An Everlasting muse

”I want to find this girl I know

I need to take her out

I set a snare in evening air, made of faith and hope and doubt…"

'The Everlasting Muse' by Belle and Sebastian plays in the background. 

As the lactic acid spreads around, the muscles start to hurt. The run feels like its been long. Then an old man, possibly in his 60’s, perhaps 70’s, passes by effortlessly. The ego has been hurt. No excuses, No hostages. Look straight ahead at the horizon and the sun beyond, a bright ball of orange. Now run, run like never before, run without stopping or looking back. run right towards the sun. The legs are in a rhythm now, they wouldn’t stop now. Its better that way for if they stop its going to be difficult to get them started again. No time to rest. But the urge to make a stop is overwhelming. Couple of glances behind and then a few more, to see if you can justify your achievement by finding out how far out you have run. Wait..that old man.. i have seen that face somewhere.. did i see him on the tv? competing in the olympics? I don’t think i can keep up with him. No wonder.  Resignation starts catching up slowly. Might be you are never going to touch that bright ball of glowing fire and walk away in blazing glory.  Enter the muse, the one that provides a purpose. She zips past in her run wear with earplugs plugged in, full of poise and a determined look on her face. The urge to catch up with her and understand her drive is overwhelming. Damn it. I have to catch up with her for that. The legs move faster, quicker. The pain from the lactic acid is forgotten soon. There is no doubt that i can catch up to her if i want to. Might not be today, but certainly if i train harder and get better at this..

"wait for her but don’t obsess.. she will go the other way..”. Belle and Sebastian continues. 

Being right by being wrong!

There I was seated on my table in the lab feeling frantic and frustrated as I was processing the data again and again. It didn’t make sense. Why was I not getting the results I was supposed to. It was a simple enough trial. How could I get even that wrong? As i sat there half in thought of why i wasn’t getting the results I was supposed to and half contemplating how pathetic an engineer I am going to be, my professor (considered a rockstar in his field) walks up to me and tells me “its okay to be wrong. there is much one can learn from being wrong. whats important is that you try to not repeat the same mistake again”. Its a simple logic. But more importantly coming from a man with abundant experience in life and considered one of the authorities in his field world over, one cannot but help feel that if he says so then probably its impossible to never ever make a mistake in your life.

One goes to school, and is considered as wrong if they can’t be right on the exam sheets. One goes to work and its just essential to be right all the time as your job and reputation is on the line. You look into the morning paper and you see articles dissecting the actions of every other somebody and nobody and trying to tell you why one is right and the other is not. The political parties are always trying to tell you why they are right or rather why the other party is wrong. There is always one person in every family who feels it necessary to let you know why their generation was correct and your generation is doing all the wrong things or how his/her opinion is the only flawlessly correct opinion. 

As kids when you start giving exams, you are inexplicably started off on this journey which tries to imbibe in you the ‘quality’ of being right all the time. It starts with a quest for the right answers for countless examinations and soon translates into a brainwashed state where being a successful adult means being right. You might not recognize this quality in you, but the next time listen to yourself and if you find yourself giving an opinion, criticizing or advicing people when not asked and you might see this quality in you. But having an opinion on everything is not really an issue. Its more like a fundamental right. The issue would be the blurring of lines of right and wrong. When people become so obsessed with proving themselves right that they forget that proving the other wrong is not the same as proving oneself to be right. 

Let me explain. The pious ardent religious follower who attributes everything that goes wrong in the life of the atheist or agnost to his lack of belief or indifference to religious belief. The political opposition that assumes its duty is to literally oppose everything the ruling party does by pointing out only the schemes that didn’t quite work out (The guy who decided to coin the term the opposition party was either very aware of the human tendencies of a politician and having a good laugh or just not aware of how badly it was going to misfire). Everyone who appears on print or visual media claiming how their views are right because the other person with a different vision got it wrong. The teacher who decides to show the student how wrong he was for not listening in the math class, preferring instead to scribble some caricatures, by going extra tough on grading his/her answer sheet. The superior in office who decides to prove the junior how wrong he is by ridiculing his wishful ideas. The random religious leader or the more random religious believers who like to keep pointing out how all the misery of the others is because of how their beliefs are wrong and as opposed to theirs. The pro-patriarchal society figures of the world who jump at the chance to make the life of independent woman as difficult as possible and then blame the obstacles that an independent woman would face on her lifestyle choices.

Everyone wants to be right and thats okay. But where is the logic in saying that one is right because the other is wrong. So might be its time to revisit the basic idea of right is good and wrong is bad. Its not necessary to right always. In fact, if you listen to my experienced and highly reputed professor, its probably impossible to be right always. So its okay to be wrong. As long as you learn from your wrong’s, being wrong is probably not so bad. So, to all who try to tell others how they are right because the other person was wrong. I am sorry, but thats not how logical deduction works.  

Theory of the Modes

(I don't usually bother apologizing for my bad writing and for my horrible use of grammar and punctuations. Generally it is because of my simple acknowledgement of the fact that I am horrible at grammar and punctuations. But, I am going to apologize for this particular piece as it is going to get posted without a second glance, due to a lack of time. The reason for my lack of time to review this write up will go down as my attempts to learn and understand better Modal theory and its applications in engineering. To all the unassuming souls who chance upon this piece, my sincerest apologies if this turns out to be a murder of the english language and writing.)

      Modal Analysis theory is the study of the dynamic responses of systems and one of its approaches is to break down the responses into summations of contributions of various modes. Essentially what it says is that "what happens to you or how your life pans out can be broken down into a sum of the contributions of the people/events that you cross paths with and how strongly it can impact the various inherent modes in you". The contribution no matter how large or small, how negative or positive has a part in the sum total. So if you are happy right now as you read this, then it is not wrong to assume that a large/tiny bit of that is because of me and my effort in writing this piece of nonsense.

     To try and make you understand better I am going to try and talk to you about the essentials of a dynamic response and try and compliment it with a day to day life experience. To begin with, it is essential to understand that to get a response from a system some force has to act on it. As mentioned before, the reaction to this force can be broken down as an combination of the different response modes of the system that this force manages to excite. Forces can be positive or negative and if the forces are instantaneous, then one of the characteristics it exhibits is that the responses to these tend to die with time. The amplitude of the response decreases as time passes by. 

     Imagine you are running late to a seminar. The mismanagement of time on your part is to be blamed on the guy in your lab, a bad listener, who kept you engaged even after you told him you had to rush. The negative impact brings a frown on your face as your plans get offset in time. As you inch closer to the seminar hall the intensity of the frown decreases. (Amplitude tends to die with time!). 

   Note also that the initial amplitude the excitation (being late) has produced will depend on how effectively it has excited the modes. If in this case, you were not looking forward to the seminar with as much enthusiasm as you would have to a Manchester United  Vs Real Madrid match up, then the irritated frown mode might not get excited well enough to be noticed. (The modes need not be well excited by a force)

    As the effects of being late started to die out, a smile appears on your face. You seem to have perfectly timed your entry into a lift to coincide with that of a girl you have been wanting to speak to but not managed to so far. The positive excitation increases in amplitude. The girl and you being the only people in the lift, she asks you for the time and you get to reply to her. Amplitude hits peak. Big wide smile as you exit the lift and you forget about why you are late. (The happy smile mode is excited very well by the external excitation.)

     A few seconds down the line you realize, that was a chance to introduce yourself and get her name too might be?.. The 'hmmm.. I am so dumb' mode gets well excited and you trudge with heavy steps into the seminar hall and take a seat to listen to the talk. If you are lucky enough, the talk might be one of the most brilliant technical seminars you have attended and might excite your 'Woah.. that's interesting..!' mode. Whether this new response mode can help mask the earlier response that highlights  your not so great social skills and ability to strike a conversation, will depend totally on the system and the level to which each mode has been activated.

    To summarize, most of the dynamic responses can be broken down as a sum of responses to a combination of harmonic excitations with contribution of the modes excited varying depending on the systems construction. It might be of interest to note that a system that undergoes persistent forces (positive or negative) tends to show different characteristics with time. This can attributed to changing modal or system characteristics upon submission to repeated and persistent forces. Keeping aside such situations, usually the modal analysis theory can be used to address any system issues or to understand better the system characteristics.

A Walk Down Mt.Olympus

(Over the years I have been very fascinated by various professionals in various fields for the challenges and adventures they faced in their field of work on a daily basis. When I was young enough for my actions to be acceptable, my fascination often culminated in me trying to live a make belief life in the shoes of these people. A bus conductor, a coconut tree climber, the guy who milks the cow, the barber etc, I am told, were my idols for the period of two months of summer vacation I spent every year at my grandmothers. Twenty years later, society would lock me up somewhere if I were to play make belief on such 'trivial' professions and contrastingly hold me in high esteem if I exhibit more sophisticated taste of profession such as engineering or medicine. Well, today I am going to relive the old days of role play and play the part of a sports journalist (nothing that warrants getting locked up somewhere), a role I have envied and admired for ages now. With an appeal to be excused issued addressed all the good sports writers out there and anybody who plays any kind of sport who might beg to differ with my views.. Here i go...)

The 'legends of a sport' are essentially those hands that rock the cradle that is their respective sports. Its they who inspire the moments of brilliants all across the sport. Whether it be with the very gifts that god has given them or with the will that they created in the countless others who work hard and play hard to try and one day become like their idols. Yet the credit and respect don't come so easy and it is usually never the rosy picture that hindsight provides in most of the stories of these legends. The Jordan's and the Schumacher's have all had their ups and downs. However, what sets them apart is probable their reactions to those situations.

Over last few months too many sporting Idols seem to be coming to the end of their lives of being invincible. We have Lance Armstrong shattering his 'idol'hood with a brave cry of acceptance of his mistakes, though only after being backed into a corner. Sachin Tendulkar is starting to feel that there is only so long that he can fight against the greatest opponent of them all - Time. Roger Federer seems to finally have gone from No:1 among the fab four to No:4.

As an ardent sports lover I have wondered for quite sometime as to how difficult the lives of these stars must be. How they manage to put up with the life where everyone seems to be eagerly waiting for them, more often than not, to come crashing down. There must be no worse feeling than to be dragged down from the top of the mountain that you once conquered. Quite often than not it can shatter ones resolve and will. Yet the fact that they manage to drive themselves to continue forward, try and climb to those heights again, love what they do and carry on is indeed an admirable quality.

Only sometime ago at the Australian Open, Andy Murray had Roger Federer's number and was all over him. The match was probably one of his most dominant displays over Federer. Yet Federer scratched and pulled and hung on and before anyone realised we were into a fifth set. The years when the Fedex dominated, questions were raised about his greatness because the general feeling was competition was poor. Then came along Rafael Nadal, a champion who sacrificed his body to be able to beat Federer and people questioned his greatness again. Now, here he stands, unable to overcome the combination of a champion opponent and an aging body and the world seems to saying that he will never be the same again because of the time that has passed by.

From being the sole person in charge of the fates of a team of 11, picked from a billion people, and having carried that responsibility with aplomb for more than a decade, Sachin Tendulkar has come to a state where he is being questioned by every Tom, Dick and Harry on the street. I am not suggesting here that his previous achievement or service entitles him to preferential treatment but just wondering at how he is still able to focus on his responsibilities when everyone seems to be doubting him. Might be the answer is as simple as his love for the sport but one cannot ignore the mental strength probably necessary to be able to block out everything else that gets thrown at him so that he can just play the sport that he likes.

Lance Armstrong seems to have disappointed the whole of the planet, but over the interviews he seems to be pleading for a second chance. Here is a man who has fought cancer and founded a noble institution to inspire other fights against cancer and people just want to see the man grounded to dust rather see him given a chance to make up for his mistakes. While this probably is not one battle which will happen in a sports arena, the little part of me that considered him a legend for so long wishes him all the very best in what is undoubtedly going to be the biggest battle of his life yet. I hope that he is given a chance to change and that we get to see a wonderful inspiring story from the man after all.

Ironically though, it is probably during this walk down the olympus they lived in so long that it becomes more clear than ever as to why they deserve their tags as champions and probably a small insight into how the mind of a champion works. While everyone sees a Federer trying to scrape past his younger, fitter peers in the top four and struggling, what Fedex himself sees is probably his biggest challenge yet - a fight against time. While people are calling for his head Sachin Tendulkar is probably thinking only about beating age and slowing reflexes one more time.

Sports fans have always loved a good comeback. We love a suspense thriller style script and what better than a falling star who rises up. I believe its this liking of the fans that continually push them to support the underdogs and write off champions. All in the little hope of getting to witness something special. Well, this is probably one situation where the fans can write off these champions and not be served a second half with a reaction that will give you goosebumps. This is after all a fight against time. It is precisely because of this that I feel that its time to not complain too much and instead sit back and enjoy their spirit and valor while its still on display. Try not to keep your hopes high and instead focus on the good things while they last. Because the familiarity of the script points towards this being a 'Braveheart' type movie where you are standing up and applauding, goosebumps and all, while the protagonist walks into the sunset, not having been able to accomplish the impossible but having left an lump in your heart with effort and passion he showed in his attempts.

A Glimpse of the Buckeye

The setting - On a visit to my cousin's place in Columbus, Ohio. He has some work in the university and I decided to tag along. While he is busy with his work I am just loitering around.

The pictures I have are neither good shots nor shots clicked with any particular reason in mind. Just some pics to put up and write about more than anything else and so I shall straightaway jump into the details of the couple of hours I spent walking around in the vastness that is OSU.

The only bit of inclined terrain that I came across during my
two hour walk in the campus

As opposed to The University of Cincinnati Campus, two things stand out at OSU - The sheer size of the campus and the flatness of the terrain. The vastness and the flatness can be quite disorienting sometimes, making you feel as if you are in the middle of nowhere (The feeling becomes more profound considering the fact that population density is considerably on the lower side here in US compared to back home).

As is the norm with most US universities OSU has an animal associated with it too - its the Ohio State Buckeyes. The name Buckeyes is probably a apt one too for the largest campus in the state of Ohio (second largest campus in the country) as the State of Ohio is also called The Buckeye State. The epithet is because of the abundance of the Buckeye tree in Ohio rather than anything to do with Bucks as I had initially thought. My misconception was mainly because of the fact that it is pretty common to sight a buck in Ohio. So common that one can spot a buck even in the park next door, which is Burnet Woods in my case, pretty frequently too.

Another thing one finds very commonly in Burnet woods, I am told, are muggers, especially if one ventures into it after the sunlight decides to call it a day. Fortunately sunlight has longer working hours here in US, thus letting most people enjoy the quiet woods in the form a nice walk a good jog or even fishing.

The Buckeye Stadium  (A corner of it)                 

Coming back to OSU campus, Its a nice saturday evening and the campus is buzzing (atleast the tiny portion of the campus I managed to see) as the weekend football match had just got over. By football I mean american football, much different from the comparatively mellow sport of 'Soccer' that we call football back home. College level sports are a big deal in US with them being the stepping stones for most professional athletes. In fact, these universities are the nurturing ground for sportsmen of all shape and size (the sizes do not include small however, as people in this part of the world are generally a bigger species of human beings) including olympians. Bigger universities (I am sure OSU has a couple too) have olympic gold medallists even in their ranks as students.

The mood throughout the campus was generally upbeat with music playing and all the pubs in the campus running on full load. I am told that the Buckeyes had just won a close match. I walked past the stadium where it all happened and it was huge and majestic. Across the stadium there came a piece of flat land which had around twenty odd tennis courts arranged on it. On the other side of it there were a couple of grounds for Soccer complete with lush green grass and goal posts and all. Further ahead there was a river running. I am guessing its the River Ohio since I was in the state of ohio. There was no one around to ask and no sign boards in the near vicinity. I could have and should have asked my cousin I guess, but happily forgot about it till now. Over the river there was a bridge and as I walked down the bridge I encountered a large bunch of joggers. Jogging is a very common exercise here. Most people go jogging and they take it up whenever they get time. By 'whenever they get time' I mean literally anytime of the day. It could be 8 in the morning, 12 in the afternoon, 3 like a matinee show, 7 in the evening just after supper or heck even 11 in the night.

The River view from where I was

I decided to stop walking now, not because I was tired or bored but because I started getting a feeling that I had gotten lost. It took a good part of the next hour for me to find my way back to the building into which my cousin had gone in. I decided to wait in the lush green lawns in front of the building where some chairs had been placed very conveniently.

 (Coming soon - A glimpse of the Bearcat. A little bit about the place I stay in!)

A Leap Of Faith

'Ready... One, Two, Three....!'... & ... Splash!!

The wetsuit was on, the breathing apparatus was on and the hands were over the face to hold the apparatus in place for the love of ones life. Click went the camera. The picture that I have unfortunately not seen yet, I would imagine, will look like darth vader running away from the paparazzi.

The splash was the last thing familiar I heard for the next half an hour or so. The world went all green next as I was dragged into the water by the dive master for my scuba experience.

Winding back the clock to around a month back, same place, different spot in the sea, same dive master, a different set of friends, same breathing apparatus and I took the plunge. The world did not go green after the splash though. Fear and panic was followed by a hasty retreat from the sea to the comfort of the rocking boat.

Back to the present now and there is a coral again, brick red and large, similar to the last one I had seen. There are schools of bright colored fishes all around and the sound of the water as I get dragged along. Soon the sound of water turns into silence and there are no thoughts in the head. The face has a relaxing blank look, I can only assume, and unlike the case on land, no one is around to ask 'what are you thinking about?' after misinterpreting the blank expression for contemplation.

I remember someone telling me that, someone once told that person that one will never know what is there beyond unless you take the leap. Fortunately, I am glad I had a strong diver who could drag me around all by himself to take that leap. Unfortunately, the dive master was a guy, pretty disappointing for guys who come to scuba after having watched 'Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara'. The dive, though definitely a brilliant experience, was not life changing like for the protagonists in 'Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara' either. Stupid Movies and their perfect stories. Fortunately Discovery Channnel and National Geographic are not so stupid and so the Scuba experience will remain as something I would recommend to anyone looking out for a nice beach vacation on the coasts of Konkan, especially in the vicinity of a small town called 'Maalwaan'.

Winding the clock back a few days in time now.

A back pack on the back and I am running to catch my bus to start a nice little trip home which was to be followed by a mini adventure with a couple of friends.

“Belief and trust are indeed a wonderfully empowering tool to wield. Empowering the person on whom you use it to achieve fabulous heights even!” I didn't know that I would realize this in a few days time from now, as I entered the auto-rickshaw. The auto driver had a white cap on his head, a long flowing  goatee and a mark of wisdom on his forehead which I initially didn't notice. A few hundred meters ahead I leap out to rush to the waiting bus. I throw him the usual twenty rupee penalty for catching an auto for as short distance as a few hundred meters. The driver calls me back and hands me Rupees ten and fifty paisa. Stunned and speechless, I notice the mark of wisdom on his forehead, a mark I have experienced to be a sign of nobility, pride and righteousness, a indication of people who are usually a brilliant friend to a friend and a fearsome enemy to a enemy.

As I jumped on to the Bus and the driver shifted it into gear and we coasted off, I couldn't wipe off the smile on face. I guess the things I was looking forward to the most was the uncertainty and the little surprises that were waiting for us during the course of the travel. A pleasant change from the daily routine of 'punching in' in the mornings all grumpy and 'punching out' in the evenings all 'spritey' but tired.

Discovering Running

“All I do is keep on running in my own cozy, homemade void, my own nostalgic silence. And this is a pretty wonderful thing. No matter what anybody else says.” ― Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

It was a wonderful sunday morning and I was moving at an average of 2.5m/s on the roads of Pune University. Around me there were plenty of others, some moving much swifter and some much slower, some much older than me and still moving faster and so on and so forth. Surprisingly, who among the bunch of runners finished in front of me and who finished after, neither concerned me nor did I notice. The aim was to reach the finish line in a healthy time and try to discover & enjoy the void while doing that. If anyone is wondering 'whats happening?' after reading thus far, let me explain, I was participating in a run organized by Pune running and was attempting to run my first quarter marathon.

“The thing about running is once you get a rhythm for your heart and the legs going, you can keep moving forward as long as you want!” Said the gentleman in his fifties who was now running alongside me and happily cheering on the other runners. Well I cannot disagree with him, but go on forever?? Have to say I didn't feel that way after a little more than a hour or so of running, but I plan on exploring running for all its worth to try and discover that rhythm and leg movement that he was talking about. An old man in his late sixties or early seventies passed by. He was running the 21K run. He smiled. In fact, everyone who was running there was smiling, clapping and encouraging each other, especially the ones who are visibly tired but pulling themselves along and all red in the face from the effort. To some, my description of the situation might make all people at the run might seem a little nuts. However, standing by my staunch belief that I am perfectly sane, I can vouch for their sanity.

I am not going on to try and give reasons for how wonderful a feeling it is when you are running and yapity yap yap. Quite frankly, I wouldn't say I know how wonderful a feeling it is and I have nothing to tell anyone about running, let alone promote it. However, the concept of a homemade void filled with my own nostalgic silence does sound intriguing and I hope to one day fully understand what Mr. Murakami was saying and so I shall run till that day and beyond. However till then running will be for me an opportunity to, without judgement, push my limits, a means to keep myself fit to play football, a platform to plug in the earphones and day dream uninterrupted and something to look forward to everyday.

The quarter marathon completed, the next stop was a nice little popular Irani Cafe – Vohumen Cafe. Like in the case with any nice little place in India, this was crowded like a stadium too. A small wait and a Cheese Sandwich, Toast Butter and a Tea later we stepped out. I should probably explain here that by 'we' I mean my friend who had invited me for the run, his colleague whose name I cannot remember for the simple reason that I have a terrible memory and myself. Up came an old lady promptly to us and started chatting away with the colleague of my friend in perfectly good English. I am sure that she picked out this colleague of my friend from our group of three solely because of the fact that she was a female. The lady was by behavior and appearance a beggar and apparently an honest one at that. She had stepped up promptly and explained how she had a job on most days, and how today being a sunday she had no way to earn anything but to dress up in shabby clothes and request kind people like the colleague of my friend for some help. A couple of minutes later the colleague was handing the lady some bananas and buying her a tea. The strange lady proceeded, with a great big cheshire cat smile on her face, to explain that she was a kind soul from Goa, who was cheated by her boyfriend and now without a means to look after herself. At this point I could only come up with three possible explanations for the scenario we were facing

a) We were being taken for a ride by a really great actress who was pointlessly wasting her talent by restricting herself to the streets.

b) There was mental hospital close by with a bunch of nurses running around looking for a missing inmate

c) She was a genuinely honest person.

I decided to not ponder over what was the right answer from the above. Irrespective of the answer she was living life at her own pace and with a smile on face and for that she probably deserved the bananas and the tea.

In all, a nice little sunday morning spent in and around several characters all rolling on at their own pace and resembling smiley's, was a good beginning to the day. Later on in the evening Ryan Giggs, playing his 900th match for Manchester United, scored a last minute winner and my day, which had begun on a good note, ended on a pleasant one too and I decided to sit down and write about it.

An Unplanned New Year

(Disclaimer : The time mentioned in the following article are but mere speculation as per what the mind perceived them to be. The time frames have been chosen so as to try and effectively convey to the reader the true feeling that the writer experienced and by no means need be the exact correct timing at which the incidents occurred. )

        The insect on the flowing water kept jumping up and back against the flow of the water. The stream proceeded unrelenting in its quest to complete a enviable 20 to 30 feet dive and not so enviable crash right onto the rocks below. The insect proceeded, equally unrelenting, in its quest to keep jumping up the stream to effectively maintain its position constant. I could see no potential reason for this tedious and strange behavior of the insect and can only presume that it was performing this tedious activity as a part of the training regime for insects enrolled in the Ninja school for Water Walkers.

          If anyone is wondering how I got to this insect on the water, then here is the Recap

Dec 29^th, 16:00 – Entered Bus to Bangalore from Pune. Immediate aim - “catch bus to Coorg from Bangalore on 30^th morning and spend evening being trampled by elephants with Friend #1”

Dec 29^th, 23:30 – Phone call from bangalore. Around ten minutes of trying to tell the person at the other end 'I don't understand Kannada' in Hindi and phone gets cut. Lesson learnt. I booked the ticket to Coorg for 29^th instead of 30^th.

Dec 30^th, 10:00 – Touchdown Bangalore. Change of plans. Getting Trampled by elephants has to be postponed. Ticket to Coorg Booked for 30^th night on the 23:57 bus. Plans made to meet with friends in bangalore till then.

Dec 30^th, 17:30 – The meetings start. Rendevous with three friends planned and process starts

Dec 30^th, 21:00 – Rendezvous complete. A satisfied feeling and it was not because of the food at Coconut Groove.

Dec 30^th, 22:30 – In an Auto in Bangalore. Being taken for a ride. In serious doubt of making it in time for the bus.

Dec 30^th, 23:15 – Ride complete. Looks like will just make it in time for the bus to coorg.

Dec 30^th, 23:25 – Friend #2 calls. Change of plan. Need to get to Mysore on 31^st morning instead of coorg.

Dec 30^th, 23:40 – Friend #2 calls. Change of plans. Coorg back on!!

Dec 30^th, 23:55 – On the bus to Coorg. Just in Time.

Dec 31^st, 06:15 – Touchdown Coorg. Check in at Seethalakshmi Lodge to freshen up. No power, tiny dark rom and a candle and matchsticks.

Dec 31^st, 08:45 – Candlelight shower done. Friend #2 arrives. Pick up Friend#1 and New Friend#3. And the journey without a plan begins!

Dec 31^st, 09:00 – Heading of to Wayanad via Nagerhole.

Dec 31^st, 11:00 – Heading of to Wayanad but apparently not through Nagerhole.

Dec 31^st, 12:30 – At Kuruva Islands. Its closed due to an unfortunate incident that occured a couple of days back. Enquiring about places to stay for the night in and around the region. Finally after much deliberation we move on even though some random guy was nice enough to offer his very own house to us.

Dec 31^st, 14:30 – We reach Banasura dam. Stop at 'Homly Foods' for Lunch. Very friendly chechi, great food and we push off.

Dec 31^st, 16:00 – Still near Banasura Dam. Arrangements for Tenting in the forest for the night in progress.

Dec 31^st, 17:00 – Tents up..!!

Dec 31^st, Rest of the Night = Brilliant!!.. Campfire, Bread and Sambar, some wine, some home made cake, lots of talking and not many mosquitos.

Jan 1^st, 6:30 – Good morning 2012. Nice orange skies@sun rise. Freshen up. Off on a trek to the forests on the hills of Banasura.

Jan 1^st, Around about noon – We reach the top of the water falls, where the water is cold and happily flowing before just before the several feet high drop. An insect is sitting on the flowing waters doing Ninja Training for Insects.

             The Ninja insect was not even close to being the highlight of this trip. A brilliant trip consisting of four people, a maruti swift diesel car, a borrowed tent and lots of driving. At a point of time during the sleepy conversation we shared over the campfire my mind couldn't help but wander of to that gory yet brilliant comedy of a movie 'Zombieland'. More specifically to a particular dialogue in the movie. Couldn't remember what exactly it was, but it had something to do with enjoying the small things in life. A very big thanks to the other three members of this trip for extending to me an invitation to share space with them on this new years eve.

The Dad and a Son

There were times when one rupee was a great amount of money that could buy you enough for a party, or so I have heard. If that was true, then I guess somewhere along the way came times when even a hundred rupees became not such a great deal of money. The small story I am putting up here was somewhere smack in the middle of these two times.

The problem with this period smack in the middle of the two markers I have mentioned on the timeline was that though computers cost only a tad bit more than they cost today, they were still not a common household item yet. This was chiefly because hundred rupees was at this point still a great deal of money, though one rupee had become an insignificant donation to even the common beggar. But for a little ten year old kid sitting on the porch and day dreaming, all this did not make any sense and hence were trivial things. What he could understand though was that computers were a lot of fun. Hence, it just made perfect sense to have one at home. So, as his dad sat on the sofa, sipping on a cup of coffee before leaving for a short visit to Trivandrum to meet his mother, the kid came running to him and said

“Dad, I want you to get me something when you get back from Trivandrum.”.

The dad smiled expecting the request to be the sweet white 'laddoos' that were the usual demand. But what came out of the mouth of the kid next must have made his heart skip a beat, his head spin like a top. It must have felt like he was being asked to build another house like the one he had just somehow managed to pay for completion.

The kid demanded “Dad! Please get me a computer when you get back from Trivandrum!”

The little kids cousin, who was staying with them and having a boring day till this particular moment, felt suddenly like he was at the fair. The riotous laughter that showed up first was followed by a field day, taking the case of his idiotic little cousin and his spur of the moment amazingly stupid demands. The barrage of ridicule only made the little kid even more vigorous in his demands.

All along the Dad did not utter a word and continued to sip on his coffee. The lack of words only stirred the kid even more as now the feeling of impending failure at getting what he wanted was getting more prominent. This meant much more than just a computer now. He had to shut up his cousin. This was now officially a matter of pride. The mere thought of having to bear with consequences of failing in his demands brought him on the verge of tears.

Suddenly the dad rose up, picked up his suitcase and started moving towards the door. The kid went running behind him in his desperation. The dad continued to put on his chappals and stepped out of the porch. He seemed deep in thought. He turned around, looked at the kid gave him a warm smile, swooped him off the floor, gave him a nice big hug and told him

“Wish me a safe journey. I will be back soon”. He then opened the gate and left.

The barrage of ridicule from the cousin continued well into the darkness of the night. But the kid did not care anymore. He knew something that the cousin didn't. The battle of pride he was so desperate to win earlier in the day had been been won hands down by him. The cousin didn't know it yet for he could not have known what the warm smile and the hug meant. The Kid didn't care anymore. He knew he would get the computer. Might not be as soon as a day later when his dad came back from Trivandrum. But it was coming. For the time being he didn't want the computer anymore. Just the sweet white 'laddoos' from Trivandrum would do.

(My dedication to someone who was very close to me, a hero I silently idolized. I will always rue that I did not get a chance to let him know to my hearts content as to what he meant to me. I can only hope that I was deserving of all the selfless love and care I received. Will cherish all the little memories, the laughs, the arguments, the scooter rides standing in the front, all the fun and the games and continue to strive in the hope that I can do justice to this wonderful platform that he has provided me with to face life.)

All Roads Lead to Rome

He sat on the bench at the bus station, staring into the world beyond. The feeling of slipping away into an unpleasant emptiness was overwhelming. There was nothing to hold onto. The two faces next to him were unfamiliar and were of the opposite sex. Trying to hold onto them would have meant a good beating from the public. So he decided to just sit there and stare at the world beyond, wait and see whether he does slip into the unpleasant emptiness or does he get miraculously rescued like in the movies. He couldn’t understand it. Everything was supposed to work out fine like planned. He had lived with confidence that all his decisions would be easy for him because he believed in living life on his own terms. A little slow as he has always been, it didn’t strike him before. But now he was sure. This theory of his was not the case always.
"Hmmm… didn’t see this coming though. Apparently living life on your terms also means you come to forks in the road more often than not."
There has always been only one rule for forks in the roads. Well two actually.
1. Short cuts are never Short
2. All roads lead to Rome
The later however is a universal rule, not just for forks in the road. It is for reminding yourself that irrespective of the decisions you were going to end up on the same bench in the same bus station in each and every one of the parallel universe’s at some point of time or the other. For people who ask him what the proof for this proof is he has only one reply. Whats the proof its not?
The man around 5 feet 6 inch tall. Could have been six feet too. The boy on the bench was not very good at judging physical quantities. So nobody will ever know how tall the man actually was. He was well dressed, the black full sleeved shirt well ironed and tucked in. There was a black bag hanging from his shoulders. His black shoes were all shiny and well polished. His black hair combed immaculately, the parting line fully straight and perfect. The boy and the man were quite the opposite. There was the man all neat and tidy standing straight and upright, head held high. There was the boy sitting slouched on his bench at the bus station head hanging under the weight of the all so heavy life. The man stood at the right corner of the Bus station and the boy sat to the left corner of the bus station.
The man was mumbling away under his breath. More precisely he was counting numbers. After a while, as though satisfied that he still remembered his numbers, he stopped his count and started moving towards the left corner of the bus station where the boy was sitting. The boy was sitting and staring at the floor now. The patterns that the tiles on the floor seemed to be exhibiting seemed to tbe the most interesting thing in his life right now. At least it helped him get his mind off the countless problems he had in life. Suddenly his patterns were interrupted by a black tipped stick and two shoes, shiny black and well polished. He looked up to get a good look of the perpetrator who had interrupted his peaceful pattern watching activity. There was a man 5ft 6in tall or might be 6ft tall, dressed in a well ironed full sleeve shirt immaculately tucked in. He had on him a pair of black glasses and out from behind the black shades one could make out a scar emanating from where his eyes were behind the glasses. The man stood on the entertaining tiles counted till five and then felt the pavement with his black tipped stick for where the pavement gave way for the road. At precisely that moment, a bus moved in and the man stepped off the pavement onto the road and off the road onto the bus. The boy sat there staring at the bus as it left. He got up slowly form his bench. His back was all upright now. His head held high. He looked up at the clear blue sky popped out music player and plugged the ear phones in and stepped out onto the road. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel. It was from the street lamp’s of Rome on the other side of the tunnel. He smiled and thought
“All roads lead to Rome….”
Along came the bus he had been waiting for. As he jumped onto it there was no more a frown on his brow. He knew the bus was going to take him to the street beyond the street where he lived. He knew that there was a barber shop in that street. He knew he was going there and get that funky little haircut he had been half contemplating and half dreading for sometime now.