#1

I wish I knew something about everything, and everything about something.

Home.

There's always something about going home. Every single one of us who lives away from the place we call home, ache to go back to it constantly.

When people move away from home, it's always for one 2  reasons- education or an awesome job.  However, there is always an underlying reason- a need for independence. Whether you accept this or not, we all know that this is true. Every one of us who has moved away from home has reached a stage in life where you want to do the whole "living alone thing". Assert your independence. Stand on your feet. Suffer it out. Make your own rules. Keep your own deadlines.

We create the opportunity, and move out. Less than a month later, we realise it was the stupidest decision ever. Now, we can't go back, can we? That would mean telling our parents that they were right, and smashing our monstrous egos into smithereens. "No, no. Let's not do that. Let's continue our suffering", we think.

How do I know this, you ask? I am one of you. One of you stupid nincompoops who thought living away from home is the best thing ever. Who believed that somehow, if you lived on your own, you'd miss food from home, and magically learn to cook. Who imagined that away from home, you'd be comfortable living in a dingy area, with a dripping tap and a floor mattress. Who justify their lack of a maid and a washing machine with the need for exercise. Who oh-so-stupidly disagree when that tiny excuse of a brain that you have tells you that your parents are probably right because they are so much older than you and have so much more experience.

But, no.

Our egos are so much more important.

And then we crib, crave, cringe and cry. Crib that we're out of money. Crave for some food cooked by our mothers. Cringe when we realise we have no clean underwear for work and cry because we're lonely.

Times come, in our distance and separation, when we get to go home, to re-live those years for a few days and suddenly it seems like the best thing in the world. To walk a familiar neighbourhood, to be around loved faces, to lie in a well worn bed, to have your food slathered with ghee, to have endless meaningless conversations that are so much more important than world politics.To feel at home.

All you need is your family.

One more of those

I stopped listing myself as a "blogger" in the about me sections of social networking sites a long time ago, because , to put it simply, I'm not a blogger. There are many like me on the internet, i assume, who in the years of their free, and useless time decided, they too would put their "writing skills" to the test and, type down their thoughts.

I belong to that category of bloggers, whose posting frequency can somewhat be compared to men masturbating. It starts with the discovery, when you find so much joy in the orgasmic pleasure that you overdo it. Sometimes 6 times a day even. Because you have the time, opportunity and knowledge. Also, just because you can. As age takes over, it slows down, often fuelled by porn.

Then you discover other things, like sex, beer and 9gag. And suddenly, masturbation isn't all that important. You do it once in a way, for fun, and also cause that's what everyone is doing. Sort of like staying in the game. One day you realize nobody cares and you stop. How it goes from there is anybody's guess.

Where I am on this frequency meter of masturbation is in my late 40s, not getting any sex, but with a life so dominated by the internet minus porn, that I'm too lazy to masturbate even; this is one  of those posts where i shag to remind myself that i still have a penis.

Which is pointless.

Whatever. *fapfapfapfap*

My Life Before Twitter

I had to stop and think about this one.

It all started when someone on Twitter, claimed I was dependent on the site for a daily existence. At first glance, anyone could say that. Look at my timeline: some 35-40 tweets a day, following 200 odd people, a follower count of 2000+ and an obsession with contributing to conversations I know nothing about. If that wasn't enough, I have this need to tweet every random thought that crosses my mind.

"While I spend so much time in my bathroom, I realise my floor has 251 tiles"

"Oooooh....A car just ran over me,I'm in excruciating pain, and I might even be dying, but wait, let me Twitpic that for you!"

So. Yeah. at a glance, I'd say I was dependent too. But my ego, which generally competes with Pam Anderson's silicon valley in terms of size, didn't let me accept that I am of course, dependent, on the site, and thus, I ended up accepting the challenge that was extended to me.

In true Khatron ke Khiladi style, minutes after I accepted said challenge, said challenger revoked the challenge leaving me with decision that could change humanity. OK. Maybe not humanity, but me at least. I took one of those famed *deep breaths*, rolled my eyes, gave one of those cinematic "I'm doing this for myself" speeches, and, well, decided to stay off Twitter for a month anyway.

I found out, that I'm not dependent on Twitter, 2 days into the challenge.

Yay. (I'm saying this "yay" in the most disinterested, non-enthusiastic, annoyed manner ever, so you better imagine it like that.)

Of course, I also discovered, that it was the Worst. Decision. Ever. You'll find out why, shortly.

How did I achieve this immortal task of finding out about my non-dependency on Twitter so soon, you ask? No, no, I don't have any super powers. It was very simple, actually. OK, wait, it wasn't. If it was THAT simple, it'd have taken me 10 minutes. The reason it took me 48 hours was because I asked myself the million dollar question:

"What did I do, before I joined Twitter...twitter...twitter?" (yes, yes, echo effect and all)

"Well, that's simple, there was Facebook, with Farmville, and Restaurant City,and Pirates vs. Ninjas. vs Werewolves and Crazy Taxi and...and...and...."

"No, no, MUCH before that!"

"Ohhh yeah, there was Orkut and Blogger and StumbleUpon!!"

"Er... Before that."

"Hi5?"

"No."

"Yahoo chat?"

"#facepalm. Before ALL of that!"

"I was too young to use the Internet. Or we didn't have a computer. One of the two. Also, I had school, and homework, and games class and Library period, and...and...and.. (cue Bodhi tree lighting effect and spring water sound effect) .. A LIFE!"

Instantly, two things became clear as brand new Saint-Gobain window. One, is that I'm not addicted to Twitter, I'm addicted to the Internet. Two, I had a life before I discovered the Internet.

So, remember I was telling you about taking a Twitter break being the worst decision ever? I have recently started working in a new job, which most people I know would testify as the coolest working environment ever (Non-restricted Internet, Free food, Awesome work timings and more), and well, I have nothing of great importance to do here, and thanks to my resonating stupidity, I can't tweet. I can't bore my timeline with tiny details of how empty this room is, or annoy them with explanations of how awesome the food I had for lunch was. Of course, asking me to break my Twitter break would be like asking Baba Ramdev to eat for peace. Either that, or I'm terrible at analogies. Hence, to make up for time lost by not-tweeting at work, I'm writing blog posts like this one. Only one problem. I can't pimp this blog post on Twitter and get more comments than I normally would. Sigh.

Excuse me, what is the procedure to get a life?

Cheers. To my canine.

Get a dog. You'll never regret it.

Three years ago, on this very day, somewhere in a dingy house in Kodambakkam in Chennai, a pug gave birth to a litter of five. Three males and two females. Exactly a month later, I was sitting in that very same house, with the three male pups- now 30 days old- wobbling around me, sniffing my fingers. One of the little guys was extremely wobbly, falling asleep every three minutes. The second one was a rascal, refusing to stand still. The third was a lazy, ever hungry, tiny thing who kept trying to find his mother. I had less than 10 minutes to pick which one I'd want to take home 10 days later.

I picked the rascal. He was aggressive, noisy, and had unlimited energy. He seemed to find crevices very interesting and often tried to squeeze himself through them. I lifted him off the ground. He peed on me. The chemistry was hard to miss.

"He the unique one in the litter, saar" , said the breeder. With a white nail each on three paws, we needed no markings to identify him when we came back for him. I had waited 8 years for the day my mum would agree to get a dog. 8 years, in which not a day went by without me convincing my parents about the need for a dog. 8 years. And I couldn't wait 10 more days to make him mine? I did.

Armed with a cardboard box that formerly held 12 bottles of beer, a couple of towels and tissue paper, I stepped into that Kodambakkam residence, 10 days later. He slept through the journey home. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Then the most important question arose,"What are you going to call him?"

I can't say I hadn't thought about naming him. In fact, that's all I'd thought about in those ten days. Google searches had helped a lot. I had a list to choose from. A list of 23 names including Foosa, Rooney, Mr. Pickles, Rambo and Yoda. We decided to try all the names for a day each. Nothing stuck. A week passed, and the Kennel Club Certification had to be done. A name, was needed. I zeroed in on NaNo. (yes, spelt like that too) . That morning, he was registered as NaNo. By the evening, I had started calling him Sumo.

Ironically, that was the name that stuck. He came to be known as Sumo (Somasundaram, in Tamil). Sumo Prasad, who came to live with us three years ago, peed on every piece of furniture in the house, and snores to compete with my dad. Sumo Prasad, who turns three today.

On this special day, I have a few things I want to tell him.

Dear Sumo,

As you turn three today, I must thank you for the many things you have given me and I have not been able to return. Thank you for showing me the meaning of unconditional love. Everyday, you teach me how to love without expectations, without demands and with all my heart. Thank you for being patient when I forget to feed you or take you on your walks on time. I try to, I promise. Thank you for sleeping on my used jeans when I'm not around. It makes me realize how much you need me. Thank you for coming to the door to bark when I leave home. I know you want to let me know that you don't want me to leave. Thank you for wagging your non-existent tail and licking my ears whenever I come home. I would never know how much you missed me otherwise. Thank you for cuddling up next to me every night. It makes me feel special.

You will always be my little angel.

Happy Birthday.

Love,
V

Of Cricket, History and God.

2nd April 2011

"Tendulkar has carried the burden of nation for 21 years; It was time we carried him. Chak de India!" - Virat Kohli 

This is a day that will be written, taught, spoken, read, and fantasized about, for generations to come.  Books will be printed, recounting every minor detail, schools will make it part of their history text books, lectures will be given about the greatness of this day, and if you are reading this, you too someday, with tears in your eyes, will dramatically enforce every enthralling moment of this day on your grandchildren, or as @techrsr said, at least someone's grandchildren. 

It wasn't war, or calamity that brought this nation together today. It was religion. The glorious religion of Cricket. And how. Some of us watched from our televisions at home, some at pubs with complete strangers, and the blessedfew, from the Wankhede Stadium in Mumbai. We watched as Dhoni graciously agreed to a second toss even though he knew he'd won the first one. We watched, as Sreesanth made souls cringe with his bowling. We watched as Mahela Jeyawardane guided Sri Lanka to a position from where they were ready to challenge India. We watched the terrible advertisements that hogged valuable replay time. We watched Sehwag and Sachin walk back to the pavilion, and lost all hope. We watched Gautam Gambhir and Dhoni put runs on the board. We listened to Ravi Shastri ,Manjrekar and Ganguly spew out cliches. We watched Dhoni end it all with a sixer. That moment we knew, that we had just been a part of history. We had just witnessed India win the World Cup in 2011, after 28 years.

Like many others, I followed this event on Twitter mostly, and the experience has been unparalleled. You would know, if you'd been there. I could almost hear my timeline scream, every time the ball made it over the boundary. Caps Lock meant a lot of things- anger, enthusiasm, excitement, shock, outrage and more. Puns and jokes flew around like bullets in a war field. And we bonded. Bonded over the opposing teams' no-balls, the commentators' dress sense, the fours, sixes and wickets we took, the facepalms every time a mis-fielding happened, the victories and most of all, we bonded over one man-Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. We are all believers. Theists of the religion of cricket. And Him, our God. 

We don't just glorify him, we worship him. In sickness and in health, in loss or victory, in form or injury, Sachin Tendulkar is always the winner. Even when Cricket loses, Sachin Tendulkar still wins. I'm far too regular a person to even praise this man for who he is. Yet, I find myself basking in his glory, which he so humbly and gladly shares with the nation. If there was ever a reason to win this World Cup, it was Sachin Tendulkar. And they did exactly that. "For Sachin.", they all said. Yuvraj, Raina, Kohli. They did it for him. For a man who has every accolade that Cricket can present under his belt, except a World Cup victory. Until yesterday. And this is the cherry on the icing. A billion people unite in celebrating a well-deserved victory at a sport that is possibly the glue that holds this democracy together. That is a crowning achievement for this nation. But, the bigger accomplishment is that the world celebrates the presence of God in the Indian Cricket Team. The very same team that has lifted the World Cup in those magical hands.

Remember this day, for it has created history. History that is worthy of praise for eons to come. Remember that you were a part of this history.

Quick Eats- Simple Bruschetta

One more quick recipe for all the lazy wannabe chefs out there. A simple home made bruschetta. This definitely isn't the authentic recipe, but surely can satisfy the taste buds and is really healthy.

Simple Bruschetta
Serves one

You will need:

2 medium sized tomatoes, halved, deseeded and roughly chopped
1 large clove of garlic, finely chopped.
A few basil leaves, finely chopped
Some fresh coriander leaves, chopped
2 tbsp olive oil
A small chunk of mozzarella cheese, crumbled.
3 slices of whole wheat bread
Freshly ground pepper
Salt

Method:

Combine the tomatoes, garlic, coriander, basil and cheese in a bowl and add 1 tbsp of the olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Mix well and let it sit for 10 minutes.
Use the remaining olive oil and coat the slices of bread on both sides. Toast in a toaster, or bake the bread in an oven for 10 minutes at 200 degrees or until golden brown and crispy.
Remove the bread from the oven and spoon generous portions of the mixture over the bread.
Serve immediately.

Quick eats- Pasta siciliano

Often, the most tedious task for most food junkies is cooking complex dishes to satisfy their taste buds. So it is great relief to know that some extremely tasty dishes can also be rather simple to make. I love experimenting with pasta. I'm not much of a cook, but some of  my pasta recipes have delighted a few.

I made a customized version of Pasta Siciliano for lunch yesterday and it turned out really well. It's a quick fix. Especially for those who live alone and cook for themselves everyday. So, here's the recipe for you.

Pasta Siciliano.
serves one

You will need:

Ready to cook pasta (either penne, fusilli, farfelle, or macaroni)
3 cloves of garlic-crushed
2 tsp red chilli flakes
1 medium tomato- finely chopped
1/2 small capsicum -finely chopped
3tbsp olive oil
2tbsp roughly chopped black olives
3tbsp lemon juice
A small chunk of mozzarella cheese
Salt and  pepper to taste

The method:

Boil the pasta in sufficient water, with half a teaspoon of salt and a few drops of oil, till cooked. Drain and rinse with cold water and set aside.

Heat the olive oil in a pan. Add the crushed garlic and saute till a golden brown. Add the chili flakes and lemon juice and stir. Add the olives and tomatoes and cook on a medium heat. When the tomatoes are done, add the capsicum, and season with salt, to taste and mix well.

Add the cooked pasta, mix it well, cover and simmer for 2 minutes.

Transfer to a serving dish, garnish with pepper (freshly crushed, preferably) and grate the cheese on top. Serve immediately.

The End of the World, As I See It

The first news that I read of the Japan Quake of 2011 was via a link my cousin posted on Facebook. At first I was inclined to think, "Just another earthquake. Nothing to feel bad about, since quakes are oh-so-common in Japan". Then, I logged in to Twitter. My timeline was FILLED with condolences, questions, theories, updates and what not, about the Japan Earthquake. #japanquake they'd tagged it. I instantly knew that soon this would be a trending topic. I decided to check out the news, and hit the BBC site, where a live feed was being shown. I just *had* to be the first person to tell my mum, so I did. She switched on the TV, and we compared notes about the coverage of BBC and CNN. The news channels are trying to get the juiciest facts- predictions for the next tsunami hits, lunar relations, etc-, the most off-beat experts- Oceanography professors, Lunar Theorists, and more- and of course, the most relevant visuals, in the war to be the best news channel. To simply put it, they're exploiting a tragedy to increase their TRP. As always.

Then, it struck me. How shallow are we? Pretty shallow, I'd say. And this goes for every one of us. We use someone else's misery to our advantage. Even all the folk who tweet "condolences" to #japanquake , probably did cause they wished to be a part of the "awesome folk" who are in the loop about news. The ultimate aim, is of course to hope that your tweets are retweeted, and to get more followers. Am I just accusing you and pretending to be puritan? Definitely not. I am equally shallow, and this is merely a realization. I mean, look at my reaction to the quake. All I wanted to do was be that person who knew much and more information about the situation in Japan. I even cracked a few jokes at their expense.

If, as theories state, the world is going to end in 2012, THIS is the beginning. What did you imagine? January 1st 2012 will come, the earth will split open and swallow us all into its fiery core? Whoever is in charge ain't gonna end it THAT simply.

When I discovered that this tidal wave is going to travel all around the world, causing a destructive pandemonium- like the Bachchan family on tour- I honestly wasn't surprised. One of the theories that flew around my house with outrage was "You tamper with the earth, God isn't going to let you get away with it". I'm not much of a Theist myself, and God supposedly being all forgiving, I don't buy that theory, but I do believe that this is a repercussion of all the damage we've done to earth. We hunt and kill, chop down trees, exploit limited natural resources, pollute, invade other nations and do much more damage without worrying about the balance of nature. Of course, there is no lack of organisations gunning for world-peace, eco-friendly lifestyles, save the trees, save the tigers and what not. But the truth is all our so called leaders are sitting around in their smarmy conference halls, giving rehearsed speeches, washing down the praise they don't deserve with alcohol, and postponing the actual "doing" to the next meeting. The few people who actually "do" are powerless in the face of society and the government.

Earthquakes and Tsunamis have been around for as long as we can remember, but so has man. So is it safe to say that man has brought this devastation upon himself? A tidal wave that is behaving like a Mexican wave, galloping across the Pacific with the intention of destroying everything in its path cannot be taken lightly. This quake is reportedly Japan's biggest quake in 140 years and the news channels even claim that the tidal wave is bigger than some of the Pacific islands. Which means if hit by this wave, these islands can disappear from the map, and rewrite Geography and History in one shot.

And all this is discovery within the limited knowledge of man.

THIS, my friends, is the beginning, of the end of the world, as I see it. There is nothing we can do about it except sit back and watch it happen, and hope that our deaths are quick and painless.

The Cry of the Unborn Child

“No!” she cried, “ I cannot do it! I will not agree to this!”

…

The day had begun perfectly for Natasha. She had woken up unusually early. It was understandable she was unable to sleep long. Only the previous night she had discovered something that would change the way she and Craig lived. She had meant to stay up and tell Craig the previous day, but her exhaustion overpowered her, and she’d fallen asleep before Craig could return home. Still, this day was going to be perfect the way it was. Craig was still asleep, and being Sunday, she didn’t want to wake him. They would have to go to Church to thank God for his ways, but today- just today- Natasha knew God wouldn’t mind them dropping in a little late.

Natasha’s life had changed drastically, from the moment she met Craig. Their story was right out of a romance novel. He saw her outside her house, fell for her instantly, chased her down and made her fall in love with him too. And just like any romance novel would have it, Natasha’s parents were against her marrying an orphan, who had only completed his B.com. He also wasn’t good enough because he was Goan, and didn’t belong to the same caste as them. Her dad would rather pay dowry to some wealthy Malayali family and have his daughter’s future and her husband’s fortune secured. He was a ruthless man, and was willing to go any lengths to eliminate Craig from the face of this earth.

The decision Natasha took was much more than bold. She ran away with Craig, and they had a little church wedding in some village in Kerala. She broke ties with her family when she ran away and hadn’t spoken to them since. Rumour had it that her parents had found out about her wedding and disowned her, just as “honourable families” did. Craig and Natasha’s wedding was nowhere near grand, and neither was their life. Craig’s job had nothing to do with what he’d studied, and it gave him less money and more work hours. Times were tough, and the couple struggled while Natasha tried to find a job for herself. They lived in a little room with a bathroom and a makeshift kitchen in Trivandrum, and Craig was desperately trying to find a job in a bigger city like Bangalore, where he had a chance of getting paid more. Ends couldn’t be met, and many a day the couple missed a meal or two. The once dusky, curvaceous and gorgeous Natasha was now pale, sickly thin with matted hair, dark circles under her eyes and detergent charred hands. Yet, her smile hadn’t faded. She loved Craig for who he was and what he was doing for her and that made her smile every day. Less than a year had passed since they’d been married, and Natasha had finally found her first day of untainted happiness.

Her perfect day was getting more perfect by the minute. The little coffee she made for herself seemed extra desirable. She held the steel glass in her hand, and walked up to the floor where Craig was fast asleep. He seemed a lot older, all of a sudden, the stress graying his hair and wrinkling his forehead with lines. She smiled, and wished he would wake up just then. Her wish came true. Craig flipped and opened his eyes to see Natasha smiling bright into his face.

He smiled back at her. “Baby, it’s Sunday. We still got time before we wake up!” he said, pointing at the little Chinese digital clock that lay on a box.

“Wake up Craig, it’s a beautiful Sunday. There’s so much we can do” she chirped.

“What’s up with you baby?” he asked , his eyes twinkling with mischief “I’ve never seen you this happy!”

“ You go tidy yourself up and come and have some coffee and eggs with me and I’ll tell you what’s up” she responded, with the widest grin on her face.

~-~

She took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant”, she declared, unable to contain her own happiness.

Craig was thunderstruck. So much so he suddenly stopped chewing on the eggs in his mouth.

“You’re pregnant?”. Craig was barely audible. It was as if he was trying to push words out, and only air came instead.

“Oh Sweet Jesus! Yes! Baby, I’m pregnant! We’re gonna have a kid. Maybe a boy! Maybe a girl! We’re gonna be parents!” Natasha exclaimed, jumping up and down in joy. What she didn’t notice was how shocked Craig was. Beyond belief.

~-~

“No!” she cried, “ I cannot do it! I will not agree to this!”

It was normal for her to act this way, for any young mother with the hopes of raising a child to act this way when someone suggests an abortion.

“I can’t kill my child!” she sobbed.

Craig had nothing more to say. One sentence that he’d uttered had caused enough chaos. He wasn’t willing to risk another. But he had to say something. He had to comfort her. He held her gently to his chest and let her cry for a while

“Baby. I want you to understand how important….”

“NO! Why don’t you understand for a change! How can you be so cold-blooded, wanting to kill your own child!” she screamed, her eyes red from crying.

“Calm down,” he requested “Look, you know we aren’t exactly in a very good financial position and we can’t afford to have a baby. What? You think I am a cold-blooded murderer? No, I just want our first-born to have a wonderful life! We’ve just begun ours. We need time to adjust, understand, settle-down, we need time for each other. There’s no place nor is there any money for a third member in our house…”

“That is no excuse to kill something that is living and a part of your blood! That is no reason to kill something which is now dependent on us for its survival! We must try and adjust not only with each other but also with our baby. Craig, ten months from now we will definitely be in a better financial position than now, we can survive!”

“With a malnutritoned, unfortunate, unhappy baby? Possible, quite possible. Come down to reality Nat! What if we are not in better financial position? I will not have the heart to dump my child in the dumpster then. I’d rather not have this child now when I can’t see it than later when it’ll be smiling into the face of its father!”

She fell silent. She turned around and walked away. Suddenly, she stopped, turned around and raged, “I will not abort this child come what may!”.

Natasha left the room.

Later when she had calmed down, she went back in and sat against a wall staring into nothingness, lost in deep thought. Craig came and sat down next to her. He lightly placed his hand on her shoulder. It triggered another downpour of tears from her eyes. She turned and looked at him and he hugged her tightly, “It’s going to be ok. We can have another baby soon.”

She changed into her nightgown and splashed her face with water. She looked at herself in the mirror and stroked her stomach. You couldn’t tell there were tears. She was regretting the decision she had made. Lying down, all she could think about was the new life inside her. In a few hours it would be gone. The very thought sent shivers down her spine.

Why me? Why Lord, why? Did you have to do this to me? Though she looked at the ceiling, she stared much beyond it into the sky. My baby! Lord…. I can’t let it die. I can’t kill it! I can’t imagine what it would say if it knew its own mother was going to kill it!

The tears put her to sleep.

She woke up with a start. Natasha could tell it was morning already. She had no watch and turned to ask Craig for the time, but the place on the floor next to lay vacant. Her eyes darted to the window. The sun was breaking the horizon. The day was breaking her heart.

“Awake already?” Craig’s voice shot her back to reality.

She slowly nodded her head. She turned to look at him. “I can’t do this…” she started

“Shhhhh…” he interrupted “Let’s not talk about this. It’s rough for me as well. The less we talk about this, the easier it is going to be for the both of us. Understand?”

A tear made its way down her cheek and went dry as it reached her chin.

...

It’s strange how fate plays,
Life’s game in many ways
And chose it’s field on my life.
And like ritual magic
It is indeed tragic
That I had to be a sacrifice.

I never had expected
That I would be rejected
For I found out something so sad!
My mother didn’t want me
And so, she disowned me
And now she’s turning very bad.

I wish I could tell her,
What in life I would prefer.
To live or to die? She didn’t ask!
If only I could live,
My talents I would give
And soon in wealth I would bask!

I don’t have a choice,
But at least I have a voice
To tell anyone who will hear-
How it feels like for me to know
That I will not live anymore
And not be able to shed a tear

I hope you’re listening
Mom, I hope something rings
When I try and tell you this:
”Inside your womb
Mom, don’t build my tomb!
The joys of life I don’t want to miss.”