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Showing posts from February, 2010

What I Missed While Walking Past the Kanchi Mutt

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A place I passed every day without really understanding it. As a kid growing up in Malleswaram, devotion wasn’t something we discussed — it was just in the air. The smell of agarbathi in the evenings. The noise of vendors lining up on 8th cross before a festival. The quiet expectation that you showed up, bowed your head, and moved on. Ganesh Chaturthi. Varalakshmi Vratam. Deepavali. Janmashtami. Ugadi. The calendar moved, but the pattern stayed. The Kanchi Kamakoti Peetham in Malleswaram was part of my daily route to school. Not something I questioned. Not something I deeply understood. Just… there. Every morning, on my way to school, I would slow down for a second in front of the Mutt. Just enough to bow my head toward Kanchi Kamakshi from outside the gate — and then hurry along before the school bell. It was a ritual for as long as I can remember. I don’t know if it came from devotion. I did it because my parents did it. The street...
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The hurt walker

What a lucky guy? I thought to myself as I saw him walk past me.  An expression that would be reserved for a fellow guy not if he was an intellectual genius or Albert Einstein's alter ego, but if he was walking with an absolute beauty of a babe or obviously, if I had other intentions.  The most incredible aspect of the male pheromone is obviously the ability to influence every member of the same species with a common trait that virtually nullifies the uniqueness of the individual.  In short, perception of unique thought is nothing but absolutely universal.  Well, I digress, but that's what I was doing literally.  I was launching a scalene triangle to cover half a pace.  You can imagine the frontal movement of my legs.  It was as though I was transformed into a dog when I tried to move forward.  Herculean, monumental, outstanding and sensational were words reduced to grave insignificance compared to the amount of happiness I secured when I moved fo...
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Just another day

Why don't you help me in the kitchen? I have so many things to do. I could just hear the usual faint cry from the kitchen.  After so many years of marriage, I was getting used to these little things. Father, why don't you budge from that freakin' newspaper? The second source of disturbance was from none other than my ever social Sahana .  She was busy too.  At least, it made me feel better that she was calling me as father, instead of various condensed versions of abominate equivalents.  They were fancy killers, really! I mean who would want to be called as papa or puppy (disgusting, who wants to be called like that!) or whatever .  By the way, getting back to the real reason of she being busy. Sahana , don't shout at me like that.  I have a hundred reasons to be unhappy with you.  What are you doing in front of the laptop? Is this the reason you asked me to get you a Mac? Why can't you just communicate with your friends over phone? Or still b...
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