...non periodic oscillations...

Recently, I came across this interesting article on the "Time" website which talks about attempts, straight forward and perceived, by Indian companies to takeover luxury brands owned by American firms. After reading it i was quite amused by the idea that Americans still perceive Indians as people who are "low" on quality. We are still considered as cheap labour...! I don't know how many of you have read the book "The World is Flat" by Friedman but i believe every one of us should read it, more so the Americans. What they don't realise probably is that they are not alone and isolated from the rest of the world anymore. There are more people competing head on with them and most have started beating them to their own game. Click on the post title to read the whole article. Let good sense prevail...!

Jan 2nd, 2006 cochin... Handing back the tray to the air hostess, my mind was still savouring the taste of the payasam . I folded the tray and slid open the window flap of the A320, only to be taken aback! What I was looking at was one of the most beautiful sights that I had ever seen. As far as the eye could see, from more than 15,000 feet in the sky, lay lush green vegetation. From up here it seemed like someone had spread a green carpet with patches of dark and light greens spread all over. Our flight passed and circled the runway as we waited for clearance to land while another flight touched down. Even though it was an absolutely normal thing to see, somehow the lushness of the landscape made it all surreal…and it was only then that I realised Mithun had been right all along. Cochin was more beautiful than I had imagined and I resolved to fulfil my college time dream of making a house here…amidst the beautiful landscape. A place to heal my soul…which was very susceptible

The Highwayman Alfred Noyes (1880-1958) PART ONE I The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding – riding – riding, The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door. II He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin; They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh! And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky. III Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, And he tapped with his whip on the shuters, but all was locked and barred; He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her

...away... Cold and frosty morning there's not a lot to say... about the things caught in my mind... and as the day was dawning, my plane flew away... with all the things caught in my mind... I don't wanna be there when you're...coming down... I don't wanna be there when you hit the ground... So dont go away, say what you say... say that you'll stay... forever and a day...In the time of my life... Cos I need more time, yes I need more time...just to make things right... Damn my situation and the games I have to play... with all the things caught in my mind... Damn my education, I can't find the words to say... with all the things caught in my mind... Me and you whats going on...? All we seem to know is how to show...the feelings that are...wrong... - Don't Go Away Oasis

27/11/2005...long ago...this one was in a dingy hotel room in Bangalore... "It’s been awhile”…or so said this one bald guy who made a living out of jumping around and yelling his lungs out along with a bunch of guys who would together create enough noise to give the fishmongers of Calcutta a run for their money! So, like I was saying…it’s been a while… Here I am, sitting on a just-about-sleepable bed in a just-about-liveable room of a just-about-decent hotel far away from home and wondering what is it that I am supposed to do with my life!!!? An interesting question you see…I have been wondering about this exact same question for a few years now, of course, utterly unable to find an answer. Some people, in fact most people, do what most other people do…live their lives. I really don’t know if I am making any sense here…I mean isn’t one supposed to live his or her life? Do I here you say “of course!”? I agree myself…after all what else can one do? What options

Once again, after a long time, he found himself standing there. At that exact same place in space and in time. How many times had he stood here before? He doesn’t want to think about it but he knows that it was more than he had wanted it ever to be. At times he loved it there. At others he hated it. Yet there was something about standing right on the edge of that cliff that never failed to take him by surprise, almost as if he was transported there by some divine mechanism…! So there he was once again, wondering if this time he should jump over the edge and be united with his destiny. What was it till today that had kept him from jumping over the precipice? Why does he still stand here at this same spot and not take the step? What is it that stops him from claiming what should be his and only his? A question that lingers on in his mind while he gazes at the deliverance waiting for him down below. She looks at him with her beautiful eyes urging him to dive from the skies. She tell him

from an old friend... I am a mere exhibitionist with bad grammar, spelling mistakes and of course a distressful sense of sentence construction. Despite all that, here is a little piece that I shall wait for you to react on. These butterflies hover in mid air around my head. They flap their tiny wings into gusts of wind, sometimes even tiny whorl like cyclones that appear and disappear just as fast as their simple flapping. What do they wonder, I sometimes think, when their tiny, fragile wings flap and disturb the wind around them? Do they know the havoc they cause to my heart with their little game – chasing, flying, diving, rising like little mad children running around in a green, boundless garden with large mounds of grass and pits of sand that look so ordinary to me and you? Well sometimes I guess it does not matter to them where and how they fly, what they fly to and back, but flying itself that ignites their souls and inspire them to being all that energy from within, as the

from an old friend of mine... the mirage called love.. which propels you to move on... never letting you give up hope... expectations...the thirst... will i ever quench it? i still lie on a soft pillow of lies... closin my eyes and dreamin but on a bed of thorns... piercing me... but i will move on... aimlessly , in oblivion... he who still watches me... from the collage of my mind... save me this time... don't let me fall...

As far as the eye could see stretched the barren landscape. Desolate and lonely he stood there and wondered if it was his fate that had brought him there or was it just one of the many choices that he is compelled to make every moment of his goalless life. He yearned to see someone…something…anything. He had tried to find his way out of this place…dreamt about it but there was no respite from it. The sun burned bright and ferocious…one could even say that there was a certain beauty to this whole bestial landscape that cleansed the soul from within its very core but how long was he destined to be here…he wondered. Each step that he took brought with it more pain. He endured it…endured it because he was a determined soul after all. He was determined to fight and survive his predicament even if was going to last for an eternity…and an eternity was what it seemed like now. He fought the weakness inside…fought the voice which asked him to give up. How could he…? Filled with a belief that

The first rays of the sun break through the clouds…a new day begins…another day of the many countless days still left in his life. How many? He doesn’t know…all he knows is that it’s a new struggle, new wars will be waged today, just like yesterday and the day before and the day before that. A struggle for survival that he’s forced to endure and carry on…day after day…why? Is it his fault that he was born into this pathetic world? What did he do to deserve this life? Did he intend coming here, was it merely a fruit of love or maybe the “one-in-a-million” that made its way to the jackpot? Would he have come here, given a choice? Was there a choice and were the other options worse than this? He shudders to think what the other’s would have been if this is the best of the lot. He laughs…within himself…no one hears or sees anything…should they? Light travels fast and thought faster…as the rays of the sun stream down and kiss the ground his mind w