Figuring it Out !!

     A picture speaks a thousand words and thus you can imagine how many would be there in a movie. Now let your estimates go crazy and you get the figure associated with a real time moving picture that life is. Figuring out the keywords of this passage through time would require some meditative analysis and reasoning with yourself. A little casual approach, and it directs you to one of the innumerable wrong options. Life is one of those subjective type questions with step marking and blind guesses will make you take horrible wrong turns. Probably there is no right option as more than the options its the reasoning to arrive that matters, every option leads to a conclusion, sometimes so random that when you look back, your own decisions don't make sense. And those are the whole bunch of ingredients to cook recipes beyond the purview of my fiddling mindset and an abdominal torture for the one who eats(reads). Life has been an experiment and blogs are a figment of my mind, so lets see how 'Figure It Out !!' turns out to be.

   Everyone has a very clear picture as to what they want to do in life, and invariably its becoming 'Somebody'. Without knowing why and where this might lead us to, we keep on travelling and reach milestones like the' Six Figure' salary, that 'Perfect Shape' ( more so in the other person as its a pain to make one ), Arranged Marriage/Love Marriage, BJP/Congess or the simple yet tricky 'how to grow facial hair', mistaking them for Destinations. The human (man) fixation with the perfect figure is to sound 'SEXY' when put in words. The worst of it all, is the case of the 'Eluding Percentiles' which if you miss by a whisker can make you a reptile and life moves at a snails pace, crawling a lifetime to take that single step which now becomes a journey. Thus we get tired because the milestones might give you the mental comfort of having come a long way but the hot sun above does not give a damn about it. And thus you begin once again with your journey to 'Figure it Out'.

  Most of the times we are chasing somebody else's dreams and thus do not care to see what we are following and where it might lead us to. Dreams become a nightmare with the 'Sense of Honor' replacing the 'Sense of Humor' and thereby making you look arrogant. Those complex numbers would not give you any clue and keep you eluded and thus you make random guesses to 'Figure It Out'.

    Having completed 25 years with four seasons each, makes it a century of seasons faced, but I am yet to form my strategy to score and how much is too much.  Just because you are batting first doesn't mean you surmount a total as huge as Mt. Everest ( read Mt. Kukas or Kolli Hills, whichever you found tougher). Sounds too deep and high at the same time?, it does to me as well but I am sure its a momentary feeling like the one which kept you fixated for a while when a certain someone did not wish on your birthday and would probably do very soon. By now, I should have figured out my life, the path I want to take and the destination I want to reach and probably have found a companion in the process. But, here I am, travelling in two boats (always !) with my mind fixated on the Cruise that I missed and the places that I could not see. Boats are not meant for discovery of new lands but can't deny that I am chasing the dream with my eyes open. The likelihood of a strong wave torpedoing my little boat is huge but I still want to pursue what is forbidden.

    And that can explain how a 'Chatterati' is slowly turning into a man of few words, a lot of updates and a dozen blogs (accurately). You need a place to vent your anger and nothing can beat a combination where you don't have to see the listeners (readers) in pain. The ideas are always there but you don't know how to give it a structure and that's the kind of stuff we need to figure out. That explains the prison of innovation and the gallows of creativity I have built. Blogs are one more way of expressing yourself to impress others, qualifying as one the 10 most annoying social network disasters and everyone knows where you live but they have mercy on you. But being a self confessed crap-writer has its own benefits, you garner sympathy even when you say this is going to be bad and people read to find 'how bad', 'did he dig his own  grave ,even deeper ? (It will be fun to watch him fall down etc )'.

    The constant irritant of 'Where am I going?' that your mind poses at you, makes you contemplate a course correction half-way through the journey. The reassuring 'Its never too late' makes us contemplate the likelihood of a possible strong wave that would throw you on the right course. Keeping your fingers crossed and eluding that publish button like the girl who would give you encouraging signals but never be your date. After driving long you wish that there is a dead end so that you stop this journey without a destination in mind. All the hopeless thoughts of 'Figuring it out' are just not taking up a shape and leading to a  never ending highway and I feel like being in the middle of  a sea, hanging to a log. Just about when you were going to give up and close your eyes (to sleep) so that you don't have to see the tragic end, a little red light starts glowing at a distance in the Facebook sea. The light is of a rescue boat, Notification that I am now friends with a Super Hot Model and Struggling Actress. The combination of those two in a girl's career makes her game for pampering and nothing beats a piece of poetry. By now you must be thinking 'How on earth did that happen ?', I'll narrate the whole story. The 'Social Network' provides an easy go for the ego and you can send requests to random girls you don't know without having to face the embarrassment of being ridiculed in public (never ever do that with the ones you know !). 

  Strange as it may sound, all those figuring thoughts are gone and have given way to fascination. I'll leave all those worries for 'Destiny', she knows best. , I would follow wherever she leads me, after all this is what makes life exciting and full of surprises. All of a sudden, everything is right in front of me and I know exactly what is going to keep me occupied for the coming months. With a little editing you can pass off your confusions as poetry or better edit the old ones you have been hiding because that certain someone does not care to listen and your friends are allergic to literature (I'll showcase them very soon by tricking them and you as well! ) . I certainly have figured out that that writing is going to be the one thing I am going to focus on (on purpose),and why not?, there haven't been a girl who went unimpressed. For that to happen, my readers should be able to figure out what I want to say, believe me I am working on that and a little encouragement from your side would take me the distance . ♥.♥

Days of Navratras & Dandiya Nights !!

  The ten day long festival of Durga Puja  marks a special status in my scheme of things. With a hint of fog , a season full of festivities slips into your world taking advantage of the musical sound generated by rain drops hitting the roof of garage. Though it could be strictly because of the geographical reasons, the hint of fog in the morning and the coolness of air gave the festival a hint of mystery and thus divinity .Suddenly you have  Diwali, Christmas , New Year Eve and the most important of them all your 'Happy Birthday' sitting in your drawing room, uninvited but a pleasant surprise you always wanted . You do your best to entertain them by an unending series of tea and pakodas. But then its your fault to have not seen the signs when its been raining and even the hideous Peacock residing in the bushes behind Amber-B,came out dancing in the rain, marking the beginning of winter in Trichy. 

   Weather apart, Durga Puja accords a very high importance in the lives of  the people in the eastern and western parts of our country, not to mention the residents of Hindi-heartland who have a habit of inviting themselves in every celebration and occasion. Having lived in all the three of them, and being away from all in  the festival is like home-sickness multiplied by three.  Yes, they organize the 'Dandiya Night' here and I would certainly go, but it cannot match the enthusiasm it used to generate at home. Everybody's  in the Hindi-heartland is busy migrating to some well lit street in one of those metros, but deep inside all of us miss the familiarity of those 'Galli's' which we called home. The narrowness of  those roads created near chaos like situation during festivals due to lack of public amenities and infrastructure, threw the already crawling traffic out of gear. The place could be labeled  happening in the sense that even petty non events made the politically opined public go into critic mode, but strangely nobody seemed to complain during pujas.

     The sleeping small city woke up from its slumber into celebration mode ,everyone including those self appointed collectors of  'Non-Government Machinery', the 'Revenue Officers' of the 'Protectors' became a part of the preparations. The ones who used to collect protection money by force and fear, would seek charity for a change. The money would go in making  different kinds of 'Pandals' and there used to be an unsaid rivalry to make the best pandal. On the tenth day, the marginalised District Collector would judge one of them as the best decorated pandal and even award a prize. Being a small town boy, you cherish all those little things in life like waiting for every holiday and the 'Fair' that came along and meant the world for the 8 year old you. Durga Puja had a greater call as it called for a bigger holiday, half of them declared by mutual understanding between the kids. The day began with waking up early and plucking flowers from others gardens if the darkness provided and if not manning the flowers in your garden. The belief of rendering the freshest and highest number of flowers to please the goddess would make sure that this exercise happened every day.Securing the flowers meant contributing to the cause, and we kids could do our little by doing it.ho . A practicing religious family meant more than fetching flowers, it required getting up early in the morning and watching the special series on Durga Puja on DD. A linguistically pre-occupied nation gulped down the series in Bengali and I am sure if they show it during the waking hours there will be fodder for linguistic wars..  And that explains the few sentences I speak in between, beyond which the language fails me.

   We watched the series acting like kids absorbed in the 'bhakti', so that the elders would let us be, all day long and then in the evening all wishes in the 'Fair' would come true.   And this would become the reason for taking up fasts as well , the other more important and obvious ones being the propensity of being offered sweets and not having to study . But little did I know that my sin is petty compared to the gourmet meal that Punjabi's indulge into during fasts,which virtually includes everything tasty. Everyone has their own way of courting god and each is equally perfect. When we were very young, father would read the Durga-Saptsati story to us and we liked it, which kid would not. Being accorded such priestly status would draw us kids also to take up reading the Durga-Shaptsati very early, though in installments compared to the single stretch reading that father would do .The little that we could take away from it was not to ever invite the ire of a women, which would be redefined later and gain a new dimension in the context of the Raas-lila by Lord Krishna.

   Shifting to Gujrat introduced me to new festivals like 'Ganapati Puja' which was celebrated at a grand scale. The change in the way they celebrated Durga Puja and called it Navratri instead,was just not acceptable, dancing in circles revolving on ones foot was not cool and only a means of  bringing dizziness. All I wanted was the 'Fair' and the daal to be cooked the normal way. Its the larger things in life that we can cope up with and adapt,the smaller ones are prone to sensitivities. Having ruined my festival all i cared is that they should leave the 'Daal' alone and not mess up with it,  which now tasted like a culinary disaster for someone from the Hindi-heartland. I was told that the 'Dandiya-Raas', as the dancing around in circles was called, was a form of dancing which eptomising the fight between Mahisasura and Goddess, and this could be precisely the reason for some strikes landing on your head. Why on earth a kid who had been brought up on overdose of emphasis on becoming a good boy, take up to being 'Mahisasura' ,aware of the fact that there were  too many pretending to be , there was no incentive to be one.

  Hormonal changes took care of the abnormal dislike of Dandiya, catalyzed by SRK movies and the girls who started looking pretty. Thus what seemed to be being 'Mahisasura', now appeared to be 'Krishna' and every girl, a Gopi. The one chance to dance with every girl in the town without even having to ask and getting turned down, appeared to be the one wish you wanted for those fasts, and fast or no fast it was granted during Navratras . It was the Indian way of meeting an imperishable source of dates which could keep you excited and interested in the next day. 'Dandiya' kept pace with the developments and became 'Disco Dandiya' ,an amalgamation of sacredness and sensitivity. 

    The new makes way for the old and catches your fancy without fail. Shifting gears from the 'Practicing Priest' style to the 'Dandiya Dancer' was so good. However,writing a blog about an activity enjoyed best by being out there  it like hitting the reverse gear straight from number 5. It did skid and has left a very bad imprint on the road of blogging. The situation could have been worse had it been in print , which could have been like being hit by the dandiya sticks of all those innumerable girls in 'Backless Cholis' , flaunting their tattos and men falling over each other to burn me for lack of a model 'Raavan'. Did u say it would still have been nice ( think again !), trust me butterfly tattoo or dragon ,its always wise not to invite the ire of a woman.   :-)

The Comeback KiD !!

           All those who thought that I was one of those 'One-Day Wonders' and have fallen past the edge of the cliff into oblivion, this is to announce my comeback. Yes, I was dropped but here I am, back in the larger format of the game which they think is as good as retirement. Contemplated and even tried being the commentator, but its tough sitting on the edge and watch the action, I would rather be a coach, but even that would have to wait. Cutting the crap and coming straight to the matters of that 'Cap n Jersey' which most of the times is the 'Million Dollars, Billion Dreamt- Blue Team India' one. Blue  is cool but once it goes to somebody else it makes you cry tears of blood and it’s not a good feeling as the 'Bleed Blue' campaign is misunderstood to be. 
  
   One of the many oddities that unite us as a country is our ability to forget the opener who played a crucial knock n hammered hard the already softened ball & submitted bowlers. ‘Cometh the Hour...Cometh....The Middle Order’, picture perfect when all the photographers bring out their cameras. Lights, Camera ...The Glamorous Presentation Ceremony, Champagne flowing in every direction making u look like the Knight in Shining Armour. Clapping in a corner, stands the epitome of perfection knowing petty well that a conspiracy is being hatched to bid him farewell.  At the end of the game all we remember is only the ‘Man of the Match’, who cares about the ones who laid the foundation. He might act as the wall but deep inside there are cracks that he cannot hide for long. He looks around to find a quiet corner to cry out loud because the next morning, once again the gentleman act has to be performed.

     All this did not happen over a night and on a fateful evening when the night watchman went on strike and refused to rotate it thereafter. All your life you might have played with the spirit of the game, running hard, taking quick singles, even if the probability of the batsman on the other end scoring a run is totally dependent on the bowler being predictable and you are faced with this 'Night-Watch' who would just not rotate the strike. The flashy hitters seem to have forcibly taken over from the purists of the game.  Either running has gone out of fashion or everyone is trying to keep you off the strike.  Hence on display is a very good example of the individual sport hijacking team sport in its own game .Making  you look like a drag on the run-rate, so much so that even the 'Night-Watchman' gains the confidence to act like a Pro and might even  end up giving you a few tips about how to connect the ball. Destiny-The Selector tries all to drop you in the name of rest, but you cannot rest people for long without an appropriate excuse. Thus they try one of the many tactics borrowed from military to cricket i.e. control the dominant one by teaming him up with someone who won’t stand for long. Thus send a batsman so low in the order that even if he stands the test of time, won’t be able to score much.

     But then its the temperament which takes you the distance and not the power behind the strokes and thats why we had a Rahul Dravid & Sachin Tendulkar. The weight and size of the ball would make it implicit that it would carry to the 'Hungry Hyena' formation ,waiting eagerly for the tiger to fall. The tiger who had provided them with a steady supply of hunt. So, I would borrow a few gentlemanly response from these legends and frustrate those who thought bowling negative line is much more smarter than a Yorker . And why stop at .22 pound cricket ball, the football needs to be put into the goalpost and I am going do that with the ‘Head of  a Player’ act. When the going gets tougher the tougher doesn’t go hiding and takes things head on. This is a header into the goalpost which has a goalkeeper, coz I don’t think its a feat to score without one. Those who think this is a castle in the air, I can hear the croud cheering me up. If you thought that it did not connect, replace cricket with life and it would make sense to you. Down but not out yet, I might give in someday, but not today. There is still some game left in me and I am going to stay till the end, no matter what’s the outcome :-))

Of Rugged Denim & White Tee....!!

    Only a few objects have stood the test of time as Denim has.And while 'The evolution of Denim' has been in line with men and some women as well ,who are now a different breed altogether .Its denim which had to bear the cuts & flinching in the name of styling . So while being Sober & Gentlemanly has not gone out of fashion,the good old trousers are now targeted at a very niche shelf of the closet.  Denim has its own history but still celebrates our times like nobody else ,as  rugged and worn-out as it may be,it gets better with time.Interestingly,Blues are a turn on when it comes to denim.So while the forms (design) vary,' Blue' is the sacred color of Denim religion.Though the wearer might have a hidden agenda of differentiating thyself in unearthing that 'So Simple YET So Different' piece from the busy lanes of Fashion Street or Sarojani Nagar.Denim, 'The Great Social Equalizer' hugs every body without caring for the social,gender,economic or the age divide. 

  The colour 'Blue' as an adjective signifies calm and peace , as a noun it indicates turbulence and depression, nevertheless 'Blue' seems to be the mood of the moment.It is also poles apart from the general social behavior of accepting things the way they are.Blue Denim is the new Khaki of all those who want to break apart from the 'Chalta Hai' attitude. While, a denim wearer cannot be blindly associated with 'can-do' attitude, it certainly is associated with the restless youth who are fed up with the way things are .Denim is an uprising by the common man against the elite, the working class against the corrupt system.Its the a manifestation of the struggles in our everyday life and never giving up.

   'The White Tee', a poor cousin of 'Blue Denim' has also made its mark though a colourless one. A priceless  possession and probably the only thing without which your wardrobe cannot be deemed complete. Prince charming to the poor paper boy,white tee looks equally good on both. One of the many reasons to wear one is to portray yourself as humble and trustworthy. And being trustworthy is never going to be out of fashion.The enormity of designs,fits and fabrics makes it one of the most versatile male garment which can someday threaten the hegemony of ladies tops which are miles ahead when it comes to provide variety.  

  The journey of the white tee has been a little comfortable and the arrival,celebrated.Made by the fabric and colour of choice for ages, the white tee or shirt becomes an ideal choice be it party or playground.Its as if, the tee has a personality which matches up to the occasion.Like, an actor moving from one skin to the other,it goes along with denim or khakis with equal elan .Once in a white tee,one feels like himself and this is irrespective of what number he or she is . Being elegant and high maintenance associates the white tee or shirt with class as the common man does not find the time and luxury to maintain it.  

 Together they form the formidable combination that everyone aspires to be,durable and clean of any stains.So, the next time you see this combination, try pick one as soon as possible.Its a revolution of the attire against the imposing dress code.Its like liberalization of the clothes from the shackles of the the mediocrity.Denim & White Tee are now happily married to each other and cool looks is a family tradition .It is in line with the  men being made,rough on the edges,soft at heart , metro-sexual in their approach. Long live 'Denim', the unsung hero of modern times. :-)

Making the First Move....A Little Late !

   Hitting the iron when its hot and hitting the hot girl ,are different ball games.The first one requires a straight forward method while the second requires a little more finesse as exhibited by wrist work when batting. Many a bats-MEN have been enticed into offering a shot to those 'Spinning Ones' who make you go round about them.  See the ball but don't hit it .I know its tempting but wait till the moment when the keeper and slip fielders become relaxed and then cheekily playing your stroke. Its been a foolproof strategy, the catch lies in the fielder leaving it to the destiny of wicket-keeper’s gloves and this is your little window of opportunity, when you must jump inside stealthily and sweep the heart away.Though it might sound stealing and not gentlemanly sport in any way,knowingly and unknowingly we use similar strategy in our lives where sometimes the purpose of a blog might just be an indicator to a previous one.Now, that i have directed you to what you might have missed, concentrate on this one, the Archives are not going anywhere.

   Taking a bold step up and meeting the ball at its pitch,is an audacious act and might compel the bowler to bowl negative line and the bats-MEN would not like that to happen. Many legends and a good friend of mine used to leave the bowl when its beyond your reach and thus invited the bowler to bowl up. Its a different matter that my friend used to get clean bowled in the process, most of the times. In the process you might lose a few precious deliveries but see the bigger picture here. For those of you who might think cricket is too T-20 and leaves no scope for mind games,let me tell you its still 120 deliveries.

 If I may digress from digression and come back to where I began. To hit or not depends on the how well you read the ball and it does not matter whether you MOVE (footwork) or not if you have the knack to connect it right. Nevertheless, the significance of 'Making a Move' cannot be dismissed for a lad like me who is debuting. Different strokes for different people and I will go the Dravid way. Its honourable to score a freind in the process than being declared a JERK !!