End of yet another blogging space

There are about half a dozen posts i have copy pasted here today. Why? cos i m told my space on the office blog will not be there anymore. So. that means end of an era:-) these are the only ones i like... im preservin.
now starts a new me.. one that is with movies and omg. lets wait and see what i write.

till then........good nite

It’s Raining, Folks

The skies have turned a dark shade of grey. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Lightning streaks – like a little kid playing with a new LED torch – in the dark evening skies. And occasionally, when the sun god makes a visit just before the end of the day, the skies burst in a play of colours. This is the rainy season the whole of India waits for. The monsoon is here.

Much has been said, written and talked about these seasonal winds which bring with them the bountiful rains, which accounts for more than 80% of the total rainfall the country gets. A few days delay, a drop in the quantity of rains – anything and everything affects the economy and everyday life of this vibrant country.  Perhaps no one else has summed up how much our nation depends on these seasonal rains as Will Durant has in his book ‘The Story of Civilisations’. Says the writer ‘When the monsoon fails to blow, India starves, and dreams of nirvana,’ and we can’t agree more.

Here is how the monsoon affects the economy.

Maybe that explains why tracking the monsoon is very crucial to the country. Here is some dedicated people set out to do it.

But for now, let me leave the economic impact behind and tell you why I like it when it rains. It is time say goodbye to the hot and sweltering summer sun.  Green is back. The sun lights up the clouds – sometimes erupting into a cheery rainbow.  The roadside flowers – the name of which I do not know – bloom. Kids trot to schools in colourful rain coats and umbrellas.  It takes me down memory lane – to the days we used to make paper boats, then set them sailing down the drains which form on every street during the rains.

Everywhere, there is renewed vigor. A promise for a better tomorrow. And as for me, it is time to curl up with a hot cup of coffee and samosas and just say thanks to the rain gods for showering their blessings.

Rock on With ‘Avial’

For me – a Malayali by birth and a foodie by nature, ‘avial’  has always been a lip-smacking dish my mom made on special occasions.  And then came a day, when a friend introduced me to an alternative rock band called Avial. A Malayali band? And that too, rock? The skeptic in me could not accept it. How could the long and ‘not so friendly’ Malayalam words blend into rock? With those apprehensions I looked them up on the net. The very first song I heard titled ‘Nada Nada’ got me to sit up and take them seriously. Catch ‘Avial’ live here.

After the introductory ‘Nada Nada’ came ‘Chekele,’ a song which is inspired by the rustic lifestyle of the state. By the time I reached their  ’Njaan Ara’,  a soul-stirring ballad, I was impressed. ‘Aadu Pambe’ took me down memory lane and the fast-paced ‘Aranda’ got even me swaying to their rhythm – and I don’t even dance. ‘Ettam Pattu’ had that  touch of nostalgia to it.  The ease with which the band handled the different numbers left me awestruck. It spoke of the band’s versatility.  And I was convinced that band sure had music running in their veins.  With their rendition of ‘Karukarakarmukil’ penned by Kavalam Narayana Panicker, I was hooked. At office or at home, Avial was the one band I was listening to in an endless loop.

You can read more about the band, the many firsts they have to their credit, the band bio and more hereand here.

Avial is a dish I can’t get enough of –  and now it holds good for the band’s songs, too. The next album is coming soon, says the lead singer, Tony John. Till then, there is ‘Nada Nada’ to keep me going

Jim Morrison: Through the Doors

There are people you love, there are stars that you idolize, and then rarely, there is a man who stands out from the rest – the one artist who steals your heart away. For me, that someone is Jim Morrison, the lead singer of the band The Doors.

James Douglas Morrison was a poet, a screamer, a singer, a performer par excellence. He had a profound outlook towards life which ran thus “People need connectors – writers, heroes, stars, leaders – to give life form.” He saw himself as a connector. For me, he was and still is a hero.

If any man could be real and call a spade a spade, it was Morrison. Was it his unapologetic writing which endeared him to me? Or was it his sort of music – edging on into the dark and obscure? Or was it all mixed up into that raw bundle of energy that he was during a performance, which made him special? He wrote about love, about things he saw around him like this verse titled ‘Texas Radio and the Big Beat’

I cannot pinpoint what made James Douglas Morrison special. Nor can I say when I started loving him. It just happened. I was hooked by his voice, the passion in them. His eyes, though doped saw beyond the yesterdays. It held the promise of tomorrows for me. He was and will always be an enigma for those who knew him when he was alive, and for crazy fans like me who were born after his death. Despite many attempts to demystify him including the movie by Tom DiCillo ‘When You’re Strange,’ Jim Morrison remains a mystery.

Flashback to 1965. Jim Morrison meets up with fellow UCLA student Ray Manzarek. Then came John Densmore and Robby Krieger. And together, they gave music a special something. The dark, pensive, thought-provoking music which set’ The Doors’ in a class of their own, was born. Good music can never be bottled up. It flowed, unbridled. Morrison, the poet of the team penned most of the lyrics. Some were written by the other team members and yet others were joined efforts.

In Morrison’s own words, he was ‘the guide to a labyrinth’. A labyrinth, which for him was the human mind. His quest to identify with the rest of the world took him through waters uncharted. He was influenced byFriedrich Nietzsche, William Blake, Charles Baudelaire and Arthur Rimbaud. He was interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos, especially activity that appeared to have no meaning. For Morrison, it was the road towards freedom. And it was only natural for him to reach out to drugs and alcohol as his travelling companions.

His discoveries on the path to life translated into his poems and his music. Through his poems, he sought to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel. He was a rebel and an entertainer, a deadly combination. Morrison wrote “I like any reaction I can get with my music. Just anything to get people to think. I mean, if you can get a whole room full of drunk, stoned people to actually wake up and think, you’re doing something”.  Watch him take this lucky crowd by storm.

Ten years after his death, The Rolling Stones ran an article on him. It introduced me to thousands who,  had given our hearts to him.

His views on life made him controversial. And Jim’s courtship with controversy went with The Doors, to each and every concert, till his death. How did he die? We have just stories to go by; the truth is still unsaid.

Jim Morrison died young, at 27, a time when The Doors were very popular. Did Morrison know that he would be someone who would always steal the hearts of millions of music buffs across the globe even after he was gone? I think he did. Why else should he say “I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps “Oh look at that!” Then – whoosh, and I’m gone…and they’ll never see anything like it ever again… and they won’t be able to forget me – ever”.

Now, years after his death during a self-exile to Paris, on the 3rd of July 1971, his words, as usual, reverberate.

Price hikes, you and me

“Did you know that there is a hartal in Kerala today?” asked my dad when he called me up in the morning. “Hartal? What is it this time?”, I asked. ” It is to protest against the hike in fuel prices”, he explained, knowing fully well that I was way too far away from my hometown to know how the machinery of administration in my state of Kerala functioned.

Kerala is not the only state which has raised a hue and cry against the fuel price hike which was announced on Friday. Buses, taxis and auto rickshaws stayed off the road in Kerala. West Bengal too followed suit. There are reports that protest marches are being taken out in various parts of the country as I write this. A report in Economic Times say that the opposition has decided to protest this hike.

The price of diesel went up by Rs 2 a litre, kerosene by Rs 3 a litre and cooking gas by Rs 35 per cylinder. The prices of petrol will now be costlier by Rs 3.50 per litre. And it has affected the life of the common man. People from all walks of life across the country are reacting.

“This will be a big blow to our monthly budget,” said my friend Viji. “We have always had trouble getting a refill once the gas gets over, and now it is bound to be worse,” she laments. “I think it will be more economical taking the company cab than driving to work,” adds her husband. I am sure my friend is not the only person who will have this problem.

This reminded me of another conversation I had yesterday evening while going out. Before I got into the auto, the driver said “Meter ke upar 20 rupees hoga madam” (20 rupees extra on meter fare, madam). I was taken aback, but since I had to get to a place and was left without another option, I jumped in. And en route, I asked him why. He said, “Madam, did you not see the price hike news on TV?” When I said yes, he went on to say that he has to pay a loan on his vehicle and now that the prices have gone up, he had to up the fares to make both ends meet. I told him that it wasn’t fair. To which he replied, “I try to be as fair as I can, madam, did I not tell you before you got into the auto?”. I was left speechless.

My cabbie had a different story to tell. He said that the price hike was one of the main topics his family discussed over dinner last night. Was it because of the hike in petrol/diesel prices, I wondered aloud. “No, madam”, pat came the response, “we use kerosene a lot, and that will affect us more than the prices of cooking gas and diesel”.

Economic Times has collated reactions from economists, analysts and honchos of India Inc on the fuel price hike. Here is what they have to say.

I wonder why and who stands to benefit from this price hike. What say, folks? Do you feel this price hike is justified?

Our Only Moon

While trawling the net recently, I stumbled upon the NASA website which has a series of findings from the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter – LRO – as it is fondly called. LRO has finished its first year in orbit and has thrown open a surprising amount of information about the moon.

The temperature in the coolest part on the moon, says Diviner, LRO’s temperature equipment, is a freezing -415 degrees Fahrenheit (-248 Celsius) at the Hermite Crater. And there is a part of the moon which we never get to see from the earth. Read about all these here.

Over the years, the moon has remained a mystery for us. Studying it, its proximity to the earth and the effects it has on our daily lives has been something which started way back in the fifth century BC. From the ancient Greek philosopher Anaxagoras through the Chinese of the Han Dynasty to Aryabhata in 499 AD, they spent years trying to discover the moon’s secrets. It was Galileo who broke the myth that the moon was a smooth sphere. The Soviet missions and subsequent missions by USA confirmed it. In 1969, man first set foot on moon. The moon still held secrets, and we are still far from unraveling all of it.

Chandrayaan 1 tried to discover the moon from a perspective which was never tried before. It said that there were traces of water on the moon; the LRO has come out with more information. And there is more to come, if we were to believe NASA. We lap it up, and wait for more.

But to me, as the moon glides across the dark skies every night, it is just another heavenly body. I look up at it in awe. Is it because the moon wavers like my mind? I am not sure. From the new moon day to the full moon, the moon is never similar. The waxing and waning moon never ceases to surprise me.

What makes the moon special? Is it because we have just one original moon orbiting the earth? Or is it because we Indians strike up a kinship with ‘Chandamama’ as the moon is fondly called when our mothers pointed him out to us in our childhood?

I can go on staring at the moon for ages, and never get tired of it. It is way too cool and relaxing. I can imagine just why young lovers prefer its cool backdrop for their meetings. How from the time of Romeo and Juliet, the moon has borne a silent witness to many an amorous meeting. I know for sure that this is why cinema still loves to romance in the moonlight.

But then, a moon is not just about romance. Go to any forest nearby. You can just feel the grass sprout, the owls hoot and glowworms sparkle on a moonlit night. The beasts of prey make their presence felt. Is this the perfect night for a man to transform to a werewolf? For Dracula and his band of vampires to come out and feast on? I am not sure. Spooky movies sure have moon as the backdrop.

Moon has been considered a god – both male and female across civilizations and cultures; as Selene and Phoebe, Artemis, Isis and our very own Chandra and in Japan as Tsukuyomi. A heavenly body or a god, there is just one moon and it brings out the romantic in me.

A Song Called MJ

“Listen”, said my colleague Anirban early on June 25 last year, “there are unconfirmed reports thatMichael Jackson is dead”. After putting the phone down, I was shocked for a second. Jackson, dead? How could it be? Could it really be true or was it some false alert? But as the news was confirmed, it left me feeling a bit sad. For I used to be a MJ fan too, and I still loved his music.

There was a time when I used spend hours listening to his songs, my favourite to date being the numbers from the album ‘Dangerous’. Later, after MTV came in, I used to watch him do his famed ‘moonwalk’. However, over the years, I had grown up from being the girl who admired – no, loved – Michael Jackson to a skeptic who tried to see things objectively – or as objectively as the media painted it.

Like Khristina mentions in her blog, I have no doubts that he was a good entertainer . But could that be said about Michael Jackson, the man?

I could understand his troubled childhood. His dad used to make fun of his appearance and that led Jackson to go in for nose reconstructions.  In early 80′s, Time hailed Jackson as the ‘one-man rescue team for the music business.’  Michael Jackson was the ‘King of Pop’.  With fame came speculations, controversies – about his changing looks, his pets, his associations with many people. All of it earned him the name -’Whacko Jacko’.

Early ’90s were worse. Had Jackson sexually abused children? He denied it in on a chat with Oprah Winfrey (see part of it  here) but the allegations failed to die down. His house was raided and he was subjected to a 25-minute strip search which left him wounded emotionally.

He married Elvis Presley’s daughter, Lisa Marie Presley.  The tabloids said that the purpose of the marriage was to boost his failing public image. The marriage lasted two years. Jackson married his longtime friend Deborah Jeanne Rowe during the ‘History’ tour. He has two children from this marriage which also ended in a divorce.

Speculations were rife. Everything that he did was blown out of proportion. There was never a time when he could lead a normal life. Jackson was the media’s favourite controversial star. And when the second allegation of child abuse surfaced, there weren’t many in the music industry who supported Jackson. There were pictures of him trying to ‘dangle’ his third child out of the window which kicked up quite a furore when it was published. People were quick to write him off despite the singer trying to say it was a stunt.

Jackson ran into debts in 2008. Fortress Investments threatened to foreclose on Neverland Ranch which he had used as collateral for loans.  And again, it was against the singer.

But Jackson never really moved away from the limelight. He just could not. Music was his solace. At the time of his death, he was preparing for a show in London. It was to be the first of a series of comeback concerts titled ‘This is it’. But fate willed otherwise. He breathed his last on June 25.

A couple of weeks after his death, there were reports of his ghost being sighted at Neverland. Is his spirit still around? I am not sure. But his music will last forever and it is to that maestro that I bow today. RIP MJ!

And for those of you who can’t get enough of him, ever, watch MJ practicing for the ‘This Is It’ show.

Why i hate mondays

The rude blare of the alarm wakes me from my deep slumber. I can hear the pitter-patter of raindrops outside the window-or was I dreaming that I could? I hit the snooze button on the alarm. It blares again, I hit the snooze again.

And then there is another weird noise which wakes me up. The shrill ring of my phone brings me crashing down to earth. I pick up the call.  It is my cabbie telling me that he will be around to pick me up in ‘another 20 minute sharp’. I drag myself out of the bed cursing the day. I hate Mondays.

I have hated them ever since I started going to school. The face of my class teacher looked more formidable on Mondays.  It used to be day when we got the weekly report on the tests. Was this the reason why I started hating the day? I am not sure.

If you thought things have changed, now that I m working, let me tell you they has not. In fact, I feel  it is worse. Monday is when everything has to be redone. When everything feels so hectic and I feel totally confused. Even though, Monday is the start of a weekend for me now, I still hate it.

Like many across the globe, I suffer from Monday morning blues. Despite many sites giving me suggestions how to beat it, I still cannot understand why we cannot just bypass Monday  and go on straight to Tuesday which is way more peaceful.

I trawl the net to cheer myself up. And here is what I found. May be this number from Mamas and Papas could cheer you up. Hum along.

Thank you, Father

Sunday, 20th June is a red-letter day. And I have just realized it is Father’s Day. A day to say thank you to the man who, along with my mother brought me into this world.

I agree with my colleague Tenzin that I don’t need a ‘special’ day to say thank you to my father. He is my support system. To me, he is the coolest, strongest and the purest soul alive in this highly artificial world. He has an answer to all my problems – however serious or trivial they may be.  He is one special person, who has with his cool intellect changed my outlook towards life.

My father was beside me when I took my first step; he was there for me when I had my first heart-break. He was there when I excelled at my studies and when I flunked them. He supported me when I decided to stray off from the ‘normal’ career options of being an engineer or a doctor even though my mother was crestfallen and could never understand why I had to break free.  He is my critic, my best friend, my idol. He means the world to me.

So, today, while people take time off to pamper their dads with costly gifts or a spa treatment, I say a silent prayer, selfish as it may be, that he be there for me, forever. And pray that God keeps him safe and healthy.

Mangoes, Memories and Me

My usual outings to YouTube is for music. But, recently, I stumbled upon an interesting video on how to slice a mango. That left me a bit nostalgic. For mangoes bring back the memories of a childhood spent climbing trees to pluck the golden fruit.  So, I thought,  before this season draws to a close, I should put down why mangoes tug at me – even if some are priced at over Rs 100 a kg.


Normally, the mango season in India starts with the onset of summer. By May when the mercury soars, vendors in push-carts selling mangoes becomes a common sight across the country. From the street vendors to super markets, mangoes sell like hot cakes.


There are plenty of fruits to pick from, but why is it that I tend to be oddly passionate about the mango?  Is it the taste that leaves me asking for more? Or the many varieties available in the market? Or is it because it brings back the bittersweet memories of childhood?


For me, mangoes are sweet reminders of those carefree days of youth when my cousins used to climb the trees and throw down the ripe fruits. Of those days – when my brothers weren’t around – I used to wait endlessly for the wind to come rustle the branches laden with mangoes. The fond hope that one would break off and fall near me.
We used to feast on mangoes. We used to bite into them and relish the taste, have competitions on who will cut it into neat strips. During the summer there was seldom a day when we did not have a mango dish for lunch and dinner. Though I have forgotten the names of endless dishes my mom and cousins used to make,  the taste lingers.


There are many varieties of mangoes which make you wish that mangoes were not seasonal.  Alphonso, Banganpalli and some local varieties are my favourites.  While you are deciding which one you will buy today, listen to this whacky mango song