Wednesday, December 20, 2006

My parting shot

I like it now as the sunrise is here

Sunrise here brings in now the chirping of birds
my veins start thumbing as I see you in smiles
you leave & I feel then my heart is in shears
I make me work, like a slave till I tires

in desk, when I feel the curves of my board
the screen comes alive as you jump in onboard
tiring and weary, yet I still go forward
sunlight is fading as the sun goes downward

I do not like, but the sunset is here

With incoming dusk, I feel a sense of scared
a nightmare now starts & my soul is not spared
it starts with bees that just buzz in my head
making me lone like a nobody’s child

as lights are all off; I am thinking of you
a ghost in me says that ‘she no more loves you’
turning and tossing I spent all the night
my welcome song is the call of the birds

I like it now as the sunrise is here

This is my story as I wanted to tell
loneliness force you to be in a shell
I want to smile, and I want it in style
give me a hand and give me a smile

I am a bit sad but laughing with you
this is my time to say good bye again
God knows, I know not, if I see you again
sing with me plz! Come ondance with me plz
Merry Xmas! Merry Xmas!
Merry Xmas to ‘one’ and to all
xxxx
I do not like, but the sunset is here

Monday, December 18, 2006

OMG ! Another Tag ?

Most of you know about my dislike on tags
I don’t like it because of the time factor. I just don’t have the time.
But shine is my friend for a long time and she had been with me from the beginning here and even responsible for the layout of this blog and possibly the next one too.
So when the tag is from her I can’t refuse.
Mind you that she is not a lamb as she seems to be. When gets angry, she is a fierce Chinese cracker.
My grandma would have called her a Karanampotti mulaku (literally meaning a cheek piercing chilly).

Oh GOD, now I have to tell you what it is.

On one of my vacations with my grandma in a place called as the gateway of the high-ranges of Kerala in India, she took me around her vegetable garden; a major portion being reserved for her various hot chilly plants.
She used to allow me to pluck all the ripe chilies in there telling me tenderly to wash my hands with soap right after plucking it.

One day she freightened me while I tried to pluck the rounded red chilly by preventing my hand from even touching it saying “kappiri kutta, vendada, ninte kundi vare eriyum (meaning “kappiri ! don’t do that, it will burn your anus too” and kappiri is the nick name for Africans)
I was offended for a while, as she explained that the chilly was so hot that you virtually feel the cheek as pierced after eating it.

I am coming back to shine. She will be fuming now after reading this...hot like a red chilly

Let me tell you something more about her. She is a magician. She vanishes like a wink and comes back like a flash from another place. I mean about her blogs. She is music maniac and loves good music.
She enjoys reading poetry as I know from the past, and says that she doesn’t have the knack to write poems.
But one day recently, I saw a poem here and I was surprised meaning that she can write a poem if she wants.

Let me do my task quickly for her. The task is to:-

1. Grab a book the closest to you.
2. Open to page 123, go down to the fifth sentence.
3. Post the next 3 sentences on your blog.
4. Name the book and the author.
5. Tag 3 people.

I can’t accept this tag fully as it involves other people too. So I don’t intend to tag anyone to swear at me.

The book nearest to me is English to Arabic translator. My laptop doesn’t support Arabic scripts. So there goes my first nearest book.

My next one near me is Hydrocarbon manual Amendment, which unfortunately does have only 110 pages. Even if it had the necessary pages, I can’t use it because any amendment reproduction in my blog is copyrighted subject to Anali’s First Amendment. You can check out to see the amendment conditions She is a practicing attorney and happens to be my cousin.

The next book near me is the dictionary of chemistry which I will use here.

At page 123, the 5th sentence is about hydrogen Sulfide. I quote the next 3 sentences here.

1) Hydrogen sulfide is prepared by reacting hydrochloric acid with Iron Sulfide.
2) It is tested for, by mixing with lead nitrate, with which it gives a black precipitate.
3) Its aqueous solution is weakly acidic.

The book is Dictionary of chemistry and the Author is John Daintith.

I am sorry that the sentences I quoted are not luscious to you in contend, but I am sure that, though it may not be useful to you, at least some one in your house will find it useful in their studies. LOL

Now, I need to take some rest.

Ending my blah blah for the day.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Finale...animal brain (Part 2)

For a few days after hearing the news of the break out, the cheetahs were in my mind and then came my vacation again, and I was gone for a month.
I have received my orders to look after the Training programmes for a new batch of trainees and I had to stay in Khartoum for another 4 weeks and I was gone again for my vacation… along went all the thoughts of those cheetahs.
I returned to my field location only in November, that is, last month.
Again I was busy with the new trainees and another batch of existing trainees.

I saw that my official mail box is almost full and I had no time to empty the stuff for the next two weeks. But when the mail box started giving alert warning about no more mails, I decided to sit and sort out the mail and delete some of them or to send it to public achieve.
It was a hell of a job as I have no time to check the contents of the letter except the senders name to guess if it was important. I was half way doing the deleting when I saw an unfamiliar name Jon Kingly.
I don’t know any Jon kingly, so I was about to send it to the bin when it suddenly occurred to me that the name of the care taker of the unity garden and recreation facilities. I checked the sender location.
Bam!!! The mail was from unity
I stopped my cursor before I clicked delete. He had no special relation with me warranting a mail to me. I checked the date and found that it is 16 days old and I also saw another mail too from him, which was 10 days old .So I clicked open the second mail:

Jac
I am not sure if you will receive this mail as this is second mail that I am sending you
I tried to phone you many times and it kept on ringing. I knew that you were in Khartoum for some time and came to know that you will be in the field soon.
Please contact ASAP
rgrds
Jon

I checked his official telephone number from the company directory. Now it was my turn to wait for his mercy.
No answer.
Again I tried and no one picked the receiver
I got him on the phone finally in the evening.
I was busy to the neck, so I was crisp.
“Jon ! what is this ASAP ?”
“Hi jac, you becoming crazy with work ?”
“Yes Jon, sort of busy. Tell me if I can be of any help to you”
He started laughing first, then stopped to tell me
“I want to show you something jac.”
“Can u tell me what it is?”
“No” He cut the phone.
I was angry. I am angry when some one closes the phone with out a bye. I was restless and I had no time to play games with him, so I called him again
“Jon, come on, man ! You can tell me what it is ? “
“No”
his curt answer.
“Is it very important …can you hold it for two days “

“For me it is not very important but for you…as far I know, is more important than your dear life” he was slow in answering but he was chuckling.

I was perplexed and prayed to God to give me strength not to get angry with the old man.
Well, instead of getting angry. I was relieved as he cut the phone again

I called Ali, my favorite driver and gave my key for the Toyota pick up, for checking it up so that I can leave early morning itself.
I was restless through out the evening, not knowing what it could be that he wants to show me. I didn’t sleep well.
I was ready only at 9 AM, after the morning meeting and roaster duties, sending drivers on different training locations with the trainees. I checked my bag for the usual things, by driving license, camera and two large bottles of water that I always carry for the shepherd boys.

The sun was already up and hot when I started. I tried to focus my attention on driving on the treacherous road, rather than on Jon.
It took me one and half hours of steady driving through the partly wooded road, stopping twice for taking pictures of white storks with scissor shaped beaks, locally called as 'lak-lak’ due to the ‘lak-lak’ sound it makes with their beaks while swimming in the pools

I went direct to the estate office where Jon has his office.
He was talking with some one on the phone when I knocked and entered. He dropped the phone and got up to greet me with a hearty smile. He seemed to ignore my annoyed face and shook hands beaming from ear to ear.
“Do you plan to leave immediately jac ?” His smile started to irritate me.
I controlled my anger with a long breath, counted seven and exhaled, now I smiled at Jon and found those twinkles of excitement in his eyes.

“Jac ! I know that you are trying to control your anger at me. I am going to show you something that will make you smile.” I was not impressed.
He took my hand and we exited through the back door of his office which is shortcut to the park. My shoulder was paining with weight of the bag and its contents.

Suddenly the thought stuck me !!
He knows my love to animals and birds; his smile was still wide and mischievous.
He must have some thing there in the park or in the cage… he must have got something in my absence.
A wounded antelope ??
An injured monkey ?
Nearer to the cage in the park, my nose sensed it...there was slight stench of a zoo.
But I never expected this.

I was spellbound ! !
I was overwhelmed with joy ! !
I could see Jon laughing with his eyes !!

Two cute babies who screeched when ever I came near the cage.
The Mama looked only once at me and then totally ignored me.

I took John’s hand and looked at his eyes. He was laughing all over.
“Jac, you happy now ?” he was about to dance with me, African style.
I just stood looking at them with awe.
Seeing my questioning eyes, Jon lead me to the cement chairs in the shade and explained.

“Its is the same one, jac” he said
I was astonished and I started looking in the cage again for the male.
“He is not there, buddy. He decided to stay out but he is around”
And he continued the rest of the tale.

Almost two months after the escape, they lost hope of their return. So the cage was cleaned and the topsoil was replaced and it was abandoned for good but no one cared to lock it.
Just after a series of rains, one fine morning, the gardener who opens the gate of the park saw a moment in the cage and looked.
The female cheetah was peacefully sleeping inside the cage and the male cheetah was lazing out side the cage.
When the he saw the gardener, he got up slowly, looked once at the sleeping one and walked off to the woods beyond.
She was pregnent with a large abdomen now and was nearer to deliver.

On the fifth day morning the they were born.
Two cuties, a male and a female.

He comes once in while at dusk and watch from far but never intends to come near the cage.
The cage now is never locked.
Every one knows that when the kitties are ready, all three will join him in the woods beyond.

Now tell me if they have brains ????

Currently playing:- HEVIA with his earthy music.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Prologue...animal brain

What do you say when somebody commit a grave mistake??

We ask them at point blank “Are you an animal?”
Or we simply state that “You are worse than an animal”

Are they really worse than us just because they have a teeny-weeny brain?
Are they cruel because they eat fellow animals for their food?
But we do exactly the same thing.
Do we not kill our own people for no reason?

Well ! I object with tooth and nail about them having no brain.
This is not fantasy. This happened in front of me, right beside my nose.
This actually happened just like two parts of a movie and I want to tell you this, in two parts.

The first part actually happened when I was on a roller coaster ride and decided to quit writing… took a plunge from my writing.
That was about my long hiatus that lasted 38 days in August.
Those were the times that I was not worried about my writing or my blog, yet I took photographs during my field training programme.

I was on my one of the field trainee inspection and assessment prior to my monthly report.
After completing assessment of one of them, and as there was yet a half hour delay for my lunch, I wanted to sit in a shade or a place where it is calm.
I asked the guard at the gate if I have place to sit in the open for a few minutes. He directed me to the small but not so-well-cared park.
Well ! It was not a park at all, but there were some tall trees and a few concrete benches to sit…were all I needed.

That is were I met them first.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw them !!!
Two full grown, graceful Cheetahs in a make-shift cage looking curiously at me.

The sheen of their skin in gleaming yellowish brown with black dots made it excitingly beautiful !

The difference was that they seem to be at ease, showing no uneasiness of being caged.
I was not very happy about the caging of them but then, I have no authority to ask too. So I looked for the care taker of the garden, an old man named Jon Kingly to ask him about the pair.

He told me the story of the two Cheethas


The unity state is a wild area and the surroundings are full of trees and covered by tall grass in the rainy season.
In summer, when the grass becomes dry and brittle, the shepherds torch it to scare off wild animals. Many animals die in this process as the flames spread with the wind, faster than the fastest animals.
That summer…one a warm morning, the caretaker found two full grown cheetahs (a male and a female) inside that abandoned cage that used to keep sick cattle under medication. They door remained open and they refused to go out, accepting the meat that was supplied by the kind catering manger.
They knew that their life is at stake without the tall grass in the forest. Later, the company security allowed them to stay with an assurance that the cage will be strengthened and locked if they were to be kept in the camp.

To come to a camp full of human, and to feel safer than being out in the field where they will be hunted, needs brain with out a doubt.

I have not gone there for another two weeks. Knowing my craze with nature and animals, one of my trainees phoned one day to tell me that the Cheetahs escaped while the door was opened to serve them with dinner. LOL

While I was with them looked happy with me taking some pics of them.
See how graceful they are.
See for yourself.

At that time, as I was not posting anything in my blog, so I simply saved these precious pictures in my hard disk. Something happened later forced me to search for these pictures.
So that is the end of the first part of my story.

Read the very interesting, second part about them... the finale proof about their sharp brain, in three days.
Till then,
Chao ! !
***********

Friday, December 08, 2006

hope

For seema...the young talent with hopes



hope… immortal, perpetual you say
blue skies, erasing your loneliness away
new avenues alluring, conjuring, seducing you to sway

beware the stubborn clouds,
beware them hopes, hidden shrouds

the 'lil' magic that leads you with a colourful spray
your fallen soul may never get enough time to pray
beware…before they turn your happiness ashtray
****************************

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Motaz !

I hope that I am not late in updating some of the things long pending on my personnel and blog front.

My leg seems to get better accepting a suggestion by the doc here in our clinic Dr Kamal, advising me to use a different type of safety boot.
Off I go to the Musthouda (warehouse) looking for a lighter, softer boot and now, though it is just one day, I have to say thanks to him.

Now, about the updates:

My readers who are with me for some time know about Ashri who is one of my close friends and the accommodation supervisor for our living quarters, who is also the only living person who calls me a ‘Professor’ teasingly.

For my newer readers, you can read about my ‘brada’ Ashri who speaks with a never fading smile and about his lovely wife Mihasin by clicking here.

At the time of writing that post about them, Mihasin was three months pregnant.
A boy was born to them on 23 rd May 2006.
He is named Motaz and in Arabic it means something like a proud one (not arrogance) that is as far as I can grasp with my feeble Arabic.

Due to Mihasin being away to her house and I, relocated on special assignment in Khartoum, which is a two hour flight from here, made it impossible for me to take a pic of the boy to share it with you.
Many readers were enquiring by mail about updating their present status.

But I made it only yesterday afternoon while I was returning from Unity production area where I had to visit one of my trainees.
I have spoken to Ashri my intentions and he was waiting by the road. Mihasin had no idea about a guest coming with Ashri.

I could see that she was very pleased to see me after a long time.
She shook my hand firmly with both her hands, which is very rare act by women, towards persons from the opposite sex, out side the family.

Mihasin though don’t speak a word in English… is a charming host.
She made me completely at ease by asking me if I need any pastries or eatables and forcing me to have some cake with her ‘yella ! yella’ in Arabic, a word similar to ‘come-on’ in English.

If they looked very happy in my previous post, now I saw them again with much happier and ‘made for each other’ mood.

All the best to Ashri & Mihasin, while not forgetting little Motaz

They are looking at these posts now and reading you. So give them a cheer.

Another of my update and blah blah follows soon.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

A personality test

This is a psychological personality test

I don't guaratee that is true for you. But it seems to be true for me more or less,,,, as far as I know.

When I was a kid, my mom used to say "hey ! don't do that "
It is considered a taboo to put your head directly in to the shower spray...says it is not healthy, but I do it one way or other.

So, my answer is hair...though I don't have much left on my head or what ever is left there. LOL

So here it is ! Take a self peronality test and let me know. If you are shy, then the best thing is, just smile.

When you step into a shower, which part of the body do you wash first?
a) Chest
b) Face
c) Armpits
d) Hair
e) Privates
f) Shoulders
g) Others

The following describes your character:

a) Chest - You are practical person. Straightforward and do not beat around the bush. To you, convenience is of paramount importance. You hate to be distracted when concentrating and are impatient with people who do not see things your way. You are a good sex partner and are willing to try new things. Your best partner in life will be those who chose d) hair.

b) Face - Money is important to you and you will do anything to get it. Integrity and dignity is not important. You feel that friends are there to be used and life is one big hassle. Other people find it hard to understand you but you are not concerned as to what they think. Very self-centred person. Average sex partner as you are too selfish and tend to be absorbed in self pleasure at the expense of your partner. Your best partner in life will be those who chose e) privates and g) others.

c) Armpits - You are a dependable and hard working person. Generally very popular person as you are very down to earth and willing to help others. Tend to get yourself into trouble as you cannot tell whether people are genuine towards you. Make very poor sex partners as you are the working type with average talent. Your best partner in life will be those who chose f) shoulders.

d) Hair - Artistic type. Daydreaming is your hobby but you can achieve what most other people cannot. Dedication is lacking but you will work tirelessly towards goals which are to your liking. Money is not important. Friends are but only intellectuals and fellow artistic types. Make the best sex partners as you are most willing to explore and please the other partner. Talent is your main strength. Your best partner in life will be those who chose a) chest and e) privates.

e) Privates - Shy type. You lack self confidence and tend to be bullied by others. You do not have lots of friends as others find you boring and unattractive. Perseverance is not your strength and you tend to give up easily and at the first opportunity. However, you make an above average sex partner. You are able to show your true emotions to very few people. Hence in sex, you find your inner strengths. Your best partner in life will be those who chose b) face and d) hair.

f) Shoulder - A born loser. You fail in everything that you do. People dislike you and you tend to spend your time alone. Your type have been known to be heavy gamblers and drinkers. You see the world as a living hell. Money and power is also important to you. But your luck will always fail you. You make a lousy sex partner. You will find it difficult to find a partner in life. Those who chose c) armpits are your only chance.

g) Others - You are a very average person. Undoubtedly, you have your inner strengths but people find it hard to see. You must learn to be a little bit more adventurous and sell your potential. Deep down, you are a very likeable person with very few faults. However, the key will be to make your strengths stand out and not just hide your weaknesses. You are an average sex partner. You have great fantasies about different techniques but unfortunately are not brave enough to try them out. Your best partner in life will be those who chose b) face.
************************

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Khartoum

My trainees pose for snap in front of R T C, Khartoum.

For the last three months I was not involved with field training in my organization.

Instead, I was politely asked to do a special job.
Though a training assignment, it was a partly desk job, organizing training and co-ordination of lectures to a batch of twenty trainees from a different oil company, where their organization doesn’t have any training facility.

Our company has obliged them by sparing me for the group… well ! for a price of course !

Though I didn’t get any monitory benefits out of it, I was allowed to have with supreme facilities for my food and accommodation at Hotel Le Meridian; not that I am very comfortable with it.

As the training progressed, where all of the trainees being Sudanese fresh graduates, I developed a wonderful rapport with each of them. Though it lasted only a month, I know most of their family memebers.

It was actually the Holy month of Ramadan. I was astonished when every day at the time of breaking their fast, they fought each other to give me a grand dinner at their homes.

But all these two months and even during my vacation for almost a month, I was faced with medical problems with one of my legs that developed slight calcium deposit. It was so painful that I had to be under medical care and that deprived me from enjoying a few days in one of the most beautiful hill stations.

After two long months now, I am again at my desk at the field training facility, which I come realize lately, that I missed so very dearly.
I was even practically out of touch with my backyard and the nature around me while I was on my vacation due to my leg being painful.


I am sharing two pictures of my group of trainees at Khartoum, the capital of Sudan.

Khartoum is a very old city where you have the famous twin rivers, Blue Nile and White Nile that joins at a place called Omdurman.

Omdurman is historically famous for the great Battle of Omdurman.

*******************************

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Fast as a dart

Days and months pass on… so crazy…so fast
with bullet like speed, as it goes on a feast

dreams aren’t swift, so I gave up all dreams
so harsh this life that I just gave up all whims

slow down I cry… Can't you slow down this cart ?
faster and swifter it leaps like a dart
so mean the driver; a devil from the start
heedless, he drives like a butcher at heart

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Here is another tag

I don’t like tags as a matter of fact because I am not a real writer like Mathew who can make us smile with every word he writes or like mindinside who can write a poem about anything under the sky as easily as you breathe.

I dislike them because they tagged me knowing that I don’t enjoy tags.

But then you see… I like them more than I dislike them, because I enjoy what they write.
So here, I am thanking them instead...not with a very happy face .LOL

Remembering the past is a joy for many. The glimpses of scenes of our childhood from the age of five, are some thing all cherish.
To some it brings in sad memories too

It goes a long way back when a baby boy was born at home, as was the custom and privilege of the rich and the powerful; with Doctors present all around him.
His mom refused all attempts to conduct a surgery when it was late, and he was out late for a day and a half.

Yes, that was a story of a hearsay.
What you need is about my childhood in my words.

Let me remember what I miss, what I missed and what I disliked those times.
Writing it by adding numbers or by priority doesn’t seem to work with me. So here it is :

What I miss

The long walks I used to do in the woods, with my mom’s strong hands clasping around my fingers, where as; she sings with her actions, to the river & plants around her.

The time I spend on her lap while she sits in the rocking chair in the verandah with flower shrubs smiling at me.

My grandma who taught me how to milk a cow with bare hands and I was delighted beyond words, when she told me to drink it direct, as it is hygienic with out a touch.

The lone mongoose that seemed to shun company but always promptly arrived at my window to eat the bread crumbs and boiled egg I kept there, and before leaving… shitting all over my window panes. Haha !
But I also killed it accidentally on a fine Sunday morning, while I sat on my chair in the portico…sitting right on top of my dear friend.
I got up in an instant, but it was too late. I couldn’t save him.

The tender mussels my mom used to make everyday when I was small.

My mom’s maid when she was small, and when she was my only companion (though she is alive, I don’t miss her now)

My dear friend Henry (he died in the bush war) who became husband to my mom’s maid.
He taught to me how to kill with bare hands in case I am cornered, taught me how to hunt and how to skin animals with bare hands and who made me an expert with African blow gun. He even taught me how to make one with wild reeds.

I miss, Igasususi mellow, an African fish curry, which is an all time Nigerian fish delicacy, taken along with Gary; the Nigerian national food made from Cassava (tapioca)

What I disliked

The loneliness I had in those times when I was protected against abduction… as I was allowed very very few friends

Though I liked to cry when I feel neglected, as a child, I disliked seeing someone else crying and I continue this as of today.

I hated the way black children were treated …even now.
I hated the colour of my skin when I realized that I am not dark skinned like my Mum.

I dislike the people who treat blacks like a piece of shit, after looting and enjoying their wealth and enslaving them with muscle power.
I felt that they even erased the history of the black people and I still feel this way.

I hated to go back to boarding school after the vacations, seeing my mom’s eyes full.


Is all I want to remember!
Is all I like to remember!

Friday, November 10, 2006

Breath


With due apolagies to mathew for the delay in taking up his tag.


Deep set my thoughts, my love
so strong,
my mind chanting, your words alone
my song,

let your feelings echo stronger, harder
to steel
for it is my healing, the only
breathing
I feel

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

A gun is always a gun.

I have a bad habit.
Oh! No!

It is not true…I have many bad habits.
One of them is that I trust people.

Some times it gives me a chance to learn lessons long forgotten. It also at times forces me in to very delicate situations.

I have a humble-simple house in which anybody can come and go as they like. I had a bit of repairs in the house and one of my friends was kind enough to help me repair it.
So I handed over my key to him. He helped me immensely with out a reward and we became more intimate friends. He had access to my house anytime and I never asked my key back. It was not important to me anymore. He had access to my armory too, but there were only some old guns lying around which were as old as me. You can’t even harm anyone with any of them.

One day when I arrived home, I found my door locked.
I used my key to open, but I found the lock has been replaced. I was perplexed and tried all methods to enter.
I don’t need to be a mathematician to know that I was locked out of my house by my dear friend who was the only one that has my spare key.
I kept calm as I know my friend is playing some kind a silly jock on me. I know that he is very sensitive person and so I waited knowing that he won’t harm me.
Finally he came out from the shadows, and I found some thing else.
A rusted gun which was pointed at me … taken from my own armory with which you can’t even kill a fly.
The gun was pointed at me and no one else.
I can understand and accept his wild theories as a reason for this, but the gun was a threat. I also knew that my fried is harmless and that the gun can’t fire a shot.

I don’t accept threat as I consider it terror.

I don’t accept threat of any kind…what ever the reason.
I told him to hand over my house which belongs to me. The house is mine and he is an intruder. I also told that I won’t listen to him until the threat is removed and the house is mine.
I got my house back now with out any damage.

I neither hate him nor was I scared… because I know a story.

I want to tell you that story today, a story as old as many of you.

Long long ago, there was a woman and her only small son residing in a wild but secured area in a mansion with a few woman labors in the house.
Except a vast courtyard and a single out-house for the timber workers a furlong away, there were no inhabitants nearby as it was timber country.
Her husband was away for most of the time on timber business for long intervals.

She loved her son very much and adored him.

One day on a June midnight, three men with guns sneaked in the building, drugging the lone watch man.

The woman and her son were sleeping in the upstairs rooms as her husband was away on business.

They crashed the door and busted in where they slept. A young maid was sleeping on the floor.

The woman got up in her robe and saw the men with the guns and held her son close with frightened eyes.
The boy was asleep but got up with the sounds of the door crashing and started to cry.

The maid was terrified and fainted on floor; they gagged, tied her up and locked her in bathroom.
The boy was mercilessly snatched away from the woman and gagged. One of the men held a knife loosely at the boy’s throat and demanded to the woman for the keys of the safe and her jewelry box.
Two men pointed guns at her at close range, one from the front and the other on the side.
She looked at the boy’s eyes a last time, and in that look, he saw helplessness and a good bye.
The face of the woman transformed to a mask; her eyes became cold, small and her thick lips became thin.

She faced the man in the front and told them in a local dialect, to point their guns from the front, and not from her side, as she dislike to get shot from the side.
They were now restless at her boldness, the man with the knife on the boy’s throat moved and held the knife closer but the woman did not even look at the boy; did not even turn her head but faced the men with the gun and told them, that if they want the key to her safe, they have to beg and people don’t beg with the guns.

The men suddenly looked ashen as she continued to tell them that they need her alive, to open the safe as it has a combination lock and told them to if they don’t remove the gun from her face, she is gonna push the old fashioned button that is connected to the big fire gong in the workmen huts, that announces a fire in the timber yard…an emergency push button.

She shouted at their stupid faces to beg and beg and beg… and walked straight to the button and pushed it with her left leg with the two gun barrels on her face.

The sound of the gong could be heard for miles in the night. All the three terrified men ran to the stairs, colliding with each other, pushing the gagged boy away.

They were terrified of her husband, as they already knew that he was ruthless with criminals and he wielded great muscle power.

She continued to shout at them to beg if they want, with crazy rage.
She suddenly woke up from her trance, turning and holding the boy, she started to cry.

Later the timber hands found the woman and the boy on the floor holding each other and unconscious.

I don’t know what happened to the intruders when the workmen caught them.

I happen to know this woman.
She is no more now.

Long after this story… once I had an opportunity to ask her... looking at those kind and soft eyes, why she was ruthless with the robbers, ignoring the safety of her loving son and even the threat of pointed guns.

She smiled and told me that a terrorist thrive on inducing terror on the victims and explained to me that she was sure that what ever she gave them at that time, she and her son were marked as dead, for they knew that her husband will trace and kill them if she is alive and remember their face. So she and her son were destined to be massacred in cold blood, what ever their mission.

She also added an advice to me smiling with her perfect white teeth, not to budge on threat of any sort if I can.

I remembered her when I was threatened, for I know her so well.

I followed that rule here and pondered what she might have done.

I learned another small lesson here.

I thought that I need to share this with you.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

A Hornbill

Dreams are now wingless, feeble
silvers

A hornbill stay waiting, rain drops
his tears

He choose crying; his soul shrunken,
longing

Alas ! rain drops kept drifting
squirting, sprouting
elsewhere

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Awakening..from the absence

A long and greuelling 38 days, the first 5 days being the most turbid.

During those 5 days my urge to write and to read was uncontrollable even to the extent that, one or two times I thought “to hell with my vow”
But I just held on.


Then my attitude totally changed regarding writing as I have picked up some confidence, the total control of my habitual bloging turned me to a pure determined person

Though I stopped posting in my blog, my urge to read has lead me to go through the blogs that I normally visited with out writing a comment.

A couple of days later, I stopped reading blogs too.
As days passed, I was careless as a whisper… the blogging completely out of my mind not forgetting the fact that I was always aware of my reader’s comments through my mail box, asking me to come back.


I am back here after a long gap knowing the very precious fact that I am, after all, not a blog addict.

In addition to that, just before I was planning to stop writing in my blog completely, I had a strong inner feeling that the very existence of the blog was hurting some one seriously. This had sped up my decision to quit.

Now I realize the fact that my blog has nothing to do with the hurt issue and so, here I am with gratitude towards one and all of you for bearing with me and to those who cared to come and comment here earlier.

My long absence has made my soul dry and here now, I have nothing for you.

I am leaving my soul at still… perhaps to have little fermentation to take effect to turn it as good as aged wine.
I will be in your blog sooner or later but if I happen to miss any of your blogs, do remind me please.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

Bye

A good bye too soon

As everything beautiful has an end, as everything wonderful has a stop…this is something like a full stop.

Been here for some time and I have gained many friends, lost some too.
It is for some time that I have been thinking that blogging is becoming an addiction to me, interfering with my life and my work.

Many a times, I have tried at least to stay away partially, but in vain.Of late, I came to understand that blogging has become not only an addiction, but also domination.

I am leaving here with a handful of friends and a heartful of gratitude.
I thank one and all for all the encouragements you have showered on me, praises included.
I can point out each and every encouragement you have given me.

Knowingly, I haven’t hurt anyone in my posts except monica.

I deeply regret the incident that happened due to a misunderstanding.

For the first time, I won’t be replying to your comments.
But I will be right here, reading but not commenting.

I don’t intent to close this page as I am not sure if I will come back or not.

If I have hurt anyone in my replies to their comments, I want to apologise for that, though I don’t remember hurting any.

For some, who think that I am over-smart…a smile with out any reservations.

For some, who think that I have nothing more important than writing… another smile.

This is my good bye

This won’t be complete with out thanking some one, from the blogosphere who has written a post about me in her blog.I thank her for that

And lastly, thanks to a real poetess who encouraged me to publish my lines.

I will say hello to all, if I come back.

I do intend to come back, but I don't know when

Good bye.

Scrawl down please !


Many of you have asked me, how I look like.

It is time, at least when it is parting time to let me know who I am.
I tried to upload it here somehow it doesn't work well.

See, me on the video below


A video on me.


Put on your headphone.......... or turn on your sound.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Made for each other



With apologies for not replying to your comments in my last post, due to internet problems. Please bear with me for two days.

I have a lot of pictures that I have accumulated in my hard disk. Some are forgotten to publish.
This one too is taken during my Malaysian trip.
They were in a group of honeymooners.
I saw them in this way, enjoying each others company. They were delighted when I asked them to allow me to take a shot, the very same way I found them.
Meet Abu and Shija.
The funny thing is that while I asked their name, I forgot to ask their nationality.
It doesn’t matter to me.
Does it to you ?
I find something special in their face. Don’t you ?

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Silent as whisper

In through the wind she comes
caressing, gliding

in through the wild she comes
a tigress, a cheetah

in through my dream she frills
sweet and sugary

in among clouds, shimmering
a star, afar

in through the rain
in through the pain
silent as tears

in through my breath, she comes
a sigh
as whisper
But in this flower remains a sliver
she is my lover destined for ever

Friday, August 25, 2006

The green, envious fruits...? My God !!

Listen to hisham’s music (my favorite) while you read the long post. Click twice on the player start button.

Now read on please

It is now exactly twenty three days since I returned to my desk.

My vacation is due in another five days and I was on to new training assignments.
My desk was clean and tidy when I arrived, but the table is now occupied with half opened or ear marked books, drawings, and an assortment of pens in different colours.
My mind, half occupied with my job ahead and my hands on the reciever, attending shrilly telephone calls, my drivers pestering me for signatures on the overtime sheets… it’s as busy as a souk now. (meaning market in Arabic)

The rain has done its home work already with the roads becoming rivers during its havoc.
When the rain stops no body knows where the road is, the slushy red coloured sand turning to something like potter’s clay.

Wednesday was my day to be travel to a far location to complete my pending assessments.
It was in to remote wooded area, and the roads were worse in the rain. But the flora and fauna in that area was tempting. I started at 9 A.M. as usual.

I made a mental note while I was driving through the so-called roads slowly, that I have to return early as fiery clouds were gathering momentum for rain and it will be a hell of a rain.

I reached the location at 11 AM and I had a lecture session for the trainees for an hour and a half. Lunch was in the camp with my eversmiling trainees and then the assessments continued until 3.30 PM.
I was tired; the muscles on my legs protesting due to the long stretch of standing & lecturing.

The time was 4 P.M now.

I said good bye to my trainees and looked up to the sky, the clouds were more menacing and I thought it will rain before I am half way.

I drove steadily through the woods, where if it was another occasion, I would have enjoyed the little sights that I very much envy, like the fishing of the large flying ducks, different types of cranes and storks.

After the check point, I wanted go fast but the safety regulator fitted on all cars doesn’t allow speeding the vehicle above 60 kilometers.
That was a recent safety device that is integrated after the accident that took away my Michael and Peter. (my trainees)

Right near the sharp bend that separates the two state boarders; something caught my eyes unaware.

An unusual scene among the swamp area.

My car brakes were on, by reflux action.

Among a good number of trees that surrounded, it was a fruiting tree that caught my attention.

A tree full of unripe, odd looking fruits in the stark rainy season !

A surprise on surprise there; though all the trees looked same, that was the only tree with fruits…that too in hundreds.

There must be reason, I mused loudly.

I looked around in other trees on the opposite side of the road, none had any fruits. I hesitated, taking a moment to assess the impasse.

Two things made me to pause.

If I miss this chance to check it out, I may not be passing this route for another month and by the time the fruits will all be gone.
Secondly, the muddy, slushy undergrowth that was between me and the tree were formidable.

Now I had to tell you that I had so many horrid incidents with swamp localities due to my silly photographic mind. It has put me in numerous slippery encounters that had forced me to cry for help from knee deep slush.
My experience with these situations has taught me a lesson or two about my pride and ego; to forget it and to cry for help so that a passer-by will notice your pathetic situation to give a helping hand.
How ever easy it looks like, you can never get out of the slush with out an external help.

Here my sixth sense was overpowered by my defying nature.

I parked the car as much away from the road, as cars can get trapped in the mud in one second.




I took out my camera case and strapped it in my shoulder and moved closer to the tree very carefully, not taking my eyes from the ground. There was at least 30 feet of swampy area in between the tree and where I was. That was the maximum I could go.
I looked up now at the tree to get a better view of the green coloured fruits.

Now what the hell is that ! (Excuse my language please !)

There was no fruits or seeds there !

Jeez ! Those were not fruits at all !

In place, what I was seeing were hundreds of green coloured, symmetrical, bird’s nests !

It became apparent that it was not seeds or fruits; but bird’s nests that hung from the branches…hundreds, no… more and more came in to my view and something else moving from them… bright yellow coloured birds singing, & shrieking.

Then, a total silence; they stopped gossiping when they saw me.

Unmistakably from the musical sound, and the bright yellows, I recognized the species as weavers. They were either Vittalline masked or Compact weaver with chestnut brown masks and bright yellow in the chest.


Getting very good a shot with my cheap camera from that distance was a formidable task.

As I took the camera out and steadied for focusing, to my dismay, most of the birds were scared and flew away to nearby trees, intently watching me from there.


But that still left a few curious imps, like me.


So here I am with my amateurish, pic of the fruity looking, hanging, green bird nests.

I was smiling when I returned to the car like a journalist with an exclusive scoop.

It was getting dark as I eased the car out to the road and pressed on the gas, not forgetting to insert a rap number in the tape and drumming with the rhythm.
My smile was gone from my face as I looked at the dash board…the red lights were ‘on’ all the dials.
I looked at the gauge for temperature and froze !!
The needle was not where. It has gone hiding somewhere above the maximan range.

OMG ! The radiator ! My smile was replaced by grimness.

I parked aside; cut the engine and opened the bonnet.
What I saw made me to swear.
My poor fan belt lay broken and in shreds

I was helpless as I had not carried my handheld radio, as per protocol.

You can guess the rest; I towed the car and reached the camp at 9 PM.

Morning awaited me with a reprimanding letter from the safety department for floundering standing instructions and disregard of protocols for not traveling in a radio equipped car while on trips, beyond 60 kilometers.

I put it in the easiest place for safe keeping…my shredder.


That is enough for a day’s blah blah

Till next blah blah

Signing off…with a devilish grin and a daring glint in the eyes


Tuesday, August 22, 2006

A smile in your eyes.


The eyes that I call as yours
deep as the Nile

Twinkling, calling me close by
for a while

Dear ! Your lips, unwrap so sweet
for a smile

If not it reach your eyes, for me
I call it vile

Picture courtesy to Sumi, from Cochin, India, to whom I apologise for not getting consent before publishing her picture. I am sure that she will pardon me. I found her smile to be so real.

P.S. Late news: I just received her consent to post her photo by phone. She is very pleased but requested me to add that she is the Mom of two naughty and demanding children, which I forgot to mention.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Dew drops.

Here is joke for you for this Sunday for it is Sunday morning here.

As Sundays are supposed to be lazy days for you, (not for me) here is it, to give your facial muscles the necessary exercise to keep it peppy.


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After every flight, Qantas pilots fill out a form, called a "gripe sheet," which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems, document their repairs on the form, and then the pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight. Never let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humour. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by Qantas' pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers.

(By the way, Qantas is the ONLY major airline that has never had an accident just in case you were worried ! )

P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.
S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.

P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.
S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.

P: Something loose in cockpit.
S: Something tightened in cockpit.

P: Dead bugs on windshield.
S: Live bugs on back-order.

P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent.
S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud.
S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
S: That's what they're for.

P: IFF inoperative.
S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

P: Suspected crack in windshield.
S: Suspect you're right.

P: Number 3 engine missing.
S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P: Aircraft handles funny.
S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

P: Target radar hums.
S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.

P: Mouse in cockpit.
S: Cat installed.

P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.
S: Took hammer away from midget
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


I remember a particular person when ever I read or post a joke.

“as long as there r no copy rights infringement issues involved, u can always call it an original joke.. just do a thorough research b4 u write”

This is a comment from her from one of my old jokes posted

She used to remind me about it every time I posted one.
She was a regular visitor with many of you bloggers and then suddenly she stopped coming.
She still blog and write too but visits are limited to just a few of her favorite blogs.
I was worried by her sudden withdrawal from the circle. Suspecting something wrong with my replies to her comments, I got hold her ID and sent a letter.

Prompt came the reply saying that she is okay and nothing to be worried about but that she is tired and just tied up with her work.
Though she is not going around as before but still remain blogging, please let her know that we still miss her.

Say hello to Dew drops from Kodakara.

She has her own a beautiful way of writing that no one can imitate …and with a smell of Kodakara where her roots are.
I miss her charming and smiling face here.

Though she may not see it, this one is for her…in absentia. (I hope that this word is correct)

I don't know if you like this joke or not... but please go and visit dew drops and say hello for me.

BTW : Do you know the flower on the top ?

Friday, August 18, 2006

Poles Apart

Your words, golden threaded,
braided

My ears stunned as my hearing
faded

When you said sweeter, being poles
apart

Know not I take it, a challenge,
breaking my
heart

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Praying for me ? Or rose ?

Vande...Matharam ...to all my readers of Indian origin as today is your independence day.






Yesterday morning was a bit cold in here with the rain suddenly taking temporary shelter some where; the grayish clouds still leaving no space for the blue sky to come out.

Today, the rain continued through out the day.
In the late evening it started to drizzle and lot of insects, mainly crickets… large green ones crashing on perimeter fluorescent lights, sliding down through the polls and flying again. With water everywhere; music of the frogs filled my ears.
Thunder from far, gave the rhythm for the music.

I thought that it would be pleasant to sit some time in my desk and try to write a post. I have to post some thing by tomorrow morning.

A quick poem?
Oh no! My mind nowadays stays hard like the rock. Poetry doesn't come to you in that condition.





Well! Then what shall I write ?
About the rain ?
About the thunder ?

I reached my office, opened it and sat behind the desk.

Think ! man ! think !

My mind said to think quick for tomorrows post.

Tuck! Tuck!

Some one, knocking on the door.

I said to come in and enter my driver Jalal Abbas, the only person I don’t want to see at this moment.
He is one of the drivers who just want to sit opposite me to cut my throat with his adventures of his army life.
Half of his Arabic, I can’t grasp too.



OMG ! I don’t have time for him, I thought.

As soon as he entered, he looked at me in a quizzical way and started laughing.
What is wrong with him?

“What is so funny Jalal”

Now, I found him trying to tell me something but he can’t speak, instead he is laughing again and pointing his fingers towards my head.

I noticed that his eyes were on my head. I tried to wipe my head with my hand. My fingers touched something?
But before I was able to clasp it with my claws, some thing flew away from my head to the old wooden cupboard.
A long and green Praying Mantis was sitting there unaware of the commotion around it.

A mantis is a common insect here, but what I saw was with two white uniform specks on its wings.

This type I haven’t seen before. Have you?
Jalal is Sudanese and he says he hasn’t seen this type here before.

I have to thank him for giving me today’s plot for my post.

Take a good look and thank him please.

Chao to all !!

A ‘quack, quack’, to rose for calling me a saint a good number of times.

Now if you want to read a nice poetry by a twelve year old girl, then do click here. I read it and I recognize a hidden talent of verse.

rose has written a story in her blog, some time back and it has been shortlisted for a final contest for the world's greatest novel and she is among the 10 short listed one's.

Her name can be seen as Betsy Mathew on the 9th place there and her story long wait home is a well written one, and if you would like to take look, it is here

As I am not contesting, In my opinion she has a fairly good chance of getting away with that coveted prize

Give her a big hand please !


Amen !


Saturday, August 12, 2006

Gross ?? I know, but I have to...


My previous post made so much commotion.
I am no war monger and I am no gun runner.

I felt sad !!
I felt bad !!
I am never for guns and never willing to compramise that priciple.
I believe that guns are terror and I believe that guns are horror.

Are you talking about war on innocents that started with in a short span ?
Are you talking about war on femine, war on poverty, war on thuggery ???

This is about a war on poor people, poverty sticken, undernourished and destituted.
This is also about woman and children, about blood and bones, food and medicine, real guns and gun powder.

This is about 22 years of relentless war. I don't know if any won the war, but I know who are the loosers.

I am neither a politician nor a self made messiah.
But I point out injustice if it is possible to do so.

I am not a citizen of the country in which I am working now.
Most of you already grasped from media reports that in some part of this country, life and property are not safe at all.
I am working here for almost three years and I would say that I was never threatened any where; logically so, because I have not visited the whole country.

When the present job was offered to me, I was afraid to come here due the media reports of atrocities. I also had the impression that, the war that was going on here is something to do with religion. After spending some time it has become quite clear that it is not so. Just like Nigeria, this country also is plagued by the tribe conflicts. With my limited knowledge, I am not going in to the issue, as I don’t want to argue on matters that I don’t know for sure.

But, this writing is not about politics but is about humanity and common sense. This is about innocent lives being punished just by the ignorance of others.

Today I want to introduce a woman to you… a Sudanese woman whose name I will not disclose. I will call her just ‘Xyz’ to avoid a misunderstanding about the names.
Let us call her Xyz.

I met her one day by accident, that too I don’t like to disclose due to a specific request by people involved.

In a crowd of people, she was sitting in a corner with lifeless eyes, alone and aloof.
I asked for a volunteer's help to explain all about her to my Sudanese companion. Her temporary village was on my way to one of my locations. My companion took notes on the detials.

She is 35 years old and I met her soon at her village during an assignment at a nearby area.

When I met her, I noticed that she was limping slightly and looked like a sick woman.
My guide and companion was with me. They chatted for a while I was introduced.

I asked her what happened to her legs and for a moment she hesitated to reply. With a gesture of resignation, she sat in the nearby chair.

“Did you ask me what is wrong with me, sir?” I thought I sensed a challenge in her voice which needs to be clarified in the beginning itself. So I moved near her chair.

“Yes I did” but I added immidiatly to explain,

“Look, Xyz ! I am not here from your Government and I am not here to make money.

Remember that I am here to listen to you and I don’t make money from writing up stories about you. I heard part of your story from some one else, but I need to hear it from you, so keep that edge from you voice.”
I told my guide to explain it to her in case she can’t grasp my Middle East Arabic.
She immediately apologised for her behaviour.

“Do you know about the law and order situation before a couple of years ?” she softened her voice.

“Not really… not more than what I heard from other people”

“Then you better take a look at this”
she raised her dress to her knee level.

“Do you know what it is” she was more emotional this time.
“Yes, but you tell me” I knew the answer.

“This is a gunshot, sir! And I have another one where I can’t show you” she was almost remorseful.

“They are gunshot wounds already operated and treated, but a good many parts of the bullets remain inside and the doctors are unable remove.” she went grim in the face as if resigned of her worries.

“I am sorry about it, but could you tell me about it” I wanted to continue the talk or else she become more emotional.

“Sure I can, but I don’t think that it will not give me back my health or my husband.” she said in a matter of fact tone.

“What about your husband? Is he too injured?” though I knew the answer, I wanted some thing to say.

“I lost him when I needed him most” She was so sad.
“But you showed me a man and told me that he is your husband” the volunteer didn’t say that to me.

“Sure he is, but he is my second husband. Fortunately there were no children at the time when I was shot at, and so no issues”. true, I thought myself.

“I hate any one pitying me; but that doesn’t fetch my food.
That poor man felt pity on me and married me.” logic was with her.

This made me to ask more about the incident.

She said it’s a long storey and asked me if I need a coffee before she starts narrating it.
I declined because I suspected that the village water to be contaminated.

She was married at the age of 24, since then she was staying in this village with her husband who was working in the nearby market.
That was a time when the civil war was on and killing and looting by armed groups were rampant.
The end result was same …woman and children were always at the receiving end.

One day in a summer, in the middle of the night there was a commotion out side her grass hut…of men shouting and woman and children crying.
A mob of men smashed her bamboo door and barged in. They carried new guns, knifes and machetes and she saw blood in their glistening knifes, daggers.

They caught her husband amid her cries and protests. He was taken out mercilessly and shot at point blank range and when she protested she was shot at close range. She doesn’t remember anything else.
When she opened her eyes fifteen days later and she was in a hospital in a critical care ward.
She came to know that she was alone in the third month, when her mind started functioning normal.
She also came to know that 31 people died on that night and many women and children injured seriously like her
She spent 6 months in the hospital with a numb heart and helpless fury at no one.

Her wound took time to heel. But the wound inside her refused to heal.

She had two major wounds, one in her hip and the other in the knee.
While she showed her injured knee joint, I was looking for her knee and finally she had to tell where her knee was.
She came out from the hospital with metallic crutch.
Three months later she exchanged her crutch for a limp, when she realized that neither she can do any work with a crutch, nor any will feed her free.
Mm. Xyz
Mm Xyz in front of her straw hut with her wounds


The soldier who is now her husband might be married many times prior, but he gave her shelter and comfort and they got married.
A month later she could work no more. Her pain in her back and hip made her to stay at home. Her knee becomes heavy when she walks and refuses to support her weight and buckles.
She now moves with a stick and she can’t work.
I was speechless when she showed me all the wounds… all cured, yet she can’t walk because of the pain.
The Doc says that they can’t do anything other than advising her to undergo special surgery, but that too with no guarantee of success.

When asked for consent to take pictures, she was about to ask, if she will get some money but I said ‘no’ before she opened her mouth and she smiled.

I explained that I don’t work with any charity but I can write in the internet to let others know, not forgetting to remind her again that there is no money involved.
Finally when I was about to leave with my guide who too was a villager, she told me that she has a message for others.
She didn't forget to sincerely apologise again for the edge in her voice earlier.

She told me that she wants to tell all, that war is bad, fighting is very bad and that it is a horror for woman like her. She was silent for a moment, then she added with grim face that she doesn’t hate the people who did it.
She told me some thing very touchy at the end… until this moment, she doesn’t know who they were and have no idea why the mob killed him and wounded her.

Here again, at a time when war mongers are being applauded for being brave, I would like to ask if anyone will see the world of so many hapless Xyz(s) ?
The seriousness becomes apparent, when you realise that this war continued for 22 years.
To those who fought and won, my question is how many Xyz(s) were perished in the process and how many saved? Who lost ?
I have read stories of wars, where soldiers are killed, an eye for an eye, but were these woman and children ever been soldiers ? Or mere lambs for slaughter ???

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Apocalypse !!

Thank you mathew, for giving me the right name.
A twinkle streak out from a star,
I care

Dare not fire or sun blaze my star
as lumber

Beware, if fate lurking behind
waiting, pouncing
her

Then mayhem comes lashing down
to earth, for sure

Crushing all the world, spewing fiery
gunpowder

Friday, August 04, 2006

Pacha Kaplanga and Sarah


I like the way Sarah write her episodes.
Do you know her ?
I call her a 'cheena padakkam' (Chinese cracker)

She has so far written about her childhood, in plain English language, mixing traces of her local dialects, as an added spice.

Just before my last vacation, she wrote something which was surprisingly simple and common which made me curious.

In her post Tomorrow, she has mentioned about some people mockingly calling one of her neighbour boys, a raw ‘kaplanga’.
The boy was very fair and a ‘pacha kaplanga’, means raw papaya in English.
Though I was very familiar with papayas, I suddenly failed to visualise the colour of the insides of a raw papaya, though I was aware that it is not pure white in colour.
I have tried hard to recollect the colour of a pacha kaplanga on the face of a fair boy in to my imagination and I miserably failed.

So when I reached home, my first glance was at my papaya trees.
I have three papaya trees.
Two of them, as I observed, had practically very very tender fruits.
But in the last one, I found a perfect raw papaya.

You can use your imagination now on how the boy might have looked like.

I think that she is a master in naming people. She even have a name specially for me. She calles me 'pischasu' (devil)


See a split, garden fresh “pacha kapalnga” as my camera copied.

As this picture is taken wholly inspired by Sarah’s blog, I owe this post to her.

To those who have not visited her, my advice is to check her blog.
I think that it is worth reading.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

A song for a bird.

Out in the sun, he felt all alone
resting awhile; with a hope filled heart
he stopped at the window and pecked out the dust
peered and squinted
seeking his pair
helpless he looked
at the wall made of glass

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Something forgotten to share !

As I have mentioned a month ago that during my last vacation, I was lucky to be in Malaysia for a few days.

I had also posted some pics earlier in my blog, but the rest of the beautiful pictures were forgotten in my portable hard disk.

Yesterday I happen to see those and remembered that I haven't shared it with you.

Here are two of them...and more to come when ever I remember
Looking up to Petronas Twin Towers.

Lookig down from Petronas towers.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

A photo Quiz. Yes, it is passion flower !!

Enough is enough!

Beware !!!
Your little grey cells are getting rusted !!!


It is believed that if you don't use your grey cells in your brain, it starts to disintegrate with time.
I don't like that to happen to any one of you.

Here is a photoquiz for you.

It is so easy.
What you have to do is to recoganize the flower shown here.

According to the latest world botanical chart, It is considered, one among the sixteen most exotic flowers in the world.

A clue ?
Of course I can give you one.

This is a tropical flower with a curious name, that is related to one of our emotions or moods.

You have 24 hours to answer.
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As most you have surmised, it is a passion flower which turns out a bit sour but delicious fruits ... that too from my backyard.

Last two years, this creeper was in some kind of meditation, no flowers and no fruits.

But this year it has compensated me with plenty, even during the drenching rain.
See it's evolution through my pictures.

Thanks for all who participated...shows that your grey cells are still very potent. LOL

Monday, July 24, 2006

Here, right here !

When patches of grey
Spread like a
spray

Sky, shedding its blue
Turn to blackish
hue

The stars, blinking
gems,
Forever lost their charms

But I will wait
here
Tell me where, dear!

Wind be the rhythm
Birds do the
chorus

Let peacocks to dance
Let baboons to
swing

A melody in air
Let merriment befall

I will wait
here
Tell me just where
I would be
here
Stay with out fear

Laughing with glee
Dancing with
thee

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Sorry with a smile.

As I was vacationing in India and there was a temporary ban on access of almost all bligsites, I was unable to post anything or come around your blogs.

I apologise for not writing replies to your comments.

Please aceept my apologies.
Thanks to all who came around to my post.

:)

Sunday, July 16, 2006

A pending tag.

I was tagged by Monica.

Monica is an old friend and she practically tricked me in to this tag, though she gave me the right to say ‘no’.
She knows that I won’t say ‘no’ to her.
As usual, I am not going to inform her that I have fulfilled the tag. She has to come here and find it out herself. She doesn’t come here often, you know?

My choice is Jim Carrey for the tag. I think he suits my fantasies with his acting in the movie ‘The Mask’

If you look at my header for my blog, you will see an image of a revolving mask.
I would like to be a Jim Carrey with that mask on my face, doing good things to the poor people. I like to steal from the rich and pass it over to the poor like “Ali Baba” did. But I am not a communist.

It may be a wild fantasy but I like it, like my other fantasy as being an ‘invisible man’.

I also feel that every one has to wear a mask atleast a few times... at some time in their life time.
I do believe that one can’t survive with out one.

So imagine me with a “Mask” like Jim Carrey.

So here is Jac with a mask.