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

A rant regarding the 'Passion Cliche'

The past 4-5 years have been all about following one's heart, realizing one's passion, and doing what makes one happy. I will not be so harsh as to blame solely the film, "3 Idiots" for this, but their contribution to what I call the "passion revolution" can not go unmentioned. It was a message from a film - a good one, no doubt, but one that has been blown to enormous proportions, causing a lot of irritation to the few level headed citizens of this country.

The current generation, though extremely mature in some respects, are pathetically misguided in others. Logical thinking is one arena where our generation scores, but we seem to have almost completely neglected the learning - wisdom, rather, that comes from experience. And for youngsters to be wise enough, they need to learn from others' experiences - and this is what I find lacking in today's youth. Being sceptical is good, but there are some things which should be accepted without questioning.

Life is too short for one to rediscover old knowledge for oneself. There is no better example that Newton's famous quote, "standing on the shoulder of giants". Acceptance is the best display of humility, and this, in my opinion, seems to have been lost somewhere in the most recent stage of the ever-happening, inevitable modernization. One can, however, not complain that people aren't listening to their elders these days, now that the latter have ceased advising their progeny. Older, experienced people are now seen merely as unconditional financers,

It surprises me when some people argue about looking at every aspect of life "scientifically", but upon observation, one can clearly see that logic governs hardly any activity, let alone a path one chooses in life. Birth and death may be considered as far fetched points in this context, but things even as simple as man's instinctive desire to get intoxicated and to temporarily suspend his intellect makes one wonder if man is entirely intellectual. And my answer to that is no: man is a mix of emotion and intellect - each portion trying hard to deny the existence of the other - few have achieved harmony between the two.

Funnily enough, no questions are asked about the recent (in my opinion, twisted) definition of fun as being alcohol consumption and/or sex is unanimously accepted (too cool to  be questioned, perhaps?) - and so are scientific articles that explains how "the brain" perceives things*, among scores of other such ambiguous areas that are coolly brushed aside. I feel that one must be humble enough to admit the fact that things aren't truly crystal clear, and a certain amount of arbitrariness is inexorable.

With that said, I'd say that while following one's heart sounds not-so-bad-ish, a little input from experienced elders in addition to the brilliance of one's own intellect will go a long way in ensuring that one's heart doesn't lead one into a gutter.

*It is said that a pain in the leg, for example, is communicated via some nervous system to the 'brain' which perceives it. One never asks how a perception by "the brain" ends the article. One might always ask, "How does this realization of the brain reach 'me'?" After all, a person who is brain dead isn't considered completely dead in the biological sense.

Oru Vadakkan Selfie - feels funny to call Tamil Nadu folk as northerners, but a beautiful portrayal of Tamil Nadu in general and Chennai in particular - strangely holistic, while the storyline remains strong.

An excellent entertainer, no words to describe.

Chennai responds: a loud response of an underrated city

The past few weeks - well except for the overreaction over Aamir Khan, have all been about the excellent response of Chennai's citizens to the flood. Unfortunately I was unable to witness it, but in addition to talks with family and friends, the talk on social media was extensive. Perhaps a little too extensive. Starry-eyed, in fact.

It would be unfair to say that it all started with photos of people helping each other "irrespective of religion" (among other distinctions) swarming the internet - no, this was just the cherry on top of a cake that began baking over a year back.

I don't understand why it had to wait until 2014, loads of people have moved out of Chennai much before, and Chennai hate wasn't new either. But yeah, 2014 has been much of an awakening for most parts of India - with images taking over text, particularly on Facebook (after check-ins became obsolete), and memes originating, news started creeping into people's feed* in addition to pointless posts by people on sites like Storypick. While it is indeed pathetic to see a literate world hesitant to read text until put on an image, it comes as a relief to see that there is some way to penetrate the seemingly non permeable brains of today's generation.

Chennai has received a lot of undeserving criticism from people from the other parts of India, particularly the North - yes, I too have been, and sometimes still am an unwilling audience to some of it, defending my city in vain to people who choose to be loudspeakers and not lend a listening ear. Points raised revolve around the city's weather and the fact that people do not speak Hindi.

So, in and around 2013-14, several Facebook pages such as Chennai Memes and My Chennai started posting beautiful pictures of, and posts about the city which were received with open arms by Tamilians all over India - and the world, and hence rose to popularity. Oh, and there have been quite a few songs on Chennai too - notable ones being The Madras Song and Chancey Illa.

So, while some (especially those living outside Tamil Nadu) were able to relate to this expression of strong love for their city, others stopped to notice the beauty of this cosmopolitan, and developed an attachment for it. 

My title is slightly misleading - Chennai is by no means underrated in South India, it is only when it comes to India as a whole that this happens. Chennai isn't merely overshadowed by the North - there is plenty of room for Chennai - and perhaps ten (or more) other cities to be recognized at least countrywide. It is a choice of the people - the people who are able to focus their eyes on, and identify completely with one city, not just because it is India's commercial capital, but because it houses Bollywood - the one thing that connects Hindi speakers. Funnily enough, though, the ones (outside Maharashtra) who pay heed to this blind themselves to the fact that it is (supposedly) a Marathi speaking city**. While Bollywood gladly lets Urdu, Punjabi and even the Mumbai slang (not to mention English) creep into its Hindi, it has been extremely careful in not letting Marathi seep into it - a price, I'd say, Mumbai has paid in being the Capital of India, rather than that of Maharashtra.

But Chennai refuses to pay such a price - yes, the Anti-Hindi movement, a mere political tool decades ago has left some dislike in the minds of the previous generation, but our generation is different - we're interested in learning Hindi - and a good number of us can speak it pretty well. Oh and we watch Bollywood films too. But we aren't a people who will give up on our mother tongue - we will never exchange our language for anything. While in most other parts of India, people attach themselves to their religion, caste, an interest group or something else, our first priority is language (and then the others follow of course). But with all that, we are a great city - an awesome city that quite a few don't see to look up to. I have lived at Bangalore and Mumbai, and have visited Delhi, and I can definitely say that Chennai is no less. While there are things we need to learn from these cities, there are things these cities an learn from us, too.

And so we've been crying out for attention for a while. In doing so, many of us looked at ourselves - a very few fell in love for the first time, but most of us realized how deeply we were in love. And then we had the floods. We didn't have to be asked. We knew what had to be done, and that we had to. And we did it. We didn't overdo anything. The only marginally naive part was photos and posts of inter-religious mingling - something that is so common not merely at Chennai, but at most parts of the country. We were being ourselves, our intentions were pure, the photos were genuine, and so were first hand reports. The memes, in particular, were, you know, silly and romantic***. And now you know why we did that.

And has Chennai lost her grandeur, has she stooped down in expressing her desire for recognition - and that too, rather explicitly? Not in the least. We deserve respect and recognition - something that must've been given to us on a golden platter - and we are asking our country for it and there is nothing puerile about that.

* Some of it false news or twisted statements no doubt, but nevertheless, Facebook still is one of the best ways to spread awareness

** A trait I have observed with Bangalore residents too - desperate attempts to have Kannada boards on buses seem futile attempts. Oh, and in case you've ever travelled by bus in Mumbai you'd note that they too have only Marathi written all over them.

*** In Tamil, we have a term, namely, "Aarvakolaru" to describe this over-the-edge-zeal

Another thought (A comment of mine on Quora):

It is odd is that people keep giving examples of coexistence of people of different religions.. They need to cease to be examples, they should be the way of life... The fact is that such is the way of life in our country - coexistence is how we live our lives - we don't merely respect another religion, we go to the extent of accepting it. Do you think of your friend's religion when you share a plate of pav bhaji with him/her? Or when you have a smoke with them?

A religion-centric country like Afghanistan or Pakistan should be proud of such examples - they should learn from us, be we can't keep posting pictures of religious coexistence as if it is a recent development.. With that said, I'd say it isn't time for people to grow up, we are already old enough and wise - it is time for the social media to grow up, and naive news propagandists to get a life..

Swades - a walk down memory lane

It has been 11 years since this film - arguably the best films, but unarguably on of the best films in Indian cinema was released - 17th December, 2004 - incidentally the date of the first powered flight in human history at Kitty Hawk. Swades has touched the heart of every Indian who has watched it, and will continue to do so, I am sure..

I decided to write this article over 8 months ago, when I was at Sadashivanagar, Bangalore, watching this film for the umpteenth time - and I decided that today would be the day of publishing it too.

Well, I only thought that I would write about Swades - didn't think much about the content - and I -feel quite blank after writing an answer to a Quora question around a week back (link) - yeah I guess that is something I regret, for I am out of content..

What do I say about Swades? Each watch of the film is a journey.

As Mohan starts his caravan, his heart lighter compared to what it had been for months, down the road towards Charanpur, we buckle our seatbelts too, embarking upon a journey with the same expectations as him, irrespective of how many times we've seen the film. Our burdens all set aside, we become one with the film - a film that ensures that Indians from several parts - if not all, can relate to it. It is set in Delhi and is Hindi, which is fine by those from North and Central India. And people of the South can relate with Kaveriamma - after all, she is called "amma", and her dressing, accent and the way she teaches that village lady to bathe her child is strangely familiar - yeah I've seen my grandmother doing that to my cousins.

The gross journey seen metaphorically indicates an inward journey that we all take, to discover our own selves...

While the film is definitely timeless, it has captured some characteristic aspects of the 90's and the first couple of years of the 21st century. And some of these have completely been wiped off.

Each watch of the film adds a new perspective - and it keeps adding up, believe it or not. The first watch makes one pity Mohan slightly at having become a scapegoat. One watches in awe, Gayatri Joshi's remarkable acting skills and her effortless chemistry with Khan - they way in which her eyes do the acting. During my most recent watch (yesterday, in fact), I saw Kaveriamma's authority - authoritativeness (over Gita at least), I'd call it, to give the full import. Gita doesn't raise a question when she noticed that Kaveriamma was listening in on her conversation with Mohan - while that could've been to avoid letting Mohan know, she doesn't even dare to give a disapproving look. When Mohan returns from Kodi, depressed at seeing Haridas's plight, Kaveriamma asks Gita to go, taking Nandan, and this is followed obediently at once.

<editing in progress>

India Today: From a Pessimist's Eye

The India I see is one that has turned a blind eye to serious problems. On one side, our people, particularly the youth are ready to plunge into action instead of being passive spectators. However, they strike me as immature, gullible people who are certainly not ready enough to discern what is right.

With trivial issues surfacing, one begins to wonder as to what happened to the ones that mattered until yesterday. Issues such as parents being sent to age old homes,  health, relationships, education and much more, seem to have been clouded by pointless talk. Seriously, how are today's middle aged folk treating their parents in India?

Important discussions revolve around alcohol, drugs, pretentious news, false publicity of wannabe revolutionaries whose credibility is unnecessarily discussed, lavish expenditure, North-South-Northeast inclusion/exclusion, sexual orientations, unrealistic cinema, overuse of social media, overrated "TV" series, selfies, attention seeking and of course, the ever intriguing and over-hyped sex. The country - and the world at large, appears to steadily march towards its own rotting. Our immaturity is clearly reflected in the nature of the leaders we choose. The fact that we are even considering listening to people like Kanhaiya pains me deeply.

There was a time when the world had thinkers, seers who could foresee how things would be in the future - the internet seems to have now clouded our eyes, and the only visions we seem to have of the future are the ones shown to us in films. Twisted stories shown in the films and drama we watch have subtly affected our minds, clouding our judgement, and, unless I am much mistaken, this has affected our character in a way, patching into our DNA an element of wickedness. We have certainly lost the straightforwardness that seems to have prevailed in the previous generations, losing our innocence and developing cunningness at a very tender age. This is mirrored by the visible growth of health problems which are certainly induced by the state of our mind in addition to the state of our environment.

Any discussion on the current generation would touch upon the clichéd "technological advances" - a topic where this generation doesn't seem to score much. While research is more common now than ever, it seems to have become a rush to get a Doctorate or to compete with a rival organisation rather than for the sake of national progress, let alone global. National leaders - and nations as such, seem to focus a lot on amassing wealth and armaments while not invading other countries, and while progress is seen in small pockets, overall progress has come to a standstill.

The internet has pampered us, drilling engineered ideas into our heads. Marketing has reached a peak, convincing people that they need to stay "connected" to the internet at all times - this is something I find quite unnecessary. In spite of years of the mobile phone's presence in our lives, it still feels unnecessary - at least at times, if not always. Such logical thoughts may be short lived - thinking out of the box is, as I had once remarked to a friend a couple of years back, limited to thinking within a bigger box. All of what we feel can be done, seems to have already been done - this generation looks like a bunch of redundant lives that simply exist, draining the world of its resources for no useful reason at all.

I really do hope I'm wrong.

An outburst

A(an incomplete) response to Anish Kapoor's article

Sherlock Holmes has set a bad example for Britain. Or perhaps I'll take that sentence back, because I'm a die hard fan of Conan Doyle's world famous sleuth. But I will not take back my accusation that the British continues to "make it their business to know things". Knowing things is fine, but this country crossed that line centuries ago. I thought they had learnt their lesson on limits, but they clearly haven't, and poking their nose into others' business continues to earn them the wrath of people like me. Well, I thought I'd start with them making a big scene with India's daughter, but I guess that topic has run its course. But then again, it's only a matter of time before they come up with some other such case of interference, and they are shown their place again. I'd just like to state that if it hadn't been for this irritating attitude, England could have been at the top of the world instead of what I'd call a pseudo-country that their nose poking created.

This isn't a criticism of the article as such, nor even an analysis. I wish to merely point out the tone at with which it has begun.

So, Mr. Kapoor, if you run out of nice lines to start your article with, you can always ask me - you seem to have been pretty off-guard while starting your article - seems ironical when we look at the name of the journal that published it. Being a Hindubandhu (ref Brahmabandhu) (or perhaps not) I'm sure you realize that you have compared a man to a terrorist group in your title, and, right in the first line of your article, to one of the most revered deities in the world, needless to say, hurting the sentiments of people like me, and depriving your otherwise well written article of the audience it otherwise deserves.

Criticizing any elected leader is perfectly acceptable - we're both democracies, and Mr. Modi is certainly answerable to all of us, but The Guardian publishing this particular article seems to have a slightly more twisted agenda than that.

I realize that this could have been added as a comment on Mr. Kapoor's post, or rather, as a personal message, but I'm sure that to a sculptor who proudly flaunts a queen's private parts, this doesn't even qualify as publicity.

I do realize that this post is a messy, incoherent jibber-jabber, but I'm going to let it be, for it is an emotional outburst.