Cutting the Umbilical Cord

...... And without my knowledge I tumbled into the world of blogging! In one piece. A little overgrown, perhaps a couple of years too late but the birthing pangs are done.

I have been tied to blogger for so long! It has been my cocoon of certainty for so long. The umbilical cord has stretched halfway across the globe to servers at Google Inc! where they have carefully nurtured me, helped me store my writing for posterity.

Blogger has helped me to gain a unique perspective on blogging, I've written a few posts- few and far between, but with each post I have grown to like blogger a bit more.

At last count, people from 10 countries have read my blog- and I am most thankful to each of you, for taking time out of your lives to read about yet another Guy.

I shall continue writing (and hopefully, better each time), but I have shifted to the newer horizons of wordpress- the supposed Hallowed land of blogging. I would be very thankful to all of you if you could spend a moment to visit my newblogsite -

http://evanescentyears.wordpress.com

This will be my new home for some time to come.

This blog will remain active till the end of August, and defunct from September 1st. All my posts have been moved to wordpress. This will be my last post on Blogger.

I am filled with a sense of excitement and anticipation at this change. I hope to see all of you there really really soon!

See you all at Wordpress!!!!

The Raincloud

Big brown eyes -This is how I will remember her long after she forgets my name and my very existence. Big brown eyes contain within it all that is beautiful in the world. Her big brown eyes opened doors that I had shut in my life- ages ago. I still wonder how I picked up an invitation into her life. I’m not sure it was meant for me.

She stands in front of me in that time of the night where street lights throw strange shadows on the streets. She stands in silent repose- Handles gently tucked into her jeans pocket, the soft breeze brushing past her cheeks and gently blowing her hair. The din of the night grows louder, and the people around begin to wonder about two people talking, non stop. This is beauty- in its simplicity – conversation without a care in the world. Its the simple things in life that make for the most powerful memories. I am going to remember the day half a century from now. Right down to the slight chill in the air, the dampness after the first rains. I can’t help but feel a sense of irony at the situation. She has come into my life like the first rains of the season – Bringing so much life, so much joy and so many colours. She stays true to her name- the bringer of hope to parched souls.

To call a person a raincloud is to put an entire generation’s hopes on a young girls shoulder. And as she moves around in life- I see her at work and I realise she is fighting toward realizing her Dharma- to prove to be a symbol of hope for a million parched people- like the first appearance of a raincloud over a parched sunny city. For a person I’ve just gotten to know, it’s amazing how she’s turned my life upside down. Whether it’s her gentle demeanour or directness of talking or a million other aspects of conversation, she has undoubtedly brought colour into my life. Or it may be a so many trinkets all perfectly color- coordinated, that make me wonder if I’d become so used to feeling grey that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have so much colour in life.

Sitting at the desk writing a piece about a woman I’m just getting to know is superfluous, but again, very few people in the world are worth writing about. And even fewer people have it within them to stir up such passions and such warmth in people. I just hope, over a course of time, the spirit of good does not get tarnished by the morbid cynicism of the soulless zombies that traverse the world and office spaces..

A little tribute to my Valkyrie on a Honda- The Raincloud!

The Time of my Life

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with one single step"- Lao Tzu

I used to see this quote everyday at School. While this was limited to school till last month, I realized the true meaning of those words during an epiphany at one of the most arduous tasks I've ever taken up so far.

I guess a small introduction is in order- I border on the obese, I have an affinity to junk food, an an incredibly unpredictable lunch schedule, and I think Bangalore is worth living in only because of the cornucopia of eateries. One could start the day having an early breakfast at Veena Stores with their incredibly soft Idli and crisp Vada's with really fresh chutney, have a Masala dosa dripping with butter, Mid-morning at CTR, walk into MTR at around 2:00pm for a lovely lunch- fit for the kings, have coffee with Scrambled Egg Toast at India Coffee house, round up the day with a sumptuous dinner and nightcap at Ramada. And this is just the Karnataka cuisine roundup. You could have a similar roundup with North Indian, Kerala, Italian, Chinese, and Continental Cuisines. In a nutshell, Bangalore is good for eating places, I like eating good food. hence I am.... little too well rounded.

But I digress... Coming back to Lao Tzu's Step of a thousand miles-or in my case- 10 km.

Looking back at that Sunday, I realize, running the 10k, was as much a mental effort, as it was a physical one. Through the 95+ minutes I took to complete the open 10k (Yes I actually completed- much to the surprise of all my friends, acquaintances, colleagues at work and even my parents) I lived through the entire set of physical, mental, emotional and psychological states of being.

And I enjoyed every moment of it. Here's how it progressed -

At the start line: (7:55am, June 5, 2011 - Kanteerava Stadium)

I feel a chill in the air, a sharp breeze cutting across the Indoor stadium. 22000+ people have assembled here to run the 5k and 10k. Most of them are first timers (me included). and I can feel the air heavy with excitement and expectation. I feel my pulse race, and i know its not all good. Endurance running is about keeping calm and preserving energy, and not running full steam like the 100 mtrs. The world 10k for women has just started, and I know it'll be a long long time before I even think of running like them. My goal is to finish this run. Nothing less will do. In my mind i try to see images of me at the finish line. All it does it make me more nervous. So all I think of is my first step. At 8:00 am we are let out of our holding areas. Its an incredible sight! so many people running, some for a cause, some for training, some just because they feel like it. I stand next to a 15 year old b0y, a 64 year old lady, 3 people in their mid 40's and - believe it or not- 2 people on the wheel chair. I know I am a part of something special. I can hear a faint buzz growing louder. about a 1000 people have come to watch us run. There will be more along the course. I can feel a warm glow within me. But its time to get to run- 1 step at a time.

Starting time: (0 km, 8:04:25 am- Athletics Track, Kanteerava Stadium)

My Ipod tracks are as ready as I am. I decide to start with K'naan ("Wavin' Flag") to help me get off to a peppy start. I have started at the middle of the pelleton- in hindsight, a mistake.If Ispeed up I run into people, If I slow down, others will run into me. As we run out onto the streets - My first challenge - uphill towards Kasturba Road, Crossing Prestige Centre Obelisk, and the Volkswagen Showroom. This is where I start feeling breathless. Running midpack is very different from Gym training. Everybody goes on overdrive and sucks up all the oxygen. After about 500 mts I start feeling very very exhausted. And I haven't completed 10% of the race yet.

But my legs are just about getting warmed. I know I should be ok for a while. I slow down a bit and move over to the side for some air. It seems to work. For now.

1Km Mark (Chinnaswamy Stadium - 8:13 am)

The songs have started to get faster. K'naan has melded into to a couple of really fast Iron Maiden Numbers. They help me keep my mind off running. As I listen Adrian Smith play the guitar solo of "Flight of Icarus" I realise, I should be running a lot faster- Thats the adrenalin getting hold of me- and it feels awesome - for now. I decide to run the next KM faster. Probably the most stupidest thing to do

2km mark (Rajendra Singhji Institute, Cubbon Road - 8:18 am)

Yes! 5 mins to the km! 20 seconds of ecstasy followed by the rest of the race in pain. I realise I've over streched myself and now I'm stranded. I can physically feel myself going weak. My legs have started to cramp up and I don't really know where my next sip of water comes from. I need it. Bad. I slow down to a canter. Thank you Bangalore authorities for making Cubbon road straight as a ruler. I can see a water station about a km ahead of me. So I decide to quit after reaching the water station.

3km mark - (The Army Canteen, Cubbon Road - 8:32)

That was slow. But the water has helped a lot. I think its time to move onto some slower songs for the next 15 mins or so. So Maiden and Metallica get replaced by Madonna ("Frozen") Duran Duran ("Come Undone"), John Denver ("Country Roads") and Alanis Morisette ("Hand in my Pocket"). The slow songs have helped calm me down. I don't want to run fast anymore. Just get to the next km. I can feel the first few micro litres of Lactic acid in my calf muscles. They now physically hurt- but not too much. The running pack has spread considerably and it helps because I can feel more oxygen through my blood. This is when Biochemistry 303 (my 3rd Sem BT subject) pops into my head. Something about anaerobic glucose combustion within the human body getting converted to lactic acid while aerobic combustion leading to just Carbon Dioxide and Water. So i need to take in a lot more oxygen. Thats the plan for the next km- An oxygen fuelled jaunt.

4km Mark (Ulsoor Road, 8:43 am)

I remember remember now, why I ended up with 90 in Biochemistry instead of a 100. Apparently, when Glucose is metabolized the reaction is exothermic, i.e. releases heat- and lots of it. I will never forget how that feels. It starts at the base of the spine- a little pinprick that feels like a warm matchstick. and it takes a total of about 30 secs for it to spread throughout my body. Right to my fingertips. I am on Fire! That's when everything around me turns a rather dull red. I need an icepack- lets make that an ice truck - to sit inside and hibernate for the next 5 years or so, until by body reaches the ambient temperature. I cant stop now or the heat will only increase. At least now i have the breeze to keep me company. And then a drop, two drops, three raindrops appear- followed by a slight drizzle. God is real. Years from now, this is how i will remember by first tryst with the divine. A slight drizzle to quench me. I think I'm entering a trance of sorts. I cant focus on my body anymore, it just hurts a lot.

5km Mark - (Halfway Mark - Cubbon Road, 8:51 am)

This has to be the km that I just don't remember. Step after step, until, at the 6k mark. I see the volunteer team with a bottle of gatorade. The songs are now just a blur, and I cannot recognize them from Adam! There's something about Life fading away and Someone screaming out about how its only his life, and also that he lives on a prayer! whatever.

6km Mark - (St Marks road - The Gatorade incident 9:00 am)

This is how the 6km shall henceforth be known. Gatorade has a zillion things to help a runner come back to his senses- but it feels like a singular dull thud and - as all systems are powering up for round two. I realise this is the maximum I've ever run at a single stretch, in my life. The Gatorade helps me get a small boost of energy and my head counters it by throwing the most godawful tantrum. I now have a headache too. It looks like the each part of the body now have a consciousness of their own. I have a bad feeling about this.

7.5 km Mark - (1st split - GPO - 9:15:25)

Its incredible how each person reacts under such duress. There's carnage around me. Two guys have just stepped into a pot hole. I see a man's feet turned the other way. That's got to hurt a lot. Pretty soon, I see an ambulance come in and pick up the two guys. This has also made a huge group of people (about 30 I think) give up their quest to complete the 10k. It wouldn't take much to give up now. All I need to do is stop. and I am not in a condition to start again.. I have decided to stop. Maybe I'll do the 10k some other time.

8.3 km Mark (2nd Split 9:23:38- Cubbon Park - just after the High Court)

I didn't stop after all. And this is why - I was about 10 meters from stopping when I saw one of the most inspiring scenes right in front of me. A woman in her late 50's on a wheelchair- pushing towards the finish line. Her arms must be so numb by now. moving the wheelchair is a herculean task. I think i see blisters on her palms. Yet she does not slow down. It would be an honour to reach the finish line with her. Time for the last push. I have another 1.7 K to go. Its too late to give up. I can feel the bones in my leg now and I am limping a bit. But I will not stop. Right on Cue, Judas Priest decides to give me company ("Breaking the Law", "Turbo Lover"). Its time to end this - the way it was meant to be. Running - calloused step by calloused step, until the blisters on the feet start to pop! That hurts. Also, its just me and the plants for company- The last stretch from Cubbon Park to Hudson Circle, back to the stadium. Its the home stretch- and its beautiful. The stretch is lined with Palm trees, After a good 20 mins away from traffic (traversing through Cubbon Park) I hear the din of the Hudson Circle traffic. I'm there- almost! The din grows louder as I strive to keep myself together. Each part of my body wants to go a separate way, and I'm sure they will eventually - but not today. Today is the day I complete the 10k. Nothing, will stop me now.

The Thin Red Line (10k Mark - Kanteerava Stadium- 10:40:15)

Such a thin red line- The difference between success and failure. 9.95km is not 10km. The last 300 meters is where all the action is-everyone cheering. my adrenalin fueled mind says maybe a thousand. I'm sure its not that high. The screams get louder. And there's my moment- finally. Salvation!!!!!!!

The Red Line is crossed. The Photographer takes the final photo. and the experience is over- just as it began. One step to begin - One step to end

The Aftermath

Pain, Exhilaration, Emotions, Achievement everything rushes back into me in one moment. The 10k barrier has been broken. Words really cant describe the rush! I have made it. I will be one of the select few in the world who've breached the 10km barrier. I limp across to the refreshments stand to meet my fellow partners in crime. The Joy is palpable!

This is life! Learning, stretching boundaries, personal and professional. Doing things that seem impossible to do, falling in Love with the people around and realizing that you are all alone. Fighting others for finishing before them, and fighting yourself for finishing at all.

"Running is a Metaphor for Life - because you get ut of it, what you put into it"- Oprah

The 90+ minutes helped me experience life in its fullness. The love, the heartbreak, the pain, sorrow, happiness, joy, contentment, envy (a 57 year old client of mine completed the ting in 58 mins!!!!), and Fear.

Somewhere between 7.5k and 9.5k I felt so terribly alone in this World with only my life's image for company. A particular group of people who matter a lot to me, kept popping up in my head-

My teachers who taught me to write and learn

My Friends

My mum and dad who allowed me to experience life

My Little drops of the rain for two absolutely beautiful years and for for teaching me that Heartbreaks hurt

All my friends - to Business Magnate who created the 3 Heads Group (Jackass!!!) and his lovely dearly beloved, to Billi, Mr Attavar, Fat Boy (He's fatter than I am), The drunk screamer at the 8 Sem Party (Yes Ranj! thats how you shall be known henceforth),

To Gayu who helped me learn so much from her: Danke Schon dass Sie sich fur mein Freund

haben!

Mr Vin! who shows me by example that life can be fun when you're alone

The Raincloud - a very special person who has given me the greatest gift ever- the gift of a life of love. - the one person who has brought so much color into my life.

Never mind that I spent the rest of the day mumbling in my sleep. Or that I couldn't walk properly in the week following the event.

I am going to do this again, and again, and again. Who knows- maybe the half marathon (21k) Next time around!!!!

Of Animals and Man

After a month of frenzied action the world cup has finally drawn to a close. Young stars twinkled brighter than ever as old stars faded away. Many memories will remain- The football named Jabulani bouncing around with a football named Diego Maradona. Old men wilfully pumped up their BP while supporting their teams while the the young opened themselves up to a whole lot of going crazy. A beautiful month celebrating another edition of the beautiful game went by leaving in its wake memories of Love, affection, heartbreak and wonder.

What I would remember remember the most is a rather adorable cephalopod, about 2 years old, eyes forever half closed in a pose of meditation, moving around in a tank somewhere in Germany, probably wondering why every once in a while he was subjected to a zillion flashes of light.

What amazes me, more than the obvious discussions, is the depth of human feeling Paul has elicited. Depending on where you stay the name could mean anger, hope, expectation, cynicism, contentment, belief, or prayer. Say what you will, I’m thankful to Paul because over the past one month, he has shown us a little more about what it means to be human.

Its nice to know that that very animals we pay so little attention to, teach us so much about what it means to be a human. One world famous chef announces that he is sharpening his knife while the president of another country announces relief measures ranging from temporary protection to adoption for Paul (or is it Pablo nowadays?). All the while I’m sure Paul ponders over the mysterious source of his next tasty tidbit.

Some more examples to show how much certain animals mean to us-

Sir Nils Olav commands a huge army and is a symbol of everything that’s good in the Norwegian Kings Guard. One must watch the respect he commands and the awe he inspires during parades as he waddles all along proudly displaying his rank on his flippers. Sir Nils Olav is an emperor Penguin

Lance Corporal William has been one of the Queens best in the army. He has had a wild time in the army- headbutting a drummer during the Queen’s eightieth birthday. He was even put through a disciplinary hearing for that offence and demoted to the rank of fusilier before being promoted again. I wonder- perhaps the Drummer upset him, or perhaps LC. William didn’t have his daily dose of whatever goats eat. Ya, apart from Being in the Queens Royal Guard and living a life of ‘discipline’ LC. William walks on all fours and bleats! Would you really blame a Kashmir Goat for Headbutting to show its annoyance?

- I can almost dramatize the disciplinary hearing scene in my Head

Colonel. LC. Wiliam, do you know why you’ve been called here?

LC. William: Maaaaaaaaa!

Colonel: You Headbutted a drummer- you made your company look bad, you disobeyed a direct order, you were found lacking in discipline, and you insulted the Queen

LC.: Maaaaaaaa!

Colonel: You are demoted to rank of fusilier. Now leave and think about the shame you’ve brought to all of us!

LC: Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! (Trans: Idiot bipeds mumbling! Ooh there’s a pretty leaf and it just feels so right J )

All the while, our generation have grown so disconnected to each other- I think it becomes imperative to look elsewhere for inspiration- to see life a little bearable with a little hope- I guess that motivates most of us to look to the animals. In hope, in wonder.

What were the major happenings of this decade? Its easier for us to rattle off the attacks and deaths and doubts about government than it is to list 5 amazing things that made us feel happy to be humans. It almost seems like each one of us is a little Island of distress, doubt, sadness, some love, and a dimly flickering ray of hope.

In times like this perhaps- the tentacles of Paul, or the Flippers of Sir Nils Olav or the goat antics of LC. William give us that much needed bridge to understand other humans without being judgemental of them- for a moment forgetting the things that keep us grounded to rationalism and for a little while take us to the sky in our little flights of fancy- just like when we were kids.

So that was my most favourite happening of the world cup- a 2 year old octopus providing us a bridge to talk to each other all the while allowing us to laugh to ourselves a little bit! Allowing us to drop our pretence of seriousness and smile without expectation! I’m sure I could say Thank you, but he wouldn’t understand- I’m about as knowledgeable about octopus language as Paul is about English. But I’ll make it a point to buy him a nice tasty shellfish if i’m ever in Germany. Not so much because he predicted 8 matches right (How did he???) but because he gave us something else to see- no the blood and gore, not the intense competition of the World Cup, supposed referee blunders or the annoying Texas Chainsaw called the Vuvuzela, not the regional, national and international dangers that await all of us. He gave us 15 mins of tranqulity- to see a peaceful octopus swim from one end of his tank to another, open a tasty morsel of food, and each it- with the satisfaction of a 2 year old child. He gave me something to hold onto in an otherwise evanescent and shifty world.

A Decade of changes

Do our origins determine the people we become, or do situations change us in ways we can never fathom? And at what point in life does the past become a stranger to us all?

I still remember the pigeons cooing, the sparrows chirping, an incredibly large tree- I still don’t know which species it is- all I remember is my Biology teacher pointing towards it and telling me about its genus and species. Some buildings have been torn down, others constructed to help my school come of age in an ever changing world.

As I walk through the 3^rd Eleven field, I can almost see myself 12 years ago- running down this field– I guess I wasn’t as fat then! Ajax walks down with his cane and shoos everyone to attend assembly and all I can think about at this time is if my shoes are shiny enough so that the prefect wouldn’t catch me. Or wait- my hair appears too long and I am going to get caught! And to beat it all i cant find my hymn book! At this point I’m sweating and palpitating. My uniform doesn’t look ironed enough and I don’t look smart enough! Oh wait! There’s the hymn book! I can muster some courage after all.

I sit here today in corporate attire seeing myself go through the motions- most of my teachers aren’t teaching at Cottons anymore. The lady who showed me how to write has moved to the Middle East. The lady who piqued my curiosity about History has now gone home to Kerala. There’s a strange silence around this place. A place oddly familiar- where the stories of the past do not meld into the continuity of the present.

Its 10 years since I graduated out of Cottons- 10 years of change. I cant seem to shake away that nagging feeling of being in an extremely unfamiliar place. True everyone says there’s no experience like going to a place you’ve known after a long time to see the changes you’ve had since then.

But heres the question- what do you do when you realise that a part of you does not live anymore? I walk through tower block and I remember my friends there- I feel nothing! I walk through the cafeteria and see myself standing in the queue for donuts. I feel nothing! One ought to feel a sense of nostalgia, or longing or atleast some contentment and satisfaction. All i see is a guy 10 years younger than me running around to eat Donuts... I guess thats where the similarity ends.

The rest of me, from ten years ago is a stranger to the present me - a strange sense of déjà vu combined with an out of body experience- Paradoxical, confusing, and a little scary.

Ten years ago I graduated from this place. Got an amazing education that I could never afford (Thanks mum and Dad!). its supposed to be my ten year anniversary, graduating with a decent score- all the while walking- Nec Detrorsum, Nec Sinistrorsum, but On Straight On.

Frome being a believer, I’ve become more cynical. Yet theres a part of me that wants to be the guy from ten years ago. Running through the field, scared, happy, contended, doubtful, playful.

I guess coming back here was good because I got to see the person I was. But there’s a large difference between that and the person I am now - too large a gap that perhaps can never be bridged.

Yet I walk on- Knowing that i have a part to play in this world-insignificant as it may be.

To Mrs Sneha Ramesh and Mrs Rema Pillai I say- Thank you. The parts of my life that you discovered for me, kept me happy through the years, and will continue to do so. Its a gift that Ican neither quantify nor substitute.

Cafe Nirvana

What is it about old places that makes us feel warm, cozy and blissful? The same cacophony of discussions, the same tilted sepia toned picture hung on the wall. Two mirrors on opposite walls kept at an angle inclined. The signature white uniform with the spotless White and Red Bandana, the rickety tables, the faded blue paint and the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The same Century old Cash Tally Machine that makes a peculiar sound that proudly proclaims its personality.

Oh! the smell of coffee makes me feel wanted. Feel hope. The coffee brewed here is a metaphor for good living. Filled to the brim, Full of Life, Rich and inviting... I'm in Love. With Coffee apparently.

The coffee I sip brings me to a realization. Its not just the coffee , not just the people, not just the tables and walls. Its all these things put together - and more

The Coffee House is a place where our collective consciousness- as a people and as a culture- resides. Every culture, Every City has its cultural nerve center. The coffee house is one of such places for Bangalore. Visiting the Coffee House is entering the inner sanctum of the city's collective memories. To experience this, all we have to do is sit down and listen carefully.

What do I find?

A group of businessmen discussing trade over the same coffee that is slowly working its magic with this new couple who sit across from me. I see the girl sipping coffee slowly and stealing loving glances from the boy she's with. Its the same coffee thats helping the girls sitting behind me form such tight bonds of friendship and camaraderie. Lunch is served to the Salesman who's sitting in front of me. And slowly he beings to feel lighter- confident. Probably his prospective customer bailed out on him and was feeling despondent. having lunch here has made him realize the fleeting nature of setbacks. I see a Mother telling some story about her times at the coffee house, to her daughter who's just reached adolescence. I think when this girl experiences Love for the first time- she'll visit here as a symbolic gesture letting in a guy into her life. This old man sits in a group reminiscing fondly about his life and his times with his wife who's passed on- to his group of really old friends. They all Laugh- full throated- and most of them don't even have teeth left. I think of the time when these men came here- maybe decades ago. They weren't this fat. They had Hair, Teeth, and companions. Now they have each other- one of them may leave us all today evening. But this memory would live on passed through them, through me. It suddenly feels like divine hands are working their way to me.. and before I know it I'm smiling too.

I am all these people- The old Man without Teeth, The Girl who might find love, the despondent salesman, the group of friends, the doting mother and Just-Fell in Love- couple. All these people are a part of me just as i am, of them.

Then the realization dawns on me. The coffee house doesn't just serve coffee. The coffee isnt an end- its the means to an end- its the magical fount of self realization. A mirror to my soul and simultaneously the hand of hope.

Everyone has a different picture of hope. For some its their husbands/ Wives. For some its their Lovers or friends. My picture of hope is a pot bellied, mustachioed man with no name. He wears the spotless Red and White headgear and a spotless white uniform. His red belt is the widest belt made ever and his shoes are white and polished. With a genuine warm smile he ambles along like Baloo the Bear and brings me my order of scrambled egg Toast and coffee.

We live schizophrenic lives- especially in the cities- Memories shift like sand dunes of the desert. In this shifty world of Maya, I see my picture of hope- as he comes walking to me smiling and conveying at the same time- "I'm here now- and I'm here for you"

Old Wine...

What is the distance between Texas and Bangalore? I'd say about the same distance as the width of Brigade Road in Bangalore.

Its a strange ethereal feeling meeting old acquaintances and friends. Long periods of being incommunicado followed by a meeting, one never really knows what to expect. People change day to day- and over a period of three years we have changed, a lot. Sort of reminds me of the short story 'After Twenty Years'

Yet there's always a feeling of familiarity, a sense of great affection that cannot be expressed in words. Genuine laughter knowing nods in scams undertaken together- a long long time ago.

And the experiences come back in a rush- like a dam that burst open. And that familiar feeling of being partners in crime returns. Eyes never Lie. The same streak of hair that runs across her face, the sharp laughter that makes the world a little less unbearable and voice that can calm calm me down from murderous rage to carefree laughter in minutes. The same look of wonder and terror.

We hanker for change in our life, everyday, fight for it, sometimes die for it, and yet it seems we all want things to remain the same. Back to the same bumbling 18 year old, who got all tongue-tied in the presence of a rather charming girl.

Life encompasses within it a very deep and profound madness. I guess meeting old friends gives us some sort of a respite from our own little insanities of living everyday. A similar feeling to drinking very old wine. Initial exhilarating that transcends into serenity followed by moments of untarnished beauty. Towards the end, all that remains is a warm glow that radiates from within, knowing that fulfillment is the easiest thing in the world.

Three Years ago, we said our goodbyes only to meet three years later. Lives have diverged but our way of living hasn't. Because of technological changes we keep in touch even though we're separated by oceans, but fulfillment is never reached... The void of emptiness that cannot be fulfilled by keeping in touch alone.

And it remained so through large internet chat discussions, favors and video's exchanged, and messages passed on, and news shared. It was not even fulfilled when I heard she'd landed in Bangalore. Bangalore or Texas, it never really changed. Local Calls and ISD Calls have the same dull sense of being impersonal and metallic.

... Until I saw her across Brigade Road waving to me. Thats when memories came back flying through the night sky- Memories of classes attended and classes bunked. Memories of the unbridled fear in her eyes because of the dog pound. Memories of endless cups of coffee and being curious because of intellectual chatter of the monkeys near the electrical department. Memories of circular reasoning that would drive a certified psychologist to insanity.

That was the distance between Texas and Bangalore for me. the time and distance it took for me to cross the road. A place where our conversations stopped being 'telecommunication' and started being personal. I guess, because of our busy lives and the horrible traffic it took us three years to cross the road.

A happy thought for me to remember that the first Happy memory of the year was gifted to me by two incredibly warm people who who remembered me when they didn't have to. They chose to celebrate joy of togetherness on a cold dry winter evening, instead of curling up in their homes with family.