A Memory

Her face rose as angelic as it had set,
unblemished by star-light.
A view so divine,
even the moon lingered a while longer.

Iyer

The Birth

I had a dream few weeks ago where a strange scene played out in vivid detail.
I got up and penned half of this poem immediately. The rest of it took excruciatingly long to write and I nearly gave up. Well, a splash of dark mood churned out the rest tonight.
A little long, a bit rough and a few days late!

The Birth

The smoky moon and the dust-grey clouds
On a somber march in the starless sky.
Death pale beams light a parched earth’s crust
Unearthing bones that scream out “Why”.

A scorching wind like the dragon’s breath,
Is born in the bosom of the dark mountains west.
Bringing a hint of burning metal, of flesh,
And faint whispers of souls that never rest.

A rumble erupts turning into a roar,
And out leaps a train with a blazing mane.
Speeding on tracks that have long been gone,
Lurching and scarring the barren plain.

The virgin lies sprawled on the rusty floor,
Pregnant with life from spring unknown.
The swelling grows with impatient life,
Clutching her belly she lets out a moan.

In the orange glow of the burning train
The dead army rises like mist from mire.
Lusting for blood they rush for the feast,
Swarming the train and fanning the fire.

The train shudders as the beasts crawl all over,
Slaves to the Dark Lord, with hearts of lead.
The voice of their master booms loud in their ears:
“Before his first breath, he must be dead!”

Warm droplets roll down her knotted brows,
As she heaves and pushes with her knees wide.
Gripping the blooded head, she coaxes the life,
With a yank and a tear she lays him aside.

Wide-eyed and cold lying in the rust,
The babe divine, swaddled in blood.
“Breathe my dear, breathe my child,”
“May the night with your cries be flood.”

The army stands a whisper away. The voice
In them grows shriller now “Go for the kill!”
The mother continues to stroke the child,
Murmuring those soft prayers still.

It was almost as though all was lost
When this strange glow did spread.
The infant shone like the naked sun,
And the beasts trembled with dread.

The scorching light grew big and bright
A mushroom of mountain height.
Engulfing the beasts, the train, the bones,
It turned each to ashes white.

The land with mountains that yore was dark,
Now bathes in holy light.

The stars come out of their hiding,
And in unison they sing:

Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.


Iyer

Stupidity

Here is the poem titled “The Leader” that was taught to Pakistani college students. The first letter of each line spells out the American President's title and name! The heights the Pakistani administration would go to show support to the Americans! Though it has stirred up controversy and the education ministry has removed it from the books, it is strange how such substandard poems could be considered to be a part of college curricula.

The Leader (author: anonymous)

Patient and steady with all he must bear,
Ready to meet every challenge with care,
Easy in manner, yet solid as steel,
Strong in his faith, refreshingly real.
Isn't afraid to propose what is bold,
Doesn't conform to the usual mould,
Eyes that have foresight, for hindsight won't do,
Never backs down when he sees what is true,
Tells it all straight, and means it all too.

Going forward and knowing he's right,
Even when doubted for why he would fight,
Over and over he makes his case clear,
Reaching to touch the ones who won't hear.
Growing in strength he won't be unnerved,
Ever assuring he'll stand by his word.

Wanting the world to join his firm stand,

Bracing for war, but praying for peace,
Using his power so evil will cease,
So much a leader and worthy of trust,
Here stands a man who will do what he must.

(Source: http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200512/s1525154.htm)

Iyer

A Tribute

25 years and the world is unchanged.

All we can do is Imagine.

Iyer

The Creation Hymn

It was in November 2002, a chilly evening in a crowded auditorium in Santa Clara University that I met Amartya Sen. There was something about him which moved me as he gave a passionate talk on globalization and poverty. As I stood shaking his hand after the talk I felt what it might feel like to stand in the presence of a divine being, to be doused in his aura, to feel peace and exhilaration in the same instant.

I am now in the midst of reading His collection of essays “The Argumentative Indian” covering Indian history, culture and identity strung together by the argumentative tradition. I came across a gem that I would like to share with you.

In an essay concerning secularism in India, Sen touches on the topic of ‘Skeptics, Agnostics and Atheists’ and religious skepticism expressed in the 3500 year old Creation Hymn from the Rig Veda:

Who really knows? Who will here proclaim it? Whence was it produced? Whence is this creation? The gods came afterwards, with the creation of the universe. Who then knows whence it has arisen?

Whence this creation has arisen - perhaps it has formed itself, or perhaps it did not - the one who looks down on it, in the highest heaven, only he knows - or perhaps he does not know.

This is a seductive verse. It agitates your mind and leaves you pondering on the question that has tormented man since the dawn of reason.

This version of the creation hymn is from a translation of the Rig Veda by Wendy Doniger O'Flaherty.


Iyer

A Quote

"If a woman could completely fill a man...

The man must be really shallow."



Iyer

God

As far as I remember, God, the super-natural’s existence and whereabouts never did appear in my entire schooling. It never confused me that at school Darwin took credit to explaining evolution while at home Brahma, the Creator, was behind intelligent design. Either I could clearly separate theology from science in my young mind, or, I was just incapable of such deep thinking. I was independently presented with the concept of evolution versus that of intelligent design. And the choice didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.

An amusing battle rages in America over the question of separating church and state and of introducing the conjecture of “intelligent design” in the schools. Some things we can never do in a clear fashion. At least not yet and one such is keeping the state free of religion. It is probably because we have gotten so used to ruling over the sheep by telling them each night that they better behave or else the wolf would come get them. But one thing we can do is to keep science and religion separate and do a favour to the future generations. It’s absurd to talk of God’s hand or leg in creation in school unless it is presented in a separate setting like theology or philosophy class and includes a mandatory disclaimer that the ideas presented are the author’s alone and stand as long as another idea doesn’t demolish the former.

Let us look at the Judiciary and the potential confusion God can create there. I came across this paragraph in a Service Level Agreement of a certain company.



How can you have such abstract concepts like “Act of God” in a legally binding SLA? If I do contest a case and the crux of it comes down to defining “Act of God” how would the judiciary be able to do this in a “fair” and “just” manner?

Ok, God may be omnipresent. Doesn’t mean you go and introduce him everywhere and anywhere just to prove your point! Let’s leave him out of some places – starting from SLAs, Constitutions and Club Momo.

Iyer

WTF?

This week has been strangely frustrating.

To begin with, I was cursing myself for not having planned anything for the week dotted with days off. The Bintan trip just happened and turned out pretty good in fact. Still there is this feeling of rot and doing nothing.

But I am like the laziest bum in this part of the city and could always do with doing nothing, or so I thought.
And, now that I have been lying around in bed doing nothing for eight hours straight I have this weird PMS-like (a guess) feeling. I am actually frustrated with this bed and this not-so-comfy pillow and my groaning stomach.

Last week I wanted to pull away, take a bus to Johor Bahru and run away some place, just like that. That hasn’t happened.

I just want to feel totally liberated, totally free of this idle-man discomfort, I want to be on the move.

I better figure out something before I bite my finger off.


Frustrated Iyer

Bintan Loola Cottages
Posted by iyer

Sun Rise at Bintan
Posted by iyer

My Pottie moment of the year!

Thought I shall re-collect the Pottie moment for me this year...

It was April Fool's day.... was ard 1am or so.. Iyer and I had just finished our nite out and were back at my place
and we decided to get Machee over too.. Machee stays milez away ( just in case you guys didnt know .. evn though Singapore is a small place and traffic is no big deal... he still stays far far far away from the city...)
I was like - No way this dude's going to get up and come to my place... I mean especially knowing he stays with his folks and especially If I am calling him... Here is a secret - Machee really has a partial feeling for Iyer... and if there is one guy who can change Machee's mind, thats Iyer! And theres no two ways abt it

But then we took the chance and believe it or not we spoke for an hr or so convincing him - abt how much it would mean to us him coming down - especially when both Iyer and I were too lazy to make bkfast next day in the morning or even a cup of coffee... and two is company and three is crowd... and thats better when on one bed :p

And the deal was we would pay for the cab... And so Machee gets up and just casually tells his parents sleeping in the other room, that he is going out. I mean 2 am your son just stepping out - which parent wont get mad at you....

Meanwhile, Iyer and I decide to make this even more memorable by refusing to pick his calls when he was reaching my home...

So there is Machee stranded with not enough cash to pay the cabbie and no where to go.... In fact the cabbie felt so much for Machee or did he feel Machee, we will never know, but he sure did waive Machee the outstanding...

The look on Machee's face outside my house - the anger, the anguish, the pain, the plethora of curse words blurting out in all possible and impossible permutations and combinations.. was simply soo soothing to the ears... and amidst all that animosity and acidity - we save Love, we saw Affection..... and we saw Machee!!

The rest of the night - we watched some movie... and as usual I dozed off on the bed... only to find Machee and Iyer talk about sex in the most pornographic way they could possibly do so... So much hat I just had to wake up and ask them to shut up!!

Machee's folks were obviously very pissed by his behaviour... so much that I stayed back at his place the next day to take on some of the parental assault! hahah two 23 yr olds guys - getting blasted for spending a night out togther .. talk abt this world being homophobic! hehe

I had a strange feeling then though - u know that things were going to change, our priorities were going to change soon..

But what the hell - the three of us having harmless fun at the expense of each other was priceless that night

and next day's cheese omlette - a Machee special was worth the shit!

There are many more -Our escapade with Godzilla look alike chic at KM8, Machee and I stranded at some god forsaken place at 3 am thanks to another Godzilla, Iyer and I at Ranjana's concert...

But none match this :)

Lolly

My New Blog home

Pple

Its official. I have moved now to

http://lollysprakyshady.blogspot.com

Cheers
Lolly

Pottie - Moving out... but not away

Have given this a thought and two; and I think the time has come for this pottie to move out.
I know its been a tough decision as 3potties gave me the base to relocate myself
and we had loads of fun blogging together.
And we shall.

I think its time now for me to blow-dry. And more than ever I will need you guys to help me through this transition in my life and ofcourse move out.

So lets get smashed the next couple of months this year and re-live some of the pottie moments.

Love yous

Till then,

Lolly

Lolly's turn

Lolly,

Happy Hanky Birthday to you!

Looking forward to the party this weekend! ;)

Till then - thuttify...

Iyer

DVDs on Demand

A few months back, I and Iyer were discussing about Netflix and how its business model was perfect for Singapore. It turns out that there are two online firms that have already emulated Netflix's model here in Singapore, namely HollywoodClicks and Homepal. I have just signed up for a 14 day free trial with Hollywood clicks. They charge a flat rate of 35$/month and you can borrow 3 DVDs at a time. I guess i can see for myself how well they have adapted Netflix's model to Singapore.

Machee

Nature's Fury

Starting from last year's Tsunami to the recent South Asia earthquake, nature has created havoc and destruction galore. Asia seems the worst affected because of these natural disasters, although this has more to do with the high population density of the region. But otherwise her wrath has been rather equitable starting from floods in Latin America, hurricanes in north America, forest fires in Europe and droughts in Africa; no place on the globe has been left untouched. Most of these disasters are the culmination of years of abuse of Earth and her resources. This year serves to give us a chilling reminder of what might happen in the years to come. The time has come where quick action has to be taken not only by the big nations but also by individual people, to ensure that earth is not consigned to the pages of the history book for our future generations.

Machee

Race, Culture and Genes

An interesting read brought to my attention by Nish.
The paper expresses the views of the author alone.

Lee Kuan Yew: Race, Culture and Genes

by Michael D. Barr
Department of History, University of Queensland
Journal of Contemporary Asia v29, n2 (1999)

Racism is rarely far from the surface of Asian societies, and this is especially true of those multiracial societies that feel the need to promote racial tolerance as part of official ideology. Yet even in these cases, promoting racial tolerance does not necessarily imply the promotion of racial indifference. Singapore's multiracialism, for instance, encourages a high consciousness of one's race even as it insists on tolerance. Read more.

3 Questions

People change, seasons change (Singapore excluded) and so do the potties.

When we started the 3 potties saga back on the 2nd of April 2005 we thought we should be polite and all and introduce ourselves. This being a humble suggestion from Lolly (the perpetual showman). When I re-read that particular introduction, something jumped right out, like naked butts in a nun conference (for example lah). And I quote the description for Vice Man 1 aka Machee (the perpetual snowman).

“Who am I : Dreamy drooler, not sure at times if asleep or awake.
What I want : tender loving care and thousand different ways to get that
What I get : a pat on the back”

Well, well. Six months ago Machee was really like a snowman - with a hard carrot and bleak snow all around.

Something happened then. The snowman shrugged and in a blink he lost all - except the hard carrot - all that had kept him rooted in that loveless dessert. A couple of pounds of curly hair was shed and the snowman was off, like a rabbit, looking for green pastures.

Now what changed him and where all he wandered we may never know. The pace of change has left the other potties in the swirling dust (or snow). As I see him jump up and down various rabbit holes, I am reminded of a brilliantly funny dialogue by Vivek in the movie Anniyan.

He says “Poonai paal kudikumaanu partha, ingai beere adikarathe da!” - I wondered if the cat will ever drink milk, but I see it gulping down a beer!

In fact, our Poonai/cat is having two beers and there is no sign of the burp.

And while I wait, I wonder what the answers to the three questions are - Who is he? What does he want? And of course, What is he getting?

Iyer

About "Birds"

The commercial opens with a breathtaking view at sunrise of the mystic Jawant Thada, the graceful marble cenotaph of Maharaja Jawant Singh II in Jodhpur. A little girl sees her brother packing for a journey. She runs through the village streets of Jodhpur, stopping at a stall to buy birds, to bring good fortune to her brother, who is embarking on a journey. Hoping to buy five birds but only able to afford one, she leaves dejected with her bird. The visiting tourist - Richard Gere - overhears this and after she has left, takes out his Visa card and buys all the birds from the stalls.

As the little girl is about to bid her brother farewell and release her single bird into the air, hundreds of birds suddenly soar into the sky behind her. The commercial concludes on a warm and humorous note, as Richard Gere and the bird sellers look away innocently, disclaiming responsibility.*

This ad is third in line after the one showing Pierce Brosnan whizzing through Bangkok in a tuk-tuk and goddess Catherine Zeta Jones going bananas in the jungle. The first two were funny but I love this new ad, especially for the rustic imagery created in the vibrant bazaars of Jodhpur, with a back drop of the Meherangarh Fort.

Last week, as I was heading to Suntec City with a senior Chinese gentleman, a Singaporean entrepreneur, we happened to see this ad playing on one of those big LCD screens. He looked at me and said “That ad is a lot of BS.”

“Why would you say that?” I asked. My boss and Pooja, a journalist for SVCA, looked up from the back seat as the Chinese gentleman continued.

“Well, I think it epitomizes the Westerner – the White man – as the World’s philanthropist.” He said. I was surprised by his comment mostly because I had failed to see this ad in the light he presented. I think the ad did a great job in reinforcing the idea that VISA is ubiquitous in terms of acceptance. I would have probably enjoyed it more if Amitabh Bachchan had been in Richard Gere’s place.

Pooja spoke up from behind “Indians don’t have the insecurity anymore!” The gentleman didn’t seem convinced and we changed topic as we headed into the car park. It did make sense. Indians I guess are bathing in the glory of “India Shining” and the White man is just another player in this level playing field.

Throughout much of the last 3 centuries Indians saw themselves under the rule of the White men (or women). Nationalized history has vilified them and we have all the reasons to feel wronged. Amir Khan belting the buggers in Lagaan did seem to put things right. But I don’t know if it’s my whetted confidence or indifference that didn’t make me see the other perspective.

But what made this gentleman insecure? I thought Singaporeans loved and aped the West. What do the younger generations feel? Does the ad risk falling in disfavor of most Asians?

Iyer

* From www.visa-asia.com

Pottie - Taking a Break

I am going on a sabbatical from the world of blog and more...

till further notice.... keep writing and biting

Lolly

Strawberry

People we meet in this world, are like fruits
come in different colors, shapes, seasons and roots

To me you are the strawberry
red and luscious, inviting yet very

Making me forget the champagne
the chocolates and the sweetness
the roses and the kisses
my worries and this life's in completeness

To me you are the strawberry
penetrated I have so many
some I remember, some I erased from my memory
waiting to be picked up,
to lose your color and more.

Lolly/Iyer

On the Dell Bandwagon

The two potties Iyer and Machee have become the proud owners of dell laptops.

Three cheers to that and many more lap dances and tops off.

Machee

The Art of Kissing Classes

Limited seats only. Enrol Now.........

Machee

Dil says

as my heart for you grows fonder,
I ponder
on choices and decisions I make and made
that makes me wonder
where this journey of mine would take me
and you; with all things falling under
in place;by hook, by crook or mere plunder
as if this life is not short of any more blunder
and endless squander
of thoughts and time on you,for you
and all this I ponder
as my heart for you grows fonder


Lolly

What's up India?

For people who regularly follow news from the Indian front it would not come as a surprise when I say that news sites like www.timesofindia.com have become increasingly difficult to navigate and read. These sites welcome me with innumerable pop-ups suggesting I head to shaadi.com to find a soul mate. Sensationalized sleaze masks all other topics.
Having almost given up and resigned myself to reading the mundane happenings in this brilliantly engineered city I was overjoyed when a well-read friend mentioned Indian blogs whose authors take the trouble to read multiple sources and post engaging commentaries.
I checked them out and found them good. Hyperlinks can be found at the right-hand bottom corner.

Iyer

The man turns 24!

Dear Machi!

Many happy returns of the day!

May all your vice wishes come true!

Cheeeeeers.

Iyer

A Rod

And he is my charmer on the tennis courts
And he is my bummer with those funny quotes
And he is my man for the right attitude
And he is my idol for desire and gratitude
And he is the reason I can stay awake all night
And he is the reason I stand up women with no respite

Andy is also the reason I celebrate tonight.

Happy Bday Andy Roddick and Addy Raghav!



Lolly

Tickle

My mind tickles....
I am not like you;I am starting to like you
What if, I had not taken that flight back years ago; would it have hurt so much;so far;so long

my mind tickles.....
This is my life;And we owe it to each other
What if I had hid that kiss of hers in a cup years ago;Would I forget to kiss you;that very moment;when it arrives

my mind tickles.....
this lazy afternoon;and I have no flight to catch.and no kiss to hide.
I feel alive even if it doesn't hurt anymore

Lolly

Once up on a time

A fren of mine from Philippines did this for me......Those locks, i miss them.




Lolly

About a Boy

Boys I've known, Boys I've met

Boys have slept, Boys have wept

Boys dont cry, Boys dont shy

Boys dont fear, Boys dont cheer

Boys I admire, Boys that inspire

Boys that lead, in times of need

Boys I wrestle, Boys I play

Boys I hug and thug every day

But those are boys, and will remain so

To you I am that boy,the boy who wishes

to be among the den of real men

like you.

to bake the cake and eat it too.



To my cuz, on his bday.

Lolly

Strangers

Two paths met in an amber wood, a bright day 'twas,
No frost, no rain, just plenty sunshine.
You walked up your path, and I ambled up mine.

We spoke of the weather, betwixt glances and nods. Strangers’ rituals
Soon turning to whispers and caresses of pleasure.
The magic of nectar had our hearts aflutter.

Don't count the minutes, just linger a while,
Just another hour, come here, let’s play.
Desires a thousand, my eyes could say.

But time and choices, like darts released,
Urge us to move on, on paths apart.
As strangers we met, and as strangers we depart.


iyer

(inspired by Frost, inspired by U)

Symphony

in my sleep I can see us smile
in my sleep I can hear us laugh
in my sleep I remember our everything
I open my eyes and see people
I hear them laugh,cry and scream
I could sleep forever,
to forget my everything and everyone.
tonight.


Lolly

Coldplay X&Y Album Art Generator

Check out this site:
http://homepage.mac.com/wysz/xy/coldcode.html

"iyer" was encoded as:

Looks like i am jogging with an ipod (color screen version) dangling at the waist!

Feel free to post your encoded names and interpretations.

iyer

nimisha maatrena - in the wink of an eye

The water gushes around me for a wink
My blood rushes to the brain for a wink
The cold shivers my bones for a wink
My feet paddle in line with my fingers for a wink
The wind blows my fringes away for a wink
My lips moisten the dryness of my skin for a wink

I can see her smiling
on the other side of this river
for a wink


Lolly

Close Encounters of the Hairless Kind

A incident that took place yesterday really gets me laughing, everytime I think about it. Well here I was, walking towards the MRT in a rather serious mood. As I was passing this 10 Minute Haircut saloon, there were a number of ladies distributing pamphlets advertising their hair-cutting services. While passing by, one of the ladies sticks out a pamphlet at me. I look at her quizzically for a moment. Then she slowly looks up and sees that I have no hair on top; she bursts out laughing. She also retracts the pamphlet which she was about to give to me.

I swear this was the funniest situation I have ever been in, right out of a Charlie Chaplin movie.


Machee

Sweden Anybody?

I had almost lost faith in the power of democracy when this happened. Sweden has recently legalised looking up ladies skirts.

Read the article below for more details




By MARK MILLER

ADDING to its reputation as the most sexually liberal nation in the world, Sweden has just legalized looking up ladies' skirts!

In a nearly unanimous vote in the Swedish Parliament, the motion was carried 332 to 17. To celebrate the new law, the Parliament's second floor was replaced with a see-through glass floor, and women were invited to stand on the floor, wearing their loosest, widest skirts, with or without underwear. Men were invited to bring their cameras, stand on the floor below and look up.

"I was fully aroused for the next three weeks," gushes male viewer, Tor Lundgren, 24.

The women standing above the men were no less enthusiastic. "It was even more exciting than I'd imagined," reveals Christina Schollin, 32. "I chose to wear no underwear, and, well, I just felt this electric thrill run through me as the men stared up at me. I may just leave my underwear home from now on."

Lutheran minister Gunnar Bjoernstrand, 40, has made peace with the new law. "It was just a question of time before it became legalized. And, really, something harmless like this should not be a crime. Sex and the body are beautiful, natural things.

"When we appreciate and adore the body by looking up ladies' skirts, we are, to a certain degree, giving thanks to the creations of God, who after all made us in His image."





Machee

Yamunotri - My River of desire

I hear the river, the river calls for me
All these years,the river froze for me
And the river never belonged to me

Yet,its only me who crossed it not too long ago
To find a heart, only to lose a feeling
A feeling so pure, A feeling I ignored
A feeling that can cure, the pain I abhorred

Now,the feeling is back and it feels so unreal
all those days of numbness seem to disappear
my senses have gained clarity
and my thoughts have separated the parity

and I am anxious and nervous
Like ever before,and yet never before
I'm watching my step, I'm watching myself
with hope in my heart and no dope in my mind

I am ready to cross the river again,
cos' the river now belongs to me.

The river that calls for me.



Lolly

Twenty-four years old and none the wiser.

Birthdays are a good thing. Gifts and wishes apart, they are place markers in our story, with notes scribbled them, some highlighted, others scratched-over and re-written.

The thought of birthdays rekindles a multitude of memories. A day in 365 congratulating you for making it all this way. A day in 365 spurring you on for another round. God, so many memories, I am laughing silently as I think of the absurdity of this endeavor to put some of my gems in words…but I’ll try.

Zero
8:03am 22nd June 1981

I have absolutely no idea how the nurses looked and I have a solid case for not doing so – it was 8:03am for heavens sake. NOT the best time to be woken up, ejected out of the warm womb and spanked! No wonder I cried.

One
Morning 22nd June 1982

The incriminating evidence was captured on camera. I can see thatha (grandpa) holding me in his lap, dad has my head locked in his strong hold, mom is looking on helplessly as the strange man in the photo bores a hole in my earlobe. I still flinch with pain when I look at the little face in the photo and I still can’t understand why. “It’s our tradition”, say parents, but I secretly think they were never happy when the doctor announced they had a son.

There is a second picture - I am all puffy red-eyed, two gold droplets dangling from my ears – that’s cute little girly for you. Of course no one knew this gift would show its magic sixteen years later when the cutest girl in the Commerce section turned, somehow spotted the little dip and assumed I had got just this one pierced over the weekend! I smiled, winked and looked straight ahead.

Four
Evening 22nd June 1985

It was a bright summer evening when I received my first real gift; at least this is the one I remember. The box enshrining it left little to imagination. On it was the life size illustration of the LEGO machine gun. My adorable periamma (aunt) got it for me. Maybe this was her way of telling me the world was a bitch and it was never too early to master these weapons. Nobel thoughts, but back then I was still a non-violent Brahmin boy, strictly vegetarian too. Holding the rugged hard plastic, fingering the lethal trigger filled me with such power and uncontrollable passion that I took a strong stride forward and shoved the nozzle into periamma’s smiling face.

Since then she reminds me of the incident each birthday - of this gift and the near maiming of her pretty face. I adore her all the more now. Just wish she had given me a pen instead and told me about its power. Or just stuck to simple blow-it-yourself rainbow colored balls.

Nine
9th September 1990

A friend’s birthday for a change. The whole class had been invited over that evening. The little prince had a great party thrown: delicious food with exotic flavors, fancy games where everybody won something, jugglers from the Russian circus and even a white elephant for special effects. Almost all of that.

I pestered mom to let me wear my new clothes. A dashing white and red checked shirt with smart grey shorts. Sparkling white socks and gleaming black shoes. There are two things I remember about my new clothes then. First, my younger brother would have the exact matching clothes. Maybe it gave my parents more confidence in our common parentage. Or maybe it was just to save a little more on the cloth. Second, all my new clothes came from the same smiling tailor and they were always a size too big to allow us to grow into them as the year went by. Running around in them, holding on and balancing the shorts on the butt curve was an art I learnt then. Now I do it with my jeans.

And thus in my pretty clothes I went trotting along to the party with a gift tucked safely under my armpit. The moment I entered the party I felt my gift shrink into itself at the sight of the huge glittering gifts that had made it before mine. It didn’t matter I had almost emptied my pocket money of Rs. 25 to buy the gift. It was small and I had an awkward time hiding it inside the heap and praying it would be never found.

As the party cruised along I was totally enjoying myself, gobbling up the samosas[1] and downing thumbs-up with D, my good ol’ chum. It was then that two elder cousins of the prince called me over. They must have been high school kids then. My initial thoughts were whether they had an issue with the second samosa that I had just devoured. But all he had was a harmless question:

“Which school do you go to?”

That was simple enough. I replied “FAPS” and turned to focus on food.

“Are you sure? You look like you just walked out of Lourdes[2] school.”

It didn’t make sense immediately. They were helpful enough to snigger and pull on my shirt and point to my black shoes. And then it dawned. At that moment the sweet candy Life disrobed and showed me her naked dirty side. At that moment, standing in those clothes and those black shoes, amidst the pomp and show of all others around me, I turned communist and cried “Hail Robin Hood!”

Twelve
Late 1993

Twelve years old and strange emotions are knocking at your heart. When I think of 1993 and the seventh grade there is just one glowing memory which blankets all others. The memory of being in Love – your first.

I knew her since kindergarten. Pulling her pony tail in class, walking back hand-in-hand to the play school, watching her running around in her shimeez[3] in the hot sun, fabricating stories of kings and queens – we grew up together - sometimes we were best buddies and sometimes we were totally indifferent to the other’s existence.

And that fateful afternoon I watched her hold on to the just distributed math test paper. She was sobbing softly. She never cried about bad marks. Today her eyes were on the new boy in the class. The blue-eyed boy was sobbing over his score and she was crying for him. For the first time I heard a crumpling, breaking sound somewhere in my chest. I was heart broken even before realizing I was so much in love with her.

Dear Thippi, how different things would have been had your eyes but been on me that day? You could call it puppy love, crush, or anything else but it stayed with me for 12 years. I still have our old dusty picture taken in first grade – we won the running race – I am in my sailor’s suit. I had sprinted to you, kissed you on the cheek and the two of us had dashed to the finish line. After 12 years you are dashing to the finish line without me. You have your blue-eyed boy with you. And when I saw you with him a couple of months ago I felt calm all of a sudden. The look on your face was priceless, the look on his was even more so, and we hugged, the first and the last, and pooff – there – I knew I had moved on.

Eighteen
22nd June 1999

There are those birthdays when you know things won’t be the same ever again. My eighteenth birthday was by far the biggest with a dozen or more friends turning up home. All of them had pooled in money to buy me my first Walkman. Throughout the evening I had been numb and was trying to hide it under the chattering mask. I was to leave for undergrad studies in Singapore ten days from then. For someone who had been in the same school and same home for fourteen years this was a big step. Everyone seemed happy around me. Mom and dad were proud.

I fell asleep listening to John Denver. That romantic melancholic bastard just made it worse to leave all you know and step into the unknown.

“…Cause i'm leaving on a jet-plane, Don't know when i'll be back again…”

It is just amazing how fast we grow up once we are away from our nest.

Twenty Four
22nd June 2005

Twenty-four years old and none the wiser. Birthdays that come bang in the middle of the workweek are just too depressing. But then there is the “surprise” mid-night party, orchestrated by friends who really care, and attended by cake hungry nobodies. Maybe it was the predictability of such events that got to me. For the first time I was scared of growing old. Growing old with questions piling up each day. Without a moment to yourself to think about the answers.

But I am just too good (or naïve) to let the weekend go by in thought. I was out drinking and dancing in the comfort of smoky darkness. Maybe it was the knowledge that many of the faces illuminated by the revolving beam of light were just as clueless as I was. I closed my eyes and imagined myself moving to the music. The questions will have to wait for another day. I am just not ready yet to grow old.

[1] A small fried turnover of Indian origin that is filled with seasoned vegetables or meat.
[2] A school adjacent to FAPS where the poor kids went.
[3] A loose flowing cotton camisole worn by young girls.

Iyer

Hap Hap Happy Birthday.........

Its difficult for me get as poetic as lolly but I think I will use the straightforward way to wish Iyer.

Iniya Porandanal Vazthukal

Machee

The Birthday Song

Oh what, Oh what shall I gift you this year
A mug, a jug or a wine glass crystal clear

A sock, a sweater or a condom instead
A box of chocolates,or peanut butter spread

Oh why, Oh why should I gift you this year
for being handy,randy or elegantly dandy

A good blogger, clubber or partner in disorder
A reader, a good deeder or an a$$hole of the first order

Oh how, Oh how should I gift you this year
By taking you to a bar,in a car or somewhere really far

taking you to an island, a hill or a neighbourhood mountain
to a restaurant, a coffee joint or a nearby fountain

All said and done, since your birthday is sometime this year
tag along and just join me to celebrate a friend so dear
A friend who happens to be paying for the fun, frolic and free flow of beer.

Can you hear the loud cheer?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY IYEER !



Lolly

Anybody there..........

This blog has been in a state of coma for the past few days, due to a lack of any posts from the other two vice men. My rather hapless attempts to resuscitate it doesn't seem to to have had any effect.
This has been one rather boring week with hardly any work... All I have been doing is blog hopping and reading. Did you all know Singapore has the highest per capita number of blogs in the world. Anyways, most of my time was spent on two controversial Singapore based blogs- sarongpartygirl and xiaxue. As pointed out by Iyer yesterday, the girl writing the SPG blog has created quite a stir by posting her nude picture. Oh yeah I can imagine all you guys rushing to view that blog now. Anyways, a few days later xiaxue has written a article bitching about how ugly the boobs of the first girl are. My GOd! What all people can really do to get attention.
Oh yeah why do girls seem to love bitching about each other so much?


Machee

India as a Manufacturing Base.....Sign of Better Times To Come?

India has always been the proverbial also ran when it came to manufacturing. But the announcement by Nokia a few weeks back, that it was setting up a handset and base station manufacturing unit was good news. This has now been followed up by Intel announcing that it will choose India over China for its Advanced Manufacturing Unit. These are just a drop in the ocean but it is definitely something to look forward to. Only manufacturing has the capability to generate the number of jobs that are needed to sustain our ever growing numbers of unemployed youth and drive our economic growth forward. None of the factors which hinder the manufacturing sector have gone away, but there is a realisation by firms that it is not wise to hinge all your bets on China. In addition, India has been making the right noises when it comes to unshackling our potential in manufacturing, especially in power reforms and infrastructure(ports, roads and airlinks). Lets us hope that Manmohan Singh and his team have the political will to carry through the 2nd phase of reforms.

Machee

Where is Vice Man 3

Hey Lolly, where are you ? You need to keep this blog going with your controversial posts. Dont tell me you have run out of steam after the last one. We need you 'Mudu Krishna'.

Machee,Iyer

Chootu....Back from the VET

The title if you are wondering is the name of my little pet Hamster. It was my graduation gift from my mother. Although a pet, he is literally the center of attention in my house. My dad especially, is crazy about him and looks after him like a grandson. Yeah thats what my mom keeps telling me "Son, u better get married and give ur dad a grandkid". Then i give back a wry smile and tell her "Mom that can be achieved without marriage". Yeah i guess you know what happens after that....i get back a nice slap on the back.

Yesterday, chootu went to the Vet to get operated on a small non malignant tumour on his belly. Yeah! That sounds pretty serious. It seems mice, hamsters and guinea pigs are highly prone to cancer, which is why they are used extensively in cancer research. Can you imagine a little animal not more than 3-4 inches in length going under the surgeon's knife. Everything from the the anasthetic to the medicine has to be administered in the minutest of quantities.

Both my mom and dad took off from work to look after the li'll fella...I could actually picture a scene from a hindi movie where the parents are pacing back and forth outside the operation theatre :).Well so far everything went off well and much my relief the little guy came back safely. Three cheers to Chootu....hip hip hurray!

Machee

Blog hopping

5 am. The naked glow of the tube light blankets sheets of numbers, the tired pen and the now cold, half empty cup of mocha. Another night sacrificed for the exam looming around the corner.

A short stroll through the streets of this blog world. The stores are ever open. Sporting wares from far corners of world, tempting us to take a peek, beckoning us to stay a while and join the incessant chatter.

Music wafting from open doors. Mingling tunes, discordant beats, and then out of nowhere you hear a snatch of a song, so familiar, only second to your lover’s heart beat. You weave through the crowds, holding on to the heavenly strain…you turn a corner and bump into a stranger, now a friend, sitting with her back to the lamp post, whistling the song.

And I sit with her, hold her hands, humming in tune, floating in an orgasm exclusive to true fans.

This is what i found:
s&g
soul and groove. sugar and ginger. simmer and grieve. simon and garfunkel.
Read more...

Thank you Deepa.

Iyer

Smoking and Movies

The Indian government has recently decided to ban smoking in films. Our Minister for Health proclaimed proudly that we became the first country to ban smoking in Movies. This decision reeks of stupidity and shortsightedness.
I agree movies and actors should not glorify smoking but how far can we go in curbing the creative license of moviemakers. This decision is ridiculous because it affects the very characterisation of actors in movies. Tomorrow, they might decide to ban the show or use of guns in movies because it encourages violence. Then filmmakers can as well close shop and stop making movies.
If someone wants to smoke they will go ahead and do it. All the big warnings and gory images portraying organs full of tar, which are plastered all over the cigarette packets, is hardly effective in discouraging people from smoking.
The government should instead focus on enforcing no-smoking in public places and educating the people. Movies should not be held as the scapegoat for all the ills of society.

Machee

Give me back my marbles!

…no pun intended.

A long long time ago…when I was in 5th grade, Fortune smiled and made me heir to a fine collection of marbles. My cousin, who had taken years to put together the dazzling and mesmerizing collection of motley hued glass orbs, suddenly found himself too old to be associated with them.

The best way to amplify my joy was to share a part of the collection, albeit a small proportion, with my best buddy – D. I chose 2-dozen of the precious little ones and packed them in a cardboard box, with cotton and all, to ensure their safe journey. When I presented it to D he was overjoyed but did give one of those – “Are u sure?” – looks. I was very sure, after all, in those days, best friends solidified their relationship with the exchange of marbles.

A couple of weekends later the weather got a little rough. D and myself were at the peak of a cold war. I had pretty much exhausted all my weapons when the devil whispered in my ears – “Take them back! If he is not your friend, he doesn’t deserve the gift!” And then I did the unthinkable – walked up to D and asked him to return the gift. He did, unceremoniously, and I sat back confused and horrified at my childishness.

This incident comes back to me today, with Australian donors for the tsunami relief holding Indonesia ransom and demanding a review of the court’s verdict sentencing Schapelle Corby to 20 years in prison.

Strange, but even back then, as a child, I felt there was something really wrong to hold someone ransom to the gifts you give them, and worse, to vilify the relationship by taking them back. If a child can realize this, why can't these adults?

With D and me things were back to normal soon after and today we can think back and laugh at the whole thing. But some mistakes linger to haunt generations. Are the Australians heading that way?

Iyer

This is my letter to the world

THIS is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.

Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me!


by Emily Dickinson

----------------------------------

As Valentine's day gift, I received a book of poems by Dickinson.
A really special gift for more than one reason ;)
This epigram that I share is the opening for her collection of poems on "Life".

Iyer

the vice men say...

the journey back home

I wake up with a frosted cheek, a result of dozing with my cheek on the cold window. The bus lurches around another curve as it climbs into the dark hills. As I open the window the cold wind rushes past bringing with it the crisp fragrance of the pepper shrubs.

I draw the blanket closer and peer out into the dying darkness. A little further, and now I can make out the dark concentric circles around the hills. Layers of tea leaves rustling in welcome. Nestled in the valley beyond is my home - a village with one main street. A home I left more than a decade ago.

The sky is turning a turbid gray as the bus descends into the valley. A handful of lights shone from below. The faint sound of the temple bells floods my mind with the memories of the sultry afternoons spent swimming in the village pond, running in little circles with my little brother on my back, sleepy days repeating multiplication tables in chorus...amma's bangles clinking as she served puttu for breakfast, appa reading out stories from old newspapers...With each curve downhill my smile is growing wider and my heart thumping louder. I can't wait to leap out of the bus and run down the road, screaming with joy. I can't wait to hold them tight and smother them with kisses.

I pat my bag unconsciously. Gifts that were chosen after days of deliberation...I wrapped them myself with brimming love. Gold bangles for amma, transistor radio for appa and a bag of candies for kuttan - my brother, my companion.

The taillights of the bus fade away as I stand at the roadside. Most of the village in still rapt in slumber. A few homes are just stirring with the lady of the house sweeping the courtyard and decorating it with kolam. All of a sudden a thousand emotions are churning in my heart. I thought I would be sprinting down the road and rapping the doorknocker. But I find my legs tied down.

I walk to the teashop and put my bag on the wooden bench. As I am served hot kattan-chai a glimmer of recognition flashes on the owner’s face, then fades. His age and vision have moved in opposite directions. He can't place me. He doesn't remember me. I am shivering with fear now, may be it is the cold. I cup the tea glass with both hands and allow the steam to touch my face. And I stare...stare down the road, the road that has remained a virgin. Nothing has changed since the morning I left. Left this sleepy village to see the world, in search of a life that would be anywhere but in this suffocating valley where even seasons have stopped changing.

The rows of huts creak in the wind and a few meters away is the white washed home of the village medic. My home, or what was once my home. When I walked away I was just a boy. Since then I have had the world throw its myriad challenges at me. Each step was laborious but each step made me a man. Among all my struggles there was one constant, a constant that kept me going - my home and the people I love. I am afraid I will realize I have transformed into something that would make me an alien in my home. That would make me dislike my own people, their simplicity and their unchanging ways.

The thought of this journey back home filled me with such happiness that I cried. Now that I am just a few meters away my heart is slipping away. A long journey lies ahead and I need the power of this umbilical cord that ties me to this place. I can’t risk losing this last link.

As I stand facing the heaving brown door I can feel the warmth inside. Tears stream down my face as I leave the gifts at the doorstep. With unchanged memories tucked safely in my bosom, I walk away into the morning mist.


iyer

Another First

Getting fired is never a good thing, unless it comes with a brilliant golden parachute.
Firing people, as I realized today, doesn't feel great either.

People get fired for various reasons: incompetence, shoddy work, sleeping with the boss' wife, watching porn at work, blogging at work...and the list goes on. I would have been feeling much better had the reason for firing the person today had been any one of the above. It wasn't.

As a small but growing startup we do end up demanding a lot from our employees (me included). It is true we can't afford exorbitant paychecks but as incentives we provide a learning environment where the more responsibility you take, the more you learn. So two qualities are a must if you want to stick around: one, show me you want to learn, and two, take on responsibilities and deliver.

Contrary to the animated claims during the interviews, the person who got fired lacked both. It’s frustrating, when you know the person is smart and capable, and yet they throw it all away. The couple of months working together turn out to be a total waste of time for both parties.

Well, this was a first, and surprisingly I didn't enjoy the experience. Hope the next egg turns out to be better!

Iyer

***

Twin Engine Search

Came across this interesting site which allows search simultaneously on two different search engines.

Dual Search

Twingine

For those dependent in Googling its a good way to compare search results.

Machee

On Rohini Nakshatra

I am burning the early morning oil for a certain deadline and have been postponing this post...but it keeps coming back...especially since a special visitor has requested my comment on the poem "Rohini Nakshatra" by our talented poet - Lolly.

Here goes...

The love of Radha and Krishna is eternal and wild. Though eternal, they never united in marriage. Krishna left his childhood sweetheart to go live with the Kings, and marry Rukhmini, Satyabhama and many others.

This poem is very special and I think the poet has done a great job in building this scene, adding rhythm to Krishna's narration. The poet makes it feel like a dream, Krishna's dream - yet, I am thinking this was more than just a dream.

Radha is never referred to by name, but there is ample reference to her as "O Pretty". She remains Krishna's only true love and all the other women in his life cant evoke the wild and pure love he has for her.

The scene suggests a tearful meeting between the two lovers, just before his departure or much later in their lives...when Radha knows that this time between them is but fleeting...her tears and her love seem useless to others, the world wouldn’t understand.

The crossing of the river represents breaking societal rules and boundaries and reinforces the wild nature of their love. The couple re-live their past as they indulge in passionate and playful love making. There is music, songs of love, and songs of praise...Mischievous Krishna! He always knew he was special, always loved the attention!

As the morning nears, so does separation, so does the return to society. This pain of separation haunts Radha in her dreams.

Somehow, the ending really doesn’t feel like an ending. Either it is the poet's hope or it is Krishna's knowledge of their fate that this dance would happen again. Their love would remain eternal.

Overall, it is a very original piece of work. I can’t wait for the poet's next masterpiece!

Iyer

the vice men say...

Rohini Nakshatra

O pretty, you dont weep ,for this world doesnt bear
doesnt care for those tears, those tears belong to me

hold my hand, hand in hand cross the river,across the shore
where and you and me shall take a walk, explore and implore

drop by drop I shall fall like the sinful rain above
decorating your body with this foliage of love

keep those anklets intact, and let them attract
me to enact ,this special act

watch me watch you wink by wink ,for these boyish pranks I bring
move those lips of yours and sing

a song so divine of a peacock-crowned prince


O pretty, you dont sleep, cos when the morning is too near
your thoughts would go unclear, dried up with needless fear

hold my hand, hand in hand cross the river, across the shore
with this Love God,'Mudhu Krishna' you adore.


Lolly

Nandita Das at Cannes

Hey take a look at Stunning Nandita Das in Cannes as a part of the jury for the Cannes Film Festival. She looks absolutely gorgeous in that traditional Saree.She manages to stand out from the crowd without trying to attempt some stupid and outrageous designer dress. Way to go Nandita.

.

Machee

Almost Famous

Check out this site:
Preople.com

My score = 124, Bill Gates = 7,070,000.

Whats yours?

iyer

Paintball

This is so cool!!

My cuz and Bro-in law took part in it.

Check it out.

http://sandykhanna.multiply.com/photos/album/8?last_read=1115601026&mark



Lolly

Topless.....

Don't get all excited now. I am referring to my shaved head. It seems like the best style statement I have made in a long long time. In the last two months, I have gotten more attention from the 'female sex', than I could ever manage in the previous 23 years and 7 months of my existence. Well all I can say is Thank you GOD and may this continue.

Cheers.

Machee

Thrift

tick tock tick tock time ticked on
rum and vodka joyfully sipped on

drums and pipes in chaotic mode
secrets unwind, stories untold

booze seeping in drop by drop
mind harvesting crop by crop

my eyes orient, my thoughts unfold
on a shadowy figure standing tall and bold

her eyes tell a story,a distant tale
her lips smothering across a face so pale

my lips start to move in his first possible way
words begin to flow endlessly ,even if I had nothing to say

She looks at me like an insect waiting for a prey
pick me pick me, I am all yours today

her voice seemingly harmless
her desires willingly charm less

an anatomy so coy yet of a refined taste
bound to snap, so spare no haste

amidst all this confusion I forget her name
to add to the misery, I forget the game

the game of charm, the game of lies
she disappears right in front of my eyes

and

tick tock tick tock time ticks on
as I run out of booze and rhythm
and now rhyme.


Lolly

Take note

I've been running on caffeine for too long...
I can't think anymore...And this screen is becoming blurry...
Then all of a sudden this geeky brilliance leaps out...
and I say "I wish I was a hard-disk, at least I could crash!"

Jesus, that's a new aphorism! Take note.

Bookends Theme

Time it was,
And what a time it was,
It was...
A time of innocence,
A time of confidences.
Long ago...it must be...
I have a photograph.
Preserve your memories;
They're all that's left of you.


by Paul Simon

----------------------------

Am too tired and lonely and Paul Simon's words and music are the only comfort...

iyer

Flawed

I weep but there are not enough tears

my heart is broken but there are not enough pieces

I am wounded, but there is not enough bleeding

I am sorry but there is not enough sorrow

I pray for you but there are not enough prayers

I scream but there is not enough noise

I wait for you but there is not enough time

I dream of you but there is not enough sleep

I miss you but there is not enough You

and not enough Me.


Lolly

The closed door thats me......

Visitors to this blog will wonder how come Vice Man 1 aka Machee hardly has anything personal to write. Even I have been pondering on this question for the last few days. Is it because I cant write as well as others. But I don't think this is the reason. I am no Shakespeare but I have scored reasonably well in my English tests.

The more I sat thinking about this I realised I already knew some of the reasons. I have never been open about expressing/communicating my feelings, expectations and fears openly to others. Even my closest friends sometimes find it difficult to decipher what's going on in that head of mine. My mother points out rather blatantly that this is one reason, I will find it difficult to find a girlfriend(although I believe she is happy I stay single). Well my ego doesn't allow me to agree with her. But I know this is partly true and this becomes apparent from my total lack of close female friends. I have always been wary of expressing myself openly, especially to the opposite sex. Such questions keep popping up rather commonly"What will she think if I say this?", "Will she be offended if I say that?" and so on.

Many times I have logged on to this blog with the intention of writing something about myself only to decide against it. I start writing a paragraph only to wonder "what will people think of me","it doesn't sound good", etc and then end up not posting anything. I am happier writing about persons and events far removed from me. Even in interviews I find the personal questions the most difficult to answer. One of my most dreaded questions is;"What is your greatest weakness?". I would much rather tell the interviewer about the 7 layers in the TCP/IP protocol stack. I admire the confidence with which Lolly n Iyer can say/write almost anything(even crap).

But all is not gloomy and I would like to think that this trait of mine is changing. I am making a rather conscious effort to communicate better and this is partly due to a realisation that its now or never. I have also started believing in myself more. I hope this posting is only a beginning of more frequent posts from me in the future.

Machee


Btw I had to edit this a few times before I was confident enought to post this.

Sleeping with my enemy

the night.......my life awakened, sleeping he was, between two dreams
masqueraded with desires.... forbidden and bargaining.

hated her..... with a passion. she used to be poison my thoughts
was reckless to my feelings.and yet today I am a victim to her seduction
that has raged the sensations inside me. All these years I didnt talk to her.I do not regret.
if I had to wait for this moment,this night with her.

I can see her reflection on the moon above.
the moon, a lone predator that very night
my body started subsiding.... with my arms wide stretched
and she responded with a chuckle teasing me in and out.

and as my passion flower began to blossom, the stormless night disappeared
slowly and yet eventually.
leaving my tainted heart in pursuit
of the moment, to live it again
of the night ,the full moon watched me........
sleeping with her,the beach.

Lolly

between this and that

Last Saturday morning I was up early volunteering at the Eurasian Association. I headed to Ceylon Rd and got in just before 9am. People were expected to come in for a subsidized health screening session and the volunteers would help them find their way around. While the blood and other tests were done indoor, there was a mobile x-ray unit parked a dozen meters away and I had to ensure the old souls crossed safely and found the bus.

I had always thought the Eurasian Association would be teaming with...well...Eurasians chicks...especially those cute looking ones. I was kind of disappointed when I couldn't see a single Eurasian, leave alone a cute chick. It was still early in the morning and I still had hopes.

Now don’t get me wrong here. When my Singaporean mom called me and ask me to come down and volunteer I said "yes" without a moment's thought about Eurasian chicks. Volunteering is a big thing for me, especially volunteering early in the morning. The only thing I like to volunteer for this early is another couple of hours in bed.

As the people trickled in for the test I started noticing the shade of the Caucasian. Some are very easily identifiable; others I guess had a tough time becoming members here! The EA, from what I have heard my Singaporean mom say, has been around for over 85 years and finds its origin from a literary association which catered to the Eurasian-British population of Singapore. Its primary aim is "to promote the economic, social, moral, physical and intellectual advancement of all Eurasian Singaporeans".

You might be wondering what is so interesting about EA or the morning that I have troubled myself to blog. Being at the EA and seeing the Eurasians some how reminded me of the Anglo Indians back home, in Bangalore. This is a community close to my heart since I studied in an Anglo-Indian school – Frank Anthony’s Public School. Mrs. Rego, Mr. Roderick, Mr. Mitchell, Mr. Samuel, Mr. Simcock, Mr. Fernandez, Mr. Brown...the list of names that jump out of the corridors of my memory is long.

There is this strange feeling that I felt when I was among them. I am trying hard to put it in words...it was a feeling of being among strangers. Well, I felt they were alien to the three dosas in my steel tiffin box, I felt they were alien to smell of the fresh mulaga-pudi (chili-powder) that accompanied the dosa. If any one of them were to ask me what I was having for lunch I would just say sandwich or something and walk away.

This strange feeling didn’t stop at dosas. I always wondered how their homes looked, what they watched on TV, what they spoke about when among themselves. It seemed like they were stuck in an age, a culture of the past. It seemed like they stood uncomfortably straddling two cultures, two homes, two histories...and somehow denied both.

Guys, relax, this was something I "felt"...its personal...it’s not a thesis. In fact I think my feelings might have been unfounded. Yes I had lots of Anglo-Indian friends but the friendship was inside the walls of the school. They trickled out after school and I didn’t know where they went and what they did. My feelings mostly emanate from my ignorance.

Another thing that made me feel strange was the education. The history classes telling me about the Aryans, the Vedas, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata sounded as if I was a foreigner in my own country and that I was learning about a culture not my own. It was not the mispronunciation of the Sanskrit words, it was more the disconnect between the story and the narrator. There was no pride in the delivery. There was no warmth. Enid Blyton's work came across as more real. I could imagine Mr. Mitchell - my English teacher - having those muffins and pies as a young lad, but I could never imagine him break a piece of idly between his fingers.

This blog is not to make u think I had an un-fulfilling learning experience at school. I loved school. I loved the Christmas tea parties, the fake Santa, the cakes, pastries, candies...and smell of foreign perfumes that surrounded the teachers...yeah...all of these. This blog came about to be because a remark by my Singaporean mom. She mentioned Eurasians come to her with various troubles and she counseled them. One such case was of a man, a Eurasian, who really believes he is actually Caucasian. He wouldn’t believe anything else. This belief comes with another - the belief that he is still living in a British colony, and that he is superior to anything non-British, so much so that he loathes working, working with or being subordinate to Chinese or Indians. A loathing so strong that he has stopped working all together and now finds himself in deep financial trouble being unable to support his 6 kids. My Singaporean mom told me he was even rude during the first counseling session – how could an Indian tell him how to lead his life?

When I walked him to the x-ray bus that afternoon, I was surprised I found no anger, no sarcasm, nothing negative for this man who is stuck between two worlds.

People end up like this many times because of their own choices, they end up doing something while loving something else, end up being someone they are not...but these Eurasians or those Anglo-Indians, they are here because of choices made by someone else.

I smile as I see the Eurasian walk towards the free breakfast arranged in the hall. I hope he wakes up and find himself before he destroys the lives of his children. I hope he feels at peace with who he is and where he is now. I hope my Anglo-Indian friends never felt any disconnect with our country and culture. I hope they all felt at home, as I do, walking in a crowded market - awash with the fragrance of jasmine flowers and turmeric paste.

iyer

need noise!

Lolly and Machee, where are u guys? How come I haven't heard about your trip to the vice land? How come the world hasn’t heard?
Either something HUGE happened and you both are catching your breath, or you were caught swatting flies on the beach!

Wassup dudes? Speak...its too quiet around here...need noise.

iyer

Delirium

Waking up with a jerk, sweat streaming down my neck, I look around frantically...
The cold steel walls stand mute; the pillow next to mine is cold, sheets unruffled...

Sweat is glistening on my pulsating jugular...
A flutter of the eye lids - we are together in the same bed, thrusting into each other in frenzy, panting, grunting, your deep crimson nails clawing at my bare back...
A flutter of the eye lids - you are running among the glowing sunflowers, I am behind in close chase, almost reaching and touching the tassels of dark flowing hair, I hear laugher...
A flutter of the eye lids - my face is drenched in warm sweat, or blood...

Slumping with exhaustion, feels like I am floating, a sudden blur of voices, an orgy of vision, a lingering smell of something decaying...
I lift my head from the pillow, resting my chin in my palms, staring at strange patterns, numerous rivers, valleys, stains of time, time when we were together...

A long strand of hair floats on the pillow, I clutch it tight, as if a precious possession, a souvenir now...
A swirling calm enters my veins, your head is on my shoulder, I am caressing your hair, weaving my fingers into the black abyss...
The hands emerge, green and strange, not my hands, a stranger's hands, still caressing your hair, still cupping your breasts, strangling my throat...

How could you let the beast touch you? How could you?

I clutch the pillow and scream in agony, a scream that is music in this otherwise deafening silence of loneliness...
My fingers touch something cold - a glass bangle you removed and slid under the pillow before you let me ravage you...
The bangle is cold and grey, like this room, these walls around, but I remember it once shown like a rainbow, glittered on your delicate wrists...

Your delicate wrists, those milky white palms, almost pale - ghostly...
The touch of those fingers, the still wet designs on the palm, fresh, vermillion vines, mixing, dancing...
Struggling wrists, getting out of my hold, I hold on tighter, closing my fingers...the crumbling glass, the sharp pain, the bluish green venom oozing through my fingers...
It’s not venom; it’s your blood...

Or mine. The bangle lies broken in my palm. The blood is dry and crusted, the pillow stained anew...
I sit up, swing my legs down, a painful effort to get up, walk to the wash basin...
Shivering, things around me flying, this dizziness...
I lunge at the wall, trying to stop my fall, my hand slips, leaving a brown streak, leaving me slumped on the floor...

Amma is standing above me, placing a wet cloth on my forehead...
Her black robes hovering like the comforting night, her warm hands, touching my cheek, spilling dutiful love...
Her look is confusing, her eyes killing, there is no sympathy, just a half mocking smirk...
I want her to say everything will be fine, but there is no reassurance...
I did just what she told me not to: I loved you, I trusted you.

You were my life, my breath, the window in these four walls...
I bared everything and stood naked, stood naked, so you could hurt me, stood naked, like a fool, so you could betray me the moment I turned around...
I’ve tried to find meaning, in vain. I have tried to question the worth of those days in unison, every moment bringing me close to god, every word spoken - burning my heart, every touch changing my soul...

And it all fell apart so quickly, I am left naked and confused, gasping for air and crying, like a baby out of the womb...
Maybe it was all a dream, your laughter was but a trick played on a vacant mind, your touch but the zephyr's prank...
But these wounds, they feel so real. This blood, why does it taste so real?

I stretch my arms through the bars of the window...
The cold winter rain washes the dry blood, pain rushes back in fury as I pull out the pieces of glass...
It is all real after all. Those feelings, those promises. All real, all lost, all broken.

You didn’t even give me a hint it was coming...you could have at least warned me before...so I could have made my heart stronger...
And so I float in this delirium...like a head severed from the body with a sudden swing of the sword, squirming and writhing, in confusion and surprise, in agony...neither dead, nor alive...

iyer

Weekend Jottings.....Bargaining at the Bar

This weekend was quite hectic with the birthday of Iyer's special friend. We celebrated the birthday at a nice cozy bar atop a hill. Then after that we headed out to shake our bonbons at
a happening club in town....as it turned out the minimum entry age for guys was 26. So as usual we made our plans to look cool and older than 26. But things didn't quite work out as the lady at the entrance to the club could do her math and find our ages.

As usual Iyer tried out his word play on her and the hilarious conversation went something like this

Bar Girl at the Entrance: Sir, the age limit is 26
so Iyer gives her his ID and says
Iyer: How much is that?
Things didn't work out as expected
Bar Girl at the Entrance: Step out sir
Another desperate attempt
Iyer: Come on ma'am, 25 can right
Bar Girl at the Entrance:But Sir, your only 24

Well that ended all our hopes and we headed out to another place cursing the girl and her math teacher.

Machee

Third Encounters of my kind.

touch..... can convey so many thoughts, expose so many secrets,display so many colors of a feeling.
ironically a touch is hardly used as an expression.....as a language.. as a vehicle .......
However,those moments in my life when I said everything I wanted to....... Transported all my feelings. with a touch.... a touch that haunts me to date.......

smell.... one of the most intriguing senses we possess...... clearly a dominant physical sense
smell the moment.... smell the nervous air around you... smell the coming of rain, the flowers, the butter dripping down a sinful dosa,..... the tommy girl perfume off her......... sadly everything around us is adulterated......
However,I still can regenerate the aroma , the smell of being attached.... to a promise.

taste........a joyful explosion of a bubble with hidden desires...... a misconception....
the final act of acceptance.... a sacrifice of morality.......
Unfortunately we never switch our minds off and taste... as one's life take different paths and routes to one destination one forbidden place.....
However, I still remember that taste..... that residue on my tongue , that part of my life that is still living un moved, un numbed, a time machine to my past... my days of glory.....untold story

the day when these three senses met...........and gave me a single identity...... the person I am.... I can be...... and when I left these three entities bring the flavour out of my life....... they left me a thought to ponder....... I still ponder...... still falter.......... a thought that life is lived only at that moment.. and the rest is just an act of buying time.....of saving energy..........
to reach that point.....
when existence of everything and everyone around you just does not make any sense

just like you reading this post of mine now.


Lolly

peeled
Posted by iyer

Mumbai Xpress......Hold on to your seats

No its not a train, its the title of Kamal Hasaan's latest rip roaring, rollicking, a laugh a second movie. Phew that first line took a lot of thinking.....I nearly ran out of adjectives. If you all didn't know who Kamal Hasaan is, I advice you to run to the top of the tallest building you can find and jump off. He is one of the greatest actors in the world(Yes I mean it). There are very few who can match up to his stature in terms of acting prowess, the few who would come to mind are Tom Hanks, umm.....damn there aren't many names that come to mind. I mean which actor could do action, comedy, romance, tragedy(...did I miss any genre) with equal versatility and ease. He is an institution by himself and I would like to think I am one of his greatest fans.

Well let me come back to his movie, which I watched yesterday(which was the Tamil New Year when quite a few Tamil movies are released). The whole movie runs on a wafer thin storyline and manages to pull it off brilliantly. There are no comedians in the movie trying to do comedy or say funny lines....the humour is all in the situations the characters of the movie are placed in and how each one interprets it. All the characters fit perfectly into their roles except for manisha who stands out(just like her huge bust) like a sore thumb. Kamal Hassan has his own set of actors whom he faithfully repeats in his movies(Nasser, Ramesh Arvind, Kovai Sarala ...) and it works for him. The movie could have been edited by 15-20 minutes in the middle, but on the whole its one of his best comedies I have seen in recent times.
I don't want to say anything further about the movie and spoil your fun. Just go and watch it in the theatre...Its the least we can do for a Maestro like him.

Machee

nice catch 

Machee at KM8 a few weeks ago! 

bird watching

A warm breeze blows...bringing the pungent smell of the wild herbs...
The grass nods in drowsy gratitude...the cool dew has almost vanished...

A black bird lands onto the grass...gliding in from the low tree nearby...
hopping around, it spies small movement in the grass...a scurrying worm...returning back to the moist earth...

Stuffed away among the leafy branches of the tree is a distractedly put together nest...
little bits of paper decorate the coarse straw... now-and-then u see the glitter from a chocolate wrapping...

Shifting my weight onto the other leg i watch...trying to move as little as possible...
watching the bird go about its usual dance...a voyeuristic thrill fills me...

The nest must be alive...i can almost hear the cries of hungry little chicks...
brown and featherless...almost blind...and very hungry...

The black bird pecks at the earth...catches a worm...stuffs it in its lower beak...
a couple more and it can fly back...to feed the brown moving specks of life...

Why this daily dance? why this selfless act?
every humid morning…as if in a trance...to feed the young who would but leave...
never to return...once their wings take flight...

This purity of thought...this selflessness in action...it’s sickening...

I close one eye...take aim...and pull the trigger...


iyer

Whatever.......

thoughts and words.... such an unusual marriage.....very much like a relationship b/w a guy and a girl....how many times in a day do you say exactly whats on your mind....... and vice versa
I once got this weird compliment..... I wish I could re quote it! about how the distance b/w my mind and my heart is so negligible yet relevant..... why relevant? cos thats logically the shortest path to a woman's heart...... yes heart not mind... cos I always believed that her mind is so strong that its like she has locked herself in and is dying to get out more than we guys trying to get in hers.
I have seen guys melt themselves to understand women... guys who buy soft toys....who buy flowers......... who take her to the movies he wouldnt watch even after a sex change.....
i did them too. for a different reason..... i bought her soft toys cos it would distract her everytime she is focussing on something to say.. something shez decided... i bought her daisies cos when life's hard on me....so hard that I wish i was life less... i can still show her some life....
and the movies...... well thats one time of her day when her handphone is in silent mode and she would eat!
ah so am i bieng selfish? doing everything that would benefit me? not really.... I think what a woman really wants is.... not power.... not materials..... not mush.... not control....... not even love
she wants something... someone thats much much less complicated than her
she wants the key to the doors in her mind.... she is in fact trying to understand how we guys do it sometimes..... no the cigars dont help us.... not the booze.... not even fashion tv

and all we guys sometimes end up doing is trying to understand what shez thinking... what are those right words we have to say..... when the truth is... its she who really wants the answers

well so the next time she says "whatever"....... it means shez wondering,thinking what ever you did to free your mind!
she has spoken her mind.... and that word is your best compliment.......... for the day!


Lolly

The Concept

You came into my life
and life came into me
with a spark
I rushed on
in search of something special
someone special
with you by my side
i looked no further
u had the answers
and i had no questions
you taught me the very fact of life
i would confront
and not comprehend
two types of people i will meet
a slut who would sleep with every one else
and a bitch who would not sleep with me
and you looked up to me
with an intensity un matched
and i looked the distance
to see my life
waiting for me waiting on me
only to find you
gone
for a reason i hope
i believe
like the air i breathe
this very moment
you left behind for me........

happy ugadi,lolly

An ode to my ego

My ego has taken me places cant remember how,when and where he was born.
I usually carry it with me everywhere I go. Be it work,be it the dance floor, be it a game of cricket usually do not confront him. I usually tend to let my ego have his way.
But today was one of those days when I did confront him.
And little did I know, he has grown so much ,so fast. I don't even recognize him.

I usually tend to confront him when I happen to deal or should I say tame a woman's stubbornness. Don't get me wrong here. I think a woman is a fascinating creation.
I love to have women around me but not my ego. How do you explain to a woman she was wrong? Well I usually do not. I usually deal with it through humor and sarcasm and manyatimes playfulness.
But only when it is below a threshold point. Today it hit that point. And my ego took over.
It lasted two hours. I think I made her cry. inside. He left doing enough damage.
And that's when I confronted him. Our conversation was short. I had a few questions to ask. And he answered them promptly. One particular answer took me aback I questioned him about his intentions, he had just one thing to say. And that was what and why he does is purely to hide my thoughts, my feelings. And this is because I can dish out a whole range of emotions at one person at one moment. And that I lose the plot completely then. And that's my weakness. A weakness he covers.

I realized he was right in a way. All those moments in my life when I had to make one important decision, say one important word to that one important person, I let him take over. Because of my reputation to radiate a spectrum of emotions, I have sometimes exposed one thought.

like a spider web......... The only difference being I am caught in my own web.

and tomorrow and for the next few days I will have to try explaining this to the woman.....
then again on second thoughts... I think I am better off leaving her alone.
Cos deep inside I know she knows I was right.

is this my ego speaking again?.................

Lolly

Continuing with the pope...

I came to the office today morning, hoping to let loose some words on the media circus thats going on about the popes death. But since the other vice man has already spoken on that, i'll just like to add a few lines. It is beyond my imagination why India has to declare 3 days official mourning for the pope's death. Yes he was a world figure revered by many in India(that's about 17 million Catholics), but in no way was he a national figure of importance. I just wonder if this isn't another attempt by the so called secular parties to mollycoddle upto the minorities.

P.S. Just thought I'd mention this, Vatican has launched an all out attack on the popular work of fiction Da Vinci Code forbidding all Catholics to shun it. Seems like it is only making the book more popular.

machee

whats with the world?

The newspaper is screaming that the pope died and the world is mourning. Weird world I must say. All the preaching, all the propaganda hasn't driven the point into their thick heads? There is a heaven, it is a nice place to be, and when you die you will go there (assuming of course that you have aligned yourself to the true faith, didn’t fancy your neighbour's wife - or confessed of doing so - and donated enough to keep the pope well-fed). So what’s all the fuss about? He was a good man, a great strategic marketing guru, and I am sure he is being well taken care of in heaven. So, stop mourning and celebrate the day. Be happy. For I am sure the pope would really like us that way.

iyer

maybe baby

i realized I have not switched off the fan in my room for quite some time........ the glass with dried jesus juice has been lying there since....... it was lying there... some pictures i once treasured are lying underneath my bed .... i drop my tv remote and look for it atleast three times a day.. did i brush my teeth today? ive never opened my phone bills for a while now (I pay them though). when was the last time i looked out my window?

these just clarify the feeling this very moment...... a feeling of emptiness...... a feeling of stagnation..... i look different these days.... its not the hair............ its that still emotion I have on my face.......tomorrow the 4th of april..... means something to me........ not too long ago i had the same feeling...... and everything changed that day..... maybe this realization is a reminder that i have to re find myself ..... theres way too much dryness... i need to moisturize......
i need to re locate my thoughts........ my desires... and what better day than the 4th of april.....

may it mark a new end...... and an old beginning......

lolly