An Attempt at Dissecting the Mallu Landscape

I just could not help taking a crack at it. The interpretation of course might work for some while others I am sure can throw a lot more insight into the above picture. The one above (with the red arrows) show the exhibits that I try to explain while if you click the below (unmarked) photo it will show the finer details of the same.

The setting is the Padmanabhaswamy Temple in Trivandrum. A truly great architectural wonder. And just as you step inside there is a board which goes something like “entry restricted to those who profess Hinduism”. Strictly speaking I should not have been allowed anywhere near the temple but the implicit assumption seems to be that appearances and skin color profess one’s religion. And so I entered.

As for the picture, let’s see. (If it’s too small just click on the below picture and it will blow up enough)

A. An attempt at modernization. Some genius official must have had the brainwave of computerizing the temple and put this utterly useless appendage of technology here.

B. And just in case you think the computer is wrong you can always clarify it with the person there:-). So who is redundant, man or machine?

C. A DYFI (Democratic Youth Federation of India, a communist party) red flag. Notice the buildings on the side of the roadway have political flags sticking out. Some communist. Some secular. And some right wing. But mind you only Hindus allowed inside the temple.

D. The ubiquitous mallu chetans. They are part of the landscape. Always.:-)

E. Cars owned by the new wave info tech / gulf return/ US nursing people.

All in all a very gently jostling of a lot of ideologies. And if you were there in person, you can also smell the curd rice and pappadums emanating from the agraharas (dwellings where the Brahmins live) around.

Quote of the Year

They are not hiring too much intelligent people also!

- on the hiring process of a certain Bangalore based company

Round 2

Haha.Yeah so?Is this all that was there to you?Were you not supposed to be the carefree vagabond free from desires and human bonding? I pity you now. The visage cracked. The spear not only draws blood but also elicits writhes.Haha. Never ever be what you were? The higher the climb the higher the fall.Remember that O supposedly learned one. Did you not make tremble many a heart.The fierce and the mighty respected you.The meek envied you. Now you are fallen. I never fail to enjoy my ravaging.But this is abject surrender. I am disappointed. There is nothing above me. Do not enrage me.

The bout.Round 1

You are tired.There is not another word that can describe you.The smile has vanished..the brood has descended...and this is supposed to be fun...i cant...i dont want to...why is it so tough...i want to..its easy...no its tough..i dont care if you understand..i seriously dont want to.....i want something...i dont need anything less..i have a problem with authority.... i hate hyprocricy..i hate insensitivity..die emotional fakers...a misandrist is born...an idealism is strengthened..a vent of emotions drained and the turmoil just starts whirling..your mind no longer wants what it needs..it no longer is happy...the darkness is addictive..the light is blinding..where is the idealism?...where is the purity?the reality?the happily ever after...??the struggle is not over..but the reason is..freefalling is good..only till it lasts...the end is spiked...not cushioned.....thank you..have a nice day...

One Fine Day! (True Story)

If you are the type who sympathises, who goes "oh..poor chap..tch tch", on seeing someone
getting mauled by life then please skip this post. However, if on the other hand, the whole
general prospect of reliving vicariously the sight of me getting kicked in the posterior
figuratively makes you smack your lips and rub your hands with glee,please do peruse the lines
below and sate yourselves.Gloat,smirk,laugh or do whatever it is that you normally do when you crowd around with craning necks to watch a bloody spectacle.You people are not of this age but
ought to have been born as a gladiator battling starving lions in Rome under Caligula Caesar.

Traitor.You are reading this?And here I was thinking you were the benevolent type.Well,as I
have given my word to narrate the incidents of the day I do not renege on it.I hope one day
all this happens to you too.

It was a pretty innocuous start to the day.8:30 am.The two characters who share my room have made their exits.The whole place to myself.I stretch.Yawn and prevaricate as much as possible
before rolling off my bed to start contemplating a bath.Wrapping a towel around my waist I
gravitate towards the bath and light the candle.(No.No.Not the bulb.The candle.Thats another
story.Now we take bath in candlelight and trust me when I say it ain’t half as romantic as how
they depict them in the movies.)

After having alternately scalded and frozen my skin off trying to adjust the temperature of
the water,I step out to dress and get ready for work.I turn the knob of my door.It does not
budge.There must be a mistake.I see if the door has a keyhole.No.It doesn't.I try the door
again.Not even an inch.I take a deep breath."It's okay.Calm down.You are simply locked out of
your room with just a towel on.Nothing to worry.Happens to everyone.Some cool thinking and
everything is going to be fine.Right?" I reason out.But.

So what would you have done?I ask you.Well what I did was try and list out everything that I
could possible do.

1.Call up someone up-But no numbers.My cell phone was locked in.No money to make a call.My
wallet was within.Unfortunately I don't normally carry it when I go for my bath.

What?Thats it?No more options?No.Maybe I was undernourished.I walked into the kitchen and
pondered my predicament over a bowl of cornflakes.What happens next,I totally blame it on the breakfast.The POLICE.

I don't know how I came to this solution.No.Actually I think I do.It all has to do with my
boss who keeps saying "I'm going to kick your ass.."because he in turn has a superior whose
only purpose to exist seems to be to put sole on my poor boss behind.Somehow I got the idea
that how muchever footing my boss took its going to cascade down to me and that is what
prompted me to walk into the RotherHithe Police Station.

What do you expect inside a policestation?A couple of ruddy,beefy policemen,sneering conmen or atleast a noticeboard with closeup shots of ugly mugs right?Well there was only a frail old
lady whom I had startled out of her slumber with my whirlwind entry.Annoyed I looked around
for some stereotypes.Noone."I am locked out" I blurted out.The old lady is listening.I also
notice that her expression has not changed.I suddenly started feeling a bit awkward(how could
I have come in here with this ridiculous demand?).And when she finally realized that the one
sentence just about summarizes my situation she gave one smirk,turned around and focussed her attention towards her halfeaten doughnut.

I dont know if you have done it,but its very tough to slink out unnoticed after such a big
stinker like that.And as I was dragging myself out redfaced she took pity on me and suggested
that I try the fire station.Once I embark on a mission there is nothing that can stop me.Next
destination-FireStation.Its a good thing I did not reach the place.Walking halfway down(no
money to buy tickets too)I stopped to ask a cop directions to the place.I explained my
predicament and by the time he was done with me I realized somethings.You don't have to be
dressed like a clown to make people laugh.And policemen have a weird sense of humour.

Never one to give up I approached a tool lending shop.

"Excuse me.I need a ladder."
"No problem sir.100 pounds cash deposit and a proof of residence would do."
"Umm..Can I give it to you after I break in..Oh shit..I mean make my entry..I mean.."
"Sir.."
"Yes?"..gulp
"Are you a breaking into someone's place?Do you have an id?"
Harry Houdini could not have done it.But I managed it.Noone saw me.I was gone.

Anyway late evening saw me finishing off a screwed up day,both domestically and
professionally.I scowled at my monitor and decided to hit the gym that I newly joined with a
vengeance(meaning run for atleast 5 mins instead of the normal 3 mins before collapsing in
front of the TV)..And just as I entered the male changing room and was unzipping my pants..too
late..damn..what was she doing here???Somelady in spandex sheepishly giggles.."Sorry..I was
late for the aerobic class..so I thought I'd use this.."and rushes off!!

Time-Sodden (Abstract)

Have you ever tried to squeeze time? No .Not in any literal or scientific sense .Not by applying relativity or modern physics. Not by working complex variables and numbers to arrive at a theoretically shortened time. But poetically. Emotionally. In a fantastic way. Take a span of time. And wring it in your mind. And just like liquid drips out of a newly laundered cloth you will find drops of emotions dripping out of the time-fabric. Keep pulling more of these time clothes and the more your wring it, the more you can squeeze out of them.

The early school days would be a good piece of linen to demonstrate. Pull it out. Stretch it out in your mind and holding both the ends start twisting it. There. You see drops of happiness falling. The bright hues of innocence dripping down your hands. Don't you? Put in some more effort. What do we get? Gushes of curiosity. Oh yes. They are cool. Unlike when you wring the somewhat sodden and well wetted cloth of adulthood. There too you find the rivulets of curiosity. But neither are they as refreshing nor so sparkling, are they? The dyes that stain the hands when you wring the latter piece are not as bright and brilliant as those we managed to squeeze out of the earlier baby time. There are lukewarm streaks of grey and scalding blacks that snake down the wringing forearms now.

But then a portrait acquires more depth with shades of grey than when it is daubed completely with magentas and peacock greens.

What colours would we encounter when we try and clean our cottons of our future? Would it be dirty and peeling colours of our youths? Or some stoic hues of brown and grey? Or perhaps the soothing tones of contentment? How wonderful it would be if we could wring out of an aged cloth streams of refreshingly cool wisdom! Would they be stirred with the essence of pride or pungent with vanity?

And now mixing a bit of physics into this exercise! Pardon me, all you real physicists if this does not conform to your notions or laws, for I'm as ignorant of the laws of Doppler's effect as on Comte's writings. But this much I can venture. Doppler says something to the effect that with varying distances the colours vary too. And similarly, would the brightness of innocence during our childhood appear as the blackness of ignorance when viewed from adulthood? Where is fear? Which of these streaks are stained by it? The green ones must be jealousy, right? What about love? Pink? Clichés! And sloth? Are there enough colours in the palette to map all the emotions? The varying degrees? Like the mildest blues of detached curiosity fading into the colourlessness of apathy?

Sometimes it feels that the clothes cannot be dried at all. Never drained of the stains. Sodden and heavy and colourful.

Writer's block (Nonsense)

On Leaving Mumbai!

Bombay and Bangalore.Or should it be Mumbai and Bengalooru?Either way the inhabitants of the two cities dont give a hoot.Then whats the whole hue and cry about renaming the cities?Politics.Newsmaking and attention grabbing tactics.Why else would precious newpaper space and television time be occupied by such trivial matters in a time and country where terrorism,poverty and disintegration of the socio-economic fabric is getting evident by the hour?

But we are digressing.This is not some column by an erudite economist analyzing the pros and cons of the two megapolis' infrastructure or economy.This is just a couple of lines to answer the queries of various mumbaikars who ask the question "But why Bangalore man..?"

To a Mumbaikar its unthinkable that anyone would forsake this city of sins and move out to spend the rest of their lives.Even to me,a softcore south indian,who came to Mumbai on the August of 2004,the choice was not obvious.Its after a lot of deliberation that I had to take this decision.So this column is also in a way dedicated to those who have stayed in Mumbai,love the place and yet hate it.

Hasn't everyone been frightened when they first saw the rush of heads and shoulders brushing and nudging their way through at CST and ChurchGate to reach the office at peak hours?Wondering how the tapori with the red shirt,dirty blue bandanna and faded jeans always seems lounging about at the same spot whenever you see him?The rusty aarey depot that has lines and lines of coloured milks situated at odd places throughout the city?Where else would we be able to walk out into the night at 11:00 for a snack and get caught in traffic?Where else are the bikes,The babes and The bottles?JW Marriott?

All thats there in Bangalore is a bunch of youngsters with "attitude"!And M G Road and Brigade road.Two streets that do not stand an iota of chance when juxtaposed with Linking Road Bandra or Marine Drive.No doubt Mumbai beats any other city that I have seen hands down.In sheer size and variety.A polyglot of cultures.Its a riot.

To someone who wants to experience life and try everything once I would say Mumbai is his place.Let no man speak of Mumbai as the big bad city.The way it is portrayed in movies and books.I leave Mumbai not because I hate it.But because I love myself more than I love Mumbai.We are incompatible.We had a brief fling together.But we are not made for each other.