Iron Fist - Indira Gandhi

Here's what Indira Gandhi had to say about Telangana. I wonder how congress turned so indecisive having had such a great leader in its ranks. Probably PV Narasimha Rao had some role.......

http://indianmernoks.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-late-pm-indira-gandhi-had-to-say.html

Great websites I found very useful and hence would like to share with you all.

http://slashdot.org/ - First thing I do everyday.
http://gtd.marvelz.com/blog/ - A great get things done site.
http://reddevnews.com/ - Redmond developer news web site.
http://www.greenpastic.com/ - Radiohead stuff.
http://discovermagazine.com/ - Discover magazine
http://postsecret.blogspot.com/ - secret blogger
http://www.ibm.com/developerworks/

U-turn

This '97 thriller has its part partly in the cameos of Sean penn (The protogonist) and Billy Bob Throton (the care mechanic). The plot is quite simple and typically full of oddities. Sean Penn on his way to pay a gangster his debt, is stuck in a remote Arizona town, Superior, when his cars gives in. He is stuck over there with the mechanic Darell (Played by Billy Bob) and a step-father and daughter couple who are at each other's throats and comically, with a love pair. He is robbed of the lot of his money, by way-side robbers and he's denied help of 150 bucks to take his repaired car back. Most comic element of the movie is the 5o buck increase in the repair bill proposed by the mechanic when he finds something new to repair in his car, everytime Bobby goes to him. He plans to escape to Mexico but fate snatches the ticket from him in the funny brawl he has with the love-pair. TNT Tobby N Tucker - when he rises, someone is hurt :) He can't kill off Grace (J' Lo') and he finds that she wants instead to kill her step-dad for reasons of loathing acrimony towards his lust for her. At the end, she's the one to kill her step-dad, the cop (sheriff) and Bob, while Bob kills her. Everyone ends up dead and the movie ends as the hose pipe of Bob's car goes bust when he's the only one of the four alive and badly in need of an escape. He curses the place and resigns to its killer design and dies. A cool pic worth watching once.

September Sixth

Come September Sixth, one lively soul on this globe, Orkay, sheds his disease. He exercises his volition. He lets go his longing for an unworthy sufferer, Majiji. Orkay dreamed of sharing Majiji's troubles and suffer on Majiji's behalf. He sought to forget the world for a piece of contradictions, Majiji. He is thenceforth liberated, alive again, restored to his original self. Peace be upon the sufferer, for it is doomed to suffer. Peace be upon Majiji, for Majiji can only suffer and one can only hope, Majiji can withstand the pain. The pain wrought by longing souls all around, put forth by multitudes of heart aches, increased by the multitudes of desires to own Majiji. Majiji is set to rotten in the world of ephemeral beauty, to degrade to a symbolic death and decay made disgraceful only by the fragile and fleeting quality of Majiji's attractions.

The celebrating entity, Orkay, takes a decision. To give indifference to the sufferer Majiji. Majiji is confused. It was always confused. Indifference for life. While happiness takes over the heart of Orkay, doom envelopes the inners of Majiji. Things in this universe always square up. Pain wrought on Orkay was to square an earlier mistake. This pain of his finds its square in the pain of Majiji. Pain stays no where but in the heart of bitches who give it.

It was banal attraction that Orkay had suffered. Commonplace, is the longing for bitches. That longing is what makes them one.

September sixth, is a day on which one soul stops crying and another, pity can't help, starts wandering in the vast, unending lands of wilderness. Crusades that split that hapless soul into twelve equal pieces, blood oozing out of it.

Chance once lost is lost for good, for, goodness knocks only once. Let peace be upon the sufferer. Have a peaceful hell.

Poignant and Mellifluous

mujh se pehli si mohabbat meray mehbub na maang

mein ne samjha tha kay tu hai to darakhshaan hai hayaat
tera gham hai to gham-e-dahar ka jhagdra kya hai
teri surat se hai aalam mein bahaaron ko sabaat
teri aankhon ke sivaa duniya mein rakkha kya hai

tu jo mil jaaye to taqdir niguun ho jaaye

yun na tha mein ne faqat chahaa tha yun ho jaaye
aur bhii dukh hain zamaane mein mohabbat ke sivaa
raahaten aur bhi vasl ki raahat ke sivaa
anaginat sadiyon ki taarik bahimanaa talism
resham-o-atalas-o-kamkhvaab mein bunavaaye huye
jaa-ba-jaa bikate huye kuuchaa-o-baazaar mein jism
khaak mein lithade huye khuun mein nahalaaye huye

jism nikale huye amaraaz ke tannuuron se
piip bahatii hu_ii galate huye naasuuron se
laut jaati hai udhar ko bhi nazar kyaa kije
ab bhi dilkash hai tera husn magar kya kije

aur bhii dukh hain zamaane mein mohabbat ke sivaa
raahaten aur bhi vasl ki raahat ke sivaa
mujh se pehli si mohabbat meray mehbub na maang

- Faiz Ahmad Faiz


Translation

Don't ask me for the love I once gave you, my love

I had thought if I had you, life would shine eternally on me
I had your sorrows, those of the universe would mean nothing
Your face would bring permanence to every spring
What is there but your eyes to see in the world anyway

If I found you, my fate would bow down to me

This was not how it was, it was merely how I wished it to be
There are other heartaches in the world than those of love
There is happiness other than the joy of union
The dreadful magic of uncountable dark years
Woven in silk, satin and brocade
In every corner are bodies sold in the market
Covered in dust, bathed in blood

Bodies retrieved from the cauldrons of disease
Discharge flowing from their rotten ulcers
Still returns my gaze in that direction, what can be done
Even now your beauty is tantalizing, but what can be done

There are other heartaches in the world than those of love
There is happiness other than the joy of union
Don't ask me for the love I once gave you, my love

The Robot Child

I wanted to write about this child of one of my cousins, whom I had never seen. But I heard about him from my uncle and his attitude was so kewl that I could not resist putting something about him here :)

This kid is a naturalized U.S citizen and has probably seen 2 summers, and a winter since his birth. He is chumpy and has a flowing hair which he meticulously brushes off his eyes, a million times, without having even a wee bit of bother. He looks at you as if you were his friend from the infinite past and he knows all of your secrets and worse, you know all of his. He just looks and smiles at you long enough to catch your undulating attention and then immediately wanders off to something else. Almost everything around him manages to catch his attention and care. He can distinguish between animate and inanimate things, though. He takes enough care not to disturb animate objects. A look and a understanding smile are all, he has for them. But inanimate objects are lucky enough to get a closer treatment from the hands of this kid. He picks the lifeless objects looks at them, carefully caresses them, waves his hands with them in hand, but oh, so carefully as to not let them fall down. He is their caretaker. He is their God.

When his parents or the so called elders give an angry glance and tell him, he should not be playing with anything, he gives it back with a smile and the same understanding glance and leaves all he has in his hands and moves on, in search of another thing, that's waiting for his masterly treatment and care.

Like a Robot, he crawls on and on, checking with all these objects. To an indifferent observer it would seem as if he is trying to fill these things with what humans tout to have, LIFE. While I don't completely understand his philosophy towards life, it is so impressive and attractive that I am dying to see him whenever he can come over to India next.

I guess, he thoroughly embodies the most successful attitudes towards meterial things in life. The one which has been so widely propogated by the followers of Lord Krsna. The idea of having extreme fondness towards objects around you and at the same time, having the capability of detaching oneself from them upon short notice. Like a drop of water on a lotus leaf and the patch of oil on a non-stick pan :-), this kid carries with him the essence of happiness.

Innocence

He is the one who his friends call a Bigot. An immaculate one at that. He believes that world is to be doomed. That the globe is living out a cursed tenure. There's no semblance of reason to what he believes. After all, he is a bigot. An immaculate one.

The bigot is travelling to his workplace which was an hour's drive from his dilapidated house. He is sitting by a window of a state run bus. The bus is, as usual, very crowded and noisy. The ticket distributor is doing his job. He's struggling effectively in going back and forth through the maze of people distributing tickets. sweat is trickling down his body. He has a thin body and that helps him, thinks the bigot.

Twenty minutes into the drive already, the bigot looks out of his window. What he sees would leave him in a state of suspended sorrow for the rest of his day. He sees a small hut near a bus stop where the bus jolted to a screeching halt. Inside the hut which was small enough to be labelled unfit even for a scavenging place, there's enough that a family of four can ever need to live. There are cooking pots, a mud fireplace, a few untensils, blankets strewn around, a few pitures of dieties that is probably their sacred praying place. All of these in a six feet by six square. What he sees outside the settlement stunned him to death. There is a boy and a girl. He can't gather what their ages are. They might be around 10 years each. They have a huge hammer each in their hands. They were indifferently listening to a man who's seated on a small rock with a reasonably big iron-hook in his hand, to help hold a lump of iron in its place on an iron plate.

He sees the elderly man shout - "Hit". The boy and the girl make dextrous movements and pull their hammer down taking turns, while the man, probably their father, adjusts the hook to expose the right part of the moulded piece to get it into a desired shape. It seems to him that the girl, especially, would follow the motion of the huge hammer and fling into the air with it, but she's not. She's holding her feet to the ground, firmly.

There's an unbearable stech emenating from a drianage canal beside the hut which has been overflowing with human filth for god knows how many years. The bus moved after taking in some of the commuters who barely had place to stand in the already overcrowded bus.

Of all things, the innocence of the children is what the bigot still has etched in his mind. They are innocent. They don't know what malice is. They don't have the envy that many of us have a better childhood than they have.

Innocence and Ignorance is truly a bliss to them, he thinks.