Miracle in Life

If I were read the title as this I wouldn't go ahead reading it. Damn Sure. But this is something that happened to me in reality and there isn't a way I can hide from it. Last year, I had an accident on my bullet(Bike) and broke my leg after a freaky accident - The blame goes on some drunk jerk who rammed into me head on. I was transported to the hospital and the doc instructed a months crash onto the bed. That said, I flew to Calcutta, my home town, with my brother. Guess he was relived seeing me at home as he had the entire responsibility of seeing to it that he delivers the mangled parcel perched on a rickety wheel chair...That's for the background.

Reached home...moms eyes swelled...Usual emotional exchanges were dealt with. Mom suggested that I read Sai Baba's Sacharita, as a thanksgiving to Lord Almighty to just break one of my leg and not my entirety. Seemed fair enough to me as I was eluding the read for a long time since I prayed to do so years back. And, being handicapped, bed ridden and with the option of working from home (My employer blessed me with Laptop, the day I joined my organization) I prepared myself for reading it as it seemed to be the best time to display some devotion towards God. It needed to be finished in a week's time and it was laborious task for me as I am neither inclined towards reading nor do I the patience to pursue a task for a week. I scrapped my through and probably finished it during the last hour of the last day - Nothing new - 'Late everywhere' been the motto of my existence.

The book at the end says that, if read with a full, devoted heart a Fakir in the form of Baba would come down to EAT FOOD the very next at your place. I despised it by thinking that its the 21st century and Fakirs ha vent ever turned up at our doorstep ever. But I felt satisfied when I was done with the ritual. Next day, I wake up and Moms already cooked special dishes for the 'hopefully arriving Fakir'. I was a little surprised by her devotion and kept mum about my apprehension about the whole fakir issue. The food was offered to God in the form of regular prayers. Just as she finished it, the door bell rang. She opened the same and I couldn't believe my very own eyes. A Muslim Fakir in the form of a tramp collecting rags, old papers and other unwanted stuff stood at the threshold. My belief was immediately strengthened. I could feel the my nerves contracting, with the odd shiver in my limbs. God's grace I must say.

But I was fully convinced - The lord knows his disciples mind and he made sure he convinced me by a couple of ways. After doing his regular hara kiri, the fakir said 'I am hungry ma...Is there anything to eat?'. I couldn't stop a tear fall. Couldn't believe my ears, senses went numb. I sat saying nothing, pleased with the grace of God. Half way into his meal, he asked my condition and said some pleasing words with warmth. Just before leaving he said 'Allah Malik hai beta' and he left. Alla Malik hai is something that Baba always says - always.

People may ignore the whole incident as a freaky coincidence. But why should the Fakir turn up the very day, the very hour, the very minute? Why should he be terribly hungry at 9 in the morning? And why would only those words be uttered at that moment? I don't see coincidence playing any role here. Its just God's miracle and grace.

I am not a propagator of spiritualism. I ain't any holy soul. I don't chant God's name anywhere close to what true disciples do. Its God's own way of playing with his pupils in this arena called life.

May everyone be blessed. Peace to be all.

As harmless as it seems!!

Living in a cosmopolitan place like Bangalore looks comforting and it seems to open up avenues to various arenas of life, which would have remained unconquered - Specifically referring to the eateries. Eateries ranging from pizza outlets to cuisines designed specifically for the Caribbean, Italian and the countries go unnumbered. But it’s not so easy for a jerk like me.

I face a humongous challenge whenever I enter a non-Indian outlet. It is this trivial, harmless pamphlet – The Menu Card. The challenge is because of my lack of vocabulary around the terminologies revolving around cooking. The first step is pronouncing the names written on the menu card. Ok…That’s done because of my friendly fellow diner, who would meticulously spell it out to me. Next stage of the contest is to understand the contents of the dish mentioned from its nomenclature. I mean things like Anti-Pasti (Which are supposedly Starters) are beyond my comprehension. And to maintain their ethnological diversity from other eateries, the dodgy menu card doesn’t possess a description of the dish that I am trying to ascertain and understand. I try dismantling the name into parts to identify with anything that I have heard, listened or read. Again my knowledge is most uprightly challenged. I again disturb my fellow diner for the same.

Sometimes I turn lucky. Though some of the eateries maintain their cultural anthropology, they do understand that a specimen like me always exists. So they give a brief description of the dish under question. But the dumber brain in me refuses to accept the differences between terms like tossed X, baked Y and so on. Then there are inputs of the dish that belong to a different genre, or better still, I belong to a unique backward league. It took me at least 10 outings to understand the difference between broccoli, spinach and other leafy vegetations that are used. And there are these different bases that are put to use to bring out the customized output. Even after all these complications, I see my mates customizing it further, by adding a dash of X and a pinch of Y. Maybe, I need to reside in a village.

Conveniently, I adopted a best practice approach to resolve this. I delegate my fellow diner to order the stuff for me and anyway, I don’t have any strong preferences about food. This works in my favor in two ways. One, the fellow diner feels honored and carefully customizes the dish in accordance with my tastes. Two, the waiter is relieved of dealing with a dim-witted chap, who would take at least quarter to an hour to order.

I miss my mom’s food even more now. Hopefully things would change or I may make the roadside ‘dhaba’ as my second home.

How many countries do we live in?

When I was born I was told that I belong to a country named India which is rich in tradition, culture and has a historic struggle for more than a century to get its independence. That is definitely a history worth speaking about. There are many forces across the world, who have tried to disintegrate this part of the globe for various reasons. And to complement this we have our internal corruption denting the development of our country. Recently I came across another such factor.

Commercializing – Everyone wants to make big money and that too fast. And the media is ahead of them all in doing that. The breaking news in the news channels nowadays have been quite interesting to say the least with the likes of - a lost dog, a child in a pit, the climax of a never ending serial, the possibilities of an affair in movie world and the cricketing community and the list goes on. Now this has become normal. Recently, I saw ads about a sports (Cricket) event where teams from various cities in India would clash against each other. The ad depicts the maltreatment that a dentist offers to a patient after he realizes that the patient is from the rival metro. Well I have a question here. Why should the media fuel a rivalry between two cities? Why can’t an ad be made in a self-effacing approach which doesn’t create a contention in the minds of our fellow countrymen? Already we have too many issues brewing between adjacent states over commonly shared natural resources. Now we have this to cater to.

Part 2 – There is this kids program which focuses on a dance/singing competition between kids from the cities and kids from smaller towns. Why should the entertainment industry differentiate kids like this? Why can’t they get a bunch of kids and ask them to perform and grade them only on their merit? Such kind of segmentation is sure to have an impact in the minds of the young viewers. Such kind of rivalry would have a long lasting effect on the state of affairs down the line.

The answer seems to be fairly simple. Rivalry sells. And it sells for big bucks. Yes – it is important to make money for all of us. But somewhere we should look back to understand at what cost are we making the money. Down the line I may have to give a different answer to my child when he asks me about his motherland.

The ride to Chennai-Mahabalipuram from Bangalore

I was planning to pen my thoughts about this trip for the past two weeks, but some unprecedented events and some intended hectic undertakings delayed the proceedings. One of my good friends got married in Chennai in the first week of Feb. And the holy matrimony event was on a Sunday. So you have two days to go and attend and come back. And the distance to be covered is atleast 700 kms. So what do you do? You just take your bike and ride your way!

We were more than dozen of us with three cars and two bikes to accomplish the ride. As usual, you would have a delay in your launch timings and this time the reason could be attributed to my fellow bulleteer (Sameer). He couldn’t resist a power nap which extended to a merry resting escapade for a couple of hours. The delayed start implied that we all meet at Hosur at 7 in the morning. After a little discussion and exchange of notes about the itenary of our halts, the ride began.

The initial stretch was an impeding traverse as the highly under-constructed road couldn’t offer a biker the pleasure of riding. But once the initial 20 km stretch was covered, the bumpy, muddy, lopsided road transformed into a smooth even highway. The bike revered to the condition of the highway and the throttle was upped slowly. The bullet is tailor-made for these conditions and I had no reticence about raising the throttle. The very meaning of cruising was achieved and words cannot depict the ecstasy that a rider feels. As discussed, we rode at speeds of 70-80 which is considered for the health of the bullet. A 50-60 Km stretch was covered in an hour and we halted for our first break near krishnagiri for the much awaited breakfast. A good heavy breakfast and a smoke was all that was required to restart and away we went for another 150 Kms without a halt. After the Krishnagiri turn, the highway was studded with scenic structures – some natural and some manmade. Sleet of rain was just the element that could have spurred the anxiety in your heart, though it decelerated our speeds. The 4 wheelers were no where to be seen and the bikers excused themselves as they wanted to enjoy their own road. The passing towns were raced through and the brakes were hardly put to use. Vellore, Ranipet and other towns whizzed passed us without a whimper. A 2 ½ hour ride brought us within 70 Kms of Chennai. A much warranted break was sought for, where refreshments helped us to replenish the exasperating yet congenial ride.


On the way back, a tweak in the route was instigated. We sped to Mahabalipuram while the sun was beaming. The small town near Chennai happens to be a coastal stretch of land with some archeological significance. With the sweat pouring down and with the biking gear on, I looked like an alien from a different planet. Post Lunch (Which is around 4.30) we started from the coastal strip and took a new route. The first town in sight was Chengalpet, the route to which was painted with pastoral, bucolic verve. The winding roads offered a complete view of the rustic countryside, which is hard to find nowadays. Once at Chengalpet, we took a diversion to Kanchipuram, which would connect to the same highway curtailing the distance by around 50 Kms. By the time we reached Kanchi it was dusk and the sweltering heat was being altered by a pleasant weather, which was an indication of the onset of a chilly conditions to come. This was the first break on our way back and the town of Kanchi could offer us some warm cups of beverages. We entered the main highway and the bikes were put to test in the night. The vision being ambiguous, it was difficult to push the throttle, but the fellow cars offered immense protection and the requisite beam to ride at 100+ Kms/hr. This was the fastest ride of the entire tour and the covered more than 200 Kms in a matter of 150 mins. We reached Krishnagiri again and had our dinner. After a long dinner break we started pulling along slowly back to Bangalore. Back in Hosur, my bike’s headlight conked off and I was sandwiched between Sameer in the front and one of our car’s in the back.

We reached home around 2 in the night and I slept for a couple of more days before, I could be normal. The ride was strenuous, tiring, exhaustive, demanding, and backbreaking. But it was ride that gave me a satisfaction and was filled with ecstasy and delight. The distinct experience is unmatched and a must for every rider on earth to see the real, unadulterated seventh heaven.

Bachelor Anonymous

I grew up and thought I could have the world at my feat
Fell for her as I couldn’t stand her heat
But then, ego is a funny emotion,
It could challenge the thing to be erect without a sexual drive
Come on, you can’t beg her and expect the man to thrive

So I stood, instead of kneeling and then,
She bid adieu and I felt my first clout
Who cares, there would be many to come
And soon enough someone heard me out

No begging, no pleading
I realized life could still become easy
A conquest at the end of it
But is it all I would have, I asked her.

She walked off as if nothing mattered
Mustering courage, I try once again
To hold forth the flag of affection and care
But little did anyone seem to notice it

Then she came in my life, Oh! I have it all
For a moment, as she wanted a commitment
And that too for life, Am I ready for this?
May be not, she said I have many who are all ready

I settled to glorify the title ‘Bachelor anonymous’
But wait a minute, who is that beauty walking by?

Some kind of a precipitation

The vertical lines shining on everything that it falls on…It’s a marvel… An eccentricity that is parallel to none – An eccentricity that would doom some day, somewhere in the name of storms and hurricanes and a whole lot of nomenclature to be attributed by the human kind to the moods of nature - An eccentricity that also fulfills the prayers of many by bringing moisture to the much needed barren lands somewhere. Humans would brief it up as a catastrophe when it is beyond their limits to sustain nature’s gesticulations. They call it as nature’s fury. Fury it is, from a perspective when it is unfathomable to us.

But rain is nature’s prudent way of cleansing its components. It has its own charm – a charm that is complemented with a music that would be heard on actuating your senses towards it. A vision synchronized with music – A symphony at last, which is never disturbed. Times have gone by and times would witness the same eccentricity of nature. But the melancholy is never to be ignored as the passive nature is explicitly conveyed in this form of precipitation. Well, it is the antonym of the fury, which is feared and somewhere respected too. For Starters – you are enchanted with a unique aroma that mankind is yet to replicate. This is followed by a few drops of chilly irrigate, that makes you feel blessed - a touch that confirms the strong hands of nature with a feeble gesture of restraint and conviction. Then is a perennial flow of water precipitated from altitudes unseen that are only grazed by the humungous mounds of sands and rocks. Man lives everywhere on the planet. He can touch these sources of precipitation (Clouds) when required and feel contended to be among them. He can fly over them to see how they sliver each other when they transition themselves to different states of matter. Or he could be down here with me in the ultimate state of affairs, before the recycling begins. The orchestra is an unforgettable event with a concluding moment which brings in an undefined ecstasy. The mellowing down of tunes, which is well harmonized with the cool waft, brings in the feeling of a euphoric finale. The finale doesn’t actually culminate, as there would be a prelude of the event somewhere again.

Perception on relationships – Evolution of the Human Stage Show

All you do is between an entry and an exit
So why first break it and then fix it
And all of it seems to be a stage for you to enact
The script with some relations rewarding a lifetime pact

The first act is when you don’t want to be understood
As you always believe you have them for good
A stage that constitutes a baseless rebellion
For which you are awarded no honorable medallion

The second is one where you reach for none
In a world that mocked you with an element of pun
But somewhere is a feeling of restlessness
And you fear that it could again be indigenous

Finally, you evolve and want to be free again
Live life in a way bonded by no poignant chain
The ones in the pact still stand good to share the pleasure
As those are ones whom you would always treasure

You graduate echelons to keep the show running
You mature to realize what’s with you is stunning
Differences are regular as they come
You fight with all but get back to some

No Reasons to Snivel

Nothing is right, nothing is wrong
In a relative world where beings throng
For once you wanted to be right though
And you ended up with someone, no where to go

Someone who never understood or knew you
The honesty that you brought in for thou
Suppression that was never you
And to say the least the hypocrite in you

With many reasons to subsist in this planet
To surface from the depths of miseries of heart
I believe that you could come out of this shell
With no reasons to Snivel