19 till I die

Waking up in summers across the world means different things. In Delhi, if you sleep on the roof in a mosquito net, you wake up drowning in your sweat. On a jute string cot in Khategaon district in Madhya Pradesh, you wake up at 5 to flies droning loudly around your face. The flies must've been explorers in their last incarnation. They love the uncharted territory of your nostrils. In Sweden, you can see the Sun. Isn't that nice!? The Sun is not much of a problem here, in Bengaluru like it is say, in Hyderabad. Waking up in Bengaluru summers can be like waking up in a season different from the one in which you slept. I remember my first day in the new flat I rented. The landlord overlooked putting the fans up. It was a sultry night. Opening all the windows helped with ventilation a little, at least from the sides where a building doesn't stand at a handshake distance. The one hallway in the flat, between the bedroom and living room seemed coolest. That's where I spre...

Deeptanu admits it to me in confidence. He's lonely. One can only admit this over a drink and despondency. So do about ten other friends who are literally half a world away from home, who aren't married yet. He was morose over beers yesterday. Years ago, we'd sit around lustily admiring girls who're smart and beautiful from a distance. The distance has been self imposed and self enforced. Deeptanu, the stupid bum gets attached easily and blames Bollywood movies and shayari for carrying his heart on his sleeve. Hence the distance. Never having seen real romance between adults, he bit the bullet and decided to experiment with online dating, six months ago. Which may not have been a good time, really. He couldn't have known. It was a whirlwind online romance. They started talking on a Wednesday and Deeptanu had her phone number by Thursday afternoon. Deeptanu was suspicious of how quickly this had progressed. He in fact wanted to Skype to make sure he was talking t...

Incidents, events, sights and conversations from the past, both enthrall and torment me. None more so than those from my time in Dallas. I'd say it was because they are the most recent, but I'd be failing to acknowledge their vast spectrum. My mindscape has seen seasons of all feelings. My brain tends to filter in good memories. I wanted to process and air brush Dallas in my head as soon as possible. The past couple of months in Kansas City with my brother have helped me unwind and given me that familiness I really needed. They say reliving and reinforcing memories can change them. I see nothing wrong in using this phenomenon to my advantage. By choosing to do my favorite things in Dallas, I reinforced the happiness they brought me. By omitting things I disliked, I'd bury those memories without an obituary. Ze Milonga : Big D's Tango scene has remained pretty consistent over the years: Big, and fairly unchanging. I remember a new out of town dancer saying, she fel...

Poema, She would lay on a page With infinite ease Crafted, coiffed and poised On a linguistic trapeze. She has a beat She has a rhythm She has style She has substance Her every syllable Lives in memory, indelible. She swings on emotions Giving meaning to being Cradling the thoughts I just wasn't seeing. Her words are warm Her words are kisses  Her words are dreamy To all she caresses. Don't hide in my mindscape, Let me give birth to you. For this page is barren, With no semblance of you. Her form is delicate, Her form just fits. For a thought remiss Just kills the bliss. My perfect Poema, I yearn for you. You float in the ether Amidst the stars somewhere. Come here from the heavens, And be forever near.

I wonder how many of you have similar experiences with friends. Ascent and King of Blue are two people I've known since I was two. I've always felt very close to them, though not always been very close to them. Different classes and schools will do that to you. And yet, I really feel they're my brothers from other mothers. I haven't spent that much time with them in the past decade and yet whenever we meet we devolve into the same pubescent jokes and silly laughter that we always have.  In college all of us hung out a lot. Ghodi was this regal figure with rich tastes and expensive upbringing. Brightness was warm on the inside but scorched people within earshot on the outside. Good-peaceful was never ever at peace. The Patient One has to be the most restless man I have ever seen. J and J were completely different personalities and joint at the hip for some reason. Similarly Twilight and Jasmine stemmed from the same pot. Mind truly had a mind of her own and sha...

The past couple of months have had there ups and downs. People equate this feeling with being on a roller coaster. I'm not sure the analogy fits. Roller coasters are fun at all times if your core packs intestines tightly. At least, there is the assurance of a stable end. My ride began with defending my thesis, meeting Noshi, going to the Grand Canyon. My figurative cart stood poised on that high, at that point. Since then, I applied for Post Doc jobs, got turned down on all of them; stepped out of a life; drove to Michigan for an interview, did well, met with good friends; got told in Michigan that any funding for my possible post doc position might be available only February; decided to join a local lab where a position was offered; that offer was retracted; and now, I've started fresh applications again. So as it stands, I have three letters at the end of my name, but no job: an unfortunate circumstance which a lot of people share these days. My strategy to stay sane has ...

A tree... acorns, nuts and slugs A sunny day and a juicy bug. Dew on blades of grass, shines. By 'Black-Ground-with-strips-of-snow' Sit snacks in skin that is hard to tear Some such skins lying just everywhere. How I love these Iron deer With strange round rubber hooves Mumma said to stay away But they leave the best snacks everyday. Food is where the fun is I'll head over for a peck. Squirrel's head is lying dead. 'Black-Ground-with-strips-of-snow' Looks smeared with all his blood. Is it his blood or the Hawks's? Whose feathers look strewn about? He came to snack on Squirrel's keister Like he did at my sister. Or is it Deer's, whose tail I see At the end of red rope Piled outside his belly. It has to be old Skunk's, I still smell his fury. I won't get too close to Black-Ground-with-strips-of-snow. Though I'd still like to know Why only Black Ground has strips of snow. I see...

As years whizz past, I subscribe to the notion of randomness. Succinctly put, $#!+ happens. Concepts of pride, hope and wishes in adult human life, appear evermore futile. It appears that human behavior and fortune are an outcome of genetics, the environment in which we grew up, physiology and random circumstances that we face. As invigorating the thought of being "masters of our fate" is, too many untold life stories speak otherwise. Shelf me in any religious, Shakespearian or Nietzschian system of philosophy you may, I say the genesis of these memes was foreseeable to start with. However, I have no idea what to make of my dreams: these silly galavanting electrical romps in circuits of neurons, while consciousness sleeps. Some of my dreams have been very vivid, almost as though, I've been inside someone's head while they live heir lives. Please don't judge me for what I say next. Some dreams, have born a remarkable likeness to small episodes in my life to c...

We had a little break room conversation today. We are colleagues that have worked together for around five years, and hangout a lot and know each others families. Two of us were male and two were female (states to which none of us have any contribution to). We have joked at several occasions about a vast variety of things: from silly jokes, language puns, accents, funny situations, funny remarks in odd contexts, raunchy stuff and occasional harmless banter based on communities. We have always laughed together and to this day we have never taken umbrage to non-PC jokes. Privately, I find amusement in a lot of things. A lot of events when viewed askance in the right angle are giggle-worthy. That, I believe is the beauty of humour. Most jokes that make people laugh out loud are at somebody's expense. The popularity of legendary stand up comedians, specially contemporary ones is a testament to that. The propriety of a joke is of course a function of context and audience. Jokes th...

I find it notable how discourses on how life should or can be lived are often unburdened by context. I guess that is when need for commentaries and allegory becomes most obvious. Again, I do not claim to be a theologian, just someone interested in why religious/philosophical memes survive through scripture for so long. I attempted to read the the Hindi translation of the Gita. I have been able to read only three chapters. Partially I attribute my failure to go any further to the sheer incompatibility of the teachings with modern life, as I perceive. As far as I read, the Gita says all our actions should be geared towards becoming one with God. As stated this thesis seems strangely abstracted from the realities of life. My cousin Nonu Bhaiyya says that's because I'm reading a very advanced book on a subject for which I'm barely equipped with the basics. Point taken. I'll continue to read more and try an take what I can from it. I've recently been reading 'T...

You may have already seen this video . You're probably thinking it's been a week of talking about the same thing over and over. Maybe you think it shouldn't be as big of deal because I am not the first and definitely not the last of the millions who have already been or will go to the biggest hole in the earth. In my defense I state, some thoughts and experiences need words to be pictured and conveyed. Especially, if you may the kind to sit around imagining water horses and sunshine in a bottle. I had been looking forward to this trek since I came to the US. Before that, it was never within reach. The magnificence and scale of North American landscapes was sequestered in pictures and Geography textbooks. After the Big Bend I almost certainly thought we'd be able to go to the Grand Canyon soon. That was two years ago. Maybe this was fated to be my soul cleansing exercise after defending my PhD. Then again, is life a Shakespearian proverbial play where we are pawns, o...

Two days ago, I defended my PhD Thesis . And just like that I get to add "Ph.D" after or "Dr" before my name. In many ways one wonders if the title matters. But why give up on title if you're being offered one. I thought I be inspired by AC DC and go around yelling "P H D... I'm Dynamite! PHD!!" What prevails however is tremendous relief: that it's over and that I can move on.  These past six years have been full of all kinds of education. In research I've learnt there are never enough controls for an experiment. In addition to research, a lot of life happened in the lab. People making science happen, people getting in the way of science and that nature doesn't conform to the whims of people. I won't philosophize it right now though I have a license to :D The next step is waiting to be found. I don't have a job yet because the labs I'm interested in either don't have space or or don't have money. It's t...

One mild January afternoon, I sat on a rock in the lawns at school. The stream flowing by, clean for this time of the year, gurgled in with childish whir. Sunshine stroking my face warmly, felt like an ethereal comforter. The brown lawn patched with gold, a little like my beard, sat under a blue grey sky, filled with sleek and tall clouds glided to the East like the office crowd rushing home. The stream reflected sweet sunshine. Its ripples and waves danced like harmonics on gold membranes. I thought it would be nice to have a bottle of this sunshine to carry around like a lamp, instead of the cellphone flashlight. It would be equally nice to have a horse, like any other in every respect, but made of water. It could gallop across the lawn misting passersby like the barber readying you for a haircut. That's always been my favorite part of the haircut. The horse would never need a haircut of course because the silvery mane and tail of water would be quite dazzlin...

Will she consider? Life, just got real... again. I'll hopefully graduate with a PhD soon. The last time it got real was when I was about to finish my Masters and had no idea where life will take me. I was crapping bricks because I wasn't sure what kind of letters I'd get from my Boss for my applications to grad school. The metaphor is apt, I assure you. Before that, I was crapping bricks (very apt again, though it doesn't do justice to intensity), when I didn't know whether I'd make it to a decent university for my masters. This time... I really can't say where my luck and past nearly six years in this lab will take me. The normal, strong minded reaction would be to swallow your apprehension, see where life turns and make the best of that situation. Survival and thriving in whatever situation you are, makes you evolutionarily viable, for several generations. But then, I'm the kind of person who knows a good blogpost when he conceives it, most of the ...

Ragestorms on my Mindscape My Mindscape, a living breathing land, grows and sprouts ideas and emotions. In a dynamic balance Between three fiefs One of Peace The other of Pleasure The third where Putrescence thrives. They grow, they shrink At each others' cost. Ideas are born and emotions emerge Ideas disperse and emotions are buried Lurking incessantly like phantoms, Their aggregate is seldom lost. They grow in Peace  And animate Pleasure They subsume, consume and thrive on each other. In this indelicate balance remains An unstable ecosystem of my Mindscape. In bouts of extroversion, I split the skies or let it rain Then shut it all, in dark, dank pain. Summer came by and beamed. Once balmy, then sultry With sensuous, sunny, warm rain And a rainbow shone above. Pleasure flourished With crops of joy, With harvests of stupor In a happy haze,  Gushed complacent gutters. So, Putrescence too made gains, Wai...

A Venom of a different strength In breaths of different strengths, Light as I felt when she smiled, Heavy as she smiled at another, Knowing each time, who it was. The cycle rolls over, and over. I inhale every time. The stench was of love, That rotted like a bright picked apple The one apple which felt special Not knowing how many lay beside it Not in a crate for memories But a casket to elsewhere. I have loved blossoms, Each one of them, Buds that bloom, And please many. There she was, stumped by the other That other, a connoisseur of nectar There she sat, full in bloom Waiting, glistening, oozing, Perfusing her aura with glee with a secret wish to wilt. Whole patches like that one, Luring everyone that passes, Taken only by an imagined perfection. Whole patches have wilted, And I, have watched. There she was, Almost bearing fruit Her fragrance was once touching There was solace in her feel The solace ...