Letters to friends

The first time I went to work on a ship, whenever I felt lonely, sad, happy or just felt like it, I would write letters to friends.
The letter in itself had no agenda-it was just a mish mash of thoughts and feelings,past and present that I just unloaded on the poor unsuspecting souls.
Most didn't get it, few bothered to reply, and somehow over the years the practice fell off the wagon.
But letters to a friend was how I got infected by the writing bug...and the very act of writing, rather than its content, was what I found liberating.

This is a formal apology to one and all who have been subjected to such letters.

Bad habits are never stopped.They just get replaced.

And until I find a worthy, lasting replacement, you may have to grunt and bear a few more...letters to friends.

All the time I've lost

Could be the title of something in the future, with different connotations.
Right now, this is what it means.
All the time I've lost when I read something absorbing is the best time I've spent.
To generalise: All the time I've lost absorbed I'm something,
Is the best time I've ever spent.
Makes me realize that time is an illusion just like anything else.
Mini satoris are what makes life worth living, if not just for another day.

TEOTWAKI and Mickey

"What is TEOTWAWKI?", she asks.

I don't know.

"Just another beginning that we know nothing of"

"I'll show you a way to destroy the world, one mp3 file at a time", promises the girl I've never seen as she really is, but always as she wants me to.

She tells me she types without a single backspace.

"Suppose you've got an mp3 file of a band's unreleased song.Assume that it was composed by your rockstar boyfriend-just for you, and its the only copy that exists in the world."

"I didn't say you were gay or anything...I just assumed you were a pussy"

"Ok, now if you erase that mp3 file, it will never be possible to recover exactly that particular performance.To erase is to destroy a small part of history"

"Your action has caused a small uncertainty about the past state of the world, and uncertainty is entropy, and ergo you have increased the overall entropy and pushed the world in a death spiral from which it may never recover" 

TEOTWAKI...death by mp3.

I still don't understand it.

"Uh huh...its just another beginning we know nothing of"

"But the world is dying anyway...whether you increase it's entropy or not"

She tells me she types without a single backspace.

I believe her.

But I don't understand her.

"Did you know The sun and the moon were twins?"

"Popol Vuh tells us the legend of the twin brothers were skilled at a traditional ball game."

"It's the Mayan bible, you idiot"

I'll believe anything she says.

"These twins-when they played, made so much noise that they woke up the gods of Xibalba, who challenged them to a contest"

"Naturally, the gods defeated the twins, sacrificed them, and buried their bodies under the ball court...talk about overkill!"

"The head of one brother, Hun Hunaphu was hung on a tree of human like calabash gourds"

"A goddess named Xquic heard of this strange tree and decided to see it herself.When she approached, Hun Hunahpu's head spat into her hand, impregnating her with Hunahpu and Xbalanque, the brothers known as Hero Twins"

It reminds me of a book I saw,titled"Intimacy with God"

It with other Sex "How to" manuals.

She tells me she types without a single backspace.

Note to self:Must learn touch typing?

Everyone wants to make a goddess out of me, but all I want to be is Mickey Mouse, she once said...later attributing it Fitzgerald, the writer.

           "In time, the twins became great ball players like their father and uncle.Gods of Xibalba, asked for a rematch, defeated them, ground their bones, and threw them into a river"

Mickey Mouse was actually supposed to be Mortimer Mouse.

I still don't know what Goofy is-certainly not a gander,gorilla or a giraffe.

"There the Hero Twins were reborn, first and fish and then they slowly evolved into itinerant performers Returning to Xibalba for revenge, the Hero twins contrived an ingenious trap.After they demonstrated a variety of astonishing feats, Xbalanque beheaded Hunahpu-and then made him whole again."

Why is calliope essentially female?

Has there ever been a male counterpart?

"The gods were so delighted with the beheading rick that they begged to partake in the same trick.The Hero twins appeared happy to oblige and began to dismember the Gods"

Is now love blinder than ever? 

If one can fall in love with nothing but the finite permutations and combinations of 26 alphabets that come on a computer screen ?

but offer infinite meanings?

Where do all the lost meanings end up?

What do they all add up to?

"As soon as the gods were all but dismembered, the Hero twins delivered their ultimate blow by refusing to restore the Gods into their original state"

Belief in a cruel God makes a cruel man, said someone many years ago.

Humans are forgetful...history is not.

Do I claim it as my own now?

Does it matter?

All she wants to be is Mickey Mouse.

I'm far from mortified.

"The Hero twins emerged victorious from Xibalba-and rose as the Sun and the Moon.Each day they reenact their journey to the underworld and their joyful return"

"The End!"

I want to say-death destroys a man, but the idea of death saves him.

What does it mean?

"Guatemala"

"I'm going there this summer,with a friend"

I'm afraid to ask.

No, lets be honest.

I'm afraid to know what I think I already know.

If the whole is greater than the sum of its parts but parts of me feel like they are holed in places and hastily patched up, where do I stand?

       I've lost my confidence that I understand anything in this world...my personal meaning, however inadequate is all I have.

It is not a humbling insight.

It terrifies me.

You can be my Mickey Mouse, if can I be your anything?

But I'm Married

I said goodbye to my comb with a pair of scissors.

It was the quickest way to be someone else in the mirror.
For a while.

      
    It was painstakingly long-and a pain in the neck-figuratively and literally too.

          Twice I spilt blood on the floor while slicing off my pinnae...tiny little nips, at the edges-with a quick but unsure footing and rapid snip-snip action.

Pain and red hotness welled through my head-my hands began quivering...and made my progress that much slower and much more painful.

I record my thoughts the way a dog marks his territory...there seems to be a method to this madness.

But I contradict myself.
        There is no method to any madness, so as to speak...that which lacks a method, either intuitive or through logical deduction can be truly termed madness-Einstein was talking about insanity mind you, and not your garden variety madness.

     

The dream was like a chicken bone lodged in between the teeth.Vegetarians-please dont ask me to explain.

   There was a large house, in which I had gone to meet someone-
someone I once knew,
and at once I knew it was a dream.

But I was curious of the unfolding events-which were quite unlike the recent few days of travel and isolation.

In the big palatial house, where we met, there were kids in one room playing with bright neon toys who invited me to join them.

I did.

              It was a confusing game, where they tied neon pink rubber balls filled with helium to their heads and bounced them off by headbutting them.

The only thing I remember about the game now was that it wasn't as easy as they made it look.

            And that she was waiting for me in the next room, with a look of a mother who knows you've broken her favourite perfume, or a wife that has caught you jerking off to scat fetish videos.

      Only women have the capability of speaking volumes with a single look.

Men sadly don't have the necessary amount of estrogen to interpret the same.

A disembodied voice boomed somewhere in the mansion.
It was the infomercial guy...I could recognize him anywhere.

"Do I want her for the entire night?

"Nah...twenty, maybe thirty minutes at the most"

"After that I might actually have to start a conversation with her!"

"Now who would want that!"

         In the next room, when we met, I tried to force myself on her-that's the awful truth...that I was being a dream rapist, that I tried to hug and kiss her...and the most distinct sound that I remember was my beard rustling as it rubbed against her cheeks.

            Maybe this vivid memory of the beard rustling against her cheek was a self defensive  mechanism of my psyche, because I've never grown a beard so far in my life, and maybe this was my psyche's way of distancing the self from the actions that I clearly was horrified of committing.

         You see, I would later tell myself, it was the bearded man who was forcing himself on her, not you, even if it was your own dream.

      You see, you are still the same guy, the guy who usually asked permission to hold hands or never asked for a phone number until it was given, or opened car doors and drew chairs.

You are still the same guy...

     The palatial mansion was was made of white marble, with golden & lapis lazuli borders, whatever that means.

           Strangely, after the initial token resistance, she caved in, and began kissing and hugging while softly moaning- and in horror I stopped myself, and blurted out something, which I will reveal later.

               She stopped for a second, and gave a silent acknowledgment of what I said and threw herself back to continue the amorous act that I had initially initiated.

    I grew increasingly confused and guilt ridden as she pushed me onto a marble lounge and woke up at the same time I fell on the marble lounge with a thud.

I woke up to me saying..."But I'm Married!"

 

The parable.

One day a monk asks a woodcutter, who is hacking away at the tree, "How many hours do you need to cut a tree?"
"Four hours", replies the woodcutter.
"And how do you cut a tree in four hours?"asks the monk.
"I sharpen my axe for the first three hours and cutting the tree takes me only one hour"says the woodcutter.

And throughout the insightful conversation, and while the parable plays through the edges of our consciousness, no one notices the weeping tree.

Buddha hoga tera baap!

Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.
-Buddha

But Buddha, what about confirmation bias???

Surely, an enlightened man such as you must know that we humans like to believe only in what we already believe to be true.
Common sense is a moot point with most humans.
It is far more convenient than to constantly change your beliefs based on new evidence(be it true or false), and would surely drive a normal man such as me towards insanity.
Only a Buddha would not go insane.
I am not Buddha...not yet...but philosoraptors say that meta-recognition is the first step towards being Buddha.

Buddha hoga tera baap...and someday maybe myself too.

The great Taoist master Chuang Tzu once dreamt that he was a butterfly fluttering here and there.
In  the  dream  he  had  no  awareness  of  his  individuality  as  a  person.  He  was  only  a  butterfly.
Suddenly, he awoke and found himself laying there, a person once again. But then he thought to
himself, "Was I before a man who dreamt about being a butterfly, or am I now a butterfly who
dreams about being a man?"

I wish I knew when I was dreaming and when I was zzzz...

Be a zen master.                            
                When the spiritual teacher and his disciples began their evening meditation, the cat that lived in the monastery made such noise that it distracted them. So the teacher ordered that the cat be tied up during the evening practice. Years later, when the teacher died, the cat continued to be tied up during the meditation session. And when the cat eventually died, another cat was brought to the monastery  and  tied  up.  Centuries  later,  learned  descendants  of  the  spiritual  teacher  wrote scholarly treatises about the religious significance of tying up a cat for meditation practice. 

Horizon

There.

In the direction I'm pointing...

that's my horizon.

Can you see it?
Probably not.

There is no way you can see
what I can see,
or for me to see what you just saw...
but I wish it were possible.

Genie!
My three wishes are
foresight, hindsight and insight...
in any order.

Well, that's my horizon,
and I pretty much can't see anything beyond it,
so that's my border.

It reminds me of an invisible boundary,
that I've never really  tried to touch.

Have you ever wondered if the setting sun is noisy?
I'd expect it so,
with it's sinking slowly over the horizon,
into the sea, I assume.
I'd also expect a lot of steam.
As a kid,
that's where I thought clouds came from.


On the one side of my horizon
I can see a setting sun,
and on it's opposite I know that it will rise again,
while all around
the waves keep lapping and the clouds form and dissolve,
endlessly.

But I know for a fact
that the higher I go,
the further my horizon keeps extending,
and farther I can see,
and my invisible boundary will stretch out, unfold and widen,
endlessly.

Then maybe see what I've never seen before,
and if I could make sense of it,
maybe know,
what I've never known.

So the ideal place to be,
for you and me would be,
on the top of the world isn't it?

I don't know about you,
but I'd frankly miss the waves lapping at my feet.

Generation Gapped!

I have always had a ten-year generation gap with anyone who is two years younger than I am.
I am not a grammar Nazi but their language and usage confounds me.

Their topics all seem Greek, Latin & Mandarin.

I don't understand the music they listen to...I'm still stuck to the same music that I liked ten years ago because it is safe and familiar, while venturing into new music (is it music?) feels like rushing into a dark alley in sin city.
 Video might have killed the radio star, but reality shows definitely killed the music videos.
Whatever happened to all the music channels?

I never knew it was cool to be a loser...apparently kids these days think its ok to display infinite amounts of stupidity.(Not that we were any smarter-but we hid our stupidity much better  and we still do)

They always seem to be two steps ahead of me...or behind, if that is the "In Thing" with them.
You know, that is another thing that bothers me...things that are in or out, or things that were like five minutes ago, or soooo like yesterday.
I guess that makes me...soooo like day before yesterday.

Anyone three years younger than me-a KID!

That's how I see them, and that’s how I’m going to treat them-like a juvenile-post-pubescent-hormone crazed-delinquent.
Which was why I was lucky enough to find a wife whose age was not an issue...I had the good luck of finding a girl who was just within the two year limit...someone who had faced life as an adult-but more importantly someone who could treat me like her baby.
Yep! With her, I get to be the kid, cuz she is the more mature one.
Ga ga goo goo baby!

Once upon a time,
I was full of vitriol
and bile,
but now on antacids
for quite some while,
but the row of teeth that you see
is not from a grin or a smile
its grit and determination
and just a pinch of guile



I usually don't open my mouth while people are being stupid...they think I'm trying to compete and outdo them .

What is a pregnant goldfish called?

A bubble is round because the air within it presses equally against all its parts, thus causing all surfaces to be equidistant from its centre.
So now you know.

According to Genesis 1:20-22 the chicken came before the egg.
So there you have it.


Sahara means desert in Arabic.
So the Sahara Desert is actually Desert x 2.

To escape the grip of a crocodile's jaws, you should push your thumbs into its eyeballs.
Might work with other animals too, but not with cyborgs and zombies.

Mary, Mary quite contrary was Mary, Queen of Scots.

A pregnant goldfish is called a twit.
Why?
Because she forgot to take her pills on time.

Starfish don't have brains.
Sometimes I feel like I'm the only jelly fish in a starfish sanctuary.

A crocodile cannot stick out its tongue.
But you can...after you push your thumbs through its eyeballs and escape with your life.
Although the now blind croc might not be able to get affronted by your tongue.

It is illegal to be a prostitue in Siena, Italy, if your name is Mary.
On the other hand it's quite ok to be a contrary queen.Even in Italy.

A group of hippopotmuses(or hippopotami) is called a bloat.
When women say they feel bloated, that's how they are feeling.

It takes four hours to hard boil an ostrich egg.
Out of which you spend three hours trying to run away from the ostrich mother.

A group of owls is called a parliament.
I thought the parliament usually had jackasses and hyenas and blood sucking leeches.

Trivial Jokes:Take trivia and add a punchline.
And then add another...everyday.
That's what they taught me at improv class.

I excel at the writing part...churning mediocre jokes that appeal to the lowest common denominator(or so I'm told)...but it's the delivery that's killing me...
instead of my audience.

Maybe I should try Vogon poetry.

In the cemetery where Al Jolson is buried

On the morning she was moved to threw cemetery, the one where Al Jolson its buried, I enrolled in a"Fear of Flying"class.

"What is your worst fear?"the instructor asked, and I answered,"That I will finish this course and still be afraid."

I think of the chimp, the one one with the taking hands.

In the course of the experiment, that chimp has a baby.Imagine how her trainers must have thrilled when the mother, without prompting, began to sign to her new born.

Baby, drink milk.

Baby, play ball.

And when the baby died, the mother stood over the body, her wrinkled hands moving with animal grace, forming again and again the words: Baby, come hug, Baby, come hug, fluent now in the language of grief.

-Amy Hempel

Doggy style

I record my thoughts the way a dog marks his territory.

There seems to be a method to this madness.

Pink posterity

I've never been completely honest with any diary that I've confessed to...

a rosy posterity has always been more important than expiation 

or the pursuit of in self.

I am a liar,

to myself 

and 

more so to others...

Perhaps that is the only truth 

I can permit myself to disclose.

Martyr

Drinking black coffee made me feel like a martyr-some one who forgoes the pleasures of a creamy, frothy sweet coffee with the choicest of the toppings...

As a kid I faked an allergy to eggs to avoid eating them.I hated the way the yolk stinks.

Still do.

I've stopped eating simple carbs.

The object of my dieting was never weight loss or weight gain.

Self control.

Thats what it was.

And external control.

In a life that is largely run on schedules and timetables set by someone else, this is one small area where I can still wield power-exert some control-retain some sanity.

I've eschewed rice and roti and embraced eggs and beans.

I still don't like them...eggs, but I'm certainly not allergic to them.

Recently, after a short snorkelling session in the glassy waters of the cook islands, I found out that I'm allergic to sun...polymorphic light reaction is the medical terminology, but the results are large scale scaling of the skin...I turn reptilian, and itchy, and oozing red.

I switched over to chai recently.

It's tiring being a martyr.

My chai is light-just one teabag, very sweet-two heaps of sugar and one third milky.

The chai is an exception to my diet, but I do retain some control over it.Never more than a cup a day.

Some habits die hard.

I'm normalizing slowly, I think.

I'm normalizing...or thats what my intentions are.

How can you remember

-------- Original message --------
Subject:
From: "Keshavarao.2001"
To: keshavarao.2001.onetwothree@blogger.com
CC:



How can you remember

what you've not understood?

You are a collector of memories

of sights, sounds and feelings

But blinder than a blind bat,

eyes wide shut,

ear drums perforated

And full blown sensory neuropathy.

Forever unsure of what you see,

Or ever saw, heard or felt,

and all that remains is fog, mist and dust

For you are a collector of memories

And of memories of memories!

Proust on people you hate.

The whole art of living is to make use of the individuals through whom we suffer.

Proust on people we suffer from

The whole art of living is to make use of the individuals through whom we suffer.

Sent from Samsung Mobile

We are same same, but different

                              As I was travelling towards Mumbai I happened to be seated next to a loud mouthed foreigner dude.

He was fascinated with my current phone (Samsung Galaxy SII), and before we knew it we were talking about each others lives.

He had a blackberry.

I could not hide my pity.

Well, at least it wasn't a nokia.

He was a thirty plus canadian settled in dubai, making his living as a pianist.

I was...well, still the same old me-a salty sea dog on my way to new zealand.

He went first.

I've come here to meet my girlfriend, he said.

She's a doctor, he said.

NOWAYS!GETTOUTTAHERE! My wife is a doctor.

Ah...she's an intern, just a student right now,he said.

NOWAYS!GETTOUTTAHERE! My wife is a student too.

She's in manipal right now, he said.

NOWAYS!GETTOUTTAHERE! My wife is from manipal too.

She was actually born in Madras, he said.

NOWAYS!GETTOUTTAHERE! My wife was born in madras too.

Are you sure its not the same girl? he asked now, a bit nervous.

Just to be on the safe side, he showed me her photo, on his blackberry torch.

It's not the same girl, I reassured.

Ain't she a beauty? He asked, in a curious cockney accent.

          Being in dubai for the last six years, with expats from different caucasian communities has given him a confused mix of accents- sometimes he's a loud nuu yawker, sometimes south african,  sometimes canadian, eh?,  sometimes he's an aussie may-te...while I try to drown out my own incredibly incomprehensible indian accent and speak as neutrally as possible.

(seriously-whites cannot understand the indian accent or our turn of phrases, just like I find singaporian accent funny la!)

I even show him my beautiful wife's photo, just to assuage his fears.

He is relieved,but he still asked...are they sisters?

This is when I explain to him the Texas Sharpshooter's fallacy.

                          But if this was an interaction between a girl and a boy, I would have used all the above points to show how much our stars were aligned and how much we were destined to meet like this.

Ah...stupid psychology...y u spoil all mysteries of serendipity?

The most important thing that leads to success.

The most important thing that leads to success.

What might it be?

Could it be your Mindset?

But what kind of Mindset?
    World renowned Stanford University psychologist Carol Dweck, after decades of research on achievement and success, has discovered the power of the right mindset, which is explained in her new book titled "Mindset:The new psychology of success"

What would be the right mindset for success?

Simply put, it is the 'Growth Mindset"

The flip side of the Growth mindset would be the "Fixed Mindset"

Lets test your mindset is, shall we?

Read the following four sentences, and write down whether you agree or disagree with each of them.

1.  You are a certain kind of person, and there is not much that can be done to really change that.

2.  No matter what kind of person you are, you can always change substantially.

3.  You can do things differently, but the important parts of who you are can't really be changed.

4.  You can always change basic things about the kind of person you are.

Write down your answer somewhere and see the results at the end of the post.(No peeking beforehand allowed)

If you are someone with a Fixed mindset:
You tend to avoid challenges for the fear of failure, either in your own eyes or in the eyes of others.
You would feel threatened by negative feedback, and would rather attack your critics than do anything constructive about it.
You would feel insulted if someone questioned your knowledge or corrected you.
You would not be open to self improvement.

On the other hand, if you are a person with a Growth Mindset (or want to develop such a mindset):
You believe that abilities are like muscles-they can be made stronger with practice and mindful effort.
You relish new challenges despite the risk of failure.
You constructively react to negative feedback and criticism.
You look at the long term benefits rather than short term gains.
You are open to relearning old things, without getting your ego hurt.
You are willing to try new things that stretch your abilities.

In short, growth mindset is the most important thing that leads to success.

Further reading: Visit the official website to learn more about the Growth Mindset.

                                           http://mindsetonline.com/







(Ans:If you agreed with 1 and 3 , you have a fixed mindset.
        If you agreed with 2 and 4 , you have a growth mindset.


There is a be a chance that you might  have agreed with more than 2 sentences.(as it happened in my case)
                   This simply means that your mindset is a composite of both Growth and Fixed mindsets, and you are the kind of person who adopts a particular mindset only in certain situations.

                                            For example, I had a fixed mindset for many years that I was a bad dancer.But then I got a chance to learn dance in a class where no one knew me previously.Since I would not be judged by anyone I knew I went to the dance class and disproved it to myself that I was a bad dancer.(It turned out that I was just an average dancer who  usually improved with more practice)

             Whatever your results, just remember that  the important thing to do is identify your mindset and modify it in such a manner that it leads to success.

[none]

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Onion's true power is 'Tears'

http://www.theonion.com/articles/there-was-definitely-a-point-during-that-stoning-w,18165/

Does it hurt when you realize that you weren't being lied upon?

Can you handle the truth?

Yes

 

 0

No

 

 0

Maybe

 

 0

Who wants to know?

 

 2

Question (1)  Can you handle the truth?

Question (2)            Read title

Question (3 ) Do you wish if it was a lie?

Question (4) How do you feel now?

                   (Now that you have gained enough hindsight)

Dirty lens article

http://kurtmunger.com/dirty_lens_articleid35.html

Is that you Ms.J?

http://i.imgur.com/Xu098.jpg

Mary Roach: 10 things you didn't know about orgasm | Video on TED.com

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/mary_roach_10_things_you_didn_t_know_about_orgasm.html

Did I ever tell you that I always wanted to be a doctor?

Finally I just married one.

Now I read many medical publications, journals, textbooks just to keep up with her.

Now I just impress her with case histories from this book.

TIL the true face of House M.D

Or by playing Prognosis.

Ah life's good!

Photo Album - Imgur

http://imgur.com/a/Y2e9u

Funny Men

All funny men have cherished memories of being able to make their mothers laugh.

All grumpy men came to be as a consequence of their mothers melancholy.

Tengo Hambre:Hunger Spoke

                                                Hunger spoke to me in volumes

                                                    that silence had not dared of

                                          The silent rumblings grew persistent

                        while empty pockets professed their nothingness

On his declining readership, he said:

Absence makes the heart grow fonder 

and not forgetful.

I hope so.

I'm counting on it.

French Pig

When I was young my father said to me:

"Knowledge is Power....Francis Bacon"

I understood it as "Knowledge is power, France is Bacon".

For more than a decade I wondered over the meaning of the second part and what was the surreal linkage between the two? If I said the quote to someone, "Knowledge is power, France is Bacon" they nodded knowingly. Or someone might say, "Knowledge is power" and I'd finish the quote "France is Bacon" and they wouldn't look at me like I'd said something very odd but thoughtfully agree. I did ask a teacher what did "Knowledge is power, France is bacon" meant and got a full 10 minute explanation of the Knowledge is power bit but nothing on "France is bacon". When I prompted further explanation by saying "France is Bacon?" in a questioning tone I just got a "yes". at 12 I didn't have the confidence to press it further. I just accepted it as something I'd never understand.

It wasn't until years later I saw it written down that the penny dropped.

Memrise vocabulary learning and memorable dictionary

http://www.memrise.com

Sharukh in her dreams

Sharaukh came in my dreams last night, you know...Sharukh Khan

And?

He said Hi

Didn't he ask you to vote for KKR?

Umm...do we get to vote for them?

Why not?

But then this was a dream...wasn't it?

Indeed it was.

Advice to writers: Skip the scenery

http://www.salon.com/books/laura_miller/2011/03/01/description/index.html

Was Roswell 'Flying Saucer' Mystery a Soviet Plot?

http://news.discovery.com/space/was-roswell-flying-saucer-a-soviet-plot-110520.html

Golden Deer

The hunt for the fabled golden deer happens in everyone's life I suppose.

Rama, our mythological hero goes in search of the mayamriga, the elusive golden deer, at the insistence of his wife, sita.

The elusive deer caught after much time and effort(and a few magical arrows) is revealed to be a counterfeit, a mirage, an illusion created to distract Rama and kidnap Sita.

"Fiction is not fact", wrote Thomas Wolfe, "but fact arranged nad charged with purpose"

The Mythological Mayamriga has metamorphosised into a metaphor and the parable serves as a cautionary tale for the consequences of blind pursuit of temptations in life.

The hunt for our Mayamriga commenced early in the evening.

An idle mind being the perfect Loki's incubation chamber of sorts for and the lack of any other meaningful structured events led us to the pursuit of our Golden deer, which came in the form of a highly recommended continental restaurant somewhere in the corners of our own town in which we had moved into only four days ago.

Our Modern day guides:A four year old travelogue and preinstalled google maps on my smartphone.

Perfect for aliens and strangers in a strange city.

The quest began with much buckets of vim and vigour and visions of delicious vegetable moussakas, and ended with weary feet, tired soles and heavy souls when  after roaming around endlessly throughout the city, to finally find out that the restaurant had been shut down and turned into a hospital that we walked past at least four times.

No hilarity ensued.

As we returned, wifey happened to observe our unlikely yet possible doppelgangers.

Unlike the story arc of HIMYM, we hadn't made a pact to make babies or anything else.

Given a choice I wouldn't have chosen them as our doppelgangers, but no choices were offered on that day.

The couple shuffled on their way, perhaps their age affecting their gait.

The man was bald,tired and shabbily dressed.The woman was silent, with a face full of unvented pain.

The only common denominator they had, for them to be doppelgangers was that the man carried a pair of new shoes bought in the same shop as us, and that they both were walking uncomfortably...as us.

I wonder if they would be willing to be our dopplegangers.

Or were we already theirs?

Must write pending story tomorrow...oh, its already tomorrow...um...I mean today!

Manoj Night Shyamalan wouldn't see this one coming!

           I grew up in a well-off family and I acted out a lot. Getting into trouble with the authorities and shit like that. Anyway, I simultaneously knew a lot of people with less money then I had and was, I admit it it, a bit of a stuck-up bitch. Anyway, I met this guy when he shows up to get me out of jail. No, really. Never met him before and he just helps me out of nowhere. Kinda short, dirt poor and from the middle of nowhere but cute enough. Anyway, I was feeling like damaged goods at the time and he hung out with this other cute guy so I stayed with him. His ... I dunno, father figure maybe (his whole family tree was all kinds of confusing. I don't think he even knew who his father was) had been killed recently and I'm a sucker for the whole "vulnerable guy" thing.

Anyway so we're an item and this guy starts to get weird. Like he believes he has supernatural powers and stuff. Says he can control people with his mind (but not me because I'm too strong ) and stuff like that. Claims he can shoot really well and uses one lucky shot as evidence. It was a pretty sweet shot but watching him spray ammo downrange the rest of the time kinda made it a ridiculous claim.

It all ended when we were visiting a friend. We were all set to get some repair work done on the bucket of bolts ride we had and were hoping to be able to just relax for a bit. Turns out our "friend" was more of a backstabbing bastard. That's the last time I drink a Colt 45, let me tell you. So we had to leave only we can't find my guy. We finally find him in the trash with his fucking hand cut off! Even better, he claims he lost it in a fight with his dad and I'm his sister. I hooked up with Han Solo pretty much right after that.

The perfect Women

There’s a wonderful Sufi story about two friends who are catching up after not seeing each other for some time. One is married, the other single. The married man asks his single buddy about his love life. The single friend explains that a few months ago he thought he had found the perfect woman. “She had a gorgeous face,” he says. “Her looks were incredible.” “So why didn’t you marry her?” his friend asks. “Well,” explains the single friend, “she wasn’t very intelligent.”

He goes on to explain that a few weeks later he found another woman he thought was perfect. “She was as beautiful as the first woman and brilliant as well.” “So why didn’t you marry this woman?” his friend asks. “Well, she had a voice that sounded like nails on a blackboard” . The married friend nods, but before he can say anything the single friend continues: Then, just last week I finally met the perfect woman. She’s beautiful, she’s intelligent, and her voice is soothing and relaxing.” “So when’s the wedding?” the married friend asks. “There won’t be one,” the single friend explains. “It turns out she’s looking for the perfect man.” 

Busy Busy Busy

Everyone's a Photographer these days! Couples Edition.

The First eleven clicks are by my wife...she has very quickly picked up the basics of DSLR photography and editing despite a bad teacher(me!)...and that's what I aim to prove...that Everyone's a Photographer these days!

We No Have Wedding Bells...Coz We Indiano!

Hi guys...

I'm getting married on Feb 20th.

Wish me luck for the road ahead, as this is a path that I've never tread!