Category Archives: creativity

Forgot password

Disclaimer: This is a a work of fiction. If it relates to you or anyone you know or do not know, it is your problem. Not mine.

That moment life stared at me. A blank stare. It has been driven upto this. Who pushed me into it? Myself. None other than me. Frantic, half-meditating, trying to figure that password which never missed my fingertips for over a year. Why would that happen, unless I lost my mind? Why did I forget my password?

Last few days at work has been confusing, frustrating. Outside of work equally vexing. At residence, I have to pick a card with a picture, woes of typical Indian arranged marriage. Personally, I have missed any physical activity leading to escalation of arthritic symptoms and headaches due to inconsistent eating habits.  Where shall I start? Or is it easy to end. My solace in songs from internet now marred by this unexpected loss of password.

I should not hide; there have been times, when I punched in my personal PC passwords at office and vice versa. I thought it was completely random. Without reasoning out why. I could easily type in the correct password at least the second time PC offered me with blank space. My work has evolved. It has evolved significantly from being a newbie an engineer. Being an integral part of decision matrices and opinions heard out. This was new world. This world could be taken away anytime. This is not permanent. Colleagues pouring in their random and sometimes unwarranted comments have been commonplace. Making me work, taking happiness out and showering endless tasks. Is this job-security or mismanagement?  There is nothing permanent about a corporate job. I am always replaceable. I could be fired anytime. With or without reason. The woes of at-will employment. Do I be diplomatic and fake plastic smiles every time? To add to this are some colleagues who ask unwarranted questions, personal and technical. Is it written on any part of me that they cannot pass me without asking these questions? What does a “What’s up?” mean anymore than a way to distract me. What does “How is it going?”  mean if it was only a passing mention. Why are there such robotic conversations? Luckily, most of these stay being nominal and frivolous while some approach and follow it up with more acerbic sequence of words. Unexpected. I have hated social conversations because I could not maintain a conversation without questions. Questions and answers are a definite conversation driver, its justification never requested. In a social context, Q&A should not be a way to take the communication for petty talk or serious. There should be a better option. And I have observed such conversations without Q&A happening when people are already in sync and understanding of each other. Where there are ideas to discuss than questions to be answered, how peaceful, how thoughtful are those moments. Do I just forget password or forget my self. Life-less laughs, soul-less “sorry”-ies and truth-less thanks perpetuated at work. I do not fit well. Not a diplomacy machine. I make mistakes. I am a human.

That I am a human makes me wonder about its possibilities. The immediate possibilities for a man is to get married after having a job. This works through the system of arranged marriage for a typical Indian. The process involves families; the stakeholders have a very large base and includes stack of pictures of potential candidates and equally staggered stack of horoscopes to be checked. With rules and exemptions to rules, astrology itself is an inexact science. The decision matrix involves me in a critical position to decide about my life. To add to my suffering I am unable to find a right person with the potential and willingness to take the game for a lifetime. I tend to be unable, to comprehend those subjective candidates who objectively manage social conversation through light drinks. I cannot concur.  The elusive marriage proposal hangs in the air like a dense cloud, not raining, not going away. Just darkening the surroundings and making me feel uncomfortably warm. The decision for a lifetime has its own hurdles. To cope with it takes immense patience. Limited by the option to not grow younger, age becomes another factor to make this happen within time constraints. I believe there are plenty to explore. It be now or in future. I can wait. I have everything to consider and enjoy this moment.

Between discussions on potential life partner and current work-life. I have forgotten the present. The body of the present. I have limited my physical exercise to lifting a cup of coffee thrice a day and chewing on meal bars and fruits. Since, using computer and mouse cannot be classified as exercise, I leave them out of my list. This sedentary lifestyle has made the body of life stiffen up, reminiscential of arthritic symptoms that were in the past a constant friend distanced by systematic treatment. Headaches started their apparently random occurrences. To figure that it needed to be treated with scheduling and executing healthy habits needed some energy and deliberate thought. I have become careless. Careless about the body of mind. I did not mind, and it did matter.

Any possibility has its potential vicissitudes, positives and negatives. It is easy to get tangled in the possibility of losses and never give a thought to the positives. There is future, there is this present. Then there is the life experience that I truly possess, probably the only unique invaluable thing I possess. There is always something more to attain, achieve, enhance and explore. What really remains is the experience. It is already lost case when there is no end to the thought of loss. I may also be losing my mind over imminent future. Among the losses, losing the body movement is akin to losing everything.  There will not be any more pondering, with physical pain to take care of. It is a general fact that we do not own anything, or possess anything. The thought of possession can definitely possess me, if I let it. I have to come out of this thought. Absent-mindedness kicked in. And maybe this is another added reason to me losing my password. I lied down. Try to lie to my mind. No more tough thoughts, relax. After a few unsuccessful attempts to potential passwords, I quit. I lay quiet. No lights. No sounds. Thoughts will not let me sleep. Roll over. Thoughts keep coming. Silence. I needed some. Minutes passed. I still lay. This time more quiet. As a the stone that was thrown at the surface of lake causes ripples on the surface, ultimately to sink down, as the ripples subside and die down. My thoughts died. And it struck. My fingers remembered the password that it knew for so long, that I do not remember how to tell the password, but fingers remember it as a pattern. That only fingers knew how to remember. I was logged in.






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Posted by on August 2, 2018 in creativity


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Shiva: The destroyer of Brahma

Disclaimer: Whatever is written here is imaginary and to be taken lightly.

Immortals are imaginary. That imagination lasts forever. One of the classic legendary character from Indian Mythology is Jambavan. Jambavan originated from the tension of Brahma. Brahma, the swayambhu (self-originated) knows the whole from the beginning. He is the creator , then how is that he had tension ? It seems almost impossible. This tension also includes the story of origin of Shiva and destruction of Brahma as the one true ultimate.


The Shanti Mantra  (hymn for peace) states


Poornam-adah poornam-idam

Poornaath poorna-mudachyate

Poornasya poorna-maadaaya

Poorna-mevaa vashishyate


Everything (infinite) came from the infinite (complete/all encompassing/all inclusive). From infinite came infinite. Take the infinite from infinite and infinite remains.

Initially there was one infinite. Brahma. From that Infinite Brahma created infinite, so that infinite remains. This is as much story of Brahma, as is the universal inclusion and pantheistic (including agnostics and atheists) on the land of the legends, known as India in the modern world.

Brahma is the creator,who created the creator. It, the creator. The creator, being beyond Shiva (also spelt Shiva in certain Indian (English) and Vishnu, is the first fellow to give boons to Asura. In early lifestyles that existed, there were humans ( Manushya) , the divine beings (Deva) and the superhumans (Asuras). Brahma created them as it’s own creations it had responsibilities and authorities over each of the creations. Like small children fight for resources within a household. These children of it started discomforting each other. Humans, were greedy, to whom Brahma advised “Da”. Devas were living their uber pompous lives of luxury, to whom Brahma advised “Da”. Asuras were uncouth and almost unmindful in their activities, narcissistic and ruthless to get everything for them even at the expense of others, to whom Brahma advised “Da”. The First “Da” to humans implied “Damam” control, or self-control and control their greed. To Devas is was their luxury that was drving them out of control to balance it Brahma advised them to perform “Daanam”, charity and donation. The third superhumans would never listen to anything other than their own wants and needs, to whom Brahma advised the third “Da” which stood for “Daya”, Kindness, to be kind when they go about attacking and abusing with their superhuman strengths and imposing themselves on others.

All these creations where too much to manage on its own. Brahma decided that there must be  Maintenance Manager, not less or greater in power than it. Hence, Vishnu was created. It is also a natural evolution in the process of delegating tasks as in modern companies or in general human nature. And Vishnu did a good job in maintaining the stuff created. In this process he got a certain status of God. Making himself the second but not less than the one.

Brahma’s cohort of Devas where not well trained in their regulatory affairs and generally indulged themselves in their big life of entertainment, unending supply of food and drinks. Though a good hire. Yamaraja, the time keeper was over burdened with regulating death with his assistant Chithragupta, who did rigorous accounting of death and dispatch to next realms of life after death or conjoining the infinite. There were bigger troubles who manifested in terms of uberhumans, better and brighter than the average Asuras. Though they were classified as Asuras, the Devas lived in constant fear of being driven out of their land of rich rule because of these powerful beings. This needed someone, who was skillful handy and ruthless in dealing with these beings and be the epitome of peace and calm otherwise. The search ended in the creation of the title of “Rudra“. Rudra evolved from one the outliers in the Deva clan who was not much into the ostentatious lifestyle. Rudra was created and chosen to be the one. Unlike the average Deva, Rudra received the powers to the physical elements, so elementary that modern “Brownian motion” tied to Rudra’s cosmic dance. Master of balance and like a systematic clock maintains time for the purpose of eventual eternity. Yamaraj , King (Raja) of Time (Yama), was relived. Now there was someone dedicated to hunt down the critical time evading uberhuman beings. A master of time, anger, dance and handy, Rudra evolved from age to age, like any average Deva, he went through cycles of life. Juggling through each skills in each power cycles, Rudra graduated to Shiva. The change was so subtle that Brahma could not notice it. Meanwhile Brahma’s creations, primarily Asuras sacrificed through rituals and rigorous customs to plead to their creator for various boons and benefits, which were granted in considerable persistence. It was harder to reach Vishnu and Shiva. nevertheless, some Asuras and even humans were patient enough in their invocate meditations that they reached their favorite deities and requested desired wishes and boons to be granted. Brahma was always the first and the fastest. Like a mother all children’s calls were attended to first by the creator.

Maintenance (Vishnu) and annihilation (Shiva) came later. Hence later strengths of these two. They made weapons to defend against later creations. They acquired higher forms and started sidelining the creator. The creator was the first form to which Deva, Asura and Humans would go and ask for help. Thence redirected.  Devas started knocking at Vishnu’s door for help.  It is a point to be noted that in that ancient world there were seven seas and seven lands. The number seven had a sense of specialty to it. Seven encompassed everything . Rudra through his power life cycles attained The Damaru ( Drum). Chandra, the Moon God who controlled the mind of souls paid tribute to Rudra and resided on Rudra’s head. Holy River Ganga, drops of which can purify any soul joined powers of Rudra and formed partnership with the Moon and stayed on Rudra’s head. With power of the time in hand, Rudra could conjure up the pasts (Bhoot) also known for lesser beings as ghosts. The past which haunts is indeed a ghost for the lesser mortals, for good or bad. The pasts symbolised itself in the form of Kapala (Skull) Initially , collaborative, Vishnu attained certain rapport with Shiva. Then came the great churning of the universe. It was time for Vishnu to prove his powers and incarnated as a Turtle which helped in churning the ocean of universe. From there among many other things came Kalakuta poison. To save the earth from this time puzzle (which is easily related to black hole in modern astrophysics), Rudra drank it. However, his wife did not permit the poison to go down beyond his neck by holding his neck. The poison turned Rudra’s neck into blue color and with power of his wife, the poison was suspended to stay there forever using a snake which was tied around his neck, the King of serpents, Vasuki, now would be part of Rudra’s decoration. Rudra acquired the name of Neelakanta or the Blue-necked, a great event that launched the two successors to Brahma in a single event. Brahma was happy to find his new creations to be performing upto expectations. Rudra was a frequent meditator, Yoga practitioner hence called Adiyogi. Seeker of perfect meditation Rudra was fascinated and involved in different forms of meditation, one of which manifested as cosmic dance, giving him the name “Nataraja” (King of Dances). To aid his meditation Rudra used prayer beads of Rudraksha, literally tear drops of Rudra.  Shiva and Vishnu after their universal debut became friends for good. Among friendly exchanges Shiva gave Vishnu, his great weapon the Sudarshana. It was time to establish the higher powers of the three and Rudra made the trident(Trishula) to commemorate the celebrations for himself. The seventh accessory that made him the Shiva (Seven) . A traditional puzzle asks the listener “ആറും പിന്നെ ഒരു ആറും ചേർന്നാൽ ?” (six and a river becomes ?) (both have the same word in Malayalam)  . The answer is Shiva, the Seven. The timelessness of Shiva spread worldwide. Even the Jewish mourning is called Shiva (=Seven)  what can escape the almighty time master. At this point Shiva is truly elevated as one among the holy trinity. The Trishul being symbol of that. The name Shiva, indicating the spread over seven seas and seven mountains, Shiva had truly arrived. The name of Shiva or importance of seven is prominent in languages and cultures to the west of India. A clear indication of were the spread went. The customs of the modern Islam is tied to the moon and clearly indicative of the power of Shiva. Shaivite customes and Islamic traditions are similar. Yogic postures in meditative prayers, 3-5 times prayers daily and so on.

Was it time to retire or throw in the towel for Brahma? I do not think so. The two new heros of the show had something up their sleeves. In fact , Vishnu was beginning to be called Ranganatha (the lord ( natha) of the stage of the world = (ranga)) and was ready to take the challenge of who is the mightest straight on. While Shiva was gaining his foothold on the western landscape Vishnu had a look east policy. Contemporary evidence suggests that the lands to the east of India such as Cambodia has heavy influence of Vaishnavites that Buddhist sculptures are derived from incarnations of Vishnu. Skillfulness of Vishnu was so great that yet another immortal, the forever Vishnu devotee, Narada goes in with a challenge posed at Shiva. Narada asks Shiva who is the greatest Brahma or Vishnu. Knowing that this was his chance to be the greatest Shiva comes up with task for the contenders Vishnu and  Brahma to prove who is the one. Shiva asks them both to find the end of Shivalinga. Eager to prove and maintain their status quo both of them embark upon different directions to find the end. On its way Brahma finds a Ketaki flower. Knowing the infinite length of the Shivalinga Brahma is willing to return and report a bluff that he found the end and made a deal with Ketaki flower to vet for him and give testimonial.  On their return, Vishnu was waiting for them and in desperation exclaimed his inability to find the end. Nonchalant Brahma made his claim and Ketaki flower testified. Knowing that his task was endless Shiva says that Brahma is not worth their respect anymore and there would not be any worship center for Brahma anymore. By extension, Ketaki flower would be banned from any worship related activities. This elevated the tensions in the growing old creator from whom Jambavan, the tension of Brahma originated. And Brahma manifested into Him , instead of it. Brahma had an identity and grew to have emotions and tension just like his creations. Lost, ashamed Brahma returned to his enormous floating lotus in space to find a way out of this.

Ultimately the powers on later days thwarted Brahma so much so that there no more than a few temples for him. The creator thus sidelined the battle being Vaishnava and Shaiva started to be more fearsome. Kingdoms and priests fought over intellectually and physically on the philosophical interpretations of what they deemed to be correct.

Little did they know the God of Gods, Brahma had better plans. The creator found no choice than to bring diversity to avoid massive destruction of creations. Thus came languages cultures and other religion. To help maintain and contain the expansions of the Two, Asuras were granted powers, boons. There was chaos.
Incarnations of Vishnu’s sidekicks were assigned to combat their own lord. This shook the basis for fight. Collapsed the decorum and ultimately led to weaker and lesser incarnations for both Shiva and Vishnu. The duo went on continuous meditation. While Shiva took on the bed of mountains to regain, strategize and retain his title, Vishnu took to the oceans lying on the infinite snake, Anantha (=Infinite), plotting strategies to win the title of ultimate God. However, Brahma was effectively out of the race for a long time to come. To what extent we yet do not know, but Shiva did his job of destroying, destroying the past, destroying the past Brahma, leaving a new Brahma to brace himself to give birth to new theology.

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Posted by on July 21, 2018 in creativity


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The Glue said: “Put your life together”

Another day, another mission. The spirit of adventure never cease. The excitement and wonderment, wanderlust catching dust. In time, finding time, to time, for time.

I sat glued to the chair to solder a disobedient wire onto the printed circuit board, that it was phobic about. It reminds me of the legend of Kodungalloor Bhagavathy temple.  Where, the legend has it that the deity needs verbal abuses to be pleased.  The reasons pointed out are varying in geopolitical climates and religious sentiments, riding on libertarian actions to uproot the caste barrier. However, finding a convincing analogy to my situation , for my wire did not yield any clue. Therefore, giving the abuse a pass, I took to the next available step. I had to put this thing together. And there it was, in red and white, bringing the memories of Croatian football team. American’s have to change their fighting game name to something else. And football is really football, soccer does not mean anything. So, going back to the story. With great ambitions, I picked the savior of the day, the superglue. One tiny squeeze and the wire was trapped in its place. Only, I know the importance of having stuck the wire intact. And plenty of story that tiny bit of wire can tell me about the board. An accidental extra squeeze, and I spread the glue all over my fingers. Figuratively, I had put my life together in one shot, and literally in the next. And the superglue did both in such an enviable fashion. May be there is a super glue ad which says “Put your life together”.

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Posted by on March 22, 2018 in creativity


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Wake Up

Work life habits are like rock. I would wake up at 5.30 am. Listen to the soothing sound from my phone. The wake up call with a Native American touch to it, resembling the flute of Carlos Nakai. In the background the birds chirp and the wake up call for a hunter, ready to pick up the gears and go on a mission. The “Bird’s signature” ends with subtle rise in tempo, the hunter in the mind wake up and starts walking to the wild, on a mission and he can hear his footsteps making slight splashes on the stream that he has to cross, to his mission, to hunt. I wake up. Pull myself out the bed, not sure if I wanted to.

My eyes get adjusted to the ambient light. The creepy shades of tree branches vanish from the side walls. I start staring at the window blankly. Silhouette of trees start to differentiate with the overall darkness. It starts to color itself. The habit has been built,  the hue of dark violet imbue the sky while the uncertainty of the day fills me. And into the colorful life I turn my consciousness.

What does this day promise. An empty uncertainty ? A wish for more hangs in the air. Like a jacket ready to be worn, to head out onto the snowy day,  to be held together so the winds may not snatch. To keep it close to me, is it the jacket which holds me together, or is it me? Nevertheless, we make an inseparable pair. One is lifeless , other full of life, covered by the dead. The dead cells that protect the life inside. The past is not haunting, through the dead it shields the live, the alive, which gradually join the dead, making the future covered with the past. Some of the past , like the nails I clip them, file them to make them look good. Some of the dead cells are rubbed off, pulled away, far from life and washed down the drain with the shower. And some more which still clings to the new and young, sometime, very rarely fail to protect as an accidental gash splits the live and dead and the upcoming. Then some future cells are lost in bleeding, a lost future, and a hurried action by the dead to cover up what is alive, somehow resembling a shame that is to be hidden from the public, though not perfect, leaving a scar, as a mark of history, a point to remember.

With wakeful times, dreams become day-dream. Day which is repellent for dreary eyed ghosts of memory with dream that keep us alive and awake. Ready to take on challenges, come what may. Warmth of blood activating the muscles, thoughts of actions being pumped into them in preparation. There is no time for the drag, the unwanted pull of the past, a burden on the go  I wash them all away with the morning shower with a feeling, of timelessness creating a veil enclosing me, in tiny drops of water.


-Sense of Time series-

  • Sense of Time - I would wake up everyday. Just like any other day. This was yet another day. Exciting as usual. A running clock adds to the excitement of awaiting adventure. And I start upon a new one. This time it is about time. And it is time. Time changes and now it was forcibly changed. The circadian […]
  • Vanishing point - An average timeline of  a human can be drawn starting from birth to school, progressing to university and job and marriage and help repeat all the same for the kids. This canned solutions in life is a proven time tested sequence. The authority of which is questioned only by a few. So far, the biggest […]
  • Wake Up - Work life habits are like rock. I would wake up at 5.30 am. Listen to the soothing sound from my phone. The wake up call with a Native American touch to it, resembling the flute of Carlos Nakai. In the background the birds chirp and the wake up call for a hunter, ready to pick […]
  • Blizzard - Nature is by far the best cure for passing time. Problem in passing time is a common boredom oriented disease. I have met extrovert complain about boredom. Even Issac Asimov said this. I do not have to believe it. It is belief that add weight to visions. It is this belief that converts the unreal […]
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Posted by on December 7, 2017 in creativity


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Yellow hibiscus

Gopi had these beautiful birds collected in a wired cage. A few trees and flowery bushes, especially the red hibiscus in the background play with the eyes making one forget about the green coloured metal that made the cage. Birds of all colours were visible due to this spectacular arrangement. And this was a definite treat for the eyes whenever I visited Gopi’s place. My belief in freedom for all, won’t let me be to happy at seeing the caged bird, though!

We had this kid of the neighbour’s – Syamili who used to admire these birds. And she used to draw the birds on paper with her pencil colours. And to my fascination, the birds would sit still just so that she could complete her picture. She was very considerate about the birds too, where her drawing would not last for more than 10 minutes at a stretch. And a definite treat awaits the bird which agreed to stand still for this child artist. She would often have some piece of broken fallen fruit, sometimes mango or on other times guava that she picked up on her way from the street.

While me and Gopi would engage in the musings of the teen world viz. Cricket and science, this kid used to enjoy her company with the caged birds. Once, she used to have long conversations with the yellow bird, which was her favourite. She did the talking and to her spoken words apparently the bird was nodding or tweeting. Or was it the kid’s wild imagination! I had to check this out personally. And one day I could do that sacrificing the valuable time normally devoted to perpetual thoughts of the spellbinding universe also known as “nerd” talk.

Syamili was asking her friend, the yellow bird she had named as ‘Appu’. ” Appu, how are you today ?” . To my bewilderment a sober single twirp could be heard in reply.

She continued “Why , are you sad today ?”

Appu : ( no reply)

And I was about to rejoice on the my belief, my thought, that the twirp heard before was faux tympanic simulation

Syamili kept her colour pencils and writing pad on the ground. Some red ants which was searching for its way continued its pursuit from the damp soil onto the writing pad, only to move fast out the pad and back to the damp soil.

She said ” I believe that if I was closed in a cage like you, I would have been happy for a while. Because, I will feel safe and I would be taken care of by Gopi. I would have food and water. And I do not have to worry about finding my food. Or I would not be scared by any cats or bigger birds that may attack me , if I were a bird.”

Appu was nonchalant and seemed to look at a distance in deep thought.

” But , then after a while I would get bored, for I cannot meet any new birds like me. And I would be bored, I guess”

And there was a definite sharp tweet from Appu. Oh boy! It was as if the sound penetrated my bones.

“So I guess, now you are bored, unhappy and sad at the thought that you have no freedom to really fly”

Appu nodded ‘yes’.

“I heard Gopi is going on a tour for a week. I guess this would be a good chance for you to fly around and make new friends. May be you can return from your tour when brother Gopi also returns.”

Appu had turned its head at an angle as if in thought.

” OK ! I will ask Gopi, but I am not sure if he will let you out. You know he loves all the birds here, that is why he takes care of you very well. I am pretty sure that he would like to see you safe here all the time.”

saying this Syamili turned . At the same time Gopi was there with food for the birds, some grains and milk. The eager child wanted to feed the grains to the birds, and Gopi allowed her. Her tiny little hand would be as big as the birds themselves. And Gopi was concerned if the birds beaks would hurt her hand. The birds were delicate and enjoyed their dinner thoroughly, they all made some sound which was like a chorus music.

Syamili requested Gopi to let the birds go away for one week and come back when he returns from his trip. Gopi patted on the child’s head saying ” I am sure they won’t come back even if they try to . This is because Freedom is heavenly pleasure. And no creature would trade freedom for anything else. I feed them and take care of them . These have no meaning compared to them enjoying their own freedom. I appreciate your concern Syamili but I will not let them out. ”

“But then, have can you go on a trip and enjoy your freedom and not let them go ?”

For which Gopi replied ” I like them so much that I don’t want them to leave”.

Meanwhile, some friends had just brought in the news of a new finding of rose apple tree. And a child’s mind is so dynamic Syamili said a quick ‘bye’ to Appu and ran with the folks for her share of rose apples.


Next week, I was sitting at home like a caged bird, with nowhere to go. It was raining very heavily. I had not joined Gopi on his trip because it was his family’s tour. And then I had 2-3  days passing between the 3 teas that I had everyday in the morning , the brunch and the evening. Clouds parted and it was sunny for rest of the holidays. I joined the local group of Cricket gang and went to hangout with them. And the 10 -day school break just got over and I thought I should visit Gopi just before we were busy again.

There was this pleasant smell of from the red hibiscus flowers from Gopi’s garden when I took the turn to the entrance of his house. I could hear Syamili’s giggle as I entered the gate. Gopi was there playing with a puppy dog which was licking Syamili all over. And more giggles followed as the puppy played with her.

After a few exchange of pleasantries regarding the days of raining and his trip and my Cricket and his new puppy, I felt that something was missing in the background. The smell of hibiscus was somewhat stronger inside the plot. I checked to see how big the plant has become and there were undoubtedly lot of flowers ready to join the many others which have fell on the ground. And in the foreground to my surprise the bird’s cage was empty. I could not help wonder and asked Gopi what had happened? I asked if he had let the bird’s embrace their freedom. And then Gopi replied ” The birds were all dead when I returned from the trip.”  I was shocked and asked ” how and why ?”

He explained   ” There was this strip of coconut leaf hanging from a dwarf coconut tree that just about touched the bird’s cage. The ants had initially apparently come for the grains and later consumed the bird’s too. And when I returned the cage had only dead birds. And I cleaned the cage and threw all the remnants at the base of the hibiscus plant.”

I said “that is very sad, If only you had let them out . Atleast the guilt of causing their death, by capturing their freedom could have been avoided”.

With nothing more to say. I hung around with the new puppy. And left in sometime taking with me some of the hibiscus’ smell and the little girl’s innocent giggle. And at the gate when I turned to wave ‘bye’ to Gopi and Syamili , my eyes may have deceived me but I definitely saw a yellow hibiscus flower among the red.


PS: Adapted from True Story by Aneesh

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Posted by on March 15, 2016 in creativity


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AC Gayatri

Srikaalahasti is a really very very old temple of Worship. It is so old that the temple tower had collapsed some time back.  The temple is visited by people all over the world. It is situated in a very hot place for people who are not used to Andhra Pradesh.  Therefore, someone had very generously provided Air conditioning units in the sanctum . It is so positioned that we feel that the A/C also gets a feel of being side-deity-idol, as is common in many temples. Definitely the units there would feel so auspicious themselves by having Hundi in front of them. And therefore it is of utmost importance for a devotee not only to pray to God but also pay obeisance to these divine entities. A prayer to go with that in the metric of Gayatri is given here.


|| ॐ उष्णनाशकाय विद्महे

शीतकारकाय विद्महे

तन्नो ए\सी प्रचोदयात् ||

> In Romanaagari

||Om Ushnanasakaaya vidmahe

sheetakaarakaaya dheemahi

tanno A/C prachodayat ||



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Posted by on January 23, 2016 in creativity


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The boy once asked for a land full of sugar

The God asked “fine or coarse grain, dear ?”

The boy said “finest fine is fine for me”.

And it was granted in cold white fine dust.



The boy was mesmerized by chilly bus rides

Through the clouds on road which winded up the ghats

He asked for days of travel through the clouds

On the land, and there was cloud on the roads.

Inner Clock Tower Commons UB

The girl would shout with childish clamour

Excited when the container of rice flour

Fell on the floor, for she could walk and slide,

As if on snow; the roads were spread with white.



The baby elephant who once tasted salt,in infant fantasy,

Wanted a world covered in the white powder,so tasty,

All over the surface, where it could roll, happily

Have a little or all whenever, it was the snow.


The child in the grown-up wanted to fall

And never break a bone whatever the fall

And the coincidence happened near the fall

Niagara and the lake effect made it fall.



The teen who got a sniff was addicted to the drug

And wanted the dreams through the stuff come true

In a sense of a joyous life full still on the brew

And sleep and walk on the white dust of the crew.


Taking upon the task to complete the task all at once

How much was needed was beyond the measurement in tons

So, it was made simple, to let the cloud pass over the road

Make it feel chilly, cold, dusty and out of the world.



The snow was made, not without much thought.

Based on the wishes as dreamy colourless white,

Shapeless, flaky, powdery, featureless sight,

Restless, slippery, forgery, seamless light.


PS: Walk on the snow, Courtesy – Lake effect Advisory at Buffalo.

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Posted by on January 12, 2016 in creativity, poem


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Mental block


A wanderer by soul would wonder

To act, to go on to achieve what

To have the dream enact

Made possible without a bar


As I said I had to act I ran

To catch the bus if I can

Which was powerful yet busy

I thought I could catch it in few strides


So I ran, my legs moved so slow

I felt I moved, I was heavy,

But even after a fair “run” I did,

Made me nothing closer to destiny


Finding myself breathing heavily

It was not so much fun as a try,

Not even an exercise had made

To my schedule in a long time


The weighing machine doesn’t lie

Comments on my posted photos

Say the same that I have grown

And fatter than I thought I was


It was fall and trees had shed

Leaves that decorated the branches

Now lay coloring the ground

In hues other than green henceforth


Somehow the bus had waited

For the less privileged who could not

Make it on time, for it was usual

Among students who over slept and what-not


I meant business on the way out of bus

Of the bus that carried so similar dreams

All burst out onto the ground but

Kept moving without wind that blew the leaves


I barged into the class and I was

The presenter of a topic yet unknown

With guts of steel I approached the audience

Only to find me breathless with a struggled inhale


I blabbered on and on till they could take

No more; that was the idea to get

The applause that was uninvited

And a way to react and break away


The wind was cold and air was heavy

As lighthearted and peaceful I tried to be

But why I could not, I did not know, till I made

The discovery in a couple of steps to go on the way


I had the stimulant from the solace of

Tea that almost always had that punch

As I walked I came to face

The childish face that I admired


This kid had light lit on her face

And I had told her that at once

She took it for something else

Emotions of life that I had not explored


I was struggling to breathe, air I lose

Couldn’t Guess what she read on my face

It would have had evoked a joke in case

Lest I was stuck with something in my nose


Then it struck on me as I went my way ahead

The transparent look on the child left behind

What stuck on was just the mucus I had

To blow, to let off the blockage and all was set




Thanks to Dr.M


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Posted by on November 24, 2015 in creativity, poem


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A bit of mind

I need a bit of sky so mead;
a view that my eyes pleade,
to have when it is possible,
to look at and feel so small,
that makes me to do what all !
The infinite world before me,
through this bit so glee and  warm,
make me do what is good for me,
and keep up my mind shrewd or calm.

A bit of sky is all that was,
For hopes of a man who was,
In bed, hospitalised in dose,
Only the window to blue hues.
Made his state out of blues.
Amused! what a bit of sky does.

Once I searched for a house around,
the town to settle and be lightly bound,
I would look at what might surround,
Was there a tiny bit of sky to count,
that was all that I felt to be sound,
And once when it came to be found ,
I could decide ,watch and be around.

The umpteen thousand channels on air,
on TV, radio and mobiles that go on flare,
All needed a bit of that sky so bare;
Not for the beauty, not to care,
A channel of air had tonnes to bear.
Naked to the eye it is an invisible lair,
Of wildness that teases and dare.

All need a bit of land to gain,
to grow, to plough, to grow again,
the seeds that sustain, rely and regain,
to live, to use, to die and be still lain,
to see that all the travail went  in vain.
Once a lion with an awesome mane
Would lay dead in its own lonesome bane.

A bit of mind, of yours, to share is what I ask,
to understand and unveil that which is in mask.
To know, to acknowledge the value of the husk,
That which is valuable is thrown away by the dusk.
Through lust, ignorance and careless we bask,
In the glory of the deeds that were full in the flask,
That preserves for the time the heat for the rusk.

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Posted by on December 30, 2014 in creativity, poem


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Have I got anywhere<

When exams are near,

And you’ve ‘nt got far;you fear.

The books play hide,

And you hunt ’em all side.

The pleasure of seeking,

hunting,studying and readying,

All ceases the moment you see the smally,

which is the core, the syllabi , how lovely.

Stranger still the way you go jolly,

Until the D-day which comes slowly.

At the end you’ll feel the hell is on you

And you’ll wanna yell and say “tableau”.

Hurricanes in mind never make you seat

When hell is on,you never sense the heat

You’ll wanna run and make all fun

And you’ll tell yourself; “let’s finish this one”.

When the heat resides

And you wonder what’s besides

Only thing you wanna answer

Is , have I got anywhere ?


PS:This is the result of writing Process Control Instrumentation 7th semester Applied Electronics and Instrumentation , University of Calicut.

I would like backgroung jazz and guitar for this poem, if it can be called so.

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Posted by on February 7, 2010 in creativity, poem, Uncategorized


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