Arugudi

It was one of those rare Monday mornings that didn’t feel like a punishment. For a person who usually feels the full weight of 'Monday Blues', the sky blushing in streaks of orange and rose made me forgot that it was the beginning of a workweek. The air was crisp, not cold, and the golden hue of the rising sun spilled across the city like a warm promise. I walked into the office, coffee in hand, watching the world get busy in slow motion. The always busy building buzzed with the usual Monday energy. As the keycard beeped opening the door to the usually expected clattering of keyboards and morning grumbles, a strange stillness greeted me in. Surprised, I struggled to find some familiar faces for comfort. I absent-mindedly wondered if it was the right floor only to find my practical side reassuring me that the doors open only with the correct keycard.  I hopelessly screened through all of my memory files to find any trace of a missed memo about additional leaves as I wandered thr...

Wayanad, Am I to be blamed? As I walk alone in this journey  Defaced, dejected and distraught  I hear the cries of death and mutilation wondering if, I am the one to be blamed. Constantly torn and disfigured am I  But you never hear me groan My patience and strength,  a boon or a curse  I wonder if I am to be blamed. As I walk further tainted and bruised I constantly wish to be whole again Those sleepless nights of fear and death I wonder if I am to be blamed, again.

"A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots." - Marcus Garvey Socialist Republic of Vietnam, a country with rich history and deep rooted culture welcomed me with open arms on a drizzly morning of June. The sun which had set behind the majestic mountains overlooking the Garden-City heritage themed Terminal 2 of Kempegowda International Airport the previous evening had decided to resurface behind a fleet of green aeroplanes with the markings of Vietnam Airlines, parked in the east of Noi Bai International Airport. The red flag with a yellow star in the middle hoisted proudly on all the available posts in Noi Bai International Airport told a story of its own, a story I was keen to listen. But, the rising sun had already woken up my internal clock which had in turn convinced my stomach to produce digestive juices in anticipation of a sumptuous breakfast. Thus began the quest for some Vietnamese staple, Pho or the traditio...

"मोहब्बत, चीज़ बड़ी ज़ालिम है, आज मेरी है, तो कल किसी और की सपने तो सारे काले ही है, न कोई रंग, न चमक उसकी गोर करो भाईलोग, आज यह सच मैं कहता हूं ये दुनियां ही सारी कमीनी है, न सपने है, न मोहब्बत उसकी।।" A huge applause with joyous shouts of "wah wah" followed these lines at the 'Sardar da dhaba', on the Chandigarh road, a little further away from Zirakpur towards Delhi. The audience comprised of tired truck drivers, sleepy cleaners, the over enthusiastic dhaba staff and simple nomadic travellers like Abi who were all waiting for their steaming hot parathas with extra makkan and their choice of the delicious punjabi gravy, 'thadka maarke'.  This newly formed local 'Mirza Ghalib' was a man in his late thirties, who clearly had had one too many of his desi daaru which was clearly visible from the number of empty glass bottles abondoned at the edge of his charpai. He resembled a hippy, with his baggy green pants carelessly tucked into his bulky b...

It was that time of the day when the cattle lazed back to their sheds after a good day of grazing. Smoke spiraled off the chimneys as the preparations for the evening feast was in full flow. The once tar roads filled with huge potholes had totally been transformed into newly built concrete ones, a novel remedy for low maintenance in rural areas. The hard working toddy tappers were busy at their work on top of the trees just like the rubber tappers emptying their tapping cups at the bottom. We were attending a reception in the coastal region of Karnataka which was evident with the sweat dripping off our faces. The stage was all set for an eventful evening of tradition, rituals, folklore and stories that Dakshina Kannada district is known for. Fully aware that I wasn't the first one to board the bus heading towards a wedding, this friend of mine had invited me to his wedding in a rather unique way. He had tactfully made a video covering the splendid view of his village with the gushi...

"Fredrick Douglas in his autobiography, ' Narrative of the Life of Fredrick Douglas, An American Slave''  says, "Knowledge is valuable because it is the key to freedom..." Centuries later, under very different circumstances, I would like to emphasise that one of the most reliable and key contributors to knowledge is experience ..." said the speaker in his long and eloquent speech. I was invited to the annual day of a prominent company in Bengaluru. It was a well organised function with beautifully decorated halls  studded with eminent personalities and top shelf wine to raise a toast. Almost picture perfect! It was that time of the day when the sun kissed the horizon for the second time and the tired faces showed the efforts being put in by the listeners to keep their eyes from shutting. "The more you explore, the more you learn. Never stop yourself from taking the next step as you are always meant to be more. Experience is the bridge between classr...