Blog Tag

Thanks Quills for taging me with this.

1. Are you happy/satisfied with your blog, with its content and look? Does your family know about your blog?
I am not. I want to write like blogger A. I want my blog to look like blogger B's. I want as much number of readers as blogger C. But in the end, I realize, I am just Jithu and I can't but be me!

I think my brother knows it. And I told my parents quite recently that I have a blog where I write stuff.

2. Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or you just consider it as a private thing?
Neither I feel embarrassed nor I consider it as a private thing, but I like keeping my identity known only to a chosen few.

3. Did blogs cause positive changes in your thoughts?
I don't think so. Probably because I haven't seen blogs that instill such thoughts.

4. Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or you love to go and discover more by yourself?
Previously, when I had time, I used to blog hop a lot. But now, I mostly confine myself to the blogroll I have. To be frank, anyone will have a natural interest to see who has commented them and how is the commenter's blog. I am no exception. So those who comment me, I guarantee you, I will visit your blog. But people who get comments from me, you are indeed privileged! :p

5. What does visitors counter mean to you? Do you care about putting it in your blog?
Yes I do have a visitor counter in my blog. Initially I was concerned about the count, but now, I care it less.

6. Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures?
Kandathu manoharam, kaanathathu athimanoharam (Seen are beautiful, unseen are more beautiful). I don't try to see my fellow bloggers, unless I am that interested to see them or they force me to see them. Only a chosen few know me by my face.

7. Admit. Do you think there is a real benefit for blogging?
Yes Ofcoz! Other than personal benefits like improving writing skills and the like, it gave me a chunk of friends most of whom I haven't even seen in person but I can very much identify myself with.

8. Do you think that bloggers society is isolated from real world or interacts with events?
Except having access to the internet world, which less than 1 in 100 Indians have, I don't think the bloggers are a privileged lot. They are much part of the ordinary world. But retrospectively, most of the bloggers don't think so. So they are isolated from the real world and mostly avert themselves from interacting with the common populace.

9. Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it's a normal thing?
Depends. Sometimes yes. Sometimes I take it positively.

10. Do you fear some political blogs and avoid them?
If it is a political blog, I won't avoid it. But I hardly find a political blog which is not biased though the author claims it to be unbiased. Majority knows the bias, a few understands it!

11. Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers?
Nah! Suspects can be questioned and they may not always be criminals. In the recent blocking of blogs by the India government I have seen bloggers who abused the block and had sought out methods to overcome it. I felt, who do they think they are? Do they think they are above law? Sometimes in the advent of national safety, governments have to do such things. But everyone knows that once the situation is over, things would be back to normal. And so did the ban. I felt the attitude of some bloggers as plain arrogance!

12. Did you think about what will happen to your blog after you die?
I hope someone will comment on my blog telling others that I am dead. Also I'm not that good a writer to have my scribbles known for eons after my death. So I prefer my blog shall also R.I.P with me! But I don't know how I can do that. Can we automate this process? :p

13. What do you like to hear? What's the song you might like to put a link to in your blog?
I like to hear appreciation for my posts! :p

If for songs,
Bryan Adams, Everything I do...
Achuvinte Amma, Enthu paranjalum nee entethalle...
Vaastav, Mere duniya hein tujhmein kahin...

Identity Crisis

'Nikunjam', to 'C 103' to 'No. 36'
'Kottarakkara' to 'Sector 10' to '17th Main, 14th Cross, 6th Block'

I know, I know. You haven't yet stopped wondering what crap I wrote above right. Well, let me explain it a bit. ' Nikunjam' is the name of my house back at my native and 'C 103' and 'No. 36' are the figures or names (?) that label the flat/house I stayed after I left my native. 'Kottarakkara ' is what we call our native and my later warrens were 'Sector 10' and '17th Main, 14th Cross, 6th Block'.

I can't but be thinking about all these a bit. The word Nikunjam in Malayalam means a house made of climber stalks and bushes. It's a small dream house where one can ease out his/her soul. The word itself is so sweet and thinking about it makes one feel cool and relaxed. It's symbolic to a warm and pleasant home. Where stands C 103 and No. 36? The word ' Kottarakkara' also has a meaning and origin to it, but 'Sector 10' and '17 Main, 14th Cross, 6th Block'?

The numbers are given to houses and places for convenience. Yes, it's quite easy to locate the house numbered 36 in 17th Main, 14 th cross in 6th Block. From the tenderness of yesteryears we moved on to the fastness and ease of use of modernity. I am not saying whether it is good or bad. But am I losing something here? Is it for good?

I am becoming skeptical here. I doubt that I myself would be named after some such number in future. Already it's showing some signs. I have an employee code in my company. I don't know when my boss is going to call me like,

"Hey 14019, why don't you come here for a sec?"

I being the polite subordinate as ever, "Yes Mr. 6788, I am on my way!"

Man, I have an identity and that is my name. But then, so do the house I stay and the place I live. I can voice for my identity, but what will my house do? The place I live do? Do they want to be known through a number? Hold on, where are we heading to in the name of modernity?

Last week I went to buy something for which I had to give my permanent address. The shop guy looked amazed on seeing my address that he asked.

"No Number, No Main, No Cross, Sir?"

All that I could tell him was, "I have a home out there and not a house, buddy!"

I don't know whether he understood the difference between the two. Life just goes on...

The Lost Holidays

The rain was settling down. Some infrequent droplets and those were it. A wind undressed the sky from the clouds and exposed its bare blue residue. The heavens were turning lucid. Taking help from a gentle breeze, trees and shrubs of the earth swirled away the water droplets clung to their branches and leaves. The day was all set to welcome a pleasant, bright and fresh afternoon. And the indistinctly misty evening added itself to the serenity of Maale-Nag, a hamlet on the valley of the mighty Himalayas. The village stood afresh; with a new life imbibed in it. After all it had been raining continuously there for the past two weeks. And little did the rain know that it had spoiled Vyomketan, the yearly harvest festival of the villagers that ran over the last one week.

A couple of hours were still remaining for the nightfall. The last bus from the city down below the plains was to reach the village in a short while. In a small shed near the bus stop sat an old man who apparently was waiting for someone who would come in that bus. Though he seemed so fragile, his age hadn’t have stolen the sparkle out of his eyes, which were filled with hopes.

“Is he coming today?” Asked a passerby who seemed to have known the old man for quite some time. As with the case of any other village, in that village too everyone knew each other.

“I hope so”. The old man replied him without taking his eyes off, which were set at a distance, on the road where it bended and disappeared behind the mountains.

“You should go home grandpa. He is not a child. He will come home alone once he reaches here.”

A long pause was the reply from him. But still he didn’t take off his eyes from the road.

*        *        *

Two weeks back, at an office in the IT city of Bangalore.

“Boss, I am done with my pending tasks. I don’t have much to do now. Can I take a leave and go home next week? It’s our yearly harvest festival that is coming up”. Navin was sure about his leave getting approved when he asked his boss for it.

“Sure Navin, you can go home. But keep yourself ready for any unexpected tasks that would come up during that time.”

“Sure boss!” His joy grew to new bounds. He thought about going to his village and meeting his grandparents after one long year.


*        *        *

The rain had completely stopped falling down. The pleasant evening gave way to a cold dusk. The sky had put on a colorful gown. Red, green, purple and various other variants imprinted on it! The glory of a splendid day was evident in that painting the nature had made on the skies.

At a distance, the sound of a horn was heard. The bus was approaching the village. The old man stood up from the bench with eagerness filled in his eyes. He seemed to have reinvigorated from all his ailments, when he heard the growl of the bus. He moved ahead and got out from the bus stand.

The bus stopped in front of him. Only a few passengers were there inside the bus and they started getting down one by one. Few moments later, the last person disembarked from the bus. With that, the old man’s face turned to disappointment.

No, he wasn’t there. The person, whom the old man was looking for, wasn’t there in the bus. A cold breeze caressed his face followed by a few droplets from the sky. Another rain was starting to grow.


*        *        *

At the same time, in the same IT office at Bangalore, Navin looked at his watch while the tele-conference was going on.

‘By this time I would’ve reached my village’. He thought.

He also knew that his grand father would be waiting at the bus stop for him now. Though he used to tell him to not to wait for him, his grandpa did that every time he went home. After all since his father’s death, it was his grandpa who took care of him.

The client in the US didn’t want to know about all these. They just continued the meeting, as scheduled...

A day's wait

Tears started conquering her eyes. As it sheltered her eyes, I saw my face growing big in those. It hurt me...

Many things hurt me. It hurts me whenever she sits late in her office. I want her to go home as early as possible as I know Bangalore is not a good city after twilight. The third page of Times of India and The Hindu say ludicrous stories each day. It hurts me when she gets even a simple cold as I know she has no one but me in Bangalore. Despite me staying quite far away from her place, I was there for her all the time, I still am...

My friends used to ask me this question. How can you be so close to each other? Obviously they weren’t in love anytime in their life. All I could tell them back was,

“Feel it to understand it
Be in it to believe in it”

“I feel it, hence I understand it
I am in it, so I believe in it”

“Do you?”

Love, that’s a feeling beyond words. It can make the biggest of the odds come together. It can bridge all the differences. When I get something that I really want from her at a particular point in time and I get that without asking her; when she does what I think in my mind; when we call each other the same time and get number busy alerts; when I see her and it assures me that she is the one for me in this life; every time; I feel it. And it makes me believe in it.

Tears started conquering her eyes. As it sheltered her eyes, I saw my face growing big in those. It hurt me...

I was busy at work and I couldn’t talk to her that day!

In the park near Jaya Nagar, with her head on my shoulder, I finally heard those retrieving tears...

I too was getting calmed down inside...

What happened to my city?

The places were the same. The ones we used to wait for trains in the past. The ones we used to get out from the packed Metro and became a part of the ocean of people. The trains too were the same as I couldn’t ever tell between two trains of the Mumbai Metro except differentiate by three different colored stripes, red, blue and green on a common yellow background and yeah, the three lines, western, central and harbor. The people too were the same. I didn’t know their faces or names, but I knew they were all like me. Trying to reach the safeness of home, carrying victuals to their children, meet their beloveds, after a hectic work day.

At first it was the rains that soaked my city. It had already shown its clout last year but I feel there was something left on its hoard. My people suffered. Ok agreed, it’s not in our hands to control a natural calamity than to prepare and face it, but what followed after that?

What if a person’s wife’s statuette is sling with sludge by someone? Were the thousands of people who suffered due to the subsequent hooliganism responsible for that? Were the BEST buses which were ruined and the bus that was set on fire would do any better to the smudging? Time has come for us to extirpate human gods, who provoke innocent but brainless minds, from the face of earth. So, that was two more days of sufferings that got added with the rains. And here comes the valedictory rite, hopefully!

7 blasts, 147 dead, 400 injured! The death tolls are mounting. All in the flash of 30 minutes! I’m sure someone would be laughing somewhere. Let’s give all the dead bodies to them to eat and slake their hunger!

I believe all the people I know in Mumbai are safe. I’ve been trying to contact you guys since I came to know about this.

May the souls of the killed rest in peace and God give courage to their near ones!