< / manuscrypts.blogspot.com >

On Independence Day, I realised that there comes a time to shake free, of even things that you hold dear. That’s how you come here on a Monday only to figure out that this is the end of manuscrypts.blogspot.com. But, in case you thought you’d gotten rid of me, check out the spanking new www.manuscrypts.com

until next time, adieu, and see you there :)

Worth

The movie played in the background. The hero, playing a young martyr, mouthed his final words, “I give up my life so that my countrymen can understand what being free means”.

Oblivious to all this, she scanned the paper. “Buy one, get two free” screamed the headline. “Now that’s what ‘free’ really means”, she exclaimed.

until next time, free*     

*Conditions apply

Joy

The compartment echoed with the child’s cries despite its mother’s and others’ efforts, as the vendor slowly made his way around hawking his toys. He stopped near the child, trying to cheer it. And slowly the cries turned to gurgles, and laughing. The vendor smiled, the smile of a blind man who could create happiness.

until next time, and we turn a blind eye

Transience

Its comforting to walk about, and intuitively know the way around, without ever having to pause and think..the familiar roads and buildings, and places that are significant thanks to the associations they have with yesteryear life.

Its soothing to catch up with people who you haven't spoken to in years, and still be able to have a conversation which you feel had been left off  only the day before, about friends and friends of friends, where they are and what they do..

And as you walk around, its also a bit unsettling to find out that some old landmarks have been replaced with swanky buildings, the roads don't look the way it used to, desolate buildings that you stare at and say "I used to know some people here", new street names and sometimes whole new streets have cropped up.

And when you look around, you miss a few old faces, that used to smile at you from shopfronts...nameplates that you thought would remain forever, have been replaced, bringing new characters and creating new stories.
And sometimes, as you talk, you understand that even the old characters have changed, perhaps without even them knowing it.

And that's when you realise that there's something both sweet, and sour about having a town you can call home. A home where your life and memories were shaped, and which is now being reshaped by others' dreams, and lives.

And as places fade away and landscapes change, you are reminded of sand slipping through your fingers, even as you try to hold on. What remains are those tiny flecks, to give you memories, and to remind you of the fleeting nature of it all.....

until next time, mortality

News Updates

He saw the battalion of police in front of the theatre and immediately smsed his reporter friend. After the terror activities recently, there was no telling what’d happen and when. He could imagine the contempt on his friend’s face as he read the message and replied “Don’t you know there’s a Rajni movie release tomorrow?”

until next time, filmi... very filmi :|

I do?

“I am getting married”, she said. He wasn’t ready for dealing with this, their relationship wasn’t that defined yet. ”If that’s what you want.”, he managed. “..to you” she continued, “if that’s okay with you”. He wasn’t ready for dealing with this, their relationship wasn’t that defined yet. ”If that’s what you want.”, he managed.

until next time, decision makers

PS. Inspired by this

Bang Allure

She was tired of this place. Yesterday, an announcement about more power cuts. Great, no lights. And what was with the city today? Why was there such an eerie silence around? Great, no sound too. God, was some light and sound too much to ask for in a metro?  That was when the bomb exploded.

until next time, careful what you wish for

The powers that be

Decision making is something we try to be good at, maybe it has something to do with the little bit of a control freak we have in all of us. And we judge some as good decision makers, and some as bad, not pausing to think that the seemingly good or bad decisions can be reversed so quickly by a twist of fate. Of course, there are some who would refuse to attribute even a small iota of it to fate, but then that’s an age old argument, so I'd not want to get in there now.

Meanwhile, though decisions affect any number of people from an individual to nations, depending on who takes them, I tend to believe that the control that we have been given seems to be reducing with each passing period. No, not as individuals, but as humanity in general.

Reading mythology, Indian and otherwise is taking its toll on me :) , so humour me. Every civilisation speaks of gifted individuals, and several of them who could cause epidemics, control the elements of nature, and change things in a way that would be inconceivable to us (that a human could do such things) Our mythology (which I believe to be history as opposed to myth) has a liberal splattering of sages who could give curses, heroes who could change the course of battles with a single weapon and so on.

Stories, you say, but do you think that at some point of time, a higher power trusted humans enough to give them the liberty and the ability to do such things, and because of what we have done to ourselves, it has been taken away from us?

until next time, fall from grace

Burning Issues

While checking out the classifieds, he wondered why anyone would apply for a job selling ‘Cease Fire’ to homes. Offices were fine, but would people buy fire extinguishers for home? He was startled out of his reverie by the loud sound of the transformer exploding outside, and the thick smoke coming from his burning adaptor.

until next time, quickfire answers

Increased Mobility

He was surprised to be told that he was showing off. Wasn’t it a regular custom to send an sms to announce a mobile number change? Of course, this time there was a twist to it. The message said, “My mobile number has changed from W910i to E71. No, you don’t need to save it”

until next time, numeric only? ;)

You have a message

... and the song that was playing on TV when i switched on the comp to check the feeds happened to be Joan Osborne's 'One of Us', a personal favourite, mostly because of the lyrics. And one of the feeds that popped up first linked to this, a mail from God.
Now its very rarely that I have posts that links to things that make a good forward but there are times when that cool line from The Matrix Reloaded, which i keep mouthing regularly, is made believable - "We have not come here by chance. I do not believe in chance. ........ I do not see coincidence, I see providence. I see purpose. I believe it our fate to be here. It is our destiny." And so, I thought i should do my bit by spreading the message.
The reason I like that mail is because it keeps things simple, and brings up a point that I've increasingly come to believe in - the overbearing influence of money, on society.
Before you write it off as a pro-socialism tirade, I do believe that as a tool, money has immense amount of benefits, but when the accumulation of money becomes a purpose in itself, we become the tool, and that's what's increasingly happening.
Meanwhile, on a sidenote, the message also perhaps answers austere's recent question. Death is quite possibly God's way of saying 'long time, no see'

until next time, counting my blessings

Horrorscope

He wasn’t superstitious, but the day’s Career horoscope spooked him. With the elections approaching, his role as PM meant holding the fort till then, and building a positive image in the public’s eyes. He was betting heavily on the nuclear deal, so it really wasn’t a good time to be told “You’ll feel Left out”

until next time, leftovers

Timebound

He’d always been fascinated by time travel. So it wasn’t surprising that he decided to see a sci-fi flick even if there was some apprehension on how Bollywood would handle it. The movie was very inspirational. Halfway through the movie, he wished he could time travel, back to the time he bought the damn tickets.

until next time, not even timepass

So, what happened in the end?

Happened to see 'Via Darjeeling' last weekend. It left me with a very poignant thought. About storytelling. Lets take a murder mystery/ thriller.
When a writer develops a story, it exists only in his head, its origin, its twists and turns, and its conclusion. What happens when the author leaves the story open? Gives the audience all the twists and turns and refuses to give the ending? Worse, what if the story is such that it has many plausible endings?
Now different members of the audience could propose several endings, based on their sensibilities, but they will never know what 'actually' happened. These days, we are so obsessed with knowing ALL the facts, that it would be an absolute blow. And its not like the real life happenings on which we are okay with some ambiguity. Perhaps it would be a good idea to get out of our conditioning that forces us to accept nothing less than conclusive endings in works of fiction, especially in cinema.

until next time, unending

Wake up call

He liked watching her sleep. She looked so much at peace now, wrapped up in that something-like-a-shawl thing. But he’d have to wake her now, to tell her that he’d finally cracked a puzzle. Now he knew why reality shows worked. People would rather watch someone sleeping than the movie for which they paid Rs.200.

until next time, in reality....

Faith

So, how did it all start off? An understanding that there was a higher power that controlled destinies and the world around beyond any level that a man could aspire or imagine ? A need to connect to this entity and lay out the easiest way to do so? A way of bringing together people and making them work towards a common goal? A physical platform to relate to the belief in a metaphyical entity? Perhaps, and perhaps not.
Somewhere in between, came the ones who claimed to have gone much closer to the entity than their peers. And they formed the higher power through prisms that were based on their individual realities and expectations, and their peers, who at best, were a confused lot, followed. Faith became religion and from a thought, became a set of practices, and from us, we became us and them.

And that makes me wonder whether He, any He, feels the need for religion. And brings me to an unintentionally hilarious but profound statement from an old Malayalam movie, where the character states, in all seriousness to a priest, " In religion, and in sex, I don't feel the need for middlemen" :)

until next time, profundity or profanity?

The Art of Breathing

‘Breathe in’ said the instructor. A collective intake of breaths followed. ‘Now hold until I tell you’, he continued. The stillness followed for some excruciating seconds. Just as he said ‘Exhale’, a sound erupted which prompted quite a few giggles. ‘..through the mouth’ said the instructor, with a deadpan expression, and without missing a beat.

until next time, gas chambers

The real inflation

And the nation cringes as the inflation goes way beyond 8%, and threatens to go even more. A litre of petrol, which was about Rs.20, when i first started using it, now costs well over Rs.50.
I remember the kind of vehicles that used to accompany mine in the petrol stations. A few Ambassadors and Fiats, on their way to extinction, a lot of Maruti- the normal 800 as well as Omnis and the occasional Esteem, and mostly two wheelers. The scene has changed with global brands vying for the customer's attention. So we have the Hyundais and Fords and Chevrolets and Skodas bringing out bigger and costlier cars that are aimed to showcase its user's affluence and highlight his standing, which is er, a little above that of his peers.?
Of course, the way he behaves on the road would make you doubt this premise.I have very often, in the course of conversations, heard the owners of the big cars complaining about how their cars guzzle fuel. And how they feel the pressure when the petrol prices go up. And i have always wondered that even if we manage to control inflation, will we ever find a way to control inflated egos.

until next time, pricks... for the ego

Happy Father's Day?

until next time, a billion plus wishes ;)

Prisoners of birth?

"They're both oaks, even if they were planted in different forests. But then, m'lord, we all suffer in our different ways from being prisoners of birth.", thus spoke a wonderful character called Mr. Munro in Jeffrey Archer's 'A Prisoner of Birth'. Profundity !
I wonder how many of us are able to grow into oaks, irrespective of which forest we're planted in. No doubt, a few do manage, but the majority live a life that derives a lot from the forest it grew up in. Getting set into patterns and stereotypes that somehow define us irrespective of what we are and what we attempt to be. From the name that reveals your nationality, religion, to the tags that make you middle class/ cosmopolitan/ south indian and everything in between.
And by the time we pause for breath, and care to reflect on where we have reached, we can only wonder how life might have been different, if the settings chosen had been different. And sometimes we look around and end up thanking the higher power for the setting. The place, the time, the parents, the economic conditions which perhaps make up the where, when, who and what, but leaves us holding the one question that we'd love the answer to - why?

until next time, the path to freedom...

Child Talk

She had been visiting the park for years now, to watch the children play. So many years, that now some of the 'children' could be seen with toddlers oftheir own. And in the last couple of years, she'd made a new friend. A young girl, who also loved to watch the children play.
There was something she wished to ask her new friend, she thought today would be a good day. So, after she came and they had dispensed with their usual small talk, she asked the girl about her plans to have children, now that it had been a few years since her marriage.
"Well, tell me your story and I'll tell you mine. Why didn't you have any kids" asked the girl
"My husband and i began seeing each other quite late, and by the time we married, we were too old to have children. So you see, we met too late. And that's why i asked you, to advise you to not put it off for too long", she said
"Hmm, well, as you know, we met when we both were not even twenty. So its as though we have known each other forever, and know each other inside out. Perhaps that is the problem. You see, we've already started our divorce proceedings. Maybe we met too early"

until next time, not just a matter of time

Urban Yogi

He couldn’t believe he’d reached a higher plane so fast. While Yoga was known to be effective, it took people years of practice to get there, but he’d briefly glimpsed it in his first session itself. He was safely brought back to earth, when his trainer told him that weakness had possibly caused his blackout.

until next time, kickaasana

Heaven and Earth

The church wasn't a large one. But we reached early, and so its emptiness gave it a magnificence disproportionate to its size. The empty pews and the stained glass added to the effect. The bride and the groom exchanged rings and took their first steps into holy matrimony. It'd been a long time since I'd been to a church wedding and thus it made a great experience.

And then the choir started, a sound that shattered the alternate silences and the monologues of the priest. A sound that transported me into a different plane, and gave me a glimpse of what they might have envisioned when they made religion and with its temples and churches. Yes, you didn't need a special place to pray, you could do it anywhere, but this was a place of tranquility that would help man to converse with his maker. An atomosphere of serenity thatwould help him to hold on to his faith amidst the chaos around him.

Meanwhile, less than a hundred metres away stood a massive structure, a mall in the heart of Bangalore. The huge population that thronged to it made it seem much smaller than it actually was. But, as soon as they entered, they were transported to a world where they could forget their worries and shop and dine to their heart's content, a world of opulence and harmony. A world that sucked them into its chaos, but made them happy.Two worlds, separated by a few metres, and separated by a distance that each one must travel on his own.

until next time, to be worldly and wise....

The Cybernauts

Was reading a book a few weeks back - The Cybergypsies by Indra Sinha, which was a kind of autobiographical take on the early days of the internet, thats starting around the mid eighties. Its a tale of the early cybernauts, their addiction to the internet and how their real and virtual lives fought each other for attention and threatened to engulf each other.
It took me back to the turn of the century, my early days online, when the net of Indra Sinha was well on its way to becoming the worldwide web it is today. It reminded me of the a/c internet cafes, visits to which were not so frequent because of the steep costs, and the dimly lit computer labs in the university which had only the unreliable vsnl connection.The days of IRC and chats with unknown angels and merlins and superboys, the arcade games, the imaginary worlds created among friends across geographies, in a way, it was almost the kind of life the early cybernauts led.
And when you were asked what exactly you spent hours in front of a computer for, you really couldn't explain what made it so worthwhile. The days of usa.net and eudoramail and theglobe.com, names which have bitten cyberdust quite a whileback. I still have a friend from those days, almost a decade of only virtual friendship, well, almost, since she sent me flowers for my wedding :)
And then came the initial days of blogging, and friends made on rediffblogs, people whom I did not know really, but with whom i shared thoughts, and rants. And, that, i guess where virtuality started ending and reality started taking over. There were blog meets and the imaginary worlds created carefully gave way to the cafes of the real world.
It took a turn with orkut and co, where the networks were used to get in touch with people you already knew in your real life. And these days, on twitter, i meet a few who i used to know during the rediff days, but gone are the days of anonymity, for my linkedin profile would readily tell people who i was in the real world.
i miss those days, because there was only communication and a conversation among equals then. No virtual celebrities, no social media experts, no snobs, everything was virtual, your imagination and thoughts were the only thing that mattered, virtuality was a shell you could retreat to when the real world became too unbearable. Its different now, virtuality and reality are too enmeshed, and as with everything else in the world, behind every virtual interaction, there is a real intention. This must be Cybernauts 2.0

until next time, really virtual

Fairytale Endings

We hurried, after all it was not everyday that we could listen to a Lord. We didn't make it early enough because there was already quite a crowd in attendance, most of whom were not pleased to see latecomers trying to squeeze their way in between. The lord came on time, and had his audience spellbound with his anecdotes and immense sense of humour. He promised to autograph every book that his audience had brought, but there was a twist in the tale. The peasants at Landmark wouldn't let us near unless we'd made a purchase then and there. So we left, with the satisfaction that we at least got to see him.

But that wasn't the only reason we left early, we had one more audience left, a Prince, no less - Prince Caspian. There's a reason why i was eagerly waiting for this film. Unlike the modern day children's tales of magic, this one is absolutely fairytale. Good and evil are clearly defined and there are no greys in between. It takes you back to a time when you would believe in talking animals, magic, witches, wise kings and all the folk who appear in fairytales in all their innocence. Its a completely different world, and as i read somewhere, some things have to be believed to be seen.

until next time, back to reality

Value for money

A term that is bandied about a lot these days, especially since we live in an era of consumer monsters, who insist on getting every paise's worth. But i remember the time when two of the words were used differently, and remember the generation which worked hard to make us understand the value of money. That generation lived most of their life before liberalisation, and are yet to come to terms with the plethora of choices that are now on offer.

It hit me a few days back, when I was sitting in a desserts joint working my way through a chocolate mound, and saw a man, perhaps in his early sixties looking into the shop, and for a fleeting second, at me. The melancholic look said it all. The look of a man, who has perhaps spent an entire working life making sure that his family was well provided for, that his kids got a good education, and they had a home they could call their own, and while doing all these, mostly missed out on things that he'd like to have done.

And now, when the kids are all grown up, and he finally has the time, he realises the world has changed, and the value of money has been drastically altered, and that the plans he might have made are rendered useless, thanks to the prices and the amount of people who are capable of and willing to pay a premium for the same services. People, like his own children, who work hard to make sure they earn enough to pay the premium, and end up not having enough time for the people who kickstarted their lives.

Long ago, when he gave up that new shirt piece, so that his child could have a new toy, could he have imagined that one day, his child could buy shirts from brands he thought would never see in India, but not have time to remember the toy his father had once bought for him? Could he have imagined this was the way it would all turn out to be? And after he looks at me through the window that separates our worlds, i look at myself, and wonder whether it'll all work out the way we plan, or will we also be unable to comprehend the lives we bring out into the world?

until next time, values

Long before we had single button publishing.......

A few days back, a friend buzzed me on GTalk to ask if i was the kind who contributed to magazines. She had seen a 1996 issue of Reader's Digest which had an item with my name and hometown, a combo which was too coincidental to not check out. And right she was.

Took me back to 1996, second year of Engineering, a time of upheaval. I was still getting used to staying away from home, and books were something i clung on to, not the engineering type, but fiction, perhaps as a link to a life i left behind. And since RD was something we subscribed to, at home, i sometimes carried it to the hostel. Incidentally, Dad still subscribes, and when i go home, i still get laughs from 'Humour in Uniform','Life's Like that' etc.

I remember the time when, after reading the 'Towards More Picturesque Speech' section, I sat down to make spanking new oxymorons. It didn't matter that i had no clarity on whether 'Picturesque' was made of two separate words i knew, though i couldn't see what sense their joining made, or it was a totally new word. Meanwhile, dozens of oxymorons made their way to RD, but only a few managed to get published. Maybe they are still laughing at the ones that didn't get published.

In the old days of India Post exclusives, I waited for the postman to bring me news of RD accepting my entry and er, paying me. When, eventually they did, I also remember the thrill of getting paid, and for the first time, seeing my words and name on print. Of course, I was also asked to explain the humour in (for example) 'Mutually Exclusive' and why it got published. I usually failed. For that particular example, the one that got published in 1996, I remember the picture on the cover too, because that was the last entry i ever sent to RD. Something must have changed after that.

Have you ever tried to look back into your past, a sort of bird's eye view? And sometimes, while doing so, have you ever felt conflicting emotions? SometimesI cannot understand myself and why i'd done things I did. And sometimes, I understand myself totally and wish someone had been there to give me a hug that I was longing for. And that still brings a lump to my throat. Maybe I have't changed after all.

until next time, published

A colorful personality

She was always interested in colors, ever since she was a child. Not that many people appreciated her work, but she couldn't care less. She had a way of mixing the most varied of colors and producing what she thought was sublime harmony. Of course, the masses never seemed to agree with her, but she was sure if the critics got a chance to see her works of art, they would fall short of words to praise her with.

And that was the only thing that kept her going inspite of the harsh words from her parents and all those who came in contact with her works. But even her detractors would have to admit, thosethat came in contact were profoundly affected.

Once she grew up, she decided to focus her energies on fabric. Though the opportunities that she got were not many, she tried her best to do justice to all the ones she got. The brickbats continued to come, but she was not to be deterred.

And today, she had decided to create a work of art that would knock the air out of whoever saw it. And knock the air out she did, as I could only gape in shock as our maid nonchalantly showed me my new bottle green corduroys that now sported violet gashes in strategic locations.

until next time, maid to disorder

Views

...and we lament, 'Oh, he has changed', without pausing to consider the objectivity of the statement. We like people to stay whoever they have been so long, because it then means we don't have to alter the patterns we have set for them, and when, in our view, they alter themselves even a wee bit, we frown, and even that small changes causes a butterfly effect on the set of patterns, however irrelevant they might be to the particular change.

And that was what i discovered the last time I checked - 'our view'. In many cases, it may not be the person that changes, but only our view of him. Our views, which change constantly as a result of all the experiences we keep having. Our views, which keep adding layer after layer, filter after filter,so that the tint that we see once may never be seen again.That perhaps is why the youth are not able to have a child like innocence in their perspectives, and the middle aged can never find their youthful exuberance in their views, and so on...

And so, the next time, i say 'You have changed', I shall perhaps do a quick review of what really has changed.

until next time, next change

Dealing from the front

He tried again. The damn thing just wasn't going in. He'd been trying to push it in for the last half hour with no success. He wondered how he'd got himself into this predicament. All he wanted was to have some fun, just like the good old days. Maybe he was too old for all this.

Wait a second, he wasn't old, what was old was the object of his affection, increasingly becoming merely the object of his irritated attention. He tried pushing it in once more.

Truth be told, he'd always been used to doing it from the top in the good old days, but that one'd died on him a while back.This frontal atack was something new to him, though his friend had told him it wasn't anything radically different when he loaned him his item - one used to such moves. For only one day, he'd said quite forcefully.

Quite apparently, his friend had no idea ofthe subtle differences. He gave up. It just wasn't worth it, he thought, as he switched the DVD player on. He'd remember to give his friend a piece of his mind, when he returned the damn front loading vhs system!!

until next time, cardio video

Growth, or the lack of it....

At every cross road, there are opportunities that have not been taken. There are choices that have been made, options that have been taken, the first with a steely resolve, and the second, with a sense of compromise. The first is more often than not, a happy tone that comes from knowing exactly what we want, and the second one is a tone of resignation, which comes from knowing somewhere deep inside that by giving up a little, much could have been gained, if only we could bring ourselves to do it, if only we could be sure...

I've always wondered about why I have a problem with giving up a few comforts, a few perks, a few advantages in life, especially if it means I could have an opportunity to connect with what I was meant to do in this life. At first, i thought it could be because I wasn't sure what exactly it was. But then, I was even giving up chances of finding out what it could be.

I came across a new logic a while back. One thats rooted in my small town origins. Of course, its no longer a small town, its what they call a tier 2 city. :) Growing up in a small town means that you're always on 'add to shopping cart' mode in terms of aspirations. Growing up in an age when the cans of cola in the hands of videsi relatives evoked a sense of envy, didn't help. While a lot of the shopping cart items were thrown out with age and what I hope is maturity, there are some deep seated ones which are difficult to get over. Which explains the constant striving for growth. And as each upgrade is done with, it becomes more difficult to give up what has been achieved after so much of work has gone into it. While it can be argued that the potential growth by letting go is much larger, or that the movement is only lateral, when you come in from what is relatively nowhere, it is difficult to imagine even risking going back there.

until next time, hedging the bets

Separate Lives

They had all said that marriage was not an easy thing. It was a balancing act, and one which posed new difficulties as soon as you thought you had it all planned out. That was just before she got married, and now almost a decade had passed.Yes, it was quite a lot of what they said, but that was only part of it.

Truth be told, she was a happy woman now. She had a great love life, something women of her age could only dream about. Sometimes, more often than not, on weekdays, he took a day off from work and spent the whole day with her, ready to do her bidding. For instance, he was taking her shopping today, and when they returned, he had promised to cook lunch for her. And it was not even a weekend. Bliss.

They had a great time shopping, it was amazing how much of a help even a man could be in shopping, if he put his mind to it. And he was a great chef, that was a well proven fact. In fact, after she tasted his menu of the day, she asked him why he wouldn't think of it as a career.Speaking of careers, her husband was a high profile corporate executive. He earned enough not to mind her frequent shopping trips. That reminded her, she'd have to leave now to get back by the time he returned from office. After all, she couldn't allow such a great life to be disrupted by a suspicious husband.

Yes, they were right, married life was a balance, one that took quite some acting.

until next time, vows and woes

Panchvi Pass

They asked him about his new fad. He said it was a 55, a concept/story told in 55 words, no more no less. They said, okay when would he stop. He said, soon. Actually, it was just a quirky race, to complete fifty five 55s before his blog turned 5. That day would be tomorrow.

Until next time, ab tak pachpan :)

GeneRations

The lights went out, followed immediately by the drone of the apartment’s generator. Now there’d be sound and smoke,but yes, there would be light too. It would get the lamps in the apartment compound going, and he could study. Anyway, it was better than in his house, in the slum next to the apartment.

until next time, let there be light

The Journey

And they walked on, through the twists and turns of joys and sorrows and mundane experiences. They were happy, they knew that such was life. The only sadness was that through the twists and turns, they lost sight of who they were when they started out, and now there was no time to go back.

until next time, keeping track

Name Calling

He was still wondering about a proper name. He would have a loved a name that had some synergy with any one of his various holdings, but he was not sure that would be possible. After all, that name would also have to symbolise what his outfit stood for.

So, keeping in mind the fact that most of the players he had on his side were aged around the total number of overs that would be bowled per contest, and the fact that, for this team winning the tournament woule be a huge challenge, he named his team. Surprisingly it also matched the name of one of his brands. What more could one ask for?

And that, ladies and gentlemen was how the naming ceremony of Bangalore's IPL team was done. Starring Rahul Dravid, AnilKumble, Sunil Joshi, Jacque Kallis etc- Royal Challengers.

until next time, whats in a name? :)

PS. I should have used better words, in case i have to eat them ;)

Let there be light

He was a worried man, and that was a new experience. His family had been running the shop for generations now. Although they had initially been into commodities, his father had turned into an electric appliances and hardware shop. He had further expanded into small gadgets. This had proved to be a winning move especially since the slew of cheap products from across the border had begun.

He prided himself on his good relationships with his neighbours - both local as well as international, as well as his customers. So it came as a great surprise to him when a few days back, when some of his young customers chose to go to his competitor across the street, inspite of him attempting a conversation when he saw them on the street. Similar was the case with the Tibetans who lived nearby, who were his regulars, and with whom he had developed a great rapport.

He was unable to get a fix on what had caused this sudden change, but he had been noticing that people looked away with distaste when they glanced up at the shop awning. He wondered if it had anything to do with the new signage he had been displaying outside his shop, the one that advertised chinese torches.

until next time, olympian mistakes

The Source

Each one of you felt an urge to write, and thats why you have a blog. You would have seen bloggers older than you, no not in age, like me, but those who have been around longer than you have. In turn they would also know bloggers older than them, but how did it all begin? I came across a picture recently on an egroup, that throws light on this. So, without further ado here it is.

Now, like all answers, it poses a few questions of its own. Are we to understand that bloggers basically evolved from missionary positions? Does that also mean that perhaps female bloggers originated from nuns? most importantly, has there been any evolution since this image?

until next time, seek and ye shall find

Paradox

There are times, usually on those starlit nights, when one realises the insignificance of his own self in the context of the cosmos’ vast expanses. But then one sees events around him, considers his own actions, the effects it has on others, and the butterfly effect that starts from then on, and realises his significance.

until next time, signatures in the annals of time

Thus began April

She answered the doorbell, and told him he was wanted. In his foggy early morning state, he reached the door and found a woman blinking at him. He blinked right back. To diffuse the stalemate he asked what she wanted. She said his wife had told her to wait while she sent the waste outside.

until next time, not fool's proof

Sorry Bob

He loved wedding lunches, and was disappointed when work kept him away from one, especially since all his friends would make it. But that was nothing compared to his bemusement, when a casual enquiry on how it went got this Bob Dylan response from his friend ‘the answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind’

until next time, fart attack

An Affair to remember

Their relationship started during his post graduation days, but like many relationships, it seemed it couldn’t stand the test of time. He felt he hadn’t changed, but she had. These days, she entertained far too many people for him to feel special in the relationship. And that is how his love affair with Goa ended.

until next time, they're still friends :)

Having F1

It was the first race of the season. The racecars were moving at such speeds that they seemed to fly. But at the first curve, one of the cars literally flew off the track. When he saw the name on the tail, he wasn’t surprised;it wasn’t the first time he’d seen a Kingfisher fly.

until next time, forcing India :(

Broadening Horizons

There was something different about this post. It wasn’t visible to the naked eye, but it was there. Even if you hadn’t noticed it before, you’d have started thinking about it now. Don’t fret, actually there is nothing phenomenally different, except this is the first post from the home laptop and the new broadband connection.

until next time, going surfing :)

Ouch

They said it’d be painless. A few of his friends that is, who’d gone through it recently, but he always thought there’d be some trauma, more emotional than physical. And so it was, that he woke up on the fateful day, and felt an overwhelming emotion, which made him say “Ouch, did I hit 30?”

until next time, happy?

For reasons unexplained

She called first. Then many like her. He hung up rudely. They kept calling, forcing him to ponder. Maybe they called for a reason, maybe they’d data on him, maybe they knew something he didn’t. So, when she called next, he asked earnestly ‘Why do I need a personal loan’. This time she hung up.

until next time, call waiting

Twitter

He: Sigh, we have company

She: I hope they don’t create problems for us

He: yeah, we had trouble the last time

She: I’m telling you, I won’t tolerate any shit

And they flew off, leaving me and D to wonder if we’ll be looking at pigeon shit in the clothes we left for drying.

until next time, pigeons!!!

Wild things

They set out early in the morning, with the cameras ready. As the boat moved silently in the morning, they waitedwith bated breath for the sightings and the stories they could share. The excitement changed to hope and lasted till five minutes before the tour ended. Quite obviously, someone forgot to tell the animals.

until next time, jungle talk

Turn Turn Turn

Relationships. Hugs and backslaps give way to handshakes and then smiles. Swearwords give way to way to polite greetings and then a ‘Hi’. Long chats give way to short conversations to scraps on orkut and then to nothingness. Maybe that’s the way life is, but maybe its also time, place, context and things unexplainable. Fade.

until next time, we say 'it depends' :)

I remember a house, like a lot of other houses, a yard.....

From streets lined with trees, from flyover constructions, from roads whose names gave indications of a colonial past, from temples and their loudspeaker bhajans and flower fragrances, from an old theatre that played mallu movies, from rail tracks and the hoot of the occasional train. To change, and the creation of another set of memories.

until next time, shift

A Matter of Time

He knew people changed, but this change astounded him. The last time he’d seen the guy he was just an acerbic old man who growled more than talked and hated the concept of love. But now he was a young man who seemed kind, just and fully in love. Maybe it was just father time!!

until next time, chota akbar :)

Hide and Seek

..and some embrace the world in all its flamboyance, exploring each and every pore for all its worth. Some retreatinto self made shells or spaces where no one can find them, literally or virtually. Some of us succeed in losing ourselves, some of us in finding ourselves, and the unfortunate ones fall in between.

until next time, where art thou?

Documentary

He waited patiently, then impatiently, while they searched. Strange, they said, the document numbers above and below his were intact. Irritated, he wondered why they didn’t convey this when he called up the day before. As they took the documents from a separate drawer, their looks said it all – couldn’t you have conveyed THAT earlier?

until next time, customer service for dummies

Love Handles

After a tough day at work, after a deliberation on the purpose of life, after a windfall, after getting stuck in a traffic jam, after pondering over all possible whys, after a promotion, after all the rollercoaster days that make up life, its all worth handling only when you have someone to go back to….

until next time, happy valentine's day

Depression

There’s a sticker that adorns the vehicle of those working in the fourth estate. It helps open gates that’d otherwise be stubbornly closed, and instills a sense of wariness among those who cross its path. But its quite bemusing when another vehicle crashes into it and the driver says, ‘Oops, did I press too hard?’

until next time, pressing matters :)

The Non non conformists

There was a time conformity was common. When the non conformists became the majority, they changed the rules. Belonging suddenly became cool, and new herds were formed. But if you really look at it, not much has really changed. We’ve only traded conformism for a sense of belonging. The options are many, the choices few.

until next time, heard the post begin here :)

Colorful

The argument was about how the brand was aptly named, because the tee now sported an amalgamation of the red and blue, which, before the wash, had refused to socialize with each other, and the white that surrounded them. But the store sales guys were nice and exchanged the tee. So there went the argument.

until next time, maybe next time

Mindgames

They played with each other, taunting, challenging, and trying to outdo each other. It was exciting, and though it wasn’t the first time, they never got bored. It really didn’t matter who came first, and who came second, the fun was in playing, not in the result. Scrabbles, a game, a form of textual intercourse.

until next time, double word, double meaning :)

Lovegames

It was easy to say ‘love all’, but he’d have to make a choice. The tall, slim, squeaking Serbian brunette, or the taller, slimmer, shrieking,Russian blonde. Both were too good to be co-recipients of his affection. Perhaps he should watch one more tennis match between them before hefinally chose between Ana and Maria.

until next time, match makers

LOC

And we draw our lines. They might be invisible to those who come in, but we expect strict adherence from them, and sometimes we communicate it subtly or explicitly but sometimes not at all. And when they leave, we can’t complain. Perhaps they don’t like our lines, or perhaps they have their own lines.

until next time, draw your own conclusions

Sister Act

My sister’s college group finished their social project, and built the local tribals a treehouse to show their appreciation, with a strict warning nailed to it -‘maximum 4 people’. A few days later they heard the tree house had collapsed from overloading. We asked her who was dumber – the literate students or the illiterate tribals.

until next time, tree has a crowd

Legacies

Quite sometime back, i had written this, in which i had tried to fathom the confusion of a generation caught in transit. That genaration is definitely making progress, marching towards the paramaters of the next generation with ever increasing confidence, but in a sense, giving up on things that used to be sacrosanct until a few years back. Nothing wrong with that, to each his own. But there's one thing that always makes me wonder.

There were things we grew up with - watching potboilers of amitabh in moviehalls with uncomfortable seats and later in VCRs, listening to the nasality of Kumar Sanu on Tseries tapes, enjoying the exploits of Kapil Dev or later Sachin Tendulkar in a crowded room full of cousins, reading Amar Chitra Katha and Tinkle and Indrajal, travelling in Ambassador cars and Indian railways, lazing around during summer vacations and so on.

And while they still watch Big B movies in multiplexes, listen to Himesh on Tseries CDs while pretending to say Oh No's, Tendulkar still rocks despite occasional calls for retirement, ACK and Tinkle will soon be available online, Indian Railways is still cool if we go by Jab We Met, and they find a few hours to laze around during summer vacations despite the karate classes, entrance tutions, salsa classes etc that enable them to survive and win in this oh-so competitive world, I wonder whether they'll ever get nostalgic about any of the above the way we do.

Or have they found other things that i haven't heard of that will link them with their childhood and youth, the ones that will give them bittersweet memories which they can jot down like this, the legacy of a way of life they can pass on to the generations that follow. Or will it all be forgotten in the tumble of the life we lead today, in which everyday brings in a faster way of doing things, a quicker way of travelling, a better way to store data, an easier way to communicate and so on... Will it all be lost when things become so transient that the past won't really matter anymore...

until next time, remember....

A Class 1 story

He wondered why he’d been sent out of class. He’d done his homework, polished his shoes, he was paying attention to Miss Mary, and when Arjun, who sat next to him, started talking to him, he’d first ignored him, and then said loud enough for Miss Mary to hear, ‘Don’t disturb me in class, monkey’

until next time, every child is special

Love story

Unknown to each other, they were..

A smile and a word between them

And thus began a friendship rare

Best of friends, they became

A smile and a word between them

And lo, their love was for all to see,

Dearest of lovers, they were

A smile and a word

One love story became two

until next time, transience..

PS: D gave me a dirty look after this, so perhaps its best to have a disclaimer - Its not subjective :)

The Aftermath

Most of their friends and relatives were dead. They would’ve compared the WMD use to Afghanistan and Iraq. Not just in terms of the damage caused, but also because, in their view, the biggest pest around, the one who instigated all this, was still walking around. She might have agreed, thankfully she couldn’t hear them.

until next time, read this for the big picture