Musical Masterpieces # 2: Ennulle Ennulle

Song: Ennulle Enulle (Raagam: Keeravani)
Movie: Valli (Tamil)
Singer: Swarnalatha & Chorus
Composer: Ilaiyaraaja

Soulcore: If a song had to be romantic, it couldnt be better. I wanted to spit out my guts after listening to this song, they just wouldnt stay there. The calmness in the voice, the serenity in the interludes, the peaks and subdues, of romance and of passion; every second creates a magical feel within youself.

P.S.: I suggest you ignore the video, if you do not want a sense of sexuality to creep into the song.

IPL 2009

I wanted to squeeze a post in here about the IPL influenza, but I see I couldnt have done it any better than my bud Sid, and it saves me from a comment on his blog too!
Visit: http://siddharthsv.blogspot.com/2009/04/ipl-2009-predictions.html
It is just as good as out of my mouth.

Musical Masterpieces #1: Pramadavanam Veendum

Song: Pramadavanam Veendum (Raagam: Jog)
Movie: His Highness Abdullah (Malayalam)
Singer: Dr. KJ Yesudas
Composer: Raveendran

Soulcore: I was stunned by the silence this song exuded. Listen to the lead violins kiss your soul everytime KJY goes "Pramadavanam Veendum" (First time: 0:55 secs onwards). Probably the best Malayalam song I have ever heard. I have discovered Raveendran for myself.

Thank You, Lord, for giving the World this man.

1. For a better reading experience, please wait until this video loads fully and then start reading with it playing in the background.

2. Must-read for Ilaiyaraaja fans. Other ordinary music lovers need not necessarily share my passionate discourse.

I begin with apprehension; this could be one of the most confusing writing rigours I have ever given myself, and could be an equally confusing read for you. But I see clarity in one thought / objective - I am not writing about music, I am not writing about Ilaiyaraaja; I am writing about my love for a man. Or about my devotion to a man.

This man. Ilaiyaraaja.

Just like God, Ilaiyaraaja has been one of the most significant constants in my life.

If I was in love with a girl, He was there teaching my heart to love. If I was fantasising about someone, He was there telling my mind to rove and indulge. If I was gloomy, and my every breath depressed; He broke into my mind and silenced my negativities. If I was feeling miserable, He clogged my throat, flushed my eyes, and helped me break down only to emerge like a pregnant woman after having delievered a still born, realising that she cant do anything about it, and she has to move on in life, with life. If I felt victorious, He helped me celebrate, if I felt dejected, He helped me see reason, fueled me to recover and inspired me to redeem; and if I was plain freaking bored, He helped me chill out!

*****

As I write this, Ilaiyaraaja could be making music in his studio (Prasad Studios, Vadapalani), located 15 minutes from my house. That place could definitely be the Mecca of Music for millions of Music lovers around the Globe - majority of them Tamil speakers and all of them, South Indians.

In reality, that place is not just the Mecca for music lovers. It is a womb. A sacred womb, where love was born for many people; and the most sepulchral of graveyards, where miseries ended for many. This is where I think we can define God. God is, the phenomenon, that makes us realise ourselves when any of World's forces, that swells our heart to unproportional sizes, crushes our senses mindlessly, also descends our conscience into thinking - "Waah! What pure Ecstasy." This force could be love, success, or just any random euphoria. The force is common for all, its more a cyclic force. But God differs. I love Ilaiyaraaja as much as I love my God - That God who whispered into my ears the secret of realising myself.

*****

And just like God, Ilaiyaraaja has been one of the most significant constants in my life.

Thank you, Lord, for giving me this man.

See Sensex at 100,000 in 15 yrs: Elliott Wave Int

Mark Galasiewski, Asian-Pacific Fin Forecast at Elliott Wave International, sees Sensex at 100,000 within 15 years based on technicals and current patterns. He is of the view that October 2008 lows have already been breached by most markets but India did not, which is very significant. "From the pattern perspective, there was only a three wave decline down to the October lows and most of the other major world markets made what we would call a fifth wave or final wave down in this leg of their bear markets, but India is special because it has only three waves down."

Q: You seem to be very bullish on India. Looking at the charts of Sensex, what is your target for the Sensex in medium-term as well as the long-term, because you have a 15 year target?
A: We are very bullish, in fact this is going to sound extraordinary to many people but this is all based on technicals and if the patterns we are observing are correct, the implication is Sensex 100,000 within 15 years.

Q: What is your view on the Asian markets in that context, you think Asian markets will also rally or is it going to be just a regional phenomenon with Indian markets outperforming?
A: Our forecast for India is based on the particular what we are calling the Indian Ocean Group, these are the markets from Pakistan, down to Indonesia, that are connected to the Indian ocean. This is very distinct from the rest of East Asia for example and very distinct from Europe and the US. Our services here in the Eliot Wave International are forecasting larger bear markets for the next few to several years in the US, Europe, Japan and even china. India and the subcontinent in particular is special.

Q: Do you think that the October lows that we hit for global markets will be breached by most markets or will those lows hold?
A: The October lows already have been. The fact that India did not, is very significant. From the pattern perspective, there was only a three wave decline down to the October lows and most of the other major world markets made what we would call a fifth wave or final wave down in this leg of their bear markets, but India is special because it has only three waves down.

On a lighter nerve...

Few stupid questions that are commonly asked!
Few are borrowed, few are original! Recline and Read!
1. At a funeral, when a teary eyed person asks:-
Q: “Why, why, him of all the people?”
A: “Why, you reckon it should have been you?”
2. When a friend announces she is getting married:-
Q: “Is the guy good?”
A: “Nope, he is a wife-beating paan-chewing Goorkha. It’s just the feeling of security you know.”
3. In a restaurant:-
Q: “Is the Panneer Butter Masala good here?”
A: “No, we adulterate it with cement and we occasionally hold group spitting competitions in it.”
4. When an aunt meets you after a long time:-
Q: “Oh Beta! How big you have grown!?”
A: “Well, you haven’t actually shrunk yourself!”
5. When a friend meets you for the first time after a hair-cut:-
Q: “Hey, you’ve had a haircut?”
A: “Nope, it’s autumn and I am shedding…”
6. When a fat lady with heavy make-up and pointed heals stamps you inside a crowded bus:-
Q: “Oh sorry, did it hurt?”
A: “Nope, I am currently on local anesthesia, you can do it again.”
7. When you meet a friend in a theatre:-
Q: “Hey, what are you doing here?!”
A: “Nothing much, just wanted to check if there was water in the theatre loos…”
8. When you go out, come back home, and call your mom from the land line to tell her you are back:-
Q: “Have you reached home?”
A: “Nope, half my body is still on the way, stuck in traffic…”
9. When you get a call in the middle of the night:-
Q: “Sorry, were you sleeping?”
A: “Nope, I was just researching the consequences when the Amazonian men slept with Central African pygmy women…”

Its all about being true blue

A sudden ear-block and a rude jerk woke me up from my snooze. Almost immediately I could hear at least a dozen mobiles being switched on around me. That signaled that the runway had arrived. I fished my phone from my pant pocket and punched it on the head. The familiar Nokia tune greeted me, and a message from Airtel, warmly welcomed me to Delhi, as though assuring themselves, a sadistic pleasure out of my roaming gullibility.
My sim-card had accumulated seven text messages over the flight. Three were missed call alerts from friends and family. The four others read as follows:-
“Three cheers to ARR!”
“Wow…! Rahman has won the Oscar! I am so excited!”
“Ela pugazhum iraivan oruvanukke, Rahman is THE BEST!”
“Amidst all those in our nation who claim they are fit for Oscar, only ARR has made the performance to win it and make India proud. Jai Ho!”

Call it instinctive; I raised my hands in tumult, and announced to a colleague sitting next to me that Rahman had made it! Call it instinctive again; the next moment I yanked my iPod from a tough corner of the hand baggage and tuned to the “Rakkamma Kaiya Thattu” song from Thalapathy. It was not the song, it was not the movie, it was not the actor, and it was not the singer. All I knew I wanted to do at that moment was listen to an Ilaiyaraaja composition. I followed it up with “Janani Janani”, then the Mouna Ragam tracks, then Bharathi, Alaigal Oyvathillai, Payanangal Mudivathillai and all the way up to Gurgaon, my thoughts lounged on one single man – he was clad in white, a mien of salt and pepper, with a pair of mystic eyes deeply studded in what I used to think, was the face, of the man who invented music.

En-route, I pulled up the taxi driver in a sudden conversation; sung him a phrase from “Ilaya Nila” and announced to him that it was composed by a genius called Ilaiyaraaja, who sat back in the South. I swear the driver thought I was an incurable jerk. Or at least, he eyed me like I was one. I looked back at him stoutly.

“Udhar…DLF Square, Jacaranda Marg, Phase II…Off the service lane.”

He veered off the service lane dangerously and that was when I figured out that these Bihari drivers driving cabs registered in Delhi did not fancy Ilaiyaraaja, or did not know him at all, and for all they knew, he could be a taxi driver back in Madras, or just another Pani Poori vendor in Chandi Chowk.

I knew I was behaving strangely. I was not averse to AR Rahman. My conscience hailed him as the musician of the minute, and the single uniting factor that our Nation long wanted. But why, why was I trying to be so indifferent to him and his achievement? I still don’t know if it was the bad Nescafe Coffee I had just then, or if it was the true spirit of realization dawning upon me, I understood it was not indifference towards Rahman, but it was a demonstration of my loyalty to Ilaiyaraaja.
I told myself, Rahman is definitely a genius, but Ilaiyaraaja is no less a genius. In this moment, when the world comes together to celebrate Rahman, I told myself, I want to remember Raaja.

Sensing your beauty through my blindness

Oh beautiful, beautiful lass!
Now is the dawn of a thousand poets' dreams.
Oh what Beauty! Beautiful lass!

I feel your hair's silk; am I caressing the cloud's soft?
I trace your ear, pause at your ear stud; And I realise,
Even question marks can entice.
This angel's face, I think, is a golden lotus;
Her enchanting eyes, the loveliest of flowers.
My imaginations hue my mind's canvas;
God, I can see the artist in Thou.
Oh what Beauty! Beautiful, beautiful lass!

An oyster's shell, your lustrous lips;
Please whisper to me the divinity in lust.
Decks of teeth; pearls of white;
Nibble me now, my craving heart.

Let me hold your shoulders; those slender bamboos,
And point to Heaven, with your honey-dipped fingers.
For Symmetry's best, my hands shall wait. My hands shall rest.
Oh what Beauty! Beautiful, beautiful lass!

Your hips are a fortune; or the climbers in the garden.
Roll the clock, and serve the fruit, the freshly peeled ripest fruit.
Your graceful feet; Oh! Two sculpted leaves.
Beauty!
You are the guide to God, the God of my dark.
Oh beautiful, beautiful lass!
My beautiful, beautiful lass!

Naan Kadavul : Review

A brave brave film

Main Cast & Crew:
Director: Bala
Music: Isaignani Ilaiyaraaja
Lead Roles: Arya (Rudran), Pooja (Hamsavalli)

"வாழ தகாதவர்களுக்கு நான் குடுகர தண்டனை மரணம்

வாழ இயலாதவர்களுக்கு நான் குடுகர மரணம் வரம்"

"The punishment that I give to those who are not fit for life, is death.

The death that I give to those who dont have the fitness for life, is blessing/boon."

Overview: Naan Kadavul is more of a theme-based film, and is not wired by a strictly story-based narration. The film meanders through three subjects - Euthanasia (Mercy killing), Organised Beggary, and the Aghoris of Kasi; the compulsive and naked treatment of all the three subjects leave our hearts wanting to beat faster and forget what it just witnessed, but at same time, stay, beat slower, and slower, and slowly stop. Before watching the film, tell yourself, that you are not going to watch the poor and the pained from behind a glass pane, but you are going to be among them, you are going to share their pain; and what they are put through could be disgusting, but true.

Watch out for:

1. Humour: Trust Bala to introduce humour when you think your heart just sufferred multiple explosions. And this is no wit-crack and slap stick humour that we are used to, mind you. Humour par brilliance.
2. Arya & Pooja: This is not exactly the time in Indian filmdom when actors are content enough with romancing on screen, and counting fan mails off it. With this film, both Arya and Pooja have emerged as torch-bearers of this new crop of actors. Arya's supernatural performance, soars with the raw grandeur of his appearance. Pooja captivates in the climax.
3. Re-recording: The Isaignani and no one but the Isaignani, could have scored music for this film. It has always been a challenge to directors to match the out of the world re-recordings of Ilaiyaraaja, and Bala is one of the very few of them who can do justice to the music.
4. Om Sivoham song - Arya's introduction
5. Fight Sequences

Close your eyes when:

1. Just when you think the cruetly that was just exhibited was the last, you land kicking and writhing in another one.
2. Initial scenes involving Rudran's mother and father. They fail to act realistically and irritate at times. An interesting point to note here is that it was Bala's own brother who played the role of Rudran's father!
3. A "Nayantara" dance-sequence in the police station. Can be electrifying humour to some, but can also be obscenity to the rest.

Pointers:

1. Screen play has taken the back-seat; drags at times.
2. Photography is enchanting.
3. Dialogues are very fitting and are worth your instinctive applause.

Special Performance Mentions:

1. Villian
2. Yeli (Rat), the beggar boy

Verdict: Must see for most. Heart patients, pregnant women, excessively sensitive/sentimental people stay back at home and trust this review is just about right.

My Bud's blog

Only as recently as today, I let out a "Blimey!-Here's-a-brilliant-bard!" exclamation on reading "what-he-calls-as-gibberish" of one of my best buds, Sid! For the guy who inspired me out of a low ebb, here is my share of advertising:
http://www.siddharthsv.blogspot.com/
Please find time to read his blog and post your comments.
P.S.>>> My Favourite Post: http://siddharthsv.blogspot.com/2009/02/discovering-myself-en-route-to-dunedin.html

'Slumdog Millionaire' is mediocre, trashy: Priyadarshan

Mumbai: Indian movie director Priyadarshan has joined the bandwagon in slamming Danny Boyle's underdog saga "Slumdog Millionaire" and has called the film a "cheap trashy mediocre version" of erstwhile Bollywood hits." 'Slumdog Millionaire' is nothing but a cheap trashy mediocre version of those commercial films about estranged brothers and childhood sweethearts that Salim-Javed used to write so brilliantly in the 1970s. And please quote me clearly on this. If the Golden Globe and Oscars committees have chosen to honour this trashy film it just shows their ignorance of world cinema," Priyadarshan told IANS.Priyadarshan, whose much-acclaimed film on the silk weavers of Kanjeevaram was shown alongside Boyle's film at the Toronto Film Festival last year, feels Indians are exercising prideful property rights over a film that denigrates Mumbai.

"I saw the film with a mixed audience at the Toronto Film Festival. The Westerners loved it. All the Indian hated it. The West loves to see us as a wasteland, filled with horror stories of exploitation and degradation. But is that all there's to our beautiful city of Mumbai?"He is surprised that Mumbai is celebrating a film that shows only the city's underbelly."Why are we taking this treatment? Just because a white man has made 'Slumdog Millionaire', we're so happy with it? I've read Vikas Swarup's novel 'Q&A'. It should have been made by Mani Ratnam. Then you'd have seen what he would have done with Mumbai."The angry director wonders why there isn't a single shot in 'Slumdog...' that shows the more aesthetic side of Mumbai?"Why has Danny Boyle not taken one shot of Marine Drive? Do his slumdwellers exist only within their slums? And look at the absurdities...A boy becomes a national hero on a game show. One cop takes him under arrest and interrogates him relentlessly. Where is everyone else? Is this kind of confinement possible in this day and age when television cameras enter your bedroom? If one of our filmmakers had made the same film we would have blasted him out of business.""Let them give as many Oscars as they like. We don't need to be impressed," ends Priydarshan angrily.

செஷசாயின் ரமணமாலை

ஆழியலையாய் உயர்ந்த உயிரே
ராமனர்விலகில் அமைதி பெறுவாய்
கொடிதுயரில் சூழ்ந்த உடலே
ராமனரோளியில் மோட்சம் பெறுவாய்

சொந்தம்மில்லா பிரவிகேலாம்
தந்தை வடிவில் குருவுமுளார்
திசைகல்லில்லா போக்கை நீக்கி
தனது பழயணம் உனது என்பார்

வெகுளி வினைகள் இருளில் கண்ணீர்
மிடிமை நிறைந்த மனதில்லேலாம்
பிழைகள் நீக்கி சொந்தம் செய்ய
இருக்கும் ரமணா
போற்றி போற்றி
ரமண ஆத்மா
போற்றி போற்றி
ரமண ஆத்மா
போற்றி போற்றி

Opinion - The White Tiger

"

I guess, your Excellency, that I too should start off by kissing some god's arse.

Which god's arse though? There are so may choices.

See, the Muslims have one god.

The Christians have three gods.

And we Hindus have 36000000 gods.

Making a grand total of 36000004 divine arses for me to choose from.

"

When Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses was banned, Muslim sentiments were cited. But here, Mr. Aravind Adiga, without sodomite intentions though, has raped his country and the religions that are contained within. What do we do? We garland him, we list him for "Indian of the Year" awards, we gift him gold-tipped pens, we lift him on our heads and cry out loud that he made our Nation proud by winning the Man Booker; and recommend him vigorously with sheer awe at how he made us proud and celebrated, by raping us and our identity in his 321-paged sin. We garland him and award him honours, when we ought to bang his bald pate with brass knuckles, banish him, his blasphemous ideas and his brilliantly snivelling book.

To all, who have not read the book, but have read the news bits raving about him, and have created a general intention to read the book sometime soon, create a specific aversion to him, and stay away from his book. He is after all a guy, who sold the dignity of his mother to earn accolades and riches.

Please save my Indian Face

The Indian ego has been busted. To the world now; The Kohinoor of 'India Inc.", the spearhead of "Surging India", the sheen of "Shining India" - the IT Industry - is just yet another humbug; yet another case of inflated credentials.

The trust we secured support by support, the confidence we built success by success, and the respect we gathered victory by victory, they will say now, are all the effects of dopes and drugs; Accounting Dopes that build bogus reserves, and corporate governance drugs that falsely resemble and exude a sense of carefully governed integrity.

The Indian Government cannot stand by and watch its own death. It is has to be aggressive and must show historic agility in the revamp process, for we are not prepared to take toothless excuses anymore.
Mr. Ramalinga Raju knows the "laws of the land" well, and so do we - that is why we say - "WE WANT CHANGE".

India's corporate studs and government torchbearers must understand - the common Indian is not a highway dog anymore. We know what is happening. We hear, we understand, we discrete. Ours lives have value and we need respect. We need accountable leaders and above all - WE NEED SATHYAM.

I SAY - "SLAY THE LIARS!" Lets hear the echoes, and lets gather the masses. Let us witness subsequent action. Let us see that change in governance, that is going to lift us billion Indians from the deep crevice of shame.

மார்கழி காலை

விடுதலை பெற்றது இரவானால்
மலரை தீண்டியது நிலவோ?

பணியில் குளித்து மலரானால்
பனி விழும் பொழுது பகலோ?

பகலில் ஒலிப்பது பன்னானால்
உரிகிடும் உயிரது குயிலோ?

தளிர்விடும் கிள்ளை அவலதானால்
பரிகிடும் மனது தாயோ?

செவிகளில் விழுந்தது ஸ்ருதியானால்
காலை லயமது மார்கழியோ?

மறு தாயே, நீ வேண்டும்மம்மா !

தாயே என்னை பாரம்மா
என் மோகங்களை நீ போக்கம்மா
நின் தேன் விரல்கள் என்னை வருடுகையில்
என் மனதினில் வினை எங்கோ போகுதம்மா

ஓவிய பாவை நீயம்மா
உன் காவிய தொண்டன் நானம்மா
உன் காலடி பூ எந்தன் விளையம்மா
நான் இருளிலும் பிரியாத நிழலம்மா

தருணங்கள் வந்தாலும் தருணங்கள் சென்றாலும்
தரத்தினில் இமை எந்தன் அன்பம்மா
ஆழ்கடல் சென்றாலும் ஆகாயம் வெந்தாலும்
ஓயாமல் காக்கும் என் இமைகலம்மா

என் சிந்தனைகள் யாவும் நீயம்மா
என் சாதனைகள் என்றும் உணதம்மா

பாதை ஒன்று வேண்டுமம்மா
அதில் வழி துணையும் ஒன்று வேண்டுமம்மா

இறப்பிலும் பிரியாமல் வேண்டும்மம்மா
இறுதிவரை வேண்டும்மம்மா
தாயே நீ வேண்டும்மம்மா !

The World of the Hospital

The pathetic screams and the craving wishes of undoing of death;

The crying mothers and bereaved wives, the orphaned children and mutilated relations;

The matter-of-fact doctors and the apathetic nurses;

The people hurrying inside the hospital, the people hurrying to heaven;

The deathbed for one subsequently a recovery bed for another;

The prescriptions to the chemists and black tickets to the mortuary;

The atmosphere of looming uncertainty,

The sleep and sleeplessness of many;

The life-shortening constraints of the material world and the medical luxuries that come with the excess of the same.

The frequent emergencies, the sepulchral ICUs, the beeping monitors and the morbid general wards;

The special smiles of relief and solemn secretive prayers;

The reminders of disrupted routines and abandoned appointments;

A fear in the heart transforming confidence in the ailing dear-one;

Get-well cards and mounting bedside bills;

This is the complex world of the hospital, the gateway between life and space, into and out of.

எதை தந்தான், எதை தரமருதான்

இது நான் எழுதிய முதல் பாடல். பிழைகள் இருந்தால், மனதில் திருத்திக்கொள்ளவும்.
பல்லவி
கடல் மீன்களுக்கு மழையில் நினையும் சுகம்,
சீரும் புலிகளுக்கு காட்டில் துளையும் பயம்,
இறைவன் என் தரவில்லை?
மனித உவமைக்கு அறிய உணர்ச்சிகள் மனிதனுக்கு சொந்தம்.
இது இயற்கையான பந்தம்.
அனுபல்லவி
காற்றைபோல நாம் கனவு காண இங்கு கருவி எதுண்டோ?
உலகின் சுகங்கள் அனைத்தும் அறிந்த பிறவி எதுண்டோ?
காதல் எட்கங்கள், கண்ணால் பேச்சுகள், கண்ணீர் காட்சிகள், சொல்லும் சாட்சிகள்.
வாழ்கை ஒரு உலக தொடர், மனிதன் அதில் மரும நபர்.
கடல் மீன்களுக்கு...
சரணம்
குயிலின் பாட்டில் கவிதைஎற்ற கவிஞன் எவன்னுண்டோ?
பிறந்த குழந்தை, kanindha kizhavan அன்பில் பெச்சுண்டோ ?
தாயும் தந்தையும் தந்த வாழ்விலே, சாவை தவிர இங்கு எலாம் உன் கையில்.
வாழ்கை ஒரு உலக தொடர், மனிதன் அதில் மரும நபர்.
கடல் மீன்களுக்கு...

என் தமிழ் சிந்தனைகளுக்கு குத்துவிளக்கு ஏற்றுதல்

என்னதான் ஆங்கிலம் என் முதல் பற்றானாலும், தமிழ் என் தாய்மொழி. எனக்கு தாயும் தமிழே, தெய்வமும் தமிழே. பள்ளிகூடத்தில் நான் தமிழ் படிக்கவில்லை. எனக்கு தமிழில் எழுதுவது சிரமம். தமிழ் படிப்பு தத்தளிப்பு. தமிழ் வார்த்தைகளை ஆங்கில சொற்களில் எழுதி தான் பழக்கம். உவமைக்கு, இதுவரை இங்கே நான் எழுதிய வரிகளிலும், இனி இங்கு நான் தமிழில் எழுத போகிற வரிகளிலும் எழுத்து பிழைகளும் சொல் தவறுகளும் இருக்கின்றதா இல்லையா என்று கூட என்னால் கண்டுப்பிடிக்க இயலாது. ஆனால் தமிழ் மொழி என் உடல் புகுந்து என் ஆத்மாவில் கலந்துவிட்டது. என் கரகோஷமும் தமிழில் தான், கதறலும் தமிழில் தான். இங்கே தமிழ் எழுத்துக்களை எழுதுவது சுலபம், நன்றி ப்லோக்ச்போடுக்கே. உடல் மண்ணுக்கு, உயிர் தமிழுக்கு. வாழ்க தமிழ், தங்கதமிழ் சங்கத்தமிழ்.

Essence of the Fourth Estate

There are two phenomena that are often misconstrued as one - What is just; and what is perceived as just. It should be obligatory on the part of the media to lead the masses from what they perceive as just to what is truly just. Strengthening perceptions are only less important, perhaps even insignificant when compared to developing the right perception. Media is actually one of the few powers that can bring about this CHANGE, at will/choice, that too.

The sublime "Good Night".

It is now time,
To drown our minds,
And,
To whet our souls;
In the Psalm of Sleep.

The Mail I shot to NDTV after a sudden attack of dissent.

My whole view of the media/NDTV has swayed in the past two days. When you covered the siege live, the stock of media/NDTV touched the peak in my heart. But currently, when you are still blowing a battered boring whistle and coming in the way of National decisions, which is absolutely of no use to the general public, your stock is at an ALL TIME LOW.
I am of the view that the media must SUPPORT the government in its role of governing and should NOT be hounds inspiring every civilian to over throw the government. I found so much of truth and verity in what Dr. Abishek Singhvi just said on the show with Burkha, and Burkha says nothing related to it, hides his point, and says he is the only politician brave enough to meet the public.
Let me convey one thing - While Burkha says we will not let the politicians divide us, she is actually dividing the politicians from the citizens, which is another disaster that could rage a much bigger carnage through our great democracy than any terrorist attack.

BURKHA - PLEASE DO NOT PLAY THE BLIND SHOOTER.

Completely Disgruntled
Not with you at this point of a bigger crisis
Seshasayee Gopi

COMING UP

Get on board as my raft sails into the waters of ISLAM, TERROR IN THE NAME OF JIHAD, THE HUMAN COST OF TERROR and the ilk. COMING SOON!

Fly on proud soul, you are free at last!

As a tenderfoot trying to understand death, I always thought it was somehow improper for caterwauling emotional great aunts, who were always nettlesome and garrulous in family re-unions, to one day, end up in a serendipitous coffin, unusually silent. The days, when I ran my fingers carefully over my baby-face to see if there were any signs of a moustache, and when I was growing incredibly restless to metamorphose into the inspirational man material my dad was, I had several revolutionary thoughts. I thought, I would burden upon myself to be the saviour of humanity when I became “big”, strive hard to find a medicine to cure death and give life to the way most stories I read always ended – “ … and lived happily ever after.”
As the pages in my life flapped by, my mental maturity grew pari passu with my moustache. This stage was marked by the demise of my grandfather, who always was, still is and will forever be my idol, whose mere memory never ceases to inspire and fill me with awe till this day. That night, when my grandpa rested on the laps of death, the following I wrote in my diary, with red eyes and a shaky hand – “Dear Thaatha, I am crying and groping in the dark, searching for your glorious bosom, I always found bliss burying my head into. Hours have gone by, I still am searching. Everyone say you are not there and you will not come back. But you have not gone anywhere, Thaatha. Your touch and smell is still clinging on to me, and will remain unaltered, for I have understood, the human heart is not just flesh, but something as brilliant as birth, as sublime as love, and as dark as death. The phase of brilliance and sublimity has expired along with you, and you have left me in transcendental darkness. But I am sure the darkness is ephemeral and our bond, eternal.” Trauma conquered my childhood ambition of curing death and in the course of a transition from mere fuzz to a pencil-line stache; I got a more realistic picture of death. Draconian, I thought, was the verity that it was only upto death to irrupt into the burden of old age and to ease the withering soul.
As time flew and stache grew, there were numerous deaths that numbed and shocked my heart, now entering teenage. My best friend’s dad, who was the genial best, a sharp-witted senior, a simple-hearted classmate, a vivacious junior, whose smiles and conversations I still treasure, and a teacher’s daughter, whose charisma, I admired, knew no bounds – all hurried out of my life and their own. Several questions, unanswered of course, erupted in my heart. Every death cavalcade I was part of, intensified my quest to form the right opinion about death. Several sleepless nights I spent, my mind lounging on what death left behind besides the body. During the course of an inquiry into myself, I found several answers. The grief of death lies not in the departure itself of the noble soul, but in the selfish realization that the departed has left us alone to fend for ourselves.
Who will I call again as Appa now?
Will I ever hear her voice again?
Will I ever look at his smiling face again?
How will I even live without her beside me?
Oh God!
It is here that we need to realize that it is our sensation of loss we are crying over, the void in our heart we are crying over, and not the life which lost itself. It is our feelings we are crying over, and not those of the departed.
Now I have learnt not to crib about death. Do we ever lament about the non-existent state of our loved ones before their birth? It’s the same non-existent state they have attained after death. They came, they lived, they left – nothing more, nothing less. But there is one thing that’s truly liberated – the soul from the prison of the body. I guess it is only something to be glad about. Fly on proud soul, you are free at last!