LEGENDS THAT LIVE

“Break, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter

The thoughts that arise in me.”

Prologue:

She felt the spray from the sea on her face, the taste of salt made her take note of her surroundings. The sea continued its ritual of bringing wave after wave to the shore, only to take back all the things people left- no longer useful. The sea always had charm for her - the stability of its monotony, yet the variety evident in each different wave that strikes the shore- it captivated her, calling to her as if from a forgotten past. She stood there staring with unseeing eyes, as if witnessing a scene separated by time. Yes, the call was growing deeper with every passing day, as if the sea had remained embedded in some part of her soul that refuses to let go. She must go; for there, she knew, lay, in some inexplicable way, a part of her destiny. She turned to leave, feeling the wave that licked her toes, inviting her onto the depths. She closed her eyes, surrendering her senses to the sea.

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The spray that splashed through the window sill washed the last remnants of weariness from her sleep deprived eyes. The train thundered on, not in the least weighed down by the feelings of the multitude thronging its interiors; not pausing to feel the cool drops of water splashing down. She looked out of the window, watching the scenes that slipped by, not waiting to bid goodbye. That was life for her. The more she moved forward, the more the things that she cared for moved away from her, leaving her clutching in vain at the abyss they had left. But now, it will be different... she had answered the call. She was going to the place where it all started. A sense of peace descended on her and she closed her eyes to drift to sleep while the train brought her closer to Kanya kumari.

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Chapter 1:

The sea was just the same, it never changed. She was happy about it. She never got bored watching the sea, watching its innumerable waves splash onto the rocky shore and withdraw gracefully. The sea at this particular place held more fascination to her, for at this place the tri-seas met, sharing waters and silt from different lands.
It was 25 years since she saw this sea last, but it never did leave her mind. Something in its magnetic depths lured her towards it. That was what made her leave all her work and catch the train to this peaceful seaside.

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Chapter 2:

Ram Babu saw her sitting at the steps, staring at the sea. He had seen many people like this; people running away from home in search of peace, a few minutes of retrospection; and he did his best to avoid them. Being the eldest of the guides and having a moderate grasp of English, he was the most sought after among guides. There weren’t many legends that he did not know of. There was something about this girl, (not really a girl, but for this very old man, anyone below forty is a girl), that made him go to her. He knew she needed his help. He tapped on her shoulders. She turned, taking her eyes off the sea for a second, and gave him a ready smile. He asked, "Madam would you like a guide? There are many stories here that only I know of!”. He saw her smile wean off. She sat looking at him, as if sizing him up, for some time and at last nodded her head.
"What is your name, madam? And where are you from?" "I am Madhuri. I work in Mumbai. Have you ever been to that part of the world?" "No, I have never left this seaside for the whole of my life.....and I am proud of it!" She grew silent. He took her to several places - churches, buildings of beauty, which she viewed with a disinterested air. He took her shopping but she bought nothing except a packet of seashells from a small girl. Her gaze always seemed to return to the sea, as if in search of something she lost. He then took her to the seaside and showed her the rock, a few feet wide, lying at a little distance from the sea. "That, madam, is the star attraction of this place. The latest legend and I have the utmost authority to speak of it. "What’s so special about it?". Here, at last, he could discern some curiosity in her tone, a twinkle in her eyes. He knew her heart would stir up to it. "A long time ago, around twenty five years, there was a little girl of 12 years-a very cheerful little girl with a musical voice who sold seashells, flowers and other knick knacks to tourists. Her name was Kadambari. She was collecting shells at the sea shore. The sea lay beyond this rock then. She was standing at its edge, bending down and collecting beautiful shells. Maybe she saw a beautiful shell that would attract the tourist eye; anyway she fell off and the tide carried away her light body remorselessly. She was never seen since". She noticed that his eyes glistened with tears. "I knew her well. She used to come running to me calling 'Babuji', to show me her collection. Her body was not recovered, but in this place where the tri-seas meet, the whirling waters in the depths can take you anywhere. Since then it is said that she haunts this place. Many a guide coming back home at night has seen her standing on this particular rock." She gasped. "Have you seen her?"
"Yes, just once. She waved to me and vanished. It is called Kadambari rock now and is the most sought after location in this place". He helped her take some photographs of the rock and as the sun began to set, she left him, giving him a generous pay, almost twice his fee.

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Chapter 3:

The taste of salt brought her back from her musings. She opened her eyes half expecting to see the sea. But she was at the balcony of her hotel and the sea was distant, like a giant grey monster lying in wait to be fed. The salt had come from her tears that were running freely down the sides of her face.

Should she have told him that she was the very same Kadambari, who was saved from the turbulent waters, taken to Bombay and deposited in an orphanage? He was right; everyone liked her at first glance. That’s how the elderly couple who came to adopt took her, gave her education, took her to places; at last they passed away leaving her rich and educated. It was a blessed moment when she fell off, else she would have remained as the illiterate girl for ever; or was it? She realised that all along there was an inner longing in her to go back to the simple unsophisticated youth of hers, but now, it was too late to turn back. She had recognized Babuji at first glance but he didn’t know her; maybe she had changed. It was a good thing she didn’t tell him about herself. She didn’t want to be known as the illiterate flower girl. Besides, she didn’t want the old man to lose his star attraction-a story which earned him a living!
Funny-after years of education and perseverance, here she was ,a well settled woman; but her presence in the world has gone down in history -not as the cultured cosmopolitan but as the flower girl whom she had hated and buried in her heart for ever.
She looked at the rock, the birthplace of the legend. She felt she could see the child there, waving her arms as if urging her to let go and move on. She felt, vaguely happy, as if all along there had been a fight raging inside her, a fight between the past and the present. The past had won, proving itself the better of the two. Tomorrow she would go back, but she would have left all the memories and sorrows at this shore- let the sea wash it onto itself, dragging it to its depths.

The sea hasn’t changed, so did Babuji. His assumed air of self importance-she had thought that there wasn’t anything that he didn’t know of, but she had been a fool then!!!

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Epilogue:

That day Ram Babu came home early. His wife looked up from where she was cooking their frugal supper.

"You remember Kadambari, the little flower girl? She had come today. I was right all along. She didn’t drown, she somehow managed to escape. She has grown up to be a pretty woman but has the affected airs of the city folks about her. I didn’t give away my feelings because I wasn’t sure if she'd like to be known by her past. I was right. She has a new name and has made a mark for herself and did regret her past.
I told her a cooked up story about the rock- the one which she fell from -being named after her and it being the star attraction of this place. Quite a legend I made up.” He sat there laughing to himself.

"Why did you do that?"

"So that she would be as much proud of her humble past as she is of her new found glory!!!"

The sea continued to lick the shore with its ebbing waves, lying in wait, dragging and burying the stories left there.

“Break, break, break

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead

Will never come back to me.”

- Tennyson

The End

Dreams

One can imagine the plight of people working with high temperature equipments on hot afternoons in mid-summer; and that too at the sea-shore. It is pathetic to say the least. I have been oft en working in such a severe environment.

Before I begin, a word of caution: Day dreaming might be fatal to your career!! On one such lethargic summer afternoon, I had received a call from my colleague, stating that one of our seniors wanted us to be in his office to discuss few technical issues. When I reached his office, my colleague informed me that our Senior had gone to the Group Director’s office to make an STD call to Bangalore.

Suddenly, Bengaluru knocked my brain!! He might be sending me there. I might be going there for some official work; far away from this hot and humid climate. Wonderful weather, gorgeous girls, huge malls… a real city in all respect! How cooooool is that! Hoping for a long tour, I was already packing my bag in my thoughts. “Will the tickets be available during this holiday season? I have to make arrangements for my accommodation too!! Will I have enough ti me to spend with my friends there? ”. And in no time, my dreams took off and I was on a Kingfisher flight to Bangalore with svelte air hostesses making me feel very comfortable in the air!!

Oh Wait……. Really?? It’s an official tour Bro!! And you are working for ISRO! I counted my gray hairs and told myself that it might be years before I travel by flight.

My thoughts wandered to a more realistic mode of transport and I saw myself sitting in the train, enjoying the changing landscapes and musing about my stay at Bengaluru. Then I was

in Bengaluru, roaming around with my friends.

This went on for what felt like two days. By the time our senior entered his offi ce with a wide grin on his face , I was uploading the pictures of my tour virtually in facebook. Two days of tour in less than two minutes! Mr. Christopher Nolan, you might really want to reconsider the time scale for dreams in your recent film ‘Inception’!

So, I was back in his offi ce in VSSC, Trivandrum, still so excited about the virtual tour. I was waiti ng impati ently for him to reveal the good news. He sat down relaxed and started posing questions about our solar system. How many planets are there? How far is Mars? What is there after Neptune? Is Pluto still a planet? How dangerous is the asteroid belt? And so on…

WOW!!

Without my knowledge, the lid on my brain opened and I was drowned in the thoughts that overflowed . My desti nati on had changed; I need to change my iti nerary. I was about to embark on a journey to space.

Bengaluru to Space!!!

I was in my ISRO space suit and was posing with my hand rested on a helmet, which was on a 4

feet high table. The National flag of India was there in the back ground, and I posed for the typical astronaut photograph.

I lifted the rocket boosters, which to my astonishment were very small, and hung them on my back and walked towards the Launchpad.

“Oh WAIT! How could I possibly forget that!” I came back, opened my lappy and changed my Facebook status to “Hurrayyy!! Going on a Space Mission… Miss you all!!”

Now, with a sense of contentment, I went and stood on the launch pad. As the countdown began, I was thinking “How can I miss them without even starting from here? Huhh!! Aint it Crazyy!!!”

The boosters I was carrying were ignited. In a jiffy, I was soaring into the sky at never ever experienced acceleration. THRILLING!!! I crossed the earth’s atmosphere and slowly entered the earth’s orbit. What a breathtaking view of earth that was!! I could see the constellation of the man-made satellites. The moon that we conquered long back just seemed to be a leap away! The entire scene was captivating. What an awesome feeling!

After two revolutions around the earth and after having taken a whole lot of pictures, a few in panoramic view covering earth and moon, with my compact Sony Cybershot cam, I came out of the orbit and set sail into the deep, dark space away from our mother earth, very excited and thrilled about what I was going to explore next. After a while, I saw a sign board showing the ways to the different planets. I was baffled!

“OMG Where am I going ? Which planet am I supposed to go to now!! I forgot to ask my senior. How could I possibly mess it up like that?”

While I was cursing myself, slowly, the empty dark space around me transformed into a small room with my Boss sitting in front of me and my colleague by my side. Both of them were

staring at me and seemed to be waiti ng for my involvement. I regained my senses and nodded my head indicating that I am back. He started the discussion and it turned out to be on Human in Space Program (HSP), indeed!

Are all these crazy dreams because of my boiled brain due to the hot weather??? I have no idea.

Anyways, the idea of going into space is really fascinating and motivating!!!

Trekking to Meesappulimala

A hard trek to wild hills of Munnar had always fascinated me and a trek to the highest peak of south India, Anamudi peak (8682 ft.), still remains a dream. Meesappulimala the second highest peak (8640 ft.) has flickered many times in my google searches for trekking routes in Kerala, but I had never considered it seriously, because Anamudi is also in the same region. However thanks to my friend Jayesh, who has been regularly trying for permission from forest department to Anamudi trek, that I got a chance to trek to this peak. Jayesh had finally suceeded in getting the permission for trekking in Meesappulimala overcoming all the difficulties of contacting the forest officials during Vishu holiday and confirming availability of an experienced guide.

Unlike my earlier trips, this tour to Munnar was a planned one (I booked a room in a fine resort two days ahead) since I had past experiences of diffculty in getting a descent lodging during vacation time. Me and my collegue Anurag Kumar Sinha reached my home at Perumbavoor on the previous day of Vishu and on the day of Vishu we started to Munnar after break fast. The drive to Munnar from Perumbavoor took nearly four hours as we progressed the journey through NH49 enjoying the scenic beauty of wilderness. There are two spectacular water falls on the way namely Cheeyapara and Valara. We checked into the Ayur County resort by 3 p.m. which is located at Chinnakanal, 20 kms away from Munnar town on the way to Theni on NH 49. The resort was selected mainly because the tariff was moderate and as we checked in we realised that it was worth the pay. The room was well furnished with all facilities and the view out side was breath taking, ideal for any family vacation. Rest of the day we spent roaming around the hills and tea plantations near Chinnakanal.

The climate changed suddenly in the evening. The heavens threatened to open up, accompanied by thunders. The down pour continued for 2 hours and Jayesh failed to reach Munnar in time due to his other responsibilities towards family. However, we got assurance from our guide that climate will be fine in the morning and we can have an early start. Jayesh also stuck to the plans and he stayed over night at Adimaly and promised to reach Munnar next day by the first bus available.

Next day we woke up at 4 in the morning and by 6.30 picked up Jayesh from the Munnar town and then proceeded to Kerala Forest Development Corporation. We had to wait a bit for our guide Muthu, who came only by 7.30. However, we finished our breakfast in the meantime and also bought a few bottles of mineral water and some appams for our lunch. As soon as Muthu came we paid the entry fee to the KFDC official and proceeded to the trek point.

The trek point for Meesappulimala starts from Silent Valley tea planatations, near the Mattupetti dam. As suggested by Muthu, we didn’t hire any Jeep from Mattupetti and drove upto the trek point in Sinha’s car. We started our trek and in order to save time Muthu deviated from the regular trek path and chose shortcuts which consisted of steep climb all the way. By the time we covered the 4 kms through steep hills we were very tired and we thought if we continue this way we may not have the energy to retrace our steps on completion of our ascend of 16 kms. Luckily the Forest Department’s yearly road maintanence was in progress and we could avail the jeep used by the officials. We rode upto the Rhodo Valley which is the last point accessible by a four wheel drive on the route.

From Rhodo Valley we resumed our journey through the hill side though another easier route to the Meesappulimala is available. It was physically demanding trek but the mesmerising view of the valley from the hills kept our mind and body active. We saw a herd of Nilgiri tahr gracing in the valley. Sensing our presence they disappeared on to steepy rock cliffs in seconds. The Nilgiri tahr in this area are quite wild and shy animals unlike those in Rajamala since the presence of humans are quite rare in these localities.

By the time we reached the top most point of the Meesappulimala it was noon. The sight of the surrounding valley through the clouds was quite fascinating. We rested for a while and had our lunch. At 12.30 p.m. we started our descend from the peak hastly to avoid the evening rain as we could already see the formation of clouds. We chose the route through the valley, for our return, which we found more easier. The route consists of many elephant tracks and marsh lands and the valley was blooming with flowers. We stopped for a few minutes in the Rhodo Valley which is a campsite occasionally visited by many forgien tourists and where overnight camps are conducted. By 3.30 p.m. we reached the place where our car was parked and by the time we boarded the car thunderous shower started. We drove down to our resort slowly in the rain and by the time we reached our room we just fell on the bed at the very first sight and slipped into a deep sleep. Next day also we woke up early by 4.a.m. and reached to Kolukku malai, a view point near Chinnakanal after a one hour long bone jarring jeep ride. The beauty of the sunrise from Kolukkumalai is beyond words. We can also see the peak of the Meesapulimala from Kolukkumalai. The tea garden at Kolukkumalai is the worlds highest organic tea garden. We made a quick visit to the tea factory and had a few cups of refreshing organic tea. We came back to the resort and after break fast started our journey back to trivandrum.

Contact details of KFDC for trekking and overnight camps:

Office: 04865 230332

Tall Musings

One fine evening, I was making my way dreamily to the drawing room from the kitchen. Having just devoured a few sweets, my sense of contentment was complete. Unfortunately, my smooth progress was impeded by a collision between my head and the door frame. “AMMA...” I screamed, as a moment later, my brain decided to experience the sharp pain of the impact. Stars were circling around my head. Swearing, I rubbed my scalp and began grumbling about the sub-normal heights of the doors to my family members. They had all been summoned to the scene of the mishap, by my shriek of anguish. “It’s because of your arrogance, you should be more humble”, advised my hard-hearted brother. Mother nodded in agreement, enquiring anxiously, “Are you alright? Does it hurt?” Father chided, “You should be more careful. Always remember to stoop down at the low doors”. I sighed. This was turning out to be a regular happening now.

If you belong to that group of humans who are regarded as being taller than ordinary mortals are meant to be, read on...you will surely empathize with me. For the uninitiated (read “people of normal height”), I hope this will give a peek into our world, a view from incredibly lofty heights...

Well, I measure about 172 cms (5’9”) vertically. Throughout my life, I have wondered whether my height is a boon or a bane and till today have not reached a conclusion. It will fetch you numerous, imaginative nicknames- giraffe, thotti, kudakkambi, beanpole are a few samples. If you happen to meet relatives or friends after a hiatus, they will invariably exclaim, “ How tall you’ve grown! Your parents will have a tough time finding a boy for you!” Although their concern is touching, it exasperates you no end. The last 10 years’ experience has taught me to expect this query, listen and respond to it with an impassive face.

All the comforts and infrastructure in this world are intended for dwarves. As mentioned above, you have to be humility personified to pass unharmed through many doors. If you are unfortunate enough to be travelling standing in a bus, utmost care has to be taken to avoid damage to your brain. I discovered the existence of a lamp on the ceiling of KSRTC buses towards the back, the hard way, when the bus went over every rut and hump on our ‘well-maintained roads’. On the other hand, if you are travelling seated, you will require treatment for sore knees by the time you arrive at your destination. Mind you, you will be cramped for want of sufficient space between seats in whatever mode of conveyance you employ- car, bus, plane or auto.

My favourite posture while reading or watching tv at home is thus : sit on a chair, stretch my legs and place them comfortably on the sofa on the other side of the room. The only drawback is, mother will have infinite reasons to walk across just then and my cosy reclining will be disturbed frequently. My stretching of arms finds no favour with her either. Both annoyed and amused, she declares on such occasions, “Only an abode of gigantic dimensions will suit you!”

Your extraordinary height also brings out the creative best in your kith and kin. My uncle often remarks, “ You’ll make a phenomenal basketball player. You can collect the ball and fling it through the basket countless times. The basket will be miles beneath you.” or “This girl will go to the giraffe’s cage in the zoo, compare her height with it and say smugly, “Not as tall as me, eh?” or “You know why ISRO recruited you? Now they can dispense with rockets to launch satellites. You can inject them into orbit directly.” Then there are occasions when the fact that you tower over normal people inconveniences them, albeit unintentionally. For instance, you will hinder the clear view of others, if you happen to be seated or standing in front of them, while enjoying a stage performance. My short cousin has had to remind me to be considerate of the disparity in our heights- when I hit the shuttle out of her bounds while playing badminton or my strides were too long for her to keep in pace, while taking a stroll together.

Once, during a family pilgrimage, the driver of our vehicle looked plainly disbelieving when I informed him that I was a student of 8th standard. He queried, “Have you failed in some class?” , much to my mortification, but to my cousins’ immense amusement. I also held the dubious distinction of consistently making up the rear of the row during our school assembly. Till recently, people generally found it hard to digest that I was elder to my brother by only a year. You see, he hardly reached upto my shoulders. Thankfully, a few years ago, the growth hormones in his body commenced their activities and public opinion has been altered. Despite not being a Complan girl, my physical growth was swift, leaving me to utilize the fridge and wardrobe at home to keep track of it. For other kids, I was the benchmark. I got accustomed to such claims- some one will announce proudly, “ My head is on level with her ears” or somebody else will despair, “ I don’t reach upto her shoulders even!”

Every dark cloud has a silver lining, however, and being tall is no exception. You will easily stand out in any crowd. Many will be grateful to you for shortening their search while looking for you amongst a group. You can perform such tasks as extracting objects from the topmost shelf or pluck mangoes or flowers from unreachable branches with consummate ease. These are daunting to ordinary people who have to rely on ladders and other equipment to accomplish them. Even if there are huge crowds at temples, you can enjoy the privilege of good darshan of the deities, from the very back also. You will often be the reference or identification for others. People will say, “ That tall girl’s parents” or “ I mean the one next to the tall girl”.

All said, I am quite at peace and take heart from the fact that “I AM A TOWERING PERSONALITY”, literally atleast!

“Sir, kya aap singEl hai?”

They say face is the reflection of one’s inner self. But there are quite a few around who do not have the gift to read other’s face and who oppose this theory vehemently.

My usual day at office started when I got off the bus at the entrance gate. Walking towards the gate, I noticed a tall slender figure, almost as old as me maybe a little younger, at the gate having a peek into what a few would want to keep private- their bags (first lesson here, don’t assume, if you just started assuming). Who is not interested to peek into someone else’s affairs? That could be the reason why we see a profusion of gossip shows nowadays. Fundamentally, even the news channels feed on this human instinct to publicize what could be kept a secret, if not at times. Don’t belittle our gentle lady, she was only doing her job; she had to peek because she was asked to peek. She had to peek because she was one among those responsible to keep the place safe from any unassuming stranger who might be thinking of blowing himself up inside the premises one day. The terror hangover persists!! That was why we had our dear lady in uniform posted at the gate.

As I neared the security gate, our eyes crossed for a couple of seconds. In a fraction of a second I felt that she had a little something for me; her countenance suggested it. We all might have had, at least once in our life time experienced this sort of passing feeling. Those who are in love might agree with me when I say love is deaf, blind, doesn’t require verbal communication (which translates to dumb in common English. If that is the case, being in love could qualify and render one totally disabled). All I want to say here is, verbal communication is not the only mode of communication. Perhaps, you might never had felt existence of non verbal form of communication; not my fault why you never experienced it. Better luck next time is all what I have to say!!

It was not long before somebody accused me of imagining things. Scientists imagine, Poets imagine but the world seems not to bother about it too much. APJA Kalam asked us to imagine, Einstein asked us to imagine, perhaps they even asked us to go a step beyond- they asked us to dream, but the world seems to take a tumble when I imagine. “Come on buddy...you are assuming things, your sixth sense circuit is flawed. I don’t want a second finger point at me; I guess there is nothing wrong with me; let me not assume things. There is nothing that the young lady wants to do with me”. I moved on after the security check, walking past the figures donning army fatigues, without offering another look at the faces there and suppressing my new found eagerness.

When the doors are closed, the key has to be sought; the wisdom that has echoed down the ages came to my help when I found the doors of my room locked. The doors would be locked only when my dear colleague thinks ‘late to office’ or ‘not to office’. As I strolled back to the security gate to fetch the keys my rational and my herd instinct launched into their routine dispute. I must admit, they are pretty good at arguing, that at times I find myself lost in this world where it is difficult to lose yourself, unless you want to do so. That was my chance to see if she really wanted to say something. But how to get rid of a finger that points right at my forehead, like the sword which once dangled over Damocles’ head. Haven’t we talked about Damocles? The modern day science might explain his condition as an acute version of my syndrome. Guys imagine if it was a finger for me at the forehead it was sword for him over his head. I was better off. “Hmm...You win rational. Grab the keys, walk straight, look straight; nothing in the world is so interesting to catch your attention. You give in to your instincts and you prove that something is really wrong with you.” I took the keys from the security office and turned back and I saw nothing but the passage in front of me.

“Sir...”... “The lady in uniform in fact had a li’l surprise for me” (to those who didn’t like this mode of an addressing, they call everybody sir :P) thought I, as I turned back at the call. Without much ado she broke the suspense... “kya aap single hai?”(Are you single?)... “Did I just hear it right?” I thought. “Excuse me”, I asked her quizzically. “Aap single hai?” she repeated the question... “Oh she really asked it... what she has got to do with my singleness” and I started ‘imagining’ of the possibilities... “She doesn’t seem to be one of those innocent looking “official” matchmakers who would usually start with your family background and end up speaking about the fat pocket of the bride’s father. Wait a sec, if she is really one....Then hats off to you lady. That was bold of you ask that to my face.. Or is she really trying to search for a match for her in me...then also it is bold of you to ask that to my face.. I am yet to work up the courage.. Am I feeling my jaws falling apart? Hold on, don’t open your mouth. Don’t let her know that you are a conservative Keralite and Rule 567 in the Macho man’s BIG BOOK (yet to be authored) says, “Men aren’t supposed to have emotions. If you are to impress a woman don’t open your heart to her”. C**p!!!” my thoughts wandered away.

“Single?” I asked her; with my face in a form as twisted as a question mark... “Haan. Single?”... “Yes, I am single”... And to my surprise her face lit up, as if she heard what she wanted to hear. Dumbstruck, as I was about to turn back, to my stupefaction I saw yet another face getting lit up- her friend’s..She too seemed to be happy about hearing that... It seemed like a buy one get one offer to me. I totally lost grasp of the situation... I looked askance at the ladies...None of my theories were fitting in properly. “But where can I go wrong? Did I imagine again? I have been too cautious to leave any room for assumptions this time. It is time to do the root cause analysis. Maybe she didn’t say ‘single’, then what else could it be ... ‘Simple: she need not ask it :P, Humble, Nimble, Amble, Dimple, Pimple, Fumble, Temple.....’ Enough with the adjectives, nouns and even verbs, nothing makes sense.” I thought out all alternatives and couldn’t make head or tail out of it.

After a brief cerebration I could find only a single word that made sense to me... Singer. But I don’t go to office to sing. “What did you ask? Did you ask singer?” I asked her. She seemed to be not interested in having a conversation in a foreign language. She aimlessly took few paces back and forth in a 1x1 m² area and told “kuch nahi”(nothing), with a blushing smile. “O dear lady, I am not the one to leave you just like that. Let’s uphold our national language but this once. But don’t you laugh at the way I handle ‘my’ national language”. “Singer......Gana...Vocal” I enquired with my hand tapping on my throat ... The link has been finally established and I saw two beaming faces once again. “Haan sir gana. Aap gaate hai?(Do you sing?)”... I was quick to offer an innocent smile to them. “he he, not even in the bathroom. Thomas Antony sir (School Music teacher) was the first and last man to make me sing against my will”, I thought. “No, I don’t” and I moved to my sitting place with a little bit of curiosity still wanting to be killed.

Next day evening while showing my bag for the security check, I found that the tall one wasn’t on duty. I asked her friend “Kal kyon pucha ki me singer hai?”(What made you think that I sing?). Reply was “Sir, woh kisine usko bataya ki aap singer hai” (Somebody told her that you are Singer). Ladies and Gentlemen let me have the privilege to introduce ‘somebody’ to you; she was the third lady in uniform.

“Sir aap real me singer hai”(Are you really a singer?), this time l found myself gaping at new interrogator, asking the same question. “No, No”, I smiled and told. “If you don’t believe I will sing once and then you’d believe”, nutty wits or witty nuts.eh?

I told you guys, they peek into your bags. They invaded my privacy too. Once I remember another girl having a look into my file in which I had filed sheet notes.(Sheet notes and me...that’s another story, maybe later) Now I see everything falling in place.

Indian English is as diverse as the Indian culture. Take any currency note and we have the denomination written in 17 (15+ English + Hindi) languages. It is no surprise, that we have more than 17 ways of speaking English. Usually Hindi speakers pronounce ‘Single’ as ‘SingEl’ and this made me think that she asked me whether I was single.

Single....Singel...Singer... Haha... Didn’t I imagine things? And here I have the finger back at my forehead. “You assume things”,the voice ringing in my ear and somewhere far away I see a face grinning at the computer screen and telling “I told you, you imagine things. I knew you would assume”.

THE BICYCLE STORY

“BICYCLE” is a symbol of freedom, free from fuel, pollution, traffic problem and parking (and almost free from maintenance).It’s best features are High efficiency, eco friendliness, fitness amiability, great mileage and safest mode of communication. one just need to have is a perception to look at it and passion to start cycling.

Bicycle has been part of many socio–economic changes in the society. Not just as a mode to commute that relieved the horses to some extent. It became a source of R&D since 80’s like ball bearings, chain drives, safety cycle design, to improve comfort and performance. It also has its contribution in industrialization like mass production, standardization of components and vertical integration which were later adopted by the automobile industry. Some automobile companies Skoda, Ailsa Craig, Rover company, started their business with cycle production.

The bicycle craze in 1890’s also led to a movement for so called rational dress, which helped liberate women from ankle length ”traditional dress”(not talking about Asian or African countries). It has been accepted as simplest and the safest fitness equipment by fitness trainers throughout the world and in armed forces to train the warriors.

Last but not the least it has been part of movies since long time (from the era of black & white movies). It has taken its role in romantic scene to action scene (Main Hoon Na) and even in Hollywood (transporter 3). It is in our life dissolved and dispersed. For some people it is an only option but some choose it by choice (mentioning some names will be unfair).

M S Athirup (31) is one among such; an entrepreneur who runs ‘Atelier solutions’. His company is handling digitization of the VSSC library since past 8 years, translation of Russian and French documents in LPSC, Database management software for BSNL & Indian railways.

This young cycling enthusiast is now with unique cycling CLUB, Athi’s Bicycle Club, to promote cycling in city and make ease of accessibility of cycle to the members. They define it as Linear (can used for one way, need not be returned to the same place), Integrated (can be integrated with other mode of transportation) and flexible (no restriction on distance) cycling. To be a member of the club first we have to call 9645511155 (Athirup) and give some basic details for registration and a sum of Rs 500 (can be paid in installments). The best part of this type of club is one need not worry about maintaining a cycle (done regularly by a team Identified for it).

TECHNOLOGY FOR A BETTER CAUSE

In this club, after getting membership what one need to do is go to the nearest CYCLE Rack, select a cycle of your choice, and SMS the lock ID of this bicycle. In reply, you will get the 3 digit code to open the lock. Next when you reach your destination rack you will get a locking code. And you can enjoy cycling in between for just Rs 2/hr. All this transaction of the code is monitored by a server and a custom made software. ALL the payments are done in to a box placed near the Rack.

Similar CLUBs are working in other countries with its transaction monitored with credit card and other gadgets. Athi has done the modifications required for the adaptation to our conditions. When talking about the difference he talks about “Government policies (dedicated lane), road conditions, and climate. More than anything else approach of the people itself is different”. About challenges he said “convincing people here itself a bigger challenge than financial one. People here are biased with prestige, laziness and have many misconceptions (safety and fitness)”. He has bought all the cycles single-handedly. Cycling in the city is safer and faster mode of transport he says after doing the analysis with his cycle-computer.

He says “abounding the other mode of transportation is not wise and practical but Integrating cycling with it would be a better solution of the existing challenge. Cycling should be an attitude in life style”.

Feel the environment like “mother nature” you will try to hurt less as possible. Though not hurting is impossible. Come and join hands to relish the cycling experience and make it a part of our daily life.

The Face book Manifesto..

“Proletarians of the World, Unite. You have nothing to lose but your chains!” thus wrote Karl Marx in one of the world's most influential political manuscripts - “The Communist Manifesto”. It took 100’s of years and dozens of editions of the book to popularize these words among the people across the world.

Precisely 162 years later, a 26-year-old woman worried about the state of her country wrote on her Wall: "People, I am going to Tahrir Square". This writing on the wall, unlike the scores of writings that you see on the walls elsewhere, didn’t go unnoticed. There were hundreds of thousands of people who followed her to the streets of Egypt, shaking the roots of the thirty year dictatorship of Hosni Mubarak. This demonstrated the power of one of internets recent innovations, the Facebook. The ‘wall’ where she wrote these revolutionary lines was the virtual wall of Facebook.

Facebook, which started as a college website seven years ago, grew to become one of the biggest establishments in the world of internet. With over a 600 million active users following, it is next only to Christ who has a following of 2100 million worldwide. It won’t be long before it overtakes Christianity to become the world’s biggest ‘religion’, and remember it won’t need any popes, bishops or pastors to do so. It is often said that three Jews – Christ, Marx & Einstein has influenced the thoughts of the world and any individual that you come across in life would be a follower of one of the three. It may be coincidental, but Mark Zuckerberg – the founder of Facebook, also happen to be a Jew.

The fact that Facebook competed with internet giant Google’s Orkut to gain the first slot in Social networking speak tons about the acceptability of Facebook. Even in India & Brazil, where Orkut remained at the number one position for quiet some time, Facebook has taken over. Though people often point fingers at facebook for wasting time of youngsters, recent incidents has revealed that there are more things to do using facebook than just being in touch with your childhood buddy or keeping a track of your ex-girlfriend.

When Zuckerberg was declared the Time’s Person of the year, edging out Wikileaks founder Julian Assange, there was a public outcry against the decision. People went on to say that Facebook has robed more people of their privacy than what Julian Assange has done. An accusation which was always being raised against Facebook – that it’s a major threat to our privacy. May be the accusation is true, may be it is not but the fact is that your presence or absence in facebook won’t give you the privilege of privacy. The recent events that unravel before us stand testimony for that. When the phone records of India’s most respectful business tycoon can be tapped at will by sleuths, when names of depositors in Swiss banks is available with media houses, when classified official communications of governments are published in websites, how can we even dream of privacy?

A Slight modification of the famous lines of John F Kennedy would be apt in this regard - "Ask not, what Facebook can do to you. Ask what, you can do with Facebook”. The fall of Hosni Mubarak is just a curtain raiser. There are hundreds of Mubaraks’ who are waiting to fall. It’s just an initiative from one of us that matters. Gone are the days when enterprising journalists go around media houses trying to publish their news item. You are free to put your views on facebook and if your view has content, it goes without saying that it will be circulated among the pool of 600 million users.

Facebook can be used as a medium for social revolution. If you come across any corruption or malpractice, take a snap or shoot a video in your mobile and publish it. Let no corrupt person or practice go unnoticed. Expose them; bring them to trial in the court of the people. This is what you can do and this is what you should do, other wise……

One day
the apolitical
intellectuals
of my country
will be interrogated
by the simplest
of our people.

They will be asked
what they did
when their nation died out
slowly,
like a sweet fire
small and alone.

On that day
the simple men will come.

Those who had no place
in the books and poems
of the apolitical intellectuals,
but daily delivered
their bread and milk,
their tortillas and eggs,
those who drove their cars,
who cared for their dogs and gardens
and worked for them,
and they’ll ask:

“What did you do when the poor
suffered, when tenderness
and life
burned out of them?”

Apolitical intellectuals
of my sweet country,
you will not be able to answer.

A vulture of silence
will eat your gut.

Your own misery
will pick at your soul.

And you will be mute in your shame.