It's my moon...

As I stood propped against the parapet wall of my terrace,I could feel the gentle breeze caress my face.The sun had just just accepted defeat and dissappeared into the western skies.I stared at the enveloping darkness of the sky as the night was slowly veiling in and I could feel my thoughts wheeling back to those times when my head could barely reach the parapet rim.

All those stars were little diamonds studded across the sky." One day I'm going to pluck them all and hide them under my pillows", I'd promised myself then.Imagine the shock that would've come upon me when my fifth grade book informed that stars are colossal masses of fire,times bigger than our sun and not the small pretty diamonds as they seem to be.I'd been enlightened that never will I be able to pluck stars.I was dissappointed.

Then I was in for the next shock- The-One-Moon-For-Everyone theory.How could that possibly be true?Everyday after twilight games all of us take our own moons and run across the grounds,through the streets with that heavenly balloon tagging along with us.Then I'd carefully secure my moon behind the bars of my window beside the bed.But the science 'miss' seemed pretty sure about it.

The skies were not just big blue umbrellas.The beast that fed on the moon got extinct.Rains no longer poured from showers entrenched in the skies.My sun did not sleep under the depths of the bellowing sea.

Time had flewn me from a world of fascination to one equipped with answers and geared with facts.As the truth was coroneted,the charisma was exiled.Science had destroyed the splendor.We become a victim of a timeless journey and somewhere along the way we lose our juvenile innocence.

Thoughts swirled back to me and I missed something that had seemed so trivial before.I looked up at the empty beauty of the night.The moon had by then undraped its nimbus stricken profile.I tried to locate that old woman on the moon but only void craters jeered back at me.

What is all this fizz about?

Little drops of joy- a captivating tagline, claiming to offer a second of satisfaction, an instant of happiness and a bubble of hope with every sip of coca cola one takes.Behind that joyous, dewy cool facade lies something more hideous than the phosphoric acids and pesticide content that we know of.A little bit of browsing through revealed how coke is on its heel, heaping atrocities on the developing countries of the world.


Coca cola, a U.S based multi-national company and a political product of it's domination and global sucess, has it's straws down in Indian wells siphoning away much needed water.Recent news read that so much water was being pulled out for the manufacture of the drink that the sites with bottling plants, and the villages around,from uttar pradesh to kerala, are left with little water to drink, cook and wash.The condition is even worse in Mexico where coke has accounted for land privatisation program that allowed free access to all the resources on the land, including water.And it seems it needs four litres of water to produce one litre of tasty-tasty coke.Need of the day!


Coke does not directly employ child labor.Not violating the law, and by it's own guiding principles coke only buys sugarcane from the fields of El Salvador which employs around 5000 to 30,000 children,some as young as 8 years.Sugarcane farming, from what I know, is one of the most hazardous of practices.One is bound to sustain several injuries and health hazards, inspite of experience.Imagine what plight little children will have to undergo. Some children also get to miss school during the harvesting period.



At colombia, the killings of union leaders at Coca-Cola's bottling plants has evoked truths about the company taking paramilitaies' help to threaten and harass its union leaders.Columbia is a country already famous for its paramilitaries belonging to its self defense forces itself who treat trade union leaders like pests taking their lives in dozens every year. Claims show that the company benefits from paramilitary violence and is also one of the orchestrating powers of right-wing paramilitaries.


Big Cola is a famous mexican cola company, now under rapid supression from coke.Market positions in Mexico are taken by power and the retailers are put under immense pressure not to sell rival drink Big Cola. Coke also has found a brilliant niche market in there that is made to believe cola induces burping, which releases the evil from the soul!

Denials and evasions are all that comes from the company's side of the story.Coca cola is just the parent corporation that markets the drink.So,technically coke is not produced by a single global company, but a global network of bottling companies that are either wholly or partially owned by Coca cola.That gives coke reason enough to elude the enlisted abuses and keep up the high-value brand name.


For some reason ,I feel,coke gets picked up first against its more conservative cousins.May be its the extensive ad campaigns, costly brand ambassadors, or simply for the cool dude/dudette image it creates.Whatever it is,coke may well be your favourite soft- drink but for many ruralites clean water is still their drink of choice.You can spare them some by refusing a bottle of the not-so-healthy fizzy pop!

The race and the routes.

Sorry, I have no time to introduce myself because I'm running a race- a race to see who comes out on top over everyone else.I'm not sure since when I've been running but I've been running ever since I started running.Hardly can I see a destination, but I will keep running with nowhere as my endless destination.

Is this what I really want? Well.. I dont know.Just as we all want to be on top I want my little moment in the spotlight.And you have to be in the number one spot simply to survive, and survive that I must.Therefore I will run. There are routes, though limited they are. High pay, medium pay, low pay jobs.Tech job, softy job, management job. MS abroad- ambitious universities, good universities, ok-ok universities. MBA- Top tier business schools, B-grade business schools.And that is my domain and I'm not to run outside the boundaries.I need to run to continue living in the “status quo”, do-what’s-expected-of-you lifestyle that’s got me this far.

Dreams? Oh yeah... I had a few...but.. Why take a chance on a far-flung dream (that may fail!) when you could follow a formulaic pattern that leads to an already determined – and hopefully successful – conclusion.Why think beyond the circle when the circle is so self-sufficient?It has been set and treaded upon.That alone is the legal track for the race and you lose if you step out.Being money-minded is practical. Dreams are mere illusions,they lead you nowhere.See something that works and stick to it, don’t fix what isn’t broken! That's how you got to be in the race and that's why I'm running.And yeah...Hi! I am... just another rat!

A story of the girl.

A gloomy evening sun was casting its grim rays into the smudged window pane of her office cabin.Vaishnavi stood, leaning against the sliding door to the balcony, lost in thoughts.She didn’t want to think of what happened the day before while there was nothing else she could possibly think of. She was tired, for the last night, for some reason, sleep kept eluding her. After a few more long moments she took her bag and left the office.

Speeding her scooty through the busy streets of Chennai , Vaishnavi zigzagged her way across the many vehicles that raced the roads, taking turns and cuts at places. It was a default ride, she wasn't concentrating on where she was heading to. There was virtually no other place but her home she headed to right after work.Reaching at the end of the street she slowed down her bike beside the neighbourhood she had spent all her life in.

The door of her house was open even before she could ring the bell.Walking in she found her father in his huge wooden chair silently scanning through the papers.He did not look up.He did not acknowledge her arrival.She went in, washed and changed. The breakfast she had made that morning lay cold in the casserole and the coffee undrunk.She looked across the room to where her father sat.He was only a few yards from her but it seemed like the distance was growing every minute and something opaque was building up between them. Feeling distressingly uncomfortable, she sat down. It had never been like this before. Never, ever since Vaishnavi's mom left her when she was only thirteen. Her father,Subromaniyan, was an auditor in a huge firm and ever since the departure of her mom he had reared her single-handedly.

Vaishnavi had grownup to be the perfect girl, the dream of every parent .She spoke less, worked hard and followed her father's words to the t. Her father had decided everything for her from the clothes she should wear, friends she should spend time with, to the career she should take up to.And she had heeded to him without a word of refusal or rather even gladly.She had completed her accountancy studies and moved to a firm where she found a decent job and became busy making herself worth the life she was given.

For all the twenty four years of her life, she kept her secret dreams intact in a land far away in her head.Staying away from all the waywardness of the sober colors of her life,she stuck to her schedule and the endless monotonies it had to offer, only believing change will come as a rescue someday, someday not very far away. And it did but it was not the quite expected change.

There she sat like a mannequin at a showroom, all adorned and groomed, infront of the group of strangers. The ladies were weighing and measuring her from top to toe and the men the house around.It was the traditional ceremony before marriage where the girl is visited and decisions are made.Decisions for something so personal, that so become a part of your life.But you are just allowed as a silent spectator when your life is being decided.As she sat being scrutinized and questioned, something in her died. Dreams were sailing far and away.She was listening no more.She stood up, refused whatever was being done and went in. Subromaniyan was taken aback just as the pain of humiliation came over him.This was something he had never expected from his daughter,whom he had brought up with every value inculcated.Had he not taught her morals and values? He was shattered.
Letting no emotions play on his solid features, Subromaniyan read through the papers that were a couple of weeks old. Someone had taken his child away from him,and changed her heart. She knew not what lies in the awful world around.But he couldn't gather the will to talk to her, for plain fear of being not heeded to.

"Appa.." ,Vaishnavi called out. Subromaniyan looked up, eyes plain and emotionless.
"Appa, I know you must be angry..but..."
"Why wouldn't I? We all have our reasons, don't we?"
"I said no because of a reason"
"Of course... You have grown up, earn and live in a corporate world.You can sure have reasons.. more than one.If I may know.. who is the boy you have decided for yourself?"
"I never told you the reason, I just said a no"
"....." Subromaniyan returned back to his paper.

" Yeah…. I said no because it was too sudden and there were so many things unknown. The boy you chose for me must be great, but I don’t know him. I couldn’t give you an answer right there right then, but they wanted an answer, and the only answer appropriate for something so strange, so nameless, was no. I didn’t say no to you, or your choice or your intentions; I said no to something I didn’t feel comfortable with, I said no to the urgency, to the lack of time and understanding. I didn’t even say no to him, but to the way it was all being done. Just … give me time. If there is anyone I would let make decision for me, it would be no one but you; but include me, let there be time to find out, to know, to like, to decide.”

Subromaniyan looked up again, this time they had tears in them, of joy.His daughter has sure grown up.

The little invader

Its with extreme helplessness that I write this blog.I wanted some place to give full vent to all those downbeat feelings,I've been trying to suppress for sometime now, however silly and stupid they may seem to be.
As the most molly-coddled kid of the house, I grew up with all the affection and attention there was,with every little thing fussed over.And... I liked it.Who doesn't anyway!For the first time in my life, I experienced what it was like to be suddenly thrown out of the spot light when the toddler next door invaded our home with his tiny presence. Since then things have not been the same. My twenty years of unrivaled monopoly had come to an abrupt end.Kapil- yes he is the source of all chaos. Everything was fine and flowery until he came into my life.

Kapil is a year and a half old, lives next-door, away from his busy-working parents, with his grandparents. I should admit to the fact that he is a totally charming child.He could barely walk when he first entered our house and now he speaks a few meaningless words.Obedient, sweet, a tad shy, smart and a little naughty, he is every bit an adorable child. Spend some time with him, and he'll sweep you by your legs and throw you overboard with his mysterious childish charms. And that was exactly how my parents fell. He wove his magic around them when I was away in college,oblivious to how he took the starlight from me.

It was to my mom he first looked up and called 'ammmaaa' and you know she was sortta ...overwhelmed.And so was my dad.Kapil liked our home, for he was not held back for anything.He started staying in our house overtime, going back to his home only when forcefully taken when it was bedtime.When at our home he would run little errands for my parents like fetching the mobile every time it rings, putting back the empty coffee mugs in place, emptying small cups of water to the plants in the garden, selecting evening clothes for my mom so on and so forth.He would see them off with a wave and a kiss when they leave for work and jump in excitement when they return.Initially, I should say I actually liked it very much to watch my parents play with him, talk in sugar- sweet tones, exaggerating little things.It was cute watching them lose their adulterous ice and defense for a small kid.

It was the last time I went home that I understood the real gravity of the situation. Things had undergone a paradigm shift.He claimed all the priorities that had earlier remained in my domain alone- from getting the first morsel of food, getting to flip to his favourite channel, getting the biggest chunk of chocolate, to getting to oil massage my father's head.He sits on my mom's lap and falls asleep on my dad's shoulders. He took it all from me. I was no longer the coddled KID of the house.I was not getting my daily dose of attention.Maybe I would've looked like a grown-up responsible adult beside Kapil's petite presence.Whatever happened to the famous parental vow 'Kids remain kids' all their lives!

Now It even infuriates me to watch him rightfully hail my parents 'amma' and 'appa'. No one could possibly guess,beneath my cool facade, there was a sizzling fire of jealousy and possessiveness.I wanted to be pampered and cuddled.I wanted to be fussed over for little things.I wanted to claim my parents all for myself, not wanting to share their priceless love with anyone else. Only a well-formed ego kept me from from voicing these things out.Or maybe I'm just afraid I would sound silly.

As a child I'd always wanted to grow up fast- to be a big girl, to be able to go ahead and further my secrets ambitions. I wanted to smell the sweet air of complete freedom and chase the rainbows I'd looked unto. But now, here I'm ready to trade all that for a small place on my mother's lap and for the comfort of falling asleep on my father's shoulders.

It does feel great watching my parents grow young in spirits once again.They get to laugh more, they have someone to look forward to after a day's hectic work, they found a solace to ward away their boredom. Kapil had carelessly spread his innocent smiles across their lives. Whatever said...how I wish they could hear the stubborn child in me crying for their undivided attention!

And I walked on..

I was walking through my college avenue after class(es) yesterday, along the long wet, rain-drenched road.Rain had just stopped and a dripping sun showed its helpless face before taking refuge behind the smoky clouds.I could inhale the silence in the air . The whole place wore on a fresh shade of green after a nice long shower.I walked on slowly, aimlessly as I always do.And I love walking, call it sauntering.

It was one of those days when you feel strangely happy, blissfully content. There was a nameless excitement in the air that hung around me. I didn't know why, couldn't point out a reason.But I didn't want one anyway for I don't like reasons , at least for all the good things in life. When one searches for a reason behind a joy it becomes ephemeral-short-lived. Like someone? like them for the person they are, completely, rather than for a reason, for a personalized opinion.Studying for reasons.. for grades, for peer respect, for career prospects, it feigns the very idea. Study, for the pure pleasure of learning itself, to explore, to know, to get fascinated.

I walked on trying to make out weird shapes in the looming clouds above- a deformed tortoise and a malformed crocodile. Little terns chasing the grazing cows around, a pup that was blissfully asleep , the last drops of rain holding on to the yellow flowers on the trees as if unwilling to part, little puddles of water, two school going kids with over sized bags,I wanted to indulge in everything I saw. The smell of fresh, steamed corn suddenly invaded the cool air and it was intoxicating. And I succumbed. Taking juicy bites off the heavenly corn, I walked into the lonely eastern road that lead straight to hostel.And when I reach there. these few blissful moments I had by myself will end amidst the life and chirping inside the place.

With every passing moment,with every step I took I missed something I liked so much. It was trivial, nameless and strange but still I missed it.I felt helpless letting such precious moments slip by like sand past your fingers. I felt myself switching mode from strangely happy to helplessly sad.

May be this is how humans are... we refuse to let go, trying to hold on to precious things, precious moments, precious ones. We fail to accept that only the prospect that joy is momentary keeps it alive and beautiful. When everything is joyous and nothing is not-so-joyous, then joy in its version doesn't exist at all. We would let go when the moment is infiltrated and lived completely. Those who let go of their loved ones are those who know they have loved completely.Those who embrace death bravely are the ones who know they've lived life completely and the death itself gets meaningful.I kept walking.

Diwali is around the corner and soon I'll be royally landing at home.Home- that beautiful place with a grim n loving father, mother.. all excited with her repertoire of festival dishes which she is waiting to share with me, those little fishes in my tank that keep constantly blowing airy kisses at me, freshly pruned garden waiting for my inspection, lively neighborhood, yes I'll soon be there.I had plans.. I'll show dad he needn't be so grim with an unexpected hug,approve those tantalizing dishes with a wink, empty a generous pinch of fish food inside the tank for a few extra kisses,steal a few flowers off the garden and get updated on the recent gossips. I'll walk on this road, it will lead me there. As moments flit by, I take more steps ahead...I'll soon be home!

Ambassador of glitz and glamour

This blog is not fairly in time, for it’s been a good few months since Auto- Expo 2008 that came about in January. I decided to put it down anyway because there are quite a few out there who aren’t aware of the sensation our good old ambassador has created among international hotrod freaks. If one happens to gaze across an Indian road not many of us would take a second look at the ambassador. Not only that we are too accustomed to the looks that had undergone little change since it rolled out of the assembly lines of Hindustan motors in the late 1950s(but for the fitting of Isuzu 1800 cc engine sometime later) but it does not even seem close to winning a road race of luxurious SUVs and smallest-and-most-affordable-car-ever-mades .


But all the same it brings in me a sense of nostalgia looking at India’s first car- an Icon of India’s independence from the British rule. Despite the fact that its entire construction is based on the Morris Oxford series, it indeed was the first ever car to demonstrate the fact that India was capable of independent automobile production. As luck would have it when the oxford series had already demoted a decade after the launch of ambassador, Hindustan Motors still manages to sell about 20,000 ambassadors a year.

This car enjoyed a monopoly till the introduction of Indica that took away the taxi car market from Ambassador. The narrowing price difference between petrol and diesel also eroded the value in investing in an old dated Ambassador. HM never bothered to rationalize the price of the brand. Today an Ambassador costs more than Rs 4, 80,000. At that price one could afford a more luxurious Indigo sedan. HM launched a radically designed Ambassador variant Avigo in 2004 in an attempt to boost the sagging sales. Although the styling was radical, the customer response wasn’t …well… very promising.

Celebrated car designer DC decided to give this car a reincarnation something like Holden’s wild hot rod concept- EFIJY , a remodel of 953 FJ Holden. So retaining the design cues and the fabled spaciousness of the old ambassador he gave it a few futuristic touches, a low slung body, oversized wheels all from the hotrod design manual and there we had the all new AMBIEROD that set the ramps on fire during Autoexpo 2008. Before it could see the faint flicker of recognition in the onlookers’ eyes , it blew their eyeballs off with the style and the exteriors bathed in cherenkov radiation.

Open the hydraulically-actuated gull-wing doors and you are transported into the future. It’s an intelligent car, with enough computing power to rival a supercomputer. Menu-driven LCD screens display not only the entertainment options, but even the driver’s instrumentation. You have movies and internet on demand. Cameras have taken over the function of mirrors. Internet and videoconferencing-enabled flat bed and multi-coloured mood lighting all makes the Ambierod a retro-futuristic car, the looks of which are derived from the American hotrods.

The car that had been looked at as the most economic one of all times has become the most expensive designed cars ever showcased at the Autoexpo with a price tag of US $1 million ( Rs 4 crores). The car that looked like a mirrored version of Hillman minx now looks nothing less of Ferraris and Lamborghinis straight out of a hotrod. The car that raced the bumpy Indian roads with Premier Padminis is now on the ramps with a jaw dropping glamour giving hotrod freaks a thud in the heart and costing limo owners a fortune for its possession. An ambassador of reliability and reparability is now one of style, glitz and glamour. Well I’m mighty proud. Are you??