Frangipani

It is the 31st of Dec, 2008. The last day of this year. Tomorrow will be a new day, a new year. And as always, the feelings are mixed - How will the new year be? Will it bring any better luck or fortunes? Why will it be any different? What is changing...the morning of Jan 1, 2009 will be the same as all other mornings...so what is the big deal? I think the idea behind this frenzy of a New Year is hope and loads of it! Everybody hopes that somehow the next year will be better. A new beginning will be possible only if the old is laid to rest. It is a closure and therefore a beginning too. It is a cycle as is every other thing in this world. And though we may not realise it, it is this circle that gives us a sense of comfort. What goes around comes around... From beginning to the end, from end to the beginning Life, Time, Seasons - all move around in a circle Though we talk about vicious circles and wanting to break away from the circle, we also find real comfort and peace only when in a ...

This was sent across as a forwarded e-mail by a few friends. This story is worth a read... http://www.forbes.com/opinions/2008/12/01/mumbai-terror-taj-oped-cx_mp_1201pollack.html Commentary Heroes At The Taj Michael Pollack 12.01.08, 7:40 PM ET My story begins innocuously, with a dinner reservation in a world-class hotel. It ends 12 hours later after the Indian army freed us. My point is not to sensationalize events. It is to express my gratitude and pay tribute to the staff of the Taj Mahal Hotel in Mumbai, who sacrificed their lives so that we could survive. They, along with the Indian army, are the true heroes that emerged from this tragedy. My wife, Anjali, and I were married in the Taj's Crystal Ballroom. Her parents were married there, too, and so were Shiv and Reshma, the couple with whom we had dinner plans. In fact, my wife and Reshma, both Bombay girls, grew up hanging out and partying the night away there and at the Oberoi Hotel, another terrorist target...

I should have remembered Nov 26 as just another time that my age clock comes a full circle and I subtract another year from my life. Yet, what happened on Nov 26 this year has shaken me completely as it has a lot of others...Mumbai was under attack ...Mumbai, desh ki dhadkan was under attack once again and with what audacity where we questioned and made to come down on our knees. Who were these people who made it possible? Young 20-25 year olds, apparently-misplaced youth...20-25!!!!! For God's sake...their God and my God and everybody else's God...20-25 is the time when one lived and thought of life ahead. What is it that makes these young people move towards such means? What justifies this macabre killing of so many people? Money - how much money is good enough for committing such an act!!! 10, 000, 50, 000, 1 lakh, 1 million...how much is good? Who are these terrorists - dressed like you and me, looking like you and me, walking the same streets, watching the same movies, ea...

It has been quite a while since I posted anything. So, I thought that I will post some quotations that I have saved up. These are from a collection that I started when I was in Genpact. I used to send out 'Quote for the week' kind of stuff. Then, Priya also shared some lovely short poems and all of it went into my collection. I really like quotations. Actually, if I think about it, quotations have been a part of my journey so far since school days, I guess. Meenakshi and I would always fall for birthday cards which had either funny one-liners or long poems with beautiful words. And then we would go on to add quotations to the card...write inside the card, over the envelope, even on the flap. I had gotten this beautiful cloth-bound diary for my birthday when i was in school and i promptly made it my quotations books. I have it till date!! It has been close to 15 years now...i would think. Nani and I also used to write down quotes into a diary. She was the one who got me started ...

“Are you from Orissa? How long have you been in Delhi? I’m sure you don’t speak Oriya? Do you?” I’ve answered these questions time and again. And its not just one section of the society that poses these questions to most young people of Oriya families settled in Delhi. There are times when I’ve tried to be understanding if the question comes to me from aged people, people old enough to be my grandparents. I know that for them these and similar questions is an attempt to understand that ‘children’ are still being taught traditions. When they pose these questions, there is no mockery in them. Instead, there is a curiosity to know and understand if people who’ve lived away from Orissa have any connection with their native land. Answers to their questions in the affirmative reassure them that all is right with the world. However, they can accept negative responses to the same as well. They understand if you tell them that you have lived away all your life and so, don’t identify with the Or...

Moi, je m’assoi Seule La lumière s’étend Lentement La voix trouve un coin pour se cacher Trouvé Des questions me troublent Ami Sont des réponses Ami de la voix Le noir dure Lait de la lumière Le silence Dure Pesant Silencieux Des réponses introuvables Intimes Un moment Perdu Non Ce n’est pas vrai Je le croit Croyais Vrai Faux Réel …non Seul Le miroir L’espoir Le noir… Written on 03 June 2002

Mala was sitting at her desk in the office of « The Changing Times ». It was already seven in the evening. Suddenly, the phone rang. It was her boss, Mr. Thakur. He asked her to work on an article, a sensational story on that damned woman, the writer. He had even suggested a title for the article, laughing all the while in his special derogatory manner – “The author of Why Rape? raped by 3 people”. Mala was stunned. Slowly, she had taken a few pages, yellow with time, and had begun reading them but it all came back to her even without reading. It said, “Why do men rape? Is it a test for them to check their virility? Or is it a way of expressing all their frustrations? What is it? … … … The victims are – a three-year old child, an eighty-year old grandmother, a sister, a mother…” Mala continued to read as if in a trance. Some lines underlined in red. “God is neither a man nor a woman. Because the world, God’s creation, needs the energy of both the forces – masculine and feminine....

Mala s’asseyait à sa table dans le bureau de « Le Temps Changeant ». C’était déjà sept heure du soir. Soudain le téléphone a sonné. C’était son patron-Monsieur Thakur. . .Il lui a demandé de faire un reportage « sensationnel » sur cette maudite femme, l’ecrivaine. Il a suggéré le titre aussi-« L’auteur de ‘Pourquoi le viol ?’a été violé par trois personnes. » en riant. Mala était étonné. Lentement, elle a arraché quelques pages jaune avec le temps et elle a commencé à lire-mais de memoire. Elle a lu - « Pourquoi les hommes violent ? Est-ce-que c’est un type de examen pour vérifier sa capacité pour l’acte de sexe? Où c’est une sortie de toutes ces frustrations? C’est quoi?……….Les victimes sont – une enfant de 3 ans, une femme de 80 ans, une sœur, une mère…… ». Mala continuait de lire comme dans une transe. Quelques lignes soulignaient en rouge. « Le Dieu n’est pas un homme ni une femme. Parce que le monde, sa création, besoin les deux forces - masculin et féminin. Donc, co...

In India, we have a penchant for celebrating everything with fervor. And most festivals or holidays are linked to one religion or the other or else have such mythical beginnings, the stories of which have gotten lost over centuries. One of these happy occasions stands out in its uniqueness. The day I'm referring to is Teacher's Day. This is celebrated on Sep 5 each year across all educational institutes in India. However, it is the enthusiasm in schools that truly brings out the 'teacher' and 'student' in us. As Sep 5 just went by, I wanted to talk about a few such teachers who left their mark on me during my growing-up years and have most definitely played a role in shaping my personality. I spent my childhood growing up in South Delhi and went to a school called Green Fields. At that time, it wasn't one of the top league schools such as a DPS or a Modern or a Sardar Patel, but it was the best. :-) One of my earliest memories is of a music teacher way back ...

I click therefore I am My values are but a mouse-click away All desired skills have boiled down to a component ID The LMS – a record keeper Sole proof of my values existence Back and Next – two entities of my life So close, yet so many pages between them Loading at 40%, then 60% …my knowledge never reaches 100% I drag and I drop unhesitatingly Hoping that these activities get me recognition I wait for my development plan to fade away And to evolve into a certified valued professional I cross all hurdles and reach the assessment Never has a 90% meant such joy and relief And as I return gleefully to my seat with my name printed in b/w My thirst for knowledge And my will for development is all but extinguished There in my inbox sits another mail … it is IT Security week next and the darned online trainings are back!!! I click therefore I am - Written in blood after putting in 16 hours trying to finish certain ‘mandatory’ online training...

I’m very fond of watching the various music-based reality shows that are being shown on all the TV channels these days. I’m referring to the more serious ones – shows like Sa Re Ga Ma Pa, Voice of India, and the latest to join the bandwagon – Junoon. (I will not name Indian Idol in the same breath simply because I think it is blasphemy to do so.) I think all these shows are brilliant in the way that they look for such amazing talent across the country and across the continents, in many cases as well. I think Sa Re Ga Ma Pa is the one that began this trend of music-based shows and we have quite a few voices in the music and film industry now, voices that have found their audience and limelight, through this show. It used to star Sonu Nigam as the host, who did a splendid job of it too. The voices were all so fresh and so beautiful. Some became popular and some not-so popular. But, each one did find the confidence and I’m sure this was one of the shows that proved to all the young ‘h...