps, one can correct it, or it cannot be rectified. On the other hand, it is not pleasant, becauseone know the biology behind a certain sickness. Believe me, it can be very painful, when one comes to the terms of it.

customised traditions

Our customs, traditions are linked to our religion, gods/goddesses to a very large extent. To such an extent that we cannot fathom any ceremony(the simplest) without the involvement of either a portrait or an idol of a god/goddess.

It's strange, isn't it? Your lifestyle is termed by the conditions provided by your religion. I out rightly refute this statement. Or should i say refuted, a thing of the past. I'm expected to put a dot on my forehead, since i follow Hinduism. More so, as my religion allows it. Whether a mark on one's forehead supplements an imaginary third eye is secondary.

Traditions keep changing. It's a thing of the past. If one starts performing a particular act, who knows, it might be regarded a custom, say, two hundred years down the line. Who knows?! Keeping this in mind, it's not obligatory on my part to follow a specific rite.

When we consider history, all major activities mainly took place within the precincts of a temple, or more precisely, in the presence of a God. That was then. Can we depart from this relation? On the other hand, don't we have the liberty to do this, since we are bound by our religion and it's ways?

A believer cannot be a non-traditionalist. Or can she/he digress on the latter half of the previous sentence. All of us are aware of this, to start new in the name of religion, initially is blatantly repelled. A non-traditionalist is a non-believer, without a second thought.

coloured illumination

The road always appeared dark and eerie. A typical after-ten-in-the-night look. Very few vehicles can be heard. In addition, a countable number of people are to be observed. People and vehicles of different and varied genres. A quintessential scene of the night.

Today is different. Quite so. The sides of the street has been decked with dominant yellow and sublime orange lights. Strings of them runs throughout the length of the road on both sides. Moreover each house on the same line has it's front verandah lit by these same shades of colour. With reds and greens peeping in between, trying to impress the eye.

Garish and loud, they force that wonder called vision to descry them. Of course, they appear only once in a year. To mark the festival of Ganesha.

When small, we cousins used to finger these tiny glass bulbs enclosed in coloured plastic cases. Despite warnings from elders. We used to pride ourselves in doing so. Irrespective of the small flicker of fear which arose in our hearts, when the contact was made. Obviously that flicker grew into a flame as time passed, when the cousin wanted to test us.

Who knows how many streets are bright today and tomorrow? Many. And who knows where those lights meet ink-blue darkness today. They never would, at least for tonight.

Happy Ganesh Chaturthi!!

Looking at the starlets these days in Kannada filmdom, it's definately okay when one crings at the sight of them. Really.

Can these people give us a break, from their childish looks and pathetic acting. Come on, anyone can run inbetween trees or walk on the seashore with the frothy waves running to wet your feet.
Moreover the worst of vjs'(if one could call them that) assume that they can elicit a film from a bunch of disconnected songs/scenes.

Where are Kannada films proceeding? And we don't want a single person being the lyricist, the musician, the playwright, the producer, the director and what not. I'm obviously not expecting something fantastic, but something watchable can be made.