Dec 2009
We are back with our second issue in the month of December.
December is the month when we recap the good and the great moments that left us by.TheBanyanTrees keeping in tradition has made “Reflection” the theme for this month.
Happy Reading! You can read the magazine by clicking on the issuu link below or by clicking on the article links that are listed .
Buy the print version from here
Short Stories
Some Salt,Some Lime, A Song and A Wedding.
What is a wedding without some innocent pranks? Sirpy Jayaprakasam weaves a funny story amidst the backdrop of a good old south Indian wedding
Downcast
The rains bring memories, and Asha walks home drenching in the rain ,carrying the rain drops that seem to grow heavier with each drop.
I watch
A short story by Dhivya Arasappan about the life of a woman as seen by the most unusual member in her life.
Upon Reflection
A short story by filarial about a student, his teacher and his dangerous quest to find the ultimate truth!
Series
Draupadi
“Manasa starts episode 1 of her running series Draupadi. She leaves you gasping for more,yearning to know the secret that Draupadi learns on her death bed.”
Sports
Twenty…on to thirty
Karthik Krishna reminisces about God’s incarnation in the cricket field, Sachin Tendulkar, on his twentieth year in International Cricket.
Poetry
Yet Another Monsoon Rain
Anuradha Chandrasekaran looks back at the wonderful memories she created during the monsoons through this poem
A day that approaches…
Raghuram Godavarthi in this poem ponders about the inevitable
Travel
A Path to Heaven
Prajakta Bhasale describes her trip to the beautiful, serene and unblemished northeastern states of India
Columns
Dude! Where is my coffee?
It is all about finding your prince/swan among the sea of frogs and ducks. Dreamvendor talks about wading
through dozens of frogs and ducks before you find your prize catch in his column
Entertainment
Pearls Among Swine
Aditya Srikrishna evaluates the 5 movies that have been the most underrated in bollywood in 2009
Book Review
Divya Ramachandran reviews the book “The case of the missing servant by Vish Puri”.
Science
Scientifically Literate
Dhivya Arasappan talks about the 5 most intriguing discoveries of this year in the world of science
Refreshing Rendezvous
Students recounting their once in a lifetime meeting with India’s former president. Dr.A.P.J Abdul Khalam
To check out our photography section, check out the web version by clicking on the magazine link above.
Dude, Where is my Coffee?
“Sometimes I wake up not knowing if I’m in my apartment or hers. I see her face only in the morning. Sometimes I stay longer, sometimes I leave without a word. No numbers exchanged. No strings attached,”
D said as I was digging my spoon into the clam chowder in a breadbasket. I looked up at him.
“Is it worth it?” I asked.
He smiled. His lips had a different story than his eyes.
(some serious writing) You kiss a thousand frogs, hoping one day, one of those ugly frogs will turn into a prince. You swim along a thousand ducks, hoping one day, you will have your swan (technically, a pen) by your side to see the world with. But is it worth going through those thousand frogs and ducks who croak and quack their way in and out of your life or the night? On a rainy evening, you sit by the window all alone watching the rain, with hot chocolate in one hand and drawing figures on the window with the other. Your favorite music keeps you good company. Not bad an evening at all, huh? But the mind thinks that this is a sad life and you need to get out and get some. Not withstanding the voices in your head, you head to a club, drink like you were a fish and dance like you were a diva. Next morning you wake up and see the frog or the duck, your catch for that night, beside you. Either you don’t know the name to wake him/her up or you don’t know why he/she was beside you. You close your eyes momentarily and open it gradually hoping you would see the prince/swan. The alcohol has done its trick as usual and all that remains that morning is a hangover and a stranger by your side.
(strangers, yay! strange!) Why is that you always feel excited talking to strangers at a social event or a place? You hang out with friends and have a great time. But when some stranger stops by and gives you all the attention you were hoping to get or weren’t expecting at all, why is that new wings stretch out of your body and take flight to Maui? It is the excitement of the frog/duck that you just met. Some freshness in the air. You know it is just a frog/duck, but you are excited and determined to find out if that stranger is your prince/swan. You persuade. You act pricey. You give in. You give up. Time is spent. Money follows. More time is spent. Finally you wake up to a startling revelation (definitely not for your friends, who sometimes know more about the person you are dating than you know yourself!) that you have been with a frog/duck and it is time to move on – to the next frog/duck? When does this search end? And how does it end? The answer lies with you and not the frogs/ducks. In their eyes and space, you are a frog/duck too! Are you ready to be his/her prince/swan? If yes, do what it takes to be one and see if it works. If it doesn’t, at least you know you tried and you are better than the other.
(Pulling myself back to where I started) Is it worth it? My answer would be ‘Yes’. If you think otherwise and want to throw something at me, please throw your credit card, or at least your Starbucks card. I haven’t had a coffee in their seasonal red coffee cup yet. Christmas is here! (Note to self: Don’t digress). It is worth it to meet a lot of frogs/ducks. Sometimes you take with you a piece of them when you move on. It could be something good or something nasty, but it all ends (or so you would hope) in learning how to handle your next frog/duck in life. Or you could argue that you won’t meet them and waste your time. You would rather wait with your ironed hair and pretty pink gown or spiked up hair and blazer for that flash of lightening. Sure, but just make sure you wear goggles, or at least save your ironed/spiked hair. You don’t want to look like you were electrocuted (and you even tweeted about it instantly) and all cute and funny when your prince/swan jumps off the sky.
(ouch!) I’m running out of space for this column and the year is running out of days. Damn, what a coincidence. As you approach the end of 2009 and embrace 2010 with all its surprises, I hope you meet your prince/swan. Until then, happy croaking and quacking! But keep the volume down, your neighbors might not like it, or you might have to answer to the Blue Cross.
Wish you a fun-packed 2010!
DreamVendor
Note:Picture Credit :http://natashawilson.files.wordpress.com
Twenty .. on to Thirty
A straight batted solid tap past the bowler, a quick run and punch in the air brought up his 43rd century and 30,065th international run for India. Roll the clock back 20 years and 6 days. A firm footed on drive of a steamy Waqar delivery to the boundary. A curly haired sixteen year old Sachin in a white helment had just scored his first runs in international cricket on a dry-brown Karachi wicket. What about that mighty square cut of Akhtar during the knock of his life at the world cup in South Africa? What about the lightning quick pull shot for six of Andrew Caddick? What about the mighty lofted back-foot straight sixes of Kasprowicz? What about dancing down the leg side to heave Shane Warne over the Anna pavilion at Chennai and the many paddle sweeps? What about that mighty googly to Moin Kahn and that unforgettable three wicket last over in the Titan cup against South Africa?
From there to the deserts of Sharjah, the highlands of South Africa to the shores of Chennai, Sachin has revealed his master class to everyone who has watched him play. Remember his century and 90+ innings in the VB series finals, remember his 175 against Australia a few weeks back. From his first run to most recent, every run, fifty and century he scores to every time he takes the field there is something special – there’s something “Sachin” about it. Is it the effort? Is it the experience? Is it the class? Is it the talent? Surely, Sachin isn’t getting older, he is just getting better.
The quick hands, the ever fast feet, the steady head or the heavy bat haven’t changed and neither has his humility, simplicity or level headed behavior. One thing though has definitely changed – expectation.
That first boundary off Waqar, no one expected. His one run and that punch in the air – a billion did. For the masses, every century becomes an “I told you so” event. Perhaps his greatness and genius lies in this fact that he has higher expectations of himself than what a billion people have of him. His confidence, focus and self-belief every single time he steps on to the crease are unparalleled in the cricketing world and are perhaps thereason he is the most respected cricketer to date. Never in cricket history has someone been so feared and so respected at the same time by opposition teams.
Very rarely in sport is a person lucky enough to serve his nation in such high standing, but in Sachin’s case perhaps it is India that has been lucky enough to have his service for twenty great years. Many a player has become famous just for the fact that they have been associated in some form, even negatively with Sachin. Kasparowitcz is perhaps the greatest example. What is remembered of him is the trashing he got from the great man in Sharjah – Sachin’s own Operation Desert Storm. Maybe the secret to Sachin’s longevity, fame and success is his love for the game. Doubts were raised when Sachin couldn’t score a century early in his career, doubts were raised when he went down with a tennis elbow, doubts where raised when he lost his captaincy, doubts were raised when one saw Sachin in every other ad on TV. His answer was always the same – more RUNS!There is something in a Mcenroe that isn’t in a Borg. There is something in a Woods that isn’t in a Singh, There is something in a Federer that isn’t in a Roddick. There is something in a Schumacher that isn’t in a Hakkenien. That something isn’t talent, it isn’t class, it isn’t confidence – it’s beyond all that. That something is indeed what separates the good from the great and the great from the demigods. If you ever have doubts about Sachin’s demigod status – just ask Warne, McGrath or even Akthar!!
Don’t count the twenty years….If Amitabh and Abhishek can act together, why can’t Sachin and Arjun one day play together? I am sure Sachin can 
Karthik Krishna
Pearls Among Swine
“There has been tremendous growth in the Hindi film industry over the last decade. Not only are new subjects discovered but often repeated subjects find new treatment and come across fresh. “
With a bunch of adventurous production houses willing to experiment with new directors, the Indie culture is here to stay. Not all of them succeed and not all of them deserve the brickbat meted out to them. Some of them, indeed brilliant are misunderstood by the audience or seem Greek and Latin to them. Here we see five underrated movies from the year that is drawing to a close and why they should have got their due.
Delhi 6
An ensemble performance cruelly reduced to a nonstarter thanks to a shoddily done climax. Delhi-6, at first look, had a lot riding for it. After the success and cult status attained by Rang De Basanti, the expectations from Rakesh Omprakash Mehra grew to skyrocketing levels. And added to that the music of AR Rahman, that was his finest in a long time, knocking itself into the library of his best records like Roja, Thiruda Thiruda and Rangeela. A script written with almost perfect precision and some brilliant sequences that move the characters towards that unification of principles (not story or plot, mind you) that turned out to be both the best and the worst aspect of Delhi-6. With the pushing-down-your-throat message climax being its only gripe, Delhi-6 was wee bit less than the sum of its parts. What was needed here was little justice and appreciation for a breezy two hours or so, with some of the best and subtle performances of the year. And Delhi-6 deserved that much.
Best Scene: Most of the Ram Leela sequences that parallel Roshan’s visit to India.
Luck By Chance:
Thanks maybe to her illustrious brother, Zoya Akhtar generated a lot of buzz for Luck By Chance, a seminal look at the Indian film factory with its myriad of characters, cartoons and buffoons. From a single viewing, we can be pretty sure that when Zoya started shooting the movie, she had a perfectly bound script in hand. If that was not the case, we wouldn’t have watched one of the most endearing character
based movies without squirming in our seats, slowly losing patience. Beginning with the year’s best opening credits, almost every tiny detail, including the name of the movie within the movie is etched with care. Zoya does a huge favor by not resorting to Madhur Bhandarkar sensationalism and “realism”, but rather takes us through a journey where we observe every aspect of the movie making industry in a way that manages to break the fourth wall. It’s tough to gauge why this movie failed the way it did, but it surely ranks as one of the top five movies of year.
Best Scene: Zoya managed to rope in a number of actors for special appearances. One appearance that stands out is that of Shah Rukh Khan, mainly because of the importance of the lesson he imparts to Vikram, the new star in the making. Spoken with the charm that’s Shah Rukh’s own, it’s a scene that triggers Vikram’s
Gulaal:
If I had got an opportunity to watch a preview of Gulaal, I would have implored the makers to give it a wider release. For reasons best known to them, Gulaal did not even get a release in Chennai. Neither did it get a release at major theaters in New Jersey, USA. An ambitious effort from Anurag Kashyap following the success of Dev D, with lesser known faces but with some of the most powerful performances of the year, Gulaal truly deserved better. Taking up a topic seldom dealt with – student politics – Gulaal had some amazingly written scenes with a different story and a radically different treatment. With the quest for power as it’s main theme throughout, with able characters failing and seemingly powerless characters outwitting the former, Gulaal was as surprisingly good as it gets. With a great background score, references to John Lennon, The Gita, and some nice directorial touches, Gulaal is a film I, personally, loved more than Dev D.
Best Scene: As Ransa and Dileep amble back after getting a beating by Jadwal and his gang, you hear a very different version of Sarfaroshi Ki Tamanna performed by Prithvi Bana (sung by the actor who plays Prithvi Bana – Piyush Mishra – himself). The timing and the song befitting the situation was quite understated but marvelous.
Sankat City:
A few years ago, Kamal Haasan made one of his numerous comic capers, called Mumbai Express. As extremely misunderstood as it was, it was also one of Kamal Haasan’s best scripts. Sankat City, maybe not as great, falls into a similar league. It isn’t a comedy of errors or the traditional comic flick we are all so used to. The characters in Sankat City are funny without trying to be so. The sequences, most of them, are funny without trying to be so. As in the whole sequence of events are funny on screen but not inherently so for the characters that are part of them. And that’s one of the main reasons why Sankat City failed much the way Mumbai Express did. Most of the set pieces quite cleverly created, Sankat City had the stamp of The New Indie Movie from Mumbai.
Best Scene: In the beginning, a radio announcer gives out a warning about an expected earthquake. It’s not the main focus of the scene and is in fact, completely offhand at first. And towards the end of the movie, this event sets up a finale that though not entirely unexpected, comes as an ingenious touch when you see how it alters the fortune of the main characters.
Kaminey:
Though declared a semi-hit, Kaminey finds itself in this list because of the appreciation that it never got. Judging only by the quality of film making and plot device, Kaminey is the kind of movie that Guy Ritchie or maybe even the Coen Brothers, would have been proud of. Kaminey spoke of a number of factors in its favor – quirky characters, intelligent set-pieces, great original performances and some of the best lines uttered – the stuff that cult cinema are made of. Vishal Bharadwaj’s gorgeous soundtrack and dialogues lend itself to the kind of film seldom seen on the Indian screens – a film that instead of spoon feeding you leaves it for you to figure it out. And when you do, things do fall into place admirably well. That’s the kind of cinema you watch with your thinking
cap on.
Best Scene: That scene in Charlie’s makeshift cabin, with Bhope Bhau and his thugs; small talk over vada pav and the best Mexican standoff ever filmed in Hindi cinema
Aditya Shrikrishna
Downcast
Asha was on her way home when the November rain decided to play peek-a-boo with her. It would drizzle for a while and then change its mind and fizzle away. Asha ignored the rain’s mind games and continued walking. She was just a few blocks away from home when the rain decided to go rogue and transform in to a heavy downpour. Asha had to take refuge under the sunshade of a store on the pavement.She twisted her stole which had become wet due to its brief contact with the rain As she finished dripping off the droplets of water, she noticed the items displayed in the shop through the window. A particular piggy bank caught her attention.
“Here you go darling. For this birthday, you can have this piggy bank. It is like your own little bank!” said her dad as he handed her a brand new pink and white piggy bank.
If Asha was upset, she did a good job of displaying it. She had wanted the new princess doll that everyone in her neighborhood had. She was looking forward to her birthday so that she could have the doll as her gift. This piggy bank was nowhere close to the beautiful doll. The princess had a big flowing dress and even her own crown.
“But Daddy, why can’t I have the princess doll like everyone else in school does?” asked Asha half hoping that her Dad would replace the piggy bank with the princess doll.
“Why don’t you take the piggy bank, save a lot of money and then by the end of this month, we will have enough money to buy the princess doll. What say huh?” asked her Dad trying to get Asha excited about the gift.
Just like any other eight year old kid, Asha thought dolls were the best things in the world, only second to candy, and having a piggy bank as a birthday gift did not make any sense to her. Not having enough courage to throw tantrums in front of her dad, she just took the gift from his hand and walked towards her room.
Looking at the same pink and white piggy bank in the store brought back memories to Asha. Right next to them she saw what was a today’s version of her princess doll. The one that she would never have.
It was just another day; at least that is how it started out to be. Asha kissed her dad, waved to her mom and left for school. She returned home to a sobbing mother. The house seemed alien to her. There were people everywhere, voices all around, whispers, whimpering, sobs, screams, and in the middle of it all, her dad.
She knew then that there wasn’t going to be a princess doll.
She heard someone screaming for money to pay the icebox delivery service. She looked at her numb mother. She slowly walked towards her room and returned with her piggy bank, never to see it again.
Asha looked away from the store and started walking back home. The downpour did not matter; it could not cause more pain than the piggy bank, the dolls or worse, the memories. The memories we create only to feel the pain of not being able to relive them. As she reached home, she wondered when was it that the rain water had started to taste salty.
–Nivethitha Kumar
Refreshing Rendezvous
A brief luncheon with Dr. Kalam – Divya Panati
One evening, I received this snail mail from the President of my university and I was under the assumption that it was probably one of those ads requesting a pledge. I left that mail on my dresser and it was staring at me for a few days until I finally decided to break out of my laziness and open it. I was awestruck to see what it read “The President of the University would like to invite you for a luncheon with the former President of India, Dr. A.P.J Abdul Kalam.” Have you ever seen the look on Oscar award winners? Just multiply that by a gazillion for that was what was happening to me. This was a moment to cherish and a once in a lifetime opportunity (more important than the Haley’s comet sighting!) that I was not going to miss.
And so the day arrived, 28th of October 2009, Wednesday; I believe that even Huntsville’s weather knew that an important person was about to visit and the clouds gave way to a winter Sun. The luncheon was held at the prestigious Davidson Space Center right under the last Saturn-V display; what a fitting place for a luncheon for India’s rocket boy, I thought. Finally it was 12:30; I was waiting with the rest of the Indians from various walks of life to meet and greet the man of the hour. A few minutes passed and then suddenly all the way on the left hand corner of the room I heard some chatter, words of admiration and ‘good afternoon Sirs’. There he was; the man, the legend talking to people and shaking hands. There was a certain aura about this man that nobody could miss. A chance occasion lead me to wish the legend in our native tongue, instead of a “Hello” I ended up saying “Vannakam Sir” (meaning hello in Tamil) and got a quick acknowledgement from the Dr. So I asked him to give me an autograph in Tamil, and he did! There was a vegetarian buffet arranged where everyone stood in line. After the quick conversation, I stood in line and all of a sudden there were flashing lights hitting me. I turned behind and there he was, this time he was asking me which of the dishes taste better as he skillfully avoided the vegetable skewers by saying “that fellow is dangerous.”
The next dish in the row was a rice dish which caught his attention. We exchanged words about whether it would taste good or not and then it happened! He started serving me some rice; I stood there gaping, not knowing what to say. The only words I remember uttering were “Podhum Sir, podhum Sir” (meaning that will do Sir that will do) and then I finally said thank you and got out of that lunch line.
After lunch the man of the hour took center stage and people were waiting to ask him questions, he introduced himself as the Rocket man and expressed how the Saturn V hanging above our heads made him feel very happy and at ease, he referred to the Saturn-V affectionately as “this fellow.”
One curious guest asked Dr. Kalam what his favorite achievements so far was; He humbly replied by saying “I have not achieved anything so far and if I need to choose a favorite, I would like to go back and do research on rocket science.”
Following that a guest posed the question “What do you think the youth of today want?”
His response was “The youth today want peace; they are trying to break barriers and convince the older generation that peace is essential for global harmony and they are starting this practice at home. They also know they can achieve so much in life and that nothing is impossible.”
Another guest asked what his vision was for the future and what his plans to see a developed India were; Dr. Kalam responded to that by saying that India is basically a country whose backbone is agriculture and that advances in science and technology to improve the sector of agro products will see India shine in the future. He also added that it was essential to provide free and compulsory education to women and children in all the twenty thousand odd villages in India; he strongly believed that a higher women literacy rate is key to progress.
He also talked about PURA which stands for Providing Urban amenities in Rural Areas. And finally he talked about World Space Vision 2050 which would bring the world a little closer to see how they can star gaze and take space exploration into its future. After this, a guest asked why corruption plays havoc in a country’s progress and Dr.Kalam replied that corruption starts from your home and it can only be abolished when “we live with integrity and work with integrity.” And with that the meeting ended for he was already ten minutes behind schedule to meet and greet the Indian students from the University. It was easy to tell how excited he was to meet students again, for the teacher in him never leaves him for one moment.
Of Presidents and Poems: A Real Story of a Chance Meeting – Raghu Godavarthi
He stood there, an arm’s length away, and for the first time I saw him for who he was. At once, I was the shy kid who used to only come out from the bedroom when his parents asked him to “come and say hello to so-and-so Uncle and Aunty.” A second later, I was reading and absorbing his presence and reeling from the fatigue I saw on his aged face. It hit me then, here is a man older even than my own grandfather, who has been on his feet all day, and he deserves now to put up his feet and savor a cup of hot coffee. Was I going to press my blundering self and meaningless questions upon him when he was in such a state? My thoughts turned as the reporter from the Huntsville Times started off on his question. The newswoman from Fox 54 put her microphone on him (with his permission, of course) and we “settled” into the humdrum of a “press conference.”
He was here to visit the space research facilities and to tour University of Alabama, Huntsville. He spoke about cooperation as means of making space travel affordable. I asked him about student exchange programs between universities in India and UAH- his estimation was “there definitely are opportunities.” He gushed about the facilities at UAH and felt there could be collaborations, especially in the area of space physics. My inner urge to seek out the man rather than the ex-President made me ask – will we be reading about Huntsville in your poetry? – and in the proverbial blink of an eye, he changed. He smiled hugely, and with much animation, said that we might – “the ideas were flowing here.” I then presented my little book of poems as an introduction, and spoke to him in the language-of-home, and sought his blessings. He skimmed through a poems and autographed it – A.P.J. Abdul Kalam. Dr. Kalam, President of India from July 25, 2002 – July 25, 2007, is currently the only surviving former President.
Hours later, I reflected on all dominoes whose fall led to this chance meeting. In choosing to forsake ambition, and let life “guide” me unto the path of wisdom, I had met with some unforgettable moments. As Gulzar put it, when a moment fell off of time, only a legend was found, the moment nowhere. My own story is not studded with legends, but the moments have found form in my poems. I have struggled with misunderstood notions of duty, affinity and human happiness, but as I wake from today unto tomorrow, I know but this – I have met one more person on this beautiful planet to whom the very mention of poetry is a refreshing gust on a day of endless slog.
Of Presidents, and Poems, and human happiness
A smile, is indeed the finest finesse
What stony countenance be that
which poetry does not positively affect
‘tis but such like that forever shut out regrets
Of Time, and Place, and gentle ironies
A smile, mostly, will put one at ease
Can history not bear witness?
Will geography leave no memorial?
Of tiny miracles, such as these
Upon Reflection
Akṣapāda Gautama’s Gurukul…
“What is the difference between good and evil Guruji?” I asked.
Gotama replied without opening his eyes,” Good is what you do onto others without expecting anything in return which is beneficial in its effect. Evil is what you do with the intent of harm onto others.”
I absorbed what was said and queried further, “Guruji, why is it important to do good deeds and not what is called evil?” Gotama still did not open his eyes. He never got tired of the questions his Sishyas came up with. But over the years his responses had become stereotypical. He replied,
”Young one, I have already introduced you to the theory of causation. You should have inferred by now that cause and effect should be homogeneous in nature, and yet the effect is a new beginning and was not already contained in the cause.”
I was ready for this response. I had contemplated for half a year now and this was the way I had decided to draw out Guruji. I responded,
”Guruji, I have been doing something for six months now. I steal half a liter of milk every day because I know like clockwork the cowherd’s schedule. The conundrum has stupefied both Mataji and the Cowherd as to why the cow has been giving half a liter of milk less for the past six months as he knows through inference of the milk giving capacity as related to the weight of hay fed and its ankle size. Now though the Cowherd does not say anything in front of Mataji he curses the cow when alone for his repute is at stake. If I did not confess now nobody would ever have known. I did so called evil deed and yet other than the silent curses there was no other effect. And I am also at peace with myself. And yet it is evil… What is that explains this situation?”
Gotama opened his eyes,” Young one… what is it that you seek?”
I replied honestly, “The truth Guruji…”
Gotama said” Young one, it is time for you to continue your journey. I have imparted all the knowledge that I can… I can give you an answer but you will not accept it because you want to back anything that is said through the experiment of self.
But young one- Do not forget the primary knowledge of Causality that I have imparted. In the case that you present your inference of the effect was easy because the inputs were controlled. Remember that young one.”
I was scared at the answer that I got for this was not what I expected. But I said Abhivadhaye and asked, “Guruji, what is it that I can offer as Guru dakshina… “
Zen Arcade- 2000 so years later…
Have you ever heard of the band Husker Du? They came out with this album in the eighties called Zen Arcade that changed the phase of music. Almost every decade had such an album one could argue but it (actually an album, a book or a movie) takes meaning when one comes across the idea being presented for the first time in his or her life. The album followed the adventures of a disoriented young kid who is disillusioned by his parents and the environment he is in and decides to head out into the world to seek the truth. As the album progresses so did the young kid – he experiments with sex, religion and drugs along the way and then returns home, apparently back to square one, having discovered the world outside is even worse than the” safe haven” that was his family. The album ends with a ghostly song called “Recurring Dreams”. To me everything in the album made sense. I have always toyed with this idea. What If there is no ultimate truth? But the thing is each has to experiment in order to prove to him or herself. Some of us accept it after a little experimentation that we have found god and ultimately it will be revealed as to why is that things happen as they do. Insanity I say! But what is the alternative.
I had an alternative that I had pondered with for years together now… and it made sense….
1930 years ago…
It had been thirty years since I had left the Gurukul. And yet I found myself walking into the valley again. Guruji was on the throes of death and had summoned me. I somehow did not feel pity at his shriveled old body when I saw him. I had found that death did not affect me as much as life did. I don’t know why but over the years I had learnt that dealing with my inner thoughts was the first step to learning to deal with others. I touched his feet and sat beside him.
He whispered,” Young one … “and he looked at me fondly. He continued,
”What is it that you have learnt? Tell me…. “I looked at him with almost anger…. “Nothing Guruji… absolutely nothing! I do have a better understanding of the world around me or the people that reside here. But the question that I asked you years ago still hounds me. And now I have thirty years behind me to make a perfect argument that even you Guruji will not be able to counter. Yet I cannot get myself to do something truly evil” I sighed.
Guruji smiled at me, “Young one to me it was not as much as finding the answer as developing tools of thought. The fire you had in you and that still burns in you burns in me even as I feel death come upon me. I am sure you have by now thought about…. “And I looked at him… it was not possible… how could he possibly know! And he smiled and continued, “There is one explanation that conscience must hold the true answer to all that… “
1945 years since the Gurukul was left for the first time
I stood there observing a two week old kitten. He was furiously scratching the concrete floor and looking confused and then sat upright and… I yelled, “Bad Kitty!” The next day I saw a similar confused scratching and I carried him outside and put him on the ground. He continued to scratch and then I realized he wasn’t scratching but digging. He dug a neat hole and the sat in the in thehole and did his thing. When he was done he got up and covered his poop with mud making sure the hole was filled! I was pretty amazed and it got me thinking. I wondered about the preprogramming that was innate to every living thing. I contemplated the concept of conscience and how it hounded humans into doing the right thing in more cases than less. Where is it that this was passed on from for you were born with it. I wondered.
1930 years before the Husker Du incident:
I looked at Guruji and said, “But you have never fed that idea to me Guruji.” I was a little out of my element. Guruji smiled,” Young one, the day that you put forth the conundrum for the first time I inferred you would reach the same conclusion.
But I had to wait for the experiment to happen and confirm the result. So what is it that you concluded?
Did you reach the same conclusion? The only way to truly break away from conscience and yet not affect causality!
I slowly replied, “I think Yes… that you …. “I stuttered a bit”You… ummm commit…“
He looked at me eerily and completed, “SUICIDE! But how? But how? … How do you create the perfect accident?” I looked at him and whispered… and with that he took his last breath … I got up.
1930 Years before the Husker Du Incident and at that time too
I walked into the empty space. It was time to commit the act. But it was very important to create the right conditions. It meant freedom. True freedom. Maybe many people had come upon this conclusion and had carried it out. But the knowledge truly remained a secret because no one had lived to talk about it. Ha! I smiled ironically. All knowledge that Is passed on can only be applied with the physics of this world that surrounds us i.e., the interaction of Purusha with Prakarthi. But that was all an illusion and the conclusion that I had independently reached had been inferred by Guruji as well. It had to work!
I walked into empty space. It was time to commit the act. But it was important to create the right conditions. It meant freedom. True Freedom! Maybe many people had come upon this conclusion and had carried it out. But the knowledge truly remained a secret because no one had lived to talk about it. Ha! I smiled ironically. It had to be done this way; the inference of the kitten was but the start point. This was the only way to let’s say short circuit the system!
The conditions were right. I had planned every detail to the second; death came at all simplicity and…. I was free! I opened my eyes…. I was blinded and I heard a voice….. A strange form of communication but I somehow understood, “You almost got away the very first time you tried this… To think! Ha!” I felt a sort of eeriness… It was unbearable….
A baby was born somewhere… somewhere… and she cried…
Note:“Filarial was listening to two bands as he inferred the truth- “Pavement” and of course “Husker Du”. He likes to back his fiction with facts.”
–Filarial
Book Review – The case of the missing servant
A Vish Puri Mystery by Tarquin Hall
by Divya Ramachandran
Vish Puri is a leading private investigator in India. He spends most of his time trying to find some dirt on prospective grooms for the bride’s parents.
He is called upon to investigate the case of the missing servant, Mary, from the household of a rich lawyer. The book follows Puri as he tackles corrupt officials, fights his weakness for fried snacks and tries to prevent his mother from interfering with his work. While he manages his team with a stern hand, he deals with innocent and fragile victims with care.Vish Puri, respects Chanakya but does not like Sherlock Holmes.
This book steers clear of the stereotypical image of India – yogis, snake charmers and the like who are usually associated with India do not find a place in this book. This book is set in contemporary India and it captures the essence of modern day India- slums dwell comfortably besides sprawling mansions, villages with no electricity co-exist with metropolitan cities that have houses with automatic flushing toilets. The young people working in BPOs, the “Indian English” spoken by the characters in the book bring modern India to life in our minds.
Though the book is a work of fiction, there is no Bollywood style out-of-the-world heroism. This is a thoroughly enjoyable work of fiction that is bound to make readers smile at the things they can relate to their life in India. This book is not for those who expect an account of the colors or the rich cultural and religious heritage of India.
Yet Another Monsoon Rain
Art and Poetry by Anuradha Chandrasekaran
The raindrops fell down one by one
Drenching me as it came down upon the ground
As I stood there transfixed
My thoughts wandered across a time long gone
I remembered rushing through these rains
Both of us clinging to the handle of that one umbrella
Did we want to stay dry or get wet in the downpour?
I wonder if we even the noticed those drops of water
Another time, another monsoon day
I remember waking up and not wanting to get out of bed
I remember the piping hot bed coffee
And a voice, a hand, replete with comfort and warmth
Ah! Those beautiful rainy days, How I have cursed them
When they were the cause for traffic on the road
And all those tremors my mind went through
Just because you came home an hour late
Some joys, some fights
Some smiles, some tears
A raindrop sometimes personifies them all
A raindrop sometimes takes you back
Today I stand, without an umbrella
Without a shield to protect me
All I have, to give these raindrops are my own memories
All that remains are few tiny drops of water
A day that approaches… approaches the past
Indeed I was a youngster then, indeed am no wiser now
Sure, you were the smart one, no doubt, the more adapted
But perhaps I understood you then, and not so much now
or perhaps it is the other way around
either way, the lion will never catch it’s tail
the circle will never cease at a certain point
the unfortunate misunderstandings of Friendship’s past
will perhaps come back to the limelight
as a future content to share nothing but what was
The years between us were an unshakeable truth
the memories between us oases in a desert
the space between us, the emptiness between the stars
sooner ignored, safer forgotten, best unremembered
and yet there were these far-flung innuendoes
the embers of a fire that burnt itself
and it that burning, consumed universes
fragments of these now lurk in distant minds
occasionally do they meet, upon the cross roads of time
the same paths that we never chose to walk on
now, angered (cross), offer us no room to pass
A day approaches, and brings another floating charcoal piece
the companion of which was flung upon me post-haste, early
that vanguard sleeps for a momentary eternity, safely defeated
yet the unuttered noises of the coming fleet crowd my mind
they refuse to offer a fight, nor do they volunteer to walk swiftly past
they shall be the guests of the winter perhaps, hibernating, snoring
until the freshness of an as-yet-unsprung spring time leaf shall sweep them away
and going forward, forward, forward… they shall once more approach the past
Picture Credit :
