Arugudi

"This sulemani is the only highlight of today macha" said Aarav, lifting his tea from the glass topped showcase of the Metropole cafe, in the busy streets of Shivajinagar in Bangalore. "It was a day filled with oscillations between finding technical glitches and frequent visits to the boss's chamber with numerous reports and updates. Any person who has survived long enough in our world would understand the drill..." he said with his voice trailing off at the end of the sentence, subtly hinting at the lack of interest I had, in his chosen field of computers. With the beautiful orange ball of fire setting behind the tall glass buildings at a distance, I was in no mood for a battle of interests with a person so passionate about computers, that he could literally live with one, his whole life. "I caught those last words...And yeah, Live with it..." I said, playfully punching him on his right shoulder to create an impact.  "What plans this weekend?...

They say, "I never cry", but I often ask, "should I?" Is there a desire to suffice, before I grab my one last try. Have I found my life's calling, or fallen to the sitch's demanding? With dubiety always mounting, like in a whirlpool's surrounding. There is a need for emotions to flow, Time for the fresh winds to blow, Some expectations will be gutted, Acceptance might be slow. There is always hope, Or so I feel whenever I glope.  Yet I ask myself a reason to cry, When I still have my one last try.

Twenty hours, thirty one minutes and forty three seconds before the most memorable farewell moment arrived, I was involved in an animated discussion with my partners in crime in Room number 69 of the Crescent moon shaped building we called 'ADDA'. My talented special ops team of ultimate bhukkads and piyakkads was suggesting the greatest of ideas to stealthily complete my secret mission of smuggling a case of beer cans into our room. The best plan of the lot was suggested by Guru, whose idea was to tip toe my way in through the lowly constructed parapet conviniently located at the Northeastern corner of the campus. With Pandu gobbling up the last of the biscuits from the packet of Parle G strategically placed in the middle of the table, equidistant from everyone's reach, our discussion came to an abrupt halt with all the eyes in the room, turning towards the last piece of biscuit, loosely held between my index and middle finger, waiting for its holy dip in the concoction of...

I'm not the one I was yesterday Neither the one I'll be tommorow The art of living just dawned on me To always smile and live life with a dream Fun filled days might be few But solutions to problems are never new Stories of life, often many in number Realizations I miss always in my slumber Reality is something I never wish to encounter My dream world is a place so surreal, I wonder By the time the shadow of happiness fades away I should have lived life fully my way

"Driving around the empty roads of the city with the window shields down and a cigarette in hand, blowing smoke rings in the breeze is a memory I would love to relive" says Mr. Chammaiah, an 80 year old retired government servant sliding down his easy chair, getting ready for his afternoon nap. He is one person I have seen age gracefully over the years. Though I enjoy many of his tales from the 60s and 70s about various political fights and the slow transition from a joint family to a nuclear setup, his habit of chewing pan while talking always puts me off. "It is like a  key to my memory closet" he said with an uncharacteristic smile exposing his yellowed teeth and the blood red tongue. "I have lived long enough to understand the limitations of my age. Well, I can't complain. I always fought with my father to alter his work schedule as he aged. He never listened to me. To be fair to him, it was his zeal and commitment in life that got me going the whole ...

"Arre Bhai, yaha patient kaun hai?" shouted the ward boy firmly clinging on to the wheelchair, standing dazed in front of the half open backdoor of the Maruthi Omni. It was around eleven on a full moon night in the second week of the cold month of December. While the whole of Mussoorie was basking in the moonlight, I could see Robin standing next to me sweating profusely, calculating the consequences of the fall. We had driven for around twenty to twenty five minutes at breakneck speed to reach a hospital on that fateful night. The headlights of the car had unfortunately malfunctioned and it is in this time of distress that ‘Chandamama’ had generously parted with his light to guide us through the woods to reach the only hospital available for miles in the area. Relieved to have finally reached the place, Robin turned towards me saying, "Bro, wait for me here. I will try to get a wheelchair for you..." before jumping out of the car and rushing towards the main ...

'God ...' An ambiguous term. A word nobody fully comprehends but a feeling most of us relate to. A higher power, a source of strength, a belief or a ray of hope... "What or rather who is God?" was a question darted at me with such ferocity that it shook me from my ' half opened eye sleeping mode'. My drooping eyes, painfully asked me to shut it's lids and go back to my initial state of dreaming. Observing patterns of different facial muscles contracting and relaxing to form those complicated words during speech in humans has always been my fascinating hobby. It is an efficient way to switch off while discussing about topics that require deeper understanding of life. My understanding of God is very simple and convinient . A higher power that has a positive effect on everything we do in life. To think beyond this understanding is a luxury I might not entertain considering my 'Happy go lucky attitude...' When this question was directed at my half w...