The Soldier

Defying Death, better, its fear,

The warrior braves out in laughter,

With a mind crystal clear,

And no fear of slaughter,

What* can outvalue life?

Perhaps another's? Or those of many?

Conscience? A strife?

A fellow's order? Or for a manmade boundary?

What do they value over life?

A salary?

To support parents, children or a wife?

Glory?

And for this, they risk what?

Life - a mystery that none can plot

A happening in Nature that concerns a me I know not

A me whose destruction can reduce my world to naught

What world can one save when his own crumbles?

And yet he takes a step that no one else would

What does he trust, so brave and humble?

Where will he go, when his body drops dead?

Racing along the way of flesh, forgetting age,

Outwitting Death, the mightiest of dreads,

Yet humbling it and calming its rage,

So in shame It cringes and hangs down its head

So what drove Death away? Something someone said?

A quote, a belief? Faith, insanity, or an epic confrontation?

What did they do or believe, that Death Itself fled?

In any case, attaining the greatest liberation

While some such angels rise above man,

Others choose to sink below,

Slaying brothers of their own clan,

Heartlessly, with no mercy for a fellow

Yet, upon conquering the ultimate foe,

By trick, by fair play or by some untellable means,

He retains an eternal, fierce glow,

Invincible and fearless even in his teens

No limited man can strike him down,

With brains or with arms,

For he has risen above fright,

Valiant, clear and bold.

Written between 2:30am and 4:30am on 28.2.2016 (27th night)

*"Died for a cause" - sounds nice when you write it down, but what it implies is unthinkable
This one is mildly forced, it's more a partial feeling that got stuck somewhere between my heart and pen.. But I had to squirt it out..

Silence

In a child's sleep,
A destitute's burp,
The end of a song,
Between two words,
The reunion of old friends,
The gaze of reunited love,
The close of a door,
The end of a talk,
The pant for breath,
A struggle for words,
The end of a phonecall,
The instant before you speak,
The green of nature,
The call of birds,
A great Hill,
Standing still,
A deep lake on a hot noon,
Or a book that ended too soon,
After a dog's bark,
Or during a squirrel's watch,
Of retrospection,
Of realisation* and regret,
In a mother's smile,
Or a receding wave,
The moment of awe,
At the grandeur of the Universe,
In a hermit's trance,
Or the depth of his glance,
In understanding,
Of one's heart,
In gratitude,
In forgiveness,
In the acceptance of pain,
In submission to Death,
In solitude,
Nay, even in a crowd,
In the harmony beneath chaos,
In surrender,
In all this and more,
She shines forth,
Tranquil, with closed eyes and a knowing, genuine smile,
With no pomp and no show,
Yet deserving all that and more,
Profound and Omniscient,
Yet absent until observed**.

Written on 21.2.2016 at 5:15pm, Hostel 13 lawn (between B and C wing), IIT Bombay
*The term 'realisation is also implied in the sense of achievement/fulfilment of dreams.

**I now see why they say that silence has to be 'observed' - it is present everywhere, and only needs to be observed/maintained.
I never thought I could write poems. I still don't. It needs a state of mind and heart that I don't possess.

The sequence of words, on retrospection, seem to have been inspired by Shivang Chopra's style of writing.

The H phenomenon

Among the several differences I have noted between North and South Indians in the pronunciation of words, one of the most vivid examples is the pronunciation of the word 'Dosa'. The first time I heard a North Indian pronounce the 'd' as in day instead of 'th' in 'thus', I was at Bangalore, and corrected him. Little did I know then, that this particular pronunciation was one that was spread throughout Non-South India (do correct me if I'm wrong).

Almost all restaurants in Maharashtra that serve South Indian food spell Dosa as "डोसा" (instead of "दोसा" which is the right spelling) in addition to its waiters pronouncing it in that manner. It didn't take me long to realize that this was a result of English's incompetence in expressing the right phonetics of a word from another language (sometimes even in itself). Due to the lack of Hindi knowledge in several parts of South India, especially the lack of four variants of the letter "க" in Tamil, English has been the only medium of communication and transliteration between Tamil and the rest of India - and needless to say, English has served its purpose rather poorly. Another stark example of this problem can be seen when Tamilians pronounce the word Dhaba as दाबा (தாபா) instead of ढाबा. The issue is that letter combinations such as "th" and "dh" are used in Hindi to indicate sounds of ठ and ध respectively while the same combinations imply त (த) and द (த - yeah, this is again the same letter, with only a variation in pronunciation). In Hindi, the difference between ट and त is not indicated in its English translation - it is understood based on usage. And this difference, if at all noticed (most notice it, thanks to WhatsApp's forwarded messages), is only ridiculed.

This merely shows the incapacity of English to connect two languages of a land which its people ruled for three centuries. Funnily enough, this is a language known to borrow heavily from other languages - I can't help but wonder why they couldn't - well, um, never mind.

It is not that the British didn't notice it - but they chose to change things in India rather than improving their language - clearly a case of wanting to change a mirror to look better. This is quite known, thanks to the fact that the names they gave to Indian provinces and towns still remain, notable ones being Bombay, Madras, Ooty, Travancore, Tuticorin and Cawnpore among others. The re-renaming of cities and states seems to be a futile attempt by India to regain total control over itself. It is just painful to see that even over six decades after British influence exited India (or rather, merely the Indian administration), the policy of divide still exists (thankfully the 'rule' portion doesn't), albeit totally unconscious of itself.

It will not be wrong to say that (the) English (pun intended) is (are) the reason why the North and South don't "get" each other. I cannot help but say, "Well done, Brits!"

And while I hang my head in shame at my forlorn endeavours to convince my fellow Indians to pronounce things the right way, I am filled with delight when I say that Dosas made anywhere in India are as authentic and delicious as the dishes served at Punjabi Dhaba in Chennai.

Well, we've got something right.

Now that I'm done ranting, I'll let you brood over which is better while I go and help myself to a delicious Mumbai dosa. Or dhosa. Or whatever.

Malleswaram - The soul of Bangalore?

The night's coolness penetrates into the core of my being, engulfing my spirit in a tight embrace. It is nothing short of an albeit shallow spiritual experience.

Sometimes someone or something comes into your life for a very short while, but fills it up in such a way that even in their subsequent absence, their memory can whisk you away irrespective* of where you are, invoking emotions associated with abstract, incomprehensible feelings that perhaps only you can understand. Even the person who understands you the most can only know that you’d prefer to be left alone at such times. Such is my relationship with Malleswaram, my Bangalore home. Well, not too far away – a mere 350 kilometers from Mylapore according to Google maps. Well, that is far enough for me, but I didn’t want to get too close either. My solitary days in Bangalore (ok, dear friends, I liked being with you too, please don’t stop reading my blog) were some of the best days of my life, and this sacred area certainly tops the list of things that made them so.

Malleswaram, having nurtured me during my first month at Bangalore, catering to both my dietary and religious needs, is, to me a mixture of temple and home. The very sound of the name, "Malleswaram" makes my heart skip a beat, triggering emotions in me that I associate with divinity and.. home. Flanked by Mantri mall and Sankey tank, this area is a home away from home for a Mylapore-bred, curd-rice eating, religiously inclined brahmin like myself.

Though an area spanning around 10 main, and 18 cross roads, the heart of Malleswaram, according to me at least, lies on Sampige and Margosa- two roads which happen to be 2nd and 3rd Main roads respectively. These two are certainly the busiest roads of Malleswaram, forever bustling with activity. The ratio of pedestrians and vehicles is such that it is hard to decide whether the road is busier, or the footpath, serving as a live example of choked flow at street junctions.

Named after the three-century-old Kadu Malleshwara Swamy Temple (also known as Kadu Mallikarjunaswamy Temple) which stands between 15th and 16th cross roads, with its entrances on 1st main road and Sampige road, Malleswaram houses scores of temples, and, unless I'm much mistaken, the number touches a hundred. The grandeur, however, lies in the fact that many of these temples are old enough to have stories that can be called history. Bangalore's temples are relatively far too small when compared to the several-acres-spanning temples of Tamil Nadu's temple towns, but that results in a far better maintenance of the place. Each temple is unique in its own way, evoking a special emotion, in me that I find impossible to explain. While Kadu Malleshwara houses a shrine for Lord Subrahmanya whose shrines are relatively rare to find in Karnataka, the adjacent Sai Baba temple is a completely different experience, with its marble architecture and peaceful silence. Walking further down Sampige Road toward the lower numbered crosses, one comes across smaller shrines including one for Ganesha and one for Shiva, before stumbling upon a Raghavendraswamy temple near 12th cross. To the right is a Yadugiri Madhwa Mutt and a right turn adjacent to it leads to Venugopalaswamy temple on 11th cross road - yet another spiritually uplifting place that is often seen to host spiritual discourses and the like.

A visit to Malleswaram is rudimentary without a walk on 8th cross, particularly the portion in between East and West Park roads. This is the busiest part of the area excluding Mantri Mall, its peak hours being between 6:30 and 8:30pm. Adorned by boutiques, fancy stores and the famous Hotel Janata, and sanctified by the Kannika Parameshwari temple, this road is my personal favourite. It is impossible for one to come here and not have his/her spirits lifted. The fruit and vegetable market on the East Park road adjacent to the Mahaganapati temple is, again a visual treat.

No writeup on Malleswaram is complete without mentioning its remarkable restaurants - each is special in its own way, and a handful of them deserve a dedicated chapter each in a book on Malleswaram. If you are a veggie in pursuit of good food, Malleswaram is your paradise. Restaurants - old and new, fill each row and column into which the locality is so beautifully arranged. The old ones include Shri Sagar - or as it is better known, CTR (central tiffin room) famed for its authentic 'benne' masala dosa, Janatha for its vada sambhar, Veena stores for their early breakfast (from 6:00am, yeah) and throughout the day tiffin, two branches of Asha Sweet center for their mouthwatering rasmalais and basundis, and, of course, a branch of Adyar Ananda Bhavan in case you have a tongue for the Tamil version of sambhar. And that isn't even half of the list. There are three independently managed "Iyer" messes to which office-going bachelors throng, particularly on weekends. The culinery Malleswaram is known to have new shops and restaurants opened at least once a month. I have found it difficult to recognize even my most frequented roads, on turning up after a month, owing to a couple of unfamiliar shops (Sudarshan Silks, for example), restaurants (like the new one opposite to Venugopalaswamy temple) and occasionally even entirely  new buildings (the aforementioned Sudarshan Silks again).

The compulsive non-veg eaters need not be dejected. A Chung's restaurant near Veena stores in 16th cross has received good reviews. The erstwhile purely vegetarian 8th cross is now guilty of a small placde that serves chicken. Malleswaram also has branches of Shanti Sagar, McDonalds and Adiga's which plague the rest of the city. There is a branch of Papa John's pizza opposite to Shanti Sagar (Pizza Corner used to have a branch there back in my time).

While I believe I have already caught the attention of shopping freaks, there's more. A little over a year back, a branch of Khadi Gramodyog Bhavan opened at 7th cross. I consider Sampige Road the T.Nagar of Bangalore, with shops for clothes ranging from small apertures to a five floor building for Reliance Trends, stores for pooja items, condiments, country drugs (nattu marundhu) and more. Second hand book sellers at 9th cross Sampige Road and Malleswaram circle (5th cross) attract hundreds of bookworms every day. Bangalore's only branch of Giri Trading Agency stands at a humble, almost unnoticeable corner of Malleswaram circle (note the pun). The flower and fruit market on 13th cross Sampige road is a must visit.

For others, the area is also home to a government library (City Central Library) and a BJP Party office.

I could go on and on about this holy environ - and I often wonder if this place holds the soul of Bengaluru.. Some may argue that areas like Basavanagudi and Ulsoor are quite similar too.. I may not be able to give a convincing answer, but Malleswaram surely is one with my soul - forever.

*This article is long overdue. Blogger indicates that my last edit was on 5.10.2014. I was worried that I might not be able to relate with Malleswaram any more, but the memories - rather, emotions are fresh.

The B/W delusion

I'm tired of watching films portraying the past in black and white, or in primitive colours.

I expect these films to show me what life was like back then, and all the pictures in my head are either black and white or pale yellow/pink backgrounded. Films are supposed to help you understand those times, but all one can see is how films looked back then.

This is a cliché, probably introduced by the West, but one that film-makers all around the world are afraid to step out of, even today, and it really needs to change.

Black and white photos look awesome, though.

Real-ising conditions

With English greedily accepting new terms coined by literally anyone (and the law being opulent in loopholes perhaps?), several "conditions of the body, and more importantly the mind, have received cool names. While some could be genuine problems owing to the ever-increasing pressure in today's era, one cannot help but wonder if some of these are just outcomes of melodrama.

And then there are long discussions about how such a person feels - particularly psychopaths, now that the media is projecting them as being cool.

Enough said.

Short Scribbles

A collection of independent short stories and thoughts. Each number point indicates a different thought/story.

These have been moved to, and new updates are being posted on my other blog, whose link is available here. However, I choose to let this post remain here as well, so that the date of posting it is recorded.

1. They exchanged pleasantries, and made polite talk. He thought hard about what the reason might be, but there could be no other explanation. They both knew it.

It had taken a thirty hour long journey, and a three hour dinner to realise that an old friendship had been lost.

2. She peeped into her father's room and saw him bending over, his hand moving fast. The computer's screen saver came on, as her tiny feet stumbled across the room and asked him, "Daddy, what are you doing?"

Her father wheeled around, realising that he had company.

He had wanted to do this, but not this soon. She had to grow up, she was probably too young for this now. "Do you really want to know?", he asked. "You might not understand."

"Please, daddy", she begged. He couldn't restrain himself. Hadn't he waited long enough? And it was she who insisted. He beckoned her to come closer and made her sit on his lap.

Half an hour later she was almost in tears. "This feels really dif-difficult daddy, I don't understand what you are doing." "Don't worry, a few more nights of this and you'll start liking it. You'll feel right as rain, I promise," he said. "And will you promise not tell your mother about this? Will this be our little secret?", he added nervously. It would be too much to answer for.

And so she did - it had taken more than a few nights, and she didn't know yet if she liked it or not, but had become quite comfortable with it.

She felt proud - this was big people's stuff. Who said calculus was for kids?

3. "You used me. Made me do your bidding. Had me with you for months.  And now you refuse to give me any credit", cried the application for which I refused to give five stars on Google Play. Or at least its developers did.

4. Seated in his car's back seat, he was answering a phone call from his boss urging him to reach soon when a hungry looking beggar knocked at his window. Before he could reach for his wallet, the signal turned green and his driver sped away, for they were getting late for the conference. He turned back, looking helplessly at the disappointed man who turned away slowly to return to his place on the pavement before disappearing into the sea of automobiles.

A tear trickled down his cheek as he wondered why he was even attending a conference on reaching out to the poor.

5. Three variants:

• She watched him - active every moment, excelling at everything with ease, his aloofness infective - She saw him laugh, run, write, win - fell hopelessly in love, giving herself up to him. Alas, if only she hadn't, she could've been all that and more.

• She watched him - active every moment, excelling at everything with ease, his aloofness infective - She saw him laugh, run, write, win - fell hopelessly in love, giving herself up to him. Alas, if only she had seen how he spent his nights.

• She watched him - active every moment, excelling at everything with ease, his aloofness infective - She saw him laugh, run, write, win - fell hopelessly in love, giving herself up to him. Alas, if only she had known what he did for a living.

6. Two variants:

• He changed himself - his appearance, his walk, his accent, his habits. If only she had accepted him for what he had been, she could've seen him smile more.
• He changed himself - his appearance, his walk, his accent, his habits. All of it diffused as smoke, when she broke his heart so cruelly.

7. The asked the veteran playwright how he did it. "Ask a simple question", he replied, "Answer it with a story forged out of truth. That itself will make people laugh and cry."

8. A man, upon dying, becomes a picture, a word. What are these, but pathetic articles of memory, trying in vain to hold back a long lost soul? A soul that has been caught by inescapable Death - that valley of no return. Of what use is this image, this name?

A man in another's heart is an inexpressible image - the only expression possible is a tear from a melted heart.

9. Is a common field/work/interest actively required to sustain a friendship? Sounds like a naive thought, but is it entirely deniable? The converse seems true - friendships born in the armed forces, colleges - in places where lives are similar, seem much stronger than others. Perhaps there is some truth to it?

10. All this effort, all this money,
      All this pomp, all this cheer,
      All just for this miserable man,
      To feel better about himself.

11. On the naive woman's love:

• When she falls for him, gives herself up whole, holding nothing back - not heart, not soul, not cloth.
• He was everything to her - her hero, role model, her favourite sportsman, her best friend and more - but to him, she was merely a playground.

12. Two variants:

• There will come a time when you will decide for me, his father had told him. Fifty years later, he remembered those very words, clutching his unconscious father's hand as he signed the form, requesting the hospital to remove the life support. "Had I known that it would come to this, I would've never wanted it," he whispered to himself, a tear trickling down his cheek.

• "Why did God choose for me?", she had asked a clergyman years ago. "I would've preferred something else, he should've asked me." And now, she requested the doctors to remove her husband's life support. Meeting her expenses was more important than keeping a paralysed man alive. Coming out, she announced to the rest of the family, "If it is God's will, so be it."

13. "Aah", said the veteran engineer in a contended tone, as he sat down to be put to death by the new execution machine. "Took me a lifetime of crime to get to see my own baby work."

Will update as I come up with new ones