<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969</id><updated>2011-12-15T01:19:45.616+05:30</updated><title type='text'>All the World is a Stage ! This is mine !</title><subtitle type='html'>I just play my Part !</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>132</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-1523209837186347067</id><published>2011-12-15T01:18:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-12-15T01:19:45.629+05:30</updated><title type='text'>ஆறுதல் !</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff9900;"&gt;வயிறு வாடும் பொழுது சொட்டுத் தண்ணீர்,&lt;br /&gt;அணியலிழக்கையில் முயற்சி எனுமந்திரம்,&lt;br /&gt;சிரம் தாழ்ந்தும் தாழ திடாரிக்கம்,&lt;br /&gt;ஏமாற்றத்தின் விசனம் துடைக்குமோர்மம்,&lt;br /&gt;இழப்பின் வெறுமை நிரப்ப ஞெலுவன்,&lt;br /&gt;தனிமையில் துணையாய் இறைவன்,&lt;br /&gt;கருணையுடன் கண்ணீரகற்றும் கரம்,&lt;br /&gt;இருள் விழுங்க தொலைவில் சிறு ஒளி!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-1523209837186347067?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/1523209837186347067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=1523209837186347067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1523209837186347067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1523209837186347067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2011/12/blog-post.html' title='ஆறுதல் !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-1493764803299372089</id><published>2011-10-31T20:54:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-31T20:56:26.390+05:30</updated><title type='text'>தமிழ் ஆர்வலர்களுக்கு !</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 28px; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;இருபதாயிரம் ஆண்டுகளுக்கு முன்பு, காடுகளில் சுற்றித்திரிந்த மனிதன் பேசிய முதல் மொழி நம் தமிழ் மொழியே. நாகரீகம், பண்பாடு, கலாச்சாரம் என்பனவற்றை உலகிற்கு கற்றுக்கொடுத்தது நம் முன்னோர்களே. இரண்டாயிரம் ஆண்டுகளுக்கு முன்பு வரை மருத்துவம், கணிதம், வானவியல்,  புவியியல் போன்ற அறிவியல் துறைகளிலும் , இயல், இசை, நாடகம் போன்ற கலைத் திறன்களிலும், விவசாயம், விளையாட்டு, வணிகம் போன்ற அன்றாட வாழ்க்கை கலைகளிலும், சல்லிக்கட்டு, போர் போன்ற வீரதீரத்திலும் தமிழர்களே சிறந்து விளங்கினர் என்றால் அது மிகையாகாது. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;வேறு கண்டகளில் மனிதர்கள் காட்டில் சுற்றித்திரிந்த போது, இங்கு நாகரீகங்கள் செழித்து வளர்ந்தன. கையசைவுகளின் மூலம் அவர் உரையாடி கொண்டிருந்தபோது இங்கே சங்கம் வைத்து புலவர்கள் இலக்கியம் படைத்து கொண்டிருந்தனர். நம் மன்னர்கள் கப்பற்படை வைத்திருந்த போது, ஆற்று வெள்ளத்தில் சிக்கிகொள்ளாமல் தப்பிப்பது எப்படி என்று திணறிக் கொண்டிருந்தனர் ஆப்பிரிக்கர்கள் &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;அனால் இன்றோ வேற்று மொழிகளின் ஆக்கிரமிப்புகளாலும், மத வேறுபாடுகளாலும், படை எடுப்புகளாலும், கொஞ்சம் கொஞ்சமாய் அழிக்கப்பட்டு எதோ ஒரு பகுதியினர் மட்டும் பேசும் மொழியாய் தமிழ் மாறிப் போய்கிடக்கின்றது. காரணம் நாம் நம் வரலாற்றை அலட்சியப்படுத்தி விட்டு அந்நிய மோகம் கொண்டதுதான். ஆங்கிலத்தில் உரையாடினால் உயர்வு என்ற எண்ணமும், அவர்கள் பண்பாடே சிறந்தது என்ற நம்பிக்கையும், நம் பழக்கவழக்கங்களுக்குள் ஒளிந்திருக்கும் அறிவியல் தெரியாமல் போனதுதான்.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;"சரி ஐயா, நடந்தது நடந்து விட்டது, இப்போது நாம் என்ன செய்வது அதற்கு? நானோ கணினி துறையில் வேலை பார்க்கிறேன். என்னால் எவ்வாறு தமிழை வளர்க்க முடியும்?" என்ற ஐயம் தங்களுக்குள் தோன்றினால், தாங்களால் செய்ய முடிந்தவை சில...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;௧) தமிழில் தினம் ஒரு புதிய சொல் கற்று, அந்த சொல்லையும், அதன் பொருளையும் முகபுத்தகத்தில் பதிவு செய்யுங்கள். நண்பர்கள் அதைப் பார்த்து தாமும் ஒரு சில நாட்களில் சொற்களை பதிவு செய்வார்கள். &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;௨) தாங்கள் படித்த தமிழ் கவிதைகள், புத்தகங்கள் பற்றி சின்ன கட்டுரைகள் இயற்றி நண்பர்களுடன் பகிர்ந்துகொள்ளுங்கள். இது அவர்களிடையே தமிழ் ஆர்வத்தை தூண்டும். &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;௩) மதிய உணவின் போது, தமிழர் வரலாறு பற்றி பத்து நிமிட விவாதங்களை நிகழ்த்தித் தெளிவு பெறுங்கள். &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;௪) உறவி முறைகளை தமிழில் கற்று, அவ்வாறே அழையுங்கள். நாம் அனைவரும் கற்ற முதல் சொல் 'அம்மா'...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;௫) ஆங்கிலம் கற்பது தவறல்ல, அதற்காக தமிழை தங்கள் குழந்தைகளுக்கு கற்பிக்காமல் இருப்பதே தவறு. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;௬) நண்பர்களைச் சந்திக்கும் வேலையில், கை குலுக்குவதை விட்டு விட்டு, கை கூப்பி வணங்குங்கள். இரண்டு தினங்கள் சிரிப்புக்குள்ளாவீர்கள். மூன்றாவது தினம் சிரித்தவாறே தங்கள் நண்பர்களும் கைகூப்பி வணங்குவார்கள். ஐந்தே தினங்களில் அவர்களுக்கும் அது வழக்கமாகி போகும். &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;௭) முன்னோர் கற்றுக்கொடுத்த பழக்க வழக்கங்களை மூட நம்பிக்கைகள் என்று ஒதுக்கி விடாமல்,  அதனுள் அடங்கி இருக்கும் பயனை அறிந்து, பின்பு அதை பின்பற்றுவதா அல்ல அதை விட்டுவிடுவதா என்று முடிவு செய்யுங்கள். &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;௮) வாரத்தில் ஒரு நாள் ஆங்கில உணவை அறவே தவிர்த்து, நம் மண்ணில் விளையும் தானியங்களை உண்டு மகிழுங்கள்.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;௯) தமிழர் கண்ட கலை ஆயிரம் இங்கு உள்ளது. ஒன்றையாவது கற்க முயலுங்கள். கலரி, சிலம்பம், பரதம் என்று நீண்டு கொண்டே போகும் இந்த பட்டியல்.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(249, 249, 249); "&gt;௰&lt;/span&gt;) தமிழர் பண்பாடுகளை தவறாக பேசுவதை தயவு செய்து நிறுத்துங்கள். &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;தமிழும், தமிழரும் பழமை வாய்ந்தவை. நம்மால் அவை ஆழிந்தது என்ற இழி சொல்லுக்கு ஆளாகாமல் இருப்பதற்காவது நாம் முயற்சி  செய்வோம். &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-1493764803299372089?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/1493764803299372089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=1493764803299372089' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1493764803299372089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1493764803299372089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2011/10/blog-post_31.html' title='தமிழ் ஆர்வலர்களுக்கு !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-6291727820462634803</id><published>2011-10-11T15:48:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-11T15:59:44.185+05:30</updated><title type='text'>அவ்வையும் நானும் !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 28px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;எனக்குத் தெரிந்த அறுசுவையில் ! &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px; "&gt;அவ்வையே எனது தவறை பொறுத்துக்கொள் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 28px; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;அறம் செய்ய விரும்பு - அல்வா செய்ய விரும்பு !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;ஆறுவது சினம்    - ஆறுவது ரசம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;இயல்வது கரவேல்   - இட்லி அதை மறவேல் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 28px; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;ஈவது விலக்கேல் - ஈ மொய்ப்பது பால் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;உடையது விளம்பேல்  - உடைவது முறுக்கு !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;ஊக்கமது கைவிடேல் - ஊத்தாபமது கைவிடேல் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;எண் எழுத்து இகழேல் - எள் உருண்டை இகழேல் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;ஏற்பது இகழ்ச்சி - ஏற்பது இறைச்சி !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;ஐயம் இட்டு உன்       - ஐயர் வூட்டுல மீன் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;ஒப்புரவு ஒழுகு    - ஓசில சாப்பிட பழகு !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;ஓதுவது ஒழியேல்  - ஓட்டை வடை அழகே !   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-6291727820462634803?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/6291727820462634803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=6291727820462634803' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6291727820462634803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6291727820462634803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2011/10/blog-post_11.html' title='அவ்வையும் நானும் !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-8801678912947172618</id><published>2011-10-04T12:32:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-04T12:34:20.502+05:30</updated><title type='text'>பழையசோறு வெங்காயம்!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 28px; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;பழையசோறு வெங்காயம்,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;ஓட்டை வேட்டி ஓலை குடிசை,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;மண்வெட்டி ஒடிந்த தேகம்,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;வயுத்துப்பசி ஒரு நேரம்!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;மண்சேறு மழைக்காலம்,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;மஞ்சக்கயிரும் அடமானம்,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;கல்வியோ வெகுதூரம்,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;பெண்ணுயிரும் அவமானம்!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;தூக்குமேடை பஞ்சுமெத்தை,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;பூச்சிமருந்து  தேவாமிருதம்,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;கள்ளிப்பால் சோமபானம்,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;அவர் சாவில் நம் வாழ்வு!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;- விவசாயி&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: medium; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-8801678912947172618?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/8801678912947172618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=8801678912947172618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8801678912947172618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8801678912947172618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2011/10/blog-post.html' title='பழையசோறு வெங்காயம்!'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-825258498971318013</id><published>2011-06-08T18:23:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-08T18:51:06.734+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why I stopped Blogging ?</title><content type='html'>From 100 articles a year, this blog-spot has dropped down to a dwarfish 1 or 2 a year. Yes Its been about six months I have blogged anything and I know many of you are happy this way. After all, who would want to put up with the clown's crap. Well, you are right, even I wouldn't want to. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But why have I come to haunt you again? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know, writing is an addiction. The more you do it, you want it even more. But like I said its an addiction and it satisfies the author more than its readers. But a good writer is one who can addict the readers with his writing he does. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always wanted to be a good writer. And the more I write, the dream was getting bigger. So I stopped writing to wipe away my dreams? No, I started working on achieving this dream. Ever since I stopped blogging, I have written more that what I used to, learnt a lot more in that process and am doing so to this very day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why don't you do whatever you are doing and let us live peacefully?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah my friend. But you can't stop writers from voicing their opinions, can you ?They are so fucking crazy, they somehow find a way to tell what they want to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the lesson I learnt was this. Whatever your passion maybe, follow it with your heart. Put all your efforts into it and do so in the right directions to win. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone has a dream. All of them want to live their dreams and most of them try to. But only a few end up in the right side of their dreams. Those who put their efforts in their right direction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I am happy I have started to do so. Hope you are doing the same ! Dream to live !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-825258498971318013?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/825258498971318013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=825258498971318013' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/825258498971318013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/825258498971318013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2011/06/why-i-stopped-blogging.html' title='Why I stopped Blogging ?'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-5861107839594599840</id><published>2010-12-03T19:51:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-03T19:52:37.103+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Me, the old lady and... !</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It was a chilly morning in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Bangalore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. The wind was spraying my hair all over my face and the cold was penetrating the heavy layers of fat, into my bones. And the clouds were threatening to employ my, rather my friend’s umbrella. I was on my way to work. Yeah, instead of getting a girl friend, spending the time holding her hands, I was going to work, this romantic morning. But guess what Life had in store for me.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“You look very beautiful today”. “Is it”, blushing like hell, she said, “Thanks”. “I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; got you something, a small gift”, grinning, idiotically. “Oh! What is it?”, the fake surprise. “Wow! Sun glasses! Its very beautiful. Thank you. So sweet”. “Anything for you! Love you!” “Love you too!”. To the waiter, the guy, “Bring the coffee with that fancy name please”. And then the smile. First signs of attraction – A scene from a posh coffee shop.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Coming back to my Monday morning, I saw her. A 50-odd year old lady. Silver hair with sprayed pepper, tanned face, big glasses, missing tooth, a worn-out purple &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;saree&lt;/span&gt;, which could have been pink a few years ago, a lean frame, slumped shoulders, bent back and legs. She would probably meet her maker soon. The foothold of her chapel had been replaced by some piece of cloth. She only had one big bag in one hand, but it contents could not have made her look any richer. But on her other hand… &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Shall we go to a movie today?” “What movie do you want to go?” “How about Unstoppable?”. Why can’t this guy take me to some good movie or just keep quiet, in her mind the girlfriend. “Do you really want to go?” “Yeah, you know I am &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Washington&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; fan”, the idiotic smile again. “I was wondering, if we could go to some nice restaurant and have some good food”. Finally she has realized how she cooks. “Yeah, we could go to the movie in the evening and then go out for dinner”. “Yeah, OK! That would be fine”. Both smile, this time with a little more Warmth. Love has crept into these minds – 2 years after the coffee shop.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;…on her other hand was the hand of this man. He was no good looking than the lady; in fact he was much worse. His hair was just silver, no hints of pepper at all, her eyes could see with the help of glasses, his with nothing, a receding hairline, creased forehead... You know how he looked in his blackened-dhoti and a worn-out shirt. The lady was guiding the blind man along the road. She picked her spot of the platform and sat the man on the edge of it. Then she sat by his side. She started wrapping out the things she had brought to sell. She was a roadside vendor. By looks alone, she was a poor roadside vendor. I was 30m off of them by now…. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“But when are we getting the house?” “Once we pay off our loans on the car. You know it has got delayed and you know the reason”. “But we decided, we will get a house end of this year”. “Yeah, But situations change. You have to understand that”. “You don’t love me anymore, do you?” “ Isn't that feeling mutual?” “I hate you, when you do this to me, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ashok&lt;/span&gt;”. “Thanks for saying that, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Priya&lt;/span&gt;”. Out of nowhere, both hug each other. – Compatibility – 5 years into marriage, the same coffee-shop couple. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The lady wrapped out their lunch. She put a handful of old-rice in her mouth and chewed it for a few minutes. She then pulled out the much in her mouth and feed it to the blind man. The toothless man tried it chew it a few times before swallowing it. He ginned a toothless smile at the lady, but she was just darkness for him. Yet he could see her. And I was sitting in my office cafeteria wondering if I would ever grow up to be the old man, to be feed by my companion. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That romantic morning, taught me all about relationships. Any relationship goes through ups and downs and at each stage of the relationship, it is bound by something. The first phase is just blind attraction. A very short lived phase. If you don’t get it to the next stage at the right time, you can wave a bye to the relationship. Then comes the magic, Love. But the sad truth is this also fades away. You get bored eventually. Compatibility is what gets a relationship through the next phase. The feeling of sameness. Reacting to situations in the same way. But these are not just enough to get the relationship all the way. There is another thing…. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The old couple I saw might never have been to a cozy coffee shop. They might have never exchanged precious gifts. They might never have been to a multiplex or to a fancy restaurant. Their discussions might never have been about buying houses and cars. It could have been about how to get through that day. And even right now they could be anywhere, even in their coffin. But they went to end of the road, together. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Companionship, the need to share your happiness and sadness with someone. It is the foundation of any relationship and it is what helps you stay together till the end. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am happy I woke up late that day. I am happy the cold winds were there to spray my hair. I am happy, the old couple found me. I am happy for what I learnt. And I am happy for sharing what I learnt.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-5861107839594599840?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/5861107839594599840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=5861107839594599840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5861107839594599840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5861107839594599840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/12/me-old-lady-and.html' title='Me, the old lady and... !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-8397298337807223257</id><published>2010-11-09T11:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-09T11:48:38.248+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Wattmeterum Naangalum II (1400 days of EEE) !!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Machi, intha padathulaye aduththa scene thaan machi gethu. Nee vena paren". "Dei intha padathula irukkuradhe rendu scene thaan, intha scene la ipdi na, adutha scene la apdi. Ithukku effect vera. Mudittu paaru da !". "Ithula, thanni thanni folder vera. animals, birdnu. usshappa". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enna nanbargale, first part ah POWERful ah start panniyachu, intha part ah oru changekkaga romantic ah start pannalam thaan. Seri vaanga kathaikku polam.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;kaalaila 8.10 alarm vachu, 8.15 varaikkum 2 nimisham solli thoongittu, pal theikaam, kulikaama, mugatha mattum kalivitu, 1/2 kg powder, 10 ruba scent oda 2 masam thuvaikadha oru sattayayum, 1 varusham thuvaikkadha jeansayum, roommate elundhu chappels theduvanennu nenaikkama avanoda chappelayum pottunu, mess la oru tea ah kudhichittu, 8.30 classukku 8.45 manikku poyi, lecturer ta assault ah thittu vaanginu, kavalaye padama last bench poyi, note ah open panni vechittu thoongi, 12.30 belluku mulichu, thirumba messku poi etho onna saptunu, 5 nimisham thooginu, thirumba 1.10 labku 1.30 vandhu kasitta thittu vangi, labla 30 kku 10 vaangi, 5 manikku hostel vanthu, 4 mani variakkum mulichu irundhu NMB la poi tea kudichittu vandhu, 5 manikku thoongum bothu 8.10kku alarm vakkira valkaya neenga miss panreengala ? Thirumba innoru nallu varusham kedacha nalla irukkum la...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bagam 1:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dei pinnadi poi line la nilluda. Enna pannalum rules padi pannanum", LV. Avarukku pinnadi queuvil, "Machan 7 manikkelam vandhen da. 7.15 ku thaan da thoorangthaanga. Vara vara discipline eh illa machi",Kumaravel. "Anna Anna, in,num konjam jam vaingana", Jumbo."Nanba, 8 mudinjathu, innum oru naalu vaangalam. Machi nee poi line la edam pudi naan vandhuren", Hari - Hostel messil kanchu pona chappathi vaanga kalavaram.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dei Vijay, daily intha pullayar kovila suthu vantha english super ah varum. Nalla suthu da". "Dei karuthu pullayar koyila sutha epdi da english varum, english mam ah suthuna vena english varum, summa summa karuthu sollinu", pinky. "Mannena, Veppena velakenna, Pakistan thotha enakku enna?". "Ver kadala, Pottu kadala, Konda kadala, nee sonna jokkukku enakku siripe varala !", Suresh. "Ipdi pottu, apdi pottu, apdi pottana. Apdi pottu, ipdi pottu epdiyo pottanam !", Pinky - Pillayar kovil poyi, avara confuse panra kootani. Cheinga da dei.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dei kanna, intha colour ok va paaru", Innaci. "Innaci, namma colourkku athu othu varathu, Baskar nee try pannu da", Kans. "Colour ok machi, but size thaan problem. Romba sinnatha illa", Modakudi. "Appo intha piece epdi paaru, big size, strong material", Kans. "Kans, nee enakku inimel paakadha... Innaci nee enakku select pannu da". "Machi pakkalam da, but oru chinna doubt, anga arivala thookinnu odi varathu, enga appa va paaru?". - Thuni kadayil alla, Krishnamal college vasalil.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Oru chicken Briyani, oru half litre maaza". Bill kattiya pimbu. "Sir, tips". "Tips ah, atha vachi thaan pakkathu kadaila kadala muttai vaanganum, nee vera. Poya !" - Yaarume pogatha Greeland hotelil 4 varudam saapitta _i.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yei epdiyo, osila ukkadam vanthachu, what step next", Tamil."Enananga, Murugesh kumar ah poi 130 ruba solreenga. Avaru enga HOD nga. Oru 50 ruba vaangikonga", Shiva. "50 rubaikellam thara mudiyathu ma"." Ennanga ipdi solliteenga, naangellam padikkira pullainga, oru concessions kedayatha", Sangee. "Appo books vaangura maathavangellam enna maada meichinu irukkanga, poma". "Ye, adutha kadiakku polam pa. Intha aal thara maatan", Chandra. Next shop. "Escuse me. Mr. Murugesh Kumar write panna, hey what that book naam ya...yeah yeah, Machine irukkungala?". "150 rs madam". "Oh just 150. Enkitta oru 10 rs irukku, can u give the book?". Anaikku english book vikkuratha antha kadaikarar vittutar - Book market ai Fish market aaga maatriyavargal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bagam 2:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Machi, Sehwag inaikku 100 adikalenna mudinchathu da", Yegs. "Dei ivengala ellam namba mudiyathu da. 150 runla all out ayiruvaanuga !", Baby. "Anna, volume konjam increase pannung na. Kovapadama pannungana", Groundnut Muthu. "Dei athellam kedayathu. Sachin thaan, Around the wicket, stumps, unmpire, silly mid on, bat, ball, side screen, side screen pakkathula ukkanthunu irukkura ponnu, leg glance. See my cricket knowledge. Aama yaarukkum yaarukkum match", Bluto. - oru icecream vaangi oru mani neram osila cricket pakkum gang in boomerang. Ithula comment vera.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yei inaikku arunachalas polam da", Keerthi. "Seri da, veg meals kedaikkum la. appo ok", Manoj. "Naan inaikku lunch kondu vandhutten da.. neenga poittu vaanga", Praveen. "Dei, he always like that only da. But see Arunachalas is costly da. One guy 50 rs. Adigas is cheap. 30 rs only. We go there. Why spend too much money and time. Less tension more work. more work, less tension", ABala. "Ivan vaaya mudurathukku valiye illaya da sami", Srikanth. - Day scholars lunch, semma punch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Excuse me server, one date juice + salt", vera yaarunga. "One capicina, one egg roll. Make it quick", State 3. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"One chicken tikka which, one butter bruit Shake", namma Sithappa. "Gimme one.. one that.. gimme one.. one this.. Hey what you want ya...oh that and one this nga", Ravanan Hero da. "Thambigala, oru ponnoda vantha ella scene um poduveengala. Madhapatti, mannagatti la irundhu vanthinnu unga alapara thaangala da dei", Owner of the shop - Caramel il thinam thinam.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dei machi, intha edam romba peaceful ah irukku la?", Anbu. "Machi, that pacha paavadai no way", Mama. "Pampatti sithar temple la meditate pannalam vaa". "Naan ingaye that utha pudavayoda meditate panren, nee poinnu vaa". "Machi erurathoda, irangurathuthaan easy da". "That yellow chudi bike la ponna innum easy, jolly ah irukkum da" - Muruganukku competition. Marudhamalai maamaniye sachukutty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bagam 3:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Anna, oru mutta poratta, oru valiyalu", Pals. "Enakku oru uthappam, oru onion dosa, oru omlet", Aravind. "Machi, enakku one sukka varuval, oru gothu poratta, rendu idli da. Machi antha koyinda super ah irukku paren", Baba. "Anna one briyani, andra style, one chicken 65, andra style, one plain dosa, andra style. U give salne free la.. that also andra style", Vamsi. "Dosakkalum, idli gundavum micham irukku, athuvum venuma". - 150 rupees, ganapathy mess finish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Machi, RS puram porom. figures ah alrom", nammada Naayar. "Hey beauty, I am black face, white teeth. Next Ajit kooda naanthaan. How about a date?", romantic smile. "I ask my husband and tell?". "he he he. "Mun paniya, mudhal mazhaya, en manadhil etho vilukiradhe". "Dei antha ponnu kaledhu un nenjila erichinu pothu, etho villudhu nu padinnu irukka". "She no stome throw machi, My life she sand throw". "Dei neenga ellam ennada correct panreenga, naan panren paarunga da. Hey ponnu, engappa Robert bosch la vela paakuraru", Murgs. "Engappa BATA company la vela pakkuraru", antha ponnu. Namma naaayar, "Sakthi, nee alaga irukkennu nenaikala, unna love pannala, aana idhellam nadanthirumonnu bayama irukku"."Naan innum policekku call pannala, friendutta heels seruppu kekala, aana idhellam nadanthirumonnu bayama irukku", that girl - Kadhalil sodhapuvadhu epdi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Anga maadila etho kadai open pannirukkangale, ennada athu?", 118. "etho kapy day am da. semma costly aam. Antha kada pakkathula ponale, kasu vaangaralam da", 141. "Appo moonu rubaikellam anga onnum kedaikatha machi. Naan tiger biscuit eh vaangi oru varen vachi saapuduren po". "Dei ithu enna Hyderbad trip nu nenachittiya. Antha lady ta 2, 50 paise coins nee kuduthu, antha lady kooda un face la erinchathe..ha ha ha", 109. "One pup, one copy, just 70 rupees da. super ah irunthuchu... copy illa da.. anga serve panna ponnu", 145 - Coffee day kandu bayantha kumbal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yei pakkingala, Surya padam thaan porom", Suganthi. "Yes Yes Surya Surya", AK. "yei, illadi enakku ajit thaan pidikkum", kiruthika. "Good Good Ajit Ajit". "Hey illapa Surya thaan six pack ellam vechi super ah irukkan, angaye polam", Sasi. "Yes Yes Surya Surya". "Enakku ethunallu ok, neenga decide pannunga. why manju no come ?", Devi. "Yei athellam mudiyaathy, Vijayakant padam thaan porom, vaarava vaa.. illati po", Nivi - KG Theatre vaasalil. TR better choice illa. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bagam 4:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Thatha, oru cream bun, oru coke", Basketball. "Cream bun illa". "Vera enna irukku thatha". "Irukurathula ethu venum sikkaram sollu pa. Kadaya puttanum". "Enna thatha basketball player naanu, enna poyi thittureengala". "Basketball weight kooda irukka maata, nee player ah. Appo naangellam enna. Chinna vayasula naan football player ya... theriyuma". "Apdiya thatha, sollave illa". "13 ruba, kudu motha". "Thatha nalaikku thaaren thatha". "Ithukku thaan intha kadaya da.. nalaikku kandippa kudukanum". "Seri thatha. Thanks". - 1 mani varai thiranthirukkum snack barum thathavum&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Innaikku paaru, one and half grill, bet ketturiya", Ram Mama. "Poda badu, naan 2 thimben", Body builder Raj. "Machi neenga rendu per saaptu setharnatha enakku kudunga da. that enough me", Peter Price. "Machi, antha navaneetha dash ah kollanum da. avanukku ellam nalla saave varadhu. Dash vaayan", angry Gopal. "Dei machi, nee pesama paduthu thoongu, athaan ellarukkum nallathu. Enakku rendu naan na" - Shahi grillil kozhi kolai.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Sridhar first row la ticket vaangrom da. 5 ruba thaan.. jobula irukku. eduthu koduthuren", Veeran Prabhakaran. "Ennamo city bank account la irunthu eduthu kudukura maadhiri solra. Naara naaye", Gings. "Dei first row vo second row vo enakku perisa therincha podum. Ginglee enakku nee kasu potturuda. I give letter". "aaaahhhhh,... letter...seri da...cheinga.. Aama enda Anoosh ah koopidala". - Padam pakka pogum pistuskkal. Enna padamnu ella solla mudiyathunga. But theatre peru kalyani.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Anna rendu salt biscuit", Thoda. "apdiye rendu tea sollu da thoda. Bharath unakku ethuvum venama?", Thala Balaji. "Dei indha maadhiri place la ellam epdi da sappudureenga. oru hygenenic eh illama. chi chi", Minot kunju Bharath. "Dei nee varushathukku oru vattam kulicha athu romba hygenenic ah. Dabara thalaya", namma thala thaan. - NMB. Intha place ah story kkulla vaikka mudiyathu, itha pathi thaniya story vena eluthalam. Athu next partukku shift panrom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Essuse me, what time written test?". "10.30kku", CIT Placement rep(oru ponnunga). "Oh 10.30. dhank u dhank u". Later that day, "Machi naan inaikku usura koduthu vela paathen da", Naan thaan. "Dei, Yaarukka usira kodutha, antha CIT PRka. Dei...aahhhh", SatB. - Naan Sridevi purushan aana kadha. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enakku therinja alavukku ella areavum cover panniyachunga. RV, Kaiyenthy bavan, Citrus intha madhiri some places mattum vittuen. But namma class la iruntha relationship pathi innum pesave illa naama. So next part...athethaan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-8397298337807223257?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/8397298337807223257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=8397298337807223257' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8397298337807223257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8397298337807223257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/11/wattmeterum-naangalum-ii-1400-days-of.html' title='Wattmeterum Naangalum II (1400 days of EEE) !!'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-4985724372765681091</id><published>2010-11-04T10:42:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-08T15:13:59.602+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Wattmeterum Naangalum !!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Ennaga titlaye romba nerama padikireenga....Oru POWERful ana title vaikkanum apdindradukaga bayangarama yosichi vacha title nga :) Why blood, same blood... Seringa title ah vidunga, athukkum namma kathaikkum sambandame illa... Title summa effect ukku thaan...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;August 1, 2004. 48 boys, 11...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First day seating arrangement gave away which guy will be in which gang for the rest of their college life. A class without a gang.. no way even if it is the pshycho department. Here are the gangs of our class...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) Pistus - Mudal naal class la kadaisi bench la ukkanthu koratta vutta kabothi pasanga... Apdiye ennamo ponnugattaye pesamattom.. naanga ellam aan singangal, only distubution - viniyogastha urima da - apdinnu sollittu side gap la santhula sindhu paduna pasanga...intha group la oru 30 singam irunthuchu...onnukku theriyama innonu, irundha ella sappa figure odayum kadala pottuchu, bun um vaanguchi. konjam asingam thaan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) GroundNuts - Kadavul innamo evangala ponnugala kappathurathukagave padacharunnu feel panninu suthuna pasanga...First day class la matha pasangala sutama kandukkama ponnunga desk pinnadi poi ukkanthu thanni vaangi kudicha pasanga...Oru aan, oru pon apdinndra illakanathu eduthukatta valntha deivanga...but validity period one year thaan. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pistus yaaruna intha gang la irukkuravan oruthana ottita, gang eh avanukku aruthal solra alpa gang.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3) Untouchables - Aduththa Thomas Alwa Edison nama thaan apdinnu nenachittu suthuna pasanga...ivanugalukku gang ellam kedayathu.. ovvoruthanum thani thani suthuvaanuga,library kulla... Library books a ollichi vakkirathu, Nalaikku assignment ah innaikke mudhichi vathiyar ta nalla per vaangurathu... adhutha masam vaara internals kku ippove padikkuradhunnu neraya criminal activities la edupadurathuthan ivanuga vela...polapatha pasanga. First day class la ivanuga kandippa first bench la thaan ukkaruvaanuga.. vaathiyar solra mokka comedykku oru mani neram siripanuga.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4) Avuthuvittathuga(Out casts) - Namma class la figure illayennu varutha padama.. friend class la irukkura super figurukku friend mulamave route pottu nongu thinna gang. Intha class layum serama.. antha class layum serama.. EEE um ECE um sernthu padicha punniyavaanyuga...Matha ellam gangum avanga avanga class ku pona.. ivanunga.. machi unakku CS, enakku ECE.. appo enakku machi.. nee IT paaru da nnu, counselling la select panna vendiya seat ah inga thaan decide pannunaanuga...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nanbargale, neengale, neenga entha entha gangnnu pakkaathula ukkanthunirukkavanga manasatchiya(nallu varusham EEE padicha namakku engada manasatchi) thottu(dei payana iruntha mattum thodungada.. serupadi vaangatheenga) mudivu pannunga.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Part 1 - First Year :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Machi antha STATE 3, 1178 am da, avanakitta paathu nadakkum.. sernthu ukkanthu padicha avanukku aduththa mark  vaangidalam da.&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Un total evolo da?". "I am Balaji and I am 1185. What is ur name ?". "My name Prasanna unga.. enna Bluto nnu koopiduvaanga.. naan last bench porenga..". "dei what cutopp u..."."half ellam adikuradhu illenga.. only beer..." - Nalaya Einstenin indraya conversation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Whats ur name?". Ponnunga gang "Actually, originally basically, mathematically, psychologically, en per Anoosh unga.. unga per ellam theva illa... address mattum sollunga.. BF irunthallum irunthallum parava illenga...Summara irunthallum parava illenga...Il tha ka sa ya irukka ? Enakku irukunga. Mudala unga phone number ellam varisaya line katti sollunga paapom. he he he". - Start pannitangaleyeya.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Whats ur name?". A lady lecturer. "Sasiretha". "Oh Rita, as in Revolver Rita.. good good.. ". "No Mam, its Re, Retha, SasiRetha". "Yeag Rita, fine. I got it". "Enna got it". "Retha, Retha nnu vaai kiliya solren la kekalaya". "Seri ma Sasi. Ukkaru." - Introduction finish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A.B.c.d.e.F.g.H.i.j.k.l.m.n.o.P.q.R.S.T.u.v.w.x.y.z. "I got A and S". "Shut up! I got the B and the F word". You know who it is. Nivi and Bala. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Enkitta naalu coins irukke...atha vechi tiger biscuit vaanguvane".118. "Enta 10 coins irukke...unakku tharamatane".141 "Dei pasangala enkitta 20 coins irukku...atha vechi 10S vaanguven".109. "Dei three aako(aarva kolaru) gala, mothama moonu ruba vechittu unga mokka thanga mudiyaleye da. Narayana..intha kosukala adichi kollunga da dei". 102. - AAKO MAANAADU.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Machan, naan trinelveli kke periya dada da...naan nadanhu vantha total city eh terror ayidum machi". "Dei epdi da avathu...nee kulikkama, moonchikku powder mattum pottuna vantha, periya manmadha kunja nee. Ajit kkum unakkum oru vidyasamume illada.. avanum vetti scene, neeyum thaan". "Aama ivaru periya Nanda Suriya, solla vantaru.. moodinnu poda". "Machi, I am Arun da. Super comedy ah pesureenga. Ha ha ha ha". "Dei I am Murgs da. Yes Yes. Ha ha ha ha". - Machi, ovvoru ponnukkum ovvoru feeling....oru quarter sollen.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Part 2 - Second Year:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yei naan books perum author perum solren, sariya note panni vachikko di, evening ukkadam poi vaangalam. Ellam foreign authors thaan vangurom Sangee". "Seri di Shiva. Ennoda Benz laye poyidalam". "Electronic circuits - Lakme pears, Electornic devices - Yardley Farren Lovely, MI - Anne French, LIC - Pasi Paruppu.. chi chi... Axe Duscan". "Dei! enna da kans antha ponnu foreign authors nnu sollitu cosmetics pera sollinu irukku". "Vidura Innaci, namma list pathiya, ED - Murugesh kumar, EC - Kanniyappan, MI - yei galiju pera irukku da ithu... etho saany am..."Athu Sawney da. LIC kku?". "Athukku karady notes pothum da". - Exam fever. Vathiyar eluthi kodutha prescription, BIT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dei induction motor traction irukura nala thaan da work aaguthu. Athe maari, DC motor ah eduthu, AC generator mela vecha super ah odum theriyuma". Kumurukindra Vel. "Daily 30 mutta, 1 litre paal, body summa kinnunu ayidum therima". Rajkumar.  "Voltmeter ayum ammeter ayum apdiye straight ah power la kudukkanum da". Jumbo Jana. "Machi perichambalam juice uppu pottu kudicha super ah irukkum da". Thiru Thiru thuru thuru. - Vanthutaya, Vanthutaya.. Lateral entries vanthutaya.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dei nalla time pass sollava, evanayavathu koopitu vachi, nalla ottu ottu nu ottalam, illa pothu mathu podalam, enna solreenga...ha ha ha", Yegs. "Ye machi shoes pottutu ground duthi odalam machi, body ah fit ah vechikanum", LV. "Dei pongada, naan nalla koopara paduthu thoonga poren..aaaaaahhh", Gopal. "Machi, nee class layum atha thaanda panna", Peter Prince. "Dei classukkaga ulaikkanum da...vaa intrams volunteer ah povom", Arvind - Polluthu poongavagum kallori.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Assignment mudichitiya Manju?", Chandra. "Neethe mudichiten", Manju. "Konjam antha master copy ah kuden, copy pannikuren"."Name eluthi vecha first page mattum thaan enkitta irukku, mathathellam pasanga pudingitaanga". "Dei yaaruna enakku assignment eluthi kudungada, pls", Mahesh Babu sorry Karthik. "Aiyo". "You see, I dont know taamil. I was born and bought up in perica..Actuallt my name is Truie Mahael". "ushhapa, ippove kanna ketuthe. Aaya vela ellam illayam, poi padikkira valiya paaru". "What?". "Tamil da". - Classnnu irundha naalu per naalu vidamadhan irupaanga.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dei Pinky, 0 and 1 ah wire valiya pass panra subject kku peru thaan da computer networks", _i. "Aama, naan ulla vantha udane, enda kadalmuttaya eduthu thalaganikku adiyula olluchi vacha?", Pinky. "Ithu per thaan black box, 0 and 1 ah ithu valiya pass panna veliyila information varum". "Kadasiya eppo da kulicha? kabbu thaangala !" - Vinodapiravigal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Part 3 - Third Year:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Epdiya intha reading vanthathu unakku?"(ungallukku ivara theriyatha :P)."Sir, neethu thirupathi poirundhen sir, inthaanga sir prasadham, alwa", Karuthu. "Yes, Yes, nalla temple ya, statues la nalla irukkum, very nice place to visit, alwa kooda nalla irukkuya". 28/30. "Epdiya intha reading vanthathu unakku?". "Sir.....", Vel. "Solluya, current epdi 30 ohms vanthathu". "Sir, antha phota la yoga panrathu neengala sir ?". "Aama ya, that is called woodcut aasana, meditation kooda pannuven, neengalum pannunga". "Yes sir, naan daily pannuven, Morning and evening sir"."Good, good". 26/30. "Epdiya intha reading vanthathu unakku?". "Sir, rheostat ah low la irunth hig varaikkum increase pannum bothu, motor oda speed la 30 rpm la vecha, 2 milliAmps current ammeter pogum, Appo intha reading eduthen sir", Suresh."ssshhhhh, yes, yes, techinal ah nalla therinchu vechirukkenga". 24/30. "Sir, Naan last week madurai temple ponnen sir"."sshhhh". "Yoga la Indian oruthar thaan sir World champion. Engappa kooda meditation ellam pannuvaaru". "ssshhhhhhhhh"."Sir, ammeter, voltmeter, speedometer, ohmmeter, wattmeter all mater sir"."assssssssssssshhhhhhhhhh". 18/30. "Naara paya 18 thaanda pottan", Bharath Ram. - Obse Record Sign vaangumbothu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Naan kalaila thoppampatti la irundhu 6.30 kilambuven da", Thoda. "Naanu naanu", Manoj. "Morning veetula idli super da, amma kesari chance eh illa", Srikanth. "Enga veetulayum super breakfast da", Praveen. "Enna enga appa drop pannar da", keerthi." Naana innova va illa ikon ah.. etho onnula vandhen da machi". "Dei macha, 8.15 ku enthuchu, junior NTR pray pannitu, mess la hot water and white rotti saptuchu, walk vanthen da classkku. 10 mins thaan late", Vamsi. - Home away from home, just for fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Kanna engada pora?". "Nee enga irundhu vaarennu mudala sollu". "Lab la irundhu thaan. Night 8 manikku engada pora, yaarkoda porennu sollu?"."Athe 8 mani varikkum lab la yaaru kooda enna panninu irundhannu sollu". "Chi poda". "Vekkam veraya idhula. Pongada poi ethuna polappa paarunga". "Athellam irukkatum Sithappa, Sithiya kettatha sollu". "Summa modittu poda". Ponnunga pera kadasi varikkum sollama oru mani neram pechu. Vera yaarunga. Veera and Gothu kannan - Thiratha villayttu pillaigal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Part 4 - Final Year:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dei, corner seats pidinga da, bit nalla pass pannunga, GD substitue podalam, 100% place aana seri", PR SatB."Impress pannu pa enna". "Ungala epdi impress panradhu, unga ponnu irundha kootinu vaanga machi"."Hey, you have 5 minutes to impress me". "Unga company figure ah correct panna honeymoon package kudupeengala", Baba. "ur placed pa"."Thambi, unakku C pathi enna theriyum". " Sea na  neraya thanni irukkum, beach ellam mannu irukum, basket ball vilayada mudiyathu". "C ya yaaru kandupidichanga?". "Michael Jordan...illaya". "What is a structure?". "36-28-36". "You are selected". "college basketball team laya sir", Senthil. - Placement ellam engallukku alwa sapudura maadhiri.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Machi, ava enna reject pannitta da...enna thanni adikka vechitta da", Ram anna. "Dei Pals, nee enakku moonu moona theriyura da", modakudi Baskar. "Dei moda kodi, unakku overachu nippattu", Pals. "Dei pallavanukku over aachu na ella ponnugalayum kannulaya.. ah ah ah...", Hari. "Dei naara vaya, kaakoos vaya, modittu kudi da". "Yei enda nanba ipdi scene podura. Naan ellam alaparaya kudutha thanga matta. Nanbaen da". " Dei ellam line katti aako room munnadi vaanthi edunga", Ram mama. - Censored version of a drinking session.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ponnunga group - "I have 3", Kiruthika, "Enakku 2 thaan", Suganthi, "Me too two", Devi. "ha ha ha.. I have 4", AK.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vathiyar -"Ennamma ellarukkum evolo boy friends ah ?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ponnunga group - "No sir, the number of jobs we have !".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pasanga group -"Enakku 6". "Enakku 4". "Enakku 13 da".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vathiyar - "Good good, ponnungala vida ungakkitta neraya offers irukke?".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pasanga group - "Yoi, athu naaga vechirukkura cup ya..aala paaru. po" - Enna ithu Vaaliba vayasu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dei, oru naai enna thorathittu vanthathu, naan jaobla kaiya vittu paathen, onnume illa, Sarinu, antha naaai vala pidichi, thalaya suthi potten paaru, naai sethu pochu", Veeran Prabhakaran. "Machan, avangalluku kalyanam ippo thaan da agirunthathu, avana adakka mudilaya, ava office kku poi....", Sex Story Sridhar(SSS). "Machi, chance eh illa. no way. Baanu number venuma. Buslaye.. he he he", Sachu Mama. "Dei ME pannanum da, ME ellam waste machi.. 24 la kalyanam panniduven, 32 munnadi kalyanama, chance eh illa. Tennis ellam enakku pidikadhu da, naalaikk RS puram povom da tennis racket vaanga", Anbu - Enjoy maadi, thats whats college life is for.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enna friends padichacha ? NMB, RV, Shahi Grill, Hostel mess, Ganapathy mess, Bomerang, Senthil Kumaran theatre itha pathi ellam onnum eluthalennu pakkureengala.. Namma next story eh athana.. Wait maadi :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(All characters in thi story are real. Any differences from the original purely coincidental. Writings are purely intentional. Naan potta mokka pathalenna, comment la neengalaum podunga.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-4985724372765681091?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/4985724372765681091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=4985724372765681091' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4985724372765681091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4985724372765681091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/11/wattmeterum-naangalum.html' title='Wattmeterum Naangalum !!'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-5912574820906823557</id><published>2010-10-22T10:51:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-22T10:54:45.899+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The tale of two girls !</title><content type='html'>Ayesha rolled her eyes to the left to see her sister. In the past 72 hours she has come to love Banu's big eyes and the cute blush on her face. Cuddled close to her was Banu. She was staring at the invisible sky, with her palms put together in a praying pose. On the green bed, the cute pink babies resembled a blooming rose. Not just one, but two. God, if had created these babies would have been proud of his job. But well, he took his pay, the mother. Ayesha joined her 3 day old sister in her pose. She knew she would doing the same for the rest of her life, no the rest of their life. She touched her sister's face and felt a sense of affection, her first. She then giggled and joined her sister again in the pose. Banu was not just her blood sister. She was much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ayesha and Banu grew up together. They ate together, slept together, prayed together, learnt to spell each others name together. They were inseparable, literally. Six years rolled in six years time(don't believe if someone tells you it happened in no time). Ayesha liked Ballet and Banu learnt it. Banu liked to read and Ayesha read for her. Both loved to make a prank and both did that from time to time on the kid next door, who really believed they were monsters. Poor kid, please don't get angry on him. Both of them wore the same clothes, both of them loved Tom and Jerry and both of them decided to go to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ayesha, do I look good ?", Banu asked Ayesha on the their first day of school. Both were standing in front of a six foot mirror and examining themselves. Banu was dressing her hair and Ayesha was putting on her shoes. "Of course, sis", replied Ayesha. "You look so beautiful". Banu blushed. "So do you !". She hugged Ayesha as best as she could. Ayesha impressed her lips of her little sister. Unlike all other kids who have a dramatic lead-up to first day of school, Ayesha and Banu had a calmer one. There was no crying. Parents did not have to run after the missing sock. Mom never had to burn her fingers while cooking and the father did not use his toilet cleaner to get a mouth wash. It definitely was a calm event. But not for long. Any kid who saw them ran for his/her life. No one wanted to speak to them let alone be their friends. Their schooling came an end when the headmistress saw them and fainted. The girls never went to school again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why did she faint ?", Banu asked Ayesha innocently. They were standing in front of the mirror again. "Because, she has never seen a beautiful girl like you Banu !" Banu blushed her usual blush. "Was she not afraid of how we look?". "No ! She might have been surprised, but not afraid", Ayesha assured Banu. "How long will we be like this?". "Forever. Inseparable". Ayesha hugged her cute sister. "Then can we go play now ?". "Hide and seek. And only if you let me hide". "It won't take me long to find you"."Yes, You only have to look into a mirror", Ayesha grinned."I will count to ten". "Not before I hide". "You got all the time sis. One, two and ten".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I will introduce you as white fairy", Ayesha told Banu. "And I will introduce you as my guardian angel". "Let's go". Both of the lifted the tail of their bride gowns and ran into a hall. It was their 14th birthday. The cute little babies had grown into tall young adolescents. They measured 5.8" head to toe and together weighed 270 pounds. They had had health problems over these 14 years, but did not affect their beauty. Any guy would have fell for them. Well, maybe not. It was a long birthday party which got longer when the 65 guests decide to sing the birthday song repeating happy birthday to you, a 14 times. Most of the guests fell in two categories, close relatives and few friends. Except one. He was tall, dark and handsome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wasn't he cute?" Banu grinned. Ayesha felt the excitement too. They were back in front of their mirror, their 14 year pal."Yes he was and he kept staring at you !", Ayesha brushed Banu's blushing cheeks and laughed. "No, he was looking at you, dear sister", Banu teased Ayesha. "OK, let's ask this mirror man here !". "OK". "Hey friend, who was the guy staring at ? Me or my sister ?"."You !". "Are you biased towards me. I know well that he was staring at Ayesha !". "He might have, but he liked you more". "How do you know that you stupid mirror?". "Because I am your sister". "Won't you ever let me down ?". "Not in this life". "I love you Ayesha". "Me too Banu". The did what they did the best, cuddled with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lasers. The weapon of an surgeon of the twenty first century. Finally a way. A shot at normal life. "Do we have to do this?", Banu asked Ayesha. "Not, if you don't want to !". "I am not scared of death, but I am not sure I can live without you by my side". "I will still remain by your side and then there is Khalid. He loves you so much and with us like this, you will not be able to marry him". "Does he really love me ?". "Yes he does". "Thank you sis". Ayesha smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they were back again to where it all started. Ayesha rolled her eyes to the left to see her sister. She still loved her sister's big eyes and the cute blush. That blush had stayed on Banu's cheeks from the day she has known her. Cuddled near to her was Banu. She was staring at the invisible sky, with her palms put together. Ayesha knew Banu was praying for her. She as always joined her. She has been doing that her entire life. After all Banu was not just her blood sister. They were held together by affection, love and their heads. And they are going to be the first to undergo the head-separation surgery. Ayesha poked her sister and giggled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the last time anyone saw them(Being the writer I am, I would have stopped this article right here. But I could not come to kill the 3 day olds who were born in my brain. So the next one word.), together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-5912574820906823557?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/5912574820906823557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=5912574820906823557' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5912574820906823557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5912574820906823557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/10/tale-of-two-girls.html' title='The tale of two girls !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-1589730836149633980</id><published>2010-10-21T13:28:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-21T13:30:37.484+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The mannequin maker !</title><content type='html'>When the entire country was celebrating the split, when her entire family was busy, moving to the other side of the divide looking forward to a peaceful life, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kursheeda&lt;/span&gt; was forced to stay back. She was expecting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; anytime. Yes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; with two '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;e's&lt;/span&gt; as in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kursheeda&lt;/span&gt;. Where once &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Nawabs&lt;/span&gt; ruled, where once her grand father fought in the mutiny, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; was born in a dirty corner of the Government hospital on the 15h of August. His birth went unnoticed in front of the big event. His life, we will come to judging that a bit later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kursheeda&lt;/span&gt; sold clay dolls to make a living. She inherited this profession from her husband, who was killed by six months ago by a killer cholera. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; would never see his father, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Ahmeed&lt;/span&gt;(yeah, the two 'e' syndrome) except for in a blurred black and white photo. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Kursheeda&lt;/span&gt; became a single mother for her only child.Everyday she would carry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; and a basket of dolls, each on one hip to the bazaars. On a good day, She made a rupee at most, which fed her and her son three times a day but still fell short providing any school education to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt;. So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; grew up on the streets learning what her could teach her. Doll making. You would think that this is what got him into mannequin making. I will let you think what you want to think, for the time being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; started making dolls when he was just 10. I will not tell you much about his doll making abilities for his skill was no match his mother's. He always made the same doll. A clown. Yellow &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;santaclaus&lt;/span&gt; cap, a blue face, curved eyebrows, small eyes which had orange and black(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; wasn't fond of white), a red-clown nose, lips, a short neck,  a blue and yellow full sleeve shirt with alternate blue and yellow buttons, a green trouser which was left making a zigzag cut at the toe-end, and rainbow coloured shoes. A feet and 3 inches tall. All dolls were the same. That is when like any Indian mother &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Kursheeda&lt;/span&gt; started worrying about the one-trick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt;. Her eyesight and her artist skills or lack of them did not let her see the thing in the clown's face. What was in it ? You have all the freedom to put the things you want to put on his face. And so did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will keep the rest of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Beelal's&lt;/span&gt; boyhood and his teenage in mystery just like the Bible's authors. Let me just say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt;, not unlike Jesus, learnt his miracles during this time. And then he decided to marry. Mina(were you expecting the double 'e' :-)), became &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Beelal's&lt;/span&gt; beloved wife. And she was first to look into the clown's face and tel what was on it. That day &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; stopped making clay dolls. Not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;kursheeda&lt;/span&gt;. We will not dive deep and investigate what killed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Kursheeda&lt;/span&gt;(people like articles to be short, especially the ones I write). Just be informed she died in the early hours of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;monday&lt;/span&gt; morning in 1973 in her bed when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; and Mina were still fast asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first mannequin sold for 48 rupees. The Madras fabrics bought it for displaying it in their retail store. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; earned 15 rupees, the biggest amount he had earned in a single day, so far. In those initial days, orders were tough to come. But whatever that came earned him good money. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; kept going. People loved his mannequins for they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;exuberated&lt;/span&gt; joy, happiness and warmth. Whats in the face ? 19 years in mannequin making and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Bellal&lt;/span&gt; had earned himself a fortune. In 1992, for the first time in his long career his business started declining. Imported mannequins, with fair skin, was preferred over his dark skinned ones. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; stopped making mannequins. Was that the end of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; ? He hasn't even begun yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A writer writes, a painter paints and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; made his mannequins. With not a lot of business opportunities around the corner, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; took to mannequin making as a hobby. He would sit in house porch and observe all passers. He will pick his inspiration of the day and they start making a mannequin resembling the person he chose. He made sad mannequins, he made happy ones, the ones which are marked by jealous, the ones that cry, the ones that exults love, the ones that are angry. He would make them dance, He would make them act. He would cloth them with traditional fabric. He would give them names and religions. His mannequins were drenched with emotions, Indian traditions and culture. But I will tell you the truth now. None of his mannequins saw light. All of them were dumped in his basement. I will let you think of the reasons why he did that. At the end of the day, you are all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Beelal's&lt;/span&gt; in your own way with a lot of mannequins buried in your hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then Mina. I haven't had the chance to tell you much about her. But you have to understand that the story is about her. After all she was the one who showed mannequin making to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt;. All of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Beelal's&lt;/span&gt; mannequins were manifestations of her ideas. And when she died in 1998, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Beelal&lt;/span&gt; locked himself up in his house and started making mannequins. He made thousands of happy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Minas&lt;/span&gt; and he surrounded himself among his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Minas&lt;/span&gt;. All his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;Minas&lt;/span&gt; were happy. he liked his wife very much when she was happy And more than often she was when he was around her. The 20 * 20 basement became his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2002, a fire wiped out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;Beelal's&lt;/span&gt; neighbourhood. Neither his house, nor him were spared by the raging fire. 112 died in the accident and a rumour that many of them have turned into angry ghosts and haunted the neighbourhood floated in the air. All rehabilitation stopped. Not even all the charred bodies were removed. The place was entirely abandoned. No one ventured into the area until an author researching his novel decided to visit it. The author found the hideout where thousands of smiling &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Minas&lt;/span&gt; were stacked and wrote an article, THE MANNEQUIN MAKER.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-1589730836149633980?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/1589730836149633980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=1589730836149633980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1589730836149633980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1589730836149633980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/10/mannequin-maker.html' title='The mannequin maker !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-4233777132668180282</id><published>2010-10-14T11:07:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-14T11:11:19.663+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Merci Beaucoup !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;In less than 12 hours I will be 24(would have been really happy if it had read 16 :-) ). And what is more pleasurable than thinking about the friends(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thats&lt;/span&gt; you) who have been playing an important part in my life. Without you, all these 24 years would have been worth nothing. So I felt it would be a nice gesture to say a thank you to all of you.(I'm putting the names in whatever order that comes to my mind)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me start of with my childhood friend(unfortunately, you are still a friend. Just kidding :D). &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;AnandaVel&lt;/span&gt;. A sweet friend. You have been there for me when I needed you the most. I have looked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;up to&lt;/span&gt; you on a lot of things and I really respect you a lot for who you are. Thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Anand&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ginglee&lt;/span&gt;. You heard it right. This is the name you gave yourself and Well, I have been calling you that for the past 6 years. Boy, oh Boy ! your cool attitude towards life amazes me. I wish I were that lazy :D ha ha...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ginglee&lt;/span&gt;, I got a chance to pull your legs. Thanks Dude. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;BTW&lt;/span&gt;, his real name is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Vinoth&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Nambiar&lt;/span&gt;, the villain. Yeah you are more of an enemy than a friend and you like to call me so. And you are the biggest lady I have seen till this day barring &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Jayalalitha&lt;/span&gt; :). And truth be told, you are my first friend from the opposite sex. You have been really good to me in the past couple of years(you would like to differ :P) and I think you will be for years to come. But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;machi&lt;/span&gt;, you still haven't told you boyfriend's classmate that I love her so much :P Thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Machi&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The gang. As I am trying to keep this short, I can't write about each of these 9 people in detail. And if I write about one of them and leave the rest, I am pretty sure I will not age more than 24 :D So ... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Niaz&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Pasu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;thol&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;porthiya&lt;/span&gt;(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;pulinnu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;ellam&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;unna&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;sollamudiyathu&lt;/span&gt;) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;oru&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;janthu&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Anandan&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;oomai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;kusumban&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Satish&lt;/span&gt; - Weekend buddy at work. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Mohan&lt;/span&gt; alias &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Kaniappan&lt;/span&gt; - The elder brother I never had. Leela - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Manmadhan&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Prabu&lt;/span&gt; - Body Soda. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Arul&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Machi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;oru&lt;/span&gt; quarter &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;sollen&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Sabari&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Kutty&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Kamalahasan&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Kailash&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Dabanng&lt;/span&gt;. Thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;ellam&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;solli&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;ungala&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;pirikka&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;mudiyuma&lt;/span&gt; pa :P &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Nanbaen&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;da&lt;/span&gt; :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mirror. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;Suji&lt;/span&gt;. We are lot like each other. We think alike, we do alike and we eat alike :) There are three things I can't live without. Food, Movies and Novels - And you have had a lot of influence on me in these three things. No wonder I love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;briyani&lt;/span&gt; these days :D Thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;Suji&lt;/span&gt; :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;Mohan&lt;/span&gt; was the elder brother I didn't have, there is a little lady who is the elder sister I didn't have. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;Uma&lt;/span&gt;. I talk a lot these days and you are the culprit. A really good soul and a really good friend. I am still confused if you are my sister or brother :P Thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;akka&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been working in a team for about 2 and half years and I have only found 3 people till now I can look &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;up to&lt;/span&gt; and call them as my role models. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;Dhamo&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;Karthik&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;Vilmar&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56"&gt;Dhamo&lt;/span&gt; - A guy from my town who came from a very humble family, broke all barriers and became a great man. Thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57"&gt;Dhamo&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58"&gt;Karthik&lt;/span&gt; - A humble, shy man who knows a lot more than what he looks like knowing. A great Person to be with. Thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59"&gt;Karthik&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60"&gt;Vilmar&lt;/span&gt; - The only friend I have never met. I have never seen a such a gentleman in this entire life. With growth comes humility and he is the perfect example. Thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61"&gt;Vilmar&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shiva. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62"&gt;Sanku&lt;/span&gt;. And for me just sis(you know what it is). I simply love you. DOT. Thanks Shiva :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63"&gt;Venkatesh&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64"&gt;Keerthi&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65"&gt;Meenakshi&lt;/span&gt;. My first year roommates in college. I faced the World alongside you and learnt a lot from it. I am really happy to have had you as roommates. Thank you guys :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would like to mention a few names about whom I cannot write elaborately on. Sorry guys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66"&gt;Minal&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67"&gt;Parvathy&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68"&gt;Punit&lt;/span&gt;. Thanks guys for considering me as a part of your group. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69"&gt;Prashant&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70"&gt;Naveen&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71"&gt;Deepak&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72"&gt;Subbu&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_73"&gt;Satya&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_74"&gt;Sudhir&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_75"&gt;Chetan&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_76"&gt;Ajit&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_77"&gt;Ashok&lt;/span&gt;. Pleasure working with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_78"&gt;Dhana&lt;/span&gt;. Thanks for saving all the bugs for me :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_79"&gt;Innaci&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_80"&gt;Gowtham&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_81"&gt;Anbarasan&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_82"&gt;Nivetha&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_83"&gt;Sachin&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_84"&gt;Balaji&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_85"&gt;Sathish&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_86"&gt;Babu&lt;/span&gt;. Thanks for the 4 years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_87"&gt;Sai&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_88"&gt;Narayanan&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_89"&gt;Arun&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_90"&gt;Nalla&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_91"&gt;nanbargal&lt;/span&gt; :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_92"&gt;Sathish&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_93"&gt;ponnusamy&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_94"&gt;Jatin&lt;/span&gt; - Jupiter &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_95"&gt;manidhargal&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_96"&gt;Das&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_97"&gt;Madhu&lt;/span&gt; - Happy birthday guys :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A Thanks to all my teachers. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_98"&gt;Navaneethan&lt;/span&gt; sir, Joseph Mathew sir, Ila &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_99"&gt;Vennila&lt;/span&gt; mam and all others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And last but nowhere near the least. My father, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_100"&gt;Mahendran&lt;/span&gt;. My Mother, Indra and My bro, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_101"&gt;Ilam&lt;/span&gt;. You made me what I am today and I am really grateful to you. I can't thank you enough. I love you all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks guys for adventure so far guys. Looking forward for much more. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-4233777132668180282?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/4233777132668180282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=4233777132668180282' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4233777132668180282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4233777132668180282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/10/merci-beaucoup.html' title='Merci Beaucoup !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-8483312288548021336</id><published>2010-10-04T12:47:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-04T12:49:52.108+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The butterfly with one wing !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;(Inspired by a true story)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Standing in the corner of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bilal&lt;/span&gt; street, the four bearded men were looking at the girl. She was collecting paper on the other side of the road. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ayesha&lt;/span&gt;, the 14 year old kid has never set foot in school in her Taliban Afghanistan. Her father was a paper collector and at the age of 8, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Zoya&lt;/span&gt; was put into his business. And since that day, for 6 long years, she has been collecting paper. But what happens today will change her life forever. Now coming back to the street corner. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; was dressed in a traditional &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;salwar&lt;/span&gt; which in fact was too large large for her size. But then, she didn't have her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;burqa&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Munir&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Dakia&lt;/span&gt;, the youngest of the four at 34, came over to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; and took her by her arm and dragged her across the street. the terrified little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; got scared and She was wondering what mistake she had made to get into this situation. And then she saw &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Jalal&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Anwar&lt;/span&gt; take a leather whip out of nowhere. Tears started rolling down her cheeks when they they started hitting her, first with the whip and then with whatever they can get hold of. A crowd started gathering around the beat-up, but no one dared to stop the four men. By the time the four men lost their enthusiasm to beat her up, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Zeborah's&lt;/span&gt; ribs were broken, lips were torn and she was bleeding everywhere. She was lying on the ground with her face down. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Jalal&lt;/span&gt; bent close her ears and said "Don't ever forget your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;burqa&lt;/span&gt;". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Mohaideen&lt;/span&gt; khan, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Zeborah's&lt;/span&gt; father admitted her in a local hospital. She needed 34 stitches all over her body and a scar in the face, result of a violent whip was going to be permanent. But this was just her beginning. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; was kept in ICU for the first two days of her treatment, then was moved to the general ward and that's what saved her. Two weeks later, the ICU, her house, her parents and her siblings were gone. And most of all, the Taliban were gone. When she got discharged she did what she knew she could do. She started collecting papers for a living. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life for a 14 year old girl, living in the streets, collecting papers for food in a war-torn Afghan is not that easy as you may know. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; survived 2 months on her own before falling prey to starvation. An old lady from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Aschiana&lt;/span&gt;  found her in a street lying unconscious and brought her to the home. It was home for women, who have lost their bread winners. It empowers women to sustain their lives themselves without having to be slave for men. Its inmates were in all age categories from 5 to 68. The old lady was a social worker volunteering for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Aschiana&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; was the fifth inmate she brought here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; adapted to the place soon. She took classes in calligraphy, painting and tailoring. She also helped in the house keeping and made a fine inmate within days of her arrival. She also made friends with a couple of girls her same age, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Sabeena&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;kurzal&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Aneesha&lt;/span&gt;. And they played football and volleyball when they had nothing else to do. Life rolled on in a direction which seemed to be right and right it was. 2 years passed in no time. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; became adept in calligraphy and painting. But tailoring did not interest her much and she stopped attending classes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;March 10, 2005 found &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; scrubbing the house floors hastily. It was the day the public welfare inspector visited their home for the annual inspections. Though the house was always in order, neat and clean a little effort got them more funding from the government. Little would the floor-scrubbing little girl know in a few hours her fate will change forever. The inspector, a Salim &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Malik&lt;/span&gt; arrived at the house little before 4. First he visited all the living quarters, then the kitchen, the work area and certified all of them to be clean and hygienic. Then he met all the 46 inmates personally and enquired about how they were treated there. the inmates had organised a football match to honour him and the busy Salim after a lot of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;peruasion&lt;/span&gt; agreed to watch it. And that was when he spotted &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt;. Kicking the ball like Mara...(who is that football from the South American country) and running like a ...(he did not know any sprinters). Salim had an eye for talent and now that eye was fixed on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; got a call from the local football team coach the next day. He wanted her to come and take a evaluation. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; who never considered her football seriously was surprised by this call, nonetheless she decided to give it a try. The coach was amazed by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; and wanted her in the friendly match between Kabul and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;kirkud&lt;/span&gt; next week. He made all arrangements with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Aschiana&lt;/span&gt;, found a sponsor for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; and fielded her in the match. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; struck a goal in the very first match she played. Next she months say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; grow into a local celebrity. She played a lot of matches and helped her team win in most of the occasions. Within a year she got a call into the national side. Afghan played a lot of friendly matches with many teams and was falling into a momentum of winning. The even defeated the American security forces 5-0. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; was becoming a star all over Afghan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One December night in 2006, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; was enjoying the cool air in the open terrace of her home. She had a letter in her hand. An invitation from Pakistan to Afghanistan to join them in the local league matches. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; was about to fly out her country for the first time, in the next few days. And staring at the naked moon she was wondering about her past. Four years ago, not very far from where she was standing right now, she was molested by four bearded men. "Don't ever forget your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;burqa&lt;/span&gt; !". Four years ago, She was lying in a hospital bed and then on the streets dreading her life. And now she was standing her, coach of the local girl's football team, center forward for the national team and key striker on whom the nation can count on. The 17 year old girl smiled at what life had hidden for her. She was into her own dream world when something distracted her. Something that was flying. Something that was not common in this part of the country. A butterfly. A butterfly with only one wing. A blue butterfly. She was in her dreamland. She was in a blue robe. She smiled at the butterfly and it smiled back. It said "Life is beautiful !" and fluttered away. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I took the liberty of changing all the names except &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;Aschiana&lt;/span&gt;. It is a organisation which has been helping women all over Afghan. This story was inspired from a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;documentry&lt;/span&gt; about the organisation. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;Zeborah&lt;/span&gt; is for real, except for the name.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-8483312288548021336?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/8483312288548021336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=8483312288548021336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8483312288548021336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8483312288548021336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/10/butterfly-with-one-wing.html' title='The butterfly with one wing !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-996333789373448314</id><published>2010-10-01T10:45:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-01T11:00:55.640+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The verdict and a new India !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The much awaited &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ayodha&lt;/span&gt; verdict(amidst the much more anticipated &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Enthiran&lt;/span&gt;) was delivered yesterday. Though it will not be spoken as much as the release of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Enthiran&lt;/span&gt;, with some kind of curfew, 12 hour media coverage, last minute delays, and a pragmatic verdict, it provided as much thrill like any mediocre suspense thrillers would do. But the thing that made it much more historic that it may be, is the rational response from the otherwise insane Indian population(to be honest with you, I also belonged here once). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A 2.5 acre arid land, Thousands of years of history and myth, and 60 years on enmity. Was Ram born there ? I really like to know when ! Was a temple built for him there ? By whom, I like to ask ? Did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Babar&lt;/span&gt; destroy it in 1528 to build his mosque ? Why there, he must be mad ?? In 1949, these Hindus place the idol in the sanctum sanatorium, Funny. The Hindus destroyed the mosque in 1992. Kill the bastards, forgive my language(I am a born Hindu, If you don't know). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now within a day of judgement, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;BJP&lt;/span&gt; is already ready to build a "GRAND" temple in the one third area that has been allotted to them. But they wont let the Muslims build their mosque in their area. And the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;waqf&lt;/span&gt; board is ready to invoke their Islamic laws which forbids them to give any mosque. And in a channel a couple of fundamentalists, one a judge and another an MP, were shouting their disagreements with the verdict and the host interrupted to say, if India can be matured and decent, so can we. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First the judgement : Ram was supposedly born here. A temple stood there once. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Babar&lt;/span&gt; could have destroyed it or may have build his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;masjid&lt;/span&gt; on an old ruin. Before the British decided to divide and rule, both Muslims and Hindus worshipped in the same piece of land. In 1949, a Hindu placed the idol below the centre dome. None of the idols will not be removed out from the site. And the judgement seems to be more of an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;reconciliatory&lt;/span&gt; approach, a positive one more than a legal one. And the credit to the judges, for coming up with the only solution which could keep the masses silent and after all it was the Hindu-Muslim divide. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any bookie would be happy to bet on a violent clash between these two communities. And what more to bet on than a verdict in a emotional case to both of them. Schools and colleges closed, employees sent home an hour before the verdict came, shutters down, increase in security. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;lakhs&lt;/span&gt; ans &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;lakhs&lt;/span&gt; of forces deployed and a sentimental verdict about to be out. By all means, many expected India to be up in flames, people expected blood bath, people expected the worse and that explains why, many locked themselves in their houses, even before the verdict was out. People were scared for themselves and their loved ones. Because this was the biggest problem of all. It led to slavery under British. It led to the splitting of this country. It gave us &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Ayodya&lt;/span&gt;. It gave us Bombay and It gave us Gujarat. The Hindu-Muslim divide.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then the reaction from India. Not a single violent incident across the country. Not even a small procession. People wanted peace and they did not want to be divided by religion. They were more matured, understanding and sane. They have moved on from 1528, 1949 and 1992. They are more development-oriented, and focused in the right area.  And they have taken it with right attitudes instead of pulling each other down. The general mass now knows what they want and what they don't. They knew what is important and what are useless. They know ecstatic provocations of bullshitting politicians are nothing more than a way to keep divided. They knew the fiery speeches of cock-sucking religious fundamentalists is to keep them blind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To all those dick heads, from a believer,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We believe, in ourselves and our fellow humans !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;we have faith, in hard work and love !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;we pray, the kind hearts !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And we follow, our brains !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From the atheist,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe in the GOD, who created me to live in peace !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love the GOD, who gave me his Earth, and the moon !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I cherish the GOD, who gave me friends and family !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I worship the GOD, who gave me a faith and a hope !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We don't have to dwell in the past, We can look forward to a better future. We need not lick our wounds, We can hope for a smaller scar. The new India has started to march. Let us join with it. And be not stopped by stupid politicians and fundamentalists.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, I will leave you with a photo of a mom taking her son to a fancy dress competition. We have to learn from this family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/TKVwbkoHNAI/AAAAAAAAAGs/zqtX4V2rBzw/s200/Krishna_Kids_2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We see the image of GOD in the color of the heart(Courtesy-Sekhar Gupta)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-996333789373448314?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/996333789373448314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=996333789373448314' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/996333789373448314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/996333789373448314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/10/verdict-and-new-india.html' title='The verdict and a new India !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/TKVwbkoHNAI/AAAAAAAAAGs/zqtX4V2rBzw/s72-c/Krishna_Kids_2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-1014785585713814148</id><published>2010-09-03T10:53:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-03T11:05:44.211+05:30</updated><title type='text'>It's a wonderful life !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Chapter 1 : Fighting the British&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kisthi&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thirai&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Vari&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Vaati&lt;/span&gt;! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Vaanam&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pozhikiradhu&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;bhoomi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;vizhaikiradhu&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;unakku&lt;/span&gt; en &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;kodupathu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;kisthi&lt;/span&gt; ? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Engalodu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;vayalukku&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;vandhaaya&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;ettram&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;iraithaaya&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;neer&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;paaichi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;neduvayal&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;nirayakandaaya&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;naatru&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;nattaaya&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;kalai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;parithaaya&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;kazhani&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;vaal&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;ulavarukku&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;kanji&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;kalayam&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;sumandhaaya&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;angu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;konji&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;vilayadum&lt;/span&gt; em &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;kula&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;penkalukku&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;manjal&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;araithu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;pani&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;purinthaya&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;allathu&lt;/span&gt; nee &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;mamana&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;machana&lt;/span&gt; ? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;Manakettavane&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;etharkku&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;ketkirai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;thirai&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;yaarai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;ketkiraai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;vari&lt;/span&gt; ? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;Poradithu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;nerkuvukkum&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;melai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;naatu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;ulavar&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;kootam&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;parangiyarin&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56"&gt;udalayum&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57"&gt;poradhathu&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58"&gt;thaligalai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59"&gt;ner&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60"&gt;kathirgalai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61"&gt;kuvuthi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62"&gt;vidum&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63"&gt;jakkirathai&lt;/span&gt;!". Not a roaring performance like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64"&gt;Sivaji&lt;/span&gt; but an innocent one from a 7 year old. I still remember repeating "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65"&gt;Yaarai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66"&gt;ketkirai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67"&gt;vari&lt;/span&gt; ?" a second time because the first time I forgot to ball my fist and make a questioning pose. A total mess of the roll and yet it got a good response. Who would want to hurt a 7 year old even though he has just committed the worst sin of his life. Then started the wonderful journey. The chapter would be incomplete without the highlight of the skit. Too much rubbing of the fake moustache and it fell off for the perfect dialogue. "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68"&gt;Thudikkiradhu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69"&gt;meesai&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70"&gt;aanaal&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71"&gt;adakku&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72"&gt;adakku&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_73"&gt;engirathu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_74"&gt;natpu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_75"&gt;naadi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_76"&gt;vantha&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_77"&gt;uravu&lt;/span&gt; !". The entire crowd of fathers and mothers erupted when it happened and like any 7 year old I was too innocent to realize what had happened. I owe a apology to both &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_78"&gt;Sivaji&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_79"&gt;Veerapandiya&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_80"&gt;Kattabomman&lt;/span&gt;. Sorry guys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Chapter 2 : Money doesn't matter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rupees 10. In 1997, in an unknown town called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_81"&gt;Virudhunagar&lt;/span&gt;, it was a big sum. And the sum seems more valuable if you are a bangle seller's son whose father worked 12 hours a day for 40 Rupees. And yet I was careless enough to pay a man 10 rupees more than what I had purchased for. The roadside vendor who was selling stationary sold me a few items for a 20 and I had payed him 30 by mistake without realizing it. I had cycled a couple of blocks before the man came chasing me in his bare foot. With his dirty clothes and big nose more than anything he scared me. He was poor for one thing and yet he was just scary to me then. He gave me back the 10 rupees and advised me to be careful next time I pay someone. That 10 rupees could have earned him a meal, a toy for his kid, or something for his wife. He gave it back to the stupid. It was embarrassing then, but now I know money is not everything. Thanks to him. After 13 years, he is still selling stationary sitting in the same spot where he used to all those years ago. He probably will not recognise me and I will never forget his face. At least I can tell I have seen one HONEST man in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Chapter 3 : I hated Geography&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The only subject I ever came close to failing was geography. It happened in class 7. 8 out of 25 and when converted to 100, it was 32, 3 short of the pass mark. I went to the teacher and showed him my paper. He put a +1 and I got 4 more and I passed. Little did I knew three years later I would top my batch in the 10&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_82"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; public exams in the very same subject and earn my first medal. Thanks to the new teacher I got. Over the three years she not only became my favorite teacher, but also my best friend. I still remember spending a lot of weekends at her home, trying to learn what she had to teach. She proved to the school she could make a statue out of clay and Clay I was. I last visited her 5 years ago. I had not seen her in 2 years for she got married and moved out to Maldives. She lost her husband to cancer just 2 years into the marriage and was a single mother with a 1 year old baby when I was visited her last. I became an atheist.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Chapter 4 : First Tears&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like any other student of the 20&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_83"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; century, I started doing small science projects as a kid and in class 9, I represented my school in a district level science project competition and won the first place. I got a place for my school in the state level competition and found my name on the paper(Well, in one small corner of the local news though). And for the state level I &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was expected to win again. Well, Like you would have guessed by now, It was a total disaster. One of my friends won the first place and I was not even charted in the top 10. And to add to the embarrassment mine and my partner's family had traveled 200 miles for the event. I found a corner where no one would spot and let out a couple of tears. You can escape the World, not your dad. My father found me, spotted my tears and immediately knew what to do. He hugged me and bought me an ice cream. I remember my little brother laughing at me and he has continued to do so till this date. Though this incident looks very childish now, I still feel the first defeat. And then the hug.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Chapter 5 : My first play&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At school, I had always been a cultural guy. I have participated in a lot of skits, dances, mono-acts, fancy dress competitions. I have danced in the parade grounds for the independence and Republic days. So on. But the first play I ever wrote was in class 12. My own sweet little play. It took a lot of time to get people convinced to take part in it. I staged it in the annual day function of our school and I am sure its the best play I have ever written till this day. I will save the story &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;for another article as I have got couple of more chapters to write. To be frank, It wasn't a big success. But It was that play what made me what I am today. All my imaginations had a kick start that day. I went on to top the district in 12&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_84"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; board exams that year and found my name on a couple of local news channels, won a lot of awards from different clubs. But If I am asked for my favorite moment that year, It was when we brought out the Indian flag in the climax of our play and crowd erupted with applause.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Chapter 6 : Songs that no voice sung&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Scared at the responsibilities facing me, I became a loner in college. Job was a must and to get that I locked myself from the rest of the world. But any living being needs company and that was when I took writing serious. On a lot lonely nights words have kept me company and I enjoyed the warmth of them. I started with Tamil poems. And the first one was about the kingmaker &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_85"&gt;Kamaraj&lt;/span&gt;, the only known face from out small town. I have written close to 90 poems in 2 years and only 5 of them have ever seen light. The rest stay bundled in a very old notebook which is shelved somewhere in my house. I wrote poems on loose papers and lost quite a few of them. The one titled "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_86"&gt;Kanavugal&lt;/span&gt;" was my big loss. In those 3 dark years, writing made a man out of me. When I turn back to look at those years, I understand that they were dark so that I &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;can find light. I hope I found one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Chapter 7 : It's a wonderful life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4 years of hard work just to miss the convocation due to some stupid stubbornness. I was kind enough to shatter the life time dream of my parents. When I look back at 23 years of my life, this is the most stupidest thing I have ever done. But, Well, Fate had other plans and another chance. After all 4 years of hard work was no match to a 4 day madness. the hard work had won. Anna university arranged a convocation for the college toppers and I was fortunate enough to find a place in that. My parents will attend the event. I reached Chennai and met my parent for the first time in six months. They had grown old and the silvering on the hairs were showing. My mother started pouring when she saw me. 3 hours later I got into my rented convocation gown and went to the stage to receive the medal from the governor of Tamil &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_87"&gt;Nadu&lt;/span&gt;. But that was not what made me happy, an award from the governor, but the chance I got to make my parents dreams come true. I have never seen my father cry before and I will never see him cry again. It is definitely a wonderful life !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-1014785585713814148?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/1014785585713814148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=1014785585713814148' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1014785585713814148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1014785585713814148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-wonderful-life.html' title='It&apos;s a wonderful life !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-7894674016261797200</id><published>2010-09-02T17:46:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-02T17:53:01.659+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sin City !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Standing on the edge of water, bundled inside a worn out shawl, tears running down his cheeks which was hidden behind a cheap clown mask, The Cripple was spending the last minutes of his life. The naked full moon was staring at him with a blush. But for its light, there was darkness everywhere around. If not for the sound, anyone standing near where he was now, would not have believed the stream makes a waterfall half a kilometre ahead. The shadow of the cripple with the roaring sound of the waterfalls made the place ghostly. And then the clouds decided to play their part as well. It started drizzling. The cripple removed his mask and threw it into the water face upward. The cheap mask smiled at him. He smiled back at the drifting mask. 12 Years and peace was close. His spine might find a sharp rock. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was dawning. Like any other beggar, our friend was surveying the bus stand for the best place to sit. He found one at the footsteps of the public toilet. Most travellers would use it as long as they dont smell it a mile away. He inspected his belongings. A water bottle(it was tied to our friend's hand by a thread.) which was older than he was, for it was more opaque than transparent. Even Pepsi would find it difficult to know that it was manufactured by them. A wornout towel, a change shirt and dhoti which was no whiter than the one he was wearing. A comb with less teeth than originally made, a tooth brush and a cloth bag to carry them all. And of course oil in a coke bottle(Most of hogenakkal carries one). He sat on his throne, kness folded and arranged his belongings around him. With 9 years experience in the field the first 50 came &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;in no time(Well, I forgot to tell you. Our friend takes a quick break every 50 rupees he earns). He knew little that the break would change his life forever. He asked his neighbour to take care of his things while he went for the break(not the 50 though). His neighbour had a lucky day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Muthu's leg started bleeding. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ropes around his ankles had been in work for 3 hours and were showing what they could do. But right now the ropes were not Muthu's concern. What had seemed to be an ordinary day at work had all gone wrong. The travellers who had wanted a ride on his boat, had instead taken him for a bad ride. His face will need a plastic surgery, all his bones would have to be repaired if not replaced, his left leg is gonna stay broken and it is gonna be years before his mind gets straight and well, the four weren't finished yet. Muthu did not want to die at 18. But that idea looked far with these four around him and they were getting ready to damage his genitals. Even if he lives all this, he will need someone to find him in the midst of a forest to get him back to aid. Muthu prepared for the worst and that's what he got. By the time police found his naked soul less body 2 days later, he was in coma. When he came out of his vegetated state three months later, all he remembered was four faces and that did not include his father, mother and him. 2 years and he wouldn't need to know them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;George, Kidnapping him was easy. He was the oldest and the weakest. It was amazing, at 55 he was still walking without a stick and still had the heart to come to his Sin city. George had ventured out on the first day of their trip to get some booze and his mates wouldnt be worried if he was gone for hours as he was known for getting drunk and staying lost for hours. Our friend had all the time he needed. George's death will not be hard. After all he just wanted a hand job all those years ago. Our friend tied him to a tree. And then removed his pants to look at his small dick which was getting harder each passing second. "How about a hand job from a beggar, my old friend? "."Please don't do this. Who are you ? What do you want ? Please let me go. I will give you whatever you want". Our friend picked a broken branch and was aiming an underarm swing between sweet George's legs. "See you in hell soon !" And Splash. Homerun! Bingo ! Some one has to search or George's balls when his body is found. Bye-Bye George.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Are you a virgin ?", Kannan laughed over the naked body of Muthu."I hope so and I haven't done a virgin in years and this is my first time with a guy. So be a good boy or you might visit your dead grandma soon". Kannan had 20 minutes with Muthu and by the time he was done, he knew Muthu will be having troule's peeing then on. Sex was never the reason for abduction, but it came as an added advantage. Free of cost dudes. And then the blowjob. It doesn't happen much in your real life unless you are a porn star. So Kannan got his first that day. But, Well, Justice has too be delivered even after all those years. Kannan wanted to get him a whore and ended up getting into our friend's hand. He didnot have much to say as the first thing our friend did to him was to cut his tongue. But he had all those crazy sounds. When our friend brought &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;him to his final resting place, Kannan could not miss recognising it and then recognising our friend. After all the blowjob has been fucking awesome. Without much left to discuss with a dumb man, our friend started chopping Kannan's penis with a butcher's knife like it was some goat's guts. "How does it feel now?" Kannan watched in horror. He will be bird food soon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our friend did not bother burying his body.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Muthu let out a cry in pain when the boat's oar found his left knee. Ropes were tied around his ankles and a dirty cloth was stuffed into his mouth. George and Kannan carried him through the forest. Nanda carried the oar behind them. He was still able to hear the sound of Muthu's bone cruching when he hit him. A small sickening sound which he has come to enjoy. When they are finished he would do the same with Muthu's neck and enjoy the sound once more. And When Muthu was just a dead body he would paint its face with its blood. The knife in his backpack would see to that. Nanda marched looking forward to this amazing experience. "So you enjoy sounds? Let's see what your bones sound like". Our friend hit Nanda with a boat oar on his left knee. "A crunch, not bad for an old man. Let's see if you can walk". Muthu helped Nanda &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to his feet and dragged him. Nanda shrieked in horror. "Now I like it when you limp like me you old bastard"."Now how do you want to die ? I will let you choose between breaking your neck and spine. Three count. One, Two, Three. Times up dude". Muthu hit Nanda's head repeatedly against a tree. Then he broke his neck with a swift turn of the head. A bite to the throat ended it. "Now my friend my face is painted. With your blood". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The idea was his. Guna. He wanted more than a boat ride and a suicide point view. After all they had come to have some fun. They had picked up a whore on the way here. But even she could not live through four pounding dogs. She did not make it to hogenakkal. Instead, she ended up in a mortuary in a small town. And then Guna had come up with his master idea. Abduct the boatman and have all fun they wanted to have. He was no maniac like Nanda or a sexist like Kannan. He was an artist. He loved to make people beg for their lives and with money on his side, he has had more than many experiences with it.  But this was different. After 2 hours with them, Muthu realised that Guna was the man in charge and fell on his feet to let him go. Guna would do anything to see that sight again. An 18 year old boy naked to his butt, raped several times, wounded everywhere, tears on his eyes, saliva spilling out of his mouth, begging for life at his feet. He had enjoyed every bit of it. He had enjoyed standing on Muthu's penis. He had enjoyed driving a drill through his face. He had enjoyed inserting a tree branch into his ass. He had enjoyed cutting his hair uneven. He had enjoyed abusing his mother. And he enjoyed peeing on him the most. What an ecstatic feeling it had been. And now the kid was begging him. Wow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What a dream come true. He instead had ashed off his cigar on the boy's face and the boy had gone tumbling backwards. Guna's death will be horrible. His death will be made a lesson. Our friend made sure Guna suffered till the end. All bones of his body were broken, head has been sheared from the body, Liver and Intestine were cut opened and were spilling on the ground, the penis and the left leg were gone, his skin had a lot of burns, his asshole was torn and they were a lot of pokings on his skin probably with a knife, 9 of his 10 fingers were cut till the first joint and the Guna was a total mess. But for an identity card, It was hard to tell even it were human remains. Muthu has had his retribution. And then he had to pay. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Muthu's body washed up 3 days later 58 kms from where he drowned. A wild dog was chewing his fingers when the police found it. There was no notes, no motives for a suicide and no evidence he murdered all those men. To the poice he was just a poor beggar who no one cared about, slipped into water by mistake. He will not be cremated with celebration. Just one more body to dispose. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the mask was still smiling. Now at me !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I still could not believe a forgotten mask made me write a story like this. May be it was lying around there for me to find it.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-7894674016261797200?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/7894674016261797200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=7894674016261797200' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7894674016261797200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7894674016261797200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/09/sin-city.html' title='Sin City !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-118670514495096528</id><published>2010-06-26T20:18:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-27T12:44:46.707+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Waving Flag !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Inspired by a true story)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The lifeless body lay motionless on the ground. Most of the head was gone and what remained was covered with blood or dirt. The whole body was charred. The surrounding Earth smelled of blood and the marauders were already circling the skies eying their booty. Its feast day for them, thanks to the land mines. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Balbir&lt;/span&gt; Singh knelt beside the body to find some identification. The half-baked name plate revealed the first two letters of the man's name "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;KU&lt;/span&gt;". He had earned 3 stars(though only one was where it was supposed to be). A captain. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Balbir&lt;/span&gt; ordered attention. The soldiers saluted the brave captain. The dug a grave and buried him. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Balbir&lt;/span&gt; placed the three stars on top of the grave. He knew, the man will be forgotten like any other war hero. Very soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The 6&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Rajputana&lt;/span&gt; Rifles or what was left of it was assigned to take the hill. the plan was to run it down in the next twelve hours. Time was running out. Time to move on. Condolences to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;KU&lt;/span&gt; can wait. The skies were getting dark and the temperature was dropping. If they had to take the hill by day break, they have to hike a mile per hour. Any wasted second would be a dropped chance of winning the war. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Balbir&lt;/span&gt; took the front. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Rohit&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; followed him. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt; took the rear. They moved in silence through the darkness for the next couple of hours without stopping. But by then, they stomach was empty and their kidneys full. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Balbir&lt;/span&gt; announced a 30 minute break. He and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; opened the bread packets and started buttering them. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt; boiled water to make tea while &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Rohit&lt;/span&gt; had gone to take a leak. A small &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;campfire was lit and the group sat in a circle around it. In war, a 7-course menu was not an option. They ate their food, in silence. It was the clouds who broke the silence with drizzles at first, and then with rain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Knowing that the rain was a much more dangerous enemy, the soldiers decided to take shelter. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; found some boulders to hid behind in the leeward side. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Rohit&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt; hid behind the huge trunks of trees. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Balbir&lt;/span&gt; decided to enjoy the rain. Little did he know that he will be in direct line of the sniper who was hiding behind the rain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Behind the rock, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; reached out for his Shirt pocket and pulled out a photograph. It was a black and white photograph of an young lady. Tears started forming in the corner of his eyes. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; immediately realized that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; was sobbing for his dead daughter, who had been dead two years now. "She was in class XII and she wanted to become a engineer", said &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Muragan&lt;/span&gt; smiling at the photograph. "She would have become one had that man not entered her life". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; couldn't tell if it were tears of rain that was running down &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Murugan's&lt;/span&gt; cheek. "One day he and his friends visited my house, killed my wife and raped my little girl". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; was crying like a child now, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; could tell. "My girl bled to death in a stinking hospital bed. Love for that stinking pig got here to hell". There was a pause. "She loved rain ! She would have made a good engineer !". the words were not his. "Since then, I have been waiting for the day to reach them". Little &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;did he know if it was today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I think AK-47's are the meanest weapons in out artillery. Man ! 640 rounds per minute. It can kill a whole village in a minute. Amazing power !", exclaimed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt;, proud of his gun. "Yeah ! But a true assassin loves the sniper. Silent Kill !", &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Rohit&lt;/span&gt; smiled at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt;, who responded with a huge grin. Little did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Rohit&lt;/span&gt; know, he would fall for a sniper in less than 10 minutes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; who came running when they heard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Balbir&lt;/span&gt; slump. When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; reached him, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Balbir&lt;/span&gt; was already slipping into unconsciousness. Blood was oozing out from his heart. He has been shot. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; froze and that took his life. His head blasted into a explosion. His brain splattered everywhere. He died in silence. By then the other three knew they were being targeted and fired 100's of rounds into the darkness. The sniper got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Rohit&lt;/span&gt; before breathing his last. 3 down and 2 left. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; decided to move forward. Staying here would definitely mean death. They covered the bodies with leaves and grass to save it from predators. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; grabbed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;Murugan's&lt;/span&gt; body and pulled out the photograph. It will go with him from now on. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; searched the darkness for the invisible sniper, found him, cut  his head and put it in their bags. A coin was flipped to find who would carry it. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt; won. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rest of their journey was uneventful. They were fortunate for that. The day was breaking, the Sun was threatening to come out any moment and the peak was just a mile away. The last 5 hours have been tiring on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt;. 3 dead friends, rain, invisible snipers, roar of cannons down in the valley and continuous trekking with their huge &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;backbags&lt;/span&gt;. But now the target was in sight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt; pulled out a coin from his pocket. A 1 Rupee coin. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; smiled and him and pulled out another 1 Rupee from his. "The first to reach the summit gets both", grinned &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt;. "If no bullets finds us", replied &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt;. "What do you think, I will look like when I hoist the flag??". "Like a bear hugging a pole". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;Sandeep&lt;/span&gt; showed his 32. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;Ranadeb&lt;/span&gt; followed suit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Indian flag was hoisted in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56"&gt;Kargil&lt;/span&gt; on July 4, 1999. Over 400 Indian soldiers lost their lives to protect our freedom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Dedicated to all those brave-hearts for their courage and sacrifice)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-118670514495096528?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/118670514495096528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=118670514495096528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/118670514495096528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/118670514495096528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/06/waving-flag.html' title='The Waving Flag !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-5017073776674308980</id><published>2010-06-22T18:44:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-22T19:10:13.911+05:30</updated><title type='text'>அக்னிச் சிறகு....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Two years ago(if I remember correctly, exactly the same day), I appeared for my first ever job interview(we can call it a chit chat though). And not a single technical question was asked the entire 45 minutes. The only situation where I even had to think was when they asked me a write a poem about my college. I was dumb enough to say penning poems is one of my hobbies without realizing the fact that the biggest poem I have ever written was about the girl next door(not a pretty one either). Now that the iron tongue has spoken, a chance for my brain liquids to work. I took the pen and stared into the blank paper(I haven't written a single letter for 30 minutes). The words that I somehow found in my limited vocabulary was like this...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 28px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;சிறகு விரிக்க தெரியாத எனக்கு,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;பறக்க கற்றுக்கொடுத்தத் தாய்பறவை !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I managed to get that job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-5017073776674308980?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/5017073776674308980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=5017073776674308980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5017073776674308980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5017073776674308980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/06/blog-post.html' title='அக்னிச் சிறகு....'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-8881889588782041367</id><published>2010-05-19T20:25:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-19T20:37:16.764+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A post finally !</title><content type='html'>Well, It has been over a couple of months I posted anything on this site. I almost forgot, I even has a blogspot(blame it on my work and my research for my first novel). And accidentally today, I bumped into the blogspot. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nothing much had changed in the site(probably not many visited it anyway). However, I found this interesting comment on an age old article I wrote,  &lt;a href="http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/06/funny-ramayana.html"&gt;http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/06/funny-ramayana.html&lt;/a&gt;,  some time June last year(almost a year has passed) and this one reader, an "Anonymous" had the courtesy to comment on it. I would like to thank him for his comment. He had an harsh comment, may be I hurt his sentiments or whatever and called me an asshole(which probably most of us are). But I was not a spineless dumb head to hide behind an Anonymous. I would like to know you reader. Please introduce yourself if you have some guts. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With all due respect to you sir, Please don't oppress views. I live by my own rules. You live by yours. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And in this article, I would like to thank SAT-B(don't think its some satellite, he's a friend of mine) for expressing his views with an identity on the same post and letting me correct my mistakes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-8881889588782041367?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/8881889588782041367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=8881889588782041367' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8881889588782041367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8881889588782041367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/05/post-finally.html' title='A post finally !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-4404734712072639596</id><published>2010-02-18T18:43:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-19T20:53:43.823+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Another day in Paradise !</title><content type='html'>The following article is a collection  of events that led me to writing this article. So I dedicate this article to everyone in the scope of these events. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was warm, rather a hot day for January in Bangalore. The same afternoon when the Sun happened to be showing his mightiness, I happened to be travelling in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;BMTC&lt;/span&gt; bus, the bus which showed amazing promise to get caught in every possible traffic signal. When the bus was waiting for Green in one such signal(the fourth one in my journey so far), I peered out of the window with nothing else to do, to take a quick glance of the moving World outside. It wasn't moving much. He was ugly, dirty and every adjective you don't want to use on a kid of his age. He would have been 12, probably, lesser, maybe. His palms were facing the heavens. His eyes stared into strangers' eyes. I looked at my companion's face(who had ventured with me to a movie, not the first time). She had a look, a what-will-I-have-for-lunch look, so did the kid, a will-I-have-lunch look, and so did I, a what-went-wrong look. I knew, I will remember his face forever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On a Saturday evening, standing in a corner of my office, I was staring into far distance, probably looking at nothing in particular. Located in the outskirts of the city, the office was surrounded by small houses and huts mostly. Some will want to call it a slum, others call it rural Bangalore. Places in a low salary band, I was financially broke and wanted to save some money for a house I wanted to buy. When I was worrying about my dream house, my eyes wandered over a white structure(People who lived there, called it their house). It was a 10*10*8 foot structure, I guessed. And one day, I happened to pass it. After all it was a 12*12*10. Outside this house, a lady was sitting on a stone(which was used for washing clothes, when someone didn't bother planting their ass on it). She was nursing a child, probably 6 months old. When I passed them, the child(I am not sure if he was a bay or if she was a girl) looked at me, smiled a toothless smile and clapped excitedly. May be he/she got reminded of a chimpanzee he/she has seen on a visit to the zoo. All of a sudden, his/her mother whisked him/her into the hut..house.. whatever it was. My grave be a little bigger I thought. I lost all interests in my dream house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always walk to work, just because it is the one thing that at least remotely, resembles to some sort of exercise I do. My house being just over 2.5 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kms&lt;/span&gt; from my office helps it. I return back home by walk, mostly it well after dark. On one such walk, I saw this man. I was walking into the darkness under a bridge at around 10 P.M. The traffic was light and the road was deserted. However, the screams of rodents from an open drainage line running on both sides of the road kept me company. Had there been no cement barriers between the drainage and the road, I would have had the opportunity to led the rodents walk with me:). Out of the dark I saw something doing something on it. I saw him doing something. His hand was definitely at work. "Was he eating, sitting on that stinking thing?", was my first thought. Two more steps towards it, towards him and "Yes, he is eating something and it stinks more badly than the drainage". I was afraid to pass him. What if he bites me. But I mustered some courage and went past him. He was not enjoying his food. He was feeding him to live, probably only for a few more days. I gave a I-feel-sorry-for-you look. His wet eyes replied, "You don't know how it feels like." I really didn't know how it feels to sit on top of an open drainage and eat food that smelled like puke. He ate it till the last bite.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Outside Bangalore and my hometown, Chennai is the only other town, I have been to in the last couple of years. My winter vacations start there, mostly. On one of these vacations, I found myself crossing a railway platform to reach a friend's house. It was late in the night and the station was dormant but for the two of us chit chatting. Most of the platform dwellers had slipped into their dreams. Not her. She suddenly jumped in front of me, literally from nowhere. She was little over 5 feet, probably half my weight and of my age. She only said a word, "Anna". She didn't have to tell the rest. "I haven't eaten anything. Please spare me a coin !", I understood. I reached for my wallet. I heard a voice inside my head, a woman's voice. "You shouldn't encourage all this Ila !". My friend said inside my head. Was it her or was it me, in a woman's voice? Two women, one standing right next to me, bowing to no one, and other, standing right in front of me, bowing to all of them. I slipped a coin into my sisters hand and walked away. I never looked back. I still hear that one word in my dreams. I will take that to my grave as well. "Anna". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know if there were a paradise. I there were one, i hope all these people find a place there. Because we are having it right here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-4404734712072639596?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/4404734712072639596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=4404734712072639596' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4404734712072639596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4404734712072639596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/02/another-day-in-paradise.html' title='Another day in Paradise !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-752956506596914073</id><published>2010-02-01T18:24:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-01T20:04:32.346+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Walk to Remember !</title><content type='html'>It was  raining !&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Andy was born, his mother was barely 15. The Madras edition of Hindu, dated April 29,1962 carried her story on the front page, "14 year old raped by 3 in school !". The word 'raped' was in bold red letters. And as a matter of fact, within those 25/30 horrible minutes someone has managed to fire his sperm into her. She knew who it was(though, It would be hard to tell on which round), for two of them were easily over her father's age. That was the day Andy was born, probably to a bell boy, but it took another 2 months for the World to know it. And on February 6,1963, he was cradled in his mother's arms. Many of them, including her own parents, wanted her to abort Andy. But she wanted him and she had him. Throughout his way to freedom, his name was debated. But his mother never let go Andy. She did not know why though. But she always felt it had a connection with her dream. A dream in which  she saw a jail called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Shawshank&lt;/span&gt;. Andy crawled his way to freedom, out of his mother's belly in just over 9 months. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eight o' clock was still a couple of hours away and Sun was coming out of the horizon ! It is going to be just another day !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Andy was sitting on a wooden bench in a park. A broken one. The park was less crowded with people than the sky was with clouds. Until a miracle happens, Rain is gonna. Andy was still sitting on the wooden bench. The broken one. He was staring at the clouds.  There was one in the shape of his father's skull. "Do you see the rainbow?", a little girl with a short red pony sat next to him on the bench. Finger pointed to the skies. "No", said Andy. he looked at her. No, not her. Her red pony. "The 7 colours, Violet, Indigo, Blue, Green, Yellow, Orange and Red. Do you see them?". The same single syllable from Andy, "No". The disappointed 10-year old looked at the 11-year old. "What do people call you?", she asked. "A Bastard !", he replied. "That sounds sweet! Won't you ask my name?". "I don't even know my father's !", he told himself. "No", he said to the girl. The girl jumped of the bench and left. Andy stared into his father's face. "What is your name?". His father did not answer. Andy's father had no name, so did others to Andy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The bells started ringing. The prayers would begin soon !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Andy drank cappuccino on his first date. That happened just two days before his graduation. The girl, a classmate asked him out and he accepted with a huge smile on his face. They walked to the nearby coffee shop and ordered cappuccino, the girl's favorite. She was blushing and Andy...was not, for his father was in the cappuccino. "Hell be with the coffee shop man", thought Andy silently. Then he drank his father. And he could hear his throat yelling, "What's your fucking name?". No reply and that was expected. The girl smiled and he smiled back, not in the throat though. Two years later, the girl married a man named...Andy never gave a shit about the man's name. The same year, his mother died, at the age of 39 from breast cancer. Her life was really fast, wasn't it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the grave had been dug and the priest was ready with his eulogy !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;873 and 456. The number of copies sold-off of Andy's first and second novel respectively. Never mind about the name of the books. Remember, Andy never took a shit about names. "Both your novels put together sold only a little over 1000 copies and you want me to publish the third one? You must be insane !", exclaimed the publications manager of Downhill publishing(They published both of Andy's books). "Yes !", said Andy. "And what's that?", the man asked pointing at the drawing Andy had brought. "I want it on the front page.", smiled Andy. "What the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;fu&lt;/span&gt;... You want a cloud and a cup of coffee on the first page. What does that mean?". "Nothing !", replied Andy. The third novel named(Well, Andy didn't even give a shit about this) "What's your name?" became the best-seller of his books, also his last. It sold over 1000 copies. The actual number was 1002. Andy's career as a novelist was a shame. But there was a story he didn't write on paper. And thanks to his friend, it was made into  a movie and appropriately called "Inglorious &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Basterds&lt;/span&gt;!". But Andy was not invited for the premieres. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Men and women gathered in their black suits. Few had their umbrellas open for it was raining !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"The first word I spoke was mom. My mother has been teaching the word for over 15 days and after a lot of struggle, I managed to spill out the word. My mother looked at me very excited. But she never taught me dad. She didn't have to."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mass started and the coffin was left open !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Then she taught me to walk. She would hold my hands and drag me slowly to my feet. I would fall over and she would pick me up gently and land me on my feet again. The process repeated until the day, I managed a couple of steps on my own. That day, my mother stopped holding my hands. I was on my own forever, she would have thought". And that was when tears rolled out of the nurse's eyes. She has been taking care of Andy ever since he got the crazy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Alzheimers&lt;/span&gt; and that was 5 years ago. "Do you know &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;your&lt;/span&gt; father's name?", she asked. Andy smiled and said, "Lets go..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The priest started with his eulogy. "This man Mr. Andy has been...." !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Lets go for a walk !", Andy said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-752956506596914073?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/752956506596914073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=752956506596914073' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/752956506596914073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/752956506596914073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/02/walk-to-remember.html' title='A Walk to Remember !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-2617211331406551251</id><published>2010-01-25T19:45:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-28T19:11:25.169+05:30</updated><title type='text'>2 states !</title><content type='html'>I often seem to be forgetting the number of states in my country these days. It was 25 when I was in class V(at least my Geography book said so). Then Delhi graduated from an Union Territory to a state. That is 26. So did Goa. So 27. Or did it? Back to 26. Then we got Chattisgarh, Uttarkand and Jharkand. 26+3=29. But well, is Andhra +1 or +2? What the fuck? Two things are unfortunate here. When someone asks me the number of stated in India, I end up answering "Late twenties or Early thirties", as if I am some novel writer telling the age of my lead character. And my kids(who are a decade away from birth)will have to learn the things I learnt in my Geography, in their history. Well, not a big change when the number of planets in our Solar system change. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Little would have Potti Sreeramalu known when he died 57 years ago, that the state he gave birth to would be fighting itself to get split in less than 60 years. His death lead to one of the biggest events in the Indian history. It led to physical separation of states on linguistic basis. And the state for which he died, its spilling its blood for another separation. Well, if it happens, The Marathis would want a Vidarbha, the Kannadigas, their Uttar Kannada, Kashmiris, their own country and what the hell not. Soon people will fast and die for merging states, and then splitting them and all those shit. But why all this? The fasting, the rath yatras, violence and hatred? Is started to think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A new state means, a new government. Well, that means more jobs. Maybe in thousands, may be more. With two Governments for the same area, governance become much easy and effective(well, that is assuming we have a capable government). This will in turn help the growth of the state, at least economically. Literacy rates will go up and hence the probability of getting a job and improved standards of life. Infrastructure will get built, Health care will be taken care of, crime will be punished more effectively and hence we get a better civilization. Really?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Splitting a state will definitely cause communal unrest. One can be sure that a violence will break out between the new born state and its mother. Sharing of resources will become a problem(we see that everyday, Split states don't even share water anymore. You know which states I mean). This will give any government a tough time. And eventually each Government will be plotting against each other. That is a real bad sign. Development activities will be given second priority to Dirty politics and pulling each others legs. The so-called aam aadmi can be left to suffer, as he always is. People can forget their freedom of movement. Hindiwallahs will be driven out of Maharastra, Tamilians and Kannadigas will kill each other, and so on. Restricted movement will lead to limited jobs and hence zero growth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Economy will collapse, Unity will be forgotten. And well, Peace will have to rest in peace. And more than anything, it will set a bad example and everywhere people will want a separate state. This will challenge national integrity and people will be interested to identify themselves as Punjabis and Bengalis over Indians.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If this season of splitting starts now, we may soon have to call the country "The Divides States of India(DSI)" and well, before the turn of the century, we may be back in the old times, when we were just a collection of princely states. In a 100 years, Chennai, Bangalore and all other major cities will be states or even separate countries, and we may  be citied as an example over Soviet for splitting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(The article but the title has got nothing to do with Chetan Bhagat's book. The title was not insired by his book, but well, I don't want someone scolding me on national television. So all TITLE CREDITS to Mr. Chetan Bhagat. )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-2617211331406551251?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/2617211331406551251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=2617211331406551251' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/2617211331406551251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/2617211331406551251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2010/01/2-states.html' title='2 states !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-5771000938559624801</id><published>2009-11-26T17:35:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-28T15:30:04.318+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Miss you !</title><content type='html'>It was 25 meters in length and 3 meters across. It should have served as a drainage pipe instead was serving as a house for a four member family. Changing governments, deferring politicians, and altering policies have all abandoned the pipe, but, well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Moorthi&lt;/span&gt; found use for it. Orphaned at the age of 6, he has been living in this cylindrical house for 34 years now. Of course, he did not know that. He never knew his age as well. Men who fear death count their age, not he. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Moorthi&lt;/span&gt; has been married to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Selvi&lt;/span&gt; for 12 years now and had two kids, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Muthu&lt;/span&gt;, 11 and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt;, 10. For both &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Muthu&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt;, the abandoned drainage pipe has been their only house. Right from birth, they both have crawled, learnt to walk, and run within the blackened concrete walls. They played around it, sat on its roof to watch the vehicles speeding on the National Highway, slept within it an lived in it. And they were in love with it. It provided them protection from the scorching sun, chilly winds and heavy rains. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Moorthi&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Selvi&lt;/span&gt; never had a chance to go to school. For them, living on a two-meal a day, education was a luxury they couldn't afford. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Moorthi&lt;/span&gt; picked rags and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Selvi&lt;/span&gt; worked as a housekeeper. Both had to work 12 hours a day to afford the cheapest education to their children, which they did. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Muthu&lt;/span&gt; was in class V and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; was in class IV. Both were naught, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; more than &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Muthu&lt;/span&gt;. Both went to school to the nearest Government school, 3 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;kms&lt;/span&gt; from their house. Both liked the school, not because the education was good, it provided free lunch. And introduction of Eggs with afternoon lunch was an added incentive. Egg was a luxury in most of the homes in a country where is meal means boiled rice, raw onion  and buttermilk. Everyday, they go to school and wait for the lunch bell to go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The family had a very simple, yet normal life. They worked day in and day out, sincerely, shared both happiness and sadness with each other and lived peacefully. They were one family who never worried about GDP, who never ate fast foods, or visited any malls or multiplexes, never traveled in anything faster than a bicycle. They celebrated no festivals, ate no sweets, wore no fashionable clothes. They were among the 70 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;crore&lt;/span&gt; Indians who were living below poverty line. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was November the fifth. The retreating North west monsoon was flooding Chennai. The Friday morning has already seen 4 mm rainfall and the forecast is that it will be over 10 mm before it closes. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Muthu&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; got ready to school eagerly. Two reasons, It was Saturday tomorrow and it was Diwali, the day that every Indian celebrates irrespective of religion, faith, age, colour or status. And Diwali meant new clothes to them. Not really new ones, but new to them. One of their mother's employers gave her a couple of discarded clothes every Diwali. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Muthy&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; had always appreciated the new clothes, no matter in what bad condition the clothes were.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As usual, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Moorthi&lt;/span&gt; dropped them at school in his bicycle. He promised them sweets that evening. he kissed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; in the cheek and waved bye to them. Both went to their classes. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; was too excited about the next day. She thought of sweets, crackers, good food and new clothes over and over again. As any 10 year kid would do, she started telling stories about her last Diwali to her desk mate. She told her how her mother had got her the most beautiful dress she has ever worn. With colorful flowers over it, it was a small wonder to her. She had worn it many times and each time, managed to keep it clean and ironed. Even after an year, she was still fond of it and told her desk mate that she wouldn't worry too much if she got no new dress this Diwali, thanks to the flower dress.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Meena's&lt;/span&gt; afternoon lunch was almost tasteless. She even gave her precious egg to her desk mate, who was more than happy. She was dreaming of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;jilebis&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;ladoos&lt;/span&gt;. And to add to this sweetness, her father had bought her a pack of crackers last year. She had held it carefully in her hand, took out one cracker at  time and burst everything, all by herself. She felt the next cracker always  burst louder than the previous one. Dreaming about the sound of crackers, she never realized the bell was gone and her brother was dragging her out of the class. She stepped out of her class, for one last time, day dreaming. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rain had stopped a couple of hours ago. But the sophisticated drainage system of Chennai, kept the road flooding. The road was full of murky water and mud. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Muthu&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; walked on the deserted road, hand in hand. A couple of kilometers to the National Highway and a better road. They were almost there when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Muthu&lt;/span&gt; suddenly realized that his sister was gone. he scanned the entire road. There were no signs of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt;. He knew what must have happened. He needed help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He ran as fast as he can and told his parents what must have happened. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Moorthi&lt;/span&gt; raced to the spot in his bicycle. The water has started clearing and it was visible. A manhole. Fortunately, it was not a drainage canal, rather a small maintenance cell for underground cables. He immediately jumped into it. The body was floating. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Moorthi&lt;/span&gt; could see a lot of cuts on the face. He spotted few bruises, guessed there might be even fractures and there was also the smell of roasted flesh. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; was unconscious, but there was a low pulse and a faint heart beat. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Moorthi&lt;/span&gt; raced to the nearby Government hospital. The full scale of her injuries was assessed there. The fall knocked her unconscious, left her with bruises and fractures and add to that the shock she received from loose cable that was leaking electrons into the water. Half her lower body was burnt. the nurse advised them to Private hospital due to lack of facilities.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Moorthi&lt;/span&gt; could not afford an ambulance. he pedaled his bicycle. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Selvi&lt;/span&gt; was in the back seat, carrying their dying child. It took an hour to reach the hospital and one more to fill all the forms to admit the patient. But apparently all doctors were busy. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; had to wait in the corridor on a stretcher . The hospital followed procedures. Her parents were in tears when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; opened her eyes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; looked at her father and mother. She asked her mother if she had got her a new dress for Diwali. her mother nodded. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; wanted her to explain how it looked. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Selvi&lt;/span&gt; told her that it had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of butterflies, a hut, a tree, a blue sky and running river. It was golden in colour and had twinkling starts her and there. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; was thrilled about her new dress. She told &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Selvi&lt;/span&gt;, she would wear it tomorrow. She also asked her father to buy 2 packs of crackers which she would burst the whole day. She was also sure that her crackers will be louder than her brother's.&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;Muthu&lt;/span&gt; smiled at her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was no sign of a doctor still. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; was lying in the stretcher and tried to turn right. She managed to stare into a doctor's room through a half closed screen. She could not see the doctor, but she could see a small girl more or less the same age sitting on a desk. She was being tended by three people. And then, as if by intuition, the girl turned in the direction of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt;. With an innocent look, she raised her arm and showed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; the blade cut on her forefinger. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;Meena&lt;/span&gt; spotted a drop of blood on it. And she smiled. the girl smiled back. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;Meena's&lt;/span&gt; world went dark.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She is going to miss he house, her eggs, her school, her brother, her parents and the dress with flowers all over it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-5771000938559624801?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/5771000938559624801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=5771000938559624801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5771000938559624801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5771000938559624801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/11/miss-you.html' title='Miss you !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-1013013576389706455</id><published>2009-11-17T16:47:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-17T20:01:57.640+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Finding Neverland !</title><content type='html'>A weekend in Bangalore without a visit to a mall, almost seems impossible these days. If I don't bother anything, I still find it a good place to roam around, or grab a quick bite, or if I find time(which I most often do) watch  a nice movie in a comfortable multiplex. For the past few months(well, really close to an year), I have had a companion who accompanies me in this adventure(if I may call it so). She is only of my very few close friends(you can count the number in a single hand), who shares a nice rapport with me. I will tell you, she is one girl with a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lotta&lt;/span&gt; questions and I am a guy with too little answers to them. One of her questions made me write this article.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As usual, this last Saturday, We were out, in front of a mall, when we saw this guy. He might have been in his late twenties or early thirties. With a dhoti, white shirt and no slippers, the man with pale skin and blond hair would have passed for both an Indian and an English. Though I am not sure about his nationality, I am sure he is not from Eastern hemisphere. He was standing under a scorching Sun, on bare foot, close to a drainage, selling books on Hindu Gods, which were neatly arranged on a hand-pulled trolley. He sported a short hair, ash on his forehead and Indian traditional. Seeing him, my friend hurried a question out of her mouth. "Why Ila? Why should he leave all comforts back home and come and stand on a dirty road, to sell books? Is it his fate?". She questioned and as she always does, got me off guard. And I struggled to form sentences with the words I recollected and gave her an answer. I knew she was not satisfied. I was not. I started searching for our answers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That night, Will Smith was intruding into my dreams. "Pursuit of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Happyness&lt;/span&gt;, buddy ! Pursuit !". I know he was shouting out his movie name, but was he trying to give me an answer? I thought about it. Men, in their lives irrespective of anything, anything for that matter, run behind one thing in common. HAPPINESS. All living things, that are still living pursue happiness, through different routes. For a business man, a box full of cash might be happiness, for a child, just a couple of chocolates could mean a lot of happiness. For a teenager, hanging out with his friends would mean happiness, for an old man, sitting in his porch might be. For a new mom, the sight of her baby would give immense happiness and for her baby, life may be filled with happiness. Happiness is a perception. It differs from person to person and to the same person, from time to time. The three words started ringing bells in my head. Isn't it the pursuit of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;happyness&lt;/span&gt; that keeps the World running? Isn't it the the pursuit of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;happyness&lt;/span&gt; that make men smile, cry laugh, betray, forgo, forgive, teach, learn, love and ultimately live? Isn't it the pursuit of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;happyness&lt;/span&gt; that make us believe that one day, we will win?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was a small bangle seller living in a town, an unheard one, trying to raise a couple of sons. He had a very possessive wife, who used to take care of the boys when he was gone to sell bangles. She was no less than him when coming to love for the children. Life was hard on the bangle seller. He earned not more than Rs. 10 a day. Life would have been different had he married the girl, his mother wanted him to or at least would have been better, if he had no children. He had two boys, who he must equip to face the World. But his economic status was against him. This in turn was affecting his personal life at home. Any man in such a situation would have decided to turn into ash or would have got ready to bury himself with sand. Not this man. He was happy. He was educating his sons and he would do that, no matter what his hardships are, no matter what he debts, no matter how he falls. he worked hard towards his happiness. Today, one of his sons, writes this blog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This pursuit of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;happyness&lt;/span&gt; ends with the finding of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Neverland&lt;/span&gt;. Like happiness, it is just a perception. For some, it is decent food and a good home. For some it is life without hardships simply lying in their beds. And for some, somehow to live life is. Most of us are not gifted as Johnny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Depp&lt;/span&gt; or Kate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Winslet&lt;/span&gt;. We do not have fairies, colorful stars, blue rivers, golden sun, melodious birds, angels, mountains, peace of mind in our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Neverlands&lt;/span&gt;. We always pursue with great hopes that to make our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Neverlands&lt;/span&gt; as happy as possible. We may fail but still we pursue. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, still I haven't answered my friends question. Let me jump into the thick skull of the man and try to find my answers. War against civilians, hatred towards religions, not a liking for family life, men induced diseases, nothing trust worthy, blood in the name of God, drugs, rapes, murders, junkies and hippies, in all I live in a shit hole. And he got, a place where non-violence still exist, people live in families and love each other, an amusing culture, an awe-inspiring humanity, wonderful monuments, simple faiths and secular minds, a lot of learn and  a lot to teach. He found his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Neverland&lt;/span&gt;. he pursues happiness to find his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Neverland&lt;/span&gt; and we ours. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well. you have come till this far, so I will assume you will read the rest. And this is mu &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Neverland&lt;/span&gt;. A cottage near a beach. A slight drizzle and the full moon. Not much clouds but stars. A light house at a distance, and a ship anchored close to the port. Sand all around. Waves on my feet, and hers too(I hope, I will get married :-) ). A chill wind and a feather touch. And all that I need, forever, is a small smile. (And if anyone of you are dreaming about a similar &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Neverland&lt;/span&gt;, don't forget to think about me.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-1013013576389706455?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/1013013576389706455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=1013013576389706455' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1013013576389706455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1013013576389706455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/11/finding-neverland.html' title='Finding Neverland !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-2072680412240002025</id><published>2009-11-05T17:47:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-05T20:09:06.756+05:30</updated><title type='text'>2012 !</title><content type='html'>The number that is going to do the rounds in the next couple of years is 2012. A movie with this number as its title is hitting the screens soon. Rumors, gossips, and prophecies linking 2012 are already floating the air. Many renowned scientists, archaeologists and a hell lot of experts in various fields are pursuing dozens of researches on 2012. "The World is coming to an end !". You heard me right. That is the what. The World is the where and we are the why. How is still being debated and who is really not a who. And now, we will discuss the when.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We will start from where the others started. MAYANS, a South American civilization(dated 2000 B.C. to 250 A.D.) that devised a calender, which has led many scientists to the conclusion that the World is at the verge of destruction. The calendar, a cycle repeating itself over 5016 years and this cycle, scientists believe, ends on December 21, 2012. The end of things. And our archaeologists have discovered a code with blackened and reddened skies, with water pouring out of it. These archaeologists claim that it a prediction of clouded sky and massive flood, capable of destroying humanity. However, there are debates about how massive the floods will be and how will they be triggered. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some scientists believe that a massive underwater earthquake could trigger huge floods. Tsunamis of unseen heights will be triggered bu these quakes and these Tsunamis would wipe out humanity from the pages of Earth's history. These scientists back these theories with the increasing number of Earthquakes and the increasing level of their magnitude. Anyone following Earth news for the past decade would accept that the Earth is becoming is unstable. But to trigger such a massive Earthquake, the early really got to move from within. And the experts say that is possible, given the recent tectonic activity under our foot. And a 1952 Einstein article also helps them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In that article, Einstein claims that climate change can have a effect on the positioning of poles. He claims even a pole reversal is possible. The reversal of poles, or even a shift in poles(Earth's poles are believed to be static), could cause an unstable pole and hence could trigger a massive earthquake. The scientists worked on this date and arrived at December 21, 2012, the day winter solicitude falls every year, when huge waves and tides are fairly common. That was a Mayan view for you. Life ends itself within the elixir of life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now let us jump to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ADs&lt;/span&gt;. Let us start with the work of great Nostradamus. He has predicted that flood would be one of the causes in the destruction of the World. However, he does not say much about the when. It is just an interpretation(rather a fabrication). Human minds always tend to relate things, to what has been said. This is probably how most of the famous(not necessarily good) incidents got linked to his quatrains. Nostradamus might be right. Rising sea levels may slowly consume land. But a sudden flood engulfing the World looks the least possible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A more recent theory is a meteor down pour. It is believed that a 9 mile wide meteor crashed into Earth and wiped out dinosaurs. Sky watchers believe that such a phenomenon is possible. And to add to it, they can name a meteor now or well, a so-called planet, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Nibru&lt;/span&gt;. The heavenly body, slightly heavier than Pluto s believed to circle the Sun, three times farther from Pluto. Some call it the who. Some sky watchers believe that, this freely moving planet will set itself on, on a collision course with the Earth. Once its enters Earth's gravitational field, the Earth by itself will attract the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Nibru&lt;/span&gt; for a crash. However the NASA sky watchers believe otherwise. They claim &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Nibru&lt;/span&gt; has no intention to visit Earth. Even in case it happens, they do have ways(you can call it weapons too) to alter its course.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All these theories look impossible. But there is one that looks convincing. A nuclear holocaust, a World War III. At this very moment, you are reading this article, there are over 20 countries fighting each other. Israel and Palestine, North and South Korea, Iran and USA, US and UK in Afghan and Iraq, civil war across Africa, the Indian  subcontinent and all. If a couple of more countries join in and take sides, we have one more chapter for high school history. And with 20,000 nuclear weapons  piled across the globe, humans have the capability(if not the desire) to destroy the whole solar system. In such a scenario,  Earth is too small to handle humans. If one of the owners decide to push a button, we need not even wait till 2012. The end is a just a push away. But as always only time can tell. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just a small thought. I wonder why we always study about ancient history, decipher codes, look into the depths of universe, watch out for asteroids, and still remain foolish enough to be ignorant of a our neighbors. Let us first care about people dying today, rather than worrying about saving lives from a future alien attack.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What can you do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently, December 21, 2012 falls on a Friday. So just finish your works and just party with your friends. If we have to fall, let it be with a huge smile on our faces. happy living mates.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-2072680412240002025?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/2072680412240002025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=2072680412240002025' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/2072680412240002025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/2072680412240002025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/11/2012.html' title='2012 !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-1765854221976669897</id><published>2009-10-27T18:58:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-27T19:57:18.968+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why do Grasshoppers make much noise these days?</title><content type='html'>There are three ways to make you do things. Make the thing, fun to do, force you into doing it or make sure you do it. Terrorism is no exception. Some of you might want to call it a protest, others would like revolution. Call it by any name, it is still the thing. In her latest book, "Listening to Grasshoppers", &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Arundathi&lt;/span&gt; Roy(one of my role models), chose to call it RESISTANCE. I am not going to comment on it. Two reasons, one I am no expert in human violence, two I have not read the book yet(I am eager to lay my hands on it soon). Whatever I know about the book is from a newspaper article. Let us hear the grasshoppers.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, let me make clear where I stand. A couple of years ago, when I was still in college, I had a soft corner for Communism. On books, It looked a great idea. Slowly, I learnt how irrelevant it has become to this modern World. The 20&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; century saw Communism as a creature with gun in a hand and a cloth in another, the cloth to wipe off the blood the gun spills. Its cruelty grew with its irrelevancy. Maoism and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Naxalism&lt;/span&gt; are the children of this cruel creature. Betrayed by its own family, the children waged war against the entire World. And today, this war possesses the serious threat to peace of the socialist India.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;India was never a communist state. It was not even ruled by the so-called Communist Party(Parties) of India. Before Independence it was ruled by a Capitalist west and after Independence it chose Socialism. But was it really socialist all these years?? Between 1947 and 1991, before liberalization, most of the power vested with the state. It had control over all four pillars of democracy. All industries were owned fully by the state or at least it was a stake holder. The running of the state was so close to communism and that ensured no individual was never powerful than the state. All men shared the wealth(at least all lived poor).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when India liberalized trade, little did she think, it would become a nightmare. Capitalists and Opportunists ventured into the country. They brought with them development. Computers, telephones, fast food, cars, flights, high standards of living and luxury flocked in with them. Roads, Rails, and Ports were constructed. Heavy Industries, Software and manufacturing companies gambled with their choices. Millions of fresh jobs were created, GDP boomed, average income of households increased, per &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;capita&lt;/span&gt; saw new heights. But it also ensured thousands of villages disappeared from the Indian map. Some of them became &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;SEZ's&lt;/span&gt;, others just became invisible. Roads never connected these villages. Passing trains never bothered to stop. Electricity was given only on election day. And life here became worse than death. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This Negligence paved way to terrorism. 20% of the country enjoyed the flesh and left only the bones for the rest 80%. 20% of the population were cursing the mobile phone service providers for a second delay, while the rest 80 % had to be happy with telegrams. When 20% of the population were vacationing in a Beach resort, the rest 80% had to feed them. When 20% of the nation was worried about the GDP, pay hikes, 80% worried about their next meal. When 20% of us spoke English, the rest had to settle uneducated. When we were happy fucking, they had to hold on to their lives. And over 2 decades of this negligence armed a few among those 80%. We lived as if they never existed. They wanted to show they did. And we call this act terrorism. The country(just  a minority, to be frank) forgot to see its interiors or chose to ignore it. Now they have decided to return the favor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, Well, does this negligence by the rest of the country give them the right to kill?? I don't think so. This is were resistance  and terrorism differs. Resistance is the non-violent form of terrorism and terrorism is its violent sibling. Jesus told, or at least the Bible tells, to show your right cheek when someone hits your left. Today's World will call this a man, a stupid. Resistance means to make sure you don't get hit on the right. Terrorism means to kill the one who hit you, before he can hit you again. The cause is the same, actions differ. Maoists and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Naxals&lt;/span&gt; prefer the latter means. A movement that was founded to lead a peaceful life has started spilling blood. And now, to them killing seems to be so much fun. They wanted us to see them. They have managed to dot it, but by all wrong means. And doing so, they have managed to create a perception that 80% of the country's population are violent and made sure that the remaining 20% hated them to the core. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;they could have achieved what they wanted. A smiling farmer, educated children, safety of their women, a comfortable life, unending happiness, and the sharing of not only wealth but also love. But they chose to behead a soldier over saving a dying farmer. They chose to abduct children for money over taking care of their children. They preferred to rape, rob and kill wealthy women over ensuring the safety of theirs. They chose guns and bombs over &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;TV's&lt;/span&gt; and restaurants. They chose to inflict pain in other's minds, over searching for theirs. They chose hatred over love and death over life. They gave this country a permanent scar. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The grasshopper has slowly grown into a dragon and has started claiming lives. If we have to listen to real grasshoppers its time we tamed the dragon. And to those grasshoppers out there, we will listen to you as long as you chose to speak.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(The writer is no expert of anything. He is just a Bangle seller's son employed by a Capitalist firm, in a Socialist state with Communist intentions. He just wants a peaceful World and headlines on newspapers without words like killed, massacred, blood, bombs, suicides, beheaded, etc. )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-1765854221976669897?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/1765854221976669897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=1765854221976669897' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1765854221976669897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1765854221976669897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/10/why-do-grasshoppers-make-much-noise.html' title='Why do Grasshoppers make much noise these days?'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-6726998659461808617</id><published>2009-10-25T10:42:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-25T13:09:30.266+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Happys Endings !</title><content type='html'>For sometime now, people have been yelling at me for writing a lot of sad stories in my blog. The wanted an article without words like tears, blood, heart, cry death, etc. So I decided to give them one, a funny one. But Life is not so much fun to write. It has deaths, it has cries. It spills blood. So I started searching for the thing, that is only fun. Movies. So let us talk movies.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First things first. Story, the heart  and brain of any movie. Well, these days you gotta search for this thing in a movie. I will not be surprised if movies introduces a trivia at the end "Find the story and win a lakh rupees!". As the 21st century is trying to crawl its way through the pages of history, both the brains of men and stories of movies has been hard to find. Story writing has become the easiest job with the story template readily available.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Hero is born into a wealthy family. When he was young, his father gets killed and all their wealth turns ash. The single mother does house keeping in the neighborhood and educate the hero. He graduates out of college and finds a job. There he finds the heroine, the only daughter of a billionaire. At first, the heroine hates this poor and ugly dog, the falls for his braveness and kindness. But her father still thinks the dog is no man for her daughter. So he locks his daughter in his house. The next day, the hero tries to rescue his love from chains only to find that it was her father who killed his father and stole all their money. The revenge and the marriage make the climax". Only one movie out of twenty does not follow this template. 5 make small changes and the rest are just the copy of above.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next comes the screenplay. If Story writing is copying a template, screenplay writing is editing it. The opening credits are shown with the first sentence of the story happening in the background. After the second sentence of the story, the hero introduction comes. As usual, he sings about all good deeds(he is not supposed to possess them though), completely irrelevant to the story. A couple of comedy scenes find their presence between the third and the fourth sentence. The next sentence is supposed to be the most romantic scene in the movie, the introduction of the heroine. In a white dress, she comes out of fog and mist at 12 noon when the temperature is over 40 degrees. She looks like a bunny out of the wild looking for a carrot. And finally she makes the scene the most funniest one in the entire movie. And the hero salivates looking at this yummy bunny chick and falls in love with her. It takes a duet and some dreams even before they really get introduced. Soon, he becomes her unemployed bodyguard. And one day, when another man salivates at the bunny, he goes and fights with him. The fight takes place in a market where all colorful vegetables and fruits can be thrown in air to create a atmosphere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The heroine finds a liking for the hero. But the feeling form within is yet to come. So, the next scene is a touching scene in which the hero helps a blind beggar cross the road. Love blossoms in the heroine heart. INTERVAL is announced. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Immediately after the popcorn comes a duet with hero and the heroine dancing among 100s and 1000s of dancers in colorful sets, with funny clothes on an animated frame. By now, all comediennes and villains would have been introduced and the comediennes would have made us cry and the villains made us laugh. By the end of that funny song, the heroine's father would have learnt about the stupid love story and would have been stupid enough to lock her daughter in a room. With tears in her eyes, the heroine(with some glamour attached) falls on a bed and sobs. The next sentence in the story is a flashback when the hero's  father is killed. The next scene will sport the hero with a gun. A couple of fights and very tempting song help us reach the climax. And finally the heroine's father turns into a good man, and gives his go ahead for the marriage, but only after hearing a boring lecture form the hero. The end credits roll out. Unfortunately no one cares to see it.  THE END for the screenplay. Then comes the cast. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hero : Someone who can fluently speak irrelevant dialogues in the local language without making people think about what he is speaking.  Someone who can workout in the sets. He must look like he can do 10 different things all at the same time. In short, he must be a living form of God. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Heroine : A girl with the courage and guts to wear a tie as her dress. It a required qualification to know no local language.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Comedienne : Someone who can show more that 32 teeth in his mouth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Villain : Someone who can look as ugly and filthy as  possible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Character artists : All those who have the capability to cry without glycerin and make us cry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The entire cast must be as goofy as possible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Story, screenplay and cast is done. Dance comes in next. As i had told you, the hero must be ready to workout in songs. The crew will make people believe it were dance. Aamir khan in his latest movie Ghajini set new standards for this in the song "Behkah mein Behkha". Asin had to really make all kinds of march pasts to keep up with his six pack.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And speaking of six packs, takes us the concept of body. Actors, these days have become so crazy how they look and we see even Nayantara sporting a six pack. Hip sizes are no longer measured in positive integers. Zero is the preferred value. Aishwarya Rai to Kareena Kapoor, Anuskha Sharma to Rani Mukherjee, all have size zero. Katrina is the only exception. Hips don't lie with Shriya and Illeana. Of course both are size zeros, i mean in hips. I will not comment about other parts of their body.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Men are no exceptions. the latest trend is expose as much as possible. Topless means hot for these men. From Hrithik to Sharukh, all have posed topless for their movies. Even Rajni kanth has tried it once. And taking this one step further was John Abraham when he stripped to one piece. I believe many will follow suit. This crazy world started exposing their underwears through their pants after Sharukh did it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then related to this body is action, fights. Though all men have six packs, most of them us doubles when it comes to action. They are satisfied just to expose six packs and not put them in the line of danger. Its been long any hero showed his face to camera for fights. Jackie Chan deserves a lot of credit here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then finally the most interesting and funny thing in a movie, the dialogues. And in Tamil and Telugu, you find the most stupidest and funniest dialogues. As i am not well versed in Telugu, I will stick with Tamil.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This man hates all terrorists from Jammu and Kashmir to Kanya kumari. He has even fought against jihadis and it will not be surprise, if he assassinates Osama Bin Laden in his next movie. His funniest dialogues , "Thulasi vaasam maarunallum maarum, Intha Thavasi vaarththa maara maatan !". "Manippu, Tamila enakku pidikkaadha ore vaarthey!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then the superstars of today's Tamil film industry, "Nee adicha piece, naan adicha mass da !". "Adhu !" They hate no terrorist, but only each other. "Yaar adicha, pori kalangi, bhoomi adhiradhu udambula theriyutho avan than Tamil. Adhu naan thaan !". "Ithu oru karuppu charithiram !". Looking at this dog fight, a man exclaimed to  Rajni, "Enna koduma Saravan ithu !" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when it comes to dialogues, we are not going to leave out our king who scripted some of most funniest dialogues. "Vaada en machi, Vaalaikka bachi ! Un udamba pichi pottukuven thatchi !", "Thngathchi, ambala kettu poitta, athu nanancha satta mathiri, nananchallum theriyaathu, kanchallum theiryathu! aana ponnu kattu poitta, athu kilincha satta mathiri, kilinchallum theriyum. thatchallum theiryum !" cos we don't oppress, and suppress, and depress the view of the Tamilian. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And to all those folks who believe that's it, "Picture abhi bhi bakhi meri dost !". "I'll be back !"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-6726998659461808617?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/6726998659461808617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=6726998659461808617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6726998659461808617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6726998659461808617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/10/happys-endings.html' title='Happys Endings !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-5741002468426090213</id><published>2009-10-09T21:11:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-10T13:04:00.677+05:30</updated><title type='text'>How long is a day ?</title><content type='html'>Sounds a easy question, doesn't it? In fact, I can hear your inner voices crying out 24 hours and I can hear some studious minds shout out 23 hours and 56 minutes. And congratulations to all those minds. They can pass the fifth grade(No offense here). However, let us be more practical, and get out of our books and find why a day has more than 24 hours.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Time is an interesting concept in our day to day lives. Maybe, that is why, Length of a life is measured in terms of time. And ever since his evolution, Men has fantasized about time travel. But still, it eludes men or has it been conquered?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The construction was poor looking and would have never made close to or nominated for a World wonder. The stature was small, and did never think of appearing in the Nat Geo's Mega structures. It only had a pedal drive, two wooden wheels, wings, tails and fins, all made out of torn cloth and a rudder made of chopped wood. It was not a complex machinery at all. It even did not have a motor. And to add to these, it was just a dream of two high school graduates. And thanks to that dream, men broke 24 hour day and made time travel. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The two brothers were looking towards the sky when they saw a bird glide gracefully over their heads. That glide kindled their desire to fly. That glide made them challenge mother nature who decided not to give flight to men. That glide conquered space. The desire grew into a dream and that gave birth to an invention, an invention that broke the 24 hour barrier for a day. It broke the concept of a day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We learnt in lower class geography that, a day is the time taken by our Earth to rotate about itself completely. And then, we have our own definition for a day, the days of a week. The seven day week was an invention of men. A week starts with the Sunday and ends with the Saturday. And a day is said to be 24 hours. Oh really?? Not after what the Wright brothers have invented. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So how long is a day? Or how long it can be? The western tip of the World, lags the eastern end by 24 hours, at least approximately. On a particular Wednesday, our man X took a 24 hour flight from the eastern end, at 6 A.M., to the western end. When he landed at his destination, 24 hours later, X found himself standing in the western end on a Wednesday, 6.A.M, exactly the same time even 24 hours later. So for him this particular Wednesday was 48 hours. And that is the maximum it can be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks to two brothers, you can have 48 hours in  day just by travelling west. Decide what day you want it to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But there is another cheaper option, a funny and a clever one. Find yourself standing in the eastern end of the planet at 12 midnight and when the gong goes, take a step further east. Technically, you are back to the start of the day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Choose the way you want to travel time. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-5741002468426090213?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/5741002468426090213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=5741002468426090213' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5741002468426090213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5741002468426090213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/10/how-long-is-day.html' title='How long is a day ?'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-3322044759004002567</id><published>2009-10-03T14:46:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-03T15:55:25.037+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The men who cheated Death !</title><content type='html'>Immortality - A word that injects excitement into all our veins. Life without an end - Sounds both interesting and scary, at the same time. Men fear death and envy immortality. And let me tell you this is not the invention of 21st century men. This has been the dream of the first living thing on Earth. And it has since then been the only common desire of all living things. Men wished it were reality. Alchemists searched for ways to make it true. And thousands of myths have been floating the air throughout the documented history of mankind. Some cultures thought they needed a magic drink, others believed in God's boons, awarded for total dedication to the invisible man. But, none lives today to tell us that they have become immortals, or do they?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The year was 2560 B.C. Civilization was taking birth in the central lands of Africa. Men were writing magical verses in Golden books to raise the dead, to live forever, when a man decided to do something different. He carved his immortality out of lime stones, and out of his death. He lives forever after he died. And by doing so, he gave us the most ancient World wonder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This Jewish carpenter was not born among wealth. Death was certain in his life. And he knew, he would not raise back from it. He also knew, he was not the son of God, neither can he walk on water or turn empty baskets into bread. But he knew, he can live forever through his preachings. He taught morals and lived by it. By doing so, he gave us a religion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was blind. Some believe he was deaf too. God knows if he can speak. Scientifically, he was just a chunk of flesh, which had blood running within it. For him Life by itself was a great boon. Immortality is too much to ask. But he had different ideas. When men of his kind preferred death to life, he did something different. he employed the services of his mind and pen. By doing so,  he gave us two epics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Many a men his height and stature would have decided they are worth nothing, when this short and stout man from France decided to do something. When men of his kind were rotting to death after conquering nothing, he was busy conquering this World. Even when he was in enemy hands, he knew death was nowhere in his radars. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It took over 200,000 years and a 1000 failures to learn that when tungsten is heated it emits light. When today's men feel let down after a bad day's work, a man had the courage to fail 1000 times and say that he learnt 100 ways to fail. All that glitters are not gold, for tungsten glitters too. Thanks to him, we have a colorful World. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This Churchill's half-naked fakir had a bright future in South African Bar, thanks to his British education. His friends lived in luxury in South Africa, when this poor man preferred a Slaved India. He did not shed his clothes to show his sexy six pack. He did not join any party to destroy Muslim community. He did something else. And become immortal by taking bullets in his chest. A nation was born.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She could have lived among the elites of her country, for her father was a politician. She could have contested Miss Universe, dated princes and kings and could have become the queen herself. But, she came to this poor country to serve the disadvantaged, the diseased, the handicapped and the affection less. She lived with lepers and cast aways. By doing so, she showed us humanity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;None immortal still, huh? No. Many men have found immortality in their ideas, love, actions and affections. They still live in the heart of thousands,  loved and worshiped. They did not go in search of immortal drink. They did not ask God boons. They stood out from the rest. And they are remembered. That is what immortality is all about. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-3322044759004002567?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/3322044759004002567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=3322044759004002567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3322044759004002567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3322044759004002567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/10/men-who-cheated-death.html' title='The men who cheated Death !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-842200267958182027</id><published>2009-09-28T14:25:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-28T15:48:06.368+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life is such a thriller !</title><content type='html'>You never know what the next moment is going to be, or do you? I have been planning for my 100&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; blog of this year quite sometime now, gathering my blogging experiences over the past few months. But a day's delay in blogging, ends up changing the content. So, my 100 is not going to be like that of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sehwag's&lt;/span&gt;, with a six over mid-on. Rather it is going to be like that of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Sachin's&lt;/span&gt; with a hurried single. And to add to it, if you see my blog archives, you will find me hovering over the 90's for sometime now. Finally I reach 100 somehow. It is time to lift the bat and say a Thank You to all, who have been supporting me in this venture. Thanks to all those feedback and comments you have been giving.I appreciate that. Then, let us jump into the topic, without wasting any more words.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone has his secrets and I have my own share. In fact, I have lots of them. By no means, I am going to reveal any of them. Just a few more sentence from my heart and I will be ruining lives. So let us not probe into my secrets. They will remain a secret, at least some more time. So, let us just assume something of prime importance happened to change the topic of my blog. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You were born. In a blink of the eye, you were in school. One more blink, in college. The next one, in marriage. Work, kids, house, car, grandchildren, old age and death in few more blinks. A day's delay in me blogging has produced such a blink. Life has been made. And according to me, life is more important than anything. And that changed the contents of this blog. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I look back a year and a half ago, when I was still in college, I did never imagine just after 18 months, I would be standing in such a situation. Just a thought of such a situation had my eyes flooding. I would have rather died, than facing this situation then. But now, I am standing face to face with that situation and I feel excited. The news came as a surprise and not as a shock and I was expecting it the least.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first few minutes of me facing that situation had a blank on my face. I did not know how to react. I stood still for a few minutes after hanging up the call. Two minutes later, I could find a couple of tears gathering around my eyes. Before those two drops had time to reach the ground, I had a smile on my face and It was straight from my heart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life has changed in the past 450 days. For some, it has been more than that. But we all have coped up with that. We have learnt to act matured and we have adjusted to our situations. In this situation-controlled World, when emotions are over-ridden by happenings, we have learnt to live, day in, day out, no matter what is hidden in our hearts. We have learnt to pursue, what we have to. Some write blogs, some become homemakers, some more than that. But all our paths are linked. We meet people, say goodbye to them only to meet more new people. And we understand that we have to say goodbye to everyone sometime. A road has been taken, because it was to be taken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I write this blog, my 100&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of this year, with that smile still on my face. Life has been made and I hope it is blessed. Thank You for all the support you have shown me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-842200267958182027?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/842200267958182027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=842200267958182027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/842200267958182027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/842200267958182027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-is-such-thriller.html' title='Life is such a thriller !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-7236974861565161011</id><published>2009-09-21T13:12:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-21T15:12:34.744+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Great Expectations !</title><content type='html'>It was a hot day for September in Bangalore. After a bit of struggle, the Sun had finally managed to glitter some of the bald heads which have been enjoying milder temperatures for the past few days. The humidity in the air was high threatening the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bangaloreans&lt;/span&gt; with the possibility of a heavy shower. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bangaloreans&lt;/span&gt; hated it, for it was Sunday, their day to party. However this jargon of partying and hanging out is common only among a certain few. There is another group which know nothing of these jargon. Four eyes belonging to this group, stared into each other. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Vasu&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ramya&lt;/span&gt; have been married for 5 years now. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Vasu&lt;/span&gt; was working as a clerk in KR &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Puram&lt;/span&gt; post office. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ramya&lt;/span&gt; had enough work managing the house and little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt;. 3 years now, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; was a cute, little barbie like child with all in-built mischievousness. She has been dear to both her parents being their only relation. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Vasu&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Ramya&lt;/span&gt; had been orphans before tying the knot. Being a Sunday, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Vasu&lt;/span&gt; had taken &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Ramya&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; on a bicycle ride, which they do almost every Sunday. It was when they stopped for tender coconut, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Vasuki's&lt;/span&gt; eyes meet hers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Broken glasses were hiding her vision less eyes. Tanned skin was exposing her age. Drooping cheeks, missing tooth, slumped shoulders, bent back and an ailing knee introduced the nameless woman to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; saw a woman, different physically to her own self, showing her palms to her. She did not know that the woman was asking something. She did not know the term we would have used, Begging. But she understood the next gesture of the woman. Her mother had taught her to do the same when she stood before a photo which had the portrait of a man called God. She knew the woman was praying and she knew God always gave her what she wanted when she prayed. She pulled her mother' Saree, got a couple of coins, gave it to the nameless woman, and returned her gesture by putting her palms together. The nameless woman smiled and left with the coin. Little  did both knew, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; would be on the nameless woman's side in less than 24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Vasu&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Ramya&lt;/span&gt; were dropping &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; at school, when fate showed what it had in stock for them. A speeding school van hit the bicycle while trying to overtake a slow moving heavy duty. A bus coming in from behind the van had the courtesy to kill &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Vasu&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Ramya&lt;/span&gt; instantly. However, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Ramya&lt;/span&gt; had found the fraction of second she needed to push &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; out of the road. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; will have to await her turn. Both the drivers fled fearing a prosecution. A new future was awaiting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt;, and both of the will not take  any pat in it. But there will be a woman, a nameless woman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One has to be a great optimist or bloody poor to call it a hut, for it only had tow torn clothes for a roof held by sticks. One does not have to come out of it to see the Sky and the Sun. It had enough holes. It is where the nameless woman brought &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt;. As usual, it was not the police to reach the crime scene first. The nameless woman reached there first. No sooner did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; see her, she stopped crying and came towards her. The nameless woman took her in her arms. They walked a kilometre to reach the hut. The police closed the case as planned kidnapping after arresting a teenager who was found peeing half a mile away from the crime scene. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; simple ceased to exist for the World. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The initial few days proved to be the toughest for both of them. The nameless woman had never raise a child and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; never had lived without her mother. Both spoke a little and language was no barrier. Symbols became the house language. The nameless woman told stories to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; whenever she cried and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; always slept on the old woman's arms. Two years rolled in no time. Both these years, both the woman had to show their palms to strangers for making a living. They enjoyed Sun and the moon, the Rain and bow, their only friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; had lost track of time and she did not know she had turned five, but for her urge to go to school. She would sit inside the hut and watch all those kids going to school escorted by their parents. At times, she would have tears. But, she knew life could have been much worse. Thanks to the nameless woman, whom she had started calling grandma, fondly. The grandma also knew not what age she was in. Her last known age was 32, and that was many years ago when her husband decided to abandon her, when he knew that she will not be able to give birth. Her parents unable to bare this disgrace committed suicide. The grandma became an orphan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She found a lot of jobs. But all her employers were more interested in her flesh than her brains. She quit one after the other. It was difficult for her to find a men who loves not her flesh. She could not. So she started running away from them, the World and from everything. She attempted suicides with no success. Beaten, failed, depressed and punished, she started begging, for her Life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After staying 5 years together in the hut, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; and her Grandma never separated for even a minute. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; was growing taller and the grandma shorter. From being nursed, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; began to nurse her ailing grandma, who now could not walk without a support, who was visibly in the last stages of her life. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; had to feed her, clean her and make her sleep. Her grandma rarely spoke, walked or ventured out of the hut. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; had to earn for both of them now. Cleaning glasses in a tea shop earned her Rs 20 a day. It got her the bread. But life was getting difficult each passing day. Sometimes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; would dream, Life being a little soft to them, by killing them. Her dream was just a dram till she attained teenage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fourteen years have passed since &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; stepped into the hut. Breathing had become difficult for her grandma since last week and she needed immediate medical attention and that meant &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; needed money. Without that, the  possibility of her grandma surviving the night was close to zero. The 50 rupees they had saved will not see her grandma through the night. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; bought whatever she could with that and entered the hut. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her grandma lay motionless on the ground. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; lifted her head and place it on her lap. Her grandma opened her eyes and stared into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Vasuki's&lt;/span&gt;, the same pair which she had seen all those years ago. She had liked them when she first saw them. Bold, Back and Beautiful, now filled with agony and pain. Tears rolled down from her eyes and there was a lump in her throat. She took her palms and placed it on her heart. "Thank You !", &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; understood. She could not fight her tears as well. She knew she would not see her grandma's eyes the next day. She will not feel the warmth the old lady had shown her. She will become an orphan once more and she will have no affection in this World. She placed her palms on her heart. "Thank You !". The old lady smiled at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt;. Rain came down. Two pairs of eyes closed, seeing each other for one final time. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; smiled. The World went Black.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Hey &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt;, come here!", her mother called out sweetly. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; hid behind her grandma's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;saree&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;Vasu&lt;/span&gt; took her in his arms and kissed her. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;Vasuki&lt;/span&gt; in turn kissed him and her mother and asked them appealingly, "Please let me stay with grandma ! She has no one !". She took her grandma's arms and walked away. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;Vasu&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;Ramya&lt;/span&gt; smiled at them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A single grave was dug and two bodies were thrown in. For the corporation, they were just two beggars and just two lifeless corpses. But, in a different World, they were worshipped. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-7236974861565161011?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/7236974861565161011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=7236974861565161011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7236974861565161011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7236974861565161011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/09/great-expectations.html' title='Great Expectations !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-751624723032612269</id><published>2009-09-14T19:05:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-14T19:25:48.332+05:30</updated><title type='text'>பயணம் !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;தாயின் ரத்தத்தில் கருவறைக்குள் விருந்து,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;கண்மூடி புரண்டுகொண்டு செய்த சிறு குறும்பு,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;இரண்டும் முடிந்தது தொப்பிள்கொடி அறுந்து,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;தொடங்கும் உன் பயணம் போர்க்களத்திலிருந்து !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;அக்கரையைத் தேடி தொடங்கும் தேடல் ஒன்று,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;இருட்டான பாதைகள் உனக்கென்று பல உண்டு,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;தென்றல் வந்து மோதுமென்று காத்திருப்பாய் அங்கு,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;உன் கண்ணீரின் சுவையை மண்ணும் ரசிக்கும் இங்கு !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;காகிதக் கப்பலில் கடலில் பயணம்,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;மூடிய திரைக்குபின் சீறும் வீர வசனம்,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;சதை கூட்டிற்குள் பிறக்கும் பல சலனம்,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;கண்கள் இரண்டில் காதல் வரும் தருணம் !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;நாடோடி மேகம் உன்னைவிட்டு ஓடோடி போகும்,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;பிரிவு தரும் துன்பம் உன்னையும் ருசித்து தின்னும்,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;உடைந்து நீ நொறுங்கும்போது  அமைதி வந்து சேரும்,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;உன் வாழ்க்கை என்னும் பயணம் அங்கு .......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                                                                .......முடிந்து போகும் !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-751624723032612269?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/751624723032612269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=751624723032612269' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/751624723032612269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/751624723032612269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html' title='பயணம் !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-486724241212568842</id><published>2009-08-27T18:48:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-27T19:47:24.189+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Terminal !</title><content type='html'>It will not be the bullets, or the bombs or any landmines. It will be a noose. His death will not be glorified. He will not be called a martyr. He will just be sympathized. And he will not be remembered. He will not enter the pages of history. He will be forgotten, just like others. He was imagining the battlegrounds, standing in his toilet, his tomb, starring into the noose. 80 miles south, 3 months ago, the tiger fell. Now it is his time.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25 minutes into the flight, Arjuna pulled the trigger, which would change &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Maheshwaran's&lt;/span&gt; life forever. The bomb that was triggered fell right into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Maheshwaran's&lt;/span&gt; house. He and his sister, were playing in the garden when the house burst into flames. They had few words, only cries were heard. On this May 25, 1994, a dozen other children became orphans. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Padmanaban&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Nalini&lt;/span&gt; were both burnt and buried. Sitting on those rubbles, on their parents' tomb, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Maheshawaran&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Padma&lt;/span&gt; were crying, for the next two days. They had company though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The morning on May 28, 1994 witnessed a couple of trucks enter P&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;arimedu&lt;/span&gt;. Not military ones, even more dangerous, Tigers. Within 10 minutes of their arrival, one among them was standing in front of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Padma&lt;/span&gt;. He asked many questions in Tamil, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; answered him in tears. The man grabbed the kids by heir neck and dumped them into one of the trucks. They did not protest. After all, what can a 11 year old and a 7 year old do against a man taller than them with a gun in his hand. It was the last time, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; saw his ruined town. He discontinued from class VI and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Padma&lt;/span&gt; from class III.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The camp, one of the biggest on the island took in new members each day. And on this may 28, 253 shared the honour with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt;.For &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; that did not matter. He was entering a new World and was learning the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;ABCD's&lt;/span&gt; of it. Children did not play with toys, they preferred Guns. They did not learn history, they were learning to make it. The children had a bigger ambition than an engineering seat, Freedom. They will fight for their rights and will die, so that others can live a better life. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; found his new ambition. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Padma&lt;/span&gt; stuck to her old one. She preferred cooking, washing and cleaning. It took &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; six years before he could understand why his parents were killed. They were poor. They spoke Tamil and they were in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Sri&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Lanka&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The smell of blood and burnt flesh, the sight of mutilated body, broken limbs, the cries of the victim and their loved ones, the pain in every one's  eyes seemed nothing strange to him now. For 14 years, he had been hunting. He had killed thousands, injured many more, had been hit in all parts of the body and had face a lot of enemy tanks. But the last one was huge. And it left him limping for the rest of his life. His right leg was amputated. He got cornered in his hut. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Padma&lt;/span&gt; helped him with his life until the day, army found his hut and took both him and his sister under custody in to an army jail. Three days was more than enough for those men to make &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; bleed everywhere in his body and damage his sister's genitals. By end of third day, they got bored with her and both were released. When they were out, they found a boat and reached India. The locket which they had saved for 14 years, never made it out of the Island.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On reaching the Indian shores, they breathed relief. They were in peaceful land which has sheltered thousands of them. What they did not know was the relief will be short-lived. He and all his co-passengers, totally 138 of them were given a 18&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; century dormitory to live. It had two toilets. They had to bath and pee outdoors. All this seemed to be nothing compared to what he had seen on the Islands. Within a month of his arrival, he knew this dorm was going to be his house for the rest of his life. none of them were really allowed into India. They were docked in the terminal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the next 6 months, the population of the building halved. Most of them were dead. Diseases, Unhygienic conditions, lack of care were all blamed. Some sneaked into the land, and a few ventured back into the Islands for a last stand. Life crawled for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Padma&lt;/span&gt;. But they were satisfied. At least there were no guns. What they did not realize was, they were both about to die. The area inspector saw &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Padma&lt;/span&gt; in the dorm one day and decided to damage her genitals. Two days later, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; was shown &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Padma's&lt;/span&gt; body. He dug a grave on the shores and buried her. And on the seventh day of her death, he buried one more body. A new inspector was appointed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dry hair, torn clothes, a dirty body, swollen eyes, bent back and drooping shoulders. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Maheshwaran&lt;/span&gt; begged for living. After two days, he felt humiliated to show all his palms and decided to tie the knot. And here he was, standing in this toilet, before his knot. He found a piece of coal, scribbled on the wall and went to met his family. The wall read,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;பிறந்த நாட்டில் போராடினேன், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;பிழைக்க வந்த நாட்டில் பிச்சை எடுத்தேன்,  எனது உரிமைக்கு ! &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; white-space: normal; "&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-486724241212568842?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/486724241212568842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=486724241212568842' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/486724241212568842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/486724241212568842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/08/terminal.html' title='Terminal !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-3606218993116280780</id><published>2009-08-19T18:37:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-19T19:19:04.804+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I want to meet God !</title><content type='html'>I am 2 months shy of 23 and I have been an atheist for close to 5 years now. I belong to a minority, which people believe have no faith. They are wrong. I have faith, on myself and my fellow humans. So do other atheists. All these 5 years, during which I have been able to think, reason and act on my own, I have grown a desire to meet him, the so-called almighty, the God. Not out of anxiety or curiosity, or any other adjective you may want me to use. I just want to ask him something, something little. I have seven questions. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Why are men born, unequal?". I have been thinking on this for a while now. A kid born into a rich family leads a life with English education, toys and chocolates, colourful clothes and a bright future awaits him. But a kid born into a poor family lives with child labour, left-overs, diseases, and bleak future. If at all destinies are written, they are probably written at birth itself. I could have easily ended up as a beggar, had i not been the son of my father. Putting economy aside, what about physical inequality, mental inequality, social inequality. If at all God creates humans, I am not impressed with him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Why do you inject hatred into our hearts, in the name of you?". Religion has been one of the most deadliest weapons man ever discovered. It kills both the victim and the villain. Ever since its birth, men have died defending it. God made us discover his creation and let us die. Is he using it as some kind of population control tool? If this is the best he can handle us, I am certainly not impressed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Why do you let us suffer?". If God created men to live happily, why does he burn our feelers and let us squirm. War, terror, disease, there are a myriad of problems for men to face in their lives. He plays with nature and gives us Earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanoes, floods and a hell lot. Why does he always want to break open our flesh and see what is inside? Why does he give tears, when smile is just enough? If that is what he reserved for us, he had better not created us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Why diseases?" . Plague, Malaria, Cholera, HIV, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;SARS&lt;/span&gt;, and now swine flu. I have been wondering, why this invisible man is at war with us always. He has used his diseases against us for far too long now, even longer that religions. Is he planning our exit, with so much of panic. Or is he trying to maintain control on us, by making us fear him? Does he want us to be his slaves? Were we only created to serve him? This does not look  good, does it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Why did you make us jealous?". Have you not envied people, who are better-off than you are? Have you not looked down on all those platform dwellers? Have you not tried pulling someone down when he is climbing in his life? Have you not pulled back your hand when someone needed them? We hate others from within. We just act humane, on the outside, don't we? Anger and frustration creeps into our minds, when we see some one winning. Pride gets the best of us when we win. We are just jealous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Why death?". If everyman on this Earth has to stand up and agree on something, it would be fear for death. Why create so many and kill them all? Why deprive some one of their loved ones and give pain? And on what basis, is death being dictated? Why so early for some and why not soon enough for the others? I know Earth can not stand if no one falls. But why did he make it so, if he wanted us to live happily, forever?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"What was your intention in creating us?". Shakespeare wrote, All world 's a stage, and all men are mere players, playing out their roll. But what we see is  a puppet show. Our movements in his hand. Is he playing management with all men as developers? Will he never let us know what we are for? His play may not turn out how he wanted it to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God, if he even exists has become so uncommunicative these days. He lets us suffer. He lets us squirm. He lets us die. But he loves us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-3606218993116280780?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/3606218993116280780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=3606218993116280780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3606218993116280780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3606218993116280780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-want-to-meet-god.html' title='I want to meet God !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-2071951478451002514</id><published>2009-08-12T19:11:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-13T10:16:14.726+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Platform Number 3 !</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It was 30 past 9 in the P.M. and the moon was smiling at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Bangalore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;. The cold breeze was teasing the clouds and the clouds were opening up. Minute globules of water were rocketing the troposphere before they hit them. There was a pair of hands locked in each other. A half hearted smile, tears in eyes, and a reluctant step forward; two heads were hanging low daring not to see each other. It is going to be a long month. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;She had run in his arms. It has been a month's wait. She had missed him, his affection, his care and his warmth. She had wanted him dearly. He was not feeling anything less to that. He wrapped his arms around her and never let go. Words were few, smiles were lot. Two hands locked into each other. They will remain locked for 40 more hours. Sun rose into the skies of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Bangalore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; watching this beautiful couple.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;In her black saree, she looked amazing. In his t-shirt and cargos, he looked like a Yankee. They still made a beautiful couple. At 10 in the morning, both were standing in front of the temple. They had stuck to their routine. Being a believer, she visited the temple on every single trip and he being an atheist, joined her simply to be with her. He broke his vow not to enter a temple, when he first saw her 4 years ago. Love conquered him. He simply could not miss her beautifully closed eyes, her sweet, now praying lips, her cute smile, and her sparkling eyes, when they opened after the prayer, her beautiful hands, now joined together, her beautiful hair and the radiant flower she wore on them, the nice pair of ear rings and her naughty possessiveness for him. He loved her with all his heart and that meant not to lose sight of her even just a second. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Boating was the plan for that evening. 15 Kms out of city, it was an ideal spot for lovers. Enjoying the evening breeze, sipping their shakes, they walked around the lake, hand in hand. There were conversations on hundreds of topics, each not lasting over a minute. Their eyes would meet and the topic would be forgotten. The next topic will be waiting in their heads. Their hired a boat and paid the boatman double, requesting him not to come. They wanted privacy, every bit of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It was his way of surprising her. An unexpected gift. Sarees, teddy bears, candle-light dinners, all of them had made into their list. This time it was much more than these. A ring. Not a very costly one, but a beautiful one. He knelt, took her arm into his and offered her his gift. A kiss to the forehead was offered in return. And then came the night, the most difficult part. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; She lay in his chest, all arms wrapped around him. His arms were holding her like chains. He had no idea of letting her go. She had the privilege of biting his ear, and he had the privilege of kissing her in her lips. But Lust never found a way in between them. Anyone watching them sleep would have compared them to a couple of kids sleeping cutely with no tomorrow in mind. To them, at that moment, the World was six foot by four foot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A good lunch and a beautiful movie, made their next day. They roamed the city carefree and had fun every single moment. They never took their eyes of each other. Their hands never separated. But this was all past tense at 9.40 P.M, this Sunday evening. They were walking reluctantly.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Tears rolled down her eyes, when she finally heard it. "Yaatriya kripaya dhyan dhijiye! Gaadi number chey,char,dho,chey, Banglore se Kanyakumari jaanewalee, Kanyakumari express, Platform number theen mein aagaye hein !" The Indian trains which are usually late, arrived at the proper time. Even they did not have any sympathy on them. The engine whistled at 9.55. Roja hugged Aravind and kissed him in his cheeks and boarded the train. He was standing alone in the platform numbered 3, at 10.05 P.M. He was staring at his wedding ring!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-2071951478451002514?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/2071951478451002514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=2071951478451002514' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/2071951478451002514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/2071951478451002514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/08/platform-number-3.html' title='Platform Number 3 !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-600253755042920346</id><published>2009-08-10T18:31:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-10T19:16:32.051+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Traditions or Illusions ?</title><content type='html'>How do you imagine dropping a new born child from a 10 storey building with only 4 men holding the corners of a bed sheet to save him? Unfortunately this happens in certain parts of India, my country. People believe this brings in Luck. Any living child is blessed by God. Sarcastically, all children bring in luck only to end up rag picking. We are a country projecting ourselves as a developing nation with a new attitude. We had a scientist president and have a Harvard graduate, as the prime minister. Yet, we continue to shit on ourselves. From birth till death.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We have unimaginable rituals across the country. We bury our kids alive and blame God, when he comes out dead. We simply ignore the fact that, we pushed him straight into hell. We lay our new borns on burning coal and wonder why only ash came out. We take our kids to temple, when he is affected by high fever or a chicken-pox. When he suffers to diarrhea, we try driving out the Satan within him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then when we reach adolescence, we do the most funniest things. We pierce our body with knives and all other shrapnels known to mankind, hoping God would shower his blessings upon us. I wonder why most part the year country is dry. We break coconuts with our heads and remain foolish not to open a martial arts centre. We bring in priests into the house, who has the power to take hidden statues from inside his mouth, to drive away the devils. We ignore the fact that we had just brought in the most dangerous devil inside. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life in India is difficult if you are a girl. It does not get worse if you are from a village. Once you reach adolescence, you are not to see, hear, speak or feel a man. You must not touch anyone of them. It is considered a sin to do that. Men are not supposed to have female friends. We endorse the concept of one man, one wife and yet still rank 2 in AIDS population. We are terribly funny, aren't we?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We marry off our daughters before they know even who they are. We do not give any chance for them to choose their spouse. And if they find some one, we kill both of them. And we also have a name for it, "Honour Killings". We are the only country who marry dying men to new born babies and we are the stupid community who cry when she becomes a widow at the age of 20. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Child Birth. Our community understands little about sex and our women are not supposed to know what sex is. To most of them its just a fun activity. A pleasure house for 10 minutes.  Our women hardly understand reproduction. We hardly let them learn. And they end up tying cradles on trees, magic bands on hands and end up getting a child, whose father may be their husband.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is not all. We have a lot of silly traditions being followed across the country without knowing what they are and what they were intended to achieve when they were practised. Eating flesh on Friday is a sin. Entering a new house of a no moon day is to enter into hell. To marry in the month of July is to marry devil himself. To pay cash on Friday is to drive away all wealth coming to you(some believe it is Tuesday). To plan an activity on 13th is a suicide. To cut your hair at night is to bring devil inside the house. Wearing yellow when you take a decision is good. Stepping into your new house with your right leg is a must. And a hell lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I personally hate the rituals of marriage, the concept of metti and thali. Why should women alone forced to show that they are married? With all these insane thing around us, to the World, we proudly say, we have the best culture and traditions. We call ourselves the children of God. But, I believe, we are a rare breed of cross products between fools and Idiots. Stupids born out of marriages between insanes and nuts. We are failed mutants, who have stayed out of minds for over 2000 years. I am sorry. I can't help scolding us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-600253755042920346?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/600253755042920346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=600253755042920346' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/600253755042920346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/600253755042920346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/08/traditions-or-illusions.html' title='Traditions or Illusions ?'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-8574988145751543190</id><published>2009-08-03T18:53:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-04T18:48:01.501+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Blade pierces all bodies !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The blade was wet. With blood. The northwest monsoon which was waving a bye to eastern coasts of India was helping it get dry.  A bucket, half-filled with water was waiting inside the hut. At midnight, the blade found the water and was silenced. It will wait two more days, before it tastes its next victim. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The home minister's death was a shock to everyone in the state. Not because they loved him. It was the fifth high profile murder in a fortnight. A retired government doctor, the collector, an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MLA&lt;/span&gt;, the water resources minister and now the home minister. All killed in the same manner. A stab to the heart and the left eye. And they were drowned in the bath tub or the water tank. A serial killer. And there was always a note left behind. Scribbled with the victim's blood. Its read "Justice without mercy".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The morning newspapers on December 25,2008 screamed, "Home minister down ! Who's next ?". The size of the head line was enough to scare everyone. The first three pages were dedicated to the noble deeds of the home minister. Editors from across the country had had their pens empty writing columns about his sacred life. Any reader dismissed them outright as bullshit as they knew he was corrupt, like hell. They knew he was rich than half the state combined.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anthony scanned the paper for other news. He found it on the bottom of the twelfth page. A small write-up less than 250 words. He knew of no reason why the entire incident should be ever forgot. Four years back, the news filled entire newspapers. Photographs of dead bodies, damaged belongings, battered buildings, ruined huts, violent sea, and lost lives were shown on every paper. He found himself on the front page of one of the news papers. looking at the sea, kneeling down with his dead son in his hand, crying to the heavens. He never found his wife's body. He folded the paper neatly and kept it aside. He took the keys of his boat and left the hut. The blade watched it all in silence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;CBI&lt;/span&gt; arrived at the crime scene at around noon. They secured the area, formed a perimeter and started collecting evidence. The chief inspector of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;CBI&lt;/span&gt;, crime branch took charge of the developments. He had to find connections. And that meant he has to browse folders. He had the story before sunset. All corrupt men with lot of power. All had pocketed public money in all possible ways. They had all handled the Tsunami relief funds, that never reached the victims. Ram knew where to start his search. He headed for the coast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anthony sat in silence in his boat, looking at the blade. He remembered the day. He had gone fishing and returned to the port around 5 in the evening. The news was awaiting him. The death of his son and wife. However his son's body was only found. Hanging down from a cluster of thorns. All his body was pierced with thorns. He cried like hell. However life continued. The remaining 500 odd survivors of his village formed a community and moved on. They awaited the funds to restart their lives. It never came. Soon people started dying of starvation, diseases, panic and fear. Nature played its part. Men were playing theirs now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A team of 200 men swept the coasts. They searched every house. Of course they didn't know what they were searching for. No one has been in their suspect lists. It was noon on December the 26&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, when they finally found Anthony's house. They found a photograph of a child and a lady wrapped in garlands. Finding nothing suspicious, they were leaving the home, when one constable saw the bucket. They knew whom they were looking and where to look. Ram was called in. He wanted to call the coast guard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ship was in sight. The last victim was aboard. The blade was closing in. Anthony overturned the boat and drowned. He pretended to. The crew aboard the ship saw him and went for the rescue. It was 3 in the afternoon when he landed on the ship. He was taken to the lowest deck where most of the crew stayed. He was given first aid and a bed. He closed his eyes. He could see them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Small kids, out of schools, deprived of their parents were running around the refuge camps preparing to die. Old men and women, who had lost their children, not cared by any one were preparing to die. Poor fishermen who lost their boats as well their lives were preparing to die. So was he.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ceremony began at 5. The guest of honour threw petals of rose into the sea in memory of the victims of December 26,2004. he briefed the media about how he and his government had sailed past hard times to help the poor and the needy. The blade was watching. Soon, from nowhere it was around the chief minister's neck. A stab to the heart, the left eye and a push. Anthony jumped out  of the ship. Hundreds of bullets were fired from all directions. Two hit him before he hit the water. He was not running away from them. He was running to his wife and son.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-8574988145751543190?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/8574988145751543190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=8574988145751543190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8574988145751543190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8574988145751543190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/08/blade-pierces-all-bodies.html' title='Blade pierces all bodies !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-5663092446126543755</id><published>2009-07-28T17:19:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-28T19:36:52.611+05:30</updated><title type='text'>King of the Ring !</title><content type='html'>We are going back 200,000 years. We will be back soon and safe. Don't worry. We head to a vast and a dark jungle as any story teller would tell you, because there wasn't much except these. Of course Sun will struggle to penetrate the dense forests. Mid noon resembled midnight and midnight was just empty. And as any story would make you believe, all the animals lived together peacefully and happily together. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The six animal jury was seated under the shades of trees, on big boulder or branches of trees. Eagle, the foreman flew from one branch to the open space where all animals have gathered. He read out the case or literally he yelled out the case. A competition to find the mightiest animal in the jungle. His co-jurors were Rabbit, Snake, Fox, Pig and ant. All except the any filled in nominations to contest, but were disqualified. So they decided to sit in the jury panel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It would be 8.30 A.M on July 29,2009, 202,009 years later. All the animals in the Jungle had assembled in the area to watch the contest and to extend their support to the contestants. 10 nominations had been accepted. Lion, Tiger, Bear, Bull, Wild Boar, Camel, Elephant, Giraffe, Crocodile and Monkey were in the fray. Monkey was a wild card pick, a replacement for the absent gorilla.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The defending Champion came in first, with a big roar. He greeted the Jury and began. "You all know me well. You know my bone cracking, spine braking power. And you all know why I am the king of the Jungle,. Because God wanted his forests to be ruled by brave hearts. You are all afraid of me, because I am the Lion". The Lion looked satisfied, but the jury weren't. Most of them have been declined a nomination only because of the Lion. And after all, he doesn't even hunt. He just eats and helps in population growth. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bear ran in next. The sight and size of him was enough to scare the jurors. He did not speak. he did not need to. He broke a tree with his bare foot, threw a 100 pound stone out of the planet, hit the ground with his fist to cause a tremor that would have recorded a 6 on Richter scale. And without saying a word, he left.  A potential contender thought the jury.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next came the elephant trumpeting his way into the open space. The jury had brought cottons. he elaborated his mightiness. How he can kill anyone with a single blow. How he can lift logs with his trunk. How much worth is his tusks. he trumpeted for 40 minutes. Not him though the jury. Two reasons. They would need a couple of servants always to clean his shit and they would need cottons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Crocodile crawled in next with mouth wide open. He showed off his teeth to everyone. He closed it only when he knew the jury was afraid enough. He told them he was the only omnipresent animal, who can hunt on both and who has the biggest bite force(He wanted to say, go ask Brady Barr. It was not 2000).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The bull and the wild boar did pretty much the same what the other animals did. They scared the jury with their horns and crazy sounds. They showed their flesh to impress the jury. they will have to wait till other animals show their flesh off said the jurors.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Giraffe walked in after the wild boar. He himself praised his height and hi ability to see more ground then others. Being a grass eater, he couldn't add much. He is definitely out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tiger was asked in after Giraffe. he eloquently stepped in, read the speech he ad prepared and finished by saying that he hunted himself. Lion was angry like hell on the tiger.  This guy has erased any small hopes that was left in the Lion. He will see him once all this is done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Camel walked in next. He told the jury how he can live without water for days and yet stay healthy. He said about his ability to walk across deserts, his adventures and all such crazy things. Jury did not hear much of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time the monkey came in, the foreman was already yawning and the rest of the jury was sleeping. Monkey did not address the jury. He showed his ass to them and addressed the crowd. "Hey all you small poor creatures ! From this day, I will be the King and you all obey my law. I might set rules as how you live and you better live that way. Other will get their names listed in the endangered species. I will prosecute and convict all those who violate my rules. Justice will be swift, righteous and without mercy. I assume all rights to control you, slave you, curse you, hit you, hurt you and even kill you. I expect only one answer from you for all my questions. Silence. You will protect me, pray me, preach me, follow me. If some one is against me, I will make them run."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All the animals were silent. the elephant broke it. "And how do you imagine that's gonna happen?". "With your tails between your legs !" said the monkey with the smile and walked in two legs.  He knew, he will be arrogant enough to have a endangered species list after 202, 009 years.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-5663092446126543755?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/5663092446126543755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=5663092446126543755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5663092446126543755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5663092446126543755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/king-of-ring.html' title='King of the Ring !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-6770223421652433056</id><published>2009-07-25T16:17:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-25T18:11:10.533+05:30</updated><title type='text'>H for Hope !</title><content type='html'>July was coming to an end in India, not the rains.And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt; was hit badly, as it doe every year, year after year.All channels in the country were breaking the news, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt; floods. Knee deep water disrupts normal life. Schools and colleges close for the week. However It firms continue to operate. The metro bus services and trains will be delayed. Both the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Maharastra&lt;/span&gt; government and the Central government have assured fast relief actions". People watching the news wondered how the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Rajdeep&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Sardesais&lt;/span&gt;, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Pranay&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Roys&lt;/span&gt; and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Barkha&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Dutts&lt;/span&gt; get to the studio without being hit by rain, for it looked like a cyclone outside. It was absolute chaos. Traffic Jams, Overflowing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Drainages&lt;/span&gt;, diseases, stinking roads, ugly climate, slow reacting governments. Anyone on Earth would have doubted, hell being moved onto the surface of Earth from the underworld had they seen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Trivedi&lt;/span&gt; stepped out of his house, with his one and half human leg and a half plastic one. Had he been a bit more careful 10 years ago, he would have been able to do two things now. He would have been on all televisions and newspapers around the World and would be walking in two legs. His enthusiasm in histing the tricolour over &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Kargil&lt;/span&gt;, cost him his leg. He was the commander of the 43rd &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Kashmiri&lt;/span&gt; regiment and he was on his way to hoist the flag, a symbol for victory when the landmine went off. Everything below his left knee went missing along with the opportunity to carve his name into Indian history. It took the military two days to find him and hoist the flag. He was watching the whole episode on military hospital television imagining himself to be doing the honours. A 20 year career in the army came to an end unceremoniously with a broken leg and a 200 rupees monthly pension. At 52 now, the widower was depending on his pension for survival. He was a couple of months old in this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mud, water, wet clay, spilling gutters, stinking streets, flies and mosquitoes, invisible pathogens, harmful diseases, uncontrolled traffic, closed shops. The rain God was too busy giving &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt; more than it needed while all other parts of India were being ignored. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt; walked into the chaos with one and a half leg, a broom and a stick. No one from the neighbourhood wanted to get their hands dirty. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt; volunteered himself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He had two simple objectives. One to dig out the clogs in the drainage and to drain all water on the road into the drainage. Two, to clean the road off mud and dirt. he wanted to keep the environment clean, free from pathogens and from diseases. The government failed to act and he took the matter into his own hands, to get it dirty. He felt, any country needs its children healthy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He reached the slum at 10 in the morning. And got to wok soon. His work gathered attention. Men either fleeing of their houses or trying to move their belongings to a safer place started staring at him. They started wondering what the man was doing to the drainage, when they were finding it hard to see where it was. Some even thought he must be insane and would disappear into the drainage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a few initial struggles, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt; got it right. He removed a couple of clogs and water started to drain. Within the next three hours, most of the water drained. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt; employed his broom to clean the road. he started spraying the white powder he had brought with him all over the place. Satisfied with his work, he left the place, carrying his belongings, and a big smile on his face. he had saved lives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Within a week, the entire slum was clean. He was popular. Everyone in the slum recognized him and greeted him. he would greet them and get to work. Next week, he was into his second slum.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On 24&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; July, the rain got heavier. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt; decided to go out still. he went to the spot he left yesterday and started his digging. He was an hour into work, when the unexpected happened.His plastic leg betrayed him. It slipped taking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt; along with it. the rain delayed the help. And when it arrived, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt; was already a mile into the drainage. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next week, 10 people were digging the drainage. The next month 100 were. All the news channels broad casted it prime time. One day a reporter caught up with a man, draining water into the drainage. He asked him why he was doing this. The man replied,"He was right. the country needs its kids healthy. It needs more than a pair of clean hands. It needs hope!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The people of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt; spoke about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt;. But not many knew his face. But they hoped they would find his body at least. But, what they did not know was, the fall was deliberate. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Ganesh&lt;/span&gt; got down in Patna. It was 10 to 2 in the A.M. the station master enquired him to check with the traveller's list. He was happy when he found Ram &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Prasad&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Yadav&lt;/span&gt; in his list.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-6770223421652433056?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/6770223421652433056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=6770223421652433056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6770223421652433056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6770223421652433056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/july-was-coming-to-end-in-india-not.html' title='H for Hope !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-8120492707108880967</id><published>2009-07-23T18:42:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-23T19:23:02.505+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A possible Time machine !</title><content type='html'>Even as a kid, I have fantasized a lot about Time machines and Time travel. The Idea simple amazes me. You can be born in the twentieth century, yet  you can see the formation of Earth and the moon, play with dinosaurs, inaugurate pyramids, witness the rise and fall of empires and walk with Jesus. It sounds exciting, doesn't it? But after 23 years on Earth, I realize that it is close to impossible, at least in my life time. I cannot have all the above fun. As any writer would do, I started thinking crazily and my brain bumped into an Idea.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To explain the Idea, I have you tell you about an atom and time. Scientists(as well me) believe that atoms are the smallest indivisible component of matter ever found. Atoms are in turn made up of protons, neutrons and electrons. It has also been proved that atoms can move from place to place.  All that you need is a small push, a force. So lets simply say atoms are everywhere and they can move. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now moving on to time. When I was in class VI, my physics teacher taught me what time is or rather what the unit of time is. A second is the time taken to do something, somewhere, somehow. She never taught me what time is. It was not in the syllabus. So what is time? It is an instance when a particular atom is in a particular place at a particular position. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let us take a simple example. Lets us take a snapshot of Earth at time 'x'. Let us assume two things, all humans move one step every second, backward or forward, their last movement being forward for all. At instance 'x', Earth is at the starting point of its spin and will spin once east to west every second. At instance 'x', all humans move backward and the Earth spins west to east, all for a second. What will you call this new instance? 'x+1' or 'x-1'. Confused, huh? Me too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But It looked to me like it is 'x-1'. We have moved back to the past, just a second though. we may change the future. Let us say this happens again. We are in 'x-2'. Three more times and we are in 'x-5'. Now imagine a jump from 'x' to 'x-5' bypassing all other instances. We have moved back 5 seconds, all we need is a greater push. 10 seconds, some more force. 24 hours, a huge push. Years, unstoppable force. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You would have guessed by now. The time travel is achieved through movement of atoms, by restoring them to where they were at any particular time. OK fine. How does that make you walk with Jesus? Simple. Restore the atoms 2000 years back. And introduce some more atoms into them. Its You. Sounding simple, isn't it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But physics has the catch. Energy can neither be created nor be destroyed, It says. Importing you into an alien environment is no different to introducing energy. So this energy needs to be compensated with a compromise in the environment. We cannot create it, like the same it looked. But you have gone back. How to get back to the future?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You need some kind of memory system that can store all details of all atoms at any particular time. You can move back or forward from here and get back in one piece. But it is going to need a lot of force and lot of pushing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK then, how to move the atoms. Simple. What is current? Flow of electrons in one direction and the flow of protons in another due to difference in potential, a difference in energy. So to move a single atom, you need a small energy, to move zillions of them, you need a lot of them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The theory asks more questions than it answers like any other theory. And I give two of the straight away. How to move the atoms and how to remember where atoms were at any instance? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It sounds crazy. Maybe even stupid. But this can be a starting point. The Idea and a Vision. And maybe some day, some one will come from the future and visit us, even after we are gone. Well, now, I am starting to think about immortality. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-8120492707108880967?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/8120492707108880967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=8120492707108880967' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8120492707108880967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8120492707108880967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/possible-time-machine.html' title='A possible Time machine !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-3885395238207934507</id><published>2009-07-21T18:07:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-21T18:53:04.875+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Wanna be a Babuji ?</title><content type='html'>India is a multi-party democracy, a sovereign and a secular republic that chooses its leaders by a secret ballet system. It is a mixture of cultures, traditions and of course superstitions, an intercommunication of languages and dialects, with a growing number of slang in an alarming rate, a confused relationship of 100 religions and castes which somehow have learnt to co-exist. Being a politician in such is a setup is real difficult. So here are some of the great characteristics of a good politician.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any preliminary requirement for a politician aspirant is to speak and to do that non-stop. It doesn't matter what you speak or how you speak. All it matters is that you speak. And if you can use a couple of words in all languages like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chennagidha&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;baha&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;unnaara&lt;/span&gt;, how are you, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;naanayittu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;unda&lt;/span&gt;, your prospects of growing national looks increasingly good. You will have to play with words and stop worrying about what they actually mean.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then you must be a good two face. You must fall in the feet of voters to get elected and once you have done that must crush them under your feet. You must be one good soul on the outside, do noble acts, pretend that you work for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;aam&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;aadmi&lt;/span&gt;, tell lies that can comfort poor and when no one is seeing you can steal, rape, kill and do all what you want. So being a two face help you when you speak nonsense.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most people in India always worry about their neighbours. When farmers keep dying due to poverty, they want to help the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Srilankans&lt;/span&gt; dying some where. When terrorist within India attack them They blame Pakistan. When every one wants to save their ass, they want to save America's ass. So you must talk a lot about foreign matters. You must weep when a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Srilankan&lt;/span&gt; kills another &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Srilankan&lt;/span&gt;. However you need not worry about Indian farmers. You must comment on all possible foreign issues, even if that requires questioning Bill Clinton's sexual circle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You must oppose all forms of development. You must raise your voice against any form of capitalism, even if it benefits people. You must identify yourself as a farmer's messiah, but you need not do anything beneficiary for them. You must visit huts and stay for a night, then catch a flight to Delhi, take a government sponsored Benz and have breakfast at a five star hotel. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You must fast and agitate along with people on social issues. That doesn't say you shouldn't eat, only not in front of others. That doesn't say you have to stand in sun all day, shouting all slogans, only in front of others. That doesn't say you take sided based on an opinion, just for others. All you have to do is say, "Government down down !" and take your diet on that particular day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next thing is an art. You must be a good illusionist. You must know to manipulate figures. You can announce a budget with Rs 2/Kg rice and end up in a deficit of Rs 1000 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;crores&lt;/span&gt;, yet show a surplus of Rs 1000 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;crores&lt;/span&gt;. We Indians don't understand a surplus and a deficit, we know only its a huge amount. You must take away from us, but convince us that we are taking it. You must be able to multiply 10 and 10 and get to 10000. Its all about numbers, mostly zeroes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You must make sure, you are always in the headlines. And for that you can get into thousand controversies. You can battle with the film industry for not using Indian titles. You can call Barack Obama a mother fucker. You can attend a actress' birthday party. You can buy a pig and name it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Sharukh&lt;/span&gt; Khan. And a similar thousand others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You must only wear traditional clothes like Dhoti, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Kurta&lt;/span&gt; and pyjamas. This will show your patriotism, belief in your tradition and culture and a love for your country. But you can buy properties in Los Angeles, London and all other fucking foreign nations. You can advice your countrymen to educate their children in their mother tongue, while your children will be in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;NSU&lt;/span&gt;, UCLA and thousand other universities. Coming back to this dress, if you are a woman, use a Saree. You can remove it in the parliament and say that the opposition tried to rape you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are two other special requirements. You must not be able to read or write. You must not even know to sign. This way you can call yourself a representation of low class people. You can call you a hard worker who just through dedicated service for people climbed up the ladders of the party. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This will help you in the assembly. You must know to fight, make a weapon out of anything, wear leather slippers, have whistles and must be able to bang the desks pretty hard. At times, you must bring piles of cash, call for some non-confidence motions against the government, shout way above any one and must walk out as much as possible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You must know to fall at the feet of the party leader in public. This will ensure your growth within a party and assure you a place in the ministry, if your party ever comes to power. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;India is one of the few countries where people fear the government. Curse those bribed cock suckers.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-3885395238207934507?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/3885395238207934507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=3885395238207934507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3885395238207934507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3885395238207934507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/wanna-be-babuji.html' title='Wanna be a Babuji ?'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-8485231209795030638</id><published>2009-07-20T17:52:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-20T19:42:19.606+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Silence !</title><content type='html'>"I have been in this orphanage for so long now. It has been a lot of years and I really don't know how many years, I have been here. Some say, I have been here for over 20 years. But they also don't know. None present in the day of my arrival here survive. So the only people who would know how old I am are you. However, I have definitely become a part of this orphanage and it has become the most important thing in my life.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was a kid, one of the sisters here told me that I was dropped here at midnight on August 14. She cannot recollect the year though. She said, there were only 10 children when I was dropped. She said, I used to play all day with the other kids. I don't remember any of these. All i remember is her death. She died in an accident. A speeding lorry took her to Jesus. The only person who take care of me was gone. I would have been 10 or 12 then. We were about 50 people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A small charity organization took in charge of the orphanage after the sister's death. A man named Albert owned as now. And the next 5 years were like hell. He found a way in us to earn some money. Those 5  years, I begged in front of all temples and churches. My earning was lower than others because I couldn't shout. The owner always beat me for that. He once broke my leg hoping, that would create some sympathy on me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A year passed and suddenly, he became kind towards me. He fed me well, gave me new clothes and chocolates. He often takes me to his house at nights and did something, I didn't understand. At the end of it, I would be bleeding between my legs. I didn't know he was raping me. He raped me several times a week, sometimes alone, sometimes with a couple of friends. When I protested, they locked me in a cellar, beat me and left me unfed for days. I did nothing but cry. I thought of dying. But I didn't have the courage to. In the next four years, I was raped over 1000 times by more than 25 men, without knowing what they had been doing to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And one day, He dies all of a sudden. Some said he committed suicide, other believed it was a disease that silenced him. You know what I believed? I believed that, God has finally shown me some mercy. the Government stepped forward and tool in charge of the orphanage when it came to auction. After 5 years, I stopped begging.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Government wanted to help us. they wanted to equip us to lead our own lives. They taught us drawing, singing, dancing and dozen other self employment activities. I took classes in English and Tamil. Soon, I was appointed as a teacher for the kids there. I did the teaching in my own way. I was happy, for me and for them. I loved the orphanage, the peace that existed and the silence that prevailed in my World. Years rolled.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And one morning, 3 years back, we had a new comer to the orphanage. A baby, a cute little girl abandoned at our doorsteps. One month after her arrival, I adapted her. She became my daughter. Each day, I used to feed her, bah her, play with her, recite poems to her and sleep with her. I liked her and she liked me. Maybe because we were the same. Silent. soon, I started living for her. I wanted her to have a beautiful life and I would help her get one, what I never had. She grew fast. I grew with her. At times she used to feel bad thinking why she was abandoned, just like  I did. She used to pray to Lord to take her, just like I did. I could hear her smile, her laugh, her love, her affection and her warmth. She could hear mine. But she fell ill. I have named her Diana, the love of my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It took me 20 years to know why I was abandoned. Si I just wanted to speak to you. One time at least. But my voice still eludes me. So I am writing this letter. If you get your hands on it, come and see me. I want to see you. I want to kiss you. I want to hug you and I want to cry out loud. I also want to say, I love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your loving daughter,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Shwetha&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Subramaniam&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;kavitha&lt;/span&gt; finished the 6 month old letter, they were in tears. It has been 26 long years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In 1983, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Subramaniam&lt;/span&gt;, a poor mechanic married &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kavitha&lt;/span&gt; to satisfy his dying mother's wish. Within a year, they had a baby girl. They named her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Shwetha&lt;/span&gt;. Only nine months after her birth, did they notice that she was deaf and dumb. The poor couple know the difficulties of having a handicapped girl in India. So they dropped her in a orphanage, where they felt the probability of her getting a good life was better than being with them. 26 years of hard work changed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Subramaniam's&lt;/span&gt; fortunes. He was a business man now. But he had completely forgotten his daughter, until now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The parents visited the orphanage. A sister took them to where &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Shwetha&lt;/span&gt; was resting. She has been tested positive for HIV. And she has spent the last four months all by herself. The sister opened the door and led them into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Shwetha's&lt;/span&gt; room. She woke up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Shwetha&lt;/span&gt;. There was no movement. The sister checked the pulse. There was nothing. Tears rolled down every eye in the orphanage. She died without speaking a word. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Shwetha's&lt;/span&gt; parents asked the sister to take them to Diana. The sister told them that there was no person in the orphanage by that name. There was a doll lying near &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Shwetha&lt;/span&gt;. She had finally reached where she wanted to be, where she loved. There, It was completely silent. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-8485231209795030638?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/8485231209795030638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=8485231209795030638' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8485231209795030638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8485231209795030638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/silence.html' title='Silence !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-4282002674719791173</id><published>2009-07-17T19:21:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-17T20:30:16.368+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Battle !</title><content type='html'>It was about to begin. The two sides took position on the battleground. Dressed in black and white, the two teams could have not been more contradicting. The first line of defence was formed by infantry men for both the sides. They will make the moves first. The cavalry stood in the next, consisting of horses and elephants. They &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;of course&lt;/span&gt;, are more powerful than the infantry and will not stop till they defeat the enemy. The king and the queen will be the last in the line and the most defended. The job of others is to save them at any cost.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The black men took the first move. The black infantry moved into the battleground to attack the men in white. The white infantry waited for their chance. And when it was time, they joined in the offence. They moved cautiously into the enemy territories and as well kept an eye on their king. The king and the queen of both the sides were sort of relaxing. But they wont be doing the same. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was 15 minutes before all the infantry got into the scene and most of the men got wiped out, killed by other team. And that signalled the time for the cavalry to move in. To start the proceedings, the white commander moved beyond enemy lines and slit the throat of a black commander. The dark knight put an end to him with the help of an elephant. And then he moved forward to break the backs of the white infantry men. He was eventually stopped by an elephant and met with the same end as the white knight. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Both the teams went in for a strategic break. The Black king ordered his remaining commander to finish off the white elephants and the white commander before attacking the white king. But the white knight decided to go after the black king, employing the services of the cavalry, no matter what they have to do, even if they have to die. Both the teams got back into the positions they were and the battle resumed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the white horses moved left to give way for the white commander. A black horse and a an elephant went after him. the other white horse moved in front of the white commander to provide him assistance. The elephant stayed back with the king. The black commander and the black horse fixed their eyes on the white knight. While all this were happening, a hidden white elephant went straight for the king, only to be hunted down by its peer on the opposite camp. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;The&lt;/span&gt; white camp took a big blow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then came the deadly attack. The white queen stepped forward herself and counted out the black horse and the elephant that were going after the white elephant. Meanwhile, the dark knight weighed his chances and geared up into the white castle after the white king. Only elephants were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;protecting&lt;/span&gt; the king and it was easy kill for him. The elephant was down and the king was at his feet. But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; white queen came for the rescue of her husband. With the black knight, the black camp fell back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The black queen did not give up. She took command and quickly had her kill. The most coveted prize, the white queen. The black camp rejoiced the fall of the white queen and failed to notice. the two white horses and the elephant. the white camp broke the defence lines of the black camp and brought down the entire black infantry.  The black camp was in retreat mood, but for their queen. the white king was still at the mercy of the black  queen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;then there was another strategic break. the black camp had their queen, king and a cavalry man. So they decided to defend. On the other hand, the white camp even managed to keep their infantry alive. the decided to end it. The battle resumed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first thing the black queen did after the break was to pull back and defend her king. On her way back, she destroyed the entire white infantry and one of their horses. But she unfortunately went into the white knights territory and got herself killed. The only black cavalry man subdued soon, the black king was on his own now. he had three options, death, surrender or escape. He bet on the third option.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But within five steps he was rounded and the white knight took him tactically into their territory. The white king will end the proceedings. He pulled out his sword. It all ended when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Rohit&lt;/span&gt; said, "Check mate" and R&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;aghu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;lowered&lt;/span&gt; his head. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Rohit&lt;/span&gt; the white king won the battle. He and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Raghu&lt;/span&gt; were playing chess. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-4282002674719791173?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/4282002674719791173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=4282002674719791173' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4282002674719791173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4282002674719791173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/battle.html' title='The Battle !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-1514390283947818077</id><published>2009-07-16T17:17:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-16T20:00:48.989+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Idea !</title><content type='html'>He was walking, in chains, to the gallows.  With black hair, curved moustache, beads in his ears, an upright chest and fire in his eyes, he represented the brave Indians. The year was 1857. The first sign of any protest against the "so-called" lords. a protest by the slaves, the real rulers of this land. And he is going to pay for it, with his life. The noose and the hangman were waiting. It was April eighth. He is about to be hung.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over 200 years of planned looting, 150 years of brutal slavery, new ways of violent torture, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;in numerous&lt;/span&gt; murders and gang rapes, non stop plundering, and total destruction. No signs of unrest. Repeated snubs on the face, tax even for living, and bill boards reading, "Dogs and Indians are not allowed" and still nothing. Little did British expect when they stuffed the flesh of cow's ass into bullet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cartridges&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was given an Uniform, a rifle and a name Badge. It read &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mangal&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Pandey&lt;/span&gt;. When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Moguls&lt;/span&gt; raided the northern mountains of India, he was pointing his rifles at them and brutally killing any living thing it aimed at. He would have loved the smell of their blood. And then a point came when he had to turn his aim at his own men. His bullets tasted the blood of Indians as well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He bit the cartridge, emptied the gun powder into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;barrel&lt;/span&gt;, dropped in the bullet, rammed it and fired. Ideas are not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;deliberate&lt;/span&gt;. They do not jump out of thought processes. They need to be induced. A small cartridge gave shape to Indian History. A single bullet hit its target.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The soldiers were protesting and he lead them. It was not planned. It just happened. Obeying a fool's order, firing at a total stranger for no particular reason, earning by killing and being a slave no more made any sense to him. He was giving birth, He was giving birth to something that no bullet can pierce, no canon can destroy and something that is immortal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When bullets and canons were of no use, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;British&lt;/span&gt; used another weapon. Fear. They induced fear into Indian minds. A &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;psychological&lt;/span&gt; weapon that can kill livings things. But beneath his skin, beneath all those bloody muscles and beneath those white bones, he was much more. He was a vision. He represented the 1.1 billion Indians.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was convicted of conspiring against the British rule in India. He was seen as a potential against all those leeches sucking the wealth of India. He was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;convicted&lt;/span&gt; of disturbing peace(of those British suckers). He was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ordered&lt;/span&gt; to be hung by neck till death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When death is at your doorsteps, smile eludes your face. He was radiating with happiness and was marching towards the gallows like the brave soldier he was. After all he was no ordinary human. He was entering into final moments of life. Facing it with smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The noose was hanging from the tree. In the other end of the rope was a sand bag. The sand bag end was tied to the banyan tree. The hangman was waiting with his sword. There was no black cloth. The noose was placed around his neck. Little did the British know, after 90 years they would be packing their bags home for this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Little did they know, Men die, Ideas don't. The sword came over the rope. The noose snapped. An Idea was born.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-1514390283947818077?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/1514390283947818077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=1514390283947818077' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1514390283947818077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/1514390283947818077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/he-was-walking-in-chains-to-gallows.html' title='The Idea !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-3892924389570713320</id><published>2009-07-15T18:53:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-15T19:27:59.625+05:30</updated><title type='text'>கிராமம் !</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;இயற்கை அன்னை வரைந்து வைத்த வண்ண ஓவியம் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;மொழியில்லாமல் படைக்கப் பட்ட குட்டி காவியம் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;மேதை புலவர் பலர் இதை பாடி வைத்த பாக்கள் ஆயிரம் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;அதை நானும் கொஞ்சம் பாடிட வழிகள் தந்திடும் !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;கசந்த வேப்பங்குச்சி ஒடித்து பல் துலக்கி, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;கிணற்றில் மீன்களோடு சேர்ந்து குளித்து, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;மணக்கும் பழயசாதம் வத்தலோடு உண்டு, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;ஆரோக்கியமாய் வாழ்பவர் பல கோடி இங்கு உண்டு !    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;கருவாச்சியின் நெற்றிப் பொட்டு, தமிழ் கலாச்சாரத்தை காட்டும் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;அவள் அணியும் நெய்தல் பட்டு, தமிழ் கலையின் வளத்தை பாடும் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;பாமரன் சுத்தும் மூங்கில் சிலம்பு, தமிழ் மகனின் வீரத்தை போற்றும் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;அவன் செய்யும் தண்ணீர் பானை, மண்ணுக்கும் உயிர் ஊட்டும் !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;பாட்டிசைக்கும் காற்றும், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;கேட்டசையும் நாற்றும், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;என்னை கூட கொஞ்சம், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;ஆடச் சொல்லி கேட்கும் !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;மேகம் மூடும் மலையும். &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt; வெட்டி வைத்த குளமும், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;நிசப்தமான இரவும், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;என்னை ஆதிவாசியை மாற்றும் !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;வரவேற்பு வலயம் போடும் தென்னை, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;கொலுசு பொட்டு கொள்ளும் பெண்ணை, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;காதலிக்கச் சொல்லி கேட்கும் என்னை !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt; எடுத்து நெற்றியில் இட்டுக்கொள்ளத் தோணும் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-3892924389570713320?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/3892924389570713320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=3892924389570713320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3892924389570713320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3892924389570713320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_15.html' title='கிராமம் !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-127903483964472264</id><published>2009-07-13T17:31:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-13T19:22:59.690+05:30</updated><title type='text'>All you need is Hope !</title><content type='html'>It was not just another regular dawn for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt;. He has been waiting for this day ever since he married. The weather was chilly and there was a steady gust at 7.00 A.M. in the morning, not surprising for a June day in Bangalore. He was washing his 12 year old bicycle for the third time in an hour. It was 90 minutes to the most important moment in his life. He then went inside his hut to boil water. His hut, located in the outskirts of the city, demanded a 15 minute ride to the venue. He was thinking what shirt he must wear, though he had only two, when the alarm went off without warning. It was 7.30 A.M.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a kid, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; grew within the walls of his village. His father was a porter in the village's railway station. On a good day, he earned Rs. 20. A meagre sum to feed hi family, let alone educate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; never went to school. He never worried about that. He would play &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;kabaddi&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ko&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ko&lt;/span&gt; when other kids went to school and did their home works. He had nothing to worry about. No teachers, no exams, no home works and no results. Life was just fun. He enjoyed every bit of it. At least until he was 12.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was 1991. One day his father on his way back home read a hoarding about a company which was hiring. It was a German factory tapping the low cost unskilled labour of India. They were turning out raw iron into machines for exporting overseas. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Bhupathy's&lt;/span&gt; father felt this was the right time for his son to get his hands dirty. The next day, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; found himself as a helper boy of the factory. His Father joined as a welder. Their combined wage a day was Rs 35 per day. Life didn't change much for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; except he was earning now. As ever, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; continued to be this playful kid. And suddenly one day this happened.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was on his way to the factory. He saw a lady and her son. The lady was dressed in washed clothes in a fashionable manner. He has never seen his mother dressed that way. The next moment he saw the lady's son.  Dressed neatly in white and grey, with a piece of cloth around his neck, for which &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; knew no name, with combed hair and powdered face, the kid, almost his age, looked like an alien to him. He looked at his own dirty shirt, torn short, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;unoiled&lt;/span&gt; hair and worn out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;chappals&lt;/span&gt;. He felt inferior. The kid was fighting with his mother for a 10 rupee pocket money and went happy only when she gave him that. Life wasn't that easy for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt;. He had to do some fucking work for 8 hrs to earn his 5 Rupees. He thought how nice it would be to get twice that amount for just some violent pull of mother's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;saree&lt;/span&gt;. Suddenly, He liked everything about the kid's life and hated everything about his own life. Tears rolled down his face. It was a full weak before he returned back to his normal self.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But however life moved on for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt;. He was 20 and was working as a welder in the same German firm. His father had died in an accident last year and since then he has been promoted to the welder job. He was earning  Rs 50 per day, enough to feed him and his mother. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One Saturday, he was in a park relaxing after the day's work. In T-shirt  and Jeans, two men were coming towards him. It was not until they came close he realised that one was a girl. They were in their teen ages, university students probably lovers, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; thought and fixed his gaze on the girl. She was tall, lean and beautiful. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; eyed every curve in her body head to foot. Soon he became addicted to wet dreams. A yer later, he went up to his mother, found a girl and got married.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The new family-man status required him to earn more. He resigned his welder job and joined as a maintenance staff in a software company. His job was to clean the cafeteria and lift empty glasses form engineer's cubes, fill coffee machines and so on. Four months into his job, he started envying the engineers, their cool life style, their big wallets and bank balances, and above all the respect they got. He made up his mind. He set an ambition for himself. He did not discuss it with his wife, she may discourage him saying that the mountain was too high to climb. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; climbed into his bicycle. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Gowtham&lt;/span&gt; got into the back seat. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; pedalled the bicycle. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Gowtham&lt;/span&gt; was staring at his new black covering over his feat. He did not know what it was. But he liked it. It was new. The father and the son duo crossed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Bhupathy's&lt;/span&gt; work place. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Gowtham&lt;/span&gt; for the moment turned his gaze away from the black thing and looked at the car that was entering the campus. He said, "One day, I want to become like that papa". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Bhupathy&lt;/span&gt; responded, "And I will help you become one my son".  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Gowtham&lt;/span&gt; looked at his dad and smiled. He was dressed neatly in white and grey, with a small cloth around his neck for which he didn't know the name yet. It was his first day to school. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-127903483964472264?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/127903483964472264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=127903483964472264' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/127903483964472264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/127903483964472264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-was-not-just-another-regular-dawn.html' title='All you need is Hope !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-7046807569192556397</id><published>2009-07-09T18:40:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-09T19:56:24.480+05:30</updated><title type='text'>அட என்னாத்த சொல்வேணுங்கோ !</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;அன்று வந்ததும் இதே நிலா! ட ட டா ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;இன்று வந்ததும் அதே நிலா! ட ட டா !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;அன்றைய தமிழ்க் கவிஞனின் கண்ணில் நிலவாய் மாறிப் போன பெண், இன்று படும் அவல நிலை என்ன தெரியுமே ?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;நாட்டு சரக்கு நச்சினு தான் இருக்கு, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;காணும் இடம் அத்தனையும் கலர் கலர இருக்கு ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;தங்க கொடமே, தஞ்சாவூரு கடமே, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;மந்திரிச்சி விட்டு புட்ட மலையாள படமே !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;என்ன size இது மாமு, ரொம்ப nice கிது ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;என்ன  வயசு இது மாமு, ஐய ice கிது !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;மருமகனின் லீலைகள் போதாதென்று, மாமனாரின் வரிகள் வேறு,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;bun bun நீ sweet bun, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;butter jam போலே நான் தான், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;உன்தான் மேலே தான் நான், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ஒட்டி கொள்ள தான் வா !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;மிக அற்புதமாக செதுக்கப்பட்ட வரிகள், அதிலும் பாதி ஆங்கிலம்.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;அடுத்தவர் எல்லாரையும் விஞ்சியவர். இவர் வர்ணிக்காத உணவு பொருள் ஏதேனும் உண்ட என்று ஆராய்ச்சி நடக்கின்றது.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;திம்சு கட்ட, அய் அய் திம்சு கட்ட,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ஏண்டி என்ன கெடுத்து புட்ட !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; பப்பளபள பப்பளபள பப்பாளி பழமே ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;தத்தளதள தத்தளதள தக்காளி பழமே !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;காய்கறி மட்டும் அல்ல,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;சிக்கன் கறி, சிக்கன் கறி, சிக்கன் கறி, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;இது கோத்தகிரி கோழிக் கறி, மட்டன் கறி !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;அடுத்தவர் ஒரு சமையல் அறையை உருவாக்கியவர், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; அண்டங் காக்கா கொண்டக்காரி, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;அச்சு வெல்ல தொண்டகாரி,   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;IR 8 பல்லுக்காரி, அயிர மீனு கண்ணுகாரி !    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;சற்று புளி இருந்தால் சமைத்தே விடலாம்! இப்படி பெண்களை பாடி பாடிப் பழத் தோட்டமாகவும், மளிகை கடையாகவும் மாற்றிய பெருமை பலருக்கு உண்டு . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;பால் பாப்பாளி, வெள்ள  தக்காளி ! என்றும்  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Apple பெண்ணே நீ யாரோ ? Icecream சிலையே நீ யாரோ ? என்று ஆண்கள் பாடிகொண்டிரிக்க, பெண்களின் வரிகள் காதை குளிர வைக்கின்றன !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;சாப்பிட வாட, என்ன சாப்பிட வாட! என்று மன்மதனை அழைக்கும் பெண் ஒரு புறம்.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;கட்டி புடி, கட்டி புடிடா ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;கண்ணாளா, கண்டபடி கட்டி புடிடா ! என்று குஷுயாக கூவும் பெண் மறு புறம்.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;சும்மா இருப்பவனே இப்படி என்றால், மன்னர் சும்மா இருப்பாரா ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;கண்ணிலே மீனடி, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;நெஞ்சிலே தேனடி !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;என்று நக்கியர் போல் அவர் ஒரு புறம்.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;தமிழ் பெண் படுகிறாள் பாடு.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;காரணம், ஒரு சிறந்த பாடலில் ஒரு வரி,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;காலங்களில் அவள் வசந்தம், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;கலைகளிலே அவள் ஓவியம்! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;கனிகளிலே அவள் மாங்கனி !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;அன்றி செய்த சிறு தவறினால், இன்று கனி முதல் மது வரை பெண் தான் !  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;பம்பரக் கண்ணு, பச்ச மொளாகா, இஞ்சி மரப்பா, இளக்க வச்சான்! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;சக்கர பன்னு, ஜாவ்வு மிட்டாய், ஜிவ்வுனுதான் சினுக்க வச்சான் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; ஈ மொய்க்கும் வரிகள்.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;இளந்த பலம், இளந்த பலம் உனக்கு தான்,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;செக்க செவந்த பலம், செவந்த பலம் உனக்கு தான், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;பால் பழம் உனக்கு தான், பாயாசமும் உனக்கு தான், &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;சக்கர உனக்கு தான், சக்கர பொங்கல் உனக்கு தான் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;சுவையான வரிகள். பெண்களின் நிலைமை இன்று ஒரு பழத்தை போல தான். கனிந்து, பழுத்து, தின்ன விட்டால் அழுகிவிடும். தின்னும் முயற்சியில் கவிஞர்கள்.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;இவற்றை &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;எழுதிக்கொண்டிரிக்கும் &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "&gt; பொழுது, என் நினைவில் பட்ட ஒரு சரணம் ,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;சாராயம், கருவாடு, துண்டு பீடி, வவ்வாலு, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;குடிச, குப்ப தொட்டி, பக்கத்துல டி கட! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;ரிக்க்ஷா, காத்தடி, பாட்டுளோடு மாஞ்சா,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;கில்லி, கோலி, லுங்கி, பானா , கானா பாட்டு பாடலாமா? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;ஆல, அஞ்சலா, பஜாரு, நிஜாரு,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;கணியப்பா, முனியம்மா, கிரி, கஜா, மன்னி, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;MGR, சிவாஜி, ரஜினி, கமலு, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;பகிலு, பிகிலு, செவிலு, அவுலு,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;All shows house fullu!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;தமிழை முன்னேற்ற தமிழன் கண்ட வழிகள்!      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-7046807569192556397?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/7046807569192556397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=7046807569192556397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7046807569192556397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7046807569192556397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html' title='அட என்னாத்த சொல்வேணுங்கோ !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-7537841216965499504</id><published>2009-07-06T17:07:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-07T10:08:51.336+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Madness, just needs a small push !</title><content type='html'>The mission was on. Omar was a part of it. He has been training for this over three years now. He has been grieving for 6 years. The seven man team  landed in Omar's home town at 6 A.M. Omar thought about the news that will make headlines in the newspapers and TVs on December 7. He smirked at the thought of seeing his photo in the papers 24 hrs later. But, he had a mission to complete before. The mission was simple. To kill as many people as possible.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The year was 1992. Omar was 12 and his little sister &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ayesha&lt;/span&gt; was 9. One day they were playing with their neighbour &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Mahesh&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ayesha&lt;/span&gt; reported to him about his father Ram running towards them. Ram severely warned &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Mahesh&lt;/span&gt; and dragged him back to their house, the end of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Mahesh&lt;/span&gt; in their little life. Omar and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ayehsa&lt;/span&gt; explained what had happened to their father Salim. Salim explained to them about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Babri&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Masjid&lt;/span&gt;. He explained them how Muslims and Hindus in India were destined to fight each other forever. Salim, is not a hard-core radical Muslim, but a proper Muslim praying five times a day and fasting the month of Ramadan. His wife, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Jamshed&lt;/span&gt; died of cancer a year ago. So he had full &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;responsibility&lt;/span&gt; over his kids. He wanted them to become a proper Muslim like him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Each of the seven men settled into different hotels. Omar had  explained the plan to them a couple of days ago in a small town in the Indus valley, their head quarters. The head count of the entire &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;organisation&lt;/span&gt; was placed around 250 by the police. Omar ranked somewhere in the middle. 249 among them wanted Caliphate. Omar wanted something else. He spread a map of Delhi on the table. He explained to each of them  their way to Delhi, their directions to their respective hotels from the bus terminus, bus numbers each have to take, their operation site and the escape routes. No one will travel back in the same route through which he reached Delhi. He briefed them the eleventh commandment and the meeting was over. Omar then tuned into a local news channel in which a news reader was a presenting a special edition of peaceful Delhi. Omar imagined what the news reader would be reading tomorrow. He laughed away the thought.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Muslims were mourning the four years of destruction of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Babri&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Masjid&lt;/span&gt; all over the country. And Omar was getting frustrated. One by one, all his Hindu friends have ditched him. His Muslim friends turned radical, so he could not hook onto them as well. He started feeling lonely. The same thing was happening to Salim and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Ayesha&lt;/span&gt;. On the new year eve, no one in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;neighbourhood&lt;/span&gt; visited them, nor did they took sweets from them. Omar's frustration grew.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He started cleaning the guns. He has an AK-47, a couple of berettas, and a dozen hand grenades. He had 600 rounds of live ammunition. While he was greasing the barrels, he thought to himself how easy it was getting to travel in India with a gun. All you need is half a dozen hundred rupee notes. All 7 men had reached Delhi, without losing a single ammunition. Omar quickly ran through his plan in his mind. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Hanif&lt;/span&gt; will pull the trigger first at 6.30 P.M at the south gate. Three minutes later &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Basha&lt;/span&gt; takes over in the northern end . &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Muhamed&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Naushad&lt;/span&gt; will join at 6.38 P.M from the eastern end . Four minutes later, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Sameer's&lt;/span&gt; bazooka will penetrate the mob from western corner. Sharp at 6.45 P.M. Ahmed will launch his grenades into the mob. If everything goes well according to plan, at 6.50, the entire mob in the market will be inside the mall. Omar will be waiting for them inside. He will finish the job and seven will leave at seven. They will high jack a vehicle and leave it abandoned outside the city. Omar will travel to Agra, from there he will reach the Indus valley through Lucknow. The clock struck 4.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All seven men were in their positions an hour earlier. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Omar&lt;/span&gt; walked into the mall. He had his head phones on. He believed, it made him look casual. He grabbed a chocolate bar and sat on a bench. Form the moment Omar grabbed the chocolate, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Arjun&lt;/span&gt; fixed his eyes on him, rather his chocolate. Omar waved to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Arjun&lt;/span&gt; and offered him the chocolate. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Arjun&lt;/span&gt; took it gleefully and offered a huge smile in turn. But, before Omar could ask his name, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Arjun&lt;/span&gt; was gone. It was 6.30 P.M.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Omar remembered the day. It was 2003, a full six years back. A Hindu saint was allegedly murdered by a Muslim mob. The Hindus  got agitated. They swore to destroy the Muslim community. Omar, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Ayesha&lt;/span&gt; and Salim stuck to their house. That wasn't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;enought&lt;/span&gt;. A mob broke in and ransacked the house. They did not want to hurt Salim, so they killed him by a single blow. Omar and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Ayesha&lt;/span&gt; were not that lucky. They gang-raped &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Ayesha&lt;/span&gt;  several times and left Omar in Coma. The last thing Omar remembered was the smell of Salim's blood and the broken voice of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Ayesha's&lt;/span&gt; cry. Omar turned conscious two and a half years later to hear the story of his sister's death that very fatal day. Frustration and anger took over him. Vengeance and revenge he thought and the time is now. He could hear the sound of flying bullets and came back to 2009. the clock struck 6.45 and the mob came running. Omar fired in all directions into the running mob. He had a reason. It was 6.56 when he emptied his 600 rounds. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Arjun's&lt;/span&gt; mother was down. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Arjun&lt;/span&gt; hid himself behind her body. Omar looked at him, smiled dryly and left. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nothing in the mall but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Arjun&lt;/span&gt; moved. He did not cry. he did not know he had to. He took the gun that Omar dropped while escaping. Now, he had his reason. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-7537841216965499504?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/7537841216965499504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=7537841216965499504' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7537841216965499504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7537841216965499504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/madness-just-needs-small-push.html' title='Madness, just needs a small push !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-9006175293172741931</id><published>2009-07-02T17:49:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-02T18:28:38.352+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Equilibrium !</title><content type='html'>Some of you would have seen this Christian Bale starer, so-called action movie. To others, who haven't seen it, here is a gist. The movie tells how controlling emotions alone can't keep men peaceful. Well, the movie was right. Controlling your emotions will never keep you in  peace. At least not if you wanna live(may be you can Rest In Peace). Because, they are no root cause. They age just reactions to events(failures or successes). Some actions turn out to be events and they lead to emotions. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Man is a social animal, ain't he? He needs to interact with others to live on this planet. He depends on some one for something, at least something little. He expects something from others. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Expectations&lt;/span&gt; are the real culprits. A threat to mankind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, tell me, why you choose to have friends? To spend leisure time, to go to a movie, to eat, t chat, to be helpful when needed, to take care and so on. Why do you need a spouse? To have some warmth, to have some sex and of course kids, to have company when you get old. Why do you believe in God? Simply, so that he can answer your prayers, and shower his blessing upon you and to take you to heaven, when you are done here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Simply Huge &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;expectations&lt;/span&gt;. We expect our parents to love us even if we were fools. We expect our friend always be there when we need anytime, anywhere. We expect the laundry worker to turn torn and stinking clothes into brand new ones. We expect the city bus to empty when we reach the bus stop. We expect a hell lot of things like this. Not only from living things, but from Non-living and Non-existent things as well. Some one needs to put some brains into our skulls. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And most of our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;expectations&lt;/span&gt; fail. Simply because they are not under our control. Failures bring something along with them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Negative emotions. Irritation, Disgust, Anger, Frustration, shame, hatred, contempt, fear, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;embarrassment&lt;/span&gt;, madness.  You get irritated on the laundry man when you find a small dirt in your clothes. You get disgusted when your friend forgot to respond to your call. You get angered when your spouse couldn't make it to the lunch. You feel frustrated when your parents didn't help you with your love. You hate men when they pray to a different invisible man to whom you aren't praying. You expect things from others and when they are not met, you emote negatively and let your negative energy take control of you. You panic and lose your minds. You no more feel peaceful and don't let others to feel so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well the, how to live peaceful? Throw away all your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;expectations&lt;/span&gt;? The only way you can do that is by settling in Mars, where you can see no one. Lose all emotions? You rather be ready to bury yourself. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Expectations&lt;/span&gt; and emotions are what made men civilised. You wanna destroy one of them? You need to either destroy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;civilizations&lt;/span&gt; or yourself first. That is not the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So do expect, but only what is reasonable. Expect only things that will not hurt you or any others,  whatever way the outcome is. Emote positively. Negative energy does nothing useful. Take life light. Understand that, no one wanted to fail your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;expectations&lt;/span&gt;, they just failed because it was  not in control of either of you. Do unto others, whatever you want them to do to you. Explain to others, why their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;expectations&lt;/span&gt; failed. Learn why yours failed. This will keep you peaceful. This will keep you in equilibrium !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-9006175293172741931?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/9006175293172741931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=9006175293172741931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/9006175293172741931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/9006175293172741931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/equilibrium.html' title='Equilibrium !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-6493690962392589894</id><published>2009-07-01T17:40:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-01T19:16:22.030+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Class Clown !</title><content type='html'>I have been doing this for over six years now. Be it in high school, college or at job, I have been doing all goofy things to make people laugh, for the total amusement of complete strangers. When I made people happy, I never worried looking wacky. I can lower and debase myself, if some one enjoys, me doing that. In fact, I am proud of doing all these. I have always felt that, I have the gift to bring laughter and joy to all of mankind. I did bring. And of course, there's nothing wrong in making people laugh. You become famous. All people like you. They come to you. But, something comes along with it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To be a good clown, you must be an emotionless, ludicrous bugger. You must know only one way to emote, laugh. Just laugh for everything. When some one smiles at you, when some one helps you, when some one sympathizes you, when some one laughs at you, when some one teases you, when some one bullies you, when some one hurts you, simply laugh, as if you don't have a heart and brain. When they curse you, when they speak ill of  you, when they disgrace you, laugh, as if you were born for that. And a good clown, always does that. At least on the outside. He like a toy in the hands of a child simply smiles back no matter what the kid does to him. But lot of some ones choose to ignore that the clown is no toy and they are no kids. The clown just laughs, suppressing all his emotions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Relationships are always tied up with emotions, aren't they? Well, what can an emotionless chunk of flesh of that of a clown do for relationships? The clown has some many admirers, so-called friends to whom, he is just a second choice. When they don't have some one else, they go to him. And he feels no stingy to give away loads of laughter. He gives them what they want. To them, he is a just a time pass, just a recreational activity, mere fun. And they are done, he is just a garbage to them. He will let them dump, laughing while they do, if they are happy about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And even to this so-called friends, he can show no emotions. They can't stand the sight of him when he is frustrated, confused, sad, angry, disgusted, irritated, unhappy, exhausted, tired, scared. He can not sympathize, can not pity, can not be weary. They simply can't take it. They leave him. They don't like it that way. Not one bit. They want the clown to look zany. they want him to get the stone back to them, so that they can hit him again, as if he were some monkey. The clown has no way to get into any relationship. He is always lonely.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when no one is looking, when every one is done with him, he sits in a corner and cries. That's what he is being paid for bringing merry into your lives. he find no hands to wipe off his tears. He find no shoulders to lay down his head. He finds no one to make him laugh. And before he is done with himself, it is time to laugh again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A clown has to hide his emotions, forget relationships and just keeping laughing irrespective of what he feels, just for the amusement of heartless assholes. He has to act like a moron, so that all dick heads can enjoy bullying him. he has to cry, to make others laugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People scribble a lot into their life book. And, most of the times, end up drawing something ugly. The clown is just a piece of rubber, capable of erasing all sad and ugly moments out of their life. He makes their life books look clean and neat. But, he keeps dying in that process and you choose to ignore that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can't imagine a clown crying. I can. And it hurts. But still, I got some fuel. I take inspiration from Charlie Chaplin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-6493690962392589894?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/6493690962392589894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=6493690962392589894' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6493690962392589894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6493690962392589894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/class-clown.html' title='The Class Clown !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-3915185355694422620</id><published>2009-06-30T18:35:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-30T19:03:05.168+05:30</updated><title type='text'>To You !</title><content type='html'>Most of us live out our days on routines. We wake up with the sun, brush, bath, read newspapers, get dressed and have breakfast when we realize that we are running late by 10 minutes to office. We then take a long run to work, check mails, say a good morning to couple of friends and sit down and stare at a code that is written in an unknown language by an unknown bugger. At 5, we hurry back to homes, watch of couple of shows on TV, read a book and retire for the day. We have a really tight schedule and find it difficult to squeeze in new things. We hardly find any time to talk to ourselves. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are only two listeners to us in the World, who can bare whatever we talk, whenever and where ever. The God and Sub-consciousness. At the age of 22, I know that one never answers. I hope most of you had the same experience. And when we talk to the other, The World calls us mad. So we never try to talk to our self. This is not the only reason. Our sub-consciousness has built-in intelligence to tell what is true and what is not, what is right and what is wrong, what should we do and what we shouldn't. These answers, most of the times, doesn't go well with us. So we develop a barrier between us and our sub-consciousness and never talk with it. If it starts some conversation, we never answer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can ask me, "Is not talking to my sub-consciousness a punishable crime or something?". No, it's not. Its a curse. It really is. Our sub-consciousness remains hidden and plays second to our minds most of the times. Our minds simply follow our intuitions, our urges, and our desires, whereas our sub-consciousness tells us to follow only things that are right. To put in a coding language(for better understanding),&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#if defined _SUBCONSCIOUSNESS&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;if(right)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#end if&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;   do something;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our sub-conscious minds do a check for correctness before doing things, our minds bypass them. Now, you would have understood what you lose not talking to your sub-consciousness. You do things and reap their benefit, good or bad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"It is easily said than done", I can hear you say with some skepticism. Being a writer, it wasn't hard for me. I spend most of my time alone. So I make myself a good company to me. But, you're right. It may not be that easy, when you have such tight routines. But, I will tell you how I started.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started to walk for long hours. Of course alone, with only music to accompany me. I used to imagine my friends were with me. I started conversing with them my day to day activities, and my decisions of that day. Those friends were just virtual representation of my sub-consciousness in another physical body. This helped me connect with myself. Each day, I would talk to a different person on a different subject. They would answer me in their voice, my answers. I still use this technique.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can start here as well. Take a walk back to home from office. Take your friend, imaginary friend, along with you. Converse with him. Connect to yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Polonius&lt;/span&gt; in Hamlet said, "To thine own, self be true !" At the end of the day, that is all it matters. To be true to yourself. The only way to do this, is to talk to yourself. It helps you to know you better !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-3915185355694422620?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/3915185355694422620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=3915185355694422620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3915185355694422620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/3915185355694422620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/06/to-you.html' title='To You !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-6643471344762736468</id><published>2009-06-26T17:34:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-26T19:07:42.218+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My 10 Favorite actors !</title><content type='html'>10 ) Samuel Jackson &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A good character artist who can play lead roles as well. His role in Pulp fiction simply attracted me towards him. I have great respects for him as a man as well. He fought for black rights and such things. He can play any role you can think of. He can play a drug addict and a God, at the same time and he can make you like both. Superb artist with lot of talent, and lot of films as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've watched : Pulp Fiction, Cleaner, Deep blue sea and some others i don't know the name&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9 ) Morgan Freeman&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He will make you feel spiritual when you see Bruce almighty. He will make you feel tensed when you see Shawshank redemption. You will pity him in Danny the dog. And you will love him in all roles. One more character artist who is nowadays certain  to be in any film. He has his names carved onto roles with his graceful acting and elegant looks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've watched : Batman Begins, The Dark knight, Shawshank Redemption, Bruce Almighty, Feast of love, Danny the dog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 ) Ed Harris&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you seen a villain who can be a villain. If not, better see him. He is no villain who does things in a hurry. He waits for his prey. He is one good villain, you get once in a lifetime. He has also played character roles, like in Apollo 13, which shows a man with immense pride for the work he does (which we don't). One man who can make me scary just by staring at me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've watched : Enemy at the gates, National treasure 2, A beautiful mind, Rock, Apollo 13, Cleaner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7 ) Jennifer Connelly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A beautiful lady who has made me cry in every single movie of hers. She plays a lover, a caring wife, a haunted mother and a good friend, every single role a woman plays in her life. And well, she is the only lady who made into my list. I simply love her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've Watched : A beautiful mind, Dark Waters, Blood Diamond, Rockeeter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6 ) Leanardo Di Caprio&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I first saw him in Titanic with long hair, fair skin and lovable character. He was no more in the same skin in his other roles. He played an absconding criminal in Catch me if you can, a diamond dealer in blood diamond. He also played a good character role in The departed.  One man who can pull up both negative and positive roles easily.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've Watched : Titanic, Catch me if you can, Aviator, Gangs of New York, Blood Diamond, The Departed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 ) Jim Carrey &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A man who can make you laugh, who can make you think, who can make you cry, who can make you pray and a man with enormous talents.  He can play villain in Batman, a super human in the mask, a psycho in The number 23, a disgusted human in Bruce Almighty, a comedian in thousand movies. If you want to have fun and care zero for the story, well go to his movie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've Watched : The Truman's show, Bruce Almighty, The mask, Animal Safari, Ace Ventura, The number 23, How Grinch stole the Christmas and a hell lot&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4 ) Christian Bale &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One action hero who does not make me disgusted is Bale. As a batman he has proved he can appeal to the mass. In prestige, he showed the world he can act. In equilibrium, he showed us how dumb he can be. I love to see this action hero perform.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've Watched :Reign of Fire, Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, 3: 10 to Yuma, The Prestige, Equilibrium.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3 ) Russell Crowe&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A man with real talent. Simply amazing to watch him play the gladiator or the gangster or the mentally unsound professor. I haven't watched many movies of his, but still he lands into number three, thanks to his good acting skills. He has certainly Impressed me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've Watched : Gladiator, A beautiful mind, 3:10 to Yuma. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2 ) Jackie chan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One man who has continuously impressed me from my childhood. He is a good stunts man, a good hero, a good producer and a director as well. His new way of mixing comedy with stunts, taking risks with his life, his funny voice has continued to make me love him. He is one marvel ofa man. It isn't easy to become an icon of a country, from being an orphan. I salute his sheer hard work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've Watched : (It's better, I skip this. I have seen almost all movies of his)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 ) Tom Hanks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One actor whom i have started loving in the recent years. One man who made me cry in every single movie of his. One man who has shown me what acting is. I just love this guy. If i had to skip my work for his movie, I would gladly do it. A die-hard fan of him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've Watched : Forest Gump, the Green Mile, You've got mail, Catch me if you can, Saving Private Ryan, Charlie Wilson's War, Apollo 13, Terminal, The Da vinci code, Angels and Demons. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Waiting to see Philadelphia)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-6643471344762736468?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/6643471344762736468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=6643471344762736468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6643471344762736468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/6643471344762736468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-10-favorite-actors.html' title='My 10 Favorite actors !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-7765443083775014568</id><published>2009-06-24T18:12:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-24T19:24:52.325+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The pencil poet !</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'times new roman';font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;பாரத சமுதாயம் வாழ்கவே! - வாழ்க வாழ்க! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;பாரத சமுதாயம் வாழ்கவே! - ஜய ஜய ஜய !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;பாரத சமுதாயம் வாழ்கவே! - வாழ்க வாழ்க!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;பாரத சமுதாயம் வாழ்கவே!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;முப்பது கோடி ஜனங்களின் சங்கம்&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;முழுமைக்கும் பொது உடைமை !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ஒப்பிலாத சமுதாயம்&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;உலகத் துக்கொரு புதுமை !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The eight lines that describe India the best. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Subramaniam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; was born in 1882, in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ettayapuram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; near the town of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Trinelveli&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;. His father worked for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ettayapuram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; king. He would have wanted &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;subramaniam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; to succeed in his position. But, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Subramaniam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; had other ideas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;நிற்பதுவே,நடப்பதுவே,பறப்பதுவே,நீங்க ளெல்லாம்&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;சொற்பனந்&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;தானோ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;?பல தோற்ற மயக்கங்களோ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;கற்பதுவே!கேட்பதுவே,கருதுவதே நீங்க ளெல்லாம்&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;அற்ப மாயைகளோ?உம்முள் ஆழ்ந்த பொருளில்லையோ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;In this poem, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Subramaniam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; questions the reality of the World. He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;goes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; onto call it a mirage where all living and non-living beings disappear, after a time. Also he calls himself and his World a dream. A poem with real deep meanings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Subramanian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; was married to a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Chellama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; since he was 15 and they both had a daughter. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Subramaniam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; worked in different jobs under different employers. He was not interested in being a slave. He wanted to fight the British using his words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: normal;font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;அச்சமில்லை அச்சமில்லை அச்சமென்ப தில்லையே !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;உச்சிமீது வானிடிந்து வீழு கின்ற போதினும்,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;அச்சமில்லை அச்சமில்லை அச்சமென்ப தில்லையே !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This a poem that can give courage to any coward, that kicks up the adrenaline within you and heats your blood. When you fear something, read this poem. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Subramaniam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; soon became a threat to British, because of his writings. He was arrested and jailed several times. He had to flee places, time to time. But that did not tire him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: normal;font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;கேளடா, மனித ஜாதியில்,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;கிழோர் மேலோர் இல்லை !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;எழைகள் யாருமில்லை !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;செல்வமே ரியோர் என்றுமில்லை !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ஏற்றமும் தாழ்வும் இல்லை!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;என்றும் அன்புடன் வாழ்வோமடா  !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Subramaniam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; was a humanitarian. Race, Religion, Caste, Colour, and poverty did not stop him from showing affection. He was a born &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Brahmin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, but he never behaved one. This brought rifts &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;between&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; him and his wife. That led to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Kamnamma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, his imaginary lover. Even after &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Kannamma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, his love for nature never diminished.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px; white-space: normal;  -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;சிந்து நதியின்மிசை நிலவினி லே ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px; white-space: normal;  -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;சேர நன்னாட்டிளம் பெண்களுட னே !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px; white-space: normal;  -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;சுந்தரத் தெலுங்கினிற் பாட்டிசைத்துத் ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px; white-space: normal;  -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;தோணிக ளோட்டிவிளை யாடிவரு வோம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Subramaniam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; was fluent in 9 languages. The perfect man to write about a country with 1652 dialects.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 19px; white-space: normal; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;கங்கை நதிப்புறத்துக் கோதுமைப் பண்டம் ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 19px; white-space: normal; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;காவிரி வெற்றிலைக்கு மாறுகொள்ளு வோம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 19px; white-space: normal; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;சிங்க மராட்டியர்தம் கவிதை கொண்டு ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  line-height: 19px; white-space: normal; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;சேரத்துத் தந்தங்கள் பரிசளிப்போம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;His lack of interest in jobs, his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;deviated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; behaviour from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Brahmins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, his voice against the British, the consequent arrests and hidings ensured that he was poor. But, he had a wealthy brain. Amazed by his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;writings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ettayapuram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; king, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;adorned&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; him the title "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Bharathi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;", the name by which the World knows him today. Well, speaking of the World, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Bharathi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; had plans to conquer it, with his comrade V.O.C.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;வெள்ளிப் பனிமலையின் மீதுலவு வோம் - அடி &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;மேலைக் கடல்முழுதும் கப்பல் விடுவோம் &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;பள்ளித் தலமனைத்தும் கோயில் செய்கு வோம், எங்கள் &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;பாரத தேசமென்று தோள்கொட்டுவோம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Bharathi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; wrote all him poems in pencil. But, the words were straight from his blood. They &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;hot. The British definitely peed seeing him sing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: normal; font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;வந்தே மாதரம் - ஜய&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;வந்தே மாதரம்.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ஆரிய பூமியில் நாரிய ரும் நர &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;சூரிய ரும்சொலும் வீரிய வாசகம் வந்தே மாதரம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;நொந்தே போயினும் வெந்தே மாயினும் &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;நந்தே சத்தர்உ வந்தே சொல்வது வந்தே மாதரம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ஒன்றாய் நின்றினி வென்றா யினுமுயிர் &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;சென்றா யினும்வலி குன்றா தோதுவம் &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;வந்தே மாதரம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Bharathi had a dream, a free India. But efore his dream got fulfilled, he died. He never feared death.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;காலா!உனை நான் சிறு புல்லென மதிக்கிறேன்&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;என்றன் &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px; font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;காலருகே வாடா !சற்றே உனை மிதிக்கிறே&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ன் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: normal;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 24px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;A God-fearing humanatarian, a brave freedom fighter, and over all, a great writer. An inspiration. I am proud, when i identify myself a writer. I am in his side. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-7765443083775014568?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/7765443083775014568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=7765443083775014568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7765443083775014568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/7765443083775014568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/06/pencil-poet.html' title='The pencil poet !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-4577556906742900031</id><published>2009-06-23T11:21:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-23T19:32:10.986+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My 10 Favorite Movie characters !</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;10) Jules &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Winnifield&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; (Samuel L. Jackson) - Pulp Fiction&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you". These verses from the bible summarises the character. A calm gangster who can speak about burgers before killing people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;9) Jason &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Bourne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; (Matt Damon) - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Bourne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Identity &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Things don't go well, when you are yet to know who you are. It still gets worse if both the cops and criminals are after you for no reason you know. Searching eyes, worn out mind, thrilled brain and a longing heart to know his identity. The character is a mixture of emotions and beauty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;8) Heir &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eisenheim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; (Edward Norton) - Illusionist &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A character that portrays, to what extent humans go for love. From a high headed illusionist to a longing lover, the character has everything in it to love it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eisenheim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; showed us some magic as well the power of love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;7) Major &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Konig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; (Ed Harris) - Enemy at the Gates&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A fierce rival, a calm general and an angry father. The character scared the hell out of me. A cruel look, silent nerves, a devil's mind and real pride. The character created a hatred towards it. It succeeded in its goal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;6) Bruce Nolan (Jim &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Carrey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;) - Bruce Almighty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A disgusted news reporter, a crazy god and common man. Failure after failure, a broken affair, meeting with God, all the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;fundoos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; with his power and a surrender to the ultimate being. Bruce Nolan, made a atheist like the meaning of God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;5) Jack Sparrow, sorry, Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Depp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;) - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;POC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A funny character with notorious mind. A mix of heroism with comedy. A character that never bores the audience. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;4) Alicia Nash (Jennifer &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Connelly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;) - A Beautiful mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The key anchor who holds her husband on to in the real world. A lovable wife who dedicates herself for the well-being of her husband. A poor woman who has to cope up with the mental illness of her husband. Lovable character.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;3) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Maximus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  line-height: 17px; "&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Decimus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Meridius&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Rusell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Crowe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;) - Gladiator&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The daring general of Marcus &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Aurelias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;, the lovable husband and father, the brave gladiator, and the saviour of Rome. The character is an inspiration in itself. A man who loves his country more than anything else. The patriot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;2) The joker (Heath Ledger) - The dark knight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"What happens when a immovable object meets an unstoppable force", "Madness is like gravity", the two sentences which characterises the role. The joker was right when he called himself the agent of chaos. His gleeful ride in the police car, strange stories of how he got a scare and the nurse look. Simply unimaginable. I love this character too much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And here comes the crown winner,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1) Forest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Gump&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; (Tom Hanks) - Forest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Gump&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I have no words to explain this character. I love it so much. I will let you go and watch yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-4577556906742900031?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/4577556906742900031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=4577556906742900031' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4577556906742900031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/4577556906742900031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-10-favorite-movie-characters.html' title='My 10 Favorite Movie characters !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-2548692805088286342</id><published>2009-06-22T18:32:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-22T18:57:48.429+05:30</updated><title type='text'>காதலும் திருமணமும் !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;நொந்து போன கணவன் எழுதிய கடைசிக் கவிதை ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;கண்ணுக்குள் கண்ணை விட்டு,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;இதயத்தை திருடும் களவின் பெயர் காதல் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;பைக்குள் கையை விட்டு,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;பணத்தை திருடும் களவின் பெயர் திருமணம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;மகனை வரவேற்கும் தந்தை !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;--------------------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;மனதுக்குள் கனவை விதைப்பது காதல் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;வயிற்றுக்குள் கருவை விதைப்பது திருமணம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;தி.மு. மற்றும் தி.பி. !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு முன்பு - காதலி அழகு ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு பின்பு - அவளின் தங்கை அழகு ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு முன்பு - காஃபி டேயும், பிட்ஸா கார்னரும் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு பின்பு - நகைக் கடையும். கையேந்தி பவனும் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு முன்பு - ஆபீஸில் OP ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு பின்பு - ஆபீஸில் OT ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு முன்பு - மைதிலி என்னை காதலி ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு பின்பு - சம்சாரம் அது மின்சாரம் ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு முன்பு - இளமை புதுமை ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;திருமணத்திற்கு பின்பு - வயலும் வாழ்வும் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;கடவுள் மனிதனிடம் !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;--------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;தற்கொலை செய்து கொள்வதற்கு, பல வழிகள் இருக்க, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;ஏன் திருமணத்தை தேர்ந்தெடுத்தாய் மனிதனே ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-2548692805088286342?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/2548692805088286342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=2548692805088286342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/2548692805088286342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/2548692805088286342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title='காதலும் திருமணமும் !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-8173246391495175775</id><published>2009-06-20T17:29:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-20T18:20:36.980+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Face off !</title><content type='html'>Campus recruitment, is one of the most important and incredibly interesting process in a student's life. Written exams, Group discussions, interviews, situation handling, mental ability, aptitude testing, puzzles, riddles, results, full night study, chit chat in the middle of the night, teaching the weak, helping each other, Failed faces, succeeded heads, Prayers and wishes, Phone calls to Girl Friend(s) and parents, food festivals and drinking sprees on success, its all complete fun. But there is one more thing, that many of you would have not experienced, at least fully. I did.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;August 14, 2007. It dawned as one regular morning. I am a would-be electrical engineering graduate, with two software engineer offers in hand. My own placement story is small, spanning less than a month. Got placed into a consultancy on June 21,2007 and into a product company on July 18,2007. I opted for 4 jobs, got 3 offers and my placement got over. This day, I was on my way to class, carrying all my books.. My friend met me at the entrance of my class, told me there was an off-campus recruitment in a neighbouring college and he wanted me to write the exams for him. I have done this before a few times. I would clear the written, only to let my friend get rejected in the group discussion. I thought, i am going to add one more to the list.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had been to this college for over a dozen times for a dozen reasons. I need not require anyone to direct me the exam hall. I knew where it was. I went straight there, found a seat at the perfect corner and sat beside my friend. She was helping out another girl, a classmate of ours. With our combined brains, we were not going to let our friends fall. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The question paper had 20  questions. Everything but a couple were simple. My friend is not going to be out, unless my identity is revealed. That threat came in form of another friend from another department. He had come to help his friends and had  found a way in me. He ordered help. I had to. I wrote answers in a rubber and passed it to him. Unfortunately, he found the answers in my scoring sheet were contradicting that in his rubber. I somehow made him believe those were the right ones. He never again in college spoke to me. His friends were out. In any campus placements, class comes first. With a bit of knowledge sharing in the exam hall  my friends were in, scoring the top two spots. Mission Accomplished. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;NO, said my friend. He had plans for me. The next round was a 5 minute seminar was two hours away. I was sitting there in front of a workshop with my stinking dress, that has not seen washing for months and some fucking slippers. My friends rushed back room to get some formals, my shoes and his mark sheets and certificates. They needed some modifications thought. The criteria for the job was to have no backlogs. I slipped into proper formals, for the first time in my life in a public toilet. Well, it did not stink as my dress at least. With no preparation of any kind, I gave a 7.30 minute seminar on electric diodes. The flow was there and I was satisfied. So were they. But, the sad part was, my friend could not get through. For her knowledge, she could have pulled it just like that. But simply, it was not her day. The next round, an half an hour seminar was less than 48 hours away. It meant, after all, I will not be free on Independence day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had two choices. Simple and Compound Interest or Probability. I went with the easiest, SI and CI. When all my country was free, I was tied up with a fucking seminar. Even my friends, for whom i was appearing was playing Age of Empire. He said, by doing so he will not disturb me at least. yes, no one disturbed me that day. I prepared well and went for a 8 hour sleep. Tomorrow, I may or may not sleep, based on the results.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;August 16,2007. With modified mark sheets, a worn out shirt and a new identity, I entered the office of a third college. It was christian minority. I saw this girl there. She was a candidate, a potential opponent. Her family accompanied her. When the whole list of candidates were preparing, two did not.She was one, playing with a kid, who could have possibly been some cousin and I was the other, staring at her. After two hours of staring, she was called in. I started starting at the walls of the prayer hall, where we were seated. I took them another hour to call me in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"He who created thee, created me !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; He who feeds thee, feeds me !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; He who protects thee, protects me !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Cause, You are his child and so am I !"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These verses introduced a born Hindu (or a grown atheist) to a Muslim and a christian. My small idea to impress them. I hope It did. The next half an hour was no difficulty. SI and CI flowed out of my brain. A couple of cross questions and clear answers took me into the probables list. At least i thought so. An interview followed, which i am yet to understand if it was technical or an HR. I performed well, but some one could have outperformed me. I knew they did not, when I was called for one more interview. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My friend got placed. But I was the one who gained more than he did. In my other interviews, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;CGPA&lt;/span&gt; 9.8 spoke for me. Here, I had to. I was given a placement letter along with some feedback, They felt my hard work was great (They gave me 9/10). They were more than satisfied with my enthusiasm and teaching skills (8/10) and expected some improvements in my English (6/10) and my slang (4.5/10).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Modified mark sheets into placement letter. New parents and a new identity. It felt nice until i saw them. I was leaving the building when the low hanging heads met mine. They were in disappointment. I felt sorry for them Had i not appeared, one of them would have made it. But, It was not meant to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reception at the college was good. All my friends congratulated us. My friend was gone to inform the news to our faculties when his phone rang. It was his mother. He had called up his father to deliver the happy news, but had not rang his mother. She did. I picked up the call, only to hear enjoyment. I could see her face glow with happiness and pride, just through her voice. That merry lifted all sense of guilt from my head. She was happy for her son. She did not know she was speaking to him. She was my mother, at least for a couple of days. I am happy, I made her smile, at least once in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But still, I owe a big sorry to those guys, who missed a chance because of our face off. Sorry ! Well, I still don't know if i played Nicholas cage or John Travolta. Could you please help me? :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-8173246391495175775?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/8173246391495175775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=8173246391495175775' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8173246391495175775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/8173246391495175775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/06/face-off.html' title='Face off !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-5119472052511211552</id><published>2009-06-16T18:17:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-16T18:46:45.267+05:30</updated><title type='text'>She is out there !</title><content type='html'>The sun had just set. A very small, disc-shaped moon has started its journey on the other horizon and the faintest of its silver rays were dimly torching the vast open. Like the little flowers in a garden, stars started blooming on the black sky, in different colours and sizes. The cloudless night gave any observer, a bird's eye view into the universe. It is big, isn't it? The easiest way to look back in time is to look at the sky. You can see Big Bang. Among all this beautiful creations, was the most beautiful creation. She was walking.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A dozen coconut trees, as many cottages, tons of sand, and a silent sea was all that kept her company. It was a natural beach. Walking along the line where the wave kissed the land, she was letting water kiss her feet too. She was playing touch and go with waves and wind was doing the same with her. And those chilly winds brought with them, the sounds of distant waves and anchored ships. The harbour was 30 miles away. The light was a bit closer. She could see the beacon glowing. Seeing it always made her wonder how ancient men roamed the seas without these. She had the answer too. The moon. But, today it was hiding. She did not care. It only added to the romance the beach was already abundant with. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not so tall or lean, yet elegant. Anyone watching her, would have mistook her for a mermaid in her black tops and blue skirt, with flowing hair. Had she opened her mouth to say a word, the wind would have gone silent to hear her. Had she touched the freezing water, it would have turned into a geyser. Had she stared at the moon once, it would have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;shyed&lt;/span&gt; out of the sky, amazed by her beauty. And, had Wordsworth seen her, he would have dedicated his life to write poems on her. She was not worried about these either. She was walking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She did not wear any slippers. She enjoyed sinking her feet in the sand and washing it off, in the next wave. And, when a big wave came, she raised her skirt, to make sure it did not get wet. She picked up a stone and threw it into water. The more distance it covered, the more happy she was. At times, when no one was looking, she would throw her hand into the air and wave with the wind. When the naughty winds tried to touch her intimate parts, she looked at that direction and smiled carelessly. She loved the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ambience&lt;/span&gt;, the pollution less atmosphere, the open sea and the lovely trees. Even mother nature would be proud of having  such a cute child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, suddenly, she realises, she is not alone. She knows that someone is watching her She turns around to find the who. He is not there. She turns back and bites her lips. A beautiful smile spreads over her face. She thinks about it and starts walking. The small disc-shaped moon, the twinkling stars, the chilly winds, the small waves, the coconut trees, the distant beacon, the dimly lit cottages, all those angels, and God(if there is any) are all her silent admirers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, I always wonder, why she is out there, when I am sitting here, writing a blog. I wish, I were there. I wish, I were one of those silent admirers, because I am one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And to you my dear, if you hear me, please be careful. The wind and the wave may not be as soft as i am. You are mine. Well, I am yours. Take me !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6620715177340843969-5119472052511211552?l=ilavaluthy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/feeds/5119472052511211552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6620715177340843969&amp;postID=5119472052511211552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5119472052511211552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6620715177340843969/posts/default/5119472052511211552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ilavaluthy.blogspot.com/2009/06/she-is-out-there.html' title='She is out there !'/><author><name>Ilavaluthy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11928794428408889532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_awk7uzGCv6c/SrXoMqDvo8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/y13tTXWizOg/S220/IMG_1983.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620715177340843969.post-1458929450681662388</id><published>2009-06-15T17:24:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-15T19:35:06.503+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Conversation with God !</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; entered the class with a small book in her hand. The entire class stood up and wished their class teacher, a Good Morning. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; put up a smile on her face and wished them back. It was her first day in class 3A. She has been appointed as their new class teacher, after the old one had switched schools for an extra salary of Rs. 500 a month. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt;, was 33, widow with no kids. She had been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;married&lt;/span&gt; to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Vinodh&lt;/span&gt; for 2 years, before he died of cancer 6 years ago. She did not remarry, since her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;profession&lt;/span&gt; provided her with more kids to handle than her marriage would. She was satisfied teaching kids and watch them grow. Today, she is with a new set of kids. She decided to start with God.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She introduced herself to the class, and told them today's topic would be God. The word 'God' injected happiness into the veins of the kids. They have been thought by their parents that he was the one who fulfills wishes. Maybe its day fr their wishes to get satisfied. They were thinking of candies, ice creams, pen stands, video games and a hell lot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;oppposed&lt;/span&gt; to one way knowledge transfer. She believed through debate and interaction, one can understand things much clear. Definitely, God was in her list, some one who is to be understood yet, at least more clearly. So she decide to pretend God and kids were to question her to understand God more clearly. This way of teaching has proven fruitful and she will use it yet again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Each kid was provided an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;opportunity&lt;/span&gt; to question God. As any class three kid would do, the kids had a lot of questions. "What  do you look like?", "Where do you stay?", "What do you do?","Do you have parents?" were some of the many questions. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; would answer the question, until the kid is satisfied and is ready to leave. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; would stop the kid and ask him to pray for a wish. The kid would pray or at least pretend so. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; would press a chocolate and ask the kid to go to his bench. Each kid was happy when his turn cams. Not because they can talk to God, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; of the chocolate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was 5 minutes to bell. Few kids have not had the chance. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Cholan&lt;/span&gt; hurried to the front taking with him his chair. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; said a 'Hi' to him and got ready to answer his questions. The first question was simple, as well complicated. "Who are you God?". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; smiled and said "I am your father and mother, son. It is me who created thee, as well the plants, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;ants&lt;/span&gt;, the tree, the flower, the mountain, the fruit, the elephant, the monster, the Earthquakes, the  Volcanoes,....". In an appealing tone,even before &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; could finish, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Cholan&lt;/span&gt; asked  "Why did you forget to create my legs father?". The bell rang. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; waited for a couple of minutes. She had no answer. She went out of the class. She did not look at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Cholan&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Cholan&lt;/span&gt;, was born in a middle class family. He was born without &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; below his knee caps. His mother could do nothing but cry and curse herself for giving birth to such a helpless child. His father named him a King. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Cholan&lt;/span&gt; had always felt bad for being born without legs. He was a burden to his parents. He was not able to play with other kids of his age. He had no friends. All because God decided not to give him legs. He was definitely angry on God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; went home that day, only to have a sleepless night. It was her first day in class and she stood there unable to answer a kid. She was hurt not because of her failure to answer the kid, but because of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;diminishing&lt;/span&gt; hope on the kid's face. She did not even know his name. She did not ask.  She has a huge task tomorrow. To answer the kid. She had forgotten about the book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next morning, she went early to school. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Cholan&lt;/span&gt; was already there. So, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; took him to her room. Showed him the book "David and Goliath". Read the book to him. He knew it was only a a story and was not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;convinced&lt;/span&gt; with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; had said. First plan did not work out as she would have wanted it to. She added, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Chola&lt;/span&gt;, Have you seen a spider web in your house?". He replied in affirmative. "When your mother cleans the spider web does it give up its home as simply?"."No, it tries to hold onto it with a single stand of web". "And that's is the strongest material in the world ! . Spider has one sense less than you. But it still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; not give up, does it?&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;God&lt;/span&gt; created spiders to show what faith is. You are a special kid. God created you to show, what humans can do without legs. He created you to show inability stands nothing before confidence. When a man without legs can climb &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Himalayas&lt;/span&gt;, life is much easier. God created you to show, he does sometimes visit the World". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Cholan's&lt;/span&gt; face glowed. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Mahadhi&lt;/span&gt; joined in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="S
