I am in the mode of re-discovering and discovering Bangalore. And has it been lovely!!

I mention discovering coz, the roads where I frequented earlier, like years ago, have changed and drastically too. Last week, I visited an outlet of K C Das, wanted to drink some tea there. Surprisingly, the outlet was empty when I walked in, which surprised me. That place used to buzz with life when I used to visit it regularly.

Yes, the tea was good, one of the best places to have tea, and snacks in that area. We used to eat their samosas and vegetable cutlets and sweets of course occasionally when growing up. One thing about the shop (it's simple), is it showcases some art, pretty much all the time when I've gone there. Maybe, that's another reason for me to like K C Das, it has come culture to it, you know.

Coming back to this visit, I decided to pick some sweets to take back home. When trying to choose, during the conversation between the person who was to pack for me and myself, that guy said that he recollects me visiting the shop years ago with my father.

I am skeptic about what the person told me, I mean how will anybody remember! But that was a surprise!

The cloudy weather here reminds me of Munich. A friend has come to Bangalore from Germany, while i am in Delhi. I was told by him that i am not even worth being lambasted by him. 

I don't want to do the 'Happy New Year' thing because, it's just another day for me. At the same time i realize it is 1st January, 2014. I wrote a different year on my notepad today, than what i used to write for the last couple of months. That's just another way of measuring time, isn't it?

On visiting Kolkota after about ten years, i wasn't happy with the city. There wasn't much improvement. I guess the city is not easy to manage, the buildings are darkened due to the heavy rains, the huge population is difficult to manage, the people who come to the city from the surrounding areas have no sufficient means of livelihood.

When i saw a few hand-drawn rickshaws, i was reminded of the film 'Do Bigha Zameen'. Sad. Very. Do see the film if you get an opportunity.

As time passes and as i see more of the world around me and try comprehending it, the one conclusion that i have reached is that bravery is required of us, irrespective of whether we like it or not or rather, if we prepare ourselves with it or not.

Moreover, being a woman and facing things requires much more of that courage. And many times, we are unable to do them because we are women. I don't know if i'm speaking pro-women. But i've felt this given some circumstances. It's so easy for a man at times.

I don't like this. I don't have the penchant to read much these days. Maybe, it's because i have other work to be taken care of.

Currently, i have a book on Urdu short stories which is quite good. And another of which i had heard good things about. Somehow, i can't pull myself to them anymore. Gone are the days when i used to read day in and day out. I don't know, maybe it's that other important activities are to be performed, whereas earlier, i was not required to do those.

I hope I'm going through a phase of time which will sound important to me after a couple of years even when I'm not enjoying it one tiny bit. Then, when i think about this time, i would want to assume that it happened because it had to. More significantly, because i had to learn something from i. And when thinking of it, i wouldn't want bitter or disappointing thoughts in my mind. That I feel, would have occurred for my good, for my well-being. Maybe I'd be comforted somehow. I don't know.

I so hope!

We all know how well-known Malgudi Days was, or rather is. I don't think i've watched the entire series, but i would like to. One of the greatest productions of our time. I'm immediately transported to that world on listening to soundtrack which played at the beginning and at the end of each episode. The ta na na na....

I wish that some channels would air it regularly, otherwise a huge population would miss out a legacy. Today's kids would enjoy it the way we did. Running behind Swami, listening to his grandmother's stories, and eating sweetmeats at Jagan's Stall.

It's been a little over five years since i started blogging here. Whenever i used to see others write that they have been blogging for some years, i used to picture myself in their shoes. Not that it is something very significant, but i created such images in my mind regularly.

When i read the posts that i have done, from the beginning, i'm surprised with the content that i have exhibited. Whatever made me write them, including the comments. Perhaps, a little childish, if i could say. Obviously that was then, and this is now. Five years is some period of time where attitudes change, perspectives change, thoughts are different, their levels are different. At least this is what i assume it to be. And, now, I know that i simply can't write in the same fashion that i used to.

I really hope that my recent posts don't sound preachy. The forthcoming ones too. And hope you stick around here for some more time.

It's no use comparing times. When one compares today with that which existed a few decades ago in terms of food, prices, culture, lifestyle, education, health care, nothing results from it except for bitterness. Each person thinks her/his times are the best. Maybe, would want to relive it, which is totally impossible.

I've noticed that elders complain of the shortcomings of our 'times' and everything associated with it. But, literally, there's nothing that one can do.

I remember having read 'God Sees the Truth, But Waits' by Leo Tolstoy (a good piece of fiction). I don't see the reason why but i'm being reminded of this story quite frequently since the past few days. And i've been wanting to write something on this, but i really couldn't figure out how. Well, here i am.

When i was speaking to a professor of mine last month, i wish i meant every word i spoke. But i was simply putting on a brave front. And i want to so mean it now. I want to sustain periods of dejection and emerge successful. Atleast i can prove myself that i can do it. And i think it's better to forget (i hope it does not sound very grand, you know what i mean) people and not drag unpleasant memories into lengths of time. And let go of it. Maybe by penning my thoughts, i'm able to do so. And start over something new. I think i'll read 'The Alchemist' again. It had impressed me when i first read it

And i know i'm lesser than a minuscule when compared to the entire providence. And i'm amazed and proud of the Japanese as i read and hear stories of their integrity. Wish i glean some of it!!

It must be about two years or so since A passed away (i'm not sure). He was a young man, we were shocked to hear the news. And disturbed, especially mother and father. A twenty-something boy meets with a freak accident and dies there. I guess I'll never forget that day. A van brought him to his house, on the bier, and the family wailing on sighting this. Gruesome.

I had never known that deaths could effect even a third person. Grandmother had died a little before that time, but we were expecting it. But, suddenly, when a neighbourhood boy tells you that a young person in his prime whom you've seen for some time is no more, you really feel helpless. Those scenes play in front of my eyes now and then. His family shifted their house of residence, but that changes little, doesn't it?

That same night, i contacted two friends. I was crazy then, but, i so wanted them to be safe from accidents from then on. One was hurt badly on the road once. I was scared for him and i felt better after speaking to him. When i mailed the other, he was amused at my act. Guess he never understood my fears.

One moment, and everything changes. If only A had been careful that day.

I have not lived in a rural setting for more than a couple of days. However my friends during my M.Sc. days in Mysore tried educating me on the ways of peasants and how village life is. This apart, i've been repeatedly told that people from villages migrate to towns and cities in search of money and bread. And labourers are hard to come by these days.

If this is the case, whatever will happen to our agricultural practices. Seriously, if everybody comes to universities, gain degrees and get 'educated' in a sense of the word, who will farm our lands, and do everything else connected to it?

If i'm not wrong, most of our small-scale and cottage industries are also suffering due to this trend (very sad, significant traditions are also lost this way). No wonder, the prices of Ikat sarees have almost doubled in a span of three/four years.

Of what i see and what i face now, i've come to conclude that adolescence is quite a difficult period in one's life. You don't know what to do exactly, and you are anxious how things may come about, all the while hoping that your dreams come true to some extent at least. At the end of which you'd have lost that hope and wish for any good sign fervently.

You are always thinking of a kinda brighter tomorrow, which is totally invisible. And you think of 'life' so as to say and how its treating you and all that. Maybe turn a little philosophical if that could bring some solace (i'm not sure).

The autowallahs in Bengalooru have changed. Quite drastically. They have the lost the appreciable touch of being friendly to commuters. Quite like the scene in Mysuru or Chennai.

Before i went to Mysuru i used to praise our autodrivers. They really never demanded extra unless it was after ten in the night and they never denied a commuter his journey to a particular place. It's the opposite these days. Not a nice feature, this. Guess this is part of urbanisation, and we'll have to simply accept it.

I saw Harishchandrachi Factory the other day, and was impressed. I had read reviews about it on a blog and wanted to see if i came upon it someday.

So on Sunday night, the three of us at home sat and watched the entire film. Frankly, I'm not good at writing impressive reviews. What i liked about it is the simplicity and the easiness with which the movie goes. The characters are well played, and they carry an air of lightness around them (an old-world feel, especially the background score). It's funny and down-to-earth, especially the role of Phalke. I guess, even kids could watch this and enjoy it.

It's a story of how Phalke brings filming to India against obstacles and how he creates a new sensation in India. Do watch it if you get a chance.

When i first read Anne Frank, i enjoyed it as a story. I want to read it again and marvel at the boldness and clarity in her writing.

On reading 'The City of Joy', i cried on mother's shoulders; on realising that there are a million things apart from my home. Mother was totally taken aback, and soothed me down. I don't think i'll forget that incident.

The first thought that struck me when i entered the city of Kolkotha was that of abject poverty. I don't know the condition of the city now.

After having watched a little of the closing ceremony of the Delhi Commonwealth 2010(which was a mish-mash of hindi songs), i wondered as to why Commonwealth Games is being organized even to this day.

There is little in common between the nations part of the Commonwealth except the fact that they were ruled by the British Empire years ago. Is this a bonding factor? Not in my view. Other than a sporting event which occurs once in four years, nothing else links these countries. Each is on it's own track, with very little of the colonial rule shadowing it's future or even it's present for that matter.

Considering this, what is the point in celebrating the Commonwealth? I don't know.

When one observes Indian literature that was written somewhere around the time of Independence (Pre-Independence era according to what i know), proper nouns are spelled in quite a few ways (names of people and places). Of course, the ones i've read are those which were translated into English.

Perhaps, then, each region had a particular pronunciation for a specific word and the same pronunciation has been used to spell the word in English. I also think that, maybe, the localisation of a language in a geographical area could have given rise to this. These days, i don't assume there'd be much difference between two different lets say towns.

Having studied in Christian institutions for fifteen straight years, i never got to celebrate any Hindu festivals with classmates and faculty as such. But, Mysuru was different. We celebrated Ganesh Chaturthi, Ayudha Puja, Saraswati Puja (to name a few) readily at our Department. This was very new to me. Celebrations at home are pretty low key as well.

Nevertheless, i started enjoying them. The teamwork that we put in, well i should say, it was remarkable. We came to know our class better.

I've got a stock of pens and pencils. Some of which do write while others don't. I don't know why i cling to them. Some sentiment perhaps. I really don't know why i cling to them (maybe i don't, i can label this attitude of mine as simple ignorance). I always think of clearing them up, but think ahead of the times when they'll serve me (which hardly comes by). Hence, i retain almost all. I can see pens from my under-graduation days. And there's a certain storage area(read dumping area) where i store them. My mum reminds me to discard them often, but i refuse. I'm extremely lazy in this context.

However, there's one advantage, i find one almost everywhere, i don't have to carry one with me all around. But, i do wish to turn around.