Srihari.... AS RANDOM AS LIFE

No wonder

2008-07-16T19:13:00.000+05:30

From birth, beliefs were instilled into my mind: Counting one, two, three; Singing ABC's; Christopher Columbus discovering America; Nine planets orbiting around Sol.

Then Leif Erickson took title: "First European" that sailed across Atlantic Ocean finding another continent.

Now, Pluto removed because of size; how many men need therapy after such news? What dogma will be obliterated next? Seven coming before Eight? When does R become politically incorrect and is refused entry within the alphabet?

Questions which had already been answered, asked again, resulting in absolute confusion. Once known as facts scientists, historians prove false. No wonder I write fiction.

AIR!

2008-07-08T18:58:00.002+05:30

In the air around here there's a whisper. Barely discernable. In fact, most people here have gotten so used to it that it doesn't even register to them anymore. But if any of them ever drifts anywhere else, goes to another county, or even wanders beyond their borders, the whispering stops. Without explanation. Of course, the majority of people don't even notice it has stopped. They just feeling the familiar overwhelming air of anxiousness and malaise, and can't feel comfortable again until they're back where 'they belong'. It manages to remain inconspicuous and, for the most part, draw no attention to itself. But, even for those of us that do notice it, it has been accepted and understood that the whisper in the air is unchanging and inanimate. And for the most part, it has been. You wander a certain distance, you feel uneasy, and you can only rectify it by returning. As straightforward as that. Lately, however, it's become so much more. Not only a physical attempt at distance, but also now even emotional and intellectual progression causes silence. If any of us makes the briefest indication that they might want to better themselves as a person- read a book, learn another language, write poetry- it washes over them. The silence comes, drowning out everything. Worse now, it makes you physically ill. Lasting longer than before, days at a time. There's no escape, except to stay within the confines of your street, and cite Cable TV, the newspaper, the all encompassing 'net', and neighbourhood gossip as your only salient sources of information. Once, I managed to speak to a visitor. A pale man, haggard but young. His eyes betrayed his body. His physical matter had been worn down to the bone, and his skin seems to cling to him for fear of falling off, wrinkled and grey, but spotlessly clean. But all this could not hide the truth of his eyes- he was a young man. I asked him of the whisper, but he told me he could not hear our whisper- but that back when he was home they could hear a whisper of their own. He had made it his aim to hear the whisper of a different folk, to compare as many whispers as possible, and to draw a conclusion of what they represented and what significance their silence held. He never told me the distance or length of time he had travelled, but as he rounded the corner onto the path to the bordering county, I felt the strongest compulsion to follow him. To ignore the silence, to allow myself to be worn away by the silence, just so I could understand. But I didn't. I wandered back to my home, but his memory wouldn't leave me. That's why I'm writing this. I'm not pretending to know what it is, but all I know is there can only ever be one way out. I just have to try to find it. I know I'll never understand it, or probably even notice once I've found it, but I know that I can't be at ease until then. Maybe I'll never find it. But I know I've made my efforts. I only hope that my search, if fruitless, will aid someone else years down the line. Remove even 4 steps from their journey. But I write these words in my room late at night, fearful of being found by those who think they hear nothing, and could never understand what I'm trying to do. This has to be found by the right person, or we're lost forever. Gradually as I've been writing this, documenting my thoughts, the whispering has started to get quieter.

Started to fade from existence.

As have I.

Significant dreams

2008-03-20T17:05:00.001+05:30

He pulls his knees up against his chest and stares out his appartmentwindow at nothing in particular. "She" is on his mind again. "She" fills his every waking thought with ache and longing. A crude sketch of "her" crude perfection is framed over his bare mattress, accented by the plain walls around it. On the table there is a pile of cards he made to "her", but never sent. The floor is swept the room is clean. If only he could meet "her". Maybe he never will.

First talk

2008-03-20T17:02:00.001+05:30

We have not met, yet there is a sparkle of excitement from our talks. Exchanging pictures and wonderful stories on the phone has started this reaction of pure wonderment!! The joyful tones of her voice as you look at her picture creates eagerness to know so much more. The travels of life sends you to areas unknown, is this a new friend that could lead to a Paradise of a new beginnings? Or just a passing of two lonely ships in a huge ocean of loneness? You hear the remote sounds of this lonely callings which steers your feelings to the resonance of a untainted yearning to learn more.

who am I?

2008-03-20T16:52:00.003+05:30

Who am I? I don’t know I have no idea Do I even care? Yes! I’m unique. I’m different !! I know that. I do. REALLY! Wait...do I? No, I don’t I don’t know anything. What on earth IS everything? I DON’T UNDERSTAND! Wait, what the hell am I talking about? Of course I know. Of course. Right. Yes! I’m special. I’m special...just like everybody else. No. No. I’m just like them. THEM. All the same, trying to be different. By rebelling I am submitting. I am nothing in a vast bowl of nothingness. One lonesome soul Swimming in a sea of empty faces Not knowing anything, Not doing anything, Just being. Hey, I can do better than that. I can be me. I’M BEING ME! Well? Isn’t that good enough? No? Well, it’s good enough for me.

The search for meaning

2008-03-20T16:49:00.000+05:30

Twisted branches
make puzzle pieces of a grey sky
that bleakly hides a universe from me.
At night
So far away
the stars tell all,
that there is nothing more,
so beautifully.

WHATS THE PURPOSE!

2008-03-20T16:47:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time

A stone was flung across a universe

By a mindless hand .

Past rainbow-colored stars

Through a cold and infinite span .

Caught on the other side

Flung back the stone

Another mindless hand

My city

2008-03-17T17:07:00.000+05:30

My name is Jared and I haven't seen people in a long time. I live in a large and bustling city. But no one waves from or greets. There are no drivers in the cars zipping by me, and no people attending the food stands on the edge of the sidewalk. The occasional bicycle eerily pedals itself between the taxis stopped at stoplights or traffic jams. There are busy squares with flashing lights and open doors, and nobody passing through them. Trains come, Trains go, all empty, people none inside. The buses run with a mind of its own, in its own world. The trucks go on a jolly drive for its king of the road. That is my city with lots of people, with no people.......

Too good, worth reading....

2008-02-27T22:40:00.000+05:30

A father passing by his teenage daughter's bedroom was astonished to see the bed was nicely made and everything was neat and tidy. Then he saw an envelope propped up prominently on the centre of the pillow. It was
addressed "Dad". With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope and read the letter with trembling hands:-

Dear Dad,

It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing
you, but I'm leaving home. I had
to elope with my new boyfriend Randy because I wanted
to avoid a scene with Mom and you. I've been finding real

passion with Randy and he is so nice to me. I know when
you meet him you'll like him too - even with all his
piercing, tattoos, and motorcycle clothes.

But it's not only the passion Dad,I'm pregnant and Randy

said that he wants me to have the kid and that we can be
very happy together. Even though Randy is much older than

me (anyway, 42 isn't so old these days is it?), and has no
money, really these things shouldn't stand in the way
of our relationship, don't you agree?

Randy has a great CD collection; he already owns a
trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the

whole winter. It's true he has other girlfriends as well but

I know he'll be faithful to me in his own way. He wants

to have many more children with me and that's now one

of my dreams too.

Randy taught me that marijuana doesn't really hurt
anyone and he'll be growing it for us and we'll trade it

with our friends for all the cocaine and ecstasy we

want. In the meantime, we'll pray that science will

find a cure for AIDS so Randy can get better;

he sure deserves it!!

Don't worry Dad, I'm 15 years old now and I know how
to take care of myself.

Someday I'm sure we'll be back to visit so you can get
to know your grandchildren.

Your loving daughter,
Rosie.

At the bottom of the page were the letters "PTO".
Hands still trembling, her father
turned the sheet, and read:

PS: Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at the
neighbour's house. I just wanted to remind you that

there are worse things in life than my report card that's in my
desk centre drawer. Please sign it and call when it is
safe for me to come home. I love you!

Dreams!!!

2008-02-26T22:08:00.000+05:30

Fear should I the course of dreams, for sin doth bulge at their seams.
But lo, my heart doth weep, for away I cannot keep, from my love, my
hate...my dreams

The deep excitement of blogs

2008-02-26T21:55:00.008+05:30

We have not met, yet there is a sparkle of excitement from our talks.
Exchanging pictures and wonderful stories on the blog has started this
reaction of pure wonderment!!

The joyful tones of the voice as you look at the picture creates a
eagerness to know so much more. The travels of life sends you to areas
unknown, is this a new friend that could lead to a Paradise of a new
beginnings? Or just a passing of two lonely ships in a huge ocean of
loneness? You hear the remote sounds of this lonely callings which
steers your feelings to the resonance of a untainted yeaning to lean
more.

Hyderabad blogger meet

2008-02-25T11:07:00.002+05:30

Hyderabad blogger meet

01/03/2008 at 16:00

What Is Intelligence, Anyway?

2008-02-21T00:03:00.001+05:30

A Story

What is intelligence, anyway? When I was in the army, I received the kind of aptitude test that all soldiers took and, against a normal of 100, scored 160. No one at the base had ever seen a figure like that, and for two hours they made a big fuss over me. (It didn't mean anything. The next day I was still a buck private with KP - kitchen police - as my highest duty.)

All my life I've been registering scores like that, so that I have the complacent feeling that I'm highly intelligent, and I expect other people to think so too. Actually, though, don't such scores simply mean that I am very good at answering the type of academic questions that are considered worthy of answers by people who make up the intelligence tests - people with intellectual bents similar to mine?

For instance, I had an auto-repair man once, who, on these intelligence tests, could not possibly have scored more than 80, by my estimate. I always took it for granted that I was far more intelligent than he was. Yet, when anything went wrong with my car I hastened to him with it, watched him anxiously as he explored its vitals, and listened to his pronouncements as though they were divine oracles - and he always fixed my car.

Well, then, suppose my auto-repair man devised questions for an intelligence test. Or suppose a carpenter did, or a farmer, or, indeed, almost anyone but an academician. By every one of those tests, I'd prove myself a moron, and I'd be a moron, too. In a world where I could not use my academic training and my verbal talents but had to do something intricate or hard, working with my hands, I would do poorly. My intelligence, then, is not absolute but is a function of the society I live in and of the fact that a small subsection of that society has managed to foist itself on the rest as an arbiter of such matters.

Consider my auto-repair man, again. He had a habit of telling me jokes whenever he saw me. One time he raised his head from under the automobile hood to say: "Doc, a deaf-and-mute guy went into a hardware store to ask for some nails. He put two fingers together on the counter and made hammering motions with the other hand. The clerk brought him a hammer. He shook his head and pointed to the two fingers he was hammering. The clerk brought him nails. He picked out the sizes he wanted, and left. Well, doc, the next guy who came in was a blind man. He wanted scissors. How do you suppose he asked for them?"

Indulgently, I lifted by right hand and made scissoring motions with my first two fingers. Whereupon my auto-repair man laughed raucously and said, "Why, you dumb jerk, He used his voice and asked for them." Then he said smugly, "I've been trying that on all my customers today." "Did you catch many?" I asked. "Quite a few," he said, "but I knew for sure I'd catch you." "Why is that?" I asked. "Because you're so goddamned educated, doc, I knew you couldn't be very smart."

And I have an uneasy feeling he had something there.

Why is Free Speech so important?...

2008-02-20T20:50:00.000+05:30

Why speak up about things that don't seem to affect you?
Perhaps Pastor Martin Neimoller's view in one version of his quote will answer that question.
He supported the Nazis until he realized, too late, what they were really about and was sent to Dachau concentration camp.
He was one of the fortunate to be freed and live until 1984.

First they came for the Communists,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Communist.
Then they came for the Social Democrats,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Social Democrat.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak up,
because I wasn't a Jew,
Then they came for me,
and by that time there was no one
left to speak up for me.

Random fear

2008-02-17T17:23:00.002+05:30

You know that feeling when you are scared or confused and you don't know why, well let me tell you why...maybe it happens after waking up after an afternoon nap, or just walking into a new room, or at any time, Totally Random Feaaar....

You know that feeling when you are scared or confused and you don't know
why, well let me tell you why...maybe it happens after waking up after
an afternoon nap, or just walking into a new room, or at any time,
Totally      Random      Feaaar....

You see, you are special, you are like no other person, when you think,
it all becomes real, everyone around you is there because you thought
of them, you are the one,   You   Control   It   Allll...

So be careful not to think scary thoughts, you might make them happen, and
one day it could be  Yooou...

So why are you scared ? you are scared because you think the person
writing this is a bit, well ,unstable, you'd be right, because remember
everything you think....   is    Reaaal.

So I'm real now, you made me !

I'm were you think I am, that place, that place in your head......dark,
fearful and without remorssssse..

......so.....run, run ... while you can, to that safe place in your
head, bright, warm and open, with marshmallows and blue berry pies..

and remember....... happy thoughts make happy people.

..well, so "they" say,

"they" being the voices..........aaaaa the voices......tee hee !

Just a random rant

2008-02-17T17:00:00.001+05:30

i'm losing my self,
i lose my self in my head,
everytime i speak, think, seek
i'm losing my self,
i lose my self in my music,
every melody, note, harmony
i'm losing myself,
i lose myself in my writing,
every pen stroke, diary, poem
i'm losing myself,
i lose my self in love,
every kiss, secret, touch...
i lose myself...and i love it.

Character? i dont get it!

2008-02-17T16:18:00.005+05:30

I give you two people to vote for. I will describe their character and you vote the person whom you feel to be the appropriate leader.......

one was a drunkard.........infamous for being a womanizer (he himself had no idea of the number of women he "met" in his life).......said democracy is a sucking idea of devils, for devils, by devils.....unashamedly danced in pubic,naked, waist upwards..........closely associated with many gangsters.....and many more qualities of the similar kind

the other was known as a teetotaler.....had only one relationship in his life.......was well known for his speeches on liberty and fraternity........always came appropriately dressed in public.........had a penchant for morality...........et al

WHOM WOULD YOU VOTE FOR?
ANS: IF YOU CHOSE THE LATTER YOU WOULD HAVE VOTED INTO POWER "ADOLF HITLER" AND IF THE FORMER "FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT"

Now think for yourself.....

Leisure

2008-02-17T16:00:00.001+05:30

This is for all the guys n gals spending their life in cubicles in front of dumbsies aka computer...... must read it

Leisure is a poem by Welsh poet William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Fedora core 9 review-----(alpha)

2008-02-16T21:01:00.005+05:30

I love Linux, I swear by it, I live by it. Honestly I don't know what the fedora guys had in mind while doing their homework.....Damn I burned my fingers with the alpha 9.

The problems start with the installation itself. If you customize the applications to be installed then in most probability your desktop wont show up as happened with me (I think there is a clash between the GNOME and KDE desktop environment) . ok after this trauma if you finally do give up and allow the default installation......you just got into mess....by default, and I don't know why, each folder opens in a new window.....I didn't realize that until I found my task bar cluttered. Then comes the turtle mood, the system simply slows down.... even the mouse pointer wont follow your commands.....there are no great graphics like vista, its the same as core 8 but as i said the system slows down even with 1GB RAM.

Well all said and done this is just the alpha release and there are bound to be bugs...and there are bugs and bugs.... I am sure the Fedora guys will have to spend sleepless nights to get their BETA release in proper shape.

Final word:: If you are a die hard fan of Linux like me try out the live CD (core 9 alpha) rather than the installation disk. Fedora is great but for the time being core 8 will do.

GET THE FEDORA CORE 9 ALPHA HERE

A mouthwatering desire for this astounding taste calls you to fulfillment.

2008-02-16T01:42:00.001+05:30

You mind is wandering furiously about a flavor that is embedded in your
mind. So scrumptious it consumes your every thoughts to a level of pure
desire. Your mouth waters thinking of this wonderful appealing
sensations that has  you screaming with a desire to be fulfill.

Everywhere you go this aroma stirs sensations of this magnificent
savoring flavor that dances in your mind. Lavishly you ponder this
fragrance to the point of a mind-boggling aspiration that needs a
gratification.

Closing your eyes to escape these passions and a vision crosses your
mind so elegantly your pulled into this visualization and your
astounded how clearly you see your wishes for satisfactions.

Now even the taste is in your dreams, its warmth on your lips as you can
feel its passage to your famished taste buds. Luring your body to a
appetite that is so uncontrollable.

All of this is when I think of your scent, your embrace and your taste.
Deliciously you are on my mind!

Blogcamp--------------barcamp Hyderabad

2008-02-16T00:19:00.002+05:30

What are your plans for this sunday(16th Feb 2008).Barcamphyderabad 5 the fifth in the serise of barcamps being held at Hyderabad is on 16th Feb 2008. This time the camp is being sponsered by Google and will be held at the Googles latest office in Hyderabad.

If you are a blogger or want to be one this is a chance you don't want to miss to meet up popular bloggers and know more about blogging .
Did i forget to tell you Amit Agarwal of Digital Inspiration is comming too.I'm really exicted and looking forward to meeting him.

See you at the barcamp.

For registration and other details visit:

http://barcamp.org/BarCampHyderabad5.

lonelys in love

2008-02-14T00:33:00.001+05:30

Drowning in the Sea of Sorrow
My soul cries
for freedom.
My heart dies
without you.
Both broken
from love's game.
~
My body sings
joylessly.
Mind screams
out your name.
Both desire
a word from
their beloved.
~
Everyone hears.
Everyone cares.
Everyone loves.
Everyone cries.
Except for
the one who
matters.

LIFE???

2008-02-01T05:32:00.000+05:30

What is life for?  To obey your parents Respect your elders,  Do well in school, Go to college, And get a good job. I don’t think so,

Not for me, no thanks. I say have fun, be happy and that’s enough.Eat and be merry, for tomorrow we die.Do what you want to do,
Say what you feel,  And always, ALWAYS be yourself. Devote your life to what you love, And don’t be afraid to laugh. Cry if you’re sad,
Smile if you’re happy, And love yourself. Live as if there were no tomorrow, But love as if there were no end.

Live life.
Love life.

The meaning of life

2008-01-25T00:28:00.001+05:30

Green and yellow
apple orange
this is the way to the funny farm
where people work from break of dawn
and never think they've worked too long.
Hoein' and mowin',
huffin' and puffin',
they work all day for damn little or nothin'.
Green and yellow
apple orange
that's why it's called the funny farm.

5 Minutes of uncertainity

2008-01-19T01:50:00.000+05:30

The Chair

It's always after a fit of sleep, waking after standing next to an empty
chair on the shoreline, a satin dress discarded between it and the
incoming tide, bulging like a stranded jellyfish. I see footprints for
a while, then none.

Satin caps the waves.

I strain to catch sight of a shoulder blade, a neck, a back with all the
regular indentations, but the horribly beautiful moon vanishes and my
bed becomes ill fitting. It is an endless complaint.

In the kitchen I drag the kettle to the tap, gaze at myself in the
window and observe a beggar staring back. Some nights I avoid him
completely, not tonight, we're in this lost hour together. My dog cocks
his head quizzically and stares up at me, making no effort to come out
from under the table. Perhaps I'm his strangely curious dream.

Red stone tiles cool my feet, black pots and pans stand on paint
stripped shelves, wooden picture frames adorn walls, handmade rugs are
worn and tattered. You'd think me a peasant but for the double freezer,
the dishwasher, and the multi-functional oven. The contrast is
ridiculous. I am ridiculous.

The kettle is not the solution. I flick off the switch, pull on an old
loved sweater and leave the house.

Out here on the dark moonlit shoreline a symphony stirs in the depths of
a world that is as boundless as love. Where the chair sat only a rock
stands, crusted and cold. Where the dress lay abandoned, petticoat
waves now break. There is nothing left but the fleeting vision of the
unlived hour. The horror of midnight still haunts me.

It's just the lost hour; an hour when the whispering of a celestial tide
gets me passed those five minutes of uncertainty.

WHAT A DREAM