lost...

What have u come to be?! where once there was a bright eyed youngster with dreams, hopes and aspirations, now all i see is an empty shell of a human being whose dull eyes seem to hold nothing more than the vacant stare of a man who has no goal to aspire for. Where once conviction, purpose and ideals rang deep and sound in tat voice and speech, all i hear now are hollow words, the echoes resounding in the emptiness the words vainly strive to veil.

How long has it been since u did, anything that would have raised an appreciative brow from a fellow human being, from the few people who seem to look up to u, who still think that u are worth more to this world that a piece of stone or a glass of water. How long has it been that you have let those creative juices flow, did something worthwhile which could have withstood critical review as something notable which millions of others in the world could not have created ?

How long has it been that u have dared to look within yourself, too afraid to see what you might find? how long has it been that u have done something , purely for pleasure, either for your own or for someone elses, untainted by worry, just u and the deed and the feeling of satisfaction or pleasure that u had so loved?

Football doesnt seem to be what it once was, and u , no longer the player u once were. I seem to have hit a creative roadblock - be it in Football, or writing? how long has it been that the "idea" has been brewing in ur mind, entrapped in your vicious laziness, for want of a better word, slowly decaying in the sepulchural gloom of your swampy mind?

u seem to have gone wrong along the way.. gone terribly wrong. u now are beginning to no longer be able to trust the choices that u make, the principles u once thought u might have had? u are lost...and lonely... and sad...

its been a while...

Its been a while... a while, since many things.. a while since i ve felt the adrenaline rush of a victory hard fought, a while since I ve laughed till my sides hurt, a while since I ve felt the pangs of grief so deep that I feel the leaden weight that settles on the soul.. a while since I ve seen, heard or felt something so beautiful that it seems to touch a part of me deeper than I knew existed.. and more importantly, its been a while.. a while, since I truly felt inspired, a while since I truly felt alive..it sure has been a while..

The past few weeks have flowed by in a lazy stupor of comfort and languidness. I miss the cold touch of the wall against my back, the rush of pride in rising up to a challenge, the sweetly sour taste of tears of joy. I miss the dull ache of my legs after a grueling football match, the sight of the bulging net after I score. I miss the thrill of setting foot on unexplored territory, the joy in meeting new people. I miss the creative fulfillment of writing, the fun of film-making; I miss the power of new ideas, the strength of old ones; I miss him, I miss her, I miss you.

These days were fun, a cosy interlude in a confused life. But today I feel, the confusion is what makes me who I am, the motley of interests are what keeps me alive. Albeit a little confused, but alive.

Its time. Its time.. to wake up.

Letter to the Me, ten years down the lane

Ten years down the line, when I read this post, I want myself to be able to say "yes" to each one of these:

I should :
1. Still be in shape. Not even a hint of a belly!
2.Still be playing football regularly.
3.Travelling to a new country once every two years.
4.Taking a trip every two months.
5.Keeping at least one day per week for doing something I love, other than my work.
6.Be involved in socially responsible activities.
7.Still be blogging/writing regularly.
8.Still be in touch with old school and college friends.
9.Should have done scuba diving at least once.
10.Should have gone on a safri in Africa.
11.Should have done skydiving at least once.
12.Be taking up football coaching at least at school or community level.
13.Be settled in India.
14.Should have riden a motorcycle at more than 300 kmph.
15.Should be reading at least one book per month for pleasure.
16.Should ensure my children learn at least four to five languages( if i have them by then and they can learn by then :P ).
17.Should have seen a Bengal tiger in close quarters in the jungle at least once.
18.Should have camped a night in the depths of the jungle.
19.Should be active in wildlife photography.
20.Should still be taking steps rather than a lift to the office.

Inspired

I love getting inspired. I love the goosebumps I get when I read about or watch a movie on inspiring true stories and amazing people. I see in them everything I want to be and everything I wish I was. Their courage and determination make me feel alive. They renew the hope in me that anything is indeed possible. When life tends to fall into its mundane monotony, all I need is to open my laptop or browse through a book and at the end of it, I feel energised, I feel alive again. It gives me the strength to go through the drudgery of everyday life, knowing that there is always the promise of great things in the horizon.

Proud to be an MNNIT-ian at last!

I feel happy. I feel satisfied. I feel that warmth in the stomach which you feel when you know your efforts have been rewarded, your sacrifices have borne fruits.

The atrocious acts committed by two faculty members on students woke MNNIT from its stupor and it roared in unison for justice in a long battle that not only tested our limits but brought out the best from all of us. For the uninitiated, this was what happened:

Some students ( boys and girls ) had planned to go on a picnic to celebrate their victory in the recently concluded cultural fest. While boarding the bus during the the morning of March 21st,2010, they were "spotted" by the hostel guards and the warden was "informed'. The warden promptly arrived on the scene and confronted the group and proceeded to abuse them and reprimand them for not taking "permission" for the trip which was to a place nearby and wasnt an overnight trip or anything ( are we in KG for god's sakes?! ). Not being satisfied, he proceeds to drag the boys by force into the hostel were he then locks them up in a room and assaults them with whatever he can get his hands on including slippers. After the brutal assault, he detains the girls for a long time and calls up their parents to inform them that their daughter has become a prostitute! The boys' parents are next in line and are informed that their wards have been caught in a sex racket! ( nice imagination, I should say ).

More details can be found at http://www.nitstandsup.blogspot.com/

Hearing about this mindless attack, the college proceeded to protest in unison and an enormous crowd gathered from sunday afternoon at the deputy director's residence demanding the resignation and public apology from the guilty parties. The arrival of the police and media soon followed. Though several halfhearted attempts and veiled threats were made from the officials, the crowd refused to budge till justice was served. In the scorching sun, about thousand five hundred of us stood, the fire in our hearts burning stronger than the raging sun. Thus began an all night vigil which saw the students spend the night in the road. During this course, several officials including the Director's wife came forward with an apology "on behalf" of the thick skinned individuals who did not have the decency to face up to their actions but preferred to hide behind closed doors.

With dawn came no reuction in the resoluteness of the students and they held firm. The shifting of the protest from the residential colony to the main building was the only change as the officials remained firm and refused to meet any of the students' demands.

In the unrelenting sun, surrounded by RAF police armed with guns and tear gas canisters, the student soldiered on for justice. Food was arranged from various sources and distributed to the starving masses, who did not even break for food. Meeting after meeting was held, but with no result. The officials pleaded and threatened, all to no avail. The guilty professors remained steadfast in their decision to not apologise despite overwhelming damning evidence of their misdemeanor. The most the officials could concede was an assurance that a committee would be set up and the incident investigated. But after four years in MNNIT we all knew how long that would take. We demanded some immediate action and an apology while the committee was formed and the investigation done.

Finally, buckling under the enormous pressure, the committee was hastilty formed and the growing mass of students were invited to the main auditorium for a meeting. And finally twenty eight hours later,the first step towards justice was taken. All three of the guilty faculty members were advised to resign from their respective posts of Chief warden, Warden and President-SAC. And an assurance was given that the committee would submit its report of the investigation within a week. It was a small but significant victory in the path to justice.

Throughout the twenty eight long arduous hrs of the protest, the whole student community, from not just all over India, but all over the world stood hand in hand fighting for justice for people, most of them did not even know. Girls broke out of locked gates of their hostel to participate in the protest against the inhuman atrocity committed against their brothers and sisters. threats of dire consequences moved not a soul as all stood firm.

And most of all, most importantly, not one act of violence resulted. Not one abuse was hurled against the professors. The students shamed the faculty with their exemplary behavior and conduct throughout the protest. crowd of 1500-2000 odd enraged frustrated students and not even one small act of violence and abusing is indeed amazing. And it is for this, more than anything else, that I am proud of having been one among them. Today will go down in MNNIT history as the day when the students stood up for themselves, the day when justice was served, the day when the power of unity overwhelmed everything else. But more importantly, today will go down as the day when the students "taught" their teachers a thing or two about the power of peace.

Kudos to every one of us there, to the exceptional leadership shown by the student leaders and the admirable handling of the situation by the review committee.

At last, after four years, I finally feel proud to be an MNNIT-ian.

கண்ணாடி ( Mirror )

Yesterday while sitting in class, I got this sudden urge to see how good I was in writing in tamil, a language which I ve been talking since my childhood but am pretty bad at, according to my tamil friends. This was the result... ( I have translated it as well as i can in english at the end, but I guess as they say, a translation can never capture the original)


அவள் கண்களின் ஓரத்தில் ஒரு கண்ணீர் துளி தேங்கியது. கல்லூரிச் சாலையில் நடந்து போகவே அவள் தான்அறியாமலே மனதின் விசித்ரமான சாலைகளிலிருந்து வழிமாரி ஒரு ஆபத்தான சந்தில் நுழைந்துவிட்டாள் .
கண்ணீர்துளியிடம் அவள் போராடினாள். துளும்பி நிற்கும் கண்களை யாரும் பார்க்க குடாதென்று அவள் பார்வையை கீழே வைத்து நடந்தாள். சாலை மாணவர்களால் நிறைந்து இருந்தது. அவற் கூட்டம் கூட்டமாக போகும் காட்சி அவள் தனிமையின் ஆறாத புண்ணில் குத்தியது. அவள் இன்னும் வேகமாக நடந்தாள். எதோ அவள் வேகத்தில் தன வேதனைகளை இழந்து விட முடியும்போல். மனதின் லத்சியமில்லாமல் தன் கால்கள் போகும் வழியே அவள் சென்றாள்.
தானரியமலேயே கல்லூரி அருகில் இருக்கும் குளத்தில் அவள் வந்திருந்தாள். அதே இடத்தில் அவனிடம் சிரித்த சிரிப்புகளும் செய்த குறும்பகளும் அவளே வாட்டியது. அருகில் இருக்கும் மரங்களில் இருந்து ஒரு கிளி கூட பாடவில்லை.
காற்றில்லா அம்மலையில் ஒரு இலை கூட நகரவில்லை.
குளத்தில் தண்ணீர் ஒரு பெரும் கண்ணாடி போலிருந்தது.
அவள் போராட்டத்தில் தோல்வி அடைந்தால்.அவளை வென்ற கண்ணீர் துளி அக்கண்ணாடியை உடைத்தது. குளத்தின் நாலு பக்கமும் அலையாய் பாய்ந்தது.

A teardrop nestled in the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill out of her full, sad eyes. Walking through the school road, her mind wandered across memory's treacherous paths. Careful not to let anyone see her tear-filled eyes, she fixed her gaze on to the road. The road was filled with children - laughing, gossiping, teasing- in groups. Their sight and sounds stung her deep wound of loneliness. She walked faster, as though, to out-walk her pain. Aimless, she walked on, with no destination in her troubled mind, just following her tiring legs. She battled her tears.

She found herself standing at the lake near the school. Her subconscious mind had brought her to one of their favorite rendezvous spots. Not a bird chirruped or a leaf rustled in the trees nearby. The lake looked like a giant mirror in the breeze-less evening. Memories came flooding back- those naughty pranks, those peals of laughter, those meaningful silences. They tormented her. She could feel them choking her.

And then she lost her battle. The victorious teardrop fought its way out of its ocular prison and flew down to the lake, shattering the mirror, and rushing in waves to infinity.

I miss walking...

I miss walking..

Back when I was around eight or ten, we used to have this family ritual of going for a walk after dinner. Back then, we were living in Karaikal, a quaint little coastal town and our home was only half a km from the waterfront. The soft gentle sea breeze which whistled through the swaying conifers and rustling neems lining the road in front of my house still brings a smile of pleasure when I think of it. Since we were living inside my fathers company quarters, traffic on the road was non-existent.In fact, it was a private road, if I may.

So every night, after dinner, while my mother cleared up and washed the dishes, my dad, sister and me would put on our bata chappals(the sandal colored ones if u know wat i mean ) and step out into the cool evenig air and begin our walk across the small stretch of road we called home. To and fro, we would go, with the soothing breeze on our face and the satisfaction of a tasty meal on our tongue, walking the walk, talking the talk. Typically, my sister would be in full flow, recounting in glorious detail every step she took in school, every word her teachers said, while my father listened attentively, his hands behind his back, his ears cocked ever so slightly to her side.

And there I would be , on the other side, half my mind processing this steady stream of information, but the other half just wandering here and there, and all this while, my hands moving involuntarily bowling an imaginary yorker or spanking a scorching drive through the covers. And it is in these walks, that I feel I learnt more than in any classroom. It is on these walks that I learnt from my father questions ranging from space travel to relativity, from the color of sunlight to the appreciation of a poem. I have learnt more from those discussions with my father and sister on everything under the sun ( or rather the moon ) than anything I ve learnt in any classroom ( though to be fair, I haven't really tried the latter ;) ). But more than all, I learn about the joy of walking.. I learnt about the warmth of togetherness...
And after a while, my father would fetch me inside to see what was keeping my mother so long. And when she too joins us, her work for the day done, we walk together, cocooned in the warmth of togetherness.

I miss walking...

Life in black and white...

I remember, back when i was a kid, thinking that life in previous generations used to be in black and white. I swear, I believed that. I could just imagine people walking about, talking , going to school, raising families, everything- but in black and white. Maybe it was all those black and white movies of yesteyears or maybe it was those black and white photographs of my parents and grandparents back in their childhood- whatever it was, it had me sold good on the idea. Even now, sometimes when i am in a nostalgic mood, when i am thinking fondly of old memories, I like trying to imagine those times in black and white- a greyscaled footage of snapshots in slowmotion. Somehow, it all seems simpler, happier, and more heartwarming .. try it :)

What's under your eyelids?!

The mind is a fickle thing! Have you ever tried just lying down with your eyes closed and try to see?? Sounds absurd?! What I mean is have u tried seeing whats at the back of your eyelids?! havent?! try it ! it can be pretty fun and a bit disorienting. But dont worry, sanity is just an eyelid away :)

Looking back...and forward...

Am back again..staring at the familiar screen of the blog's new post window, which still looks ( astonishingly, considering today's fast changing world) so similar to the screen that stared at me when i first got this urge to blog some five years back..
and i wonder.. how things have changed, how much i have grown..or how much i haven't...

And i think of all the journeys that I have been on ... and i mean not just the ones on which i traveled places. I think of all those dreams left behind, those ideals compromised, those heights gained and those lows reached. I think of all those people who I ve met on this journey, a few who are still close in heart and body..so many, oh so many who lie buried in the deepest recesses of my memory, biding their time, waiting for those flashes of deja vu to resurface them, albeit fleetingly into consciousness, a sweet reminder of days gone by, greyscaled footage of memories which seems to surprise you with their clarity and detail.

I like thinking about the good times I had.. somehow they seem better every passing year. As though the fun and smiles are like wine, growing better and settling down as the years fly by. I only wish I could just sit back with nary a thought in my head in an easy chair like the one grandfather used to recline in after lunch ( a charukasera, in malayalam, a simple elegant but immensely comfortable piece of furniture ) and just stare at the bright blue sky and lose myself in golden memories, and let my mind wander by itself to wherever it chooses. Ah! bliss.. But I guess, such peace of mind is a long way off, something to be earned, not dreamt wistfully off..But till that day, I will dream on..