Body-weight Challenge!

I feel young again! I know most of my readers are older than me and would think I've gone nuts, but it's been a long time since I did something really athletic. Fooling around in the badminton courts and

tennis courts never managed to take the breath of me (though the occasional morning runs did). After coming to Dwarka, I never bothered anything to do with exercise until I saw some circuit training vid on youtube. This nice chap suggested a half an hour body-weight challenge which consisted of...

pullups x 5

jumps x 10

pushups x 15

walking lunges x 10 perside

chin-ups x 5

mountainclimber x 10perside

rows x 10

oneleg deadlift x 10 perside

bike-crunches x25

stepups x 15 perside

Elevated pushups x15

The challenge is to repeat the entire set of exercises as many times as possible in under half an hour.

I decided I should give it a try for old time's sake, so I walked home from work (a three kilometer walk) and gave it a try. I really feel charged up and my mind is so much more clearer(Though I stink a bit more now.) It's been a long time since I have had this whole body workout, and I feel like I can run the 100 mts in under 13 seconds once again!For the record, I performed decently at 2 full repetitions in under half an hour.

Now, for the real work out... Handwashing 6 shirts one pair of pants, one woolen sweater 4 pairs of shorts in cold water! Let's hope I will have the strength to crawl back into bed after that!!!

Things You'll need to start a kitchen

Basic items:

(Warning: Use these methods only if you're cooking for yourself, and hate cooking... Not for wannabe and gonnabe chefs, housewives, (and husbands).

Utensils (essentials): 1. Detergent soap and scrubber for washing the pots up later. (2) One medium sized copper-bottom pot (3) One aluminium cooking pot (4) One non-stick shallow-fry pan (5) 3 spatulas (One of them wooden, for the non-stick) (6) Spoons (and a plate) (7) One electric rice-cooker (8) One sharp knife (9) One Gas burner

Condiments (essentials) (1) Salt, Pepper, Garam-Masala, Chilly-Powder

Be warned: If you don’t have (and can’t get) these basic essentials, you’d rather eat out every night.

 

Utensils (optional)

A sandwich maker (electric) (Really helps)

Condiments (optional)

Dal mixture (Basically lots of kinds of lentils crushed together in a 'chakki'. You could make it yourself or hunt for it at Dilli Haat. It adds taste to anything!

Bachelor Cooking

When you're a young Indian male living alone like I do, what would you do for food? Well, let's rub out that "eating out" option because, err.. you live in the corner of Delhi (a place where you’d rather be born with wheels instead of legs) and don't have a motorbike.

Well? what WOULD you do for food?

Let's take a few considerations at first. We all come tired and exhausted from work, and cooking is the last thing we want to do. All we want is do something for our stomach before switching to horizontal mode.

Of course, maggie is the first option. I don't want to spend time on it, as there are many other blogs and websites dealing with the same topic. I of course have an approx of 25 maggie recipies that I would give only on request, some involving rare peppers from the mountains of Nagaland.

Maggie cannot be consumed everyday, simply because you'll start looking like a junkie sooner than later.

The food should be designed to be extremely easy to cook (cooking time less than 15min (30 min if you haven't cut an onion in your life before) least amount of dishes to wash, and is nutritious all the same. It won't taste horrible, as long as you put in enough salt in it, but you'd rather not compare it with your mom's beef biriyani.

The next post in this section would deal with effective veggie chopping styles and the basic things you'd need for this kind of cooking.

A comedy of errors Part 2 - A bar-room Brawl

Still breathless from the events that took place in the last four hours, I type here, one of the most extraordinary evenings I have ever had! Just yesterday, the SYD and ze german were commenting on the crazy, (sometimes spooky) experiences I’ve been through. The following event is so long that I’ve decided to put it in two consecutive posts. Don’t read this post before reading the previous post.

Even now, as I type, my hands tremble with excitement and my heart jumps at every new sound I hear. My senses are on full tilt, and my heart is thanking God for his mercies as I type.

The shop-owner called me half an hour later, telling me that the rickshaw guy had reached his place, and is going back to the village to find me. Half an hour later, the rickshaw guy calls me and after a few phone calls and some more running around, he’s at the gate of my house. He tells me it’s all my fault that we lost him. I don’t leave him alone. I fight with him and tell him that if he had only taken his cell-phone, all this would not have happened. We carry the bed through the stairs, and keep it in my house. I ask if he wants to eat, and he does. However, he pours himself a (rather large) peg and I decide to treat him to dinner. (The guy was literally sweating!)

We stop at our South Indian restaurant, where I decide to treat him to a Dosa. He has one plate dosa and one plate idli. He was getting a little tipsy (and I wondered how he could get so high so soon) I ask him, and he told me he knew I didn’t like him drinking, so he took two on the sly! (What did I get myself into here! I don’t want a typical wife-basher tonight!) So, I try and fill up his stomach with my dosa also and some more food. Suddenly, in the table behind us, there is this huge guy who’s evidently drunk and starts shouting at the waiter. I look back to see the tamasha. After sometime, things settle down and we settle to our food. My friend is busy eating, and I’m watching him eat. All of a sudden, there’s this huge slap on my back, almost making me choke my food. It is our famous drunk coming a calling. I give him the ‘what’s the matter?’ look. He asks me why I looked back. I muttered a sorry under my breath, glaring at my own half-drunk friend, willing him not to get up and start something. He glares back and forth, and is about to give my friend a slap in the face, when I put my hand up willing him to stop. Surprisingly, he doesn’t hit my friend and asks me to put my hand down. I give him the ‘I’ll-put-my-hand-down-if-you-promise-to-go-back-to-your-seat’ look for a two seconds, and I put my hand down. He goes back to his seat, and there’s no noise from him against the waiter or anybody in the room afterwards. (He of course didn’t stop swearing at people who didn’t pick up the phone when he called them! Later, he and his friend walk out of the hotel (paying the waiter, thankfully). He and his friend were carrying a party flag. That’s when I realized I could have gotten creamed before I reached home! Praise God!

My own drunk friend (after scolding the waiter for not doing anything) does get full finally and I pay Rs 60 for our meals. (Quite a bargain, actually) I pay him his due (Rs 250) while he tells me he wants 300! (Rs300! After all this?! What an ungrateful wretch!) But I go back to the ATM and give him his money with a smile. He then asks me if I felt bad if he asked for Rs 50 more. I smiled even more and told him I gave it willingly. (That was the most fake smile I’ve ever faked) but I told him I was very upset that he drank so much in my presence, and it would do him a lot of good if he stopped. He gave a half-drunk smile and told me he’d call. I said ok. (What am I getting myself into?!) and literally took to my heels and ran home as quickly as possible. I’ve never felt so much (I wouldn’t call it fear, but a heightening of all the senses, and your hair your neck stiffen.)

Now I’m here, having the greatest emotional workout of my life!

Though I know all my loved ones who read this will feel scared for me, but I want to tell you, don’t . If God wanted me to be beaten up, I would have been. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have let me buy that bed in the first place! For some strange reason, I feel that Rs2100 I spent the evening was put to good use. (Or may be it’s just denial???)

A comedy of errors Part 1 - Impulsiveness

I’ve never been so impulsive as I have been today. On my way home from work, I decide I need a clothes-stand to dry my clothes, as they refuse to dry inside the room. So I wash some of my clothes and hang them out to dry (inside the room) and move out around 6.30 (after putting my rice to boil) towards Sector 3, Dwarka to buy a clothesline for myself. I decided earlier that I wouldn’t spend more than Rs 500 for a clothes-stand. I go from shop to shop, deciding suddenly that I also needed a bed. Suddenly, I go into this ‘Second hand shop’, where I see beds. The shop-owner tells me that a certain diwan (which looks very nice, btw) costed Rs 3200. I was so blown away by the price that I told him that I just could not afford it. He asked me what my budget was. I told him from Rs 1000 to 1500. (As I had inquired in other shops, a brand new bed without the storage compartment underneath cost Rs 1200). He finally sold the second hand one for Rs 1750! I bought a bed for Rs 1750 without thinking or praying about it. (Of course, I had Rs 2000 still saved after my Winter shopping, and I decided to put those funds to good use!)

As I was reeling from the shock of buying the second most expensive item I have ever owned (next to my laptop) without thinking too much about it, I was bargaining with the cycle-rickshaw guy to take it to my place. We settled for Rs 250 (which was perfect, because it’s an exact Rs 2000)

I sat at the back of a bicycle, while a cycle-rickshaw guy pulled his rickshaw behind us. Before we knew it, we had lost the cycle-rickshaw, who had taken another route! Grr… We pedal back to the shop and ask the shop-keeper who tells us that they left, and scolds my friend (I later find out that his name is Ram* (*well it isn’t, name changed) ) and sends us back again. We go back and forth back and forth, left and right, until he gets tired pedaling. Then I start pedaling taking him doubles, and again looking for him back and forth, back and forth until we call up the shop, who says he hadn’t come back. We again do the above mentioned procedure before finally we call the office and asks for this rickshaw-walla’s number. The rickshaw walla doesn’t pick up his phone.

All this time, I’m wondering if this is a trick played by everybody on me. The shop-owner constantly telling me not to worry, the rickshaw-walla disappearing, while Ram constantly gets angry with the rickshaw-walla. He narrated some story about the rickshaw-walla getting some salary or something with a lot of tears in his eyes. If only I could understood what he said!

He had worked in Bombay, then came to Delhi in hope of a good job but couldn’t make it, and is now hopping from on job to the next. Finally, he gets frustrated, calls up the shop-keeper and goes back to him, leaving me alone with just a bill. I go back home, still wondering if I was being duped or not. I later feel that may be God wanted me to be a witness to this boy Ram, because I was extra-nice to him. Well, with these thoughts in my mind, I walk back to my room all tired and weary, ready for a simple meal and sleep. I come back and see my clothes hanging (still wet) and remember how I went out to by something I needed more than what I actually did! I try to take my mind off these disturbing thoughts with a movie. The movie is funny, and I am thoroughly entertained.

 

To be contd…

Advance Christmas fever

Standing in the background, watching all my friends at JNUCF work their lids off, grumble about all those who don't, and get back to work all over again, I get nostalgic. This time, last year, I was growing bald trying to pull out my hair juggling choir practice, term-papers, brochure writing and ‘silly-game invention’ at the same time. It is that time of the year we all wait for…

 

Advance Christmas! One of the biggest festivals JNUCF can organize, (given our limited time and our present organization skills). Working for this brings out the best and the worst in us, draining us completely by the time the show's over.

Murphy (the "the bread always falls the butter-side down" guy) said (at least I think he did) that passion over work will definitely lead to over-working, leading to physical and mental illness.

 

Thankfully, Murphy's laws don't work in JNUCF, the reason being, (of what I've noticed) everybody's readiness to laugh. The most stale jokes, the most juvenile pranks and the silliest sarcasm always gets a good guffaw. That's why when you stare up at the ceiling at night, (coughing away because you've been out in the cold too late) running through all the events of that tiresome day filled with running from one place to another, there's not a trace of bitterness felt.

 

Murphy's laws don't work because when you're lying down after all this with fever, you know that your friends are covering up for you (as much as they can), and the patchy presentation we put up in the end becomes so memorable only because of all the love that's been poured out.

 

Murphy's laws don't work because in the end, you're not working hard for yourself, but for somebody else. We definitely see symptoms bordering onto physical and (mostly) mental illness, but the reason is not because you’re hurting, but because you’re just tired after a long day of sometimes thankless work.  

 

This is a tribute to all my friends who must be chopping wood for the Christmas Informals night right now. As an ‘alumini’, listening to you guys cribbing about work, not quitting my job to take the fastest auto-rickshaw to campus and cut wood along with you requires great self-control. It’s not because my present job is more hectic than yours but because the best part of Advance Christmas is not the event in itself, but all that time preparing, setting up before, and the dismantling, the photo-sessions and the photo-shop experiments afterwards! God bless you all!!

Of manners...

While I was at college, and especially at university, manners were something everybody looked down upon. When a friend did you a really huge favor, thanking him only meant you’re not his friend yet. When in college, it is a friend’s bounden duty to do whatever you want him/her to do. (Of course, it works both ways, you also will have to go out of your way to help them) Thanking a friend, or making sure you split the bill when you have tea is an insult to friendship. And that’s only when we’re students.
But when you start working, you have to pay special attention to what you take and give. “It’s only natural” to make sure you pay-back in some way or the other the treat that particular friend took you out on. I hardly ever used to do that in university and now I begin to wonder how many people I have offended that way. I guess this ‘mannerlessness’ among friends is one of the things I like about the North Indians, who take favors done by friends for granted.

I find it distracting, but everybody else does it! Talk about a cultural shift! Well, this is what moving on means… You do not complain about how shallow friendships have become, but learn to accept the fact that no one trusts nobody else in this big bad world, and every small thing that involves money should be treated as business, no matter how they act about it.

This post, I feel is one of the most haphazard ones I have ever written, but this is just what my mind feels like at this moment of confusion.

I, Stammer

After an extremely long orientation period, I finally begin to work on my job, and it isn't as easy as I thought it was. There was a time I used to pride myself for the choice words and ingenious metaphors I used whenever I spoke.

Part of my job is to get contacts. Networking. This requires me to pick up the phone and call up influential people and tell them about myself and ask them if they are interested.

Today, I made my first call.

Watching Will Smith talking on the phone to various customers in "Pursuit of Happyness" makes tele-comm look easy. But today, after 15 minutes of preparation, All I was able to do was stammer and slip through a sorry explanation of Shalom and what I do.
Thankfully, the person on the other end was patient and listened (I felt an incredulous smile) and asked direct simple questions that would make me feel better.
After I finished with the call, my heart-rate at twice the speed, I thought to myself. I'd get better...

I'd better...

721

he mini-van I used to take to work burst a tire on the way, delaying me five minutes. The only option was to get into another bus, to make it at reasonable time. The only bus available was the 721. Reputed for the most irate conductors and the densest crowds.The bus was packed beyond compare. The Mumbai locals at rush hour are DEFINITELY more comfortable than the 721 (emphasizing my opinion in the previous post.) It was this young short, loud-mouthed bus-conductor who tried to push people into the smallest crevices that made all the difference. I guess the more people you can squeeze into the bus, the more you're are respected as a bus-conductor in these parts.I climbed in from the rear entrance amid the usual clamour. Once in, I decided to stay near the rear-door because my stop wasn't too far. The conductor issued the ticket. He was standing on his 'conductor seat'! (guess, he was a little short) and yelling at everybody to move into the already crowded bus. He began pushing and shouting at me in unrecognizable Hindi - I figured he was asking me to get into the mass of flesh in front. I just stood there, and quitely told him that I would be getting down at a few stops. He again said something in loud Hindi that I couldn't understand. He began pushing another person who refused to move. The conductor's unrecognizable hindi was buffetted with another tirade of unrecognizable Hindi - this time on the part of the indignant passenger. The passenger later berated the conductor about the pushing. The conductor quickly justified himself.
"I am the conductor. I have every right to push you. If I don't push you, who else in the bus will?"
I need to check the "right to push" part with the Judicial system. Anyone have the time to file an RTI to check if the conductor does have a right to push?
After that conversation, the conductor cooled down and began to collect tickets normally. Suddenly he looks at me and says.
"Remember, I won't let you get down this entrance. You'd better start making your way to the front, or you'll never get down at your stop"
(And I thought ragging got over after college!)
I tried politely making him understand. But he didn't seem to be in the mood for explanations. I'm not the sort that makes a lot of noise and puts up a fight, so, I put my tail between my legs began my journey to the front of the bus.
With a barrage of excuse-me's and sorry's I pushed, jerked and shoved past indignant old people, understanding and co-operative young men and disgusted young women. There is no place to put your feet down. Even the hand-rail is full of people's hands that it is a rare opportunity to actually touch that rail! I was so surprised I reached the front just in time for my stop. The conductor in front gave me a glare and asked said."What are you doing here?"
I really felt like giving him a good dose of my sarcasm, (the question was sooo tempting) but he had quite big arms, and I was already late for work. I smiled and told him that I was there so I could get down. Disarmed, he stepped aside and let me down. I breathed fresh air and instantly knew it would make a hell of a post!If I ever meet that conductor again, I would definitely want to thank him for letting me tour his bus for free even in the peak season!

Bombay vs Delhi

Another Delayed Post (Was supposed to post this in Bombay, but I am not famous for being organized)
As a guy living in Dwarka, travelling in a mini-van to work, shoulders touching the low roof, my neck, back, knees and every other part of my body bent double, and eyes in a perpetual frown, concentrating on not bumping against that low tin roof everytime we hit a bump, I thought I had seen it all. (If you thought that was a long sentence, brace yourself.) The noise of some constant fight in the vehicle, the sweaty shoulder against your chest, the stench of his hair in your nostrils, tells me that this is the most uncomfortable way to travel.
Bombay gave me a new perspective. Watching hoards of people with different goals walking in the same direction at top speed, managing not to bump into anybody though even lifting an arm to scratch your head would mean elbowing the guy next to you. There is an extremely loud silence amidst all this rush (only experience can tell you what that means) at the VT train station. The crowd is bigger than a Delhi one, and could be very uncomfortable if it was a Delhi crowd, where there would have to be someone shouting at the other for some obscure reason.
People in Bombay walk twice as fast and talk at around the same pace. While you are focussing your mind on trying to keep up with what people are saying and what they mean and how you can keep up, someone's hand has already been in your pocket and has left it empty.

A true Mumbaikar can do anything from setting up a shop on the roadside to making friends to bargain with the guys at fashion street without any emotion. He sets a goal for himself and will not let emotion get in the way. Even if he is accidentally pushed by someone in a crowd that he falls on his nose, he would get up, wipe his shirt, maybe hurl a few abuses and move on.
A true Delhiite however, lives on emotion. One cannot drive a car, or get into a crowded bus or haggle with the auto-guy without a display of emotion. (preferably aggression). The emotion itself is a fierce sort. Love is expressed by fighting against the friend's enemies; Jokes are cracked with an angry faces.
While Bombay has evolved into a cut-throat cosmopitan, Delhi is still a giant village, in many ways. There is no sense of anonymity. Sure, some mumbaikars stare (sometimes I think they're actually Delhiites on vacation) but not as much as the Delhiites. My female readers (who've visited Delhi) will agree with me. Forget the usual sexually-frustrated male lechers, numerous as they are. Even a 7th Standard Delhi girl in the bus would stare at you constantly for five minutes (or more) sweeping you from head to toe with her eyes, making you wonder if you have worn your shirt inside out.
In conclusion...
I don't want to draw any conclusion on which is a better city. Each city has its flaws and its strong points. I prefer Mumbai to Delhi (guess it's because I've been there first) but I would love to hear someone with differing opinions.

Plebian Travel

W A R N I N G ! ! !
Mothers and grandmothers (especially mine...) read at the risk of increased BP. Certain paragraphs contain explicitly scary scenes. You have been warned!

Though I am entitled to travel by A/C Chair Car, I decided to see how it feels like traveling in the cheapest unreserved compartment of the train. I have seen these compartments every time I took the train from outside, and was quite horrified seeing people stuffed in like cattle. I have been traveling in buses stuffed the same way everyday, so I was brave enough to go through this crazy experiment.
I took the unreserved ticket from Kazipet Junction to Secundrabad. A two hour (scheduled) journey (Rs 51. The A/C tickets cost Rs 204/-)
-- Oh I took an unreserved ticket at Secundrabad Station to get here, but very smartly, I sat on the reserved compartment, wondering all along why it was so comfortable. Thank goodness the TT did not come to check. He might have yelled at me in Telugu and all I would have said was "Enneru" (I just caught that from a conversation, I don't know what it means) and he might have , in all probablity, used his boot to eject me off the train moving at 235 kmph. Before I get accusing fingers pointing at me (saying, besharam! ticketless traveller!) I'd like to inform you that I didn't know (really! really!) that the Chair car was for reserved passengers only!

Back to the story...
The train was 40 minutes late, and I had to sit on my suitcase on the platform, watching trains go past, wondering if I could open my briefcase, spread out my towel on the platform, put some change on it, and juggle my deo-spray can, cellphone and toothpaste tube! The policeman on the platform across gave me such a stare I had a feeling he read my mind. Business on the platform without a license is strictly prohibited.
The train arrived at long last, and I hopped in, pushing and shoving everybody else, but I wasn't fast enough. I only managed to find a place for my suitcase, but all seats were packed. I resigned myself to standing in the aisle.
It was a 3 hour journey, and standing for the entire journey was out of the question. I remembered dad telling me something about spreading a newspaper at the door of the bogie and sitting there, feet out. I guess there was no jeans during dad's time, so I promptly sat at the door alongside another guy.
The breeze and the thrill was nice, and I would rather sit here than share a wooden seat with somebody else. I took out my cell-phone and timed the passing of electricity poles, calculating th speed of the train. I got 360 kmph, but I gave up realizing that Indian trains don't travel that fast!
Ah well...
With the sun in my face and silence for company, I started nodding away to sleep, confident that the person next to me (whom I didn't even know)wold wake me up if I start leaning too much. I was suddenly woken up from my shut-eye when a water packet landed on my arm! Yeah, "disgusting" we say, as we try and wipe ourselves dry. Guys, improper waste disposal is not the only reason you throw your garbage out the window!
I got comfortable and shut my eyes for five minutes. I opened them to a shock! I could just see my legs! The background, usually fast moving grass or stones or whatever, was replaced by swirling water 100 meters away! I felt like I was sitting at the edge of a skyscraper wall! Any slip meant certain death! That bridge put things into perspective! The illusion of safety!! Falling out of a fast moving train, though not so scary, is equally hazardous!

My feet were resting on the stairs near the door of the train, and at the approach of every platform, I used to wonder if my feet would get cut off. I always pt my feet up then. The person next to me assured me that all the station platforms from Kazipet to Secundrabad were not high enough to cause any harm. Yet, zooming past these platforms always made my feet involuntary lift and my heart involuntarily climb from its place to my mouth!

The journey was uneventful, except for a cat-fight between two lady fruit-sellers. There was not much violence, and so the crowd watched the drama with grins on their faces! Interesting, no?
I ws exhausted at the end of the three hours and walked into the nearest restaurant for a Rs 30 lunch! (to keep the plebian style going). After that, I jumped into an auto (Rs 50) for the ride home!

Hypocrite?!
I plead guilty!

Young Yoke Bearers

This post has been written in rural Andhra Pradesh yesterday, where the word 'internet' is almost unheard of. I was there on duty, to study how other organizations combat HIV/AIDS. The catholic run facility here is one of the best in AP and is run with typical catholic efficiency.
I arrived here nine hours ago. After a 2 hour journey by train, I was escorted from Khazipet station, by a young father who did not speak much. Insecure as I sometimes am, I started getting stressed out, especially after I entered the lovely furnished guest-room (all for me!) and looked at the mirror. I suddenly was able to see myself through his eyes. Suddenly, I began to wonder... Am I too young for this?
The entire day went off talking to everybody in the organization, and getting all the information I needed. (Well, I can't tell that I was entirely satisfied, because, this wasn't exactly the organization I was looking for). After all the interviewing and cajoling information, (most were willing to share, as long as it didn't look professional) out of everybody (except the director, who was extremely diplomatic), I sank into one of the chairs outside their dispensary, wondering if there was more to be done. At this point, a young man came and sat beside me and ventured a "What is your name?"
Thus began a one hour conversation with someone as old as myself, and at present, carries the weight of his world on his shoulders. At 24, MA Pol Science (I'm MA sociology! something in common!) he has a mother who is infected with our friend, the HIV. His father, brothers, grandma... nobody in his family know that his mother is infected with HIV. Her CD4 count is 15 (it should be above 900) and the doctor a few minutes earlier had non-verbally pronounced her death-sentence. The young man is the oldest among four, and he has to take care of them all. When all the villagers ask about his mother's condition, he gives them excuse after excuse. To top it all, he is married, (like everybody else his age in the village) and his wife is 9 months pregnant. She has gone to her mother's house to deliver. I constantly asked him why he did not tell anybody about his mother's real sickness. Sharing the burden would make life easy for everybody! Every time I asked him that question, he either changed the subject or pretended not to understand. I already knew the answer to the question. I just wanted to hear it from him.

I did feel a bit shaken after talking to him, but it was not like it was the first time I have spoken to someone with a life 10,000 times harder than mine. This is a case where I feel I can't do much, but pray and be a friend. I wonder how he felt about me. Here's my imagination of his thoughts.

"Some tall young man from Delhi, who can't speak a word of Telugu is here to watch how people treat People living with HIV/AIDS. Two years younger than me, not as qualified as I am, no idea about life, about love; doesn't know how to talk (Doesn't know when to stop asking questions). How come he is the guy with no problems, traveling the country, earning 10G a month, while I have to juggle my business, my mother, my estranged father, my pregnant wife and my unemployed brothers while I try to get the entire village to stop asking nosy questions? I am also a Christian, same as him, may be even more mature than him. But why me?"

Suddenly all those thoughts about me being too young seemed to disappear.
And in it's place, came a question...
Two men were on a race for a prize. Both had trained equally hard. But one was made to start 10m behind the other. He still caught up with the first. While the first athlete had no obstacles in his track, the second had all sorts of stumbling blocks before him. Is this a fair race? What should the first athlete do to make it fair?

AP makes you 'Appy!

First of all, an apology for such a late post... Second of all, another apology, because there'll be more posts after this, dated before this! Third of all, I am in a cyber-cafe, typing out this post at top speed, from my dirty looking journal. So, there'll be a lot of spelling mistakes. More apologies for te same. Ok, To the topic...

Here I am, safely on Secundrabad (AP - err.. Andhra Pradesh, Get the pun?) grounds. I am being pampered by the lovely hospitality of the Smart Young Doctor's (SYD) mother. 36 hours ago, rushing against time on the Delhi Metro, my mind playing an important role, mentally pushing the train past its top-speed to catch the AP Samprant Kranti Express. During that time, I was doing a bit of what you might call "faith-stretching". Two weeks of thought and planning and a month long correspondence has been spent on this trip and I wasn't ready to throw it all by just 'missing the train'. But still, I tried extremely hard to slow my mind down and stop making me jump up and tear my hair.
It was kinda harde telling myself "it's okay if you didn't catc the train, you tried your best"! But that brought me to think... If God wants me to go, I will go, if not, He won't (darnit) By the time I had completely surrendered my will to Him, I was kinda sure I would reach the station on time!
The train journey was as uneventful as an average day in solitary confinement.
SYD's mother picked me up from the station and has been hospitable ever since. She told me that taking care of God's workers was her 'ministry'. It then struck me that as I myself was a 'full-time-ministry-guy!' I stayed in the room the entire dayreading. Did no work at all.
At 4.00, I went out for a walk and on the way back, I realized I was making myself the laughing stock of the city. For some reason, I couldn't hide a broad 32 teethed grin on my face. I was cracking jokes, reminding myself of funny youtube videos and jnucf jokes and was literally bursting into splits all by myself walking down the road, oblivious to everyone else! Whenever I noticed someone's bewildered face, I would try in vain to hide my silly giggles. But I was so happy because it was a long time since I laughed so hard.
I decided that the reason behind the laughter was may be the extra helium in hyderabad, or something, but later I realized, that it was joy over-flowing from inside (after a long time) because of the love I had recieved from such a hospitable family. May God bless er and may she be a blessing to more like me.

Old man at 22

In my previous posts, my boasting about my brief stint at sports must have bugged some of you. But there was a time when I was pretty good at volleyball and badminton, but like they (the oldies) say, "Those were the good old days!" But having retired from all forms of sporting activity, and refraining from all activity that would keep my fitness in check ever since, I have become the average white-collared oldie.
Looking at my slim (or rather thin) figure in the mirror, I thought I still could run a mile without breaking a sweat. Those dreams were shattered today, when I had to run after the bus because it didn't stop at my bus-stop (ah these besharam Delhi drivers). I ran and I ran as fast as I could (realizing that this was the pace I used JOG before) I had half a mind to slow down, forget about the bus and catch my breath.
Thankfully I feared that bitter feeling you have when you give up and was also worried I might be extremely late for work. So I pushed on... and on... I finally jumped on to the bus and I had to pant and pant (like the kungfu panda after he climbs up the stairs) for an entire minute until I realized I was standing in spite of two seats being vacant! I later calculated I would have ran about 75 to a 100 meters. I used to cover this distance in less than 15 seconds err... 2 years ago, but now it would take thrice the time.
My kind mother would apprehend me saying I am not eating enough (she has a point there though). My ex-coach (who once had dreams of me playing volleyball for the country) would come to my room every morning, stand on my back and make me do 50 pushups and run 2 kilometers everyday if he sees me in this condition.
Ah, but what can I do? Time changes, and I am now lazier than I ever was before. Plus, having to cook my food and eat it, doesn't seem to help. The irritating Delhi heat isn't helping either. But this is no excuse. I vow to maintain a log of my exercise schedule starting tomorrow.
.... or next week

Blogger's gimmick - Interior Decorating

Now that I have got a sudden interest in blogging, (Free gifts for guessing why) I've decided I'll play the typical gimmick most bored bloggers play in order to get more comments or more "public response".
OK. Here's my problem. I am at present a bachelor living on the first floor in a one room - kitchen apartment. The bathroom isn't attached. The living room should be around 15ft x 15ft x 12ft. Sorry the image doesn't come out as clearly as I want it to. Ok. The arcs are doors, the thick lines, the windows, the biggest room is my living space (obviously) the second biggest is the bathroom, with the green patch the bathing area and 5 the potty. In the big room, #4 is the mattress where I sleep in, the small eclipse is the chairs, the red circles represent my water kettle, rice cooker and iron (all on the floor). The green line acroos the room is my clothesline. (Disgusting, yeah) . #1 is the trunk where all my clothes are, #2 is a plastic shelf, #3 is a pile of books and newspapers and the unnumbered rectangles are boxes with winter-clothes and stuff. In the kitchen, (the smallest room), the yellow represent the shelves and the red is the sink.

My budget is Rs 5000. Suggest anything (I prefer the minimalist look though) that might make my room better, and you'll get a cookie!!!

The Glory of the Olympic Medal

India is all focussed to become an economic super-power where parents send their young ones to schools and colleges, hoping that they become great engineers and doctors one day. Mothers boast to each other how much marks their children scored in their exams. Our country, according to me, will soon end up with the smartest minds. Where your priorities are, there your success will be also.
It always looks great from the macro-perspective. Sadly, if you'd focus in a little closer, the view is very different. The sme mothers complain that their players aren't doing a good enough job at the Olympic games. The kind of explanations they come up with is wild! "We are just not as fit as the Chinese or the Blacks. They are made out of rubber and stone respectively!" "Our country is too corrupt to send in the best" (which I would agree to) "The government hardly does anything" "We are not good at sports"
Well, actually, duh, we are good at sports! I'm sure there are one or two Indians somewhere who can swim faster then Phelps! (Ok, a bold statement, but it's possible, you know considering all the strong fishermen on India's huge coastline. The governemnt also does as much as it can to make sports popular. The only reason why the best sportsmen give up the game is because there's no money in it. There's a limit to the love of the game. Me for instance, though only 22, have retired from competitive volleyball. I have become too old to feel the thrill of winning. (There was a time when I would train 6 hours a day!) It's only when you realize that even if you play for the country one day there's no chance of earning a decent livelyhood, do you give up the love for the game.
Also, many parents discourage sports. A friend of mine (sportsperson) joked saying that maybe in China one mother might ask the other how many sports her son played!!! Well, Chinese readers, please respond! Interestingly, as loudly as India might cheer for other sportspeople who risk their livelyhood on a pitch, ring or court, they would never dare to sacrifice their children on that same altar!
Our country, whether we like it or not, is a spectatorial country when it comes to sports. Though we might cheer for all those who make it to the newspapers, we will be ready to condemn anyone who tries to get there. Those who have won medals this year, enjoy the praises of those who did not approve their efforts when they were trying. It only makes the the olympic gold gleam brighter. I think, in spite of the fact that no matter what happens, the number of olympic medals we bag this year will be restricted to single digit numbers, the entire team that consistently shed sweat and blood for years and years to get here have not just trained their bodies to push new heights, but have also fought against an unsupportive society along the way.
Shouldn't we be ashamed of ourselves?

Breeding Hatred

How do wars start? What makes one country annihilate another country only to torture their men and rape their women? Countries annihilating other countries because they hate each other so much. How on earth does one (individual) start to hate a culture he doesn't even know about? How is this hate generated? Where does it all start? Read this article and the comments that follow and you will find your answer. Now, I personally am indignant about the entire forced child marriage fiasco described, but it's the comments behind that story that would tell you how irrational hatred develops, even among the educated.
Now, every culture, every community has some moral problem or the other. America has a serial killer in almost every state. Gun shootouts, racism (still?), paedophilia and adultery is plenty there too. My own culture has a strong caste and class distinction. Women aren't treated with dignity in my community too. But though America and India, acknowledge this social problem, they do not look at it as a major threat. The same with Iran too! All I say is, while it is alright to blame the the criminals for their crime, it does not make sense to generalize the crime to religion or community. (Check out comments 48, 39, 69)
What would this lead to?! Exactly what the guy behind comment number 48 wants. Don't you understand that since this incident has caught global concern, this could be an isolated one? There is definitely a majority of honest, hardworking people who love their families and try to provide for them, even in this evil looking community. What gives you the right to hate a culture for its weaknesses? Condemn the men behind this. Not the community. At least, you know that you're fighting oppression and not countries. At least, you will play your part in preventing World War III
(P.S. Realize, that this is the only article in the entire newspaper has more than 20 comments!)

Wisdom from a Rickshaw Puller

Today was one of those days I felt I should share my breakfast. Well, the breakfast was nothing much, just a couple of samosas and a good ol' pack of the 4 rupee parle G. There was just too many thoughts running through my head this morning that I did not want to prepare something more nutritious. Actually I didn't want to do anything this morning except sleep all day. The usual zest of waking up early and doing productive things were absent. (ok.. it makes sense to strike out 'usual') I somehow kicked myself out of my home and went towards the bank. I stopped by the Amberhai Village Agarwal sweet store and bought myself a couple of samosas, a pepsi and a parle-G (just to get some change). I tried and stuff the food into my leather overnighter (which was getting heavier by the second) and was hoping for a teleport to Sector 5. There was a rickshaw guy waiting in front of the lassi shop. Not as great as a teleporter, but it would definitely work. Guess he was waiting for his lassi or something. I asked him if he'd drop me at Sector 5. He thought a bit and then said yes. I didn't ask him for the price. (really didn't care. I didn't care about anything except my good-for-nothing self) As we were trudging along, (or rather him trudging and me enjoying the ride) I decided that it was 'uncool' of me to disturb him from his breakfast, and I should share mine with him. Besides, I couldn't think of sitting out in the open and munching samosas and pepsi. So, after I paid him, I offered him a samosa and some biscuits. We sat in his rickshaw together and ate the samosas and the biscuits. I thought he would feel awkward, but after he found out that I was from Amberhai Village also, he relaxed a bit.
He told me about how he wasted his childhood smoking beedis, and thus he is still a rickshaw puller. He has taken all the blame on himself. That shows character (and a capitalist mindset we JNUites have learned to condemn!). Sure, it's the fault of the society. But is it also his fault? He for one, didn't want to blame anybody else. He also told me that the money is all over the streets in Delhi. You only need the brains to get the money. He said I was an educated boy, and I would be able to earn more money sitting in one place working than he would ever be able to by pulling a rickshaw around. But he told me he has a family and lives happily. We were sitting idling over the biscuits and the samosa, watching the time pass by. I was in a hurry and wanted to rush off to the bank and was feeling the slightest pinches of regret that I had to waste precious time before I got to the bank. He on the other hand felt that he was back in the village where everybody had all the time in the world. After staying for four years in Delhi, he seemed to still have those trusting tendencies an average villager would have. You can take the man out of the village, but man, you can never take the village out of the man!
He began to tell stories of his friends and the way they make money by just using their brains and creating markets where they don't exist. About this one guy who sent his son to the nearby forest to collect random herbs, plant them in plastic bags and sell them for a high price to Dwarka's richest. He also told me a longer story about another guy who made Rs 1055 just like that! The sad thing is, I don't know exactly how the guy made that Rs 1055.. Not because he didn't tell me, but because I didn't understand the pure Hindi he spoke in.
He also pointed out a marijuana in the middle of Sector 5 market, the place where Dwarka's richest shop. He showed me how they extract the pot out of the leaves, and how they used to make blunts and smoke in the village. He wondered aloud as to how much a man could get selling that marijuana. Like they say, if you find the right costumers, (Dwarka's richest, themselves!) you could be selling it for a lot of money! Dwarka's richest will be thinking that the stuff was shipped from Manali or elseswhere, when they actually pass by the source everyday! Obviously, that plant was almost bare, with almost no leaves on them because some kid or the other constantly walks by and plucks them out.
After I ran out of samosas and looked at the time, I decided that I had to run. I needed to get to the damn bank, get my work done (which has been pending for exactly 10 days, by the way) and go on to Shalom and continue to work before 11.00am! I hurriedly said bye and ran to the bank. The work got over pretty fast, and then I got to Shalom, where I am typing this blog.
I don't know if I will ever see that rickshaw-puller again, even though he says he lives in the street just behind my house. But it was nice hearing so much of rustic wisdom for a samosa and a few biscuits. It was fun talking and making friends with him. Though I wonder if he is smarter than I am, gaining my confidence just to (in some mysterious way) make my money walk away from me and toward him. I am told I should follow but one motto when I walk around the city. "Don't trust anyone". Well, I have tried for years now, but I still can't follow this motto as successfully as I should when I try and follow the other motto I was brought up to respect. "Love your Neighbour"

The Floating Leaf (once again)

After listening to Younger Doctor's testimony of how she got her vision, and watching her work tirelessly with great discipline, zeal and "consistency", there's one word that comes to mind. Powerboat. Moving swiftly with purpose, cutting across the water toward the finish-line ahead.
May be this is why God has not given me a vision or a dream for the future yet. If one sets his eyes on a long-term goal, I feel the first rule would be to not take them off it till the end. Obviously, I'll find that very hard to do. Ever since I was a child, I have (much to my parents' disappointment) never been able to keep focussed in one goal for a long period of time. When I was in the fifth standard, I begged my parents to let me join the Karate class after school. After they spent a small fortune on my karate suit (the pajamas and the works), an ID card, I suddenly stopped going. Just like that! Ever since, I was always interested in one... million things at the same time. My interests in the past years have shifted from sports to music to object manipulation to sketching to... I started with badminton (spurred by my father's enthusiasm rather than mine) shifted to Table Tennis, then to basketball (for a very short stretch) then athletics, and finally volleyball! The moment I actually started getting into the circuit and making a name for myself, I dropped out of it, and now I can't say with confidence that I know all the rules. It's the same case with everything else.
If you ask me which direction I'm going, I can't tell you for sure. I've been going in all directions these past 22 years, I'm not sure I'm going left or right or up or down right now. I'm jumping from one ice-block to another in a vast river, going down stream and upstream at the same time.
As powerboats zoom past the floating leaf, he wonders as he bobs up and down in the waves they've created... Will he ever grow up to be one?

Thank you

A lesser known Adam Sandler movie, called "Spanglish" has this dialogue where a little goes 'Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you ooh Thank you soo much!! This is the best day of my life ever!!" (or something to that effect). Well, this is what I wish to tell the (hmm... what shall I call them...) handsome couple (well, that's your title for now... yes, i still feel a wee bit intimidated... but when I get to know you better, you'll get the same treatment as all of my other friends) for their dinner treat!
It all started with the cell meeting I was initially even hesitant to attend mainly because I have to take a tiresome walk in the middle of the night back home and then cook dinner (yech) It would actually feel that this was the training ground to practise whatever I have learnt at the cell meeting that day (God: "Ok Sam, let's see what you've learnt about patience, sleep without complaining.. you're not getting electricity for an indefinite amount of time tonight. Sleep tight!!!")
Thankfully, like I learnt today at the cell group, God isn't that sort of a task-master. He proved that through 'the handsome couple' (for want of a better name). When they initially heard that I had a long way to walk, they decided to drop me by car. I accidentally told them that I couldn't cook because I didn't have electricity. They took me home and fed me with Top Ramen!!! How cool is that? Well, actually brand new families are supposed to that to churchmates, but I hadn't been too friendly with them at church too. (Obviously, the simple reason is that I don't have anything in common with them, wavelength-wise) He (I'll find a corny name for him soon enough) somehow found something in common and began conversation. He taught me a lot about report-writing and proposal writing; while she prepared dinner. We generally talked about Tsunamis and Disasters, hobbys, etc. over dinner, and they drove me back home.
I am glad to be in a Christian community such as this that wants to get closer, instead of splitting into their own cliques as soon as church is over. I hope I lose my fear (read intimidation) of people in high places, and of people smarter than I am.

This little light of mine

Today was the first day I went to the field with the Home Based Care workers. Home Based Care is one of the most popular models in AIDS relief work today. I am here to learn as much as I can about the model, and later explain it to other people. But that's not the real reason why I am writing this post.

AIDS, like any other killing disease, brings trauma - to both the patient and the family members. Knowing that the patient doesn't have long to live removes you of all hope. But AIDS also brings a stigma along with it. Even though one must have been pricked accidentally by an unsterilized needle, everybody would condemn the person of being immoral (though sadly, it is the case 90% of the time).

A patient called "K" has been admitted here in the hospital for the past 2 weeks. Her youngest daughter, 5, also HIV/+ is here to take care of her. Her husband, also infected with the virus, is at home, bedridden. However, the mother has left a month's stock of groceries for their two other HIV negative elder daughters, one studying in the 12th and the other in the 10th. These two hardworking girls take care of the place. They told our friend, (and trainer) that they remember to clean the place regularly, and keep all their books and bags in order.
They are out of cooking-gas, so they cook their food using firewood. They cook for their father and themselves, clean the room everyday, take care of a little baby and study for their respective exams! And I thought I was doing a great job learning how to use the electric cooker!
Well, hell's not over for them. While we were speaking, two old women looked into the room and walked away. Immediately, this eldest daughter's face fell with shame and tears were welling up. I have a feeling that the girls weren't so popular in their village either. No points for guessing why.

As I write this, I feel like I am writing the first half of the Cinderella story. Don't these girls deserve a break? Hmm... May be, but they're not getting one in the near future at least. Chances are, that they are living just for their parents. As soon as their parents die, uncles and aunts will grab the place they're staying in now. They might marry them off for a cheap dowry, which means they will end up with even more disgusting men for husbands.

Something is very wrong here. But sadly, things like this happen everyday. AIDS is showing no sign of slowing down the infection rate, and people are showing no signs of stopping their immoral behavior. Also, people today rarely look out for others. If only the neighbours and friends were more supportive, we won't actually have a need to go and drop here every month. The mother won't be so sick with the lack of hope and the father MIGHT have changed because of this. Children don't have to hide their faces with shame the way they do. Survival of the fittest sucks.

Today's world is full of hypocrites. Thinking that by living good lives, providing for self and family and getting respect from people we have completed our duty as humans. Christians thinking that their little light is shining brightly among those who need it don't realize that they are sitting inside the wicker-basket.

At this time, I wonder if I also am a part of this dastardly system we all live in. Am I unknowingly trampling on the frail heads of a million people whose needs are smaller than those of a sparrow? Am I merely being a hypocrite with a job like this to explain away my actual insensitivity? And in anyway am I actually contributing to this Survival of the Fittest world that raises the wicked on pedastals made of the bones of the poor? I can only hope not.

My new home

A few of my readers might have lived in places like this before and are expected to not bother reading the entire post. But me being someone who lived most of his life at least 30 to 40 feet above the ground in some apartment or the other, living at Amberhaigaun in a small room on the terrace of a once upon a time house for a joint family is fascinating! The room I have is definitely bigger than the rooms$ at Tapti and Xavier's! It also has an attached kitchen and bathroom. The downside is that the place doesn't have shelves of any kind. It's as raw as you can find them! Trying to refurnish the place to make it liveable wasn't that easy because I always took it for granted that there will be a soap with a scotch brite brush sitting next to sink... you get the picture.
Living in the hostel does give you a sense of responsibility but not as much as much as living alone like this. You definitely get a lot more worries in your head. Cooking is definitely one of those big reponsibilities, yeah, I definitely need to some catching up. Both with skills and instruments. As long as I don't fall sick or weak eating the works of my hands I really am not complaining yet! Every time I try and come up with new ways to make me eat more wholesome food! The catch to all this cooking is that I have to cook all these things only in the low energy consumption rice-cooker! I cannot cook on an electric hot-plate because of the extra energy it consumes. Buying a gas stove also is presently out of the question. The shop is too far, and I don't have so much money. I have got pretty interesting recipes that make me eat a lot as fast as possible! (Maybe I'll compile a crazy list and post them sometime!)
Another bore of living alone is the cleaning bit. Living on the terrace means my door opens to the terrace. Which means, all the dirt of the village enters the room the moment I open the door. And since my mattress is on the floor, I have to clean the floor regularly and make sure no bugs enter. Surprisingly the day I swabbed the floor with phenyl, insects started coming into the room! And the insects haven't left since! Any suggestions grandmas?!
The architecture is classic basti Delhi architecture. A few T shaped rafters line the ceiling. Balanced carefully between these rafters (without mortar or cement) are extremely huge, extremely cheap kadappa tablets. One slight shake of these rafters, and the ceiling meets the floor. I'm kinda sure because lizards go in and out of the room through gaps in the ceiling. So, in case of an earthquake I should remember to keep my wits about me, or I could get sandwiched before I say 'what?' But did y'all notice? during the mild earthquake there were no deaths?! Hmm... I guess It's not as unstable as it looks! But definitely not rain proof! This record breaking rain hasn't helped much either!
Still, for a summer season, the weather has been pleasant so far and the room is extremely comfortable! (Pent-house luxury, definitely!) But when the sun gets angry because the clouds were blocking it's view, y'all can have Sam Tikka for lunch!

Hi from the Village

A few posts ago, I announced that I was going to join EHA as a "Training Co-ordinator". Well, here I am. The Pastor found a place for me nd told me that it was only worth Rs 1000 a month, which, compared to other places, was extremely cheap! So, I said to my self "What-the-heck" without thinking that it would be in the heart of a weird urban North Indian village!Most aspiring youth in the movies leave small villages or towns to big cities to seek their luck. Some movies elaborate to tell about the life of this young kid who one day became... err.. I don't know... Ambani? Rockfeller? Recently, I left my home to seek my fortune. In Delhi... But there's a slight snag in the story. I'm a pure-blood city-slicker. Have been brought up in big cities all over the country, and now, am here to seek my fortune (or greater good, if you might call it) in a village in Delhi!
Hi there! Welcome to Ambihaigaun! The village in Dwarka! Look at the kind of waters the floating leaf is swimming through now! This village generally is full of lower-middle class folk with a very... err... North Indian village like demeanor. Unlike other 'normal' villages that are surrounded by fields, this village has walls to surround it. But don't be fooled! This is a genuine certified village complete with panchayat, community centre and all! The walls of DDA colonies. Inside these colonies live people of the upper-middle-class (Generally the kind of people I was raised with and can get to know easily). Since my home is outside those walls (which I shall talk about later), I do not identify with them. I usually look at them as snobs who have more than they need and don't know what to do with them (of course "amnesia"ing the house at Chennai I have left)
The people of the place are slowly getting to know me. The occasional shop-keeper who finds out where I am from, and what I am doing, to the stares I get from people as I walk past them. I considered (and still consider) those stares as rude, but to them, it's a way of getting to know someone. To show that they recognize you. I have been trying to act friendly and say Hi to everyone I see the second time, but all they do is stare at you. I remember ol Digg telling me of his feelings about saying Hi. According to him, it's a completely useless ritual and a waste of voice. Here too, he knows that you acknowledge his presence and he acknowledges you. Of course, in a village, you're supposed to notice and remember everybody's faces unlike the city, where you only recognize a select faces you see very often, and in order to show you recognize them, you wave out so they notice you. But in the village, all this is taken for granted! Gee, I am learning a lot! (Not a bad observation for a hobbying anthropologist who's been here three days, eh?)
Almost (I said almost) everything you need to run a house can be found in the two rows of shops quite close to home. (Sometimes I wonder if one row of shops is a bad photocopy of the other) There is an ATM (for Axis bank, which I might make an account in, let's see) and a milk shop that roughly divides the two rows. And for things you cannot get (at least at a decent price) here, you'll have to make a trip to the big city, it takes about an hour to get there (of course, not in a cramped Government bus but in the AC of the metro (which is still cramped by the way) and get the choicest goods for the choicest prices (of course, if you know where to look)
I haven't completely explored either Ambihaigaun or even Dwarka for that matter. Ambihaigaun just doesn't so exciting to explore, and Dwarka is too big to be explored on foot. However, I now know how to go where I want to go! May be, as I get to know the place better, I might start posting!

Manjolai 2

I forgot to add this in my previous trip to Manjolai. One of the craziest things I did was walk half a kilometer up the hill - ... - In a water-pipe! There was some maintanance work going on there, a friend of ours wanted to meet the foreman. The workers said he was working in the pipe half a kilometer up hill! So we went! We climbed up the ladder and let ourselves down the hatch into the looming water pipe, which by the way was five and a half feet in diameter... The walls of the pipe was coated with some sort of black slime. There were light-bulbs lighting our way, so there was no room for getting scared. But we all got a little claustrophobic in a little while. The feeling that the walls of the pipe are going to crush us wasn't exactly exhilarating!
We were also worried as to what would happen to us if someone at the dam above turned the big tap on. Well, apparently we would have been flushed out (hopefully in one piece... .... but definitely dead) at Kanyakumari!
That night, there was no scope of a good nights sleep! I kept imagining myself coming out at Kanyakumari covered in black slime and wrapped in a million lightbulbs!!!

Manjolai (important bit)

I forgot to add this in my previous trip to Manjolai. One of the craziest things I did was walk half a kilometer up the hill - ... - In a water-pipe! There was some maintanance work going on there, a friend of ours wanted to meet the foreman. The workers said he was working in the pipe half a kilometer up hill! So we went! We climbed up the ladder and let ourselves down the hatch into the looming water pipe, which by the way was five and a half feet in diameter... The walls of the pipe was coated with some sort of black slime. There were light-bulbs lighting our way, so there was no room for getting scared. But we all got a little claustrophobic in a little while. The feeling that the walls of the pipe are going to crush us wasn't exactly exhilarating!

Manjolai

Oftentimes, when I hear my friends describe the beauty of the mountains, i rarely get impressed. I've seen the mountains of Kodaikanal, Thekkadi, and even a bit of the Himalayas! You see one, you've seen them all. What's so great?!
Today, standing at the top of an unnamed cliff at Manjolai, Tamilnadu, I couldn't think the same! Standing on the edge of the Western Ghats and looking at the plains below, my ancestral district slowly lighting it's lamps all over to chase away the incoming darkness, I decided to raise the 'beauty' scale a little higher.
The mountains completely clothed green with the trees were stretching in ups and downs all around me to form a great horizon. yet , from where I stand, I can see the range give way to the seemingly endless flatlands spanning at least 50 villages, flourishing because of the sparkling water streaming down from the mountains into a dam.
For a city-slicker like me, staring at starry skies is a rare sight. Last night, I could have spent the entire night looking at the real live planetarium, watching shooting stars, and wondering what to wish for, 'cause for the moment I couldn't remember a single care in the world!
In a few weeks time, I'll be the busiest man on the planet, settling down to a new job, a new life. This could be the best stretch one could ever wish for!
Beside this awesome beauty, I did spend some 'quality-time' with the family. Great pics will soon be put up!

Ode to my inspiration

Two days ago, a friend of mine thanked me (and my blog) for being her inspiration to start a blog. It definitely is very nice to hear that you've inspired someone to do something good. (Especially when her blog slowly turns out to be richer than yours!) But that kind gesture got me thinking. What was MY inspiration to start a blog? Ah! Menoncholic! I shamelessly have forgotten add his blog to my set of links. Also don't even know how to trackback him showing him the (rather sideshow) fruits his toil!
A giant salute to you, guy with the nerdy glasses, hope you continue posting! For god's sake, you were really good!

Farewell time 2

One more exam to go, and I hopefully will be done with my education! (For now, at least) Oh, and about my other three exams that past? Let's just say I like creative explosive writing! (The writings inspire explosions) I have just got my airplane ticket back home, and I can't wait till I START counting the days!
The exams thankfully are not as taxing as they used to be. I am able to relax all I want and study for it in the last minute. Though I had an exam today, I was able to watch the UEFA ManU Barca match last night! (Just so you know, I don't follow football... this was just a freak accident.) Sometimes I wonder why they bother to give us an exam! Might as well correct our term-papers properly! We work really hard for them!
The Hospital (hopefully my second source of financial support. The first one is my dad's card) just called to set up the interview timings. The guy on the phone sounded very professional. I'll be going for my very first job-interview on the 5th of May. Monday. Please pray for me guys!
OK. Where was I? Oh! Farewell! yes... come to think of it, right now I don't feel so much that I will be leaving this place for good. I have grown too attached to the people here and to the place altogether.
Great friends like the guy in the green shirt, the angry ol' man, lil girl, digg, rolly, the peppy linguist, 'what's there' girl and her best friend, (and so on and so forth) will be people I'll really miss, and would be altogether happy to stay in touch with. I've done things here that I've never done before!
I've stood in front of an out-door church, played the guitar and sang and led worship all at the same time! (Smirk away guitar greats... smirk away) I've listened (and have been inspired by) great singing at church (that's you guitar greats, and you tabi, if you ever read this). I've begun to like singers like Dylan, Marley, Beatles, Jars of Clay, Jaci Vel, Billy Joel. I've started listening to rap.
I've danced to tamil film songs on stage twice! I've worn a suit and sang in a concert, performing the same show for two different audiences. I have had the blessed chance to dance under the snow. I've been frostbitten (not dog-bitten yet, but looking at the number of hounds in campus, it will soon happen). I've chatted with a rajasthani local in Hindi for around 20 minutes without an interpreter. I've stayed awake for 72 hours straight. I've slept for 16 hours flat (pun intended). I've learnt how to juggle. I've learnt the art of writing graffiti on paper (duh wait till I get spray cans!). I've got a decent collection of movies. I've learnt to love the open-source (not that I use it right now).I've learnt that being a hooligan is not as bad as it looks (learnt that on holi). I've learnt how to eat the spiciest of pork, fish, maggi without worrying about my leaking nose.
Thanks a lot guys!!! Will miss you lots!!!
Ok... Enough, I'll have to stop now and bawl for a while in the restroom... So if you'll excuse me...

Farewell time

Approximately an hour to go before the first of my final exams begin. Unlike the rest of those in my class, I have learnt one thing about taking exams. Don't take things too seriously. Do as much as you can, and leave the rest to Him. I don't think I can cram any more into my brain. All I will do now if I do that is hyper-ventilate, palpitate and finally collapse into a great big heap of ...

Before I say anything more, I'd like to thank all you readers who have been motivating me to write into here. You guys were great! scrapping me and asking me to write more! Really felt that I was doing something worthwhile! (Also would like to thank Google putting my name into it's search list.. Google Samuel Joseph JNU and see what you get!!)
What you get is that master-piece I wrote, basically bashing up JNU! Now, that I have to leave the place, I realize that in a place like this, you could easily get comfortable. In spite of the fact that you have to walk a lot before you can get anywhere, you get used to it! The forests in the middle of the city are something that I guess I might never see again. The friends I've made here have been one of the closest! I don't show it too much, but they are. JNU definitely grows into your skin, and I feel that I might miss the place when I go out. (boo hoo)
Ok, for all you readers, another announcement (before I get into hyperventilation mode) I will be completing my 'formal education' phase of my life, and The Floating Leaf will either be entering the working class phase or the unemployment phase.
Will write in detail soon. (May be after the exam gets over)

Linux woes

Being the Change makes you weird...

I came up with this phrase a few days ago when I joined the ubuntu bandwagon... Everybody who had windows either thought i was very brave, or was just showing off, or just thought i was weird. I on the other hand thought I was a part of a new revolution against the system. Against microsoft, the money-hungry exploitative giant...

Anyway, the above phrase was well-meant, and was really useful, on my part... Unfortunately,
being the change doesn't only make you weird... It knocks the daylights out of you, and makes your days filled with pain, anger, and frustration because things never ever go easy when you swim against the tide. With no internet connection, no sound, no video on my computer, it with all it's cool hardwarde (1gb ram, 160gb sata, dual-core, lcd screen dvd writer) is completely useless! Ubuntu doesn't come loaded with these drivers... You'll have to hook your comp directly to the internet.. The internet walas don't know how to get my comp compatible with their servers, so no internet connection possible! :( Geez! What frustration

Haven't found a single decent ubuntu book as of yet... Once I do so, I hope i devour it before classes start! Hope there's a chapter on temper-management!

Sorry for taking out my bitter feelings on you... thank you for your patience

Baudelaire

I picked up a book called 'Flowers of Evil' by Baudelaire, a renowned french poet. This is the English translation by the Peter Pauper Press. I was always curious about poetry, but this book blew me away! Brilliant poetry, and great hold on metaphors. I really liked the translator's meter and rhyme patterns...

Here is the poem...

To the Reader
Folly and error, sin and avarice,
Labor our minds and bodies in their course,
Blithely we nourish pleasurable remorse
As beggars feed their parasitic lice.

Our sins are stubborn, our repentance faint,
We sell our weak confessions at high price,
Returning gaily to the bogs of vice,
Thinking base tears can cleanse our every taint.

Pillowed on evil, Satan Trismegist
Ceaselessly cradles our enchanted mind,
The flawless metal of our will we find
Volatilized by this rare alchemist.

The Devil holds the puppet threads; and swayed
By noisome things and their repugnant spell,
Daily we take one further step toward Hell,
Suffering no horror in the olid shade.

As an impoverished rake will kiss and bite
The bruised blue nipples of an ancient whore,
We steal clandestine pleasures by the score,
Which, like dried orange rinds, we pressure tight.

Serried, aswarm, like million maggots, so
Demons carouse in us with fetid breath,
And, when we breathe, the unseen stream of death
Flows down our lungs with muffled wads of woe.

If poison, knife, rape, arson, have not dared
Yet stamp the pleasing pattern of their gyves
On the dull canvas of our sorry lives,
It is because our torpid souls are scared.

But side by side with our monstrosities
— Jackals and bitch hounds, scorpions, vultures, apes,
Panthers and serpents whose repulsive shapes
Pollute our vice's dank menageries,

There is one viler and more wicked spawn,
Which never makes great gestures or loud cries
Yet would turn earth to wastes of sumps and sties
And swallow all creation in a yawn:

Ennui! Moist-eyed perforce, worse than all other,
Dreaming of stakes, he smokes his hookah pipe.
Reader, you know this fiend, refined and ripe,
Reader, O hypocrite — my like! — my brother!

I really thought it was a great description of myself, actually. Most of the time, I act revolted by evil... I scorn all those who commit such... But am I not the chief of evildoers myself?

(Ennui means boredom)