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Khwabon ke parinde...

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Ude... my last flight was, well, who knows when... the flight of a weightless feather.. one without much load, without any muddle in the mind, without any purpose.. one that brings with it a certain feeling of unknowing and yet one of clarity as blue as sky devoid of cumulus, of purity white as swan... true, it has been quite long a time that my memory cells decided not to retain the impressions, and understandably so.. but am I flying again today? Roshini mili... the brightness of the Cambridge sun brings with it a certain kind of lazy freshness that is tough to evade. As I walk past the emerald meadows, the breeze from the lake that wafts across my face, the only uncovered part of me, appears to steal away all stiffness in me, bringing about an elation that is reminiscent of the Pehla Nasha Aamir. A new place sometimes feels like a refreshing dip into a chill pond that opens up a totally new vista… and when you add to it, the warm companionship of your life partner that too in all

let the Hangover stay..

(This post is for all of you who repeatedly wished that I break my one and a half years of silence and start scribbling again :) ) Every now and then, the searing heat waves scraped through below my Rayban lenses, reminding me constantly of the fact that I no longer belonged to Seattle. As the RX-135 made its ascent on Gemini flyover, I was pushing myself hard to accept the fact that the once magnificent Chennai skyline, dominated by huge vinyl hoardings, is no longer a reality. Just 2 years back, I was flashing my cousin’s canon S2 at every hoarding (from the pillion seat of this same bike), marveling at the cityscape, even as he was accelerating his beauty through this very flyover. I still remember The Hindu headline “ Hoardings disappear, Chennai reappears” - what still evades my cranium is the pathetically absurd justification given that those hoardings were a distraction to the city motorists.. the craziest move a government can do to mutilate a multi million industry!

Hindutva hierarchy all set?

After so much of pull and push, it looks like the BJP has finally got its bearings right. While news channels have started making so much of hue and cry on BJP's 'Jadu Ki Jhappi' (Magic Hug) by including the hero Modi into the parliamentary committee, the party is meticulously rejoicing the plausible fruits of the massive restructuring in the ranks. Blow after blow to congress, it looks like 'Destination Delhi' next for the BJP. Modi has never ceased to amaze me with his sheer political acumen and his election methodology. He has emerged, in less than 5 years, as one of the strongest and the most influential politicians of independent India. Without any ambivalence in his speech and actions, he campaigns for what his party stands for. The victory in Himachal, in my view, should also be attributed to a great extent to the wave that Modi created during the Gujarat polls. When the post-Atalji BJP was starting to look weak, brand 'Moditva' was the best th

through the frosted glass...

The drizzles relentlessly conglomerated with its target, even as I coiled into my comforter (what an apt name that!!), making sure that not a wee bit of my sleepiness is stolen away. It would easily have been 2 degree Celsius or less outside, and with the heater in our hall dumping me, the laws of thermal conductivity worked just a little slow before the heat from my body equalised with the sofa and comforter. Here, it never pours down; neither does it cease to sprinkle – a typical Renton morning. My frame of view resembled a ruled sheet of paper with the silhouettes of the white window blinds lining in front of the frosted glass window. The tiny islands of condensed water droplets on glass, to me, symbolises the pristine purity of this element, the nectar of existence. In this part of the world, the sun, I sometimes wonder, starts its travel only after weather.com confirms that it is going to be a ‘Sunny’ day!! I have, for some time now, started liking this kind of weat

Payanangal mudivadhundu!

It was very similar to a conveyer belt except that it carried humans. Each stretch ran for few kilometers and these belts placed serially one after the other enabled passengers to reach their gate. I was in awe marvelling at the sheer enormity of the Suwarnabhumi airport. This airport in Bangkok was the first one I saw outside India and the very sight wowed me! I was able to feel the amount of planning that went in to have made this a reality. The airport was, well state of art, if I can state it in banal terms. I had to get to the counter that would give me the boarding pass to enable me complete my travel to Seattle. There were direction boards everywhere and still I felt lost. Maybe the amazement that had gotten into me overwhelmed me I guess. There was one more transit point in Narita, Tokyo and the journey was already taking a toll on me. I would’ve proclaimed that this was my first experience of cruising amidst clouds had it not been for that Kingfisher experience few months back

Bye Prince!

“Did I entertain?” the Prince asked as the crowd roared in the affirmative. The tear waiting in his eyes travelled down my cheeks… quicker than the speed of that spherical piece of leather meeting its fate (read his willow), only to be picked up behind square boundary by a boy belonging to the academy, dreaming to become Lara some years down the lane. The farewell was not as extravagant as his dancing pull nor was it lavish like his picture perfect square cut. The last super 8 match nevertheless was a West Indian loss in more ways than one! As far as cricket is concerned, I have been, over the years, emotional about two things, Indian cricket and Lara’s cricket. Seldom can I forget those countless nights I spent in front of my TV set, constantly adjusting the volume, making sure that I don’t wake up ‘appa’ but at the same time listen to every little comment that the Blofelds and Benauds give on Lara. The master technician he is, Lara can invite packed crowds in any part of the cricket

Thennangur diary

My feet didn’t suffer much this time, thanks to the newly laid road… the rugged stretch on which I had walked 7 months back, I realised, had depicted almost an entirely different Thennangur villagescape. That was my first visit to this pretty hamlet. But then, the pathway that I treaded was not the only difference between my two visits. There was more… this time there was no Srikanth, no Lakshmi, no Vishalam mami, no Seetha Kalyanam… My memories rewound as I ambled towards my destination. Earlier, the 2 hour ride along the Chennai – Uthiramerur - Vandavasi highway didn’t offer anything exciting, more so with the chill gusts forcing me to shut down the window for most part of the journey, leaving me with my ipod and a small nap. The last half an hour of the journey, though was interesting, with me making acquaintances with my fellow traveller, a Vandavasi villager. A farmer by profession, he was returning from Madras after having visited his sons, both of whom have been lured by the cit