Is this right? Voicing out before the Sun sets over 2009

Note: Please voice out your opinions too. Lest this becomes one major soliloquy :)

Why do I get bothered by visualisations of things or activities that I've snubbed away rather confidently? Some things that, I've tried to wash my hands clean of. Is it because I still care for it or is it because I still haven't gotten over it? Why is it that, during your testing times, everything seems to be unfavourable towards you? I have heard of a phrase which says- "Everything happens for good, and for a reason."- Is it right?

Is the amount of money you earn the only yardstick to measure your happiness? Is it the biggest achievement in life? Then, why do people say s/he is "doing well" in life only if they earn truck loads of money? Why do people yearn to marry someone who is "doing well"? Is a good life automatically ensured? Isn't the level of happiness and peace of mind one attains from the things s/he does the ultimate standard to measure one's satisfaction and success? Money may or may not be a part of it. Am I right?

We live in a democratic country. We have the power to make or break the government, but yet we complain. Complain against the system, the state of affairs, the corruption, the government apathy, the under development, the leaders (fathroos) who have been elected to rule, the efficacy of new policies etc. Isn't it all in our hands to rectify it? Isn't it our right to have good leaders? People are literally buying votes in our country by giving off a paltry amount to poor and uneducated people. Why will they (the fathroos) want to spend so many crores of rupees to come to power? Isn't it obvious that they want to reap much more money from us? Isn't it right if we blame the voters rather than blaming the government? So, the next time, before you complain about anything, just think who is at fault in the first place. After all, the basic principle of democracy says- "Of the people, by the people, for the people" isn't it?

Globalisation is a good thing. It has helped develop the country to a large extent. But, should it be done at the cost of our own cultural and traditional developments? Does it mean to say we're not proud of our roots? Don't we as Indians, have our own identity? Why do we want to follow the western ideologies and way of living? Is it because that lifestyle is more convenient? Is it because it's cool? Sure we've become a bunch of wannabes. Sure we can follow any foreign culture, but not at the price of our own. Am I right?

The next time you go to a shopping mall or any busy place, take a look around to see how many people are actually fit physically. You will be shocked to find out that the numbers are somewhere close to one or two in a hundred (Yours truly of course, falls in this category :P). This trend is soon catching up even in the villages and towns of our country. Don't the others care about themselves or don't they have time? One question comes up in my mind when I think of this- If you can't take care of yourself, how will you take care of the others around you or your dear ones??? It is a bit clichéd to reference 'Health is Wealth' when writing about fitness, but it seems to be apt here. (Just testing my rhetorical skills).

Now coming to the last point- Is it right for me to sit comfortably at home and ask so many questions :D? You surely need to put on your thinking caps. Reflect on this.

This is my last post of the year. Happy New Year friends. Have a blast! Catch you in 2010.

Pain Killer

What the hell is this pain?
Difficult it is to explain.
Will somebody tell me how to proclaim?
Or afraid are we of bringing back the shame?


Bothered are our hearts as we become reclusive,
enough to make presumptions of us being elusive.
Only people, who have felt, experienced or empathise,
have the capacity to really actualise.


People who are helpless, naïve and credulous,
definitely show the tendency to be acrimonious.
For only those, who are proactive, bright and benignant,
stands a chance to display signs of being resilient.


Have we swayed too far away from reality,
or cold-blooded have we become to form such mentality?
Human feelings have been infested and bugged,
to the extent of dear ones being shrugged.


With false pride we swagger and move,
just to hide our emotions and disprove.
So awake and arise my fallen friend in the abyss,
because, ignorance, is in fact bliss! 

A tale of a motorcycle

A conversation between two anonymous characters

X: Well... it seems Arjun is going to write a new post about a motorcycle
Y: Wow! That's cool. Now this is some good news
X: He said it was about his motorcycle
Y: But, he doesn't have a motorcycle. Don't tell me he bought a new bike
X: No he doesn't have one and he didn't buy a new bike either. This story is about the time when he actually owned one. He didn't give much details about it and instead, told me to read his blog.
Y: So what are you waiting for dunderhead? Let's go ahead and read it.  I can't wait any longer!


As luck would have it, I've never had the chance to own a good motorcycle. Can't say if it's because I haven't got the right opportunity to buy one or my dad doesn't like the idea of me riding one. Whenever I ask him to buy me a good bike he starts rambling about buying a car or an SUV. Then, the topic drifts to some financial issues cropping up or about the money he invested or plans to invest in some property or his dwindling bank balance (yeah right!) or the likes. My efforts to convince him were all in vain cause he just wouldn't accede to my demand. Therefore, so far neither the new 2 wheeler idea nor the new 4 wheeler idea has materialised.

Come on! It's not asking for too much right? A good bike is a birth right of every middle class teenager (leave alone a twenty-something guy like me)  who yearns for it. OK, the word good here is a relative and vague term. Good here means anything which suits most of the requirements of the person riding it. It may be power, performance, styling, fuel efficiency or a combination of all these, or, a bike for plain showoff. Speaking with these factors in mind (for Indian standards), all my friends have GOOD bikes. What kind of a @&%$^% up deal is this huh? Here I am, stuck with one disgusting vehicle (by all standards) and they roam around in performance bikes. This is like breeding enviousness (don't confuse it with jealousy).

So what came to me in the form of my first bike was actually a gift from my uncle's father-in-law to him. My uncle in turn gifted it to me out of his generosity. This bike, a tall, emaciated and hideously bland looking thing, was actually a 1991 model Hero Honda Sleek. My uncle's F-i-L gave it to him because nobody was using  it at his place, and my uncle gave it to me because he didn't have a driving license. But whatever it was, I was happy (at least for the time being) to have my first bike. This was somewhere in mid 2007. I cleaned it, got the registration certificate renewed, got the bike transferred into my name and even spent a fortune converting it into a "decent" looking thing.

This bike was my companion through thick and thin. It served the purpose of getting me from point A to point B. It also helped me in doing my domestic chores which included picking and dropping a zillion people. One day (somewhere in July 2008) while I was on such an errand (picking up my cousin and bringing her to my house), the traffic cops beckoned me to stop my bike for a random checking of documents. It was then that I realised the bike's insurance policy had expired only a couple of days ago. What kind of an irony have I brought myself into, I asked myself. I tried to swerve the bike and escape, but the cop, being experienced with handling such antics, jumped ahead and grabbed the bike key. I was stranded.


Cop: You thought you could get away so easily is it?
I: No no... I was going to stop by the side of the road a little ahead (yeah right!)
Cop: Yeah right!!! Now show me your license, insurance policy and RC book.
I: Here is my license and my RC book.
Cop (after checking them): Yeah this is all fine, but where the hell is the insurance policy?
I (cursing my luck): Here!
Cop: But this policy has expired. Where is the new one?
I: I don't have it. It must've slipped my mind to renew it.
Cop: Oh is it? Poor you! Now pay up 500 bucks to the Sub-inspector and scoot from here.
I: But I don't have so much with me.
My cousin (who was getting impatient by then): Arjun chetta I have the money with me. Let's pay up and scoot as he says.
I: Shut up! I know how to handle these guys. You just wait and watch.
I (to the cop): I know this RTO officer who is very close to me. Should I make him intervene in this matter? 500 bucks is just too much. I won't get that much even if I sell the bike.
Cop: Why do you want to trouble him? We'll compromise for something lower. Come lets speak to the Sub-inspector. 
SI (acting as if he doesn't know anything): Whats the issue? Why have you caught him?
Cop: He hasn't renewed his insurance policy. 
SI: Oh! Tell him to pay whatever he has and get lost. 
Cop: He says he can't pay 500 bucks for it and also said that the bike won't fetch him so much if he was to sell it. 
SI (to me, with a smile on his otherwise sombre face): Now let us get down to business... I'll pay you 5000 bucks for the bike. Will you sell it to me?????
I (thinking): 5k for this worthless bike? Thats cool! After all, I got it free. Muhahahaha!
I (to the SI): Sure! Agreed. But what will you do with the bike?
SI: I'm going to use it in my village to carry hay for my cows.
I: Ha ha now thats some novel thinking. (what a jerk!)
My cousin: Arjun chetta don't sell it. I'll pay the fine.
I: Shut up! Here I'm getting a good deal on this piece of junk and you tell me to continue riding this thing to eternity after paying the fine?
My cousin: But what will your parents say?
I: Don't worry I'll explain it to them.
SI: OK let me take it for a test ride.
I: Sure go ahead.

The SI had in fact got a bike mechanic along from the nearby garage to test ride it. The mechanic took the bike for a spin and came back with an expression of Thank-God-I'm-alive-to-tell-this story-to-my wife-and-kids! In his "Special report" to the SI, he mentioned the benefits of (not) buying the bike. For starters, it had no such thing called a brake, the acceleration was very less, neither the headlamp nor the tail lamp worked, the battery was as good as dead, the tyres were balding, the speedometer didn't work, etc etc. He also asked me personally as to how I managed to ride such a vehicle. The SI and he started discussing among others, things like how to get me a recognition from the government for such daredevilry. They were also finalising the (revised) price for the bike.


After some negotiations, finally the asking price for the bike settled to 4000 rupees. A paltry sum when compared to the money I spent on refurbishing it, but a good sum when compared to the money I had to spend on repairs and maintenance. I sold the bike.


This was a win-win situation as far as the selling part of the bike was concerned. But of course, the flip side of it was that I had to start using my old vehicle again (Never mind what it is). Hence, for the record, I (an offender) actually sold a bike to a copper for not having had the money to pay up the fine for a minor offense, and in the process, losing my first bike ever.


People at home were obviously shocked, but the turn of events also provided for a good laugh. Now to start collecting for my next purchase- a Suzuki Hayabusa or a Harley Davidson V-Rod :P 

Sabarimala: A few thoughts on being a "Swamy"

At last, I've got this opportunity; in fact, a much awaited opportunity of going to Sabarimala. This holy place always intrigued me from the beginning. It has been a week since I've put on the holy maala, and "officially" being sanctified as a Swamy. To state unequivocally- I'm agnostic (believe me, it's safer than being an atheist).

Being religious has never been my forte and I don't think will ever be. There are also certain places (that I don't want to name) which I like to avoid like the plague due to various reasons. These places take away every ounce of  religious pride that I possess (negligible as it may be).  But, I do have an affinity towards many temples and religious places for reasons beyond my understanding. Maybe it's the ambience, maybe the sight of people who go there with their hopes, or their beseeching prayers, maybe it's the positive energy or the goodwill I see, maybe it's just plainly for some unadulterated amusement (remember Muthappan?),  maybe it's the discipline and faith attached to it, or maybe it's the been-there-done-that-feeling (spoken like a true agnostic isn't it?)

Speaking about Sabarimala, from what I've heard of it and from what I realised from this life of austerity after putting on the maala is the fact that going through the rituals and following these practices is actually beneficial. For starters, it includes getting up early in the morning, having a cold shower twice a day, going to the temple, controlling your anger and using profanity, or refraining from indulging in carnal pleasures, etc. It definitely imbibes certain important disciplinary and health related principles into a person adopting it. After all, 41 days out of the 365 days we have in a year is not much in the asking for giving yourself a "crash course" in stress management, anger management, cleanliness (mind and body) and humility among others.

Now, you may ask yourself "Do I really need to be a Swamy or go to Sabarimala to do all this? Even a normal person can do it all isn't it?". To answer it, all I have to say is- It is definitely possible for a normal person to do all this minus the pilgrimage part, but believe me when I say, very few things in life give you such high motivation as doing it in this way. And because this is not bound by religion as such. Everybody and anybody can do this; including atheists and agnostics.

So here I am, all excited about going  to this place, not just to see the temple, but to indulge in the spirit of the devotees, to take this much needed respite from normal life, to enjoy the mountainous terrain and the plethora of natural beauty attached to such places, to get some lucidity about life, and to travel. Also enthralling is the fact that I have my uncle, who has more than 35 years of experience of going to Sabarimala, for company. He already gave me a small picture of what the itinerary would be like.

We're leaving Bangalore on January 3rd. Most of the trains bound to Sabarimala on this date were either jam packed or fully booked, but my uncle managed to get us both a ticket in the all AC Garib Rath (did someone mention anything about austerity?).

More on this once I get back. Swamy Sharanam!

My rendezvous with Sri Muthappan

 "എന്ടെ പറശ്ശിനികടവ് മുത്തപ്പാ കാതി രക്ഷികന്നെ"

Disclaimer: A small part of the post is deliberately written in Malayalam to keep up its originality. The translations for the same are just about adequate to give you an understanding of the entire picture.

For those of you, who are not acquainted with Muthappan, let me give you a short intro. Muthappan, a hunter and an incarnation of Lord Shiva, is the most popular local deity in the Northern Malabar region of Kerala (more predominantly in the Kannur district).

Unlike Sri Krishna, who used to devour pots filled with butter for a living, or Ganesha, who used to stuff his belly with modaks, Muthappan’s favourite food was boiled gram with coconut pieces and roasted dry fish, accompanied by kallu or toddy to wash it down. Muthappan worshipping is a typical example of the Non-Sattvic or Non-Brahmanical form of worship (due to the inclusion of fish and alcohol inside the temple premises).

He, among others, remains to be the coolest God I’ve ever come across.

Without digressing too much, I move on to the topic. The Muthappan I’m speaking about is a living person, dressed up like the God himself with the traditional costume and all the other paraphernalia, in order to perform a ceremony called Velattom (വെള്ളാട്ടം).  He is said to get possessed by the real Muthappan once the ritual begins, and this supposedly gives him incredible powers to predict people’s futures and give them some wise counselling and advice.

I’ve had a previous encounter with Muthappan way back in December 2006 while I was spending time with my cousins in Kannur. But, the meeting was too brief for me to comprehend anything from it. So when I got an opportunity to attend this sanctified ceremony while I was in Kerala this November (2009), I never had to think twice or coax myself.

To be honest, I hadn’t anticipated this meeting with Muthappan at all. I happened to go to my aunt’s house on a casual visit one evening when she told me about the event which was happening at the nearby temple or Kaavu (കാവ്). On further interrogation, I found out that the ceremony was being conducted by another relative of mine (by now you must’ve figured out that the place is filled with my relatives). My maternal uncle, who stays with us in Bangalore and was accompanying me that day, was also very keen on seeing the ritual. The only problem was that, I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts (you know the ones with a few hundred pockets) that evening and I very well knew that it was the most inapposite thing to do, especially while going to a temple. But like I said, I hadn’t anticipated it, and I didn’t have time to get back home and change my clothes.

So there I was, moments later, in the temple; rubbing shoulders with the other devotees in the waiting line, to get the exact prognostication of my life from the Venerable Muthappan. My uncle was standing before me in the queue and when his turn came, he whispered his problems into Muthappan’s ears. I couldn’t hear what Muthappan told him, but by the look of my uncle’s face I could tell that he was satisfied and was willing to take all remedial measures or pariharam to overcome his problems.  

                                                                                                                          
 Muthappan giving advice

 What follows this is the conversation between yours truly and ours truly

Muthappan (Holding my hands): Hmm… Parayu (tell me)

I (immediately putting on a woebegone expression): Paddipu kazhani… Jolli onum vijaaricha polle kittinilla. Videshatti povaan shramikugayaanu. (Actually I’ve finished my studies but I’m finding it difficult to go abroad)

Mu: Hmmm…

I: Videshatti Jolli kittumo? (Will I get the job abroad?)

Mu: Ippol thenney povanna? (Do you want to go now itself?)

I: Aan! ippol thenney povaan avasaram kittiyaal nalladaayirunnu.(Yes! It would be great if I can go now itself)

Mu: Koracchu samayam sanyasi aayi jeevikugga. Ambalavaasi aayi kshetrangal ellam onum karangugga. Muthappan ayhachi theram. Vishamikalle! ( Don’t worry, just live the life of an ascetic for a while, visit a few temples, and I’ll send you soon).

I: Sheri Muthappa (OK)

So there I was, swaggering around in elation, after my chat with Muthappan. The pariharam was to lead an ascetic life for a short while and visit as many temples as possible, until I found my job abroad. This was acceptable by me and I was thanking my stars for getting to listen to some positive answer from Muthappan (I was told later that not everyone got to listen to what he/she wanted to hear or found favourable. Sometimes, the opposite proved to be true). I was also happy because he didn't mention anything about the attire I was in.

There there there... Just when I thought it was over, Muthappan called me again to give me some kallu in a small kindi (water dispenser). After drinking the toddy, I returned the kindi to him so that he could fill it and pass it on to others but, this was not what he had in mind. He held my hands again to tell me some more things. The conversation is as follows: 

Mu: Vishamikalla, Muthappan vegam thenney ayyachi theram (Don’t worry, Muthappan will send you soon).

I: Sheri (OK)

Mu: Muthappan ayyachi thannal endu therrum Muthappani? (What will you give me if I send you there?)

I: hmmm……. Ariyilla. Endhi venam? ( Don’t know. Do you have anything in mind?)

Muthappan: Adatha pravisham verumbol, Muthappani kallu vattichi eduthu, arrack aaki konditheranam, ketto? Ipo thenne venda. Ni videshattilokke poyyitti vaa. Oru randu randarra varshangalki shesham thanna madhi, ketto? Engana ethikande ni orthu vishamikkanda. Muthappan vayyi kaanichi therum, ketto? (Ok I’ll tell you what. Distill some toddy, convert it to arrack*, bottle it and give it to me. I don’t need it right now. Go abroad, come back in two to two and a half years and then give it to me. Don’t break your head thinking about how you’re going to give it to me. I’ll show you the way to get to me once you're back.

I: Sheri Muthappa (OK)

Mu: Pinne, adhatha pravisham verumbol, vasthrangal onu maathi verugaa. Kaavi mundu uduthiti venam Muthappande mumbil veraan. (Wait a minute… The next time you visit me, you shouldn’t be wearing such clothing. Wear a saffron dhothi and present yourself well)

I: Sheri Muthappa. (OK)


Mu: *guffaws*

Phew! That was embarrassing. But all the same, it gave the others (who came with their problems) around me a reason to smile. So much for Muthappan’s sense of humour and his uniqueness. He surely has his way of getting things done. Doesn't he? :)

                                           

*Any distilled spirit (whisky, brandy, rum, etc.)  can be given  instead of arrack. Have you ever heard of hard liquor being offered to a temple before?

 നന്ദി! നമസ്കാരം !

PS: I've always wanted to go to Sabarimala; explore the beauty and faith attached to the place in my quest to find solace. Muthappan's advice of leading an ascetic life for a while gives me reason enough to go now. Expect a post on it very soon. Swamy Sharanam! 

In pursuit of my hidden six-pack abs

"Where art thou, my hidden pride? Where art thou?"

If I remember correctly, my initiative of developing a six-pack abs started eons ago. It involved me looking into the mirror while getting topless (now now, ladies, control your urges please!) and cursing myself, for having allowed the stubborn flab to juxtapose itself next to my inherent stomach muscles, while taking control of it. This was (or rather, still is) a major flaw in my otherwise Greek God like physique (You think I'm joking???).

Now, when I use words like hidden and inherent in my post, it obviously means that I was in possession of   the six-pack earlier... but when you read--- my initiative of developing a six-pack abs started eons ago--- you may be left wondering as to which period of my life I actually had the packs. Well this was the time when yours truly was in school and pre-degree (especially while I was practicing yoga under my father's guidance). If any of you have gone through my earlier posts, the more brilliant and mentally proactive ones among you would have probably realised that I hail from a family that specialises in yoga. Practicing this discipline from a tender age of five meant that my stomach muscles were automatically put to work, without even me noticing the transformation or voluntarily being a part of the process.

So, when did this repulsive and nefarious thing called flab start taking over the muscle you may ask? It happened during the summer of 2005, when I had just finished my final exams and was looking forward to jaunt across the country for the next two months. Believe me, when I left Bangalore, I was an emaciated bloke (the kind who could count the number of bones in his body) who was just hovering around sixty kilos, but when it was time for me to get back to college, I turned a healthy 69 (I love this number for the exact reason that you're grinning so wryly for). Nine kilos in two months was the biggest physical transformation in my entire life until date (for someone who had been skinny throughout his life). My friends in college were taken aback the very moment I entered my classroom. I was overjoyed. Peace! End of story.

Wait a minute... If you thought the post would end on such an abrupt note and make you, the reader, infer that it is one of those happy endings stories, YOU ARE MISTAKEN. The story just begins here my friend.

While the metamorphosis continued to amaze me and others equally, yet again there was a small department in my body that I completely forgot about (you must have guessed it by now). For some reason, good (remember the yoga days?) or bad (now), I've always neglected this part of the body in the process of building the rest. I even clearly remember the day when I first hit the gym (somewhere in November 2005), I was all up for bulking up my newly found physique. Now that the genes I inherited from my dad was finally showing itself (my dad was a nationally acclaimed amateur bodybuilding champion), I wanted to be like him so badly, like there is no tomorrow.

Thus, I started working out earnestly. It included doing a lot of ground exercises, warm-ups, lifting heavy weights for each body part, etc. but at the same time, spending only 5-10 minutes towards my 6-pack development. In fact, I used to enjoy all the attention that my body attracted. Flaunting those 16.5 inch arms, removing my t-shirt in the gym after the workout, hitting out various poses, flexing my muscles etc. gave me a high (my God! What a showoff). Showing off was only a small part of it. The major cause was to show all those guys who didn't believe in me, or who kept calling me skinny or a bag of bones, that I had done it and become the way I am. You may call it retribution... My way.

It was only when people started pointing towards the rather conspicuous and preposterous belly of mine (oops! The small department had grown to a big one by now) that I started giving it some more attention. By the time yours truly gave this department it's well deserved space, it was too late. When I say too late it means that the exercises that I was doing after my regular workouts weren't enough to help reduce it. If you think that was bad enough, then listen to this... My MBA exams were approaching and I had to quit the gym for a short while (at least that's what I thought), but this short while turned out to be a long six months and at the end of it  I was already looking six months pregnant (have you ever heard of a word called 'exaggeration'?). My lifestyle had changed completely. Eating, sleeping, and watching movies were the only mentionable daily activities in this phase. So, like Issac Newton said in one of his laws that "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,"  in my case, the opposite reaction was MORE than equal to the action. A lot of comments started flowing. Here, I quote a few

• "Monae look at your stomach protruding out. I never had such a thing when I was of your age"
• "Arjun, what is this? You no longer look like the Greek God because of this"
• "Your body is damn good but I feel your tummy needs a little tuck as it seems to be getting more attention now"
• "Boy you need to literally slog your ass off to reduce that thing"
• "At least I don't have a pot belly"
• "You need to do 200 crunches followed by 200 leg raises followed by 100 hyper-extensions, followed by a zillion this, followed by a zillion that, etc etc. everyday"

In a way I must thank my critics, for their critique got the energy juices flowing in me. I started going for my daily morning jog, which was followed by an oil massage by my brother (who happens to be doing his graduation in Ayurveda). I even started running on the beach every morning, followed by a hardcore abdominal workout for the two weeks I spent in Kerala. The results were instantaneous. I was beginning to feel proud of my body once again (so what if it is only a 4-pack as of now???).

So it sort of has an happy ending after all. Doesn't it? :)

Moral(s):

• You can't get a body like the jockey-underwear-ad-guy without slogging your ass (read abdominal muscles) off. 
• No pain, no gain.
• Rome (read 'a great six-pack') was not built in a day.
• Consistency is the key. You can't afford to be like the Indian cricket team with your body. 
• Smugness screws up everything.

My anatomy of some weird thing called 'Life' (Ver 1.0)

Disclaimer: These views are entirely my own and are written using the universal or generalised approach. It may seem to be paradoxical and pedantic at certain places and it's totally natural for others to have different opinions or disagree with it. We were all born and brought up in diverse environments, with different upbringing and with a different outlook towards life which, in comparison, is just like how all five fingers in a person's hand are not of the same size. So, your comments and feedback are most welcome.
This is written keeping in mind my present level of thinking and understanding. Subject to change or modifications in subsequent versions under the same title.

"Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyways." -- Anonymous

1. Don't judge a book by it's cover

What you see is not what you get, seems to be the mantra for most people. Pretense and hypocrisy is the order of the day. I don't understand why there is the need to show different standards when you really don't believe in or possess those qualities from within. It's a different thing altogether if you genuinely want to improve yourself like me (Come on! Get over it will you). Probably that's why my blog is named Unpretentious Mortal. So it's best not to create or have an opinion of any person/s through hearsay or what other people say about them. Read inside the book and find out for yourself.

2.Nothing lasts forever

Yes. Nothing. Just do some introspection and you will find out. Your habits, your dreams, your ambitions, your career, your wealth, your misery, your current state of life, your girlfriend/boyfriend, your spouse... You name it. It just isn't meant to be. Now you may say: "I have a diamond that will last forever," but when the survival of the very world you live in is in question, what forever? Even if it doesn't happen, will you survive long enough to keep the fancy stone in your possession forever? Or "We're a couple who will never break up no matter what," but what if death does you apart the very next day??? So love what you have when you still have it. Don't take anything for granted. You never know when things may come to an end.

3. Cheating is primordial within everyone

Especially in India. People ferret around for the easy way out. Why not do it in the easiest and most fructifying way than do it the right way? However, much one may deny that s/he (including me) doesn't indulge in such low level activities, it is nothing but lying to yourself. Do some introspection again! From throwing away your food when you were young and then telling your mother that you finished it or, tricking your friend in a board game or, paying a little bribery to the R.T.O officials to get your driving license easily or, taking a sneak peek at your friend's paper while writing your exams are only the beginning.

4. Marriages are not made in heaven and sanctified on earth

Marriages are made on earth and broken on earth itself and it's in the power of the people getting married to nurture it. It's a grand occasion in one's life that calls for a celebration, followed by dreams of a rosy future and high aspirations from each other. Berating criticisms and arguments that follow just show that it is in the hands of the people getting married to first understand what they want from life or, if they can adjust with all the jittering and commitments that follow after marriage, or is it just the lust for the opposite sex that has lured the person into it. After all, a marriage is not a compromise. It is about giving your 100%. Just think, if marriages were really made in heaven, then why there is such an alarming rise in divorce rates???

5. Communication skills play a pivotal role in attaining your goals

Have you ever wondered how some guys who look atrocious end up with beautiful damsels or, how some worthless idiot in office with subnormal skills overtake a better deserving candidate in the promotion rung or, why a person with a great sense of humour is the most awaited one in a get-together party? It's all due to communication. I agree that other factors like money, favouritism, plagiarism, timing, sympathy, etc. plays a part in it, but it all comes next to the way you put across the message and is in some way or the other connected to the way you communicate. It need not necessarily mean to say that your oral or written or verbal communication skills need to be superior to others. Non Verbal communication, which is the most widely used, will also do, as long as the message is passed on in the most effective and comprehensible manner.

6. Most of us have our priorities all messed up

Who/what is more important to you? Which one would you rather prefer to go with?

Your parents or your lover?
Your ambitions or your family?
Your friends or your close relatives?
Socialising or keeping to yourself?
Curricular or extracurricular?
Money or Peace of mind?
Health or wealth?
Most people make the wrong decisions in life and later regret badly for not having realised it earlier.
These and various other questions keep haunting you. In life, one needs to keep shifting between the poles, but knowing the limits and drawing the line of optimisation is what one must realise and work for.

7. Everyone has the delusion that s/he is almost always right

Now I deliberately put almost in the heading. It's because many people do acknowledge the fact that they commit mistakes or cheat or act in a derogatory manner, etc. but somehow, sometime later, people make themselves believe that it was all done keeping in mind the good interests or intentions for the overall well-being of everyone around them including themselves (No pun intended). Remember, there is a jungle filled with detractors and conceited people out there. So this leads to some people thinking that they're perfect, while all the others are at fault- constantly and conveniently forgetting- that they themselves fall under the category of others to the people around them. So before taking decisions about who is right or wrong, I feel one must step into the shoes of others to know them better and to give the prejudices a break.

8. Time is the biggest healer

This is something I strongly believe in. Whatever may be the cause of mental agony, disturbances or sorrows, it is all wiped out to a large extent if not completely, as time passes. Many new events come up in life to make up for the bad ones, and which make you get over the past. Love is another great healer, but is not as freely available as time.

Hoping the post made some sense and was interesting. Look forward to the later versions of the same post which will be written as and when I learn more about this wonderful journey called errr.. What was it called? ah! Life

Simplest way to make chicken masala: The Mohanlal way

Now I'm hoping there will be some jobless Mallu people reading my posts somewhere in the near future (it's alright if you aren't a Mallu too). I'm also hoping that they would have seen this romantic comedy movie called "Boeing Boeing". This in an example with reference to the disarray that a change in media can bring about in someone's life. Me, being a hardcore Mohanlal fan, thought I should incorporate some of his ingenuity into my writing. So here it is...

Chicken Disaster Masala (This is the link)

The first step here is to wake up all the others around you, if any. Then, tune into 'Akashavaani Madras' (known for giving out only the most practical and palatable recipes ever) for the recipe of the day which happens to be a delicacy known as Chicken Masala. The procedures are as follows (includes the mise-en-place):

1. Clean the chicken thoroughly with water and keep it aside.
2. Now keep ready the required amount of chilly powder, coriander powder, pepper powder, curry masala, ginger, potatoes, tomatoes, garlic and green chillies and leave it aside.
3. Grind to a fine paste the chillies, coriander powder, curry powder and garlic. Don't forget to add salt as per taste.
4. Hold the chicken in your hand. Then, slowly inhale, taking a deep breath. Move your hands towards your sides and get back to the same position with the poor dead bird.
5. Now spread the chicken's legs open holding it upside-down. Move the neck up and down and again go back to the previous position.
6. Get the chicken to rest on it's feet and stay in a vertical position. Rotate it's wings forward and backwards in a uniform motion. In the same way, loosen it's neck and rotate the poor thing's head (if it has any).
7. There you go! What lies in front of you is the delectable 'Chicken Masala'. You can now serve it in a clean vessel accompanied with salads.

സ്വാദിഷ്ടമായ ചിക്കന്‍ മസാല റെഡി .

How I wish every dish we made was so simple to prepare. You just have to twist, turn, roll, hurl, and voila! Saves so much trouble.

Hope you enjoyed it. It's as easy as 1-2-3. Please give in your feedbacks after trying out the recipe. ;-)

My Alma Mater: What I recall most

St. Germain High School is one place that I can never forget. This school, among other things, has played a pivotal role in making me the person I am today. So I thought I should pen down my thoughts about it. Hmm... Now what do I write about it? My memory is pretty bad you see (God forbid my modesty). :)

For starters, there were the teachers; most of whom had really pertinent nicknames. My classmates come in a close second. These guys who shared the same platform with me for studies, fun and games, and mischief of course (I'm deliberately putting mischief in the end because I wasn't a mischievous kid as most of you would have misunderstood me to be. Whatever incidents have happened which make you feel I'm mischievous were either by accident, or it was one big misunderstanding. Duh!). I can never forget the benders I've got from Pacho (my math teacher Mr. Francis D'souza who eventually went on to teach me SUPW) or the slaps I've got from Mr. Wajid Khan, our Chemistry teacher. Incidentally (and unfortunately), Pacho also used to be in charge of students who came late to school, and me, being me, was always late to school. I would then be sent to Mr. Fazal Bari Khan, who happened to be our "Discipline Master" (You read it right, a Discipline Master. You really needed someone with such a job position to control the guys there). The conversation goes like this:

Pacho: Come come bugger! Late as usual
Me: Sorry sir, actually I, actually I...
Pacho: I suppose you're not late. Rather, everyone else is early
Me: Actually...
Pacho: Give me your school calendar. Time for another late remark. For all you know, you may set a record this year for getting the highest number of remarks.
Me (with regretful eyes): OK, here it is.
Pacho: Now go to our beloved Discipline master's chamber (a lion's den I would say) and collect your reward
Me (Mentally cursing): @!#$%^&!!!!!!! Not again!

The reward was always the same- Chicken sitting- A cruel & barbarous way of making a person squat while bending and placing his head in between his legs. Anybody who dared lift his head up would get a very painful bender on his derriere. Believe me when I say, that it was a real torture and the pain was excruciating. Guys with long hair got a little something extra. Yeah, you must've guessed it by now. They got a free haircut. A haircut that made a porcupine on steroids envious of you.

The time spent in the classroom was no better (Not blaming the teachers, who used to work fervently and with immense passion for their respective subjects). Time to get your minds working and time to get your homework checked. I don't know why this system of giving homework came into being. As if the trees (for the books) we're already wasting on our class work weren't enough. This is when I get the second "reward" of the day. The reward gave me special privileges to stay back after school along with like minded kids. This privilege is better known as ‘Detention’.

Now we already know the inhuman methods of punishment used by Pacho (Benders/Slaps), Wajid Khan (Slaps @ 100+ decibels) and Fazal Bari Khan (Benders/ Chicken sitting). Here are a few others who make it to the list for the use of their unique weaponry.

Mr. Francis Mathew (Nondi)- Wooden Duster- Hard knocks on the knuckles with this lethal weapon. You also got a complimentary coating of chalk dust on your hand absolutely free!

Mr. Joseph Kumar- Some great philosopher once said in the Bible "If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also," but with Mr. Joseph Kumar, that probability never arose because he ensured that he always gave double sided slaps which left your cheeks red-hot, like newly smitten iron (that too, early in the morning).

Mr. I. Charles (Chori)- Here was someone who didn't resort to slapping or physical harm. His main weapon was the teacher's remarks that he gave on the student's calendar; remarks that had to be signed by the parents. If anyone showed the slightest tinge of misbehaviour his calendar was promptly adorned with beautiful remarks. I still remember the weirdest one I got from him- "Jumping and laughing around during the prayer time. Parents to meet the class teacher."

Mr. Samraj (Kaka)- The man who was responsible for our physical training, sports, games and athletics had another unique weapon. His whistle had a thick rope knotted to it (a mini whip) with which he used to lash the boys who went a little out of course (reminds me of bullocks and buffaloes). Making us run five or ten times around the ground was another option he had depending on the type of offense we committed.

Animals at least have PETA to back them up to tackle such ruthlessness, but the poor students (not exactly) had to be content with mental cursing, and a beseeching hope that such an event doesn't happen again.
But at the end of it all, I feel some students (I said some, not all, and definitely not me) deserved such a treatment in order to rectify their incompetencies and mistakes, and this was, according to these teachers, the best way of getting the students on the right path then.


Another thing that I cannot forget are our hockey matches. The times when our school beat its arch rival St. Joseph High School (European) in the finals was really something to look forward to. A typical hockey match included:

• The players from both sides of course (funny)
• Drums, trumpets and other such paraphernalia
• Charged up students who came to cheer for their respective schools accompanied by a few teachers to control them (most of them would quietly give up and surrender to the strings attached with such energetic matches, and the audience of course)
• Booing and shouting slogans against each other (and you guessed it right- slogans filled of profanity)
• Fist fights or throwing things (including corn cobs) at each other sometimes (yeah only sometimes. Honestly!) and finally,
• Victory! Mostly for us (I'm serious).

While hockey, cricket and football (for which our school received many accolades) came under the category of outdoor games, there were a few of us specialised in games played inside the classroom; me being one of them. The most popular among these were pen fight and arm wrestling. Needless to say, I was a champion in both. Only the big boys in class could defeat me in arm wrestling (a different league altogether isn’t it?). Pen fight was a game played on the benches or the teacher's desk by two or more people with the main intention of making the rival's pen fall off it and winning points. This was done by striking the pens against each other with planned positioning.

One more thing that I loved about school was the last day of exams. This was, according to me, a moment that brought about immense merriment in every student. Two months of vacations were a lot in the asking after so much of studying. I also used to look forward for the school to reopen with the same interest level. It was indeed a joyful occasion getting to meet all my friends again after such a long break. The anxiety of knowing which section I would be shuffled to, and which good friends would accompany me was also there. Another thing we missed, being part of an all-boys school were girls. This explains why I'm still not good at the flirting game. ;)

After school I don’t know why, but I didn’t keep in touch with any of my batch mates or teachers (I was shocked to find out that most others didn’t, just like me, and they were stepping into school after a period of 8 years. Now that makes it an even deal). It was only recently; with the help of certain social networking sites that I could rekindle the old fire (I said old fire, not old flame). Most of them couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw me the way I am today.

Throughout my school life I was a really skinny guy (It was only while I was doing my graduation that I started to bulk up and get to the way I am now). I used to curse myself for being like that. But I kept telling myself that one day I’ll become healthy and strong, and now, I’m so relieved that it materialised. One thing that made me famous throughout the school was Yoga. Coming from a pedigree specialised in the discipline meant I needed to know it too. I used to perform certain difficult asanas to impress my classmates, and my trademark trick was to hold my hands together and rotate it from the front of my body to the back of it (or vice versa, without letting go of my hands). I was elated and taken aback when my friends said that they still mentioned my name whenever they discussed Yoga and sorts with others.

The incidents that I regretted doing in school are too many to mention. But the one thing that clearly stands out was when I got caught passing on my answer script to my friend sitting on the other side of the aisle. I couldn’t even make up a different story to tell my mother because I had already confessed to indulging in malpractice, in writing to my teacher. My mum was called to meet the principal who later told me not to attend the rest of the exams. My friend, to whom I passed the answer sheet, was also shown the door but he was lucky his parents didn’t have to be bothered as he was a boarder.

Our Old Boys Association meeting and the reunions that followed is something I’ll always treasure and look forward to. The teachers were in fact very happy to see us all doing so well for ourselves. It made me feel good about the fact that we have changed a lot from what we were in school but changed for good I must say, all the while keeping our basic characteristics the same.

I end this topic with a few verses of the cheer we used to shout against the opposition team during all the hockey matches.

Wherever we go, people want to know
Who we are???
So we tell them...
We're the Germainites, the mighty mighty Germainites, We're the dynamites.........

MISSING LIFE

I miss my childhood, I miss my teens
I miss everything that happened in between

I miss my walks, I miss my talks
I also miss the good old ‘On the Rocks’

I miss the gatherings, I miss the meetings
I even miss the daily morning greetings

I miss the days, I miss the nights
I miss those bright and exciting daylights

I miss my rides, I miss my fights
I miss the occasional “love bites”

I miss my drinks, I miss my eats
I also miss a few heartbeats

I miss my dreams; I miss the screams
I miss the days of extremes

I miss my role, I miss my soul
I miss everything on the whole

I miss the beginning, I miss the ending
If I don’t say this, I’m #$%^&@ pretending

My Blog's 'Word Cloud': Elements

A Boon Indeed

I have found solace. Solace in writing posts for my blog. My new found interest and hobby. The pains that I have experienced this year was worse than any other (or at least that is what I'd like to believe). Actually it can't be called worse. Challenging is the right word for it. It's like 'Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger'. Thanks to blogger, I now get to pen down my thoughts online whenever I recall the past. Revert it to something that can be forgotten, to something that reminds me of the good times that I've had and the good times that lie ahead. Doesn't matter if anybody reads it or not, but it gives me a sense of achievement, an opportunity to improve myself, and help my thoughts to have a form. This is my way of retribution, in a good way of course. So don't worry if something or someone is inflicting pain on you. It may all be happening for your own good. A new confidant may sprout up to share all your hard feelings. To give hopes of a better tomorrow.

To live and accept life the way events (happy or sad, good or bad) get thrown in its path is the order of the day. Sorry if I'm sounding like a preacher of philosophy, but it's all because life has made me a stronger person.

For, if you wish to give up and "If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life, your tears will prevent you from seeing the stars"- Rabindranath Tagore