Cuff and Cold

It hasn't been the best of weeks for me, atleast on the health front. The troika of soar throat, cough and cold has taken toll on my body. Sounds ironical and difficult to believe, but this bout of illness juts struck me when I was boasting about my well-being to myself.
Sleepless nights have become order of the day and cold gusts of wind lashing the Pune-city do not make things more clement to my fragile, ailing body...

While this is the most vital factors to sag my spirits, it is not the only thing at the back of my mind. They say what you think reflects on your body, and perhaps this diktat is not false. Life is surely not a bed of roses and this manifests itself day-in and day-out as the Sun of life rises to shine brighter. What accompanies brightness for free is the heat, which sounds so warm and cosy during childhood (shielded from parents and well wishers), only to become scorching as time progresses.

My blogs are more intense and replete with the so-called 'gyan' which people do not care a farthing about. And so, its my pre-mature new year resolution to make it more narrative than instructive.
A huge bunch of 73 papers are sitting home welcoming me to visit them and appraise them just like my own appraisal in office is around the corner. One sweet outcome of this exercise is that it makes your pocket feel heavy for a while and forget one's mundane musings...

Planning another outing this weekend, within a fortnight's span this time towards North-East, unlike South-West last time. No, I am not going to quasi-Chinki land, the land of seven sisters. Its just that direction relative to Pune within the confines of Maharshtra Mazha, that I am venturing into this time around. While I would have loved to go to Guwahati for campus recruitments, those plans didn't materialize for the better ! All for the best, they say !!!!!!!!

Welcome vacation

The last month was very eventful @office, and I was thoroughly enjoying being a part of the development cycle, where punctures and deflated tyres are part and parcel. And veri alike Forest Gump, its ecstasy to complete the race and emerge victorious having treaded the path thru sun and sand, thru mist and hue and finally having settled down at a nice rendezvous, chewing upon nostalgic elements of the past and taking a sun bath in those fond memories !

This time the timing was a perfect 10, akin to what Madame Nadia accomplished more than a score ago at the Olympics. Nik , Ram and I set sail southwards to this beautiful, virgin sea-resort in the realms of Ratnagiri. Well, since water-ways are not our forte, we stuck to more routine and predictable means of our jaunt by taking NH-4 going towards Bangalore. If I were writing this blog a year from now, the Kannadigas would be jeering and mocking at my contemptous bliss( ignorance is bliss, reads a famous English quote) or rather maliciously witch-crafted anti-Karnataka stance; since Bangalore would be cut-pasted by Bengaluru by then.

The IT population sitting in Silicon valley and other habitats of the US would heave a sigh of relief, for once atleast, since their bread-butter would no longer be Bangalored.
Anyway, popping my stack of thoughts back to the Ganapatipule trip, it turned out to be really successful and refreshing to say the least. Konkan is called the land of Lord Parshuram and grabbing the opportunity to see it twice within a span of 2 months was a record of sorts by itself. It not only duplicated my joy, but actually quadrupled it.

Light at the end of the tunnel

Its spectacularly true that efforts are means to an end, the final destination. But its imperative to thorougly sweat it out to purify the blood; just like the massochist pleasure we derive during a harsh and enduring work-out. Its a conscious choice to make our body go thru the grind, for even the noble metal cannot be spared the flames of fire before getting that 24 carat certification.
What comes out at the end is so divine, very difficult to put on paper, or even on this web log ...
Its like errotica they say, you got to reach that orgasm , the flashpoint of benediction.
But isn't foreplay equally important ??..This para dedicated to pop-queen Madonna for "Erotica' !

Aurum and Argentum are at close to life time highs and looks like the bullion trade there is relentless, and is now under a new bout of momentum, when money chases gold rather than the other way round. Rationale and pure wisdom are set to rest, when speculation becomes order of the day. I thought these are niche areas for just the stock market, but recent news rounds have proved otherwise. Even commodities like channa or pepper are subject to this chequered cycle of ups and downs, depending on the flavor of spices that punters like....

Life itself is a journey that we embark upon and keep running all life like an endless infinite hurdle race, where embargos are order of the day, whether it is social norms or pleasantries or ettiquetes or that big 'decorum' factor. Isn't the animal kingdom not happier following the jungle raj where 'might is right'. But without being too agnostic of these factors, we need to be like Pied Pipers from that famous Scottish legend, who play to guide the lost and forlorn shipwrecked people around us....Entering the gates of Paradise after leading such a utopian life would be worth every ounce of troubleshooting, I guess. But when things are out of control and incomprehensible, the motivation factor drops down rapidly. Even in a marathon, the Kenyans know that the distance is no more than 42.195 kms, after which victory is guaranteed, but what about death ? Probably being philanthropic in a small way may provide us our small passage to the land of bliss, Heaven, the kingdom of GOD, the light at the end of this dark, murky tunnel !!!!

Big Bad World

Morning was great today; waking up to the chirping tunes of the aviators was so refreshing indeed.
Some bad memories of last evening were almost erased with hopes of a better today.
The jog-yog routine was at its ultimate best.
On top of that I had doned my new shirt sent to us by our US manager...

Unexpectedly, I received good help from diametrically opposite me, in a totally skewed time zone; things looked like they were on a roll. And then this chirpy, bubbly image of the near-perfect rosy life was pricked with thorns.
Why do roses have to follow thorns ? It seems that the law of nature needs to get its due credit and respect.
But when thorns prick from close quarters it hurts hard.

Can't help but getting spiritual; it seems to have answers to allqueries that have been pestering mankind since time immemorial. Why are we so selfish ? Why are we so pre-occupied with ourselves so much so as to forget the parts make the whole... I hate whims and fancies; I would rather prefer someone to be openly animos rather than make a false pretense of solidarity and camaraderie...If wishes were horses, Akshay would fly....

Is this a big bad world, fast collapsing under its own weight; under the influence of the unknown entrophy. How else can we attribute victory of the evil and the setbacks suffered by men of virtue.

Here's Robert Frost quoted 'Asking for Roses'

A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress and master,
With doors that none but the wind ever closes,
Its floor all littered with glass and with plaster;
It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses.

I pass by that way in the gloaming with Mary;
'I wonder,' I say, 'who the owner of those is.'
'Oh, no one you know,' she answers me airy,
'But one we must ask if we want any roses.'

So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly
There in the hush of the wood that reposes,
And turn and go up to the open door boldly,
And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.

'Pray, are you within there, Mistress Who-were-you?'
'Tis Mary that speaks and our errand discloses.
'Pray, are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!
'Tis summer again; there's two come for roses.

'A word with you, that of the singer recalling--
Old Herrick: a saying that every maid knows is
A flower unplucked is but left to the falling,
And nothing is gained by not gathering roses.'

We do not loosen our hands' intertwining
(Not caring so very much what she supposes),
There when she comes on us mistily shining
And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.