Sunday, December 16, 2007

The wood cutter

        It was 6 in the morning but then it was not bright, winter had fallen and the sun had just refused to rise, preferring to be under the warm cloud blanket. She sat there looking towards east for the sun to rise. She then slowly stood up, the wound in her leg was bleeding, she limped to the nearest cupboard, and it was as empty as any other in the house. She sighed and moved to the backyard and pulled some leaves from a plant chewed them and bandaged the wound with the residue. She sat there thinking about the previous evening.
        She had gone as usual to the fields where she toiled to make ends meet for the family, it was then she saw him ,he was tall and handsome, beads of sweat on his body were shimmering as he cut wood to make fence for the field. She had not seen him in those lands before, she kept gazing on him when a splinter of wood flew and cut through her frail leg. The next thing she knew was that blood was gushing out and she fainted, she always fainted when she saw blood, perhaps it was because she had seen too much blood for liking or she had nothing at all in her body.
        The handsome man was carrying her in his arms to the shade of the tree; she saw his face when the blazing sun allowed her to open eyes in his shade, it was like nothing she felt before, she felt like floating in air, she ignored the pain crawling up her body and kept looking at the well built person, he was asking her something but in her state she was completely lost and madly in awe of him. He sat with her for few minutes on the bank of the river by the field and then left to cut wood again. She sat there and watched him all over till fatigue forced her in to sleep.
        It was in the evening and she hadn’t quite realized that she had not set foot in the field again, suddenly the huger stricken faces of her young sisters looked back at her from the oblivion, she looked in the direction where the stranger was set cutting wood, the wood cutter was not to be seen anywhere, but the pain was real and the hunger was more. She did not know when again she would see him ,but that did not matter now ,she slowly limped off towards her hut in the distance to face yet another hunger stricken night …………..

The Departure

He could not have asked for more, when he took her hand in his. He knew it that moment; tears were rolling down her cheeks. He wanted to put a hand round her shoulder hug her and tell her to stop crying. He had done that a million times before, but this day was different.
He walked her on the narrow road, more to hold his tears back than to console her, this girl was special for him, he simply did not know why but he felt it. The time of departure was nearing and she sat there in the lounge leaning her head on his shoulder, neither of them spoke, they let the moment to pass away calmly hoping that the next would ease their nerves.
He did not know how much she loved him nor did she, the final moment of departure came and when he dragged his unwilling legs towards the entrance,a unknown force was pulling him towards her, she stood there teary eyed asking him to go away, not to stay for a minute more, for she could not hold the tears back.He moved in to the airport while every living cell in his body screaming to him to rush to her.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Just a Story

A bonny dog lifted its skinny head at the rumble of the gate and drooled away as if that one movement took away all the energy it had and it lay curled where it was. The stranger entered the deserted lawn which had by now turned a golden yellow resulted from the years under the beating sun. He was a traveller from distant land, going to places where his dark horse took him, he had a crooked nose, his lower jaw was set at an awkward angle, he had picked it up years ago while saving a rich man The man had died only a month ago. He lifted his hat and looked around at the gate, how long was it he had played around the lawns chasing around his sister, how old was she when she died, tiny drops of tears shone in the bright sunlight and rolled down on his sunburnt skin. He adjusted his glasses and knocked at the door.

A man in mid forties dragged his legs and opened the door, the room was in shambles it had not changed much from the day he had left, The wall had developed more cracks, a old photo frame hung on the wall supported by a thin thread, for a moment he thought that the eyes of bony cheeked girl in the frame was looking at him, he felt a chill go through his bones even under the mid summer sun. The man was now cursing, obviously at the lack of his answer; the voice was still familiar it had not lost a bit of its sheen, in all those years of hardship. He coughed a little and asked if he can come in. At a nod of the man the stranger walked in, he saw an old woman shouting at someone he could not see. He wanted to run to them hold them and tell them he had come back, but the little girl’s eyes came back to him she was staring at him as if looking through him. He wanted to make sure the old couple had not forgotten their son; they had forgiven his crime as a kid. He wanted to surprise them in the morning, tell them that the worries were over.

He opened the bag of gold coins and tossed few coins at the man who had opened the door, and asked if he could get shelter for that night and some water for his thirsty horse tied outside. The old couple were so poor that they couldn’t refuse the offer. He laid there on the cot his mind twirling back.

****** ***************** ****************** ***************

He was twelve years old and the girl was a year elder, they had just had a heated argument and the boy was very angry with her, she was repeatedly making fun of his jaw, there were kids all around him laughing at him. In his anger he pelted stones at the boys and started hitting the girl, she ran and he chased her; he stopped panting, his thin frame would not carry him further, the girl who was strongly built for her thirteen years stood there and continued her fun at him. The boy held his breath, tears started to roll down his cheeks, he was furious with himself, he was furious with himself. In a fit of anger he rushed at the girl at once and pushed her, for a moment the world stood still ,in his anger and in her happy mood both the kids hadn’t noticed the well. With a loud shriek the girl fell in to the well. The world had turned upside down for the boy, he stood there for a moment and then realising what he had done, he had killed his sister, he could not go home, he feared the whip, and he feared the man who would hold it, his father. That was the moment he had made the decision, he had to run and he ran. In his fear he didn’t hear a loud splash behind

He woke up with a shudder, blood trickling down his neck, he could see three figures lurching on top of him and everything went blank after a moment.

*********** ******************* **************** **************

The man had just recovered from the fall from the branch where he was cutting wood , he had lost his balance, he remembered what made him lose his balance ,he did not waste a minute ,he ran in the direction from where the voice came, he could now hear it more clearly ,he then found the well and realised what the voice was, he jumped in saved the girl, it was only after he got her on to the bank he recognized her ,it was his daughter, he thanked the God for his good fortune.
The day turned in to dusk, the lady was worried, her husband was never late to come home and this day he had taken his kids with him and then she saw the light of the lantern at the distance, she muttered loud and went in to the house to get the dinner ready. Once the husband arrived she learnt what had happened, they waited the whole night and then the day after but the boy never returned and the girl could not recollect what had happened, they thought he was dead.

The village was hit by a severe drought ,food became hard to come by ,people travelled as far as a hundred kilometres to get some work and buy food, years started to roll by. Then one day a stranger knocked at their door. He opened a bag of gold and tossed a few coins at him asking for some food they looked at the bag of gold he was carrying with him. He called the stranger in and fed him.

They hated to do this, the stranger reminded him of his long lost son, but then wasn’t he dead, he had to feed his family, he had to survive the famine, it was then he decided that the stranger should die, he then entered the room the stranger was sleeping with his back facing the old man, with one swift motion the old man and his family plunged their knifes in his back. They buried the stranger, in the light of the moon with the hat gone from his face, the old man saw the crooked nose, No ! he thought this could not be his son, how could he be ; wasn’t he dead, a small breeze came through the broken window pane ,there near the bag of treasure lay a crumpled, time bitten photograph of the family, a boy with crooked nose was looking at the family with an innocent laughter.

***************************************************** *********************

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Leeds Trip

So what is the difference between me and other tourists, well when all the others are out and touring in a beautiful English summer ,I sat out in my dungeon where I would always wonder where had the Saturday gone for all that I remembered during the English summer was what comes after Friday night is Sunday morning. So now back to the difference, last week end when cold winds were trying to chew of what ever flesh I had put on to my cheeks, we set out for a trip to Leeds castle.
The plan was to drive to the castle and come back by the evening, so what did we do we woke up on a morning that was entirely alien for us for months together, oh Saturday is a beautiful day, after our regular activities we started round 10:30 on our way, with ATLAS in hand and a driver who was on the trip only for one sake that is to be behind the steering wheel.

The map was pretty clear but the mind of the navigator was simply on the other end, we got on to the wrong side of the highway and the roads we took were all extraordinarily beautiful except for the fact that they would not lead us to the destination we set out, but who did really care, with the fuel tank full and windows tightly shut, flying at 70 miles per hour was always a good feeling. Finally after few lucky calculations we a hit the highway A12 towards Leeds ,but this was just not the day for me ,with a very weak direction sense ,I am sure I would have not identified west by looking at the setting sun ,We missed every exit we had to take went in search of the round-abouts,finally it was time I relinquished the seat to Vijesh and what did he do, every five minutes he wanted out driver Vivek to take a U-turn and get back to the other side of the road. Between all there was one soul (Shijo) which was not disturbed by all this hallah-bullah, He was in his own world gulping juice and asking for inns. After missing three exits we got out at a service station and took in to a pizza centre as usual we are out to take photos only to be questioned by a location officer, why did you want to take pictures here? Hmm that was an interesting question but the answer I had would have made him faint, what we take photos for…….We set out after accepting hi apologies for questioning us we set out on the hunt of correct way again.

Finally we got to reach M20 and it was back to me to take up navigator and we reached the Castle at around 4:00PM.It was an achievement in itself ,we felt elated hugged each other; we had finally done the 90 mile distance in about 190 miles and got down the vehicle to be greeted by a

OCT31 – MARCH 31

Perfect ending to a fitting journey, but then there is always a camera and we had a photo shoot with out car and got back behind the steering wheel, and back on way to room. We stopped for a dinner in a mallu restaurant at Colchester. The day had not been kind on us; it did not matter to us that the city did not have any boards posted showing where we are where we were heading to, for we were already blind and groping in dark or light was not actually going to make a damn difference. All said by the time we reached home it was with a great sense of satisfaction and pleasure we had done it at last; we at least went out together and that was a dream since my landing in UK.

I am still looking for the speed tickets we would get by the today.

Monday, October 8, 2007

what am i saying here

When an eye to eye interaction is helpful to convey most of the things .A nicely composed, true from heart writing on paper would not be able to communicate what was actually meant. When rather wide audience are present ,the author needs to be capable of vending his feelings on the paper rather tactfully and with a fore-sight in to future and be sure to his knowledge of what he meant is conveyed, with out that may be the effort of writing is not worth it.
A man and his feelings are papyrus and what we write on the paper is vinegar, I always felt that there should be that thin shield between the two which would appreciate the combination by making the inner soul wrapped in much secure bonding
, while a volatile bonding means an unwanted combination of both leaving the soul bare to the, unforgiving world.
When a eye contact and a straight speech is enough then why to bare your soul on a medium which potentially holds the door to disaster more in a case where the author is a product of his own doubts? Million dollar question? I pondered over this question for a while and got a zillion answers, again none would stand against the force of spears that would break through the shields of Spartan shields. Well I have been a scrambler for three years now, I am trying to fine that thin line that would shield the papyrus of my audience, and I have to mention who are quite a handful and close at heart.
I have come across quite a few articles which passed me like a gentle breeze but nonetheless it was hurricane for some others. So now that puts me in an other interesting situation is it that I have to cater to those papyri those can take my vinegar (well with a resigned thought that vinegar is not good for papyrus).Well how will it be when a dear to heart community or person is offended by the venom you instigate through the nib or rather the keyboard.
Like many of the question which stem in mind this too has no definite answer, so is it like what that cricketer captain says...”When a move pulls off ,u look a genius and the same back-fires you look stupid”. Well all said I am still writing, perhaps I do not care about the papyri or I think this is the way I an reach a papyri that would like my shielded vinegar. Early days for me to answer the question, well the hope for me is at least there is light at the end of tunnel, that the scrambling does make a bit of rumble and the innocent looking white paper does become a painted wall, Sistine chapel’s or a public bathroom’s wall ,glory or doom, well that is for the papyri to decide.
But it will hurt when the papyrus is a death scroll or a treasure map, but then that is the way it is…..Long time due ,but the weight of failure weighs on the neck as a sword well what a dilemma for a novice what a dilemma….

Saturday, October 6, 2007

My Poem has no name

Twilight gives away to night
My body resting on a cosy couch

Mind swirling back in time
In what people call a dream

There i was Curling in warmth
Away from the cold world
in the womb of a lady

Shearing pain ,blinding night
there i was,in to what they call world

Strange voices,some flashes
Shadow moving happily,later i call him dad

A thunder in the distant sky
I see my self in a desert ,my sleep's gone

I look across the bed
There i am away from the warmth
Frail body like a dry leaf

Familiar voice ,i feel cold
Silence prevails,some shapes
desperate,they call me Dad

I move in to a darkness
Calmness takes me in to its womb
I feel the warmth again yet again after so many years.....

Long Ago.....

Long ago I sang a song of love in to air
For some poet said that it would reach my lady's heart

Long ago i wrote a poem of love
For someone had said that it impresses yurr sweetheart

Long ago i danced to to exhaustion
For somewher it was written feelign should be given a vent

All the while i forgot to tell people my feelings
For i had not come across a song or word to do so

Now for a short-while at my death bed
I feel heaven waiting for me with its door open

For someone had just told me how they loved me......

--Sundar M R

Oh Dear Lady

Sparks of bright light
Lights my soul

Lies on the couch
My body sans soul

Thoughts take wings
as legs go numb

Dry goes my throat
Wet gets my eyes

You come in my dreams
Arresting my thoughts

You are in my breathe Lady
You are in my soul

Gardener Roses and the Nightangles

In the garden of his life
Once he thought that he was the master

He could grow his roses ,some red and some white
He could cut his weeds black and blue

Times passed by with no change coming
Then came some nightangles to his groove

Slowly began the adjustments,roses began to dry
Listening to the nightangles he left them to their fate

He knew he was getting it all wrong
He knew one day they would fly leaving him alone

Yet the tunes were so sweet ,he couldn't do more
One day they left him,his heart as dry as his roses

Stars of Confidence

Through a carven window pane
On a lovely frozen country lane

Looks a boy crippled in limb
Shunned frm world thoughts so numb

Sprinkled are bright stars so white
On the dark canvas of the night

Shringking was the moon
The other night promising to be bright

Bringing ripples of thoughts
Shone those gallant stars

Better was he from those
So inconsistent as the moon

T glow was his destiny
Even blessed less......

There Lies a Man Dead

There Lies a man Dead
Body as cold as his mind

Alive was he till a moment
Life moving out like a snake from its hide

In his journey from silence to silence
I wonder if he reached his destiny

World would have been colourful
to those eyes of his now pale

He goes now to the almight
His soul covered in whites

Waiting For the Dawn

At dawn with the rise of sun
will come a charm to our lives
activating everyone's spines

Birds start to chirp
Chasing dreams go people

Puddling the ponds play children
Buzz goes the world wild

Biting the time of the day sits a destitute
prowling the street,eyes in constant search

Cool comes the moon,with it brings bliss
Calm goes the world to much of his amaze

Busy become the owl patrolling the groves
out comes the crickets playing their tunes

Still there he lies ,blind to the beauty of day's course
Dawn or dusk ,doesn't matter when his hunger is at hike

Pavement as home,spends he his life
Waits for his dawn,for the sun ....
Will it bring his food...

Written 21/1/03

Agression .... Naaaa Nicety..Naaa

So I decided enough of being nice,let us get aggressive.Enough of being timid in the mask of nicety ,enough of thousand other things i always thought i was ,today was the day,now was the moment when people have to run for cover.Well the time has come all the things that fizzed past me now have to stop,all the people who do not have time to have a glance at me should stop on their heels.
I woke up in the morning with that thought in mind,determined to show this new found aggression,brushed my teeth,had my coffee,moving to GYM ,to my frustration nothing has happened as of yet,no one is crossing my path.The same old story "Kalle kanda naaye kaanam ,naye kanada kalle kaanam" - Meaning when u find a stone you wont find a dog and when u find that dog you wont find that stone,my situation is nothing better,OK i thought let me move on to work ,there would be more than one occasion to show my aggression.Alas as my luck would have it,it was leave at the offshore,i came running home there was this highlights of the match,India vs Aus ,i knew India lost,but i wanted to see how......
There was our Sreesanth ,my inspiration for aggression.At the end of the high lights session i saw how aggression helps ,or rather wanting to be aggressive without intent ..... helps......,good that my manager was not around today in office ....,...., Nice is better....Lesson learnt what next ....common buddy "Night is Young and lot of bottles in the cupboard"

Sunday, July 22, 2007

I Shook Hands with Sachin

14th July, the day on which one of my perennial dreams got accomplished. It happened on a bright sunny evening outside the Chelmsford cricket ground, After scoring a majestic 171 runs and having batted the whole day to bail India out of trouble after a much known top order collapse, the man, the phoenix, “Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar” had the patience to oblige us and sign autographs and shake hands with me, yet another hand and yet an other fan for him, but for me it ended a 15 year wait.
Unfortunately though I could not get his autograph ,but for time being this would do his smiling thank you for all the best I said(though there were tens of other people behind and sides of me I would consider that he said it to me exclusively J) .
I and my friend Mahesh share one common thread about sachin, when ever we are desperate to see a match and expect the boss to do good he fails (by our expectations).I had previously gone to a match in Cochin where he scored 4 and Mahesh had gone to Hyderabad where he Sachin departed before Mahesh entered the ground, but here I win over him, I saw the little master bat for about 5 hrs and what more I got to shake hands with him.

The morning was a lazy as any Saturday morning; we had a late Friday night after I had come back from my certification exam. We reached the ground at 12:50 when the players were going to lunch. The scoreboard read 62/3 and like always I asked is Sachin still there and this time it was a yes. The lunch was not good at the ground, but what followed was a feast, the straight drives the cover drives the square drives, names the shot he played them all. The six he hit of the off-spinner landed just inches from where I stood, the little punch in air after that century showed how much he wanted that one.
What else can I ask for now that I have seen the master himself live, I will probably now watch a one day match of his some time in Manchester or oval. I will have to admit one thing here; there has not been a single occasion in these 15 years where my heart beats twice its normal rate, whenever sachem is at the crease facing some XYZ not that he will fail but what if it was this ball he is going to get out.

Century of centuries beckoning you little master push along, we are with you.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

The temples of Southern India -Churche of western Europe

I was born in a small village in tamilnadu in india,the city of temples ,the land of cholas and pallavas.Almost in every village,town and city you find a soaring structure well walled with rock structures ,Gopurams as we call them in tamil,Each temple will carry a distinctive history to itself ,The Temple of Tanjore the lone granite stone temple with the biggest linga rupam as you can get,the vast temple of meenakshi madurai ,to the 1000 pillars temple in chidambaram to the water of nine wells in Rameshwaram they are all architectural marvels,just mind blowing structures built in ages where a chisel and hammer was all what was at man's disposal.
Many of those sights are now deemed as archealogical tresures and major tourist destinations and provide with such income the govt as well but slolwy fading away is the majesty of such creations and their history,What grandfather knew about the temples and their history is not even half known to me,then with this hectic life and western domination i am afraid the next generation will be completely oblivion to the history of these temples and their importance.

There are thousands of channels in India showing us all unnecessary prime time programs like Kyon ki Saas... Selvi.... Pelli chesukundam soaps which are not helping or aiding any cause ,if a channel like national gegraphic which does not in anyway related to indianess are keen on these tetmple histories why not we .......Slowly but surerly Indian culture / hinduism is losing its charm with lazy interpretations ,i do not remember an major renovations happening any where

On the other hand,with coffer full of money and an eye on the heritage the christian community,should i say eurpean community has a strong feature going on where they protect these old chruches of theirs as a heritage ,can say national heritage,what all i see back home is a policeman / gaurd holding a stick and sacring the living hell out of the people who come as close squareleg umpire to a batsman to the statues,here there are no such scenes,but still people are much more knowledgeable,they do not unnecessarily damage / cause any irritation to the public behind,the major reason behind this behaviour as i see it is not the basic naure of the people,i firmly believe that people are the same every where it is they way they grow up determines their behaviour,it is the senitization evoked by governments ,religious organizations ,studies that has led to this behaviour,also to an extent the richeness and lack of population.

With a better organized plan Indian / Tamilnadu can make its temples a steady source of income and pool of knowledge from which the future generation can drink heritage and culture of the ancient times.Also people can be sensitized with better educating them about the imporatance of these structures,hoping that these things in place would help the secodn generation from now to have a look at these gothic archtectural marvels standing for real instead of the photos by their predecessors

What am I

What am I ? is the question I ask my self every morning , another person on this damned planet who wants to sit there and do what he is asked to do always wondering why in the world it is happening to him alone.Whose life am I making better, by sitting around in the office cramming my head to that lifeless intelligent machine I am still trying to comprehend. It makes me dizzy when I just see the requirements; the first requirement violates the basic existence of the second and it chains from there until it screws your life .You know it ,yet you and your boss sit out in a room and brainstorm.Now –a-days I have stopped speaking English, all I have in my vocabulary is MOM, ASAP, EOM, CDM…. How great it could have been, if agile (or is it ajile...) methodology can be applied to our life as easily as the client does it to the project.I could have went around as i liked.
Saddam could not have hated Bush more than I hate my client and every client call is a perfect example, it defies Newton’s logic. Whenever my boss says “in agile- rework is not a problem”. It almost makes me cry; what am I doing, trying to make something so that I can do the same work again and again just wondering when this cycle will end.The biggest joke of corporate life for me is the concept of “Work-life-balance “Which probably means managing life between work ! I always go mad after every such session my boss sends me to. The usual conversation(according to him..) that follows is “I now think you have learnt something from the session .I do not want you to work that late hours .Ok now have a look at this document and make the design by COB(You never know when is it for the day) it is very urgent”.
Then there is something that makes me shiver, the profiles of my breed of people almost 75% of them are bald, 50% of them have a tummy that makes them look like if they were the very reason for famines in Somalia. Week –ends is an different thing altogether (when you have one) .Get up from bed when it is already night for rest of the world , eat and then sleep as if you have turned the world topsy-turvy during the week.What am I? , is the question I can probably never answer when an old college friend of mine meets me.(hoping that he is not saying this to himself)Singing offWhat am I,? I am a Software Engineer., and With role change (it never shows on sal-slip)comes Great Responsibility I can never marry jane.........Now responsibilities just triggers another thought .Got to get back to work, with "role code" change (I do not understand…..should I say responsibility change) I have many more Nights of fruitless toil on my hand…………

Saturday, July 7, 2007

So what is it that i want , this is a eternal question for which i have never found an answer.Getting in to a job i thought i have got in a high speed lane where i never have to as much brake my car ,just ripping through the life would take me to the destination,but the lane turned out to be a mud road,too many stops and too many turns.
Intial thought during college days was money,now that i have go my own pockets full and probably yes a little of my coffers as well and potentially looking set in a way where it is going to bring me more,the question is what next? The drive that was there initially is not there anymore,now i want some other thing what is it?
Ok the other thought was that i needed to go around to look new places,yeah now i am going places,but then the places are just too many ,the desire is becoming leaner and meaner by the day.Foreign country was a dream and now going back home is a great desire.Wanted to buy a thing which i can lay my hands upon now i can buy (atleast in my own capability maturity model),but i hardly lay hands upon any thing.
Thought that this is because i am not doing anything gr8 so sat about to write a piece of code as if the exercise is going to change the entire nations course in an angle from where we at present cannot even view with our heads down the pants,though half way when i realized that yeah indeed the whole exercise is going to cost me a time of 20 movies ,i thought that is the one probably.
Half way through the movie,I found that is was the hero had a cute chik who was not even in my near viscinity,so from that day ...........

Beware girls now i know what i want ...