tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25441887752368173572024-03-08T17:19:25.906+05:30The scrawl board - reflections, this and thatSarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-72152825039832761182017-04-13T19:06:00.000+05:302017-04-13T19:13:17.245+05:30Flowers in the window<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've been humming <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFvfX3Mfd9E" target="_blank">this Travis offering</a> for a few days now. My brother and I loved this song as kids (well at least one of us was a kid when it came out) and I think it is a pretty tune for the lovely season of Spring. Now that I no longer dash around like a mad horse on nitro boost, I spend a good deal of my leisure time humming to the tulips in the front yard and ruminating about ways to keep wasps away from my windows(DH fancies a couple of Venus fly traps). I have had fingers of a pale shade of green since childhood and just needed the smallest spark of inspiration to raid my local gardening shop this past weekend. While I did want a bunch of flowers at each window, recurring images of bees and wasps dissuaded me from becoming a reluctant beekeeper, at least for the moment. I now have high hopes placed on a pot of coriander and lemongrass. I shall be happy to report back to my dedicated reader base once I see positive results. I very much look forward to turning my living space into a greenhouse and moving out into the garden with our frequent visitor, the very haughty Mrs Tabby.<br />
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SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-90025199103226391152017-03-24T20:12:00.001+05:302017-03-24T20:12:31.319+05:302017's heavyweight welcome.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I ended 2016 on a bittersweet note here on Blogger but my trials from last year fade into embarrasing insignificance when I look at what 2017 has brought me so far. </div>
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Two injuries in two months, both incapacitating me for extended periods of time. Spring is here and I feel mild cheer. I coax myself into counting my blessings and remembering that no problem is bigger than the biggest problem there is.</div>
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Leg injuries are terrible. Back injuries...well, they are even worse. Pardon the arrogance if you can. It is quite a blow to one's self confidence and independence when movements and activities that you took for granted turn into fierce challenges and impossible tasks. On the flip side, when life has forced me into slowing down, I'm appreciating the small things that I never noticed before. This new experience of being aware, observing how every activity in life is achievable by being mindful, and moving forward with gritted teeth is really keeping me engaged. </div>
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I now travel with my constant companion- a back support. I no longer carry a million things in my hands everywhere I go, purely because the terror of having to ask someone to pick something off the floor for me is far greater than the inability to read while walking. </div>
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So while I'm juggling a full time job and stopping and smelling the flowers, I have pearls of wisdom to strew on my page. Epiphanies make for great blog posts. For the person writing, of course. I hope you never have to use what I'm voicing here. That would mean more blog posts that I can't be bothered with reading through. </div>
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:-)</div>
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SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-84907489538327879212016-12-01T20:25:00.000+05:302016-12-01T20:25:11.170+05:30Winter jingle 2016<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Tingling legs, aching head</div>
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sneezing all the way</div>
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Oh what pain it is to wait</div>
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forever in the cold bus bay</div>
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hey</div>
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Tingling legs, aching head</div>
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wheezing all the way</div>
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Oh what pain it is to wait</div>
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for three quarters of my day</div>
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Dashing through the snow*</div>
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on an overcrowded day</div>
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o'er the pavements we go</div>
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tumbling all the way</div>
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Clutching the yellow poles</div>
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shutting our eyes tight</div>
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oh, how much we whine and cringe </div>
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and hope to get home tonight</div>
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Tingling legs, aching head</div>
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gazing all the way</div>
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Oh what pain it is to wait</div>
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for the morning's very first ray</div>
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hey</div>
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Tingling legs, aching head</div>
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snoozing all the way</div>
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Oh what pain it is to wake</div>
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and find that I have no say.</div>
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*Plagiarised from the original, thereby sacrificing factual accuracy that I am yet to experience my first commute on a snowy day.</div>
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P.S: I wrote this at work this morning after what proved to be my most challenging winter commute yet (90 minutes of frost). I'm sure I have had equally bad, if not worse, experiences before, but my brain seems to be adept at erasing even recent memories fairly quickly. I suppose that lets me move on to silly things (proof above) that will distract me from the looming horror of this evening's bus ride back home. But who cares... it is the season to be merry! And so, looking at the bright side of life, I wish you all better bus rides in 2017!</div>
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:-)</div>
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P.P.S: Punctuation was thrown out of the window for this post.</div>
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SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-72138093461855889722016-04-20T19:16:00.001+05:302016-04-20T19:16:23.081+05:30Juvenile poetry 101<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I spotted this really old post in my drafts today and fancied giving you a few chuckles, if you like. <br />
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Autumn has lasted long,<br />
the leaves rustle in the breeze;<br />
they are blown away into the distance beyond,<br />
flowers lift their heads.<br />
The brook breaks into a song,<br />
the trees whisper to each other simple nothings;<br />
the birds chirp and take flight,<br />
the sun smiles at me from behind the mountains.<br />
I feel the grass in my hands,<br />
the breeze now caresses my hair;<br />
I open my eyes...<br />
this is no winter;<br />
spring has just begun,<br />
it looks like it is here to stay<br />
for a long time now.</div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-79355182558806830422016-04-07T21:33:00.000+05:302016-04-07T21:33:09.823+05:30Hello from the other side.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<em>Dear one,</em></div>
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<em>Yes, you and I are dear to each other, just the way it ought to be for Us to live in peace. Fractious walls between us will come to no good. The day you separate Me from You is the day you lose Yourself. I fear that day is not too far away.</em></div>
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<em>Subconsciously, you have begun placing the foundation for this divide. In your heart, you yearn for love and recognition. You have never asked for it. You have never wanted it. The luxury of validation has always been present in your comfortable existence and you have basked in the warmth of that wonderful feeling. That perfect blend of confidence and pride when ego is largely absent defines you. I know You and that's how I know all this.</em></div>
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<em>But now, you face ridicule. Even in your perceived self-perfection, there are cracks from a hammer chipping away at your exterior. The hammer serves to destroy you from outside and then will you to build imperfect walls within. Malice is barely concealed and derision works hard to break your soul. In your heart you fear living a barren life- devoid of love (unconditional or otherwise) and appreciation.</em></div>
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<em>But do you really think it is that easy to lose love? And do you really believe that a lack of appreciation will kill you? What is this deep-seated insecurity that you are adamant in making your own? That taunts, jibes and general contempt serve to shake your very foundation? When did you find it so easy to lose trust in people and their inherent general goodness? Why would you want to let your ability to love vanish? It saddens me to think that one day, the meaning of the word 'unconditional' will become irrelevant in your psyche. I grieve more to see you go down the road of hopelessness and crushing apathy. </em></div>
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<em>You live in a glass house and you lend your help to the hands that throw stones at you. And in those ruins, you seek to build meaningless walls because you fear that you will be naked to the world outside. One day these towering walls will christen themselves 'Ego' and intimidate my quiet voice with their loud rumble. But, you know what they say... "The meek shall inherit the Earth". These walls will, one day, crumble at your feet. And I will be around to see that triumph, just as I am here with you now witnessing the beginning of your downfall. </em></div>
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<em>Yours.</em></div>
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Hi there,</div>
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Thanks for stopping by for a fresh bout of introspective gargle on this blog page. It's rather sad that I'm prone to more introspective spurts than most other people. Or maybe not. </div>
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On yet another WiFi-less long commute to/from work, I got my head going about a letter from my past self. If I had written myself a letter in the past, warning my future self about potentially destructive tendencies that I would acquire, would my life have been for the better now? Will I have been prescient enough to be able to transfer pre-emptive wisdom to an older me? I like to think in the affirmative. </div>
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SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-29367542322884633652016-01-29T21:57:00.000+05:302016-01-29T21:57:02.612+05:30"After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Dear Joanne Kathleen Rowling, </div>
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Thank you. </div>
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For your wise words. </div>
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When the mind is too stubborn to immerse itself in obscure philosophies spanning our planetary surface, you give us characters that offer counsel to the picky mind. </div>
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You give us people going through the pain of grief and separation and loneliness. And you let us know that it is universal. Suffering does not make you special. Coming through it out on the other side unscathed by the fire of sorrow does. Giving up on life is an insult to the memory of those that placed their own dreams and hopes in us. </div>
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You also let us know that our loved ones are never far away from us. Death may do us part on the physical plane but they blaze on in the fire of our hearts. Showing us that they have given us our life, and our life its purpose. And without purpose, we are nothing.</div>
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You give us heroes that live around us and in us. The heroes that lead us on our way, when we lose our direction. Like a Patronus offering a glimmer of hope in the dark.</div>
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Thank you. </div>
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For letting a young mind see the importance of it all ten years later.</div>
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We have courageous people- in life and in the pages of a book- to look up to. You may not be the only one lending a helping hand. But you certainly mean a good deal to those that grew up reading your work.</div>
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With love to you and the pillars of strength that hold everything in my world together.</div>
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SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-4139955685933611612016-01-03T05:42:00.000+05:302016-01-03T05:42:11.586+05:30Resolutions 2016<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm terrible at mainstream new year resolutions but do fairly well at <a href="http://and-so-i-read.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/reading-list-2016.html" target="_blank">this</a>.<br />
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Happy 2016!</div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-66300786440734697602015-12-11T23:15:00.000+05:302015-12-12T02:12:32.948+05:30For the love of literature...please!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've read my fair share of bad books (<i>I'm tired of repeating this line to people and online entries alike</i>). Unlike bad movies and bad TV shows, my tolerance for bad writing is rather poor. I have acquired a taste for unwinding with movies and shows that can proudly claim that the sky is the limit for their stupidity. Unfortunately, I am still incapable of extending this courtesy to terribly written pages bound together to masquerade as a book. <br />
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The father unwittingly gifted a copy of "Scion of Ikshvaku" by Amish (<i>of the 'Shiva trilogy' 'fame'. The second set of quotes is a pair of air quotes. Feel free to imagine my eyes rolling as you picture me saying that</i>) the last time that I was home, thinking I'd enjoy some reimagined mythology. Clearly, he had heard words of praise from the self-proclaimed bibliophiles that seem to exist everywhere in India these days and bought the book by this celebrated writer. <br />
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Now I do not mean to sound judgemental or arrogant, but I've a few words of general wisdom to say to these folks:<br />
1. Chetan Bhagat is NOT a writer. Please do not put him on the pedestal of India's favourite writer. At least, if you still value the sanctity of the language and the art of story-telling.<br />
2. "You can win" by Shiv Khera is NOT a classic.<br />
3. Reading Dan Brown DOES NOT mean that you have taste in international literature.<br />
4. I'd rate 'Tinkle' ABOVE all of the aforementioned names.<br />
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My system slows down considerably every time I see a 'Book Bucket' challenge on social media. Listing down four Chetan Bhagat books out of the ten top works that have changed your life is NOT cool. Ever. At least, to us literary snobs. I did not have to think twice before typing that out. It helps that we are from a country where intolerance is rife (so say some actors who are surrounded by security personnel and are out of the country for a large part of the year). But more on that some other time. <br />
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Imagine my consternation then, when I see Amish being called 'India's first literary popstar' every time I pick this book up. Now I know what many people will say. Defend these books all you like. Cry out about freedom of taste to your heart's content. But speaking on behalf of people who value certain standards even in their leisurely pursuits, I can tell you that you can do so much better if you really care. <br />
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Before I started typing the angriest rant yet on my blog, I was wondering if I should submit my usual book review on GoodReads, followed by my other blog on book reviews. But it struck me that this is nowhere close to being a book review. This is a scream that has managed to escape my cranial enclosure. This is a written account of my having to tolerate something that I really do not wish to endure. It doesn't help when you have an obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD for the lazy 'uns) to finish something that you dislike very much. That said, I HAVE abandoned a few books because I cared for my mental well-being. I still have a few pages to go on this one to still take that route.<br />
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Amish is nowhere near as bad as Chetan Bhagat in his writing. I haven't read his Meluha series but speaking purely from this particular reading experience, I can vouch for this claim. Why did I even read Chetan Bhagat, you may ask. In the hope that he would have learned from his mistakes and improved his art of story telling. But I do not believe in giving chances to people who do not take them or even worse, deserve them. Sure, Bhagat's life is not going to take a slump because of the annoyance of a few readers like me. But, we do hope that he will listen to people like us if he cares about expanding his audience base and raising the quality in his work. Chetan Bhagat gets away with every book by saying that his reach is far. Yes, I did buy into that one for a while. But, now I wish to opine that writing for the 'common man' does not make you a saint. The 'common man' is actually more intelligent than you give her/him credit for. It is when you dumb their intelligence down by stunting their intellectual exposure that you make money out of rubbish. Like bad books, or bad movies. You set terrible examples and corrupt impressionable young minds. <br />
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Now that I've expressed my anger (primarily towards Chetan Bhagat it would seem), it is time to move on to my thoughts about the book. (<i>You are probably already feeling the emotion that is being discussed in this post just by reading my verbal spillage.</i>)<br />
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"Scion of Ikshvaku" is not a mindless piece of work. It is printed propaganda. Albeit, a poorly written one. It is in no way negative propaganda, though. The premise, as we all know by now, is the Ramayana. There is nothing left to say there, so it appears that Amish has focussed all his energy in introducing changes to the basic plot and adding some flavour of his own. Which is where my anger found its first vent. This isn't a book. It is a script for a bad Bollywood movie. You can almost picture a scene with Sita's saree (<i>or 'angvastram', as Amish prefers a unisexual style of clothing in this reimagined world</i>) brushing against Ram's face while he smiles contentedly in love. Which almost happens in the book. Except Sita is angrily brushing past Ram in her quest to deliver justice. A woman who values justice more than anything else. Score!<br />
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The most gaping lapse in the book? The fact that Amish has tried to lend a contemporary tone to a setting in 3500 BC. Sadly, it falls flat. He has his timelines mixed up awfully and brings in elements that do not tie up together, thus delivering a messy puddle of confusion that has transfigured into a book. We see copters with rotor blades <b>whump-whumping</b> in the air. Biological warfare is already in vogue. Bharat is a serial dater and Dasharatha has serious anger management issues. Characters swear in English, speak in French (<i>"T</i><span data-dobid="hdw"><i>ouché!"</i>)</span> and also deliver dialogues in Sanskrit. It is pompously labelled '<strike>High</strike> Archaic Sanskrit' but it sounds very suspiciously like the Sanskrit that I was taught in school. Ooh mama, am I a high Aryan or what!<br />
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The most bizarre inclusion in the book is an incident that shamelessly mirrors the infamous 2012 Delhi gang rape, in which one of the prime accused was a minor at the time of the crime. The version in the book involves Manthara's daughter who is gang raped and killed on her way back from a medical camp. Perhaps, Amish wanted to deliver a moral science lesson while using the righteous Ram as a venerable addition. Sadly, it ends up falling flat. The poor depiction and unbelievable setting of characters so loved and well known from one of India's oldest and most revered epics is perhaps the cause of its downfall. Amish would have done well to take the Ramayana to a futuristic setting where his imagination will have been free to take flight. 'Ramayan 3392 AD' by Virgin Comics was a similar rehash but it had brilliant artwork to back its daring futuristic reimagining of the epic. <br />
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To cut the long story (<i>errr...rant</i>) short, Amish has tried his best to give us a book that blends mythology with contemporary social messages, redresses shortcomings of the Indian society over the course of time- such as, the caste system and racism, to name a few-, attempts to portray a romantic side to the stoic and righteous Ram (<i>I can hear a sniggering voice in my head saying 'Rules Ramanujam' as I am typing this sentence</i>), lends its solidarity to the cause of gender equality bordering on feminism and includes courses such as 'Archery 101' and 'Architecture 101' in its narrative. A very ambitious attempt, but sorry mate. Better luck with the next book!<br />
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The most scarring takeaway from my reading experience? Everytime I glance at the traditional painting of Ram, Lakshman, Sita and Hanuman on our wall, I remember Lakshman screaming to his older brother, "Dammit, Dada!"<br />
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Dammit!<br />
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SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-44758602857697277262015-10-17T00:38:00.000+05:302015-10-17T00:42:45.377+05:30My thoughts on Murakami's "Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and his years of pilgrimage"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Originally posted <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1415654335?book_show_action=false" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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This is not so much a review as it is about the thoughts that this book
left me with. A book, by definition for many readers (including myself),
has to give its audience something. If it doesn't, it has failed in its
purpose. This 'something' is entirely subjective. I've mostly defined
my reading experience by fairly standard parameters- quality of
language, strength of characterisation and depth of narration. I've made
very few exceptions in my reading journey so far to ignore any of these
parameters in favour of the others. And the more I continue to read,
the more I'm convinced that an experience with a book must be a
surprise. The sheer suspense of what the book in your hand is going to
deliver, while giving it the chance it deserves without any preconceived
limitations.<br />
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Now that I've managed to transcribe a few of the
many thoughts running in my mind, I shall start with the book. I
received my copy as a gift from one of my summer research students. A
year ago, we were discussing books over lunch when Murakami came up and I
let it be known that he was still unvisited territory. Much has been
heard about "1Q84" and "Norwegian wood" and "Kafka by the shore", but to
me they were mere titles. I have heard Murakami's name being mentioned
either with hushed reverence or the deepest platitude. I was fascinated
when I was told about the prominent featuring of music as part of the
plot in Murakami's books, and it was reason enough for me to want to try
one. Predictably, I bought "1Q84" from the bookstore later that week
but to this day, it has been sleeping in my bookshelf. My very first
Murakami was destined to be this "Thank you" gift. And have I enjoyed
it, like I haven't any book read in the recent past! <br />
<br />
"Colorless
Tsukuru Tazaki" is an ordinary man approaching the weariness of middle
age. He is a railroad station engineer, with a job involving his
childhood passion- trains. He lives alone in a small apartment in Tokyo,
with an almost non-existent social life, having come to terms with the
reticence. He doesn't have friends, has had four serious girlfriends
over the span of a decade and has a past that haunts him in ways that he
has not realised himself. The shadow of his past is rather big,
comprising of four friends who were his closest companions in school at
Nagoya. These five youngsters- three boys and two girls- are
inseparable, living their lives in tune with each other and completing
each other as a wholesome unit. Tsukuru Tazaki has one nagging feeling
in this almost perfect world- he is the colourless person in this circle
of friends with colours in their surnames. Akamatsu/ Aka ('red')is the
modest yet volcanic academic destined for an intellectual future;
Oumi/Ao (blue) is the popular and confident rugby player. Shirane /Shiro
(white) is a beautiful and accomplished pianist, who is never too
comfortable in her own skin. Almost always in her shadow is Kurane/ Kuro
(black)- funny and artistic in her own way. In this group with
established identities, Tsukuru finds himself the odd one, seemingly
talentless and uninteresting in everything he does. This self- imposed
doubt is not shown remotely by his friends, who adore him, and insist on
doing everything together as a group.<br />
<br />
The first signs of
fracture emerge when Tsukuru becomes the first person to leave Nagoya to
pursue his engineering studies in Tokyo. While the rest of the group
continue functioning in unity at Nagoya, they never allow Tsukuru to
feel cut-off, always ready to welcome him home during his study breaks.
Tsukuru gets on with a largely unchanged life, until one day he is asked
by his friends to never speak with or meet them again. It is a clinical
procedure with no questions asked and no answers given. The emotional
blow that this experience delivers pushes Tsukuru to the verge of death
and he loses interest in his life. For sixteen years, he mechanically
goes about life with an emotional distance from people and the hope that
it will prevent him from getting hurt again. The wound remains closed
but pulses with infection periodically. Until one day, he is persuaded
to undertake a 'pilgrimage' to get his questions answered and seek
closure.<br />
<br />
This book was a revelation to me. I realised that I did
not care too much about the lack of a tangible ending here. The story is
about a man filled with questions. His life has always revolved around
them, in a way even been pushed forward by his unresolved past. To
demand a clean ending felt unfaithful to the feeling that Murakami had
pent up in this book. In many ways, the story felt as real to me as it
could get. I found myself travelling to Nagoya, Tokyo and Finland with
Tsukuru, experiencing uncertainty, anxiety, quiet resignation, confusion
and finally unexpected calm. The resilience of life and our ability to
carry on is brought out wonderfully through Murakami's words. He leaves
us with an open ending to the story- and I'm led to understand that many
of his works carry that trademark stamp of his- but provides answers to
so many questions that plague the mind on a day-to-day basis. The
impact that people have on us is so deep that we don't realise it until
after they are gone. And when they are, we realise that a part of us has
gone with them, and it is almost impossible for us to be the same
person again. The profundity in this book may not be novel, but it was
certainly conveyed in very elegant words which caught my attention.<br />
<br />
As
I'm typing this unusually long post, I'm listening to "Le mal du pays",
which is a recurring theme in the book. The mood of the song perfectly
captures the mood of the book. It is a deeply personal experience and I
will not be surprised to hear people saying they find it 'over-rated and
simplistic'. To each his own. But for me, the last three days were
spent devouring the pages in suspense and eagerness. Everything from the
cover to the typeface caught my eye. This book was perfect in its own
way, right down to the smallest detail.<br />
<br />
The last page of the book
ends in lines that I find poignant and worth remembering. At some point
of time in our lives, all of us walk down a road where dreams and
aspirations are mostly cast away to the winds, so much so that one
cannot recognise the changes that have come with harsh lessons. We push
onward in search of the silver lining.<br />
"We truly believed in
something back then, and we knew we were the kind of people capable of
believing in something- with all our hearts. And that kind of hope will
never simply vanish."<br />
<br />
Fin.<br />
<br />
(P.S: I did not dare to post this <a href="http://and-so-i-read.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">here</a> because this post doesn't qualify as an 'on-the-go' book review.) </div>
</div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-81443608099406645182014-12-06T19:24:00.002+05:302014-12-06T19:24:19.860+05:30The hypocrisy conundrum.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My friends and I enjoy discussing pretty much everything under the sun. These banters are special for four reasons- </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
1. They are a great platform to express our opinion.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
2. No one judges anyone else for what they say or how they feel about things. Personal opinion is valued and there is mutual respect and openness. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
3. Some of us love putting ourselves in the shoes of the opposite camp just to get an objective feel of how one might approach the same issue alternatively.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
4. It is easy to have an opinion but very hard to form one without bias. Hearing many people out increases one's tolerance for diversity. At best, it hardens a person enough to accept that people will be different.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I digressed just a little bit there. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was born into a family that is bound by societal norms to vegetarianism. It is not atypical for a child exposed to such culture to view the antithetic dietary camp (read "non-vegetarianism") with biased eyes. Some children go to the extreme of ridiculing other children who eat meat. Usual behaviour involves retching and other related noise making. Let us, for a minute, ignore the fact that the very same children later grow up to realize that they were, all the while, part of the minority. Oh, and they eventually start eating meat. They all do.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Did I say "Ignore this fact"? I ought not to have, considering that this fact forms an important basis of my post. As a child, my curiosity killed no cat. I, very liberally, defied this expected norm and sampled a piece of meat and to my intrigue, enjoyed the taste. This one-off jaunt did not develop into a lifestyle for a very long time to come (although I did compensate by watching shows involving meat being cooked, sizzled, beaten and subjected to a million other culinary techniques). </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As I grew older and my opportunities of visiting different countries expanded, I realized that it was becoming harder to find vegetarian food. I would go mostly hungry due to my reluctance to eat sticky rice, fruits and boiled vegetables. For a decent while, the thought of eating meat never crossed my mind. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It was during one such holiday that I, very suddenly, made up my mind to eat meat during travelling. I started enjoying trying out local cuisine (which mostly only involved meat) and with each passing trip, my guilt started ebbing. While I was still wary about trying out exotic dishes (read octopus/ squid/ fried grasshoppers), I found myself growing confident about trying other "acceptable" taboo dishes.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Concurrent to all of this, I would have regular discussions with a good friend about the whole idea of eating meat. Our long discussions evolved from "I don't want to eat meat for ethical and personal reasons" to "I want to eat meat because I feel like it." Suddenly, I felt guilty about a whole new thing- depriving myself of experiences which I could have, if only I had an unfettered mind with no pre-established constraints and sentimental bonds. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like it was the right thing to do. Survival with experience. Fight temptation by succumbing to it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
All this while, I remained only an honorary carnivore. There were no second thoughts about eating meat only once in a while. Things seemed to be going well until the hypocrisy started raising its ugly head way too frequently.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When I watched parts of "The Cove", I was filled with outrage and burst into tears at the sight of thousands of dolphins being butchered for meat. It appalled me that people would have the heart to kill these beautiful creatures for food. Did they not have beef, mutton, chicken, pork and fish to survive on? Why dolphins? This depressive outburst lasted all of two days. I want to say that by the end of that week, I had, perhaps, had chicken wings or a steak. Guilt is transitory. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Eventually, I found myself signing online petitions to stop seal hunting, bear poaching, tiger killing and twenty other causes. I want to blame Ricky Gervais for half of these signatures (I'll leave this for later, though). And while I was signing petitions, I was also being exposed more and more to the horrors of animal testing for cosmetics. I found myself searching for stores and brands selling cruelty- free products. And all this while, my occasional meat-eating persisted.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The hypocrisy conundrum presented itself in its most magnificent form when I discussed (yes, with the same friend) an article that I had recently read that time on the unethical treatment meted out to dairy cows (http://www.peta.org/issues/animals-used-for-food/factory-farming/cows/dairy-industry/). I was more determined than ever to completely give up dairy and join the cause of suffering cows. Then during our talk two questions cropped up- would I give up curd (first love of my life)? And would I give up beef (almost the second love of my life)? To my horror, I realized that my answer was a knee-jerk "No" to both questions.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have not understood the reason for my opinion, to this day. While I have gone meat-free for a substantial period of time now, I'm still unsure about whether this will continue for the rest of my life. How does one develop selective empathy towards living things? How does one develop a "biased objective" as a rationale behind certain actions? While I want to reason out my behaviour based on a "Rebellion against the system Vs. Compassion for life" hypothesis, I do not have sufficient ground or substantiation to validate my case. Have we/I lost sight of why the "system" came to be, so much so that it only serves to be a vestige without meaning? The train of thought that has been huffing and puffing for long in the corridors of my cranium has derailed on this screen and lies in wait for a self-induced reasoning to put it back on its wheels. Until then, what works works.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Fin. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-49376019822031257262014-05-08T14:56:00.000+05:302014-05-08T14:56:38.685+05:30That customary 'Hmm...' post.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I love thinking to music. I also like remembering nice things to beautiful tunes. It's lovely to see that kind of a complementary relationship materialize in the head. It's almost as if some memories don't exist without an aural catalyst. Specific songs evoke very specific images in the mind. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The album I'm listening to at the moment brings back vague flashes of a blue beach, cycling with friends, midnight walks in the rain, innocent friendships, harmless giggles, silly tears and the warmth that accompanies the feeling of extreme happiness. I'm glad for such reminiscences because it is highly unlikely that I will experience those beautiful moments again. But I know the music will always take me back to those days and the people who were with me for the briefest eternity. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Close enough. </div>
</div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-71856707042982159442014-03-09T21:26:00.000+05:302014-03-09T21:30:11.431+05:30'Who speaks for Earth?'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZPRZBmTwVKw/UxyMFPaZw4I/AAAAAAAAGOw/klDGNM17J_I/s1600/neil-dg-tyson-cosmos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZPRZBmTwVKw/UxyMFPaZw4I/AAAAAAAAGOw/klDGNM17J_I/s1600/neil-dg-tyson-cosmos.jpg" height="162" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When I first heard that 'Cosmos' was being given a new avatar on television and Neil deGrasseTyson was going to step into Carl Sagan's formidable shoes, I was very excited. A worthy successor to bring the story of the universe and mankind to a new generation of children (and existing generations of faithful followers!). While I did not get the chance to watch Sagan take us through the magic of space, his book was a great influence in my formative years. The wonderment has stayed over the years and I still carry my worn copy with me. "The pale blue dot" speech still moves me. To have champions of science who can reach the living room of a home in the middle of nowhere is a thing to be truly grateful for.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have a simple love for Physics. It is nothing fancy, there is no elaborateness to my fascination. I cannot rattle off equations in my sleep or comprehend discussions on quantum theory. I make no bones about my amateur understanding of the subject. But it is a love and fascination that has endured since my childhood, when I was gifted a 10x telescope, through which I would gaze at the sky while lying on my back on the roof of my house. When I was 15, I wanted to study Astrophysics and work in a space agency. I had a poster of Neil Armstrong taped over my study table. I cried when 'Columbia' shattered upon its re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere. Slowly, I developed a fascination for extraterrestrial life and what its existence would mean for humanity and Earth as a whole. All these things give me a bunch of memories from my childhood and adolescence.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I did not end up studying the skies. While I like to think that my engineering degree offers me a ray of hope to establish a 'space connection', reality tells me it will be harder than I would like to imagine. So, I still seek happiness in books that make me feel the same way that a child looking at stars and seeing patterns for the first time does. The magic of science and the impact that it has on a young mind cannot be explained. Once you are smitten by this enchantress, your life will never be the same. The sight of a shooting star will bring tears in your eyes- even if you are an 80 year old with worldly wisdom under your belt. The mesmerizing colors of the Aurora will stun you into silence and involuntary contemplation. The photograph of the Earth sitting in a sunbeam like a mote of dust will dissolve grandiose illusions of no consequence. While this feeling makes you feel weightless for a while, you will be brought back to reality and you will snap out of that beautiful experience. But, you will also know that this experience will keep coming back to you for life and remind you of things that most of us take for granted- gratitude, compassion, love, and most importantly, the feeling of childlike wonder.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I cannot wait for Tyson to make me feel like a child again.</div>
</div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-24716888862782531782013-09-01T10:16:00.000+05:302013-09-01T10:16:34.180+05:30Larry Krauss in Singapore<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dr. Lawrence Krauss was in Singapore last week and gave an excellent talk on the rise of the standard model. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vey0HYIFU2E/UiLFA4A2z5I/AAAAAAAAGJw/McscPp7bo4g/s1600/LarryKrauss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vey0HYIFU2E/UiLFA4A2z5I/AAAAAAAAGJw/McscPp7bo4g/s320/LarryKrauss.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Two things that stood out were his excellent oratorical skills and his superb sense of humour. The man is brilliant. <br />
<br />
"The greatest story ever told" in Singapore is not available on YouTube but this is the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3iPZNgzi9Aw" target="_blank">talk he gave at Oklahoma City earlier this year</a>, which is pretty much the same thing. And here's to "The Unbelievers" out soon!<br />
</div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-9367826227167366782013-07-10T14:41:00.003+05:302013-07-10T14:41:56.046+05:30All that you love will be carried away*<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Flash in the pan<br />
dust in the eye-<br />
at the end of the day<br />
just a vapor trail* in the sky.<br />
<br />
*-inspired by stories/songs</div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-85090735397511015892013-05-28T16:12:00.000+05:302013-05-28T16:12:26.303+05:30Time to change my glasses.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Top ten statements that are myths in your life but perceptible reality elsewhere:<br />
1. You are never alone.<br />
2. This too shall pass.<br />
3. Everyone has a perfect moment that will change their life (Perfect?).<br />
4. There is always one perfect song for everyone (One?).<br />
5. Friendships are forever.<br />
6. If you really wish for something intensely enough, the universe will conspire to deliver it in your lap.<br />
7. If you really feel something intensely enough, people around you will read your mind and your thoughts.<br />
8. Life begins after forty (I would like to think that is no myth).<br />
9. People change for the better.<br />
10. Retail therapy is the best therapy.<br />
<br /></div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-26021912734926910182013-03-19T09:33:00.000+05:302013-03-19T09:33:18.575+05:30Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Pink Floyd --> The Dark Side of the Moon --> Alan Parsons --> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fTKhZIH2oU&feature=related" target="_blank">this</a> .<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-31282317100920719192013-01-18T17:59:00.002+05:302013-01-18T17:59:56.494+05:30Big Tex opens up.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Lance Armstrong - seven time Tour de France champion. All credit to performance enhancing drugs.<br />
<br />
My idol just crashed to the ground.</div>
SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-10974687457432444162012-09-19T08:50:00.001+05:302012-09-19T09:10:14.309+05:30Visions.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Morning sunshine on the dewy grass,<br />
gentle breeze caressing the blue waters-<br />
notes of unadulterated joy in this heart,<br />
the fragrant soil still, under your lotus feet. <br />
<br />
<br />
</div>SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-1078040544596636292012-09-18T09:05:00.000+05:302012-09-18T09:05:21.856+05:30Words.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I open my mouth to speak,<br />
those words that refuse to come out.<br />
They play all day in my head,<br />
they mock my helplessness.<br />
Speech becomes an impediment,<br />
a gift so far taken for granted.<br />
An ear to listen is too much to ask for,<br />
my stories remain in the dark hidden. <br />
Sound translated into ink is solace,<br />
for a reluctant soul in denial.<br />
This prison in black and blue,<br />
is my gateway to redemption.</div>SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-88149973018807089162012-08-27T09:48:00.000+05:302012-08-27T09:48:44.251+05:30On bragging.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">A friend e mailed a very insightful article on bragging, recently. It provided a lot of food for thought.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10000872396390444184704577587091630924000.html?mod=rss_asia_whats_news" target="_blank">http://online.wsj.com/article/<wbr></wbr>SB1000087239639044418470457758<wbr></wbr>7091630924000.html?mod=rss_<wbr></wbr>asia_whats_news</a> <br />
<br />
</div>SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-26679424520925245932012-04-22T21:19:00.001+05:302012-04-22T21:19:48.605+05:30The dream.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Rooted to a dream-<br />
a dream come true,<br />
true in all its meaning-<br />
the meaning of life and love.<br />
A love dark and deep-<br />
so deep it hurts,<br />
it hurts and I learn-<br />
learn who I have to become.</div>SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-81111319323632442292012-03-01T17:03:00.000+05:302012-03-01T17:03:08.450+05:30...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">எத்தனை மனிதர்கள் ...<br />
எத்தனை சிந்தனைகள்...<br />
எத்தனை உணர்வுகள்...<br />
எத்தனை பாடங்கள்...</div>SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-47314039208936611932012-02-27T10:26:00.002+05:302012-02-27T10:26:39.756+05:30Rewind. Pause.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Created a playlist of my old favorites.<br />
<br />
I'm 13 again. </div>SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-49790917940046977812011-11-07T09:21:00.000+05:302011-11-07T09:21:22.928+05:30Fitful fancies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This is essentially a long lost scrawl from my notebook put together from song titles.Oh well...<br />
<br />
How easy it is for me to escape<br />
with my larger than life dreams!<br />
My own stairway to heaven,<br />
I don't know why I cannot leave all this behind.<br />
I'm stuck in a moment I can't get out of<br />
a landslide stretches for a thousand miles.<br />
I'm fallin', my world left far behind,<br />
I still haven't found what I'm looking for.<br />
My sweet lord, won't you help me?<br />
Time is running out and I wait for the answers promised.<br />
In the end it all comes down to things that matter<br />
because sometimes you can't make it on your own.</div>SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2544188775236817357.post-51681609008295422312011-09-06T16:32:00.000+05:302011-09-06T16:32:08.132+05:30The hope that is stem cell engineering<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Stem cell engineering has been a subject of great debate over the years, with a specific concern about the ethical implications of the practices that it involves. But it may well be playing Noah in the times to come. Read more about it <a href="http://www.technologyreview.com/biomedicine/38510/?nlid=nlbio&nld=2011-09-06">here</a>. </div>SarangNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07504586034964211808noreply@blogger.com0