I'd like to start with an apology for my delay in posting this one..

The plants that grew or are growing in our house

I have no rights on them. Whether they live or they don't is all the responsibility of my brother. Though yes, once a month, under unavoidable circumstances, I water them with a sleepy or a sour face. I like plants. I just am too lazy to care for them. When I grow up, I ll have sturdy trees that require little care. Meanwhile, the only part of these plants that belong to me are the photos.




My brother bought this Black rose plant...well, he calls it black, the rest of us call it Red. It lived for a season spreading absolute beauty and it died sometime back, he trie. I always thought it's petals looked like velvet.






I am not sure what people call this one...but it's a gift from my cousins Sahiti and all on my parents wedding anniversary. It needs very little maintenance, very little sunlight and care. And the little care that went for it has been contributed by mother.








I don't know this one's name either. I brought it from grandma's house in Penamaluru to Hyderabad. It lived in the rich loamy black soil of the village and looked very strong. I didn't have the heart to watch it's roots being uprooted by ammamma to give it to me. It hurt. But well, I took care of it though tiring bus journeys, handled it like glass and crystal and brought it home successfully. When my brother told me to get the pots and mud for planting it. I delayed it for almost four days. It stayed there in the balcony in a bucket of water.Finally brother gave up, got the required material and won the plant. He tended it. It's his I believe. And in rainy evenings when I stand out there in the balcony and look at it. It reminds me of my failure. Anyway, it lived through all the mess and is currently flourishing. I wish I could move it into a larger pot. I won't, it's a boring task.

There are more plants to write about. A lot more. But they'll come tomorrow.

Lots of laughter.

There is no introduction para.

Under the name of democracy, they pass the reins of a country from son to son, through lineage. The oppositions are separatists feeding on differences rather than strengthening the similarities. And the oppositions are oppositions because they do in the morning what the administration does at night. Between the very dangerous and the less than very dangerous, my only defense is a vote.

A rubber stamp that enables every law-abiding dutiful citizen to fool himself into believing he counts. A prime minister sits there under a government struggling for it's own existence. The government which is unable to agree upon a decision. And that government and it's representatives make decisions regarding 'nuclear bombs' among us. And that decision is named yours and mine because we voted. Because we voted for the wind, water, life, skies, our families and the wonder of earth - a possibility of extinction. Because we voted fear? No, we didn't. We voted danger.

They can brand you, they can break you, they can take everything you love and cherish and you know there would be no place for justice. The best we can do, is to escape from their view. Take care we do not question too much, too loud or too honest lest we be made to enter the big game as a small pawn.

My friends all tell me, stop thinking, be crazy, have fun. They sound like pleas of loved ones asking me to be ignorant because the ugliness outside is too large to fight or to live without a fight. The possibility that we haven't really grown as social animals, we have simply destroyed everything that binds us together to the earth and are moving towards a dismal walls in darkness is a sad one ne? As in, we know that one more plastic covers puts one more question mark over our existence, but we go on thinking someone by that sometime will know to do something, Will pull us from the mess we have created(with the exception of those who do not think at all). We know they're talking about 'nuclear' there, but we sleep thinking our thoughts do not matter. It just so happens that they really don't. None of my thoughts or yours matter.

We cannot protect ourselves against the opposition with the lashes of so called Indian culture...what is Indian culture? No person, religion, god, man or book can prescribe it. So they use the imaginary evils of the mind to destroy our neighbors. The real inhabitants, adivasis, are left to serve a greater purpose ? What purpose? Lol.

Then there come absolutely powerless common men, with a thorough lack of 'Chillar' or 'kantri' qualities... made to believe we count. We do? Lol.

Morals, honesty, sense of judgement, skill and hard work are separated from happiness.

They give us the crumbs of comfort in the name of technology and keep the power themselves. What they do not wish to tell us are 'Confidential government' information. But I thought they were public servants..? Lol. It's all catch-22. Those who question are branded rebellious or crazy and made to continue to serve. Those who do not anyways serve.

Why must my blood be drained in the form of taxes...Why must I pay an income tax when I'm paying taxes in the form of roads, housing, water, transport, etc. etc. ? Why must I pay more tax because i work more and earn more. Why am I being penalized for my efficiency? Whom do I question? Where do I ask? Who is responsible to answer me?

The government during elections?? Lol! They don't need to. They are all very united in this aspect, they all take care not to give us any more than we are used to. We know we won't ever have to wake up to a surprise of an honest admission or the result of thoughtful effort.

After all, aren't most of us the same? We use all the loop holes we can for the gratification of our wants and then we expect someone else to be self less. Isn't going to happen. The first honest step into politics will face the greatest risk of head, or maybe there have already been many first steps, maybe they aren't heard of because people like you and me, refused to support or follow them. What comes out of strengthening the good? Nothing, but out mistakes exposed. We won't. That's what the movie politicians say too.

The only reason to work for is that the society moves in unpredictable circles of change. Unless we stand up for what we believe as right, no one else is going to stand for us. But if we do stand, we face a risk of broken legs( Catch-22)The former is a future possibility, the latter is true. We all know. I didn't write all this to inspire. I wrote it to just laugh at my complaints.

MORAL: It's isn't anything I made up, It's Darwin's theory of nature that says " It isn't the strongest or the most intelligent that survive but the most adaptable." Lol! learn to bend lower, go unnoticed honey, that's the best advice anyone can give you. The advice we fought when we saw the first bribe being given or taken in front of our eyes. That Darwin's theory holds us closer to the nature more than any philosophy. Bribe, be happy. But make informed decisions. When you go to bribe remember not to expect justice. Remember you've insulted it right in the face. And no person need come to bail you out of the chaos result of your own actions. Suffer, be happy. Isn't that what your life is all about?

AT CHETU'S

These pics. have been taken on the first of january this year at Chetu's place. I kept post-poning the visit for weeks. And finally it was decided that I go on 30th and next finally it was decided that I go on 31st and finally finally I made it in the first morning this year. I, as usual woke up late...at around 7:30 when I had a bus at 8:15 and got ready at merupu teega speed. Since I was all fumbling and running around, brother dropped me at the bus- stop where the direct bus was waiting for me...Hopped in and slept. Just opened my eyes at the ECIL stop and got down, didn't know how to go, nil balance in my phone. All the shops which might have recharge cards were closed. No panic. I was still too drowsy to be worried. Asked in a couple of shops, bought some roses because I liked them. The roses guy told me about a bakery and all...the card wouldnt work due to new year traffic.. blah blah blah...made it. Took a share auto. Made it there. Aunty came to pick me up, went home.
Their home is a beautiful place. It's located amidst small farms and is half an hour away from the city. Every part of their house is fillled with some sort of art, colour, energy. The kind of nervous energy that I always liked best about Chetu. Intangible assets of the house include incredible music. Every thing about them goes on with music. Bhavu(Chetu's twin) goes more with wit and design though. But everything there reflected taste and effort. And yes, it has unordered parts but they only made the stay more comfortable.


This is Aunty's garden over the roof...I'm not going to try to name them because I coudn't even count them. It was a clear afternoon sky and the sun was on a mediocre smiling range.
This is a corner of the garden on the roof..That's a bird nest and that's web surrounding it.
I took a few more pics of us guys. They look good. Though I grieve for my absurd hair turn out that day. We were happy and smiling through every pic and that I suppose makes up for the defects.

We had a bon-fire in the night.. They sang a lot..warmed us up...in the end, with some warmth and burning sparks left in the fire Chetu sang to me. Then we shared the Ipod and sang together some nonsense. It was a Kodak moment and I hope I caught it. I didn't. But the image of her smiling and singing by the fire is there in my head. Thankyou Chetu kun.

We watched Julie and Julia in the night and both of us agreed it was a bore. All this night out meant we couldn't go bird watching in the morning. And I regret it. So we sat down by the front door steps and went on talking, Chetu gave me the ringtone of Nodame Cantabile music which I haven't changed. We recorded some telugu songs in our mobile after many re-takes as I couldn't match Chetu in either pitch or tune. And then we heard a little bird singing along. The bird went away.

I started home wards that afternoon.

And sometime during that day she cooked Chings hot garlic noodles for me. And they're my favorite. Half because they are good, half because they bring along sweet memories that make me happy.

I wih I could elaborate more on everyone there..but I think it'll be pretty rude, so that's all you're getting.

If this makes for a boring read, of not much use to anyone, forgive me.

Ciao.

And Chetu if you're reading this, I'm missing you. And I miss the violin music you played that night.

Random talks of an Indian summer afflicted head

It's the height of summer in India, Andhra Pradesh. The heat it..let's say, really hot. Icing to the cake- frequent power cuts. More icing- I have exams these hols. Bonanza icing- It'll be the end of may before my playmates, scattered all over India make it here.

In the mean time, I'm spending my time sleeping at night so I can wake up early and sleeping in the afternoon so I can cool my head and work at night. The remaining time is spent taking a little rest from my heavy sleep schedule..the rest includes eating ripe jack-fruit, lazing, day-dreaming, talking, drinking galleons of sugar-cane juice and so on and so forth. Got it ?..dinne king la batikeydam antaru.

My cousin aged 10 is here. She's just as hyper as usual and optimistically speaking adding colour to life. Rationally speaking, ayya baboi gola ra!! Okka second kurchodu. Pch Pch. My relatives and mum and all are going on happy summer vacations, and I'm left out of them owing to my exams.

Then there's this blog, roju deni gurinchi raastam cheppu..? Vetukkoleka edustunna...poni akkada emanna super duper fan following aa ante adi ledu...Nenu na solo daily commenter ki andaru chadavagaligettu letters raasestunnattu undi..Ila aite ela?

Mm..Yes, summer ante mangoes, kani elagu ikkadekkada mavidi chetlu kanipinchav, sutti super market mangoes kemo feel raadu..em cheyali?

Ma anna paapam mokkalu penchestuntadu... Ee summer time ni, apartment bacha party baa vadukuni, aa mokkala aakulto pandaga cheskuntunnaru...chalanattu...ma apt. lopala pedite light saripodu, baita pedite, ... fried veggies aypotunnay...what to do??

Ekkada chusina pillala gola, manam kuda gola cheddama ante ma batch inka hyderabad parisara prantalaku kuda cherukoledu..

Inka birthdays, bharata desam lo sagam janabha mottam ee march last week to may last week lone puttesaremo...boldu birthdays, party laki velladaniki time ledu..giftulu ivvadaniki dabbullevu..sagam paisalanta tindiki aypotunte, migata sagam wholesale ga gift shopulu meeda petteyyalsi vastundi..Poni chakkaga oka card chesi iddama ante mana art ento pata model ball pens lekka, appudappudu assal padi chavadu..

Edo, ilanti klishtamaina (telugu sarigga raani fellows ki, it means complex) kashtalato, elago ala summer nettukochestunna...

Foot note: Rachmaninoff's music's super good. If you haven't heard it, it's available on youtube.

Oscar Wilde


He's my favorite short story writer. I've come across many brilliant people's many brilliant works like Tagore, Frost, Tolstoy's short stories, etc. etc. They're all incomparably beautiful but nothing touched me like Wilde's 'The happy prince'.

It's a very famous one, most probably you would have come across it too. Across the swallow that loved the flirty reed and the prince who formerly lived in a castle where sorrow was not allowed. Read the story or get the summary from Wikipedia. It's a short read, but a very humane one. When I read the end of this story, for the first time I wanted to believe in god. Just so, I can believe in the happy ending.

'The nightingale and the rose', that's where the concept of smearing white roses with blood started. A nightingale hurts itself on the thorns of a white rose for a (human) physics student's love. The student gives the rose to a girl who rejects it for jewels. The student goes back to metaphysics and chooses not to believe in love anymore. Why do I like it? I like physics students, I don't like him being portrayed that way. But it's Wilde's story and a very good one too. As usual the best part of the story according to me, is the nightingale. Animate animals go very deep.

'The selfish giant' is another story full of faith. I don't know why Wilde's stories always end in undecided grief or paradise and I appreciate the portrayal of grief, but paradise is beyond me. But I know if I read any of his stories before I was ten I would've been on my knees praying all day and all night by now. C'mon which child wouldn't want the reformed sweet giant to end up in Christ's paradise in the end. Which child would ever want such a friendly giant who lets them play in his glorious spring garden to consider him dead as in plain dead. You wouldn't want to take that way, so the only happy way out is to believe.

'The devoted friend' is an attack on literary critics. That they fail to see the moral and see simply the words heartlessly. It was good but didnot leave as great an impression on me as the others.

Wilde wrote many other stories, a lot of drama, which include 'The importance of being earnest'. 'Lady Windermere's fans', 'A woman of no importance', 'An ideal husband'. 'The picture of Dorian Gray' which I've read, which I also think are good. But I just enjoy the animals and giants more.

Do


"Syl said, it took me a long time but I’ve finally figured it out. When it comes to men that are romantically interested in you, it’s really simple. Just ignore everything they say and only pay attention to what they do. It’s that simple. It’s that easy."

This is an excerpt from 'The last lecture' by Randy. No, I'm neither going to introduce his lecture sprawled all over youtube nor am I going to say about his book...because I think I'll start crying then. I'm just telling you this much. It's one of the best videos I've ever seen.

Coming to the excerpt, I just thought I'd like to share this with all the young women out there like me.

It's true isn't it. Not just in romantic interests but in almost every relationship. Words are pretty, words are plenty but words can be empty. Deeds cannot be. Work and patterns of work reflect a person. Mt turtle , my photos, my blog, my degrees, they are me. And they show me clearer than myself. The day I posted something on consistency, if you asked me, I would've said I was consistent from that day onwards. If you asked me today I'd've totally believed myself and said I am still consistent. But I'm not. I stopped studying for the amount of time I planned to, I broke the blog chain and all that. It showed I'm not what I presume to be. When, by a clear assessment of words, me, a rational individual could not gauge my limits, when I cannot believe in my own words, how could I believe in any other ?

Work earns respect. This is simple right. Then we also agree that respect is a prerequisite for love ? Those who cannot earn that much, cannot ask for affection.

EARTH DAY

How many earth days do we have in a year...?

I've been getting messages all year, naming everyday as some day...first it was good now, the days just lost value i suppose. One day is environmental day, one day is earth day, what's the difference? And then there come the water day, conserve petrol day, conserve electricity day..how many days man? Getting bored of them. And yes, i understand the need of showing off to each other that we are aware of the looming risks ahead of us. But well, for one more day and people might just get fed up of the game. No offense meant.

And yes, HAPPY EARTH DAY i suppose, but what comes out of wishing? Whats happy in an earth day? I don't know...flow lo vachindi follow aypovali questions vaddu..

march 20 sparrow day anta telusa...next year ki gurtuntudo ledo ani kangaru padipoyi... nenu pichukala photolu teesanu...
And then again, earth day ane excuse pettukuni I'll just show some earthy, planty pics i've taken...simply, because I've taken them and they lie in my pc unused.
Blog lo pedite kaneesam O padi mandi chusi, 5 guru consider chesi, mugguru aalochinchi, okkaranna comment chesestarani pettestunna...

And yes, I didn't write yesterday and yea I do lack consistency :D



This is a pic. showing..., you know what it's showing.

It's taken in Tenali, Andhra Pradesh, India, they're reaping rich earth for a living and I consider today an apt time to show it off. Who else knows the earth better than them.




I actually wanted to write about the book called 'The good earth' today, the story of a Chinese farmer...because the word earth always reminds me of it. It reminds me more of earth than the existing earth and I suggest you read it, not because today's earthday or yesterday's wednesday but because it's a really touching book. It's written by Pearl S.Buck and has a very humane yet practical edge to the classic. It ranks in my top 3 and I'm sure it'll be in your top shelf too if you make it.
I'd like to market it, nag you and force you to buy, just because I want to see it being appreciated the way it deserves. It's a masterpiece. A pulitzer winning book.

Good Luck.

CHETU AND ME

Her name is Kavita Chetana and she is my best friend.

She has a lovely, honest smile that spreads all over her face and I think it's the brightest smile I've ever seen.

She's the one on the left by the way and I'm the one on the right.

I wish we stayed closer so I could go to her whenever I want to.

We call each other almost everyday.

She's more like me than anyone I've known. We make different decisions, act differently and all, but we hold the same standard of principles.

She's sweet and kind and bends a lot to facilitate others, that's one place where we differ a lot.

I saw her first in an over sized t-shirt and bermuda kinda skirt kinda short kinda thing on her first day at eighth standard in Cal Public School.

She came to school by a bus and always waited for me at the cycle stand, i went home by a cycle and always waited till the bus took off to hear her smile and say bye. It always makes me happy to see her that way.

We fought a few times, but always made it up within a few hours. And even in the deepest fight, we never thought 'never her'.

We write letters to each other on paper, because it gives us more to remember.

She's the best thing that ever happened to me.

Thankyou Chetu, for every smile and moment you've given me. Happy or not, tear or a sunray, every thing is a rainbow, a wonderful array of cherished emotions when it's shared with you.

FRIENDSHIP

My mum's colleagues gave this to her at the end of a meeting..there's friendship written a little down on it(Must've taken the 'ship' part too literally). It's currently located in my room spreading patterned golden light.






















I like looking at it, it makes the room bright.Though i considered it an unnecessary accessory at the beginning and i still consider it the same now, though it's not very handsome to look at in the morning, it livens up the room without hurting the eyes at night. Adds a tint of gold to every corner in the room.

Guess everything about light is wonderful. The sun, the lights, candles, mirrors, rainbows, glass...

Hiya, it rained today in Hyderabad at around 5.30 in the evening. I took these pics then, there was a huge wind, the breeze was giving off a wet earth smell everywhere, the climate was warm and it drizzled thin sharp blunt cold drops of rain. People were all busy picking the clothes they left on their terraces and balconies to dry. I went up onto the terrace with a camera. Though I couldnt catch the rain or the wind but there's the sun and sky for you.

My first presentable pottery work: The turtle




I don't know which kind, but as you can see, it's a turtle. I made it last summer at my pottery class.
We first made the shell...on the wheel, it's a manually operated wheel following simplest of the simple mechanisms...the wheel is put on a concrete base so that the wheel is slightly elevated from the ground with it's center as the supporting point...the wheel has a hole where a wooden stick is stuck and used to rotate it by rotating the wheel. Then idiot kids like me throw the mud onto the wheel and stick in their hands, sometimes the potter tries to help the kids by sticking in his hands too and making a base and basic of a pot but adamant kids like me say I'll do everything and stick their hands in a little further, a little stronger...poof...the mud collapses into crap.. is thrown away as usual. So on and so forth after kilos and more kilos of soft and rich clay strewn about on sir potter, the interested viewers and the new dresses of is-posh students in aprons, we finally learn to make something nameable. As in, some end up looking like pillars some like flowers, but most commonly they end up looking like chippas beggars will most certainly refuse.
After such valorous repeated attempts there comes a time when one spark of genius and skill and effort all coincide...then comes a beauty such as the base of this turtle.
Then we take the base sit down with some water...most of us forget the vessels for it so we end up sharing, pulling and spilling the delicious molten chocolate looking mud, use it to shape the mud into something that looks like a head...some geniuses make rasgullas or gulab jamuns(as they imagine their mums making) and throw it on the poor base...and poof again..the mud collapses to everyone's delight(you see, we're competitive students) then as we go on making it...every five minutes we hear someone hissing and cursing the mud, after which they become jobless and end up plaguing the few ones that by a chance of luck seem to succed...through all this, silent (you know it's a lie already) but violent me goes on skilfully using her creativity and skill to make a rasgulla, press my thumbs on both sides...make two more little mustard seeds and stick them in their repective places called eyes and then slowly, carefully add a piece of mud to the head making it look like a neck and then more slowly, carefully and skillfully than ever, i attach it to the shell to the envy of everyone.
Hahha, relishing in my success i make its legs and stick them in, then i choose the design on the shell...well, i have one in my mind now( inspired from my cousin Sahiti's most repeated mehendi design in our ninth standard), but i dont have a pulla(thin stick made of coconut)..?? what to do...then i saw hope glimmer...i saw a fifth class kid with the required pulla trying to design his poor gonna die in a few minutes turtle's head..and as soon as it did, snatched it away and did the design. . And some how i finished that and the lines on it's legs...and TADAI!!! My very own pretty pretty pet turtle's ready...the plus point is that this pet saves time (Its been lying nameless behind our T.V for a year completely covered in cobwebs and still alive),money, food, space and the cleaning procedure...and it's such a pity you can't have it. It's my turtle, the work of a genius for you all to envy. And because people don't seem to notice it as much as they should. I wrote this whole entire thing..as a morale boost it's your duty to leave a compliment in the comments space...those who know me(since they seem to be dominant among my blog viewers)..kangaru padipoyi negative comments cheyseykandi..i'll make you pay for every word.

IN A DEAD MOTH'S MEMORY



THIS MOTH CAME HOME ONCE. BY THE TIME IT CAME, I GUESS IT ALREADY WAS VERY WOUNDED BECAUSE IT COULDN'T FLY VERY WELL AND MADE A CONVENIENT PHOTOGRAPH...WHICH REMINDS ME..I DIDN'T TAKE THIS PIC. MY BROTHER ARUN DID. I SWITCHED OFF THE LIGHT AND OPENED THE WINDOWS HOPING IT WOULD GO OUT FREE. I THINK IT WASN'T WELL ENOUGH TO GO OUT EVEN IF IT ACTUALLY MANAGED TO SEE AND UNDERSTAND THE PROMISE OF FREE AIR. STAYED THERE ALL NIGHT. BY MORNING I FOUND IT THIS WAY.





I TOOK THE ABOVE PIC. THAT WAS THE WAY I FOUND IT IN THE MORNING AS SOON AS I WOKE UP. RIGHT UNDER THE TUBE LIGHT NEAR MY DRESSING TABLE. I DON'T KNOW WHY I DID IT BUT I STUCK THE DEAD MOTH ON A VASE I MADE... IT HURT MY BROTHER SO..AS SOON AS SHE NOTICED IT, IT MADE MUMMY TOO TAKE A SAD EXPRESSION. I DIDN'T FEEL CRUEL. I THINK IT WAS JUST SOME KIND OF ATTACHMENT THAT MADE ME STICK IT THERE AND THE SAME ATTACHMENT THAT'S MAKING ME POST IT. WHEN I REASON THINGS OUT, A DEAD MOTH IS A DEAD MOTH. NO MORE. BUT OUR MINDS HAVE TRICKY WAYS OF DENYING REASON WHENEVER AND HOWEVER THEY WANT TO. REASON CANNOT HOLD THE SADNESS IN DEATH. AND YEA, IT'S BEEN LONG SINCE I REMOVED IT FROM THE VASE AND THREW IT IN THE DUST-BIN. I SAT BEFORE THE BIN FOR 2 MINUTES JUST LOOKING AT IT AND THEN IT WAS OVER BUT NOT AS COMPLETELY OVER AS I THOUGHT IT WAS.

English exam

( I wrote this as soon as i came home after writing my 2nd year English exam meaning to post it, I didn't but now i am. Better late than never I guess )

ENGLISH EXAM

There were all these poems of Shelley and Keats and Tennyson and short stories of Tagore and Dickens and Spender it was a treat preparing for the exam.

So somehow after a quick last minute prep. i reached the exam hall. Since it was the first exam and all, i went pretty early to the hall. I sat there opened my books, closed them, revised, again opened,again closed, paced this way and that way. Finally i kept my books away, closed my eyes, put my head on the knees, shut my ears and did a breathing routine. Then i brought my head up and suddenly my eyes fell upon this girl (of an average height, conventionally speaking normal looks, long hair with lots of flowers) who kept on looking at the gate as if waiting for someone, just as i saw this, Turutu ruttutu...hero entered...what hero carrying?..her hall-ticket...who hero? ....her husband...newly wed i guess...she..looked looked..he looked looked...slow-motion.. she went went...he came came...not taking eyes off each other... she slow slow fluttered her lashes..he slow slow smiled..she totally leaning on him...he..looking lost lost...eyes dreamy dreamy..screaming love both of them...prelude to a kiss that didn't happen...he suddenly gave her the hall ticket which she took and opened her book and started preparing. It was then that i remembered that i was supposed to be tensely waiting for the exam to start. I once again recollected the names of all the authors and stuff. Received my 'All the best', calls, which I'm pretty senti. senti. about. breathed in and out. Checked the list they were pinning up for my hall number ( It was 3, i like the number 3. so i considered it a good sign, b.t.w. i condemn signs and crap all the time, but when it comes to exams, mmhmm..everything affects me.) and went into the hall. I checked my hall-ticket,sat in the place i was allotted (which b.t.w. is a tiny wooden chair) in a well-lit room and checked my watch( the watch belongs to my grandfather, another sentiment). The exam still had five mins to begin...two feet away from me, there was this guy with sparkling eyes, curly hair, a few pounds over-weight, he looked at me and smiled, being polite i smiled back, he asked me " baa prepare ayyava?" (did you prepare well?) I was like " parledu" ( not bad). He just bluntly asked me " exam lo chupistava?" (will you help me through the exam), i said no, he said selfish, i said thankyou, he said " nenu ee exam lo pass avvadam nee kistam leda?" ayya baboi emanna senti. na. I wasn't responding, so he just continued like...ee exam lo fail aite na life waste avtundi, enduku chupinchavu, nuvvu chala selfish, etc.etc. Because i still wasn't responding, he paused for a moment and used the philosophical and logical side of his mind and told me " knowledge is meant for sharing, enta panchite anta perugutundi" Ay baboi! vadi teliviki tattukoleka li8 teeskunna, intalo exam start ayyindi. Adento na kharma, na qs. paper kasta egiri vadi daggara padindi...nenu teeskune lope he picked it up and wouldn't give me..one-side he pulling pulling, one-side me pulling-pulling fully tensed, what if someone sees and thinks im helping him copy, what if this leads to insufficient time, etc. etc. the guy just won't leave the paper, he was asking me "please, please, idioms okkati cheppava, pls pls" baboi, chivariki elagola teeseskuni, malli atu chudakunda exam raasesanu.Just as i gave aways the paper and was coming out, he started targetting the invigilators now, they were of my age, and he was like. im older than you, you have to listen to elders, tell me this one thing, the exam time was over and he just refused to give the paper, he wasn’t even writing! just resting his elbow on the paper with the pen in his mouth and thinking. Anyway, i wrote well, wrote everything and just came out all jumping and silently screaming " flying colours" cmon yaar, it was english, I’m from cbse, it'll obviously be easy and there was this aunty who was loudly crying crying over the shoulder of another aunty. so loudly, as if the world came to an end, and i, the insensitive moron stood 3 feet away, called everyone and jumped up and down screaming i did my exam well over the phone soo.. loudly, i probably didn’t even need the phone. They stopped for a second and looked at me like i was some assassin fresh from a murder dripping with blood..ok. maybe not that much, but seriously, real bad looks...i shut my mouth and went out, dad came to pick me up, we went home, i was happy, so i bought a chocolate fantasy pastry for bro. and some cutlet ragda for me and went home, started telling my bro. all that i told you in almost the exact some words. Except, they were completely in telugu.

Now, the moral of the day, the point i want to tell you through this ordinary musing is, life's a comedy when the exam goes well, a tragedy if it doesn't.

U.S.S.R books for children


I thought i'd write something different, something other than books...but i can't think of anything else...so here i am, digging books again.

U.S.S.R. or the former United Russia was on friendly terms with India before i was born. My mother told me it helped India a lot financially and etc. etc. I don't know. What I know is that it left in India amazing literature. I don't think any country in the world ever produced such books.
We have small collections of translated short stories for kids at home and they're the best i've read.

I like Enid Blyton and english kids books, but these short stories speak more in a word than a complete english story put together,no offense meant. They helped me imagine. They bring out complex emotions in kids in a simple way that kids understand it and yet adults too enjoy them. They are timeless ageless classics with heavy depths that allow a child to ponder...

Bhayam leni Veetya is the telugu title, I could call it Fearless Vitya. I'll translate a few more in english. They go like..the singing feather, lazybones and the sun, Why did volya cry?, Lotus or a wolf, Forever poplar tree, what is the most beautiful of all ?,Masha's pillow, ...so on and so forth.

Every story, Each and Every story comes with a beautiful illustration in waters or oils. I learnt how to draw imagining i'd draw like that one day. A better mind now tells me, it's not possible.

They were my first books..and now i see them full of ticks in red pen, correction marks, crap designs i drew on them and it hurts. You see, my mother works in a bank and during my kindergarten years and my first and second standard, we had half days off on saturdays, mummy couldn't make it home. So she used to leave a cot (navvaru mancham) , water, lunch and these books. I read them, re-read them, revised them, reviewed them, re-re-re....them for countless times. I grew up alone but i was never alone with these books. The animals in there were my companions, the kids my friends. My mother tried telling me the elephant in a maroon skirt that sat in my bench on school was not real, it just never worked. And it still doesn't. I saw it and i remember it clearer than any student, teacher or a subject. Mora came in the Russian skirt.

A book is magic, if you read it the way i do, you'll never want to come back to reality. And if you ever got books like i have, you'd know how to read like me. For all the Russian authors, i never knew, thankyou. For all the short story writers, children's writer's out there, Thankyou a million.
As a kid i never knew how to express it. But now, i have a blog. And i'd like to say through this one, never stop writing. Go on and on and on.. about animals, plants, children, people, love, yourself, the kites, the ring, bird, porn, poetry, philosophy, economics, something, anything. Just don't stop. It makes more difference than anyone can percieve at the moment. Every word is an idea of a wonderful coincidence called man. It is his mind. His voice. Beautiful.
Bye.

The old man and the sea

[ I'm not writing a book review, you might as well open the Wikipedia and check it out if you're interested. it's an incomparably wonderful book ]

Ernest Hemingway's


The old man and the sea...


I have a wallpaper i downloaded from the internet that says,"you know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel as if you lost a friend".
When i turned the last page i didn't feel like i lost my friend. I felt lost. I wished ,I so wished i was there in that book to appreciate the old man, praise him for the fight. Praise the dead fish for the fight. Praise the little boy for this affection.

As the brave fish edged closer to destruction, it wasn't just the fish anymore, it was a part of the spirit i adored that met with it's fate. But no, i didn't pray for the sharks to go away, i didn't want the fight to end. I wanted him to fight for his fish and he fought more than all quotes on hope ever taught me.

They say there's Christian symbolism in that book. I don't know. I didn't see it. I didn't see anything but what he showed, as in a motion picture and i saw every wave and tide in all their glorious description. And Hemingway described it so well, so very very well, that the actual world and the environment subsided into a dull knowledge at the back of my mind and Hemingway's world turned out into 'the happening world'. When i put it down, believe me. I felt torn. It was like I didn't belong here anymore. Whether as the fisherman or the fish, i didn't want to leave the sea. Blue-green sea, sunrise and sunset, fish, moss, and sky, it was a living entity.

It was love. For all the beauty, the cruelty, the tempers, the depths, the living that live in and the living that live on the sea... And though I know i didn't see it, if someone reminded me of the same thing, I'd break crying anytime. And yes, the book has a sweet ending. But there's nothing sweet in knowing the sea has come to end, tragic or sweet. I cried like hell has frozen over. It broke my heart. Like nothing else. All those personal defeats i cried for seem so small in comparison to this.

A masterpiece. I'd guarantee it. But it's a must that you read it at one go.

Note:I wish i used superlatives freely for what they mean. But sadly, we've been using them for every little thing (a pretty pen or a new dress) that using the same words for something as brilliant would be a shame. I hope you understand the kind of book it is.

CONSISTENCY

The other day my brother was talking to me about being consistent, so i decided i'd start being so. I'll post one post a day for everyday...for let's say, 1 month. It's April 13th ryt, so till may 13th, it will be.

I hope i follow it up.