The story of my life - YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!!

A young scamp was born on the 4th of December 1987... The story goes that he gave his mother a hard time even as he entered the world... And when he got a spanking for it, he started crying... when he eventually stopped crying, he was back to making this world a difficult place to live in... His elder sister, who eventually realised that this 'baby' was getting outta hand decided to take the law into her own hands.. She figured that the only way to get him to shut up was to pin him down and stuff her hair in his mouth...

For some reason, the 'baby' found the thought of her pinning him down hilarious... What the baby lost out in strength, he made up in wit.. The baby figured that if he couldn't beat the sister, he might as well join her side.. So he tagged along with her wherever she went...

Somewhere along the way, a little imp decided to join the gang.... the little imp was a quick learner... a little too quick for my comfort... For instance, I remember owning my bike for a day... the next day it was his!!!

The imp was riding with one hand (without support wheels) before I could ride with two hands (even with support wheels!!) Before I could vote, he was chosen as the Chairperson of the gallivanting expeditions!!

I didn't feel threatened.. Not until he began claiming the trophies of all our exploits!! I mean come on, who made him President???

How did this imp manage to overtake me in my race to power, fame and GLORY??? As I was pondering on this, wisdom dawned... I figured that this lil imp had friends in high places... This imp had closer proximity to the powerful and the influential people (daddy and mummy) in the world than I did!!!

As time passed by, the imp began to receive the spotlight... The handsome 'cool' boy that I turned out to be was overshadowed by the "eternally cute and charming" imp whom I learnt to call - "lil bro". He was made the centre of attention as I was conveniently pushed to the side or made to blend in with the obscure background...

It was then I decided that I'd carry out my own private investigation on him... I was stunned by what I founf... This imp I called my brother was atually a multi-talented space ALIEN!! No wonder he was better than me!!

I published this information on my blog in a post entitled: "Story of my life - YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!!" and I got sued for defamation!! Defamation!! Almost as if I was making up stories of my own!!

And that's how I landed up here!!

I PLEAD NOT GUILTY!!!

Digging up the past -rediscovering myself

There's this point of time in everybody's life when we suddenly turn into the most creative romantics - in the sense that we begin to write poetry, draw, paint or write short stories.. I was reminded of my 'romantic phase of life' when I came across my 'treasure trove' as we were moving into our new house (a lovely duplex).

If you're asking what the 'treasure trove' stands for, the answer is pretty simple. Lets put it this way - I'm a magpie who loves collecting souvenirs from places I go to and the people I meet. Even if it is just a spare tissue from a fancy hotel where I had my first date, or an eagle feather that I picked up at the beach during a family outing, it goes into the treasure trove. I keep these little 'trivial oddities' so as to recall memories that might otherwise be lost in some corner of my messy mind. For the magically inclined, its much like my very own Pensieve. Anyway, I was glancing through some of the stuff and came across a personal daily diary which I had meticulously maintained during my undergrad days. It brought back tons of memories, but many more laughs. The diary also contained a collection of poems that I had penned down at the age of 18, when I began living alone, independently. I could not resist reading them out loud as I walked in circles around my living room.. Here is one of the poems.. If you guys like it, I'll put up the other poems too.

The Unseen Comet

And the rant went on

Cooped within unbreakable walls;

He sat devoid of hate and scorn,

Aware of the distant angelic call.

The pitch was perfect, the tone tame;

Thus came brevity in seismic lyrics.

He wrote on stone, beyond all shame,

With an eagle feather, eclipsing the rotting sticks.

The blood-stained cell echoed "Doomed to die",

But his heart pursued the elusive fight,

Of life; a hope embodied in a clear-blue sky,

Shunning the view of dry marshlands, the phalanx, the might.

Imprisoned for no faulth of his own,

Locked in with a murderer - condemned to his rant:

Marked, beaten, starved to the bone,

Hence, fate turned out a killer,

And all straight turned slant.

Then a ray of light pierced the darkened page,

As an olive-green leaf found his scarred hand.

Hope personified in the midst of the carnage.

Nature's reassuring gesture, a forgotten smile,

Brought the whiff of spring back to the poisoned land.

Finally, came peace, he was made eternally clean.

In bodily defeat, but universal victory.

'When beggars die there are no comets seen'

But then a sinner repented, carving a renewed story.

And the rant died.

This poem was written during one of those typically long hours of class that seem to take an eternity to get over! It is the translation of thought... The thought of this man who had been imprisoned for life for no fault of his own, locked up in permanent confinement with a deranged ranting murderer... no one gave two hoots whether he was bleeding, hungry or even dying!..

There was a tiny window in the cell. Everytime he looked down from the window he lost hope, because he saw only dirt, the expansive prison and the cruel prison guard. He marked his days in the cell with blood on the floor... IIII/ IIII/.... then one day, a tiny olive leaf fluttered into the cell through the window. He looked up out of the windowand he pictured hope, the beauty of a clear sky, magnanimous creation.. he felt the peace of God coming over him as he heard a heavenly voice calling him to eternity...when beggars die, no one seems to care...No-one except for the deranged cell mate who witnessed the faultless life pass away in peace...The "insane ranting murderer'' finds God in the most unlikely of circumstances...In death...moving through a prison cell..the murderer saw hope beyond his cell, his deeds, his rant...he repented...and the rant ended...Shakespeare wrote ''when beggars die, there are no comets seen''...the Bible says, ''when a sinner repents, even the angels rejoice''...two stories...1. The hope of Eternal Life...2. The hope of a sinner saved through grace exemplified in the poem...hope you liked it...

The greatest DAD in the world!!

Words will not suffice. Not with all the wonderful adjectives, metaphors or superlatives could I begin to define the persona of Dr. Tom Oommen, a.k.a daddy (14/03/1955 to 01/06/2008).

I wonder what God must have been thinking when he made my dad...
    A shekel of love, purity and holiness
    Double portion of wisdom, knowledge and grace
    A bushel of fearlessness, authority and charisma
    Triple measure of hard-work, skill, strength and    excellence

A day before my father's funeral I was asked at a family gathering - what about your dad do you remember? What about him would you hold on to the most? I did not answer. I could not answer. But now I can - the answer is 'Everything'. How could I forget?

The man was my mentor, my example, my icon, my friend, but greater than all of these, a father. A father who led by example. A father who refused to preach what he did not practice. A father who's foes cried when he passed on. A father who was such an example, that for 21 years I did not find a single reason to point a finger at him and question his principles - not once.

I asked my sister to help me pen down memories accurately. She was much more liberal with the adjectives than I have ever seen her be.

We remember dad to be:

the embodiment of love - who "bear-hugged" like nobody else on the planet

the 'spiritual guru' - who knew the Bible inside out and lived a spotless life like few others

the provider - who never left us hungry even for a single day

the protector - who used his 'solid rock' biceps and a witty mind to save us from death's door

the 'cool guy' - who'd pick us up from college in his shorts and drive us straight to the beach

the superboss - who'd get even the stubborn dog at home to sit in rapt attention

the captain - who'd fly us around the country side in a little four-seater car

the ice-cream man - who always seemed to know the right flavour to make up for the gloomy days

the ATM machine - who had enough patience for unlimited swipes

the no-nonsense person - who knew only black and white, no shades of grey

the mafia kingpin - who seemed to know people all over the planet

the musician - who could play 18 different instruments n make music outta water n glass!!

the prankster - who made all the clocks two hours faster so we'd get up early on his Bday!!

the innovative cook - who added peanut butter and soya sauce to chicken stew!!

the 'whack-ster' - who seemed to think that Marmite was the best bread-spread!!

the fearless leader - who faced impossible situations as though they were an everyday occurence

the gentleman - who swept his wife off her feet for the nth time on their 24th anniversary

the animal lover - who had a dog, a cat, two rabbits, a squirrel, a pigeon, a parrot and 3 kids!!

the orator - who could hold mutltitudes enthralled (even if it meant doing a juggling act during a speech!)

the forgiver - who hated nobody and nothing (apart from drumstick in his food!)

the punctual man - who was never a second late for an appointment

the doctor - who touched his patients lives, not just their hearts

the story-teller - who could whip up the most fascinating bed-time stories in no time

the 'tea-freak' - who could have unlimited cups of tea in a single day

the ever-willing helping hand - who helped even a wheel-barrow puller tug his wheel barrow up a slope

not a perfect man, but definitely a PERFECT DAD!!

Dad, I love ya. Proud to be your son.

For further information on this remarkable man, refer the following link... http://www.haggai-institute.com/news/NewsItem.asp?ItemID=1206

The Student's Prayer ---- and they keep prayin...

This is an interesting poem that I was given by Ms. Sagarika, a lecturer in my college.. I use the adjective 'interestin' because the poem is titled 'The Student's Prayer' in contrast to 'The Student's Reality'... There are some prayers that are nearly impossible... I'm guessing this falls under that category... I can't possibly imagine a student sitting on the shoulders of his teachers, let alone stand!! The poem starts and ends very much along the lines of Pink Floyd's "Hey teachers, leave those kids alone!" although the body of the 'prayer' does bear some rather plausible viewpoints... Read on n lemme know what u can make of it..

The Student's Prayer - by Umberto Maturana

Don't impose on me what you know

I want to explore the unknown

And be the source of my own discoveries

Let the known be my liberation, not my slavery

The world of your truth can be my limitation;

Your wisdom my negation.

Don't instruct me; let's walk together.

Let my richness begin where yours ends.

Show me so that I can stand

On your shoulders

Reveal yourself so that I can be

Something different.

You believe that every human being

Can love and create.

I understand, then, your fear

When I ask you to live according to your wisdom

You will not know who I am

By listening to yourself.

Don't instruct me; let me be.

Your failure is that I be identical to you."

A life-altering video - viewer discretion advised

For those of you who read the short story posted under the title "I Live...", the video speaks of the organization that inspired me to write that particular story. I wouldn' have put this video up under normal circumstances. I was just a little taken aback by the number of responses to the single post, n so i decided to put this short video up as a way to thank all those great people on the streets who've changed my life forever!! P.S. I must repeat, viewer discretion is advised : the video contains details of suffering, that could change your life forever. So if you are content with your life and do not want to change even the slightest bit, then this is not the video for you..

The Perfect Kill

There are these times in one's life when one encounters brilliance. One of those times just passed me by. People who know me, know that I'm not one to dole out compliments easy - the way I look at it, the few compliments I give out are well cherished. Well, i'm going to do two things today that I don't think I've done in a very long time.

First, I'm gonna compliment a person I've never laid eyes on, never heard of, never spoken of before. His name is Denis Soreng, or at least that's what the e-mail I received stated his name to be. He is a brilliant narrator, and possesses the gift of story-telling that took me quite by surprise. Second, I'm going to give somebody else the limelight on my blog site. I'm going to justify my compliment by putting his story up on this blog. So Denis R. Soreng, if u ever do get around to reading this, know that I'm truly grateful for the pleasure of reading such a well-crafted short story. Here goes:

The Perfect Kill~Denis R. Soreng

It was late in the evening when I entered Howrah Station .It was teeming with office workers returning home after a typically tiring day at work. I didn't look forward to the prospect of returning home to my husband. The love between us had died years ago. Our marriage had been transformed into a dead corpse buried deep beneath a pile of painful memories. The bits and pieces of pleasure I derived from my daily existence were my only source of sustenance. My husband had accused me of being mentally deranged. But only I know better. He should have thought of a better reason than that to get rid of me. I hauled my self into a train standing nearby. Finding a seat lying vacant I gleefully slid into it. After having exhausted myself at work securing a place to ease my legs was a welcome relief. The scene inside the train was disquieting. The train being the last one on that particular route, it wasn't long before the compartment was bursting to the full with people. They jostled and fought with each other in a desperate attempt to keep from falling off.

June is the hottest month in Kolkata; it's when the when the summers are at the peak of their torment. The sweltering heat conspired with the intolerable humidity to beat the lives out of the commuters. The stench from the garbage rotting on the rail tracks combined with the nauseating smell of human sweat to pervade the whole atmosphere. I felt like vomiting. I subconsciously swallowed the spittle that formed in my throat. In despair, I stared up at the ceiling for comfort. A solitary fan hung up there in a state of eternal rest, hideously shrouded in spider webs. I closed my eyes in a bid to rest my mind. Slowly I allowed myself to fall into a labored slumber. When I awoke the train had traveled far into the countryside. The seat next to mine was occupied by a pretty nymphet. She had a concerned look on her face. The object of her anxiety was seated right opposite to us. He was the most loathsome, horrid specimen of mankind I had ever seen. He evidently appeared to be a village goon of some reputation. His bloodshot eyes were planted firmly on the girl. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat under his leering looks. The redness of his eyes was indicative of the fact that he had soaked himself in liquor far exceeding socially acceptable limits. The girl's nervousness was infectious. I looked around the compartment. It was completely vacant except for the three of us. I began to grow uneasy. The girl pressed my hand and held up a piece of newspaper for my inspection. She pointed towards a front-page news report. It was on a sensational serial killer who had been haunting Kolkatans for the past couple of weeks. Six young girls had been murdered in different parts of the city. They were discovered with their throats brutally slit open. The killings had been executed with such meticulous efficiency that the murder scenes were totally devoid of any clues. The police were baffled. The report went on to draw parallels with the legendary 'Stoneman' who had terrorized Calcutta in early the 90's and whose identity was yet to be ascertained. The report was undeniably scary and chilling to the bone. The girl had visibly paled. She motioned with her eyes indicating to me that she considered the man sitting opposite to be a prime suspect. The girl was badly scared and I must admit I was pretty worried myself. Suddenly the train slowed as it approached an oncoming station.

I was contemplating the feasibility of getting off the train, well before my intended destination, when the man himself stood up. To my utter surprise and immense joy he hopped off the train as it came to a screeching halt. The girl looked at me and both of us let out a huge sigh of relief. The tension having been released, she began to giggle. I caught up with her silly laughter and soon both of us were laughing away in abandon. With a rude jerk the train started moving. Soon it was speeding across vast open countryside at a furious pace. Her jangled nerves having been calmed, the girl had begun to doze in her seat. As I looked at her I wondered just how naïve and unsuspecting young girls can be. I slipped my hand inside my handbag and firmly gripped the kitchen knife I always carried. I felt a strange numbness in my fingers but it had to be done. Besides she had an exceedingly beautiful neck. Such a pity!

Stunned?? So was I.. I wouldn't be surprised if this were a true story for such incidents happen on an everyday basis in a country such as ours..

"I Live..."

“I live in an affluent locality in of one of the largest metropolitan cities in India. I live in Bangalore. There was a point of time I would have been proud of that fact; proud that I had passed out as a Matriculation topper from a prestigious school; proud that this city had a lot to offer; proud that I was on my way to a socially secure, financially stable life. However, Lady Luck went on a vacation, a long vacation and the sun set on my successes. The bitterness of time seeped in and the gray hair I had long attempted to conceal got the better of me. It is then I realized the complexities of old age. This is a time by which our children are physically stronger than us; a time by which they are wittier, ‘cooler’, and dare I say, subtler than us. This is a time when they remember more than I do, which gets me thinking, “Did I really hand over all my assets to them?”

I live in an affluent locality in one of the largest metropolitan cities in India. I live in Bangalore. I am not proud of that fact. I have no place to rest my head. I have no food to eat. I have no change of clothes. I have been lying in this gutter next to a magnificent housing colony for the past six weeks. I was dumped here along with the garbage by my very own son. I haven’t moved since. I have lost feeling in my feet. I can barely move my hands. I moved them this morning to scratch my head, only to find a gaping hole in a place I would generally feel my hair. I could vaguely feel itchy movement inside my skull. I am rotting away. My friends are the rats who peer at me in the dark of the night; the maggots eating away the rotting flesh in my brains. I don’t understand how I could still be alive. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to die. I’ve been asking myself how long I could fight the angel of death. It is a tough fight. A fight I don’t expect to win however much I want to. It’s getting dark. My eyes feel heavy. Weird, as the sun is still high up in the sky. Vehicles are passing by. There is a strong stench of waste, a heavy sound of gushing water in the gutter. It’s getting darker. My eyes feel heavier. I attempt to concentrate on the black crows pecking at my feet. I blink. It gets even darker. “Is this death?” I ask myself. I look up to a final glimpse of the bright blue sky and white clouds. Then darkness sets in and lingers.”

------- ------- x o x o x o x o x ------- x o x o x o x o x ------- x o x o x o x o x -------

“His name was Anup. He went to some famous church in Bangalore. He looked rich. He often carried a camera in his hand. He spoke to me but I did not respond. I hadn’t spoken for a very long time. People thought I couldn’t, but only I knew better. I liked listening. That is how I knew his name and what he was doing. Beyond that I knew nothing about this young boy, except for what I noticed. In a few days of being at the Home of Hope, he spoke less and worked more. He brought me food to eat, clothes to wear and spoke in such bad Kannada that it got me to smile. Yet, there was something about this young boy that seemed sad, depressing. It was almost as if his happiness was sucked out of him as he stepped into the Home of Hope. It was obvious that he could not digest the stench of disease, the sound of pain, the sight of death and forlorn destitute at the Home of Hope.

He made an effort and that effort was appreciated. I couldn’t care less about him, but then he kept coming back. He made friends quickly. He visited this place of refuge everyday, and even old Imam-babu seemed to like him. I listened to the young boy conversing with the old man. He brought news and stories from the outside world. He shared his life and his love. Yet, I couldn’t help wondering whether the young boy knew that the old man was going to die; that he had been picked off the streets with a swelling in his head. The doctors had diagnosed him with a brain tumor. They had given him two weeks to live.

The doctors were wrong. When the young boy came next morning, he found the old man wrapped in white, ready for cremation. The boy requested to see the old man’s face one last time. I moved forward curiously. When the face was uncovered a serene smile was revealed on the old man’s visage. This seemed a stark contrast to the character of this old man; a disparity separating the old man from the anguish and pain that had become ubiquitous at the Home of Hope. I looked at the young boy to evaluate his response. He smiled back at the old man as if they had finished the most profound and satisfying discussion. I envied the old man, his peace and his smile. Then before I knew it, I walked up to the young boy and said my first words in two years, “I lived in an affluent locality in one of the… … …””

Smart Satan or baseless mythology?

What strange images and myths did the Greeks have about people who lived in far off lands? Do such myths still exist?

These were two questions posed before my class as part of a discussion on the rise of global media. The class discussion began with the understanding that in the olden days, ordinary lay people did not travel much, but were curious about the world around them. The few 'adventurers' who did travel came back with interesting stories, which passed down through oral culture with the occasional tinge of exaggeration. Over the years imagination got the better of people and myths were created. The Greeks came up with some of the most fascinating mythology of all time.

In order to do a little background research into what would later amalgamate into an interestin theory, I googled Greek gods and conducted a very rough parallel study between them and the Roman gods. I'm still a little stumped by what I came across.

I began with the understanding that although The Greek and the Roman civilizations began much after the Jewish and the Mesopotamian civilizations, they created the understanding of their Gods from within their own cultures. It is generally percieved that the Greek gods could also have had their origins from the preceding Egyptian or Phoenician civilizations. However, the understanding and naming of Greek gods took place much before the birth of Christ or the dawn of Christianity as we know it. Keeping this in mind, I continued drawing parallels between the understanding of deities in the Greek and the Roman regimes. That's when I came across this site: http://www.purplehell.com/riddletools/g-list.htm

Here are some interesting observations:

1. 
   
   The Greeks could have come up with any fictional name for their gods, or even adapted the names of these gods from preceding cultures. Therefore the names such as Zeus, or Ares didn't make much of a difference to me.
   
   
   
2. 
   
   I came down the list of names until I saw the name Aphrodite: the Goddess of Love and Beauty. Interesting to note that her Roman equivalent was Venus (now percieved as a planet that is presently referred to as the bright and morning star).
   
   
   
3. 
   
   I immediately hit the Ctrl+F button to check for any parallels with any other god named Venus. Here's what I found: Greek god named Hesperus who is considered the "Evening Star" and the personification of Venus (personification of the bright and morning star). Even more interesting was that the equivalent in the Roman god was called Vesper also known as Lux-Ferre or Lucifer!!
   
   
   
4. 
   
   Quite stunned by the fact that the Romans had named a god after what we know to be Satan, i ran a search for the alternate name of Hesperus, which is Phosphorus. Here's what I found: Phosphorus: also known as Phosphor: the "Light bearer" "god that brings in the day". Light-bearer??? Before my mind could resolve the question my eyes hit the Roman equivalent of the Greek god. The Roman god was named "Lucifer"- straight out..
   
   
   
5. 
   
   Its rather interesting to notice how Lucifer was worshipped by the Romans as the "Light-bringer", "Star that brings in the day", "personification of the planet Venus", which in turn was "Goddess of Love"
   
   
   

Interestin eh? I haven't drawn any conclusions yet, but i'm open to viewpoints...

2012 : a must watch load of tosh!!

A very good movie. It is worth every penny that you'd pay to go watch it in a theatre. Definitely not one of those movies that one would prefer watchin on the television or a computer screen - even if you had the ultra-powerful 600-watt Creative MegaWorks THX 6.1 650 speaker system at home!! There is an innate fascination hidden in the magnanimity of watchin the world crumble, the earth split, volcanoes erupt, and tidal waves toss casually over the entire Indian sub-continent! If you are an emotional eater, you might as well pamper yourself with three large buckets of popcorn unless you want to start biting your nails!! The movie gets your eyeballs glued to the screen from the word go. It takes half an eternity for the intermission to come along, not that the 'break' gives much of a break because when you come back you merely continue hurtling towards the end-of-the-world.

However, the movie is not something that'll get you fretting. For those Christians who might've heard the occasional sermon, it most definitely will seem like a clever make-over of Noah's Ark with liberal doses of climate change broo-ha-ha thrown in. The deviation from the Biblical story lies in the fact that there are three arks instead of one.. the arks are built by the Chinese instead of God-led perfection... the animals are airlifted to the ark unlike the conventional story where they walked right in... the one righteous man and his blood relatives are conveniently substituted for a million 'deserving' people... and of course, the odd twist wherein a blonde female drowns to death even after making it into one of the arks (although for some reason her dog survives)!!

I fail to understand whether it is an oversight, or mere stupidity that the end of the Mayan calendar is equated with the Rapture!! Surely the Armageddon or the Final Judgement would have made a better parallel (although it would be just as ridiculous if not more!!). For those Christians even bothering to wonder whether there might be an inkling of truth in the matter, let me remind you to look at the Rainbow the next time it comes around!! As for those of you who aren't Christian yet, here's a little bit of logic I borrowed from my professor in college - if the Mayan predictions and prophecies were really true, wouldn't you figure that they would have found a way to keep their civilization upright until now instead of fading away into extinction?

The movie, however, does provoke a few thoughts. It is a stark reminder of the pathetic state our world is in; how fragile the earth has become, thanks to us humans! We sure have done a brilliant job of taking care of this planet gifted to us by God! Another thought that hits me is that although the movie seems a bit overdone, this is merely an appetizer compared to what is bound to happen post-Rapture during the Tribulation!! It almost seems like a reminder from heaven that we ought to get our act together, to work on our lives with fear and trembling, lest we and our frenz join the hordes who tremble with fear when this fate befalls the world!! For those of us who have already pondered on these thoughts - Hope Lingers!

And the saga begins...

ZIMBLY!!! I guess that's a nice way to get started!! Phew!! Never thought i'd love the Mal-word so much! After 5 and a quarter tries to get a blog started, and nearly pulling a lock of my hair out in sheer frustration, i decided to get a Red Bull to ease out the emotion. It worked!!! All I had to do was wonder why in the world I'm starting this wonderful blog!! Zimbly!!

So there, I've started my first official blog site. I wanna dedicate this humble beginning to the greatest dad on the planet and all you lunatics who have been driving me up the wall to get a blog started. I sure hope that there's enough patience in this world to deal with the insanity that is going to flow out of my brains! Disclaimer: I doubt whether I would have started blogging, if I were not particularly forced to do so as part of a mandatory assignment for Christ University!!

But I ain't complainin... I agree this was long overdue!! (Thank you, Sagarika Ma'am!) Hope that the initial excitement doesn't wane away. I sure hope that this is the beginning of a career, a saga that'll carry on until...... until... until..... well u get the point.. Looking forward to your comments, e-mails, or any feedback that you have to offer as we move along!! Enjoy reading!