tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43089773046846088472024-03-06T07:45:38.480+05:30CHIJU SPEAKSBlogging.. even in 2020Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-35386030746378551472020-05-11T04:45:00.001+05:302020-05-11T04:48:55.587+05:30Boggart in the closet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm a big fan of the Harry Potter series. The plots are full of wonderful sub-plots that serve not only as entertainment, but also as important life lessons. I know that sounds a bit much. But, bear with me as I explain.<br />
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One of the most powerful scenes for me is the Boggart lesson by Professor Lupin. This is from the third book - Prisoner of Azkaban. The scene in the book is terrific but in order to not drive you away from this post, I'm going to settle to show you the scene from the movie which doesn't stand up to the one in the book - but let's make do with it.<br />
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What a wonderful way to describe overcoming your fears. Here's an imaginary creature called a Boggart. It's shapeless and will take the shape of what that frightens you most. As Hermoine says and Lupin completes it - "<i>... that's what makes it terrifying</i>". How can one overcome it? That comes in not one, but two parts - think of turning that you fear in to something hilarious, while uttering the spell - <i>riddikulus</i> which is euphemism for ridiculing the fear itself. I just love the part where Ron imagines the giant spider in roller skates. In a way his fear keeps coming at him, but slips away each time. What a wonderful thought!<br />
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I guess life as we know it is a closet full of these figurative Boggarts. When we open a door, we never know, or in some cases we know for certain what will unleash upon us. It definitely used to be like that for me - while I was growing up. I was a terrified child. The mildest change to the environment would make me uncomfortable to say the least. Something as simple as a dripping pipe, especially at night when everything else is silent.. just that <i>klunk, klunk, klunk</i> would send shivers up my spine. A dripping pipe can be very irritating - yes, but terrifying? I would end up waking my mom up in the middle of the night to try and get it to stop. The fear is basically about whether it would stop or not.<br />
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A daily object of terror used to be the ceiling fan - such a jitters maker. I'd stay awake at the thought of whether the fan would stop rotating when switched off. There were nights when I used to switch off and switch on the fan for a couple of cycles to ensure it will stop and only then I'll climb on to bed. It was my own version of monsters under the bed. Even as an adult, when not in the best frame of mind, it was a botheration. When I moved to the US, I loved that ceiling fans were not a common concept. In March 2015 I moved to an apartment that had a ceiling fan in the dining area. On the day I moved in, I pulled the chain that turned the fan off. I lived in that apartment until Feb 2017 - didn't turn it on once. When I go to India for vacations, it still takes me a couple of days to get used to it.<br />
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I hated crowds, loud noises and the darkness. So, imagine me in a movie theater. I have literally screamed my way through some movies in the theater throughout my childhood. And no, my mom never took me to a horror movie. If the protagonist is hanging by a rope, if there's any sort of nail biting ends to movies, my face would be buried in my mother's lap and I'd be weeping and screaming through it. Events that happened in the evenings with a large crowd was a no-no. I'd be super excited to get to a concert or a show that we went to, but within the hour, I'd be bugging my parents to take me home - either the noise or the crowd would have gotten to me.<br />
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If nights were the cherry, late evenings were the icing. Once it started to get dark outside, I'd begin to worry even if I was sitting inside the house with all the lights on. I needed distractions - like TV or something to do (except homework or studies). I hated the nights. There were too many occasions where I have jumped out of bed, ran to my parents' bedroom and crawled up next to them - my mom mostly. At that time, when I was 9 or 10, I wouldn't have imagined living alone in the future, let only moving outside the country and staying alone.<br />
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My mom was the key. She used to say the most 'ridiculous' things to keep me going. She was best known to distract me from that I feared either by having me run an errand or ask me a question that would keep me occupied for a bit. Once I was in the dentist's office, on the chair and the dentist was about to pluck a milk tooth that was stubbornly lodged in there. I was so terrified and pale - almost about to cry and the dentist looked at me and said - "<i>Are you a strong boy?</i>". I shamelessly nodded in the negative. He laughed and stuck the pointy end of whatever instrument in to my mouth anyways. My mother immediately said - "<i>Of course he's a strong boy. He's going to watch this movie today. It's such a scary movie and he's brave enough to watch it</i>". Without a doubt, I screamed through both the procedure and the movie!<br />
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I haven't enjoyed most of the things that children that age used to enjoy. Never sat on a swing or a merry-go-around in my school. If possible, I have avoided looking at others enjoying it as well. Sometimes when I saw my classmates play on those, I used to have mild anxiety attacks - never knew they were anxiety attacks until a few years ago when I read the description in an article and found they used to be oddly similar.<br />
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"<i>Why am I so scared of everything, ma?</i>", I used to ask. My mom would just smile at me and say - "<i>Nothing like that. Everyone are scared - they're just not brave enough to accept it". </i>Sometimes she would say "<i>When I was pregnant with you we had construction going on in the house and you were inside listening to those sounds intently. So, you're just a lot alert than most people</i>". She used to play the odd gimmick once in a while to see how I handled it - like having me go to a room in the other corner of the house to pick up something and when I did, she'd say - "..<i>there you go, if you can do that you're not scared". </i><br />
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I never thought forward - of course I was just a child. But, I wasn't bothered much because I always found my spell and charm of solace with my mom. She understood.<br />
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And then came that day - a day I never imagined until then. When I was 15, my mom passed away from a sudden illness. It happened so fast and in a few hours that it was all a haze. It was a horrible day, needless to say. But, within this context, for me it was the first night after she passed that I remember so vividly. It was dark and the night was closing in. I was sitting there surrounded by my dad, sister, cousins and a bunch of relatives. I definitely was way better than a few years before, but the scariest thought was that only my mom knew most of these fears that I had. If the kitchen tap started dripping and that flipped me out, I couldn't think of where I would start to explain to anyone else what was going on. A 15 year old boy frightened of a dripping sink pipe? Everyone around me mostly knew me as a playful and super naughty kid. Yes, they have seen me scream my throats out when we went out for a movie together or at a family wedding or event where we had a performance and it was loud, but that was years ago.<br />
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I don't remember how, but I unintentionally hid the scary tears behind the '<i>I just lost my mom</i>' tears for a few days or at least it was perceived so. I started taking one day at a time, mostly finding excuses to be around people as much as possible. I opened up a little (the most I have with anyone) to my sister who played a key role in helping me through those days. She is my superstar - imagine being 19, losing your mom, supporting the house financially and taking care of me. Some days were easy, some were super difficult. I didn't have a choice. It was the cruelest version of <i>necessity becoming the 'mother' of invention</i>. I started putting a lot of focus and time on my studies. I found a few friends who were around me for the next couple of years until I finished school. For someone who couldn't sleep easily with family at home, I surprised myself by spending some nights at my friends' house to study for an upcoming test or just to watch a movie. Progress was slow - but it was progress.<br />
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Cut it to two years further, my sister was off to another city for work and my dad decided to move with her for a year to take a break from work and take care of his health. For a semester in college, I stayed in my uncle's house where my room was in the attic and the rest of them stayed downstairs. For a whole semester after that, I was living alone in a hostel in the city where I had a small room for myself. There were nights where I'd just lay awake till dawn - one thought after the other, crossing and overtaking each other. I'd be out like a baby in the college bus next day amidst the secure feeling of people around me. Once my dad came back to the city, we lived in an apartment and I started living alone there for extended periods of time when he was outside the country for business. This is the phase where I gradually shed my fears and started living with myself in peace. This is also the time when I had a few college buddies to whom I owe a lot for putting up with me and staying around when needed. Of course I haven't mentioned a word of all this to them - some of them may find it out only through this post - if they read it of course.<br />
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I started discovering a lot of techniques against these pet peeves. Not that one standard way worked all the time. During my first year of college, I found a unique passion for Engineering Physics - especially when I found it difficult to sleep in the night, I'd switch on the light and start reading the course book. I'd be out in no time with the book on my face. During the course of my college, this was replaced by Digital Signal Processing and then Astrophysics, which was an elective that I picked. The only thing I took away from Astrophysics was the book, which I retained until the time I moved out of India. I'm a Computer science engineer and I have used my Astrophysics book more than any of the relevant courses to my work. I have never gone past page 1. Whenever I finished page 1, it meant reading the book didn't work, I'd try and listen to music on my Jukebox or phone - this is the 2006 version of watching endless YouTube videos (which is what I do now when I can't sleep).<br />
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Most of all, I used the phone-a-friend option all the time. I had a bunch of insomniac classmates who were always ready for a chat without any reason. Sometimes I'd call them at 10 PM and we'd talk until 3 AM or so without any subject. I don't know how many times they found me annoyingly unwilling to hang up, but until date they probably didn't know that I was distracting myself from pet peeves. I have no shame in accepting that I was just using them.<br />
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This was also the time that I was introduced to the Harry Potter books through my college classmate and good friend. I used to think the concepts of magic and Harry Potter were nothing but crap. But, he kept talking them up and finally dragged me with him to the 'Goblet of Fire' movie. When I told him I liked the movie, he silently handed me the second book - 'Chamber of Secrets'. He told me that it should be good enough and that I shouldn't read the first book until I finished all 6 books (the 7th book was yet to come out). The books had a great impact on me. I don't want to claim that it helped me outgrow a lot of my fears completely. But, it was a good distraction for a year or so when I locked up a few of them and threw away the key.<br />
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When the 7th book 'Deathly Hallows' came out, my dad was in the middle east for a business trip and I was staying alone at home. I woke up on the saturday morning (July 21st) went to bookstore to collect my pre-order copy, came back home with some essentials for the next two days and went in to a lock down by myself to read it in peace. Other than the fact that the next day's Hindu paper put in the headline that read 'The Boy survives' and ruined the suspense for me, I spent the two days with myself and the world of Harry Potter to soak it all in. Yes, I was 20 and many of you may not think of it as an impressive feat. But, for me who was trembling at the thought of a dripping kitchen sink and a ceiling fan on it's way to rest, it was a big deal.<br />
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It's been 13 years since then and I have traveled across the world by myself for a considerable amount of time powering through, laughing and smiling when it was most difficult and scary, finding new company when needed, retaining good company with me always, shedding negative company when it got too much, dealing with success, failures and heart breaks and met the love of my life on the way. Remember the kid that buried himself in his mother's lap and screamed through movies. Now, his major source of time pass is to watch movies in the theater. I can't keep count of the number of movies I watched in the theater year after year and that's the topmost thing I miss most in this lock down.<br />
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Even now there are rare and occasional moments and changes in the surroundings that render me a little jittery for a few minutes. Yes, the frequency has gone down a lot. I have reused all the techniques and added a bunch of them to the kitty as well. I'm not sure if they will ever completely go away or if it will get worse as I grow old. But, I know I can live through it. I know I can look at the face of my fears and ridicule it, and I can do it without a wand and a spell.<br />
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<i>PS: This was not intended as a Mother's day post. Started writing this a while back and it was just coincidence that I finished it today. Hence, this last paragraph. </i><br />
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I'm at the cusp of turning 33 and when I look back, I have grown up to be an entire adult without the one and only person who knew and will knew everything about me and my fears. Sometimes when I float away in thoughts about the day she passed, I can't wonder what would have been going on in her mind right at those moments when she knew this was it. I know one thing for sure - she would have worried about how I was going to manage without her. I don't know if I have managed well or not, but I know she would be proud that I tried and am still trying!<br />
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Happy Mother's day everyone!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga4dTVJTulywl8uRN3bbmBVLnWF1Mt0QOwvmkwjAUcGMKWJUPnAscO2VkRLVRTd5ZLARO-BkFsJ5vnlbmNrnQdobeNlCbnw87QC7DiMCl8DXzSaubZRZMld4gSgqc7_xE3yp-bfImR7S8/s1600/WhatsApp+Image+2020-05-10+at+1.57.28+AM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="985" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga4dTVJTulywl8uRN3bbmBVLnWF1Mt0QOwvmkwjAUcGMKWJUPnAscO2VkRLVRTd5ZLARO-BkFsJ5vnlbmNrnQdobeNlCbnw87QC7DiMCl8DXzSaubZRZMld4gSgqc7_xE3yp-bfImR7S8/s320/WhatsApp+Image+2020-05-10+at+1.57.28+AM.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my mom when I was 14 - July 2001</td></tr>
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Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-62906112962737274292016-07-06T15:16:00.000+05:302016-07-06T15:16:53.279+05:30Veritas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The whole of social media has been boiling over the murder of Chennai techie Swathi, who was hacked to death last week by a criminal. I've consciously not named the killer as I feel he doesn't need anymore publicity than the media has been giving him at the cost of emotional torture for Swathi's family. The criminal has been arrested and I believe in the judicial system to serve him right even though I have fair enough <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/may/05/indias-long-wait-for-justice-27-million-court-cases-trapped-in-a-legal-logjam">reasons</a> not to.</div>
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As I've been reading the numerous articles and posts all over the internet, I've been coming back to a pattern. There has been anger and support from the social media elite each time something like this happened which is a good thing. A young lady murdered in daylight in one of the highest traffic local railway stations in such a manner is definitely a busy day at work for these social media revolutionaries. </div>
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One person has poured her <a href="http://scroll.in/article/810873/murder-in-nungambakkam-a-computer-engineers-killing-forces-chennai-to-confront-its-big-city-fears">anguish </a>in a vivid descriptive with it's share of classic stereotypes. Her claim is that the on lookers didn't help Swathi while she was bleeding to death. But, I don't think that's her real problem. She worries that no one dared to touch the body of a Brahmin girl. While she seems to be a very talented writer with a knack for vivid imagery (<i>I give her that</i>) I find it obscene that she thought this was about caste. How many people would have seen a young lady lying in a pool of blood and seen that as a body of a Brahmin? Amidst all the things that could've popped up in her head, she thought this was about caste. All that the article does is reflect on the author's mentality and obsession with caste. The funny part is that if this had happened to Dalit there would've been a similar article by a caste obsessed author who'd have claimed the same thing from the perspective of a Dalit. Not everything is about caste and we'd be wasting our time if we spent further time entertaining these nut jobs.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">As a budding engineer who earned her place in the sun through hard work and determination Swathi was also in some ways the archetype of the modern South Indian woman who could be both traditional and modern. She wore a salwar kameez, sported a simple bindi, not necessarily the more elaborate caste marks. </span></i> </blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">What the papers do not underline, though the vox populi does, is that she was the epitome of a Brahmin girl, born to succeed. Even as she lay dying, no one dared to touch the body of a Brahmin girl.</span></i></blockquote>
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Another regional article says how this is Swathi's fault (<i>of course</i>) because she carelessly ignored the guy stalking her for a couple of weeks. A few even accused her of having enjoyed the stalking (<i>yes, that's what the movies tell you, and yes the movies are everything</i>). How convenient!! I couldn't but wonder how Swathi would've gone about this, if she had decided to report it. She would've definitely taken it up with her parents. I just can't picture a middle class (<i>caste-no-bar</i>) girl walking in to a Chennai police station by herself to report a stalking incident. I'm not saying she shouldn't do it. She should've been able to, but wouldn't have. Her father wouldn't have been that cool movie dad who would've stood by his daughter. The first thing he would've done is to accuse her of the responsibility for someone stalking her. I can go on, but, I'm sure the rest is a known tale of the middle class status versus the right thing to do. It would have been a much better use of the author's time if he/she could've at least mentioned what's the process of reporting such incidents to the cops to educate and encourage people in the future. Yes, it would've. Unfortunately, it wouldn't sell or garner more webpage visits. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>இதை சுவாதி தன்னுடைய நெருங்கிய தோழியிடம் சொல்லியுள்ளார். அப்போது அவர்கள் போலீஸிடம் தகவலை சொல்லிவிடலாம் என்று சொன்ன போது அதை பெரிதாக சுவாதி எடுத்துக் கொள்ளவில்லை. அதுவே அவரது உயிரை காவு வாங்கி இருக்கிறது. சுவாதி முன்எச்சரிக்கையாக செயல்பட்டு இருந்தால் இந்த கொலை சம்பவமே நடந்திருக்க வாய்ப்பில்லை.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Translation: </b></span><i style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">She recounted this (the stalking and subsequent including an assault) to her close friend who advised her to report it to the cops but Swathi didn't take it seriously. That was the sole reason for her untimely death. If she had been careful and acted with caution, there is no chance for this murder to have happened.</span></i></blockquote>
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I read an <a href="http://www.thenewsminute.com/article/glorifying-stalking-and-violence-when-will-kollywood-end-kolaveri-45845">article</a> about how movies are totally inspiring these criminals to stalk girls. The author has recalled a series of scenes and stories from Tamil movies to support her claim that movies are glorifying stalking. While I agree that she's absolutely right about the claim, the genre in discussion has been in existence forever and it doesn't feel right to have enjoyed all these movies at the time, called them (at least some of them) epic romantic stories and now claim that they are endorsing stalking. Ladies having a thing for the bad guy has become a regular theme in movies. Let's face the fact that we're responsible for making these films hits, thus encouraging more creators to fall back to such distasteful writing. Having said that, India is in dire need of decoupling movies and lifestyle choices. These are just movies. They are just actors. It's just entertainment. But, no. Let's all blame it on the movies, ban filmmakers, walk happily arm in arm and ever after in to the sunset. The End.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">In a society where there are so many rules for falling in love (No.1 being that you don’t), it is not surprising that our ideas about love are so warped. Good girls and good boys don’t talk to each other. They are strictly heterosexual and marry the person of their parents’ choice, carefully selected after matching caste, class, education, complexion, height, salary, and horoscope. In the movies, romance is the selective disruption of these factors. The hero is an aspirational figure, the go-getter who overcomes any number of obstacles to ‘win’ the girl. And many a time, the obstacle on his path is the girl herself who calls him a ‘porukki’ or tells him in no uncertain terms not to follow her around. By the end of the movie, however, all her nays magically turn into a coy yes and everyone goes home happy. True love has won, consent be damned.</span></i></blockquote>
As Baradwaj Rangan has <a href="http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/op-ed/baradwaj-rangan-on-chennai-techie-murder-and-movies/article8812259.ece">written</a> in his usual matter of fact manner supported by data, movies seem to be a soft target for any and every inconvenience.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>We need to seriously and rigorously study the impact of cinema on society. (Quizzing Ramkumar about the films he likes, the heroes he worships may not be a bad start, even if this isn’t technically a “study.”) We need to study why so many people remain impervious to the good things cinema says — vote wisely; abolish the caste system; don’t do drugs — and take home only messages like “smoking is cool” and “girls who say no are really saying yes.”</i></span></blockquote>
Some articles talk about how ridiculous it is to not have any CCTV cameras installed in a very crowded and high traffic local railway station. By far, that's the only relevant article I've read in the past week about this incident. It addresses a way forward to help in someway. I'm sure there are more speculations, accusations and so on.</div>
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Do you think anybody who wrote their piece (<i>including the one you're reading now</i>) genuinely cared about Swathi? It's human nature that they didn't, at least not as much as they cared about all the issues they have written about. Let's say that everyone embraced Brahmins and Dalits, people stopped making crap movies, all the girls behave responsibly by reporting stalkers, they also cover themselves from hair to toenail and the government installs gazillion CCTV cameras across the universe. The guy with a mind to kill will find another way and another reason to kill her or someone else. </div>
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I was talking to a colleague about this a couple of days ago. The first words he mentioned about this topic started with, "<i>These girls are playing hard to get with guys ('pinaala sutha vudaradhu' in Tamil) and they enjoy that</i>". I stopped him right there. Let's assume that Swathi played 'hard to get. Let's assume that she enjoyed the stalking. Let's find every angle in the book and blame her of every wrong that she could've done in this case. Does that justify violence against her? Does that justify murder?<br />
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The suspect in Swathi's case has been arrested, but his case is going to be buried along with millions of pending cases including the useless ones like MS Dhoni being accused of harming the sentiments of Hindus because a magazine put a picture of him disguised as a Hindu God and one of the objects in his hand was a Reebok shoe. The court will not throw this case out in a heartbeat but will hear Swathi's murder case for 25 years. We don't have time to talk about this, but yes, we will call upon the mysterious case of Swathi being a Brahmin.</div>
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Few years back, someone filed a <a href="http://www.behindwoods.com/features/News/News37/11-11-05e/tamil-movies-news-sivakasi.html">case</a> against a movie claiming that the movie disrespects lawyers because there was a lawyer in the movie at the receiving end of a joke (<i>yes, one joke</i>). However, the same movie had scenes where the hero <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dnSvHfeFIbQ">professes his love to the girl</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dnSvHfeFIbQ">talks about the way she dresses</a> in public in the most distasteful manner possible. We cared about neither of the above back then. Why? Because Facebook wasn't so much of a thing in 2005. Today, we can say what we want. So, we will say what we want. </div>
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I see a clear pattern with all these articles and arguments. We need something or someone to blame, close the chapter and move on. Caste, male chauvinism, feminism, movies, fashion sense, government, security lapses and so on. We'll blame everything. We need to write that category and stick that note on it. It's because of this. It's because of that. If this had been. If this hadn't been. We never run out of conjuring excuses and reasons, do we?<br />
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Not one person is responsible for his actions. A movie is responsible for his actions. A girl is responsible for his actions. A caste is responsible for his actions. But, he is not. When there's one more murder, one more rape, one more victim and one more chance, the social media elite will rise to the occasion to speculate, crowd source the motive, tarnish the victim, devise statements for the defense lawyer of the accused and claim to have discharged their social media civic responsibility of voicing their anger.<br />
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This habit of not taking responsibility for our actions is rooted in our day to day. It has become a part of our lives. Everything happens around us. We don't take responsibility for anything we do. We neither care about the problem nor the solution as much as we care to blame someone.</div>
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One human killed another. No matter what movies the killer watched, no matter what's the caste of the victim, no matter what dress the victim wore, no matter if someone else told the killer to kill, it comes down to this. A killer killed the victim. The killer had a choice, a very simple one, to kill or not to kill. The killer made his choice. The killer killed the victim. Let the killer face justice. Let the killer serve time. Maybe, the killer will reform, maybe the killer will come back and do the same thing only to face justice again. But, let the killer take full responsibility for the deed. Let us hold the killer accountable for this. Not the movies, not the caste, not the onlookers, not the government, not the society and definitely not the victim. Let's hold the killer accountable for this. The killer is responsible for this. The killer did this. The killer did this!</div>
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Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-58204712247513661982015-12-30T02:57:00.000+05:302015-12-30T02:58:26.213+05:302015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't completely understand the concept of the social media (<i>read as Facebook</i>) year in review. My definition of Facebook is a forum to post/share stuff in a whim when you're in that sweet spot between excitement and sugar rush or frustration and ferocity or doubt and totally clueless. Our daily life demands a lot of our intelligence, clarity in thought and patience, makes us very tired and has a lot of reality in it, at least my life does. Looking at a bunch of funny lines, places checked in, profile/cover photos changed every three or so months and meaningless hashtags shouldn't be the year in review exactly. If those are the only things that made my year, Man! I'm living a pathetic life.<br />
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The last time I wrote year end posts were in <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2009/12/from-2008-to-2009.html">2009</a> and <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2010/12/from-2010-to-2011-final-day.html">2010</a>. I read those before I started writing this one and realized how tacky they are. The 2009 post was tackier than the 2010. That says something, isn't it? No matter what I had or wanted to say, I was writing regularly back then. Yes, it was a simpler "<i>empty vessels make more noise</i>" time. Today, when I read those posts, I can't but wonder how different life is. The definition of what is important and what makes me happy/sad/angry etc is completely obsolete now. The people in my day-to-day, the people who read my blogs and the priorities of who have all changed. It's definitely embarrassing to think about the person I used to be, but there are no regrets.<br />
<br />
Given a choice, I'd pick the lifestyle of 2010 at the blink of an eye. Yes, I was naive, I was a tacky blogger, I was blurting out stuff on Facebook, I had no direction in life (<i>please don't ask me what's my direction now</i>), but I remember being happier, I remember having more fun. My life was definitely more eventful and I definitely had more people around me. I can think of 5 different people who would read this and tell me to "<i>get married soon</i>". But, that's not at all what I'm talking about. That nearly perfect gang or a like minded, <i>non-busy</i> friend/sibling/cousin to whom you can fallback at all situations can never be replaced by a marriage. I'm neither complaining nor blaming anyone for moving on. Unfortunately, I'm mature enough to understand that everything has a time and place and people have no other choice than to move on and that's the right thing to do as well. Enough said about why I'd rather pick 2010.<br />
<br />
This year has been a different kind of mixed bag. I can fill about 1000 pages of cliche to talk about 2015. The most important aspect of this year is that I have learned to live with myself. Couple of years ago, a very wise soul mentioned to me that learning to live with oneself is the first step in learning to live with others. It did not hit me then, but, over time I realized that half of the problems we have with other people are actually problems we have with ourselves. So, my main motto (<i>I like this word better than resolution</i>) at the beginning of the year was to fall in love with myself. I wouldn't claim that I'm fully there yet, but, I can feel that I'm somewhere on the way.<br />
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<b>Materially speaking - </b>For the first time in life, I'm a <i>car owner (February) and home owner (in India - July)</i>. These were definitely the best things in the material side of life. An annoyingly practical way to look at it is that I'm in more debt compared to 2014 (<i>when I was in zero debt</i>).<br />
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<b>The good son of Vegas -</b> I took my dad to Las Vegas. My dad has traveled a lot during his youth, but being the one to take him to Vegas meant a lot to me. Just to top off that feeling of growing up.<br />
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<b>The uncle becomes the uncle -</b> On April 12th, my sister gave birth to Diya, her second daughter. Unlike when Diksha (<i>Diya's elder sister</i>) was born, I haven't been able to see Diya in person yet. That's definitely a regret for 2015. Coming soon, hopefully.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bU0Gu0n_6upC4kEuhkM1UD9oaSwSSkVEy1XyUIeCjt4ovAbIkhuXQRUIcG1OV6nvujAviBmQA5pG5Qw0HI8ePhzZcYnmDUuLwFtd1IystSDkzJxxXd6nOQjXp6vY5Hs2De2Aw1xyTZw/s1600/IMG-20150914-WA0011.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bU0Gu0n_6upC4kEuhkM1UD9oaSwSSkVEy1XyUIeCjt4ovAbIkhuXQRUIcG1OV6nvujAviBmQA5pG5Qw0HI8ePhzZcYnmDUuLwFtd1IystSDkzJxxXd6nOQjXp6vY5Hs2De2Aw1xyTZw/s320/IMG-20150914-WA0011.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b>I, Driver -</b> Most of the fun times I have had in 2015 are in the driver seat of the black beauty below. The first thing I do when I get in to the car is turning the music on. Driving around the silicon valley and amidst the hills listening to Rahman and Ilaiyaraja have by far been the best moments of 2015.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">14000 miles in 10 months says something, doesn't it?</span></i></span></div>
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<b>From hog to hug - </b> I have become a pure vegetarian since September. I have always wanted to be one, but, egg and chicken are too tasty. I'm usually on and off in this area, but I feel it this time and it may be the real deal.<br />
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<b>Walkathon - </b>I've taken to brisk walking as an activity. Yes, it sounds like a '<i>thaatha</i>' (<i>grandpa</i>) exercise, but I'm really astounded by how beneficial it has been for me. Having a job that's mentally draining and physically futile, walking has helped me in both areas. I've clocked around 350 miles of 15-16 min/mile dedicated walking activity in the past 100 odd days. Apart from the benefits, I'm actually keeping at it which is a great deal.<br />
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<b>Chiju Sings - </b>I performed in the PayPal Risk Diwali party this year. After 3 long years, I went up that stage and sang a classical number. And with that a band (<i>tentatively named as Swaralaya</i>) was formed. It wasn't the cleanest of performances. I did mess up a lot of notes, but, I enjoyed as hell.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LDpCL6cNOZE" width="560"></iframe></div>
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<b>Happy Toasting -</b> This has been the another very productive part of my year. I've been progressing rapidly in my <a href="http://www.toastmasters.org/">Toastmasters</a> journey. I've been the VP-Education of my club since January and I'm really loving it every bit. I finished my Competent Communicator (CC), Competent Leadership (CL) and Advanced Leadership Bronze (ALB) in 2015 and I'm five speeches away from my Advanced Communicator Bronze (ACB).<br />
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<b>Intimacy at its best -</b> Since I came to the US, I've been wishing for Rahman to visit for a LIVE concert tour. I missed it when (<i>a mini version of </i>) it happened in Boston last year. Finally in June, Rahman toured North America with a new concept called "<i>The Intimate Tour</i>". True to it's name, it was fresh, intimate and real. He performed in the San Jose Civic Center with a minimal band. We got the perfect seats with a straight line of sight. I couldn't ask for more when it came to watching him LIVE.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Line of sight to witness magic</span></i></div>
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<b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-0HdQPPmW8">I'm looking at the W.E.N.U.S and I'm not happy</a> - </b>In the work front, things have been really fruitless. It has been that kind of year where the results have been in reach of the eyes, but, the hands almost always keeps grabbing at nothing. 2016 is definitely going to be interesting in this front and I'm excited about it.</div>
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<b>Movies I loved:</b> OK Kanmani, Thani Oruvan, Tamasha, Premam, The Martian, Baahubali</div>
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<b>Albums most looped:</b> OK Kanmani, Uttama Villan, Naanum Rowdy Thaan, Yennai Arindhal</div>
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<b>Favorite Book:</b> Conversations with Mani Ratnam (I read it only this year)</div>
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Hoping to write more in 2016. Looking forward to an exciting 2016. Wish you all a Happy New Year!</div>
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Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-50749113138360232152015-08-26T12:58:00.000+05:302015-08-27T02:51:34.299+05:30Don't be a stranger<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There was once a time,<br />
To forget it, would be a crime.<br />
The stage has now by gone,<br />
The play though, is still on.</div>
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<br /></div>
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To recount this over and again,<br />
My voice takes quite a strain.<br />
You know this little quirky tale,<br />
Lived long it has, and become stale.</div>
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<br /></div>
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To erase the past, safe it's not,</div>
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Spoken words, have become what?</div>
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The present, my friend, is all we have,</div>
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Forget not, we carry that we carve.</div>
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<br /></div>
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This strange new face, about I wonder.</div>
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Shades it has, makes my mind wander.<br />
Is this grey mask newly worn?</div>
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Or the old mask, now thrown away torn.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Beauty and strength there to see<br />
Are like green leaves on a tall tree.<br />
Drained off color, they will fall,<br />
To be stamped and crushed by all.<br />
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Success, my friend, is so strange.</div>
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Formless it is, and can change.</div>
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Character, you can shape only once.</div>
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Build it well, while still there a chance.</div>
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</div>
Oh my friend, you're in a dream,</div>
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And you will wake up with a scream!<br />
For a world you paint, dear artist,<br />
Has never been known to exist.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Oh my friend, you fly high.<br />
Wings - you have, I don't deny.<br />
But, a bird, away you fly past,<br />
Is a bird less that's left to last.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Flap and fly, and go farther<br />
And higher, and even further.<br />
May you grow taller and stronger,<br />
But, my dear friend, don't be a stranger.</div>
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Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-10902421170415476662015-07-05T00:50:00.000+05:302015-07-05T06:21:00.399+05:30Thirteen years and counting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's strange how casual conversations can induce long and serious thoughts. It's not stranger than realizing how I made it 13 years without something that I'd not have dreamed of living for 13 days. That's about the best sentence structure I could come up with after hundreds of revisions.<br>
<br>
<i><b>Taking the train back to 2001...</b></i><br>
<i>Date: 26th March</i><br>
<i>Time: Around 2:15 PM</i><br>
<br>
My hands were shivering. I was almost about to cry (<i>and after about 2 mins I did</i>). My body was visibly trembling. The worst nightmare I had convinced my paranoid self that wouldn't happen was unraveling before me. All the smart ass quirks and the happy-go-lucky nature that I had always enjoyed weren't going to help me. I did not know the phrase back then, but if it had happened today, I'd have exasperated, "<i>I'm screwed</i>". As the first round of tears rolled down my cheeks, I could feel the heat. I was probably running a slight temperature. I was scared. Drops of tears blotted parts of the text on the paper lying on the desk. I looked again. Nothing! The day had come finally when I did not have a clue about anything in the Biology question paper.<br>
<br>
Throughout my school days the only subjects I liked were Maths and English. I'd have read my English books completely within two days of receiving the text books (<i>even before school started</i>), had killer instincts (<i>not knowledge</i>) when it came to English grammar, loved to write my own essays for the non-detail courses and I was allowed to listen to music or watch television when I practiced Maths (<i>which I was prepared to do all day/whenever</i>). I had the charm of sneaking my way through exams even though I never paid attention to any classes in school. How? I'd choose a few topics picked out mostly as samples, read and understand them in a made up way I can remember. I would be able to answer enough to pass and the moment I had the confidence of scoring 60-70 marks (<i>out of 100</i>) in the exam or if someone else was on the verge of finishing the exam (<i>whichever happened first</i>), I'd stop writing even if there were more questions I could answer. I never failed an exam in school (<i>even if it was a class test</i>). Until then!<br>
<br>
My mom was a teacher and used to conduct tuition for around 40 students. Her students comprised of the brightest Rank 1 holders to the precious Mark 1 holders (<i>scoring only 1 mark out of 100</i>). She had a terrific record as a teacher. She had enormous success in terms of progress. The progress was not just about marks. It was methodical. She literally created career paths for many of her students. However, there was one student who always failed her. No prizes for guessing - ME! She had tried force, patience, sending me to another teacher, nice words, beatings, shaming etc. I was just not interested. I always thought she was feeling ashamed that her son was not standing up among her super stars. I also thought it was not fair to think that and most importantly, I neither tried nor cared to try. As long as I passed and went on to the next class, I gave myself an "Exceeded Expectations" rating.<br>
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But, it was all coming to an end. There I was, sitting for the first annual exam (<i>biology</i>) in my 9th standard. Even if I wrote stories, I wouldn't be able to write 10 terms in biology w.r.t the question paper. There was no doubt I was going to fail that paper, which meant I was going to have to repeat 9th standard. I was sobbing at the thought of this. The invigilator (<i>Mr. Senram</i>) noticed this and patted on my back. He was sympathetic, but there was nothing he could do. He quietly said, "<i>Don't worry ra! Write what you know</i>". It did not help that he had asked the absentees to stand up (<i>for taking count</i>) before the exam started. Even that was not going to help elate me. I did not know anything. My classmates (<i>those who noticed my sobbing</i>) were looking at me, some staring and some amused. After a while, I just filled a few pages (<i>that would have hardly fetched me 20 marks out of 100 as against the 50 marks needed to pass</i>).<br>
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<i><b>Few hours later...</b></i><br>
<br>
I was riding my cycle home. I was late by 2 hours than usual. I was just sitting by the basketball court trying to find words to explain to my mom that I was going to have to repeat 9th standard again. I was a bit surprised that my mom hadn't come to school by then looking for me. But, I was sure that she'd be standing outside the gate waiting for me. And as I turned in to my street almost 2 blocks away from my house, I saw her waiting. As I came nearer, I noticed her usual body language of when she's tensed, restless and waiting. Her hands clasped behind her, and though I couldn't see them I was sure that her fingers would be moving against and across each other. Her eyes - a bit red and they'd emote that perfect blend of worry and anger. She had expressive little eyes (<i>probably picked them up from being a Bharatanatyam dancer as a teenager</i>), the expression she has passed on to her grand daughters and something that I prominently notice in the opposite sex. Her entire body would scream that she's feeling unsettled. She'd be standing still though, but not straight, she'd lean a bit towards one side. Her foot - the one on the opposite side towards which she's leaning would be tapping incessantly on the ground.<br>
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I was confident that it was going to be a double bonanza that day - for being very late without any communication and for coming with the promise of failing an exam.<br>
<br>
As soon as I reached she asked softly, "<i>Yen kanna ithara late?</i>" (<i>why are you so late dear</i>). Her worry took precedence over her anger. I quickly explained my situation without the least remorse in my voice. But, she knew right away that I was scared to death. As I prepared to brace for a furious reaction, she ushered me in to the house, took my bag and put in the sofa and went in to the bedroom. Few minutes later, she called me in there and handed me the phone. My dad (<i>who was out of town that day</i>) was on the line. I was taken by surprise because my dad never interfered in my sister's and my education. It was mom's department. On the other end, my dad sounded very concerned. He told me not to worry and to focus on the other exams. Even if I had to repeat a year he said that it was fine. There was no fury or anger. It was pure concern. After I hung up, she told me to change and start preparing for the next exam. It was English.<br>
<br>
I was unusually quiet that evening. I did not bother my sister nor did I move around like I always do. I just sat at my study table and kept reading the same line again and again. It just did not register. I was just reading. I was not sure if it was doing so bad in the exam or my mom's silence that was bothering me. It was all very confusing and sad.<br>
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After a while my mom broke her silence. The moment she started to speak, I started crying and started apologizing over and over. She did not say much (<i>which was unusual too</i>). She just told me that if I sincerely prepared for all the other 9 exams and gave my best shot, she'd do everything in her power to request my school management to push me in to the next class. She absolutely had no way to do it, but on that day I'd have believed anything she said. The next two weeks were like a movie scene set on a montage. For the first time in my life I cared about studying. I was frightened about exams. I was determined to pull through. And since it was the first time it was too much for me to take. I created the first of many a havoc for not having performed in the exams to my expectations. It was the most difficult two weeks of my life until then. A month later the results were announced and I was promoted to 10th standard. The most surprising event for me was when I requested for my 9th standard annual exam mark sheet (<i>which is not usually published for annual exams</i>) and saw that I had scored a whopping 63 in Biology (<i>I hardly had written for 40 marks</i>). And I had scored very well in all the other papers.<br>
<br>
<b><i>A year and two months later...</i></b><br>
<br>
I came sixth (<i>among 150 odd students</i>) in my school in the 10th standard board exams. It was the proudest moment for her, as my mother and as my teacher. I can still hear the screeching sound made by the break of the sunny scooter she rode, as she pulled up in front of my school. I was waiting inside for the results and I ran out as soon I heard the sound. She had looked it up online was telling my score to my cousin who was waiting outside as well. The moment I heard the number I blanked out again. All those reactions from March 26th 2001 came back, only this time they were because of happiness.<br>
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That day made a huge difference to who I turned out to be. I started believing in hard work and that it can turn around a lot of things that wouldn't have come your way. I realized that my mom never really cared about the results. With her students, it was different - she was being paid to bring about progress which she did diligently and sincerely. She gave it her best shot. With me, it was always about the effort. Her only expectation from me was that I tried my best, gave life my best shot and that's about it.<br>
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I've come a long way from that 10th board exam results. But, that would always be my greatest hit because that was the first, only and last proud moment I gave my mom. She passed away a month later.<br>
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It's easy to claim our character during times of glory. Whether that character helps during tougher times is something we'll probably never find out. The real test of character comes during harder times and claiming our character then will tell us who we are and what we are capable of. I learnt this from my mom and I'm still struggling everyday to learn the art with which she lived her life. If I turn out to be half as determined, courageous and strong as her, I'd not have anything more to achieve. It's been 13 years says the calendar, it just seems all very fast, doesn't it?<br>
<br>
Miss you ma!</div>
Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-83168329288991695352014-10-26T14:18:00.000+05:302014-10-26T14:19:12.630+05:30Always ARR<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday (Oct 24th) Rahman performed at Berklee School of Music, Boston, where he was also conferred upon an honorary doctorate. He also conducted a master class at the performance center. I saw <a href="http://www.berklee.edu/news/academy-award-winning-composer-ar-rahman-receive-honorary-doctorate-berklee">this</a> ad back in July and immediately thought that I should be there, but for many reasons I decided against it. I have been to the Jai Ho tour concert at Chennai in 2009, but this would have been an exquisite experience. The sound quality and occasion it would have made it more electrifying. <br />
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Last week I drove up to San Franciso with two of my colleagues and the car we had rented happened to house an excellent sound system. We played some of Rahman's classics like Anjalai Anjali, Mettupodu (Duet) and other songs from an SPB-ARR combo playlist on my phone. Suddenly, I remembered about the Berklee concert and amidst all the fun a gush of void filled my heart. I felt really bad about missing the opportunity to see the Mozart of Madras in such live action. When I got home the below promo video was waiting for me on FB. It literally broke my heart. <br />
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<iframe align="middle" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/pZy8115sNXM" width="480"></iframe></div>
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All these events got me nostalgic and I've been listening to some of his brilliant works from the 90's all week. Those were the days. My family was the main reason I got so hooked to his music. They introduced me to many of his classics like Duet, Minsara Kanavu, Sangamam, Lagaan and Taal. I won't forget the day my cousin played Ghanan Ghanan and Mitwa from Lagaan for me at 11:30 in the night (when we stopped at his place for 10 mins after a day trip to Palakkad). There was a time when Mana Madurai from Minsara Kanavu used to play in a loop in my uncle's car and he used to be so much in awe about those beats. Whenever I listen to Margazhi Thingal from Sangamam I can visualize my cousin Srikanth and my sister Swathi dancing for it in every party we've had since the track came out (including the latest party we had in Nov'13 - they are both married and have a kid each yet they danced as gracefully as ever). I can keep quoting from my big family scrapbook and won't be tired of it. Listening to Rahman is like being with my family.<br />
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A few days ago I was driving around El Camino Real with my classmate Kannan, late after dinner just to listen to ARR and he kept on playing wonderful tracks - Kannamoochi (Kandukondain Kandukondain), Pudhu Vellai Mazhai (Roja), Nahin Samne (Taal) and so on. That's when he mentioned, "<i>Man, he has stopped making such music, that's what I told you when we spoke about I</i>". Earlier that evening when we met we started the conversation talking about the tracks of I (which had released couple of days back) and he was disappointed. He wasn't psyched about it on first listening. That has been the story for the past couple of years. I'm not so sure though maybe because I experience the vision bleach equivalent of hearing when I listen to his music. I immediately connect to the sounds that only he is capable of producing.<br />
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2014 has been one of the best in a long time now. After so long, there have been back to back releases of albums scored by Rahman. The year started with Highway, an emotional drama and he's been on a long and wide ride since then. After Highway came Kochadaiyaan a period animation drama about a king, then came Lekar Hum Deewana Dil (a crappy romantic movie which I'm not sure why he signed). Kaaviya Thalaivan followed which is again a period film about stage artists from Madurai in the 1920s. Finally came I which supposedly is a romantic thriller and I expect Lingaa (a commercial Rajini film) to release next month as well. Phew! Rahman had this many releases in one year last in 2004. Apart from these, he had two Hollywood releases as well (Million Dollar Arm and Hundred-Foot Journey) and an album called Raunaq. The varied genres, a Shankar movie, period films and a thalaivar movie means he has composed genres ranging across classical songs, fun no brainers like Mawwali Qawaali and Mersalaayitten, an Opera number (Aila Aila) and the list goes on. Extreme stuff.<br />
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I would rate Kochadaiyaan and Kaaviya Thalaivan as one of his best albums in recent times. It feels so great to see Rahman back to the basics and in both these albums, he has gone core classical. Idhayam from Kochadaiyaan is my pick of the album and one of his all time best scores - the percussion has been engineered in layers and they tie with each other so beautifully. Medhuvaagathaan is yet another SPB-ARR classic and the mridhangam flows like a pleasant river in that song. The use of KM conservatory choir in the title track Engal Kochadiayaan is awesome - again the classical rendition and the transition between high and flat notes is Rahman's touch. I'm seriously bewildered that the people who made tracks of Sivaji and Endhiran such huge hits didn't find Kochadaiyaan meeting expectations. What did they expect - Kochadaiyaan the king singing Kilimanjaro and Athiradee?<br />
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I'm not sure which track to pick from Kaaviya Thalaivan. After a long time, I had an album (even from Rahman's collections) in loop for so many days. Sandikuthirai is a surprise package - so fresh and yet so vintage. The 10 min theater track in Kaaviya Thalaivan titled Alli Arjuna is a
collection of 5-6 songs that play out situations from Mahabharatham and
the freedom movement, where he takes you back to the age old classical
music in Rahman style. Again, the percussion is brilliant for
all the tracks. Haricharan and ARR are gradually becoming an epic combo
as a close second to SPB and ARR.<br />
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It's not just the movies. Raunaq is an album where he composed tunes for six poems written by ex-union minister Kapil Sibal. There was no big hype of hoopla and I'm not sure if many even knew about this quiet album, but what a pleasant experience, especially this one track called Kismat se rendered by Shreya Ghosal - what a master piece.<br />
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I just hope 2014 repeats itself every year, but that's the thing about classics - they happen once in a while and that's why they are unique. <br />
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I've traveled with Rahman all along. All my successes, failures, good times, bad times, friendship, heartbreaks, highs, lows, sickness and everyday happenings can be associated with a Rahman number. It'll be ringing in my head no matter what. Be it late night maths practicing during 10th and 12th standard or the all night chats during college, hectic work days/nights in Madurai, Chennai, Shanghai and US, Rahman has kept me company. It's not just the song, it's the memory associated with the song. Always ARR. Forever ARR. </div>
Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-71463002618989255242014-06-25T13:56:00.000+05:302014-06-25T14:16:35.169+05:30The lost case<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been piling up a lot of frustration over the last three days, but I've been unusually calm. It's actually not a good sign. I felt terrified about when I was going to explode, who was going to face the slack and how badly it was going to end. I say a simple prayer everyday. "<i>God, please give me the patience to control the urge of punching someone today. I don't think I have it in me to take a return blow.</i>" So, blogging about it seemed to be the best idea. I was getting my head around a nice and subtle way to put it out there, which surprisingly was taking my mind off the frustration. But, now, I'm not going to write about that, because I woke up this morning and the first thing I read was: <a href="http://www.thehindu.com/sport/cricket/andhra-court-issues-arrest-warrant-against-dhoni/article6145212.ece">Andhra court issues warrant against MSD</a>. It stumped everything else out of priority.<br />
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<i>Disclaimer: I'm obviously going to write totally against it, so, if you are not going to like it, please exit now and we can avoid a war of words later. </i><br />
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<b>Answers to FAIQs (Frequent Asked Irritating Questions):</b><br />
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1. Yes, I'm such a huge fan/admirer of Dhoni and that has nothing to do about my feelings here. Even if Gambhir/Yuvraj (my least favorite players from the WC winning squad) were in this position, I'd be totally against it. Maybe if it was Nehra/Munaf Patel, I'd still be against it, but, I'm sure I would've had a bit of a laugh too.<br />
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2. I belong to the same allegedly 'denigrated' religion in discussion here and I'm a staunch believer in God. But, NO, I don't feel that my religious sentiments are protected one bit more than the way it was before this complaint was filed.<br />
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3. No, I will not 'unfriend' you on FB even if we did argue over this. We probably just don't agree about this. It's fine with me.<br />
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4. I shared the 'The Hindu' version of this article because I didn't want to hurt the religious sentiment of my blog. Content is the religion of a blog.<br />
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To me, the first most disturbing thing about this news was that when more than 50% of the population don't even have time to read Business Today, there was one guy, who (1) saw this, (2) noticed the Reebok shoe among the many other things, (3) connected it to the prospect of handing God a shoe (<i>the brand probably bothered him - Nike/Adidas fan?</i>) (4) got his religious sentiments fatakkk-thattaak broken (<i>Awwww!</i>), (5) took time and effort to file a case (<i>and money - mostly funded, because the character profile doesn't seem the spending-from-pocket type</i>) and (6) the worst of all - DID NOT get thrown out of court. This last point, to me, is most frustrating.<br />
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Frankly, I want to file a few law suits too.<br />
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Did Dhoni really wear make-up and pose for Business Today or was it just a Photoshop thing? It kind of feels a bit of a let down if he did. My religious sentiments got a tad hurt. Well, cricket is kind of a religion, isn't it?<br />
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<i>Suit 1: </i><i>If he did, as a cricket fan, I want to sue him for wasting time instead of spending that time training for England.</i><br />
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<i>Religious (cricket) sentiments: 1, Indian Cricket: 0</i></div>
<i><br /></i>
This news piece has got some media publicity because a celebrity (<i>one of the top most</i>) is involved. But, I'm sure there are so many cases like this one which puts so many innocent victims through a lot of pain and stress. People accused of rape will not be punished severely (<i>because that's inhuman - rape is not</i>), people who face massive corruption charges are released on bail and their arrival is celebrated as if they went to jail for freedom struggle (<i>point to re-note here is that they were only released on bail, not cleared of the charges - ha ha, who am I kidding?</i>) and they contest elections, people facing murder charges are in the VIP ward of a top hospital (<i>heart attack - as usual to the rescue</i>), thousands of such cases pending and this suit WAS NOT thrown out of court. Ah!<br />
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<i>Suit 2: I want to sue the judicial system itself for spending the tax payers' money for this. Trust me, if they send force to England to bring him down here, I'm seriously considering it. </i><br />
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<i>Religious sentiments: 1, Judicial System: 0</i></div>
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So, who is this guy? Why does he take it for granted that he is the moral police of my religious beliefs. Who made him my religious sentiment hurt-level monitor? My religion is the probably one of my most personal business and why does he get to decide? And this suit WAS NOT thrown out of court.<br />
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<i>Suit 3: I want to sue this guy who filed the law suit in the first place, because he has made it clear </i><i>that the God I believe to be most supreme can become impure or whatever because he was handed a shoe. And that bloody, hurts my religious sentiments more than anything else. </i><br />
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<i>Religious Sentiments: 1, Common Sense: 0</i></div>
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When I mentioned this to a colleague today, the first thing he said was, "<i>Didn't a pair of slippers rule Ayodhya (the biggest pain point for over 2 decades in the country, in terms of religious sentiments) for 14 years?</i>". And this suit WAS NOT thrown out of court. </div>
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<i>Suit 4: Issue arrest warrant to Sage Valmiki who conceived the Ramayana (or track the current living descendant) to clarify what happened there.</i></div>
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<i>Religious Sentiments: 1, Actual Religious Values: 0</i></div>
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And this coming from an Andhra court. Isn't NTR literally considered as Lord Krishna himself? And, this suit WAS NOT thrown out of court.</div>
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<i>Suit 5: I want to sue all those who used to perform prayers/arthi in the theatre, when NTR came on screen dressed as Krishna. I won't sue NTR, he undoubtedly pulled off the best on-screen Krishna appearances ever.</i></div>
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<i>Religious Sentiments: 1, Ground Reality: 0</i></div>
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So, if slippers and shoes are such impure things, why don't you walk around without that? In the summer heat of Guntur, you can't afford that because your feet will turn in to pulp. So, you are degrading, no, denigrating shoes which actually feed lakhs of people who belong to the industry.<br />
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<i>Suit 6: On behalf of everyone in the shoe making industry - Denigration, it is. </i><br />
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<i>Religious Sentiments: 1, Self Respect: 0</i></div>
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But, what will we do? We have work to do. I have a release tomorrow and I'm writing this post instead of sleeping, only because I have to wait until QA signs off. We will worry about it when it happens to us. We will write blogs. We will post on FB. We will sit at home, in front of the idiot box, enjoy the game and complain that India doesn't play well overseas. We, are the Common Man. </div>
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<i>Suit 7: This lifestyle 'suits' me. Let me enjoy it, while I can.</i></div>
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<i>Religious Sentiments: 1, Common Man: 0</i></div>
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If everyone starts suing for crap that gets printed on the media, TOI would be facing so many law suits that it will have to borrow some space from CNN-IBN to store some of the paper work. Dhoni is obviously not going to jail. But, some idiot down the line is going to keep filing law suits, because he got his psoriasis treated, but the habit of scratching something all the time stuck. A politician quips against severe punishment for rape that 'Boys will be Boys'. We will not sue him, because we are looking for a ticket in to the parliament and not out of it, right?</div>
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I'm halting there - abruptly. Not because I don't have anything more to say, but because the moment I decided that my prospects of surviving existed outside the peninsula, I lost my right to complain. All I can do is let out my frustration in the form a few sarcastic quotes. Once in a while, that NRI guilt creeps from the corner of the heart, whose existence I never knew of. </div>
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<i>And then, days like today happen. </i></div>
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Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-57550948419972295432014-06-05T11:49:00.001+05:302014-06-05T12:00:52.036+05:30The cast - Part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, resuming <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Cast" target="_blank">this</a> series (am surprised too), I'm describing a few characters from Lost in the remaining parts. I'm choosing these characters because they walk among us (or at least shades of them do). Even without watching the series, you could relate to these characters. I'm trying to be as generic as possible for the benefit of people who haven't seen it and are interested in reading.<br />
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<b><a href="http://lostpedia.wikia.com/wiki/Charlie_Pace" target="_blank">Charlie</a>, The Loser (or so he behaves)</b><br />
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I thought about the tag (loser) for a while before I started writing. This character is many things, but to bucket all of them together, I couldn't think of a better tag. The part of Charlie is one of the best enacted characters in Lost (played by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dominic_Monaghan" target="_blank">Dominic Monoghan</a>). The idea I guess was for the audience to hate him (remember Snape in Harry Potter). You would have seen many a Charlies in your day to day life. He is talented, sweet, responsible and righteous, all of this by nature. The good characteristics fetch him a brief stint of success and fame. But, he is also naive, weak and too dependent that makes him lose all of it, while being exploited by someone he always trusted (in the series it's his elder brother). Had he dedicated half of the time and energy spent for this one person, for himself, he'd have made something out of life. In the end, when this person not only leaves him behind in a mess, but also takes everything away, he is way lost.<br />
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He has to choose between cutting a sorry figure and clinging on to the brief success story. Unfortunately, the world is too huge that most of them don't recognize short term success stories and the rest are too forgetful. So, picking the latter option doesn't work out for him well. He ends up feeling like a loser, feeling unwanted, being very needy and ends up cutting a sorry figure anyways. An act of recovery follows, trying to tag along where he doesn't clearly belong, resulting in more loneliness, self-loathing and searching for someone to blame so that he feels good momentarily. Even writing about this character is really tiring and pathetic. There is a only a small difference between people of this kind whom you hate and whom you don't. The latter ask for help or accept that they cannot be helped and stay out of the way.<br />
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The writers score for the symbolism of choosing the profession of a rockstar for Charlie.The resistance he shows to getting fame drunk and sticking a needle to play the part is the depiction of nature, while giving in to temptation scoops in the weakness associated. Personally, he was at the top of the hate list for me. Every time he came close to an adventure, I wish the writers killed him off. The character was too irritating to take. And finally when he dies, you feel sorry for him (again Snape). The final touch of "Greatest Hits" where he pens down the top five moments in his sorry life is the touch.<br />
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<b><a href="http://lostpedia.wikia.com/wiki/Sayid_Jarrah" target="_blank">Sayid</a>, The Go-to-Guy</b><br />
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We know this dude, don't we? When all hell breaks lose and there's good surety that we are screwed, we go to him. We know he is the only person who could get us out of it. He is not a leader, but more of a loner. He predicts methodical failure, but, we ignore him and he doesn't insist. But, he is there to clean up the mess once it's well and made. He is powerful and doesn't speak much, we can piss him off easily and the more we talk to him, he figures us out. His judgement almost always hits the bulls eye. There is a sense of calmness about him that earns him our trust. We can let him down and ignore him, but, when something's wrong, we better have him in the team. The reason is that he is strong, more mentally than physically.<br />
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Breaking out of the external view of this character and learning about him reveals the secret behind that mental strength. The seasoned mindset roots at the repeated challenges thrown at him in terms of the choices he had to make in the past. In the series, he has a dark past of being an Iraqi Republican Guard Interrogator (fancy word for torturer) in the Gulf War. In real life, this guy probably isn't a torturer, but may have taken care of his siblings from a very young age (maybe protected them from an abusive parent or family) or something that requires lot of patience and personal sacrifice to fight through.<br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naveen_Andrews" target="_blank">Naveen Andrews</a> perfectly fits the role of Sayid. He has played it with such finesse that you like the character and the actor equally. Sayid is probably the only character that was a constant throughout the series. He made a choice once and that brought a realization of the darkest deeds that he is capable of. He is angry at the realization and he is lost in the anger. He consciously tries to recover, but life always puts up that choice in front of him, always with the option of his darker shade. That choice becomes easier to pick because he knows that he is a natural. The nine year search of the one right choice (his sweet heart) he wants to make is finally successful. But, when she gets murdered soon after, it pushes him permanently into darkness. For Sayid, this consistency is the writers' touch.</div>
Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-34539924316467541902014-06-03T11:41:00.000+05:302014-06-05T11:49:52.853+05:30The cast - Part I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Revisiting something that you liked is always an inspiring act. Not many do it. Most people can't watch a really good movie more than once. The mundane task of investing time and effort to go through something again is an imminent waste of time. Then, there are the hopeless romantics including the one writing this prose. For us, somethings can never grow old. Every time we go back, we may lose a lot of time, but, there's always some gain. Something we missed the first time around, that makes you go - "How did I miss this!". Having quoted that, a couple of weeks ago, when I tried selling the concept of 'Lost' to my sister in law, I saw the first two episodes along with her. She did not buy it I assume (as I use the same Netflix account as them and only I have resumed watching it).<br />
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The first time I saw Lost was in 2010, when Navneeth recommended it. It was a humdinger, but I watched it in such speed that I did not understand most of it. The story takes crazy turns and after a point, it's almost impossible to keep track of what they are doing. Like the many million Lost fans I was utterly disappointed with the climax. But, I strongly believe that it was a huge success because of the way the characters were written. The script was etched with utmost sincerity to each and every character. It's indeed true that getting the characters right puts the story telling process in auto-pilot. I finished the entire series in less than a month, bragged about it for a while, got a bunch of colleagues to watch it, awed along with them and forgot entirely about it in the next series (How I Met Your Mother I think).<br />
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Almost a year later, I read <a href="http://sudhishkamath.com/2011/09/26/lost-seven-years-later/" target="_blank">this</a> blog by Sudhish Kamath on a lazy day in office. I couldn't but rush home and reach for my hard disk to start the re-run on the very same day. This time, I started relishing it episode by episode to such depths that I literally lost myself in to it. A brutal scolding from a dear friend made me snap out of it and I forced myself to stop halfway through the 3rd season. My dad was away visiting my sister and I was staying alone in a two-bedroom flat. It took some strenuous effort of fighting crazy thoughts, a lovely engaging team at work and my dad's arrival (after two months) to recover entirely from it. Over the years, my mom, dad, sister, friends and many well wishers have warned me about the way I get attached. But, that was the first time I ever realized that they were right about it. It was the first of the three lessons I was ever taught about why getting so attached is not the healthiest of choices.<br />
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It was something about that time of the year I guess. Again, another year later, I totally sold the concept to Aneesh, who was also my roommate at that time. We weren't very busy at work and we went on a Lost spree as we rushed through the first 4 seasons in almost no time. The look of amusement and amazement on his face every other time the writers beat the odds made it more interesting. By the end of the fourth season, I had to travel to US for a two month visit and I had to resume the last two seasons in my hotel room alone. This time, the effect was eclipsed by the awe I felt for the climax. The nuances of story telling was a huge win (a triumph of story telling in Kamath's words). True to the title and theme, each character was lost in it's own way. The island is just a metaphorical prop used to convey that they were all indeed lost in their life with oozing class of screen writing.<br />
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A year and half later, thanks to my sister in law, I am revisiting Lost for a fourth time. In this busy schedule, the only other thing I have been able to do is to see Lost. A long weekend and another normal weekend was lazily spent in rushing through the first four seasons. When I talk about Lost, I always mention how our outlook of each character changes as the series runs it course. The least favorite character would become the most favorite. How many people liked Jack through the first three seasons as much as they hated Sawyer? And how they swapped places in the last three seasons. However, this transformation of animosity was achieved without disturbing the consistency of the characters. A classic example of how the thing you love about someone is almost always also the thing you hate about that person. It's one of the best exhibition of situation characterization that I have seen.<br />
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Through one pair of eyes, I can really see how this can be looked upon as a waste of time, but, the least it did was (along with the inspiration from a new <a href="http://paintedfrost.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blogger</a> on the road) kindle the little bit writing I pray is left in me. I started out with something in mind and I got lost and ended up writing a whole blog on what I thought as the introduction. But, I'm leaving the title as it is, as at least at this point, I'm able to see a series of posts (a couple or so more) spawning out of this one. That's the least justice I could do to pen down my thoughts about the Cast of Lost. </div>
Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-71185842635315390052014-03-10T14:05:00.000+05:302014-03-10T14:09:12.955+05:30Trespassing at its worst<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><i>Warning: Too long a post. Been as subtle as possible. Excuse the explicit writing, if you notice it.</i></b></div>
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Have you ever felt like cheap labor? </div>
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Has someone picked your pocket?</div>
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Have you gotten mugged or assaulted? </div>
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Has your best friend slept with your girl friend?</div>
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Has your boss ever abused you? </div>
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Has someone you trusted lied to you?</div>
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Have you ever been stood up?</div>
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Have you been denied admission to a college because of your caste?</div>
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Has someone passed a racist comment on you?</div>
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Has someone stolen something very close to your heart from you?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10zxZHd-Id6DI0WpQDJPvOkXm6DbjeEbqeH7sEc0FgFrOvvjeCRZobhzi5zbNXg3IqNUpHUdPLW1oVhZ2ytetM0T12v9wybNm-zbRv8chQFFdAy54M6I19rdfYsMMJ5k2lSuVPzRVqIo/s1600/boundaries.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10zxZHd-Id6DI0WpQDJPvOkXm6DbjeEbqeH7sEc0FgFrOvvjeCRZobhzi5zbNXg3IqNUpHUdPLW1oVhZ2ytetM0T12v9wybNm-zbRv8chQFFdAy54M6I19rdfYsMMJ5k2lSuVPzRVqIo/s1600/boundaries.gif" height="164" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b>Have you ever felt violated?</b></div>
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I guess if you had answered yes to any one of the ten questions, you'd have answered yes to the follow-up as well. Now answer this.</div>
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Have you ever been raped?<br />
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Isn't that the highest degree violation of one's personal space (sex/age no bar)? Which is better, getting raped or getting killed? There isn't a difference. Personally, I'd give a tiny edge to the latter because you don't have to live with it. I'm definitely not saying that someone who has been victimized by rape cannot recover from it. I'm just saying that there isn't a punishment in this world that can be given to a rapist that would make the victim feel any less violated.<br />
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All these days when I read about rape in the news, I imagined the assaulter to be a third rate criminal you'll find in the cast of a tastelessly made gangster movie. It was so naive of me to think that these people will never run in a 'normal' social circle. Yes, the use of the word normal is very deliberate because the moment one even thinks about committing such a heinous* act, the word normal automatically dislodges from their dictionary. Of all the news that has ever been reporter by TOI or any other news agency, <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/coimbatore/Coimbatore-Police-await-lab-reports-to-charge-rape-accused-twins/articleshow/31760623.cms" target="_blank">this series</a> grossed me out the most. The two accused are kids (read it again in capital letters - KIDS) for heaven's sake. This incident has reportedly happened in the same locality in Coimbatore where I spent my entire childhood. The victim and accused are from my Alma mater. And stressing it again, they are college kids.<br />
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It's unfair on my part to focus on this one incident, but, the fact that it could happen right next to us sends a chill up my spine. My own sister grew up in the same locality. Some of my best friends from college and my neighborhood lived and are still living there. There are 3 major schools around the area that tens of thousands of students attend. Now, I feel bad at having laughed at my dad when he got a bit worked up if my sister was even 15 minutes late from college. I finally understand why my mom used to personally accompany her tuition students to their home if they are leaving our house after darkness falls. Of all the places in all the cities of this world, I never imagined it could happen there. I'm still unable to come to terms with the fact that it can never, ever, be 100% safe.<br />
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On one hand if we can put the blame on illiteracy and growing up in a bad environment for most cases, there's the other side of the story. There's just too much access these days. As parents, especially the ultra-rich class who just think that their kids are still kids, provide all the access they need - Credit cards, Smart phones, Ultra books, High-Speed Internet connection and what not. But, at least in countries like India where technology has penetrated into the deepest of even the rural areas, parental guidance hasn't stepped in at all. Most of the kids get their own room (in some cases their own flat) because the parents appreciated their privacy. Heck, I had my own room throughout my 4 years in college, but, I'm sure I couldn't have sneaked in as much as a safety pin in to it and my father wouldn't have found out. I'm not saying that there should be no respect for the kid's privacy. I feel it's important to talk to the kids and make them feel comfortable about discussing what's going on in school/college, who their friends are (esp in the opposite sex) and not pick on and judge every single thing the kid does.<br />
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Most victims don't come out and speak up. I wouldn't blame them either. Some reporter in TOI is always waiting to unleash his <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/coimbatore/Second-accused-in-rape-of-Amrita-university-student-arrested/articleshow/31335149.cms" target="_blank">creative best</a> in reporting this, because it's not about sense, it's about sensational (I ripped that part out of a The Hindu ad in 2011). After all the physical torture that lasted only for a few minutes, there's the social torture that's going to last a lifetime. At this juncture, how do you blame anyone for being conservative and non-trusting?<br />
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However, the most painful part about all this is that, we always find someone else to blame. Why did you go out at that time? Why did you wear this? Why did you talk to a boy? Doesn't this college take security of students seriously? Is the police department sleeping? Take the case that I had shared above, for instance. I'm sure there are at least a handful of filthy people who blame the girl to have gone to the twins' apartment. Oh yes, going to a friend's apartment is indeed a "heinous crime".<br />
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Last year, I saw an episode of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neeya_Naana" target="_blank">Neeya Naana</a> where a doctor said that man is a beast who wears the mask of civilization. So, provocative dressing by a woman will unleash the beast within him. She also mentioned that the middle eastern culture of a woman wearing a burka not only safe guards her from the beast but also helps her personality. I'm not sure if it's just me or did that make no sense whatsoever, no matter how scientifically proven a fact it is. This is just a classic example of mankind being an extremist. We know both extremes. We don't know balance. We don't know moderate.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL939vBBpXY78pMHintrDtu4YNl1C-uIp0GNR-HzPVj1Di0aGbNh-3ejIueytsebBKKHNhxUVJh6wNq0L2Vdq2HBjkGWqWuMRIuHVwp-Q6OU1dVuyIbff_va3nHqRzAcLirD_ZqwnrVJg/s1600/Removable-Parking-Violation-Sticker-D-2057.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL939vBBpXY78pMHintrDtu4YNl1C-uIp0GNR-HzPVj1Di0aGbNh-3ejIueytsebBKKHNhxUVJh6wNq0L2Vdq2HBjkGWqWuMRIuHVwp-Q6OU1dVuyIbff_va3nHqRzAcLirD_ZqwnrVJg/s1600/Removable-Parking-Violation-Sticker-D-2057.gif" height="203" width="320" /></a></div>
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Nothing, nothing ever is an excuse. Not provocative dressing. Not the time of the day. Not biology. Not geography. Not culture. Not tradition. It's just simple. No matter what, You don't rape someone. YOU DON'T RAPE ANYONE.<br />
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<i>*Rape is a heinous crime no matter how tastefully or how violently it was committed.</i></div>
Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-32942179110865772462013-04-09T23:32:00.000+05:302013-04-09T23:32:51.561+05:30Nine months that...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I strongly belive that life never hands out anything that one can't handle. The funny part is that there are always times when one feels why life gave him/her that much credit. <br />
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Nine months since I stopped writing in this space. The nine months like any other nine months that taught me something or the other. The nine months at the beginning of which life as I knew it was reset. The nine months at the end of which begins probably another significant time period. The nine months that altered a lot of things about me, my lifestyle, my work, my happiness, my dreams, my livelihood and even the city/country I lived.<br />
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One year ago I wouldn't have dreamt of visiting The Great Wall of China (of all places). But, I was there last Friday, not just there, we climbed up to the top most point possible, and not just that, it snowed heavily, like a storm, just for 10 minutes - the same 10 minutes we chose to be there. The timing was simply brilliant. Call it God. Call it Nature. Call it Science. Call it Music. I know it was one thing. Bliss. <br />
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Life is all about such wonderful timing. It keeps on springing surprises - some good, some bad. You never get to settle down. If you are ambitious, and go for something, you may get it, sometimes really quick, but, it never comes alone. There is always the package that comes along, and at the top of the list are people who think you didn't deserve it. Somehow the most fitting explanation becomes luck or right place at the right time. It is only temporary though. Bad times come back and all those people you always looked out for, stood by and stood up for will be too busy to even notice that something is wrong. Suddenly, whatever you say, whatever you do, is controversial. In the end, you get hit where it hurts most - that blank stare of insignificance as if you were nothing but a piece of botheration. No one has the time to sit and think. Even Newton didn't bother coming up with a fourth law once he figured the third one out.<br />
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And with a big mouth, all this becomes even more harder. If the timing is not right, more often than not, you talk yourself into situations than out of them. After living a childhood full of lies (<em>so many of which friends and family still believe to be true</em>), I eventually gave the habit up because decieving had become so easy. Then I stepped in to an industry where truth has no value. Everybody wants to play mind games, extract information indirectly (<em>someone needs to tell these duffers that all they have to do is ask</em>), spam mail boxes and expect you to spam theirs as well in the name of keeping in the loop, say thank you when they don't mean it at all and the biggest scam of all - diplomacy.<br />
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Is life that hard? When you sit down to think about all the zillion people who always seem to be happy, you realize that it's no magic. They are human beings too. The common factor in all those zillion people I know is that they absolutely know who they are. They give credit to what they can and don't commit to want they cannot. It's impossible to be perfect (<em>at least to the eyes of everyone</em>) because perfect is such a relative term. In the quest of being that perfect son, perfect brother, perfect friend, perfect employee you end up being an imperfect self. <br />
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Amidst all this, what makes life worth it are those small moments like the snow in great wall, looking at a random set of characters that your 2 year old niece types in to the IM window while chatting with your sister, sharing a silly laugh with your colleagues over tea or that persistent hope of goodwill that this will pass on. The moments where ego doesn't matter, moments when you could be yourself rather than being correct. A world where people look for relationships rather than perfect match. A world where people leave their business strategies at the shoe stand (<em>and the shoe stand at the entrace or outside of the house</em>). A world where the excited tweeter doesn't get blamed for Sachin getting out in the 90s. <br />
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It has been a great nine months nonetheless. If all goes well, I'll write more and more about it. Eitherways, one important lesson that I'll never forget is that I'm not perfect and I will never be. Most importantly, I'd expect nothing less from the people around me. </div>
Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-3701193622411195932012-06-29T01:34:00.000+05:302012-06-29T01:34:31.508+05:30No name!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Everything eventually ends. I don't know why it has to. But, they say it's the law of the universe. That I can agree. Apparently, everyone knew about this. I was the late pick-up! :P However, I just had one question. If you know everything is eventually going to end, why are you so keen to end it yourself? If I ask this, I'm being impractical. Any the ways, this post is not about being practical and all. But, it's about ending something. Keep reading.<br />
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So, I started this blog back in Feb 2008. I didn't start it because I had anything to say to anyone. It was just an instinct. I helped my dad with a write-up and he loved it. Of all the things I could have done (<i>I had hell a lot of assignments to write</i>), I went online and created a space on blog spot. It's just the disadvantage of giving away free blog accounts. Anyways, I was filling out the necessary forms and when I came to point of the title, I paused. What to name the blog? After two hours, I typed in CHIJU SPEAKS. No, it didn't take me two hours to come up with the name. I got a call when I paused. I was talking on the phone for the next two hours. When I came back to my system, I saw the cursor blinking on the text box and I named my blog instantly.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Naming it was simple because, everyone knows how much Chiju Speaks. Some people hate it when I keep talking. Don't worry about the rest, I don't talk to them! :P The irony is that the people I love to talk to are the ones who hate it when I keep talking. :P My dad for example. I can't imagine how many times he has explicitly told me, "Konja neram peshama iru" (</span><i style="background-color: white;">Except for the tam bram slang, that just means - "Shut your mouth for sometime"</i><span style="background-color: white;">). But, I can just sit and keep chatting with him for hours. He's such a great listener. I wouldn't blame anyone though. So, if you have ever felt bad that you cut me out when I was in a flow of talking, don't worry. I totally forgive you. Trust me, even I can't take it when someone talks like me. :)</span><br />
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I can't believe this space has been there for 4 years. Maybe it doesn't sound that long because I remember writing every single post. If I just focus away from the bad posts, I'm sure I have brought a smile on many people's faces by writing here. That's the biggest complement to this space and myself.<br />
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I would like to thank all the people who kept me going in this front.<br />
Swathi - My first inspiration to writing anything. If you commented on a post, I would know I have written a good one.<br />
Vibushan & Vivek - To have introduced the word blogging to me. When you were active bloggers, I have shared your blog links to people more than mine. :) <br />
Navneeth - Whenever we used to have a chat, I used to get an idea to write here. I hope one day what you dreamed about my writing comes true! :P<br />
Aneesh & VJ - To have commented in almost every post. You guys kept this space going for a long time.<br />
Swetha - To have always been frank and honest about telling me what exactly you felt about whatever Chiju spoke.<br />
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And to the very few readers who used to remind me about writing here once in a while. Thanks.<br />
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<span style="color: red;">Chiju Speaks will shut down at 7:15 PM on July 2nd 2012. </span></div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-15464273403776724872012-04-24T23:05:00.001+05:302012-04-25T12:35:49.672+05:30How to name it<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes you want things. Sometimes you want them so badly. Sometimes you just know you want them but you are nowhere near to getting them. Most often than not, you end up not getting it. "<i>Oh! What's with the pessimism Chiju?</i>" Yeah, I heard that, but keep reading. Sometimes you know you want the thing and you know you may not get it, but you put your heart and soul in to it. You work on it a little bit everyday. But, no one notices. No one understands you, what you are doing and why you are doing it all the time, until, one fine day. You make it there.<br />
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There is a phrase in Tamil that says "vaayala vada sudaradhu". A colleague calls it (<i>for "security" reasons of course</i>) "Mouth Vada Frying (MVF)", in butler English. People brag all the time about all that they can do. I do that big time. But, when you see them get in to the field, you'll realize that it's just about all the theory and not one bit of application. Yes. I'm guilty of that most of the time. But, once I've committed something (<i>except if it's about me pulling down</i>) to someone, I think I've met the expectations. Anyways, this is not about me. So, let's leave that there.<br />
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If you ask me about it, sample out people randomly off the street and I'd say 17/20 are experts in MVF. Most of them, not by choice. As my gtalk status used to read, the reality bitch sucks (TRBS). We just don't get to keep our word. So, what about the other 3? How do they achieve what they want? How do they do it so seamlessly? It's funny to think that we live in the same bitchy world as them.<br />
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In this world that's full of so many successful people, you can never go short on inspirations. Sometimes, just talking about your past to someone will make you realize that what you've pulled in the past is more than what you think of yourself right now. Throw "Past is Past" at my face and I'll fling it right back at you with it's not about living in the past, but, living out of it.<br />
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To make it there needs something extra. Focus! If the focus is on the little piece of the puzzle, you are likely to lose interest soon. But, if it's all about the big picture, someday or the other, all the pieces will fall in to place. And to say that, I may not have achieved anything, but, I've seen people who have. People who I had all my life, people who are living so close to me that I wonder why I never thought I should learn something from them.<br />
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People who never reacted to that all that negative criticism, when all I did was achieve those small points, impressing people that didn't matter and creating an impression about things that didn't matter. In short, I never really was sure about the big picture. The past few months have been very humbling and it's literally like being reborn. I have learnt to be a lot more patient, keep to myself and most important of all - I now know that there is a big picture.<br />
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In short, it's all about the focus. If you think you are doing the right thing by starting with chiseling the big mountain, keep doing it. That's advise for myself. Take it if you feel it applies to you.<br />
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It's so refreshing to have written one full post here after 6 months. See ya folks. :)</div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-11528017228839661792011-10-14T14:47:00.003+05:302011-10-16T16:42:21.326+05:30Long time no see<div>A drunkard needs no audience. Once the alcohol strikes the right chords, the performance starts. For instance, there was this "chair"man at Harris Jeyaraj's concert last week. Santosh and me were seated in the first row of our bay and right in front of the giant LED screen put up there. Suddenly, an obviously drunk guy jumped in front of the screen and started dancing like crazy. He then picked up an empty chair and was going great guns with it. We immediately named him the "chair"man. He didn't care if someone was looking. He just wanted to dance. Seconds later, a creepy guy came and stood in front of us, one hand placed on his hip and the other hanging by the side. I was actually scared for a moment. I wasn't sure what he was going to do. He was just standing there. Was he going to jump? Pounce? Dance? What? Then, I looked towards the direction he was staring. I realized that he was posing for a photo. I told Santosh and we weren't sure if it was the guy or the way he was standing or the "chair"man effect, we just broke into such a big laughter. We were just uncontrollable. Immediately as the poser guy walked back, another guy came and stood in the same pose. I did not need to turn back to realize that this was the previous poser's friend (<i>who was taking the photo before</i>). We laughed even hard. And the family guy next to us finally understood why we were laughing and joined us. I have had lots of lighter moments in the past few months, but that was an all time best. I'm totally off topic (<i>but Santosh wanted me to write about this</i>). </div><br />So, a drunkard needs no audience and my blog used to be like that. There was a time when I loved to write here. I used to make up topics even if I had none in mind. However, I get so many ideas while driving or sitting idle at work or eating in a restaurant but, I'm just not able to write. Maybe my job (<i>even though I'm totally vetti right now</i>) has made me like this. As such I'm not a self motivated person. People who know me will know that if I'm doing something, there is something about it that makes me happy. Sometime last year, I decided I'll never write about my personal life and I haven't written much since then. Maybe that bragging quality of mine was my muse to write here. I don't know why I'm trying to maintain a low profile these days (<i>thanks to FB, I haven't pulled that invisibility cloak fully on</i>). <div><br /></div><div>This is why you shouldn't suck at handling changes. Changes! Again, I have written so much about that. Changes, small or big, I freak out big time. I raise the panic button over and over. This time it was my Dad. We drive each other so mad and keep fighting for at least 30% of the day (<i>we sleep for 30% and don't see each other for the other 40%</i>). He left to Kuwait last week. Staying alone is not new to me, but, we fought so much in the last two weeks of his stay in Chennai that the house is awfully silent. There are a series of events that happen at such situations. </div><div><br /></div><div>As usual, I first tried to deny that it feels weird (<i>which if I hadn't done I wouldn't have had any problem in first place</i>). The next stage is a short time frame of loneliness which has three states of mind. 1) Blaming yourself for everything, 2) Blaming everyone else for everything and 3) Pissing off the closest things you have for company. In a week's time I have successfully gone through all the three states. I guess I have set things right. Anyways, after that it's the buck up and get a life stage which pretty much is slang for back to normalcy. And hence this post.<br /><br />Tagging Vibushan and Vasundhara who also share similar behavior from time to time (<i>but I still claim top spot for pissing off people</i>). Ok, Vibushan I heard the "Dawg" you just said. :P<br /><br /><div>Coming back to topic (<i>I seriously doubt if I had one)</i>, recently, I stumbled on to a blog called the <a href="http://talesreignsupreme.blogspot.com/">The Writer's Mess</a> (<i>thanks to VJ</i>), which had lot of chapter wise stories. I read a couple of them. One, <a href="http://talesreignsupreme.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-sisters-daughter-introduction.html">My sister's Daughter</a> which was really good in the start, but lost track of the plot somewhere towards the fag end. And the other, <a href="http://talesreignsupreme.blogspot.com/2010/06/whodunit-introduction.html">Whodunit</a> which was decent for a crime story. Either way, it was good time pass.</div><br />This has kinda inspired me to try my hand on a couple of stories too. I have so many plots in mind, but in all cases just the first chapter. I'm just in a fix if I should start with cliched romance or 'Castle' inspired crime thrillers or 'Lost' inspired fiction. I guess I will make up my mind by this weekend. From my past experiments of such starts, I guess, from Monday my project work would commence, in which case you may not have to put up with it. Lets see.<br /><br />Predominantly, the idea is to try and regain the want to write here more often. Also, I'm running an experiment to see if I can, at some stage of my life, learn to stick to a schedule (<i>which I hate</i>). Well, if you are receiving mail updates, I hope you'd read the stories and give me feedback. If everything goes as planned, I should start tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow, October 17th, also marks the birthday of my lovable sister Swathi. Maybe, if I start it on her b'day I'll be as determined as her to keep writing. <div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Happy Birthday Swathi! :) This birthday is double special for you, one obviously because of Diksha. The other? I'll wait before I dedicate an entire post for that. I'm sure you know what it is. :) Have a great birthday!</div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-60173038083303984352011-08-15T04:02:00.001+05:302011-08-15T04:08:07.501+05:30Independence Day 2011So, last week I was thinking what's special this Independence day. First, I thought "<i>Wow! Maybe India will throttle England the previous evening at Birmingham</i>". Well, lets not talk about it. Then I thought maybe I'd press Dad for a drive to Pondicherry. Yeah! I'm getting too optimistic these days. After some stupid ideas here and there, I found myself in front of my TV on Thursday night when Aarakshan (<i>the movie</i>) and its ban was making headlines everywhere. I irresistibly wanted to see the movie asap and thanks to Santosh for cancelling his trip to Coimbatore, we caught it at PVR last night (<i>Saturday</i>). I didn't see the damn co-incidence until then. But, I have been all pumped up and energetic since then. <div>
<br /></div><div>No, I'm not going to review the movie. However, as a nation we need to stand up and applaud Prakash Jha's guts to have touched an issue as sensitive as reservation (<i>reejerwaysun as the guy sitting next to us pronounced it when we asked him the meaning of aarakshan</i>). You'd be disappointed as I was, if you thought the movie is about taking the side of a specific so called (<i>under/over/beneath/upper/super-over/deep-under/whatever</i>) privileged section of the Indian society. I don't blame him because as a sincere filmmaker he has come up with an unbiased screenplay. He has tried to bring about a balance and left it there, for us to make the judgement. In a nutshell, whichever category/view-point you belong/support, you'd not feel left down. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>As every Indian citizen (<i>who never believes in a balance</i>), I had my reservations against reservation. Any student/parent who have sat through the Anna university Engineering admission counselling center would have that anger (<i>when the green mark against your preferred seat becomes red and you are still outside</i>). Thanks to the deemed (<i>read as your-money-is-doomed</i>) university concept, I was exempted of that tension. I haven't put much effort for my boards and its fair to say that I have had my share of luck when it came to all those phases of my life. However, what my sister went through during her counselling (<i>poor thing - a shot so sincere as hers deserved better</i>) was unacceptable to me. Well, no regrets now. She has found her way out and in style. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Ask me and I'll blame it on our rich but biased tradition. Call me non/un/fun Indian but I'm not going to take that back. I believe in Satyameva Jayathe and Athithi Devobhava as much I detest the difference that our culture has created. What the hell are we supposed to do? Our ancestors came up with a profession based caste/class system. Well, it suited them and that time period. Even then, only a person well-trained and fit for the job did it. After hundreds of years, how many millions of people have moved out of their ancestral profession? But, why do we still have this caste system that rooted in profession? And why this class system that rooted in caste? Thank God that there was no IT (<i>profession/caste</i>) back then. Man! We (<i>IT people</i>) wouldn't even have water to drink today. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Coming back, yeah, I have always asked, "<i>Why 50%? Give 100%</i>". Whatever I knew but would never accept, hit me hard about how true it is after seeing the movie. One set of ancestors are literate. Another set is not. One set is hard-working. Another just knows to boss around. So, reservation actually came into place to set a common platform. But how successful was that? </div><div>
<br /></div><div>It was pretty successful for all, except for those it was meant to help. The politician transformed poor dalit leader (<i>not anyone specific</i>) who loudly voiced (BRAVO!!!) against untouchability, caste-ism, racism etc, and even went for jail to get reservation to be implemented, is fine. His children are rich. His grandchildren were born with a silver spoon. He goes to the US for treatment even if all he has is diarrhea. He gets a personal VIP darshan in Tirupathi. He is corrupt to the core and when arrested/questioned, he will claim that he is being targeted because of his caste. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>What happened to the people he raised his voice for? They were listening to him and praising him back then. They were really anticipating him to bring about a big transformation in the system. That he did. They expected their lives to change. That he didn't let. For him, they have to stay the same today and they obediently have.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Media. I'm not sure if they toss up a coin before covering a story, to decide their stand. They research. They run around. They analyze. They question. They answer. They cover. They uncover. Only thing. If they do any of the above abiding by the laws of democracy and journalism, and not for their TRP rating, it makes lot of sense. Someone supports reservation, they make it an issue. Someone talks against reservation, they make it an issue. Someone makes a movie about reservation, they make it an issue. It was far better when media said issue and it only meant the day's issue of the newspaper. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Reiterating that our rich culture has nothing but created divide among us, the only thing we will ever be united about is being different. Its like my workplace. Testers and Developers hate each other and keep fighting until the management announces Q4 results and say, "<i>No Incentives this year</i>". If they show the unity of voicing (<i>silent enough that no one will hear)</i> against the management, in their work, the product will be light years ahead in terms of quality. This difference exists from education to matrimonial. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Religion, Caste, Sub-caste, Super-Sub class, Sect, Language, Star and the horoscope. If only all these match, the guy or girl is qualified for judgement as the actual match. Don't even get me started on horoscope. To my knowledge, if the positioning of the celestial bodies at the time of your child's birth matters so much, all you have to do is to DO IT at the right time after calculations and predictions. If that catches up, all astronomical towers will be full of father-in-laws and mother-in-laws. What if every child starts blaming his/her parents for why their horoscope doesn't match with what they want to do in life?
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<br /></div><div>Again, we are going way away from the topic. My point is that as long as these differences exist, someone is benefited. Simple example. There is a saying in Tamil that roughly translates to, "<i>If the town is split, the clown makes merry</i>". He gets double the chances to perform and it doubles his income. Thus, this split that was accidentally created among us benefits a whole lot of people who will do anything to keep it that way. And <i>the vote bank turned reservation system will remain like that forever</i>. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>It sounds very simple and bad-ass annoying when I say that I look at Independence this way. The bigger picture. If the British were still ruling us, the only division in this country probably by now would have been them and us. :) </div><div>
<br /></div><div>But, that's just a stupid thought. I'm still one among the proudest of Indians in Independent India. On this day, having blurted out so much and having let out my boohoos, I salute all those great people who spilled sweat and blood to win us the India that we have for ourselves to ru(i)n. I wish all of you a very Happy Independence Day! </div><div>
<br /></div><div>For a change, lets try practicing it. </div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-39587724653547064872011-07-20T00:45:00.000+05:302011-07-20T00:48:52.578+05:30Raining MusicI'm not a big fan of the Chennai rains. It is nothing but flooding roads, more humidity, mosquitoes and the thickest of anxiety-attacked traffic. Back in Coimbatore, I can't keep count of the number of days I have reached home drenched. Never have I parked and waited for the rain to subside. I even remember playing cricket in the rains. The waiting habit started only in Chennai. Until today. <div><br /></div><div>Like any other day the sudden outburst of shower ceased in a matter of seconds. As I turned towards the Kathipara flyover near Olympia, I pushed away the droplets off my helmet visor and moved it up letting a gush of rain-cold air gently touch my face. Phenomenal! I looked up at the sky which looked back at me, untouched as a boulder. Like an atheist who prayed once, I wished that it rained. </div><div><br /></div><div>And, It did. Not just an outburst, not gently, not slowly. It rained like it would never ever rain again. And I was in the middle of Kathipara, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. </div><div><br /></div><div>My hands loosened its grip on the accelerator, feet pushed gently at the brakes and as the bike slowed down, my body eased into a relaxed posture. One after the other, vehicles overtook me on both sides, leaving me on my own. I felt like I had all the time in the world, like how I feel when I'm travelling, or when I'm sitting online on a Saturday night - chatting with my favorite people. Either way, the best company I keep is music. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have heard about how Tansen used to sing the Megh Malhar raagam in Akbar's court, to bring rain showers. Myth or not, belief is that the raagam Amritavarshini also brings down rains, especially, the song Dhyaname Tharume Paer Inbame. In the 21st century, with the Ozone layer hole and all, music and rain still co-exists, only there is a change in the order of occurring as in - it rains and you sing. So, I began to sing. Loudly. One by one, all my favorite rain songs. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm listing down five songs below and their specialty. </div><div><br /></div><div>5) Ennai Konja Vaa Mazhaiyae - By Vidhyasagar (Movie - Aadhi)</div><div>Flute, I believe can notate rain (<i>rather nature</i>) best and the highlight of this song is the background flute (<i>the second interlude</i>) accompanied by the fine strokes of tabla and keyboard. I have a ringtone of that bit. The captivating genius is the duet of the base and shrill notes seamlessly following one another. The keyboard backing (<i>and chiming</i>) of the song brings out the feel of rain. A jugalbandhi of folk and classical. Hari's brigaas run a chill up your spine. I wish I get a chance to perform this one, someday. </div><div><br /></div><div>4) Ghanan Ghanan - By Rahman (Movie - Lagaan)</div><div>An invitation to a thunderstorm. Though it ends in a disappointing note (<i>of no rain</i>) in the movie, the song is full of rain. A very emotional depiction of the yearning for a heavy shower, this will stand out in the genius' compositions forever. Excellent backing vocals. </div><div><br /></div><div>3) Oho Megam Vandhadho - By Ilayaraja (Movie - Mouna Raagam)</div><div>When keyboards started replacing the harmonium and many other instruments in the industry, Raja sir came up with some of the best pieces ever composed. As the prelude BG starts, you can just feel droplets of rain falling. P.C. Sreeram's camera has left no magic unveiled in capturing this one. Raining freedom and happiness is written all over the song. Again, the BG flute, blending with keyboard and violin forms the backbone of the orchestration.</div><div><br /></div><div>2) Chinna Chinna Mazhai Thuligal - By Rahman (Movie - En Swasa Kaatre)</div><div>This track is living proof of how much the composer relies on percussion. Try humming the song without the backing orchestration and you'll know how much life of a song is from the BG music. How it clicked to get M.G.Sreekumar to sing this song, I'll never know. The chorus effect on the same voice works the trick like the reverberations of the drops that hits the ground. The following lines from the song convey it all. </div><div><br /></div><div>Siru poovinile vizhundhal oru thaen thuliyai varuvai,</div><div>Siru sippiyile vizhundhal oru muthu-enave mudhirvai,</div><div>Payir veriinile vizhundhal navadhaniyamai vilaivaai,</div><div>En kanvizhikkul vizhundhadhanal kavidhayaga malarndhai.</div><div><br /></div><div>(Roughly translated to) </div><div>Falling on a flower, you come as a honey drop.</div><div>Falling on an oyster shell, you blossom as a pearl.</div><div>Falling on crops, you grow as the nine special grains.</div><div>Since you fell into my eyes, you were born as a poem. </div><div><br /></div><div>And the last, but best of all.</div><div><br /></div><div>1) Indian Rain - By Colonial Cousins</div><div>With their first contemporary album, they announced themselves very loudly, yet in a soothing manner. The low volume but effective droplet effect along with the chimes makes this one special. The 'Dheem tha dhirana' and the chitta swaram rendering by Hari is the touch. Swaying elegance between the blues and classical genre is one of its kind and depicts the amount of passion that has driven the composer duo. Man! Was I lucky to see them perform this one live last year! Love for this tracks is never ending.</div><div><br /></div><div>Want to share your rain favorites too? I'd love to make a compilation of it all. Language, Genre, Composer bar - drop your picks in the comments section. Thanks. </div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-51894694228877549952011-07-02T09:00:00.000+05:302011-07-02T09:14:48.654+05:30A hurl into the past<span class="Apple-style-span">As he rode his cycle out of the gates, he pulled himself up and gave a thrust at the pedal, pushing the cycle forward and gaining momentum. </span>The December evening breeze caressed his face. After locking himself up in the house for five days, it felt good to be out. <span class="Apple-style-span">He slowed down as he approached the first X junction between Bharathi Park 7th cross road. He sent cautious glances on both sides. Coast clear. Another thrust and he was off. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">He felt a chill run up his spine as he turned into the deserted 5th cross. He halted for a moment to decide if he wanted to go through with this. The easiest option was to turn back and flee. But, that he had come so far made him set course towards his school, without ceasing to wonder why his Hindi teacher would be there at this time. The creeps of riding down through a deserted lane had gotten to him, especially during dark times as these. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div>Without any attempt to hide his fear, he reached the school. The gates were shut and locked. The watchmen Rangasamy anna and Balu anna weren't anywhere around. Through the steel rods of the locked up gates, he glinted at the gents staff room and no sign of activity there. Both doors closed. He rode to the primary school gate and no trace of people there either. Disappointed, he came back to the first gate. He parked the cycle and stood there thinking. As it sunk upon him, his heart beats increased rapidly. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a con!</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Fifteen minutes earlier...</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>It was five days since his school had shut down because of curfew that broke out in Coimbatore on the fifth anniversary of the controversial monument tear down. The usual 11-year old's fear about the images of people killing one another (thanks to Mani Ratnam's classy portrayal in Bombay) gave him sleepless nights and in turn for the family. But, their support was not well appreciated by him during the day, not with all his patience draining pranks. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Three days into the one week shut down, he had enacted a perfect "full-portion" coverage of the upcoming half-yearly exams syllabus. The Hindi composition note he had submitted for evaluation came to his rescue as the only true element of a perfect act. Not that his mom bought his "finished studying" story, he was anyways let free. It was still evening and bright. There were hours before he had to worry about the curfew-special nightmares.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>All was well and fun that evening, until the phone rang. He picked up the call and was surprised to hear his Hindi teacher on the line. He passed on the phone to his mom as directed and went off to catch the close of the evening's episode of Centurions. In a matter of seconds, his mom hung up. He shot her a glance as to the purpose of the call and from the look of her face knew that </i><i>he'd regret it</i><i>. So much for the act of "If only I had the composition note, I'd have studied the Hindi essays as well", his Hindi teacher and the note were waiting for him at school. </i></div><div><br /></div><div>He couldn't say which was pumping faster, his legs or heart. It was the typical flee. With no time to think about why or who or what, he sped back, past the deserted streets. To him, it was just the danger. Whether home lay a few yards or few miles away did not matter. But, somewhere down his weak and fearful heart lay a fighter. A fighter that came up to his rescue mostly when he had lied to someone's face and was taking his last shot before almost getting caught. He kept wiping the sweat off his face, prayed intensely, thanked God as every occasional passer-by didn't turn out to be a killer or mobster. He just kept going until he banged open the gates of his home with his cycle. </div><div><br /></div><div>He parked his cycle and ran, kicking out his slippers and straight into the house. "<i>Maaaaaaa</i>", he shouted as he ran through the hall and turned into the kitchen. She was standing right in front of the gas stove, making coffee. He was panting so badly that he unusually seemed completely out of words. She turned towards him and handed him his evening coffee. He looked up at her. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was that smile. The smile, fourteen years later, he still gives to anyone who fell for a prank he pulled off. </div><div><br /></div><div><div>Can't believe that it has been this long already. </div></div><div>Nine years and counting. </div><div>July 2nd 2011</div><div>Chiju</div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-1839987571857957302011-06-01T01:57:00.003+05:302011-06-01T03:02:14.236+05:30Cuisine paradoxIts been FOUR whole days since I landed in Kuwait and it has been a typical vacation. When I say typical, I have been relaxed yet active, haven't thought about work at all (<i>for which I will have to pay next week</i>), been a constructive contributor to household work, argued with my sister about the lifestyle of me and my dad in Chennai, followed a perfect <i>three meal-snacks-juice </i>diet and not thought about any of the usual crap that keeps me preoccupied (<i>except for the certain someone dream all the three nights</i>). To top it all, the bonanza of happiness that my cute little niece adds, has kept me busy and smiling all along. I haven't seen enough of her yet to write about it. <div><br /></div><div>Well, no prizes for guessing, the title and the italicized, hyphenated phrase in the last paragraph has very well given away the intent of this post. I'm keeping it as simple as possible. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>My typical menu in Chennai</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Coffee (<i>which I can't live without</i>)</div><div>Bread toast/sandwich/poriyal</div><div>Dosai (<i>with packeted Idli Molaga Podi</i>)</div><div>Maggi noodles (<i>the Chinese Chef in every poor man</i>)</div><div>Corn Flakes</div><div>McDonalds/KFC (<i>when I don't mind a drive to Velachery)</i></div><div>Subway (<i>the weekly tester of the life of taste buds</i>)</div><div>Pizza (<i>the salary celebrator</i>)</div><div>Noodle King (<i>Home service of course)</i></div><div><br /></div><div>If you take a look closely, I live on a so called western diet almost all the time. Basically, I love food. I enjoy my eating and I stop eating or don't eat when I feel I won't enjoy it. If I had as much as 5% of the passion I have for food, on any other thing, I'd be the master of that. Having said that, I was a big fan of all the above mentioned food, or at least I thought I was. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Menu in Kuwait (for the past four days)</b></div><div><i>Saturday</i></div><div>Breakfast - Idli (<i>with onion chutney and homemade Idli molaga podi</i>)</div><div>Lunch - Molagootal with kothamalli thogayal, curd rice, Morukootaan (<i>from the previous day</i>)</div><div>Dinner - Kuboos with Hamoos and Philaphel (<i>Kuwait special) </i>:P</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Sunday</i></div><div>Breakfast - Dosai (<i>with homemade molaga podi</i>)</div><div>Lunch - Rasam with Podalangaa Kootu and curd rice. </div><div>Dinner - Repeat of the breakfast (<i>we were out that evening and came home late</i>)</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Monday</i></div><div>Breakfast - Ravaa Upmaa</div><div>Lunch - Avial (<i>with yam, carrot, potato and other vegetables</i>), curd rice</div><div>Dinner - Vegetable soup and Sphagetti (<i>Brother-in-Law Special</i>)</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Tuesday</i></div><div>Breakfast - Bread toast with a chocolate cream stuffed croissant</div><div>Lunch - Radish Sambar, Kovakkai Poriyal, curd rice</div><div>Dinner - Aappam and Green peas curry</div><div><br /></div><div>Add to the above, a cup of coffee every morning and evening, some juice between breakfast and lunch, flaovured yogurt after lunch and some snacks with the evening coffee. </div><div><br /></div><div>I know its just FOUR days, yet, somehow I have enjoyed my food more than forever. When I eat lunch at someone's house and they offer me a second yelping of rice, I'd always give my clichéd "<i>I don't eat so much rice</i>" dialog. It surprised me today that I am indeed serving myself an unusually large second yelping of rice to have with curd. </div><div><br /></div><div>No matter how much I argue with my sister that me and my dad are indeed leading a satisfactory life in Chennai, when it comes to food, I can't but agree with her that we need to step up and bring about a big transformation. </div><div><br /></div><div>I recollected what my mom used to say about how my uncles from the Gulf used to come to India craving for that one meal of hot homemade Sambar or Molagootal. It ironical that I had to travel all the way from India to enjoy the same. Only disadvantage here is that they are compelled to use Basmati rice for all kinds of cooking, the quality of which I should say is amazing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now that I realize what I have been doing wrong regarding my food, hopefully, I'll put it into perspective after getting back to Chennai. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways, signing off on that note. Off and away to sleep with a clear mind (<i>like always after writing in this space) </i>and a properly filled stomach (<i>now, that unusual</i>). Oh! There will be that dream again. Hmmm. More on that later. </div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-38128496398117434872011-05-27T01:00:00.003+05:302011-05-27T01:47:23.097+05:30Where is it going?The big question, isn't it? Whenever I've asked myself this question, I have kinda known the answer to it. But, if you don't have an answer to it, man, are you going to put up with a lot of crap.<div><br /></div><div>In the west, this question can generally mean only one thing - a commitment/breakup with your boyfriend/girlfriend is in the offing. But, Indians are the kings of customization. We need a mix and match for everything. (<i>Instances below</i>)</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The too-much phobia</b></div><div><ul><li>Son is playing too much cricket. He has to write his board exams in four years. </li><li>Too much work/Too much fun/Too much relaxation/Too much tension/Too much travel.</li><li>Talking too much in the phone.</li></ul><div><b>The attention-seeker syndrome (I have it)</b></div></div><div><ul><li>Why no attention at all?</li><li>Can't people just leave me alone for a minute?</li><li>I feel like we are drifting apart. (<i>Now, this is very common Ok. Not pin-pointing.</i>)</li></ul><div><b>The gutless phenomenon</b></div></div><div><ul><li>I don't want the others* to think that something is going on.</li></ul><div><b>WHAT-THE-IF</b></div></div><div><ul><li>What if it goes somewhere I don't know where. (<i>read again to understand</i>)</li><li>What if I can't answer with where I want it to go. (<i>again, read again to understand</i>)</li></ul></div><div><div>From all that I have understood, it is a question </div><div><ul><li>that you should never ask yourself when you don't want to.</li><li>that you should never let someone irrelevant, answer (<i>and bother</i>).</li><li>that you should never answer when someone irrelevant asks.</li><li>that you should always answer aloud (<i>to</i> <i>the relevant</i>).</li><li>that you should always ask yourself first (<i>and try to answer</i>) before a second opinion. </li><li>that can work wonders when found an answer to (<i>both ways</i>).</li><li>that also affects people (<i>or surroundings</i>) other than you.</li><li>that guys TRY TO AVOID and girls are OBSESSED with (<i>generally</i>).</li><li>that guys DON'T CARE when they don't have an answer.</li><li>that girls answer with ALOOF when they don't want to pick an answer. </li><li>that you SHOULD find an answer when there are too many options.</li></ul>and the most important one...</div><div><ul><li>that is IRRELEVANT when you don't have a choice. </li></ul><div><i>*others - anyone/anything that is not a stakeholder of which is going where, except for gossiping about it. </i></div></div></div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-37750456010260065852011-05-23T22:30:00.004+05:302011-05-23T23:46:43.872+05:30Simply ComplicatedCall it anxiety, excitement, nerves or just plain mental, often, you live that day where you can't control your mind. Well, in first place, you didn't even know where it was, when probably it was just sitting across and smiling at you; who knows?<br /><br />Using ten words in place of one (<span style="font-style: italic;">most of them being duh, eh, ah, oh</span>), being unable to explain unwarranted laughing, boring people with stupid stories, hungry yet full, and someone I look up to, announcing to a whole gathering that I have an excellent blog - <span style="font-style: italic;">I knew I'd be writing here today!!!</span><br /><br />They are all around you.<br />They seldom come alone.<br />Look past the risks,<br />Swim across the obstacles.<br />Success is yours.<br />They are <span style="font-style: italic;">Opportunities</span>.<br /><br />Open the door to it,<br />Comes along, waves of anxiety.<br />Bliss, it can deliver, yet,<br />Often, a broken heart remains.<br />I call it <span style="font-style: italic;">Expectation</span>s.<br /><br />It can create loose bonds,<br />Not as good as breaking them.<br />You need it. I need it.<br />Amazing stays the fact, that,<br />It was only a piece of paper.<br />Put yours in this one, didn't you? <span style="font-style: italic;">Money</span>.<br /><br />Tells you what to do.<br />You never asked why.<br />Comes at your convenience,<br />Following it or tailoring it.<br />You call it <span style="font-style: italic;">Tradition</span>.<br />I call some of it made up <span style="font-style: italic;">Fiction</span>.<br /><br />It needn't matter.<br />You needn't mind.<br />Not me, Not you.<br />When it is you and me,<br />It has a name - <span style="font-style: italic;">Society</span>.<br /><br />You didn't have it to share.<br />I lost all of it I had.<br />What happens next?<br />Only it has to unveil.<br />For, it is <span style="font-style: italic;">Time</span>.<br /><br />Neither did you expect,<br />Nor did you yearn.<br />You failed history then, and,<br />Geography, now just failed you.<br />Back on that very same road, aren't you?<br />Ignoring that very same 'blocked' sign again.<br />You are plain <span style="font-style: italic;">Human</span>.Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-40100176333032529382011-03-05T22:42:00.005+05:302011-03-05T23:50:52.517+05:30Stupid Sam - Know the difference?"<i>Five Pipty</i>", he said, casually. <div>"<i>Huh?</i>" Sam did not catch that. </div><div>"<i>Five hundred and pipty!</i>", he repeated.</div><div>"<i>Sorry?</i>", Sam asked, a bit of alarm gripped his voice.</div><div>"<i>Five pipty pa!</i>"</div><div>"<i>Engitta avalo cash illanga. Paathu pannungale</i>", Sam replied. He was cautious about not conveying a casual tone. </div><div>(<i>I don't have so much cash. Please cut down your demand.)</i></div><div>"<i>Illa pa. Five pipty. Receipt vaangiko</i>", he continued the usual act of I-will-not-budge.</div><div>(<i>No. Five Fifty. You can take a receipt)</i></div><div>"<i>Engitta nooru roopa thaan irukku. Enna pannalaam?</i>", Sam insisted.</div><div>(<i>I have only 100 bucks. What can we do?</i>)</div><div><br /></div><div>The guy insisted a couple more times and even pointed to an ATM nearby. When Sam did not show any sign of agreeing to pay more, he gave the situation a bit of serious thought and proposed a new deal. "<i>300?</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>Though stupid he was, Sam realized that his act was working. It was past 9 PM and he jsut wanted to get this done with. His mind worked out the math (<i>luckily he was good at it</i>) in a whoosh and spoke slowly, "<i>Engitta avalo illanga. Oru 150 try pannalaam.</i>" (<i>I don't have so much. I can try gathering around 150 bucks). </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>The guy sighed. It was getting late for him as well. He wanted more money to put up his booze party for the night and at the same time did not want to lose the customer. </div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>200. Final.</i>", he said and walked away to find one more person to make up for the difference. </div><div><br /></div><div>At this point, Sam knew what had to be done. He quickly asked his colleague for any change she had. She looked through her purse and handed him two ten rupee notes and a ragged five rupee note. He took the notes and put together the bits and pieces from his purse. He rushed to the guy, handed him the currencies and grunted, "<i>Ellathayum vazhichu 125 irukku</i>" (<i>after cleaning up my purse here is 125 bucks). </i></div><div><br /></div><div><i></i>The guy accepted it with gratitude and quickly slipped the notes into his pocket, so that his superior did not notice the little business deal he made for himself. Sam went back to his bike and shushed his colleague to quickly get on. They left the place in no time. </div><div><br /></div><div>On the ride back home, Sam couldn't but wonder at the fact that the differences between tourist spot vendors and traffic policemen were gradually decreasing. </div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-85982053319878865792011-03-01T00:31:00.004+05:302011-03-01T03:51:56.822+05:30Mirror of the Erased<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Foreword</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>If you stumbled upon here amidst important work, please come back later.</i></div><div><br /></div>Having woken up completely drained, sore and strained, the side-effects of too much physical activity after a long time, I realized that its almost two and half hours past the <i>rise early - sleep early</i> schedule I've been practicing for the past month - so much to stabilize the social animal's system. After groaning a '<i>Oh ****!',</i> my mind promptly dived into re-scheduling the day's activities. Postponing shaving and choosing to take bath in cold water helped me get ready earlier than usual and in no time I was driving back home with breakfast and newspaper for Dad. Thanks to the closing of a signal in GST road, the due-to-metro-rail traffic is less intense these days and I was waiting for the lift (at work) five minutes later. Compared to the past two months, today was expected to be a 'less issues' (I did not say <i>no issues</i>) which meant that my mind was devoid of preoccupied problem solving and the security didn't have to remind me to sign in the laptop register, but, as the day progressed, my mind did register to forget tomorrow. So passed by, one more day where I tried to be sincere (apparently 'good' is way far) at something I remotely imagined I would even be doing by this time in my life. Just like that I was unlocking the front door (back at home). Followed, the routine of freshening up, dinner with F.R.I.E.N.D.S, online for sometime and settling down for a chat with Dad by his bed. <div><br /></div><div>Chats with my dad by his bed almost often turns out to be the most interesting part of my day. We discuss from movies to technology, past to the future, dead to the to-be-born and more. Sometimes we end up laughing really hard, sometimes it would result in me storming out after a furious argument, or sometimes one trying to cheer up the other. In short, its a jugalbandhi of sorts and without dedicating an entire post to it, I'd not be able to do justice. However, today, we dug deep into our past, deep enough that we reached the 1970s about how my Dad's career started. I don't even remember how it lead there, but it all started when we talked about how my career started amidst some of the most dreadful days of our lives - <i>Madurai</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the close of an hour long talk, I wanted to write (an entire post) today, unlike other days where I start, write two lines and close (the browser). And to make sure I went through with it, I set Jet Audio to play Varanam Ayiram in a loop. How amazingly true is the fact that our minds are so pictorial and musical, one complementing the other. The moment I listen to 'Nenjukkul Peidhidum' I can picture myself sitting in front of my PC in the hall of our flat in Madurai, on a Sunday afternoon, chatting or blogging, Dad lying down in his bed (next to the PC), both of us with no clue of what we are going to do for the rest of the day. Well, that just describes a selected few Sundays, because all the other weekends (except a couple at the start and many towards the end), I spent the rest at work or should I say second college. </div><div><br /></div><div>Madurai (<i>September 26th 2008 - April 29th 2009</i>) was just a flash in my interesting life filled with irregular connectible events. A positive attitude of expectation is half way to satisfaction. In Madurai, the corollary of that statement worked pretty well for me. Agrini, the home to most (<i>of the little amount of</i>) software engineers and families, was probably the best thing that happened to us in that city. The first time I saw that place in July 2009, I decided that it was going to be my home (<i>irrespective of the duration of stay</i>) in Madurai. Just like India in Sunday's match with England, I got off to a quiet but steady start - pretty decent workplace, my CSE background (<i>or tag</i>), my determined will to get along (<i>no matter where</i>), an AWESOME, (<i>almost</i>) like-minded set of colleagues and the feel-at-home setup including my Dad, his cooking, filter coffee every morning, hot lemon rasam when I wanted it, unlimited internet (<i>though it was from sucking BSNL</i>) and a lovely set of friends (<i>back home</i>) who often called to check on me. Just when I started to sink into that place-for-the-next-few-years feeling, the pressure started to build. </div><div><br /></div><div>After 17 continuous days of 7 AM to 1 AM schedules, somehow, I (<i>we</i>) managed to cross the first bunch of hurdles and cruised into the next phase, for which all of us were better equipped and prepared mentally. All that preparation to get through that one more month for life to be set milestone was in vain when I (we) realized that the three months of grooming was going to be wasted grooming down doubly during that fourth month. I have talked about that many times here and am not getting into it again. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, I'm summing up those seven months as a set of picture moment memories below:</div><div><br /></div><div>1) <i>September 27th 2008 (around 10 PM)</i> - Dad hung up on his friend promising him (<i>after lots of persuading</i>) that he'd be there for the elections (<i>next day</i>) at The Kerala Club, Coimbatore. I never imagined that I'd be visiting CBE two days after I said Good-Bye. It was like a 'Always my home' kind of a thing. </div><div>2) <i>October 21st 2008 (late evening)</i> - Celebrated a colleague's birthday that fell on the next day. The day I realized that God was not all that cruel. He did know what and whom I liked to have around me. </div><div>3) <i>October 31st 2008</i> - First salary. I was all teeth. :D My first withdrawal was to buy a shirt for Dad.</div><div>4) <i>November 10th 2008</i> - First accident in my bike. Crazy old man freaks out in the middle of the NH road. My nose hit the rear view mirror with full force and bulged to the size of a capsicum. I got so much attention at work that day. :P</div><div>5) <i>November 18th 2008 (around 9 PM)</i> - End of the first day of C++ lab evaluation. I cracked down and cried like a little child after the pressure filled day (<i>ever</i>) of not talking to a SINGLE HUMAN SOUL from 9 AM to 8 PM. No food (<i>except for a few cups of coffee</i>). Mobile phone switched off. 100 other famished, hopeless soul-sucked beings around me. I did not feel bad about the day that had passed by (<i>I had done my best</i>). I was dreading the next day. The next evening, I prayed sincerely that I (<i>we</i>) should never ever come across two days like that forever. </div><div>6) <i>December 6th 2008</i> - Played cricket at the TCE campus grounds. I had registered in the team for the New Year Cup. The batch mates who selected the team looked at each other and shook their heads in disapproval as soon as I bowled my first ball (<i>No! The batsman did not score a run. Wrong answer!</i>). I don't think they knew I noticed their non-verbal communication. :P I was laughing loudly inside thinking that these guys actually took me serious when I said I wanted to play. :P </div><div>7) <i>December 25th 2008</i> - A Christmas I celebrated long after my Lisieux days. It was by far the happiest day for me in Madurai and the fact that I spent a gloomy 25th December 2009 is a testimonial. </div><div>8) <i>December 29th 2008</i> - The day I gave up on corporates. How will you feel when someone in-charge announced that the training program you were slogging your a**es off, was actually started as a social service for the rural youth - to send them into the market (<i>not for recruitment</i>); and with a smile says "<i>Have a ball on New year's eve. Don't regret later!</i>" We did have amazing fun that New years. Only curse noises filled the room. </div><div>9) <i>January 17th 2009</i> - My roommate was driving and I was the pillion rider (<i>for a change</i>). A phone call I was so happy to answer, but wanted to kill myself when I hung up changed my life forever. </div><div>10) <i>February 2nd 2009</i> - I was back from Cbe all geared up for the (<i>for the sake</i>) extended training. But, the <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-bad-worse.html">soul-sucking</a> continued. I opened the link to submit my resignation, but the last traces of common sense forced me to shut my PC down and rush home asap (<i>after calling sick</i>). </div><div>11) <i>February 19th 2009</i> - Got my first build (<i>after God knows how much of effort</i>) running successfully and tested it. I went home whole-heartedly.</div><div>12) <i>March 5th 2009</i> - Gave a demo to the domain lead (<i>periya thala</i>) and he appreciated my efforts to have developed what I had in such a short time. Beaming with pride, I booked tickets to Cbe for the weekend. </div><div>13) <i>March 18th 2009</i> - I was given a firing by my manager because I inquired about a "merit-list" they had mentioned. I was told (<i>as a general statement</i>), "<i>You may be a top performer. But, I get to decide who would be working here</i>". I sent out 65 job application mails in the next two days. </div><div>14) <i>March 21st 2009</i> - Successfully headed and conducted a Medical Camp in a village near Madurai. The only day spent with purpose during my eight month stay. </div><div>15) <i>March 31st 2009</i> - I went home dejected. Nine of us had applied for a development job in B'lore. Seven of us got a call for an interview the next day and no prizes for guessing, I did not. I was so depressed that my Dad forced me to go out and buy new speaker systems for my PC. :)</div><div>16) <i>April 1st 2009</i> - The company that did not consider my application for the development job called me and the other guy for a testing position. We were happy but were dejected to learn that none of the seven who attended the interview that day nailed it. Third round exit. Fifth round exit etc. Nerves!</div><div>17) <i>April 2nd 2009 (B'lore)</i> - Seven of us attended the set of written tests and interviews. Two of us nailed it and not sure you got it right, <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2009/04/and-there-goes.html">I did</a>! :) I was asked to join on 14th April. </div><div>18) <i>April 3rd, 4th 2009 (Chennai)</i> - Different company. One more written test and two rounds of interview. I did well. I went back to Madurai hoping I get it in Chennai, awaiting the results that were supposed to come by 7th . </div><div>19) <i>7th April 2009 (Madurai)</i> - I resigned anyways. Even if I did not get the job in Chennai, I was going to join in B'lore. Made the decision. A confusing decision, which I realized after few months to be right. Finally, I sent the good-bye mail I was longing to send. </div><div>20) <i>9th April 2009 (Morning)</i> - Results of the company in Chennai were delayed. I booked my tickets to B'lore for the 12th. It was a long weekend from the next day and if the results did not come by evening, I decided to join in B'lore. </div><div>21) <i>9th April 2009 (Around 7 PM)</i> - Got a call from Chennai. I had gotten through. That phone call decided and has maneuvered my professional life and parts of my personal life since then. </div><div>22) <i>25th April 2009 (9 PM)</i> - Boarded the bus to Chennai. Waved goodbye to a lot of memories, bitterness, short-lived happiness and hell a lot of learnings (<i>technical and way more</i>). </div><div><br /></div><div><i>PS: </i></div><div><i>1) Usually I reread my posts a million times before posting. Today, I'm just posting it. So don't mind typos and the length. I'm sure you were bored by the end of it, but I thoroughly enjoyed reliving those seven months. </i></div><div><i>2) Jet Audio has looped the Varanam Ayiram tracks have around 10 times by now. So, the song selection did work for me, as always. :)</i></div><div><i>3) Regarding that <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2009/02/trophy-for-me.html">cricket cup</a>, I was in the squad though and I fielded for an over in one of the matches. We won the cup and I have a trophy at home. No, I have not listed this in the extra curricular achievements section of my resume. :)</i></div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-23480943617272303542011-02-02T23:45:00.005+05:302013-02-28T06:14:46.003+05:30Doppelgangers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Yeah, you got that right. I just ended the two week <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/How_I_Met_Your_Mother">HIMYM</a> (How I Met Your Mother) marathon. For, those who did not get it right, long story short, a guy called Ted Mosbee sits down his kids and walks them through the story of how he met their mother. I just finished five seasons and so far they have shown only the legs, a yellow umbrella, a guitar, a toy bus and a book of the mother. So, 5 x 24 episodes are just about all the stupid things Ted does in the process of meeting their mother, including telling a girl on their first date that he loves her, getting a butterfly tattoo, getting dumped at the altar, turning into a blond and many more.</div>
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There is a concept in the series about how the gang meets each of their look alike at some point - <i>The Doppelganger</i>. I admit that it does sound stupid, but, I was impressed with an incredible explanation in the end of the fifth season. The doppelganger is nothing but the past us. All of us look back at some point and wonder, "<i>How different would it have been if I was the same!</i>" - the most amazingly ridiculous wondering ever. </div>
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The truth is that all of us including me have wondered or will wonder this at least once. The funny fact being, we wouldn't have changed at all. The moment we wonder about what has changed is exactly when the transformation starts. Simple reason - you only see the change you want to be. </div>
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There is one trait that every human being is blessed with - putting up an act. I'm not talking about role play. The best use to which this acting trait is put - the act of change. We have no one to blame because accepted is the fact that it take guts to go back to being the same lousy person after a failure. Of course we are all true to that attempt of bringing about a change until anxiety plays the spoilsport. Anxiety is most dangerous when it builds images of the future, one over the other and pins you down until you give up and say, "<i>Screw it</i>".</div>
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Typical follow phrases of Screw it include: <i>One more cigarette; Gym definitely starting tomorrow, so, Dominos today; She needs me now, I'll be all cool from tomorrow; I don't think I love him/her; I'll study for the next periodicals; I promise to save from next month. </i></div>
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The result is we end up doing the very same thing we promised ourselves and a whole bunch of people that we wouldn't do ever again. That brings us to promise - the next in line killer, the characteristic of the vulnerable. Why promising is dangerous, especially if you are vulnerable, is that most often you aren't going to keep the promise. The result is the next in line - Guilt, where destruction begins. Even the so called mighty, the ones who don't break easily, get crumpled by guilt. Why its the worst is that, guilt, unlike the rest attacks the roots directly. Once found guilty, your confidence is shaken, and with confidence trembling, you who are standing on it, gradually fall down. </div>
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My point. People trying to change and by people, I am the first implication, should understand that change is not whatever you intend, but is that what eventually happens. No, not immediate fast food temporary change. The time period is undefined and differs depending on God knows what. But, it will happen someday and so, you will meet your doppelganger until which you might not even know whats different. </div>
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What good can come from taking an example of a stupid TV series? Of course the series has to be stupid. I don't think it would have gone past the pilot if the title was How I went to the Head of the Class. Getting real, everyone of us are Ted Mosbee, only, the object mother differs. What you learn in the process of finding the mother is what is important. Maybe that which separates the doppelganger from you is a wound that may never heal. The best part is that the wound is not something to cry about, but to be proud that you have come this far. </div>
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<i>PS: I have a strong feeling that, in the end, Ted is going to tell the children that they are adopted. True Story! :P</i></div>
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Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-44915529122942131542010-12-31T00:52:00.004+05:302010-12-31T07:23:43.868+05:30From 2010 to 2011 - The final dayAs we enter the final day of 2010, the curtain of a year's drama slowly comes down and we have to get going. Even as you are reading this, expectations are building everywhere - what you expect and what others expect of you - <i>pressure</i>. Resolutions - the worst of all crap man has come up with. Not only do you put yourself through something just for the sake of it, you also take guilt for not keeping up - <i>pressure</i>. The race you are in or getting ready for needs this, that and everything else that you get so self indulged with yourselves and friends/relatives/girlfriends get mad - <i>pressure</i>. Life is not a bloody pressure cooker. <div><br /></div><div>Now stop.<div><br /></div><div>Why the hell am I blurting out dialogs from 3 Idiots???? </div><div><br /></div><div>I believe that each and everyone knows what they want already or would figure that out somewhere down the lane and thus decide what they have to deal with. So, my only say is , "Live your Life". Rest unsaid. I'm getting to how 2010 turned out for me. People who are uninterested can change the channel anytime. :) Those who are rushing out now, "Happy New Year. May 2011 unearth all that you had/need for you".</div><div><br /></div><div><b>My 2010</b></div><div>Considering no one really close to me died, I should say 2010 was an awesome year for me. Well, this might be a tacky statement. If you knew the 2009 my family lived through, I already know that you are smiling. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>Best moments include </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>1) Double weddings in the family (April 6th - April 11th) - Totally disconnected from the outside world. Probably the longest duration I've not checked my mail, since 2005. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>2) Quality time with family and my cousin Srinath (Jan - April) - We travelled to Coimbatore every single weekend during this time. We made a video of our family. It came out fantastic and I'll cherish that forever.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>3) Went back to the childhood days with my oldest friend Arvind (Oct/Nov), when we were working on something together, which came out successful (well, not the best, but it did).</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>4) Dad celebrated his 60th B'day. There is not a single day where we don't have an argument, but the man is right about almost everything. Phew! 60 years. I'd be happy if I develop half as patience and responsibility as him.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>5) Colonial Cousins Live - I heard the songs I have loved since I didn't even know to operate my car's stereo, live. Man! I loved Nov 19th for this. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>6) I have worked really hard this year. First half of the year for personal reasons and the second half for official reasons. Got my salary credited today and knowing that every penny counts is invaluable.<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>7) When I held my cousin's six month old daughter for the first time. The feel of being one generation older was something. Can't wait to be an official uncle, which is going to happen soon. </div><div><br /></div><div>Worst moments include... well, why talk about it when you know its gonna do no good.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Other Tidbits</b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><i>Movies I loved</i> - Vinnaithandi Varuvaaya, Raavanan, Endhiran, Jhoota Hi Sahi, Madrasapattinam.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><i>Movies I hated</i> - Kites, Suraa.</span></div><div><div><div><div><div><i>Favourite Cricketing Moments</i> - Sachin's double century, Sachin's 50th test ton, Laxman's match saving innings with Australia.</div></div></div></div></div></div><div><i>A new place I Visited</i> - None.</div><div><i>Longest bike ride - </i>Nov 19th - Murphy chose me that day.</div><div><i>Epic Fail - </i>Gym, CAT, Buying a keyboard.</div><div><i>My own favourite blogs</i> - <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2010/01/moon-ride.html">Moon Ride</a>, <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2010/02/glimpse.html">Glimpse</a>, <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2010/05/bites.html">Bites - After Kites</a>, <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2010/06/sounds-of-silence.html">Sounds of Silence</a>, <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2010/07/eight-years-and-counting.html">Eight years and Counting</a>, <a href="http://catchchiju.blogspot.com/2010/11/for-old-times.html">For Old Times</a></div><div><i>Best meal I ate</i> - Dad had made an ultra super Morukootan (moru kolambu) last month.</div><div><i>Best meal I cooked</i> - Chappathi, Bindi Fry (last weekend) :P</div><div><i>Best thing I learnt from a mistake</i> - Don't take it for granted that even the "closest" of people are what you think they are. You have no idea. Either wise. </div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Well, I just wrote all those that came up to my mind now. :) In short, 2010 was awesome. I just wish 2011 has something similar in store. I'm sure it would. </div><div><br /></div><div>Wish you all a happy and prosperous new year. Have fun! </div><div>Chiju</div><div>31st December 2010</div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4308977304684608847.post-47303245002738096162010-11-23T17:51:00.008+05:302010-11-23T19:38:12.781+05:30The Joke is on you<div><i>Me</i>: There are mistakes that you dare commit while giving unnecessary information to a group that is drinking tea. </div><div><i>Myself</i>: And those would be?<br /><div><i>Me</i>: Don't look at a Cathay Pacific that is flying over the building in front of which you are having tea. If you have looked, don't mind anyone who read out loud "Cathay Pacific".</div><div><i>Myself</i>: If you did?</div><div><i>Me</i>: Don't add anything to it.</div><div><i>Myself</i>: If you can't keep your mouth shut?</div><div><i>Me</i>: Well, at least don't tell them that you have traveled by Cathay Pacific.</div><div><i>Myself</i>: What if someone asks, "<i>To Kuwait</i>?"</div><div><i>Me</i>: Don't correct them, or else just correct them and leave it there.</div><div><i>Myself</i>: Why?</div><div><i>Me</i>: Maybe because some guy might ask you what is the uniform of the air hostess, for which you might have to say, "<i>Dude. I traveled when I was in first grade. How would I remember?</i>".</div><div><i>Myself</i>: Yeah. So, whats the problem. </div><div><i>Me</i>: Now the guy who asked you would respond. "<i>Maybe because you traveled at an age you did not bother</i>" and shut up, but can you? </div><div><i>Myself</i>: If No? </div><div><i>Me</i>: Then, at least don't say that when you were getting off the flight, they gave you two nice dolls. Everyone (or someone) might starting laughing loudly.</div><div><i>Myself</i>: Oh the idea of a guy liking dolls? That you were very small then? Doesn't that count?</div><div><i>Me</i>: You wish. </div><div><i>Myself</i>: No recovery then? </div><div><i>Me</i>: No no. You can recover from that.</div><div><i>Myself</i>: Then whats the problem?</div><div><i>Me</i>: They might not be laughing for the whole doll thing?</div><div><i>Myself</i>: What else?</div><div><i>Me</i>: Well, You never know. You might realize it late.</div><div><i>Myself</i>: Late?</div><div><i>Me</i>: Yeah. Maybe, when you can't recover anymore.</div><div><i>Myself</i>: How does that work? Why would they laugh then?</div><div><i>Me</i>: Because you made an impression of holding two invisible dolls, one in each hand. </div><div><i>Myself</i>: Now, why is that funny? </div><div><i>Me</i>: It is funny when you hold them pretty close to each other, with considerably open palms and at a certain height from the ground level. :(</div></div><div><i>Myself</i>: Ooooooooooh!</div>Chijuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00380719950245749985noreply@blogger.com4