reflecting on 2012

Another year goes by.

As with every other year that passed  by and shall pass by, some significant and insignificant happenings in my life too... Some that impacted me and some that did not...

Let me try and narrate to you some of the most significant ones this year.

The year began with Gautam getting married. So, in my set of closest friends from school, he was the first to bite the bullet. So, this year we welcomed Radhika into the family.

It was my turn next. It was time to welcome Renjini into the family. I coughed my way into the marriage mandapam and had the 2 most tiring days of my life during my marriage in April. As with probably every man, I am seeing newer facets of me every single day ever since. I will always remember the days of my engagement and marriage with great joy (notwithstanding the stress) for almost everybody who matters to me turned up and meeting them all under one roof was blissful.

With the honeymoon to the Andamans, I kept a 10 year promise to the place that has a very very special place in my heart.

Pankaj got married too this year and it was time to welcome Neha into the family.

This year also reminded me that I have not lost my eccentricities yet. My decision to resign from my job with no concrete offer in hand could be termed brave or foolhardy- only time will tell. As we speak today, it is 57 days since I resigned. I have another 34-35 days to formalize my next move.

I entered the triple X club when I celebrated my XXX birthday the week before last. Maybe its the age, but I like to consider the Indian Tithi as my birthday these days rather than the English DoB.

I went to Tirupati for only the 2nd time in my life and the first time as an adult. I went to South Africa for the first time...

New friends entered my life and I lost touch with old ones- hopefully, I shall reconnect with some tomorrow.

The last week has been difficult. Sachin Tendulkar retired from the one-day format. While it was a known fact that this may happen anytime, the feeling of being robbed of a last chance to watch him in the limited overs format is a very difficult feeling to overcome.

A lady who was gang-raped by 6 people in a moving bus in Delhi dropped her body last week. I do not know her- I do not even know her name. Yet I feel a sense of loss too, just as many other Indians feel at her death.

And like many other Indians, I too feel like I am in the dock at her death, nay murder. Anyways....

The beginning of next year looks promising- Scientist got engaged and is getting married in February. In the same month, I will have a new job, maybe even a new career.

I wish we all have great times ahead in 2013 and beyond. My prayer for you, me and everybody this new year is from the RigVeda-

Aano Bhadra Kritavo Yantu Vishwataha ( Let noble thoughts come to us from all sides)

King Viv & The Fire

I was about 3 years old when I remember first having heard "West Indies" and "Viv Richards". These names became familiar as I grew up.

I grew up in a village where one of the most exciting changes in routine was to listen to commentary or even watching some matches live of India playing other countries. Days of absolute unpolluted joy.

When my friend E told me about a documentary on the West Indian cricket of the 70's and 80's I was excited- more excited that this was releasing in Indian theatres.

"Fire in Babylon" is an absolute must watch for different categories of people.

For lovers of cricket this feature is a beautiful trip back into the past-the days of transition in the 70's; the days when the pace battery from the Caribbean islands ruled the game. It provides you snippets from different matches and views of some of the members of the team of those years. It also gives you snapshots of how the regular West Indian feels about those years. It leaves you, though, yearning for more- some snap shots of what others felt about this team would have given it a more wholesome feel- their opponents, their future generations (e.g., Walsh, Ambrose, Lara, even Gayle) and others.

For students of sociology, culture and history, this feature speaks of how one small aspect of life can impact the mood of a nation, or nations as the case is- here. Those of us who have read about apartheid will understand the gravity of this that supremacy in this sport gave the West Indians at least one solid reason to tell the others that they are equals. For the kids who have not read about this or have no idea about this, just look around you when a Sachin scores well some day- a century maybe. All else is forgotten on such days.

For those of us who belong to the generation of the 80's born, the desert storm series in '98 of Sachin routing the Australians or again when a Laxman and a Dravid defied the Aussies some years later  at Calcutta would be moments that are un-erasable from our collective memories. Go back to those days, relive the mood ... Remember what these did to the national mood.

For all the kids and teens out there, Fire in Babylon is something you should definitely see. You will learn about the strength of character...and of courage. When a Vivian Richards says that he was given a blank cheque to play in South Africa and he refused (he also tells you why), you know that here you are looking at a man or at men who rise beyond being mortals- these are legends. Those last few clippings of Richards and Botham hugging each other and walking alongside after a hard day of cricket also tells you of how one should treat your opponents- these are not enemies. You also learn about vulnerabilities when you have a Colin Croft speaking to you about how cricket was his livelihood and what made him decide to play in South Africa. These are stories you must know- you must hear.

Personally for me, I always had a great deal of respect for Richards. There are many others who I now hold in very high esteem- I never knew about the story of Greenidge or of Lloyd's background. I am glad I know now- at least a bit.

This week you have an option of watching other movies in the hall- an over-hyped burfy and a boring Heroine. If you have the time, go visit the nearest hall that screens Fire in Babylon. I saw it yesterday and there were about 15 people in the hall.

This is one story that should not go unseen...

Happy Birthday, Advik

You have heard this cliche before, "time & tide wait for none".

There are those occasions in life which, like milestones on a road, tell you that you have entered from one phase of your life to another, or that you are growing old. Some of these reminders are loud and clear (graduating from college, joining a new job, getting married) and some, hmm, some would say are more subtle (the silver coloured hair on your head and on the beard).

Those of who who have been following this blog for the last few years may remember this post.

E & Vibha had a baby boy last year- Advik. It is Advik's birthday today. Here's wishing Advik a very happy birthday and a prayer that he has a long, meaningful and happy life :-)

When I planned to write this blog today, I remembered the earlier blog-post (mentioned above) on E's roka.That post is just over half a decade old.

July ki pehli baarish

Pseudo poetry is the only way in which I can express an angst. I am no longer the student who could arrange for/ lead protests. Don't look for metre or rhyme here- this is just an angst expressed.

Poora June nikal gaya,

Ek boond baarish ki nahi tapki.

Rui jaise baadal aasmaan pe dikh jaate hain kabhi,

Magar aisa lagta hai ki jaise

Baarish ke dhaage bune nahi hain abhi.

Aisa lagta hai baarish hartaal pe hai abhi!

Kal raat Gurgaon mein jamke baarish hui.

Sadak pe parivahan ruk sa gaya.

Tapakti boondon ki awaaz reh gayi ansuni,

Ek kolaahal sa mach gaya.

Aisa nahi laga ki boondein dharti ko choom rahi hain.

Aisa laga ki jaise boondein dharti ko chubb si rahi hain.

Na jaane kyun aisa laga ki,

Is baar ye baarish dharti ki pyaas ko dekhkar,

Us pyaas ko bujhaane nahi aayi hai.

Na paed hai yahaan, na paudhe.

Aankhen hariyaali ki ek jhalak ke liye taras si jaati hain.

Jahaan talak nazar jaati hai,

Sirf eent-cement ke imaarat dikhte hain,

Aur diesel se janitr dhuaan.

Aisa laga ki jaise,

Dharti ki tadap ko samajhkar,

Aasman bhaavuk sa ho gaya.

Uske palak jo abhi tak baandh se bane huey the,

Woh  toot se gaye.

Aankhon se kuch aansoo ke boond gire zameen par,

Yahaan Gurgaon ke log khushi manaa rahe hain.

My Himalayan Days...

I stood on the steps that lead up to Swayambhunath, took one long breath in and smiled. This was the land of Akkosotto & Unnikuttan.

For all of us Keralites who belong to the generations of 70’s or 80’s born, the film Yoddha introduced us to the wonderful place called Nepal. Exotic, beautiful and virgin… that was Nepal in the movie. We saw it through the eyes of Akkosotto & Unnikuttan, the Rimpoche.

My friend Nishith had warned me not to expect Kathmandu to be exotic.

I landed and drove straight to the room. Some bit of completing-pending-work later, I set out to explore the town. My first stop was a restaurant that served authentic Nepali cuisine. For a vegetarian, the choices are limited, but the steamed saag and the fried potato made the dal-rice dinner a memorable one.  A word of caution to the Tam-Brahms, if you are the sorts who cannot tolerate garlic in your food, Nepali ain’t the right cuisine for your vegetarian meal. And for the more conservative sorts, do not get scandalized when women sing and dance as you eat your food.

Thamel, the tourist hub, is not too far from Radisson where I stayed. I walked around Thamel- my friend Arvind had called it a combo of Delhi’s famed Paharganj & the Hauz Khas village. The feel was Paharganj and the food was Hauz Khas, I felt. There are some very nice pubs and restaurants, shops that sell mementos and ornaments and for a young adult male, there are possibly more options.

A nice sleep later, I had a workshop to facilitate. With the grace of God, I think it went off well.

I set out in the evening to explore the city further. If you are in Nepal, it will be a sin to miss the Chiya (tea). For those who like their tea without much sugar, be sure to supervise the input of sugar into the tea at the time of preparation J

Not much is open to public viewing in the night. I set off again to Thamel- this time another pub- I am told here that this belongs to a Hippie… aah, now Kathmandu was getting exotic. The exteriors of the pubs on this street make these joints appear very small- they are very spacious though.

And yes, if you tell them you are a vegetarian and you are a teetotaler, they give you the WAFL (What a F****** Loser) look. I guess, the WAFL look when one hears this is universal.

I set out early next morning to visit the Pasupatinath temple. I was visiting this place as a pilgrim. I was not a tourist here.

Thanks to the day being a Saturday, the queue was really long. I am told Tuesday and Saturday are special. Today I guess, he had decided not to allow me a darshan. I prayed at some of the temples in the complex and came back to explore the rest of the town.

Before one steps into the temple complex, there is a small temple which has idols of Adi Sankara and his 4 disciples. I felt at home as I prostrated before the idols.

I drove down to the Hanuman Dhoka, a square with some old temples and the palace museum. These are extremely beautiful structures and it is a very peaceful place. I had a superb meal of buttered bun, dried channa and fried potatoes here. The chiya was getting even better.

The next stop was Swayambhunath. As I began climbing up the stairs, I saw the two statues of Buddha…these statues were not new to me. I had seen them before- in Yoddha. I walked up the steps with great joy and nostalgia.

One can see the entire town of Kathmandu from up there. I believe, in the peak winter months, the haze is lesser and the view is clearer. The rhythmic chants of Om-Mani-Padme-Hum can heard in the complex.

I climbed down via the more exotic routes, lots of trees and monkeys on them adorned the route.

The next stop was Bhaktapur. Bhaktapur is a heaven for lovers of temple architecture. One sees temples built in the Pagoda style, the Shikhara style and the Stupa style here. I hired a guide named Kabeen here.

Kabeen gets his name from an ancient Malla king who wrote with this pseudonym. Kabeen tells me interesting stories of the three royal states of Bhaktapur, Kathmandu and Patan. For those of you who love shopping, this is the place to purchase Thangka paintings (in the painting school) and Pashmina stuff. One may also visit the potters village for more stuff…

I drive up further to the village of Nagarkot. The sunrise and sunset here, they say, are mesmerizing. One can see the Everest from here on a clearer day. The sunset is amazing. With cold winds blowing on to me, and me dressed in summer casuals, only the masala tea and the chowmein could act as a saving grace.

As the sun set, I drove further into the village. As with any mountainous area, it gets dark rather quickly after the sun sets.

The hotel had minimal comforts and it was cold. There was no electricity. I wrapped around the bed sheet, using it as a shawl walked through the village. A Nepali meal and tea later, I lay down on the terrace gazing at the stars and sang a few songs… And repeatedly the song, Dil dhoondta hai found its way to my lips…

The early morning sunrise was a disappointment, thanks to the haze and the clouds. I drove back to Kathmandu and spent some superb moments at the BuddhaNilkantha temple and then again in the Pasupatinath temple complex and also at the Guhyeswari temple. Spending the 3 hours inside the Pasupatinath temple, the walk to Guhyeswari temple and the breakfast of Poori-tarkari, malpua and sael would be the highlights of the day.

I flew back to India carrying with me some nice memories of the place. I hope I will be blessed enough to make more trips to Nepal in the times ahead…

This entry is dedicated to my friend Nishith and his cousin Monika and to all those wonderful people with origins in Nepal who make India a much more beautiful place to live in….

To Sangeeth Sivan who made me fall in love with Nepal 2 decades back…

Words of William Blake

Thatha regularly referred to these lines. I heard these lines again from a mentor last week. Read, Reflect and Rejoice...

" To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."


"If the doors of perception were cleansed 
Everything would appear to man as it is, infinite."

a year without Periappa

The jokes- that's what comes to my mind first. There were always a few jokes. Most of them were new. That is the first image I have of him and that is the last.

Exactly a year back, my Periappa (Dad's elder brother) was killed in an industrial blast. Boom!! and it was all over. A consolation, they say, is that the death would have happened within a second of the blast. He would have known no pain. "Kapaalamoksham", some said, for the skull lay shattered. The newspapers next day had a picture of the blast site- thank God, it was not in colour.

For years he had reiterated to me that just as breathing comes naturally to you, the name of Rama should always be there in your mind and lips- with every breath you take. I have a strange feeling that the picture of his body that I saw in blast site photograph had one of his fingers pointed up- strange feeling... I feel he would have definitely been chanting the lord's name when he dropped his body.

Periappa was always special to me. I vividly remember how thrilled I would be, as a kid, when I would meet him. That thrill remained with me each time I visited him in Coimbatore, or when we met elsewhere. There was some energy about him... He was always eternal to me and will remain so...

We had our special moments- ever since I started working, I used to call him and chat at least once or twice every month. His favourite starting question to me was, "ippo enda kovil-la irukkai?" (which temple are you in now?). We shared a common interest in visiting old ancient temples. He was/is one of my foremost spiritual masters. Many a special moments that I cannot cover in a blog- lunching with him on the occasion of Anna's (his son) marriage, sitting outside the marriage hall at Hemanth's wedding and chatting about the Indian calendar and the Chinmudra... a five minute dialogue at our place on the occasion of Dad's 60th birthday... him initiating me into the Moolamantra of our family deity... that concert of Shubha Mudgal at Nehru park... his eyes filled with tears when the bestest singer in this world, my friend Doceee, sang him a few songs...him buying me raw mango with chilli powder at Gandhi park in Coimbatore...the visit to Haridwar and the visit to Delhi when I last met him... those so many phone calls... Going through one of my worst lows in life, I was brooding when he sensed something and called in "Whenever in any confusion call me"... me smiling at the end of it....

For a man who was largely unemotional, his closing words during our phone calls in his last few months/ years were "aye, koopdu- kaettayaa..." (Listen, keep calling in).

As I was driving to office today, I realised I was crying... Had he been there, he would have been the first to say "Geethai-la chollirukku.." (In the Gita, it is said...)...

As a firm believer in re-incarnation... I am convinced that wherever he would have gone, he would have gone to a better plane.... There will be plenty in that better plane who are happy that he is with them...

Many have asked me about my non-sense of humour. I have often told them that I have inherited it from him. The difference is that people laughed at the jokes he cracked :-)

When I think of him now, I remember parts of a Ghazal, surprising the one genre he never really appreciated-

"Ek aah bhari hogi, humne na suni hogi,
Jaate jaate tumne, awaaz toh di hogi...
Har waqt yahi hai gham, us waqt kahaan thhe hum,
Kahaan tum chale gaye..."

There will always be a regret- that he could not meet my fiancee or that my kid(s) would not get a chance to meet him.... Sometimes I ask this to God, "why"...or "what if".... It was a Shivaratri when the blast occurred... He had completed his special Poojas only a few minutes back... His bag lay packed in his room for his next trip...

And then one feels small that all this is orchestrated by somebody up above the world so high who knows what is best. One can only keep one's faith strong- I think that is the most significant message he ever gave me...

Arthur Osborne's poem...

Here is another of those poems that humbles me. I am again not qualified to give a commentary on this... Read, reflect and Enjoy....

I am a pipe the wind blows through,
Be still, it is the wind that sings.
The course of my life and the things that I do
And the seeming false and the seeming true
Are the tune of the wind that neither knows
Good and ill, nor joys and woes.
But the ultimate awe is deeper yet
Than song or pipe or storm;
For pipe and tune are the formless wind
That seemed for a while to take form.
And words are good to escape from words
And strife to escape from strife,
But silence drinks in all the waves
Of song and death and life...

David Wagoner's Lost

The previous entry had a pseudo-poem I attempted to write. I present here a poem by Wagoner that has touched me beyond what I can describe with words.  I feel so inadequate that I can't even write a commentary on it. I hope it touches you too...

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.