On a rainy day

When a person wants to unshackle from bondage, barriers and fences can only stop him physically, for his mind is already set free when he decided to unshackle. Such was the case with Kamlesh. Sitting next to the window grills, his mind had already left the class-room. Class IV A, room number 403. His mind was in the cloudy dark sky. Seeing the lightnings form. It started coming down with the rain drops, all the way down till they hit the edge of the asbestos roof, and then split into a thousand drops. Some hitting the window pane, some hitting the ground, and others making the grasses look greener.

With his mind, his eyes also spiraled down from the black sky to the concrete floor. His tongue instinctively touching the broken front teeth, which had got banged on the floor last week. Of course, he was proud of it. Cos, he had made Laxman's nose also bleed that day. And more importantly, he hadn't cried. At least not till he had reached home. The dull monotony of the English poems was only broken by the occasional lightning and the steady downpour. He wanted to reach out his hand and feel the drops in his palms, but, then the teacher would scold, so, he kept them in. Inside his pockets.

He was waiting for the bell to ring. To go for recess. To go and get wet in the rain, when suddenly he heard the teacher call out his name. "Kamlesh, Kamlesh. The principal wants to meet you". And Hari the peon was standing next to the teacher. To take him to the principal's room.

"What does the principal want from me? He has never called me before. Is it because I got D in 4 subjects? Yes that must be the reason", Kamlesh thought. He had heard a lot about the principal's anger, especially at those children who don't study properly. Walking on the corridor, behind Hari, Kamlesh could feel the sweat dripping from his palms. Hitting the ground, much like the rain drops. Suddenly, he realized how dark it was, outside the class, like the darkness in his thoughts. Yash had been to the principal's room some days back. And he had come out crying. And he had not spoken for the whole day, only sobbing, sitting silently in his place. His knees and hands had thin red lines. Were they the marks of a cane? "Hari Uncle. How many canes do you get for a D?" he asked. He didn't get a response.

"What if he tells me to kneel down in his room? What if Laxman sees me? He would surely go and tell everyone. Who would want to talk to me then? How can someone even talk to a student who gets punished by the principal. I don't talk to Yash". These thoughts brought tears in his eyes. He wiped them off with his sweaty palms and entered into the principal’s room. There he was sitting. The bald man. In the big revolving chair. To his left, on the shelf were all the trophies won by the school. He remembered the football trophy which the school won last year. The others were just a blur. Behind his chair was Mahatma Gandhi and chacha Nehru's photo. With the cap and the bright red rose. "Chacha Nehru liked children so much. If he had been our principal, he would never cane anybody", Kamlesh thought, holding back his tears, wiping away the sweat from his hands and almost extending them. Waiting for the canes to come and rip his skin.

Right at that time, he saw uncle Kishore, standing to the right of the principal. "Beta, is this your uncle?”, he heard the principal's booming voice. And Kamlesh nodded in consent. "Ok. He is here to take you home. Your parents met with a small accident and they are in the hospital. Don't worry. Nothing serious. They will be back home in the evening. Now, pack your bags and go home with uncle". Kamlesh suddenly realized that he wasn't getting punished. And he wouldn't be sitting for the English and Maths class too. He could also go out in Kishore uncle's car. In this rain. A smile came to his face, only to be broken by the thoughts of his parents in hospital. And those long held tears burst out from Kamlesh’s eyes.

(The idea for this story was given by my friend Nag)

A poet's dream

Kavi Pratap Singh was a very worried man. He distinctly remembered the raja's words--"Ten days from now, in the glory of the full moon light, you will present to the court, the poems and couplets describing the beauty of Princess Indrani, the third daughter of Maharaja Kamnath Singhji. The Maharaja himself would grace the occasion and so would the princess. I entrust upon your young shoulders, the mighty task of impressing the Maharaja and the princess with your oratory skills. And remember.... failing in your duties would be a personal insult to me and to the Maharaja".

It was natural for the raja to ask Kavi Pratap to present the couplets, for his fame in the arts was matched only by the fame of the Maharaja himself. But today, Kavi was tensed and distraught. For it was the 9th day and not even a word had been written. He could see himself getting diminished in the eyes of the Maharaja like the dying candle light on the table. The candle was casting dark shadows of Kavi on the walls, and somewhere in the darkness of the shadow, he saw his future. Bleak and pale. He could see the shame coming. The shame of not able to live up to the raja's expectations. The shame that the raja would face, because, the best poet in his kingdom could not write about the beauty of Indrani--the raja's heartthrob. Who knows, the Maharaja might even reject the raja's proposal--for who would like to send their daughter to a land devoid of any art and artist? Kavi scribbled something on the paper:

Thee not knows when god gave us this boon.......
When he shone your brightness on this soil as the moon........

He instantly crumpled the parchment and threw it away. What was happening to him? Where was the spark in him that had made him write great epics? He remembered those times, when he used to compete with great poets from far away lands. When wit and beauty of verse were his companions. Those days seemed hazy today. Today, all he could see was shame and failure. He grabbed the pot of madira and gulped it. He felt the sweetness, but, only in his throat, not in the heart. He needed an inspiration and he was devoid of one today. Why today, ever since Kamini, his loved one, had passed away to the nether world, he had lost all happiness. Life was merely an existence, waiting for the day he could join her. He looked around him, and saw all the filth and the parchment pieces. It reflected his sorry state of being. All those parchments that could have been the greatest poem ever written about love and beauty were lying torn apart. Much like his inner self. He was exhausted. His hands were paining and his head was throbbing. His face, which once used to radiate confidence and intellect, was unshaven and haggard today. He had not slept for five nights now and he knew that if he did not do something tonight, there might be no night tomorrow. His aching body cried for him to take rest. "Sleep for sometime. Maybe you would feel refreshed enough to write something, when you wake up". To fight this anxiety and depression, he decided to listen to his body for sometime.

And what a sleep that was. As soon as he fell asleep, he dreamt of Kamini. He dreamt of his soul leaving his body and saw his body lying in the bed, lifeless. He was being transported to some far-off place. he was flying with the birds, high up in the sky. Soon, he was higher. He could see the moon and the sun. He could see other stars, and, gradually he felt one with them. It was a strange feeling. The kind of feeling that he used to get when he was with Kamini. The sensation, where distances simply evaporated and beauty was all that he could see. He flew higher and this feeling disappeared. Suddenly, he was afraid. Where had all the stars gone? Where was everybody? Why was he alone? Instantly, as if to answer his questions, he saw Kamini. First his eyes couldn't take her beauty and they wriggled in pain. She was radiating a golden hue. She was like the sun itself, brightening every object surrounding it. He had not seen anything as beautiful as the pearls around her neck. Each looking like the moon itself. Her golden brown hair had been let loose and shone like the sunrays filtering through the clouds at dusk. There was something divine and pristine about the beauty of her face, that mere mortals like him could not comprehend. She didn’t speak, but, their minds spoke.

"No, this is not the nether world, dear. Though death visits everybody, it has not visited you today. You still have a lot to achieve in your world. Of what purpose would be your existence, if you didn't help two hearts beat in unison? Give the raja, the poetry that he wants and enjoy the pleasure of helping someone to reach out to their loved one."

"But I can't write. My heart is no more a heart. It is but a black stone which radiates only despair. I will only bring shame to the whole kingdom."

"Nah, my dearest. Love cleanses everything on its path. Our love will cleanse your heart too. Come let us go to your world ".

With this they started flying down again, and at the next instant, they were in Kavi's house. Together they talked and thought and wrote about love. The words kept flowing and the inkpot never ran dry. Kavi had never felt such content. The content of true love. Of being with your loved one. The content of knowing that there's a heart out there, which beats for you. After ages, he felt happy. The happiness of knowing that one's work would unite two lovers. Soon, the poetry was done, and it was time for Kamini to go. Kavi wanted her to stay with him, in this house, in this world, but, he knew that this world was not her's anymore.

"Do not be sad, dearest. For we shall meet again, and, when we meet again, we would be together till the end of eternity."

With this, she left and Kavi woke up. It was already morning, and, the sunrays were filtering through the half-closed window. He felt a sense of happiness after ages. What a wonderful dream it had been. Now he was ready to write the poems. He was ready to face the court. Tonight would be his night, when his verses would help the raja win over his love's heart. He got up and went to the desk, to start writing, but, the poem had already been written. He read and the verses rhymed and reverberated with love. He was speechless. His mouth went dry, and all he could mutter was

"Thank you, oh angel with the golden radiance. Thank you, kamini."

My 4th speech at Toastmasters

The purpouse of the 4th speech is to use simple & small sentences, rhetorics, quotes, similies & metaphors,etc.

Good afternoon everyone. Today, I am going to talk about my best friend Suresh. Actually all of us here have met him at least once. At least once, we have lived his life too. Infact, we are living his life right now. If you are wondering who he is, let me give a clue.

He doesn't have a face. He doesn't have an identity except a series of numbers called as an employee id and another series of words called as project name. If you are still not sure who our friend is, then just look around yourself. You will find him everywhere. Our friend Suresh is a software engineer in a multinational company.

A few years back, our friend joined an engineering college. Why did he join an engineering college? Of course because, that's what everyone does, isn't it? Become a doctor or an engineer. The four years spent at the engineering college were hellish for Suresh. He didn't like what he studied. What he liked he couldn't study. Our friend wanted to study history. He wanted to study about the great kings. The Ashokas and the king Arthurs. He wanted to study about the great battles. The battles at Waterloo and at Plassey. "But what would you do after studying that?" his father had asked, and, Suresh had no answer. So, quietly and obediently, stifling his inner longings, Suresh studied engineering. He studied about balls rolling and the forces acting on it, and, about how to represent figures in two dimensions from front and top, and, about how Sodium and Chlorine reacted to form salt, and, about how to use integration and differentiation.

He of course excelled in engineering too. For he was judged on his ability to remember things, not, on his ability to love and cherish things. When he reached the third year of engineering, one day his father asked him. "Son, what do you want to do now? Do you want to do an MBA or MS? Or do you want to do an MTech? Or do you want to work?", and, Suresh had no idea. What he actually wanted to do was study history. Study about the great revolutions that took place. Study about how our fore-fathers fought for independence. He replied, "Dad, I want to study about the independence movement. I want to understand the values that make this country unique. I want to go and see the temples and mosques and churches and Buddhist monasteries, that make-up this country's culture". His dad laughed and said "You can do all that once you have earned sufficiently and have retired. Why don't you join the IT industry? Kumar uncle's son Arvind works in a software company. He earns so much. He has so much respect in society", and, so Suresh ended up attending the interview of the first IT company that stepped in his college campus.

"Where do you see yourself five years down the line?" they asked him in the interview. He wanted to reply "I see myself sitting in the British Council Library, reading about Troy and the Spartans and the Athenians. I see myself as a professor, teaching students about the Chinese and the Ming dynasty. I see myself as a torch spreading the light of knowledge and banishing darkness", but, he replied "Five years from now, I should be leading a team of motivated individuals, who are passionate about their work, and who would work as a team to effectively deliver on services without any compromises on quality", and, of course he got selected, because, that is what everybody wants to hear. Isn't it? He finished his engineering and joined the company. He had a training where, 300 more clueless engineers like him were huddled in a nice, big conference hall and given lectures about the company's Vision, mission and values. He was told to be proud of the fact that he was a member of a fifty thousand strong family. He could only compare this family to the 2nd world war Russian army. Big and respected. Respected not for quality, but, for quantity. With passing days, the boredom in the lectures only increased, for they would teach about Java - the programming language that was changing the world, and, he wanted to learn about the history of the Java volcano in Indonesia.

Just when Suresh thought that he could bear it no more, the training ended, and he was told to go to Chennai. Suresh wanted to come here, to Hyderabad, so that he could see the shield, seal and jewels of the Nizam. So that he could see the beauty of the Gloconda fort. He wanted to understand more about how the Hyderabad princely state joined India, but, reluctantly, he had to agree to go to Chennai, because, he had no other option. Well that was two years back. Yesterday, I was talking to him, and he was telling that he was doing some Java development work now, which would seem like a great job to most people, but, that he was not happy. "Why?" I asked him. He replied that, he doesn't see any challenge in his work. "I mean, I do some real development work. My boss is happy with my work. My client is happy too, but, I find it mundane." He also said that he was planning to go for higher studies, do an MBA to climb up the proverbial corporate ladder. "But what about your passion for history?" I asked him. He had no answer. The passion was still burning in his heart, but, he had become too busy working for material comforts in his life, that the passion was just that - a passion, deep inside and nothing else.

Our friends Suresh is a very dedicated and hard-working man, mind you. I am sure he will succeed in whatever endeavor he takes up. He will succeed. He will earn well. He will have a lot of respect in society, but, would he be happy?

This is the normal career path that most of us follow. Study something because everybody does that, join an industry because, society respects it, manage people because, that is the established sign of success, but, deep down inside, are we happy? When we retire, would we look at our lives with content and happiness, or would we think that our children should not suffer the fate that we suffered, so, let us "guide" them in finding the right career. I think, we all need to look at the Suresh in ourselves and see if the path we are taking is leading us to where we want to go or not. So, let us all think and contemplate and see if we are taking our life to places, or is it society and people's opinions that is doing that job?

My 3rd speech at Toastmasters

Gave it long time back (read "a couple of months"), and have been thinking of posting it also for a long time. Finally doing it today.


The main idea of the 3rd speech is to "get to the point" wherein the speech is supposed to have one central idea and multiple supporting ideas.

Good Afternoon everyone. I am Krishnan Subramanian. Let me start off by taking a quick poll. A couple of questions.

1. How many of you cross the Cyber Towers signal (Cyber Towers is a famous landmark in Hyderabad) while coming to office? (Almost everybody raised their hands)

2. How many of you have seen small children begging near that signal? (Almost everybody raised their hands)

3. How many of you feel that instead of begging, the children should be studying in school and should be playing with other children in the evenings? Basically, how many of you feel that they should have a life better that what they are having right now? (Almost everybody raised their hands)

When so many of us feel that those children should be having a better life, then why are those children still begging on the streets?

That is because, all we do is give lip service. We all agree that those children should have a better life, but, none of us are ready to actually go and do something about it. Ladies and gentleman, today, for my speech, I don't have any speech topic. All I want to do is give instances where we indulge in lip service, and, all I want you to do is, think about it.

So, what can we do for the children? The first and most natural thing thought that comes to our mind is - "give them some money to alleviate them from this poverty". But, do u think that it is money that they need? Can't they get that from begging too? Do you think that the money would actually go into their pockets? Giving money is the easiest thing to do, but, what they actually need is compassion and love. They need to feel that - "yes, there is somebody out there who cares for us", and, how do you do that? Go and talk to them. Make them feel like a normal individual. Stop avoiding them. Convince them that begging wouldn't help them in the long run. Help them join a good child welfare institution, where somebody would love them. If you do this today, so that they can stand on their own legs tomorrow, then you have truly alleviated them from poverty and misery.

One of the core values in TCS states - "respect for individual". Now, we all respect individuality, don't we? We all respect every individual's ideas. We all respect an individual's contribution in a team, but, do we equally respect all individuals? I mean, do we treat our team-mates as respectfully as we treat our managers? To take it further, do we give equal respect to our manager and to the boy who cleans the floors here in TCS? In restaurants, do we treat the waiters respectfully? Is it because, they are providing us a service and so we are superior to them. If that is the case, then just think how we would feel if our clients treated us the way we treat waiters and cleaners? Is it that the waiters and cleaners cannot influence our lives in a negative way, so they can be treated as inferior to us? So what I am trying to say is that we need to treat every individual respectfully in letter and spirit. In terms of respect, there should be no difference between a big shot in our company and a lowly placed person.

Well, I could keep on talking about such instances from our day-to-day life where we indulge in lip service, but, what I am asking you to do is - THINK. From now on, think before every action you take, think before every action that you decide not to take, think before every sentence you utter, think about your feelings, think about your emotions, and follow what your conscience says. Thank you.

Reached 500

I reached a small milestone today with my 500th scrap in Orkut. I still remember that time when I had joined Orkut(my friend Jayram had invited me). I was wondering at that time if anybody would bother to scrap me(cos, in my friend circle, I am really not known to be a very social person),but, in the course of the last 500 scraps, I have not only reached out to a lot of my class-mates and friends, but, have also found some friends with whom I have had almost no contact for more that 10 years. I also made many new friends and fans(27 as of last count), and am really looking forward to my 1000th scrap.

Do check out my earlier post on why I like Orkut.

Dead Miner's Children

Ramesh Kumar Mishra had known Shalini for quite some time. For about 7 years, to be precise. Ramesh's family had seen the thicks and thins of life and Shalini had always supported them in whatever ways she could. He remembered that market crash last year, when he had almost become a pauper. The time when he didn't even have the 700 Rs to give Shalini's salary, and, all she had said was, "give it to me whenever you can. Till then, let me just keep taking care of chote Baba". Shalini had come into Ramesh and Urmila's life when they had become the proud parents of Akhil, a tiny tot who had been abandoned by his young mother in front of an orphanage." Why?" Ramesh had asked the superintendent of the orphanage. "I really dont know--she just kept the baby and went away in the night. Maybe, some unwanted pregnancy. Who knows?" he had replied. "Sahib, if I start finding out the background of all these children, I would be the saddest man in the whole of Bombay. I am just happy that they would atleast study and stand on their own legs than get maimed and beg for some thug for the rest of their lives."

When Ramesh and Urmila had been looking for an aya for Akhil, one of the neighbours had suggested Shalini. "She is from some place near Dhanbaad." they had said. "Had a husband who died in some accident.Couldn't take care of her 3 children.So, she left them at some chachi's place and came here to Bombay.To look for some job."

Akhil had immediately grown a fondness for Shalini and soon, she and Chote Baba -- the title she gave Akhil -- became best friends, and, maybe her only friend. When she was not with Akhil, she prefered to be with the tulsi plant. Watering the plant and showing the same tenderness that she showed with Akhil. In the beginning , under Ramesh's prodding, Urmila had tried a few times to find out a little bit about her past,but, any mention of her family or of Dhanbaad only brought a sad look on her face, and, soon Urmila stopped it. More for herself, than for Shalini's sake.

Calling Shalini a reclusive person would have been a gross misunderstanding on reclusiveness. As far as he could remember, Shalini had talked to him only once. "Chote Baba will be all rigth na?" She had asked Ramesh, concern and sadness adorning her face, when Akhil had a bout of Jaundice last May. Chote Baba took some time, but, he did recover, and the jaundice took away the sadness too, and, she again went back to her cocoon -- herself, Chote Baba and the tulsi plant. She seemed to be very happy with this daily charade of activities--too happy for Ramesh's comfort. What was she trying to hide? What is being kept at bay? Why does she feel sad to talk about her family? What are her children doing? Are they being treated well by her relatives? Are they even with their relatives, or, were they abandoned long time back in some institution's gate? These dark thoughts often crossed Ramesh's mind, but, he knew the antidote for this.Hope. Had Akhil not got a better life? Had Ramesh himself not pulled out of so many tight situations? He had the confidence in Shalini's love for her children, that made him hopeful that wherever she had left them, they would be happy.

In the morning, during breakfast, Ramesh had been talking to Urmila about his plans to invest in the Coallite India IPO , when Shalini broke her silence."Sahib don't trust them." She had said."Their fame is blotched with the blood of innocent people."

Ramesh had been stunned. First, at the fact that Shalini had spoken and then at what she had spoken. While he was contemplating what to say, he could see Shalini's face go ash-white and those eyes--those beautiful brown eyes, fill with tears, and, she broke down, and, finally those emotions, that had been suppressed for years came pouring out.


Shalini came from a labourer's family. Life was comfortable during the harvesting season when his father and two brothers could get mazdoori in one of the zameedar's many farms for 20 Rs. per person per day, but, the harvesting season came only once in four months. Other times, they had to do odd jobs to sustain the family. So, everybody had been very happy when, at a mature age of 14 years, Shalini had been married-off to Pavan Pratap Singh, an orphan from the neighbouring village who worked in one of Coallite India's coal-mine. Atleast he had a steady source of income ! Life was happy in the new home and soon she and Pratap became parents. Proud parents of two beautiful twin daughters Karuna and Krupa and of a baby boy, Kamlesh. A modest upbringing and a less than enviable economic situation could never stifle Shalini and Pavan spirit's to dream, and what a dream that was ! They dreamt of Karuna and Krupa becoming a doctor and teacher, using knowledge to banish diseases from humanity and using intellect to remove evil from society, and , of Kamlesh becoming an IPS officer to use might and integrity to keep a clean society. This palace of dreams was raised in a village where no girl had studied past 5th standard and no boy had passed matriculation, but, these dreams were to come shattering down, because, a safety engineer in the mine had decided to sell his soul for a few thousand rupees.

"How could an engineer do this?" Ramesh could hear Shalini whisper, in between her sobs."Is this what their 16 years of education teach them?" A faulty safety fuse and alarm system in the mine had been deliberately over-looked for about three years,becuase, replacing it would have meant a shut-down of 2 days, resulting in production losses. A penalty has to be paid when an error is over-looked, and here it was paid with the lives of 16 miners, including Pavan, when a methane gas leakage never got detected. The police promptly arrested the mine owner and the safety engineer, more to protect them from the mob fury, than to punish them,and soon released them on bail. In the shok samaroh held on the 13th day, Badri Prasad Sharma, the local MLA had personally met Shalini and promised her that the government would bear the cost of the children's education and help her in fulfilling the dreams that she and Pavan had dreamt of, but, life soon became a nightmare. The local tantrik, who had always had an eye on the small plot of land in front of Shalini's house, decided that the village had to be exorcised of witches like Shalini."God alone is witness to that ghastly night, when I had packed whatever I could in this little jhola bag and had carried Kamlesh and ran. Lucky for me that Karuna and Krupa were old enough to run.We had ran for about eight kilometers with the villagers chasing us with mashals and knives and sickles." Dawn had broken out when she finally reached Badriji's house. After trying to shoo her away for about 2 hours, the guard had finally agreed to allow her to meet the MLA when he would arrive outside in his car. When the car did come, the guard talked to MLAji and called Shalini towards the car. The MLA looked with pity at her sorry state and instructed the guard to take care of her and drove off only to stop a few feet away and the MLA was seen handing a 50 Rs note to the guard to give to Shalini and to send her away, to avoid her embarrasing presence during the evening press-meet.The guard did as instructed, well almost, he pocketed the 50Rs note and drove away Shalini.

"Why didn't you go to your parents house?" Urmila had asked. "Memsaab, I would have rather jumped into the village well that go and bring disrepute to my parents.My brothers wouldn't have allowed me to stay anyway." "A daughter is parent's sampati, a wife is husband's, but, a widow---nobody's." Urmila could see Ramesh's face twitch with anger at the treatment that had been meted out to Shalini, but, she knew that he understood the Indian feudal system very well. What could a miner's widow do, except run away to save her own life and that of her children? "So, where are your children now?" Ramesh asked."I left them at my chachi's place, near Kishangunj. She was the only person whom I could trust at that time. The money order that I send every month helps her in running her own family and in educating my children." Shalini, who by now had composed herself, replied. "Kamlesh is studying in the 5th standard, while Karuna and Krupa are studying in the 8th standard. Chachi tells me that they are very bright and are very sincere in their studies.Bas, once they finish their studies and take up whatever god has decided for them, then I can also rest in peace. Here is a photo of them." Shalini said, holding a half crumpled photo.It showed 3 children in school uniform, giving a toothy grin. Their face was radiating with innocence, but, somewhere deep in their eyes, Ramesh could see a flicker of determination. The kind of determination that you would see in a person who has always failed and is still ready to take on the next challenge. A determination to succeed against all odds. A determination that could stand in front of a whole village mob and mock at them for trying to attack their aspirations, and Ramesh decided on his investment. He decided to invest in the futue of these young children -- the children of a dead miner.

The Old man and the Park

Ramakanth Achrekar was the king of a very small empire. In terms of area, it was all of 400 square yards. For Ramakanth though, it was more than a piece of land. The Swami Vitthal Rao park near the Chandan Nagar bus stand was Ramakanth's family, parents and friends -- all clubbed into one. His heart filled with nostalgia whenever he thought of that day, eight years ago, when he had first set foot on the park. "She is all yours! Take good care of her." was all he had been instructed, when he was given the keys of the park gate. But, what other instruction could he need. Can a father be really instructed as to how to take care of his children ? All he had to do was love his children, and, love was the greatest teacher.

The first couple of years had been the most difficult ones. Running from pillar to post to get an uninterrupted water and power supply. Once that had been achieved, then the children also started coming. First it was jasmine, then sunflower, then the red roses. Soon, the whole park was filled with flowers of all colours and hues -- a collection worthy of earning any botanist's praise. But, as they say--life is not a bed of roses , and, soon the thorns started pricking. Bosses decided that the park should have a walk-way also. Well nothing wrong about it,except that there was no space for one. So, some plants had to be uprooted, and , Ramakant was asked to keep the most beautiful flowers and to remove the rest. "How can you keep your most beautiful child and kill the rest?" Ramakant had asked, tears rolling down his eyes, and , he had got the response that he had expected. A studied silence , indicating "just get the damn thing done!!!".

A shock went down Ramakant's spine whenever he thought of that day. The day when he had committed the ultimate sin . The day when a father had killed his own children.

Soon the walk-way came and along came the walkers and joggers. He could see their feet stomping on the graves of his beloved children,but, these dark thoughts were always cleared away by the laughter of the small children who would keep running around the legs of their parents. The children became such an integral part of the park that soon the park came to be known as "Chacha Nehru Children's Garden" and Ramakant as Ram Chacha . In due course of time, benches were put for the joggers to take rest.But, tell me, which couple can resist a bench in a park filled with flowers? So, the benches for joggers became hangouts for couples, and, Ram chacha became the ultimate philosopher, helping out couples in sorting out their numerous quarrels, teaching them about priorities in life, guiding them to help others and to embrace happy and sad moments with equal enthusiasm. Ramakanth's heart would fill with joy during the april months, when the couples would give way to children from the nearby orphanages , who would use the benches as study tables and the walk-way light as reading lamps to study for their exams. How many students used this park library and graduated in the university of life?--god alone knew.

Ramakanth's train of thoughts were disturbed when he heard the park gate squeaking. "The hinges need to be oiled. Maybe I will do that tomorrow" thought Ramakanth. But, there was no tomorrow, because, today was Ramakanth's 60th birthday and the day for him to part with his family. His replacement had already come and he seemed like a good young man. Ramakanth handed him the gate keys. "Any special instructions?"--the replacement asked. "Nothing beta. Just be like the park. Always help others in whatever way you can, whether they punish you or please you. And do take good care of her. She is all yours"--Ramakanth heard himself saying.

Coming back

The speedometer was hitting 60. Ramanand could hardly see the lush green farm lands. They were just running by, though, not as fast as his thoughts. He still remembered that day 7 years back. The day when his father had sent him to the city.....to study. Ramanand was from a typical Indian agrarian family. His father Mr. Rajakumar Shastry, had been a farmer all life long, diligently tilling and farming in his land, his four bheegas of zameen, maybe the only thing worth possessing in his house-hold, and, of course the 2 cows-Gayatri and Neelam. They were more of a family member that mere animals, and, like any good family-member, they had always supported Mr. Shastry, through the thick and thins of life, always giving the milk, never complaining, never even raising a sound.

Mr. Shastry's life had always been a life of struggle, a life of sacrifice, a life where something always had to be lost to get something. Ramanand's eyes moistened when he thought of the day, he had gone to the city. The day when his father had parted with 2 bheegas of zameen, so that he could get enough money to send his son to the city. He still remembered how his father had stifled his tears---tears at the loss of a son to the bustling city, from where he may never return and the loss of his land.... the land of his ancestors..... the land which had been handed over for generations, and had now been sold to a zamindar so that he could give it to somebody else as his daughter's dowry.

Ramanand could see big rocks with barbed wires tied to it, criss-crossing the green fields. He knew that each of these barbed wires were hitting a thousand lashes on some poor father's back. “How could people just take away pieces of family land, as if they were some spoils of a war. Why couldn't brothers learn to share? Why couldn't "I" be suppressed to keep "OUR" family together?" The blood being spilled for each piece of land-----it was our own blood. Wasn't it? The symptoms were many, but, the disease was one--Greed. It was greed that made brothers fight each other, it was greed that made one jealous to see his own brother succeed, it was greed that split families. “Why couldn't people be as happy to give up as they were to accept?” thought Ramanand.

His thoughts were broken, when he saw a toddler. Busy playing with some wooden toy. Busy in his own small world, where amma, appa and the toy were all that existed. How innocent he was?Oblivious to the hatred and evil surrounding him. In the distance, the sun was setting, and, he could see the children returning from school. Dressed in white shirt and grey short-pants, carrying the bag on their shoulders. They were the face of the new India. Children brought up in a society, where love and kindness was thought in schools, and, hatred at homes. He asked his driver to stop the car near a water pump.

He cupped his hand below the pump, while the driver operated it. The squeaky sound of the pump lever was soon replaced by the sound of the water flowing. It was cold and refreshing. He could feel the sweetness in his mouth and the freshness in his throat. He could imagine the beauty of the Godavari in his mind, while the water played its magic in his body. Seeing his white ambassador car, soon, a big crowd gathered around him. there were all sorts of people. Farmers hastily removing their turban towels as a mark of respect, women covering their head with ghoonhat and holding it with their mouth, children tugging their mother's saree, old men sitting under the tree, now getting up to see what all this melee was about. All around, he could see poverty---tattered clothes, shanty houses, naked children. There was prosperity in the land, but, it never trickled down here. All around, he heard people begging for help. He could see the sadness in their faces. They were all malnourished. Most had lost the will to live. Poverty and an inefficient administration had already killed them before age could take over. He had seen hardships before. He had seen poverty before, but, he had always seen hope along with it, and today there was none.

And that day, in the squalor of the village, in the midst of the malnourished villagers, standing near the water pump with a tear in his eye, Ramanand Shastry, IAS, Collector of Kakinada, East Godavary district, decided to fight. Fight against the injustices of society. Fight against an inefficient administration of which he was a part .Fight against hatred and greed and bloodshed, and maybe, most importantly, fight to bring a smile on these poor villager's faces.

A hard night's work

After a hard night's work, Alex was returning home. A bouncer's life in a seedy bar was filthy anyway.....it became filthier, when you had to throw out three scumbags in a day.It was already 3:30 and Alex calculated that it would take atleast half an hour more.The night had been stormy,the rain slowly buiding up from a drizzle to a heavy downpour......it was stormy in more ways than one. Thoughts were whirling around in his mind. "Why did the old man talk about the revolution, heck, what revolution? Why did he not come earlier?Why did he wait till I was at the very edge and then tell me some crap and go away? Did he himself believe in this revolution bullshit?Why did the country need a revolution anyway?"Well, it all boiled down to one and only one question...."was he demented or am I?"

These thoughts ony made the raindrops more hard.....and sharp........he shuddered........his body, pierced by the rain, and, his mind, by the old man's blabber.He held his coat more tightly, somehow hoping that it would not only protect him from the rain,but, also from within.


He felt a movement behind him. From the corner of his eye, he could figure out a shadow crouching behind him. He kept walking, hoping that it was just another passer-by, going home after a hard night's work,but, suddenly, a thought struck him.....who would use these mean streets at this late an hour?Only people like him and the people like the one whom he would throw out. He slowly turned. The shadow actually had a body.The body had a face. A poke-marked one, adorned with a 3-day old stubble and sporting a nice long cut from the left nostril, all the way to the ear.....and it had a fimilarity......fimilarity of the face whom he had thrown out today.

Alex cursed himself. The kind of curse that didn't have any reason or listener(except yourself), the kind that you just said to relieve your frustration......but, then he reembered the wise old saying....."People who don't learn once, have to be taught again." He could see the water dripping from the edge of the knife.The dim street light made it's razor sharp edges shine like diamonds....not the kind of shine that attracted awe,but, the kind, that attracted disgust.Alex cursed again."Why do such beauties always exist in the hands of a beast".The next thing he felt was the swooshing sound of the knife striking, and he moved back to avoid it , and then, he also felt the pain. He always hated to see blood...........and his own, he hated the most.

His right palm was bleeding. The blood was dripping to the ground and the rain was doing the rest......washing it down the gutter. he didn't have time to settle it the old-fashioned way.So, he took out the revolver and pointed it straight at the scum's temple. He always felt a surge of pride when he saw his darling.The kind of pride, a father would feel, when he saw his son win a trophy...but, today, there were no trophies to be won. Only scum's to be killed.

Alex's eyes moved from the tip of his darling to the eyes of the assailant. The eyes were shallow........a drunkard's eyes....and the bland eyes showed only one emotion.....Fear....Fear of Death. Alex then remembered the second saying"don't teach more than what is necessary". The eyes showed that the man had learnt his lesson."These streets already have a lot of dirt.....don't add more"told Alex. With these words..more to himself , than to anyone else... Alex pulled his coat closer ,turned and walked away.

My second speech at Toastmaster's

Good afternoon everyone. I am Krishnan Subramanian and today, I am going to give my second speech. In my speech, I am going to talk about arguably, India's greatest asset---No, I am not talking about democracy, or freedom of speech or multi-culturalism or anything of that sort. I am going to talk about Bollywood and about how it simultaneously been the greatest reflection of the Indian society and also its greatest influencer.

If you see, it was only after independence, during the 50's and 60's, when making a movie for a living became a lucrative profession, and, India at that time was going through a turbulent phase. Independence had generated so much optimism and hope--maybe, for hte first time in their life, people believed in a bright future, but, there was also the concern of freedom getting to our head and our population becoming morally corrupt, the fear of the government not able to administer effectively and the country slipping into anarchy. These emotions were very beautifully portrayed in many Raj Kapoor movies, most notably 'Shri 420' where Raj Kapoor acts as a country boy who moves to a big city to earn a living and ends up becoming a swindler, or 'Jis desh mein Ganga behti hei' in which he shows the life of dacoits who steal and fight against the police. I think, the greatest contribution of Raj Kapoor to Bollywood and to Indian cinema in general was that, his movies made you sit and think--is our country going in the right direction? What can I do to change thing?, etc.

This kind of thinking took an extreme position in the 70's. That was the time when general disillusionment and hatred against the 'System' was beginning to take root, and the emergency only further fueled this feeling. In Bollywood also, this was the era of the angry young man who would fight the system, and, when you think of angry young man, only one person comes to your mind--Amitabh Bachchan. Whether it was the inspector Vijay Khanna of 'Zanjeer' or Vijay Verma of 'Deewar' or maybe movies like Trishul and Kaala Pathar, all of them showed Amitabh Bachchan fight the tyranny of the system, and , along with fighting the system, Bachchan also teamed up with Dharmendra to fight Ghabbar Singh in Sholay. That was one movie, which revolutionized the film industry, because, for the first time, both the hero and the villain were being shown as equally powerful characters.

In the late 80's and early 90's, the tide shifted towards family-centric, romantic musicals. If you would excuse my usage of non-English words, these were the typical "Samajik and Parivarik" movies-- movies like "Hum apke hei kaun", "Dilwale Dulhania Le jayenge", etc. These movies catered to a family audience consisting of both the young and old, and, in the last 4 to 5 years, to put it bluntly, the whole spectrum is getting covered, for example, gritty violent movies like "Satya", "D", "Ab tak Chappan" at one end, movies like "Kabhi khushi kabhi gham", "Kabhi alvida na kehna", at the other end and movies like "Krrish", "Munnabhai", "Jhankar beats", somewhere in between.

Now, there have always been allegations that stories in Bollywood are not truly original and that many times; they are "inspired" ones. Example, "Akele hum akele tum" as a copy of "Krammer Vs Krammer" or "Kaante" as a copy of "Usual suspects" and "Reservoir dogs", but, there have been some movies which have taken a very much existing story and blended it into an Indian context--the most recent example being, Shakespeare’s Othello in the UP badlands as "Omkara".

However, one genre of movies that Bollywood is yet to take up is science-fiction. The closest we have come to is Mr. Anil Kapoor Invisible as Mr. India or maybe, "Tarzan--the wonder car", but, this is one genre that is yet to pick-up. Also, we are yet to see more of super-hero flicks. "Krrish" is a good start, but, there is a lot of potential in that field.

From patriotic flicks to fighting against the system, to lovers running around trees to gangsters slugging it out--Bollywood has indeed come a long way and every time, it has succeeded in capturing the pulse of the audience. I dearly hope that this continues in the coming decades also.

Hyde

Today, me and Saurav met this band called the Hyde.They play on saturday's and Sunday's(8:30 PM to 10:30 PM) in Little Italy.

It just started off as one of our regular trips to Barista.While sipping some calypso something, we heard some guitar music and a guy singing(Saurav later told me that he was singing a Linkin Park song), and it was followed up by "ab toh adat si hei mujhko" by Jal. I kinda liked the guy's voice,and, then Saurav did one of his "I want to buy you a drink" thing, and, the next thing I knew, we were all sitting together and talking about sufi music(actually it was mainly Saurav and the lead singer---I was just intently listening, as I mostly do).

My first impression about those guys was kinda sceptical(to say the least :) ) . I mean, I have never really respected the college going guys with torn jeans pants and lockets around their neck and smoking ciggis.I always used to think that they were "rich dad's spoilt kids",but, these guys made me change my opinion cos they have talent and I think pure talent and raw enthusiasm overshadows all other characters. I found out that they mostly like to sing sufi songs with a little bit of their own. They sang one of their originals---a very strong song that really made me sit and think.They have a few rough edges to be smoothened,but, they have a lot of potential.

These are the kinda guys whom I would have dismissed off one year ago as failures,cos, they are not of the type who would please teachers and get good marks, and then go join a MegaCorp., but, now I have realised that success lies in achieving what you want, rather than achieving what society wants you to achieve and they are the ones who would rather chuck the whole world and follow their passion than go take the well-trodden path.

Guys, you and your soulful songs made me sit up and think....which I did after a very long time....keep up the good work.

The Revolution

Pleas read "the meeting" before reading this post.

It was a rainy saturday evening and Alex was sitting by the window watching the rain splatter against the window pane. The rain drops bouncing off the window panes were making him wet, but, that pleased him. The vodka in his hand was as clear as the falling water. He liked the way his throat burned when the sips of vodka went in , every burning sensation an infinite ecstasy. He madly wanted a drink to wind-off the day.

The day had been long and tiresome , for it was not an easy task to go and meet yourself and convince not to kill yourself.In the morning, when he had been talking, he had felt the grip of fear--the same feeling he had felt 5 months back, when he had been participating in the march and firing orders had been given.How he survived that incident, god alone knew. And that day he had promised himself not to do anything foolish again, not to do anything that he would have to regret later, and, today, he had broken that promise. He knew the repurcussions of an illegal time migration,even if it was only for 10 mins.Who was he fooling but himself, when he thought that 10 min into the past would not change anything.

He sighed and realised that there was no point thinking about the repurcusions... the action had already been commited, and the penalty was known--death---courtesy, a firing squad.An illegal time migration did not require a case and hearing and punishment and all, all it required, was to get recorded, and death.The squad would be here anytime now,but, Alex was not afraid of them anymore. He had finished all of his tasks for this life.

The next sip brought a feeling of content---content at the way he had conviced his younger counterpart. He knew himself very well. All it had required, was to give a glimpse of the future--the rest would automatically be understood and acted upon.But until he could choose the exact words to utter, it had been a harrowing experience.The same feeling of helplessness--- mouth going dry. Feeling as if you were standing in a crowded room, with the microphone in front of you, everyone watching you, and , you had nothing to say.To avoid this thought, Alex started thinking about the revolution. He still vividly remembered that cold January morning when the great bard had been executed.That execution was the trigger point that had bought the collapse of the monarchy(or the "government"--as it was officially called).The bard had been a kind and gentle man, who was liked by everyone except the one's who mattered, and, revolutionary songs talking of freedom from tyranny hadn't exactly helped him either.When the bard had been executed, the revolutionaries found a rallying point.If today, the government shoots the messenger of freedom, tomorrow, it would shoot freedom itself, and, as always, it had been the students who stood up for the cause. Ofcourse, sending riot-police to the university campus only stoked the fire instead of dousing it.The student movement was soon joined by traders who saw better profits in an open market(an off-shoot of proper democracy) and the working class(all they wanted was better working conditions--but the monarch was too much in the sky to hear their voice ) and the artists and intellectuals(cos the revolution had the power of free will) and the politicians(because, by now, the revolution was supported by a majority of voters)and the army(who understood that supporting the monarch was a lost cause).

When more than a million people from all corners of the country and all walks of life had gathered in front of the monarch's palace as a show of strength, all he could do was announce elections and run away.Alex's thoughts were suddenly broken by a crisp knock on the door.He got up and opened the door. The squad leader was standing with a letter in his hand."Mr Alex. A.Jeffrey, as you are well aware, an illegal time migration happened today..........do u have any last wishes, which we will try to fulfill to the best of our ability "."Just let me finish my Vodka"--Alex replied.

my ice breaker at Toastmasters

This is the icebreaker speech(ie the first speech) that I gave at Toastmasters.Some of the points mentioned here(especially about the Dhurva reactor) may be factually incorrect,but, it has mainly been done to convey the boys emotions and feelings.

So here goes my speech............

Good afternoon everyone. I am Krishnan Subramanian.Every member of the Toastmaster's club gives an introductory speech as his/her first speech which is called as an ice-breaker. It normally covers the speakers childhood, his interests,his likes and dislikes, his philosophies in life,etc,but, today, in my ice-breaker, I don't want to talk about myself. Rather, I want to talk about a book that I am writing. Please don't think that its a promotional campaign for my book :-) .

Like every attractive book, it will also have a beautiful cover that would make it stand right out among the other books in the book-shelf.I am so confident that the cover would be beautiful and attractive,because, I won't be designing the cover.

The first chapter of the book would talk about a boy who was born in the temple town of Madurai. Though he was born in Madurai and his parents , grand parents,uncles and aunties, everyone was from Tamil Nadu, still, he could never associate himself with the Tamil culture.He liked to call himself a Mumbaikar--not a Bombaiyite or a Mumbaite--mind you,but, a Mumbaikar--in the typical Marathi lingo.That was because, though he was born in Madurai,but, he was completely brought up in Mumbai and he used to love the city.See, anyone who lives in any city long enough, starts loving it,but, his fondness for the city was not because of time, but, because, he thought that Mumbai was a citythat thrived on ideas. It was a city where anyone could succeed, whatever be the parameters of success .Also, it was a city, where everyone --rich and poor--saw all the aspects of life everyday. For example, the Tatas and Ambanis, they may have costly cars costing crores of rupees,but, still they would have to travel in the pot-holed roads, they would still have to live in a polluted city , they would still have to see the orphaned children and street beggars everyday--just like an ordinary mumbaikar would see. The city ensured that everyone saw both the highs and lows, so that everyone would aspire to fly in the sky,but, would also be cautious enough to keep their feet firmly on the ground.So this was the lesson that our boy learnt from his love affair--fly high with your feet firmly on the ground.

The second chapter would talk about the boy's childhood. Our boy was from a typical middle class background.His mother was a school teacher and his dad was a scientist at BARC, Bhabha Atomic research Centre.All the kids in his colony,mind you, though I call it a colony,but, it actually housed more than 13000 families. I could say, it was bigger than even Madhapur(a place in Hyderabad).Anyway, all the kids in his colony had a lot of respect for BARC,for wasn't it the research institution that had put India on the international map by its peaceful usage of nuclear energy.But, our boy thought that that it was just a very successful hype campaign done by the government and that, like any other government institution, it was an epitome of inefficiency and beauracracy.When he was in the 9th std, he got a chance to see a nuclear reactor as part of a science excursion trip. The reactor that he saw was the Dhurva reactor.It was almost as tall as a 13-storwy building.To go to the reactor core, he had to cross a concrete wall of more than 10 feet thickness.(Mostly inconsistent data--but then our boy was neven good at estimations :-)). Luckily for him, the day he went, the reactor had been shut down for maintenance purpouses.So, he could go right into the core.(or what he though off as the core), and, he was dumb-struck by what he saw. The intricate layers of fuel rods, controllers, coolant pipes,etc looked like a real zoomed-in image of the intricate thread weavings in a cloth.He immediately realised that , what he was seeing was not some art work,but, an engineering marvel, that few other countries in the world had achieved.That day, for the first time in his life, he felt proud to be an Indian,and that day, our boy learnt the 2nd lesson of his life--don't make judgements until you have seen thing for yourself.

Well, I could keep on going about the various chapters of my book covering various aspects of our heroes life,but, you all must be wondering----tomorrow, if I want to go and buy the book , or if I want to go and read the book,then what will I tell the book-keeper or librarian?How will I recognise the book?So, let me conclude by telling you the name of my book. The book is titled--"My Life" by Krishnan Subramanian.

the cult of 'The Himesh'

A few days back , me and my roomie had a realisation. After listening to the nth. remix of Himesh Reshamiya, we realised that he is the messiah, the true leader of the down-trodden souls like us, who will rescue us from the mindless music of Bollywood music directors like Kishore Kumar, Mohd. Rafi, Bappi lahiri,........A.R.rehman,........Anu Malik(no--not him, he is only a biological version of a Photocopier).

We realised that we had become members of the cult of 'The Himesh' .Membership to the cult is only through the ardous route of realisation ---the realisation that He is the messaih and on judgement day, 'The Himesh' will come in his true self(with a cap, a beard, a microphone and a sad look adorning his face) and seperate us believers from the others, and he will take us to his sacred kingdom, where there will be TVs all around, all showing the same channel---'etc' and always showing songs of 'The Himesh',but, till judgement day, we followers will have to pray--and the only form of prayer is to get up everyday in the morning and sing 'ooooooooo..............huzoooooooorrrr.....'.
Since, membership to the cult can be obtained only through self-realization, so 'others' should not come to know of 'the cult of The Himesh',otherwise,'others' will start persecuting the true believers. Incase, anyone not belonging to the cult, comes to know about it then he/she should be tortured and killed--how? , by making them listen to the songs of 'The Himesh'.You see, the songs of'The Himesh' are divinity to the ears of the believers and torture to the 'Others'.

Now that you also know about 'the cult of The Himesh' and you are not a believer,so, you must be tortured and killed.Just wait,seven working days fom now(Saturday's are also working), you will get a call. When you pick up the phone, thw voice will say'ooooooo....huzzzoooorrrr...' and you would know that the end is nearing.

I started Orkutting--Finally

For a long time now, I have been wanting to join the orkut community.Finally did that a few days back.
my thoughts on Orkut:

1. Typical web2.0 site with a lot of importance on building a community
2. Its great to see that the natural way of making friendship thru friends and their friends has been wonderfully replicated here.
3. Even better to see the absence of any sophisticated algorithms to find "ur best possible friends by searching for key words from ur profile".
   
4. One sad thing though is the huge registration form. It would have been nice if the user could just log on and then update his profile as and when he/she chooses to.
5. Also the UI leaves a lot to be desired--> Why put all the fancy buttons making the pages that much more slower to load--> Hven't they heard of this thing called Linklabels.
   
6. It was a nice experience to scribble on scrapbooks of friends whom I have not seen for almost 2 years.
7. overall it was a very nice experience and the site has won another loyal fan :-)
   

10 movies that I really like

The following is a list of ten movies that I really like(no particular order):
(I know this is a complete waste of time and is not going to serve any purpouse for anyone--but just felt like doing it :-) )

1. Matrix(only the first part)
2. Pirates of the Silicon valley
   
3. Seven
4. Veer-Zaara(maybe the only Shahrukh Khan movie that I really like)
5. No, Swades also(like the scene where Shahrukh Khan drinks water from the kid's jug)
   
6. Troy
7. Shawshank Redemption(saw it a long time back and dont remember most of the scenes--but the dialogues about Hope were nice)
8. Dude where's my car?
9. Nayagan(Tamil movie)
10. Lakshya(kinda like the way, Hrithik changes after his temporary drop out from the army)
11. Sholay
12. Satya
    

I guess there are some more,so, I will just continue

12. Passion of the Christ
13. Star trek--first Contact
14. Ek ruka hua faisla-- It is a Pankaj Kapoor movie in which 15 members of a jury sit and decide if a guy(or was it a kid??) committed a murder or not.
15. Blair witch project(only the 1st part--the best horror movie I have ever seen)
16. Sixth Sense(the 2nd bestand Unbreakable also)
17. Mughal-e-Azam(never seen the whole movie continuously)
18. Iqbal(very inspiring)
19. Lord of the rings--The fellowship of the ring(I like the hooded guys on horses who keep chasing the ring-bearer)
20. Benhur
21. Omkara(could have been slicker,but, I am ready to excuse that)
22. Hotel Rwanda
23. American Pie(the first part only---- how did I forget it earlier)
24. Luther
25. Don--The chase begins-the One with Sharukh Khan--ok one more SRK movie that I liked :)
26. Shiva--The hindi one--Starring Mohit Alawat and directed by RGV
27. Euro trip-- absolute classic--esp. the character of Mika's brother

How revolutions come--the Nepal case

After seeing V for Vendatta, me ,Sundar and Saurav were discussing about how countries go into anarchy and about the trigger points for a revolution.

I see a good example of a revolution brewing in Nepal.

If we see the Nepal case, the main trigger points are:

1. General discontent--A general feeling among the people that their freedom is being suppressed in the name of national security.
2. A rallying point--though the King's rule(or emergency as it is called) has been there for about 14 months now, but, the people could not find a rallying point. Now that the 7-party alliance has come up and there is some one out there spearheading a movement, it has found mass appeal.
3. A common enemy uniting different sections--For a long time now, the maoists didnt seem to see an eye to eye with the various political parties in Nepal,but, a bigger enemy--the king, taking powers into his hands seems to have made the maoists cosy up to other parties.
4. A general change in atmosphere--Nepal, which has been a sleepy country in the himalayan foothills, famous only for its natural beauty, suddenly seems to be in fires today--the change in situation has more to do with a general awakening of the people and a feeling among the common man that some political decisions taken in a palace in Kathmandu is affecting his life.

I don't know if the power will be transferred to people completely or even if the the new government that might get formed would be any better than the king's rule--but what I can be sure about is the fact that the people of Nepal have understood the real meaning of freedom and that itself will ensure a form of governance where the government is afraid of the people and not vice-versa(sound fimiliar??--copied from V for vendetta)

why I like Google calendar

1. Uncluttered UI.Rather I should say, a, no-nonsense UI.
2. Drag and Drop does most of the things.....no save button or delete button in the main screen.
3. Really like the way, the "what" and "when" fields change from uneditale to editable,when you move the mouse over it....
4. Ability to customise the view, for weekly,monthly, and next n days.
5. The agenda for the day comes to my mail everday.
6. The use of basic colors...typical google approach towards color selection.
7. I have not had to use the Help link till now(is there a help link??).
   

some things I would like to see:

1. The screen looks basically like an excel sheet,so, the user should have the ability to change the size of each cell(the way it is done in excel).
2. Should be able to change the month(and year), without clicking again and again on the >> button.
   

D for Dashed hopes

A few days back ,I went to watch V for Vendatta. Being a Wachowski brother's movie, I expected it to be stylish and slick and revolutionary(I am not talking about overthrowing governments) like Matrix.Alas, I was in for disappointment.Lessons learnt:

1. When you go for a movie based on some novel,book or comic, then do read the novel,book or comic before going for the movie.Then only you will be able to appreciate the idea being presented in the movie, in the right context.
2. Dont compare 2 movies made by the same guys.A movie like Matrix(only the 1st part) is unmatchable in terms of the sheer audacity of the thinking that we are not in control of our lives and that what we see is not real(did I read the same in Bhagvad Geeta about moh maya)and for a lot of other reasons ,but, expecting that all the movies made by Wachowski brothers will be like Matrix is like expecting all search engines to work like Google.
3. Identify the intended audience and see if you are part of that.Maybe taking bullets from 7 or 8 machine guns and still surviving to beat the hell out of 7 or 8 baddies might be heroic for some--for me it looked like a cheap copy of some Rajnikant movie :-).
4. Go with an open mind and dont have any opinion about the movie till you have seen it completely.

From now on, I intend to follow these points to have a better viewing pleasure :-) .

and BTW, I think the film never talks about the concepts of The Land of Do-As-You Please and the Land of Take What You Want.Also, the movie doesn't seem to stick to the story of the original comics.

Exposure

When we all have a goal to work towards,we put our efforts in a definite direction and we all become the eopitome of sincerity,perseverance and mostly epitome of smartness also.So, when we know a goal, we are able to decide how to work towards it,but, how do we decide what is our goal?There are many factors that go into deciding a goal,but, I feel that one factor that governs all other factors is "Exposure".

For most software engineers (like me), some of the goals would be like:working on new technologies,climbing up the corporate ladder(or maybe starting something of your own,when you feel you are ready), earning money, interacting with people from varied cultures,etc.,but, how do we decide the benchmark for each of these goals.For example,lets take the game of cricket.If the best guy from your place is the guy who hs played at the district level(and you don't have a TV to influence you), then you might max. think of making it to the county team, but, if you have interacted with a guy who has made it to the county team,then you would like to be better than him and try to play for the national team.

Or maybe, incase , the most respected person in your place is a guy who manages, lets say,50-60 odd people across 2 or 3 projects in some company which is widely respected, then you would also try to be like him,maybe manage more people,get a higher post or something,but,in that situation or environment, you would never think of starting your own thing--> not because, you are incapable, but, because of the fear of the unknown(no one you know has done it before).

Now all of us don't get the best possible exposures at all times,so, we have to go and find out things.Some ways of getting new and better ideas(cos thats what exposure is supposed to do)can be by:

1. Talking to different types of people(as many as possible) .For example,lets say, you are a Java developer,then constantly interact not only with your team-members,but,also with developers working in other languages,testers,people from the QA team,guys who do the project management,people who dot eh HR and resource allocation,etc.
2. Talk to people at all levels ,cos, as a person goes up the heirarchy, he gets a better view and ofcourse, he is more experienced. Also, I ahve observer that in every person's life, a stage comes when he wants to proactively help otehrs and if you gel into the place,then you get a guy who sincerely wants to help/guide/mentor you.
3. Always help others.Helping others not onky gives you satisfaction,but,also a better understanding of the problems that you might face tomorrow.
4. Always be inquisitive,because, if you don't show enthusiasm or if you don't show interest, then no one would really want to help you.
5. Don't see profit and loss in every activity,cos,most of our actions don't have tangible results .
6. and Finally, use the internet for useful purpouses like blogging and reading others blogs(esp. reading the blogs of a guy called Krishnan Subramanian).