There's a funny thing we do over here,
not sure if you've seen it or know it clear ;
It's something that is our very own,
a special way in which our feelings are shown.
When we are happy, or sad, or mourning a loss
we mix in some anger and give it a good toss;
some stones, some fire, some shouting too;
we add these in to say "I cry for you".
You must not mistake it for something it's not,
this is how we mourn ; violence is all we've got.
So, you see while Death takes Dr.Raj away,
Bangalore burns to keep the tears at bay.
We lost a great man yesterday, and it is entirely shameful that a City that revered his Life is mourning his loss through so much senseless violence. How dare we put our impatience and intolerance first? How dare we think we, and our idea of how things should be done, are more important than paying our respects? How dare we dishonour his memory in such a manner? For Annavaru to rest, Bangalore must rest too.
(Crossposted on 'Everyman's City')
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Delirium
It's a race to see who gets me first. Rather, what gets me first.
Some days, it gets so bad, I dread the dark, the fall of night. I have to pull myself away from the familiar, comfortable environs of the office, or the shopping mall, and gird myself up to step out and face the unknown.
Only, not so unknown.
I know that feeling of the walls closing in, my breath burning in my lungs, the air wrapping itself moistly around my face, setting the blood thundering in my ears and making my vision blur.
I know the feel of the bloodsuckers. Them, I know so well.
I feel their vile sting even when they are not really there. They materialize from nowhere, as though a part of the night itself, to torment me and steal my peace.
Yes, it's a race to see which one of them get me first - the relentless onset of summer, or the manic mosquitoes.
Delirium, here I come...
Some days, it gets so bad, I dread the dark, the fall of night. I have to pull myself away from the familiar, comfortable environs of the office, or the shopping mall, and gird myself up to step out and face the unknown.
Only, not so unknown.
I know that feeling of the walls closing in, my breath burning in my lungs, the air wrapping itself moistly around my face, setting the blood thundering in my ears and making my vision blur.
I know the feel of the bloodsuckers. Them, I know so well.
I feel their vile sting even when they are not really there. They materialize from nowhere, as though a part of the night itself, to torment me and steal my peace.
Yes, it's a race to see which one of them get me first - the relentless onset of summer, or the manic mosquitoes.
Delirium, here I come...
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Cut the Crap, Seize the Day
Oh joy. Women all around smiling coyly, simpering, and thanking people for wishing them on the occasion of International Women's Day. Lots of bonhomie happening, and everyone taking care to highlight all they can about what Women Have Achieved. What a party! What crap.
Me, I refuse to join the 'celebrations'.
Why? Because I find having one day, out of 365, kept aside for 'dem wimmin' insulting and quite frankly grossly insufficient. Women are not the idiot cousin who just learnt the spoon goes in the mouth and not the ear. We do not need the perfunctory PR and 'Woo Hoo!'s. Save your bells and whistles, today, and instead keep handy your cooperation and common sense the rest of the year.
As far as I am concerned, every day is a woman's day. There is not much a woman cannot achieve, any time any day, if she makes up her mind. Moms, daughters, sisters, wives, girlfriends, collegues...step up and take ownership of everyday. For you choose how the day shall shape your Life.
Carpe Diem, for every today belongs to you.
Me, I refuse to join the 'celebrations'.
Why? Because I find having one day, out of 365, kept aside for 'dem wimmin' insulting and quite frankly grossly insufficient. Women are not the idiot cousin who just learnt the spoon goes in the mouth and not the ear. We do not need the perfunctory PR and 'Woo Hoo!'s. Save your bells and whistles, today, and instead keep handy your cooperation and common sense the rest of the year.
As far as I am concerned, every day is a woman's day. There is not much a woman cannot achieve, any time any day, if she makes up her mind. Moms, daughters, sisters, wives, girlfriends, collegues...step up and take ownership of everyday. For you choose how the day shall shape your Life.
Carpe Diem, for every today belongs to you.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Stranger to the Ground
I write this as I am headed back home after one more successfully executed event. The relief is immeasurable, and much thanks given that Murphy kept his laws firmly in his back pocket this time!
What with the increase in my traveling, over the past few months, I am learning more about myself, and perhaps a little about the people around me as well. Sitting in the airplane, looking at the clouds scudding by, squinting in the unadulterated sunlight, I am in a state of bliss.
It's official. I love flying. I love everything ABOUT flying. Not be mistaken for the common interpretation of flying, i.e., the act of boarding a commercial airliner for a dash across the country / globe at breakneck speed, being waited upon by a variety of stewards / stewardesses.
What I love is the sensation of leaving the ground and rising up in the air. There is a moment, during the ascent, when your heart seizes and releases with a pure burst of I-have-no-idea-what-but-will-call-it-happyhappyjoyjoy (My blog, my word!). I love happyhappyjoyjoy. I live for that moment, whenever I travel. And I am learning to live with the fact that this is irrevocably linked to sitting in a seat that is too uncomfortable for words, with armrests built for pygmies (and with my height, this is really saying something!), eating food that should be freeze-dried and launched into deep space, far away from the sphere of human activity.
Coming back to flying, or FLYING as my mind insists on the capitalization(!), I have learnt that the width of the grin, and ensuing happyhappyjoyjoy, is directly (if not exponentially!) proportional to the speed of the airplane as it hurtles down the runway, desperate to severe all ties with the ground.
I love peering down at the ground, watching the airport, the city, the people, the Earth grow smaller, and disappear like snow in summer, as we bank and head for the Sun. I also love watching them come closer and grow bigger, filling my sight, as the airplane comes in for a landing. Call me an idealist, but it actually makes me like people and places better. How can you not like anything that looks so good from way up in the sky?!
I have learnt that flying above the clouds is a discovery of a whole, new, world where anything ugly is incapable of existing. Looking past the tip of the wing, to where the white of the clouds contrasts sharply with the clean, bright, blue of the sky, with the Sun burning a spot on the whole canvas.
I have learnt that my latest burning ambition in Life is to fly one of these babies. Or if I can't have that, then to atleast be a part of the busy anthill of activity on the tarmac, as ground crew, involved in getting an airplane set for takeoff. That way, I am a PART of the grand thing that is FLIGHT.
I realise that the whole time I have been devouring Biggles & Richard Bach (yes, I am one of those who actually went way past Jonathan Livingstone Seagull and Illusions), I have been living vicariously...getting off on someone else's pleasure. And now, I want more.
To be a stranger to the ground.
**sigh**
What with the increase in my traveling, over the past few months, I am learning more about myself, and perhaps a little about the people around me as well. Sitting in the airplane, looking at the clouds scudding by, squinting in the unadulterated sunlight, I am in a state of bliss.
It's official. I love flying. I love everything ABOUT flying. Not be mistaken for the common interpretation of flying, i.e., the act of boarding a commercial airliner for a dash across the country / globe at breakneck speed, being waited upon by a variety of stewards / stewardesses.
What I love is the sensation of leaving the ground and rising up in the air. There is a moment, during the ascent, when your heart seizes and releases with a pure burst of I-have-no-idea-what-but-will-call-it-happyhappyjoyjoy (My blog, my word!). I love happyhappyjoyjoy. I live for that moment, whenever I travel. And I am learning to live with the fact that this is irrevocably linked to sitting in a seat that is too uncomfortable for words, with armrests built for pygmies (and with my height, this is really saying something!), eating food that should be freeze-dried and launched into deep space, far away from the sphere of human activity.
Coming back to flying, or FLYING as my mind insists on the capitalization(!), I have learnt that the width of the grin, and ensuing happyhappyjoyjoy, is directly (if not exponentially!) proportional to the speed of the airplane as it hurtles down the runway, desperate to severe all ties with the ground.
I love peering down at the ground, watching the airport, the city, the people, the Earth grow smaller, and disappear like snow in summer, as we bank and head for the Sun. I also love watching them come closer and grow bigger, filling my sight, as the airplane comes in for a landing. Call me an idealist, but it actually makes me like people and places better. How can you not like anything that looks so good from way up in the sky?!
I have learnt that flying above the clouds is a discovery of a whole, new, world where anything ugly is incapable of existing. Looking past the tip of the wing, to where the white of the clouds contrasts sharply with the clean, bright, blue of the sky, with the Sun burning a spot on the whole canvas.
I have learnt that my latest burning ambition in Life is to fly one of these babies. Or if I can't have that, then to atleast be a part of the busy anthill of activity on the tarmac, as ground crew, involved in getting an airplane set for takeoff. That way, I am a PART of the grand thing that is FLIGHT.
I realise that the whole time I have been devouring Biggles & Richard Bach (yes, I am one of those who actually went way past Jonathan Livingstone Seagull and Illusions), I have been living vicariously...getting off on someone else's pleasure. And now, I want more.
To be a stranger to the ground.
**sigh**
The Georges from Jeddah
Well, technically it's the George Matthews from Jeddah, but that just ain't as musical :oD
Yenivays, point being that Renz has started up his own blog, out of Jeddah. Funny story that...Renz is not someone I had pegged as blog-inclined. And right I was! This is all thanks to MSN (and most other such community sites) being blocked in the KSA, where photographs are concerned.
So this is Renz's way of getting pics of him and his family and, while he is at it, some thoughts as well, out to his friends. Write on!
Yenivays, point being that Renz has started up his own blog, out of Jeddah. Funny story that...Renz is not someone I had pegged as blog-inclined. And right I was! This is all thanks to MSN (and most other such community sites) being blocked in the KSA, where photographs are concerned.
So this is Renz's way of getting pics of him and his family and, while he is at it, some thoughts as well, out to his friends. Write on!
Friday, February 17, 2006
You know what I hate?...
...the term 'just a gentle reminder'. Hate it, hate it, HATE IT! There is no such thing as a gentle reminder...you either remind, or you don't, gentleness has nothing to do with it.
And DO NOT remind me, before whatever deadline you are looking at hits, assuming that I have forgotten. Remind me IF I forget. Until then, just shoo...
GRRR!
And DO NOT remind me, before whatever deadline you are looking at hits, assuming that I have forgotten. Remind me IF I forget. Until then, just shoo...
GRRR!
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
..and the Keyboard ran away with My Brain...
Well, maybe not exactly back in the well, but definitely getting there. I am only left with a nagging cough that, when at it's performing best, convinces most people I am on the last legs of Life as we know it **exasperated sigh**!
Am right now at the airport, waiting for a flight that I never thought would come. Oh no, not delayed, it isn't. Just the result of 'a series of unfortunate events'...starting with a 40 min traffic hold-up, going on to missing my flight by about 2 minutes, turning left at the Wait-list desk and missing the next flight as well, accelerating past a multitude of other airlines as they turn down my requests for a ticket with a "Sorry but the next flight(s) is/are already going full, ma'am", hanging a breakneck U-turn at the "Simpli-fly" desk, who could not help me simply fly as their Credit-Card-swipy-thingy machine (yes, YES, I know it's called a POS terminal!) had simply died and they could only accept cash, and then, FINALLY, braking to a hard stop in front of the Kings of Good Times as they finally manage to make room for me. If all goes well, I will board in the next fifteen mins. If not, I shall probably walk to my destination. **More exasperated sighing**
Yesterday, between juggling prep for the event that triggered off today's Scenes from the Airport and trying not to die from the skull-cracker of a headache my sinuses were tangoing with, I was also out shopping for Maamu's baby's birthday. Hmmm...I liked the sound of that sentence...almost an alliteration! Hey, and that one too! Yenivays, I sleep-walk....coming back to the shopping...I realised that it is no mean task to buy clothes for a kid.
Do I buy something marked for a 2-year old? What if this kid is growing faster than the 'average' 2-year old? Should I then buy something for a 3-year old? Hang-on...that category don't exist!! Right after "2 YRS" come the "3-4 YRS". Errr...isn't there something missing here? These clothes look way too big. But then, I don't want to gift her coochie-coochie toys...and she is a tad too small for me to be buying books...I think. Maybe that is the problem...I should just stop thinking and buy something! URK! Whoever said it is easy to shop for a woman, should be shot! Forget shopping for a grown woman, I can't even shop peacefully for a pint-sized woman....and I AM a woman! BAH! (Vee, do you go through this for Aditi??)
Speaking of Vee, she and the Bioswami and the Baby left town last night, headed back to Singy. I was supposed to go see them off, (read that as MEET THEM for the first time this trip). Needless to say, that did not happen. Why? Because I think I managed die sometime around then, and barely dragged my headache and fever home (No, not body...by that time, the headache had taken over till that is all that existed). Mebbe we shall actually manage to meet before Aditi starts a blog of her own :o(
I remember thinking I must be delirious, on the ride home yesterday. Two things prompted this...one, my Honda, and two, the Moon.
For starters, my Honda. Yes, I insist on calling this the HONDA, and not the Activa as everyone else in this country call it. Why? Because I am still in denial over the fact that the only HONDA I own is NOT a mean, low-slung, street-hugging, high-speed monster. The only thing it is is, is BLACK (hmmm...too many is's there?). Yenivays, I keep riding the rogue roads a la Rose...lost in the dream that I am actually gunning one of these:
Coming back to my delirium and the Moon. 'Twas a huge, yellow, moon...lying low across the horizon, silently tracking my every move. The kind of moon I am dead certain stories are written about, but which I cannot recollect at this time, for the life of me! It just hung there like a fat, yellow, stage prop, silently lighting up the sky around it. For some odd reason it had me thinking Unseen University, Saidin and Subtractive Magic. **shudder**
And speaking of Saidin, am re-reading Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time...currently in the first few chapters of Book One. I remember picking this very book up at a second-hand bookseller, off of a footpath bang opposite Mom's clinic some years ago. At the time I had no idea I was letting myself in for a a few years of concentrated reading and chasing of Rand al Thor across the an entire landscape, harried by a few million, constantly changing, characters and plot twists. I initiated Hem into the WoT world sometime back then, when he was just entering college, and he has kept pace with every volume of this story along with me. In fact, better than me! Me, I barely make it from one book to the next, remember who and when and where and why! Too much of a time gap between the books being published (GRR!), atleast later in the series.
I envy those who can go through a 10 volume series, over as many years and more, and NOT have to re-read and backrack to check their facts. I discount looking up the details on the Web...that is just plain laziness and smacks of cheating. What kind of a reader needs the blooming Internet to follow the story (not my kind, atleast, as has is proven by this entire point)! So, its back to square one and then forward again...
If I stopped making sense a couple paragraphs ago, the title of this post DOES warn you....and as the sign post at the 26th hair-pin bend up the hill to Ooty proclaims,"You have been sufficiently warned". Plus it's past midnight, and I started writing this post a couple hours ago, and have been adding as I go. So I shall now cease to wax and shall instead wane...g'nite
Am right now at the airport, waiting for a flight that I never thought would come. Oh no, not delayed, it isn't. Just the result of 'a series of unfortunate events'...starting with a 40 min traffic hold-up, going on to missing my flight by about 2 minutes, turning left at the Wait-list desk and missing the next flight as well, accelerating past a multitude of other airlines as they turn down my requests for a ticket with a "Sorry but the next flight(s) is/are already going full, ma'am", hanging a breakneck U-turn at the "Simpli-fly" desk, who could not help me simply fly as their Credit-Card-swipy-thingy machine (yes, YES, I know it's called a POS terminal!) had simply died and they could only accept cash, and then, FINALLY, braking to a hard stop in front of the Kings of Good Times as they finally manage to make room for me. If all goes well, I will board in the next fifteen mins. If not, I shall probably walk to my destination. **More exasperated sighing**
Yesterday, between juggling prep for the event that triggered off today's Scenes from the Airport and trying not to die from the skull-cracker of a headache my sinuses were tangoing with, I was also out shopping for Maamu's baby's birthday. Hmmm...I liked the sound of that sentence...almost an alliteration! Hey, and that one too! Yenivays, I sleep-walk....coming back to the shopping...I realised that it is no mean task to buy clothes for a kid.
Do I buy something marked for a 2-year old? What if this kid is growing faster than the 'average' 2-year old? Should I then buy something for a 3-year old? Hang-on...that category don't exist!! Right after "2 YRS" come the "3-4 YRS". Errr...isn't there something missing here? These clothes look way too big. But then, I don't want to gift her coochie-coochie toys...and she is a tad too small for me to be buying books...I think. Maybe that is the problem...I should just stop thinking and buy something! URK! Whoever said it is easy to shop for a woman, should be shot! Forget shopping for a grown woman, I can't even shop peacefully for a pint-sized woman....and I AM a woman! BAH! (Vee, do you go through this for Aditi??)
Speaking of Vee, she and the Bioswami and the Baby left town last night, headed back to Singy. I was supposed to go see them off, (read that as MEET THEM for the first time this trip). Needless to say, that did not happen. Why? Because I think I managed die sometime around then, and barely dragged my headache and fever home (No, not body...by that time, the headache had taken over till that is all that existed). Mebbe we shall actually manage to meet before Aditi starts a blog of her own :o(
I remember thinking I must be delirious, on the ride home yesterday. Two things prompted this...one, my Honda, and two, the Moon.
For starters, my Honda. Yes, I insist on calling this the HONDA, and not the Activa as everyone else in this country call it. Why? Because I am still in denial over the fact that the only HONDA I own is NOT a mean, low-slung, street-hugging, high-speed monster. The only thing it is is, is BLACK (hmmm...too many is's there?). Yenivays, I keep riding the rogue roads a la Rose...lost in the dream that I am actually gunning one of these:
Coming back to my delirium and the Moon. 'Twas a huge, yellow, moon...lying low across the horizon, silently tracking my every move. The kind of moon I am dead certain stories are written about, but which I cannot recollect at this time, for the life of me! It just hung there like a fat, yellow, stage prop, silently lighting up the sky around it. For some odd reason it had me thinking Unseen University, Saidin and Subtractive Magic. **shudder**
And speaking of Saidin, am re-reading Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time...currently in the first few chapters of Book One. I remember picking this very book up at a second-hand bookseller, off of a footpath bang opposite Mom's clinic some years ago. At the time I had no idea I was letting myself in for a a few years of concentrated reading and chasing of Rand al Thor across the an entire landscape, harried by a few million, constantly changing, characters and plot twists. I initiated Hem into the WoT world sometime back then, when he was just entering college, and he has kept pace with every volume of this story along with me. In fact, better than me! Me, I barely make it from one book to the next, remember who and when and where and why! Too much of a time gap between the books being published (GRR!), atleast later in the series.
I envy those who can go through a 10 volume series, over as many years and more, and NOT have to re-read and backrack to check their facts. I discount looking up the details on the Web...that is just plain laziness and smacks of cheating. What kind of a reader needs the blooming Internet to follow the story (not my kind, atleast, as has is proven by this entire point)! So, its back to square one and then forward again...
If I stopped making sense a couple paragraphs ago, the title of this post DOES warn you....and as the sign post at the 26th hair-pin bend up the hill to Ooty proclaims,"You have been sufficiently warned". Plus it's past midnight, and I started writing this post a couple hours ago, and have been adding as I go. So I shall now cease to wax and shall instead wane...g'nite
Thursday, January 12, 2006
The spirit is willing...
...but the flesh is on antibiotics :o(
There's tons to be told...my cruise experiences (so who cares that it only lasted about 2 days!), more observations from my seemingly incessant traveling, .... and more stuff that my brain tagged as blog-worthy, but which now seem to have spiralled away.
So, in the immortal words of the Terminator, I'll be back! (must imagine this being said in Arnie-like voice)
UPDATE: Not exactly back, but getting there. I can actually hear, discern scents and speak, without being mistaken for a broken foghorn, again! The magic factor seems to have been the dhumbi-rasa dad plyed me with...naturopathy nosedrops, if you will!...burns from here to Hell and back again...AARGH.
There's tons to be told...my cruise experiences (so who cares that it only lasted about 2 days!), more observations from my seemingly incessant traveling, .... and more stuff that my brain tagged as blog-worthy, but which now seem to have spiralled away.
So, in the immortal words of the Terminator, I'll be back! (must imagine this being said in Arnie-like voice)
UPDATE: Not exactly back, but getting there. I can actually hear, discern scents and speak, without being mistaken for a broken foghorn, again! The magic factor seems to have been the dhumbi-rasa dad plyed me with...naturopathy nosedrops, if you will!...burns from here to Hell and back again...AARGH.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
What's in a name?
By what name do you know this City? Bangalore? Bengaluru? Bean Town?
Does it really make a difference, to you, what it is 'officially' called? Not so much, I would guess.
For those who only know Bangalore as India's Silicon Valley and current IT hub, I doubt the 'brand' will lose much for the change in name. And for us Bangaloreans (or Bengalurians? Or are we all just Beans now?), there has always been both a 'Bangalore' and 'Bengaluru' aspect to the City we know. Both the Western and the traditional Kannadiga aspects of our world. No matter what the 'official' name, I know I shall always think of it as 'Bangalore' when thinking in English, and 'Bengaluru' when thinking in Kannada.
At least in our case, the shift in the name is not as drastic as has been for Mumbai and Chennai. Heck, these cities still get called Bombay and Madras...what horror, I say.
Sure, there is nice feeling involved in knowing that, from now on, the rest of the world will be calling namma Bengaluru by its original name as against the anglasized version.However, when I hear some of the contorsions the Kannada name undergoes (**cringe, cringe**), when someone unfamiliar with the language tries to pronounce it, I wonder if it is really worth the effort!
Does it really make a difference, to you, what it is 'officially' called? Not so much, I would guess.
For those who only know Bangalore as India's Silicon Valley and current IT hub, I doubt the 'brand' will lose much for the change in name. And for us Bangaloreans (or Bengalurians? Or are we all just Beans now?), there has always been both a 'Bangalore' and 'Bengaluru' aspect to the City we know. Both the Western and the traditional Kannadiga aspects of our world. No matter what the 'official' name, I know I shall always think of it as 'Bangalore' when thinking in English, and 'Bengaluru' when thinking in Kannada.
At least in our case, the shift in the name is not as drastic as has been for Mumbai and Chennai. Heck, these cities still get called Bombay and Madras...what horror, I say.
Sure, there is nice feeling involved in knowing that, from now on, the rest of the world will be calling namma Bengaluru by its original name as against the anglasized version.However, when I hear some of the contorsions the Kannada name undergoes (**cringe, cringe**), when someone unfamiliar with the language tries to pronounce it, I wonder if it is really worth the effort!
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Huh?...What?!...NOOOOOO!!!!
Varun and Rajeshwari Vadola. Crashed. Out. Of. Nach Baliye. Just Now.
And NOT because they weren't good enuf. Heck, they were the BEST!
But because something went wrong mid-performance during the semi-final eliminations.
Pardon me while I go weep in the dark.
And NOT because they weren't good enuf. Heck, they were the BEST!
But because something went wrong mid-performance during the semi-final eliminations.
Pardon me while I go weep in the dark.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
"Raindrops keep falling on my bed..."
Water woes have been traditional to my tellings of Basecamp Rooftop, and this tale can be no different. Our plight is much like the water-logged streets of Tamil Nadu; except that the logging is not so much underfoot as overhead.
The oft-changing geography, of our rooms, reflects the waxing and waning of the rains. "October Showers" be dam*ed, these skies have burst a seam somewhere! And so, apparently, has our ceiling. And hence the steady attendance of drips, plops and drops, on a variety of surfaces, like a percussion band in a constant state of tune-up.
My carpets are rolled up, and propped against the wall, their place taken by buckets, pails and papers. Sodden papers, that is. Our beds are constantly diapered in plastic sheets, like an incontinent baby in reverse. And our electricals are shorting, leaving us lit by candles and washing in freezing cold water (there's the darn water, again!).
Nothing like the rains to toss a perfectly good house into complete disarray!
Which same is an utter and complete understatement.
The oft-changing geography, of our rooms, reflects the waxing and waning of the rains. "October Showers" be dam*ed, these skies have burst a seam somewhere! And so, apparently, has our ceiling. And hence the steady attendance of drips, plops and drops, on a variety of surfaces, like a percussion band in a constant state of tune-up.
My carpets are rolled up, and propped against the wall, their place taken by buckets, pails and papers. Sodden papers, that is. Our beds are constantly diapered in plastic sheets, like an incontinent baby in reverse. And our electricals are shorting, leaving us lit by candles and washing in freezing cold water (there's the darn water, again!).
Nothing like the rains to toss a perfectly good house into complete disarray!
Which same is an utter and complete understatement.
2 Days to Go
1st December 2005. World AIDS Day - the international day of action on HIV and AIDS.
The first World AIDS Day came in the wake of the World Summit of Ministers of Health on Programmes for AIDS Prevention in London, England, 1988. Delegates from 148 countries including Canada attended. They emphasized the need for worldwide AIDS education, the free exchange of information, and the protection of human rights and dignity. The World Health Organization recognized the event by declaring December 1 World AIDS Day. This day was picked because the first case of AIDS was diagnosed on this day
In 1991 the red ribbon became the international symbol of HIV and AIDS awareness. It was created by the Visual AIDS Caucus in New York. It made its public debut at the 1991 Tony Awards on the lapel of host Jeremy Irons.
Go here to know more about:
The first World AIDS Day came in the wake of the World Summit of Ministers of Health on Programmes for AIDS Prevention in London, England, 1988. Delegates from 148 countries including Canada attended. They emphasized the need for worldwide AIDS education, the free exchange of information, and the protection of human rights and dignity. The World Health Organization recognized the event by declaring December 1 World AIDS Day. This day was picked because the first case of AIDS was diagnosed on this day
In 1991 the red ribbon became the international symbol of HIV and AIDS awareness. It was created by the Visual AIDS Caucus in New York. It made its public debut at the 1991 Tony Awards on the lapel of host Jeremy Irons.
Go here to know more about:
Monday, November 28, 2005
Bangalore : From City to Cant.!
On one of my recent trips, whiles browsing through the Airport bookstore (this is RELIGION! :o) ), a book titled 'Peter Colaco's Bangalore' caught my eye.
Now, I am not one usually given to reading Travelogues / Guides for Tourists / Factsy-Figuresy City Guides, unless I am actually going someplace new, but something about this looked different. And how!
Peter Colaco is an old Bangalore man, born here in 1945, and, among other things, a writer, columnist, visiting prof at IIM(B) and ex-head of an advertising agency. 'Peter Colaco's Bangalore' is just that...Peter Colaco's Bangalore ; the Bangalore he knew growing up, and the Bangalore he learnt about from his grandparents and from his research, and the Bangalore a lot of us know only in urban legend!
Whether you are new to Bangalore, or have been a part of the landscape for ages, pick up this book, retire to a quiet corner in the garden, and start a heart-warming journey into a Bangalore that used to be, not too long ago.
Now, I am not one usually given to reading Travelogues / Guides for Tourists / Factsy-Figuresy City Guides, unless I am actually going someplace new, but something about this looked different. And how!
Peter Colaco is an old Bangalore man, born here in 1945, and, among other things, a writer, columnist, visiting prof at IIM(B) and ex-head of an advertising agency. 'Peter Colaco's Bangalore' is just that...Peter Colaco's Bangalore ; the Bangalore he knew growing up, and the Bangalore he learnt about from his grandparents and from his research, and the Bangalore a lot of us know only in urban legend!
Whether you are new to Bangalore, or have been a part of the landscape for ages, pick up this book, retire to a quiet corner in the garden, and start a heart-warming journey into a Bangalore that used to be, not too long ago.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Observations...
If we had six lane highways, instead of two lane ones, travel would still take just as long. The first lanes on either side would be used by pedestrians and hawkers ; the second lanes on either side as parking, especially for heavy transport vehicles that are prohibited from plying during the day, leaving the third lanes for moving vehicles. Presto, we are back to square one….sorry, Lane One!
The hungrier you are the more unfathomable and inadequate the meal served on board a ‘plane. The more tired you are the longer the flight. The more your tail hurts, from all the sitting, the more turbulence you hit. And the more severe the headache the more adventurous the pilot.
People who contract illnesses such as cancer or aids or TB, or have tumors , tend to get a lot of care, sympathy, understanding and assistance. Often, after a short, but heated battle, they leave their illness behind for ever. If they are lucky, they gain wellness. However, people who have bad backs, or chronic migraines, or painful joints have to live not only with the pain, for forty or fifty years, but also with the fact that a pain in the back / neck / head / knee is not going to get them any respite from work or life. They just live in pain.
The hungrier you are the more unfathomable and inadequate the meal served on board a ‘plane. The more tired you are the longer the flight. The more your tail hurts, from all the sitting, the more turbulence you hit. And the more severe the headache the more adventurous the pilot.
People who contract illnesses such as cancer or aids or TB, or have tumors , tend to get a lot of care, sympathy, understanding and assistance. Often, after a short, but heated battle, they leave their illness behind for ever. If they are lucky, they gain wellness. However, people who have bad backs, or chronic migraines, or painful joints have to live not only with the pain, for forty or fifty years, but also with the fact that a pain in the back / neck / head / knee is not going to get them any respite from work or life. They just live in pain.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Caught between Characters
Taking forward Varun's and Denty's streak of middle-of-the-week-silliness, I too took the "Which Fantasy/SciFi Character Are You" test...
...and am now caught between being one of two characters. Whiles I am basically Aragorn (nice, nice!), apparently, am equally likely to be Luke Skywalker ... talk about fictional schizophrenia!
...and am now caught between being one of two characters. Whiles I am basically Aragorn (nice, nice!), apparently, am equally likely to be Luke Skywalker ... talk about fictional schizophrenia!
I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars I am least likely to be Watto!
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Abortive Scary Story...
I started this scary story with the severely misguided belief that I would have what it takes to finish it. But, nu-uh! Had I tried any more to finish it, I would probably be a dithering idiot by now (laugh if you will...I spook easily ; VERY easily!).
So I throw this open to you to try and finish, for me. Go ahead...scare me...I dare you (errrm...no need to take me too seriously here, my bark has more spine than my bite! heh heh heh).
"It was just imagination. It had to be just her imagination. There was no one there, it was after regular hours; that wing of the hospital was empty, and the rest of the staff would have all left hours ago.
Yet, she couldn't shake that eerie feeling as she strode through the long, empty hallway, dimly lit by spluttering, badly-spaced lights.
As the dark maw of a stairwell loomed ahead of her, her strides faltered, the skin on the back of her neck prickling. There was nothing to fear, she knew the halls and every nook and cranny.
Yet, her heart thumped, sounding loud and insistent inside her head.
The stairs led up to offices that were locked for the day, for the weekend. she had no cause to go up there, there were no wards that way.
Yet, a sense of dread urged her forward, step by halting step. The darkness enveloped her, closing in on all sides, crawling up onto her. She felt cold, icy cold, hair standing on end."
And that's about as far as I got...I dared go no farther! Over to you...
So I throw this open to you to try and finish, for me. Go ahead...scare me...I dare you (errrm...no need to take me too seriously here, my bark has more spine than my bite! heh heh heh).
"It was just imagination. It had to be just her imagination. There was no one there, it was after regular hours; that wing of the hospital was empty, and the rest of the staff would have all left hours ago.
Yet, she couldn't shake that eerie feeling as she strode through the long, empty hallway, dimly lit by spluttering, badly-spaced lights.
As the dark maw of a stairwell loomed ahead of her, her strides faltered, the skin on the back of her neck prickling. There was nothing to fear, she knew the halls and every nook and cranny.
Yet, her heart thumped, sounding loud and insistent inside her head.
The stairs led up to offices that were locked for the day, for the weekend. she had no cause to go up there, there were no wards that way.
Yet, a sense of dread urged her forward, step by halting step. The darkness enveloped her, closing in on all sides, crawling up onto her. She felt cold, icy cold, hair standing on end."
And that's about as far as I got...I dared go no farther! Over to you...
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Blog Quake Day - October 26th
Whiles bloggers have been battling with issues concerning their freedom of speech, freedom to opine, people elsewhere have been battling for their lives. The 8th October earthquake has brought devastation to the people of both India and Pakistan ; neighbours, political foes, religious opposites...no matter how you look at it, politics be damned, people are dying.The Indian "Blogosphere" has shown how it can come together, for a cause, to support other bloggers. It's now time to go beyond just the bloggers....it's high time we came together help these people in need. Every little bit that we contribute can only add up to make a difference...so please give what you can, as soon as you can.
Whiles there is a directory of organizations helping with the Earthquake Relief effort, here are some sites you can use for online donation:
And even if you are not in a position to provide monetary or material aid, please spread this call for help - the more people we reach, the more we can give.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Support Petition
The Bangalore Bloggers have raised an online petition in support of the Bansal-Sabnis issue in specific, and freedom of bloggers in general. Read on...
The members of the "Bloggers of Bangalore" community would like to bring to the attention of the media and society at large, certain unfair and intimidatory actions undertaken by the Indian Institute of Planning and Management (IIPM) against members of the Indian blogging community.
In June 2005, JAM, a popular youth magazine published out of Mumbai, ran a story on IIPM titled 'The Truth about IIPM's Tall Claims' pointing out blatant exaggerations in the institute's claims about infrastructure, courses, affiliations and placements. For instance, the magazine article pointed out how IIPM continues to use certain rankings conferred upon it AFTER those rankings have been withdrawn by the bodies conferring them.
The magazine ran an ethically researched investigative story on IIPM, revealing what was a marketing fraud by the college.
Alongside, the editor of JAM magazine and a former student of Indian Institute of Management (IIM) Ahmedabad, who is also a blogger, published the same on her personal blog. In August 2005, blogger Gaurav Sabnis, another Mumbai-based blogger, posted about this on his own blog, linking to JAM's original story. Soon after this, he received an e-mail from the IIPM legal department threatening to sue him for a huge sum of money unless he withdrew his comments. Simultaneously, he was also pressurised by IIPM through his employers, a global hardware manufacturer. Rather than put his employers in a tight spot, Sabnis decided to quit his job.
The mainstream media has picked up on this issue and the stories are available at the links provided below:
and the Mumbai rains at Mumbai Help
and Cloudburst Mumbai.
For detailed information on the bloggers vs IIPM issue, please visit Desipundit for chronological updates on the controversy.
The purpose of this petition is to express solidarity with the bloggers who have suffered threats and abuse at the hands of IIPM and also to draw attention to the original issues at the heart of the JAM story on IIPM.
If you believe that journalists and the media should be free to inform the public of false advertisement which directly or indirectly affects their lives,
If you believe education should not be reduced to a marketable commodity,
If you believe that blogging is a powerful supplement to traditional media,
If you believe that bloggers should be entitled to individual opinions as also their own online space for airing and discussing these opinions,
If you believe in standing up for your rights, as an active member of society, as a blogger, as a citizen with the right to know
Please show your support to this cause.
Sincerely,
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Freedom Curbed, Freedom Challenged
The past few days have seen a storm of proportions fit to anger and agitate any blogger. Over the past few days Gaurav Sabnis has been the target for legal as well as antisocial, un-constitutional action by the IIPM. Why? For writing a post on his personal blog, linking to a published article that openly questioned the veracity of the IIPM's claims in their ads. And for adding his own queries to those already raised. Was he wrong to doubt the IIPM and to question their version of the truth? Perhaps, from where the IIPM are looking at the issue. But since when did this give the IIPM the right to not only issue a notarized legal notice via email, threatening arrest, damage claim et al for Gaurav's "deliberate and fraudulent intentions", but to also harass both Gaurav and his employer, IBM, by threatening to burn the IBM H/W the IIPM had purchased?
Guarav has every right to ask what questions he may, right or wrong. We do NOT live in a police state, our thoughts and opinions regulated and dictated by the Powers that Be. We are Indians, born with the freedom to think, to choose and to speak. And to stand firm by our rights. Gaurav Sabnis has stood by his rights and refused to either delete his 'offending' post or to issue a retraction of his opinions. And he has voluntarily resigned from IBM, in protest against the pressure from IIPM, firm in his belief and with trust in his merits. More power to him.
I, however, see it as the duty of IBM to have stood by Gaurav, and not allowed him to resign just to save potential embarrassment and loss of H/W revenue. What is the worst that would have happened? The IIPM would have burned many lakhs of rupees worth of laptops. And would have cut their own nose off to spite their face. Would this have in any way lowered the intrinsic value of the IBM laptop and their technology? No. Would this have given other IBM customers pause before a buying decision? I don't think so. As I see it, whatever negative press there may be, around the burning of the laptops, would be more than offset by seeing IBM exercise social responsibility, and extending support to an employee whose basic constitutional and human rights are being challenged. All the more so when he has explicitly stated that his personal views are no means those of his employer.
It would be a sad, shameful thing if, today, Gaurav is denied employment on account of this issue. Especially when the IIPM should be taking the original authors of the article to task, if at all they have published wrong information. Nor is he the only one to be asking these questions. It is not a matter of whether the questions raised against the IIPM are right or wrong. It is not a question of whether the IIPM's ads are making true claims or false. That's not it at all.
It's a question of Freedom. The freedom of the average person to have doubts. Freedom to question and the freedom to share opinions. It is a question of Gaurav Sabnis's, and in fact anyone's, freedom of speech.
Today, the IIPM has moved to silence one individual who has, in an open forum, raised his voice against them. They, and others like them, must never again be allowed to make such a move against anyone, blogger or no.
Guarav has every right to ask what questions he may, right or wrong. We do NOT live in a police state, our thoughts and opinions regulated and dictated by the Powers that Be. We are Indians, born with the freedom to think, to choose and to speak. And to stand firm by our rights. Gaurav Sabnis has stood by his rights and refused to either delete his 'offending' post or to issue a retraction of his opinions. And he has voluntarily resigned from IBM, in protest against the pressure from IIPM, firm in his belief and with trust in his merits. More power to him.
I, however, see it as the duty of IBM to have stood by Gaurav, and not allowed him to resign just to save potential embarrassment and loss of H/W revenue. What is the worst that would have happened? The IIPM would have burned many lakhs of rupees worth of laptops. And would have cut their own nose off to spite their face. Would this have in any way lowered the intrinsic value of the IBM laptop and their technology? No. Would this have given other IBM customers pause before a buying decision? I don't think so. As I see it, whatever negative press there may be, around the burning of the laptops, would be more than offset by seeing IBM exercise social responsibility, and extending support to an employee whose basic constitutional and human rights are being challenged. All the more so when he has explicitly stated that his personal views are no means those of his employer.
It would be a sad, shameful thing if, today, Gaurav is denied employment on account of this issue. Especially when the IIPM should be taking the original authors of the article to task, if at all they have published wrong information. Nor is he the only one to be asking these questions. It is not a matter of whether the questions raised against the IIPM are right or wrong. It is not a question of whether the IIPM's ads are making true claims or false. That's not it at all.
It's a question of Freedom. The freedom of the average person to have doubts. Freedom to question and the freedom to share opinions. It is a question of Gaurav Sabnis's, and in fact anyone's, freedom of speech.
Today, the IIPM has moved to silence one individual who has, in an open forum, raised his voice against them. They, and others like them, must never again be allowed to make such a move against anyone, blogger or no.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
