Makeover Cometh + Food for thought

Change, we all can believe in.

If you’ll forgive the pun on the C-word (a usage I ostensibly copied from our latest friendly-neighborhood Mr. Uncle Sam himself), I’ve revamped my blog! Hey, no big deal; just a new header, not to mention a few minor touch-ups. (In case you’re wondering why I wrote that sentence, well, I’ve to cater to visually impaired readers reading my blog using Text to Speech tools!)

Alright, hardcore techies might still guffaw at me for not moving over to a snazzier third-party template, but I have my reasons to stick on to Minima. The first being lack of time and infrastructure (Parental restrictions!!) to actually work on (read: “edit”) a new template. Again, I’m not exactly into flashy eye-catching templates which might score a point with aesthetics but would reduce the overall appeal of my content. Btw, here’s a piece of info that might want you to switch over to Minima if you’re blogging in Blogger. ‘Minima’ is a Search Engine Optimized theme! (Source: Mani Karthik, the SEO guru). I’ve tried to truly incorporate the allusion to The Matrix, this time. That’s the Matrix code you see in the background of my header, rendered using, surprise-surprise, just Photoshop! If you raise eyebrows at the presence of the ‘blue’ pill adjacent to the red one, well it’s just to emphasize my ‘choice’ of the red pill.

Speaking of the header, something interesting happened while I was Photoshopping it . First of all, the revamp wasn’t a planned idea. I was bored and utterly jobless, thanks to parents’ strict stand against my attending the Film Festival at college scheduled that day. I was even forbidden from attending a combined birthday party by friends (where I too was supposed to chip in). The revamp-idea came as a quick recreational brainwave, just before my second nap that day. Within no time, my soon-to-die monitor flickeringly showed the Photoshop window and I started working.

I’d rendered the Matrix-code part when the doorbell rang. I opened the door with great trepidation, for I had a birthday present-parcel on its way from Kolkata sent by Abhi chettan (best friend-mentor-bro), and It could arrive anytime. A mid-aged, contorted-faced man, clutching a couple of files in one hand and a jute bag in the other shoulder stared at me. He was too low-key and ragged-dressed to be a parcel-delivery-guy. No sooner did he catch a glimpse of me, his face contorted further to display a wide array of facial gestures which included something that remotely looked like a smile.

“നമസ്കാരം സാര്‍! ഞാന്‍ ഒരു എഴുത്തുകാരന്‍ ആണ്. ഇതാ ഞാന്‍ എഴുതിയ ചില ലേഖനങ്ങള്‍..."(Greetings, sir! I’m an author. Here are some of the books I published/I’m about to publish)

He opens his file and shows some news paper cuttings dated back to a couple of decades. It sounded real, for most of the articles had his pics in them.

"ഞാന്‍ ബാലചന്ദ്രമേനോന്‍റെ അസ്സിസ്റ്റന്‍റ് ആയിരുന്നു. ഫിലിം ഇന്‍സ്ടിടുടില്‍ പഠിച്ചിട്ടുണ്ട്"(I’ve assisted Balachandramenon, the ace director and I’ve studied in the film institute too!)

He digs another pic from the file which has him standing adjacent to Mr Menon in a group photo. A close up pic with him looking into the lens as Mr Menon looks on, is also shown. I watch with measured skepticism. All his articles were paper cuttings. They might not have been forged, cause the paper seemed old.

The assured tone of his voice now meliorates into a mildly-entreating one.

"പക്ഷെ സാര്‍, ഇവയെല്ലാം പ്രസിദ്ധീകരിക്കാന്‍ എന്റെ കയ്യില്‍ കാശില്ല. സാര്‍ കുറച്ച് കാശ് തന്നു സഹായിക്കാമോ? ഒരു പത്ത് രൂപ..." (But sir, I don’t have money to publish these books, if you could give me ten bucks…)

Aha! So he’s our home-grown beggar. The intellectual variety, that is. I employed my standard f**k-off line.

"അയ്യോ! ഇവിടെ ഞാന്‍ മാത്രമേ ഉള്ളു. കാശിരിപ്പില്ലല്ലോ!"(I’m sorry, but I’m alone here and there’s not a single pie at the moment.)

And I wasn’t entirely lying! I’m almost bankrupt, so to speak.

“കുറച്ച് നാണയങ്ങള്‍ എങ്കിലും കാണമല്ല്ലൊ. അതെങ്കിലും തന്നൂടെ?”(Couldn’t you give a couple of coins please?)

By now, I noticed something in his voice that moved me. Was it a tinge of earnestness? Was it lack of opportunity? Was it a talented but weary man fighting for survival in the dog-eat-dog world?

Without uttering a word, I took my purse and gave him the sole ten rupee note left in it. The man smiled, joined his hands in a “Thank you!” gesture, closed the gate, and moved on… He might’ve been an impostor. He didn’t even give a name. And, any low-key guy could easily forge documents in his own favour. Like gazillions of blunders I’ve committed in my lifetime, my gesture might’ve been a momentous dumb-act.

But, ten years down the line, I could be him.

P.S.

A few minutes later, another woman came to me with a uniquely-fake style requesting for money to foot the bill of her husband’s operation. I asked her to f**k-off.

An ode to the perfect sis...

"How hard it is to be an only son!
No one to talk to and no one to play,
When I'm alone and down."
As a child, so I used to say.

As clocks ticked and years fell,
Lik leaves from the tree of time,
I found someone; so nice and swell,
She was my sis, sweet like sugared-lime!

She endeared me with her words,
In a voice, so divine
Her talent left me without words,
And her love was an unending gold mine.

True, She's not a blood relation.
But I pray to God every night at nine
That she be my sister, my true relation
And eternally be mine!

Written exclusively for my favourite 'sister' on her birthday! Love ya loads, sis!! :-)

Btw, that's my first poem. Er technically it's the third, cause you can't even consider those 'ramblings' I'd written in my diary when I was in the fourth grade as even meaningful prose, let alone poetry!!

So, sue me if this sounds corny! :P

The 5 addictions of my life...

I've been a lifelong addict, so when I got a tag asking me to list all those addictions from Cris, I couldn't resist! :-) I know it's pretty gross after a series of 'personal' posts, but yeah, I'll try to make it attractive. :D

1) Computers/Internet: My first love! I used to surf the net for nothing less than three hours each day, until a month back. Going through withdrawal syndrome now! :(

2) Music: The daily dose of my favourite playlist(s) on mobile & PC keep me going. Thinking of buying a power packed music system to get more of the 'experience'! :P But as always, I'm broke and bankrupt.

3) Day Dreaming: Dreams are but manifestations of the innate desires of the human mind. I manifest my cravings and live them through my (day)dreams. They make me happy, sometimes to the point of exhilaration!

4) Blogging: For a while, I was under the impression that life without internet might massacre the compulsive blogger in me. But one month without internet (parental restrictions at home once again :| ) and I'm still going strong! :P

5) Talking: A new-found addiction. Might seem out of place for someone who used to be a bigtime introvert three years back; but as someone said, Life f**ks everyone and I changed in the process! Talking is my way out of all problems that bog me down. A good friend and hours of idle time means nirvana for me!

P.S. For those who've read my earlier tags about 'passions' et al. I haven't lost interest in reading, movies and the like! They still remain hardcore passions. But fact is, I haven't got enough time to pursue them.

Lack of time forces me not to tag any one specific. So anyone is free to take up this tag. Talk of a fully democratic world!! :-)

Bad Hair day!

I’ve always been fascinated by hairs. The fact that this sort-of-body-part is an anagram of my first name isn’t exactly the reason for my predilection, though. Overexposure to shampoo ads fitted into ad-slots of “Om Namah Shivay” and “Jai Hanuman” (Ah. Good old DD days…) could’ve played a strong role in making a hair-fanatic out of me. I used to stare at people with perfect tresses without batting an eyelid. To be frank, smooth, shiny hair still turns me on. In fact, my first crush was selected solely on the basis of her sunsilk-model-ish hair. It’s a totally different issue that by my current benchmarks, she’s way below in the food-chain! ;-)

Well, but that doesn’t entirely sum up my penchant. The prime reason for my adulation for hairs is, brace yourself, my hair itself!

For me, every day is bad hair day. My hair is SO thick and curly that without a generous dose of hair oil/water/styling gel, it would hardly budge. And even if I manage to displace it somehow from its messy position, my comb would end up having more hair than what would be left in my head. Being a believer of the fight club philosophy (Self-improvement is masturbation!), I don’t give another thought to my hair, these days. That means, by the end of each day, I’d look like His Holiness Sai baba himself. The irreparability of my hair left me with no option other than to enjoy the beauty of others’ hair(s).

As a child, I didn’t give a damn about hair styles and crap. I’d somehow rush to keep my hair in place after a heavy dose of oil and forget about it. I thought my hair was as normal as any mallu for a long time. By the time I reached seventh grade, I realized that something was amiss. First, I noticed that my hair wasn’t exactly black. It was more a shade of brown. Now, that’s the play of hormones, ‘cause I had ‘golden’ hair in my arms too, back then. Guess brown & goled hair came as a package with my golden eyes which made me a subject of ridicule, with people almost calling me a freak!( I still have golden hair in the back of my arm and to those who notice it, I’d joke about how it’d make me a rich guy when I sell all my tufts of golden hair!) It took me some more time to realize that my hair wasn’t straight like the Head n’ Shoulders guy, but was wavy and curly. Weighed by inquisitiveness, I picked a strand of hair from my scalp and examined, in the light of Thomas Kutty sir’s (Biology teacher at Loyola) lessons, only to perceive that it was unusually thick. I was Jack’s broken heart.

In a bid to look good (and attract female company) as I ventured into tuition classes, I’d use every trick in the book to be on top of couture and coiffure. Countless combs were sacrificed in attempts to make my hair resemble Tom Cruise’s (The MI2 look) or SRK’s (The DDLJ look). only to cause much heartburn. With age, I took my crap-hair in the stride and learned to live with it. Before a dress rehearsal of the School Day drama, my buddy Paatta (real name’s Nitin ; Now,don’t ask me about the nick!!) suggested to comb my hair backward. It looked pretty good. Good enough that it still remains my preferred hairstyle. I don’t know if Paatta remembers this, but I’ll remain eternally thankful to the dude, who used to be a style-icon himself (I guess he still is, but he was sporting a huge beard when I saw him last!), for making me look decent ever since.

Curly hair was the least of my problems. There was another issue that bogged me down, well, literally. White dusty dandruff! At any given time, my hair’s a dandruff factory. Once, out of boredom, I combed my entire hair only to unearth a handful of white oily dandruff-scum! :-| I have a pic of it, but it’s too gross to upload. Period. I’ve tried all shampoos in the market, but to no avail. Like the curls, I’ve learned to live with it. And that’s not all! There was the receding hairline which super ceded all other problems! My dad’s almost bald now. So is every male member in his age group in the family. I have a couple of cousins who went fully bald at a ‘tender’ age of 35. I should’ve foreseen it, but complacent sh1t that I am; it took a taunt from a classmate to jolt me back to the reality of my impending baldness. But unlike many others, the tufts of hair in my scalp are pretty thick and might remain steady for a couple of decades or so, hopefully.

Yesterday, dad ceremoniously announced that it was time for haircut. Fight Club philosophy guides me not to give a damn about my hair, so it takes a taunt or two from dad/mom to drive to the friendly neighborhood barber. Having been busy, I didn’t pay much heed to parents’ words for the past couple of weeks. But yesterday was a Sunday, and I had no other go, but to shed my locks of curly hair. The other day, a female friend was suggesting me to straighten my hair, but that’d make it look like a dilapidated broom, I’d retorted. So as I walked to the barber’s, I wondered whether it’s time for a change in appearance. A change would always be good, right? Like Godsend, I had a brainwave. The first reaction to my quick- idea was apprehension. Would the soon-to-be-makeover make me look good? Every dilemma has a way out, and I tossed a coin. The odds were 2-1 in my favour. I smiled.

As I walked out of the barber shop, rubbing my tonsured head, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. As I’d expected, Mom was hysterical at the sight of my bald head. Dad part-laughed and part-scolded. I was content. No dandruff plus a ‘cool’ head. Besides, I’d resemble Aamir when the Hindi Ghajini hits theatres. Another bald blogger in the block! Whee!!

Comments (I know you're goanna rip me apart!) are welcome! :-)

Before:

After:

Kenney… You have company!

Self-Promotion bit:

I participated in another televised debate. The program’s name is നിയന്ത്രണരേഖ|Niyantranarekha (Line of Control), in the Malayalam news channel Manorama News. Though the topic deviated from “Strikes and Kerala” due to some politicization by some of the panel members, thanks to the efforts of the unbiased and talented host Mr Pramod it turned out to be a good experience. I got an opportunity to wield the mic, finally, and ended up summing up the debate. Here's the video:

And guess what, those two guys were here this time too!! :-|