Restless Fingers

The Patriot [ Attempt of a sonnet]

2012-01-26T04:27:00.011-05:00

In the pursuit of making both the ends meet

Middle class embrace worries in the forms of dues

"Our lives we sacrifice—our wishes soon deplete

Patriotism rests in news and views"

Love, pain, agony are emotions same

At the behest of hunger, Poor are blinded

Illegal acts, protests under anyone’s name

Hunger taught them not to get offended

Bon jour mademoiselle, the Rich love to talk!

"Ooh la la! Our emotions are subtly woven

We have organized 'Feed the Hungry' walks

Always we have been socially, droven"

Each section, unaware of the other

Oh yes! ‘course we are sisters and brothers

I have attempted a sonnet. A sonnet is a form of poetry. The poem consists of 14 lines and each line has ten syllables.
The picture is taken from Google.

Explanation: Each stanza refers to one section of the society. First : Middle Class, Second : Poor and the Third: Rich. Trying to bring out the patriot in each!

Feast of Roses

2012-01-20T05:56:00.002-05:00

The Dried Flower

The color had faded
the memory did not
Between those old pages
Found our first flower

First Rose

"Ten rupees" he demand
Pleaded "Make it five?"
He smiled. He realised
Love--my only wealth

Under the Pillow

Placed under the pillow
White rose I picked
The thorn hurt first
Painted the rose, red

Note: These are short writes called Jorios. Four lines and each line contains four words.
It must capture a moment. None of the lines must rhyme.

This is my first attempt.

Stubborn Pen

2012-01-19T22:32:00.001-05:00

Is it loss of words

that makes it just doodle?

In circles, it aimlessly scribbles.

My pen does not want to write!

It says "Benevolently, I’ve spilled over papers

But now, with my own refill I’ve had a fight

We strike. We do not wish to write!"

Stubborn!

The nib turns away its head

Doesn’t write any letter of the alphabet

Unbound..

It refuses to be a puppet

L...o..ve..e

2012-01-19T11:57:00.004-05:00

“I .. I love .. you” He stammered.
She looked at him and took the flower, which he dropped on the floor.
She was 21, fully blossomed and pretty.
He was 23. Handsome but often stammered and was an introvert.

She called him but he quickly walked to his home, at the end of the corridor. She sat there unusually quiet and looked at the vacant space.

They were together since they were kids!
He was sevens year old. He keenly listened to her as she enacted her teacher. Wore huge spectacles and held a long cane. She asked questions and he answered.
He stammered with difficulty but she patiently calmed him down.

A little older, she now worried how she looked.
A little pimple had kissed her forehead and she sat glum. Sitting in the sun, she sat putting up a irritating face. She bore the heat as someone said, “your pimple might just break..”

He came towards her and stammered “hea..t stroke..yo..u..willl..gettt..” and took her along with him.
“I wont look nice with this pimple..” she cribbed.

“you u.. are.. beautifu..ll..” he managed to say

Tears rolled down as she reminisced all of it today.
Today, he finally confessed, what they felt everyday!

Book Review::Musings by Nivedita Mallick [Poetry]

2012-01-15T22:01:00.001-05:00

Sixteen poems breathing reality, “Musings” is a reflection of our life--A magnified perspective of it. Nivedita, the poet has picked the scars that usually left an indelible mark on our mind.

She has presented them from her point of view. Each of us have gone through the expereinces or will go through them at one point or the other and she has penned the poems right from the bottom of the heart. Most of the poems are free verses.

Her choice of words and language flows like a river. None of the words seem forced and she has not tried too hard to rhyme them. The poems are rhythmic. I am glad she written the different pieces of life. You, Weddings, Son, Adieu, Darkness, I work.. are some of the poems which I liked from this collection of poetry.

Nivedita has not used a lot of metaphors which will confuse. She has painted each poem with the right mix of self introspection on the way we live our lives, our abandoned dreams.

While many say it is pain that makes one write, I feel it’s the experiences (at least after reading this wonderful collection, which will stay for long with me). Some of us accept it while some of us don’t. But deep down there is a lonely person who wants to come out and run through the hills, sit at the bank of the river and write. Be it poetry or prose. Purchase this book. It will touch your heart.

Buy the book here

I look back; peering;

Through the verdant pines on the hill

As if the pink and gray building

Would still beckon me [excerpt of one of the poems, Adieu]

Tea (Chai)

2012-01-15T00:02:00.001-05:00

It’s not the ingredients of the tea
But your company
That makes it a delicacy
Chuckling
... ... Arguing
Talking
Dirtier the glass, tastier it gets
Making promises to change the world
For a while, our own world we forget!

Come, let's together have some tea
One spoon sugar for me
How sweet would you want it to be?

Pic Courtesy: Joshi Daniel

Good News::One short story in Print :)

2012-01-13T06:21:00.000-05:00

Hello fellow Bloggers and friends,

One of my short stories, Matron and Pinky is published in a magazine.
Check below for more details:

I hope you guys submit your posts to Aquillrelle :).

Aquillrelle believes:

*Being a published author is in no way recognition of greatness, the way that not being published is in no way dismissal of talent. Being published means mostly being in the right place at the right time, having some relevant talent and mostly – having “a champion to carry you”. We are sure there are some great talents out there, waiting to be discovered. Maybe participating in these contests is the tool that will kick you out in the limelight, who knows?

For details about writing contests, check http://nnivedita.com/portfolio/write-write-write/.

Short Story::Bitter Half

2012-01-11T23:13:00.004-05:00

He stormed out. And the door shivered banging continuously. She barged into her room and dropped on the bed. Hugging the pillow, she wept. Inconsolably.

Rubbing her running nose and wiping her tears, she remembered her mother’s words “You will suffer Priyu for what you are doing....As a boyfriend Abhi will be the sweetest.. you will get to know when he becomes a husband.. things will change, Priyu..You cannot take it alone!”

She had coolly remarked “Abhi is not like Nana, Amma…”

“Priyamavada.. “ her mother screamed, as Priyamvada Rao was packing her clothes to live a blissful life with Abhimanyu Tripathi, her college sweetheart and now, husband.

“mind your tongue. You’ve gone mad … when you begin to live together, you will know the pain..Money is important too.. Love will not buy you things..” her mother advised before Priyamvada left the home to live with Abhi.

She remembered the innumerable advices that poured in when she decided to leave her home and get married to Abhi. One of her school mates had advised “Aiyoo.. Priyu.. why do you want marry North Indian re? They only look fair and nice re.. Even Akka loved my neighbor but luckily Amma had saved her.”

Priyamavada laughed and had brushed all the thoughts, aside then. She knew Abhi too well and all these were mere foolish comparisons.

But, why did she think of it now? She wiped her tears and looked for her phone. She looked around the one BHK flat. Finally, she found her phone, lying near the stove. They had purchased it and most of the essentials mortgaging her gold ornaments.

She had taken it while leaving home for buying the essential items for survival till Abhi and she secure a job.

In haste, she dialed his old number. When the electronic message read. She realized that they had changed their numbers.

She searched for his new number and dialed it. Her heart beat faster and the phone rang.

Tring.. Tring..

It rang.. Abhi took a last puff and finally threw the cigarette. He ignored his phone which rang incessantly. The phone vibrated again. It was a message. It read "I am very sorry.. :(.. Come home.. I miss you.." He messaged "In a while. I love you!"

She replied "I love you a lot.."

He purchased the third cigarette at the Pan Shop and paid 3 rupees to him. The Pan shop owner said in a monotonous tone.. “Four rupees..”

And, he handed it over to him, after searching his pockets thoroughly. He reminisced the Pan shop wala near college where his account was still due, and smiled. His friends and he used to purchase packets and go on long drives.

He consulted his friends when he decided to go against his family's wishes and marry Priyamwada. His friend Prajwal had suggested, “Don’t worry yaar..We are there for you... My uncle works in a company.. and we can manage a job..His term is about to end but we can manage… ”

“you leave your home and another one BHK flat is ready for you.. You earn and you can even pay for your college fees..” Prajwal encouraged

After a lot of contemplation, Abhimanyu decided to move out of his home. He had convinced Priyamwada too. She was skeptical in the beginning but eventually agreed. After all, they felt they were inseparable and nothing could separate them. In the beginning, they tried convincing their respective parents . Their denial and their fury, forced them to take the extreme step of revolting against them.

After a lot of melodrama at Priyamwada’s home, she left the home. Taking her father’s curse and her mother’s advice against the wedding, Priyamwada Rao walked out. Abhimanyu’s family refused to even talk with him.

Abhimanyu and Priyamwada finally moved out to make a life of their own.

But by the time, they had decided to move out, Prajwal’s uncle term had end and the management had changed. They had decided to recruit only candidates with an year or more of experience.

Prajwal’s uncle had tried but failed to help Abhi. When Prajwal broke the news to Abhimanyu, he was shattered.

Prajwal said “No worries yaar.. we will manage..” "But still, it would take time!" Abhi thought

How would they complete their education? How would Priyamwada pursue her ambition? How long would the mortgaged money last? Their friends were still in college too! How long would they help them? And how much would they help?

That evening, the battle of “I told you so..” “We should have listened to our parents..” followed and for the first time, they felt the harsh pinch of reality.

Abhimanyu walked back to his home, kicking the stone that lay on the road. He could not think anything. He went to the flat and found the door still open.

He went in to see Priyamwada still crying. He hugged her tight. She said "Don't worry.. we still have some of the ornaments to be mortgaged.."
"Hmm.." Abhi hushed her.
After hours of incomprehensible silence,

each of them had a glassful of milk and slept.

The next morning, Abhimanyu was still lying down on his bed. Hoping the day would be better, Just then, he heard Priyamwada scream ..”Abhiiiiiiiiiiiiii… “

He jumped out of his bed.. and ran to her.. she cried “My jewellary is missing..”

Book Review:: South of Center by Andrea Carter

2012-01-10T02:40:00.001-05:00

Opening line: Clorinda exhaled heavily and watched as the taut strands cut her breath into thin slices.

South of Center is a journey of lives interwoven. A journey with a comical touch. Even the most planned route, can fail and to believe so, read this book of sorts where Clorinda weaves dresses of left over clothes.

She recycles them. Her art is inspired by Sr Ortega’s (a poor miner’s son who redefines history).

I found this story pretty amusing, different and refreshing. With a touch of magic realism, the story goes leaps and bounds beyond are imagination. The characters in the book are well connected.

Although I could not connect with most part of it, yet I enjoyed the book.

It was like a foreign trip for me. Relishing the moving images and the scenes created.

Read the book to know more about the unique journey.

And here is a link for direct purchase:

https://www.createspace.com/3480037

Author's Interview

Book Review::The Old Man and His God by Sudha Murty

2012-01-07T11:56:00.001-05:00

What do a slab in a little village in Karnataka and a teacher have in common? How can a highly qualified working woman be jealous of her domestic help living in a small slum? Is blood relationship the only guarantee for a lifelong bond?

Answering several questions with her anecdotes, Sudha Murty’s The Old Man and His God is a collection of 25 stories. The stories itself are so strong that even without a great narrative style, the book leaves a indelible mark on your mind.

Simple and lucid, the twenty stories are incidents and stories that Sudha Murty experiences in her journey through the length and breadth of the country. Sudha Murty is the chairperson of the Infosys Foundation. She also teaches Computer Science to post graduate students.

My favourite stories are the Horregallu. The story is set in a village in Karnataka. Horregallu means “a stone that can bear weight.” And, Sudha Murty narrates how her grandfather used to sit on the Horregallu and speak to farmers who are on their way to the city carrying the burden of their produce. Speaking to them and then going on their work, would be a refreshing experience. She then tells that at her workplace, a teacher does a similar job. She just listens and advices accordingly.

An excerpt of the same story:

Perhaps in their own small ways, without access to great wealth, both these people were doing some tremendous social work. No one thought of acknowledging their work, or rewarding them for it, but they continues to do, as these small acts of kindness gave them joy.

The story reminded me of several listeners in my life who do it compassionately. And, it does take a lot of patience and commitment to be interested in others problems, while you have your own. So, when you read this story, do think of the listeners in your life and acknowledge them in your own little way.

The 131-paged book can be rated a comfortable 3.5/5. Do read it for the powerful experiences and the invaluable lessons that the author gift wrapped in this book. Each story is about four pages long so one can comfortably munch on it between work or busy hours for motivation.

You can purchase it here

Shadows

2012-01-05T02:50:00.001-05:00

Shadows of yesterdays tease
Imitating the foolish and naive
and say "that was once, you and me.
We've moved to another land"
And, try to pull me by my hand

I relieve myself and chuckle at the shadow's stupidity

Surrounded by feet that run
and have forgotten to walk
I whisper:
"A mirage you're trying to stalk"

But they persist....

Happy New Year

2012-01-03T05:59:00.003-05:00

Happy New Year dearest Bloggers! :) It's been a different year :)
Just a peek a boo into the year 2011 (a mixed year).

January:
All things were not too well,
Dad fell ill!
Celebrated Sankranti in the Hospital

Placed a Kite beside Dad's bed
He wished he flew the kite,
while being fed

February:
Hoped there were good times ahead
Good wishes and prayers were wed

March:
Ignite Hyderabad that bound us all
Planning, meeting. ah! had a ball

April:
Our first Ignite meet in the month of Spring
for all of us--It was the coolest thing

May:
Got the first print of my book, too
Ah! Happiness, excitement, feelings, new
Mummy made my favourite pudding
Felt like a crazy kid while cutting! :D

Speeches for toastmasters and fears, I spoke aloud
Found new friends, a class apart from the crowd
With grandfather I had times, that I could cherish
A relation, with phone calls and meetings-it got nourished

June and July just went by
In events, galore,
realised time just flies

September was not a pleasant one for us
Grandfather's death ramshackled all of us

Gathering strength and courage, October tip toed to November in few days
Despite arguments, Gradmother made sure we celebrate my birthday

November was when Ravi got married too
Went to Bhubaneswar to greet the couple, new

Many things brew in the month of December
Old promises, renewed and still gorged on the cake of November

Made new friends in this year
Tried to Dishoom Dishoom my fears

Endeavours and promises, were made
And buried, all things that were decayed

The new year, I wish, brings a lot of joys, good luck, good health for all
Hope we explore more of our heritage instead of whiling away time in the mall(s) :P

Wishing all my blogger friends a Happy 2012! :)

BC, Abhinav, Dolly Akka -- for always reading my blogs
Other bloggers for filling my blogroll with ideas, new
AC-- for always advising! Thank you--Enidhi and the anonymous too

Lindy -- Hugs for letting me know about books to read
And, each person who taught me something
Be it how to blog better or the function "RSS feed" ;)

Happy Blogging--Let's get better and give more! :)

January 2012 has given me its first present
"My blog 'nnivedita.com' is in news"

Happy New Year, again :)

Book Review::Children of War By Anirudh Annam

2012-01-02T03:34:00.002-05:00

For Book Review, click here

Quick Interview with the Author

Why did you think of this genre when most people of your age are making their mark in the genre of love and romance?

Anirudh: I prefer action thrillers to romance novels.

I think that as a nation, India has had an overdoes of romance.

Our films, books, music and any other form of entertainment media are always centered around romance and love. I personally think it is time for our entertainment to gain more diversity.

I grew up reading action thrillers and I absolutely enjoy them.

I would love to share the joys of reading action thrillers with readers in India and for that reason,

I will continue to write thriller novels for Indian readers.

What is the kind of research you did?
I've seen you mentioned names of Mr. Shankar Dayal Sharma and also, Sam Manekshaw.

Anirudh: The research aspect of my book was one of the most enjoyable aspect of writing it. I studied defense technology journals and gathered information over a whole year. The characters in the book are faced with challenges that force them to think on their feet. Military forces around the world use psychometric tests to study soldiers' response to these conditions in battle. Some of these studies are published in defense journals and they offer a unique and in depth insight into the mind of an elite soldier. A lot of times, soldiers in the military face much tougher situations than our films and books can even dare to imagine. As for Sam Manekshaw and Shankar Dayal Sharma, I wanted to focus on how top secret the entire project was. It was created outside the normal system and it was only known to Field Marshal Manekshaw and the President of India. The secrecy was needed in order to ensure that the project would have the liberty to do its job of hunting terrorists. Overall, the book has been an incredible learning experience. I thoroughly enjoyed learning about military weapons and vehicles in this research process.

What is the advice for budding writers who want to venture into writing which is unromantic.

Anirudh: My advice for young writers is to venture out into topics they truly enjoy reading. When you enjoy reading a certain genre, you can write a great novel in that genre. People write towards catering to the market's need (read romance here) but when you do that, you are writing for a genre that you do not enjoy. Your book will no longer be a work of art but it will become like an assembly line production made by a machine. For writing to be an art, you have to enjoy it.

Hyderabad Book Fair 2011 [A review]

2011-12-23T08:28:00.001-05:00

Venue: Peoples Plaza, Necklace Road, Hyderabad
Dates: 16th December to 25th December 2011
My view: The Book Fair is a semi-paradise for everyone who loves to read Telugu and cherishes “Navalalu,” “Kavyalu” (Novels and Poems).

Dominated mostly by Telugu literature, the Fair introduces you to a rare collection of books which you often wouldn’t find in any book store in the city. There were few stalls which offered Hindi literature too.

Contrary to last year’s exhibition, which had a huge variety of English books, this year the number is less. Scholastic, Jaico, Oxford, being among the popular publishing houses.

One could also find, M.R. Book Center and Book Point (among the locals). M.R. Book Center has always offered a good discount. This time, they have done justice too. Their collection is always good.

Bought : have a little faith (originally INR 500) for INR 200 at M.R. Book Center.
Sudha Murthy’s How I taught my grandmother to read for INR 50 rupees at M.R. Book Center
A Hindi Kavitha Book “Kroortha” for 50 rupees at a Hindi Stall.

I am not an avid Telugu Litereature fan, so couldn’t purchase. But I am sure, this Fair would be a treat for all those who cherish and read the Telugu Literature. Their stalls were almost full.
Psst.. Chetan Bhagat’s books and Robin Sharma’s books’ translation was available too.

P.S.: M.R. Book Center is located below Panjagutta flyover and opposite Lifestyle too. You find a good collection of Science Fiction for very less price there.

Sridhar Sattiraju, an avid Book Reader's Review :

Hyderabad Book Fair opens for the 26th year in Necklace Road. In the last 26 years, I would have missed only once when I was abroad. What pains me about this book fair is that the quality of book fair has been only deteriorating over the years.

Shifting of venue from Chikkadpally to Nizam College grounds to Necklace Road hasnt done wonders to the book-reading culture nor improved the Society's thinking level. The tragedy of Hyderabad is that people here don't read books or read books as much as a Book Fair Organiser feels encouraged. The footfalls are good but many stall owners tell me not many buy at the Fair.

I just had a cursory round - the customary first round and was apalled at the quality and the vision of the Fair. The entry ticket is priced at Rs.5/-. That tells how diffident the organisers feel about footfalls. Five Rupees is not even inflation-adjusted since 1990s - might as well open the doors for free. The parking and pop-corn and chat items outside the Venue of Book Fair actually fetch more than the price for entry. Jewellery Fairs and Career Exhibitions fetch higher entry charges. Besides, the choice of stalls has always been unimaginative. This time, you even have a stall sellilng Pirated Hollywood DVDs apart from Handwriting Analysis workshops and Multi-color Web offset Printers and Maps and White-board markers and Games. How the hell are all these related to Book-Reading and Book-lovers?

In one of the book-shops, the owner was haggling with a Distributor at what discount to sell a book that's exclusively marketed by them. Its titled: "Tragedy of Hyderabad". I didn't even bother to look at that book. Might be an apt description of the book-culture in Hyderabad.

This is a city where parties are thrown to drown beer, play pool, brag about the acres of land in Vikarabad and Gandipet, and of course, the latest political and filmi issues. Books? A Big No. I have been to International Book Fairs in New Delhi, Kolkata, Bengaluru, Mumbai and dream of going for Frankfurt one day - and wished that Hyderabad will have a Fair thats worthy of world renown.

Now, I am reconciled that the city will get the Book Fair it deserves. Even the Vijayawada and Vizag Book Fairs get more book volumes according to the organisers - and atleast people there are starved of good books to see and read and buy. Hyderabad Blues for book-lovers!


FIVE POINT SOMEONE IN TELUGU: IIT lo ATHAISARUGALLU (means literally 50% marks)

Stupid Girl (Poem)

2011-12-21T23:55:00.002-05:00

Twirling like she flew in the air,

Played along the little girl with every less hair

She kept telling and inviting me for her birthday

I wondered why did she celebrate one, everyday

She invited all her friends and cut a cake

With special instructions, she saw as it was being baked

She never knew what lay ahead.. just twirled around

In every minute, her happiness she found

I bade her a good bye for that day and promised to meet her again

Days got busier and I never did, but one fine day, I crossed her lane

I searched for her but she wasn’t found

Worried, I asked people around

Some wept and some mourned,

Told me by fate, she was disowned

She lived no longer amidst us

No wonder, everyday she created a ruckus

A madness within her that kept others alive

While she truly lived, others pretended to survive

Book Review::Wedding Wallah by Farahad Zama

2011-12-17T11:00:00.008-05:00

Opening lines*: Mrs. Ali could have sworn that the thief had a sneaky look in his eye as he crept close to his target.

Publisher: Abacus

Genre: Fiction

Can be picked here

The main story is about a Marriage Bureau (MB) which is named as “Marriage Bureau for the Rich People.” Run by Mr. and Mrs. Ali, the MB invites several community people who are affluent and seek a suitable bride/groom.

And, Mrs. Bilqis is one of their affluent clients. Her proposal is for their niece, Pari. Mr. and Mrs. Ali are astonished as Pari is a impoverished widow. A bright and beautiful girl, Pari lost her husband but has adopted a young boy from her hometown.

Pari lives independently and works in a Call Center. She loves her son dearly and wishes to make his life as pleasant as possible. Mrs. Bilqis is ready to accept the son and also give him a wonderful life, much to the astonishment of everybody who knows her.

Why would Mrs. Bilqis, a fiercely status-conscious woman do this? Her son, Dilawar is a handsome and intelligent boy. He accepts Pari too at the persuasion of Mr. and Mrs. Ali’s son, Rehman.

What happens next? Will Pari go ahead with such a mysterious proposition? The story also speaks of topics and subjects which are considered a taboo. But I wouldn’t tell it all. Read the book to know more.

The best part of the book is the fine detailing. Based in Vizag, the book eloquently speaks of the jargons, the culture there. If I were not a Telugu-speaking person, I would have still understood the culture of the place. The strong characters and the narration, garnished with good grammar makes this book a wonderful read.

But, the book has too many subplots and some of them are incomplete.

This is part of a trilogy. The other two are Marriage Bureau for the Rich people and Many conditions of Love.

Excerpt (Found this conversation amusing):

‘Where is my tea?’

‘I am busy,’ she said.

‘I can see that but what is so urgent about scraping the coconut now? I have been waiting for my tea

for almost an hour’

‘Who am I doing this for?” said Mrs. Ali.

Over all, its a good read set in the backdrop of Vizag. With characters neatly sketched, the author has done a fair job.

About the author: Farahad Zama, born in 1966 at Vizag,
is a alumnus of IIT Kharagpur. He now lives in London with his family.

*-Just this one time. I liked this on Lindy LouMac’s blog

Elephant

2011-12-09T13:59:00.000-05:00

The majestic elephant -- grey in color (or atleast i feel so), with huge ears used to scare me as a kid but then the day i climbed on by giving a rupee or two at the exhibition.

What a majestic ride! I felt like a queen.
Riding on the Elephant. And looking at the whole exhibition. I could see a little girl buying sweet candy.
And there a little boy was standing in the queue waiting for his turn for a ride.
I could see parents fighting whether to buy their kid that expensive toy or not.

And, i saw a little girl sitting in a corner, maybe she was waiting for someone or wanted to eat something.
The elephant was now swift and I saw the little girl closely.
She smiled feebly at me and I smiled at her showing all my 32 teeth.

She looked tinier and tinier as the Elephant moved and finally i reached the start point where another passenger was ready to get on to the majestic ride.

Nigel Bhai

2011-12-05T06:30:00.002-05:00

Last night I couldn’t sleep. Nigel Bhai, our neighbour is no more.

One might wonder. Why is he called Nigel Bhai?

Nigel is a English name and Bhai usually is a prefix among muslims.

Nigel Bhai was born to a Muslim Father and a Christian mother.
His father was a very close friend of my
Grandfather and they kept in touch through letters for many years.

Nigel Bhai was often seen cycling along with his domestic help, Baabu.
Since Nigel Bhai seldom lived in Hyderabd,
he gifted a small tv set to Baabu and Baabu
would take care of the home and watch Tv.

Baabu played with all us too when we were younger.
He played very good cricket and Badminton.

Recently Nigel Bhai married a widow. She follows Hinduism and has a little son. Everyone was surprised as the lady was not financially stable either but Nigel Bhai was very happy with her.

A month ago, Nigel Bhai had given me a crate of books.

I will soon give it away in the Book-ed initiative Book GiveAway

Hope he rests in peace and may we have more people like Nigel Bhai--

Simple and good!

Book-ed -- Book Give Away [New Addition]

2011-12-03T01:13:00.002-05:00

Thank you for the support Book Readers Lounge and all my friends on Facebook
who have spread my Book Give Away initiative.

The ground rule remains the hard bound or paperback books would be updated every month but
I've received some ebooks from my friends, Abhishek Sainani (who writes at: perpetualthoughts.wordpress.com) and Hitesh, which can be given away.

So grab them here.

I invite books from people as well.
My friend, Naveen Cheekoti would be giving away some books to me.

I am game to spread the magic of reading "your books" as well.

Here's the list of the books given away so far:

The books which are taken::

Title: Charliezz... [Taken]
About the book: Office, Memories and Fun, this book is a good book for a Sunday read. Few grammatical errors, here and there but can be overlooked.
Read more about the book here

Title: Self Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson [Taken]
About the book: The book encourages the title "self reliance." RWE was such a cool guy.
I liked his views.
Read more about the book here
[The book was taken in the earlier Book Give Away by Rachit Agarwal.
He send it to another avid reader :)]

Title: Grandmother's Tales By Rk Narayan [Taken]
About the book: RK Narayan takes us through the Journey of his Grandmother and the life of her ancestors.
Read more about the book here

Title: The Quest of the Sparrows by Kartik Sharma and Ravi 'Nirmal' Sharma [TAKEN]
About the book: One man's quest to travel within himself and how does he do it? By imitating the nomadic quality of the sparrow and leaving everything behind.
Read more about the book here

Title: Short stories by Saadat Hasan Manto [TAKEN]
About the book: Strongly recommended for the lovers of tales of Partition. Exquisitely composed.
Read more about the book here

Title: Of dreams by Aditi Talwar Sodhi [TAKEN]
About the book: A book about three women caught in different situations of life. Delicately woven, the stories tell a powerful tale of love, money, and pride.
Read more about the book here

Title: Notes from a small room by Ruskin Bond [Taken]
About the book: They say that the wise see the world in the grain of sand. Ruskin Bond shares the world he witnesses from a small room. Typing in his typewriter, Mr. Bond amazes us with a interesting tale of the life around him.
Read more about the book here

Title: Long Walk to Freedom (Volume 1: 1918 - 1962) [TAKEN]
About the book: Volume 1 of Nelson Mandela's autobiography.
Read more about the book here

Title: The India i love by Ruskin Bond [Taken]
About the book: Another Ruskin Bond's book. This one's my favourite. Ruskin speaks of the part of India i.e., the hilly terrain, he loves. Must read for back packers.
Read more about the book here

Title: Born Free [TAKEN]
About the book: Emotional, Exciting and Refreshing, the book is the relationship between man and the beast. Intricately woven into a book, the author shares a true story with the majestic Elsa, a lion's cub.
Read more about the book here

Books given till November:

Title: Into the Wild [Taken]
About the book:Written by a Journalist, when he probed deep on the story of mysterious body found in Alaska.
Read more about the book here

Title: A Dilli-Mumbai Love Story [Taken]
About the book:A Love Story, written by Abhimanyu Jha. Carries few grammatical errors, here and there but then the story is good.
Read more about the book here

Title: A Tell Tale Brain [Taken]
About the book:Brain and its intricacies! Uff! Read the book to know Mr. V.S. Ramachandran's interestingly described book about the different aspects of brain. Its Fun!
Read more about the book here

Title: The Curious Incident of the Dog [Taken]
in the Night Time by Mark Haddon
About the book: A well-narrated tale of a young boy who is on a look-out for the murderer of the dog, butchered.
As you turn the pages, the story evolves into something beyond imagination.
Read more about the book here

Title: Delhi is not Far [Taken]
About the book: Simple and striking, the book is about people with dreams which they feel can be fulfilled only in the Capital of our Country. Set in 1960s, the book takes you on a journey with Ruskin Bond. Pick it if you like Ruskin's writes!
Read more about the book here

Title: Flight of the Hilsa [Taken]
About the book: Written by Amit Shankar, One of the few modern books from an Indian author, which makes you REALLY think about "What is Happiness?" "Can i redefine it?"
Read more about the book here

The first lot that was given:
Title: My Experiments with Truth by M.K. Gandhi [Taken]
About the book: Journey of Mohan KaramDas Gandhiji's life from "Rowdy"giri to "Gandhi"giri,
this book is an account of Gandhiji's life.
Read more about the book here

Title: The Lamp is lit by Ruskin Bond [Taken]
About the book: Leaves from his journal, interesting anecdotes from Ruskin Bond's life,
making us wonder about the simplicity and the pure joy derived from it.
Read more about the book here

Title: Two States by Chetan Bhagat (hmmph!#$) [Taken]
About the book: What happens when the Boy is from Delhi and the Girl is from Chennai. Two states. Different Cultures. Poles apart. Yet, love binds them. Two States is a book about story how the couple convinces their parents, for their wedding.
Read more about the book here

Title: The Steve Jobs Way iLeadership for a New Generation
By Jay Elliot [Taken]
About the book: If you're tired of the endless management books, then this one's for you.
The author speaks about the lifestyle of Steve Jobs at work.
Thanks to the author for not putting us to sleep.
Read more about the book here

Title: Bala takes the Plunge by Melvin Durai [Taken]
About the book: Read this humourous account of Bala, a youngster (reaching 30) as he battles with everyday life including "search for a suitable bride"
Read more about the book here

Title: I have a dream by Rashmi Bansal [Taken]
About the book: 20 stories of Social Entrepreneurs. Each of them have a interesting, inspiring and a heart rendering story to share.
Read more about the book here

Title: Self Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson [Taken]
About the book: The book encourages the title "self reliance." RWE was such a cool guy.
I liked his views.
Read more about the book here

Title: Moth Smoke by Mohsin Hamid [Taken]
About the book: Sex, drugs and Youth. The book is about these at Pakistan.
The author from Pakistan has written it very well. Explore his writing.
Read more about the book here
Status: Taken

Book Review::Grandmother's Tale by RK Narayan

2011-12-02T12:30:00.000-05:00

RK Narayan is a brilliant narrator and in this book, he tells about his grandmother who first torments him with lessons on Maths, sitting on her swing.

And later she narrates a tale about her mother and how she was married at a young age.

Her mischievous father who was separated after their marriage as they were very young; Her young husband who seeks on a spiritual pursuit, the distressed young lady in search for her husband and the entire tale set in the back drop of Old Pune (Poona) and Tamil Nadu, makes this book a interesting read.

The narration and the story accompanied by Rk Lakshman’s illustration is a must read for anybody who loves simple and exquisite narration.

Capturing Emotions...

2011-12-01T05:26:00.001-05:00

Liked these pictures? Then, Ride Along with the Banker cum photographer, ChandraSekhar Singh, Personality of this Month, to share his passion for photography!

Run here

[IF YOU NOTICE PEOPLE BUBBLING WITH ENTHU AND PASSION -- LET ME KNOW]

Heights of Friendship

2011-11-30T06:01:00.002-05:00

2 .. 3… 4.. And no idea strikes.

6.. 7.. no idea strike

its 25 seconds and finally an idea strikes and I battle with the keyboard.

Groping for the letters to be punched, sometimes there are mistyped yet I type in.

The Prompt:

What do you think is your favourite pass time

My reply:

I tink its te game of tt tt I lurve which maks me bnker is my fav pstime.

THAT’s All I could type within a minute. such a shame!

But then, eventually I got the hang of it.

Sometimes, ideas don’t pour in but then I just type.

Over the past few months, One Minute Blogger has become my favourite pass time.

This is a screen shot of the Web site:

There is a Timer at the right corner too and the Daily prompts, below.

And, if you see at the left corner of the blog the “Winners!” tagline.

It will capture your eye, especially when your name is flashed there

and you proudly display the “Winner” tag.

Foolish or Stupid it may sound but somehow I fell in love

with the whole concept. Especially for lazy people like me, this is a cool pass time.

I interviewed C. Beth, the person who started the Web site too.
Read it here

But off late, C. Beth stopped updating the “Winners” bar.

Week after week, it was the same name that flashed in the left corner.

My impatience nudged my happiness and I stopped visiting One Minute Blogger until one day,

she shared something beautiful.

C. Beth was Pregnant. Yet she updated the everyday prompts.

I was more amazed because she was pregnant for her friend, Ann

“Ann and her husband let people know what they were looking for, and her husband's cousin quickly volunteered to be their carrier. In a lab, embryos were created with Ann's eggs and her husband's sperm, and one of them was transferred to their carrier. She became pregnant, and now Ann and her husband have a vivacious little two-year-old daughter, "Peanut."

But there was one embryo left, which was carefully frozen and stored for almost three years. Recently, this tiny little embryo was thawed and placed in my womb. We waited the requisite time for a blood test...and it came back positive! It's official.... I'm pregnant with Ann and her husband's third child! It's pretty ideal--The Engineer and I feel that our family is beautifully complete, and Ann and her husband feel that with one more, their family will be just right. They had an embryo that needed a place to grow; I have a uterus and enjoy pregnancy and childbirth. A great fit, right? “ in her words

Here is the entire post:

http://cbethblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/big-announcement-and-blonde-joke.html .

She will go through the entire pain of being pregnant for her friend.

I really lurvee One Minute Writer and this goes in my list of 101 things i like.

Scent - Part 1

2011-11-26T10:23:00.001-05:00

The scent of piousness.. Yes! City of Temples – Bhubaneswar it is!
The city, Bhubaneswar and the surrounding districts are known for the Temples and their stories.

Apart from the scent of the sweetness of the people,

there was a scent of fresh mud.

Although warm throughout the day, the city Bhuvaneswar,

lends a cold shoulder towards the evening during winters.

On the walls on either side of the road,

stories in form of Worli paintings are crafted.

Each of them tell you a story of the tribes there.

The scent of rebellion which pulls

you to their area and to Chillika Lake, in the district Mirjapur.

The surrounding area is filled with tribes and

they haven’t let the Government interfere in their daily affairs.

The tourism arrangement at the Chillika Lake

is done by the Locals and

on probing further they proudly tell you in their native language

“This is what we did not the GOVERNUMENT”

Ah! The sweet smell of purity, rebellion and fresh water

transports you to a world off the daily chores, deadlines, tasks.

Here is something I wrote:

When the traffic lights dim
And the voices of the groaning urbanization
fade into oblivion
transport to the sea coast
where the water lightens your head
and you stare at the sky, so blue,
majestic -- no demands-- no tasks
Phew!!
Splash! Water onto your face and the water
Relieves you of ..
Worthless ambitions, pain, guilt
And you meet –
You – foolish, innocent, naïve and beautiful

Hope the pics do justice to the place!

Bhuvaneswar

Did not understand what they sang but was super listening to them

Road to Nothingness

Pearl of Wisdom

Book Review::Charliezz by Trupthi Guttal and Zeeshan Farooqui

2011-11-25T11:12:00.004-05:00

Pages: 191

Authors: Trupthi Guttal and Zeeshan Farooqui

Publishers: Lead start publishers

Price: 150 INR or 6 dollars

Through nerve wrecking working days, memories, sweet-nothings, friends, trips, and fun, Charliezz is a breezy one-sitting read book.

The story is written in first person, Khushi, in conversation with her colleague Zahir.

He tells about his college life, his college friends, his love Rashmi.

The journey during the trip to Zahir’s friend Shastry’s home town, the time they enjoy there, the different kinds of experience is narrated well. The industrial trip and the farewell party, each of them is narrated and makes you reminisce your college days.

Zahir’s sweet nothings with Rashmi is crafted well and feel “Awww…” at some points of the story. However, there is an element of suspense which beholds in the later part of the book.

Each character is distinct and the authors have done a good job in portraying them well. Be it the colleague, Khushi, who is inquisitive or Tubbs, who always befriends troubles, every character is distinct and can be related to.

Yet, I felt there was something amiss in the story. The lack of rechecking the grammar makes it slightly painful to read at certain points.

Overall, it is a good book and you can pick it up especially if you wish to take a break and munch on something light.

Excerpt:

But there is something in that glance; when he looks deep into my eyes,

I feel a shudder deep down.

The whole world comes to a

sudden standstill and I feel there is no one around except us

-Rashmi

You can purchase the book here

Read and Let Read [My book now on Flipkart]

2011-11-14T12:00:00.002-05:00

Our (mine and 3 copoets') book is now on Flipkart and with every purchase, you help a child at Sphoorthi Foundation.

Still wondering How?

Buy Our book here

and the entire proceeds of the book help a child at Sphoorthi for his or her school necessities.

So Happy [read-and-let-them-read]ing!!

About Sphoorthi (From their Website): SPHOORTI is a non-profit organization working for underprivileged children - orphaned, abandoned, destitute and other vulnerable groups. Our mission is to change lives of such children - by providing them with long-term care. This includes basic needs, education and healthcare, and skills necessary to transform them into responsible citizens.

About the Founder, click Srivyal

(http://nnivedita.com/portfolio/personality-of-the-month-august/)
On children's day, let's change lives of children who deserve honor and dignity!

Thank you friends for always being with me. Helping me, guiding me, scolding and mentoring me!

TinTin

2011-11-13T11:07:00.001-05:00

Georges Remi, 22-year-old was employed

in a Belgian Newspaper Le Vingtieme Siecl

to write for the children’s supplement in the year 1929.

GR or RG (reverse of his name which was made his pen name)

Herge.

An amateur artiste, Herge used his talent and wit

to create cartoons.

Started with adventures in the Soviet, Herge made

the young reporter travel to America and other places,

even the ones he never traveled.

Since then, under the name Herge,

Georges has sketched several strips.

TinTin is a reporter and along with his dog, Snowy,

he travels and gropes for adventures for his stories.

Brussels has several tourist spots dedicated to this famous comic strip.

Murals on the street, Herge Museum and paintings at Metro stations.

TinTin is a euphemism for Brussels, if I am allowed to say.

After Herge’s death in 1983,

Steven Speilberg an avid fan of TinTin comic,

finally decided to direct the film.

The movie is a performance capture* 3-Dimensional movie.

The movie released last week,

is a brilliant attempt and a visual treat

for the kids and adults, alike.

If you love comics, adventure, then this one’s for you.

*The actors are real while shooting the film but they are then translated into the digital mode.

Source: http://www.mhoefler.de/Brussels-Tintin/Tintin-Brussels.html

Pic: http://www.worldart.com.au/images/herge-tintin1.jpg

My belief in 3D, animation is strengthened by this movie

and Animation is surely among 101 things i like.

Short Story::Her-She

2011-11-13T00:40:00.002-05:00

They pulled her holding her hand into the huge ground.

Some accused her “Yes! She killed him”

Some moaned for her “oh poor girl..such a young age..”

The ladies – old, young, ripe, mature, all wept as they broke her red bangles.

Some ladies joined in wiping the vermillion. The younger girls stood petrified.

Only one went up to them and tried to stop the ritual.

She was alone and the might of the other ladies

catalysed with their sorrow was too heavy for this stranger.

She felt disgusted and left the place.

“How could they do this to her” she said,

wiping a tear and bending her head

in embarrassment and shame as she walked away

from the huge ground embellished with humiliating rituals.

“Be Brave..I am proud you attempt to stand up for what you believed”

Anand, said patting her back.

Seasons changed, time passed.

Today, she looked at herself intently into the mirror.

Unbeknownst of the world around her, she looked into the mirror.

Red with grief, sorrow and anger, she looked into the mirror.

She forgot to place the earring on her left ear.

She always tucked her left earring before falling asleep.

She looked into the mirror.

And there she saw Anand, young and handsome,

asking her to dance with him,

at a friend’s party. She blushed.

As they danced, he whispered “you look beautiful.”

She indeed did.

In her bright blue gown with a silver belt and very less make up,

she looked simple and pretty.

They met often in parties and soon, exchanged numbers.

Ah! They had conversations about their lives,

dissimilar dreams but agreeable points of view.

They argued, they mentored each other,

she spoke about her parents and their fights,

he spoke about his family, conservative but loving.

She reminisced that night when they met as the clock struck 10 pm.

She called him, frantically “Anand..”

“what’s the matter” he asked, he sensed the urgency in her voice.

“Let’s meet at Patel Café “ he said

Their usual hangout spot which was not too far away from their places.

Patel café was an eatery cum coffee shop.

They sat in the outdoor section as the place was moon lit and serene.

He held her hand for the first time. She was adamant in leaving her house.

She cried her heart out. He consoled her and asked her to go back to her parents.

His words soothed her ailing heart and she left.

She smiled at him and he smiled back. Did she want to say something?

Did he want to tell her something? The silence in the unspoken words was Magical!

The reverie broke as a little girl came running into the room.

The mirror reflected her dilapated eyes.

“Amma.. Dadi is calling” the little girl said and ran to towards the hall.

“I am coming..” she whispered

She went to the hall attended the Puja and walked back to the room.

She sat in the vacant corner of the bed.

An older Anand, responsible and mature now appeared in the mirror.

Their yearning for a life long togetherness had reached the pinnacle.

Anand, convinced his conservative family. She met them in their home.

Grueling questions were posed and she answered one after the other.

They were engaged after three months of interrogation and then married.

She found it difficult to adjust to a large family

but took up the role in a large family, responsibly.

Anand always stood by her side, when she was right.

That evening when one of the family members had accused her of being a shame.

Anand stood by her and argued for her.

Although accused of being a hen pecked husband,

he always supported the human right of being one self. She loved him even more dearly, year after year.

The reverie broke again as the little girl ran and sat in her lap and said “Amma.. tell a story ..”

She kissed her forehead and hugged her tight and narrated a story.

The little girl slept and so did she.

She heard a voice, screaming at her to wake up.

The day had come. She had to go through the grueling ritual of being a nobody.

Her vermillion and her identity as a married woman would be wiped.

She dread as she imagined the scene.

Cruel, adamant and staunch devouts of blind beliefs, the elders in the house advocated the ritual.

She looked at her little daughter and wondered who would look after this girl, if she just walked away?

But Anand’s words echoed BE BRAVE.

You are Educated enough to take care of yourself.

Why did Anand tell her all this she wondered then.

But now she found purpose and solace in those words. She took her little daughter and walked away into oblivion.

People will talk about you till they get tired and busy. But will you sacrifice your basic human rights of dignity and love within your heart for yourself.

Why did Anand tell her these words before two months of his death? Why?

The Portrait is taken from here http://flamboyantbeggar.blogspot.com/2011/11/gift.html

Wind

2011-11-12T08:15:00.004-05:00

Caricatured the morning reverie

First on a piece of paper

But it flew as it touched the strong wind

I then carved it on a stone

A Prejudice -- adamant to peel away

But… Hail Storm!

Finally, I gave up and drew it in the air

Transparent and strong

For now I know It will live long

Thank you :) :)

2011-11-10T11:49:00.001-05:00

Thank you to each of you who has been there in every year of my life

Watch me grow, rise, fall, laugh and chuckle
For all my kindergarten friends
with whom i have learnt to tighten my buckle

My friends at the Primary school
with whom I've learnt to fall with grace
Enjoyed as i fell flat during the running race

Buddies at Middle School
who got caned along with me
Knelt down outside the class
And together it was always, happy

Through the High school years,
We giggled as together we grew,
learning about those things we never knew

Through the graduation days,
You've taught me to dream, fly, forgive, love,

My ah Poetry Friends, who have given me a new set of wings
And, taught how poetry is sewn even in those little things

To the club called Toastmasters where I endeavor to shine
where you taught me Work is all "ours" not "yours" nor "mine"

To each and every Member of my Ignite Family
You've been a role model, Ah! so beautifully!

To my blogger friends, who commented and helped me better
With every write and post, you taught me the depth of the letter

To each and every person associated with me
You have contributed and helped me be ME!

A BIGGG HUGGG to each of you!!

the 25 fever

2011-11-08T22:35:00.000-05:00

When I got a huge bag from my folks as the clock said “12:00” I expected it to be a huge teddy, which many give me. Wonder WHY!?:P But I still love it.

But to my pleasant surprise and even embarrassment, :P.

My folks gave me 25 different things marking the significance and importance of my age.It started with a Photo Frame with photos of me (in every year of my existence) pasted.

And, then a silver coin. My idol,

Hanuman Ji (whom I admire for his dedicated relationship with lord Ram in the epic Ramayana).

As I began to unwrap the others, I was gushing with happiness and LOL-ing with joy..

The other things included: socks (I usually use my dad’s) whenever I wear shoes.

[my favourite colors: Black and White]

A cello tape and scissors. [so that I wrap the book give away books with my own stationery]

The book: Steve Jobs by Water Isaacson [Yes! I have been gaping at it on Flipkart. And never bought it. Ah! They noticed!]

Stationery [ which included a pen, a clip, pencils (I usually keep looking around for them) visiting cards holder] – Ah! How much I needed all of them.

Dress Material -- :P .. ; Dairy Milk ; and junk jewellery ;

and other things which were gifted as a result of their observation and my weird habits. :D!!

The 25 fever continues!

Thank you Aquillrelle & blogger friends

2011-11-08T12:07:00.002-05:00

Can be checked here: http://aquillrelle.com/aboutus.htm

Loved their Our Opinion*

BC--copy pasting it here

Being a published author is in no way recognition of greatness, the way that not being published is in no way dismissal of talent. Being published means mostly being in the right place at the right time, having some relevant talent and mostly – having “a champion to carry you”. We are sure there are some great talents out there, waiting to be discovered. Maybe participating in these contests is the tool that will kick you out in the limelight, who knows?

To all my friends, Jatin, BC, AC, Scribbler, Rachit, My Vasavi friends, Rajeev, Abhinav, Srik, Abhishek, Lindy, Poojaji, Sandeep, wonderful authors who send their book request

To my cousins, Dolly Akka, Madhavi Akka -- who have read and commented as critics.

Thank you for always being a part of my initiatives.

Short Story::That Friend

2011-11-06T23:29:00.002-05:00

It can be read here.

I am flying and you?

2011-11-06T06:42:00.004-05:00

Pity all those who live in a world where their thoughts are nipped
and washed away by the myths by others.
Sympathise each person whose soul has been malnourished by the wicked deeds of others.

Mourn for each of them who is threatened at any sign of freedom of thoughts and is chained by their own pseudo thoughts of rejection and dejection.

Get on with me onto the sky where the eagles of morose thoughts do linger but the strength within is so powerful that you conquer each of them. Discard all our foes disguised as friends.

You do not need any rotten relation which lay down in your path of spreading your wings, although naïve, to fly.

It is not the perfectionists who always win but sun shines at the pursuers to be perfect.

Gather courage, energy, some food for thoughts, and fly.

Fate has smiled upon idiots.

Wouldn’t it smile upon a benevolent soul like you?

Personality of the Month -- November

2011-11-03T23:31:00.001-05:00

I always thought it was weary to watch people paint for hours especially if you're not the model.
But here is Vilas Nayak--a treat for the impatient people.

Indeed! Chances are high that you would not want to miss watching him paint. Especially when he does it with music and style. A form he calls hues and tunes, Vilay Nayak is the Personality of the Month for November.

You can read his interview here .

But yes, do watch this video:: Gabbar Singh's Painting

Dr.D.Veerendra Heggade's Painting before moving ahead!

Have fun!:)

Innocence

2011-10-29T01:57:00.007-05:00

“Just be here.
Stay within me“ I command
But it refused to stay
I chased it. It ran away

Years later, it tried to make its way into my core
Dipped in ignorance, I shooed it away, closed the door
“How could you run away when I needed you?” I shouted
In the glory of the Samsara* hysterically it laughed

“Come with me” it again asked me
Perplexed with alloyed thoughts
With sheer arrogance I smirked
“Go away now. Just let me be.”

And..
It left

*materialistic pursuits
It—innocence

Picture Courtesy: Joshi Daniel

Flawless

2011-10-28T22:06:00.002-05:00

Her eyes, large and kind
Her lips spoke what was on her mind

She moved amidst the needy
Empathising with the greedy

She did not look like a masterpiece of god
But certainly her beauty within
made her a super-mod

And if there was a euphemism for flawless
it was Her radiating beauty,
which made others seem spineless

Book Review:: Born Free by Joy Adamson

2011-10-26T12:15:00.003-05:00

In the Northern Frontier Province of Kenya, in a vast stretch of land where Civilization has still not cushioned itself completely, George, a Senior Game Warden of the territory is at his base camp. His primary job role is to prevent poaching and dealing with dangerous animals that trouble the tribesmen.

A Boran Tribesman is killed by a lion accompanied by a lioness and as part of George’s duty he has to track it down. They enter the habitat of the animals. And a Lioness nails them down.

George and his colleague, Ken put up a tough fight with the lioness. It tries to attack the men. They are unable to comprehend its ferocious behavior. And in their pursuit of self defense, they kill the lioness. Little did they know that the lioness was trying to defend her little cubs.

***

At their base camp, Joy Adamson is waiting for her husband. She listens to the sound of the Land Rover and runs out. She runs up to him and is overwhelmed to see the three cubs.

Joy is filled with joy and she volunteers to take care of the cubs. She feeds them, nurtures the cubs. But they belong to the wild.

Despite the fact that she would have to leave the cub one day with its playmates and its family, Joy embarks on a beautiful journey with the cubs. Narrated in first person, the story takes the reader through to the world of Joy and Elsa, one of the three cubs.

***

Excerpts:

How splendid these lions where—aloof, but friendly, dignified and self-possessed. Looking at them it was easy for me to see why the lion has always fascinated man and become a symbol for something he admires.

Indeed, in every lion, I saw during our searches, I recognized the intrinsic nature of Elsa, Jespah and Gopa and Little Elsa, the spirit of all the magnificent lions in Africa. May God protect them from any arrow and bless them all and their kingdom.

Serengeti, June 1962

My thoughts:

The title brought a smile to my face. And so did the 411-page book written by Joy Adamson. If you like to know the intricacies of the relation between man and the majestic beast, go for it!

Some Pics of the author and the cub:

You can purchase the book here

Book Review

2011-10-22T01:18:00.003-05:00

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

- William Blake

I surmise William Blake would never have known that as a euphemism of this write, someone with a mix of Indian and British blood would write books in simple words and help us explore the naivety and simplicity of people around us.

Yes! I am speaking of Ruskin Bond and the writing is the 111-page book Delhi is not Far.

Plot:
In a town near Delhi, Pipalnagar, Ruskin befriends people who have dreams that they feel would be fulfilled in the capital of our country. Ruskin, through their eyes, tells us about them their nature of work.

Associates of Ruskin vary from Kamla, the prostitute, Arun, a barber, and Suraj, an epileptic with a positive attitude with whom he spends most of the time gorging on his company. The story revolves around the lives of these people.

Ruskin bond’s simplistic style of writing made me ponder over the regular people whom we meet and how they inspire us.

I felt the novel “Friends in small places” was a better read than this. I was ambitiously expecting it to be a great read, hence I feel so.

But, if you like Ruskin’s style of writing, you should read this one.

Best lines:

I can see the extremities of the building. If I stand on tiptoe and lean forward, I can see part of the narrow courtyard below where children—the children of all classes of people—play together. (when they are older, they will become conscious of the barriers of class and caste)

Sometimes I make love as a sort of exploration if all that is physical and sometimes falling in love becomes exploration of the mind. Love takes me to happier distant places

Price: 150 INR but can be purchased for less at: http://www.flipkart.com/books/0144000954

Ruskin says "I wrote this novella in the 1960s, when I left Dehra Dun for New Delhi. I thought i would find fame and fortune in the capital; I found nothing of that sort. And so, in the mid 1960s, I made for the hills, where I did at least find space and contentment"

Indulge!

2011-10-20T07:00:00.001-05:00

Ah! Kids! Look at them

how they gorge, sumptuously

relishing each and every bit

But adults?

They cloak it!

Is it a prejudice to relish?

Look around

Other’s wishes surround

Giving in, reminisce “such brave hearts we were”

Dearest adults, brave hearts we still are

Unveil the mirage called fear

On your face, let life be smeared

Pic Courtesy:: Cousins of Nick Turiim, a friend

Short Story: Rear View

2011-10-19T08:50:00.000-05:00

Reflection of her well-nourished cheeks, her large eyes, delicately crafted lips and her sharp nose filled his heart with pride. He drove slowly, looking at his rear-view mirror.

“Stop here” she whispered in his ears. He stopped his bike and watched her walk into the red color building. She looked back and he waved her a bye and drove at a speed of 180 kmph to his workplace.

Read the full story here: http://nnivedita.com/short-stories/short-storyrear-view/

Book Review::Quest of the Sparrows by Kartik Sharma and Ravi 'Nirmal' Sharma

2011-10-17T00:08:00.007-05:00

Small, gregarious and with a carefree attitude, Sparrows have been my childhood friends during my visits at my Granny’s place. And, the authors have chosen a perfect living being to emulate the qualities.
Parthiban a young man, seeks out on a journey on foot, a quest to look within.
The lessons that one learns is through the protagonist’s experiences. It doesn’t preach you it allows you to be preached.
The book aims at the concept that life is to expand your horizon beyond the daily grueling experiences of survival. We can do much beyond what we do.
The book is written in a simple, clear language and thankfully, does not mendear too much beyond the subject.
During a time, when most of the people fall prey to the materialistic pursuits and are busy gorging on them instead of concentrating on the most important person – themselves, this book is a good read.
You can purchase the book here

Short Story::Bhindi

2011-10-16T10:36:00.004-05:00

“Chapati Bhindiiiii again?” moaned Mona Sinha, munching fiercely as her friends chuckled at her “Only if you got the same thing every day you would know!” She cursed her friends.

After school, Mona went home, fling her bag and ran to the kitchen where her mother was pouring hot milk in a glass. She hugged her mother.

“Have milk and go to tuition now..” Mrs. Radha Sinha said kissing her forehead.

“Let me breathe maaaaaa…. “ Mona said. Mrs. Sinha dragged her to her room, picked out her clothes for her.

“Drink this and go quickly..” she wiped her forehead with her pink dupatta and walked in the kitchen again.

She knew no amount of cribbing would help. She walked to the tuition, few miles away from her home. She dragged herself back home after the grueling class.

“Now, finish your homework..” Mrs. Sinha ordered

“I am just back.. Let me take rest for while..” Mona moaned

“Ok.. Just sit for five minutes and you go back to your homework..” Mrs. Sinha said

Mona paid a deaf ear. She walked to her room, opened the bag, took her social science text book out. Completing the unfinished sketch at the end of her book, she was immersed in it.

She carefully took out the colors from the bag and painted the picture and brought it to life. She smiled at her creation. Carefully, she washed her hands with a small red color handkerchief and put it back inside her kit. She tip toed outside to see whether Mrs. Sinha was around.

She could hear the grinder machine switched on. Ah! Mrs. Sinha was preparing dinner. Quietly, she tiptoed back to her room, seated comfortably and completed the final touches of her art.

She placed back the book, completed her homework in a jiffy. She heard Mrs. Sinha shout “Come for Dinner… you have to sleep early too..”

At the dining table, Mona sat beside her father.
"How was your day beta.." asked Mr. Sinha

“It was good Paaaaaa…” she was narrating when she smelled the vegetable she dread.

“Maaaaaaa Bhindi agaiiiiiiiin……..” she yelled

“Stop shouting and sit and eat. Do you even know how people around the world suffer without food. There are millions of people around the globe who do not get food to eat..” Mr. Sinha reprimanded

“I read that mail too..” Mona breathed

"What?" Mr. Sinha, piqued, asked her.

"Nothing.." she said, nervously

And.. Mr. Sinha continued with the figures and statistics of people who fall prey to malnutrition. Mona ate her bhindi and chapathi quietly.

A couple of months later,

Mona returned home and ran to the kitchen, Mrs. Sinha was not present.

“Maa…” Mona crooned

She searched the entire house but she could not find her. She called up a couple of her aunts but she was not to be found.

“Where are you Maa… “ Mona cried

“Papa… “ she frantically cried over the phone

“what happened?” Mr. Sinha asked

“Maa.. is not to be seen..” she cried

“I am coming home…don’t worry beta..” Mr. Sinha consoled

Mona wept until she heard a knock on the door. She opened the door to see Mrs. Sinha waiting there.

Mona hugged her but she stood there, stoic.

“What happened Maa? Where did you go?” Mona asked, worried

“why do you want? And don’t act as if you care.. “ Mrs. Sinha went in the room

Mona ran behind..”You look different ..did you weep?”

“Why do you care Mona?” Mrs. Sinha wept

“You don’t! You never will! It is a hassle giving only bhindi and roti to make you intelligent and all you give me is these stupid marks..” she said throwing the report card on her face

Mona stared at the report card. She had failed in almost all the subject except Arts.She scored full marks.

“What will your painting give you? Study beta.. Study..”Mrs. Sinhacried

“Promise me you will… Promise me…” Mrs. Sinha yelled

Mona placed her hand over hers.

“Liar.. “Maa shouted. “You do this every time..” Mrs. Sinha yelled again

“And.. you did this again too.. haina?” Mona said

“Whaat? How dare you Mona…” Mrs. Sinha warned

“What Maa.. Don’t you know I like Arts.. You want me to pursue some subject which will give me lot of money and make me respectable.. But Maa.. I really don’t care..”

“At your age, our Bittu, my sister’s daughter had won so many math Olympiad competitions..” Mrs. Sinha wept, holding her head.

“At your age, many women did many things Maa…”Mona replied

“Stop fighting both of you!” Mr. Sinha interfered

“Mona… You have to study..Nothing will help you succeed ..” Mr. Sinha announced

“Now, go back to your room.. Radha.. leave her alone..” Mr. Sinha said

And… Mona went back to her room. She took out her piece of art, held it tight. And read the piece of message from her art teacher

“No matter what Mona.. you have to be an artist.. everyone will fail you but don’t fail yourself..”

She slept. She dressed for school. And during lunch, she opened her tiffin box and she smiled as she said another loaf of Indian bread and bhindi placed right beside it.

Short Story::Dadaji

2011-10-15T13:19:00.000-05:00

The lilt in grandfather’s voice was rhythmic and comforting. Perhaps, that’s when he asked me “Biiiiiiiinooooooooy..Ami tomakey bari neyejete essechey amar bari” (Will you come to my home with me), I could not refuse.

He picked the bag that was lying on the bed beside. “what a dddiiiirty room!!” Dadu complained. “Dadu I will take the bag” I tried taking the bag from him. I call my grandfather Dadu.

“You don’t trust my strong bones?” Dadu asked assertively

“No..” I laughed

“But I do..” Dadu said taking the bag.

Read the complete story, here

Suggestions are welcome :)

National Poetry Day

2011-10-15T00:02:00.003-05:00

Happy National Poetry Day to all my friends who love this art -- Poetry
Here's a Hindi Poem: Lafz followed by an Interview of Mr GopaKumar RadhaKrishnan, Founder of poetriesonline.com, a forum for all poets. You can follow them on Facebook too.

Poem title:: Lafz

Anjaane me lafz jo beh gaye

Rengthe pahunch gaye Ek kore kagaz par

Simat kar shararath karni lagi

Doondhne lagi apne saathiyo ko Pankthiya banker

Kabhi kehthe use kavitha, kabhi gazhal

Abh ve hasti, rothi, gaathi Jhee barker

Anjaane me lafz jo beh gaye

Shukr hain pahunch gayi apni manzil par

To read the Interview, click: Gopakumar Radhakrishnan

To follow them on Facebook, click on Page

Short Story:: Love Story?

2011-10-11T23:46:00.003-05:00

All the characters in this story are a work of fiction. If any resemblance with any person, living or dead, my condolences.

Story:

Draped in a white color cotton salwar, a tinge of make-up and a huge grin, she walked past him and Ah! Stole his heart. He looked at her as she board the bus and Lo! She was gone. His journey took a U-turn and all his routes diverted.

“What do I do now?” he thought to himself

“I have seen enough movies .. I must come up with a idea“ building confidence within himself, he decided to follow her.

Radhey Dekhmukh, a 21-year-old, planned out a way to speak to the girl. He noted the name of the college which was printed in bold on the bus, which he fortunately noticed. He knew where it was located.

Every day whence, he waited outside her college at the bus stop as she walked with her friends, every day. Chuckling and walking with elegance, she would pass ignoring him. Fragments of their conversation would be absorbed into his cerebrum and he smiled. Her voice was husky. She looked beautiful.

He continued the drill for over 4 fortnights now. She walked past. He even knew the different hues of the colors pink. She was always busy. And, in the past 2 months, she smiled at him once, out of generosity perhaps or as though he were a mere passerby.

“Wasn’t she curious? What do I do now? I have not even mustered courage to talk to her” he thought

He waited for the next day. She wore a pink top and jeans. He smiled at her as she queerly looked at him.

“Hello..” he mumbled

“Yes?” she said raising her eyebrow

“Well.. Nothing much.. Actually I just wanted to say hello to you and compliment on your dress.. I have been looking for something similar for my sister as Raksha Bandhan is coming..where did you purchase it?”

“Oh.. this..at a shop near my place..” she smiled

“What am I saying..but nevertheless a decent start..” he thought

“Oh.. Ok.. I am Radhey btw..” he held his hand out

“Hi..” and she board the bus that stopped right in front.

“She did not even mention her name. My 2 months of patience is gone for a toss.” He thought

His phone buzzed. It was his classmate, Rohan “Where are you? You’re not even attending the classes..Dooo…”

“Can you meet me? At the hookah place?” Radhey interrupted

“See you in 15 .” and he cut the call

He told his story to his friend, Rohan at the hookah place.

“Why don’t you go and tell it to her …” said Rohan, taking a puff

“And.. she would never ever talk to me…” Radhey suggested

“Haven’t we watched enough movies to get inspired with an idea or two?” Rohan encouraged

“And.. she must have watched too…BUT how could she ignore me for a month ..” Radhey pitied himself

“Maybe.. she saw you.. Girls ain’t that blind.. and maybe that’s why she answered..” puffing out in circles Rohan answered

“This is just INFATUATION.. yaar..You don’t even know her..”Rohan winked

“Come on! Let me try to be her friend atleast.. “ Radhey replied

The next day

Radhey stood near the bus stop and she passed by. Her friends had not come yet. This was the time. He walked up to her and said “Hi.. yesterday I met you…”

“Yes.. I remember.. did you get the address?”

“Well.. I wanted to talk to you… ”

“Ok! The address is simple.. If you know this…” she explained

“Hmm…Ok.. Can you take me there?” he said

“Now?” she said

“Yes..” he confirmed

“Ok.. let’s wait for the bus..”

“And yes...I am Sonam..” she smiled

A whirlpool of happy thoughts crossed his mind. The bus halt and they board it. After the endeavour at the tailor shop. She said “Alright then.. Radhey.. See you!”

“ Ok..Bye!” he said and he left.

He called Rohan and told the story. “Congratsssss … good good…now you can take it forward from here..”

“God knows.. what will she think..” Radhey was worried

“Don’t worry..Go ahead” Rohan comforted his fears

The next day, Radhey waited at the bust stop. Sonam was with her friends. She waved at him. He walked up to her and told her that the tailor had delivered the dress and how happy his sister was.

“Nice ya..” she smiled

“Can I ask you something..” she asked

“Yes..” He repleid

“Are you following me? My friends tell me that they see you since a month.. and you are here.. I am not sure but wanted to confirm. If it is so, I want to tell you that I am not that kind of a girl. I don’t like all this. Please do your work and leave me alone.”

And she board the bus with her friends

Insulted! He stood there for a while. He did not know what to do. He was shocked as she behaved differently. Was it his mistake or hers? He decided to write her a letter as he did not want to say anything negative to the girl he liked.

The next day, he stood near the bus stop again. Dressed in a red color dress, she walked passed. She was alone. He looked at her and gave her a letter and left.

She read it and threw it in anger and board the bus. Never ever did Radhey go to her college again. A passerby who was bored saw a colorful piece of paper and laughed as he read:

~~Dear~~,

It’s been two months since I have seen you and spoken only once. That too for stitching a dress which cost me 6000 bucks for a mysterious sister.

I have waited everyday for 25 minutes outside your college. While you were busy sipping juice and gossiping. I listened to you and your friends talk. I bunked all my classes which would have given me a better future but I waited for you. It’s not your mistake as each of us loves to judge without even asking.

However, I thought for a really long time. I did like you but the past two months have been grueling and in the process of telling I really like you. I realized that I do not like you.

So, here is a letter to tell you that YES! I DO NOT LIKE YOU

Ironically,

Was yours

P.S.: I am not sure if the reader enjoyed the story or not, but i was chuckling when i penned it. It's fun aint it? :P

Short Story::The Palmist's Secret

2011-10-10T03:42:00.007-05:00

Read the full story here

Udaan (released in 2010)

2011-10-08T05:01:00.006-05:00

I have watched this movie recently although it was released in 2010.
I have reviewed it in Hindi as it is a Hindi movie. And in English to communicate my ideas better to those who do not know Hindi.
Hindi Review:
Udaan Kahani hain Satraah Saal Varsh, Rohan ki. Kahaani shuru hoti hain Rohan aur uski Doston ki natkhat harkat se. Jiske kaaran ve apni BOARDING SCHOOL, joh Simla main hain, se nikaale diye jaathe hain. Rohan apne pitha ke paas bej diya jaatha hain, Jamshedpur me. Rohan Lekhak banna chaahtha hain par uske pithaji ke vichaar kuch aur hi hain.
Rohan kaisi apni zindagi jeene ki koshish kartha hain in band kamro ke diwaaron mey aur kya wo apni soch ko naye pankh dega?
Dekhiye yea cinema. Shayaad aapko bhi yea bhaa jaye.
Ronit Roy ne Pithaji ki Kirdhaar bahut achi tarah nibhaayi hain. Krodh aur ahankaar ko bahut achi tarah se prastuth kiya hain.
Rajat Barmecha ne bhi ek satraah saal ladke ka kirdhaar bahut sahi thareeke se nibhaaya hain. Har ek kirdaar ne apni bhumika bahut khoob nibhayi hain. Yea film, Shimla aur Jamshedpur ki sundar shehro mein Darshayi gayi hain.

English Review:
Udaan is a film about 17-year-old Rohan and the world around him. He is expelled from his boarding school at Shimla after he and his friends are caught playing mischief. He goes home to stay with his father at Jamshedpur. Rohan wants to become a writer but his father thinks otherwise.
How does Rohan try to live a life within the walls of fear and preconceived notions?
Does he ever get a chance to taste the delicacy called flight of freedom?
Watch the movie to experience a strong story set in the backdrop of Jamshedpur (mostly) and Shimla.
Ronit Roy has played the role of a father exemplifying anger and pride. The young boy Rajat Barmecha has played the role of a seventeen-year-old well.
Each character has done justice and made the film rich in content.
What I liked about the film: I loved the poems the seventeen-year-old recites to his friend, to his uncle and Dad, to his 6-year-old brother.
And here is a link for the poems: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnmEvInCylY
Blurb of the Film
Directed by
Vikramaditya Motwane
Produced by
Sanjay Singh
Anurag Kashyap
Ronnie Screwvala
Written by
Vikramaditya Motwane
Anurag Kashyap
Starring
Rajat Barmecha
Ronit Roy
Aayan Boradia
Ram Kapoor
Manjot Singh
Anand Tiwari
Sumant Mastkar
Raja Hudda
Varun Khettry
Akshay Sachdev
Music by
Amit Trivedi
Cinematography
Mahendra J. Shetty

A Luck-y Day

2011-10-07T12:48:00.001-05:00

All in one day..
Morning:

Want to trade your fate?
offer valid till stocks last
Quick! Do not be late.
(Haiku)

(Noon) Wrote a Hindi Poem (Parchi):

Likhi thi humne apni kismat Ek parchi par

Ghum hogayi ha wo kahi

Dhoondha bahut magar mili nahi

Agar mile tumhe lauta dena

Wo parchi humari hain tumhari nahi

Wo kismat humari hain tumhari nahi

Evening, On OneMinuteWriter, the prompt is
Friday, October 7, 2011
Friday Fiction: Luck
Write a brief bit of fiction using the prompt, "Luck."

Luck has followed me from day to night
Alas! I believe in it but also trust my might

What are your views on luck?

OMW Prompt::Steve Jobs:: In what way has your life been most affected by Steve Jobs' innovations?

2011-10-06T10:31:00.004-05:00

I had read a book on Steve Jobs. The review of the book can be read here. In the book the author mentioned how Steve Jobs loved talent and he never cared about certificates.
I do not use his product. But I think Steve Jobs' attitude has helped me work more towards my talent, which i think i possess in writing.
And, i wish to do something major for everyone around for people through this.

He hasd a talent and used it well to makes lives simpler.

I wish every one answers this Qn too.

For more prompts check : http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com

And for a peek a boo about the owner of the philanthropic blog check: C. Beth

The Genius

2011-10-02T23:16:00.002-05:00

Its been pushed around
For years, neglected and tormented
It yearned to come up again
Nipped! Before it was fermented

It flourished when you were young and naïve
It almost reached the zenith
Afraid! You pushed it behind
Camouflaged it with fears, in the pursuit of being brave

Today, when you want to pull it up
It looks at you, in a manner strange
“You never mothered or nourished me
And blame me for giving up on you, Are you deranged?

But the little seed of hope sprout
Nourish it! Let it grow
We are still a part of you
Genius! Go ahead with no self-doubt

Personality of the Month (October) -- C. Beth from OneMinuteWriter

2011-09-30T13:42:00.001-05:00

An old memory? Something to ponder on ? Or may be something to complain about ?
What would you do if you had an inspiration to write and one minute for it. Challenging? Interesting ? fun?
OneMinuteWriter challenges you to write everyday for a minute. And what will you write on? The prompts that C. Beth thinks of everyday. Check http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com for her prompts and write!
Personally, I feel they are creative and touch every one’s life. and the slogan is teasing "You have 1440 minutes to write, use one of them to write."

So, here’s C. Beth, who encourages everyone to write for a minute, the personality of the month for October.

1. How did you think of this idea of starting a blog?
Beth: I was already writing a “mommy blog” (http://cbethblog.blogspot.com.) But there are so many mom blogs, and I knew my audience would probably be naturally limited. I wanted to start a blog that was more unique and might garner a larger audience. I did some brainstorming, and I ended up deciding to pursue the idea of a writing prompt blog with a one-minute timer. Most of us are busy, but I figured nearly everyone can spare a minute to write!

2. How do you come up with prompts, everyday? any inspiration.
Beth: I usually just sit and let my mind wander. I look around the room and think about my day and things I’ve done, read, seen on TV, etc. I guess it’s just stream-of-consciousness brainstorming!

3. Do you think people in general have a story to share but are lazy enough? Any message or tips for them to write regularly
Beth: I do think most people have a story to share, but I don’t think most people avoid writing due to laziness. I think it’s an interest, just like running or sewing or target shooting or basketweaving! We should write because we want to write. For someone who has an interest in writing, specific goals are important. For quite some time, I blogged six days a week on my mommy blog. I had that commitment to myself and my readers, and it helped me grow as a writer. (Eventually I had other interests and needed to write less frequently, but that’s okay too—we all have different “seasons.”)

4. How has your experience been so far?
Beth: Blogging has helped me be more disciplined as a writer than ever before. It’s also helped me to document our family’s life. I’m so glad that my kids and I will be able to look back at my blog in the future. It’s a way to remember these precious days and years.

5. Life, post- and pre- One minute writer
Beth: Before The One-Minute Writer I was “just another mommy blogger.” Now it’s nice that I have a blog that’s unique enough to stand out! Even though readers come and go, I think the blog itself is memorable. A few months after I started it, The One-Minute Writer was named the daily “Blog of Note” by Blogger. Suddenly, the number of readers and participants skyrocketed! Readership gradually waned, and eventually settled at the point where there are always several loyal readers/participants, with new ones coming in and out all the time. I’ve had to learn that my self-worth isn’t tied to how many blog readers I have! I always hope that by being disciplined and consistent, I’ll be a blogger who will continue to reach more people.

6. Alright Beth, I have a prompt for you. You can take a minute to write.

Today's Prompt: You have to urge every sleeping writer to wake up.
Beth: Wake up, wake up, eyes open!
Pick up a pencil or a pen!
Open your heart and your mind
Perhaps inspiration you will find.

(Hey, a 60-second poem isn’t expected to be Shakespeare, right?) :)

And take a minute. here is the timer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekRZot2CFzM&feature=player_embedded

Me: Thank you Beth!

Beth: And thank you!

For more personalities, check: http://nnivedita.com/personalities/

Book Give Away

2011-09-26T00:17:00.000-05:00

The stench of wood, with hard bound seems like perfume

Taking me into vastness and into smallest of rooms

Empathizing with the soldiers of war

And comforting my baleful scars

You take me into eighteen fifty and into twenty fifty

With robots I run around and Flying saucers accompany me

You take into places I have never seen

Familiarize me with people I have never been

Share similar thoughts about books?

Then, this one's just for you!!

Go to this page: http://nnivedita.com/portfolio/book-ed/ and choose your book :)!
Do some tiny errands like filling the form :D.
Pass the magic called "reading"

Book Give Away

2011-09-25T11:19:00.000-05:00

The year was 2009. My family went to Pondicherry to satiate our “been long …. since a vacation…” feeling.
Pondicherry is a beautiful union territory. Many people have mixed views about this place but I really liked it. It evokes the joy of “Yes! I am accepted here as I am.”
While, the place is peaceful, wonderfully maintained, most of the people are down to earth. The Governor there was driving a Maruti 800 with no guards and no traffic jams for his quick visit to a place nearby. Amusing but true!
Speaking of common people, Mona Da and Chanda Di were two people I loved meeting there. They were carrying forward the legacy of their forefathers of serving in the Ashram and any mention of the world outside did not please them. They were so happy. I spoke to Chanda Di casually about my interest in writing and I must admit she was so sweet. She said, “I have some books related to that.”
We had to leave quickly after the visit and after that I got busy in my life. I was pleasantly surprised to receive a parcel one day. It had so many books. I was elated. Chanda Di had sent it for me.
I am sure the books would have been precious to her but then, she gave it away to me. I was touched by her gesture. And, I always wished to do something similar.
“Book Giveaway” is a recurring process in which I would like to give away the books that loiter in my cupboard. Many of them my favourite but yes! I cannot forget what Chanda Di said “I am giving away a part of me to you. Hope I live with you forever. I do not want our meeting to end here”
So, hope you enjoy the books.

Watch this space for details on book give away.

Form

2011-09-25T10:38:00.007-05:00

Book Give Away

Book Poview:: Confessions of a Call Center Gal

2011-09-24T11:26:00.000-05:00

She hollers over the phone at her job.
She accompanies her friend in her liquid diet.
She misses her bereaved dad.
Tutors English, Ah! What a word-y riot

Blessed with a gift called Writing
Alas! Stuck in a corporate jungle.
Faces everything like a warrior princess.
(Tsch-Tsch) --With great friends to mingle.

From the turmoils,
To those happy smiles,
Conf. of Call Center Gal, is a an overwhelming ride
With a dash of pun--but take it in your stride

Personal Note:From training till a new job, precisely written, added with a capacious dose of humour, Confessions of a Call Center Gal is an interesting account of Madison's journey at the Call Center and also beyond that. Read the book if you’d like to ogle at the Corporate life in a lighter vein. If there’s her best friend, whom you can connect with, then a much adorable guy whom she wants to connect to.
Read the book to know more.
Buy It here: here

Or Here
Blog: http://confessionsofacallcentergal.blogspot.com/

You can read her interview here: Lisa Lim's Interview

3 years with The Hindu

2011-09-21T05:33:00.001-05:00

It’s exciting
It’s exhilarating
It’s rewarding
It brings a sense of relief
and
some times at the plight of others, grief
Sometimes, wish more authentic stories made your way
And sometimes, you feel “YES!! This story has made my day”

It’s been THREE years freelancing at The Hindu!
Thanks Jiggy for reminding me
I am glad I know you --- my encouraging Ah Poetry friends, who have been there time and again, helping me improve.
I am glad I know you-- my friends who have been helping me, correcting me. Last minute of corrections or just a quick read has helped me.
I am glad I know you --- My friend who waited for me outside the office, while I was giving the interview.

And this is my first article that got published: http://nnivedita.com/portfolio/nizam-hospitality/
check this page, http://nnivedita.com/dashboard-3/ for contests on writing for you. \m/

Behind the scenes:
I was amazed as the resplendence of the Chowmahalla Palace. I never knew about this until told to do a story on it.
It was a crazy day exploring the entire place, learning the history, devouring the beauty of the people of those times!
And most importantly, feeling euphoric about the fact that I would be presenting this marvel to everyone.

Who was it?

2011-09-21T02:38:00.001-05:00

Soaked her pillow, wet with her tears

Head bent, she reminisced those memories,

When she had ignored her peers

Blinded by love, she saw no malice

Hurt by his treachery, she mourned

She burnt his belongings, as advised by the wise

Alas! Nothing helped

It happened one night,

She slept with her bruised heart

Eyes open wide, she tried shutting it tight

Some miracle, a spin of a magic wand

She woke up happy, her heart now lighter

A smile on her face, with life, again she bound

Who was it? She never knew

Looked everywhere

Is it an old friend or someone new

She embarked on her journey to find

She went from north to south, east to west

On her journey, she helped every form of mankind

She wept the tears of the destitute

Empathised and built them a life

She showed them, happiness' route

Her heart, lighter by the day, her happiness only grew

Till today, she searches

Who was it that night? A friend, family or someone new?

Why you need to publish?

2011-09-18T12:26:00.004-05:00

This post is for all those who comment on my blog. Thank you for always commenting and encouraging me. You surely are a great writer. So this is for the writer in you,
Five reasons why you should write:

1. Each of us has an unwritten autobiography within us and you know how to write it WELL.
Atleast your story would not involve three friends incessantly and have a bollywood climax. You know what I mean :P
2. You know what “English” genre means and you would never dare to use non-English words without a glossary.
You would never use Amitabh dialogues..sorry! wrong Amitabh dialogues unconnected to the story!
3. You are sensible enough to have a title which is within two or three words or atleast makes sense.
Trust you would never use titles like “Paneer Pakoda and me” “she Kissed.. I pissed…” etc.
4. You have read enough books. Every reader can be a writer. And
5. You are born to have mercy on your fellow brothers. Have mercy!! Write!!

So, here’s a competition for you.
Go ahead, participate and save people like me.
http://thepomegranate.in/competition.php/faq
For more competitions and opportunities, check : http://nnivedita.com/dashboard-3/

Pic Courtesy: Ram Chaitu
For more pics of his, check:http://www.facebook.com/Divenita/posts/140096466086352?notif_t=share_comment#!/UV.Photogs

Book Poview:: Animal Farm by Eric Blair

2011-09-17T02:27:00.002-05:00

Personal Note: It was gifted in a pdf form by a friend, Hari. I took me few months to sit down with this much talked about book. Now I know why people love this 54-page book.
The book Animal Farm, written by Eric Blair aka George Orwell, is an allegory. It is a must read for everyone who loves the alphabet and oppose the notion of a free society. I tried to capture the essence of the book in this poem and review (Poview).

Beasts of Rebellion Beasts of Rebellion
Beats of freedom of expression
Slaughter the innocence
Savour oppression

First it was the man who ruled
Butchering and slaughtering his command
Disguised as the animals’ companion,
The Pigs now demand

As the pages turn, layer by layer,
Now work hard the fools,
In the field of tyranny
As malevolence drools

Slowly the baton passes
To the cruel and the might
Declared as their savior, the animals sing
“Comrade Napoleon is right”

in their rulers’ face, man they see
Too feeble to protest
Piqued! In a turmoil,
They merely detest

Excerpt:
Twelve voices were shouting in anger and they were all alike. No questions, now, what had happened to the faces of the pigs. The creatures outside looked from pig to man and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say, which was which

ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS

About the author:

Born in 1903, in Motihari, Bihar, Eric Arthur Blair, known as George Orwell, wrote the books 1984 (published in 1949), Animal Farm (published 1945), and Homage to Catalona (published in 1938) and many essays.
His novels are best known for it’s opposition to a free society and the term “Orwellian” has been coined as well based on his ideas.
Time magazine chose the book as one of the 100 best English-language novels (1923 to 2005). The novella shows how potential ignorance and indifference to problems within a revolution could allow horrors to happen if a smooth transition to a people's government is not achieved.
Orwell denied that Animal Farm was a reference to Stalinism. Orwell had returned from Catalonia a staunch anti-Stalinist and anti-Communist, but he remained to the end a man of the left and, in his own words, a 'democratic socialist'.

For more book reviews, click :My Reviews

Source: Wikipedia ; george-orwell.org

Daddy's strong arms

2011-09-15T11:50:00.000-05:00

Daddy’s strong arms
Jealous of the peaceful smile that daddy earns,
As he watches me sleep

Happy that he has strong arms to carry our problems,
Even the ones, knee-deep

The burden of a happy family is too much,
It costs you your happiness too
Yet, Daddy’s strong arms are always ready
Allowing us to lead a life, fun-paced and steady

In the pic:Guess where am i?

Short Story::Ganpath Rao

2011-09-10T22:58:00.003-05:00

The Bazaar rose to life as he entered it. “How are you today?” 80-year-old Ganpath Rao asked Venkat, the Vegetable Vendor who was draped in sweat.
“I am fine, Saar” Smiled Venkat, wiping his sweat and narrated the incidents of the day to him, in his atavistic style. Ganpath laughed at Venkat’s rustic wit.
“I cannot be as comical as you..” Ganpath Rao said.
“It’s Okay.. Saar” And Ganpath shared his routine too.
As Ganpath and Venkat laughed aloud, busy men and women walked past. Some of them disturbing their conversation by asking Venkat about the value of his produce and the economy’s effect on it. Suddenly, Ganpath’s phone buzzed. “Oh my wife is calling” he announced. After the brief call, Ganpath said “Venkat, I will walk down the Bazaar and come. I have to buy Vegetables. But we will have pani puri today…Ok?”
Venkat smiled “Ok, Saar” and picked out the juiciest tomatoes for the lady who ordered for a kg of tomatoes.
Ganpath walked down the Bazaar, each shop, decorated with their produce. Some with flowers, in certain shops, beetel leaves were hanging from the wooden plank which served as the roof for most of the shops. Only the affluent shop keepers managed to cement their shops.
Venkat recently cemented his shop too and as a treat to this achievement, Ganpath Rao and he had pani puri. After the sumptuous treat, Ganpath Rao, waved Venkat a good bye and walked towards home.
Ganpath Rao, a short man, wore a broad smile. He lived with his wife, Shantha, a kilometer away. His smile faded as he walked home.
An year ago, a family dispute had uprooted the entire family.
Days passed in reminiscing the memories of his family. The mornings would remind him of the breakfast they together had, sharing the details of the day that lay ahead. And afternoons, memories of his grandchildren, with whom he played in the parks after their return from school, would haunt him. Evenings would remind him of the conversations with his children.
The empty house embellished with gloom had changed Ganpath Rao. He hardly spoke to Shantha too. He disconnected the landline and his mobile phone. An avid reader and a voracious speaker, Ganpath’s speech would often be confined to basic needs.
His friends, who were earlier jealous of his happy family were now concerned. Soon, Ganpath Rao became extinct in their conversations.
Shantha was worried about his deteriorating health . She missed the Ganpath she had married.
But an opening in the newspaper which wrapped his favourite Idly Sambar caught Ganpath’s eye. Wanted: A journalist with a Degree in Economics. No age bar.
Ganpath Rao who had been incommunicable for so long, announced “Shantha..Found it” Before Shantha could reply, she saw Ganpath running towards his bedroom. He opened the almarah where he placed all his belongings and gingerly plucked the certificate from his academic certificates folder “MERIT STUDENT IN ECONOMICS” in bold red it read.
Euphoric, he prepared a glittering resume and walked to the address mentioned in the Newspaper. His confidence, academic background, and his unmatched energy had made him the most suitable candidate for the job.
Ganpath Rao, at the age of 80, now began life afresh. He wrote coloumns for the new newspaper and in a short span of time, the newspaper had achieved commendable success. Still there was something amiss in his life. The walk back home after a day at work was filled with despair. Memories of the dining table filled with his family members always haunted him.
One day, for a coloumn on Rising Prices, Ganpath visited the Bazaar where he met Venkat, the Bhajiwala. While others’ refused to speak, Venkat boldly spoke about the market situation. Since then, he had grown fondness towards Venkat. He would visit the Bazaar every evening after that. Sometimes he would take Shaantha to the Bazaar.
Venkat would keenly observe people. He had learnt Marathi, Bengali, Gujrathi, Sindhi, Telugu ways of demanding Vegetables and he imitated it with perfection.
One day, Ganpath offered a huge sum of money to Venkat to shift his shop to a better place and make more money. He was afraid of Venkat’s loss in his life.
Venkat politely refused and said “If I had to go to a bigger place, I would have done it long ago.. Saar.. But why should I go? Where will I get people like you.. Saar”
Tears rolled down Ganpath’s cheeks. He invited Venkat home along with his family. Shantha and Ganpath were amused at their strange camaraderie. After years, they ate a meal with a dining table filled with people.
Their gloom was lost in the chuckles of Venkat’s comical acts and the warmth of his family.

Bazaar – Market
Bhaajiwala – Vegetable Man

It is a Tangy Teusday post

Can be checked here: http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/09/13/indian-bloggers-nadal-gadchiroli-bajaj-chetak

Do check this link for other short stories and other writes (published articles, contests):
http://nnivedita.com/short-stories/ganpath-rao/

Book Review::Into the Wild By Jon Krakauer

2011-09-09T21:28:00.002-05:00

Into the wild

Walks this genius child

Beknownst of what lays ahead

Confident, of nothing does he dread

Loathed

Loved

Yet, did what he thought was right

Embracing truth—that shackles the might

Into the Wild

Walked this genius child

Other particulars:
Author: Jon Krakauer
Pages: 205
Price: Rs. 370
Personal Note: Read the book if you believe in leaving everything behind and walking into the wild. Read the book if you believe in the concept “Vairagya” from the Hindu scriptures. Though not in its entirety but to an extent.
Picked this book when a co-blogger, Santhosh K Ramachandran had suggested this book. I am glad he did.

Pic Courtesy: http://blog.moviefone.com/2007/09/06/telluride-review-into-the-wild/

Book Review::ILeadership for a New Generation-The Steve Jobs Way

2011-09-05T03:43:00.002-05:00

Personal Note: It would not have been a better time than now to complete this book. I picked this book a couple of days ago. I just read the title. I am not am “Apple Fan”. I only love eating the fruit. Nor do I follow his videos. Well, instinctively I just picked it up and I am glad I did.
About the book: Written by Senior Vice President, Jay Elliot , The book is divided into five parts.
I. Product Czar
II. Talent Rules
III. Team Sports
IV. Becoming Cool a different view of Selling
V. On becoming Stevian

The common factor that sticks out is the contagious passion that Steve Jobs has towards all his products. His commitment and the way he deals with the products makes his boring job seem like a glamorous one.

The author through the different parts of the book speaks about Steve Jobs’ leadership style and how he made each employee feel that they are an important part of the company. Anecdotes about:
Android phones, how they would have been better only if the makers had known that the hardware was so complicated.
Only if Gillette had used their own product they would have been better.
Such anecdotes help one realise how important it is to make their product user-friendly.

With Steve, it is only your talent that matters not a plethora of certificates with no bent towards the product. And examples of several employees who were college drop outs strengthens this.

Going to Hawaii with the entire team, Celebrating new year parties with ex-employees, gifting ipods, Apple computers, and personally handing over their bonus, makes Steve a class apart.

If you disagree with Steve, he would appreciate you talk about it. Most of the meetings have turned into heated arguments.

Jay talks about Steve and the internal functioning of the Company with such high regard that you feel that you are present and talking to Jay about Steve. And only a person who has been truly inspirational can evoke such feelings within others.
Read the book if you are tired of books like 101 ways to become a CEO or the rights things to do to become a leader and books of such clan as this one would not talk about any methods but urge you to be motivated, unintentionally

With Steve its not like a traditional business organization. People who have ideas can just walk up to him and express it.

He motivated us by starting our day with statements like “what we are doing would make a big difference to the entire Universe”
And bringing the big wig of PepsiCo to Apple with statements like “Would you like to sell sweet water all your life or would you like to do something for the humanity?”

The most important thing is fall in love with what you do, the rest will fall in love. And that’s the Steve Jobs way – iLove it.

You can also read the review (and take a tour of my new Web site as well) here: http://nnivedita.com/book-reviewileadership-the-steve-jobs-way

Happy Teachers Day

2011-09-05T00:22:00.002-05:00

A dhoti. A pair of spectacles. And a large heart. The only possessions of my grandfather.
He draped his dhoti also known as “Mootam” while performing his prayers. With his hands folded in reverence to Allah, Gautam Buddha, Jesus, Mahaveer, Shree Krishna (Names in alphabetical order). For a couple of years, we did not know which sect/caste/religion we belonged to until we had to fill the form during our class ten where questions about religion had to be filled.
And that’s the first lesson my grandfather taught us: Secularity. It really doesn’t matter to whom you are born or which messenger you follow. What matters is the message i.e., Humanity and the goal of every religion: Peace.
And how did it play a role in my life. Apart from having many friends, this year on, I started observing Lent, a 40-day ritual where you give up on your favourite things before celebrating Easter. And observing Roza before Ramadaan.
I did not do it to show off or tell people but for myself and as a tribute to my grandfather’s teaching.
A pair of spectacles: Grandfather had a poor eyesight but an unmatched vision. He would read everything his blur eyesight could and the views would be strengthened with the power of his spectacle. I have seen him read and collect articles on various subjects and during the past few years he would meticulously organize it subject wise and distribute it to my Doctor Cousin, Engineer Relative, to the women who loved cooking, read out few of them to my Grandmother and has given few of them to me.
And How did I implement it in my life? Whenever I read a article or a book and immediately I remember someone, I either mention it to them or give the article away. I was selfish earlier and I used to collect all of them and never give it. But watching my grandfather do it, I felt ashamed of my selfish behaviour.
Like I read a quote by a wise man “A Good Teacher Teaches, the Great Teacher Inspires”
And a large heart, he would always speak to every living being which responded back. He would talk to them and he was winsome. People would talk their heart out and in due course of time, especially in the last few years, Grandfather had earned a lot of good friends. He never expected anything in return.
Perhaps, My Grandfather was a Great Teacher. And, I type this, not because he is my grandfather but because he has taught lessons not only while he was living but after his death too.
My grandfather passed away three days ago but he has prepared by grandmother for it. He has been in our hearts and to him, my best teacher I dedicate this post.
Happy Teachers Day to each of as you have taught a valuable lesson in my life or I am sure made an impact in some one’s life.

Personality of the Month - September

2011-09-04T01:06:00.000-05:00

Author of three books -- Connect the Dots, Stay Hungry and Stay foolish, and I have a Dream,
Rashmi Bansal has obliged to be the Personality of the Month for September.

To read more, click the picture below:

One Minute Writer Winner

2011-08-31T09:29:00.000-05:00

It gives me some kind of weird happiness winning One Minute Writer prompts.
Here is one of them.

Thank you for the great prompt Beth.

For my write here: http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/2011/08/todays-writing-prompt-priorities.html

Won this:

Short Story:: Aslam

2011-08-30T22:54:00.006-05:00

It was a rainy night when Ammijaan told 7-year-old Aslam that he would be sent to boarding school.
He complained “No…Ammi. I don’t want to go. They serve stale food there”
“.. You failed this time… Look at your cousins, Abdul and Jaffar, they come first everytime!” Ammi shouted
“Even I can get…” Aslam said, frowning and looking out of the window. His cousins, Abdul and Jaffar were busy making paper boats and placing it in the tributary connecting it to the canal.
“Stop complaining! you cannot stay in this noisy home and study. You will only fail like this” Ammi said holding his report card between her fat fingers and staring at him, as her eyes turned red.
Today, when Ammi warned about sending Aslam to boarding school, Aslam eyes watered as he thought “Who would Dadujaan have his milk with? Who will tell him stories?”
Aslam and his huge family lived in a two-storied building. Aslam, Abba and Ammi lived in the second floor and Dadujaan lived in a small room at the end of the floor. Aslam’s cousins, Abdul and Jaffar and their parents lived in the first floor.
Dadujaan kept his room clean. His only possessions were few story books, Holy books, and a rocking chair.
A strict vegetarian, he would go for walk in the park everyday in the morning. Aslam and his cousins, Abdul and Jaffar would often accompany him. The park was 2 kilometers away from home and walk to the park was always filled with laughter and fun. Dadujaan would engage the boys by asking them riddles and cracking jokes.
After the walk, Aslam would get ready to school. On returning from school, he would gulp snacks and some milk and run to Dadujaan who would be waiting for him.
Aslam would seat himself in his lap and tell tales of his school and Dadujaan would recite tales of bravery, love and his old days. Dadujaan was fond of all the grandchildren but Aslam would spend more time with him. Even while having their breakfast, Aslam would sit with Dadujaan.
Dadujaan had milk in the night. Aslam would often accompany him in his room, gorging on Brinjal (the king of all vegetables) curry and Indian bread. Sometimes Jaffar and Abdul would join them.

He would miss all that if he went to hostel.
He tried to convince Ammi but she was stubborn. She never gave up. So he decided to tell Abba when he would be back from work.
He was rereading the science lessons when Abba’s car honked. He quickly changed into Kurta Pyjama and applied powder on his face. Abba was a disciplinarian.
He read for a while. Waited till he saw Abba go into his room. He slowly walked to the room and knocked the huge door.
“Come in” Abba said in a voice as heavy as a wooden log.
Aslam opened the huge door with all his might and went in. Abba was arranging his clothes in the cupboard at the far end of the room. Aslam stood where he was, scratching the edge of the wooden bed, close to the door, with his sharpened pencil.
When Abba asked “What happened, Aslam?”
The tip of the pencil broke.
He smiled shivering “Abba..How was office?”
Abba asked sternly “What do you want, Aslam?”
Abba was still leaning near the bed.
“Don’t slouch..Have I not told you earlier?”
“yes Abba..Actually..I came to say Good Night!” And he ran away.
He did not want to take a chance, now. He ran to his room and slept. He did not go to Dadujaan that evening.
And the next few days, Aslam woke up late. He would wonder all night how to talk to Abba.
Sometimes, he would wake up early but close his eyes, his thoughts meandering to a life at the boarding school.
He remembered that evening when it was rainy heavily, last year, and Karimbhai came home for holidays. He told him, Abdul and Jaffar about his life at the boarding school. But Aslam never took warnings seriously.
The Rainy Season end soon.
At school, during the break, while having lunch, his friends asked “What happened Aslam? Are you not well!”
Aslam lied “No..I am fine!”
That evening, when he came home, Dadujaan called him to his room. “Aslam, what happened?”
And brushed his hair with his hands. Aslam did not tell. He did not want to burden poor Dadujaan with his problems.
When Dadujaan coaxed him, Aslam hugged Dadujaan “Ammi wants me to leave this home and go away!”
“She wants me to go away like Karim Bhai. I don’t want to leave you and go, Dadujaan” He cried
Dadujaan hugged him tight and asked, wiping his tears “Why did Ammi say that?”
“I failed Dadujaan” Aslam said, looking at the floor, embaressed
Dadujaan said “Wait, let me think! There has to be some solution”
Aslam was still upset.
Dadujaan took him in his lap and cajoled him “Everyday, I drink milk. See I am so smart now” and whispered a plan in his ears. Aslam eyes grew wide with happiness and he gave Dadujaan a “high-five.”
It was a bright morning when Aslam woke up early. He dressed quickly and ran to Dadujaan’s room.
The light in Dadujaan’s room was still on but he was not there. Ammi went to switch it off. She saw Aslam inside who was closing the shelf door. He ran out, when he saw Ammijaan. Before she could call him and ask the land line rung .
She lifted the phone “Assalaam Wallekum..”
A couple of second later, “What?” she shrieked
Aslam came running to see Ammi in tears.
“I will be there..” she put the receiver down.
She packed her bag, kissed Aslam on his forehead and told him “I am going to meet Mamujaan is unwell. Tell others in the home” she hurried.
After a few days, Ammi returned home. The house was decorated with flowers to welcome her. Aslam, with Jaffar had decorated the house.
Mamujaan was now fine and Ammi was glad.She came home and as she was unpacking. She saw a yellow color familiar card there. She opened to card to see in the last coloumn “A +” in all subjects.
Ammi was in tears and called Aslam. She hugged him, took him in her lap and asked how he did this.
He told it was a secret plan and told how he studied everyday in the morning in Dadujaan’s room when he went for walking. He told Ammi how he studied everyday according to a plan chart given by Dadujaan.
Ammi hugged him and kissed his check.
Aslam asked “Ammi, will you send away to a boarding school even now?”
“No !” She smiled, beaming with pride
…
That evening, in Dadujaan’s lap, Aslam explained how happy Ammi was and promised never to send him to boarding school. Dadujaan gave Aslam a “high-five”

And celebrated Eid that evening with every one at Home.

Eid Mubarak everyone!:)

Book Review:: Campus Cola By N. Sampath Kumar

2011-08-26T03:14:00.002-05:00

Ragging, Fun, night outs, Dhabha Food, doesn’t it entice you even today to those fond memories?

I am sure for each of us who had a wonderful life at college would nod in agreement. And, that’s what the book does. The narrator, a 43 year old takes us to his college, DEFCOMs, the grueling routine, their time at college and the person the college made them.

I liked the book for a taste of life without modern technology. For the little things that brought a lot of happiness even in the grind of every day routine.

The FUNtastic ride and trysts with through college life and memories are during the time when cell phones and Internet were nonexistant.

The hilarious narration of the author and the details mentioned one chapter after the other take you on a high.

I chuckled at all the moments that the author has mentioned. I relived the ragging moments and most of all empathized with the forty three year old who narrated the story.

I went on a nostalgic trip to my college days, which is just a few years ago.

Read the book if you like taking a trip down the memory lane.

Sree Kiran

2011-08-24T22:53:00.001-05:00

Witty, skinny and friendly, Sree Kiran, is my class mate during school.
We started speaking in the ninth class, because that’s when we were shuffled and all my friends were in other sections. Sree Kiran was one of the few from my class in eighth who was with me in ninth as well.
We had taken Telugu as our second language too. And she was one of the few back benchers along with me, Ashwini and Pooji.
So, in short, Sree Kiran and I got along during class. Today, I remembered her as I got introduced to someone whose name is “Sree”
The moment I got introduced to her, all the fond memories with Sree kiran flashed like a sequence of animated pictures.
Sree Kiran was not a typical girl.
She would not talk bad about anybody. She was friendly and she had a sarcastic-like sense of humour. I would laugh aloud in the class room with her and she would suggest that I use the huge text book especially in the telugu class to cover my face.
Ashwini, Pooji, Sree Kiran and I would do that during every Telugu class. Put the book in front of us and laugh.
I was fond of Sree Kiran ance once I took her landline number to call her up.
I love the landline for this reason. You really would not know how long you have been talking unless your folks at home remind you.
So, I called Sree Kiran, and asked “Hello. Sree Kiran. How are you?”
She replied “Fine”
I: What are you doing re? Did you do your homework?
She: Nothing. Yes.
I: So tell me more, We had so much fun in class today. Telugu miss was angry with us. Hehe.
She: Yes.
And pause..
I waited for her to talk, but she wouldn’t.
A couple of days later, after a lot of hesitation, I shared this incident with Ashwini and Pooji and they reacted the same.
We wondered why was she answering in monosyllables. We presumed that her family was strict at home. During school, she was so “JOKEY” as we would say in school.
But one day, we saw her Dad drop her home and such camaraderie they shared.
She even kissed him on the cheek while coming to school. And some one told us, she would do it every day. Adding to our misery.
We never asked her about it. Nor did she ever tell us. After school, she never kept in touch either.
The mystery remains.
I dont have any pics of SreeKiran, except for this one. Shree Kiran is in the third row from below and fourth from right.

Conman Shre Krishna

2011-08-22T08:23:00.000-05:00

Please note: the bold and ital words is to emphasise the "Title" of the poem

PARK by Sifr Theatre Group

2011-08-21T10:28:00.001-05:00

Play: PARK by Sifr Theatre Group
Venue: Lamakaan , 21st august 2011, 5 pm to 6 pm
I watched a Hindi Play after a long time. I have an affinity towards Hindi Plays, majorly for the SHUDH HINDI that’s used and my fetish for hindi poems and hindi words. The last one I went was on Nathu Ram Godse. And the phrase I still remember was “aamaran Anshan.”
It was tough to remember for a couple of days, so I saved the phrase in my drafts. Here I picked up a couple of phrases like “udaharanath.” I hope I spelled that right.
Anyway, will write a review in Hindi, followed by English:
Is Hindi Naatak mey Chaar kirdaar they. Har Ek Kirdaar ney apni bhoomika khoob nibhayi. Mujhe toh un dino ki yaad agayi jab hum apna samay bithaane PARK mey ghoomne jaathey the. Hare k bench par kuch na kuch likha hotha tha. Aus is naatak main bhi, unhoney bade dhyaan se wahi kiya thaake mahaul asli PARK jaisa lage.
Pehle Drishya me ek bacha benches ke beech mey bagh raha hain aur ek aadmi, jise hum “A” bulaengey, woh uske peechey bhaagthe rehtha hain.
Bachey ko kala ka bahut shauk hain par usey padhne par majboor karthe hain. A boltha hain ki who uske pithaji ko ye samjhayega par bacha bhaag jatha hain. “A” ek bench par baith jatha hain aur tabhi ek aadmi, jise hum “B” bulaengey, aatha hain aur use uthne ke liye kehtha hain. Par veh nahi uththa. Chautha kirdaar bhi is mod par pravesh kartha hain.
Main iski poori kahani nahi bathaoongi par yea zaroor kehna chahoongi ki har ek drishya aur kirdharo ke beech ki varthalaap ko bahut achi tareekein se likha hain.
Uff! Now in English,

The play had only four male characters and three benches. On each bench was written a message. As we usually do in Parks. “Rajesh loves Seema” or “mera bharath mahaan”
The story was simple. The scene starts with a man run behind a school going kid. And the kid is an artiste. The man insists that the kid’s art be shown to his Dad but he yells “tum toh mujhe phasaogey” and runs away. The man, let’s call him A, sits on a bench
Slowly, another man, let’s call him B, comes into the PARK and says he wants to sleep on that bench. A fights back and B retorts. After a brief fight, A sits in the corner bench only to be disturbed by another man. Let’s call him C.
The story slowly weaves intricately into each of their lives. The metaphors used and the language was neat.
The play was engaging. Engaging enough to make us sit even though it was raining and watch it.
Great show! Do watch it. Simple, Witty, and Engaging.

A picture taken from their Website:

Strangers (A sonnet)

2011-08-19T23:38:00.002-05:00

Through the window I see you on the bed,
Chanting the brown-beads, hoping you stay alive
move your lips, “I have duties on my head”
slips a tear, awed how supreme connives

The other side, your loved ones, moan in pain
“I wish I could tell him I loved him, a lot”
“Wish once I could kiss on his forehead, hug him again”
And one prayed “we still have not tied the knot”

Wiser ones reminded “He had enough ”
“Let us hold our hands and pray together”
“Hope for the best, and gain strength in times, rough”
Wept and prayed intensely, hugged each other

Walk past these people, ‘fore I’ve never met
Strange! my heart aches and my eyes become wet

Super URLS (Links worth Spreading and Cherishing)

2011-08-18T05:08:00.000-05:00

This was posted by Valli, my friend since Inter for my birthday. I think it was very cute. Especially the pictures brings back all those memories that we shared as kids. The Teddy bear in the picture always manages to creep in.
http://valleydayz.livejournal.com/tag/9th%20nov

http://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/metroplus/article2365644.ece
This post prompted me to make a post of all the links I think are worth spreading. I love what the people in the village are doing. Its commendable and worth learning.

My first mentoring experience. Few of the best moments in life. Met great people. http://nivuuuuu.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-first-step.html

http://ravikumarwrites.blogspot.com/2007/01/girl-at-station.html
I wonder how my friend, Ravi managed to do this. Hatsoff to him.

http://wikedwacked.blogspot.com/2008/07/caught.html
This one was shared with me when I just joined work. I read this a couple of times.

http://bookreviews.bookrack.in/2011/02/my-reflections-on-malgudi-days.html
I cannot believe such a long post could be so interesting.

http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/2011/06/todays-writing-prompt-believe.html
Hehe. :P

http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/2011/01/todays-writing-prompt-jet.html
I liked the way, she wrote about India. Geeta is from the United States but has become a Hindu.

http://mota-blogs.com/2010/08/23/my-child-is-the-cutest/
I love what Vatsal wrote.

Book Review:: A Dilli Mumbai Love Story by Abhimanyu Jha (along witth author interview)

2011-08-17T22:42:00.003-05:00

Juggling between 26/11 attacks in Mumbai, the moments between Aparijita and Anirudha, A Dilli-Mumbai Love Story, as the name suggest, is a story about love, pride, and standing up for your love and those small things in love that you would love to live.

Anirudha Hirani falls in love with Aparijita Pinto at the first sight. Different religions. Different background. Dissimilarities and more importantly the stark difference in their economic status. Yet, nothing deters Anirudha to chase his love and Aparita to accept it.

They fight all odds to keep their marriage alive, their love alive and most importantly keep each other happy. However, due to certain circumstances Aparijita and her friend get stuck in the Taj Hotel on 26/11, taking the story to a different plane.

I think:

The transition between 26/11 and the past was smooth and not even a moment did I feel it was out of context. The book moves back and forth time. If you like love stories, you are bound to get swayed.

The characterization of each person in the book was good. They developed into good personalities and some of them you could connect with.

A few things that could be better:

Most of the writers fail to realise that not everyone knows the language, Hindi and a glossary provided to assist the non-Hindi speakers could be a great help.

The grammar, the sentence formation was mostly in the colloquial language. It serves the purpose that the author is trying to speak to you.

Read it: when you feel like reading a sweet romantic tale.

Few Questions with the Author:

1. When did you start writing?

Well… to be honest, one day, years ago when I was in my 3^rd year in IIT Madras, I suddenly decided to write and the result was a yet unpublished novel. I can’t remember what exactly propelled me to write my first book that I had called 'In Search of Afroza'… I think Gujarat riots. ‘A Dilli Mumbai…’ happened when I decided to write something simpler.

2. Why this genre?

I am a diehard romantic :)

3. Any book that you really love reading?

There are quite a few... Love Story, Mill on the Floss, The English Patient, The Time Traveler's Wife, Pride & Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Sherlock Holmes Collection, Works of Sharatchandra Chatterji, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter... the list goes on

4. Were the characters in the book close to any one you knew?

No... not this time :) Only that I made the male protagonist like and be a student of a subject I also like - Economics...

5. Do you get writers block, if so how do you over come it?

Yes. I overcome it by writing, no matter what :)

6. Things without which you cannot write?

No such thing. I am an entrepreneur in parallel with being a writer, run an education company full-time, so I won't be able to write if I have such hangups. As I said, one has to write no matter what. It's a discipline.

7. One of the best book you've read and recommend to all those who would like to write in the romantic genre

Light Read - 'Love Story', 'The Time Traveler's Wife'.
Literary Read - A tough choice between 'The English Patient', 'Mill on the Floss'

8. Future projects? or books?
A satire on Indian education called 'Year of the CAT' and a yet untitled very dark romance...

9. What do you do for a living?

I run an education company with 3 friends called TalentBridge Technologies (www.talentbridge.co.in)

Abhimanyu Jha:

I-Day

2011-08-15T07:41:00.002-05:00

This Independence Day was special:

1. I watched the Indian Flag being hoist

2. I sang the anthem and

3. I renewed my friendship this Independence Day.

I met Uday, my friend with whom I used to play Table Tennis at Nirman*, home for the special students of intellectually disabled.

Down’s Syndrome – that’s what he is categorized under. But, wonder why they call it Down’s Syndrome, he is always on a High and spirits soaring up. I met him a couple of times, earlier and each time, I saw a different-spirited Uday. He calls me “Tivvi.”

Today, he was smiling, was clicking pictures and singing too. He sang “Tujhe Dekha toh yea Jaana Saanam” and some duets.

He actually represented India in Table Tennis at Greece for Special Olympics too. Special Olympics as the name suggests is Olympics for the Special Children and Uday is always excited about it. Most of the times, he is seen wearing the medals. Whenever I meet Uday, I meet a different me. I let go of myself and celebrate life like he does. There is nothing I do for him, most of the times, it’s otherwise.

A small poem:

Me, that was lost, regained

Smiling and happy like Uday, my friend

Tomorrow seems far away

It’s just the beginning of a new day

Enjoy, love, laugh, jump, celebrate

Remember and adore people, great

Pursue your full potential,

Smile and live – Aaj and Kal

With Uday:

*: I volunteer there through the company i work for, Thomson Reuters. I must admit, CSRC committee does a fab job here by purchasing products the students at Nirman produce. And encouraging them in several ways. Apart from celebrating our I-Day there, we inaugurated a bore well for Nirman.

Along with couple of friends, done some volunteering independently too. Nirman is near HMT, Balanagar, Hyderabad. nirmanvtc.org.

Book Review:: Of Dreams by Aditi Talwar Sodhi

2011-08-14T20:31:00.000-05:00

Some women give in to societal pressure and camouflage their happiness with blasphemy.

Some women fight all odds to pursue their dreams

And some women rise from the ashes and fight for their dignity

What if one example from the above categories mentioned are friends and then move on to live different lives?

If you wish to know, then you must read “Of dreams”

A story of three women, Payal, Amrita and Aarti. They are friends who stand at the threshold of life’s misgivings and churn their future accordingly.

Payal , Amrita and Aarti are friends since college and bid farewell with promises on their lips and desires in their heart.

As calamity befalls on each of them in different shapes and sizes, they choose their unique way to handle it. If Amrita gives in, Aarti and Payal give it back in their own capacity. What are the calamities that befell? How do they deal with it? Read the book, to know more.

The characterization is good. I liked the story of Amrita the most. The roles the men in the stories is sketched very well.

The content, very well grammatically phrased sentences and the best part was there was never a character wasted.

Things I felt could have been better was there was an overdose of gloom I felt. A balance could have worked out well too.

An excerpt:

“You inherited the shape of my face, the colour of my skin and the almond of my eyes. And you inherited my dreams. A long time ago, I also requested my mother for love and a place in the family business and in return I was paraded in front of strangers and exchanged for business favours. And, I repeated the same with you. I wanted to snatch your dreams and compensate for them with outdated ideologies.”

Interview with the Author, Aditi.

1. Why did you choose this theme for your book?

There are some things in our society that move me - sometimes even to tears. I want them to be different but don’t have the solution. So I have chosen to take them up by writing about them in an engaging and entertaining manner and reach out to as many open minds as possible.

2. The kind of research you did for writing your book?

The book draws from my life in Dubai and India, my travels, my understanding of and experience in the business world and it has that ring of simple human truths because of the art of culling insights that my decade long experience in advertising and marketing has taught me.

3. Did you closely relate to an character in the book?

The protagonists have taken on the shades of my character and those of the people I have met and interacted with in my life. Those shades when mixed with pure fiction have created rich textures and tones.

Personally, I relate to Aarti’s on-again off-again pessimism, a younger me would related to Amrita’s malleability and I definitely have Payal’s drive - I may not deploy her means though:)

4. Do you think that women, today face problems like Amrita in the book did?

Look at the BBC’s worrying report on India’s 2011 census that shows a serious decline in the number of girls below seven - it proves that even today a male child is preferred to a female child in our society. In the upper class this fact hides behind good clothes and opulent weddings; in other societies it manifests itself as the youngest brother of many sisters.

Some books are flights of fantasy; some flights of fancy...my book is heightened reality - heightened so that the point I am trying to make is not lost on the reader. So Amrita’s problems and her consequent nature may be slightly exaggerated to that effect.

5. Whats your routine?

A decade long hectic work routine in advertising and marketing across India, Africa and Middle East ended when I had my daughter. Since then my routine pretty much revolves around her meals, naps and play time. Now I write books and freelance as a copywriter for advertising agencies in Dubai.

6. Tips for people who love writing?

Write from your heart. Avoid fracturing any rules of grammar. Edit, edit, edit and edit again.

7. Can you tell about how you chose the characters? Were they people you knew or how did you work on it?

Each character is a blend of key characteristics of people I know and pure imagination - untraceable to my friends and family and yet borrowed from them.

Raksha Bandhan

2011-08-13T12:56:00.000-05:00

The bond which ties a sister and a brother
The thread which creates fond memories
Reminiscing the pranks played on each other

Raksha Bandhan symbolizes the power of faith, so strong
The sacred relation---sister unconditionally prays for the brother
And the brother promises to take care of her life long

My Aunt tied me Rakhi and said "I am your sister"

These are few pics of my cousins (actually own bro-like) and me on different occasions.

With Pavan Anna:

Sweet and simple
Alas! No Dimple

Been a companion in all deeds
And in wicked tricks and treats

With Chinna:

My first friend since childhood
Done crazy stuff together

Jumping in a tub of water for example
Or checking out Samples :P

With BachieAnna:

Bade Bhaiyya he has been
Never a person so mature I've seen

All the fights we had
Silly, We were Mad

Ode to all the people who make life beautiful with their unconditional love and support

Indian Traffic Police on FB

2011-08-12T08:48:00.000-05:00

I was pleasantly surprised to see our Traffic Police on Facebook.

I knew Delhi had this facility of posting their grievance along with a picture on Facebook and the police would take immediate action.
But here's Hyderabad following suit to the Delhi Police Facebook page.
Here is the Hyderabad Police Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/HYDTP

And the Delhi Police Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Delhi-Traffic-Police/117817371573308
All you need to do is :
1. Post your grievance with your telephone number
2. Load a picture

An excerpt from a blog "Police in New Delhi have dished out 665 tickets for traffic violations, though not by using any traditional footwork. Instead, the local PD launched a Facebook page where fans can submit photos of bad drivers. With 6.5 million vehicles registered to drive on its roads, New Delhi is notoriously afflicted by motorists that tend to alternate between homicidal and suicidal. So far, fans of the Facebook page have submitted a rash of photos of cars and motorcycles in illegal or dangerous situations. "

Hope the other cities follow suit and wish their first step against corruption.