Wonderful creation of nature...
This is a very common flower in India...But this color is not so common!!!
I couldn't just resist myself naming this "Fire that bloomed"
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Fire that bloomed
Wonderful creation of nature...
This is a very common flower in India...But this color is not so common!!!
I couldn't just resist myself naming this "Fire that bloomed"
Friday, May 4, 2007
Is this is what our life is all about ?
To make Money we loose our health and then to restore our health we loose money.
We live as if we are never going to die and we die as if we have never lived.
First I was dying to finish my High School and start College.
Then I was dying to finish my College and start working.
Then I was dying to marry and have children.
Then I was dying for my children to grow old enough so that I could start working again.
By the time my children grew up, I was dying to retire.
And now when I'm dying, I've have realized that in all the days between
"I've Forgot to Live"
We live as if we are never going to die and we die as if we have never lived.
First I was dying to finish my High School and start College.
Then I was dying to finish my College and start working.
Then I was dying to marry and have children.
Then I was dying for my children to grow old enough so that I could start working again.
By the time my children grew up, I was dying to retire.
And now when I'm dying, I've have realized that in all the days between
"I've Forgot to Live"
Without quota, every caste would be a forward caste
by Mr. M R Venkatesh
To rule India -- with her huge size and population -- the British hit upon a simple yet brilliant idea: divide and rule, with the State playing the crucial role of an arbitrator between various warring groups.
The government of Independent India is largely a remnant of the British Raj with one crucial addition: the ruling elite, comprising Marxists and pseudo-Marxists, largely understands the collective psyche of Indians far better than our colonial oppressors. After all, poverty of ideas invariably leads to politics of poverty.
Accordingly, subsequent governments in India have first ensured shortages, and then played Santa by rationing the insufficient. Quotas fall in this genre.
OBCs: No discussion, please
Having adopted this paradigm of governance, it was necessary for the Government of India to turn the majority against the minority, Muslims and Christians were to be pitched against Hindus, the 'higher' castes against 'lower' castes, the OBCs against the MBCs (Most Backward Classes), the BCs against the Dalits, the Hindi-speaking against the non-Hindi speaking and so on and so forth.
Else, a system that was predominantly modelled on the lines of the British style of governance -- highly centralised, with little accountability -- would be unworkable in India. And given this broad idea of dividing Indians, the caste system in India was an obvious candidate.
It may be noted that by the early twentieth century the British had already begun dividing the nation on these lines -- forwards and backwards. The governments in independent India merely carried the British agenda forward.
One of the popular assumptions built by the British and nurtured subsequently by Marxists about castes is that it is hierarchical and creates a rigid and vertical social structure. And that justified reservations, first for the Dalits (who are not the subject matter of this discussion) and subsequently extended to the backward castes -- OBCs.
The nature of competitive populism in contemporary politics makes it extremely difficult even for a cursory discussion on backward castes, their composition and genesis of their backwardness. On the contrary, every government aided and abetted by a pliable media, biased intellectuals and an indifferent public have repeatedly suppressed, distorted or de-legitimised scholarly studies about OBCs.
The truth needs to be told, facts debated and our assumptions re-calibrated.
Backward castes: What's that?
Whether caste is associated with vertical hierarchy or not has been the subject of great study by many historians, analysts and sociologists. 'Interrogating Castes,' a study of Dipankar Gupta, an eminent scholar and historian of great repute, shows that no caste considers itself to be lower in status, when compared with other castes.
In his essay, Gupta recalls an encounter with 'low caste' women who claimed that her caste was really Rajput -- a higher caste -- and was turned into a lower caste after a defeat in war.
Gupta further adds, "This encounter nearly twenty years ago led me to wonder how many low castes have elevated opinions about their caste origins. A new world was revealed to me as I read account after account of those who are customarily called low castes denying their lowly pedigree. Sometimes they said that were Brahmins of a certain kind, on many occasions they claimed Kshatriya status."
Stumped? Read on.
Arun Shourie, in his latest book -- Falling Over Backwards -- reveals something sensational. He quotes two Census Superintendents of the 1931 census who state, 'The feature of interest is that the claim is always for a more dignified title, for admission to a higher caste or exclusion from a caste which is considered low in the social scale.' Shourie further goes on enumerate repeatedly all through this book as to how Sainis and Malis wanted to be classified as Saini Rajputs, Gabits as Marathas, Bedas as Naiks, Blacksmiths as Panch Brahmans, Barias as Kshatriyas, Talpadas as Padhiar Rajputs, Devalis and Bhavins as Naik Marathas. . . the list seems endless, and Shourie's scholarly attempt is replete with such examples of the so-called lower castes seeking a higher caste appellation.
Surprised? Read on.
Lower castes or elite of the ruling class?
The late Gandhian, Dharampalji through a painstaking study spread over several decades in India, England and Germany established that before the British rule in India, over two-thirds -- yes, two-thirds! -- of the Indian rulers belonged to what is today known as the OBCs and conclusively proved that it was the British and not the upper castes who robbed the OBCs of their power, wealth and status.
Dharampalji also exploded the popularly held belief that most of those attending schools must have belonged to the upper castes and again with reference to the British records, proved that the truth was other way round. For instance, during 1822-25 the share of the Brahmin students in indigenous schools in Tamil-speaking areas accounted for 13 per cent in South Arcot to some 23 per cent in Madras, while the OBCs accounted for 70 per cent in Salem and Tirunelveli and 84 per cent in South Arcot.
Shocked? Another study by Christophe Jaffrelot, a French scholar -- India's silent revolution: the Rise of the Low Castes in North Indian Politics -- corroborates the findings of late Dharampalji.
While the subject of the book may be out of context to the discussion on hand, the matter of interest to the extant debate is the historical perspective provided on the status of OBCs in nineteenth and early twentieth century. Some of the important factors highlighted in the book with respect to OBCs are:
All available historical evidence shows that almost none of the OBCs considered themselves to be backward, in any sense of the term, at least till the beginning of the 20th century.
Most of the rulers, both at the local as well as larger regional levels in different regions of India during 16-18th centuries, seem to have come from these OBCs.
Further, most of the professions that sustained the vibrant economy of India, which was considered a great agricultural and industrial nation till early 19th century, were peopled and managed mostly by these communities.
The de-industrialisation of India by the British and the subsequent suspension of all local support systems led to widespread deprivation among all sections of Indian society, notably the OBCs.
Four scholars, perhaps with differing ideologies have arrived at similar conclusions. Yet, look at the specious arguments that have fashioned our debate on this issue.
Look what have we done to ourselves.
The net impact of the above is that we have turned OBCs -- the supplicants in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries -- into applicants for posts of clerks in government offices, thanks to the reservation policy.
This would be perhaps true of earlier historical periods also. And most of them -- from Lord Rama to Krishna, from Maharana Ranjit Singh to Chhatrapati Shivaji to Veerapandia Kattabomman -- would in the scheme of our government invariably fall in one of the two categories: OBCs or MBCs!
Due to a conspiracy of coincidences, OBCs seem to have forgotten their glorious past. What else would explain their behaviour of being on all fours before successive governments -- and to curry favours? Today they are so used to the standard arguments of being exploited by forward castes (FCs), leave alone OBCs, even the FCs are loathe to buy contrary arguments.
The net result is that OBCs on the one hand are overwhelmed with an inferiority complex and thus find psychological comfort only in reservations. On the other hand, the upper castes, tutored through tortured history, live constantly in a guilt complex of having wronged their OBC brethren.
In short, our population comprises people who live either on guilt or on an inferiority complex -- what a wonderful combination to challenge the world!
Significantly, this is a perfect setting for our politicians, especially the Marxists, to exploit.
If there were 1,000 IIMs, IITs and AIIMS. . .
All these are pointers to a crucial issue -- the manner in which we are governed and the sinister idea of dividing Indians to rule Indians continue in the same manner as the British did to us till Independence.
The Indian politician perfectly understands the system and the Indian psyche. Leveraging the power of the government, our politicians prefer rationing a few thousand seats by constricting demand rather than considering the grand idea of increasing its supply.
For sixty years since Independence, we have one AIIMS, seven IITs and six IIMs for a billion-plus population. Even that tiny speck in the Indian Ocean called Singapore would have more educational institutions for its 4 million population.
Obviously, the idea is to constrict supply and play on the pent up demand. And in the process if history has to be distorted, so be it.
It may be noted that the Marxists would be at hand to lend credibility to any such distortions of history -- our silence would be their next ally. Needless to emphasise, it is these distortions of history that rationalise reservations, not the 'historical backwardness' of any castes. But if supply were increased as suggested here, what would our politicians -- Marxists and pseudo Marxists -- do? They would simply be jobless, as it would mean end of their brand of politics!
And precisely for these reasons, the current policy of reservations and with it dividing people through castes would continue.
Moral of the story: Without the powerful incentive of reservation every caste in India would be a forward caste.
The author is a Chennai-based Chartered Accountant. He can be contacted at mrv1000@rediffmail.com
To rule India -- with her huge size and population -- the British hit upon a simple yet brilliant idea: divide and rule, with the State playing the crucial role of an arbitrator between various warring groups.
The government of Independent India is largely a remnant of the British Raj with one crucial addition: the ruling elite, comprising Marxists and pseudo-Marxists, largely understands the collective psyche of Indians far better than our colonial oppressors. After all, poverty of ideas invariably leads to politics of poverty.
Accordingly, subsequent governments in India have first ensured shortages, and then played Santa by rationing the insufficient. Quotas fall in this genre.
OBCs: No discussion, please
Having adopted this paradigm of governance, it was necessary for the Government of India to turn the majority against the minority, Muslims and Christians were to be pitched against Hindus, the 'higher' castes against 'lower' castes, the OBCs against the MBCs (Most Backward Classes), the BCs against the Dalits, the Hindi-speaking against the non-Hindi speaking and so on and so forth.
Else, a system that was predominantly modelled on the lines of the British style of governance -- highly centralised, with little accountability -- would be unworkable in India. And given this broad idea of dividing Indians, the caste system in India was an obvious candidate.
It may be noted that by the early twentieth century the British had already begun dividing the nation on these lines -- forwards and backwards. The governments in independent India merely carried the British agenda forward.
One of the popular assumptions built by the British and nurtured subsequently by Marxists about castes is that it is hierarchical and creates a rigid and vertical social structure. And that justified reservations, first for the Dalits (who are not the subject matter of this discussion) and subsequently extended to the backward castes -- OBCs.
The nature of competitive populism in contemporary politics makes it extremely difficult even for a cursory discussion on backward castes, their composition and genesis of their backwardness. On the contrary, every government aided and abetted by a pliable media, biased intellectuals and an indifferent public have repeatedly suppressed, distorted or de-legitimised scholarly studies about OBCs.
The truth needs to be told, facts debated and our assumptions re-calibrated.
Backward castes: What's that?
Whether caste is associated with vertical hierarchy or not has been the subject of great study by many historians, analysts and sociologists. 'Interrogating Castes,' a study of Dipankar Gupta, an eminent scholar and historian of great repute, shows that no caste considers itself to be lower in status, when compared with other castes.
In his essay, Gupta recalls an encounter with 'low caste' women who claimed that her caste was really Rajput -- a higher caste -- and was turned into a lower caste after a defeat in war.
Gupta further adds, "This encounter nearly twenty years ago led me to wonder how many low castes have elevated opinions about their caste origins. A new world was revealed to me as I read account after account of those who are customarily called low castes denying their lowly pedigree. Sometimes they said that were Brahmins of a certain kind, on many occasions they claimed Kshatriya status."
Stumped? Read on.
Arun Shourie, in his latest book -- Falling Over Backwards -- reveals something sensational. He quotes two Census Superintendents of the 1931 census who state, 'The feature of interest is that the claim is always for a more dignified title, for admission to a higher caste or exclusion from a caste which is considered low in the social scale.' Shourie further goes on enumerate repeatedly all through this book as to how Sainis and Malis wanted to be classified as Saini Rajputs, Gabits as Marathas, Bedas as Naiks, Blacksmiths as Panch Brahmans, Barias as Kshatriyas, Talpadas as Padhiar Rajputs, Devalis and Bhavins as Naik Marathas. . . the list seems endless, and Shourie's scholarly attempt is replete with such examples of the so-called lower castes seeking a higher caste appellation.
Surprised? Read on.
Lower castes or elite of the ruling class?
The late Gandhian, Dharampalji through a painstaking study spread over several decades in India, England and Germany established that before the British rule in India, over two-thirds -- yes, two-thirds! -- of the Indian rulers belonged to what is today known as the OBCs and conclusively proved that it was the British and not the upper castes who robbed the OBCs of their power, wealth and status.
Dharampalji also exploded the popularly held belief that most of those attending schools must have belonged to the upper castes and again with reference to the British records, proved that the truth was other way round. For instance, during 1822-25 the share of the Brahmin students in indigenous schools in Tamil-speaking areas accounted for 13 per cent in South Arcot to some 23 per cent in Madras, while the OBCs accounted for 70 per cent in Salem and Tirunelveli and 84 per cent in South Arcot.
Shocked? Another study by Christophe Jaffrelot, a French scholar -- India's silent revolution: the Rise of the Low Castes in North Indian Politics -- corroborates the findings of late Dharampalji.
While the subject of the book may be out of context to the discussion on hand, the matter of interest to the extant debate is the historical perspective provided on the status of OBCs in nineteenth and early twentieth century. Some of the important factors highlighted in the book with respect to OBCs are:
All available historical evidence shows that almost none of the OBCs considered themselves to be backward, in any sense of the term, at least till the beginning of the 20th century.
Most of the rulers, both at the local as well as larger regional levels in different regions of India during 16-18th centuries, seem to have come from these OBCs.
Further, most of the professions that sustained the vibrant economy of India, which was considered a great agricultural and industrial nation till early 19th century, were peopled and managed mostly by these communities.
The de-industrialisation of India by the British and the subsequent suspension of all local support systems led to widespread deprivation among all sections of Indian society, notably the OBCs.
Four scholars, perhaps with differing ideologies have arrived at similar conclusions. Yet, look at the specious arguments that have fashioned our debate on this issue.
Look what have we done to ourselves.
The net impact of the above is that we have turned OBCs -- the supplicants in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries -- into applicants for posts of clerks in government offices, thanks to the reservation policy.
This would be perhaps true of earlier historical periods also. And most of them -- from Lord Rama to Krishna, from Maharana Ranjit Singh to Chhatrapati Shivaji to Veerapandia Kattabomman -- would in the scheme of our government invariably fall in one of the two categories: OBCs or MBCs!
Due to a conspiracy of coincidences, OBCs seem to have forgotten their glorious past. What else would explain their behaviour of being on all fours before successive governments -- and to curry favours? Today they are so used to the standard arguments of being exploited by forward castes (FCs), leave alone OBCs, even the FCs are loathe to buy contrary arguments.
The net result is that OBCs on the one hand are overwhelmed with an inferiority complex and thus find psychological comfort only in reservations. On the other hand, the upper castes, tutored through tortured history, live constantly in a guilt complex of having wronged their OBC brethren.
In short, our population comprises people who live either on guilt or on an inferiority complex -- what a wonderful combination to challenge the world!
Significantly, this is a perfect setting for our politicians, especially the Marxists, to exploit.
If there were 1,000 IIMs, IITs and AIIMS. . .
All these are pointers to a crucial issue -- the manner in which we are governed and the sinister idea of dividing Indians to rule Indians continue in the same manner as the British did to us till Independence.
The Indian politician perfectly understands the system and the Indian psyche. Leveraging the power of the government, our politicians prefer rationing a few thousand seats by constricting demand rather than considering the grand idea of increasing its supply.
For sixty years since Independence, we have one AIIMS, seven IITs and six IIMs for a billion-plus population. Even that tiny speck in the Indian Ocean called Singapore would have more educational institutions for its 4 million population.
Obviously, the idea is to constrict supply and play on the pent up demand. And in the process if history has to be distorted, so be it.
It may be noted that the Marxists would be at hand to lend credibility to any such distortions of history -- our silence would be their next ally. Needless to emphasise, it is these distortions of history that rationalise reservations, not the 'historical backwardness' of any castes. But if supply were increased as suggested here, what would our politicians -- Marxists and pseudo Marxists -- do? They would simply be jobless, as it would mean end of their brand of politics!
And precisely for these reasons, the current policy of reservations and with it dividing people through castes would continue.
Moral of the story: Without the powerful incentive of reservation every caste in India would be a forward caste.
The author is a Chennai-based Chartered Accountant. He can be contacted at mrv1000@rediffmail.com
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
The Colors of Spring!!!
One of the best of seasons...Spring is just passing by...with each and every day gradually becoming hotter...and the scorching Summer knocking the doors.
It's time when I see the colors of Spring gradually fading. The red and yellow of the Gulmohars...the pink, the purple and the white of many trees whose name is not in my knowledge''... is gradually turning to brown.
Remembering the colors of Spring...this my tribute to the glory of Nature!!!!
Friday, April 27, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
A wonderful article on Bengalees and Kolkata
I got this mavelous piece of witing in one of the forwared mails that flood my inbox. It says that it is written by Vir Sanghvi, who is the editor of The Hindustan Times.
Here it goes...
Most modern Indian cities strive to rise above ethnicity. Tell anybody who lives in Bombay that he lives in a Maharashtrian city and (unless of course, you are speaking to Bal Thackeray) he will take immediate offence. We are cosmopolitan, he will say indigenously.
Here it goes...
Most modern Indian cities strive to rise above ethnicity. Tell anybody who lives in Bombay that he lives in a Maharashtrian city and (unless of course, you are speaking to Bal Thackeray) he will take immediate offence. We are cosmopolitan, he will say indigenously.
Tell a Delhiwalla that his is a Punjabi city (which, in many ways, it is) and he will respond with much self-righteous nonsense about being the nation's capital, about the international composition of the city's elite etc. And tell a Bangalorean that he lives in a Kannadiga city and you'll get lots of techno-gaff about the internet revolution and about how Bangalore is even more cosmopolitan than Bombay .
But, the only way to understand what Calcutta is all about is to recognize that the city is essentially Bengali. What's more! no Bengali minds you saying that. Rather, he is proud of the fact. Calcutta's strengths and weaknesses mirror those of the Bengali character.
But, the only way to understand what Calcutta is all about is to recognize that the city is essentially Bengali. What's more! no Bengali minds you saying that. Rather, he is proud of the fact. Calcutta's strengths and weaknesses mirror those of the Bengali character.
It has the drawbacks: the sudden passions, the cheerful chaos, the utter contempt for mere commerce, the fiery response to the smallest provocation. And it has the strengths (actually, I think of the drawbacks as strengths in their own way). Calcutta embodies the Bengali love of culture; the triumph of intellectualism over greed; the complete transparency of all emotions, the disdain with which hypocrisy and insincerity are treated; the warmth of genuine humanity; and the supremacy of emotion over all other aspects of human existence.
That's why Calcutta is not for everyone. You want your cities clean and green; stick to Delhi . You want your cities, rich and impersonal; go to Bombay. You want them high-tech and full of draught beer; Bangalore 's your place. But if you want a city with a soul: come to Calcutta .
When I look back on the years I've spent in Calcutta - and I come back so many times each year that I often feel I've never been away - I don't remember the things that people remember about cities. When I think of London, I think of the vast open spaces of Hyde Park . When I think of New York, I think of the frenzy of Times Square . When I think of Tokyo, I think of the bright lights of Shinjiku. And when I think of Paris, I think of the Champs Elysee. But when I think of Calcutta , I never think of any one place. I don't focus on the greenery of the maidan, the beauty of the Victoria Memorial, the bustle of Burra Bazar or the splendour of the new Howrah 'Bridge'. I think of people. Because, finally, a city is more than bricks and mortars, street lights and tarred roads. A city is the sum of its people. And who can ever forget - or replicate - the people of Calcutta ?
When I first came to live here, I was told that the city would grow on me. What nobody told me was that the city would change my life. It was in Calcutta that I learnt about true warmth; about simple human decency; about love and friendship; about emotions and caring; about truth and honesty. I learnt other things too. Coming from Bombay as I did, it was a revelation to live in a city where people judged each other on the things that really mattered; where they recognized that being rich did not make you a better person - in fact, it might have the opposite effect. I learnt also that if life is about more than just money, it is about the things that other cities ignore; about culture, about ideas, about art, and about passion.
That's why Calcutta is not for everyone. You want your cities clean and green; stick to Delhi . You want your cities, rich and impersonal; go to Bombay. You want them high-tech and full of draught beer; Bangalore 's your place. But if you want a city with a soul: come to Calcutta .
When I look back on the years I've spent in Calcutta - and I come back so many times each year that I often feel I've never been away - I don't remember the things that people remember about cities. When I think of London, I think of the vast open spaces of Hyde Park . When I think of New York, I think of the frenzy of Times Square . When I think of Tokyo, I think of the bright lights of Shinjiku. And when I think of Paris, I think of the Champs Elysee. But when I think of Calcutta , I never think of any one place. I don't focus on the greenery of the maidan, the beauty of the Victoria Memorial, the bustle of Burra Bazar or the splendour of the new Howrah 'Bridge'. I think of people. Because, finally, a city is more than bricks and mortars, street lights and tarred roads. A city is the sum of its people. And who can ever forget - or replicate - the people of Calcutta ?
When I first came to live here, I was told that the city would grow on me. What nobody told me was that the city would change my life. It was in Calcutta that I learnt about true warmth; about simple human decency; about love and friendship; about emotions and caring; about truth and honesty. I learnt other things too. Coming from Bombay as I did, it was a revelation to live in a city where people judged each other on the things that really mattered; where they recognized that being rich did not make you a better person - in fact, it might have the opposite effect. I learnt also that if life is about more than just money, it is about the things that other cities ignore; about culture, about ideas, about art, and about passion.
In Bombay , a man with a relatively low income will salt some of it away for the day when he gets a stock market tip. In Calcutta, a man with exactly the same income will not know the difference between a debenture and a dividend. But he will spend his money on the things that matter. Each morning, he will read at least two newspapers and develop sharply etched views on the state of the world. Each evening, there will be fresh (ideally, fresh-water or river) fish on his table. His children will be encouraged to learn to dance or sing. His family will appreciate the power of poetry. And for him, religion and culture will be in inextricably bound together.
Ah religion! Tell outsiders about the importance of Puja in Calcutta and they'll scoff. Don't be silly, they'll say. Puja is a religious festival. And Bengal has voted for the CPM since 1977. How can godless Bengal be so hung up on a religions festival? I never know how to explain them that to a Bengali, religion consists of much more than shouting Jai Shri Ram or pulling down somebody's mosque. It has little to do with meaningless ritual or sinister political activity.
Ah religion! Tell outsiders about the importance of Puja in Calcutta and they'll scoff. Don't be silly, they'll say. Puja is a religious festival. And Bengal has voted for the CPM since 1977. How can godless Bengal be so hung up on a religions festival? I never know how to explain them that to a Bengali, religion consists of much more than shouting Jai Shri Ram or pulling down somebody's mosque. It has little to do with meaningless ritual or sinister political activity.
The essence of Puja is that all the passions of Bengal converge: emotion, culture, the love of life, the warmth of being together, the joy of celebration, the pride in artistic ex-pression and yes, the cult of the goddess.
It may be about religion. But is about much more than just worship. In which other part of India would small, not particularly well-off localities, vie with each other to produce the best pandals? Where else could puja pandals go beyond religion to draw inspiration from everything else? In the years I lived in Calcutta , the pandals featured Amitabh Bachchan, Princes Diana and even Saddam Hussain! Where else would children cry with the sheer emotional power of Dashimi, upset that the Goddess had left their homes? Where else would the whole city gooseflesh when the dhakis first begin to beat their drums? Which other Indian festival - in any part of the country - is so much about food, about going from one roadside stall to another, following your nose as it trails the smells of cooking?
To understand Puja, you must understand Calcutta . And to understand Calcutta, you must understand the Bengali. It's not easy.
Certainly, you can't do it till you come and live here, till you letCalcutta suffuse your being, invade your bloodstream and steal your soul. But once you have, you'll love Calcutta forever. Wherever you go, a bit of Calcutta will go with you. I know, because it's happened to me.
And every Puja, I am overcome by the magic of Bengal . It's a feeling that’ll never go away.
It may be about religion. But is about much more than just worship. In which other part of India would small, not particularly well-off localities, vie with each other to produce the best pandals? Where else could puja pandals go beyond religion to draw inspiration from everything else? In the years I lived in Calcutta , the pandals featured Amitabh Bachchan, Princes Diana and even Saddam Hussain! Where else would children cry with the sheer emotional power of Dashimi, upset that the Goddess had left their homes? Where else would the whole city gooseflesh when the dhakis first begin to beat their drums? Which other Indian festival - in any part of the country - is so much about food, about going from one roadside stall to another, following your nose as it trails the smells of cooking?
To understand Puja, you must understand Calcutta . And to understand Calcutta, you must understand the Bengali. It's not easy.
Certainly, you can't do it till you come and live here, till you letCalcutta suffuse your being, invade your bloodstream and steal your soul. But once you have, you'll love Calcutta forever. Wherever you go, a bit of Calcutta will go with you. I know, because it's happened to me.
And every Puja, I am overcome by the magic of Bengal . It's a feeling that’ll never go away.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Is this how Indian parampara treats women?
I read the following article in Rediff...thought of adding it to my blog...One old saying is coming to my mind..."Whenver you see smoke, there must have been a fire"...Why is the media so mum on this issue?
How should one treat Jhanvi Kapoor or Hayna Rizvi (whatever her name is)?
The poor girl tried to commit suicide, claiming Abhishek had already married her.
She was called a 'drug addict', 'mentally unstable', etcetera etcetera.
She also lost her apartment after the housing society threw her out -- apparently for creating a ruckus at the wedding! (as if it was any of their business, for heaven's sake!) and, as some reports claim, for not paying rent for four months.
The least someone in the apartment complex -- or for that matter some women's organisation (where were they? watching the wedding on telly?) -- could have done is get the lady admitted to hospital or contact her family.
"She deserved it," declared one colleague.
I wonder where our world is heading to.
How should one treat Jhanvi Kapoor or Hayna Rizvi (whatever her name is)?
The poor girl tried to commit suicide, claiming Abhishek had already married her.
She was called a 'drug addict', 'mentally unstable', etcetera etcetera.
She also lost her apartment after the housing society threw her out -- apparently for creating a ruckus at the wedding! (as if it was any of their business, for heaven's sake!) and, as some reports claim, for not paying rent for four months.
The least someone in the apartment complex -- or for that matter some women's organisation (where were they? watching the wedding on telly?) -- could have done is get the lady admitted to hospital or contact her family.
"She deserved it," declared one colleague.
I wonder where our world is heading to.
I am still living!!!
This is one bengali poem written by me during my college days!!!
It portrays the very basic theme of today's world...that, Life must go on.
Ami Benche Achi
Oke bole dis "Ami paltaini"
Roj ghum theke otha, abar shute jawa, thik ager motoi,
Bole dis "Ami ager motoi achi"
Kaaj kori, tai shomoy kete jai!
Tobu jakhon ekla sudhu amar songe ami,
Apon mone shuye thaki ghumer opekkhay
Keno janina, balish bhije jai!!!
Oke bole dis "Ami ajo hashi"
Megh shorle roder jhiliker moto
Bole dis "Ami ajo themey nei"
Otit tai dure shore jai!
Tobu jakhon mone pore sei jhorer raat,
Osojjho bethai bhora amar e jibon
Keno janina, stobdho hoya jai!!!
Oke bole dis "Ami besh bhalo bhabei achi"
Ami ar amar jibon, ar kake chai?
Bole dis "Ami ajo obhabi noi"
Jol, batash, shob kichui to pai!
Tobu jakhon, khuje berai, chotto sishur moto,
Karo buker majhe amar bhalobashar ashroi
Keno janina, Prithibita samshan hoye jai!!!
This is the English translation of this poem. It's done by Shaapla, a very talented friend of mine.
I am Still alive
Tell him "i havent changed."
I wake up everyday, and go to sleep, just like before,
Tell him "i am just like i was"
Time passes simply cause i work.
But,even then, when its just I with me,
By myself,i wait for sleep
I find my pillow wet with tears.
Tell him "i still laugh now"
Like the glittering sunlight when the clouds part
Tell him "even today im not stuck"
Thats why my past i have left behind.
Yet when i remember that torrential night,
My life,so filled with pain.
For reasons unknown,seems immobile.
Tell him "im doing well"
Its me and my life.who needs anyone else?
Tell him "today im not devoid"
Water,air,i get everything!
Yet,when i wander like a small child,
looking,The sanctity of my love on someones chest
For reasons unknown,the world suddenly seems empty.
Thank you Shaaple for your tremendous effort!!!
It portrays the very basic theme of today's world...that, Life must go on.
Ami Benche Achi
Oke bole dis "Ami paltaini"
Roj ghum theke otha, abar shute jawa, thik ager motoi,
Bole dis "Ami ager motoi achi"
Kaaj kori, tai shomoy kete jai!
Tobu jakhon ekla sudhu amar songe ami,
Apon mone shuye thaki ghumer opekkhay
Keno janina, balish bhije jai!!!
Oke bole dis "Ami ajo hashi"
Megh shorle roder jhiliker moto
Bole dis "Ami ajo themey nei"
Otit tai dure shore jai!
Tobu jakhon mone pore sei jhorer raat,
Osojjho bethai bhora amar e jibon
Keno janina, stobdho hoya jai!!!
Oke bole dis "Ami besh bhalo bhabei achi"
Ami ar amar jibon, ar kake chai?
Bole dis "Ami ajo obhabi noi"
Jol, batash, shob kichui to pai!
Tobu jakhon, khuje berai, chotto sishur moto,
Karo buker majhe amar bhalobashar ashroi
Keno janina, Prithibita samshan hoye jai!!!
This is the English translation of this poem. It's done by Shaapla, a very talented friend of mine.
I am Still alive
Tell him "i havent changed."
I wake up everyday, and go to sleep, just like before,
Tell him "i am just like i was"
Time passes simply cause i work.
But,even then, when its just I with me,
By myself,i wait for sleep
I find my pillow wet with tears.
Tell him "i still laugh now"
Like the glittering sunlight when the clouds part
Tell him "even today im not stuck"
Thats why my past i have left behind.
Yet when i remember that torrential night,
My life,so filled with pain.
For reasons unknown,seems immobile.
Tell him "im doing well"
Its me and my life.who needs anyone else?
Tell him "today im not devoid"
Water,air,i get everything!
Yet,when i wander like a small child,
looking,The sanctity of my love on someones chest
For reasons unknown,the world suddenly seems empty.
Thank you Shaaple for your tremendous effort!!!
Monday, April 23, 2007
As time seperates us!!!
Don't know why...but I am missing the past...the past, when I came to this alien city all alone to struggle for existence...And then...there were friends!!!
We met each other...came to know each other...stayed together.
There were moments which got engraved deep inside my heart...there were moments which still flash in my mind...when today...I lonely lie on my bed, thinking of how to survive tomorrow!!!
"Dil Chahta Hai...Kabhi na bite chamkile din"
Friday, April 20, 2007
Love Story!!! Truely Inspirational!!!
I read this in a mail that was forwarded to me...I loved reading it...So I thought to make my blog more valueable by posting it here.
The Salty Coffee
He met her at a party.
She was so outstanding that many guys were chasing after her, while he was so normal that nobody paid attention to him. However, at the end of the party, he invited her to have coffee with him. She was surprised, but due to being polite, she promised.
They sat in a nice coffee shop. He was too nervous to say anything. She also felt uncomfortable.
She thought, Please, let me go home....
Suddenly he asked the waiter. "Would you please give me some salt? I'd like to put it in my coffee."
Everybody stared at him. It sounded so strange!
His face turned red, but still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it.
She asked him curiously, "Why do you have this strange taste?"
He replied, When I was a little boy, I was living near the sea, I liked playing in the sea, I could feel the taste of the sea, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I always think of my childhood, I think of my hometown, I miss my hometown very much and I miss my parents who are still living there".
While saying that tears filled his eyes. She was deeply touched.
That's his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart.
She thought...A man who can tell out his homesickness must be a man who loves home, cares about home, has responsibility of home.
Then she started to speak too.
She spoke about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family. That was a really nice talk, also a beautiful beginning of their story.
They continued to date. She found that he was actually the man who meets all her demands. He had tolerance, was kind hearted, warm, careful.
He was such a good person but she almost missed him!
Thanks to his salty coffee!
Then the story was just like every beautiful love story , the princess married the prince. Then they were living a happy life... And, every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee, as she knew that's the way he liked it.
After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter which said:
"My dearest,
Please forgive me, forgive my whole life lie.
This was the only lie I said to you---the salty coffee.
Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time. Actually I wanted some sugar, but I said salt. It was hard for me to change so I just went ahead. I never thought that could be the start of our communication. I tried to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised not to lie to you for anything.
Now when I know I'm dying, I'm afraid of nothing. So I'm telling you the truth. I don't like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste it has. But I have had the salty coffee for my whole life!
Since I love you, I never feel sorry for anything I do for you.
Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life.
If I can live for the second time, I'd still want to know you and have you for my whole life, even if I have to drink the salty coffee again".
Her tears made the letter totally wet.
Someday, someone asked her: what's the taste of salty coffee?
It's sweet. She replied.
Love is not to forget but to forgive, not to see but to understand, not to hear but to listen, not to let go but to HOLD ON !!!!
The Salty Coffee
He met her at a party.
She was so outstanding that many guys were chasing after her, while he was so normal that nobody paid attention to him. However, at the end of the party, he invited her to have coffee with him. She was surprised, but due to being polite, she promised.
They sat in a nice coffee shop. He was too nervous to say anything. She also felt uncomfortable.
She thought, Please, let me go home....
Suddenly he asked the waiter. "Would you please give me some salt? I'd like to put it in my coffee."
Everybody stared at him. It sounded so strange!
His face turned red, but still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it.
She asked him curiously, "Why do you have this strange taste?"
He replied, When I was a little boy, I was living near the sea, I liked playing in the sea, I could feel the taste of the sea, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I always think of my childhood, I think of my hometown, I miss my hometown very much and I miss my parents who are still living there".
While saying that tears filled his eyes. She was deeply touched.
That's his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart.
She thought...A man who can tell out his homesickness must be a man who loves home, cares about home, has responsibility of home.
Then she started to speak too.
She spoke about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family. That was a really nice talk, also a beautiful beginning of their story.
They continued to date. She found that he was actually the man who meets all her demands. He had tolerance, was kind hearted, warm, careful.
He was such a good person but she almost missed him!
Thanks to his salty coffee!
Then the story was just like every beautiful love story , the princess married the prince. Then they were living a happy life... And, every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee, as she knew that's the way he liked it.
After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter which said:
"My dearest,
Please forgive me, forgive my whole life lie.
This was the only lie I said to you---the salty coffee.
Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time. Actually I wanted some sugar, but I said salt. It was hard for me to change so I just went ahead. I never thought that could be the start of our communication. I tried to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised not to lie to you for anything.
Now when I know I'm dying, I'm afraid of nothing. So I'm telling you the truth. I don't like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste it has. But I have had the salty coffee for my whole life!
Since I love you, I never feel sorry for anything I do for you.
Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life.
If I can live for the second time, I'd still want to know you and have you for my whole life, even if I have to drink the salty coffee again".
Her tears made the letter totally wet.
Someday, someone asked her: what's the taste of salty coffee?
It's sweet. She replied.
Love is not to forget but to forgive, not to see but to understand, not to hear but to listen, not to let go but to HOLD ON !!!!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Picture that tells a story!!!
"So Much To Say"...This is what I named this photograph. I met this lady when I was visiting Shivasamudram Waterfalls, which is a few kilometers away from Bangalore. On this trip, I experienced a very disheartening aspect of modern society. While bangalore has all the facilities of a modern city, the rural areas of Karnataka are still searching for light.I think, this old lady, who has seen lot of things changing or lot of things not changing, is asking some questions to this world...
"Will our condition ever change?"
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
A Modern Bengali Song!!!
I heard these two lines long time back...The melody of those two lines struck my mind and I decided to compose a song with the two lines as a theme.
Sorry for people who don't understand bengali...I'll definitely try to seek help from one of my friends to get it translated into English, provided she think's that it's possible.
The song goes like this...
Chaliye jao Guru...
Sei Nursery theke Shuru...
Prem ki jinis guru jane na
Bhalobasha talobasha mane na
Body chemistry te Ph.d
Tai buke kono sentu ke ane na
Ishara te ja kau ke kat kore dite pare
Practice kore, Line routine kore mare...
Chaliye jao guru...
Sei nursery theke shuru!!!
Chottobelay khelar songi
Class Ten e bodlai bhongi
Jotil curve er onke
Expert se je Miss Rongi
Daralei kilo dore modhu jhore pore
Paikiri rate-e ok shobai propose kore
Chaliye jao guru...
Sei nursery theke shuru!!!
College e jokhon tokhon nineteen
Class kete pore thake, Canteen
Leela chole, cha ar sandwich
Life tokhon guru evergreen
Freshers Welcome e te notun rating pore
Nolbon, Central e chutiye dating kore
Chaliye jao guru...
Sei nursery theke shuru!!!
Office e jokhon, tokhon serious
Boss er opor guru notun crush
Chupi chupi meeting e te ishara
Kodinei hate ashe Bosser rash
Dhopa dhop promotion ar increment o mele
E jibon ronge sudhu prem prem khele gele
Chaliye jao guru...
Sei nursery theke shuru!!!
Erokom bhabe jara egiye jete pare
Life e tarai happy, bakira shobai hare
Emotion timotion jolanjoli diye
Hidoyer baetha ke jara Campose diye mare
Tarai to chalacche ajker din
Tader jonno world boddo rongin
Tai Egiye jao guru...
Koro Nursery theke shuru!!!
Sorry for people who don't understand bengali...I'll definitely try to seek help from one of my friends to get it translated into English, provided she think's that it's possible.
The song goes like this...
Chaliye jao Guru...
Sei Nursery theke Shuru...
Prem ki jinis guru jane na
Bhalobasha talobasha mane na
Body chemistry te Ph.d
Tai buke kono sentu ke ane na
Ishara te ja kau ke kat kore dite pare
Practice kore, Line routine kore mare...
Chaliye jao guru...
Sei nursery theke shuru!!!
Chottobelay khelar songi
Class Ten e bodlai bhongi
Jotil curve er onke
Expert se je Miss Rongi
Daralei kilo dore modhu jhore pore
Paikiri rate-e ok shobai propose kore
Chaliye jao guru...
Sei nursery theke shuru!!!
College e jokhon tokhon nineteen
Class kete pore thake, Canteen
Leela chole, cha ar sandwich
Life tokhon guru evergreen
Freshers Welcome e te notun rating pore
Nolbon, Central e chutiye dating kore
Chaliye jao guru...
Sei nursery theke shuru!!!
Office e jokhon, tokhon serious
Boss er opor guru notun crush
Chupi chupi meeting e te ishara
Kodinei hate ashe Bosser rash
Dhopa dhop promotion ar increment o mele
E jibon ronge sudhu prem prem khele gele
Chaliye jao guru...
Sei nursery theke shuru!!!
Erokom bhabe jara egiye jete pare
Life e tarai happy, bakira shobai hare
Emotion timotion jolanjoli diye
Hidoyer baetha ke jara Campose diye mare
Tarai to chalacche ajker din
Tader jonno world boddo rongin
Tai Egiye jao guru...
Koro Nursery theke shuru!!!
Picture that tells a story!!!
I named this picture "In Love"
I took this photograph when I went to Calcutta Zoo during one of my visits to the city...
These two pigeons were looking at each other like this for a long long time. I knew that pigeons are famous for the affection they show for their mates...It is when I saw it in front of my eyes!!!
Monday, April 16, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
The Poila Boisakh Story!!!
It was the Bengali NewYear Celebrations today...Poila Boisakh, as it is called in Bengal...started with the big or rather huge Pantua (courtesy Pritam) and ended...oops...sorry it hasn't ended yet...but will probably end with me writing this post.
It's a custom to wear new dress today...and I did wear a new shirt today...Thanks to Munai who took all the hassles to parcel me the shirt all the way from Kolkata. Thanks a lot Munai!!! I really treasure your love for me...and...I love you too!!!
Indeed we had a celebration!!!! To Lazeez for lunch...had a lots of Kebabs and the famous Mutton Biriyani...stuffed till I could fill any more...
Then to Forum...though I hate going to that place, I don't know why, I enjoyed today's visit...
Then to M.G Road, Garuda Mall...
Had dinner in our very humble "Swadistha Ahara"...Saw a girl there...she must be in her early teens...she wore a black dress...a black T-shirt and a black long skirt...the T-shirt was so low cut that it gave everyone a good view of what most girls would like to hide...but she didn't look sexy...nor beautiful...infact, she looked dirty...her body has just started to bloom and and showing it like that was like a tree shedding an unripe fruit and offering it for eating!!!
And worst part of the incident is that she had a man with her who was alsmot of her father's age!!!I tried to guess their connection...and if I've guessed correctly, it's a shame for our society!!!
Anyways!!! Subho Naboborsho to all my friends!!!
It's a custom to wear new dress today...and I did wear a new shirt today...Thanks to Munai who took all the hassles to parcel me the shirt all the way from Kolkata. Thanks a lot Munai!!! I really treasure your love for me...and...I love you too!!!
Indeed we had a celebration!!!! To Lazeez for lunch...had a lots of Kebabs and the famous Mutton Biriyani...stuffed till I could fill any more...
Then to Forum...though I hate going to that place, I don't know why, I enjoyed today's visit...
Then to M.G Road, Garuda Mall...
Had dinner in our very humble "Swadistha Ahara"...Saw a girl there...she must be in her early teens...she wore a black dress...a black T-shirt and a black long skirt...the T-shirt was so low cut that it gave everyone a good view of what most girls would like to hide...but she didn't look sexy...nor beautiful...infact, she looked dirty...her body has just started to bloom and and showing it like that was like a tree shedding an unripe fruit and offering it for eating!!!
And worst part of the incident is that she had a man with her who was alsmot of her father's age!!!I tried to guess their connection...and if I've guessed correctly, it's a shame for our society!!!
Anyways!!! Subho Naboborsho to all my friends!!!
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Subho Nabobarsho!!! Be a Proud Bengalee
Sometimes things turn the way you have never expected...and when you fight to make it right...may be for your own selfish motives (because you were getting hit by the unexpected turning)...or may be for some greater good (sometimes fighting for your own good has its effect on other's life as well...and the effect is positive)...you find yourself deserted...as if you're an untouchable...or a criminal.
I felt so...may be because it was the protest against the management of that organization which is providing the bread for my peers...and I was foolish in expecting those peers to stand for me...
I was said that I always protest...because I'm a bengalee...and making noise is in our genes...
Is it true??? Those words have hit me hard...and forced me to re-think my pride of being a bengalee...I thought...I thought hard...and my pride remained where it was...or you can say...it has increased many folds...
I am a proud Bengalee...I belong to those who have always made India proud...and I'm proud because I still have the urge to protest (may be its genetic but its certainly not mere noise)...I' m proud because I can still stand tall when all forces try to put me down.
Subho Nabobarsho to all my Bengalee friends...
"Hote pare amader gaan keu rakhbe na mone dhore...
Hariye jabo amra shamoyer agochore...
.... .... ....
Keu januk nai ba januk...
Keu manuk nai ba manuk...
Ami likhbo swapno amar kobitai...
Je ja bole boluk...
Han choluk nai ba choluk...
Hok na shamoi jatoi bhabarkranto...
Brishti namuk nai ba namuk...
Jhar uthuk nai ba uthuk...
Phool futuk nai ba futuk...
Aj hok na rong fekashe akshe..."
I felt so...may be because it was the protest against the management of that organization which is providing the bread for my peers...and I was foolish in expecting those peers to stand for me...
I was said that I always protest...because I'm a bengalee...and making noise is in our genes...
Is it true??? Those words have hit me hard...and forced me to re-think my pride of being a bengalee...I thought...I thought hard...and my pride remained where it was...or you can say...it has increased many folds...
I am a proud Bengalee...I belong to those who have always made India proud...and I'm proud because I still have the urge to protest (may be its genetic but its certainly not mere noise)...I' m proud because I can still stand tall when all forces try to put me down.
Subho Nabobarsho to all my Bengalee friends...
"Hote pare amader gaan keu rakhbe na mone dhore...
Hariye jabo amra shamoyer agochore...
.... .... ....
Keu januk nai ba januk...
Keu manuk nai ba manuk...
Ami likhbo swapno amar kobitai...
Je ja bole boluk...
Han choluk nai ba choluk...
Hok na shamoi jatoi bhabarkranto...
Brishti namuk nai ba namuk...
Jhar uthuk nai ba uthuk...
Phool futuk nai ba futuk...
Aj hok na rong fekashe akshe..."
Monday, April 9, 2007
Put your glass down!!!
Came accross a wonderful piece of writing...thought of sharing with you all.
Once a professor began his class by holding up a glass with some water in it. He held it up for all to see and asked the students, "Howmuch do youthink this glass weighs?" '50gms!' ?....'100gms!'? .....'125gms' ?......
The students answered. "I really don't know unless I weigh it".
The professor said, "Now, myquestion is...What would happen if I held it up likethis for a fewminutes?".
"Nothing", the students said.
"OK!! what would happen if I held it up like this for anhour?", the professor asked.
"Your arm would begin to ache", said one of the students.
"You're right, now what would happen if I held it for aday?"
"Your arm could go numb, you might have severe muscle stress and paralysis...have to go to hospital for sure!", ventured another student and all the students laughed.
"Very good. But during all this, did the weight of the glass change?", asked the professor.
"No!", replied the students.
"Then what caused the arm ache? the muscle stress? Instead What should I do?", asked the professor.
The students were puzzled.
"Put the glass down!", said one of thestudents.
"Exactly!", said the professor.
Life's problems are something like this. Hold it for a few minutes in your head...they seem OK. Think of them for a long time...they begin to ache. Hold it even longer...they begin to paralyze you. You will not be able to do anything. It's important to think of the challenges (problems) in your life, but EVEN MORE IMPORTANT is to 'put them down' at the end of every day before you go to sleep. That way, you are not stressed, you wake up every day fresh...strong...can handle any issue, any challenge that comes yourway!
Remember friend- PUT THE GLASS DOWN TODAY!
That's life !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Once a professor began his class by holding up a glass with some water in it. He held it up for all to see and asked the students, "Howmuch do youthink this glass weighs?" '50gms!' ?....'100gms!'? .....'125gms' ?......
The students answered. "I really don't know unless I weigh it".
The professor said, "Now, myquestion is...What would happen if I held it up likethis for a fewminutes?".
"Nothing", the students said.
"OK!! what would happen if I held it up like this for anhour?", the professor asked.
"Your arm would begin to ache", said one of the students.
"You're right, now what would happen if I held it for aday?"
"Your arm could go numb, you might have severe muscle stress and paralysis...have to go to hospital for sure!", ventured another student and all the students laughed.
"Very good. But during all this, did the weight of the glass change?", asked the professor.
"No!", replied the students.
"Then what caused the arm ache? the muscle stress? Instead What should I do?", asked the professor.
The students were puzzled.
"Put the glass down!", said one of thestudents.
"Exactly!", said the professor.
Life's problems are something like this. Hold it for a few minutes in your head...they seem OK. Think of them for a long time...they begin to ache. Hold it even longer...they begin to paralyze you. You will not be able to do anything. It's important to think of the challenges (problems) in your life, but EVEN MORE IMPORTANT is to 'put them down' at the end of every day before you go to sleep. That way, you are not stressed, you wake up every day fresh...strong...can handle any issue, any challenge that comes yourway!
Remember friend- PUT THE GLASS DOWN TODAY!
That's life !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The poem of eternal love...
Once I was reading the definition of parallel rays in geometry when this beautiful concept came to my mind...I was quite amazed when I realised that I actually correlated love with geometry...
The poem goes like this...
We are like two parallel lines...
So close but never tend to meet...
But I do not fear...
Because O' dear...
From the definition it says...
That parallels are rays...
THAT MEET AT INFINITY!!!
I think true love is like this only...Destination Infinity!!!
The poem goes like this...
We are like two parallel lines...
So close but never tend to meet...
But I do not fear...
Because O' dear...
From the definition it says...
That parallels are rays...
THAT MEET AT INFINITY!!!
I think true love is like this only...Destination Infinity!!!
The last bread!!!
I clicked this picture very casually...experimenting with my capabilites with the camera...
But when I saw it later...I thought...
Is this our future?
Is this where we are heading to? A materialistic world where we will have all artificial splendours...but not the basic ingredients to live.
It's like you are sitting on a golden chair for breakfast. You have a diamond plate and silver spoons before you...but not a single bread to eat.
Hope, this makes you think!!!
Present meets the History
Golkonda Fort...I don't know the history...I don't remember who built it...but I certainly loved every single moment I spent there...It was like Present meeting History. As I climbed up the stairs of stones, I sometimes went back ages, as if in a time machine. I felt myself in the rule of a powerful king, who with all his might is protecting the fort from the forces of Aurangzeb. And then, there's a traitor, like always is, who opens the door to the enemies.
and I think...Can't we have a world without traitors?
The Warmth Of Friends....
A weekend...One old friend...Together spending some quality time...
Sometimes it feels like heaven on earth...
It leaves behind wonderful memories...gives you the warmth you were always looiking for...
It gives you inspiration, motivation, determination...
I am coming again Hyderabad...but this time permanently!!
Sometimes it feels like heaven on earth...
It leaves behind wonderful memories...gives you the warmth you were always looiking for...
It gives you inspiration, motivation, determination...
I am coming again Hyderabad...but this time permanently!!
A New Dream Everyday...
Wise men said that "An apple a day keeps the doctor away". Though I'm not wise at all, I've my own prescription for happiness. It says "A dream a day, keeps all sorrows away".Dream!!! The sweetest fruit in the tree of imagination. The magical effect that brings all the desired things just in front of oue eyes in a flash. The divine energy that takes us to distant places within seconds.
From the title of this blog itself, all the intelligents might have already guessed that I like to dream. It's like a addiction for me. It's like a drug that I need to take everyday to be happy. And, like the effect of drug and any other addiction, I feel helpless without it. I loose peace and my mind becomes restless. Because it is then only that I realise that I am living in this brutal world. A world where you will have to kill many lives to be alive. A world where the air you breathe and the water you drink is poisonous.
I remember the scene in the movie "Matrix" where Neo is shown the real world. Concrete jungles where robots rule. I think this is where we a heading very fast. With stuggle for existence becoming harder every moment, we are losing the most vital ingredients of life like love.
So I dream. I dream of a world filled with love. I dream of a world where there'll be colors everywhere. There'll be a sky where I'll always see a rainbow. There'll be green in every place I see. Nature in its full bloom.
So, I try to capture every beautiful thing I see. Sometimes in a piece of paper with a brush and some paints, or sometimes in a film with the use of sohisticated lenses.
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