And it rained that day

It rained that day, out of nowhere it rained that day, monsoon was long gone, and it rained that day.

So hard because the almighty got irate, so hard that he didn’t care if the clouds fell down; he had poured on with full throttle. As if he was angry on the little boy losing his bond with him, carrying a gun and killing the once which are still close to him; the little once who has just started recognizing the face of her mother; the unborn once who still talk to him about her mother telling her stories of the king and the queen.

It was hard lashings on the mother Earth. Though she is strong enough caring for so many sons and daughters, still it hurt being the target of his anger. It wasn’t her fault; she had no control over her own children.

Or was he crying; shouldn’t he care to wait for the air-borne to take a perch; it brought a few of them crashing down. It might have been a cry in anguish over the young mother groaning in pain, moments ago her tears were of happiness, but then they were for losing the one she had never seen before, and won’t even be seeing anymore. Nine months of bond had broken; was it he who couldn’t detach his feelings for the unborn and couldn’t let mother be the surrogate. Were those the tears of guilt or was he happy to see someone back? Didn’t it pain him when the mother cried? No, it cannot be just happiness that made him cry so hoarsely.

Or was the rain started somewhere else slowly and just the wind bought it on us when it was hard? Someone would have been the lucky one who had received the first drop of his tears, the first one who had felt the pain in the drop; the first one who consoled him; the first one who made him open up, to shed the pain and anger. Was that the little boy he got angry on or was she the mother he had been unfair too?

And then it stopped, the smell of the fresh mud was mesmerizing; water running though the surface. Kids playing on them, running over and over them, jumping and singing, like happiness was a child playing with them.

Are these the wounds after lashings, and we like the flies who are enticed by the smell of fresh blood and flesh? Are we parasites or really the children of mother earth?

Moments later the birds came out of their perch signaling to resume the flight; or, were they trying to wake the unconscious mother telling her that her lashings were over now, wake up and take care of the wounds.

And it rained that day, so hard that I sat riddled on my chair under the open sky, as if my roof had been ripped off to let me feel the pain in the first drop.

Do you like it.

"All the world's a Program,And all the men and women merely classes.They have their constructors and their destructors,And one man in his time plays many objects,His acts being several derivations."
---Inspired from As You Like It (II, vii, 139-143) (William Shakespeare)

What it feels like to be in a program? Yes, a software program;
Once, I had a dream, a weird one.

I am in a semi sleepy state; lying on the bed, I see the flat world on the roof of my room.
A lot of known and unknown faces moving around, but their movement are a bit restricted, like in slow motion; moving, running, talking, etc etc…
When I watch closely, I can see different command of 8086 assembly language (low level programming language) in the air, each person is under execution of one command, including me. Just the processor seems to be 386 ( Intel 80386).

It was a surprise to me, but that’s our world, and that’s how we operate. Even our great Mr. William Shakespeare wouldn’t have imagined life being like this.

"What's in a variable name? That which we call a rose,By any other name would consume same amount of memory."
--Inspired from Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2) (William Shakespeare)

Every one is following a code path, a lot of common code, just different instances; God is great; the most experienced programmer of the universe. He has been fixing bugs all over and will continue fixing and introducing some. So the product life-cycle goes. Bugs are reality; they bring in the factor of surprise, or rather the variation in our lives; they make God think, making him sweat run for his money. Definitely he earns more that Bill Gates does.

Everybody is in a loop, the mundane daily life is a loop within a module of the particular stage of your life. Go to office, come back to home, go to office, and come back to home…. Life goes on with you moving from one module to another, but the loop hangs around.

As soon as I realize that I was in a loop, I became restless, I started perspiring. Sleep is hell when you realize you can’t move and the fact is you even can’t wake up. I was in a hell; all drenched, search for the Exit command (mov ax, 4c00h ; int 21h).

"I am dying, Assembly, dying."
-- Inspired from Antony and Cleopatra (IV, xv, 41) (William Shakespeare)

This was the typical death module, where one realizes that he has reached his end, but the pain doesn’t end easily; it makes you feel the loop closely, so that you can feel the freedom of afterlife.
Well! that doesnt mean i am a ghost writer.

I don’t program in assembly language anymore, but still int 21h haunts me.

N2O cousin

"There are few things money can't buy, for everything else there is mastercard."
Oops! (Brand awareness u know :))
"... , Smile is one them."

Neither Colgate nor Close-up can ever patent that laugh, an open hearted, carefree laugh.

Age: 11 yrs
First thing you will notice about her: A toothless laughter.

"Honey,! you laugh too much!"
"I won't let you get bored!" :)

People say I laugh too much, then she definitely is three much ;) (Smily effect showing off)

I guess she is also one of the firm believer in the N2O theory.
"There is abundance of N2O in the air around you , its just your ability to smell the most."

She is one living description of the famous dialog delivered by BigB in Namak Halal.
"I can talk English; I can walk English; I can laugh English because English is a very funny language."

Wide open eyes accompanied by a lot of facial expressions. who says you need language to communicate.

Rather, i should say for any language, laughter and expressions are incomprihensible.

Her laughter is raw, open ,loud and carefree though she doesn't laugh much in front of her father :).

A laughter is contagious, and definitely it is! I was laughing out loud too. All negative emotions drained out, you are free again, though it will cause a little discomfort in your stomach and cheeks, if you continue to emit the unlocalizable sound for long time :).
( "phoebe" ... "why is she making that funny sound everytime i ask her name?"...just a random recall ...refer friends series.)

Does it bother if you dont laugh... well yes it does.

("...she doesnt laugh, every time there is a funny sequence on the TV , she will say 'That's so funny' ... is that it! the expression of laughter is damned by it. refer: Scrubs).

Well to know more, you need to laugh three much :)

Dance like a Man!

“ ..., dance like no one is watching.” --- Satchel Paige.
But the truth is people do watch and make one dance.


Dance like a man by Mahesh Dattani, deals with the dogma of being a man in the forties of indian society. Though the story revolves around the a dancer couple and their family, but at the emotions of the play lies in the emotional and social dance. Jairaj did dance to the tune of his father, his dancer and intelligent wife and to the tune of this society.
"Oh! He is a dancer."
"Oo! He is a great dancer."
the absence of one word destroyed Jairaj. We all laughed aloud when Viswas enacted Jairaj's father ridiculing Jairaj in the opening scene.

Viswas's character brought in the views of a common man which most of us could laugh at and also his character gives a comparative emphasis to the uncommon hero Jairaj. Viswas is part of the generation 3 of the act, along with Jairaj and Ratna's daughter Lata.

First generation of the act is occupied by of Jairaj's successful father and a freedom fighter, an eminent figure and the post Independence society. Back then, the only heirs of our ancient dance were prostitutes aka dev-daasis.

As the child's interest became the passion of the young man, it became more and more social stigmatic for his father. "Dance doesn’t make you a man!"
"You make me help Jairaj to grow up! , I will support your dance in the best possible way I can."
"What will he do if he leaves dance?"
"Make him worth you."

Ratna played the tune composed by her father-in-law. Jairaj danced and succumbed to his own weaknesses and the broken confidence. An unsuccessful husband and a drunkard father nursing his humiliated self.

The pick of the emotions is when Ratna cries over her daughter’s national acclaim by her dance performance. Ratna’s breakdown shows the jealousy and the mourning over her own failure.

Lillete Dubey’s direction has been lively, but the there were a lot too much differences between the characters of young and the old Jairaj. Both if viewed separately were good, but the only connection that seemed is a broken drunkard man, apart from that the character has lost all his identity.

All-in-all, the story and plot is a big win and it does make you laugh and cry and connects to you on the emotional level.


Cast :
Older Jairaj : Vijay Crishna.
Ratna : Lillete Dubey.
Lata : Suchrita Pillai.
Viswas : Joy Sengupta.

Jairaj's father : Vijay Crishna.
younger Jairaj :Joy Sengupta.
younger Ratna: Suchrita Pillai .

Directed by : Lillete Dubey.
Script: Mahesh Dattani.

Dated: April 7th 2007
Venue: Shilaparaman, Hyderabad.


Plot summary : http://www.indiaglitz.com/channels/hindi/review/7306.html
References : http://inkpot.com/theatre/02reviews/02revdanclikeman.html

Historical facts: Dance was not restricted to women in pre Mughals era.
Bharata Muni's Natyashastra (literally "the art of dance") is the one of the earlier texts on dance.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dance#Dance_in_Indian_canonical_literature

Trapped inside

Soul inside the body or soul behind the body, the fact is it's hidden; lying somewhere in the dark behind the wall, the body wall, the self covering wall.

Do “I”, “me” or “self” describe the wall or what’s behind the wall?Everybody knows but still they don't, when it's associated to others; it's their skewed eyes which always looks down at others. This “Everybody else” make my world.

The world seems beautiful, dazzling as the photo frame in the ordinary external light attached to the roof. It’s nothing but a perception of the human mind; the beauty is non existential, it’s just an expression which makes our brain get mesmerized.

The actual world is non-existential; for us it’s the only the sensible entities in the space around me, limited to our six senses. Our world is the virtual reality known to the impaired brain which comprehends the system.

People know me for what I appear in the light of the external perceptions; it’s the bulb, which lights up my wall and gives me a shape and a size. The non-figured, unsized entity, my own self, my identity, is opaque in this worldly light. It’s me who can see my soul in the mirror of my mind, it’s hazy but it’s there. It’s my mind’s inability to see the self, because its fluid, it ripples on a touch, it flows up and down, and nobody is master of his mind.

Some say the soul never dies, but I think he does. You have to keep him alive in you; he feeds on self respect, dignity and rightness. You have to hold the candle of light, to keep yourself alive.Once the Soul is dead, the wall will be broken and you will be lost in the world’s light.

It’s the self who is trapped inside the self, for “me” to live and I have to keep myself alive.


Symbolisms:
1> face in the mirror: soul.
2> candle in the hand: self perception/self dignity, honor.
3> hanging lamp: the external world's light / people's perception.
4> hanging eye: world's eye/ world perception.
5> photo frame of the eye: the external worlds dazzle and style.
6> right wall: the body.
a>behind the wall, in the dark the soul lives.
b> in front of the wall, the brighter and the visible self.
7> left wall: other people, the world.
8> mirror: the mind.
9> ripples in the mirror: fluid state of mind.
10> roof: sky / no entity.
11> angled photo Frame: looking down at you.