... because a lot of things are happening on the personal front.
I am going through a very bad patch, it is better that I do not tempt myself to write, for I may end up writing something, which I would regret later. See you folks around.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Goosepimples...
...rise on my arms, even as I read my own article on Mysore, which Churumuri carries here.
A big thank you to Churumuri, for carrying my article, and to Shastri, for pointing it out to me. You guys made my day. I am proud that my writing found its way into a forum where titans like T.S Satyan, T.J.S George, Bhamy Shenoy and Sunaad Raghuram muse, and all the more because I did not have to do anything for it (except the writing, of course).
As email forwards, my article seems to have reached into the hearts of every software engineer either from Mysore, or who has done engineering in Mysore. Immense joy comes when they think it has been scripted by somebody from SJCE. Ironically, this "somebody from SJCE" did his engineering in neighbouring Mandya. I guess the assumption is because I have mentioned Jayciana right after the NIE-SJCE feud.
I also see, by the time Churumuri carried it, well-meaning people have tweaked the text to include their favourite hang-outs, which were missed out. Phalamrutha joins Penguin as a ice-cream joint, and GTR dosa sits pretty with the Mylari dosa I had mentioned. In retrospect, when I go through the comments of everyone of you guys - Adi, Shark, Vamshi (thank you all for carrying it as a main post) and of course, Anu (who brought me to that frame of mind here, in the first place), I do realise that I missed out mentioning quite a lot of things - some which I had experienced, some which I had not - I intend to, on my next visit.
Coming back to churumuri, there ensues an oft-repeated discussion in the comments section - how Mysore was polluted by the influx of IT community. Well, I will not get drawn into that debate, I have only this much to say - Striving to help Mysore retain its status as heritage city does not mean depriving it of development. If we are doing it even unconsciously, then we are doing a great disservice to the city which we love so much.
And before I end, a few gems which elicited wide smiles on this already radiant face - Nostalgic Mysorean says, "Surely this sums up the Mysore I lived in from 1948-1965", and Jeevarathna says "This is actually from Infosys bill board by a infosyan and not meant for public circulation". Really?
A big thank you to Churumuri, for carrying my article, and to Shastri, for pointing it out to me. You guys made my day. I am proud that my writing found its way into a forum where titans like T.S Satyan, T.J.S George, Bhamy Shenoy and Sunaad Raghuram muse, and all the more because I did not have to do anything for it (except the writing, of course).
As email forwards, my article seems to have reached into the hearts of every software engineer either from Mysore, or who has done engineering in Mysore. Immense joy comes when they think it has been scripted by somebody from SJCE. Ironically, this "somebody from SJCE" did his engineering in neighbouring Mandya. I guess the assumption is because I have mentioned Jayciana right after the NIE-SJCE feud.
I also see, by the time Churumuri carried it, well-meaning people have tweaked the text to include their favourite hang-outs, which were missed out. Phalamrutha joins Penguin as a ice-cream joint, and GTR dosa sits pretty with the Mylari dosa I had mentioned. In retrospect, when I go through the comments of everyone of you guys - Adi, Shark, Vamshi (thank you all for carrying it as a main post) and of course, Anu (who brought me to that frame of mind here, in the first place), I do realise that I missed out mentioning quite a lot of things - some which I had experienced, some which I had not - I intend to, on my next visit.
Coming back to churumuri, there ensues an oft-repeated discussion in the comments section - how Mysore was polluted by the influx of IT community. Well, I will not get drawn into that debate, I have only this much to say - Striving to help Mysore retain its status as heritage city does not mean depriving it of development. If we are doing it even unconsciously, then we are doing a great disservice to the city which we love so much.
And before I end, a few gems which elicited wide smiles on this already radiant face - Nostalgic Mysorean says, "Surely this sums up the Mysore I lived in from 1948-1965", and Jeevarathna says "This is actually from Infosys bill board by a infosyan and not meant for public circulation". Really?
Monday, September 04, 2006
The Kaleidoscope
"What is life, dad?" the kid asked.
The father ruffled the kid's dark brown locks, and took him into his arms. "Life, son", he said, "is a mirror."
The little one seemed satisfied for some time, and looked over his father's shoulders, gazing at the two sets of footprints in the sand, which had now reduced to one.
"Can I see myself in it?" he asked.
"Yes, son. But you have to be really patient, as the image does not form so easily."
"Why not?"
The father sat on a rock, put his son on his lap, and pointed to the waves at his feet. The kid peered intently, seeking some crab wiggling away, or a shell, which he could take home.
"Do you see yourself in it, son?" the father asked, pointing to the wobbly reflection of their hunched bodies in the water.
The kid nodded his head and smiled a Yes. The father explained, "When the water hits the shore, it is in a hurry, but it has all the time in the world to go back. You cannot see yourself in it when it comes in, but as it goes back, you can see your reflection in it."
"Life's mirror is similar, son. It reflects what you show to it. Show some anger, and it retaliates. Smile, and it smiles back at you. Show some love, and it will love you back."
"How many mirrors do I have?" the kid piped up, interested in the turn of the conversation.
"We have separate mirrors, son, for each of the people we know. One for me, one for the uncle at the toy-store, one for each of your friends, for each place you have been to. Each mirror is of a different colour, and depending on how much love you put into it, it acquires a deeper colour."
"Where are all these mirrors? Do we have to take them everywhere?"
The father smiled at the innocent question. He loved to explain things like this to the little one.
"When we move on, we cannot take the mirrors as a whole, so we break the whole thing down, and pick up a shard of the broken glass, as a souvenir. When you have lived your life, son, you will have a number of shards with you, which you put into a kaleidoscope. And as you turn it over and over, you see many different shards in random combinations, shining in the light. Each shard will remind you of the mirror it came from, and how you helped color it. And if you smile when you gaze through the kaleidoscope, it means you have lived your life well."
"Colourscope?" the kid looked up, confused.
"Ka-lee-dow-scope", the father syllabled, setting his son back on the sand. "Come, I will make you one when we go home."
And the kid held his hand and pranced away, sure that he would get something to play with in the evening.
The father ruffled the kid's dark brown locks, and took him into his arms. "Life, son", he said, "is a mirror."
The little one seemed satisfied for some time, and looked over his father's shoulders, gazing at the two sets of footprints in the sand, which had now reduced to one.
"Can I see myself in it?" he asked.
"Yes, son. But you have to be really patient, as the image does not form so easily."
"Why not?"
The father sat on a rock, put his son on his lap, and pointed to the waves at his feet. The kid peered intently, seeking some crab wiggling away, or a shell, which he could take home.
"Do you see yourself in it, son?" the father asked, pointing to the wobbly reflection of their hunched bodies in the water.
The kid nodded his head and smiled a Yes. The father explained, "When the water hits the shore, it is in a hurry, but it has all the time in the world to go back. You cannot see yourself in it when it comes in, but as it goes back, you can see your reflection in it."
"Life's mirror is similar, son. It reflects what you show to it. Show some anger, and it retaliates. Smile, and it smiles back at you. Show some love, and it will love you back."
"How many mirrors do I have?" the kid piped up, interested in the turn of the conversation.
"We have separate mirrors, son, for each of the people we know. One for me, one for the uncle at the toy-store, one for each of your friends, for each place you have been to. Each mirror is of a different colour, and depending on how much love you put into it, it acquires a deeper colour."
"Where are all these mirrors? Do we have to take them everywhere?"
The father smiled at the innocent question. He loved to explain things like this to the little one.
"When we move on, we cannot take the mirrors as a whole, so we break the whole thing down, and pick up a shard of the broken glass, as a souvenir. When you have lived your life, son, you will have a number of shards with you, which you put into a kaleidoscope. And as you turn it over and over, you see many different shards in random combinations, shining in the light. Each shard will remind you of the mirror it came from, and how you helped color it. And if you smile when you gaze through the kaleidoscope, it means you have lived your life well."
"Colourscope?" the kid looked up, confused.
"Ka-lee-dow-scope", the father syllabled, setting his son back on the sand. "Come, I will make you one when we go home."
And the kid held his hand and pranced away, sure that he would get something to play with in the evening.
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