The rain's perfectly consistent and soft outside the office windows, sliding down sheds and surfaces of leaves in a cinematic sync. . so long the workplace has been quiet, clean, and peaceful. 

So I was just indexing a Sonia Gandhi Reuters photo. The madame is traveling back after an appearance. The crowd, in raptures, waves to a chopper shrouding dust in their faces. 

Thought strikes me :: Shouldn't  politicians, whose careers are based on each single vote cast in or against their favour, take the longer, more tedious road route to see what's really happening on the ground, along the way ? 

But , I know nothing about Mrs. Gandhi .... her itinerary planner. 

I've been watching so much sadness, and hearing of it from everywhere around me. Suddenly I feel fifteen thousand rupees a month, is a lot of money to have to just myself.

I keep looking for grant and scholarship and fellowship money on the internet all the time. There is a lot of money out there in the world. But there are more than doubly proportional number of people out there and around here to get their hands on that money. 

Only the ones who clearly enunciate their goals, show vitality and sincerity in their work, and package themselves in clean smart packets, before they place themselves on the table, get close to the money, or get the money.

Having one or two of these ingredients does not make the dish. To clinch the money tightly in one's fist, he or she has to show each one of these components as having been present in the process of request. 

Also, being outraged or overtly vocal of your sadness about a situation, does not help the people. It does not help your listeners, nor does it help yourself. Don't shout about it with your voice. Make something of it. Construct, move, create, and abstain. Abstain from want, and accumulating things, for if you are to help reduce the suffering, you may not carry the load of personal belongings. 

The best belongings are life skills. Accumulate skills. Forget the rest. 

Sunday

Couples are walking their dogs, walking their children, wearing shirts with matching colors, share salt and pepper hair, wearing sneakers. Young good looking boys have earphones plugged into their ears, and are nodding away to the thumping music. Children are playing ball and having so much fun. A young bride walking her child in a perambulator is accompanied by her husband. They've just found her mother, gossiping with friends. These are all old ladies. All their children are probably "settled". A man is selling chana- masala. Couples are eating bhutta or corn cob. Sucking gola. The breeze is consistent and the promenades thronging. Dotted with people. Young men race on modified bikes. Burning tyre licks wide, tarred roads. A middle aged woman is sitting on the curb with her husband. She has a gajara in her hair. It's scent reaches me instantly and then wafts away mingling with the salty sea-air.  

I have your picture sandwiched between white pages in my diary. Sometimes I paint fiercely colorful shards on these white pages. You are close to my heart. 

Break the bread. Get your hands dirty. Smell the earth. Lie down in the grainy soil. Pull out the crops with your bare hands. Feel them roughen up and freshen your nostrils. 

Knowledge of history is rewarding. Politics flexes the muscles in your brain. Dip into analysis. 

Listen to your instinct. Listen to your heart. Let your brain jog simultaneously. 

Break the bread. Taste the soil beneath your feet. 

It is salty. It is granular. It tastes of mud. It smells of everything that will grow out of it. It smells of a nation. The soil beneath your feet. Smells of your nation. 

March 3rd, 2009

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Originally uploaded by Suenno

Yesterday, I met Chamki, Hari, Akshay, Simar and Meenakshi fleeted by too. I'm plunging headlong into the pool of fears. And its feeling remotely better, which means, I'm doing okay. I discovered a new path from Mount Mary's through Bandstand.

I wish to take Srikanth for a walk there. Its amazing how much I miss holding hands. I never quite understood why Siri used to miss it so much when he went away to College.

For the first time, yesterday, I also felt that Bandra could be a tolerable place to live in. 34 A terrace house was very very open, had a beautiful interior (orange and white) and had good workplace/sleeping-place vibes.

Photo Blurbing

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Originally uploaded by Suenno

Yesterday I finally met Suranjan for the first time in Bombay. I had a nice time all of Sunday noon and evening. Oxford bookstore is hosting an 80% sale on some of their books. I anyhow didn't, couldn't exploit it to my advantage. A TimeOut Bengaluru copy was bought, breakfast in Bangalore being the cover story. This will be very useful the next time I visit Bangalore. So, I got another collectible.

Suranjan is a calm boy. He might not like to be put in this mild pastel color box, perhaps. But thats the first word that comes to my mind when I think of him. He makes IIT sound so wonderful. He doesn't really talk about it, unless asked particularly, but his way of just being himself - suggests he's unhurried and relaxed and happily studying away in this nice resort on " half-a-hill" next to Powai Lake.


I will try to do a photo-blurb everyday.