Filthy, obscene, disgusting, apathetic, greedy, corrupt nepotists. They are lying bags of manure. Actually, they're lower than that. It doesn't matter where they are, where they're from, they're all crooks ( barring a precious few, who of course get lost in the sea of corruption ). They're all out to grab what they can from the common man, whom they're sworn in to serve and whom they owe their current positions to.

How else would you explain Jharkhand's Rural Development Minister, Enos Ekka spending Rs. 50 lakh on his eight year old son's birthday? 50 lakhs! On an 8 year old's birthday bash! It’s obscene!

And of course all this rubs off on their kin too. Consider Nikhil Gowda, son of Karnataka Chief Minister H D Kumaraswamy, grandson of former Prime Minister H D Deve Gowda who smashed up Hotel Empire in Bangalore when they refused to serve him at 3:30 AM. And his father has the effrontery to say '...just forget it, children have done (sic)'! As an aside, he was getting ready to address a youth convention where his message was to be 'Give up bad habits and join hands to build a healthy society'. Talk about hypocrisy. Oh, and of course, there has been no case registered against the son. You can tell from the way his father talks ( '...I will talk to him, but the law will take its own course' ) that he fully expects his son to walk away scot-free. Which parent would not be concerned about the outcome of such a state of affairs even if their progeny were innocent?

Nikhil drives around in a Hummer, a Lancer, a Nissan Sport, a Lexus and a BMW 7-series. If this isn't proof enough that these thugs are lining their own pockets with the country's money, I don't know what is.

Of course its possible that they are all victims of the media, which in it's over enthusiasm for sensational stories hypes up everything and presents even the unlikeliest conjectures as hard facts. But I, for one, am not willing to give these people the benefit of doubt. For me, they're guilty until proven innocent.

Writing. And Douglas Adams

Writing is so damn difficult. Every single stage of it. You start off fine, feeling rather excited about putting down your thoughts to paper...umm, your blog, feeling rather self-important. Then you hit the first hurdle - what exactly are you going to write about? Just jotting down every single random thought that comes to you make for rather poor reading fare, a wretched collection of words and phrases that should be locked up and kept away from the unsuspecting public, particularly since not everyone wants to know about how your toe was feeling a little itchy about an hour after lunch. You need to pick something that would interest a wide demographic, something that is worthwhile and something that you should hopefully have some knowledge about.

That done, you now need to start with the actual writing itself. And that, of course, is easier said than done. As someone said, the easiest way to stop your thoughts flowing, is to sit down and get ready to put them to paper. And that is precisely what happens. It gets harder as time goes by because you know you want to write, you should write, but as you sit there trying to force the thoughts, which till so recently were bounding about, waiting to be unleashed upon a world that was starved of your excellent opinions, out of you, they go and hide further down in your subconsciousness, teasingly out of reach, resolutely refusing to reappear.

However, despite it all, you finally do get some work done and despite yourself, have a decent set of paragraphs. Though, I've noticed, that once you get past the first one and a half paragraphs, it gets much easier. The words seem to flow a little better. After a re-read, however, the whole article still seems very forced, amateurish and unimpressive. And you can only fix so much of it. You put in big words here and there to make it seem better, but the overall quality remains much the same. Finally, you give up on the whole idea and resign yourself to your fate as an unknown who will never get to see his name on a 'Collected Works of' compilation.

Which brings me to Douglas Adams, the author of The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Universe trilogy ( consisting of, incredibly, 5 books, a radio series, a TV series, a computer game, stage adaptations, comic book, bath towel, and most recently a motion picture (which I didn't appreciate so much) ), The Dirk Gently novels, The Meaning, and The Deeper Meaning, of Liff, Last Chance to See. He also helped develop the Starship Titanic game. Last, but not least, he gave us the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything. It is, definitely, 42. ( A cryptic clue to the same was in My first ever blog :D )

He was just brilliant. He had a flair for the language that most people can only stare at with slack-jawed astonishment. The way he wove his sentences left you breathless. They would range from single words to titanic philological constructions that told a whole story in themselves. Add to this a never ending supply of incredible, unique, zany ideas and you get prose that is breathtakingly, incredibly excellent. Magnificent specimens of English literature.
Apart from being a good (!) writer, he was also a programmer and had a solid interest in technology. He was a patron of Apple products and the Beatles' music and I'm sure he would have loved the coming together of the two with the iPod.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Douglas Adams passed away on 11 May 2001. Never again will we get to read his unconventional writings, never get to see the world from his unconventional perspective.

You can visit his websites at:

Before he died, he was working on the Salmon of Doubt, which is left, frustratingly, mostly incomplete.


Snakes. I absolutely abhor them. I detest them, loathe them, despise them and have the greatest disliking for them of all living creatures, rivaled only by that of the weird fungus that grows under the linoleum carpeted bathrooms that dingy hotels in commercialised tourist places seem to cultivate.

And why exactly I don't quite know. They're just another of God's creatures. One more living thing just trying to go about its business in this crazy, mixed-up world. It's not their fault that they don't have legs, are scaly and just an unfortunate happenstance that they produce venom that'll kill you if you'll unlucky enough to encounter one of those types.

What really, really freaks me out about them is that you can never see or hear them. A lion would probably more likely kill you than a snake. Or maybe even a frenzied dog. But at least you can see them coming. You can judge how fast they're moving to you. You can see their legs. With a snake, you wouldn't be able to see it in the grass. You can't tell whether its moving towards you or away from you or just regarding your extreme fear with an air of bemusement.

You would never know if you were about to step onto one in the dark. You'd never know if it was slithering around in your room, under your bed waiting to give you a snug hug, in some dark corner in your closet, hiding behind the bucket in your bathroom, . You'd never hear it pitter-pattering around. This is what scares me the most, that you can't do anything about them because you can't detect them.

All in all, I'm completely terrified of snakes, especially of waking up one morning and finding one snuggled in cozily with me in my bed!


It's that time of the year again when the sky sparkles with the shimmering embers of firecrackers, when houses are enveloped in the warm glow from lamps of all kinds. There's a distinct nip in the air that announces the arrival of Diwali.

You can always tell when it's coming. The days seem quieter. The nights seem darker, broken by the soft radiance from homes. There's a sense of excitement at the propect of the coming festival ( and of course, the holiday! ). You feel like spending time with family and friends. Everything seems cleaner and brighter. Even if, like me, you don't really relish the rituals, commercialization and overspending that festivals bring, Diwali is one that you probably look forward to.

I do hate the pollution caused by all the crackers, all the rubbish left on the streets and in grounds all over, the loads of money, literally, going up in smoke and most of all, the sense of anti-climax the next day, when its all over.

This time, for the first time, I'm going to be spending Diwali away from home. Without my family and friends. It's kind of depressing. I miss being forced to take part in the customary cleaning at home, grudgingly help my sister out with rangoli and waiting eagerly to find out what sweets have been bought this time.

Though I'm still better off than some. I've got my relatives who can fill some of the void. I feel sorry for the people who have no one at all to be with this holiday.

Brush With Death

I met with an accident yesterday. Don't worry, I'm fine; no bones broken, just a few superficial abrasions. The blog continues as normal ( as normal as it could possibly be! ) I was on my way back from work. At a crossing the lights weren't working, I started to turn right and I failed to see a bus coming from the left, turning to its right, a path that carried it right in front of me. As soon as I saw it, I braked hard and since I was leaning into the turn, I skidded and fell. The bus passed really, really close, it slammed into the handlebar of my bike and bent it out of shape. I could see the rear wheels heading for my head. Fortunately, it missed me and my bike, most of it anyway.

You know how you're supposed to see everything in slow motion? And your life is supposed to flash in front of your eyes? And you think of all you've left incomplete and all that? Well, nothing like that happened. I wasn't thinking anything. I could just see the tyres rushing at me and then the bus was gone. There wasn't even an adrenaline rush! No thumping heart, nothing!

And after I got up, my first thought was, 'Oh no! My bike!' and then I checked my good trousers, my nice jacket, my phone, iPod and my new shoes. How much more materialistic could I be? And after that, on the way home, I was agonizing about the fact that it was going to cost so much; fixing the bike, buying new trousers and looking sadly at my scraped shoes. The bike got repaired for pretty cheap and that pulled my sagging spirits up, and I was much more cheerful after that.

Sometimes I wonder, if I've got my priorities right.

Yahoo! Time Capsule Page Link

Have you seen the Yahoo! Time Capsule project? It's pretty cool and has a very slick interface. You can find it at :

And do check out my contribution to the first ever electronic anthropological collection at :

It's someone who I love more than life itself. Someone who is unconditionally accepting of me. Someone who knows me better than I know myself. Someone who has loved me like I've never been loved before. Someone who brings joy to my life and light to my days.

Where Did It All Go?

It's been almost 2 months out on my own now. Away from home. Away from family. Away from friends. In a new city. And I miss it all. I miss college so much. The familiarity, the warmth, the safety, the carefree life. Though, come to think of it, I never really did do anything. I've always been the one who says that he can't make it because he has work to do.

Don't get me wrong, I've had a wonderful childhood. My parents made sure I had everything I needed and more and they sacrificed so much for it. I've had exposure to lots of things. I've got opportunities so many others only dream of. I've never been wanting. Things were always given to me even before I knew I wanted them.

But there has always been that pressure to perform. The nagging feeling that if I don't work, I'm not gonna go anywhere. That fun and leisure were things that would be caught up with later. And now it's later. Much later. And there's no catching up. It's all gone. I'm never going to get that much time. Never free from the worries and anxieties of day to day life. It's only going to get worse.

My friends often told me to chill out, relax and enjoy life. But I can't do that. I want to. I want to just sit back and let it all wash over me. But I can't. I'm always tense about losing a chance, missing an opportunity. And in doing that, I've lost the opportunity to live my life.

I have had great times too, though. They've been fewer than they should have been, but that's what makes them so special and wonderful. They stand out. All those times I've spent with the best friends I could have had. The care and love they've shown. And they've made me a much better person. I've learnt so much from them. And I miss it all so much. Where did it all go?

I've now realised that the best things in life are the ones you have to leave behind.

The Big Picture

I'm a Virgo and we're supposed to be practical. Supposed to be obsessed with details. Supposed to not believe in astrology! :D But I am obsessed with details. I like getting everything just right. I will waste hours just to get the spacing in a document just right. No one's going to notice and most certainly, no one is going to care. But I just need to do it, it would keep bugging me forever if I didn't fix those little things.

And it’s the same with my life. If there's something wrong or pending, I can't do anything or concentrate on anything else till it’s been corrected and completed. I have a compulsion to put a check mark next to each item in my list as soon as possible.

As a result I'm losing sight of what's important. The ultimate goals. The main aim. For example when my phone wasn't working and I couldn't talk to my girlfriend, it really got me down. It took quite some time to fix and I was really preoccupied with getting it done. I could communicate with her via email, but my mind was only on the phone. The phone which was supposed to be a means to get in touch with someone who is really important to me but which was now overshadowing her by being the focus of all my mental energy. What should have mattered wasn't the phone as long as I could keep in touch. But that is difficult for me to see. Because I'm obsessed with the little things.

Sometimes you need to stop. Take a step back. And have a look-see at the big picture to realize what really matters.


I've been reading the paper religiously for a couple of weeks now. And more than gaining awareness of current events and the like, I've found out all the different diseases and illnesses that can afflict me even if I'm as careful as I could possibly be!

Everyday there are at least 3 articles spread casually throughout the paper extolling the virtues of some or the other lifestyle. And they all seem to contradict each other! I've been brought up to avoid alcohol but now they say that a little bit of drink does you good, protects you from heart disease and blah blah. I've started 'a handful' of an assortment of comestible substances so that I live to be healthy when I grow old.

I'm really fond of chicken except meat is supposed to be bad for you. It clogs up the system, has unhealthy fats and is often fried which makes it worse. Fine. So I won't eat fried chicken (sigh!). But no! Grilled chicken is not an option because it contains carcinogens! And oily fish is supposed to be good for you! The oilier the better! How in the world are we to decide what to eat?

The papers don't just stop there in their never ending quest to scare me into a gibbering, anxious fanatic who sees threats to his and his family's health at every turn. I'm worried about lead exposure from fillings causing brain damage to my kids. Afraid that with all the pollution we're breathing, their tiny little lungs will be fried. Frantic that all the exposure to radio waves is gonna render me impotent and I'll never have to worry about my children!

Each day as I go through the paper, I add another couple of items to my list of things to avoid, keep away from and just generally steer clear of as soon as I spot them miles away. It is really exhausting to be this worried all the time that I'm going to contract carpal tunnel syndrome from blogging too much or that not being careful about bugs could kill me and that there are diseases around, closer than I'd like to think, that are horrible, incurable and best not pictured.

Sometimes, maybe, ignorance is bliss.