Nature blessed me yesterday

As i strolled by the cemetery fence
a deer i spotted in an instance
licking the grass on a dead man's grave
was it, when i stole from it a glance.
Fear it did not in a graveyard see
but on seeing me it happened to flee

Shauk

"Shauk ?!!
shauk to waise har ek cheez ki hain
jisme Khuda ho
jisme Khoobsurati ho
aur jisme zindagi bharee ho "

Anju ruba ! Anju ruba !

There is a man selling Pictures of God for 5 rupees near the temple.

"Only 5 rupees,any
God!!" he screams and people are rushing towards him to grab their
Gods.

Some pretend to not have heard him and hurry by.Some others hesitate and he pitches his cry a little louder.
He has been screaming all afternoon and i have been watching him throughout.
i live in the house next to the temple and i sip my tea in the balcony with a noise.i like my tea with ginger and less sugar.

Naming it...

"Tommy? How very creative. Tommy.
And Gabriel? He is not an angel,"said Arun.

"What about all the Tigers?They aren't really tigers,are they?" said Vadivu.

"Mani, it is Mani even in the movie no, Anna? Please, why not Mani?"
said Priya.

"Money? Enna paisa vasoola?"

"Anna, look at her she is teasing me."

"Ok fine. Mani it is then."

He got the fetch, sit and run alright but the
German Shepherd did not think Mani was worth a Woof!!!

Aries Book Shop - Mylapore,Madras

We visited the shop,one dull afternoon three years ago and discovered books by O V Vijayan,Asokamitran,Raja Rao,Mulk Raj,Dostoevsky and some really fantastic (odd) children's books which are difficult to find in many leading book stores these days.The second hand book shop sold a lot of first hand copies too.It was here that we hit on BFI books discussing films.The shop would throw surprises at us and we never tired of browsing through the various sections.The shop held the simple joy of surprise that a radio still keeps while bursting into a song out of the blue.


The book store , the old thatha, his stray wanderings into the thodi ragam,the rickety fan,the unsettling dust,the smell of old books mingling with that of the fresh gum from the new ones and the books of course- are all gone !!
And in its place stand a monstrosity of a clothes shop.


The dull afternoon remains.

Tonsils and a weird dream

Green,and long - a mossy tunnel ??? No (turn)
POP !!! - a play gun ? No....!!! (toss)
Murder in the tunnel - No No Not !!! (turn)
dark and cool, bottle green - a forest ? Rama !!! (turn)
a neck , a bottle green neck - a bottle ,a green bottle !!! Yes (turn)
a freshly painted red fingernail making circles on its mouth (too much TV)(toss)
fizzzzzzzzzz - soda ? Yes a green Bottle- Soda Bottle(turn)
and a
round blue gOli nestling in its throat!!(toss)
a stray mosquito hums the morning ragam(toss- turn-stretch-yawn)
And i woke up feeling this odd pain in my neck , no throat
Tonsils the doctor confirms !!

My Prayer

O Lord! Please strip me off all this cunning,
so i can stand before you with
childish innocence, naked and stunning.

Wrong Number!

It must have been 2 p.m in the afternoon when Pandian received a call , nobody spoke for a second, although the line seemed clear.And suddenly, a deep female voice broke into a song.No lyrics or anything just an alapanai , no instruments, just the Alapanai.Before he could ask any further questions she said thank you and cut the call.On calling the number back he received no response.

Many miles away in Nagapattinam, Ilango bought his first cellphone and just after a small pujai was done for it , it rang and everybody ran to it and listened to a deep female voice announcing a splendid atAna ragam.It reminded him of the stage plays where his father played king.

Today iron shop Aruna told us that even they received a call and a voice sang to them.
To her it sounded like a song from old tamil film .
She could not make out if it was a female or male voice but it sounded so nice that they could not ut the phone down,she said.

But i do not know whether or not to believe her.You see, ever since the anonymous calls started making it to the headlines everybody
has an incident to quote.They say these calls just come and go , nobody reports of her speaking and they love her music and voice.i have often wondered about these calls.....
(PMPMPRMGS .......GM
PMPMPRMGS .......PNSR, NSRG,
MP MP MP MP RMGS......)
ah, let me just attend that call and get back to you.

Long shorts

I am to join Sri Ramachandra Boys High School tomorrow.We are allowed to wear full pants only from next year , that too real Khakhi - 100 percent .

Amma and Appa do not understand me or love me, else why did they get my shorts stitched so long ?It falls below my knees .I told them to shorten it when we went to Raju Tailors but Amma ignored me saying it would come for 2 more years.Now I wear them so up... up till my neck almost and it is such a problem when PT sir says to inshirt my shirt.Why can't they just understand that it looks so .. awesome .... no no what was that .. aw .. aww .. aweful .. no no .AWkward yes .... AWKWARD....Aiyoooo ......

The Wall , Withnail and I (him)

Our wall broke many months back, they came last week and had it up again.Everything everywhere happens slowly and so the house hall has been painted fresh and i have a fine cold .

We watched a movie - Withnail and i which was screened in a theatre nearby and recorded an amazing houseful.

The film was made in 1986 and is about two boys/men Withnail and him (I) who live on pills and odd leftovers from the road in a miserable flat constantly fearing a rat may jump out of their sink.Their joblessness makes them sloth around this ugly home they wish to run away from.They scoot to Withnail's luxuriously fat uncle Monty and drink expensive wine while pretending to listen to his reels of youth, sniffing him out to be gay.The boys get him to let out his country side house for them and hit the road for some "rejuvenation".Their stay in the farm is a laugh riot.The story is funny and dialogues are studded with lovely imagery ,wit and cynicism.

Scroll down for some excerpts :

Withnail: [having just drunk a bottle of lighter fluid] Got any more?
Peter Marwood: No. I have nothing.
Withnail: Liar. What's in your toolbox.
Peter Marwood: Nothing.
Withnail: Liar. You've got antifreeze.
Peter Marwood: You bloody fool. You should never mix your drinks

another one
Peter Marwood: What about whatshisname?
Withnail: What about him?
Peter Marwood: Why don't you give him a call?
Withnail: What for?
Peter Marwood: Ask him about his house.
Withnail: You want me to call whatshisname and ask him about his house?
Peter Marwood: Why not? Withnail: Alright. What's his number?
Peter Marwood: I've no idea. I've never met him.
Withnail: Well neither have I. What the fuck are you talking about?

Movies like these bring out the times so perfectly giving us more than just a peek.Some movies are so real, you feel like you have been caught in their lives and lived it like the movie has it.This one surely has to fall in that category.

i am terribly hungover with its feel.

The Israeli Pandit

David Shulman's achievement here .

Some pictures from the Reading Pride Festival

Won't you come and see me just this once ?

Shobana, is possesed with the ghost of a former dancer and dances awkwardly while the psychatrist, her husband and the one whom she fancies to be her co-dancer watch on.

Keep watching to see some lovely steps by the duo later in the court/durbar .Shobana and her partner are so graceful.This is the dance sequence from the original of the film Chandramukhi (almost a silly parody)- "Manichitratazh".

The song itself is sung in Tamil while the film is in the Malayalam language to show the influence of the ghost on the Ganga(Shobana) who loses her identity to the ghost of the dancer .It is set to the Kunthalavarali raga in which there is also a very popular thillana by Sri Balamuralikrishna.

The video maybe viewed here.

Shobana, is possesed with the ghost of a former dancer and dances awkwardly. Keep watching to see some lovely steps by the duo later in the court/durbar .Shobana and her partner are so graceful.<br /><br />This is the dance sequence from the original of Chandramukhi (almost a silly parody)- Manichitratazh (Malayalam).<br /><br />Please view on youtube as the file does not allow embedding.

Let us cover the world with our footprints.

Is it true that, with every footstep we take we leave a piece of ourselves behind?
Then , quicken your steps ,kanna , we have a long way to walk... so we can leave behind a loving, caring earth for our children !!

Ah! somebody from the moon spites at our footprints calling them kidney beans. Well, let him know that his moon is all pock marked !!!

No smoking !!

Our love is all the cigarettes in this world, don't let it go to smoke. ;p

Love (b)

Our love, many years later, will be reborn as a flower.Watch out, that little boy is coming for our heads .

POp !!!pop !!!!


Let us grant him his wish :)

Love (a)

Our love is a sanctum sanctorum . Please leave your dirty footwear outside !!

Bathful of Music

Bath Spa , United Kingdom .

Roman Baths , Cathedrals, Jane Austen centre, 8 crescents are the feathers on the city's cap but i wanted to tell you about something else .....

Bath Spa has great taste in music,i was thrilled to see so many musicians on the streets playing happily,especially old numbers from rock and roll (70s)
One small band of 3 - all in their teens were playing with a cello(pizzicato) , guitar , some jalras and a blow keyboard .Another flutist offered to attempt some
Jethro Tull on my request.Near the abbey a Xylophone played so hauntingly and in the gardens by the Avon they had a "free" flowing wind band play
tunes like April in Paris ,While my guitar gently weeps et al.... oooooo wasn't it love-ly !!!
They were simply refreshing .

Definitely my favorite place.Would go there any day !!!!.

here is the original version of what the 3-teen band were playing on the streets :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tHbPD_bXaOA&mode=related&search=

listen to this ...and tell me if the intial badabada or nanana part sounds familiar -
remember the tune and try to slow it down in your hum.... and tell me if it rings any bells...

Promises

Some promises die with people,they are kept thus.

Your BC

You have grown so much, so differently , but i shy away from saying it.
You handle things so efficiently, men, work, and more but you are still my little girl.
You brush through some books , call for the taxi ,adjust your hair ,
step tall on your stilletos, stack your certificates in a file .
You wear your make-up well ,but i can see through those patches that you are nervous about this interview.

Your birth certificate is as old as you - yellowed with time,
i run my hands on its many creases and folds.i pick it up
and a whiff of Napthalene hits me.
The stubborn dog ears just refuse to straighten up .

As i wave to you , i am somehow reminded of the "Picture of Dorian Gray".

She lived happily under there ever afterwards .

She could paint, sing, dance, act and write and run.

But many years later as she sat at the table to convey her soul
her prose fell short of words ,
lyrics dangled loosely about her song,
language stifled her thoughts,
rhythm beat her thoughts off and
her ragas were punched with notes astray.

So she decided to dig a hole.
The deeper her thoughts traveled ,the more she dug.

She lived happily under there ever afterwards .

Grace is Black !

Vividha

Shivaji - The boss

Post script first :

All this rant is not worth your while or mine .

But if you are willing to go ahead anyway, please do .......

After much hype and hoopla about Shivaji we set out from our town Reading, no not in Nagapattinam but in the UK to Feltham to watch it .It is my first ever Rajni movie and after a news-knows-how-many crores shell out i expected it to stimulate my senses /sensibilities a trifle bit .

Scene after scene the movie crushed my spirits ,stomped over my sensibilities and scratched my soul with its screechy nails.I have often been warned that logic doesn't figure in such movies and i put aside that bit of my brain, actually all of it in the closet before we set out . The movie has Rajni aka Shivaji - the idealist wanting to build colleges, schools, hospitals for the poor and needy.After many crushed attempts,the tired Rajni becomes Robinhood and changes black money to Ujala white.
All fine and eternal sunshine, until now.
Along with this main dish came french overfry jokes from Vivek and sloppy tomato sauce Shriya gyrating to cluttered music.
All this stampede my poor soul bore and bore .
I have been warned and i ask no more .

But my thumb (these days my soul resides here) felt sore when :
Rajni wants Tamizh Kalachara Pen so why let Shriya's small dresses scream with suffocation ? (logic please please stay away)
Shriya sheds her mel aadai and runs in front of a train to stop it from Rajni whose foot is stuck in the tracks.Eye candy with soda brandy !This is just what a Tamizh Pen should do .
Rajni comes up with "witty" dialogue about colour discrimination ?Aha you have made a point Mr.Rajni butwhat about scenes when you cringe on seeing two nubile girls who have been painted black ?
On being asked to sing, Kalachara Pen Shriya sings Theeradha Vilayattu pillai and Mr Smartass Vivek sneers at her ?
She dances a classical number and you demand a ghostly Raa Raa ?
You poo-poo away dwarves in a song sequence .So this is how equally you see your makkal ?

All this made me realise that 60 crores of reeking money cannot even by mistake produce anything sensible .But what totally threshed the poor thing was when i turned around to see lots of asians (many thanks to software) feeding their kids with such things .i wanted to leap across and shut every unblinking pair of small eyes that were gaping at this monstrosity.But i silently put my thumb(soul) in my mouth instead.

My soul and belief in humankind is lying low for a while .
For a long time now it will be music,nature, swans,
.................................................... sense ,quiet and frowns.

All this said i pause while entering the publish button . All this rant is not worth your while or mine .Why must i even bother ?i hope to sleep this night and wake up next morning and consider it all a nightmare .
i wore my logic back and she types in bold Verdana :
Let the world rest kid but not on your shoulders .

Chennai-Two faces of a expanding metropolis

warts and beauty spots

Traffic Jam - Writer's block

Goppa Deivama ?

Some art moves you,some others affect you so deeply you stand still
and the world seems to stop for that moment .

Chinna NAde NA Cheyyi PattiTheevo emotes Tyagayya's tete-a-tete with Lord Rama
where he promises to hold his hand and lead him through.Tyagaraja asks Rama if he is now pondering about whether to hold his hand or let him go .

The lines "Goppa Deivama ? "seem to bring out such an emotion which will take a million colours to paint ,another few million words to describe . A feeling mixed with sarcasm,sorrow the lines emote so beautifully .

It is such a wonder that after so many many years an unrecorded tune should bring forth his deepest feelings, so well preserved .Such bold dialogues with what is Beyond,such intimacy finding that which is beyond within,such dejection, such a tune ,such words ,such truth ,such poetry,such so many things .....

It seems when art is produced with all truth it captures a thought so well and frees it from the cycle of time .Thus arresting it forever.

To be able to connect in some small way to such a soul , shakes me "still".

Here DK Jayaraman presents the song .

Here is a link to Shashank playing a sedate Chinnanadena.


p.s : sometimes links to Musicindiaonline do not function .Please use the search tool at those times.

Chak Chak Chak .....................

The fan cut the air
in circles as they lay spent
Love is in the air.

A few pennies worth

23C vs Vovlo (Office bus)

Spicy Recipes , steamy gossip , hot politics ,stinging whistles,fiery arguments seemed to compete with the madras heat .As the din of daily exchange rose , she snuggled into a comfortable alapanai in Amruthavarshini and let it wash everything away and giggled as she imagined a "chiiiiiiiiiiiissssssssssssssssssssshhhhhh" sound.She was thankful there was no radio on the bus.

In a purrfect world

.... thunder strikes when the cat is away .

Life ends , art lives on .

The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life. Since man is mortal, the only immortality possible for him is to leave something behind him that is immortal since it will always move. This is the artist’s way of scribbling ‘Kilroy was here’ on the wall of the final and irrevocable oblivion through which he must someday pass.—William Faulkner

Twilight zone

May in UK

Night creeps in and floods me with a despair of having wasted the day.
At nine pm daylight lingers around and plays day for me to use well .

For me these zones spell Hope !

bits of blah

After a cup of coffee, after a book ...............

"i am depressed , i want to read a lot and just die ."


"fair enough"

On Advertisements

Please open your mouth wide , while i stuff this down your throat !!!

1 to 10

First impressions,
secondary love,
third night,
fourth lover,
fifth condom,
sixth sense,
seventh fight,
Eight PM,
nine lies,
Ten is when she's gone.

venkat siddareddy

Aiming High - A Hero for Real

http://www.1stindian7summits.com/

Kudos to Malli Mastan Babu !!

Just a thought

I feel that great souls like Sri Vivekananda , Sri Aurobindo - people with a higher realm of thinking die but their greatness is distributed amongst many souls to be born .

One very nice observation that came across while watching Kathakali, is that the characters of noble bearing are painted green while the ones that are evil are tainted green with red streaks(depicting evil). Characters like Ravana in Ramayana are also developed with such an interesting combination of good , bad , beautiful and the ugly .Unlike many films which have only shades of Black and white for people's characters .

Ideally Nature tries to establish a balance between good and bad . For without bad around ,how will we know the good ?

So everybody has in their souls a dialogue between this distributed greatness and their own nature(own soul) .
It depends on this "own soul " to recognise and bring out such greatness or to totally extinguish it .
Reading , watching life ,experiencing pain , joys , thinking , being good ,music et al aid in cultivating such greatness.

From the Gitanjali

I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that follows me in the silent dark?
I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not.
He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger; he adds his loud voice to every word that I utter.
He is my own little self, my lord, he knows no shame; but I am ashamed to come to thy door in his company.

Tagore

Hiroshima Mon amour

Madness is like intelligence.You can't explain it.Just like intelligence.
It comes over you ,consumes you ..........and then you understand.

But when it's gone.You no longer understand it at all.


Hiroshima Mon amour (1959)
http://www.film.u-net.com/Movies/Reviews/Hiroshima_Amour.html

Madman dies - Anonymous

The book was being made into a movie after 25 years .It was cult all the way . People loved it,reread it, thought it ,breathed it , killed after it , died for it .

Nobody ever took him seriously . Not his wife , nor his friends at the bar when he said that it was his child , that he wrote it .No honour would be paid , no newspaper would scream his name .Not even when he passed away, alone by the fountain,this May hugging the book close.... very close.

Have been here

http://www.ecse.rpi.edu/Homepages/shivkuma/personal/music/index.html

To learn more and know more about Carnatic Music .

A perfect match.

Once upon a time ,a boy sat by the river and cried "Nobody loves me".

Upon that same time in another world a girl screamed from the rooftops,"I am nobody".

They lived happily ever after.

How come ,now ?

We met a naturalist in Kerala who told us that the worms (on the orange plant)would turn into a rare species of butterflies . He asked me to store it in a glass jar and watch them grow.

I hurried to my terrace this morning and did not find a single worm .

How come ,now?

Ramu : So tell us frankly ...

(ramu continues)Yours is an arranged marriage a or ummm .... lovvvvaaa ?


Somu : Well, we arranged for it and our parents loved it .

Silly Superstitions

Blink :A grey rat crossed my path .

Bat : Oh ! thats a good Omen . It warns you of a black cat that might have followed her .

Blink : ( smirk................sigh!)

Postman, please come and pick it up and put it in his pocket

Dear Mr. Caterpillar,

Please leave my mandarin orange plants alone . I have been taking care of them for the past five years .It is a pain to see you and your family chewing away at the leaves every morning and evening .

Thankyou ,
yours sincerely
ranjani.

Mylapore meengal

Watched fish fighting for pori urundai at the Mylapore tank .

Its a lovely sight and you can stand there and watch until the kombed watchman drives you away with his stick .

P.S : Please make sure you dispose of the plastic covers though .

Kanden

sitting on the bus
i saw a salamander
kill in one second

Oru eee kaka illadha ooril , orunal .....

The infinity of Grace - O V Vijayan

To discover India , to respect her past , to know lives , to feel love,
to learn grace .....

... to better your understanding of life.

1+1 = 2 (from dustflies)

The Progressive Classic

The lovers sat on the deserted riverside,the full moon above them.
He held her close.Their lips met.

'Darling', she said ,'there is something on my mind'.
'Tell me precious',he said.
'Have you read Karl Marx's Das Kapital?'
'I haven't .I have been wanting to.'
He began undoing her blouse.

'Have patience',she said.'Let us read Kapital.I brought it along with me.'

He took his hand off her and said,'As you wish.'
They lit a lamp by the riverside and began reading.
'.................................................................................................................................................................
................................'

After many months,when they had finished the four volumes of Kapital,he resumed his petting.

'I love you',she said.
The moon shone over them.

*

Post script : Readers are requested to get hold of four volumes of Das Kapital and fill in the blanks.If they do so,this little story will become the lengthiest Socialist-realist novel in contemporary literature.

*

- O.V.Vijayan

HSH

home sweet home

BCL - Madras

They travelled a lot but they did not take any pictures . They did not take trains , they hated flights .They did not need a car or a bus .Ugh! no! they did not like the idea of being pulled through the streets by another man .

They walked to British council library on that wet day .

They returned books at the counter and stood transfixed looking at a collage of pictures .


Out of the drain hole , into time , sliding through a bangle , swirling in
a cup of coffee,onto the rings of smoke ,reaching upto the ceiling
fan,
jumped into bubble smiling as the sun hit their faces,splat on a coin
being tossed up and down,
napping in a flattened pondicherry lamp,
kicking pebbles rounded by the rivers ,rolling in laddoes covered wet with
greedy tongues,
each slid from either sides of her brow and splashed red
into her bindi ,juggled a bit with saturn and her moons ,
flew all over the park on a green frisbee with shakthiman stickers ,
they played white in the
seas churned by the grinder,
resonated a bit on the Oms in a yogaclass ,
up and down the pepsi crown they marched ,
crtl+C out of infinite loops and finally settled on the Os ,
an 'O' each on a plate that read Books -return/issue
and felt a fierce nudge asking them to move on .

Waiting

Aesthetics

Dandi and Kalidasa were contemporary poets in the court of Vikramaditya .

One day the king , sensing Dandi's jealousy towards Kalidasa called the two of them and asked them to verse a one liner of the words " There is a dry tree standing here "

Dandi jumped up to the challenge with a dry staccatto verse - "Shushkovrikshathistatyagre".

Dandi's jealousy died when Kalidasa aesthitically responded with "Neerasataruruhavilasithabimbe".

(excerpts from mami's music class)

Kalidasa

Dandi and Kalidasa were contemporary poets in the court of Vikramaditya .

One day the king , sensing Dandi's jealousy towards Kalidasa called the two of them and asked them to verse a one liner of the words " There is a dry tree standing here "

Dandi jumped up to the challenge with a dry staccatto verse - "Shushkovrikshathistatyagre".

Dandi's jealousy died when Kalidasa aesthitically responded with "Neerasataruruhavilasithabimbe".

(excerpts from mami's music class)

Dustflies

Dust is flying places !!!


aaaaaaaaaaaaaatccccchooooiloveittchoo

Sven and Swetan !

Expect the unexpected

Sowmya's catcheri at Ananthapadmanabhaswamy Temple began with the oft heard Vathapi Ganapathim Bhajeham , Varanasyam varapradam Sri,
Waaaahthapi !!! which had my heartbeat at a normal 75 per minute .
and then followed -bootaadi sam sEvita caraNam |
boota bowdika prapanca baraNam ||
and then marched veetaraagiNam vinata yOginam (shree) |
vishva kaaraNam vigna vaaraNam || and then the
praNava svaroopa vakratunDam |
nirandaram niDala candra kaNDam |
nija vaamakara vidrutEkshutanDam |
karaambuja paaSa beejaapooram |
kaloosha vidhooram bootaahaaram |
haraadi guruguha tOshita bimbam |
hamsadhwani booshita hErambam ||followed dutifully
and suddenly there was
| silence (for 1-8 ,3 beats ) GPNSR... hamsadwani booshitham herambam ...
... what surprise ....!!!!!and 73..74 … skip !

jaundice Joan

Ravelstein - Saul Bellow

A wonderful book .

Abe Ravelstein, a professor with an ardent student following, writes a book on his friend's (Chick) suggestion ,that turns him a millionaire.Abreast with the politics of the great world , supplemented with his own opinions and a penchant for fancy , he asks Chick to write his biography .

Their friendship :
"We were perfectly open with each other.You could speak your mind without offending.On either side there was nothing too personal ,too shameful to be said ,nothing too nasty or criminal.I did feel at times that he was sparing me his most severe judgements if I wasn't just then ready to stand up under them.I used to spare him, too.But it gave me tremendous relief to be as plain and clear with him as I would be about myself about weak or vicious things.In self-understanding he was well ahead of me.But every personal discussion turned fimally into good ,clean nihilistic fun ."

Every bit engaging through my rocky bus ride and every now hoping my father does not find out the sambar stain on page 31 .

Godmen and angels

No man is God.
No woman is his angel.

Whatever

What were you thinking when i mixed apple,cucumber,chilli flakes,sugar,nutmeg,cinnamon and pepper ?

Whatever ...

I wasn't .

DBY night they lived happily ever after

That night while both tossed on their preferred sides of the bed with a book each and an ocassional kiss in between ,they grew smaller.......

At first the letters of the book they were immersed in seemed to grow larger .
Then they looked at each other .They looked normal !( equally small... that they did not know).....until he nudged her and pointed around to the mammoth alarm clock, the monstrous lamp shade they had bought from pondicherry,the huge bathroom slippers with their mouths open as if they would swallow.

She grabbed his hand and he held it tight .

They measured now a fontsize 10.
She looked a century Gothic with her dancer buttocks and he an ancient and impressive Bookman( oldstyle) with his glasses on .

They argued for a minute and then "phhhhhhhisssssssssssssssh" jumped into her book .

oka tamilammai telugu kavita.

nee prayathnam naadhe koda
nee prayasam naadhe kooda
nee baadha naadhe kooda
nee lokam naadhee kooda
nee vijayam naadhe kooda

ranjani Sivakumar

Time had heavy lunch today

Its only 3.07 pm ?!??!
Just a second before time was in rapid progress ??

Clear vegetable Soup

I had clear vegetable soup with a mosquito in it .
I did not eat the mosquito .

A earful at the canteen

girl1( with very interesting homemade lunch) : you know i got a proposal.. he is with WIPRO and is into mainframes .

girl2( boring tomato rice with oily appalam) : what's his name ?

girl1 : ummm......I do not know ......

I bathed my idlis in Sambar and dug my fork deep into its whites for it to seep in .

NS Mama

Music composer passes away

Staff Reporter

HYDERABAD: Flute maestro and composer N.S. Srinivasan passed away after a brief illness here on Sunday. He was 75. With a long and illustrious service as producer of the Carnatic music section of All India Radio, Srinivasan was among noted disciples of flautist T.R. Mahalingam. He won several national awards. Srinivasan is survived by his wife Sarada, eminent drama artiste, and daughter Neerada, a Kuchipudi dancer.

http://www.hindu.com/2006/01/23/stories/2006012316550400.htm

Once upon a time in London ...

three....two... one ....zero and he will be here !

Happy new year !

Kulla Kamini and Thatha

Sketch

Waits at MATC , spent thus .

Gallery

Spot ten differences and win yourself a free trip to Timbaktoo !

December dew on Mandarin oranges (terrace)

ganesha

The whole picture

Nail Polish on Exam pad .... Ranjani (seventh)

Oil Bath Sagodharargal

Nalla Pullae

Rock .. Paper .. scissors for the last one .

Worries, whims and all!

Worries, whims and all!
She leaned over the window of the bus.
After a while she was fast asleep
And turned the other side.

Whims, worries and all and a drop of sleep,
Rolled onto her neighbour's shoulder.
After nearly twenty minutes she woke up
And realised she had missed her stop.

Thank you .

Nijanthan interviewed Anitha Rathnam . She spoke well and passionately about dance.

Watched "Malgudi Days" on Pogo .Loved everything about it , the actors , the story , the place , the feel, the way the camera moved around the story .

Sanjay Subramaniam at Vani Mahal today , life cannot get any better .

Shaw

Eliza : “You see, really and truly, apart from the things anyone can pick up, the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she’s treated.”

Bosnia - A K Ramanujam

How can one write about Bosnia
Biafra, Bangladesh,just to take only the atrocities that begin with B

alphabetise cruleties,
eating persimmons and sleeping safe
in the arms of a lover,a wet moon

in the mullioned window?How file away
a young friend just dead of ovarian cancer;
a young breast cigarette-burned by a jealous

husband;where shall i put the old man who peers
through office windows looking for a yes
that'll negate all no's,or bosnia mothers

who lift their babies to strangers
squabbling for a foothold in lorries fleeing
to the borders where only death waits

gun and milk in hand,irony in his narrowed eyes
holding in one thought Bosnia,cancer,
persimmons,widows,serial kilers,

and you and me in our precarious safety?

:)

Oh! she made you smile,
like you would when sunshine fell in your eyes .

Ace it !

She said : "He calls the spade a spade , not sspade or sspaid"

They said plastic surgery would help .....

After the fire accident .. he always signed off as "your only".

Twilight plights –Sri Sri

One Evening…
Norma Shearer at Roxie or,
Kanchana Mala at Broadway!
Where to go?
Mulled over, a university student!

At a Hotel --
Sweets of almonds or,
Cakes of Vermicelli!
What to eat?
Chewed over, a government employee!

The same evening…
Thoughts of ravening creditors,
Hungry whimpers of his children!
To hang himself to death or
To jump in to the sea to die –
Contemplated, a suicidal farmer!

Translated by Venkat . ( www.dustflies.blogspot.com)

Finally a good tune ...

The cell phone tunes are rather dismal , but this one i heard let my spirits jump .
I think it was in Sudha Dhanyasi :

" S ; PM P;M; S ; G;
NS G;
S;PM P;M; G;"

The tune must be Ilayaraja's .

Aw !!Sinatra !!!

She gets too hungry, for dinner at eight
She loves the theater, but doesn't come late
She'd never bother, with people she'd hate
That's why the lady is a tramp

Doesn't like crap games, with barons and earls
Won't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearls
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those girls
That's why the lady is a tramp

She loves the free, fresh wind in her hair
Life without careShe's broke, but it's o'k
She hates California, it's cold and it's damp
That's why the lady is a tramp

Doesn't like dice games, with sharpies and frauds
Won't go to Harlem, in Lincolns or Fords
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of those broads
That's why the lady is a tramp

! .. ?

a worship of writers !
but
.....a curse of painters ?

Drifting away from her own .

She tiptoed over to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee and worked on the bills for the month .The extra 500 would set things in place .

Everybody had beamed smiles of appreciation at her at the party and Mrs.Alfredo had promised her the hike .

The kids were brilliant . Maya sang like a bird and Paulo could conjure up the most amazing tales .They grasped things quickly ,making her job a whole lot easier. They had spent the whole week learning the chords and notes for the big night, to celebrate their grades .Maya sang effortlessly and Paulo was a wonder at the piano.


She sank back smug and and flipped through the pages of a notebook lying on the table .A letter dropped out of it .

"

Dear Parent ,

Please meet me on Saturday at 11.00 a.m . Krishna's scores have dropped to a C
and Kauveri never finishes her homework on time .


Thank you,
Sarah Philip "


Krishna and Kauveri slept undisturbed in the other room
and she screened through the paper for another job .

visit :

www.dustflies.blogspot.com

at 9.00 a.m :
How much louder must i scream ?

After lunch :
Silence does not need to follow syntax.

Lunch

The shrivelled beggar woman asked me if i had my lunch.

The Fly

A crisp warm english morning sun shone on Mr.Pimpernel's bald head . It was Tuesday and Mr.P had his spirits soaring like kites on the summer skies. Clear summer skies ?Not quite, he spotted some dark clouds smudge the clear skies.His thick lips wilted into a deep frown and his head swung in grouse.It was nine and Sethu had not yet arrived .Sethu was employed to dress MR.Pimpernel on his special days.Mr P was sweating with anticipation . Tuesdays were Mr.P's grand days , the day he stepped out of his house , the day he wore his best clothes on ,the day his shoes shone bright. Yes there were Sundays too , but they were a dull white and they did not enthuse him and reminded him of his old age and that death was imminent .The picture of God brought in goodness , angels and candles and white robes and sent shivers down his bent back .He shook thoughts of the weather and sundays away and continued to shake it now pained with Sethu and his frown grew so limp it seemed inline with his drooping moustache !He vowed to tell that truant off this time .

Half past nine and Sethu rushed into the door,toppling over Mr.P's boots. He bathed Mr.P,dressed him tidy and escorted him on to the Taxi cab by ten.The cab wound around tortuous roads and reached the Trafalgar square,and was festooned in a confetti of confusion and celebration.Mr.P looked out at the various colours and people drenched with merriment and sighed at the delay.The black smudges of clouds poured in dull grey sheets unceremoniously and the regale rally broke to huddle under the roofs of buildings.Black umbrellas opened up to the skies and the greys and blacks wiped out all the colour. The car waded through people,water and slush and camberedalong till it reached the busier roads .People streaked across with serious faces and grim thoughts. The car screeched to stop next to a cafe with people discussing money , business and shares .The smell of fresh coffee and market trends pecked his senses .He brushed past the steaming conversations and proceeded to climb a flight of heavy wooden stairs.The flight ended in the entrance to 'Lutdwig and Charles firm '.
Mr.P retired from the firm two years back and he liked to pay frequent visits to scale the happenings around. He cloaked the stand with his coat and hat and walked into a passage that led him to the Manager's room .He knocked but did not wait for an answer and cracked the door open and peered into the new decor the room adorned.Everything had changed about the room.Mr.P's eyes gradually screened the changes.The walls were a bright yellow and the venetian blinds carried the Londonscape and opened into the window of another building .The burled mahogany desk had been moved out and found in its place an everyday pale pine desk .The floor was parqueted with yew and the Bukhara carpets removed.Potted creepers climbed at the corners and a huge Urn replaced the corner table usually containing a clutter of newspapers.A short knock interrupted Mr.P's scan and was followed by a staccato of Lila's stillettos.She placed a cup of steaming coffee and added that Mr.Griffith would be in shortly.Mr.P sipped his coffee and settled back to complete his scan.Everything about the room was new. Everything, save the wooden 8x4 photo frame ,containing a picture of his son.
Griffith sniffed into the room,his nose was pink with cold.He sat down at his chair and pinged for another coffee to be brought in . An exchange of pleasantries followed and Mr.P got comfortable in the new chair.An hour passed on discussions about the staff and business and other things that mattered .The clock announced one and Mr.P got up to leave .He paused at the door and added "My son and wife had been to the Kensel Green Cemetery last week " and hurried out.


Griffith fell silent and his head rested on the back of his chair . He looked at the ceiling fan.Memories of Carl came rushing in with every tear. He looked at the photograph and sighed .His mind rolled through those wonderful years.They had all flocked around to see the pictures of Carl graduating from business school.Lutdwig and Charles would be his to reign.Griffith had his dreams and Carl's goals fixed .
Griffith ordered for another coffee and turned to walk towards the blinds turning them shut and open and shut again .He opened the windows and let some incessant chatter in,to break his thoughts . Thoughts like these were hard to shut out . He turned around and walked towards his desk and sat down .A fly sat at the lip of his cup . He shooed it away .His thoughts flew back to the day the letter had arrived from the Army . Carl was called to fight at the front .Griffith was gripped with fear. He dipped his head down and stirred with his spoon . The fly sat back on his cup . He caught it with the Tribune .It landed next to the ink pot on his table.He put it into the pot and watched it. It struggled and swam with all its might .He picked it out of the pot and placed it on the table. The fly flapped its wings hard in a pool of blue ink.Everything had happened so quickly, the newspapers screamed of wars disaster.He'd pin his ears to the radio and have Lila call to find out if there was any news about Carl. He remembered screening through he newspapers,tears welled up in his eyes.He put the blue fly back into the pot . It fought and swam , its wings were heavy with the ink and its tiny legs too weak to swim.It made tiny ripples as it tried harder to swim.A minute passed in effort and the ripples died down .


Griffith tore a bit off the tribune, fished out the fly and threw it into his bin and placed the photo frame back .

- Ranjani

champ at the bits

intense thoughts burrow in and worm through
a bright noon sun peeps through glum blue clouds,
puddles throw oil rainbows thin cycle tracks vein through slush swept along the sides of the roads ..
.the enamel has slowly worn off .... traffic zooms past ..
dark chocolate remains on the edgy corners and i scrape them off first and they settle in the depths of my molars
fever settles on my brow and i sweat it out
i champ at the bits ....................
.the nitty gritty of yesterday's arguments swims in my head
there s nothing left ... an uneven countour sharp now bumpy then
....i nibble with thoughts zooming in and out ...harder .. cos theres nothing left ... why me ? why not ? whats wrong ? what happened ? how did it happen ?eating into my petty worries ... biting cold biting thoughts ... biting the edges off now and my incisors work harder .... bent backs get ridden on !!harder still ....and its off now and i sink back in my chair n chew in peace ....and let things roll by !!