The Queer

To the peaks, cried the voice. In a hurry, they swarmed up the slopes. The queer ran ahead, with his shiny white butt exposed to the world.
Everyone has a red butt, like a baboon, how dare he practice witchcraft of an unnatural nature to morph the pigmentation of his butt to white?

In a frenzy they bore the torches with flames flaring high, with a pungent odour of hatred did their breath flume out of their flared nostrils. Chanting their leader's limericks, they proceeded with self righteous zeal, their quarry with a white shiny butt remaining but a fraction of a yard ahead. To the summit did force the mad crowd, the white butted queer looks over the edge to find a sheer drop. Turning around, he faces the frothing mob. In his desperation, he looks upwards to find clouds with leering gazes towards his shiny white butt.

The rioting mob proceeded forth with a united blood-thirst and a loud piercing cry which awoke a pensive monk from his contemplation of the infinite. He appeared with a trail of vapour before the rabid rioters, his calm, electrifying gaze stopped them in their tracks. Through his aura of blue electric arcs, the queer could be seen with a dumbstruck expression on his brow.

What be this soul's misdeed that merits such repercussions from society queried the ascetic suspended before the mob.
He holds the magical skills of sinister potential, he is capable of alchemy which turns our proud race's red butts into disgraceful shiny white butts.

I am capable of even greater alchemy you insane fools. Of powerful energy be I possessed, now shall I smote you all with some of my purifying piety. As fools did you summit this mount, now I shall make you turn tail as enlightened, clearer minds.

The queer returned home a normal person that night and thanked the great soul who came to his timely rescue. White or red mattered not any more, peace was restored until another issue were to surface.

High Times-2

“Who runs the show?” asked the man in green, with fledgling limbs. In reply, he hears noise of a strange tongue, of Betelgeuse and Irish it was a mix.

Of greater wisdom the man grew, black and white suits him fine. “Who is bad and who is good?” asked the man in black and white. In reply he hears laughter of cackling disdain. “Black I know not of young one, and neither be I acquainted with White. All I see is a twilight grey, of no man's land be I.”

Upward did rise the man on the scale of life. Of grey whiskers and greyer attire be he now. “What is my purpose?” asked the man in grey, “where does my twisted path lead?”
“Grey be the no man's land where a man's stuff be not made of purpose, of unclear knowledge be he of the grey hue. All I see is the golden path of sacrifice and asceticism.” said the hermit in reply.

Further toward the zenith did rise the man of golden heart and ascetic exterior. Of virtue be now his stuff made, of twisted paths he cares not, with a known but still unknown destination in mind, seeks he the bliss of unknown quality. “Why is everything?” asks the man of gold.
“That be not the question that us the hue-less seek, of lesser words be our question framed.”

Up or down matters not any more, suffice to say, the man progressed, of hue-less quality be his interior and exterior. Of austerity be now his path made, with hurdles of the mind preceding foremost. “What?” asked the man of colourless identity.
“Be you now close to what thou seek”, said the voice of nothing and everything, of the infinitesimal and the infinite.

Of un-followable path did the non-identity take, of everything and nothing did the non-identity learn... of bliss and violence.... of the infinite and the infinitesimal....

High Times-1

A deep dark recess juts right through a huge boulder. As I enter into this, a huge lizard which looks more like a dragon is seen approaching at a tremendous pace with its tail whipping about and tongues of flame licking about its mouth.

I dance around the monster's mouth, stepping in and out of range, when all of a sudden, my vision projects forwards, almost as if my eyes have been moved forward through a long tunnel, straight into the throat of the monster, where I see the source of the flame. An orb of fire much like the sun remains suspended near the base of the throat of the lizard. The orb had a fiery female form dancing at the very core. The lizard reminded me of the frustrating admin of our university, the desires and distractions along my path to gaining the orb of knowledge. The lizard tried its best to close its jaws lined with the sharp and menacing teeth on me.

With a lot of luck, I manage to somehow grab the orb and free her from the grip of the dragon whose jaws prevented her from spreading her light to the whole world. With the orb I race out of the recess which was now flooded in dazzling light. As I exit the crack, I find myself in a thorny valley with green slopes populated with menacing gorillas and other lizards. Hundreds of these creatures surround me as I try to escape with the orb which has now changed form and has taken the shape of a girl with flames dancing around her.

As the creatures closed in on me, the situation started to look dire. However, when I seek a way out of my predicament by consulting the fiery female form besides me, I immediately gain reassurance and my anxiety was replaced by a new found determination.

The flames danced all around me and a fiery circle started expanding from the very centre, repelling all the creatures as it advanced outwards. The surrounding darkness was gradually consumed by the light from the centre of the ever expanding circle. A fiery and flaming tower of manic proportions jets vertically upwards into the sky and the light starts to engulf the entire planet. Many centres of darkness resisted the light, a battle ensued with sometimes the darkness prevailing over the light and sometimes, the other way around. Gradually, the light managed to engulf the entire planet, that was when my vision zoomed outwards at an unimaginable speed and soon I could see entire galaxies going through the same process of the alternating between light and darkness. Whenever an entire galaxy became engulfed with light, a few streaks of light would escape from the galaxy and disappear out of the universe, going to some place which I was unable to imagine.

Whenever an entire galaxy would be lit up completely, there would be a short period during which a few streaks of light would escape out of the known universe. After some time though, small parts of the lit area would start growing dark, cracks would appear, and gradually there would be more and more areas of darkness, and soon, the entire galaxy would be plunged into darkness. This process would go on alternating...

The only thing that I could conclude was that true freedom would be obtained only when we decide to search for that something which we truly require... for me that something is knowledge. In this age of instant gratification seekers, it has become something of a rarity to witness anyone thinking deeper about the realities of life and the universe. A few minutes of self contemplation can go a long way to help a person gain a perspective on their lives.

My Ubuntu Experience

About three months ago, I installed ubuntu on my laptop mainly because XP had frustrated me with constant virus problems and slow execution of programs. Initially, I kept both XP and ubuntu, but when the virus problem escalated to such a level that XP became unusable, I totally switched over to ubuntu.

I must admit that there were a few minor hiccups along the way, and there still are, but there are many more problems when it comes to any MS OS. Besides, the only thing that I had to do was to run a simple Google search for the ubuntu forum addressing the particular problem that I was facing, and voilà, the problem would be solved!

Apart from the above obvious reasons for switching to ubuntu, there were other tiny factors which cemented my transition from years of MS usage to Linux. The most important was that the OS was very simple to use. I am no coder, and I always imagined that linux was for the geeky coder or developer. Oh boy was I wrong! Even finding applications for any specific need is simple, all you have to do is open up this application which automatically searches for the programs, downloads them and installs them. I simply had to check the box next to the search results and the program was downloaded and installed, absolutely no hassles.

If you are used to the windows applications, fret not. The open source community is constantly evolving to produce amazing new applications which can not only claim their right as alternatives to the windows programs, but can claim to be superior. I guess the advantage is that in the open source community, the everyday user has the capability to modify the program in any way to suit his/her particular needs. This way, many of the programs have ended up with innovative and nifty features which set them apart from the proprietary software. Just take the example of Mozzila Firefox which is an open source project, do I need say more?

Talking about the graphics, all I can say is AWESOME! I even managed to run popular windows compatible games like counter strike on my ubuntu using a windows emulator called wine.

Now when you put all the above things together, what do you get? An awesome computing experience with which you are bound to fall in love with. Trust me, I'm totally smitten!

A view of a flooded rice field near Senchi, Tamil Nadu. Senchi (or Gingee as it was known during the colonial period) is an old town. Historically, Senchi was the capital of the kingdom of Desingh Raja. Today, you can still see the forts that stand atop two hills. The palaces and various other structures are very interesting to say the least, and if you manage to climb to the top of the hill housing the King's Durbar, you will be delighted by the amazing view. Best time to visit this place is in the winter months of Nov-Jan.



A view from atop the Malana valley in Himachal Pradesh. It was one crazy experience. Three of us were bored and a long stretch of holidays were coming up, so we packed our bags and caught a bus to HP. Once we got there, we decided to go to Malana. Malana is a remote tribal village with strange customs,beliefs and terrific views of the Himalayas. Also worth mentioning about Malana is the huge amount of Hashish that is processed there. It is said to be one of the world's best in terms of quality...

My Autorikshaw Bright!

Putt, putt, putt
I start out from my hut
early in the morning light

Putt, putt, putt
I roam the streets left and right
in my autorikshaw bright

Putt, putt, putt
The policeman demands his cut
You'd be a fool if you chose
to show him your butt

Putt, putt, putt
I carry a foreigner, white
in my autorikshaw bright
my meter runs like a jet flight

Putt, putt, putt
my pocket's not any more light
as i drive into the morning bright!
Alas, i run out of fuel, shite!
so i drive into the station, right
only to receive a bloody fright!
What with wars in Iraq mate (Note: Aussie accent for mate :))
my pocket's restored to being light.

But, but, but
i still have my autorikshaw, bright
as i drive along the streets, left and right!

The Killing

He stood staring at his shadow
At the long dark patches of grass
As the sun dipped to meet the sea
His spirits sunk even lower

What black vistas was his mind visiting?
What dark dungeons was his heart held in?
What did the smiling babe see
that caused this metamorphosis?

His brother lies dead near his feet
His hands still hold the red blade
His heart still races as he recounts
the last sputtering breath of the dead

Does his soul weep to see
the carnage wreaked by his hands?
To kill a brother is one thing
but to do it cos his God is not yours...

Alas, we are mistaken my friend
He smiles as the black face that smiles green
to see the briefcase finally arrived
with the cash for the deed performed

The Interview

Saravan was on his usual rounds, the milking grounds that he was accustomed to seemed to beckon to him with a filial love. The relentless, sticky heat of the summer had forced even the dogs off the streets, but Saravan was on a mission. With his brow shining brighter than the waxed, metallic bodies of the cars lining the street, he opened the gate of the first house on the street.

Mrs. Shanmugam opened the door and recognized Saravan immediately. She was a lady in her late fifties and was the type that had never been employed in her entire lifetime. Her purpose in life had been to marry and to care for the children and the household. A victim of her times, when it had been considered improper for a woman to aspire for a corporate life. The little of the home that one could catch a glimpse of behind Mrs. Shanmugam's girth evoked a strange emotion in Saravan, he couldn't define the emotion, though many of the readers would easily be able to identify with the emotion: the emotion that one feels when visiting one's home, where one feels secure and cared for, a safe womb where none of the evils of the world can touch us.

Saravan though had never had a home, the initial stages of his boyhood had been spent on the streets. He had no memory of his mother, only that of his older brother who had cared for him while on the streets. The latter part of his childhood had been spent in the 'Sri Sai' orphanage. The streets of Bangalore had not been kind to young Saravan, he had been brought into the orphanage by some kind, caring gent who had found Saravan lying in a garbage heap in a stupor induced by inhaling the fumes of “ErazeX”. Despite the best efforts of the staff, they couldn't coax a single word out of young Saravan for months together. However when Saravan finally started speaking, he turned out to be a fast learner...

Mrs. Shanmugam had become accustomed to Saravan's monthly visits, she threw her door as wide open as her comely smile, which again evoked an emotion in Saravan which most of us would associate with the motherly figures in our lives. Mrs. Shangmugam's children had all grown up and flown out from under her wings, so it had been just her and her husband for the past five years. Saravan had always reminded her of her own son, Raghu. After all, Saravan tended to visit her more often than Raghu and had more patience when it came to making conversation with an old lady.

On that particular day however, Mrs. Shanmugam seemed rather excited, after having offered Saravan a glass of sweet buttermilk, she told him that Raghu had arrived that morning and that she would love for them to meet.

Raghu, a strapping young man in his thirties had come to Bangalore because he had grown rather bored of his job at a KPO. He had had enough of the relentless work cycles and the madness of New York city. In search of greener pastures, he had posted his resume on a website and had been called for an interview, which was the reason for Raghu's presence in Bangalore.

Raghu and Saravan however didn't get off on the right footing...

“What is it that you exaclty do Mr. Saravan?” asked Raghu.
“I am here to collect donations for the Sri Sai orphanage, I come once every month, Mrs. S has been kind enough to donate over the past two years.”

“Don't take this the wrong way Mr. Saravan, but I have seen a lot of people like you in my life. You could have been able to run this charade to fool my mother, but I don't want you bothering us any more. If you would excuse me now, I have an interview to attend.”

Saravan chose not to react, he had come across such people before and had resigned himself to the fact that humanity is capable of widely varying behaviour, ranging from the comely charm of Mrs. Shanmugam to the ruthlessness that Raghu shares with many others.

Mrs. Shanmugam squirming with immense discomfiture could not make eye contact with Saravan, when she finally managed to look at Saravan as he was closing the gate, she was instantly put at ease by Saravan who flashed her one of his huge smiles that he was famous for; twenty eight of his thirty two fine pearly whites were flashed at Mrs. Shanmugam.

The day his brother had died of dehydration on the street corner adjacent to Manipal hospital on 'Airport Road', had been the day when a certain Ms. Indra Gandhi had ceased control of the entire nation. Saravan would have surely followed suit had it not been for the saviour. Saravan had been dipping in and out of consciousness and could hardly remember the events of that particular day, but he had created a mental image of the kind gentleman who had taken concern for the dying child on the streets. Saravan had imagined his saviour as a man with balding hair and a pot belly and a huge smile on his face, just like his own. He had imagined him as having red stained teeth as a result of having chewed on betel leaves and paan, he had imagined him as having a deep laugh which emanated from somewhere deep in his rotund belly. Saravan was almost spot on as far as the physical appearances go. What Saravan will never know is that his 'saviour' was none other than Chota Fatir, a leading don of the kidney trade in the state of Karnataka. Chota Fatir was dissapointed when he found out that Saravan's kidneys could not be harvested as they had been through too many rough days.

Saravan had then been abandoned on the roadside by his saviour and had been picked up by a constable. Though Saravan has no memory of the constable, he ought to be more thankful towards him rather than Chota Fatir, because, the constable only wished to pin a petty crime on Saravan to close a case of his, he had no evil intentions such as harvesting kidneys.

When Saravan awoke from his stupor, he found himself in a state sponsored remand home for deviant children. The care that his posterior was provided by two or three caring gentlemen at that home impacted him so deeply that he would find it hard to be able to speak for another six months during which he would be transferred to the 'Sri Sai' orphanage.

Raghu had been experiencing intense bouts of anxiety since the morning. He kept thinking about what would happen if he were to not get the job. There weren't many companies hiring outsiders into top level positions, if he were to miss this opportunity, he would be forced to join elsewhere at a much lower position. Mrs. Shanmugam had forced Raghu to go to the temple with her where she bragged to the priest about her son and managed to somehow increase the anxiety of her son by displaying utter confidence in Raghu's abilities.

After having gone through his resume the eleventh time while looking into the mirror, he decided to take a break and that was when he walked into the living room to find Saravan. After having vented his frustration, he returned to his room to check his attire one last time.

Raghu was one of the last to be called in to the interview. His nervousness had been steadily building as he sat in the foyer studying each of his competitors as they walked in to the interview room. He tried studying their emotions and expressions as they walked out of the room, but that only increased his feeling of foreboding and doom.

When the receptionist finally called out his name, he was so strung up that he literally jumped out of his seat.

As he entered the room, he remembered the self help books that had stressed on the importance of establishing a rapport with the interviewers. Raghu looked at each one in the eye while maintaining a confident gait towards them. As he looked at the third man seated on the right next to the lady in the blue dress, he received a warm smile from Saravan who welcomed him and pointed invitingly at the chair meant for him. “Hello Mr. Raghu, please meet our CEO, Mr. Saravan who wanted to be personally present during this interview, I hope you understand the important nature of the job position that we have to offer.” said the lady in the blue dress.

Raghu simply sputtered out a muted response. Saravan looked at Raghu in the eye and said, “Mr. Raghu, I am willing to forget the incident that occured this morning, I request you to be calm and composed during this interview as I believe that you are one of the frontrunners for this job based on my preliminary assessment of your CV.”

Saravan had had difficulty when he first moved into Sri Sai orphanage, but when he finally opened up, his teachers were amazed by his sharp mind. Saravan had had no difficulty obtaining a scholarship for his college education. Though he had been offered a seat in IIM Bangalore, he turned it down, prefering to start a consultancy service with a friend of his. His teachers back at the orphanage were not surprised when Saravan's start up became one of the biggest consultancy companies of India in a few short years. But they were indeed surprised when Saravan turned up one day at the orphanage and volunteered to collect donations. His friend playfully said that Saravan was such a big miser that to avoid donating cash from his own pocket, he had volunteered to do the door to door collection. However, his friend too knew about the monthly sums of money that enriched the coffers of the orphanage were from Saravan's personal bank account.

Raghu was indeed the most experienced and qualified guy for the job and Saravan made sure that Raghu was selected for the position. Saravan knew better than to perpetuate hate and irrationality. Besides, he had never mixed business with emotions. Raghu went home that night, removed the poster of Jimmi Hendrix from his wall and replaced it with a blown up photo of his new favorite rockstar, Saravan.