Thursday, March 18, 2010

the Great Indian Thamasha:STOP PRESS

Ignorance is bliss...when it comes to India

Mayavati: Age 54(?)

The currency garland: worth 18lakh?21lakh?21crore? (INR)

Country: India, Home of Mukesh Ambani

Sarjana: Age 6
Country: India, Home of the Mahatma

Six-year-old Sarjana, a class I student, has been raising money for those left homeless by Aila, the cyclone that hit West Bengal in May 2009.

Disturbed by images of devastation caused by the cyclone and eager to help, Sarjana has been singing and dancing on railway platforms to collect money from passers-by.

On Wednesday, this student of the Calcutta Public School met President Pratibha Patil with a cheque for Rs.205 for the Prime Minister's Relief Fund. Sarjana earned this money from a programme she did for All India Radio, Kolkata.

Two more cool images that'll make the insane yell out "Proud to be an Indian"

A Rajya Sabha member (left) tries to snatch copies of the Women's Reservation Bill from House Chairman Hamid Ansari on Monday.

The world's largest democracy elects the most culture less asses 2 de Upper House.

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I thought I was one of the biggest megalomaniacs around

(All news gathered from The Hindu)

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Philip Kaun Hai (Who is Philip?)

“Philip, tell me the pediatric dose of Ampicillin”
“Philip, what is the Plan C management of Acute Diarrheal Disease”
“Philip, Philip, Philip”
I begin to yawn
“Philip, Philip, Philip”
Thank god, it’s a classroom, and it’s the final year. There is no reason to panic. Self Control is an automated adaptation for survival. The green eyed monster is having a hard time trying the strenuous act of concentrating. It’s tough when the tutor is a pleasing appeal to the senses. When the smile is charming, the voice is filled with mesmerizing notes, and all these graceful facets are superimposed on excellent teaching skills, the end product is a serious mess in the minds of the innocuous listener.
Let’s call her Hema Ma’am. The first few dialogues used to be repeated whenever she took classes for us. It’s not that “Nithin Jayan”, or “Nithin Humayoon” or “Pooja” never reverberated in the air, but “Philip” itched my nerves. The guy is gifted with real ‘looks’, stupid chicks think he smiles like Tom Cruise…then he’s also a genius who spares very few hours to score well!!! So that means bitterness is justified.
That was about the first pediatrics postings that occurred months back. Time crawled by. Months later we are back. Same department, same unit, same set of professors, nothing has changed except for the minuscule changes that sprouted up as tiny grey hairs in *her head. (*Hema ma’am who else?) Philip is high and mighty these days. He would knock every one down so as to be the first one to step into Hema Ma’am’s
I yawned again. None of us needed an introduction.
But twists do happen.
Pointing at Philip, Hema Ma’am asked, “And You ARE?”

Silence…eyeballs pop out…everyone’s stunned…
TADA…music plays…drums
Philip”, he replies.
I am surprised.
“So you are Philip?” Madam’s question should have drilled through his heart.
“But, hmmm, is there another Philip in your class?” Madam probed again.
“No ma’am he’s the only one”, my voice was filled with evil satisfaction and a pinch of salt.
“I thought there was another Philip”
That’s it, that’s it
Similar episodes recurred in the following days. Other tutors began to ask for “Philip”, but not our Philip.
Thus Mr. Tom Cruise is finally our new goal post.
“Malappuram Kathi, Nadan Bomb, avasanam Pavanayi shavamayi” the famous Malayalam ‘quote’ reverberate in the same air that once cradled “Philip, Philip, Philip”
Question still stays. Who’s this new Philip? Mystery continues

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Plaster saint

'Love yourself before all men, for everything in the world rests on self-interest'- Dostoevsky

There are few mantras that require to be chanted at least a trillion times so that they get registered by your brain and get chiseled on the pillars of long term memory. Practicing them require greater efforts for I believe humans are born naive instilled with an ever-ready- to- change mindset. We change fast but unlike the seasons which are predictable and pre-programmed, our transitions are often drastic. Some blame it on the genes, others demand incarceration of environment. Where is my time to search for a cause? The smartest ones survive the rat race.

22 years and I’m still running…at times Time moves slow, at other times He rushes denying me chance to gulp in a puff of air. The existence of asynchrony is the only limiting factor. At times I used to be blind and deaf, but that was out of sheer ignorance. I mistook the World to be far superior to Heaven. I was too artless to see the demons who were veiled in the mist. The great tutor called Time who sent his army of tides against me instilled smartness.

No more do I open my eyes or strain my ears without reason. I live in a world of sanctimonious bastards. I’ve seen him empathize, listened to him blather philosophy, and opened the doors whenever he ran off to serve the destitute. The dusk uncloaked all that he cared about…Himself. I wonder what he’s trying to prove. It’s kind of a poor joke. It’s fun watching people. Everyone errs, else why are we branded as Humans? Life is all about serving one’s conscience. Do no Harm as far as possible, spread smiles as long as they don’t give you a strain. Compassion in all its purity may be discovered someday. But who is going to waste time waiting for that day? I don’t have seconds to spare…it’s me and just me, at least I’m trying hard to pretend that it’s so.

Everybody has a story to tell, but I have too many…
Not sure if too long is the time that I have in hands,
But yeah there is a time for all, I’ll call it the Time of times.

Who knows, what you’ve read might be a prologue,
To the story of a hypocrite.

(ps. This ain't a I always say, Promises n kids are alike...easy 2 give but hard 2 deliver)