AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

...is basically how I have been feeling. Today, yesterday and the day before now. Why? Because the waters of inspiration runneth dry, and total sandblasted landscapes stareth back at me when ever I sit down to write. I've been running into tons of things that I wanted to dash off a paragraph or two about; but once I've popped up Ye Olde Trusty Laptop, all I see is blank white spaces and fingers that refuse to twiddle out the bittiest of bits. This is Writer's Block with a Capital W and Capital B.

So, taking a breather from screaming in panic, inside my own head (try that sometime, the acoustics are to die for!), am now trying to write about trying to write. And trying. And trying. And TRYING. :o( **imagine the tears dripping, down the cheek and off the chin, all on your ownsome - no dearth of waters there**

That's it. Am throwing in the towel. For now. Come back and see me once I've managed to rewire my brain. And pray that I don't fry it in the process.

Future Flash - "What Would You Like To See Today?"

I recently came across this video, whiles bumping my way around the good ole' WWW. Knowing full well that this was an 'artist's impression of Jupiter' sort of flick, I still found myself getting spooked at the prospect of a future with a 'Googlzon'.

Am all for the great technology drive and yelling 'onwards, onwards!', but the prospect of a tailor-made reality is a little too much for me. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer the truth being out there to the truth being way out there!!

Watch this and tell me you don't see it coming....*shudder*

CDN Lost

Another day passes, and another light is snuffed out. This time, the lost light is that of Professor C.D.Narasimhaiah - teacher, writer, literary giant, champion for the cause of literature and education, institution builder. This time, it hits so close to home that almost anyone who grew up, lived and studied, in Mysore feels the loss keenly.

The Professor was not the typical key figure on the literary and cultural scene, remote and detached from the common man. He was characterized by his 'right-here-right-now', grassroots approach to both Life and Literature. And showcased in his approach by his Dhvanyaloka - a haven for both the learned and the learning. With doors that opened to all, asking only that you have a thirst for knowledge, Dhvanyaloka nestles next to Mysore's Manasagangothri. And the force that drove people to come there, and to look and learn, was an elemental one, known fondly to one and all as just 'CDN'.

I, and innumerable other students, feel the loss of CDN much like one feels the loss of an anchor in a choppy sea. There have been many who professed, but few who taught, many who built institutes, but few who could build an institution. And few who made themselves dear to the community, more by the wealth of their minds. Dhvanyaloka stands today, deprived of the light that shone from its doors. We stand today deprived of a teacher and truly public citizen. Professor CDN, we mourne your loss.

StarofMysore Report

Ugadi

This last weekend was the New Year for some of us down South, so I went on home to spend some time with Mom and Dad and chill with Charlie. The day was marked with Bevu-bella, payasa, habbada oota at a family friend's, and tons of laying around at home enjoying the general ministrations reserved for errant children who only surface once a month or around the festivals.

I got to thinking how it was that there are some of us who actually get to celebrate the New Year 2 or 3 times a year...every year! We have ofcourse Good Old 1st of Jan, followed by Kannada Ugadi, and then Tamil New Year Day (one is Chandramaana Ugadi and the other is Souramaana Ugadi - darned if I remember
which is which). Loads of rituals, family-bonding, food and good cheer. (Which is how I would categorise just about any Indian festival, come to think of it!)

And then there are those of us who mark the passage of time, not in celebrations, but in hunger and penury, in homlessness, with tired eyes and fatigued hearts.

What difference does it make, whether the New year comes with the Solar or the Lunar calendar? What difference does it make to them that the New Year is a time for happiness and promise? While their lives have always held the bevu, with nary a taste of the bella, our Ugadis are markedly sweet.

Why does the New Year come only to some, and pass the others by? And more importantly, why do the rest of us let it be? While some of us greet the New Year with fervor and feasting, some of us remain in the shadows...forgotten.

Yuga-yugadi kaledaru, ugadi marali baruthide
hosa varushake hosa harushava, hosathu hosathu taruthide,
nammanashte marethide
(Sri.D R Bendre)

Families

(Originally written 9th February 2004)

Families can be funny things. Most of us grow up in one, are a part of one, and yet, none of us really have one. Why? Because, when the chips are down, the human race looks out for itself. Alone.

We drift through life, some of us perhaps with more energy than others; and always, always, we like to think we are a part of something, have a role to play somewhere. It could be in a family of friends, a family at work, a family at our favorite restaurant or bar, or even a family of like-minded people across borders. Fraternities. Sororities. Bonds of brotherhood or sisterhood or fellowship. An artificial sense of belonging that seeks to fill the void of any real association.

Shared celebrations and holidays are not all that being a family is about. Yet, that is all that we seek. The camaraderie, the warm glows, the hugs and kisses, the back-slapping and laughter. And what we firmly turn our gaze away from is the sleepless nights, the shared burdens, the fears and grief that leave a bitter taste in the mouth and a chill in the heart. The altercations, the jealousy, the meanness, the spite, the blood and the tears; these are what help us forget that we wanted this family. That we wanted the other side of this coin. That the summer and the winter always follow each other, relentlessly.

We are a selfish species, one that seeks the rainbow on the horizon, but is not willing to walk the back-breaking, foot-sore miles to reach it. We want families that we can laugh with, but refuse to cry with. We want to be families, yet know nothing of what a family is.

Families are funny things. So are we.