Discretized continuum

There is a wedding band on my finger. Feels heavy sometimes. Sometimes, I'm afraid it may just slip off my finger and roll away someplace where it can never be retrieved. I am still getting used to it; rolling it periodically when I'm tense, when I'm not really thinking about anything in particular.

Not that the ring should signify that life is somehow more precious now or something. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it should. I don't know. I know that it feels heavy sometimes. And it takes a little getting used to. And yet, because it's been in the works for so long, it's natural that it's on.

Still, these instant transitions can be freaky strange. Together for all those years, Sally and me, before we tied the knot. Here we were, happily prancing around the garden, singing, making out, and then suddenly, BAM!! ... Before we knew it, we were hitched - husband and wife. It was all like being in a drug induced haze. And in that instant life had somehow changed.

Ok, well. I kinda took a few liberties in describing the event I described earlier. It obviously didn't happen in that fashion. But I digress. What I was getting round to saying was that there was none of the smooth transition that's always taking place in everyday life where you don't even know change's taking place and before you know it something has changed irrevocably.

Like those friggin' birthdays. All this while you're X age. Then your B'day comes along. And instantly, you are now Y years old, where X is simply NOT Y, and will never ever be Y (Sniff!). And yet, you're actually just a day, an hour, a minute, a second (ok.. ok...you get the picture!) older. Why then the drastic human implication of being a year older? What crime have I committed to deserve this judgement?!! Why God?! WHY?!!

It just so seems that human beings are unable to comprehend and deal with continuous values in life, and therefore believe in discretization in order to manage continuous events.

Just thought I'd share this information with you.

Bombay street vendor Anna!

Yesterday, I briefly talked about street artists. Here's a story on/in Mid-Day about a street vendor Anna who makes money serving chai at night on the streets of Mumbai, and his interesting interactions with his customers. It's a very nice little piece illustrating once again that there are people out there who work very hard and innovatively at making a living (while others spend their time surfing on a computer and complaining about how there's nothing interesting out there! Heh! Heh!). We do see and know a lot of these people. And their stories are inspirational in their own ways.

I do visit Mid-day's website almost everyday. I guess because it gives me access to happenings in and around Bombay city and its suburbs. And also because it believes in good investigative journalism whereby all parties involved in a story are given the opportunity to put in their point of view (if they wish to). And some of Mid-day's columnists are really very good. Definitely a daily newspaper with some integrity.

Apart from their investigative journalistic stories, they also have interesting (and I suspect sometimes unintentionally funny) stories with slightly misleading headlines on their website. Sample this one titled "Tiger attacks man", and maybe you'll start to understand some of the content on Mid-day. Somehow, its captivating and interesting, and funny all at the same time. Makes for great timepass, that great Indian passtime.

Although, I do wish that they could provode a direct obvious link for the daily "Mid-day mate" on their website. Bombayites (Mumbaikars), you know what I'm talking about!:)

...ly Round-up!

* There's a nice discussion on abortion ban brewing (pun intended) at Ek Cup Coffee. My thoughts on the issue are basically pro-choice and pro woman's rights. Please do contribute your thoughts if you do have something to say about it.

* Venky has written a lovely piece on a unique street artist he encountered recently on a trip to Calcutta, India. Venky's also taken the effort to post a video recording of the artist in action, and has also scanned some of the artist's work. Reminds me of a Latin-American street artist my wife and I saw making paintings in a similar fashion in Wilmington, NC. Street artists everywhere, whether it be those painting, involved in craftwork, or performing ( pick-pocketing not included); take a bow.

* Finally, I understand that blogging sometimes involves linking to works of others and also reporting interesting stuff. Sadly, my blog fails to perform that particular function to any level of satisfaction. But I do like how blogging involves making people follow useless links of one's own work, and I sometimes do indulge in it myself. You very very very few (perhaps imaginary) loyal patrons of my blog will recognize a recurring theme of me talking about my struggles with going easy on other people, especially the question of whether "to bait or not to bait?" other people (here and here).

Well, there's not much else to report except that I am back to my earlier bad habits, and it's becoming difficult to consciously change.

Help me! Stop me!

Holy Shit! Suniel Shetty quits!!

Commercial Indian Hindi cinema (i.e. Bollywood) actor Suniel Shetty says "I quit"!

I say, "YAY!! GOOD RIDDANCE!"
Also, "Thank you - for deciding to spare us from further misery". Hope that his action inspires several of his ilk (i.e. piece of crap non-actors) to follow him on the way out and stay out. You people could use your spare time from all those hours (not) acting in movies to spend time with your families. And allow your children the chance to not be embarassed anymore among their friends by your lack of acting chops. Contriving hard to get yourselves sentenced to jail like Salman Khan is also highly encouraged. However, further loss of life ( human or protected deer or otherwise) and property (others' property that is) is not acceptable.

On second thoughts, who cares?! There's got to be something better to do besides dissing on poor Mr. Shetty while further sinking into depravity. Not that Mr. Shetty ever did anything more than want you to walk out of a movie he non- acted in, or throw something at your T.V.

Now, if only I can find that something to do...

What did you say? Work on my-Ph.D.-dissertation-and-on-getting-out-of-school-and-getting-a -job-so-that-my-wife-and-I-could-start-living-together?! What's that?

Where I lay my head is home. Or is it?

Home to me has always been my parent’s flat in Vashi, New Bombay. I spent a large part of my life living in that apartment. I had a room to myself, my own desk, my bed, my music system, my audio cassettes that I bought spending all of my monthly allowance, my posters, my books, my PC, my adult stash which I hoped were hidden from the others at home, but which everyone else at my place knew where they were located. My memories. Home was sitting in the balcony in the afternoon on Sundays watching traffic and people go by, watching TV while reading a newspaper and eating dinner all at the same time, quarreling with my sister and my parents in my years of teenage angst, and being consoled and cared for through all the good times and bad. Home was where I spent long hours with my friends. Home is the address that’s on my passport. Home was all that and so much more.

Not anymore though. My parents just moved to another city - Hyderabad. They’ve also passed on the flat in New Bombay (for a sum) to another family. It’s sad that I won’t be returning to that home ever again. It will be a new city. A new apartment. (Same parents though, of course.) Still, I refuse to believe that it’s as simple as that. That my hometown is not Bombay anymore just because my parents moved out. Bombay is still my birthplace. My memories live and thrive in Bombay. That somehow feels truer, than the physical reality that my parents no longer live there anymore.

My parents managed the move quite well without their thankless son being around to help out. The toughest part of the move for them, however, was not the packing and the loading. The toughest part was saying goodbye to neighbors, friends and extended family members who were part of our daily lives. For all sides concerned, life as we knew it had changed in some way. That we’ll tide over these changes as is in our nature is a given. But the change will remain, and it will hurt.

Here’s to our home that served us well for so long: May you long continue to bestow your nurturing shelter on your new occupants. And may they also look upon you with love and longing when it’s their turn to say goodbye.

Under the Weather

For those who care (or even those who don't), I have been under the weather off late. Started with flu-like symptoms: cold, cough, slight fever. Then got better for a few days (no fever, but had the cold and cough). And then fell ill again; high fever, still had the damn cold and cough. Turns out that I may have bronchitis. It's not as bad as it sounds. Anyways, so the reason I wasn't writing much was because I was sick for about 2 weeks, and am still not completely out of the woods yet.

It's nice that I can write anything I want (mostly crap) and I know some people will read it. A small few of those some will care. Most of them won't. But you'll still read it! Heh! Heh! That's the power I have over my readers.

Get a life, Sarat!

Keep an Eye out for

Meeta's blog is on my list of daily sites to visit. In fact, she has different blogs she maintains and to which she contributes: books and movies, random musings, and Ek Cup Coffee. Sib and I also contribute to Ek Cup Coffee. We're hoping the other bitches and ladies who're coffee regulars at Cup-A-Joe will start contributing soon. There's also the proposal to record our disjointed and heated conversations on everything that moves or doesn't. Don't really know if that will do the rest of y'all a world of good. But then none of us really claim to be "do-gooders".

By the way, if you don't like regular coffee, and believe in sissy Mochas and Lattes, you're are not invited.