tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-173613142012-02-03T17:20:06.064+05:30~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.comBlogger971100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-12151802187158114412008-07-08T08:52:00.006+05:302008-07-08T10:24:11.636+05:30

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. Kids of all ages, and from all backgrounds, playing cricket on the road. Mother is overseeing the garden. Daughter is giving her company.Bang! Thud! Whoosh!A green bolt from the blue whips through the air, hits the compound wall, ricochets from there, and in one swashbuckling move, sweeps Mother's favorite plant off its feet.The breathless sapling bends in double,

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-88230627974969125732008-07-01T15:05:00.003+05:302008-07-01T15:08:54.712+05:30

An optimist's view of a pessimist:Coming to think of it, atleast a pessimist never gets any rude shocks in life !

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-89095141385861004872008-06-23T18:41:00.010+05:302008-06-23T19:02:40.605+05:30

Whenever you have a problem in life, become a hawk. Soar into the sky.Zoom out.Zoom out so much that the problem becomes a tiny little green pea.Stay zoomed out at this precise altitude for a while.Till you enter a stupor.Then zoom in again. Zoom in so fast, that everything around you is a blur.Stop. Brake at a height where the problem turns into a piece of cake.Now hover for a while. Stare at

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-72575505847562273812008-06-08T21:22:00.001+05:302008-06-08T21:24:33.921+05:30

A fortnight ago, I caught myself parting with this piece of worldly wisdom to a younger cousin of mine. He was slipping into crib mode, lamenting on how he was forced to take up a course in Information Technology by his father, whereas his own personal choice was to do something linked with life sciences. I told him:"Its too early for you to crib over crushed dreams. If you look back after a

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-70678836801548474322008-05-27T16:09:00.001+05:302008-05-27T22:47:12.450+05:30

I get this inexplicable delight whenever I spot a best seller or a famous book, at the pavement book hawker’s.Call it a vestige of middle class upbringing, but the day is made if I manage to steal a deal after hours of harangue, fully acknowledging in a remote corner of my mind, the unprinted pages, the typographic errors and other minor flaws that lurk within those glossy covers.This sort of

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-75308050654684453662008-05-09T12:22:00.004+05:302008-05-09T13:39:21.117+05:30

On a sultry summer evening, with the humdrum humming of the ceiling fan coping up with a low voltage, as the background score:A live and let live policy seemed to have established itself wordlessly in the household.Both mother and daughter are deep into their magazines, daughter curled up on a chair with a film review; mother squatting on the floor, lost in a vernacular women’s weekly.The head of

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-67309030598841862542008-04-27T22:41:00.004+05:302008-04-27T22:53:49.781+05:30

Chris Srey KantHas Krish Srikanth become one among the "US Re-turneds?" Or is he working part time at a call center?P.S : Was watching Chee-ka twist and roll his tongue at the Set-Max Studios, as the CSK thrashed the KKR at the IPL match yesterday. Missing his inimitable cheeky Chee-ka Chennai commenting ishtyle. :(

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-20973528392875627752008-04-22T09:53:00.009+05:302008-04-23T10:17:52.142+05:30

They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel - Carl W. BuechnerEveryone likes to be remembered. It is an assurance that one gets every now and then, that one might leave a mark on this earth, when its time to depart. Even infants that die at birth or embryos that get aborted tend to leave behind memories.So many people come, and so many others go. Lives that

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-31698810043570481962008-04-10T17:52:00.009+05:302008-04-14T12:08:57.979+05:30

Publicity StuntThe auto driver grew impatient. Too many traffic signals. And serpentine line of vehicles.Bullying, pleading, honking, and with other driving acrobatics he made it from the tail to the head.He turned back , as though to see how the ‘cushtomer’ took all his manic maneuvers.Sensing, that the “cushtomer” was on the edge of her seat, brows arched, he reassured, “If I don’t do this

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-27461012634264833152008-04-04T18:14:00.000+05:302008-04-04T18:15:09.857+05:30

I‘ve been reading quite some stuff on the looming recession woes, of late. Random browsing landed me on some article written during the dot com bust, which spoke of an alternate history, had 9/11 been just another date in the calendar.Recession, vis-à-vis the phenomenon, the dynamics, and trends isn’t what I intend to discuss here. Recession as such presents a sand-castle washed-up-by-the-waves

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-75209642410132254452008-03-31T14:12:00.004+05:302008-03-31T14:26:29.972+05:30

Cosmic Conspiracy - 1 The day I dare to wear white, cats and dogs must tumble down from the heavens. I must invariably select footwear that are distant cousins of the Hawaii Chappal. And I should magnanimously grant a rest day for the umbrella. Lest the delicate balance of the Universe and all that it holds be disturbed.

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-73400277341876000492008-03-17T19:46:00.005+05:302008-03-17T22:23:01.542+05:30

Drops of timeFossils in memorySmiles and tears ...Grains of sandSlip through her fingersWaves recede ...NostalgiaOf the presentDrifting horizonsA path has been ordained.Her feet fondle the damp earthComfort of the known.A solitary tendril of her lockssways...To the whims of a blithe breeze.ExcitementShoots up her veins.MagnetismOf Unchartered waters.Wide, wild and newWinds from yonder joinA

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-59866744376563454022008-02-26T13:34:00.003+05:302008-02-26T16:12:27.505+05:30

I have a dream...Sandhya was an IT professional. A senior in the field, she had begun her career at time when things weren’t as rosy as they seem to be now. She had seen the ups and downs, the twists and turns, the roses and thorns. Hailing from a lower middle class family based in suburbia, sheer grit and determination had seen her through to where she stood now. Right from her education to

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-37326651196488074582008-02-22T19:38:00.003+05:302008-02-22T19:45:56.273+05:30

A run down shack on a busy highway. A road in a constant spate of traffic.Homes and residences, smoky images on black and white memories.Flash forward: Office buildings, enterprises, bus stands, traffic signals, policemen, petrol bunks, politician’s statues, posters, billboards, big city lights. Accidents, ambulances, trauma care, lives lost, livelihood earned.A dark shanty. Broken panes. Peeling

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-74329298837934038012008-02-03T21:04:00.000+05:302008-02-10T22:59:18.531+05:30

I happened to see an interview of R K Laxman on CNN-IBN, today. The wit and brilliance of his answers made it a masterpiece of a show. The interviwer , a Ms Anuradha Sengupta, was so unlike the rest of the CNN-IBN coterie. Her questions were reflective and intuitive. Moreover she seemed to be enjoying the intelligence of the legendary cartoonist. This was a follow up to the Indian of the year

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-534101484290689512008-01-08T14:57:00.000+05:302008-01-11T09:12:12.882+05:30

She pulled her dupatta tightly over her head. The cold air from the A/C chute was biting.Her mind kept racing back. She looked out of the window. Perspiring motorists. Blinding heat.“Will this bus go to Tambaram?” the old lady had asked,folds of age flapping about her bones. “I will take the bus to my village from there”.“Yes”, she had replied, her voice sounding strange.“But you may not be able

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-90183004835237820702007-12-18T13:29:00.000+05:302007-12-18T14:27:28.115+05:30

Relentless downpour. A major junction. Clogging slurry of (auto) motives.Rain lashes from the sides of the Auto rickshaw.Everyone wants to reach there as soon as possible. Wherever their ‘there’ might be.Chilly winds bite the bone. Radios tune in to the myriad frequencies. Some invisible DJ conjures a concoction of FM waves.Rap interludes from the auto-drivers, fluent in their curses.“Poi

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-61011877626842558692007-12-13T13:53:00.000+05:302007-12-13T14:48:07.512+05:30

It is strange that blows that could have once broken backbones, hardly make an eyelid bat.Is detachment the panacea to all pain ?Still,what would man be, but for the ability to wish and hope?

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-66142895033349675092007-11-17T11:28:00.000+05:302007-11-17T18:50:22.590+05:30

“Santhusht a Irukatheenga”, a smiley faced SRK ad-vises us Kuppans and Subbans of Tamil Land. This is the dubbed version of the DishTV ad on one of the Tamil channels. DishTV may not have plans to penetrate the rural veins of TN, but such an ad would plant a premature R.I.P on any possible prospects.Ads are money. And big money at that. They provide the return on investment only if they reach the

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-49562424334032849752007-11-01T18:56:00.000+05:302007-12-13T13:52:44.522+05:30

Can someone crave for both company and solitude at the same time?

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-44549122907993149022007-10-24T12:48:00.001+05:302010-12-05T17:46:44.644+05:30

A Success StoryYour chances of success are directly proportional to the degree of pleasure you derive from what you do." - Michael KordaRaj and Suraj were best friends.Both of them were good students. But Raj excelled in extra curricular activities as well, especially at oratory where he was a natural pro. When it came to academics, Raj studied for pleasure, and was good at what he did, while

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-86417605908419348012007-10-15T15:48:00.000+05:302007-12-13T13:51:53.780+05:30

Is there a state of mind, where nothing can interest a person ? An Eternal Ennui of the Extreme kind ....All shades merging into one blurry blend of grey.....All tastes mixing into insipid blandness....Every second as dull and dreary as its predecessor...Can someone die of boredom?

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-40709683102711160562007-09-30T16:31:00.000+05:302007-10-01T11:19:16.666+05:30

I am really happy about India winning 'a world cup'. Even if it has been in a form of the game new to most of the contenders. And even if Lady Luck did more than smile upon the Boys in Blue (BIB).But not long ago, an underdog of a sport, unfortunately one that was once India's pride in the commonwealth, did a heroic resurgence after decades. A bunch of non-descript Indians won the Asian hockey

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-40102802782476653092007-09-19T23:13:00.000+05:302007-12-13T13:51:20.639+05:30

A short cut to Ramar SethuKarunanidhi : "Who is this Rama? From which engineering college did he gradute? Is there any proof for this?"Advani :''Today a civil war is going on and the government of Tamil Nadu is adding to it"My father : "Intha Rendu kezhathaiyum pidichu jail la pota Ramarum nimmadhiya irupar, sethu vum nimmadhiya irukum." * (chuckles)* Translation :'If both these old croonies are

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-33912673069276193552007-09-12T11:46:00.000+05:302007-12-13T13:50:19.709+05:30

Why does a super-powered Genie always have a human master to command it? Is it for the same reason that a few lesser mortals hold the leash over the rest?Inspiration : A chance flicking of channels that lead to a glimpse of Disney's Alladin.

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-39659045797621008692007-09-03T22:58:00.000+05:302007-09-03T23:07:58.603+05:30

Rush hour traffic. Zillion diversions. Buses that don’t stop for everyone. Share Autos to the rescue. He waits for one. Shifts his weight to his good leg. A blue ID tag dangles, from his white collar.They whiz past him. The traffic police shoo them away. He holds his knee for support.One crowded Auto stops for an extra ten rupees. He hops on beside the driver. Three of them perched on a seat for

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-54460760494052789822007-08-25T23:45:00.000+05:302007-08-25T23:52:16.036+05:30

Why can't the mysteries of Death also include the means to perpetrate it?

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-39716190380689194352007-08-17T08:06:00.000+05:302007-08-19T09:39:47.827+05:30

Charity Begins at home.I am writing this on the last few days of my stay in a foreign land, on a business visit.A charity sale was going on in our office. It was a cookie-candy-pizza sale as a fund raiser for the Alzheimer’s disease research.Colleague: what is going on? Why are there so many cookies and Pizzas?Me: It’s for charity.Colleague: Charity? Is it free?Me: No! It’s a fund raiser. Charity

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-53669113537503656942007-08-12T20:43:00.002+05:302007-08-14T01:37:04.428+05:30

Is Patience a form of self deception? A narcotic that lulls your consciousness to reality? Does a strength of spirit warrant a dishonesty with oneself? Why is plain old common sense that tells you to give up and move on , viewed as slackness of the soul? Isn't it mulish waiting that is an indication of lassitude and reluctance?

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-69164864356805201182007-07-31T06:46:00.000+05:302007-07-31T06:51:24.757+05:30

Does anyone think that Kareena Kapoor and Paris Hilton look alike?Has anyone noticed that Urmila resembles Jeniffer Aniston?Or Is it just me?

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-54677814064481115282007-07-13T22:54:00.000+05:302007-07-13T22:57:05.893+05:30

Hay in the Subway.Moist Highway. Drying Sun. Milling morning vehicles. Sub-terrain Pedestrian pathway. Choc-a-bloc with arms laden with lunch boxes and scurrying legs. Away from the prying rays of the sun. Still Sequestered with little pools of inky black water.An abandoned heap of hay. Soggy and damp. Condemned to decay.A body slumped against it. Wrapped in rags, that could have once been pink

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-77867872294215745682007-07-05T22:33:00.000+05:302007-07-05T22:43:09.226+05:30

A high profile outlet of a well-known chain of jeweler’s stores. A young couple. Romance is in the air. The husband holds up many a necklace to see which suits his lovely wife the best. An adamant toddler, all of two years and a half, may be. Refusing to get down from her vantage perch, viz her mother’s hip.Pink turns red, when the little one intrudes into the adult’s bliss. The mother struggles

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-73021756299220363812007-07-01T01:27:00.000+05:302007-07-01T22:09:40.564+05:30

Introduction:I had a lovely evening tonight. I got to meet one of my best friends from college and we spent the evening watching a play. The play was in English, titled “Flame of the Forest”, and was by Madras Players in collaboration with JustUs repertory. The theme was based on Kalki’s Sivakami yin Sabhadam (The vow of Sivakami.)The novel is a mini-epic in modern Tamil literature, and is a saga

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-75738578301027942752007-06-28T00:33:00.000+05:302007-06-28T00:34:23.734+05:30

Why do people commit suicide?This was the thought with which I woke up day before yesterday morning. Sternly conditioned to abstain from uttering or thinking of anything remotely macabre by generations of superstitious matrons, I found myself propped up in bed in the wee-hours of a madras Monday pondering over this with clinical interest. Why would anyone want to seek peace in an unknown realm,

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-85960137465385595072007-06-19T21:53:00.000+05:302007-06-20T15:11:20.493+05:30

The Fallen Lord of the BridgeNightly Prowls of the straying Southwesterly winds. Showers that moisten a dry metropolis. Every street that is some street, every gully that is some gully sequestered with miniature ponds of brown, green and gray. Tyre trenches cut patterns in the soft earth. Twin puddles of emerald. Bright verdant new leaves of spring seeking kinship with the shy hidden moss. A

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-48878021036077932082007-06-08T22:21:00.000+05:302007-06-08T23:06:19.135+05:30

Happened to watch Headlines Today the past two days. Was forced to run away from the drawing room leaving behind a half eaten dinner* for the first time in my life.Day 1:The Host: Jujhar Singh The topic of discussion: Women’s rights groups up in arms against profane ads.The cause of Nausea:The ‘ad-nauseum’ in question was one advertisement for Amul Macho showing a couple of ladies grow green when

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-38995049855643401042007-05-28T12:18:00.000+05:302007-05-28T13:04:16.482+05:30

Came across this article while browsing through Wikitravel. Written in 2005 by a foreigner touring Chennai and India, on his first impressions.Felt nice reading it.Some excerpts:"Chennai has a population of over six million, although when out and about and caught in the crowds I often feel that the total population of India just happens to be on the street I am on. No matter how many times I walk

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-15120548541689031052007-05-25T10:28:00.000+05:302007-07-06T20:47:45.779+05:30

I have been listening to a playlist comprised entirely of vintage A.R.Rahman and classic Illayaraja songs for the past couple of weeks. I usually get bored with a song, even an all time favourite, if I get to listen to it for more than a few days.I had chosen some of ARR’s songs that had come as a fresh lease of life to Tamil film music, long before he got entrapped in the labyrinth of

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-62244460866337583022007-05-22T12:13:00.001+05:302007-05-22T12:20:46.009+05:30

Wrote the following letter to "The Hindu" regarding an article of the editor's daughter topping an US university. This kind of a propaganda is demeaning to any real achiever, something akin to blowing one's own trumpet. I am not sure how much of my letter would be published, if at all it is published. Here it is below :Dear Editor,This is in reference to your “news item” on Ms Ram’s academic

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-67631532778762962302007-05-14T09:52:00.000+05:302007-09-30T17:50:59.687+05:30

I planned to get ready early today. But by some celestial conspiracy, couldn’t make it on time.The last bus that stopped at my bus-stop had left. I caught an auto to the next stop. There was a bus due there in the next 5 mins. I tried to keep the fare ready, so that I need'nt waste time in paying for the auto.I could not find my purse . I pulled out all the articles that populated my overloaded

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com74tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-82092879741192232142007-05-07T17:35:00.000+05:302007-05-07T17:41:28.211+05:30

A Rickety Truck. The Cargo – Human. Migratory workers. Crossing borders. Packed like sardines.A woman past her prime, eyes abalze with the fire within. Standing steady as the vehicle coughs and splutters in the traffic. Inches from her feet, playful youngsters chitter away, perched precariously on a ledge. One lad turns with a sudden jerk.His gaze falls upon the plush air-bus of an IT company. He

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-84432327638506873552007-04-26T15:35:00.000+05:302007-04-26T19:19:40.887+05:30

Was listening to Santhosha Kaneere from Uyire ( 'Dil Se Re' from Dil Se)Unnodu Naan Konda BanthamMannodu Mazhai Konda SonthamKaainthaalum Adi Eeram Enjum Translated (to the best of my ability) this would mean: The bond that we have, my dearestIs that of the rain and the earthDrops ensconced in parched land... Is it possible to find such love? Even in this age of pink valentines , inflation and

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-81773572572320252212007-04-20T08:45:00.000+05:302007-04-23T17:09:07.493+05:30

There is this lady who comes to my bus stop. Her husband drops her everyday on a two wheeler, with a little toddler perched up in front.She comes to the bus stop in the nth moment just managing to catch the bus. Her son makes his dad go by the bus till it takes a turn, and mother and child keep waving at each other.Sitting next to her, I enjoy this daily routine, as I see the mother’s face

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1135826644285942202007-04-17T09:19:00.000+05:302007-04-17T17:20:13.347+05:30

I can't expect everyone to behave the same way as I do. Can I ?I can't expect everyone reciprocate my acts of friendship. Can I?I can't expect to be accepted wholly for who I am. Can I ?I can be lonely even when I am not alone. Can I ?I can't stop feeling used and discarded. Can I ?I can't always be the detached emotionless person, that I seem to be.Or Can I ?I can't afford to see through people

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-25078659791785082782007-04-05T16:38:00.000+05:302007-04-10T19:40:57.362+05:30

It’s my life.The lady of the house bathes under a half laid pipe. Clothes on. Her husband watches guard. The sky, their roof. The morning sun fingers the scaffolding. Rubble pierces their hardened soles/souls. ‘Hurry up’ yells the fore-man. The day’s work waits. Hunching herself into a human ‘U’ she rushes into the shack. Her youngest wails.Others idle around, sunken eyes and sunken bellies.The

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-44767858700052367862007-03-28T11:26:00.000+05:302007-04-10T19:33:30.223+05:30

In response to a rare compliment on certain aspects of her looks, a wildly popular someone said,"Ah! Shush... Real beauty is a reflection of the spirit. But then again, one shouldn't exaggerate much. After all, my spirit might have some miniscule failings...”Some people are born modest.

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-87663916821566006002007-03-20T21:54:00.000+05:302007-04-05T17:00:08.998+05:30

PerfectionIt was a soup stall. “Pasumai Thamizh Soup Nilayam”. (Translated as “Lush (could also mean evergreen/refreshing) Tamil Soup Stall). All of four shiny stainless steel pots and a burning fire. The radio in the bus blares. The health ministry ‘s awareness broadcast. “ Insist on clean utensils and covered food”.A man in spotless white behind the 30-inch frame . There are no customers. But

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-55963496902053880582007-03-17T18:11:00.000+05:302007-04-10T19:01:28.154+05:30

GazeShe sat on the pavement. It was a busy Monday morning. Rush hour traffic. There was a school behind her. The children rode their bicycles on the platform to avoid the menacing vehicles. Some losing balance and perilously wobbling about. She sat there.With her little cloth bag. Her worldly possessions. Her gaze unflinching. She stared at the world around, and beyond. Horns honked. Irate

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-53574192800057390202007-03-13T17:25:00.000+05:302007-03-13T17:38:47.222+05:30

The greatest fear is the fear of failure.Go on, get on with your lives... Dont worry about me, I'd be alright.. (And leave me alone, for Godsake!)The best kind of tribute is silence.There has to be something good about everything.The question is, whether one wants to see it or not.The best time on earth is when one can own every passing second. The bigger picture is always better;The details

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-3351629913989423512007-02-16T10:19:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:52:52.898+05:30

This morning, was a sleepy one. Reluctant to let go of the last shreds of my morning nap in the bus, I stepped out dreary and bleary. My senses were rudely shaken by the chitter-chatter amongst the fellow commuters, eager and enthusiastic to start a new day. In my meta-state, I imbibed all the words that be-fell my ear, like a sponge. After, a considerable phase lag, I could make out at least

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-74080483772501584682007-02-01T09:26:00.000+05:302007-04-26T17:00:07.816+05:30

The confident I : I feel I am fit for everything.The despearate I : I am fit for anything.The persevering I : I must be fit for something.The world : You are fit for nothing.Voice: Doesnt anything and everything include nothing too ? Nothing is also something.(Curtains down)

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-84524314112821849112007-01-11T10:27:00.000+05:302007-01-11T10:58:44.505+05:30

Two of the blogs I often visit, carried posts of a certain degree of controversy this week. One was by a Bangalore techie, popular amongst the tamil-speaking blog junta. The post was on one of tamil nadu's yester year revolutionaries whose scent still smells strong in the state, and on the scandalous lyrics of a movie being made on the afore mentioned leader. The second blog was by an alumnus of

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-25658752126732992502006-12-29T12:41:00.000+05:302007-04-26T17:00:56.495+05:30

I had tuned into one of the western music frequencies on radio yesterday. The RJ was chirpy and all that jazz, and the playlist was something that I could use to flavour my cuppa. Just then, the RJ decided to get democratic, and introduced a request section in his show. Someone requested for Greenday, and the RJ consents gladly, and announces through ether, “Up next, we have Greendayyy with

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-37650046295937902702006-12-19T09:41:00.001+05:302007-04-26T17:00:56.496+05:30

Day 1:Hit the sack @ 1.00 amRose and shone @ 6.00 am.Day 2:Zzzz time: when the clock chimed a dozen in the darkBrrred awake by Banglore chill : 5.30 am.Day 3:Curtains down by half an hour beyond midnight.Up and shivering by half past six.Day 4:Slipped into slumber land at 11.45 pmMigrated to a transcendental stupor at 6.00 amLocation: Office9.00 am: Winked, sorry worked at a document with eyelids

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-9470366821508758812006-11-24T19:50:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.717+05:30

I am endowed with awe-inspiring skills in planning and execution. Realizing at the Nth moment that I don’t have tickets to go home on an upcoming “long” festive weekend, and finding out that only a handful were left, I sprung up from a lazy Friday morning at work, with the excuse that I had some personal work that suddenly came up. Chuckling inwardly at the curious glances that my departing

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-36395798582276464262006-11-16T09:45:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:53:59.361+05:30

O, Flower of spring by the footpathThat the little girl bends down to pluckFrozen for the future with a clickWow! How so picturesque!O, Flower of spring by the footpathCrushed by mighty feetTo a messy pulp on the streetCruel, Mean and brusqueI, a Flower of spring by the footpathBetween Slow death in a porcelain coffinAnd a needless euthanasia, Enfin,Mine Creator, when will I fructify?- L.B

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-18274262012429096272006-11-06T17:00:00.000+05:302006-11-09T11:26:47.233+05:30

Dont know what this conveys. But drew it when I was brooding over things that happened yesterday. Doodling is a great stress reliever.But dont want to doodle often, and definitely not for the reasons that resulted in the above. (Creating a category, just in case.)For some godforsaken reason, blogger too takes off the color from my life. A divine conspiracy, perhaps.

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1161578133644851062006-10-23T09:57:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.718+05:30

One of my favourite dishes of all time is the good old curd rice. I do not try to comprehend the raison-d-etre for this penchant. It could be because, I refuse to let go of the evanescent strings that attach me to my infancy and the general disposition towards mushy things that defines that particular stage of man’s life. Or it may be due to the undisputed fact that my mom happens to be a lousy

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1160194219538543662006-10-07T09:35:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.718+05:30

Thanks to the Karnataka bandh, and some unusual shrewdness on my part, I got to spend 5 wonderful days at home. As though an evil eye had been cast, my vacation was marred by a blocked sinus, and an infected eye.But all that couldn’t take the fun out of the neighbor’s and relatives visits on the last days of Navrathri. For once, I didn’t seek refuge in the recesses of my room, leaving poor mom

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1159330617358474142006-09-27T09:42:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.719+05:30

I left my watch at homeAnd my mobile under the pillowBid adieu to the secondsAs I swiped out.Plunged into a bookReached home in a jiffyInspite of a sad traffic jamTime-lessness feels great ! Lunatic Bard

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1159158739465126642006-09-25T08:46:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:07.881+05:30

The first citizen of this Nation has always been a puppet, with multiple strings. But one man chose to differ. He, himself is a living example of pure honesty, sheer intellect and endearing simplicity. Definetly not a man of our decadent times. I happened to read an interview of President Kalam today,some excerpts which caught my attention:Young India:What do you feel about the innumerable

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1158225327546103662006-09-14T14:41:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.719+05:30

Ever wondered why we sometimes feel lonely even though we are not alone? Why a crowd doesn’t provide the same merry and cheer as a few special ones do? Why things that we take for granted with some, need to be spelled out to the rest? Why some people can give us unconditional care, while it’s a marriage of profit with the others? Why is it that a few people can make you discover how beautiful we

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1157445792348023232006-09-05T14:11:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.720+05:30

Saw Lage Raho Munnabhai last weekend… My roomies resorted to a tactfully conjured concoction of bribery, blackmail and sheer muscle force to make me wake up on time for the 11.30 am show, the fact that it was a Sunday morning not to be missed in the fine print. Finally yielding to sustained pressure from multiple dimensions, I agreed to comply, provided they didn’t mind taking me along, without a

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1156857984962886432006-08-29T18:38:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:07.644+05:30

Some songs just get us hooked . I change my playlist approximately every month ( a recent study on my boredom thresholds revealed this remarkably useless fact), and experiment with hitherto untried bands and sounds. And uncannily manage to get hooked on to one song and one band, atleast. (quote : the afore mentioned study) .As August '06 draws to a close, the band of the month is Cranberries (

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1156310671232154722006-08-23T10:42:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:07.586+05:30

In TodayOut Tomorrow.Its all childsplayThis Joy and sorrow.Tears that are born at dawnBut, to die quietly at duskAll These Songs so forlornYet so trite in the crux.From the turbulent womb of genesisSets out the meandering bohemianSeeking the tender grave of PeaceForever the hunter, the Orion.Sweet Chirps of nascent whiteDrowned by the din of RedBloody Victory and Gory MightFirst love at death

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1154942234865207882006-08-07T14:35:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:07.529+05:30

Of Late, Catch 22 has been very instrumental in clearing the mental block I face everytime I try to update my blog.. Here goes another, effortless post..I am thinking about -How much I ll miss the people around me once I move on.. And how much I miss people the people who have moved on… thought the latter was painful.. Finding the former heart wrenching.I said -" A fortuitous union of cellsThat

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1154197765608968952006-07-29T23:35:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:07.467+05:30

Monday mornings are always the same. The weekend spirit being reluctant to leave, she always oversleeps and misses her usual bus. This Monday was no different. The next bus being a comfortable 15 minutes later, she went around humming a catchy tune from the lastest flick, much to the chagrin of her still-lost-in- neverland roomie. Taking care to dress presentably is always fun. She stepped out

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1153711319292256082006-07-24T08:51:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.720+05:30

I have this irrational fear of dogs. Something which dates back to the day I was a single cell old. Back in good old Chennai, I used to meticulously skirt past the scrawny, beleaguered, perennially thirsty low-breeds, that would rampage the empty streets of a sleepy Chennai, cursing passionately the way too early timings(by my terms, of course) of the college bus. Some of them got so used (/bored

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1152335568399717782006-07-08T10:23:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.721+05:30

Sometime in the mid of the week that went past, Ms Kutty, threw a party for us girls at a local restaurant. The occasion was to celebrate Ms Kutty’s return from her trip and subsequent stay abroad, on official purposes. Ms Kutty happens to be one of our ex-PG* mates. And the idea was initiated by the august efforts of one Ms Bumble Bee, whose unparalleled enthusiasm for organizing “events” in our

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1151917857952346402006-07-03T14:38:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:07.291+05:30

Fate’s whips lashDreams crumbleBefore your eyesEmbers slippingThrough your fingersFall on your kneesAs Tears hardenWith Silent sighsNascent Smiles dieNothing mattersAny moreA cherished muralWashed downBy a downpourA secret joyTransmutedTo a personal sorrowGrieve for what that wasGrieve for what could’ve beenHurt that bottles upCorked and buriedIn the recessesOf your psychePain that shallFollow

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1150864084283478512006-06-21T09:08:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.721+05:30

Girl : "I am not all that beautiful".Guy1: "I dont give a damn about looks, its your heart that I look at"Guy2: "No matter what others might say,you are the most beautiful girl to me.Afterall, Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder"Guy3: "Bull crap!, who said you arent beautiful??? , You are a very attractive girl.. Lots of guys would go fida over you"Who do you think the girl would choose?

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1149261768437865962006-06-02T20:31:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:07.177+05:30

A song thats been in my head for sometime , for some uncanny reason. But now, the reason reveals itself in theaterical grandeur, in a moment of silence. After all that noise, And all that sound.Speed of Sound - ColdplayHow long before I get in?Before it starts, before I begin?How long before you decide?Before I know what it feels like?Where To, where do I go?If you never try, then you'll never

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1148962943234058442006-05-30T09:46:00.001+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.722+05:30

The things that make me happy are fewAnd dont occur ordinarilyThus the wise say there is nothing newThat i am happy ever so rarely!Damn the Laws of Probability.. - L.B

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1147847671192646932006-05-17T12:01:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.722+05:30

Last week, I read a short story, “The Squabble” by Gogol. The central theme is about a petty quarrel between two of Mirgorod (a hamlet in Little Russia) ‘s landowners, who were thick friends. The squabble matures into a long drawn legal battle that devours the whole of their lifetimes. This set me wondering on how the best of friends can fall apart on the most trivial of matters. That’s when this

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1147768074467313872006-05-16T13:55:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.723+05:30

If only I could stop time,grab my long lost 40 winks,and set the seconds ticking again...Sigh! -Sleepy and Lunatic Bard.

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1146485613859887472006-05-01T16:46:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.854+05:30

Much has been said about the election time gimmick a.k.a the reservation move of the Indian Government in recent times. Voices have been raised, and some have been heard.Some were vehement, ridiculed the government, in cynical and sarcastic undertones. Some garnered mass support to protest. Some took a moderate stance -suggesting “affirmative action” as a more viable alternative.But all these

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1145936041612826492006-04-25T09:02:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.797+05:30

Moats of tearsPillars of painArmour of LossSafe and secureNo more assaults.Seen it allSteeled nervesBroken beyondbreaking pointNothing LeftTo devastateEmbers extinguishedResigned to ruinmute submissionPledging servilityTo its cruel whipsIts hunger insatiableBack for the last dropOf Blood and LifeFate StrikesYet again.- The Lunatic Bard

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1145698460899439692006-04-22T15:00:00.001+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.595+05:30

A fortnight back, one of my room mates came up with a writing assignment for me. Not that my prowess with the written word is known across the seven gutters of Banglore, but simply because she had no time to write it herself ( And I am not going to mention the fact that I have zillions of seconds at my disposal). Some one she knew had come over and narrated an incident that had happened to him/

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1142330982680579012006-03-14T15:37:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.477+05:30

Come March, the mercury soars. Having lost its Garden-city status, Bangalore is no exception to the searing heat that rules the roost in the South of India.The rising temperature might keep us humans indoors, but the reptilian community of the city seems to find it prudent to venture out. Discomfited by the heat, one particular denizen of our house’s hidden nooks, sought refuge in our bathroom

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1140963754580058942006-02-26T19:50:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.422+05:30

Shrieking StillDark NightTrial of willAnd all his mightFrantic pacesBurning tortureHis mind racesHeart in raptureThe stray twirlThe soft glanceSet him in a whirlAn eternal tranceShe lay awakeBeads of sweatA lot at stakeDesires whetThis is the momentOf gain and lossNo time to lamentFate’s own tossHe waitsShe alightsWolf criesIn the woodsHe callsShe respondsA kiss “Goodnight Papa”She lies on her

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1140527415448224392006-02-21T18:30:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.362+05:30

There are things in life which can show you how big a fool you have been.. when realisation strikes, instinct devolops a shell to protect from further hurt and pain.. Seeking contentment in solitude... Becoming a rock of glass...A song which I dedicate to myself ...I am a Rock - Simon and GarfunkelA winter’s dayIn a deep and dark december;I am alone,Gazing from my window to thestreets belowOn a

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1140005235999813522006-02-15T16:13:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.308+05:30

Of late there has been a great amount of publicity for the neo-national spirit.Movies like Rang – De –Basanti impacting the target audience in a profound manner. Just last week, I had a tea-break chat, with a friend of mine who has been pretty keen on advancing his education abroad. For all that I know of him, he was one chap who was very focused on his career beyond the shores of this country,

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1138959469498895902006-02-03T15:05:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.252+05:30

Dead and DepressingNumb under the oppressingInsipid graynessRip up the layersReveal the masqueradersFilth, decadent ignominyVenom dipped in honeyOdium in forms so manyBeasts ready for the killSuck your blood, they willBut never enough to their fillWriggle under their claspStruggle to free their graspFlee, run and gaspTrapped in their milling mobLooted with nothing left to robFrozen without blood

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1138526286420088102006-01-29T14:39:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.195+05:30

Let me begin with by saying, that when I plan to fail, I really don’t fail to plan. Having led a directionless life in the double decade and odd period for which I had known Mother Earth, it so appeared to me that it was high time I took charge of things. I gave my resolve a jump-start by planning a lot many things for the 4 days long holiday that I was to spend at home. High on the itinerary was

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1137390971615172392006-01-16T11:24:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.723+05:30

Lots of things happening in a short span of time can actually leave you overwhelmed.It’s barely a fortnight into the New Year, and I have already been a part of a lot many significant events in my life. But one common thing about all my experiences in the last couple of weeks is that I have been a passive participant, though I have had privy to the necessary details, I have never been the

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1135944964122189942005-12-30T17:43:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:06.085+05:30

Forget what is bitterMake the future sweeterTake the best of the pastSo pleasures may lastKeep your dreams highLet them scale the skyTaste the joy of victories& the wisdom of failures Cherish the momentsThat you have livedCherish the momentsYou still have to live!!Happy New Year 2006!

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1135692638417741412005-12-27T19:30:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.724+05:30

I attended the mid night mass at St.Patrick’s, Bangalore, on Christmas Eve. Amidst the many words that kept me awake in those wee-hours, there was one that stood out … Love, compassion, duty, and so on and so forth…It set me thinking on these lines … One quality that mankind has been blessed with is Hope.Hope holds the spirit of humanity up like a beacon, engulfing every drained soul with an

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1135248233367340252005-12-22T16:02:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:05.969+05:30

As though it was a reply to my last post, I came across this good news through an intra-organisational group announcement today.. When millions like me feel the anguish and find their own means to express it, there are very few who actually make things happen. I dont know if I might be violating any legal or security related norms by publishing excerpts of the mail in this blog, but I simply

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1134448284809577092005-12-13T09:57:00.000+05:302007-09-30T17:50:59.688+05:30

I spent last weekend, in my hometown, the inundated coastal capital of Tamil Nadu, the land of enduring heritage. This epithetic phrase describing the state of my birth managed to catch my eye, when I was traveling alone on a day train to Chennai. I have seldom traveled on a day train, and alone, never. But, there are certain gains that traveling long distance on a train can provide. For instance

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1133265034895785212005-11-29T17:17:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.724+05:30

Buildings mushroom overnight in the IT capital of India. One such edifice was taking shape in the street where I live. The construction activity was in full swing, contract laborers being hired from the neighboring border villages. Temporary settlements had sprung up for accommodating these people and their families. Most of them speak a dialect of my mother tongue, Tamil, coming from the

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1132030352854642112005-11-15T10:19:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.725+05:30

What if we could read each other’s thoughts? Like the thought clouds that top people’s heads in comic strips... A scary and catastrophic line of thought… ahem... pun’s unintended. A funny prospective if taken in a lighter vein...I was mulling over this after I gave the first conscious artificial smile of my life today. Saw someone and grinned heartily while muttering under my breath “what a

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1131298194951034262005-11-06T22:58:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:05.709+05:30

The recent policy of the CBSE to provide free education for 'single girl child' , in all affiliated schools across the country has once again proved to the world that India is condemned to have buffoons at the helm of affairs.The rationale behind the policy being imbibed in the affiliation requirements is evanescent. Practical issues have not been considered, and the whole imbroglio appears to be

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1131098249189901142005-11-04T15:21:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.725+05:30

More on sleepy matters…I had the chance to discover the following eccentricities about my sleeping habits.If I am really sleepy these are what I do, arranged ascending order of probability1. I get groggy and begin to whine2. Become extremely rude and uncouth and mouth profanities of the highest order3. Drop down dead and doze off, with ultimate disregard for my surroundings, snoring

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1130930527327759942005-11-02T16:47:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.726+05:30

There are some things in life that afflict you every now and then. They go as mysteriously as they come.. One such thing that has been a part of my life is sleeplessness. There are times which garner significance when I look back, but which innocently clothe themselves as ordinary days and nights when they occur. Uncannily these times in my life have unfailingly been characterized by one malady..

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1130749989865374652005-10-31T14:41:00.000+05:302007-04-26T16:59:32.726+05:30

Before I say anything else, there’s some good news for the world.. there aint gonna be a sequel to the Poxy Chicks.. But that’s not the end of this post..Just when I was anxiously nearing the feared 15 day period, without any trace of the pox, I met with an accident. It was a wet Thursday morning. Rain-washed, never been tarred roads of Bangalore. Having had a tougher than normal fight to

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1128517740406172332005-10-05T18:37:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:05.475+05:30

Its been a while since I chronicled the ups and downs of my life. Probably they were too mundane, or perhaps a wee bit precious to be open to the public eye. But nevertheless, the recent happenings that would make the headlines of my journal don’t necessarily classify under insipid ramblings.Without further ado, let me get to the crux of the issue. The thing is , one of my roomies contracted

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17361314.post-1128237600541262522005-10-02T12:47:00.000+05:302006-10-23T15:35:05.407+05:30

Well.. I already have mulitple blogs, stayin dormant for days.. But, thanks to blogspot, i hav added one more to my kitty.. Forcin me to start one, when i wanted to post a comment in a particularly intrestin blog...Lets see if this one is doomed to dormancy or not...Chao.. Bye for now!!

~SuCh~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18093569072774862770noreply@blogger.com0