There is a special series in the Guardian on how to write which i found very interesting. It's a must read for wanna be writers (like me).

Cross posted at Live Journa's India Writing Community.

(h/t bluespriite)

Strong Medicine

At work, some days are good, some are bad and some are really bad. I had couple of those really bad days last week. I had two days of being on the road on work, quite literally, having to contend with lack of sleep, a bad stomach, motion sickness (bumpy roads!) and all the while having to field one crisis after the other on the phone or in person.

To add to my woes were a couple of lunch meetings, which meant rich food and with it instant indigestion by the second day I really couldn't bear the sight of the road. I've never mastered the art of sleeping well in a moving car and since most of my two days were spent in a car, I started hating the very sight of it.

I don't think I'd be travelling in a Toyota Innova again pretty soon.

Don't get me wrong, I like the hustle and bustle of a busy day, I like the buzz but sometimes when your body isn't quite there for you, the mind doesn't want to meet the challenge either.

Eventually towards the end of the trip, I was stuck in another long journey towards the coimbatore airport. I distinctly remember looking out of the window and feeling trapped in my world. I badly wanted to get home, crawl into my bed and sleep for a few years.

Just then my phone rang, it was my wife and she had a crisis that she wanted my help with.

My lil 5 1/2 month baby had been crying non-stop over the last hour and my wife wanted to know if I could maybe talk to her and calm her down.

Then my wife placed the phone next to my daughter's ears and I could hear her cry on the other end of the line. I started talking to lil Shifrah like I do when I'm at home, and in a couple of seconds I could hear her quieten down.

The one sided conversation went on for about 5 minutes and then my relieved wife told me that everything seemed to be OK now. We chatted for sometime when I told her about my day etc.

After I hung up I felt a little drowsy and before I knew it I was fast asleep. For the first time in that trip I slept through the whole bumpy journey and had to be woken up by the driver.

Craig Ferguson

I knew him as a funny guy from the drew carey show but little did I know that he was the host of the Late Late Show (too lazy to put up links, google it yourself will ya) and a pretty darn good one at that. We don't get this show here in India, I think we should!!

Just to show you how good he is, I'm putting up a monologue from his show.

What I did at lunch today

This is a short story written while chomping on my lunch coz well the topic was very interesting. This was in response to a daily/weekly (i dunno) Flash Fiction (under 500 words) Sandbox, at the india writing community at live journal. Now what it is, is that people are given a scenario and they've gotta come up with a story under 500 words and post it there. The scenario that intrigued me into writing this story was,

Flash Fiction sandbox - writing prompt 4- Here's your scenario.Your protagonist has just discovered s/he has AIDS. S/he is meeting her lover in a cafe. S/he must, by the end of the story, have asked her lover to marry her/him. And the lover must accept.You have up to 500 words in which to pull it off.

This was my attempt, whatchu think?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I've got AIDS", he told her. She choked on her coffee and blurted "Whaat?"

He flicked his cigarette impatiently in the vicinity of the ashtray and repeated "I've got AIDS, I'm HIV fricking Positive".

He turned to the side and fixed his attention at the window.

She was dumbstruck; she felt everything freeze around her. "You, you aren't joking right?" she stuttered.

The morose look on his face gave her the reply his lips were to proud to.

What? How? Who? When? Questions flooded her mind but she knew better than to ask any of those.

She struggled to fight back the tears, suffering the news in silence.

"So the marriage is off or are you still gonna marry me?" he asked as if he was taunting her to reject him in his face.

"Yeaah" she replied dazed.

"Which is it?" He asked.

"I dunno, not really sure what I'm thinking" she replies looking down at her cold cup of coffee "One of the two, I guess".

He shook his head and turned again to the window, angrily flicking his cigarette.

After a pregnant pause, she looked up at him and asked "I need to know more"

He replied "Like what?' without turning.

"Firstly, I want you to look at me when I'm talking to you and secondly, I want you to be FUCKING honest with me and tell me all about it, right now!" She said with eyes blazing

He was shocked, he'd never heard her speak this way and though it angered him he realised that at this point of his life, this was his only chance at happiness, however remote that chance was.

He forced a smile.

"Thank God this place is so crummy that it's empty all the time, eh?" he said nervously, trying to calm her down.

The blazing look in her eyes told him that she was deadly serious.

Slowly he began telling her about his secret life, things that no one knew about him, things he thought he'd take to his grave, things he'd never expect a girl like Priya to even hear.

In the end, he couldn't stop the tears that flowed along with his words.

And when the words ran out, he sat there hunched over with his face buried in his hands.

Minutes wore on and he began composing himself and he looked up only to see her looking at him.

There were tears streaming down her face as well.

"Ok" she whispered.

What?" he quizzed in a hoarsely, not sure of what he was hearing.

"I'll marry you, but remember things have to change!" She said.

"But Priya…" he began,

"What?" she snapped back at him, wiping her tears.

"You don't have to…you shouldn't have to.." his voice faltered.

"I never did have a choice" she replied staring at him resolutely with fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

He looked stunned.

He felt like he got a glimpse of something profound and suddenly it felt like the earth stopped revolving around him.

He began to see her in a different light, he always thought she was a pushover but now he knew that she was far from it.

He knew what this decision meant for her. She would never be the little girl in her father's house again.

She had blown him away.

"Priya, my darling Priya'" he said , "You're amazing but, but, you see, I can't let you do this, for once I'm gonna do the right thing by you"

He got up, smiled affectionately at her and said "I have to set you free my darling"

He reached forward, patted her wet cheek as she looked at him pleadingly and then turned around and walked away.

(OK I cheated and edited this version since the original I put up seems to have some contextual (my big word for the day) and grammatical (Could you believe even now my first instinct is to spell this word as grammer! Blardy Awful!) errors, now I'm pretty sure this is more than 500 words but what the hey, this ain't for a contest!)

Day Trippin’

(An entry in Caferati's Quick Tales contest. This actually is one the earliest stories that I've written. The original can be found here, it had to be edited to under 500 words so that it could enter this contest. Needless to say that this was written during my footloose and fancy free bachelorhood days, these days I don't make it a habit of winking and grinning at strange women at flights, I swear!)

6:00 AM: Flight to Mumbai, delayed. Curses! Sipping coffee at the waiting area while trying to ward of sleep. Eyes bloodshot.

7:15 AM: Boarding. Bloody middle seat. Seated next to a cute Exec though. Nice perfume! Whoa angry stare!

7:16 AM: Drumming my fingers & fidgeting, hoping it’s a smooth flight. Hate flying.

7:55 AM: Finally airborne, firing up the laptop, start customising presentations.

7:59 AM: Catch a glance and grin at the cute Exec. Whoa, angry stare again!

8:13 AM: Breakfast. Croissants from the last decade. Smelly eggs. Whoops, air pocket. Egg patterns in the tie. Try a cute grin at the Exec. Permanent Stare! It's PMS (Permanent Mad Stare).

09:34 AM: Landing Mumbai. Fresh tie, same grin, same old stare.

9:40 AM: On my way, relishing the cool comfort of the Ford Fiesta. Spot the Cute Exec sweating it out in a non AC rickety taxi. Smile. Is she flipping me off? Ha! Look up skywards! Nice one dude!

10:41 AM: Late for meeting number one. Mistake in the presentation, a gender bender, whoever knew Indu Sharma was a guy? Bad Start. Bad Meeting. Big surprise!

12:00 Noon: Traffic! What a city! Reach Level 9 in Snake II.

12:31 AM: Second meeting. Client delayed. Pace the reception. Client arrives. Good meeting, though long way for sale to close. Hunger Pangs.

1:45 PM: Crazy heat. Small restaurant. Must eat quickly.

2:34 PM: Rush in for the big meeting. This is it! Now or never!

2:59 PM: Price negotiations! This customer is a shark! Haggle on bravely. Stale coffee, 6th cup of the day.

3:16 PM: Sale Closed! Contract signed! Phew, touch and go. Call boss. Whoa! Invited for a dinner at his house tonight!

3:45 PM: On the way to the airport, running late! Pick up some vada paos for the dinner at a roadside vendor. Rush back to the taxi, chewing on the vada pao.

4:50 PM: Finally seated, now next to a Mom, her 7 year old and her life sized doll, trouble! Spot the same Exec sitting in the adjacent row. Karma!

5:01 PM: Flight takes of, Mom grabs the kid, kid grabs the doll, and the doll grabs my face. Did the Exec just smile?

5:21 PM: Open novel. Look at Exec. She looks back. Grin at her, she grins back teasingly, then turns her head and closes her eyes. Felt good. Look down at the book. Shit, it’s upside down. No wonder! Witch!

6:26 PM: Bangalore Airport. Exec stuck in the taxi queue; wink at her as I pass. Get my car from the lot, drive past the foyer, the Exec still waiting. Should I stop? Drive away past her, feeling reckless, send her a flying kiss.

7:10 PM: Getting ready for my first dinner at the boss’ house. Irritating Boss, boring wife. Sigh.

8:01 PM: At the Boss’ door. Ring doorbell. Door opens, standing there is the Exec from the flight. Holy Crap! Perfect!

The Little Black Book

(An entry in Caferati's Quick Tales contest)

That night I stole my wife's diary. Now, now… before you judge me, as you are wont to do, first hear me out.

My wife and I fell in love years ago, when life was an uncomplicated place to be in, and we lived in our own little world. But now, that place seems to have become a strange world where pigs fly and monkeys speak fluent German and the two of us cannot communicate without shouting.
We made a great couple in the beginning. Then tragedy struck and we got married. Our heads, once up in the clouds, came thudding back to ground with our noses glued stuck to the grindstone of everyday life.

Never a day went by without an argument. Suddenly I was the King Slob and she was Ms. (Always) Right.

Everyday she would lament the life she had left, for this life. And I for one could never figure out what the fuss was all about.

In this little black diary, she would write everyday stories of my many foibles, only to read them back to me, when it suited her mood. A sock left in the living room, the time I had a few drinks at her sister's wedding reception (she claims I kept referring to the groom as a ‘poor sod’ to everyone, what rubbish!), everything went into that little book of hers.

For a while, I tolerated this behaviour thinking it was just a whim, till she started threatening to publish it. If it was anyone else I'd have laughed it off, but this was my wife who was also an author of three prior published works.

I shuddered when I thought of the consequences. I'd be the laughing stock everywhere, branded leader of all chauvinistic pigs!

I decided not to take it any longer. I had a reputation to protect after all. So, one night I took her diary from under her pillow. I took it straight to the kitchen with every intention of burning it, but curiosity made me flip through the pages first.

I don’t think I was quite ready for what I found inside. Instead of a list of my (alleged) misdeeds there were pages and pages of how much she loved me and descriptions of many tender moments between us that I had all but forgotten.

I was shocked, flabbergasted, dumbstruck and appalled.As realization struck, I felt that maybe I really was a bit of a slob and probably she had been right (at least a little). And, strange as she was and as pathetic as our relationship appeared, I bet I couldn't find another human who'd love me as much.

Maybe arguing was how we communicated, who knew? I could try and be a little better, couldn't I? Maybe that little book was what had kept us together so far.

I slowly slipped that book in to its rightful place, under her pillow and went back to sleep.

Kumaran's Secret (Part 1)

Once upon a time in the land of the Pandiyas lived a rich trader by the name Kumaran. Apart from his immense wealth, which he built on his own, Kumaran intelligence and wise. He was often called upon resolve disputes and issues, that were seemingly unresolvable.

Kumaran was one of the most well traveled men of his time and as such it is said that even the King took his advice from time to time on matters of international importance.

Kumaran had three children, two sons Murugan and Veeran and a beautiful daughter Thyla. He doted on his children and they looked up to their father. In short it was a very close knit family.

The enduring sadness of Kumaran's life was the loss of his wife Kamala during the birth of Thyla. This brought Kumaran closer to his children; he started spending more time in raising them than in his travel. Every day he tried to instill good values like valour, bravery, chivalry and kindness in his children.

As a man of stature Kumaran had many acres of land upon which he employed thousands of workers to conduct farming. In his farms, Kumaran used techniques he had learnt in far off places like Siam and Rangoon which were hitherto unheard of. He also brought experts from those places to train his farmers and hence the yields of rice and coconuts from his farms were the best in the land.

As the years grew, farming made Kumaran even richer. He eventually gave up his trading business and settled down to become a gentleman farmer.

Along with Kumaran and his children lived his two brothers Kumanan and Kandhan and their families as well. Kumanan and Kandhan had lived under the shadow of their impressive brother all their lives and unfortunately did not possess his charisma or his wisdom or kindness. Yet in true patriarchal tradition, Kumaran took care of his brothers and more than once turned a blind eye at their excesses.

As the years passed, the children grew to be young adults and made Kumaran proud of their achievements. Veeran and Murugan had grown to be strong young men, aware of the world around them, always ready to take on any challenge offered by their father. And Thyla, known as the brilliant one in the family had grown to be a very smart and beautiful young woman. Kumaran noted with pride that her power of reasoning to be far superior to anyone else he had encountered.

The years had not been kind on Kumaran's health though. His once impressive frame grew weaker every year and he could feel his strength ebb away slowly.

Eventually, Kumaran's wise doctors concluded that he did not have long to live, there was pandemonium in his house. His children and the farm workers were deeply saddened.

Kumaran's brothers though saw an opportunity to grab a big share of their brother's wealth. They began to constantly harass Kumaran to give them control of the estate, so that they can run it when he was unwell.

When they found that Kumaran was unresponsive, they began their work on Murugan and Veeran, trying to create a fight between the two brothers. While their efforts were in vain, it worried Kumaran no end.

After a lot of thought he decided to write a will to protect his children. It took him weeks to think things through and by the time he finished it, he was bed-ridden. His illness had almost consumed him.

Kumaran entrusted his will to his friend Sambandar who was an important man in the Pandiyan Palace.

Kumaran's instruction was two fold, one was to read his will only after he passes away and the second was that 10 years after he passes away there had to be a feast celebrating his life where 10000 poor people should be fed and at that time the benefactors of his will should be there to receive instructions on finding his secret wealth, his most valuable possession.

Kumaran's brothers devised many means to find out the contents of the will but their efforts went in vain. Yet they plotted day and night to somehow capture the whole of Kumaran's wealth.

One sad morning, Kumaran died his body unable to handle the ravages of his illness.

A month after the death ceremonies were completed, Kumaran's family gathered for the reading of his will. His sons now strong and handsome men stood behind their sister. Along with them were Kumaran's brothers, Kumanan and Kandhan, and their wives and their children.

Sambandar opened Kumaran’s will and read it to the group. It read,

To my dear son Murugan, you who love the stories of my travel and have a curiosity of the world that far exceeds mine. I leave you my stable of horses, I wish you wonderful times and many great adventures.

To my dear son Veeran, you of strong will and a stronger body, I leave you my sword and my armour. There is no man braver than you my Son. The King needs men like you.

To my darling daughter Thyla, you're intellect competes only your beauty. I leave you your freedom. You will not be forced to marry anyone as per our custom but you will have the ability to pursue any course of knowledge that your hungry mind seeks. Sambandar would be your guardian and would ensure that my wishes are fulfilled.

To my thousands of farm workers, I give you the freedom to till your own land. One half of my land shall be divided between all of you.

Finally, to my brothers, I leave the rest of my farming land, properties and all the wealth accrued from my businesses.

There was hushed silence in the room. Kumaran and Kandhan could not believe their good luck, their wildest dreams had come true!

Sambandar then told the gathering about Kumaran's last request of a feast after 10 years and that Kumaran's secret possession would be revealed then.

Murugan, Veeran and Thyla could not understand their father’s decision but they accepted it nevertheless as they were taught.

TO BE CONTINUED

Polygamists Please Note

While exploring a holiday at Malaysia I ran into this charming offer

HONEYMOON PACKAGE (4 DAYS 3 NIGHTS)
Deluxe Suite - RM4880 nett per room-maximum 4 persons.

I shall say no more.

The Morning After

A ray of warm light bathed his face. Stairway to Heaven?

A dark figure between the light, looking down at him. God? St Peter? Dad?

As the clouds cleared slowly in his throbbing brain, reality kicked in. It was the damn cat standing by the open window again.

Mr Ming was his Siamese cat from hell.

It was the cat's breakfast time otherwise the cat never sought his company. It had a habit of staring at him till he took care of its needs. Just sitting there and staring, too good to miaow like a normal cat. Cold fury in it's eyes.

He turned his back to the window and pulled the covers over his head. There was no way he was getting up just yet.

As he lay there, his mind started running over it's usual Sunday morning check list, How did he get home? No Clue, is this home? Of course, where else would the fetid feline be. Did he change for the night? He slowly felt down only to be comforted by the warm familiarity of his pyjamas.

Was Susan there with him? He looked around, didn't appear so.

Wait a minute, his pyjamas didn't have a pocket in the front. Slowly reaching back he realised that the bloody thing was back to front. At least he'd worn it. A smile played at the corner of his mouth. He wasn't so successful the previous week.

His tired brain started focussing on his body. His head hurt, he needed more sleep and then a nice long cold bath. His mouth felt like an ashtray, dry. The muscles in his right leg felt a little sore, dehydration of course, no cramps yet though. No nausea.

All in all, negligible damage.

Good, so he didn't get so drunk the previous night after all, he thought.

It had been a good saturday night, started late and ended really late. Well it was good till Susan walked out of the bar. She was awfully crabby last night. Wonder why, he thought.

Waves of sleep hazed up his thoughts.

He really couldn't remember the conversation last night but could vaguely remember her flying off in a rage after calling him a rotten name. Uncharacteristic. Did she slap him?

Must call her later. Much later. Need to sleep now, he thought.

He caught the cat walking past the bed slowly, swishing it's tail slowly, throwing him a look that could only mean instant painful death.

No dice, Ming the bastard wasn't going to get his breakfast anytime soon.

The cat was a remnant of a past relationship. The ex-girlfriend wanted to get far away from him, so she did, to Paris. She loved the cat but not that much, so it remained with him. Why him? Why not her pimply sister? Probably because she thought that the cat would irritate him the most.

Ming and he lived in a barely tolerated truce. It had been two years this way and two years can be a long time between a man and a feline he hated.

His throbing head reminded him of the need for sleep.

He closed his eyes resolutely, Susan came into focus again. Sweet Susan. They had a great relationship, if you can call it that. Known each other since high school, friends through their early 20s, lovers through their late 20s and now a comfortable amalgamation of both. She
understood him or at least she didn't judge him. Nice girl.

Her eyes were a little puffy last night, wonder why.

Sleep slowly resumed it's embrace. His mind was shutting down quickly, one light at a time.

A baby! That was she said last night. She was going to have a baby! His eyes flew open. Susan was going to have a baby. BLING. All the lights in his head went on in a flash!

Was it him? he thought. Ofcourse it had to be him. Susan was way more loyal to him than he ever was to anyone.

That his memory was very fuzzy, the music and the booze don't make for a good listener. What did I tell her? What do I do? he thought. The dull throb in his head became a more sharper pain.

A kid? Have I had a hand in creating a kid? his mind screamed. He sat up. Everything around him seemed to freeze. He felt like he could even hear the cat swish it's tail in slow-mo. A baby? A father? Me? I can't live with a damn cat! How can I manage a little baby! If there was a panic button in his head, his brain was jumping all over it.

The headache was relegated to the background, instead his mind was busy, did he have the money to bring in a child? What would he teach the kid? Did he have to marry Susan? OMFG! Marriage? How?

Heavy thoughts weighed down on his every move. He felt trapped like Houdini with a memory problem right in the middle of an escape act.

A little voice in his head said, of course she has to abort. How can she think of keeping this baby? But then he knew Susan, the girl has been waiting to have a child ever since she was 15. No way she was going to back out of it.

His Catholic parents, may they rest in peace, seemed to frown at him from right near the ceiling. His dead grandfather seemed to laugh at him from somewhere below the floor.

He stepped off the bed and slowly made his way to the window. What did he tell Susan? He must have really upset her. An unusual feeling ran through his body, remorse. Is this how it feels like?
As he stood there random moments of his life came into sharper focus, he knew that sometime in the future he would end up with a family, just hadn't thought about it a whole lot.

Somehow he'd like the idea of being a father kept growing on him as he stood there.

He was sure that he'd be an awful dad, but he realised there was a need to be a dad somewhere deep inside that seemed to make it's presence felt.

He felt a little calmer.

A rueful smile played on his lips. What do you know? He knew his life would change. Change was not a stranger, he had experienced it when his parents had died when he was 17. From then on, he had dodged his way through every twist and every turn life had to offer. He'd adapt.

He had to call Susan. He had to tell her that he was with her all the way. It was time. Time to settle down, time to grow roots. Somehow he felt a little free, a little like the time his parents were around.

He sat down on his bed and reached for his phone.

The phone rang for what seemed to be eternity. She finally picked up.

Hey you, Up pretty early for a Sunday aren't you, she said brightly.

Hey, he replied. Not sure how to read the sunniness in her voice.

About yesterday, he began. What about yesterday? she asked.

Well about the baby, what did the doctor say? his voice seemed to be coming from a deep hole in the ground.

Well, the doctor is saying that the baby is due next April, she said, Why whats the hassle?

Susan, he said, taking time to speak, as if gathering his courage, I'm sorry for yesterday, I'll support you in any decision you take.

There was a pause in the other end of the line, the Susan said What decisions? What are you talking about?

He was confused, It's about our baby, you mentioned it last night and I said something that upset you so much you got up and left!!

Again, there was a silence then suddenly he could hear her rumbling laughter. He was even more confused. Do hormones make women do this? he thought.

You drunk asshole! I'm not pregnant, I told you my sister was going to have a baby!, she hollered, then added, Now I know why you kept blabbering and asking me if it was yours! And you Moron, I didn't leave because I was upset but coz I had to go pick up my sister from the airport early in the morning, remember? Of course you don't!

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

Oh Ok then..I'll call you later he mumbled.

As he kept the phone down he could still hear her laughter and could feel the blood rushing to his face.

He slowly leaned back on the bed. Fucking Martinis! He closed his eyes slowly as he felt the dull pain in his head surface again.

In Traffic Today

The hair in my neck stood up, my head immediately swivelled left. Instinct.

A cop was purposefully making his way towards me, I knew I was caught. I looked ahead, the traffic was bumper to bumper. No way I was getting out of this one.

As seconds turned to hours, realisation suddenly stuck, I still had my cellphone up near my ear. The damn conference call! The reason for my current situation! Using a cellphone, even in a traffic jam was banned.

The cop was now next to my car. Should I put my phone down now? I thought. Did seem silly to log off the call, especially when I knew I was going to pay a fine or a bribe anyway. I offered a weak smile, pretended to put the phone down, I hadn't switched off.

The cop waves me to move to the side of the road. Yeah right, like I could. The traffic had sealed me tight.

I smiled again and shrugged. I tried my best I-never-do-this-ever look. And gave me his Yeah-right-show-me-the-money look. Frankly, his was more convincing, experience pays.

There we were, me imitating a a cornered rat and him imitating a status, the one with it's arm pointed somewhere, in this case towards the side of the road. Did I mention seconds moved like hours?

CRASH!!!

On the opposite side of the road an Indica Taxi had rammed into the back of a Santro. No one appeared hurt, it was just the usual late breaking manoeuvre that happens in traffic all the time.

The cop looked at the melee while I look at the cop. This was a window, for sure, but would it be big enough for my escape?

The two drivers across the road get out of their cars and begin their ritual, It-was-your-bloody-mistake routine. Tempers were frayed, voices were raised and a insults had started involving a few generations.

The Cop slowly begins turned in their direction his movement was measured and reluctant. He had to step in. The crash wouldn't net him much plus it's a whole lot of work and not to mention two angry assholes to contend with.

He looked back at me and I looked at him. Our impasse had passed. He knew it. On cue, the traffic ahead of me started clearing up.

I moved my car along and slowly put the phone back in my ear. Whaddya know, no one had even noticed my absence.

(This is just an exaggerated version of an event that took place over a period of 2 minutes today at 11 AM. I know there must be some of you who would object to my assumption that the Cop came over to ask me for money but after two decades of travelling on the roads of Chennai where I've been stopped by traffic cops atleast a two dozen times for some minor violation or the other but have been ticketed only twice, so you work the stats!).

Impossible is Nothing!

No this is not about Adidas but the story of Van Phillips the inventor of the Cheetah Foot, a carbon fibre prosthetic leg that helps an athelete like Oscar Pistorius, who doesn't have both his legs, to aim at qualifying for the Beijing Olympics! At one point Oscar was nearly disqualified for having an undue advantage over the other contestants!

Whether he competes in Beijing this year or not, I think, Van Phillips has achieved something spectacular don'tcha think?

Introducing

Shifrah Jemima Stephen, my daughter. Born on the 6th of April.

New Look

So it's that time of the year when I start fiddling with the look of the blog. The picture on top was taken by my wife last July (22nd if my memory serves me right) during our honeymoon in a little village called Daintree in Queensland, Australia.

How much is your blog worth?

I came across this site that calculates the commercial value of your blog. You haveta type in the url and wait for the result. I knew my words weren't worth a million bucks (yet) but nevertheless I was a little taken aback that it was worth all of $564.54.

Hmm. So that rules out an early retirement I guess.

p.s. the 54 cents part is midly irritating...

2 AM in Chennai

We live on the floor of a 9 floor apartment complex and in Chennai, its' pretty much as high as it gets. From the two balconies and the terrace one can pretty much the city as far as one's vision would allow. Tonight, I was standing at one of those balconies, carrying my little daughter who happens to sleep through the day and hence is awake most of the night. We were there because she insists on a constant walking tour, whenever she sees me. I am amazed at what seems to be an endless enthusiasm in her for what lies around, she is always looking around, at pictures, lamp posts, cars, lights etc etc. We've done this quite a few nights now, she seemed to like it and well, it's our first dad-and-daughter thing and so I wasn't complaining about the loss of sleep.

So there we were in that balcony, with a small breeze blowing from somewhere and we gazed into the city lights. As we looked in silence, I couldn't help think how beautiful my city looked. I admit that most of the beauty in front of me can trace it's sources to fossil fuel yet it still was a pretty sight. There were lights strewn around everywhere we turned like a homely Christmas tree all lit up, a dog barked somewhere in a distance, a van with its horns blaring for no reason veered through the empty road, distant mobile telephone towers identifiable only by their deep red lights were standing tall amongst a rash of sodium vapour lamps , a silent jet plane made it's way towards the sea with it's lights flashing, probably headed for Colombo or farther than that. Everything fit like different parts of a symphony to us, the audience of two.

Its very hard to anything nice about the city during the day time with it's heat, humidity, dust, dirt and us the automatons running from one place to another seldom stopping to see the beauty of something let alone try and create it.

It wasn't always like this, certainly not in the 80's during my formative years, when people didn't have much, there weren't many cars, nor many big buildings but just a city that had empty roads, fewer lights, thousands upon thousands of trees and people who were a lot nicer to each other than they are now. The Chennai I know and the Chennai I knew are two vastly different things, even if you consider that nostalgia is always tinged with a bit of romance.

I'm sure when my daughter grows up, she too will see a city that grows and changes as she does. There would be more tall buildings, more cars, more lights and a lot more noise, within it all, there will be something romantic about it all, if she chooses to look for it.

I can't quite fathom how much life has changed, since the time I started blogging way back in 2005. I used to be this single guy who shunned any form of long term planning or committments of any kind, now I'm sitting here in Chennai taking care of a home, saving for the future and worrying incessantly about a wife and daughter who currently are 340 kms away in Bangalore. I'm counting the days till they come back home, worrying if the Chennai heat would be too much for them and if the house is comfortable enough etc etc.

Heck, even my dad has changed, we sometimes have full conversations without him telling me what to do with some aspect my life anymore!

OPEN

Henceforth herewith and forthwith (and add in a fifthwith while yer at it), this blog is operational again. Welcome one, welcome all!

And those who still have me in your blog rolls and those blog-post-alert-thingys, or keep dropping in once in awhile, God bless ya!!

P.S. I hadda look up the word forthwith in the dictionary...sigh.

Ever feel the deep need to do something yet feel totally inadequate to get up and do it? I kinda feel that way about writing in this blog. I guess it's like most things in life you gotta keep doing something or you get so badly outta practice that you end up in a pile of contradictions and self doubts.

I'm gonna write someday though!

A few more excuses

I've had this writer's block for the longest time I can think of, in the last six months I don't think I've written more than a post or two, even then, within hours of posting them, I'd end up refreshing the screen in my internet browser to see if anyone read it and put up a comment. There is only one word that describes that behavior, Pathetic! Obviously after six months of blog inactivity people are going to hardly stick around and wait for the next one. I'm sure there are more interesting things to do like watching a golf tournament or a fishing show on tv.

I've written earlier as well that I write so that I'd be read and if no one is reading then the whole basis of writing is unfounded. While I was mentioning this to a fellow blogger and a dear friend, she said in her own point blank style to 'just write!' (I think she is very much the 90's child having grown up around ads that urged her to'Just Do it!'). So this is my attempt to do 'just that!'.

I think maintaining a good blog is like flying a plane, you need a good run up to take off. After a long period of being grounded, you really can't expect to jump in the air and start flying. That only happens when you're superman (or any man who wears his underwear over his trousers, hey if thats your form of attire, then you're flying in cuckooland all the time right?). Despite knowing this, everytime I've sat down to write a post I've been waiting for that one magic piece that would give this blog the jumpstart that it needs and that has resulted in about a half a dozen aborted posts. Maybe someday I'd find the time and the inclination to finish them.

There is a silver lining to everything, despite all these months of blog inactivity there is only one person that I know of who visits my blog religiously everyday to see if I've written anything, who else but my darling wife. I am amazed at the diligence and the postive spirit my gal has. I really owe her a lot let alone keeping the faith on my writing abilities. So now that I have a capitive audience right at home the need to write has been gnawing on the back of my head for awhile.

I'm a firm believer that different things appear differently when viewed from different angles. If you have the patience, you can view any incident very many ways. For instance, when my boss quit last year, I was a bit shattered since he was some kind of a safety net for me in this new organisation that I had joined. But after awhile I realised that his exit was a blessing in disguise, since I found that I had a larger freedom to cope with situations and this I think eventually resulted in a quick promotion. Something I think wouldn't have been possible had he been around, despite his best intentions. The point that I'm trying to make is that when one has his/her mind open to the surrounding environment, there are so many marvelous things that are happening around. When you are preoccupied or busy the world is as interesting as watching a fresh coat of paint drying on a cold winter's day. So after a point life becomes monotonous, not for the lack of external stimulus but our own preoccupation with our own lives. This also is a reason for my blog inactivity, I think I'm way too involved with work for my own good.

Most of my time while I'm travelling, I'd hang around watching people, looking at life unfold in front of me, nowadays though I end up being on the phone with someone at work, talking, arguing, yelling about some issue or the other. And I thought getting ahead my career meant a better way of living, sigh. I now realise that it just means more responsibilities and more pressure, much more pressure. There are times when I just want to chuck everything and walk away but I think the very fact that we are civilised works against us in such scenarios, try as we may we end up being trapped in our own little cages. Don't get me wrong, it is not that I hate my job or anything, infact I love it, I get a real kick every day because of the fact that the team I picked a year ago and lead is breaking all records and changing the way our company looked at business. I guess thats my little cage.

Being the eternal optimist that I am, I always sign off saying there is more to come. Don't hold your breath in anticipation though.

A few excuses for not updating my blog

A few friends have written to me over the past few months asking me why I haven't been blogging for over four months. I've thought long and hard about it, I've realised that I used to blog because I really didn't have a lot of things to do apart from work. Now that I'm married and also have a larger assignment at work, the time that I've had to blog also is fairly limited.

For the longest time, I've been wanting to write and even started a few posts but the fact of the matter is that I seem to have lost my mojo. Most of my posts have been about things that I've seen in life as it happens around me but off late nothing interesting ever happens. Um, well no, that isn't right, all the interesting stuff that happens in my life aren't stuff that I can write about, since I've decided that I would never write about being married etc. I figure that a decision like this would keep potential 'dog house' situations at home to an acceptable level (especially since my wife does read my blog).

Ok, so I'm sure by now you've figured out that I got married sometime between my last post and now. Well, it happened on a beautiful January evening in Bangalore. There are days that go so fast that you can barely hang on to it, well this was a day that went super fast yet it was without a doubt the best day of my life. I woke up that morning like I would any other day and ended it feeling like a million bucks. It was also the day when my right hand almost came out of it's socket after shaking more than to 1500 hands, of the guests at our wedding. That day I even learnt how not to look like a sour puss in front of a camera and developed what is known in the celebrity world as Ohlookthere'sacamera syndrome. Now anytime someone takes out a camera, I kind freeze on a pose with a wide howdeedoo smile plastered on my face.

After the enormity of the wedding and the reception, life slowly meandered into normalcy. I won't bother you folks with what happened in the days since then, except to say, that life makes sense now, it's great to be married! Its a process of falling in love every day and I don't think I'd exchange the last few months for anything else in this world.

Talking about shaking hands and meeting people in your wedding, it was especially tough since 95% of the people there were unknown to me and were friends/relatives of both the families. In the days after the wedding that I would run into someone in Bangalore and they would smile wide and start a conversation, only afterwards realisation would strike that this person had actually come to my wedding and had said something inanely witty that people say to a married couple they actually don't really know well. Now wherever I meet these folks again I end up pretending to know them and so now there are a lot of people in Bangalore who count me among their good friends and I don't even know their name! They wave at me when they pass me by in the roads or stop and joke about how married life is etc. Sigh, I seriously wish people were born with name tags.

Over the last few months I've realised that marriage is a full time activity, one can't really indulge in it the way one would, say, go to a movie or join a french class. There is no on off button or sleep mode for it, you herein forward are in a perpetual state of marriage. Its a nice state when you know that after a hard day's work you go home to a smiling face, when you get to share your dreams of a future, when in a way you feel that a piece of you that you never realised was missing is now filled. So while it is the best feeling to have, you realise that your life changes in more ways than one and there is very little time for things that you would have done in the past.

As a bachelor one of my key activities outside work used to be gyming, and for the past seven months, this has taken a backseat. Getting back into the gym is one of the toughest things that anybody can do. Everyone of the trainers who recognise you look at you and your body with a pity. You look at all the equipment in the gym and think, Ok, I can get back to my full training regime in no time and start off with a vigor only to find out that while your mind is at jet speed your body has slowed down to a gentle stroll. Before long, you overdo it and then wish the ground just opened up and swallowed you and relieved you off your suffering.

A year or so ago, I could run about 5-6 Km every day on the treadmill before my other workouts started, yesterday I ran for 2.21 kms before I knew that my body could have no more, my knees went wobbly, my back hurt and my lungs suddenly started feeling like there was no oxygen in the atmosphere anymore. I spent the rest of the evening pretty much feeling miserable and cursing myself for pushing myself so soon. In a way hangovers and the first day back at the gym are pretty much alike. All the food and drink you've had swims in front of your eyes and you swear to God that if ever you make it out alive, you would never do this again.

Despite all this, I know it's a matter of time before I get back to my once normal routine, though it feels like climbing Mount Everest for the second time with a chubby monkey on my back.

As far as blogging is concerned, it was never my motive to discontinue writing, I've begun to like this a lot and I hope to write a lot more in the months to come.