Roll Call

"Sir, Yes Sir!"
"Ullaen Aiya!"
"Unnanu Sir!"
"Present Ma'am!"
"Aaajar Sir!"
"Keeraen Sir!"
"Yesss Misss!"

You may chose one of the above or use your imagination.
I'm conducting a roll call to find out who's reading my blog.
I was under the impression it was two and a half women.
Looks like there are more.

You can post a comment anywhere on this blog and make your presence felt. You have the choice of remaining anonymous. I shall not publish your comment if you don't want me to.
Even those who've been reading/commenting regularly are requested to take part in this roll call.
Thank you for your co-operation.
Have a nice day.

Who the hell is Basaveshwara and why is he on my 5 rupee coin?

Dad showed me a new five rupee coin and asked me what it said on the reverse.
I saw portrait of a person with a crown and jewels. Along the periphery it says "MAHATMA BASAVESHWARA" and something like "Bhakti-Kayak-Daasoh-Samnaa" in Hindi.
I did some googling.
First I land at this glowing speech by the PM that begins,
"I feel privileged to associate myself with the issuing of a coin in honour of the great mystic and social reformer, Mahatma Basaveshwara. In our history of social reform, Mahatma Basaveshwara stands out as an extraordinary personality. He wielded temporal power and, at the same time, had a spiritual bent of mind. He fought against ritualism and social rigidities and for a more humane social order. He was a crusader against untouchability and worked to establish a classless and casteless society. It is a token of our admiration and deep regard for him that we are all gathered here today."
And I'm all intrigued. But the speech doesn't give me too many facts.
And the next link tells me that a statue of his was unveiled in parliment premises in 2003.

And then I find the vicky page that I was looking for!
Basava (also known as Basaveshwara) was a 12th century philosopher and a social reformer.
That vicky page is long and waxes eloquently about his achievements. He was a rebel and a revolutionary. He tried to get rid of untouchability, created Virashaivism which questioned the supremacy of Brahmins, and was one of the big boys of the Bhakti Movement.
Girish Karnad wrote a play in 1989, Taledanda, set in 12th century which takes inspiration from Basava's story.

Alright, so where was this 12th century dude all this while? Why so much lowe for him suddenly?
I mean, how come I've not heard of him before? Did he even figure in my school history textbooks?
I don't remember.
You tell me.
You also tell me what this whole thing actually means.
I'm at a loss for words.

Messages from within

20/3/2009 13:15
Are lies safer than truths?

20/03/09 16:55
nationalelectionwatch.org, a govt website*, has full details about the current MP and the candidates for the upcoming elections from all constituencies. It gives essential details like educational qualification, details of pending and convicted cases if any, political experience, party manifesto, etc. Please forward this to everyone and ensure you choose the right person.

23/03/09 00.45
kannadasan karaikudi
pera solli uthi kudi
kunnakudi machanapol padaporaen daa
kannaadi kopaiyilae, kannamoodi nichalladi
urugaiya thottukitta , odippogum kaachaladi
bodhai enbadhu oru pambu vesham daa
saerndhu kudichaa adhu oru socialism daa

*Later found out that it's a collective effort of 1200 NGOs.

games people play

It is essential to remember that any game, be it chess, gilli, kabbadi, video game, mario, cricket, rugby, cuplings, spoonlings, dikkilona, soccer, golf, mini-golf, beer-pong, spin-the-bottle, tail the donkey, paandi, soodhaatam etc etc etc, be it any game on earth. It is essential to remember that two people can play it.

The only way you are gonna be sure of victory is by planning ahead and making sure you are atleast 32 moves into the game before the other person realizes it.

Yes. That only.
Two can play that game.
And every other game.

Nuts!

It is so easy to understand someone if you look at them objectively.
It's not just a random statement of a well established fact.
It is a deep felt realization.
How did that happen?
I'll tell you.

I happen to know this person's gmail id and password.
(Now, don't immediately go change your password. Its not you! Or is it? Hahahahhahahahaha)
was quite bored one day and was reminded of this person and thought, "Hey! I'll go check out what's in that person's inbox." and a wicked smile blossomed. :->
And so I did.

Hahahahahahahahaha.

Of course, I did not meddle with anything. It was simply an unobtrusive observation.
It was loads of fun. It was almost like having an underwear conversation.*

Now that objective observation was not about this person! But about this other person hitting on another person whose login passwd also I happen to know. :-)
It is so bledy obvious I tell you!
In fact, I did not even know if that person was being hit on or not.
Until I saw it for myself.
ROFL!!!
It just pops out suddenly and I realise what's going on and fall down laughing.
But I gotta give it to that person for keeping it nice and subtle.
Subtle, my hairy ass! :D
The funniest part is that this person does not even realize that.
I am very tempted to reveal more. But I shouldn't.
I really want to see where this is headed.
Don't worry. I'll keep you posted.
And DO NOT worry. It is NOT you.

So what am I gonna do next?
Wait and watch.
But this is a deep felt realization. Isn't it supposed to be life changing?
Hmmm... You mean I should learn to be subtle and nice henceforth whenever I'm hitting on someone?
Meh. I'm not hitting on anyone these days.
It's just so pointless.
(Aside - I've been meaning to make a list of overrated things in life and conversations are at the top of my list. Followed by texting and chat.)
Hitting on involves pointless conversation!
Especially, the getting-to-know-each-other kinda conversations.
You seldom end up talking anythning deep. How deep can you go when you have a character limit of 160 (the mobile phone's and sometimes the person's too.) or when you get txt lik dis?
I've done it a few times and it gets boring after a while and all it is useful for is to build more conversations.

Example,
girl - Hey, what's your favourite color?
boy - ummm... black, blue. what's yours?
girl - oh my god! I love blue! especially aquamarine. And wine color.
boy - oh that's so nice. I'll remember that.

later...

boy - guess what color underwear i just bought???
girl - lol! How am i supposed to guess that?? green? :O
boy - no idjat. aquamarine! I specifically asked for it.
girl - oh so cool! That's my faaaaavvvv color!

And so on.

The point to note here is that the boy did not know what aquamarine really looked like and might have wondered why she didn't call it sea blue. So clearly he did not buy an aquamarine underwear. He simply remembered the color and put it to good use.
The girl too realises that either the boy's a weirdo to buy aquamarine undie or that he is trying to give subtle hints. She hopes it is the latter, like the attention and continues conversation.

But there are a few who try the oh-I'm-so-deep kinda msgs too. They usually end up sounding like they are talking thru their asses.

But that's only as far as texting and chat conversations go.
I do like real conversations.
Especially the I'm-ridiculously-high-and-uninhibitted kinda topics.
But they don't happen very often.

The problem is very basic. We have taken communication for granted.
Which is why most of what we say, or do becomes so meaningless.
Hmmm... a random thought. What would happen to the world if we were to talk only when it is absolutely necessary?

Anyway, point of post was - Pls come up with absolutely bulletproof ideas to hit on people.
Or atleast respect the fact that most of us download movies or have friends who download movies and have all seen V for Vendetta. :D
And the other point was - Go change your password every two months. You don't know who has your password! :P

* You strip down to your underwear and then converse. Something like post sex talk minus the sex.

Had Beckett been around in the internet age, he'd have written a play titled - "Waiting for Download"

I check people's blog on a regular basis. People who I know well, people i have had conversations with, people i have connected with. Even people i don't like.
I check these blogs even if there has not been any sort of activity in weeks, months.
It is almost like I look for some sort of a representation of that person online.
I think do that sometimes with facebook profiles too. For those who don't blog.
Seeing that person's blog/profile gives me the satisfaction of having met that person. I look for signs of activity, try to read the person's mindset or mood when he/she was writing the last post.
I sometimes have imaginary conversations with the blog.

And i thought all this is a little crazy.

But a little later i realised that i check my own blog every once in a while.
It gives me some sort of an assurance that i actually exist.

Talk about existential angst, huh?

Look Back in Anger

Anyone who's never watched somebody die is suffering from a pretty bad case of virginity.
.
.
.
[His good humour of a moment ago deserts him, as he begins to remember] For twelve months, I watched my father dying -- when I was ten years old. He'd come back from the war in Spain, you see. And certain god-fearing gentlemen there had made such a mess of him, he didn't have long left to live. Everyone knew it -- even I knew it. But, you see, I was the only one who cared. His family were embarrassed by the whole business. Embarrassed and irritated. As for my mother, all she could think about was the fact that she had allied herself to a man who seemed to be on the wrong side in all things. My mother was all for being associated with minorities, provided they were the smart, fashionable ones. We all of us waited for him to die. The family sent him a cheque every month, and hoped he'd get on with it quietly, without too much vulgar fuss. My mother looked after him without complaining, and that was about all. Perhaps she pitied him. I suppose she was capable of that. [with a kind of appeal in his voice] But I was the only one who cared! Every time I sat on the edge of his bed, to listen to him talking or reading to me, I had to fight back my tears. At the end of twelve months, I was a veteran. All that that feverish failure of a man had to listen to him was a small, frightened boy. I spent hour upon hour in that tiny bedroom. He would talk to me for hours, pouring out all that was left of his life to one, lonely, bewildered little boy, who could barely understand half of what he said. All he could feel was the despair and the bitterness, the sweet, sickly smell of a dying man.
.
.
.
You see, I learnt at an early age what it was to be angry -- angry and helpless. And I can never forget it. I knew more about -- love ... betrayal ... and death, when I was ten years old than you will probably every know all your life.

- Jimmy Porter, Look Back in Anger (1956) by John Osborne

I'm bored.
And tired of this failed exercise.
I'm not him.
He's not me.
We can't co-exist.
We have to merge.
Into
one
stupid
lumped
mass.
And then
it won't be fun anymore.
Do I choose fun over reality?
Sure, all the time.
Even if my elbow has to be lodged up
his ass.

"Hey, but what about me?!"
quips that tiny voice from somewhere near my
pancreas.
"shhhh!", I tell her.
"You're supposed to be a secret, remember?"
"Oh. So I don't get to
come out
anytime soon?" she wonders,
to herself.

How do I console her?
"We'll go drinking tonight, okay?"
She buys it.
I bought some time.
But
She's growing up fast.
I won't be able to
hold her down
any longer.

What do I do?

Oh Damn.
She's
supposed to be
a secret.
OK?