Lighthouse - A Pure Fiction

Lighthouse As I would walk the line of fascination and discovery with an acute sense of sighting people and places around, I would enjoy the histrionics played by me as maneuvering across the pavement, the lanes; braving the muddy onslaught of the roads, there would arise a strange feeling of joy as I would trigger it with my playing around. A feeling of a prince would pervade in me as I would hop on the strong shoulders of my grandfather. I could feel the gravity; immense strength in the clavicle as I spread both my arms in elation across my grandfather’s neck, a sudden deviation and he would slap me on my back. I could be spotted most of the times in this position or holding his little finger and trying to match my pace with his own everyday as we would pay our homage to the devi, the great deity because of whom we ate and drank and lived our lives till this day.

I silently imagined myself to be as strong as my grandfather whom I would fondly call Baba and as tall as the Lighthouse. “Bharat you have to emerge as a lighthouse”, Baba would always tell me and I knew it deep within that I would make it up one day. I had to be like the Lighthouse radiating light and guiding people to the right path. I loved grandfather’s idea of trying to relate me with the lighthouse which I would occasionally see from a distance en-route while paying a visit to my aunt .The huge majestic tower always enticed me with its towering grace. I had these unusual visions of going to the top of the tower and snarling out at the top of my voice “I am here to be a part of your splendor, my majesty.”

Dharam and I were good friends who shared similar tastes, we were not lured by the unimaginable brickbat of the outside world, we laughed and played and for us sheer joy existed in being together and sharing the treasured marbles. Dharam’s father was a bookseller. He had a small shop where he sold hundreds of books and that should have made Dharam a bookworm which he very much was. My grandfather who worked as a clerk often gave me examples of Dharam whose father, a revolutionary in his own right, had escalated from being a potty cleaner to opting for the present occupation and Dharam, the studious and intelligent boy he was, would definitely take the name of the family ahead. Dharam envisioned a clear and well defined dream of being an IAS officer and his father told him the way to being one was only books which would make him an enlightened soul. If somebody asked me what my dream was, well all I knew was that I had to be a lighthouse and the way to being one was something which I didn’t know?
One summer afternoon Dharam and I made a secret plan to visit the lighthouse area. Dharam was shaky about it but on further persuasion he resorted to my will of taking the plunge. We had it all settled. We would leave our homes for school as usual, take a bus from thereon till Kalkabaadi and walk on for 3 kms to reach the destination. Coming Tuesday was the day we selected to carry out the escapade. I got up in the morning and as usual visited the temple, asked Ma to shower extra blessings on me, changed into my school uniform, met Dharam near the peepal tree and walked till the bus stop. We took a small dingy bus, all afloat with fisherwoman and some more men and women driving the chores of their lives. I, very confidently, handed over the money to the conductor of the bus “two tickets Kalkabaadi”. Dharam stood hiding behind me. The conductor looked at us from the corner of his eyes and something in Dharam’s demeanor probably left indications of our mission and he spoke out “Which school in kalkabaadi”? I took the two tickets without answering him, took hold of Dharam and we sat on the luggage kept at one of the corners of the bus. We alighted from the bus at Kalkabaadi and I stretched myself beaming under the sun with my exceptional performance.

“Bharat, what if they catch us?” asked Dharam. “Why on earth should they do that”? I took out some channa from the right pocket of my knickers and gave some to him to eat. ”Just eat channa and don’t bother. Everything is going to be fine”.

We kept on walking and all the time Dharam suffered from bouts of anxiety and continuously blabbered “Bharat what we are doing is not right. Devi maa will get angry for speaking a lie and bunking school and this act will have dire consequences which we will have to pay for and repent later.” I gave a deaf ear to whatever he spoke and all I could see was my lighthouse which I finally reached. It was a huge and magnificent tower. A wooden staircase; lead up to the beacon. The staircase had become a nesting place for the birds and the old French marvel had turned into shambles. It was now used as a dumping place for office equipment and other non biodegradable waste. The lighthouse looked beautiful embracing the filth in its garb. I felt phenomenal. ”Let’s go upstairs”

“No we shouldn’t. There is a demon that lives here. My mother told me that” said Dharam.
“Don’t be stupid. There is no demon here. They live only in story books”. I held Dharam’s hand and started moving upstairs. As we progressed further we heard a loud thud and Dharam pushing me and taking a lead this time took the steps back to take me by my hand outside. He took me alongside and kept on walking as if there did exist a demon which had entered his body. We scurried our way breathless and he had eyes flooded with tears. We stopped at a side of a road and as he shoved my hand away he spoke out as a valiant soldier.

”I told you there lives a demon but you did not listen to me. How can you intend to be like a lighthouse when you do not take the right path towards getting to it? How can you guide people when you do not follow the right directions”? The words resonated in my ears. Although I did not understand the meaning behind those words but they had so much of weight that for the first time in my life I thought to myself that I did not deserve to be the lighthouse. Only people like Dharam can achieve being one for the society.

We returned to our places taking the same route but this time we were both quiet and for few more days after that day we decided not to talk about this escapade at all. Our lives were all back to the normal. Years passed on and so did the fascination lessen but somewhere in my heart the thought did not diminish that I had to grow up like a lighthouse guiding people and showing them the right path. The only deciding factor was how?

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

I moved to Delhi University to pursue a bachelor’s program in Physics at St. Stephens College and Dharam joined English Literature at Hindu College. I could sense a rebirth of emotions and turmoil within, to come across in terms with the whole myriad of people with different backgrounds and the cosmic huddle which enveloped me now. University offered me a life and mind to think beyond the norm, to spread my wings in the limitless sky and the multifarious opportunities which existed just to be entrapped. Within few months came the election season. The air got filled with contempt and allegations, promises and hope, fliers, papers pasted on the walls , university buses , hoardings laid out , holding the torch of freedom and good administration in the campus. I was an active participant of the left wing, holding out rallies till JNU. The communist within me found a vent and we would stage out rallies questioning the divide between the rich and the poor. I began to find the vision, the light which I always knew was latent and now I had a direction to follow. Dharam all this while would be busy reading the books and preparing for the IAS. His vision and scope was firmly directed towards his goal and I had found mine as well.

Dharam had those seeds of progress within him and he was working hard for it. I on the other hand also worked part time with an NGO for the uprising of the labor force in India. In three years I had risen from being a worker to the student’s leader of the left wing and more than that was the satisfaction within me of achieving something for the betterment of others. It was one of those days when I had returned from my native place and I had to hand over a packet of sweets to Dharam which required of me to visit his hostel at his college. Outside his college hung a board where it was written

DOGS AND STEPHENIANS NOT ALLOWED

I ignored the contents of the board and started moving forward. Three men first stopped me from coming inside and on further protest, encircled me. Whereas one held me from behind the two others punched me right through one after another. Blood started oozing out of my mouth and I stood there shouting for help but to my dismay I could not spot anybody out there. The packet which I was carrying fell down on the floor and the sweets it had fell all over the floor. Flashes of hope emerged as I could see Dharam coming out from his room from a distance. As I saw him I called out for him and shouted out his name. But, to my surprise Dharam saw me being punched by three ruffians but instead of coming out there and helping me, took an overturn and went straight away back to his hostel building. I collapsed there and later when I gained consciousness, I realized that I was taken to the hospital by a friend of mine who spotted me lying on my back, in front of the college gate. I was not only physically hurt but emotionally drenched out and the hurt was so much imminent and indelible that I wondered if it would ever go away from my life. I rehearsed and re-rehearsed the whole scene in front of my eyes, maybe Dharam would have felt afraid, after all he had his exams to take, or by the might of the students, he could not muster enough courage to fight for me. But, I could not find any excuse which could appease my heart and make it understand the situation or give Dharam the benefit of the doubt.

After few days I was released from the hospital and on my return I found a board hanging right at the front gate of the college

DOGS ALLOWED
STEPHENIANS ALLOWED
BUT HINDUITES NOT ALLOWED

The wordings on the board reemerged the feeling of disgust and shame within me. I asked my friends to quickly get rid of the board. Dharam did not pay a visit to me either in the hospital or otherwise. The final exams were round the corner. I wanted to be sure if he was doing alright and he was in fact doing more than alright because a common friend told me that he had cleared his prelims and was all set and prepared to take the Mains. Some how Dharam had changed, I thought to myself. I also did not show any inclination towards meeting up with Dharam. He had moved far ahead in his life and the inkling in me to lead a life as a lighthouse resurfaced but what diminished was the beacon that kept it burning in the form of Dharam.

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

I worked for an NGO after graduating from college. Initially Baba was unhappy because of the choice of occupation but later, on his visit to Delhi when he saw the kind of work our organization was doing, he was more than happy for me. Our organization was in a need for land and I was given the responsibility to attend to it. After months of looking out, Shyam jee our manager, did end up finding a piece of land but there were complications created in its possession by a corrupt bureaucrat who would only pass out the land if we would pay him money. I, without fluttering my eyes gave my consent to paying the corrupt officer and Shyam jee was puzzled to understand how I could give my consent to something I did not believe in.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number of my friend who worked as a journalist with a leading daily. He gave his assent that he too would join me to visit the officer. Shyam jee set up a meeting with the corrupt officer the next working day. I took out money from the bank and the bag with the small camera fitted in was all set and ready. I placed the money in the bag and me, my journalist friend and Shyam jee went up to the office of the bureaucrat. As soon as we were about to enter the office, my phone began to ring and it was Baba speaking at the other end. I asked Shyam jee and my friend to complete the task as decided and I would wait for them outside in the car. As soon as I finished speaking I saw both Shyam jee and my friend Harish approaching the car with another person who was probably the assistant to the officer. Harish very reassuringly showed me a thumb up and I was convinced that the task has been accomplished.

Harish wanted to quickly reach his office since he had the most sensational news for the day in his hand but I had missed out on meeting the corrupt officer and moreover it is better to test the tapes first at home. We all reached my apartment and quickly setup the equipment to watch the corrupt officer taking the bribe. The visuals were crisp and clear and so was the face of Dharam. I was amazed by the discovery and so were the other two sitting with me and watching it all.

“Do you want it to be stopped? If you insist I can do so.” Harish said.
“No this news should be the part of the front page” I reaffirmed.

I could not sleep for the whole night. I could not believe that ambition and want of fame, money and power could exhaust all the scruples from a person who was once wiser than his age. I could have stopped the news from publishing and maybe protect my friend from being defamed. I did not do it not out of sense of vengeance for he did not protect me while I was beaten up in a broad daylight but it was the jolt which was required to be given to him, the one which he gave me years back.

Did the next morning’s newspaper reveal the truth about the corrupt officer? No, it did not; neither did any television news channel broadcast the story. Harish left the tapes with me and I decided to hand it over to Dharam personally because it was time for him to awaken, the roles had reversed and I had to show him the right way. Have I managed to realize my dream? Well, it is just a beginning….

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I have a question

Before you read ahead, I want you to answer this question for me.
What is that one thing in this world, having which you would live happily ever after?
1) Money
2) Fame
3) Love
4) Mukti

If you had said Money, how much money would make you happy? What are the numerous methods that you are going to adopt to reach that magical figure? The thirst for money is never ending. Have you ever wondered how does money get its value? It’s when the Govt. not only prints money on rich papyrus, but also when there is an equal quotient of valuables like gold kept in a safe. But, deep within me I have this question that, If money were to make most happy, then can we go ahead and assume that a daily wage earner is not happy in his life? Are we given the authority to judge a person’s inner feeling based on our financial status and for the social stigma that he lives with till his last breath? In my opinion, he would be fairly happy in his life, for one he gets a good sleep everyday for the physical workout he does, and also there is nothing in his possession that he would loose to the thieves in the night. The irony of money is the urge to hoard as much as possible, which your family might enjoy when you are dead because all the while you were busy accumulating it, but what’s the point?

If you had said fame, do you have what it takes to conquer the burden of fame? The adultery you commit becomes a national offence (Mr. Clinton), and when the same thing is done by your neighbor with his head held high, it is some kind of an achievement. Being someone that you are not, pretending to be joyous and serene, but deep within the frustration of your inability to be yourself is corroding your soul and that scar won't heal unless you peel the mask that society wants you to wear all the while. When you are weighed not for your values but how much friends you have in the political circle. To lose your private and the most intimate moments to the paparazzi lenses. To also be a contender in the worst dressed category. When the media actually rules your life, cooking up rumors between you and the next in line to the status that you currently enjoy, just to raise their TRPs! Let’s come to terms with it, if all of us were to have fame, recognition and our family name on the common man’s lips, the essence of fame would lose.

If you had said Love, these 4 letters have the power to create a saint or destroy a human. How sure are you that the person, whom you love, loves you with the same commitment? Isn’t this thought the epicenter of sublime worry? Is there any space for suspicion in Love? Love is best described by the ones who have basked in the glory of its eternal sunshine. It’s that one glimpse of your lover you long to see the whole day and when you do capture that moment of million years, your face glows from within. In the mean time if you haven’t enjoyed the wait, then you are not in love. It’s the sacred union of two frequencies of minds that resonates with tremendous energy of fusion that can change not only themselves but also everything that they touch. When eyes interlock, sailing them through the day and their combined body warmth puts them to sleep in the night. Do you really fall in love or should it be left to happen? Then there are people who have to make it happen. They force love on to them and on to their partners. It is but the most valuable gift that humanity is bestowed with, yet people have to misuse it with vicious intensions. When a heart cries, it tells no one… it will try to swallow the entire ache and will retaliate with loving back the person with an irresistible passion. After repeated denials and after being pushed over the edge, the tender heart says; no matter where you are, who you are with, my love was real and for all that you did to me… I hope you go to hell! Beware of the words that come out from the heart, and especially when the heart is in agony.

If you had said Mukti, Do you have to be an atheist, not to believe it? It is but an absurd concept that most cultures believe in. Your soul takes the giant transition from the earthly pleasures to an unknown kingdom where you are greeted by your grandparents, the neighbor’s dog you once played with, where everyone is free and are finally one with the whole. Every soul needs to unite with the "one". Have you ever been near a funeral pyre? Though the temperature is enough to turn you to ashes, there is this chilling sensation in your palm. That’s the energy released, when a soul leaves this world. I don’t want you to believe me, I want you to witness it! And if you were scared to go to the “other world” because of the deeds you have consciously committed, then you are a wandering nomad with no certain end. The thought of an endless venture in a world where you don’t belong is quite a thing to ponder over. Do good, be brave and embrace the "whole" with arms wide open. There are customs when people cry and people rejoice over death. Both to intend the same purpose, crying to help the dead know they will be missed and to rejoice to again ascertain the dead that they have indeed reached the destination.

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Never too busy

I had recharged my phone only that evening. That meant enough balance to make some calls to long-lost friends, which would include STD and ISD calls. I browsed through my contacts. There were names that were on the verge of oblivion. Some names required some time of mine to recollect how I knew him/her. There were people with similar names, often saved with some clue to distinguish one from another. One of the most common names was ‘Arun’. I spent some time on each Arun just to see if my memory was fine. It was then that a certain Arun struck me. This was my childhood friend, the first friend I ever made. The first guy I met out of my family and close relatives.

I still was in touch with him. But that meant 2 or 3 calls in a year. That too was because he was still in my town, whereas most other guys from my town had gone to distant corners of the world. I called him up whenever I had some work to be done at my place that I myself could not attend to. He was never hesitant. I would start the conversation with the usual greetings. And then I would feel some guilt when I tell him what I was calling for. He knew that I always wanted him to get something or the other done, whenever I called up. But it never sounded.

This left some accumulated guilt in me and that’s why I decided to call him up anyway, even though I had nothing to get done. I thought myself considerate enough to make such a move. “After all, he has never called me up, it was I who always made a call”, I thought. It didn’t matter to me that he wasn’t earning as much as me, that he had a family of a younger sister and an ailing mother to support, that he worked 16 hours a day in unhealthy surroundings or that he never said he was too busy when I asked him to do something for me.

I dialed his number and waited, but he didn’t pick up. I tried again to the same effect. I then moved on to other numbers in my phonebook. Strange enough, two other friends also didn’t pick up their phones. I was wondering what had happened to all my friends on a fine saturday evening, when suddenly my phone rang. It was Arun. 

“Where the hell were you?”, was what I said right after picking up. “Sorry da, I was in the bathroom”, he said as if he were whispering. There was something noticeable in his voice. It was not his usual masculine tone, it was rather husky. Also, he talked as if he were chewing the words he uttered. This should be one of his usual tricks, I thought. 

“What’s with you?” 

“Hey, it’s nothing”. 

“Then stop this mockery, you idiot!” 

“Err, I’m not mocking. It’s just that I lost a few teeth. That’s why I sound different.” 

“Lost your teeth? But how?” 

I almost lost my breath listening to him for the next few minutes. 

Arun had met with a serious accident two months back. In his own words, he was crushed between two buses, while riding on his bike. I knew Arun was rather rash in his riding, but he was never dangerous. He said he was lucky to escape with a few fractures and some bruises. No points for guessing that he lost some teeth too.

Arun was the kind of a man who always talked less about his own pains. So I was skeptic when he said nothing was there to worry. I kept asking him if that’s all. I kept receiving the same answer. 

He said his teeth loss didn’t affect him much since most of them were wisdom teeth, which had just about nothing to do with a man’s chewing. It’s the swelling of his gum that was more painful and that alone was causing his voice to be husky. I tried pulling his legs saying that whatever ‘wisdom’ he had, was now lost. 

We talked for a few more minutes before I hung up. I felt sorry for him. I decided to pay him a visit the next time I went to my native. 

Days went by. My temporary memory was overwritten by more recent data and Arun just faded into oblivion. 

I was sitting late in the office when suddenly my phone rang. It was displaying an ‘unknown number’. “That’s an overseas call, must be Anoop”, I thought, and lo! I had guessed it right. 

Anoop was a common friend of Arun and me, the kinship just as old as ours. I can say that we shared our childhood and the neighborhood. He was now on an overseas assignment in the US. He called up every other weekend. But he never called up on weekdays. Also his calls came at my mornings, his nights.

“Hello”, my spine chilled to hear a trembling voice at the other end.

“Hello, Anything wrong with you?”, the pessimistic and now concerned me asked. 

“I’m perfectly fine, this is about Arun.” 

“What’s with him?” 

What I heard next made me speechless. Arun’s injuries were by no means minor. The fracture he was talking about had occurred to his back bone. And that left him with an awkward gait at the age of 24. Anoop’s dad had met Arun the other day. He noticed his clumsiness and told Anoop about this over phone.

“Sree, go meet him. I want to know how actually he is.”, said Anoop. I too wanted to.

After the call, I went straight to the bus station to reserve a ticket for that weekend. I wanted to go home. I wanted to meet Arun. I wanted to know how he is.

The rest of the week just flew by like anything. I didn’t even know when Friday came and I boarded a bus to my town.

 On Saturday I reached home early in the morning. Mom was happy on my unexpected home-coming. I took a bath, had breakfast and started getting ready to go out and meet Arun. She wanted me to accompany her to the temple and the local market. I politely told her that I’m home for some other reason. She was not happy to hear that. But she knew how close Arun was to me. She didn’t, therefore, say another word. 

Arun was working as an accountant for a hardware shop in Kochi. Not the best of jobs. But he was happy with what he earned and the way he lived. He actually used to have that scornful yet innocent look on his face when I used to tell him about the ‘struggles’ of a software engineer’s life. I was told that he was going to work everyday even though he wasn’t yet fully well. I started out to the City without much delay.

It was pretty early in the morning and the City was slowly waking from the morning slumber. I knew his shop and went directly to there. Arun was an early riser and I was pretty sure to meet him there at that time. I entered into the shop and there he was, surprised to see me.

“Sree, what a surprise?!”, he came and hugged me. There was that ugly sluggishness to all his movements 

“Hi man, How are you? And this time you are gonna tell me the truth.” 

“Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks. I’m just doing fine.”

“See Arun, you are gonna tell me exactly what happened to you. Okay?” 

“Umm.. Err.. nothing much actually…” 

“C’mon yaar, what’s there in telling me? Of all men ME?!!!” 

“Sree, I told you already. It was an accident.” 

“I know that. How it occurred is what I want to know now.”

I never thought I would later repent having uttered those words. Arun was rushing to the university to get a certificate I had asked him to get for me. I had asked him to do that such a long time back that I myself forgot about it. But Arun didn’t. He never forgot things. He never forgot his friends. The officer at the university had made him go there several times. A person who knew the ways of universities would understand. He didn’t lose patience. He kept going there to get it done. 

And then on that day he was finally to get it. He took some time off his work and went there around noon. He hadn’t had anything from the morning. That made him a bit dizzy, as he later admitted. And probably that made him careless, thus causing the accident. I was at loss of words. My dear friend had met with a serious accident trying to do me a favor. A favor that was not really very important. He could have conveniently forgotten about it. I would not even have asked him again. But I knew he never did like that. He would never ever forget something, if it was for a friend. 

It was I who kept forgetting things. I forgot the beautiful childhood days we spent together. The numerous times he would bring me my favorite chocolate from his dad’s shop. The times when he dropped me at the railway station just in time so that I didn’t miss the train to my college. The times when I called him up to get something done for me and he never said no. The times I did not even enquire if he was alright. The times when I did not even thank him for something that he did for me. “How long would it take for you to get fully well?” 

“If I am lucky enough, six months” “Err.. 

Now tell me, are you in need of some money?” 

I had to force those words through my lips. 

“Hey no. I would have asked you if I wanted.”

“Ok”. 

We then talked about our own lives. How we were living in two worlds that had nothing in common. We talked about common friends. About how times had changed. But not how an unbridgeable gap developed between us. The shop was slowly becoming busy with activity. It was then that I decided to leave. I bid good bye to him and walked towards the exit. " Sree", he called me from behind. I turned back. He was holding the certificate from the university I had asked for. I took it with trembling hands. I walked out with a heavy heart.

It was later sitting in the bus that I remembered that I had forgotten to thank him yet another time. I could not have done much for him. All that I could have done was to call him up to see if he was alright. Or to see if he wanted some help, financially or otherwise. I didn’t do even these simple things. I was too ‘busy’ to remember such small ‘silly’ things. Too busy to even think about this true friend of mine. 

That night, lying on my bed, I found myself weeping like never before, for the first time in many years. 

 

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History of IT

Today we are going to discuss a unique period of India's history called the ITernal age.
This era of Indian history began somewhere around the end of the 20th century and lasted well into the 21st century. It marks a unique technological age that dawned upon this country that, till then, lagged the rest of the world in harnessing technological developments.
Initially, smart Indian engineers began doing petty technical tasks for people in other parts of the world. They found that they could do it at a fraction of a cost of their competitors and still earn big money. Slowly, the word spread and before soon, everyone and their aunt were into IT.
Today, however, we're going to delve more into the social tendencies of this era than the economic aspects.
A lot of research has gone into the area of how people lived and worked. Broadly, historians and sociologists have found the following categories of the ITernal man as per their behavioral tendencies.

The 0-1 year IT professional
These usually consisted of people who'd jumped straight out of college into the shark-infested waters they called IT. When they were not training and learning things they didn't need, they patronized libraries and coffee machines in their 100m radius. Recorded accounts indicate that this tribe used to roam around in large groups - perhaps seeking security in numbers.

The 1-2 year IT professional
This tribe of people often began understanding what they'd got themselves into. With the 2-4 year IT professional (see below), they formed the workhorses of the IT workforce. Cheap labor ensured they were present in large numbers and were the fuel that kept organizations going. Accustomed to working long, odd hours and often around the week, they used to spend a fair bit of time on pondering about what their lives had become (and wrote blogs on it!). They often longed for their carefree days of college. They were often evangelized into the dogma they called "Process" and were made to do things they didn't know and/or didn't care about.

The 2-4 year IT professional
Having spent a fair while, they understood fairly the madness around them and how their world worked. They were also regularly groomed into future roles into management. This involved using esoteric jargon and creating reports and reports of reports. An enterprising few also made a large number of presentations. By the time people progressed into this tribe, they had also been a part of the corporate rehabilitation program they called "onsite". This program involved changing the geographical location and currency of the employee's salary. This was said to have a motivational effect on these men and women for reasons not entirely understood.

The 4+ year IT professional
It is speculated that the behavior of men and women became radically different after this critical juncture. They became everything they'd feared in the past. They were now managers, leaders, designers - in essence, generals marshalling the pawns of the army. Outside this, the distinction becomes rather difficult to determine. Currently, the world’s best historians are trying to understand the identifying traits of people who were more than 4 years into IT. One theory suggests that people moved out after 4 years for good once they realized the importance of things like health, social life et al. This is yet to be verified though. There are other theories that the 4+ group had different diverse sub-groups of its own but little has been discovered so far on that front. Despite these differences, there were some broad similarities in the behavior of men and women of this era - trends that transcended the boundaries of classification. For one, folklore and discussions recorded in these times have a returning and emotional reference to one word - "appraisal". The cult status of this phenomenon is yet to be entirely understood by researchers. What they have found is that this more mention in the art forms of the era - like email forwards, blog posts, etc. periodically in certain parts of the year.
Besides, perfectly modern workplaces were designed in a fashion to accommodate modest stalls serving tea. As some manuscripts indicate, this was called Tapri. This was a place between office and home for these people. It was here that the ITernal man had whatever little of social life that they had. Anything between office politics to life's biggest questions could be discussed here.
Some researchers also believe that this section of the office described a lot about the organization. For example, the number of people here was inversely proportional to the volume of business of the company and was used by business analysts tracking the company to forecast quarterly earnings.

We still don't completely understand what caused the end of the ITernal age – whether it was a sudden "big-bang"-type end or was it slow decline as people moved onto greener pastures.
However, one thing is for sure - no one can claim to have understood the unique land India is without understanding this period of India’s history. This phase will be a subject of interest of all historians seeking to understand India - the way it was, and what it now is.

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The Light in the Shadow

What is that impulse that makes us do things at a spin of sec.... All plans all decisions go undone. The impulse is the one that wins in that split of second. 

The state of zero-ness and stillness is the one when you have lost your self... the self 

May be the presence of beloved is bliss in itself, but the beloved has no role . Its the projection of one's own love that is making these moments blissful... Release the self from love .. let the freedom come. Let the love be free and a untrapped self.... a spirit that is just unseparated from the container, untouched like the oil drop that floats around from one part of the vessel to the other part of the vessel... the soul would rise to the ecstasy of unlimited happiness, and the separation with the self would take the soul away... some what farther than one could think of.

Does the smile depend on whether or not the beloved is next to you? The self this moment knows to the best that there is no love present from the side of the beloved. But is that a reason for sorrow or grief. The grief is not associated in this moment of bliss. This is the acceptance of the hurt as if the soul was injured when the body was snatched away. 

What is there to pull, what is there to feel a frown on. Is love about pulling or struggle, or irritation or questioning the beloved? The bliss is to be there present by identifying the reason of the injury to the self. Why do we feel sad on the self, why this pull? Why this wait for acceptance.. why this struggle for hearing that we are loved?

A baby in my house ran to the door listening to the voice of her mother standing at the other end of the entrance door, just then the father deviated his drive for his mother by showing him a mobile which made the baby forget the mother and started following the mobile, something like the self which had to love someone, but the object was not important, and so deviation did not decrease the intensity of the drive for loving. Whether it was the attention getting poured to the mobile instead of the mother. 

Why do we identify ourselves with others. Why cant we be senseless sometimes. Why should only logical beings be praised. Why do we have to run away from our selves in the fear of being stabbed by others at the moment when they know what we are. Are we not mocking with ourselves just to escape the mockery of others. We could not live anyways. Neither completely the way others wanted us to, and no way the way we wanted to. 

The external self matters to us more than ourselves.. Can't I live some moments with myself.... the way I am... the beliefs I have.... We are relative to others. The acceptance or denials matter more that they should in any scenario. This moment I may not make any sense to anyone other than me, but can’t this sensless self of mine be open in the crowd and say that yes, here I am the most illogical self.... the self who does not know what he is saying or writing.... the self image ... all I am is defined by the person in front of me. 

The absolute entity in us does not exist anymore, the self is in search of the its image every second in the pupils of the eyes looking at us, seldom looking into the mirror to ask the self if it identifies us. 

Recently on a evening spent with a dear friend, I got a similar insight. She said ..." why do we look for a person to complete/complement us after marriage.... why cant two complete persons spend the life together... why is the complementation needed... " 

That's the reason why the separation of love hurts.... May be due to this very reason of incompleteness that moment, We have shared the self with someone, so both are the aspects of the same entity now, like two born twins who are attached to each other at birth... any operation done with as much expertise, can not defer the fact that the separation is going to hurt. The separation is going to bleed too.... but that is the fun as per all, that until and unless you have lost the self to someone, what is the worth of love.... 

But, still the mind wonders, why does the self need to loose it's self.... were we made like this only.. an incomplete being which has to search for the completeness in others, in the pupil of the person in front of him.... Is it that we were made incomplete or is it that we don’t make enough effort in discovering the completeness of the self. The completeness that is unmoved... the completeness which is like a river flowing. Flowing in completeness... Branches may meet it, but none of them complete it. Its complete in itself. 

So it will be like a companion... the journey is long, and we are prepared for the voyage by self... any one en-route is a companion, seldom a support.... A companion with whom we may talk , we may smile with but not loose our self to, not share our weight on or share the burden of the self.... so the journey is of a complete soul which is busy walking and heading towards its goal each step.... a side-walker can come along, but should neither himself share the burden nor should be a support to the other, rather just a companion. 

May be it is the way we were made... one dependent on the other.. the body dependent on breath, and we dependent on love.... the breath leaves the body and the body is dead... and the love leaves the self and we are dead..... 

May the body learn to live without the breath... the day will come soon :) 

 

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The Moral Me

Many of my friends, peers and colleagues have had rather different views to the ones that I hold about some fundamental principles in life. Perhaps you can say I always was and am the ‘odd man’ in the ‘Odd man out’ game that we played as kids growing up in school. My fundamental views about faith in particular contradicted most commonly accepted or rather as I would put it ‘passed on’ views from generations. 

What did strike me; rather oddly was, why then, as a person, was I not any different to them when it came to empathy moral code of do’s and don’ts , values since we as humans attribute many of these traits to ‘word of God’. The moral code of god which we must follow or else face eternal hell. 

Well, enough of the Odds for the moment let’s try to ‘even’ out the reasons behind this odd trait. As children we simply come to accept the word of authority ‘Do not touch the electric pole’ or ‘Do not climb the ledge’. This word of authority is invariable comes from our parents and elders, the kith and kin who have the greatest influence on the formative years of our lives. That simply is because we just don’t have enough time to question and learn about anything and everything around us and live long enough to know it all by the end of the road. 

Naturally we take up the mantle from our parents about what they teach us and pass that on to the generation next. Be it about worshiping one particular God and how we should not sin because otherwise the ‘all powerful’ will punish us. ( Uparvala saab dekh raha hai -God is watching). Perhaps then people like me should be devoid of any morality and/or the virtue of right and wrong. Since I know there is nobody up there who is going to punish me for what I do in this life (since I don’t have to worry about heaven and hell, life and after life depending on which particular God you follow). 

But to my surprise, I find that the moral values that I share with most others are more than equal. In fact I can confidently say that my empathy towards my fellow beings is of greater magnitude then my faith-full friends. And I think we share the podium when it comes to moral values and do’s and don’t. 

So what is it that makes me think with compassion the sense of right from the wrong? Altruism surprisingly is not a trait found only in us Humans. It is apparently prevalent in many other living species. Also the ‘you scratch my back and I will scratch yours’ principle vividly seen in chimps and other ‘ape cousins’ is an evolutionary phenomenon.  As hunters and gatherers our ancestors had a advantage in bonding as a group and co-operating many a times giving without having anything in return to ensure that we as a species survived the harsh environment around us. Co-operate, nurse, empathize to out-compete the other species for the limited source of food naturally available. 

Of course with the advent of agriculture around 10, 0000 years ago that started to change and sure enough the Moral values also evolved. Today we all accept that the murder of  a fellow being, rape, and slavery is morally wrong. But just about 2000 years ago slavery was not only permitted but the number of slaves was an indicator to your position in society. We also have devised a mechanism of punishing and socially denouncing people who do not follow this code of conduct. And therefore we do by and large follow this code irrespective of what we thin kink individually about rotting in hell.  

But this too is not an ‘only’ human trait. Blood sucking bats or what are popularly known as ‘Vampire bats’ donate blood to their fellow Bat mate when he or she is hungry for days and return the favour when needed. The Bats who do not oblige in return after benefiting are registered in the ‘bat programme’ and sure enough have to face a non co-operative movement in the bat colony if they continue to do that! 

All in all morality is imbibed in our genes. It is not something that we do because we fear the curse of God. So next time you hear that that there is order and law in the world because we have faith and the word of god, think again. Perhaps there is a god within, that I call my survival instinct, the genes within that have evolved us to do that rather than the fear of the Hells houses waiting for all the sinners after life. 

As far as believe in God is concerned I would say each to his own and conclude by quoting Dawkins ‘we are all atheist about most of the Gods that societies have ever believed in; some of us just go one god further’

 

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Time Management - The Ultimate Oxymoron

Time Management - The Ultimate Oxymoron
Get a grip.
Is it possible to manage time?
Can you make the clock run faster?
Can you make it run slower?
You have no control over time. Each of us begins the day with 86,400 seconds. It's your personal inventory. You use the time or you lose the time. There are simply no alternatives. Each week has 168 hours, no more no less. While managing time is out, managing yourself is in. Remember, as Henry Ford once said, "Don't complain, don't explain."
Here are ten techniques for achieving more in less time.
1. Get up 30 minutes earlier every day. Do the math and see how much extra time it gives you over the span of one year.
2. Take a course in self-management or one in priority management.
3. Commit to keeping a time log for one entire week. Record every activity and the time you give it. Your time time busters will become very apparent.
4. Throughout the day routinely and quietly ask yourself, "Am I making the very best use of my time right now?"
5. Never do a task if there is a more important one to be done. Never! Foregoing priorities gets you off track more than anything else.
6. Build flex time into every day's schedule to allow for the unexpected. To do this is wise, not to do this is foolhardy.
7. Buy a timer. Time all phone calls, meetings, and projects. There is nothing more precious than your time. Don't you squander it and don't permit others to steal your time.
8. Set aside one hour every week getting rid of things (personally and professionally) you don't need and can live with out. It's called simplifying. Most of us have too much stuff that we can live without.
9. Take a few moments to write your own epitaph. Really do it. After you write it, look at it, and ask yourself "Is this the life I'm leading?" It's never too late to make changes in your life. I take that back, it's probably too late when someone else starts writing your epitaph.
10. Learn to say NO! Try saying it firmly and softly at least once a day to any unreasonable requests.
There is a reason why you need more time. It's because you're attempting too much. Plan your life and plan your days. If you want more balance in your life . . . schedule it.

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Why programming is fun?

"A favorite programming moment is when I get to fix a bug in code that already has a good unit test. Such work is often akin to putting golf balls into a neutron star's gravity well; I get this can't-go-wrong feeling."— Kristofer Skaug. 

1975, Fred Brooks wrote The Mythical Man-Month: Essays on Software Engineering; he listed the five reasons (“Joys of the Craft" chapter) why programming is fun: 

The sheer joy of making things. 

The pleasure of making things that are useful to other people. 

The fascination of fashioning complex puzzle-like objects of interlocking moving parts. 

The joy of always learning. 

The delight of working in a tractable medium. 

Now after 30 years the programming has even more fun. With invent of PC and Internet the excitement has grown further and there are some more points that can be added to original list. (At Brooks’ time PCs and Internet did not exist.)

Teamwork:- The enjoyment of working with other programmers in a team. 

Hardware:- Being able to play with leading-edge computer hardware. 

Debugging:- Helping to debug complex software systems that someone else built. 

Internet:-Using the Internet to collaborate with other developers on projects and problems. 

Getting paid to have fun. 

Being able to program anywhere, anytime, with my choice of platform, programming language, and architecture. 

Some more items for the list from other sources: 

Because it's a combination of intelligent and creative work. 

Being some kind of nerdy superhero. 

Nearly instant gratification. 

The pride of seeing my work used by other people. 

The thing about it that really hooks me is taking a machine that was designed for no purpose in particular and making it do anything I want. 

The benefit that it brings to users in making their lives easier. 

One comment and one quote deserve special mention:

"A favorite programming moment is when I get to fix a bug in code that already has a good unit test. Such work is often akin to putting golf balls into a neutron star's gravity well; I get this can't-go-wrong feeling."—from Kristofer Skaug. 

"If it isn't fun and profitable, what the hell are you doing in the business?" by Robert Townsend, Up the Organization  

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