Life’s a journal…..

I had a dream like every other person…...and it is to have a home near to office……. Strange as it seems for all of you, aint it?

But for me it was really a dream because it used to take more than 2 hours to reach my office and most of my time was spent in travelling. As the old adage speaks, “If the mountain won't come to Muhammad then Muhammad must go to the mountain.”…so in order to fulfil this little dream of mine, I had to go to Singapore. But as they say, dreams are only good in “dreams”, if you know what I mean……Now that I am near to my office , it may seem happy, but am away from home and life away from home isn’t as beautiful as it is in dreams. Its only after you are away from home you would realize why people use the phrase 'home sweet home'. Since my inception on earth, I was never away from home and as for me i always thought that life away from home was wonderful just b'coz you can do things you want to do.. no one to boss you around(wonderful! isnt it?!). Just the thought of it used to make me so happy. May be its b'coz of my family where people cant stand see me strain myself... no doubt its nice to sit back,relax and watch people do things for you ...but not forever! When I landed here in SG, I call it the starting day when realization began to dawn on me. Slowly i started realizing that life away from home was not as much fun as i imagined it to be, it was something so damn different!... I had to do many things that i never did before. I had to cook work and wash ….and what not… although i had good house-owner and cousin who help me with the process... but in-spite of having them for me.. it was still difficult. Gradually all the excitement i had for staying away from home started fading away ....

Well, today I am missing many things, dad, mom, friends, family, hyderabad and her. ……………..i was completely different until the day she stepped into my life. She stepped in like a dream....mmm..

Well, today for some reason memories about her showered like a mist and somewhere in my mind i can sense that all the coming days will not be mine.... memories alone would be my gift..my beautiful memories……I cannot forget that day when I was in airport and just about to leave, she was before me with a flash of happiness on her face and a contented look…I can never forget that look of hers……..

Tears that seldom comes from my eyes fell… I have seen many people hurt, many painful things, but when I saw her like that I couldn’t bear….. May be at that time she was like a beautiful riddle to me…she was just like a miracle..

It is almost late night here now, a cold night..i can stare from my window a Chinese couple romancing down my apartment, a few kids playing beside them and enjoying a fire light dance.

I can hear them singing merrily J

Is it a color of love or a color of merry?

which sculpture’s dream are you ? Which heart’s desire are you?

Are you jasmine in plaits? Or are you rainbow in clouds?

Is this fragrance yours? Is my ecstasy true?

Or is it all YOU?

Your words are sweet..your movement is pretty

Is sky bowing down at your beauty?

Why are flying away like a humming bird…., Don't give a furtive look and disturb me…..

Like a fishing bait... Don't entice me with your talk and let me walk......just let me walk J

So is this really “homesickness”, i wonder !!!!!

A Walk To Remember

Today for no reason, I had a long evening walk, visited the roads/temples/parks pertaining to my childhood memories. Hyderabad is a kind of place where the humidity rose so high in the summer that walking out to even get the mail would make a person feel as if he needed a shower. While I walk, I was just thinking about these Twenty six years of my life. “Twenty six” years, , I think sometimes, and despite my own acceptance of my age, it still amazes me that I haven’t been warm since 2002. Life especially is not easy to explain and I felt may be a person can get used to anything if given enough time. It was never the rip roaring spectacular I fancied it would be, but neither have I burrowed around with the gophers. The optimists would call this as challenge and the cynics would call it as problem. But the path is straight as ever, but now it is strewn with the rocks and gravel that accumulate over a life time. I somehow feel that my days are spent like an old party balloon; listless, spongy and growing softer over time…….thinking all these I suddenly realized that my cell phone was missing from my pocket…Ahh…! “Not Again God”..i thought to myself….I was totally frustrated and amok(as I always loose it), and starting searching the way I just walked for some time and after a furlong walk, I realized that I should make a call and I had no other option but to look for a public telephone booth….wait…..”Telephone booth”…I just mulled ….!!!

”OMG! I recalled this term perhaps after ages”. Then I again thought “Why is that phone in a box?” It seemed so funny that I was almost into oblivion about this. I’ve had some major life experiences in phone booths: calling my parents when I was in hostel, having endless discussions with my college friends, also receiving collect calls from my friends (we got away with that a bunch of times until an operator broke through and said “I know what you’re doing!” and cut us off.). And suddenly I realized that there are only 2 proper phone booths left in my area. So I found myself imagining what it must feel like to be one of those phone booths, once so central to people’s lives, but now on the verge of extinction.

With a sigh, I felt it all come back to me. I close my eyes and the years began to move in reverse, slowly ticking backward, like the hands of a clock rotating in wrong direction. As if through someone else’s eyes, I watch myself grow younger. I see my hair changing from brownish black to dark black, I feel the wrinkles around my eyes begin to smooth, my arms and legs grow sinewy. Lessons I have learned with age grow dimmer, and my innocence returns. I used to pass through these roads innumerous times, but, never ever I felt this kind of feeling which I had today.

The same phone booth which was once crowded with people as the night approaches, watches with dispirit as the people who once used it suddenly start passing it by, pressing ‘tiny cell phones’ to their ears. Remember the days when phone booths stood on almost every street? If you had to make a call, you'd step inside the little booth, lift the phone off the hook, check the start time, check for the tariff rate, push the buttons, and hear it ring? And in the quiet of the booth, you could call your grandmother, or let the office know you were running late, whatever and in the mean time watching people waiting in the long queue, who would be desperately awaiting their turn.

The once proud and happy phone booth is stood alone and empty, unused and dejected. Now no more long queues near the telephone booth, no more waiting’s until late night just to make calls so that it would be cheaper by 50%. I imagine the phone booth saying these days, “I’m a phone booth! I used to be really important!”

“I should come back to reality now”, I thought to myself and immediately jumped into the sweet telephone booth, closed the glass door and ringed my cell number only to realize my mom speaking the other end answering that I forgot it at home

Well, it was indeed “A Walk to Remember”.

What is life without you?

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop.-- Anonymous

Sometimes, nostalgia is the most beautiful thing. I was never a hardcore ruminative nostalgic being, until that day which fuelled altogether a new kind of emotion into me. For some reason or for no reason, i started recollecting memories of yours. That day, I still remember My eyes were moist, my breath was choking, I was wounded and lost, in the wilderness of her heart, and I was sitting next to her absolutely doing nothing, still i somehow felt i was doing everything . I never gave enough heed to it before thinking, but now I rue about it. It was a kind of torment for me. All those words written from her memories speak to me. All the passed moments ask why we parted ways like this! But, what is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.

I wonder in my own small myriad world, does god fall in love anytime? O! God, some day you would fall in love. - and then if your love goes apart, may be ONLY THEN; you would understand the pain of being apart. . I knew she is not around anymore…but her absence left a question on my lips…When separation was so destined– Tell me why, O! God you even made us.

Some decisions are made by love, some are made by god…What is life without her?

For some life is beautiful and for some its brutal…..What is life without her?

My days are restless..My nights are restless… Why did I remember her today ?

May be I should have believed her….why did I stay away from her?

Now that she is gone, dark and empty nights became my friends..

I have got nothing that belongs to me anymore , I don’t know how I endure each moment

All these words written from her memories speak to me. All the passed moments ask why we parted ways like this…

She says, she cannot live with me…..She also says, she cannot live without me….

I am wounded and lost……………….In the wilderness of her heart…..

Now that I have changed my path after engineering, I am not sure If i could take up math as my profession, about which I was talking in the above lines. But it would be my passion forever and ever.

Miss you M

To Blog Or Not To Blog....THAT IS THE QUESTION!!

Sometime back, I have been interviewed by a HR girl of a renowned software company. Being an experienced guy, I was presuming that I would be posed question about location preference, package etc. But, she asked me about my hobbies. “Yes….hobbies…”!! I was dumb struck for a moment as generally freshers would be posed such questions.

I said “Math, body building and blogging”! She forgot the first two and started to cling on this “blogging”. And then I was flooded with questions on blogging. “Why did you feel the need to blog? Why don’t you just write a diary?” she asked. I was a bit baffled for two reasons. One, she was really pretty (take my word guys), and my eyes stuck to hers; second, this was something I hadn’t thought about myself. I started blogging some five years ago, but I never ever got the thought of why I should start. Blogging just happened, it did not occur to me, that I have to sit and think about it, weigh the pros and cons, and then decide.

Of course, I always loved writing a diary too. It has a personal touch to it, as it is handwritten. Perhaps I wrote a “full fledged “diary up to 21 years. Later, I felt that now it is not really an appropriate time to write, I can surely say, because college is when the most exciting things happen. Mine was a typical roller coaster ride, and every event in itself could be made into a mega-serial. So what was the problem? Big big problem! What if this diary gets into the hands of wrong people ? How can they understand the situation or circumstance, and what I was thinking at that point when I jotted something down? Honestly, I don’t even mind that, but somehow or other, my diary-writing days came to a sad end. May be if any director had seen it, those pages have chance of converting them into a multi-starrer movie.

The above 2 paragraphs condensed into a couple of lines was what I told to that HR girl. She was impressed. Although the technical round was a bit challenging, yet the HR girl was impressed, and that made me happy. So, the bottom line is I am thinking, is it about blogging or is it about HR girl ?

The Day When Everything Went Wrong :

It was December 4^th, Saturday morning. I was lying partly on the bed and partly on her. She was becoming mischievous and I was no different. One one side of the bed, I left my laptop ON and neither of us noticed that some video in the laptop was running since long. But the moment I realized this, without her noticing, I ran my favourite sound track ‘s playlist on my laptop at a low volume , adding spice to the romantic ambience of the room. Everything was so perfect---you know….a dimly lit room, light music running in the background, nice bed sheets, nice scent spread across the room, and HER and me.

I was watching her eye lashes going down further, gently closing her eyes. Her eyes dazzling, her cute nose, making an irregular figure on her cheeks. I touched her nose with mine after which I rubbed it against hers, just like mothers do with their beautiful babies. My baby, she smiled with mischievous shyness.

What a beautiful moment that was! And, ofcourse,I had to make a memorable one, and how could that be without a kiss? And that’s why in no time, I thought of innumerous things, like I would do this…do that…make it more memorable….So much planning for a kiss?

“TRING…..TRING….TRING…..” This sounded like “BANG…..BANG..BANG…” to me! I woke up , just to realize that my cell phone was ringing….”.Holyshit!!!..it was again a dream….oh, illi (Ileana), I missed you again…” I thought to myself.

The phone was still ringing; I could see “Srinath Calling….”! With little disappointment, I lifted the call and said “Hi……..ummm..uhh….Anna, whats up?”

Srinath as usual in his cheerful tone said” Hero! Its already 9:30..you were supposed to come to my place at 10…where are you now??”

First of all I was little disturbed, then secondly I was addled, muddled and fuddled…I felt “aaah..god ,what a timing?...then I answered him…..

Me: Anna, Cheppanna!!

Srinath: Vedava, where are you?

Me: …”Anna, I am “almost ready”, “just taking my bike”, ” near chaderghat””

Srinath: Hmmm….. “Ok..come soon….remember we need to shop”..

Me: “what ? shop? Oh, ya , ya ! shop and followed by movie..…remember? ok, am coming…cya”!

Then for a moment, I thought to myself, what the hell I said..….first being ..i am almost ready, secondly I am taking my bike and thirdly I am near chadarghat…..!! what a parody. Holyshit, how come Srinath believed this, I just pondered…within no time I realized that he knows very well about me..and I just laughed inside and rushed to the washroom.

Nevertheless, later I started my bike ride and headed across my “lovely hyderabadi roads”…remember they are “LOVELY”. I was just crossing chadarghat, starting on the left of the road,where-in I observed that the man who was following me on his bike took right, as I occupied left. I just felt what if this is also occupied. Well, so this man, started blowing his horn now. For me, it is a sign of protest. But for this man, may be it is like expressing joy, resentment, frustration, romance and bare lust (two brisk blasts), Later, while I was crossing habsiguda, I have to stop near a signal, where in without any reason a traffic police man said to me ”bandi side theesko”. meaning “come aside”. I just thought, another cheap constable, “Uski @#$%$#@*”. He stopped me for no good reason. I was wearing helmet and was riding calmly at moving traffic speed. He asked me for pollution certificate , expecting that i may not be knowing its sticker pasted on the front. I simply replied its already pasted on dome of my bike and then he said no no i am asking for RC and your licence. He asked me to park my bike taking left turn where i was to go straight and it was my traffic signal. I told him i am in hurry and i have to go straight. he was rude and asked me to park the bike i did, showed him all the papers and my licence. Now, he is thinking what to ask….and finally asked me about the” font “of my number plate, which according to him is improper. I just saw time, it was 12 sharp, which means it is lunch time, so this guy is collecting his lunch money from me, I thought to myself… i was already irate and cant afford to loose anytime, so I took out my wallet from the backside of my jeans and with style asked him ”entha kavali?” Meaning..”how much?” The very next moment I can see smiles of heaven on his sluggish face…

However destiny played a cruel role here. Unfortunately my wallet was void of money. So I had to take that constable to a nearby ATM and then give him 100 bugs for no reason.

And by the time I reached Srinath’s place, it was already little past 1 PM. As usual, he greeted me with a 24-carrot smile. He was all set and was just waiting for me. So after having hot tea prepared by aunty , we both headed to shopping mall.

“Men” and “Shopping”…..seems two unrelated words. I had pretty disastrous experiences with some of my female friends when it comes to shopping. Which made me realize that shopping never means buying? Sometime back, one good friend asked me to accompany her for “shopping”. We both walked around the whole city and then she decided to buy a scarf from the corner shop outside her house.. Goddamnit, then why she roamed whole city? i thought to myself that I should take revenge by taking her around 8 different pubs (not drinking anything) and then going back to the first one to get a glass of water. By the way, guys, I don’t drink in reality, but definitely given a chance, would take this revenge. Now, this same “shopping” with men is glorifying experience. The moment we both entered mall, we selected one peice. Hardly it took 1-3 minutes. I was super thrilled considering my earlier experiences. However, we both wanted to make sure that we did not leave anything better. So this thought made us to roam multiple malls. Finally thinking that the first one is best one. By the way, we did not buy it, but we “choose” it.

“Anna”, I said all of a sudden. “What about movie plan?”. Then we both called our dear friend Sai, and he was also interested to accompany us. Then completing our lunch at a thai food court, we went to Srinath’s place. 15 minuted were remaining for the movie to begin. All the three of us are ascertained to watch it at any cost. The plan was to go triples on bike. So I took my bike out, only to realize that it was punctured badly. “HolyShit!! Anna, bike is puctuerd” I said. Then he immediately called SAI to bring his bike, However sadly, some one else took Sai’s bike. Then, Srinath, chilled me and took out his active. But destiny…..destiny man….it has enchained us and made us dumb…..his active was not starting…..now we watched the time…it was exactly the show time. Even then we decided to watch the show, even if we were late. No matter what, we are so determined. So finally we all planned to go in auto only to see the banner “HOUSE-FUL” outside theatre.

Well, now that it is out of hands and it being a Saturday, suddenly Sai asked us ““shall we go to that place?”, showing something, which I didn’t notice clearly.

Unknowingly, I said “oh! That one…?” And before any of ours dirty brain-cells could start thinking something filthy, Sai cleared the picture…that he was referring to a sit-out. Then, I said, oh ya, even I was thinking the same…we all had big laughJ

Later that day, they both went to second show and finally made their day.

Towards The Dollar Dream

Ever since I completed my BE, like every other friend of mine, I have thought of doing MS in US. May be this is more like flow which is being followed like a group of sheep’s. However, destiny had chosen something else for me and I started my career in my own city which is Hyderabad. Since that day I was longing for a foreign trip. And finally, this small dream of mine was visualized by my parents, colleagues and well wishers. The dream to set foot on Singaporean soil started taking shape from the day my manager asked me to attend training along with few folks who are already in Singapore.

My Mind set in motion myriad ideas having various speculations and perceptions. The thought of this trip made my imagination go wild and vibrant. In the little world of my own vision, I started to fabricate an entirely new reality about the place and its people. My friends and relatives who had already savored the pleasures of the Singaporean soil were very prompt in enlightening about every minute detail on travel hazards and immigration. Well, snoozing off can virtually shorten an otherwise boring five hour air journey from India to SG. My miraculous doze of dreamless sleep was like a blessing to me. A mix of history and modernism, SG offers you a kaleidoscope of experiences. The Helix, exotic fine dining restaurants, sprawling shopping malls, museum’s, island’s, Bird Park, and night safari zooming past the city centre

My expectation before I visit this foreign land was something like what Alice has experienced in Wonderland. However, reality was indeed different. First of all, the changi airport was a treat to my eyes. There are lots of ways to relax and while away the hours until your next flight you can visit the Entertainment Centre, watch a movie / TV, listen to Piano concerts and if you have more than five hour try the free 2.5 hour city tour. Free Internet access. Everything “F-R-E-E”. But be warned Changi airport is vast; it can take more than 30 minutes just to walk from one end of a transit corridor to the main Transit Lounge and passport control.

Disembarking from change airport, I had seen very long queue at the taxi stand, with first come first serve basis. This gave me a good impression at the very first sight of this city. To any foreigner, taxi drivers are among the first locals they encounter. If their experience with taxi drivers isn’t good, that might reflect the way they perceive the new place. The good thing about SG taxi drivers is that they are well educated, efficient, and bring passengers to destinations at the shortest possible time/route. And at the end there is no “chai-paise” concept, unlike Indians. Well, I hired a taxi and it took nearly 20 minutes for me to reach the hotel. During this journey, the obvious question I was asked is about my destination. To which I replied “I need to go to Suntech Tower 7”. The driver then replied “say again”…..I said…”Suntech Tower 7”. He again asked 'Alla mak! What is the number la!” . I replied back saying “7”….its “S-E-V-E-N”. To which he replied back “Sala….”. For 3 full seconds I was shocked as didn’t understand the reason for which I was scolded. Then I rechecked my address and told him it’s 4 and not 7. The he said , Ya Lah! Where are you from? . I proudly said, “I am from India”. And he replied back saying “Aiyoh, that’s why you didn’t knew the tower number, Chin chye, just relax”. I felt relieved and released gasped breath.

Later that day, through one of my friend I had come to know that Sala means “No” and I just smiled at myself.

Sun soaked streets and gentle breeze and nerve soothing eloquent calm welcome me in Singapore City. It was odd but I did not feel strange in the alien soil. Suntec-city is clean, compact and well manicured. Wide open streets, broad pathways strewn with many hued flowers, organized traffic and random passersby reflected the outer layer of the city. My ears used to the noise of the hustle bustle were at pains to adjust to the calm and quiet of the environment. Oh yes, an occasional whisper of the passing car did create a feeling of motion that too for a very brief moment.

I had met my trainer, my team mates and was introduced to my Singaporean counterparts. Later we had a quick training session followed by lunch at our cafeteria and later in the evening, I have checked into the hotel. Generally, edibility is the eligibility criteria for food to be in my favorite list. However being vegetarian is always baffling especially when you are abroad. The stricter vegetarian diet is little difficult to get in SG, nevertheless not impossible. The Singaporean palate is nor spicy nor sweet. It is mild taste. Typically they have penchant for all dairy related things which makes cheese and yogurt and easy way to supplement an otherwise animal-free diet. It simply takes an added degree of persistence for vegans to maintain healthy eating habits here.

Whether it's the sour kind for salad or the clotted one for scones, there's something very satisfying about cream. One thing which I loved there is the variety of tea’s. The name is seductive: not afternoon tea, not high tea, but the Japanese Green Tea. Also the moon cake, which is colourful, mouth-watering and ofcourse nutritious. Also this dish carries its own story back in history for which it is known for. And I just loved it. I always feel that fasting and remaining trim and healthy need not be a challenge if we eat light and nutritious meals on a daily basis. In SG one would find some colourful and mouth watering vegetarian ideas that also pack a nutritious punch.

Later, I happened to visit “The Helix Bridge”, which was a pure delight. It was indeed a pleasure watching it. Nestled in the lap of Singapore River, ferrying people from one end to another and the awesome sight of strikingly constructed towers encircling the river edges, projected the most beautiful picture. Life is a series of stories that could be broken down into a sequence of images that run fast enough to seem like a continuous spiral of activity without the punctuations of blank spaces And what the eye can see, the camera can freeze, too, each photograph keeping a log of what happened, where, when and how. And I just started capturing each and every moment .

So far so good, and yet I was missing something. What was that? I could not make out and got busy initiating myself into the Singaporean way of life which was clearly meant doing all your chores by yourself and this was an ordeal for a person used to the comforts of having hot cup of tea in bed, an organized house and half a dozen helpers to make life worth living. I had been told that chores in SG were no big deal as everything is automatic, vacuum cleaners, dishwashers, micro and so on, take care of everything and one just sits and sucks the lollypop. How misleading. Notwithstanding the help of these gadgets one has to slog exactly the way one does in India except that in SG one minds oneself into believing that everything is automatic and a joy ride. On my part how I missed social life.

But all said and done it was an eye opening exercise to realize the kind of hard work Singaporean’s do. How patiently and ungrudgingly they perform every kind of work. Their desire for life and passion for excellence is mind boggling. It is amazing to see how the state machinery works and provides for the comfort of its people. From the scrubbed clean environment to police protection, free education, excellent medical care and social security back up; everything is scrupulous and hassle-free. Seemingly, everything is automatic yet a lot of concern and organizational experience works at every level. Quite a few of my friends in India were more excited than me. With excitement in their voices and probably stars in their eyes, their enquiries were unending. I had to visit Merlian quickly tell them about the Singapore Symbol. Honestly speaking, I too was keen to visit this place.

That was a Sunday and with a help of my school friend, I boarded the metro from my place, which was to Merlian. From there one had to just walk and walk. We visited the place and had some beautiful photo shots and later some window shopping which had become quite an ordeal for me during that time. Later in time, for some strange reason we both felt like having a special Indian dish called “Pani-Puri” and I got to know that it would be available only at one place known as “Little India”. And our journey headed to this point. I touched the Little India and got the shock of my life. Being it a week end, An endless sea of people flowing from every nook and corner. Walking, crossing, talking and yet mindless of each other's existence. I almost got vertigo. Streets were overcrowded and so was the sky. A little strip of the blue sky seemed claustrophobic. The glitz and glamour was evident everywhere. I took a breather and rested for a while at a shopping complex called Mustafa. These are my very subjective impressions and may be totally different from others but I could sincerely feel that I was in “I-N-D-I-A”. Also in this Little India, from food to groceries, clothes, Pan Parag, betel nuts — everything is available. Indians have established themselves in business and are doing pretty well for themselves. But to me they seemed unwilling to change their ways of life.

The mess and filth was appalling and embarrassing. The musty odor emanating from open dustbins justified the dislike, which is being secretly harbored against Indians. May be this why Indians are not able to integrate into the mainstream of the Singaporean society and live in their self styled cocoons. But, irrespective of their insensitivity to a clean, organized way of life, they have learnt the dignity of labor and hard work.

Since there is no choice, Indians perform all chores from cleaning the pee and poo of the doggies to cleaning the toilets or any other work required to fulfill the necessities of life.

The one thing that did become apparent, repeatedly is that SG is a unique cultural fusion .You can have the opportunity to experience life in a multi-cultured country while exploring the distinct society and traditions of the Thai and the Chinese culture as well. To venture in and out of shops in SG is a pleasure for the eye and the mind as diverse colours converge into moments of shopping, eating, and entertainment. I had also got a chance to see tiger dance, this seemed burdened with some concerns which reflected in their expressionless eyes and the straight faces. This is perhaps what the stress of modern life does to a human soul. Well, the next day I decided to explore SG and decided to take a bus ride to absorb and assimilate the spirit of the city of endless opportunity.

It was a different and pleasurable experience to sit at the top of the bus and go around the city. As the bus was negotiating the various streets, the gregarious guide was enlightening us about the history of monuments and buildings. As one is familiar with and has heard of these places it was exciting to come face to face with history. The ferry ride, which showed me the city, was pure delight and summed up the joy ride.

Also I missed greenery very much in SG, in the sense, In India we generally in most of the places see the endless stretches of green, fresh dew-kissed flowers and beautifully designed houses; Nevertheless, I could sense no dust, no pollution and less human beings in SG. At least I did not see anyone on the roads or outside these fairytale houses in many of the areas; it was weird and yet enchanting.

I was wondering how people survive here without the human touch, which is so palpable everywhere in my country. In SG, Help is just a phone call away. The car comes, takes the elderly to the desired place and their needs and requirements are fulfilled. How I wished such facilities were available in my country. These social security’s have substituted the need for interactive, person-to-person concern and care. But I also wondered about the gentle touch, the soft caress, the loving glance which we Indians are so used to and take for granted. I blessed my country and its traditions so completely layered without bonding, affection and love for each other.

One funny thing which I noticed is , the same Indians who shun work in their own country take credit and pride in performing the jobs there. I wistfully thought if we could adopt the same attitude towards work and dignity of labor and hard work then our country's destiny would be different. My sensory perceptions were taking a thousand shapes and my Singaporean visit was coming to an end. It is not impossible to know the SG. in a 15 days’ time and that too by just visiting a few places. But during my sojourn I could feel the great SG’s spirit, their sense of pride for their country and their unquenchable thirst to be the best.

My SG Dream has fill its myriad shapes with every resulting visit to this amazing land of the free and the brave. I shall also cherish my visit to the SG, for the simple reason that it has made me fall in love with my own people all over again. Sare Jahan se Achcha Hindustan Hamara.

Be it fun, music, beer, chocolate or food, Singaporeans truly know how to live it up, and the spirit of gaiety never ebbs

The End Of Innocence:

Finally I met her. We were walking through an entire field of pretty jasmines; the wind was blowing gently, there was slight shower of rain making thw wind cooler then ever before and causing the silky petals to tickle the tips of her fingers as we pushed through long strands of bright green grass. The ground was soft and bouncy beneath her bare feet and her body was so light that she was almost floating just above the spongy earth. All around the birds whistled their happy tune as they went about their business. There was slight shower of rain which was spicing up the atmosphere and I was just lovin’ it. The cool breeze was passing her face and the sweet scent of the jasmines filled her nostrils. She felt so happy…so free…and I was just and just gazing at her

I crept more closer to her, and just then I heard…BANG! BANG! BANG! I jumped from my sleep to a loud banging to my door. Confused and half asleep, I made my way to the front door…the silence of the evening sleep was shattered. My blissful sleep lullabied by the angelic ileana frowned as I was rudely awakened. It took a few seconds to realise that the culprit was none other than the loud blaring ringtone of mobile phone. Sigh…sigh….

At this point of time, my wrath vented mercilessly on cell phones…after-all who gave it right to disturb my dream???

Mobile phones have mushroomed in every nook and corner and have seeped so much into people's lifestyles that many feel helpless and lost when they realize they have forgotten to carry the device with them. The mobile phone is almost a consort to people these days. It has transmogrified life so much that we have become heavily dependent on this piece of technology in various walks of our lives.

I remember spending my times in the evening, after school, playing cricket, fighting with my brother, and listening to my grand pa’s stories. But these days, one finds school students either SMSing, or playing games on the phone! What happened to the names like scrabble, hide and seek, bicycle race, and sand castles after school? Is it gone?

In the recent past, I along with my dad, had been to a wedding. And I was not surprised to see relatives of the bride and the groom huddled on the dais handing over their phones to the newly weds informing them that their cousin from the U.S. wants to wish them well. The priest has to stop chanting the mantras and wait for the conversation to finish. And in the mean time, even the priests are busy answering their own “next schedules” on phones. I was disgusted as always.These days the wedding hall reverberates with ringtones, each humming to its own glory unmindful of the sanctity of the proceedings.

Barbie dolls and toy cars no longer occupy the prime position at the bedside. That has long been conquered by the mobile phone which has replaced bedtime stories and dreams. What a pity to see young minds flipping away idly! It is an eyesore to see children playing football, soccer or cricket virtually instead of engaging in the game in the real world.

It is a very common sight that in every conference room, just after the beginning of meeting phones starts blaring out . I find it strange that at the workplace people do not bother to turn their mobile phones into ‘silent' or ‘vibrate' mode. What sort of ‘productivity' are we talking about when employees spend their time chatting, SMSing or even switching off their phone?

Also, many times I observe senseless driving by the self proclaimed superheroes, who move on to road with the neck craned onto the shoulder to balance the mobile phone and ride with one hand. Perhaps they forget that safety does not depend upon on how carefully one drives but it depends upon how the others drive on the road. Also sometimes in the Signals, people take the opportunity to quickly type an SMS. And to worsen the situation Handsfree systems like Bluetooth technologies have crept in. But, at what cost? And whose cost?

Once I was in a theatre and was watching ileana’s movie. Suddenly the person sitting next to me started taking his call and talking loudly. I once requested him to turn off his mobile phones for which I invited sneers and catcalls not only from him but also people sitting alongside. So much for etiquette!

Do we have to remain connected at the cost of distressing someone?

I am sure each of us has gone through more such annoying situations. This only goes to prove that we have lost our sensitivity towards our fellow beings. We are deeply engrossed in our lives alone that we have forgotten all about civic sense.

While the pros are many, it is high time we exercised a civic sense and a responsible attitude towards its usage.

Simple Living, High Thinking !

April in Hyderabad is a hot, brooding month. The days are long and humid. The “Hussain-sagar” lake shrinks and black crows gorge on bright mangoes in still, green trees. Red banana’s ripe. Strawberries burst. Dissolute flies hum in a sporadic manner. Then they stupefy themselves against clear windows and die, baffled in the sun. This is what I observe daily during my travel back to home in train. Nevertheless, the nights are clear but Showing a brooding ill humor expectation.

One fine day, in the train, I observed an old man sitting beside me. He was lean, bony and in shabby appearance. He was accompanied with a small kid. I, for some reason, was observing them. That old man was telling some story to the kid, who was indeed very restless. No conceit, not a trace of arrogance. His speech is clear, and for a large part, bright; his eyes, though a shade sad, are luminous.

The conversation made me feel nostalgic about my days with my grandfather. It is no joke bringing up kids — especially boys, mind you! My grandpa was a professor in English (he did his double MA, PhD); they instilled rich values in us that is beyond any curriculum. They knew only one thing, that children should have a sound body and mind to shoulder responsibilities in later life. I still remember one soft drink with name “gold spot”, which was then famous and my favorite. My grandpas used to bring it for me every other day without fail. Health drinks like Ragotine and Oval tin were available but my grandpa prepared ragi malt at home. There were no gas stoves or mixers or grinders or milling machines. God knows how many tones of idly flour was ground manually. Some homemade medicines were stored like treasure and given only when we fell sick. So also was the grandpa’s homeopathy kit — the cure-all potion.

My grandpa would cajole me to have regular oil massage for having smooth and shiny body free from muscular cramps; warn my brother that we would be dark all over if neglected. We used to obey him subject to the condition that we should be given a candy after it. After oil massage, he would give both of us nice candies and apply a pinch of pepper on the head to ward off cold and cough. Although I would try different stunts to escape but my grandpa would stand stoically with a long wooden stick in his hand to ensure compliance.

Come summer vacation, my grandpa would keep us engaged all the time. Scrabble, cricket, hockey, and caroms were taught us. Any time we complained of boredom, slokas, books, mathematical tables, riddles, puzzles, poems would be given to us. If I still remember any slokas or English poems I owe them to my grandpa. He was the first person to kindle this side of me. We would play outdoor during evenings to our heart's content or water the garden in our home, drawing water from the well.

At night, my grandma would round us up for dinner. She would squat on the floor amid us with a bell metal pot full with curd rice. Mixing some curry or pickle, she would hand over to us morsels of food(I can never forget this), simultaneously entertaining us with interesting tales. With our attention riveted on her story, we would gulp down whatever was given without any fuss. And later realize that we have completed the whole pot full of rice. Once done with this, we would again go to grandpa to listen stories.

Oh, how we enjoyed the food! I still recall the way the elephants retreated at the sight of Prahalada in the story! He always used to amaze us with the style of narration

We were hardly shown interest to movies because my grandpa’s stories produced better a cinematic effect. As we grew a little older, we realized that he needed our company as much as we enjoyed his.

My grandpas gradually prepared me for the life ahead in all ways — making me learn the etiquettes, music(my brother learned this), taught me as how to respect elders and as how to behave with strangers. Above all, he taught me to be open-minded and enthusiastic to learn anything any time and be collected in times of adversity.

Although he is not with us now but, his was simple living and high thinking. Years have rolled by, and situations have changed, but my grandpa remain ever green in my memories.

I am no Shakespeare I really wish I had the most perfect and beautiful words in the world to say my grandpa. because if I did I would say them—I‘d say how great he feel me when I am with him—How always he used to correct my stupid grammar, how I love the little thing which he asks me to do and how I love his stories –Bur most of all I would tell him that he would make me a better person, My own person.

Its like I have lived all my life again. All this while I have never thought about any of these. I know you are the reason behind my every single success

.

To My grandpa, who always allowed me to dream

Chai-Paise

“Life in the city is pretty busy. And in hitec city it is obnoxious. “….thought the morning sun as it tried desperately to wake up the entire city but the tall building with even taller shadows frustrated it. The early morning smog that hung over the city had cast a grey shadow over the landscape. And the little house on chadhar ghat wasn’t a mismatch. The quaint blue gate lost most of the paint and looked more like the entrance of a junkyard. Ileana looked sizzling’ly amazing in her Barbie costume on the inside of my door. My Desktop and laptop lying beside my bed and the posters plastered across the wall added life to the room.

As alarm went off , the blanket came down and a hand searched for the source of the sound. The sleepy eyes glanced at the clock and returned inside the blanket. “My God!, its 4:30 already”, I shouted again. May be, this was my way of saying a very good morning to myself. I got up, wrapped myself in a towel and rushed to bathroom. After taking bath I realized I have to shave. I again forgot. No problem, at least I am taking bath. Whatever be my condition, I always make sure to dress well J . Combing my hair, arranging my bag, I stood before the little idol which I keep in my room and started praying, “God, please , PLEASE make sure that at least this day is DIFFERENT. I am bugged with my routine life and need a change desperately. People seek millions of dollars, scholarships, promotions, hikes and even pretty girls. All I am asking is for a slightly different day.. Ok God, got to run, see you tomorrow, same place , same time, until then take care and have fun” And thus I depart my home.

Then I hurriedly ran to same station, to board the same train, same coach and same seat. And I just parked my bike and noticed the same security guard. But, for the first time I observed something different today. I just thanked god that I could at least sense something not usual. It is that, the security guard in a well-disposed manner came to me and enquired about my well being and praised me that I am very much disciplined. I was just flattered and I thanked him and was just about to leave then he asked me “Saab, kuch CHAI-PAISE? “…..I for some reason just gave him a ten rupee note and left the place.

Next in the train, I daily see a same old man sitting beside me. The worst thing is that he smokes and that too in train and that too daily. I don’t smoke and hate the very smell of tobacco. So, I daily try staying calm for sometime but after few min I can’t take it and will say the routine dialogue ” Excuse me Sir, it’s wrong to smoke inside train, would you be kind enough to put out the cigarette as it is making me uncomfortable?” This old man doesn’t even look at me, but everyday he takes a really BIG puff and to my relief will threw it out of window. And I thank myself.

That day just about a minute had passed, this old man pulls out another cigarette and lights it. I seriously don’t know what to do , but before my brain could pass the order I start raising my voice and just then this old man gives a stern look and says ”I wonder where you people get such habits from? You could have simply asked me to stop smoking? You young people , won’t go for.”

I simply gaped at him. “But sir, I did tell you and you even threw out previous one.” The man replied “I never threw out any pamphlet, in the first case when did you offer me any pamphlet?” Now I understood the situation. one more case of acute deafness. I just cursed myself and tried enjoying rest of my train journey“

And suddenly I realized that I forgot my mobile in my bike, GOD! It was a new one with touch screen and I recently purchased it. I just cannot afford to lose it. Not that I have that many people calling me, but I just realized how much I used it for other than phone calls. How can I stay up to date? When it comes lunch time, how am I gonna text the fellow co-workers to rally on a spot to eat lunch? I do miss the little vibration when I get a call. Oh no!!!!!! How am I gonna survive today???? Now, I understand how a person can have a conversation and be connected. I feel so unconnected and vulnerable now.

Losing a cell phone and that too in a station means it is gone for sure shot. I tried to ask that old man if he has a phone, in turn he said me that he stopped smoking long back…..i again cursed myself and just waited till secunderabad station. Finally when I reached this station, I got down , rammed into a public booth and called my dad so that he could pick up the phone from my bike which is parked at station. But he didn’t pick up the phone and it kept on ringing and ringing. Also, unfortunately I missed my train too. GOSH! Then I went to the station guy to let him know of my dilemma.

He asked which train and I told him it was the one that just left the platform. He looked at his train schedule and said "OK, it was the 05:22 from Falaknuma to Lingampally. What’s your bike number and any identification ?"

After letting him know some details, he called somebody at my station and instructed security guard to look for my poor phone on that station at the carriage location that I described. .

He hung up the phone and got a call a few mins later - the security guard at my station had intercepted my phone. I went to that station immediately and upon arrival they asked me to describe the bag and the contents to make sure I was the owner.

Upon regaining contact with my new phone, I was having a few mins of disbelief about me getting my phone back. Then silently that station master asked “ Sir, CHAI PAISE?” I gave him a hundred rupee note. I could see his joy on face. But for me nothing mattered more then my cell phone. Then I thanked the security guard too J. Again I just wondered if it is not for Chai Paisa, it would have been sayonara to new phone.

Then I ended up late in my office again with same severity 1 issues, same highly escalated issues, the only difference being I got assigned with 3 issues rather then 2 (which happens generally to me…so I extra issue today)

After the tiring day I went to home and first thing I did is, that I asked god never to make my day “DIFFERENT” and thanked Chai Paise for saving my day.

Guys, never confuse God by saying generic terms, be SPECIFIC on what you want J.

Have you lost anything in your region and were you able to recover it? Are people good about handing things in?