The Anna agitation

There's part of me that finds the idea of engaging in dramatic activity to make my point quite exciting and yet there is the rational that despises it.

When the idea of the lokpal bill surfaced, it seemed as refreshing as rain on parched earth, cos' that's what we want isn't it?

An ideal state sans corruption. Even if we are activists of corruption in the first place with many of what we do, surmounting to corruption and bribery in some form or the other. From the cop who catches you on the phone while driving, to the children's school teacher. Bribe coated in sugar and spice and everything nice.

Have read so much on the Lokpal bill now and while its a terrific idea... the who and what is the big Q.

Somehow.. dont think too much of the Anna either and without respect... you cannot sustain a movement, an agitation or even a thought.

Anti-corruption needs to be an attitude, a way of life and a part of our conscience. If that is understood and accepted, Lokpal will be a as natural as breathing.

Har Ek friend Zaroori Hota Hai

Love the advert by Airtel.

We need all kinds of friends dont we? Even those who tear you apart into smithereens.. The primary purpose of friendship is to heal anothers and one's own soul and to be that person who is natural without artifice.

The comfort of being with a friend is like waking in the morning, lookin your worst, bad breath n all... n feelin like a queen..

The pillars that hold this fragile soul are friends who laugh away my tears.

And I wait.. to be blown to smithereens...

Exist!

Its been a year almost that I havent blogged. I guess thats the lazy me.. A lot has happened in the 12 months gone by. I have lived a few lifetimes.. born a few times, died many other..
While the angst is still present, its mellowed and restrained.. is it the passing of time that erodes away and eats into the disquiet or am I older.. and therefore wiser?
I will not make claims on the latter.

From the recesses of my mind
I cough up and dreg
a now forgotten pain
Or so I delude myself

If it has manifested
Serrated and seared
festered and fetid
It's alive

I lie to myself
that it doesnt exist
while all the while
it keeps me alive

Monsoon adventures

I guess the only time I can sit down and blog ( not that i do it standin otherwise.. ;) .. ) is when i hear the sound of rain.. I think I was concieved on a rainy day.. There is this stubborn streak in my DNA that rejoices at the smell, the feel, the taste and the sound of rain..
In Mangalore now, home. But the journey here was nothing short of a nightmare, what with the flight landing in Cochin and travelling from there on a 16 hour bus journey sitting over the rear tyres of the bus.. I have a healthy respect for the wads of tyres on my own hips now...

As always... Mangalore is green, beautiful, charming and very very dangerous. The roads are a killer.. But I will not go into the downside of home.. for now.. the heart sings and all is well with the world... to a frog... her well is paradise... n so be it!

Discipline... huh??

Seriously, I believe I should write, want to... everyday you know but my old nemesis - discipline eludes me.
Time has no meaning and the passing of time scarcely registers, how the days, months and days have flown away I can't really say and it seems to be a sentiment echoed by all I know.
Has the passage of time made me older.. wiser.. I dont know. Maybe the fine lines on my face and the turrets between my eyebrows have a story to tell. Funnily though I do not feel older, Neverland is home I guess. Stuck in a time warp.
Hmnn.. Neverland.. Whacko Jacko just died! Thoughts beginning to wander now.
Will not dwell in morbidity now, there's a time and place for everything.. today... I'm at peace.
Amanda, my daughter writes beautifully and at the cost of sounding egoistic and pompous.. I see traces of my soul in her. She is ofcourse her own woman, individualistic and unique.. but her writing touches the very depths of my being. Her description of pain... makes me joyful.
Paradox!!

Just another day

Recieved a real sweet and cheery ' Happy Women's Day' sms in the morning.. hello... what that??

Every day of the year is Women's day....

You wake in the morning... do the routine chores, cook lunch, hurriedly dress and rush to office driving at 135 kmph singing along with the music on the radio...

Zip into office n unzip ur pants to pee in the loo.........

So... did anything different happen today....

Barring that sms...... just another day!

Its been a while

After Mangalore Chronicles, which in itself is incomplete, I haven't written, probably cause my cup overflows. So much to write, to say, to expunge... but I let it simmer...

Mangalore Chronicles, by the way will find a place on this blogspot. Have to complete it.

Mangalore has been in the news for all the wrong reasons, I mean, I'm first to admit that i would rather be infamous than famous. Conformity, not my style. But not my Mangalore and not for communal reasons. Please.

I've been watching the mayhem, the madness and the marauding mob tear my home apart and it hurts, so much that I cant assimilate words. For now, I'm posting a mail I wrote 5 years ago and got buggered for.. read it and you'll know why, but even now... should i write it again, will do so, with the same sentiments and more tequila perhaps...

To Be Or Not To Be.... MANGALOREAN!!!
Okay so I’m Mangalorean. So what? Yeah we love to gossip, we love to drink, we love to pretend we’re terribly intellectual. So what? I sound like I’m pissed off n justifying myself. So what? Frankly, so Nothing. Just that I received this mail which says you’re Mangalorean if………. N goes on to list virtues that I don’t think belongs to us Mangy’s. OK …OK I know we’re mostly all fart no shit, but hey, So what? How does it affect Non-Mangy’s?
There is this breed of pure, blue blooded Mangy’s who would rather not associate themselves with Mangalore n bitch ‘bout Mangalore n Mangaloreans. Am I here to defend this eclectic, strange, multi-faceted culture? Umnnn, I have obtained my Bachelors degree in Academic Law, n you know the adage, “ Half a Nut is worse that a Whole”. My savoir faire, incidentally.
So what’s this strange emotion that makes me fiercely protective about Mangalore? Damned if I know. Have a sneaking suspicion that it just might be the combo of beer n tequila…… or is it the other way around? Well I’m inebriated enough to not involve myself with semantics. Permit me to use a ‘Mangy’ expression here, “whose father’s what goes” hehehehe Hic’.

Actually I’m just beginning to feel sorry for all u people who are part of my mailing list, u’ve got to endure shitty mail from me once in a while,,, hic’ sorrrrrrrrrrrry.
Ok now getting back to business, (whose? Your Father’s or Mine?) what is it that makes me love Mangalore? Where do I begin n hey I’m quite sober now, booze not workin enough. I love Mangalore, because, This is Me, this is what I Am this is where I belong, This is Home. Hearth, Heart, all here, there is no where else on earth I’d rather be……… sounds like the lyrics of a song, I think. Can I reiterate I’M Sober, hic’ .
Not just that, you know what Mangalore does that makes me wanna stick around till, The Good Lord decides he wants to exterminate a pest? ( makes God sound like one of the Men In Black eh?) I wanna stick around. I wanna grow old here, wanna breathe my last breath here. Coming back to why, this is where, I know, with conviction, that should I need a friend…….. I’ll find one. Should I need food for the soul……. I’ll find it. Should I need a shoulder to cry on……… right here. Should I need someone to just be there for me…….. there will be hordes. Should I need support…… there’s a battalion. Yeah it’s a small town, no job opportunities, not much scope for development, umnnn of what? Bank balance or the Soul? Different strokes for different folks I s’pose. Having said that, I’ll be the first to admit that we’re truly backward where career prospects are concerned n oh yeah it is the downside of being here, but then it is typical of most small towns isn’t it?
I love Mangalore for being a place where my children n me can walk around without being asked what religion we belong to. Am I a Hindu? Muslim? Christian? Buddhist……… ‘whose father’s what goes?’ hic….
Sad naah, when secular India is divided on basis of Caste? Does it matter? Let me proudly announce that we here in Mangalore are bound by a yarn of thread that contains myriad colors. Konkana’s, Brahmins, Muslims, Christians, Shetty’s, Pujaari’s, Jains, Koragas , n the many lovely religious clusters that make Mangalore what she is. I hope I’m not being too presumptuous by saying this and honestly hope that that the ugly division of Indian society doesn’t ever, ever, raise its monstrous head here.
What about the ice cream you have to eat? The educational institutions that edify one into becoming a complete individual? The crazy milieu of folks who love to make it a point to know what’s cookin in the neighbor’s pot, even if they are surviving on ‘ bangude and buthai’….. whose daughter/son, ran off with whom? Even if their own eloped. Whose daughter-in-law is worse? Even if their own belonged to a character from Balaji films stupid, odious serials. Whose father’s what goes?...... hic’.
Let me, (while sober,……. hic’) extol Mangalore’s scenic beauty, not just the women, the geographical beauty. God!!!!! But do we have lovely beaches or what? Sand that slithers through your fingers with just a trace of fine dust leaving you wondering whether it manifested itself into your being in the first place. The ocean? What do I say? I wish I had the craft that Arundhati Roy is so blessed with n describe my home with similar artistry. Blue, crystal waters that ripple with waves stronger than your fiercest orgasm?..........hic’…….. (all of you who know my mom, please oh please don’t forward this mail to her…… sheesh, orgasm indeed, she’ll disown me) the awesome rocks that coax the fierce sea into caressing her like a desperate woman trying with all her feminine wiles to seduce an unwilling lover?........... the varied shades of green in the landscape dotted with old bungalows, unkempt ones too, all of them add up to make my Mangalore.
I could wax eloquent bout the churches, temples, mosques…. Sum other time……… hic’ nosh jush now……. Hic.
A delightful swarm of assorted Mangys who believe that they were born to speak, abuse, amuse in Tulu? Whose father’s what goes…… hic’.
Hopefully you will be sober enough to combine the pro’s of being Mangalorean…….. hic’.