IndigOranges

A series of images that mysteriously appeared on the white board in the middle of the workfloor. wonder if this is a omen..hmm... And then one of the better sundays in November saw me strolling opposite this pre-school on Indiranagar, where the walls beckoned me to capture them for posterity and overwhelming cuteness factor. Wonder what gives the hippo so much reason to smile though? Glimpses from my office window of the last rainfall to carress this part of bangalore. This was in the early part of November. Well, i am still waiting...

The land of my forefathers and foremothers beckons me. the land where time has mostly stood still, that is until it was told politely to pull down the shutters and join the latest state wide hartal. the land where movie heroes with unbridled machismo habitually speak seven page dialoges in one fiery monologue, where the nubile child-women heroine still calls her leading men 'etta'. the land where... i am getting tired of this. Vacation time in kerala, which, if the gods will it, means time for smoking hot beef curry and parota on rain swept excuse for roads, inside shaky wooden shacks tottering on the sides of mist hidden hills. Ajai's wedding finally! more relatives. more half remembered faces. more hazy acquaintances coming upto me and challenging me to identify them and expressing wonder at me having 'grown' so much..what exctly were they expecting anyway? Thank god for short mallu weddings. This is also the time when statistical and economic comparisions of me

The past few months in the new job have enabled me in getting to know insomnia more intimately than before, thereby adding to my resume of qualifications for the possible career of an owl or a night watchman or better, a melancholic mallu vampire. That apart, spending whole days and nights within the confines of one's workplace does provide opportunities to watch the hectic turbulence of the day transit into the mellowness wrought by the setting evening sun giving up to the coolness (bless Bangalore for the climate) owned by the night. The office offers a strategically placed window that slides when the a/c is not working, and is content to be closed when it is. This window has the distinction of being my best friend, for the sole reason that it offers an accompaniment of a ledge where i can place myself to view with voyeuristic glee, the doings and the walkings of my fellow humans ,and the class struggles and play times of me fellow canines. The window also comes along with a life

The early hours of my 28th year around the sun saw me being bitten on the shin, nibbled on my toes, dragged in all directions by my trouser legs and generally being annointed with hungry puppy saliva. This happened today morning when i complete, or rather begin one more revolution around the sun. Close to three decades of stomping over this planet. 28 years of memories experiences acquaintances loves possessions rain wind sunshine. Come to think of it, what can be more heartwarming gift than wet hugs from four little pups first thing in the morning? Here's to a happier and hopefully a more wiser me.

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. That's also the easiest way to a heartburn, of course. But i am not here to discuss theories on oil content in daily food intake, but rather on some of the most wholesome eating places i have been able to discover in my limited travels through Bangalore. Those familiar with this overgrown little town would know that Brigade road, though enchanting to those looking to kill time or get drunk in copious amounts,offers little in terms of strict paisa vasul eating, and for thrifty (read: kanjoos) foodies like yours truly who abhor what passes for food from the likes of Mcdonalds and KFC; Small establishments like Hotel Kohinoor offer the most delectable of culinary experiences unlike any other. Kohinoor is the little place set behind the grilles, set into the wall beside the dockers and Reebok showroom on Brigade road, and sandwiched by the red Levis store on the other side. Bang opposite to KFC, hotel Kohinoor is the litt

Central bus stands are the same everywhere. diesel fumes, seething human masses, conniving rickshaw drivers, shifty touts, resigned commuters, bawling babies, crawling beggars and every one of them could easily belong to any of the hundreds of bus terminals across the subcontinent. It's only when you emerge from the human flotsam into the city you have touched down this fine morning that you realise that this is a different world. This is a city whose character is more north of the deccan than south of it. one that for centureis has been the meeting point of cultures from both the sides of the godavari. One whose unique brand of speech manages to convey equal parts of disdain and irreverence, with generous measures of nonchalance thrown in for added flavor. A city that's equally famous for its relaxed way of life as it is for its delectable cuisine. And adding to its list of more recent achievements, a much improved quality of infrastructure over my home city. It's not ever

You wake up in the morning to a world that's covered by a curtain of silver. The downpour washes off the grime and adds the much needed coat of green to the world. Animals rejoice, they splash in the puddles, children jump through puddles while alighting from their school buses, commuters run through the building downpour trying to protect their belongings. Someone, sloshes through puddles and muddy water collected on the fringes of the road. he bends down, picks up the shivering puppy and cradles it between his hands. tea beckons and he responds. The idols in the roadside shrines gleam in all their glory, beckoning believers. what was it that i was thinking last night walking through those streets? does it really matter now? it never did. it only matters when you decide it to be. you purse up your lips at the answer and move on. just another day at the office. Bus? no. lets walk. lets put on those huge boots you bought so lovingly from russell market, lets tie those mile long lace

From my perch here, I have quite a view of the heartland of India’s Silicon Valley. On my right is the very heart of Bangalore’s dollar dreamland, Airport road. My view extends all the way from the apartments of Diamond district all the way to Embassy Golf Links, with its tech and banking offices and wannabe luxury hotels as willing neighbors, rubbing shoulders with the green expanses of the golf course next door. On my left, glimpses of Bellandur lake, warrens of apartment buildings and the zillions of IT companies dotting the outer borders of Bangalore, all along the outer ring road. Every year, Bangalore’s outer borders continue to be redrawn, with builders who see every available cent of land as another crore to be minted. And here I am, on the sunlit terrace of a building in a locality called Rustombagh, surrounded by probably the last surviving natural grove of coconuts and eucalyptus in this part of town. Coconuts, mango, chiku and eucalyptus, stretching all the way till the EG

"Time is like a flower, Krishna said once. I didn’t understand. But later I visualized a lotus opening, the way the outer petals fall away to reveal the inner ones. An inner petal would never know the older, outer ones, event tough it was shaped by them, and only the viewer who plucked the flower would see how each petal was connected to each others. The petal of this afternoon opened like a red sigh..." Some lines from Chitra Banerjee's book -The Palace Of Illusions. A offbeat perspective to the epic called mahabharat from the eyes of Draupadi. Been reading a lot of this kids of literature, books that offer a alternate view of our epics, differing perspectives and viewpoints, that are not limited by self inflicted religious dogma. Books that provoke the reader to think beyond the tutored notions of divinity, that make you think beyond what we have read, seen and been taught. Here, we are offered a view of the epic where the protagonists exhibit a humanity that we can id

This is a disclaimer for those who have come across this pot for the purposes of judging my writing abilities for a possible job position in their right honorable enterprise: I can Write Better!!! This is not the kind of stuff i usually write! Don't judge me by this post. Well, you can. who's stopping you. This is a idea that most normal guys do get in their heads at least once a day, and then turn around and tell their next cubicle buddy about it (when i say cubicle i dont mean the one in the office). It takes some one totally depressedly insane like me to actually put it on a blog. Here goes my insane idea of the week: My friend G, a very amiable fellow, good to drink with, good person to have wordly downlifting discussions on the female sex, and other less painful topics in general and corporal, he with his very..lets say..interesting hindi accent that clearly show which side of walayar checkpost he is from. To add to his qualifications, back in our college days, he was the

I can smell the change in the air.Its hardly being six hours back in this state and already i feel better. Or maybe it's just the coconut oil. A sensation one gets when you prise open the ancient door and the windows after you come home after a long long time. The windows refuse to open and it takes effort to coax them to let the sunlight through their defences. The door takes more effort, creaking its stubborness loud to its masters. After all, it has been there longer than any of these new people crossing its threshold. The children enter and anounce their presence by jumping on the sofa covered by a blanket, moth eaten and mouldy. The sofa replies by emitting a cloud of dust so thick the children dissappear in it. They emerge shrieking and overjoyed to be in this strange place, the one that their parents used to say so much about all the time; a place where the sounds of the cars and buses have been replaced by cows and crows. There's no early morning rush to get ready for s