Mumbai attack: After After Thought - I don't want a war  

Posted by Nitu

I am not sure what infuriates me more - death of humanity or my obvious incapability to get over it or to change the course of events that led to it. A time where being innocent is not enough, where being apolitical doesn't confer immunity, where fate of one's life is being written by the hands of another life, where the GOD plays the pivotal role, but yet fails to be the arbiter, a time where insanity hijacks the entire humanity. Monothiests or polythiests or athiests, we are all in danger, a collective danger. High end tech weapons, an organised group of radicalised brains and a fanatical media coverage - it is not a story anymore that we used to hear to be happening in a distant land- it is for real, happening at our own home. We are in an unprecendented danger both physically and psychologically. 

Like thousand others I was angry, in disbelief, in excruciating shock. I shouted, I demanded..Govt, attack POK (atleast), we ought to give a fitting reply. I am happy that nothing that sort has developed, happy that cold heads have prevailed over our surfacial instant reactions and emotions. Not only that, no religious backlash has broken out in our homeland. Somehow strange and costly way, we are realizing that beyond nationality and religions, we are victims to the same cruelty, hatred and jingoism.

No doubt what happened in Mumbai was tragic, barbaric. However, what might unfurl thereafter could(can) be far worse. Here are my after after thoughts of the heineious attack. 

1. does ISLAM really have a fundamental flaw? I think, the answer is Yes. But again so are the other religions( for example, in Hinduism, the ubiquotous caste system- no two persons belonging to two different castes enjoy equal social position- neither their children will enjoy in future, no matter how pious or faithful the lower caste lineage proves from generation to generation, on principle, on tenets they will never get up-casted.) In ISLAM, church and state are integrated. This got endorsed in large as the entire earlier expansion of ISLAM was through military conquests of another state. Now lets see what it means in modern time. In 21st century, what it(the church and state integration) means is a monothiest religion and theocratic state which is quite opposite to a secular state. Now any transition attempt to a secular state is daunting, an entrenched system of parochial doctrines has to be plucked off. This is the challenge almost all Islamic countries in general and Pakistan in particular, are facing in a modern world. 

2. Pakistan - raison d'ĂȘtre was the religion. Unfortunately, democracy has never got a true chance to grow, thanks to the fundamentalists and the complicity of the military power. I think, it is worse now than it started with. Indeed, it has got all the required elements for disintegration in place by now. Neither the world nor India can let it happen. Pakistan needs to fix the things right. An external force can't impose/exert secular democracy. War is definitely not the answer then. What Pakistan needs are co-operation and assistance.

3. A report on Newyork times (also reported by ndtv) suggests that the psychological impact on children originating to the disturbing images of the Mumbai attack will be long lasting. Their adult attitude and psyche development will likely to be shaped based on this traumatic experience. If one such siege or attack can have such a devastating impact, one can only imagine the psychological damage a full scale war between two nuclear capable countries can yield. Ok, we(my generation) may be ready to die. But I certainly want to say and assure a child that being born is a gift, being human is fortune. We certainly don't want to wipe out an entire civilization and its hope in the process.

4. India- How can we leave our coastal line unsecured?  Indeed, the route that intelligence agencies feel was taken by the fishing boat hijacked by the terrorists — from Porbandar in India’s Gujarat State, then north to Karachi in Pakistan, and then south to Mumbai — follows centuries-old Indian Ocean trade routes.
And we left it unguarded!!! Does this explain why we witness one after another attacks, while there is no single attack on Britain soil after 2005,July attack? Every Indian has his/her own part to play. We can't postpone it anymore. If we fail to do so, a hundred victories in war can't provide us safety. 

5. We have fought three wars already. Definitely our woes haven't ceased to exist. 

I am not a pacifist. I do want the perpetrators to be punished. But I don't see war as a solution to achive this.

Gol Gol at Golkonda Fort  

Posted by Nitu in , ,

Update - You can have a larger view of the pictures by clicking on them.

On Saturday, I woke up to a boisterous morning. I hate that, particularly if it happen on the weekend when my definition of morning stretches till 1 p.m. If you are too an weekend sloth like me, you know how sacred this time even think weekend is the greatest invention of human kind and the morning is the gem of the weekend, right? :D

I opened my bedroom's door with a pair of bleary eyes. roommate Narendra whose definition of weekend morning is more liberal than mine was not only awake, but also already hosting a surprise guest from Bangalore.
"Good morning, buddy. Meet my friend Deep."
I looked at the guest. A Sardar!! aah..the reason for all he..he..ha..ha of the morning :)
"Hi..." - the guest extended his hands for a shake.
"Hello.." I greeted back.

A short termed guest always brings instant vigor to the otherwise lazy inhabitants. Wohan jana hain...yeh dekhna hain..woh dekhna hai..usko milna hain..biyani khana hain..etc etc. And all the time the inhabitants keep wondering, what we couldn't do in 2 years, you want in 2 days!!!
It seemed Golconda fort was one of those wohan. I have never visited that place (Actually one evening when the Sun was set, I had been there once to meet someone. It is an amazing story. I will tell someday :) )Neither my other two room mates Uday and Narendra who spent two years MBA and 3 years job here respectively. That doesn't surprise me though. I, too, never visited Lotus temple in Delhi during my 3 years stint there. When you live near to something, you believe you can touch it any day. But it is just that, that day never arrives.

We set out for Golconda around 12 a.m. We decided to take an auto. Hyderabad and auto drivers!! Anybody can write a war book on it. But I am skipping that for now.
After 40-45 minutes we reached there to be greeted by 3-4 guides. Our deshi leechours..I admire this group for their skill. They can challenge even Steve Job in sales!
"Aaiye sir..idhar aaiye.."
"No bhaaiya, we don't need your service". Uday declined.
"No problem sir. I will show the fort map and explain it. You don't need to pay." the guide moved on. Now that's a cunning move, isn't ? I guessed the outcome :)
So standing next to the map of the entire Golconda fort area, he briefed what is where. Finally he concluded how he would guide us through every path outlined in the map for a paltry rs. 350.
Who said we need you for that! We can have the map! We took a photograph of the map.

Bechara got entrapped! So, he drastically reduced the amount to rs. 175. Finally we agreed upon 150.
From now let the pictures speak.
At the beginning. BTW, can you identify me?

At the barrack.

The garden. I wondered, did the Sultan and his begums spend time amidst flowers one day?

Way up to the Sultan's darvaar.

View of the lower section from the top section.

Section of a boundary wall..beyond that, Hyderabad.

On the roof top of Sultan's darvaar. Below it, an air-conditioned chamber was there. When we stood in front of the air tunnel mouth, a cool breeze whipped our faces. Narendra concluded his awe factor with a big "F**K" exclamation. Uday shouted back, "common, it was not for that purpose." lol.

The Sultan and begum's private path. At one point, the guide said, female servants( daasi) used to welcome the king there. Narendra wondered what they wore. Deep answered, definitely not bikini!!

The king's way...

A view of the darvaar from below.

The chambers with excellent acoustic technology..a very low intensity's sound is reverberated with an amplified volume. Deewaron ke bhi kaan hote hain (even a wall can hear too)! The guide explained this was how the king managed to hear all the bitchy rebukes or conspiracy hatching. I concluded, "what the heck, ek hi gaali ko baar baar suno ( the king had to listen the same scold again and again ).

Ok, now this is MEEEEEEEE with my lunch :) I couldn't have even all of it. Uday gave such a monkey jump to my neck for posing for a picture that my corentto cone fell off :(

With dashing Uday..just after his famous monkey jump. On the backdrop, the garden named after Sultan's personal dancer Premavati or Kalavati ( I forgot the name). We wondered did she perform pole dance too?

Finally it was time to leave the Sultan's world. With gentle breezes and tiny rain drops still tapping our back we headed towards Eat Street ..famished..somewhat exhausted..and all marveled.
After having our lunch( or supper ), we set out for our second voyage..this time on speed boat to the enchanted giant Buddha's statue in the middle of Hussein Sagar lake.

The day was ending. It is sad when you have to leave so many beautiful faces around you..wished so many times our auto had a reverse gear ! :D We winded up the day with a little joke.
On the way back, Uday had to sit on the iron bar of a side door of the auto as the backseat couldn't accommodate four persons. The bar perhaps drew a line across his butt. After a few minutes, he ached out..slightly moved his position. Narendra suggested, "Uday, why don't you draw an Ashok Chakra at your a** ? You just need to sit at different positions!!" Deep counted, Ashok Chakra has 26, 13 positions in total. I corrected , no, it has got 24 spokes. So, 12 positions.
Uday unleashed his devilish laughs.."No, you are all wrong. I need to sit at 11 positions only."
11 positions!!! How come?
"Aare, I have already had one line since my birth!!!!" could we forget the long line we all carry on our back starting from the neck and bisecting our butts!!!

Pages from a diary  

Posted by Nitu in ,

I know, it has been a long long time..I have been absconding..absconding and absconding..Indeed, it had reached such an epic height, I forgot the look of my own blog!!! Not that I didn't have time. Instead, I didn't have a mind and I didn't want to put a half-spirited post.

Here are some passages from my absconding days' diary. Words are mine, conclusions are yours. Yes, a definite peep into my life :)
Sometimes I feel being a super hero is easier. The war is always evil versus good, always there a villain to defeat. But what you do when there is no villain? What you do when there is no evil? Some wars are just good against good. Call it dilemma, call it choice, in reality it is a war. You end up paying a price, sacrificing some souls and betraying some honest hearts for a cause..a good cause. Because, you can't have both. None the less, one day, time may tag the cause irrelevant, out of place. What a pity, you are losing either way, but yet you have to take a side!!
[Written on the context of a dear friend caught between parental good will and her own good will to support her career struggling love ]
What we need to be happy? One percent love from 100 persons or 100 percent love from one person? With the first, one can be a superstar, with the latter, one can die happier. On my bottom of the heart, what has an enduring ripple is not the happy news of a distant soul, but the sometimes not so happy, sometimes so happy constant titbits of a soul near to mine. Better to have one splendid flower than hundreds wilted ones in my garden.
[ Reason why I left orkut ]
Yes, sometimes we have to smile, even when we are deep in a gutter. Because that's the only fortune for someone. May not be for a lifetime, may not be even for a day, but for a moment. And a moment of a smile obliterates thousand bad vibes.
[ After conversing with a sister of no blood relation whom I met at an airport..With one smile, we got to know each other, with another smile, we felt like we have been knowing for ages... On an awful day, she called me up. I had to fake my laughter all the way, because that's the only good thing she could have that day.]
Yes, I expect. you say, give only..why expect back? What a swallow ideology! I expect because I am a naked beggar now, I am naked because I gave away all. If you are right, then I am a fool. If I ain't, then you are not being honest.
[justifying to end my willingness to ring certain persons always and ask how they are doing while they never initiate a single 'how you doing' sorta call. ]
Why some people just leave? Because we make mistake? Because we make the same mistake again and again? Or people leave because they have to?
[ A question to self...often feel now a day I am doing the same thing. ]
Such a wonderful name! I can fall in love again and again..only if you hadn't been married!! I am keeping the name..may be you will be the lady of my fiction one day.
[Always fall for the wrong]

Introducing ME- Part 2  

Posted by Nitu in ,

[ Thanks to all of you...your wishes make me feel younger by one year :)
For a couple of days I have been engrossed in work and mating, oops meeting people. I shall start visiting all of your blogs soon. Until then, introducing ME- part 2.]

"I need result, Dr., result, not risk."
"Yes sir. I understand."
But in reality, Dr. GenieAss was wondering how many times his own ass would need to be sacrificed for nurturing an eternal ass. Then again, playing God is not easy, neither serving an omnipresent asshole.

"What's the remedy?"
"Deploy the subject on a hostile be precise on the earth...Sir.."
A deaf frog suddenly jumped out of the window to escape from the dreaded decibel.
"Dr., you can't do that. Remember the subject omega-factor-11? You deployed it there. What damage..god..what inconceivable damage it had done to me! Do you think people worship me? Hell, no, people worship him. He is the God, not me. Damn it."

How can Dr. GenieAss forget that? God never misses an opportunity to remind him of the mistake.

God was referring to Jesus. It is a sour to the core topic. How could someone defeat him in his own game! No, he can't let that happen again. No, never.

"But sir, human beings have evolved ever since. They are now more arrogant, more intolerant, more cruel, more callous. No one trusts anyone, no one agrees with anyone. They have got a system called, democracy sir. The possibility of Jesus happening again is virtually nil in the present scenario."

"Yeah, that I realize. But..."
"To clutter a perfect mind with shits, there is no better place than earth, sir. One just doesn't get along another on that planet." Dr. GenieAss argued.

God weighed the options. At any cost, the subject can't be deployed in an advanced, peaceful planet. That will favor the development of the subject. Who knows what will happen to his supremacy then. Yes, humiliation is better than extinction.

"Alright, let it be the earth then." Between bad and worse, god wisely chose the bad.
"Any deployment target?" - target is the code name for a womb.

"Sir we have already zeroed down on a couple. But the couple is expecting a girl, not boy."
"Dr., I am not here to fulfill expectations, you understand..not to fulfill. I am here to manage the things."

Dr. GenieAss understood the discussion was over. Why every boss talks the same language, or rather every asshole!

So as result of the contingency measure on god's chamber, on 1980, 6th June, around 4 p.m. a truck was rushing towards the town hospital, to its labor room to be precise, in the upper most place of Assam, called Sadiya. This time, however, the truck didn't carry my uncle's timbers, but my mother!
And at 5.17 p.m., the horribly had gone wrong, heavenly research subject was incarnated on the earth.

What followed thereafter was a chain of "wtf" reactions.

On my abnormally tiny size....
The gynecologist- "wtf? Is it a rabbit or a new species on the earth?"
My father - "wtf? So much efforts, so little result!!!"

On my high-pitched marathon cry....
An old women patient who occupied a bed near to mine- "wtf? Son of a bitch or donkey?"
My young mother- "wtf? How to pacify a baby!!!"

And on the world....
Me- "wtf? The conspiracy to suppress my voice has already begun!!!"

Introducing ME-part 1  

Posted by Nitu in ,

June arrived. My friends began to shout.

Narendra, 'buddy, get ready to spend at least 15k.'
Me, 'wtf, paidaa hotewaqt bhi itna kharsa nahi huwa tha!!!(even in my birth time, the price wasn't this much)'
Rasika- 'Can we have the party at a resort?'
Me, 'what? Resort? You are kidding, right?'
'NooOO, I mean it. Seriously.'
Somehow I managed to convince her that it wouldn't be a resort. In the process, I had to throw some philosophical arguments from the kitty of Buddha, 'birth is the cause of every suffering. So,..' Good thing about girls is that you can put the end to a conversation efficiently just throwing a little dose of philosophy. All you need to do is to remember a few philosophers name.
Anyway, we agreed to have it on a place we both love.
'CooOOl.' she concluded.

Finally 6/6 happened. The day when this boy's mom visits a lord Krishna's temple and her soulless son visits millionaire Vijay Mallaya's temples. Idealogies apart, we both celebrate the same cause though.
She became a mother and I became a son on 1980, 6th June, 5.17 p.m.
You must be thinking,'wtf, wy dn't u jst tel dat 6/6 is ur b'day? It's an era of sms,twitter. Ppl dnt hv time even for sex, isn't?'
Relax, life is not sms. Remember the bastard called, Darwin ? Couldn't he keep his mouth shut? 28 years survival stories in sms? You must be crazy just like god.

It (my birth) all started with a knock, yes, a knock at the God's sleeping chamber.
Time-Year 1980, 5th june, 11.15.33 pm.

Knock, knock..
No response.
Bang..Bang..this time with full forces.
(After voyeuring in Madonna's bedroom, god was trying to have a quality time.)
"WTF"- he was surely annoyed while ajaring the door. After a peep into Madonna's hole, anybody would pronounce that..he knew that because he himself set up those rules of erotica.
But his temperament froze off instantly ..because in front of him was standing Dr. GenieAss, none other than the head of conscience and intelligence research wing. Among thousand R&D wings, that was one of the only two research wings with zero level access code..meaning god directly supervises its activities. It also means Dr. GenieAss is authorized to show his ass anytime. Among many vital projects, it's primary projects are- 1. To model unique inscrutable complicated female psyche so that men keep busy themselves analyzing them without needing to turn their attentions to god ever.
2. To prototype certain brains and simulate evolution to analyze whether one day there would be an intelligent brain enough to hack god's mind..exposing all his secrets (he knows, a secret is a weakness in disguise)

"What's the matter Dr.?"
"Sir, prototype xx-delta-7-it is showing unusual evolve pattern..It is evolving at a rate of 1.7 zillion faster than any other prototype and 3.32 billion faster than yours per minute. We have got an emergency situation sir."
"What?????? How could you allow to happen that, Dr.?"
"Sir as you know, we implanted a very high overdose of intelligence to the subject. It's intelligence to mass ratio is an unprecedented 5000:3. We expected a natural dense explosion, leading to self annul. But strangely it is balancing itself while still evolving."
"How long it before surpasses my level of intelligence?" -god's doomsday fear is shockingly near.
"Sir, our estimate shows 17hours 31 minutes 7 seconds."
"oh god...."- even god uses this word in a time of crisis. He wishes there be a still higher power to rescue. "Terminate it with immediate effect. You hear me? Terminate it."
"I am sorry sir. Terminate is not possible at this time. The subject has developed a defense mechanism that even our most sophisticated technique can't break.
'ohhhh..god...'-- Madonna was as distant as Pluto by then..his eyes were seeing ghosts of fears. He never thought he had been hosting so much fear in his omnipotent heart.
'Dr. there has to be a way least a way'-- god desperately looking for a thatch like a drowning man.
"Indeed sir, there is a way. But it's extremely risky."
[To be continued...]

HOPE lives on  

Posted by Nitu in ,

[ Sometimes I feel hope is a meaningless delusion to bank on for living. Then my mind drifts around.. always returning back with some nameless souls, nameless stories, nameless lives which are being lived and written only on one thing..namely, HOPE ]

Kailash looks up to the sky. Every morning it is almost a ritual duty for him now a day. Last year the crop was not good as monsoon didn't arrive in time. He sees a few fragmented clouds getting heavier here and there. A smile crosses his lips. 'this time, Lord..this time'- he murmurs. Last year Narayan seeked his daughter Mamta's hands for Narayan's son. But Kailash couldn't commit it because of the poor crop.
Kailash summons his wife,"Roopali, can you come here?" She arrives. "look at the clouds"- his joy hasn't faded yet. "Our lands no longer will remain parched. We are going to have a good harvest this time. I am going to accept the marriage proposal for Mamta. The boy is good, suitable for our daughter. Aah Lord, she will make a beautiful bride." he continues.. Roopali smiles too. For 22 years Kailash's little joy, little hopes have been her source of living and happiness...

HOPE is happiness.

June in Kolkata is scorching hot. Baasu's feet are paining, the hands are burning. They have been sun burnt to a coal-black long before. Baasu gives in, "I can't pull it anymore." He decides to rest under a banyan tree. Even a little shade is a rare event in a city like Kolkata.
He mopes the sweats on his forhead with a corner of his lungi. For five years he has been cycling a rickshaw. For three months he hasn't visited his village home. Last time when he went he met a school teacher, his son Shantanu's teacher. The teacher reassured again, "Baasu, your son is exceptionally good in study. You should ensure your son's study doesn't get hampered due to lack of something. One day he will make you a proud father." Baasu is already proud of his son. Shantanu wants to become a doctor. The boy is of such a caring nature! He will make helluva of a good doctor. What a wonderful moment it will be when his own injury, bruises will be treated by his own son one day. Baasu remembers, as a kid he used to cry a lot when he got injected with a syringe. He still fears a needle. May be he won't fear anymore if the needle holder would be his own son. A smile appears on his tired face. He reassures himself, 'one day, one day..and that day is not far away..till then I will work hard matter how much it pains..'
'Hey rickshaw, will you go?'- a female voice jostles his thoughts.
But he doesn't complain this time. Yes, he is ready for another pedaling..for another rupee..for another step towards his hope and Shantanu's dream.
He enthusiastically responds, "which way, madam?".........

HOPE is force, hope is courage.

She regains her consciousness..opens her eyes slowly. She still feels the excruciating pain below the abdomen level. She has no idea how long it has been since she entered the labour room. For a moment she felt as if she was dead. Her husband Anuj comes by, holds her hands in his palms. His gaze is trying to say, I am glad and I am sorry at the same time. Her haunting memories starts invading again. She looks at him questioning. Anuj shakes his head a little, a painful gesture.. saying 'NO'. She frees her hands..he lets them go..Silence reigns the moments...A painful distressed silence..for second time she has delivered a still baby.
At last she looks back at him..two grieved eyes meet another pair of eyes.. equally grieved. She holds and draws his hands closer. A silent promise was born..'Together we will make it someday, I ain't give up. You won't too.'

HOPE is comradeship in distress.

Her mobile starts ringing. She almost falls off the chair while reaching for the cell. It happens, happens..she thinks. After all she has been waiting for this call for the entire, for the whole seven months to be honest. 'Sweeti, I am coming home.' He sounded so excited two days earlier when they talked! She is excited too. For this time they are planning to seed a dream.. a dream of their conjugal life..a natural realization of their togetherness.

A familiar code lights up the tiny screen.
'Hello..' - a sound that never losses the sweetness even though it is thousands miles apart touches her ear (she believes it lands on her heart directly, bypassing the ears.)
'Are you boarding now?'- she can't hide her ecstasy.
He is supposed to be heli-lifted from their base camp to the nearest civilian airport at this hour.
He pauses. No response. She hears a heavy sigh instead.
'You are coming, right?'
'Honey, I am so sorry. I am not making this time. There is an emergency situation along the Siachen border. We need to be deployed immediately ..........'
He says many more things. But her ears go deaf..her tears inconsolably falls on her newly mehendied(hennaed) hands..
'...I will be home soon. I love you..' he manages to utter them as someone is commanding him to board a copter.. a copter that doesn't bring him home..but sends farther away.. to a death valley.
Sometimes she doesn't understand this patriotism..serving a country. All she yearns for is a warm cuddle in his arms.
But she is an wife of a soldier.
She composes herself..says,'I will wait sweetheart. Take care. I will pray for you. Always. Come soon honey.'
They disconnect.

HOPE is wait.

Pretty long post huh..But I hope you have read them all..yeah, yeah I am a hardcore optimist :)

A promise unfulfilled  

Posted by Nitu in ,

Last night I saw a dream ..of a litle girl..of her giggles..of her quick steps..of her nameless exuberance radiating a house. I asked for a water jar..she chimed in before her mom could reach the jar..'Maa..I will do it..I will do it..'..she gripped the jar and refilled the water glasses for everyone. For a moment I felt it was true..for a moment I was lost into a paradise of unbelievables. I could stay that way for ever.

I remained spellbound even after consciousness awakened..long after the morning lights started penetrating through the window panes. The purity of innocent zest was deep enough to defeat all the high decibel noises ushering the day. It had been more than 17 years since the girl in my dream ceased to live on the earth. It has been a long time..with many ups and down..with many people entering and leaving..with many exhaustions and rejuvenations. But there is something time doesn't erase, something a heart never feels tired carrying of. The little girl is one. For she was my little sister, the "noor" of my family, darling of the neighbors.

When I was 11, she died of an undiagnosed disease at the age of 5. I promised her to buy a doll, a promise that was never fulfilled. The only thing I could do was to lay my piggy-banked amount beside her burial place. The act of redemption was for me more than her. To buy a doll I would need to go to a nearby town which was about 10-11 miles away. But I never ran those miles.

We hope the loved ones will be around for ever. Sadly many times they come only for a season, only for a reason. Hope is so misplaced sometimes. We postpone something for the next time, next occasion because we hope there will be a next time; not knowing what tomorrow holds. The next time never arrives sometimes.

It is never late to say someone how much you care about, how much you love. But make sure you are doing it today. If that requires running an extra mile, then let's run. Imagine what would be the value of a "Taj Mahal", if in her lifetime, Mamtaj never got a true feeling of Shahjahan's profound love.

We may have seven colors in our heart for someone. But we need a little more than a heart to put them together into a make them visible. And I believe it is worth doing so.

Men like UNIX  

Posted by Nitu in

Ok guys and girls, may be you already have it or may be not yet, but I just can't stop lolling. Assuming that you are above 18 and have heard of unix, time to lol now.

Do you want to know why men like UNIX?
Read these interesting commands!!!

Why men love UNIX!!!!

$ touch;

$ finger;

$ unzip;

$ strip;

$play ;

$ mount;

$ mv;

$ halt;

$ mv;

$ halt;

$ mv;

$ halt;

$ mv;

$ halt;

$ mv;

$ halt;

$ mv;

$ halt;

$ mv;

$ halt;

$ mv;

$ halt;

$ mv;

$ halt;

$ core dump;

$ unmount;

$ sleep;

$ ....

and the best thing is.. NO VIRUS!!

That's why for anything you want to understand in UNIX you have to type

$ man

Any more trick to prolong the orgy??
Any idea how to command for multiple orgies !!!!
Come your "commands for sex" to the world :)

The unseen grief  

Posted by Nitu in ,

Some experiences remain locked in our memory forever. Some days leave a lasting mark. We may forget which day of the week or what date, but we never forget what the day had to offer.

It was the last Monday. I had hosted two back to back small parties at my flat over the weekend. I had used up my utensils till the last spoon in the kitchen. Somehow in the morning, I managed to have my breakfast and rushed to the office. Most of the time this is the norm anyway, "the maid will take care of it". However, the pile of unclean utensils was much much bigger this time. So when I returned to find the same unclean pile in the evening, I was naturally upset. How come the maid didn't turn up? Or rather how dares she without informing!

Though I like to cook, I hate cleaning the dishes. I always consider this activity doesn't fall under cooking. With a sweating forehead (due to my anger or Hyderabad's heated temperature I am not sure), I cleaned half of the pile, again pushing the remaining to the 'take care' kitty of the maid. All the time, I was wondering how the maid manages to clean the kitchen without losing her smile, when I have lost the ability to manage my life on my own even for a single day. Am I starting to live a parasitic life? Or already I have been? The many vibes of doubt, self pity, disappointment started eating up the remaining hours of the day..

The maid is not more than 42 years, but looks like 55 old woman. Next day, she arrived in time. I could see her natural self, the same composed and calm face. Not a single sign that something had gone wrong, that her truant day had offered me a terrible day! Inevitably I shot out, "Why didn't you come yesterday? Don't you know you have more works on Monday?"

She speaks only Telegu which I don't understand. She said a few words. I didn't get all. But what I got was saying, "Babu, my mother died yesterday."

My anger evaporated into shock, shock vanished into sadness, sadness into self pity of my own callousness. How could I be so hollow in thoughts!

Just a few days ago, an anguished, emotional footballer's pictures had been splashed across all the media. Frank Lampard's heroic contribution had led Chelsea beat Liverpool in the Champions League semi-final. Only Six days previously he had lost his mother for good. The media called him "Hero". I agreed.

Now right there, right in front of me there was a person standing who was not less courageous than a Frank Lampard, whose unseen grief would never make to any news, nevertheless whose loss was not less than anyone else. Just because someone earns a few bucks more than her doesn't make her grief any less than him or her. Just because that someone is me doesn't give me a right to treat her grief to be shallow. Everyone needs time to grieve. I told her she can take a leave as long as she wants, that I can manage for myself. Not that I was doing a favor to her, rather I was doing a favor to my own compassionately dead brain cells.

But she refused.

I eat, uncle Sam whines  

Posted by Nitu in

[This post is a reaction to the recent comments made by the US president, Bush and Secretary of State, Condoleezza Rice on the recent inadequate supply of food items in US. Both have suggested developing countries like India, China are contributing to the shortage, because these countries are eating nutritious now. I don't have much expertise to debate the topic by picking up some points from how world economy behaves or functions, however I feel I can say a few words from my own personal experience.]

What happens when you eat from the king's plate? You are likely to get hanged.
What happens when you eat from his store house? You are likely to get imprisoned.
What if from his farm? You are likely to get whipped.
From someone's farm where he has been eying for the finest fruits? He whines..he shouts..he almost categorically blames, "you are doing wrong".
For we only have the right to eat when he is done. For we have been born to fill-up our stomachs always with the left-over and the fallen grains off his opulent plate.

Sorry, mighty king, I defy. And I have been deprived long enough to shout it loud now.

Getting reared in a village where the poor farmers sweat every nook and corner of their weak bodies through out the year, I witnessed an appalling fact. They always sell the finest crops or fruits that they produce (baring the small pie kept aside for festive days or farming related ceremonial events/rituals). Because that is the only way they can optimize their earnings and subsequently can buy a few more units of the essential items. All the time they and their children have to be content with the left-over. Even with my tender age, I could see this social injustice. I cringed to say, they deserve better.

None of the village children had the balanced nutritious diet. Mal-nutrition was widespread. What every town kid takes for granted now a day, those calorie, protein, vitamin enriched horlicks, cerelacs never went to a child's mouth unless he/she was terribly sick. The choice was evident, if you don't want to live naked, then you have to live with a few protruding ribs.

India has been the poor farmer for long long time, always exporting the finest grains to the rich countries. Introducing plenty of export rules and quality norms, the kings always have managed to get the finest breeds, the finest green tea, the Basmati rice etc. About two-third of Basmati produced in India is exported. Basmati- pleasant aroma, superfine grains and extreme grain elongation -the destination of this premium rice? Mostly UAE, UK and USA. And the takers of non-basmati rice are Bangladesh, Nepal, African countries. Not surprising, huh.

Today the poor farmer has garnered a few bucks. And with that it can afford to keep a good amount of its finest productions for itself. The kings call it act of imbalancing. Is it? Nay, it is about getting balanced. I have a stomach that can digests Basmati rice and a pocket that can afford it, why king's stomach is churning? I am claiming my daily protein intake today, why the king is fearing if in the process he is losing a little flabby fats!

Surprising yet the fact of beer and liquor. With my a few extra bucks, I am drinking like never before ( just pick up any recent liquor consumption survey in India). However, uncle Sam is not even blinking!! The reason is clear. Uncle Sam is producing and stocking them day and night in tons. When you can't miss a thing, you have to ensure the thing on your own, right? Aah, alcoholic Sam is smart in the matter of alcohol. But dear uncle, if you can't lose your those extra flabs, then produce more corn and rice.

By the way, uncle, if you have to eat daal-bhaat once in a week, that's not that bad. Rather, good for health. After all crores of India's population is living on them. Oh yes, how you will know this fact? Because aren't you a person like queen Marie Antoinette, who said, "what, they don't have bread? Then let them eat cake."

It is surprising that uncle Sam's lack of food is food for my thought today :)

On the road  

Posted by Nitu in

When I was about seven, the 37th national highway used to fascinate me a lot. It ran along the southern border of our village. It always had something on its stock. All the big trucks, bearded pilgrims, cattle-- different travelers at different times, different seasons. I wondered where the road started, where it ended, where those pilgrims used to come from, where they were heading to etc etc. My mother would explain that one road needs not run forever, that there are more than one road and they are almost always connected, one leading to another. So what matters is once you set out your journey on a road, you can always travel the whole world. I would exclaim, the whole world! She would smile and say, "yes, the whole world."

The bearded pilgrims looked very wise. Legends were abound about them. They can tame ghosts, can heal leprosy, can recite sloks from the Veda even in their dreams.. so on. Later I got the answer of their destination. They always headed to the Parshuram Kund, the holy lake in Arunachal Pradesh. The pilgrims would camp underneath a big banyan tree for a night or two, would cook their meager meals in the small pots. They were barely clothed, always fighting with the weather. They looked miserable even with our rural level of comfort standards. Soon a new question surfaced on my little mind. Why they do what they do? Why they just don't stay at home comfortably like us? My mother would answer that they travel to acquire holiness, to acquire knowledge. I would confront her, "well to have knowledge, they can go to school!!" She would tell then, "there are different ways to learn a lesson, to acquire wisdom. Traveling is one of them." I would imagine, one day I would travel with them. I would go back the road and join them at the exact place where they started from. Later I figured out , "well, going back is illogical. I can start from here, right away joining them."

After 20 years of those days, the son faced the same questions about the myriad criss-crossings of roads of life. I wished I could go back and start picking up the right threads and knots. But going back is not only illogical, but impossible now. Sometimes I wish we could be like gold or silver. Got a scar? Fading into dark? Just fall back into a melting pot and get molded into a new shape, new shine. Alas, we don't have a melting pot. However, what we have is a point to start from, a word to start with our story. The world is much bigger than our own backyard, the road goes beyond our own ghetto. There is enough oxygen to breathe out without suffocating inside a cocoon. As long as someone has a wing, there will be air to fly, a shade to rest.

I am starting from here. This is my story and this is just the beginning.
You say, again?
All I say is, one road leads to another road. When one road ends, another road begins. There is only one world. All we need is to find the roads and to embark the journey.
Stay with me, travel with me, together we shall discover and enrich the world.... our world.