Kanaso Nanaso..

It was a silent town - somewhere in North India, maybe Uttar Pradesh. It had a distinct landscape. Big old havelis and mohallahs and warm people. The whole thing looked very strange to me and I really enjoyed being in such a place. It was a new experience and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Was there someone else with me? Maybe a friend of mine. I guess it was him who took me to the big-haveli. And I don't know where he disappeared after that. Or maybe, the aura of the haveli took me over and I did not notice him enough. But what a grand house that was! It had a very huge entrance-room. On the walls of this room were hung larger-than-life size portraits of men in grand clothes. They looked like kings. What the hell was I doing in this grand haveli? I came looking for something? I was let in - inside the house. I cannot call it a house though. It must have been a palace in the past. The people living in the house should be the descendants of a royal Muslim family, I guessed. The house was old but grand. The interior of the house was exquisite. It had pillars with intricate glassy curves. Everything in the room was so illuminated. This was a smaller room, but more beautiful. There was so much light in the room, pure white light, like the light of the Kohinoor. As I glanced through the old vases and royal decorations, velvet-carpet underneath my feet, I saw books, a lot of books placed on shelves in another room whose door was open. The sight of books was very pleasing. I decided to have a look. As I entered the room, I found that it had an amazing collection of Urdu literature. I knew Urdu? Who maintained such a wonderful collection? Then I saw something very beautiful. In the corner of the room, a beautiful young lady was talking to an old man. She was wearing a yellow salwar-kameez with beautiful designs on it. I cannot describe her sight but she was in all essence what the word 'beautiful' could ever mean. Her sight was so compelling. I tried to avoid looking at her but she was so beautiful that I could not help stealing glimpses of her. Then she came up to me and asked what I wanted. I don't remember exactly what I spoke to her, but I did speak of literature. She was impressed. Then she told me that she would like to introduce me to her grandmother. She had immense knowledge in Urdu literature. She had the calmness and serenity on her face that I had never seen before. They looked a very dignified people. Indeed they belonged to a royal family. They seemed to be very well cultured. Her grandmother was a grand lady. I spoke to her for a very long time. I spoke about so many things, from literature to pythons. Her grand-daughter was standing in the corner and smiling. I was offered to stay in the house for one more day. She told me that her grandmother was very impressed by me. The next day she asked me to have a look at the small temple in their front-yard. I went to check it out. And I found a letter near the shrine. The most beautiful lady in the world had fallen for me. She spoke her heart out in the letter. I said, this is a disaster. I never acted in a way to impress her. She was beautiful and possessed all virtues a man like me would ever want to see in his beloved. But, I said I can't fall in love twice. I knew it would hurt her, but I ran from that place. I came back, but still wondering if I did the right thing.

I opened my eyes to see that the Sun had still not risen and I could afford more such sweet dreams.

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On a night like this..

From among the leaves, shiny and wet, thickly meshed over glistening girth of wood, the yellowish light from a lamp-post erect with an aura of eeriness manages to show itself as a tiny blot as I look through my window. The rain is banging the ground hard and the music is driving my senses crazy. This is life, I say. The immobile life is in a state of trance. The essence of motion is pouring down from above. And from among the immobile life, a man, robed totally in synthetic balloon-jacket, heads down and dry under a hood, walks by the yellowish haze, with a suggestion of a supernatural gait. A march of life. A celebration of life. The darkness of the hour hides in its arms the mundaneness, and something from the heaven comes down to cleanse the world under, unleashing the beauty and mysteriousness that the light of the day keeps us from seeing. This is life, I say. It's time for rain to play, let it play. Nature alone and no human intervention. Let nature sing for itself and I shall listen. Your song is beautiful, I say. And from among the immobile life, a lean man with his lungi wrapped up around his knees, head covered in an umbrella, walks slowly down the road, with a suggestion of a natural gait. A hint of scarcity? Blessed is the man of scarcity who can walk down the street with an umbrella on a night like this. Beauty lies in the eyes of scarcity. It rains for the sake of scarcity on Earth. This is life, I say.

I gaze through my window to see more.

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Ideas

This is a small essay that I had written during the third semester for a friend of mine to be linked to on his webpage. When I Googled for "Muralidhar Dasar", I found this article among the top search results. On reading it again,it kind of gave me the motivation I was looking for. Something that was really missing these days. And...this is how it goes:

Ideas:


Powerful ideas come from powerful minds. And powerful ideas often have enough potential to prove themselves on ground. All that we are today and all that we see around today is the material manifestation of great ideas by great men, most of whom are themselves lost in the darkness of an infinite past but their ideas dictate the present. Ideas are the stuff the world is made of, ladies and gentlemen. Ideas have been the primary driving forces of civilizations and they continue to drive the world today with unchanged vigor.

Ideas are the solid bricks that mankind has long been laying to elevate his presence to higher levels. This is a process that started with the first man and will only stop with humanity getting effaced off the face of this planet. This is a continuous process and we cannot hope to stop it. The only question that needs an answer is what idea you have up your sleeves to contribute to this world. And if your idea is strong enough for the rest of humanity to follow, then you lead people to a new direction, show them newer avenues and most importantly explore your limits and push your horizon further. Ideas become immortal, running through the bloodstream of the generations to follow.

You must have heard of the tiger and the goat story – a tiger growing up in the company of goats and failing to see the strength hidden inside. This precisely applies to a majority of the human mass. “Why have great ideas?” is an appropriate question to ask. The answer simply is “Why not?” It is completely up to us to decide what horde of Spirits we wish to belong to – the innovators or the mere followers. Being innovators is about realizing the tiger within our minds. It is about bringing a smile on the face of our fellow beings. It is about inspiring men and eventually being closer to God by being closer to ourselves. Anyone on this planet can lead a lazy life. How good is it to lazily move through days, like an insect moving through flowers, failing to see the nectar?

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Free(doom) ?

His 136th birth anniversary. I remember singing 'Gandhian' songs in school on this occasion of Gandhi Jayanthi.
Vaishnav Janato...
Raghupati raghav raja ram...
It used to be a two hour function with all our teachers and a few students present for the occasion. The function would be led by our good old music teacher and a few kids training under her would be on the tabla and the harmonium, the rest would simply join the vocalist.
Brings good memories.

It fascinates me thinking of the 'khadi' days and thinking of Gandhi, his followers, his nationalistic movements, his fellow champions and a nation they loved so dearly. Freedom. They fought for it. They died for it. We have all read about it in our history text-books, listened to so many lectures, seen so many documentaries, seen movies. But to understand the essence of freedom, I believe, is something that will never happen to us.

The word freedom brings to my memory a few spellbinding lines of poetry, which also happen to be the lines of the title song of a popular kannada TV serial. It is so much hard for me to relate to the 'freedom' that Gandhi stood for. The lines go something like this:

"Mogge inda sere odeda gandha, hoovindha doora doora,
Elluntu aache teera?"



When translated literally, it means:
The fragrance of a flower that is in chains inside a bud liberates itself into the eternity of space, moves away and away from the flower.... but where lies the other end to this liberation?

This very much is the story of freedom. Very much the story of a freedom that the nation celebrates. Freedom leaves us directionless in an eternity of possibilities. And every generation tries to render freedom a direction. The direction of progress, industrialization, 8% GDP growth is what we consider should be the direction of our attained freedom today. The direction might change tomorrow with climatic concerns overtaking the dollar concern. Or when we succeed in making sufficent dollars, but still find ourselves starving, we may choose to take the direction of spirituality, religion. Freedom throws us open into an infinitude of possiblilities. But where lies the other end to this freedom?

To see this day...

Something makes me ask profound questions today. To myself. Not any shit about who created this universe, why "He" created it or why He particularly created me and invited me to throw stones at him Himself. I don't care a shit about the existence of answers to those questions, they are not going to make any difference to me. Now that I am on planet Earth, I will be here till ... a beginning ends. My beginning. Every beginning ends. I don't find solace in this truth. If I have had a definitive beginning, and I am known to have a definitive end, then why am I left dangling in between? With questions? With expectations? With desires? With objectives? With a cold nose and a burning ass?
Numbers were an awesome creation. The species' most 'valued' inheritance that has successfully percolated through ages. Humans could not have done without numbers. They needed to count. Count the days of one's life. These days, to count more than just days. Infact,they do count anything. Damn those numbers. Go in search of love. Go in search of an experience where there are no numbers. Beyond counting, beyond computing. Try doing that and you will be pulled back. To settle the count of food that you eat and the litres of water that you drink. Birth on Earth is surrendering to numbers.
Why numbers? Poor creatures damnit. But the answer to every question has to be with them. This is where the profoundness of my questions begins.

void anticipation(void);

Nostalgia...Down memory lane...I have grown up enough to hold a couple of tear-drops rolling down from my eyes. I have grown up. So sad.

It was 1996. I was a kid, 10 years old. I had just got a new bicycle and had just pushed my first pedals. My father, his friend and his son were collectively making an effort to teach me how to ride a bicycle. It was a pleasant Sunday evening. The sky was clear and we stood by the shadow of our house ready for an adventure. The velvet rays of the Sun and the serenity of the hour made an unforgettable blend. The cycle was slightly big for my height but I managed to take my new "Photon" cycle for a ride. Today, it lies in our backyard, rusted. No one cares for it anymore. I have not given it away to anyone either. A few years later I learnt to ride a bike, a Hero Honda. Something was missing on that day. Anticipation.

The very same year. Early November and an another beautiful evening. My friends on their cycles and me on my new "Photon" full of enthusiasm raced towards the stadium. On the big playground behind the stadium, big stalls had been put up to sell fire-crackers, rockets, 'sur-sur bathis',"phatakshi" as we call it, all so well arranged in colourful and shining packets, that no kid could resist the temptation of somehow trying to own an entire stall. The Sun would slowly fade away. Because we set out in the evening and my mom would never let me out before 5 pm and would never let me in after 7, we had to satisfy ourselves with the mere sight of the 'colourful crackers' and planning to take our dads along next time, we had to turn our cycles back. Home was calling. Before we reached our homes, we could hear the sounds of fire-crackers and 'Lakshmi-bombs' and 'googi-bombs' on our way back. Deepavali had already begun - in the lives of people. Something so heavenly was present in the air and the hearts of people. Anticipation.
I don't remember how many crackers I burnt that year. I was always waiting for the Sun to go to a silent snore so that the air could come to life. I had set my eyes on a 'Rs.1000' cracker packet that my friend had got. He had kept it in his bedroom. He showed it to me. Bedroom was not so easy to enter. I cannot forget what happened that night. I only heard the sound from his house. It was an accident. The whole packet exploded in the night and his bedroom was burnt. No one was hurt fortunately. He was a careless boy. He spoke of it as if it was the funniest thing that had ever happened. I burnt more of his crackers than mine that year. I cannot recall a more 'explosive' Deepavali. Something so lively was present in our lives that year. Anticipation.

This is year 2005. I am 19 years old. Something so much about life is missing. Anticipation.

On top of Gol, indeed a zero?

(The scene is set on top of Gol Gumbaz, a mega structure.)
The two characters - Musical and Praveen. Praveen is Musical's another name.

Musical: "Things look so tiny from here.

Praveen: "Yes, they do."

Praveen: "The houses, the trees, the roads, the automobiles..."

Musical: "...the people and their lives too."

(A pause)

Praveen: "Look at the National Highway. Just a streak of charcoal on a mighty forehead."

Musical: "The lorries following their dark fate-line remind me of red-ants."

Praveen: "Dark?"

Musical: "Highways are always dark you know."

Praveen: "Satirical."

Praveen: "Let's turn to the other side."

Musical: "Fine. Do you feel it's going to be different there?"

Praveen: "Stop your nonsense for a while and enjoy the cool breeze hugging you on all sides."

Praveen: "Feels like heaven."

Musical: "Yes, that is what the King wanted afterall."

Praveen: "Wow! Look at the Bhutnal Lake."

Musical: "The water from this lake runs through the life of Bijapur."

Praveen: "How true! And how beautiful it indeed is!"

Musical: "LIFE is beautiful!"

(A thousand words to say. A silence of thousand words.)

Praveen: "Never has the sky looked so bigger."

Musical: "And never has life looked so smaller."

(A pause)

Praveen: "You seem to have slipped into a transcendental mood. Speak simple."

Musical: "I am no mystic, dear! But I can be simple."

Musical: "Don't you see the smallness of life from here? See the houses there. A house is an effort of a lifetime. AN EFFORT OF A LIFETIME. Tiny cement structures silhouetted against vast black soil. Ants walking into and out of it. ANTS."

Praveen(a proud smile): "The Ibrahim Roza doesn't look like it."
(The Ibrahim Roza is a fairly huge structure built during the 16th century.)

Musical: "That is why you still remember who built it."

(The breeze carries away the pride on Praveen's face.)

Praveen(in a tone of confession): "Standing on the Gol Gumbaz alongside you today, I indeed see the hollowness of life."

Musical: "No my dear friend, life is not hollow. Life is beautiful! BEAUTIFUL.Like the sparkling water of the lake that runs through it."

Praveen: "I feel like the Almighty. Looking at life from above."

Musical: "Let's move downstairs. It is getting dark."


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Chocolates of sem 4...

So, I come to the end of semester four! Now is the time to rejoice, go home and recharge my capacitors, enjoy, travel places and have fun. Also, because I always have a pair of eyes in my stomach, ideally though, this is the time for some looking-back, and introspection. A time to ask myself, "How did I live my life in this chunk of an academic segment?". A good thing that IIT does is, it partitions a year's time into 4 logical time partitions. Calls for 4 introspections in 12 months. Sounds good.

This semester will remain in my EPROM memory for quite a long time. I have had some real "moments" of my life, experiences unique of their kind, and all of them have been joyful and gracious. This day, I know the frequencies that my mind is composed of. Atleast the fundamental ones. It has been a journey of self-discovery. A bigger discovery though is of the way how my mind resonates with the things outside it. Sometimes, a whimsical thought that I give to such experiences, tells me that things are not external. There is no separation between internal and the external. Nature has set common frequencies, but somehow the human mind, thanks to its immese complexity, hides intellegently from itself the frequencies it is made of. Before I drag my mind out, this vicious chain of thought does not end before concluding that the human mind is programmed to be the way it is, and it is possible for it to free itself and see itself. I don't understand the language of reasoning. So in the logical sphere, my deductions may be wrong. But this semester has given those little eyes sitting inside my stomach enough sight to dance to the tune of mysterious notes of an "external world". Cryptic language, it may look that I am using, I would say, yes it is for the simple reason that I am not good at reasoning such experiences!

And what else? I remember another day when it was raining when I came out of the CLT at about 8:30 pm. I had just spent moments with a lady who I guess understood the "cryptic language" of the inside and the outside. Mrs. Sudha Murthy has been an inspiration to me since my high school days. "Philanthropy", I remember she said, " is what a life is incomplete without." I still remember the way I tried to understand her when she spoke about the joy of giving. It did not make much sense to me at that time. Now I see that there isn't anything that is "mine". There is no external as such. This realization, as I said before, came as a momentary impulse and that was the only thing I knew was true for a moment. Felt like I found the ultimate answer. It was momentary. Traces still reside though. This goes down as another reason why this semester has been full of "moments". A right time to feel fresh a 'pat-on-the-back' to Infosys. A single enterprise has done such good to the nation. Employment on one hand, global respect for India on another, and philanthropy on yet another. When enterprises set nation building as a goal, this is ideally how they should go about it. A salute to Infosys and Infosys Foundation. I have seen Sudha Murthy more closely at work though. A major part of her work has been in the North-Karnataka region. She once presided over the annual day function of my school. She gave handsome scholarships to Board toppers that day. More recently, a junior at my PU College bagged Rank 1 in State CET, but he was not confident of meeting the expenses of an engineering education. I heard Sudha Murthy awarded him a handsome lump sum. During her talk, a student asked her, "How can we students practise philanthropy? We don't have enough money to donate" . And this was her answer, " Lend your notes to the guy who needs it. Get an 'A' grade and help the other guy get an 'A' grade. This is philanthropy too". Lessons on philanthropy and true nation building indeed. Lessons on what a single individual can do for his nation.

This is not all. Some experiences I do not dare to blog. Whatever it be, I see life better now.

First toddles..

I have come across many beautiful creations in poetry till today. Few have made an everlasting impression on the "unreal, dreaming" half of my mind. I wish to sediment my delight of 'seeing' those few poems on this blog. I will do that in my subsequent posts. They have inspired me to try my hand at writing. I usually write in Kannada, the only language I am somewhat familiar with. I have tried to write in English also, but I have failed to come anywhere near the word "poetry". Nevertheless, I still keep writing in all the three languages I know. Here is one attempt in English, penned last year. Here it goes:


With a smile, to this place you come,
Or with a tear rolling down your cheek;
Through a door behind, without your notice,
And some distance tread when I entice;
You can prove to be brave or just as meek.

You've stopped, as you did before you do now,
And look to your left and right, you ought to stay;
Wise you are, the weight of yester tear if you know,
Or equally blinded by the smile, as stuck in snow;
With you is your wisdom alone; still you can stray.

Again the doors stare right in front;
Pause for a while and listen, it's My voice,
"Make a choice!" and you say what you want,
You have been making choices every moment;
No pause, the most awaited now is your choice!

Simple joys...

I found this poem on "poetry.com" . Speaks of the simple joys in life that die unnoticed. A real nice poem. Here it goes :

Life's greatest joys are free of cost,
Returning things we thought were lost.
Storms that rumble,clouds that rain,
Making the worlds look new again.
Stars that twinkle in inky skies,
Waves that rise only to die.
Rains that lash on window panes,
Memories that search familiar lanes.
When birds do trill in songs that lilt,
To laze around with little guilt.
And lie in bed on Sunday morns,
Watching the Sun till it's gone.
Life unfolds bundles of joy,
A glass of wine,a book to enjoy.
These pass us by without a thought,
So be content with what you've got.

Me and Matrubhoomi...

The rain has finally stopped! 'Sunny Chennai days' are back. Madras and the Sun are two eternal lovers. They cannot be separated. The rain tried to add a tinge of aroma to the air and tried to sing a song for them, but was kicked out rightaway! "Stare ye Sun, into the eyes of Madras, thy love is the purest, and no rain shall do you part!" And so continues the story of a Miss Madras and Mr. Sun, epitomising the eternity of love.

Well, time to get down to Earth and look at much smaller scales. My life is not as big as a Sun, who can afford a girlfriend as Madras. Madrasss.....man isn't she hot?!. No flying in the skies again Murali! Now I seriously need to get down to Earth. I was going through the blog articles authored by my dear friend Aravind. Inspiring and motivating, I should say. They made me think. Kudos Aravind! Another article by his friend, Abhilash on the movie Swades is a must read. Thinking about enterpreneurship, which definitely is a road less travelled, I feel that is where I am heading towards too. "The road less travelled": to remind me again that it takes a steel heart to tread a path that is not known, and the only motivation is the goal that my dreams are weaving. Am I really prepared? I don't know. The purpose is definitely there. India needs men.
I happened to attend a talk by Mr. Narayanamurthy; one of the best talks I have attended so far. He plainly posed the problem to us. Is India ready to employ an odd-hundred million people in the next 15 years? Can India generate jobs for a huge population that is increasingly becoming literate? How do we tap this enormous potential? Unemployment may lead to riots. The strength of the youth may as well pull the nation down, when it fails to feed itself. On the other hand, meaningful exploitation of such enormous human resource may take the nation to heights. The choice is before us. The task on hand is enormous. We need men. And again, we need not be another America on Earth. The concept of India is unique. We can be a model ourselves, rather than 'be like an already existing model'.
To say honestly, my mind is not sufficiently ignited to take on such a challenge. My present responsibilities occupy higher priorities. But, I think I will have my role. Honestly again, the money and fame that successful entrepreneurship may bring to me in future does not motivate me. I only desire for a role and I will choose that role. We all have roles to play. The picture in my mind is presently vague. And also the feeling that I have rarely taken things to their deserved destinations makes me think I am not equipped enough. I am still a daydreamer. I think I still think like I used to when I was a kid, the fun-loving daydreamer kind. Maybe I should give my watch some more time before I start thinking like a man. I am sure my urge to work for a better society will bring out the best in me.

Truly, how fascinating is the thought of an India in 2025; developed and completely self-sufficient, the picture of bells ringing in temples and Madrasis still wearing lungis! An India that has not changed culturally. Don't know about the rest of India, but Madrasi women shall always crave for jewellery and Rajnikanth shall always drive Tams crazy, with his inimitable "Baba-level" stunts even at age 90!

There is something that defines us, folks. And there is something that binds us two, 'We and our Matrubhoomi'.

It rains from the heaven...indeed!

After a rather long gap, here comes my next blog entry. The quizzes are over but that does not make any difference to the 2 B.Tech CS community here. With the dust on many assignments still waiting to be touched, the stack is only building with push operations and no popping. And just a month remains to reach the BoS (Bottom of Stack). Let me stop lamenting on my state of existence, lest I might feel dejected in life which will obviously lead to my giving up on the idea of writing this blog. So I continue. Another spark of optimism from me for the world to see...

I am feeling very happy today. I am feeling new, I am feeling fresh. It is raining outside and it is raining joy inside. It really feels like heaven when it rains in IIT Madras. Cycling back from the CRC on such dim and green afternoon, with tiny milligrams of water kissing my face every millisecond, I found what a metaphor a lazy drizzle is of joy. And the lovely tar roads inside the campus shining like a smiling face, sporting the widest smile; such a masculine smile. The freshness of the air speaks. The same daily 5 minutes ride to the hostel was a musical experience today. There is so much romance in the air. Indeed, how can freshness not be romantic? The trees look like they have shampooed. In the rear of the hostel, as I look from the window, I see the L&T machines still working, rotating rather slowly, making a snoring noise against the backdrop music of a lazy drizzle. There is so much laziness. There is so much beauty. Indeed to be lazy is to be beautiful. The rain has cleaned the dust on "my" window panes, and light now does pass through these glass panes more brightly. Indeed it rains from the heaven...

How does a guitar feel when her strings are caressed by a mad romantic? Should feel like I am doing right now. "Ellellu sangeethave..." "There is music everywhere..."

shree ganesh !

Life in IIT has been lovley so far. In terms of the ambience and the atmosphere, I feel IIT is the best place in India for students just out of their plus-two. But more than anything else, it is the people in the campus who add so much aura to the place. And how much have I learnt from them. To say that each one is an encyclopaedia, would be too much an exaggeration though! This community definitely forms a refined part of the Indian population. The picture of an intellectual community that IIT brings to any mind is more than just intellectual. Take my own experience, I have learnt so much about the qualities that make one human, more than just intellectual. What is not visible when a professor teaches in the class is the whole goal of serving humanity above one's own selfishness. This is a personal opinion though.

I have learnt about the 'ways' of thinking here. And it shocked me when I discovered how people looked at the same thing in so diverse manners. Without this realization, I would have been very incomplete. Yes,there is an infinite road ahead to perfection, thanks to IIT that I atleast started walking towards it. Funny though it may sound, that we 19 year olds have started to think philosophy, but it is true that we are carving out a philosophy that is to remain with us for our lifetime. And we are not completely aware of this phenomenon that is working itself out at much deeper levels of perception. I am myself not clear about this cycling that is going on in my mind. But for some reason, I feel that these ideas and prejudices will determine the course of my later life, once I step out of IIT. This is a function of age and I am sure that all 19 year olds in the world have similar concerns and opinions. But, the prospect of being an IITian and having the opportunity to spend lazy time with the brightest of guys and the most brilliant of teachers is what makes me feel overjoyed. I honour this opportunity, for only a selected few enjoy this privilege.

There are also things that I am sad about. On a personal note, I feel sad for not being an active part of the happenings inside the campus. I have always been introvertive and lazy. And so rarely do I take the initiative to step down the stairs and play with fellow mates in the quadrangle. There are nicer things that I do surely. Dreaming and putting those dreams and wishes on paper, letting words do the singing; i love it.

A lazy thought of the future already places some familiar faces as CEOs of great companies and innovators of future technologies. But my very own thought does not place me anywhere! This is conspiracy! But I am sure my friends will make it " BIG " . And me too...

And now this song starts ringing in my ears "Paapa kehte hai bada naam karega..."

Cheers ye IITians!