29 January 2010

It is ajoke

Charlie Chaplin , once said " the most important thing in a man is his sense of humour". But I guess the  joke ran out for him , as he had  too many wives.

I read this week ,  a joke is shift in your thinking path .
Getting one to start thinking on one path, then with with the punchline changing the direction.
You think, because you have a gap in knowledge and we aspire to seek the the missing.
God ....As he is all known, does not need to think and therefore has no sense of humour .

Did you see how it works ?


Here is a question to you .

You have two cups of equal size . One has oil and the other has vinegar.

If you take a spoonful of oil and first put it to the cup with vinegar.

Then take a spoon full of the mixture and put it back to the cup with the oil.

Which is more? The vinegar percentage in the cup of oil or the oil percentage in the cup full of vinegar

Well friends , the answer is , both are the same.

(Assuming x ml of oil was first displaced

Assume second time when you take the spoon full , assume the mixture had y ml vinegar

Which means y ml of oil is left in the in the cup full of vinegar

Therefore (x-y ) ml of oil has been moved back from the cup full vinegar. Thus there is y ml of vinegar in the cup to oil.
(It actually does not matter how well you mix .)

Remember this in the coming days when the elections are announced , when the election-porn get hits to web sites , sell papers , dominate FB statuses and keeps us entertained.

24 January 2010


The ancient one sits
 in the gloom 
winding road to the peak 
lined by twinklings 
unfolding the path 

Never ending gloom 
Never ending steps 

The gentle scent of Arabic perfume , of spices
hang on the leaves near Nalla Thanni
The clink of roman coins in small purses
pride of an empire
follow you each step of the climb
Echoes of   “Saadhu” chants
  from ago 
surround you 
haunting you
ith the secreted
sighs of peasants, 
cries of mothers , 
the wisdom of old men, 
tales of kings
ho passed by through 
the valley of time

Never ending chants
Never ending steps

In the waft floats 
whispers of an ocean far away 
said to the sands awaiting the waves 
The breeze smells of butterflies 
Sweet smell from their breath 
lightness from their wings 
from their journey to the peak 
to perish at sunset 

no butterflies in sight 
for  they do not travel in the night 
It is the pilgrims 
who climb swathed in moon shade
It always has been
to reach the small shrine

to  catch the first rays 
of the day

Nothing more

Never ending pilgrims

Never ending steps

21 January 2010

Even she fumbles

My 7 year old ( going to be 8, as she puts it) and I were talking today about Haiti . The devastation and all that.

How mother nature posesses the power to create and destroy. Then she turns to me and says "may be she did not mean to".

And goes on to ellaborate "may be she did not mean to, may be it was an accident" . Then concludes in a sage tone " it happens to girls , you know"

Amidst the chuckles in my heart, and that particular pride and plesant surprise that a parent feels when you are caught off guard like this, I was thinking, that she has a point.

Then it got complecated , as always because she threw a curve ball at me

"do you think it happens to God too, does she have accidents too?"

What say you ?

16 January 2010

Dosvedanya mio bambino

You know sometimes, there is a song. 

With a haunting melody and lyrics that stick in your head for days and every time  
you listen to it , it seems to mean different array of things.

Arouse different sets of feelings . And suddenly everywhere you look seems to relate to it .
From the people you talk to day in day out . To the random people that pass by you , at walkways .
Then you realize the song relates to some aspects of you too.  
This is week this was that song

 Dosvedanya mio Bambino-  farewell to my bumble bee 

The Samovara is full of tea
You stare unblinkingly at me
While your car waits in the freezing rain
I know your soul calls Moscow
But your heart belongs to Rome
So for years, I've followed you in vain

But all, will you ever know what you are?
Dosvedanya mio bambino
Dosvedanya mio bambino
There is a place where only you alone go
There is a world that only you alone know

Along an endless balcony
Above the Adriatic Sea
I try to storm the Kremlin of your heart
In Florence, we were on the mend
But that Mazurka had to end
We missed the naked trees of Gorky Park

But all, will you ever know what you've lost?
Dosvedanya mio bambino
Dosvedanya mio bambino
There is a place where only you alone go
There is a world that only you alone know

But all, will you ever know what you have?
Dosvedanya mio bambino
Dosvedanya mio bambino
There is a place where only you alone go
There is a world that only you alone know

I heard you finally settled down,
in a warm Italian town
So I took the train to see you there
Your wife is sweet and you're well fed
Your daughter, tucked away in bed
Still you looked at me with great despair
I hear snow is falling

............on Red Square