Look.. who's talking? :P

Sachin's mind is still strong - Ian Chappel

Looks like Sach doesn't need to look in a mirror for the time being!

Rubber ball heart?

Why are hearts so fragile and delicate? Why, anything that has to do with heart has been compared over the ages to a glass, which when breaks, not just is irreparably damaged but has the potential to hurt badly?

Why aren't hearts made of rubber material and why can't hearts bounce when they hit the floor, like a ball?

Before the mankind learns how to tackle with vulnerably delicate hearts, can't the designer be kind enough to change the texture? Think!

Nobel Prize Authors on Time

Nobel Prize Authors on Time

I've been wanting to read anything and everything about time and here is the clue to a treasure. :)

Missed by a whisker :P

I was thinking of posting the following, originally:

"Death, though blamed as merciless, is balmy enough because it leaves no choice except dying. But life, though regarded as more clement as it gives too many options to overcome a situation. The freedom of choice is the biggest burden that life ever imposes."

And then, I happened to read an essay in Telugu on Jean Paul Sartre by Nandoori Rammohan, which finally ended my quest for understanding the philosophy of Existentialism. Reading it, I've realized that my mind works as hard core existentialist these days, without having read much stuff about it. I was also misled by enough people that Existentialism means pessimism in one or the other ways. But, from what I've read in the article and what I've been thinking hard these days, actually doesn't have much pessimism except accepting reality.

Well, it was a mixed feeling. To know that I've been thinking in the lines similar to one of the greatest philosophers on earth. At the same time, there's also feeling '0h-i-missed-it-by-whisker' - he was born a li'l too early than me. Otherwise and all, you see.. :P

Books can shed light on many a things about life. But nothing teaches life, like life itself. Don't google for the definitions or philosophies of existentialism, life will let you know that at some point or other. Also, knowing what is what isn't the deal. Sustaining them and moving ahead is!

మనసు

లేనిదాన్ని ఉందనుకొని
ఉన్నవీ లేనివీ ఊహించుకొని
ఊసులన్నింటినీ ఊహల్లో ఊరబెట్టి
లేనిది లేదనే ఉన్న నిజం తెల్సాక
ఊసురోమంటుంది - ఉరేసుకుంటానంటుంది

Deathly love

Loving him was like loving death - to be requited, could only mean my end. The logical equation of love, over the ages, has been in terms of give and take of hearts, leaving the worst possible result of ending up with a broken heart, most probably your own. Broken heart means shattering of something that never existed. Tattered dreams is to know that what doesn't exist, continues not to exist. If reality obliterating the delicately woven dreams and fantasized future results a broken heart, imagine what it means to have a wounded soul. To love, could also mean the end of a person you were thus far, it could also question your integrity, your way of life. You continue to exist, but with a marred soul.

(This world knows other torments than love and other happiness than a fond embrace. Love, do not ask for my old love again"-Wishmaker)

No retakes.. thanks for that..

They say, in a very sorry tone, that unlike cinema, life doesn't give a chance for retake. There isn't a possibility of either journeying back into time, or the time in the captivity of past reappearing again.

Life doesn't offer second chances, retakes, reconquers. Thankfully.

For if it even cares to give we'll only mess it up more. What to do with a second opportunity, while the reasons to falter in first place were unfathomable? When there is no methodical approach to play your cards, or even if there is a theory that's incomprehensible, a second chance would only mean attempting to bring method into madness. When lessons are unlearned, what's the advantage even if the question paper is leaked?

Life is not just a game. It is like those computer games where your game should be planned and executed against an unknown, whose moves or movements can't be guessed. What difference does it make if you're playing first or second time, when you're blindfolded, deafened? Life is a game, it is a gamble.

Thanks to life that it gives second chances, for that only means more disarray, more disappointment and more indignation.

నీడ

నా నీడ..
నేను నడిస్తే నడుస్తుంది.
నేను ఆగితే ఆగుతుంది.
నేను నవ్వితే నవ్వుతుంది.
నన్ను నాకు అరుదైన విచిత్రంలా చూపుతుంది.

నన్ను వీడి ఓ క్షణం కూడా ఉండలేదేమోనన్నంత భ్రమ కలిగించి, నేను చీకటిలో దాగగానే మాత్రం చిట్టుక్కున్న మాయం అవుతుంది. అచ్చు.. నీలా..

నీడ తోడు కావాలనుకుంటే వెలుతురు తప్పనిసరి!

Awesome.. Awesome..

That is what I've been doing for the past two hours.. I've been reading Mullapudi for the past two hours. AWESOME!

And also, I met Chandrahas Choudhary, one of my very favourite bloggers today.

So I've loads and loads to talk about.. but everything stops because, Mullapudi is with me. :)

The Solitude of Prime Numbers - Paolo Giordano

The title was fascinating enough for me to take the book in hands. The backdrop was sufficiently intriguing to buy it. The engrossing prose of the first few pages was enough to hook to the book till I completed it. This is one of those books, which isn't part of my favourites list, but still has tugged my heart's strings.

Any story, in particular love story, has to have enough stuff in it to engross the readers. At rare instances though, the story in itself has nothing great to offer, if not for the narration and presentation of it. Two lines about the plot of this book would only have that this a story of two not-so-normal people getting involved with each other right from their teenage, yet can't express themselves clearly to the other and in the bargain lose the love of their lives while having them in proximity.

As I was reading through, I was completely engulfed by the prose used for narration and characterization of the lprotagonists. It was hard to stop by. The real beauty of the work though, is the conceptualization of an idea and the execution of it.

The uniqueness of Prime numbers is their specialty not (or inability?) to be divisible by another number, except for themselves and one. Co-existing with a whole lot of other numbers, prime numbers still remain distinctively different. There isn't chance of two prime numbers next to each other.Twin primes, like 17 and 19, 41 and 43 - which are belonging to the same category are so close by, but are never next-to-next. They've just a single number between them (very near), but they still have a number between them (yet very far). For a moment, let's assume that there are two souls metamorphic to prime numbers, in the sense that they stand out from the usual crowd because of their genius or unusual traits or inabilities or whatever. A series of incidents happen with them individually and in togetherness, that despite the proximity they share they end of being distanced by an eternity. And through that distance runs a delicate string that still bonds them together. Though I wouldn't be carried away to call this piece of work a masterpiece, I'd still say, the attempt and the execution was laudable.

I found the choice of narrating the story in third person, very interesting! While the story is not about too many things happening around, but instead how one wrestles with the inner self with very happening, the author doesn't get into too much introspection of the characters and their mind. Say, for instance, the guy has the gal next to him with the scene aptly suitable to express his love for her. There is neither melodrama nor prolix detailing. All it has is - the guy knowing what to do and the guy not able to do it. Simple and elegant! Even the climax of the story has impressed me. Over all, I was looking for bit more mathematics involved in the story, I was let down.

This book isn't for people who can look / feel and sense love only in the bollywood boisterous ways. This book is for people who are or who can empathize that love can happen to the not-so-normal people and expressing it can also be in not-so-normal ways. (not-so-normal only means that anything / anyone not belonging to the most conventional ways, not that they are aliens, though are treated that way.)

When every single step taken towards someone draws you away from them and that very withdrawal pushes you closer to them, the distance between always remaining the same, the other earthly matters really don't matter. If you wanna know such a story, read this book.

"The Solitude of Prime Numbers asks, can we ever be whole when we’re in love with another? And how much of ourselves do we give away?"

I've got my answer. You find out yours. :)

(Googling for this book after I had read through the initial chapters, I came across an interesting blog, which categorizes book musings into fore-thoughts (musings after knowing the book and before reading) and after-thoughts (once done with the book). I liked the idea, that I'm tempted to write that way. Would give it a try, soon!)

Waiting and waiting and..

It's been almost 3 weeks that I've ordered the book, "Too loud a solitude", in Landmark. "It would be surely available. It would take little time." was an assuring answer with a temporary effect. Today, from nowhere, I've started thinking about the book and digging all information about it. I was introduced to this book through this blog, the elegant way of introducing the book had its mark on me.

While I still await the book, here's another wonderful article about the author Bohumil Hrabal.

I've hardly come out of the magic of Milan Kundera. Seems like, I'm all set to have a great with this author too. Every single time, I think its time to move to complete non-fiction reading, I happen to stumble upon a mesmerizer. Hmmm.. for now the news is, I'm waiting!

The reading life..

I've always liked being in the company of books. Many a people who are eye witness to my passion for books, keep asking the very old tiring question, "Why do you read so much?" and the "so much" part of the question doesn't actually highlight the quantity of my reading, it is their mere disgust.

"Why do you read?" - is a question that irks me to the core. "Why?" is possibly the simplest ever question to put and the toughest to answer, the tougher when its about something you love. When the answer doesn't seem to match the fervor we know we have, we tend to give exaggerated answers, "I can't live without them", "I can't imagine my life without them", "I'm nothing without them". Not questioning the enormous benefits of book reading, I still dare to suggest that books are always secondary. No matter what kind of subject and what beauty the prose has, the basic needs of human body can't be satisfied by book reading. (All the folks who put up their hands and interrupt, "Hey, I do forgo food and sleep to complete a book, you know?"- my answer would be, "You can afford that. There is a huge difference when you can forgo something and when there is nothing to forgo.") 

"Why do I read?" - Well, I was trying to find out an answer to this for a while now. The immediate advantage of reading lot of books,that the language improves has always abandoned me. Irrespective of the language, reading has hardly helped me in bettering my vocabulary. I don't read to write! I'm not one of those lucky souls who in worse of moods, open a book and get lost in a new magical fictional world and conveniently and  comfortably forget the real world.

For me, reading books can be metamorphical only two acts. When it is fiction, the act is that of sleeping. When it is non-fiction, the act is that of listening to another soul, completely engrossed. All fictional books I'd read thus far, left with the taste of sleeping experiences, say, a profound sleep, a nightmare, a disturbed sleep, incredibly beautiful dream and so on. And when it comes to non-fiction, it is like meeting a stranger on a train and listening to him with undivided attention. I don't know the person and would never have a chance again. Whatever has to happen, happens in that little window of time and then all I have is his memories. I read books for the exclusive bliss of dreaming without sleeping and listening without the compulsion to talk back.

I quite seriously intend to make notes of my readings on a regular basis in this blog. So, all you bookworms out there can take the pain to visit this blog. You'll find something or the other. The others, don't worry! There are many other things to share apart from books. :)

Two essays on reading in current age..

Well, I've been planning, rather dreaming, to run away from this chaotic world and hide in a serene calm place and give myself completely to book reading. My "to-be-read" shelf grows bigger and bigger to scare me if I've enough time ever to read them all. Sometimes I feel like having a list of "must read stuff before I die" - but it kind of scares me away. Now, any of my friends reading these lines, might have started preparing themselves to lecture me on why is it not that good to be too much into books and why I should be trying out various other things! Nevertheless, I want to be with books, even if that's cardinal sin.

And when I come across such lines, the pain due to my  ineffectiveness simply increases.

"These days, however, after spending hours reading e-mails and fielding phone calls in the office, tracking stories across countless websites, I find it difficult to quiet down. I pick up a book and read a paragraph; then my mind wanders and I check my e-mail, drift onto the Internet, pace the house before returning to the page. Or I want to do these things but don't. I force myself to remain still, to follow whatever I'm reading until the inevitable moment I give myself over to the flow. Eventually I get there, but some nights it takes 20 pages to settle down. What I'm struggling with is the encroachment of the buzz, the sense that there is something out there that merits my attention, when in fact it's mostly just a series of disconnected riffs and fragments that add up to the anxiety of the age."

More here.

But the find of the day is here. Only a month back or so, I struggled to browse through few pages of one of Eco's non-fiction works. When my friend brought him into our conversation, I just skimmed through the wiki page to stumble upon this link. It's a beautifully (for me, yes, it is beautiful) written essay on writing, reading, memory, visual effects, books, book reading and the printed versus digitized books. This article kind of gives me courage to explore ECO further. That is just one more on my endless list of 'to-be-read'. 

Sorrows for Sale..

गम बिकते हैं
बाज़ारॊं में
गम काफी महंगे बिकते हैं
लहजॆ की दुक्कान अगर चल जाए तो
जज्बॆं के गाहक
छॊटॆ बडॆ हर गम के खिलौने
मुह मांगी कीमत पे खरीदें
मैंने हमॆशा अपने गम अच्छे दामॊं बेचे हैं
लेकिन
जॊ गम मुझ्कॊ आज मिला है
किसी दुका पर रखने के काबिल ही नहीं है
पहली बार मैं शम्रिदा  हू
ये गम बेज़ नही पाऊगा
(All typos, courtesy of baraha direct7.0 )


(Sorrows are sold
in the market.
The price of sorrows is high.
If the shop of sweet tones is successful,
The customers of emotion
Will buy the toys of sorrow, large or small,
For any price that is asked
I've always
sold my sorrows for a good price
But
the sorrow I've today
I couldn't display it on any counter
For the first time, I'm ashamed;
this sorrow I shall not be able to sell.)
- Javed Akhtar

Sometime during the week, I happened to watch a usual NDTV discussion on reality shows of Indian Television. One of the experts raised a concern that, "My only worry is that India has become insensitive in many ways and now they actually derive pleasure out of others' pain and discomfort and worries." And my immediate response to it was, "Oh.. tears sell big way!". When I tracked down my memory, I remembered that I read a poem of Javed Akhtar on similar lines. Here it is.

Tears, pain, cribbing - they sell in big way. Comedians are enjoyed, laughed at, but hardly taken seriously. But with these pathos, the whole world kind of cries along with them. Anyone who chooses to open up in public to take about pain, is a performer and a performer's primary agenda is to seek attention. These reality shows would go on, as long as the attention is given to them.

Blogs as means of personal communication..

I don't understand at times if the problem is with me or the world. Like I don't enjoy nonsensical craps under the name of blockbusters, I don't enjoy many more things. Off late, there's one thing that's pricking me. Using blogs as means of personal communication.

What to blog? - I've some very rigid thoughts on this and those were worked out even before starting a blog of my own. It's been two years associated actively with this virtual word and I still stick to my opinions on what is to be blogged.

Through blog, you're certainly reaching out to the world. The world that you know it existed, but that you've never seen. But I don't understand the need why one has to rely on blogs to communicate to their own set of people. People say there is so much pain inside that unless it finds a way out they can't remain sane. And by pouring that out, there are emphatically showing their insanity.

You and your best friend are on talking terms. Everything personal between you both shouldn't see the light of the world.

You and your best friend had a spat and not communicating the way you do, then all the follow up acts should be done on one-on-one level. The world needn't be witness for your spat or after-effects.

You and your best friend had serious issues and parted with one another. There it ends. You pine, you ache! But don't blog all that in the expectation that you'll be read, understood and befriended again!

I wonder, if blogs can fair as a good means of communication. They become pathetic when it comes to the personal stuff. Blogs could at the most be those hapless mediators between two people who are swearing to kill each other. Blogs aren't diaries to speak out the most secret of emotions. Attempting to be understood or sympathized or empathized - seems to be the most pathetic stage a person can go through. I hate it. I pity it.


(If you can't have a proper control over your tongue to make sense, please refrain from commenting here.)

Never been there.. yet been there

Have you ever been in love? Have you ever been rejected, hated or left in despair by somebody? Have you ever felt the need of somebody for your own existence? Do you even have the faintest of ideas as to what it means to have a broken heart?

Do you want to wander about in the kingdom of a broken heart, without ever experiencing personally? Welcome to the world of Abhinandana.


Abhinandana is a musical romantic Telugu film released in early nineties. The story line is too simple: it's all about a gal and guy madly in love with each other when destiny scares them away that it seems that they gonna lose each other forever. But as they say, good happens to good souls. Its kind of happy ending that they both get back together. That's all! The beauty of the movie is actually how this simple story is turned into a masterpiece on the celluloid. I'm no expert to discuss the nuances of cinematic skills, so I'll leave that part right here.

As with any typical Indian flick, music and songs become such a crucial part of the movie that it mandates the gal and guy run around trees or drench in the rain or whatever that supposedly entertaining to the audience. Again, I'm not connoisseur of music, but still, that is what this post would contain. I'm terribly gonna fail at that, yet I'll be doing that.

The songs of this movie are a creation of three masters in their respective fields. None needs introduction. Or to the matter of fact, any introduction, however good, makes them look small, ordinary and one-among-us. Whereas they create magic that could overwhelm anyone - ANYONE!

First Illayaraja - he's called maestro - thankfully, I can stop here. Any given day and every single time I happen to hear the music of this movie, I'm taken into a different world. All of a sudden the real world diffuses itself into the magic called Illayaraja, leaving me swinging to the tunes of pain, hurt, hopelessness, melancholy, desire and many others which I can't even name.

Then there is the one who renders these songs so heartrendingly well - S.P. Bala Subhramaniam. It takes a certain age and most importantly a certain set of experiences to actually empathize with the fall-in-love and after-love effects. But not when you have someone who can bring ever single emotion of heart into the vocal chords. I was equally fond of these songs during my childhood, so much so that whenever I heard this song over radio - end of it, I wanted to give SPB a glass of water, make him sit beside me, pat him on his back and tell him, "Don't cry! Good boys shouldn't cry!" If you wanna hear a heart's beat, listen to SPB!

And the third and my most favourite is the lyricist of these songs - Aatreya. People call him 'manasu kavi" - poet of heart - and that is because he actually speaks heart's language. I can never understand when people say, 'heart is dumb' (మనసు మూగది). Heart has found its mouth piece in form of this man, who can so eloquently speak any of its pain in simplest of words and ways.

మరుపే తెలియని నా హృదయం
తెలిసీ వలచుట తొలి నేరం
అందుకే ఈ గాయం
(despite the fact that my heart can't forget, it has loved you and that's the wound)

గాయాన్ని అయినా మాననీవు
హృదయాన్ని అయినా వీడిపోవు
కాలం నాకు సాయం రాదు
మరణం నన్ను చేరనీదు
(You don't let the wound heal - You don't desert my heart - time doesn't help me - death doesn't let me associate)

కలలకి భయడిపోయాను
నిదురకి దూరం అయ్యాను
వేదన పడ్డాను
(Scared of dreams - distancing sleep - I grieve)

All you insomniacs out there, this is your problem, which no doctor on earth can cure, unless you help your self.

ప్రేమకింత బలం ఉందా?
(Love is this potent?) Brings a smile on my face. Yes, it is more potent that the strongest of "I"s wither away. But words can equally pierce your soul and chisel your heart. Words are potent enough to let us experience without being there. They let us live someone's feelings and emotions, though momentarily.

This song, at the moment, has completely taken me into it. More songs will be talked later.

On an ending note, music, vocals and words are equally potent. Better put, anything that has the heart as focus is always potent!

Sick - Sicker - Sickest

I've been sick over the past one week. The sickness during the early part of the week was understandable with the help of words like, "headache", "feverish" and the likes. It isn't the physical weakness that's actually putting me down. There's more to what I feel, as I feel now. I wish these were measurable too.. on any scale. To let know everybody how terrible it is when you get to know that someone whom you respect most ends up being the jerk you hate to the core. To yell at the top of the voice when you're accompanied by a creature who doesn't have the decency not to force things out of people. To tell people that when our social interests don't match, it doesn't mean one of us is unsocial or less civilized.

Any physical ailment is tolerable compared to the pains given by few and their attitudes. More so, when its my kind of people at the receiving end, people who suffer from "i-let-them-cause-me-pain", "my-choice,my-mistake" syndromes.

I don't know when I would realize that few happen to us, be it our choice or not! There has to be a way to deal with such.

nonsensically hilarious crap!

"Magadheera - nonsensically hilarious crap!" is my status message for the day and seems like people can't decide my take on that movie. So, here I take the onus of explaining what this movie actually means to me.

It means a lot to me, yeah, no kidding! When is the last time I laughed my head off, literally for 2hours, 40 minutes! Shame on my part that I couldn't manage the first 2 minutes of the movie, because gulping down a sub wasn't that easy. Missed the initial two minutes and good two minutes of laugh too! Oh!

Kurt Vonnegut opines - "Any creation which has any wholeness and harmoniousness, I suspect, was made by an artist or inventor with an audience of one in mind." I wonder who did Rajamouli (the director) had in his mind as audience while directing some of the stunts or scenes of this movie. A set of people, who can switch off their brains as easily as any laptops or mobiles? Probably!

I don't want to waste much of my time, clamoring about the nonsensical part of this movie. I just can't understand or stand, the stupidity involved in these concepts and the execution. Have a star's son, have a famed production unit, get a crap under the name of the love story of 400 years old and then waste innumerable resources, minds, days, efforts and finally stamp it as "a s.s rajamouli film". Good God! My heart goes out for those professionals who put their minds and souls to create some fantastical pieces of work.. but for what? A crap? A miserable crap? Such a WASTE!

Only the other day I had a chance to see Rajamouli's interview, where he talked about his next venture: "I'm trying a new genre. A genre that was never touched. It could be a comedy thriller. None on the screen would be doing comedy, but none watching it can stop laughing. That's what I'm trying." Thank God! Had he been around while I was watching the flick, he would have confused the one on screens with theone under the carpets.

Following the laughter riot, Su advices me.. " i was wondering if the chair broke - don't laugh so much da.. respect the director and his stupidity :P" But all through, I did wonder whether I'm laughing at him, or laughing at myself for choosing to watch the movie! Here's a twist, Su, You got that?

"All imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses." - The only reason I could complete the movie. Sounds like an achievement! Ahem!

The art of story telling..

There would be days when one doesn't want to stop talking. Occasionally, there would be days when one can't stand anyone who can talk.Problem with people like me who talk incessantly is our silence becomes noiser and unbearable than the talk. But many a times, there would be phases, where one doesn't want to take the onus of being active participant, but listen anything that's being said with utmost attention. It's like standing at the other end of the pitch and letting your partner do all the batting needed. You're around seemingly completing the needed formalities, though in reality you're actually essential to complete. 

In past few days, when I asked few friends of mine to tell me a story very casually, they took to the task and ended up with some amazing stuff. Knowing them, I was very sure of the time we were going to have. To my own surprise, these people have made stories on the spur of the moment with rib tickling comedy, which lets me forget that something inside me is aching. The bad listener that I'm, I keep poking them for details or clarifications and that is what actually makes them build the story. As S puts it, "The specialty of her story agency is that the stories are build from the questions posed."

I was bloody curious as to how these people would end their respective stories. S has taken a literal KJo kinda story to RGV's Sarkar range of end. It was a triangular love story, with the three involved having backdrops of regional divisions of Andhra Pradesh. V's story ended in the safest way as all fantasies would - by waking up!  I'm overwhelmed by the way these people managed to build a story with no prior thought.

Wish I could tell a story like that. Somehow, I end up being an awful story teller time and again! I can never properly tell a story. May be, I'll have to pull a leaf out of these amazing story tellers' books and try getting better at making stories and telling them.

Thank you, S and V! :) You guys rock! :P 

Missing you, Randy!

That sounds awfully crazy to my own ears, but for the past few days, I've been missing Randy big way! It is such a weird feeling that I miss a person (yes, I'm missing him) whom I know only through a couple of youtube videos and a book. It gets extraordinarily ridiculous that I choose to miss him, despite having a chance to revisit the book or videos.

Still.. I miss him!And as when missing somebody, I want to recollect and memorize what he had to say and how I heard them all. That's the greatest part of missing, you don't simply miss them, you remind yourself of every single detail of them, dwell in those moments, revisit all those memories and relive the associated feelings, and it is then you miss them. Which is exactly my way with Randy too.

He taught me head fake. Or better put, he taught me that I've been through many a head fakes. Shrugging off modesty yes, I do have a sense of vanity that I hardly miss my lessons. I've an understanding of what I learn. But there were bigger lessons, that only he could teach me. They made sense only because they were from him.

He is full of cliches. "Cliche" - that's the word that's been  making rounds in my head, which also made me realize that I've been missing Randy. Cliches.. cliches!

Then he said so much about emotional insurance. He probably told to do that one's own people. I'm now struggling either to know who is "own" or how one should be "owned". I'm confused about my question too.

"Somehow, with the passage of time, and the deadlines that life imposes, surrendering became the right thing to do." - This was the quote that introduced Randy to me. What can be termed as the first sight! And the immediate reaction to it was, "Pathetic!". Somehow, I couldn't leave it there, the curiosity increased and I did get his point when I read through the book.


But I was introduced to another quote off late, "there is magic in fighting beyond endurance". I wanna choose between surrendering and fighting! How? Wish Randy was here. Probably, I don't miss him. I need him, may be!

"Live in the moment! Time is all you have. And you may find one day that you have less than you think." - I was okay with it so far. Now, looks like I've become much greedier with time. I don't want more of it, all I'm wanting is every moment blow up to seem like an eternity. It needn't be eternal, it just got to seem so. I want to get away from the knowledge that moment is momentary!

Amidst the chaos, I keep missing Randy though! For he is the one who lets me stick through it.

A spectator's view

Last week when Roger was playing that incredulous match against Roddick, there was special focus on Merka, his gal for obvious reasons. She's the one behind the man has never been a secret. He performs right in front of numerous audience, including her. Everyone watch Roger, she examines him. Most observe him, she reads him. Few analyze his moves, she knows them even before he makes them.

Being his family and professional help, she takes the most comfortable seat to watch him performing. Look at the picture and what seems is:  The guy struggling on the court to get through and this lady seated cozily enjoying the match along with millions of fans, she being one of them. It's fun, amazing fun. The roller coaster ride from winning moments to losing ones as a fan. That is all! Is it?

A spectator! Just a spectator?

Superficial observations and callous thinking! She's actually fastened to that chair, there might be numerous occasions where she would love to run onto the court to help him.  She has her mouth sealed though the voice within is struggling to put across a message. She's as excited and as nervous as him. She has definitely got more butterflies in her tummy. She's like the one who knows the way, knows how to drive, yet has to leave the steering to him. She's like the mother who lets her child fall down, to see him stand on his own. She isn't playing on center court, still she's the one who is playing without her presence on the court.

I know, all this is would be very easily rubbished off. It's just the ill-effect of my deep-thinking syndrome. "Roger plays - she watches" is all! "Roger plays - she experiences" is overstatement! Exaggeration! Why? Another cliche to the rescue, "Seeing is believing". Sigh!

People think in binary numbers, these days!

There is sun, there is rain! What about those hours when it is neither sunny nor it is raining. Clouded, wind blowing into face and the humidity suffocating, what is it? Sun or rain?

Laugh and cry! Simple! What about those moments when a simple pleasure turns as smile, widens a bit before tears start from nowhere. Or what about those smiles that are hard to hid, when the tears are still streaming?

There is my pain and your pain! Oh yeah, your  and mine. We're two individuals - you and I. Logically, its your pain and my pain. And brooding over why my pain disturbs you or why is that I'm weakend by your pain is mere time waste. It's your pain, you've all the rights over it! I'm permitted only to the gallery of your laughter. 
 
There is life, there is death! Person talked about in terms of  "is" or "was"! You might brush with death, if you're drowning. Be on the shore as a spectator and let yourself watch your loved one struggling to stay afloat! Fun, I tell you. That is the fun. Because, it won't kill you! It just doesn't let you live. Its worse than death, but yeah you'll be counted among the living. And also, it will not be counted as your pain.

Being a spectator with hands and legs fastened with limitations, eyes wide open, heart crying out whereas the tongue's tied, you're mind at work understanding every single detail - this is fun. Fun as in stopping oxygen to me every few seconds, as in stretching my heart's chord and leave it ruthlessly, as in ..If all this was scripted, I wanna murder him for being so cruel, to ever create this spectator's role!

If life is a drama, why I'm forced to witness others' drama without any key role in it? Why my role is so damn limited, that I start feeling helpless, ridiculous and what not? It's not my drama, why am I even there? 

I hate love.

Rose Walker

 

Have you even been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...
You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like "maybe we should just be friends" or "how very perceptive" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

in Sandman: The Kindly Ones by Neil Gaiman

"Unbelievable" - Script by Roger Federer.

If last year's Wimbledon final was termed epic, I don't know what to call this year's. I should either be as tedious as the Star Sports commentators or stick with a single word, say Fed's "Unbelievable". Ask him his name tonight and he might end up saying, "My name.. aah.. Unbelievable Federer!"

Roger's the Champ! Roger's the No.1! Roger's the one who made history! Roger ROCKS!

But what a resurgent Roddick on Center Court today! He was immaculate until that very last moment and has thoroughly impressed me. If asked to introduce Roddick, I'd just say, "a super talent, except when against Fed." And today, he has proved that to be wrong. I knew all through the way, that if one is giving up tonight that would be Andy. What a show he has put up before messing it! I'm spell bound by his game.

Thankfully Fed had the last laugh! Being his fan, I'm all too tempted to see opponents going down without a fight. Being his fan, I love to see him dictating terms, make them play to his script. That said, there's altogether a different fun when people like Nadal or Roddick give him some tough competition. I'm mesmerized enough to regard him as "God!", but with these guys around he seems more human. He commits more errors getting the better of them. He trembles and fumbles, still holds his nerve. He goes through a sea of torment, remains cool and composed. He becomes vulnerable, yet he emerges victorious. He lets me celebrate the human spirit. He strengthens that spirit in me. What an inspiration he is!

Thank you Fed! Thank you Roddick! Keep rocking!

Finding me in others' words

Ever since my childhood, I had great interest in collecting quotes, randomly without any order, not on any one subject. In the early days it was more kind of knowledge gathering or good-words-to-be-followed. Years later, I'm equally enthralled every single time I happen to know a quote. What is enthralling is having a fair bit of understanding of self, I kind of find myself in these quotes. Otherwise, what I'm currently doing has been approved by these stalwarts. The two writers I was googling tonight: Kierkegaard and Steinbeck, who were strangers half an hour ago.

Once you label me you negate me. - Soren Kierkegaard

I've been struggling to fill in the "about me" texts here and there. This comes as a perfect rescue for me. Only problem is that it's too straight and too simple, whereas the following is more apt to my style.

People understand me so poorly that they don't even understand my complaint about them not understanding me. - Soren Kierkegaard

Rib-tickling! So far, I was inclined on making people understand that it's not easy to understand me. Now, I've got a new way, a funnier way - complaining can get funny too.

And here's another case. You open up to people, speak your mind intelligible manner and yet, people come up with opaque and weird theories, trying to give solution even while there is no problem first place.

I feel as if I were a piece in a game of chess, when my opponent says of it: That piece cannot be moved. - Soren Kierkegaard

Not the fault of the pawn there. Not that it's dull and ineffectual. It has to abide by the rule. What if rules are self-imposed? Aren't rules, rules for a boss? :P

A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. - John Steinbeck

How true! Trip.. go round and round and round and round! Enjoyyyy! It's fun, I bet! When it ends, it doesn't even matter.

It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it. John Steinbeck

Was someone spying my ways of life? A good night's sleep can put any trouble away. Or rather, it works other way round as well for me. Whenever it becomes very difficult to make a choice, when the consequences of doing and not doing are almost balanced that I can't lean towards one, that is when sleep comes to my rescue. Consciously I might be struggling, but sub-consciously I know what I really want to do.

I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations - one can either do this or that. My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it - you will regret both. - Soren Kierkegaard

I'm loving it! You regret it either ways, better regret what you've done. Not doing and then regretting is like worse than the worst.

can't-be-read as well please..

You've set up a meeting with a person, you make it and then you walk away mid-way through it. Sounds rude?

You've set up a meeting with a person (well known or otherwise), you make it. It starts off well, both of you seem interested in one another, but as it goes on the charm lessens, you feel the void, you need to force yourself to move on and then comes a time to call it quits. And then you walk away mid-way through, with or without a proper bye. Sounds reasonable?

This is exactly what happens to me with some of the books. Though every single book I spend time with is carefully chosen only after knowingly it in all ways possible, there at times harsh realizations that they don't suit me. We just can't get along. When it comes to forcing out things upon self or others, I'm miserable. It isn't the book that's at fault, it is my inability - yet, at that point both of us can't be together. So, there are fair enough books that can't-be-read by me.

These book-management software(s) which I heavily rely upon (at least to handle my "to-be-read" shelf) put me in a spot of bother. As it is, my current-reading shelf would always be loaded and added to that, I can't decide where to put these abandoned books. I read them, even if that's with inattention. I've been with them, though not cherished all along. I left them middle, yet I know them in parts. How dearly do I wish there is a category, "couldn't complete", "can't-be-read" or "dumped"!

May be, not many face this problem, only people like me who're impossibly demanding!

(Explored goodreads.com today, too early to comment!)

In the search of a long forgotton song..

Here, I'm talking about a song I heard most, aired on Jaimala program of Vividh Bharathi. I've no clue of what's the film, who composed, who rendered, who enacted. What's worse I can't even recollect the lyrics of the song. And I never watched this song.

All I remember is that (my assumptions included), that the song's situation is the budding romance of a newly wed couple. Or soon to be tied in a knot. He supposedly closes her eyes from behind and asks her to guess who it is. For which she replies,

"hum naam kaise le unkaa, joh dil mein rahthe har dum" or something similar.

As far as I recollect, she actually starts as "You come and close my eyes stealthily, and I know its you, but how can I name the one so close to my heart."

I know, I helped you least. But if you're an ardent fan of old hindi filmy songs, this shouldn't be tough. Any clue?

Whom would you bat for?

Not everything is by choice! Or we just don't accept at times, we make a choice of not making choices. Whatever! Let's assume you'll have to play a game of cricket for any of these captains, who most certainly make these statements at the end of the lost matches.

a) "Oh! We just never played up to our potential. We never took catches, and that left us nowhere. We look forward to do better."
b) "Well.. we were in the run for most part of the game. But one dropped catch has cost us dearly that we ended up losing. Had we been able to take that catch, things would be different."
c) "Oh.. yes! We lost today and that was because Mr. XYZ has put down an absolute sitter. Had he taken that catch we would have won the match comfortably . Its the team that has to take the bitter pill now."

Whom would you bat for? Also, how different will be your answer if the XYZ is you or not you.

( I know its only handful of people reading this blog. But if you care to leave your answers here, I would be delighted.)

Old City --> Mall Culture

Standing outside of what it seems to be the most sophisticated mall of Hyderbad, GVK One has made me walk down the memory lane to recollect the streets of Koti on busy Sunday evening.

If you're a Hyderabadi of my generation, then all your shopping thirst, ten years back most probably has been quenched at any of the places like Charminar or Koti or General Bazar. And the very same generation now complains about these places that they are too crowded, too suffocating and too narrow for our new found way of living.

However, being at GVK this evening has made me wonder if its just that a casette called "Koti" has been converted to a DVD called "GVK One". The base of it remains all the same, the same crowd, the same chaos, the same shopaholics, but so damn sophisticated in every possible way.

Oh.. Lady! :)

Dorothy Parker! Ever since I stumbled upon her, she keeps me amused. The first time I met her, she was like speaking a gal's heart with great ease. And then, through her poems I found that she speaks her heart even better. (Not many can do that, ones who are so damn good at stretching to step into some other end up being dumb in their own case!)

I'm dying (agreed, that's exaggeration!) to read her works  as soon as possible. Hopefully I'll get my hands on a copy soon!

Meanwhile, here are few lines from her various poems.

Some men break your heart in two,
Some men fawn and flatter,
Some men never look at you;
And that cleans up the matter.           By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:

One of you is lying.   Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad-
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.

Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.  

When the dumb gets to speak..

One of the famous poets in Telugu, Ismail had to say that poetry is like giving voice to a dumb fellow. It isn't that we don't feel many a things, its just that we either lack the knowledge that we're feeling it (which is a blessing in disguise) or there's not enough in you to voice it out. Poetry, so says Ismail is the one which lets a dumb scream his heart out. ( మూగవాని కేక!)

And reading Pablo has been always tough for me, for I love him for what he is and hate him for making me feel sorry for what I'm. Here's the sample..

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I don't know how to comprehend the first line. I-love-you is as it is an insensible group of words in my sense. More so, when it is I-love-you with "Conditions Applied". You love.. you love! If you're trying to answer "why?", then the very sense of love is killed.

But I'm spell bound by the next 3 lines. Whether the fact of being in love is known or not, there is this very presence of "I" always in picture. And that makes very single attempt not to be waiting, not to be loving, not to be pining - adding to the woes

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Leaving alone the first statement, I love this stanza. The phrase / word of "I-love-you" gets onto the nerves for three reasons - the I, the love and the you! So much said and written about love, I'll not ponder on that yet again. The entire emphasis is always laid on that four letter word, that the I and you are so completely ignored assuming they are the well known. "You" should be relatively new, but it is the "I" who gets into a new form. "You" being outside has such an impact on the "I" that it bends like never before. The most inflexible can do all the gymnastic acts, because of the "you", in the presence of "you". Intense love and hate are result of the fact that "I" starts bending to our disbelief.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

The other day, a friend had a status message, "the sound of tears is cool" (కన్నీటి సవ్వడెంత హాయిలే!), which prompted a question from me, "How about the storm inside?" Pat came the reply, "Don't worry, that's never gonna be heard by anyone else"

Its only key to "true" calm that is lost, otherwise just calm can always be acted out.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

Obvious! Because the "you" can't be killed (because of being loved) and love? Well, its like the "rakshasas" in the mythological stories, you aim to target it, it disappears with villainous laugh only to re-appear. The left one is "I" and can be killed!

Butterfly reader.. hehehehe..

Encountered this word while reading H.G. Wells, wherein he says, "The last four words will not attract the butterfly reader, I know. "

I'm loving that word, may be because I love butterflies or may be because I myself flutter a lot. That word is amusing me and kind of tickles me.

Googled around, but never found anything useful. (courtesy: my slothful search techniques) Let me know if you've something to share!

(Butterfly reader... what I call in my language, కల్తీ లేని తిట్టు! )

noreply@offense.com

"Please don't reply to this mail" is the message in some of the auto-generated mails. Saves our time and energy. That's okay!

"Please don't reply to this mail" a scorned person writes to someone. Hmm.. matter's turned too serious to be ignored.

Apart from these two occasions, every other mail (or the archaic letter) has an unstated request of "Please do reply, would be waiting!" , which is most often conveniently and comfortably overlooked. Most of us understand that it is a courtesy to at least acknowledge the mail, if not to give it the detailed attention. Nevertheless, we're most inclined to miss the reply and then give ourselves a thousand and one reasons for not letting that happen, be it laziness or lack of interest or too busy or procrastination or indifference or whatever.

On the rarest of occasions though, there's a chance of learning the way through harshest experiences. A casual mail not getting reply might be a time saver, but what if you've attached far too much of importance to it? A silence - a complete void leading to a struggle to decide whether you were ignored (so that you can be humiliated) or missed (to let it go off ) or you weren't liked ( to feel sorry or reciprocate). You can't tune your response as emotions vacillate. Well, we keep missing, we keep offending and we do humiliate. Happens!

What's interesting is that this no-reply business elicits wrath from the giants too, they're human too!

Tagore, for instance has this to write to his unresponsive wife, "Thought you'd reply to me, at least by mistake!" - Sarcasm!

Any delay in response from Indira Gandhi, makes her father write, "You might be too busy, to give a reply" or "You're doing good? How's your health?" or something of that nature. Doubts hovering around of her well being.

Rilke seems to be prompt enough to offer his apologies to a young poet!

Kafka? No, we're not talking about him!

Have I read some other book that was collection of letters? I can't remember. Bad!

Boxed voice..

With dry and aching eyes, I couldn't afford to watch much of the T20 WC action in live. Tucked under blanket, thought "hearing" cricket can't be a bad idea either. Eyes shut and ears wide open, I get to listen a match on TV. Tough as it was getting, I get to hear this one man's voice, for whose interviews I used to await eagerly. It's now much easier to lie under the blanket than when he is action.

Anil Kumble's bowling is anyway clinical, but his voice for me is irresistible! And to have him now in the commentator's box is immense pleasure for someone like me who's fascinated by voices. Saurav's another guy, I'd love to hear day in and day out.

Alas! The moment of joy was soon galloped by the thought - my heroes who had triumph and glory on the field have now vacated their thrones to occupy a corner seat of a closed box. Probably, these are the signs of aging - apart from the usual grey hair and wrinkles - that the people around me whom I associate your childhood with, without whom life would've been less passionate, have now moved on to new ways of life because of their age. And it is now on my turn to introduce these commentators as my idols to the younger lot.

For the first time ever, I wish the prime of youth doesn't pass off. To feel young, seems like you need a lot many others to remain young.

Presence, Kafka, jabber

"Presence is irrefutable", so writes Kafka to his girl, trying to convince her that words written aren't capable enough to project him what he is. He insists that physical presence helps great deal to "know" the person.

I just can't understand when people believe the fault is of the mode of communication, rather than their own doing when it comes to misunderstandings. No doubt, physical presence is more effective in terms of expressing through the body as well as the words. That said, a wink, a raised eyebrow, a smile and the likes can also be thoroughly misread by others.


If technology gives thousand novel ways of connecting people, there seems to be million new ways of misinterpreting them. If it is faceless, doesn't mean it got to be heartless. If it is instant, it doesn't mean it can't have lingering effect on you. If it is expressionless, doesn't mean it is unemotional.

Any device or technology can at the most help in laying the path between two individuals. Now, how is the journey traversed is entirely up to the ones in it. Just because you can't see the person, it won't be easy for you in anyway. Every mode has its own charm. Every path has its own thorns.

And Mr. Kafka, any presence is irrefutable!

Being personal..

Joe Fox: It wasn't... personal.
Kathleen Kelly: What is that supposed to mean? I am so sick of that. All that means is that it wasn't personal to you. But it was personal to me. It's *personal* to a lot of people. And what's so wrong with being personal, anyway?
Joe Fox: Uh, nothing.
Kathleen Kelly: Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.

Quote from You've got mail!

Deception

"Deceiving is a way of life too" is what my friend's gtalk status message bar read a few days back. "Absolutely" was my instant reaction. What follows here is a series of random thoughts on the same line.

We take offense to somebody lying to us, hiding truth from us, manipulating facts and representing in a form which we may be okay with, unless we know that isn't what it is. Once realized that we've been fooled, we now want the purpose behind. If the intention was nothing but cheating, then the integrity of other person is questioned. And worse case, when the "purpose" to save us from some misery or give us a moment of relief or joy, there's much more to worry. Is it that I can't take the truth? Am I not strong enough to face facts? Have I been so convincingly fooled that it makes me vulnerable? So and so forth.

"Deceiving is the way of life." Blessed are the ones who trust completely and can never doubt. Because, without the art of deceiving, it is next to impossible to lead life. You got to fool around with everybody, every single instance. An acquaintance queries "how are you?" and you end up with a forced smile and "Oh.. very well, Thank you!". A very close friend probes, "how are you?" and there you'll be with a fake smile and "everything's fine.. it's just that occasionally..... otherwise and all.... you see".  Neither time nor the courtesies nor the bonding would actually allow you to be completely honest to a frequent question like this. All through, we're bound with so limitations and to deceive. The movies, the television, the magic shows are all forms of deception, it's just entertainment through fooling yourself.

Thought of that day was: "It's one hell to be in love, as you can neither fool or be fooled" which was shared with the same friend. And her reply was: "You can be fooled, but you crave to be fooled more." No Comments!
 
Fool around! Be fooled! Make merry!   

Midnight GYAAN!

"We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to."

Somerset Maugham

Too long together,,

"Too long together and even courtesy is gone.. people are more courteous to strangers than they are to their own wives and husbands. Two people tied to each other like hungry dogs fighting over every little scrap between them. Look at us, even us! You raised your voice to me! I didn't come into your life to make you angry. If you don't like me as I'm, just say so and I'm gone! Together too long, and it is chains and duties and responsibilities, no delights, no adventures, no thank you!"

- Richard Bach, The Bridge Across Forever.

Damn it... how hard is it to be yourself?

(When there are few sane voices around you trying hard to put in stuff into your head, you either have to heed to them, or rant like this almost at midnight with not so sound health. )

I'm not worried about the result of the match nor about the show put up by the Indians so far, but how ridiculous Dhoni has been all through his innings. Not just this particular innings, it's been a while that he found a gratuitous approach to his game. The audacious Dhoni who massacred any bowling attack is now a distant memory!

The fact that he has been terribly struggling doesn't hurt me as much as the way he has chosen to go about things. Yes, there'll be numerous voices out there professing about "n" no. of virtues you don't posses. Does that only mean you'll have to start acquiring all of them, by trail and error method, and forget what you've been endowed with?

Impatience is a way of life, if that's your way too - SO BE IT!
Only fools rush.... don't worry! End of the day, if you win the race, you won't be tagged as "foolish" winner. If you lose, you'll anyways get an earful.
If your blood gushes out at every opportunity, go make it big! Resistance is USELESS!

Oh.. there is adaptability too, just round the corner. But if that starts hurting your innate strengths, just leave it there at that very corner. You'll be named "inflexible". You choose another way, you'll be called otherwise.

Straightly put: As long as you get the results, the world sings your tune. And to get results, you'll have to be you. Chances of being successful is far less when you're busy trying to be what you're not.

Incongruous are the man management skills of a team, that forces compromises out of its best men. Sachin has fallen prey to this weird theory of sacrificing his best, in name of team's benefit or whatever crap. Thankfully, Sehwag couldn't be bend. He is what HE IS!

Afridi makes more sense to me, going out and out at the very first ball of every single game he plays. He's a no-hoper in terms of batting these days, is still understandable; success or no-success he has his way.

Dhoni.. you gotta BE YOURSELF!

( I can now sleep peacefully.. I needed this outlet, very badly!)

Fed is the Champ..

I can't wait to post this. I just can't! It's been such a long time,being-almost-there and then losing every single time. Enough of heartbreaks! Here's the new champ of clay - ROGER FEDERER!

Absolutely delighted for this man. Last year's Wimbledon and this year's Australian Open have been worrisome and he triumphing on clay is a wonderful treat to any of his fans. Holding the breath for the Wimbledon to start. I wish it would the repeat of last year's clash with a different winner.

One of the most incredible of things that I got to witness today is not his lovely shots, but that tear rolling on his cheek, mid-way through the Swiss national anthem being played during the presentation ceremony. Have I ever seen a tear so elegantly rolling on somebody's cheek! The wildest of turmoils inside transforms its way to outside, so calmly! Even nature thunders, where does this lad hide all his emotions to remain as placid as he does?  That's why he is the most loved.

Thanks Heaven, to be sharing an era with such a soul - an embodiment of the celebration of human spirit!

T-I-M-E

Landed up on the following verse, while randomly browsing. All I can now say about it is, what a time to find it.
*******************************************************************************
For everything there is a season,
And a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate,
A time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Agreed, there is a "time" for everything! But, how the hell, do you know this is the "time"? Do you await it, or go with the guts? And when finally things go terribly wrong, will time take it's share of blame?

Song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWg3b15ITS8&feature=related

Nadal.. OUT!

Hard to believe, comes as a shocker that Nadal is thrashed out of the French Open. I can imagine him going down on any other surfaces, but definitely not on clay. He isn't called the "King of Clay" for no reason. 
Well, I thoroughly regret for not watching the match tonight. I can put the blame on 30 minute power cut too, but I presumed Rafa can't be defeated. Over the past few years, my observation has been that, though the 20-30 seeded guys, make the champs work hard for every single point at various stages of a slam, they have an usual knack of gifting away crucial points at crunch times. The sign of being a champ is this, give them slightest of opening to creep in and they would end up having their foot on your throat.

Though Soderling was showing signs of taking it away from Nadal, he was erratic far too many times. And following Nadal over years, he would be one to cash on any slightest of chances. Not sure, what happened today. Was it one man's brilliance? Or dismal performance by the other? Or both?

Whatever! My real regret is that, I've not talked to anybody about French Open this season. Did not, at all, pull anybody into  "my roger - your rafa" kind of spats. This an occasion wasted where I can't tease all of my friends, who are ardent fans of Nadal. That said, with Roger not being very convincing so far, probably these guys will have an equal chance of pulling my leg. Tomorrow will be the answer.

For now, the news is that the King of Clay has vacated his own palace.

Not to forget: TAKE A BOW, Solderling!

25 Random Things about me!

I've been tagged. That is not why this post is here. It's here because, it accomplishes what I really want at this moment, scare as many as people as possible in a single go. The dare devil, that I'm!

1. I'm liked and disliked with the same intensity, for very same reasons. I anyway, keep doing what I feel like.
2. This would be a shocker to most of you reading, I don't enjoy chatting ( you got to believe me), talking on phones, "sms"ing and all other electronic ways of communication, as much as I love writing letters on paper. Oh yes, you can call me ancient, call me archaic.
   
3. I oversleep. That's why, occasionally you'll find me sane, talking sense and behaving well.
   
4. I can irk anybody of whatever tolerance levels, with my irregular eating habits. Always over ambitious with food, I never ever complete meals, at any given part of the day. When George Bush had that comment relating to food and Indian middle class, the joke in office was, "Bush might have watched Purnima having lunch." Notorious!
   
5. I'm in love 24 / 7. ( Thankfully, not with "the-husband-material".) Rain is the most sorted out, nothing like drenching in it. Apart from rain, the moon (on any day, in any shape), the sky (especially clouds during day) and tides can have my attention undivided.
   
6. I breathe! I think!!
   
7. Books are to me, what sleep is. Willingly surrendering to swarm of thoughts, lose the conscious of the real world and ramble in worlds / words unknown is great fun.
   
8. I eat cricket. I drink cricket. I sleep Cricket! Without cricket, my childhood and teenage would be at lose of many magic moments.
   
9. Though I follow many a sports, being a born couch potato, never inclined on playing any. Deciding to try my hand at TT exemplifies this: "you don't even try to stand up because you believe you're lame. And when there's a fire around, you start running."
   
10. I lose my temper quite quickly. What's worse, I'll do nothing to shorten that anger or anything to that effect. That makes it very tough to handle me in such situations. Bottom line: Be kind, nice and generous to me. Or else, you'll be in for some serious trouble.
    
11. Every single time, I happen to realize that I've been bonding well with somebody to be named as "FRIEND", I'm kind of startled on how did it happened. Deep inside, I have this ridiculous feeling that I've reached the limit of making friends (as if, there is one!) and none further can get that comfortable with me. Probably, this is one of the reasons, why people find it tough to transit from being an acquaintance to becoming my friend.
    
12. I LOVE WORDS! Spoken aloud, whispered, overheard, hand written, printed, said, unsaid - whichever form they are, I'm obsessed with words.
    
13. I laugh, sometimes irrepressibly, which causes immense trouble to people around me. But my team happened to use me to good effect, when they planned a comedy skit. All through the rehearsals, I was used as catalyst to make the naive actors get used to audience response.
    
14. As years are passing and memories withering, seems like all my schoolmates and college mates have one way of tracking me down their memory lane, "Oh.. that first bench, very studious and pet-of-many-a-teachers' gal!" That comes as no surprise, for anyone who shared their class room with me. But, it was an overwhelming surprise when my manager, after reviewing my first task had this to say: "You should have been that first bench student, who take loads of notes for every lecture. Am I right?"
    
15. "I'm a very good gal, said me all teachers" is what I can certainly boast of, but I've the other side too. I used to bunk classes all through college life (being a first bench student). And I do, whatever it takes to stop a lecturer from giving endless class. After all, there should be some advantage of being pet student, right? To date, I continue it.
    
16. I've a bloody honest face, which leaves me with no chance to bluff. Gets me into awkward situations at time, but also saves me from people whose company I don't enjoy, without having to say a word.
    
17. I'm idling away - I drink water. I'm caught up in a mess - I drink water. I have loads of work - I drink water. I'm restless - I drink water. I'm rejoicing - I drink water. Infact, I'm drinking water as I type this.
    
18. Being extremely sensitive to any kind of expletives in any language, I get very particular about the language used for day-to-day communication. Well, if you want to hurt or to be hurt, I can guide you through the non-abusive language. It works wonder, trust me.
    
19. My mood swings are too much to handle for anybody, except me.
    
20. I'm fond of voices. Be it the presenters in Vividh Bharathi or commentators for sports or anybody, nothing fascinates like their voices.
    
21. A sweet smile and a perfect nod of the head, may lull you to believe that I'm going to follow or agree with whatever you said. But that can only be few times, you'll know it sooner rather than later.
    
22. I'm a Limited Pessimist. The meaning behind the choice of words is that I've to make plan b, even if my plan a is foolproof. Otherwise put, while hoping for the best, I still keep preparing for the worst.
    
23. Two unaccomplished dreams for this life: 1) To fall flat on ground and start crying after hitting the winning shot at Wimbledon. 2) To sing in front of packed audience, and move them to tears. ( C'mon, you got to, thank God now!)
    
24. I hate my name. Funny part is, I can't shun it now. Too long, together!
    
25. One of the most embarrassing facts about me, I might be soon filed with charges of nuisance case, by any of these guys, whose gals get to share most of their day with me. Gals can't stop talking about me, and guys can't help the "puri-puri" chatter.

Well, I should be stopping here. But, I generally find people having this misconception about me that I'm very modest. NO! I'm not. This is the eternal truth about me. I love compliments, in all forms. So, make sure you leave a comment here. (I'll help you commenting, all you got to do is think (really) hard and write few good things about me. FYI.. this is called as the-art-of-fishing-for-compliments.)

Gilly!

Boy O Boy!

Witnessed some breathtaking stuff from Adam Gilchrist, one of those occasions where you thank yourself for being there. Gilly, all through the series has been like the teasing tide that comes, touches your feet and rolls away too swiftly, that you feel.. "Oh..so little of it!". And on the very big day, when it mattered the most, he comes in as one of those tsunami waves to which you surrender, despite your best efforts. ( Amit Mishra has really been good, when put in the context.)

I always loved watching this guy in action for the massive sixers he hits, but today his boundaries, driven all along the ground were like an artist at his best. None can paint better! None can script better! None can mesmerize better!

A boy, who is just 37 years old will rule my dreams, tonight!

Boy O Boy!

All you guys out there.. time for rehearsal

Hey...  you guys and gals out there,  screwed up by life?

Watch Deccan Chargers in action, and that would give a perfect rehearsal for the ebbs and tides of life. I mean it.

Its "wow" a moment, and "alas" the other. If you want to rock at the swinging business between the both, then they are a must watch!

McCullum... My heart goes out for you, dude! Better times await you.

Sure, I had the last laugh today, but in less than 12 hours it can be a whole different story. Wishing the deccan's all the very best.

Updated on 17th May: Hehehhe.. they can teach you how to create "mess" out of nothing! Sure, none of us would be keen to learn that! 

Enduring Pain

Every single time I make a crying face, for I've a cut on my finger or mistakenly hurt my foot, pat comes the reaction from my friend, "Well, that's just too li'l to worry. Let me make it  big enough for it to match your concern."

That triggers an argument over enduring pain. He reckons that any attention given to pain is kind of weakness and strength lies in enduring it. I always believe that acknowledging pain is as important as appreciating any pleasure. 

Being pained is an important trait of us. Not getting into the heart-aches, if only physical pain is being considered about since that is more or less common way for most of us, it can be considered as biological alarm that the body isn't normal. Imagine a situation when you can't feel the pain when the hand is cut and blood is gushing out. Or you touch the flame of the burning candle and don't feel the burn. What makes you to rush for a bandage to  or withdraw your finger to save them from further damage. Simplifying it, pain is to save you.

The inability to feel pain is named and categorized under medical science, and though rarely, some humans are born with it. Now, of the rest of the larger and luckier lot, there is another syndrome of "ignoring pain in the name of enduring it" or "getting accustomed to pain that it can hurt no longer". In both these cases, the impulsive reactions that pain triggers are lost and hence can lead to dangerous consequences. If it can't pain you or you don't react to the pain it causes you, then "it" however minute can have serious repercussions.

Well, this is not to put my friend entirely on the wrong end. Losing sleep over a pimple isn't healthy either. Acknowledging pain and making sure that it is not overrated is the key, at least to physical pain.

How about the other aches? Hmmm... that can't be wrapped up in few lines!

Come my home, life..

The hidden benefits of a power cut, which is otherwise cursed to hell, is that you get to do what you generally like to do, but don't do masking it under a false reason of "I've got better things to do."

I tuned into FM, almost at 10pm in the night to hear this lovely song.. "Zindagi, mere ghar aanaa..". The lyrics did grab my attention and hence are here now:

Zindagi Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana Aana Zindagi
Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana Aana Zindagi
Zindagi O Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana Aana
Mere Ghar Aana
Zindagi Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana Aana Zindagi

Mere Ghar Ka Seedha Sa Itna Pataa Hai
Ye Ghar Jo Hai Chaaron Taraf Se Khula Hai
Na Dastak Zaruri, Na Aavaz Dena
Mere Ghar Ka Darvaaza Koi Nahin Hai
Hain Deevaren Gum Aur Chhat Bhi Nahin Hai
Badhi Dhoop Hai Dost
Kadhi Dhoop Hai Dost
Tere Aanchal Ka Saaya Churake Jeena Hai Jeena
Jeena Zindagi, Zindagi
O Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana
Aana Zindagi Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana

Mere Ghar Ka Seedha Sa Itna Pataa Hai
Mere Ghar Ke Aage Mohabbat Likha Hai
Na Dastak Zaruri, Na Aavaz Dena
Maein Saanson Ki Raftaar Se Jaan Lungi
Havaaon Ki Khushboo Se Pehchaan Lungi
Tera Phool Hoon Dost
Teri Bhool Hoon Dost
Tere Haathon Mein Chehra Chhupa Ke Jeena Hai Jeena
Jeena Zindagi, Zindagi
O Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana
Aana Zindagi Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana

Distanced Love

Distance is important in all love!

-Tagore

Another friend of mine came up with this statement, "When you want to move away, when you want to distance somebody, that is because you love that person. You already feel the attachment and hence want to step aside."

I don't want to agree or disagree with it. I neither approve it nor disapprove it. All I'm thinking now is about love that is distanced.

Confessions of a shopaholic

It's nice, cute, sweet, funny movie. If you don't have better things to do for an hour or two, I strongly recommend you watch this movie.

It's a story about a shopaholic, who feels on top of the world after every single purchase. That feeling being only for a moment, she feels like re-doing it, re-living it and hence ends up with too many debts to handle. Life, I guess has its own plans apart from what we plan for it. This gal happens to fall for a guy, who is at the other end of the spectrum. This movie has all those li'l moments of craziness, of weirdness, of sensible under the mask of nonsense and all the likes.

I Loved this movie, for many reasons. One for the story line, two for the guy who played the lead, third for the whirlwind into which I was pushed time and again watching few scenes.

This may not be the best possible movie, but something that would linger on my mind for a long time. Reasons? Shhh..

Deccan Chargers - Go India Go..

Deccan Chargers have started, started in the best possible way. As their tag line goes, they seem to be the "unstoppables" now. Suprisingly not, people started to give them a chance to win the tournament this year. As their ardent follower this should be great news for me. Yet, I still back away to call them champs.

Ask me why?

Deccan Chargers seemed the best team possible for a T20 encounter on the paper even last year, because it has too many big names. It had the best of the batting possible. Can you imagine giving a chance to any team when the likes of Afridi, Gilly, Gibsy, Scott styris, the big man Symonds are all on the other side? There was the problem, they all had to be in the team so that on a given day even if one of them had "his-day" the team can win comfortably. Say, the first match they won against Mumbai, when Gilly dictated the terms to Shaun Pollock and Co. The rule of four foreign players had its impact on the strongest team on paper.

This team, probably could chase down any, ANY target! And at the very same time, it could also give away any, ANY target that is otherwise unsurmountable. Warne hitting Symonds for an "awful" lot of runs, wasn't just bad for the ego of Symo, but for the DCs all through the season. The simplest funda of cricket, even a bad ball has to be hit for the boundary, even a tail ender has to be out, its over only after the last ball or the last wicket. No matter, how potent your batting strengths be, there needs to be a decent bowling attack.

Following Deccan Chargers all through was / is like reliving those moments of WC'99.  Even if you prefer to call it exaggeration, I still would present the similarities of the then Indian team and the now DC. On a day when everything goes their way, they seem unbeatable. Played on their weak spots, they can be tamed with no major effort. The batting is highly dependent on some big names. It's like if the big guns don't fire, that is all! The rest of the line up is so pathetic that you can't even expect the others to bat sensibly. They needn't do anything similar to that of the bigger guys, but use presence of mind and avoid mess. Look, at the run-out in yesterday's DC match that involved Gibbs and Venugopal rao. Common sense, isn't it? That's required from Venu's end to complete the run and throw his wicket away, so that the set batsman can continue. Well, I agree common sense is not that commonly found.

Lesser said about the fielding, the better. The bowling line up may not be giving nightmares, but you need people who have big hearts, to keep hitting the line even while the ball is disappearing. That's not so seen in the DC's last year. The point I want to make here is, though Indians were given a chance to win the world cup'99, they couldn't do. Simple reasons:

1. If the key batsmen are out too soon; others can't even bat out, can't make the best of the ruins. 
2. The bowling can be teared away on a given day. Hard to recover once that's done. Even if the so called, front line attack does it job, the fifth or sixth bowlers can give it away.
   
3. Fielding?! Let me put the other way; dropped or misjudged catches, fumbles, overthrows, lethargic movements, pushing the ball over the rope to pull it back etc.
   

Knowing what li'l cricket I know, DC's are still  far away from being the title contenders. Sourav used to keep repeating this: "The team that plays well for the majority of 100 overs would be the winner." The super-fast format of the game may not fit that line into it. Yet, for me a team that can be called a champion or has a potential to be, is the team which can rise to the occasion, which can roar in tiring conditions, which denies to be dusted, which can do anything to save its pride. DC's are li'l too far away, from my point of view, and the huge let down for them in my point of view, comes from the locals.

That said, I still would follow the DCs for rest of 11 matches. Because they let me keep swinging between hope and despair, a game that I've started to enjoy off late, as I'm left with no other go. :P Also, I can relive many of those 99 moments.

Trivia: Since I've anyway got into the business of comparing the team of by-gone era and the current Chargers, here's another point. Charger's anthem filled with may "Go"s. And the WC'99 team had this slogan Go-India-Go! Look, isn't that a point? Okie.. at least silly point? ;)

Tagore's Universalism and Modi's IPL

"Home and the world" was one of the books, I read last year. This work of Tagore on the face of it, may only seem to be a romantic trio, where the woman happens to be caught between her husband and the new found love. Digging a little deep, you may also find allegories, that it's actually India's struggle to be on the "swadeshi" terms or to be more enlightened soul and be on the global perspective. It's not hidden that Tagore was not keen on the "swadeshi" moment and he had difference of opinions with Gandhi as well. And this work of his, I personally feel is just to highlight his point of anti-swadeshi or to profess Universalism or both. You may end up finding this book absolutely boring or too biased. All said and done it's one of my favourites.

Universalism - a world with no boundaries, no way to differentiate or discriminate one individual from the other. I always considered, myself patriotic, even if that has to be certified by trivia that my blood boils when heard something against India, that I passionately celebrate any of its victories in any of the fields and the likes. At the very same time, courtesy to my upbringing, I always despised the conceptual separation among ourselves, be it in the name of religion or caste, creed etc. The point that struck me hard, while reading "Home and the World" was that, if demarcating on the lines of worship or the traditions followed were wrong, then why limiting ourselves in the name of national boundaries should be good feel. If its only hatred, vengeance and enmity that's passed on, even "patriotism" is certainly not a positive energy.

IPL has conceptualized and materialized, too soon after I completed this book. The concept of universalism in action. The best part of the IPL was, that it has crossed boundaries and the worst part of it could have been the very same, if not for the intensity the guys showed for their respective franchisees. That went over the roof, when Sri and Bhajji involved themselves in the slap episode. Under the heavy influence of Tagore's universalism, I thought I'll find a new fun of enjoying a sport, not egging on anybody in particular. The fun of watching a game with no intense passion, a constant attitude of "who'll win?" rather than, "we'll win".

It just didn't happen. I found myself  fanatic over Deccan Chargers, my home team. I was praying against the likes of Saurav, Anil, Rahul which was not possible even in dreams a little earlier. Yes, it turned to be a disastrous season for DC leaving me with a very familiar taste of "let-down", which was soon to be overcome by another very familiar feeling "oh-next-time-it's-ours". I don't give a chance for the Chargers to be crowned even this year, but I'm very sure, I'll follow them with the same intensity I support India. That, by no means, is an overstatement.

One of the reasons I enjoy IPL to the fullest, may be!

Shopaholic

Way back..

Hey... where do you generally shop for....?

You know that "x" area? Yes.. there, go to the nth lane and look for a shop with "a n a" board.. aah.. there! I always go there, whenever I need the .... stuff, you see.

At present..

Hey... where do you generally shop for....?

Aaah.. actually.. anywhere! Well, can also be everywhere. I see it, I pick it.

What an awful habit to pick in the time of recession?! :( What's worse, I love spending these days.

I may even label this post as "Passions", such is the addiction!

hru to wru

Another day, another friend, another chat..

me: hey yaa..
friend: hi.. hru?
          hwo are you?
         who* are you?
         i meant, how are you? 
me: what's up?
      i'm good..
friend: wondering how quickly "how are you?" changes to "who are you?" :(
me: hehehehe..  chill baby!

My first ever Haiku (??) :P

Penned the following and want it to call a haiku, quite desparately.

"Die"logues
Offed Monologues
Graveyard Silence

Hmm.. but for obvious reasons this can't be a haiku. The quick reasons for that are:
1) Haikus supposedly picture the nature and set off the emotions involved in it. Whereas what I've used is an individual experience rather than a universal portrait.
2) I'm not very sure if experiments like "die"logues are allowed.

Just as a broken sentence doesn't make a poem, a few worded three liner isn't a haiku. Nevertheless, for anyone who have been there would know what I meant in those three lines. For the rest, my best wishes that you'd never be there. :-)
 

How to think?!

You have a problem, you gotta get the solution and to get that, you gotta think about it. So was I, thinking, thinking and THINKING! The thoughts were straying, they left no mark untouched on the scale of optimism. At a moment, it seemed no problem, forget about resolution. Sometimes deciding that which seems is really a problem turns to be a herculean task. All of a sudden, it looked like I was in a gutter like never before. Because the problem was the first of its kind for me, was caught in the thought, "Am I thinking it RIGHT?".  God! It was pain of some kind, so new to me, and very consuming.

I guess, my theory of "balance" works to perfection. You can't be low or high ALWAYS! Soon after a low, there would be a definitely a high in the wait. No fool would put in special efforts to traverse from high to low, but every optimist out there would try to get on the top, when going gets tough. Not denying any appreciation to the efforts, I wonder if it really requires it at least in special cases. A low would be followed by a high, you have sometimes nothing but to wait. Or a simple gesture can get you out of the mess. That said, I'm now even wondering, what's low?? Hmpf!

Well, the last paragraph was just to drive to the point that when all was going so bad, I could get out of it from an unexpected corner. A nice chat at a coffee break has lightened me up, though there was serious stuff in it, what matters is how I felt at the end of it. Light as a feather! Dialogues help you, and when you try and kill them, it takes a toll on you. Anyway, as a part of talk, got to know about this book called, "TEACH YOURSELF TO THINK." I've decided to grab a copy soon!

But what I really look forward is a book based on "How not to think" or even better, "How to stop thinking?" Blessed are the people who go through the phase of "thoughlessness". I, very surely suffer from thinking! Or atleast excessive of it. Hmm..

Sticking to the Guns..

After a self prepared heavy dinner, with soothing music pleasing the ears and the soul deliciously enjoying the platter of Tagore's words, why on earth did I remember him? No clue!

Okay.. now that I can't refuse to acknowledge the fact that though momentarily, the thoughts shook hands with him, I had to reach out quite shamelessly. (Yes, you can call it so!)

Now since I'm the one to approach him, my BIG FAT EGO bosses him to continue the proceedings and enthrall the gal. He almost does that for me, almost! Before I go on to spoil the party..

He says (or rather sings).. judaa ho kar bhi.. tu mujh mein kaheen..
And I sing along (or rather say, makes sense!).. jindaa ho kar bheeee...


The main intention of accompanying him is anyway ruined, but the spot of bother is that of the EGO. By no means does it want to back off, forget about admitting the mistake, it now wants to stick to the guns. "jindaa ho kar bhee.. haa.. ho kar bhee.. what?? Javed Akhtar, wanna try? Any other takers? Oh, yes.. please..

Meanwhile, I hang on with the thought, "jindaa ho kar bhee" for a li'l longer than required, just to get acquainted more. Something of it starts impressing me and I decide to flirt with it, only for a while though! And new fond love aka love-kinda-stuff starts occupying me enough.

jindaa ho kar bhee.. tu.. okay, save hindi / urdu! Lemme spout it out. jindaa ho kar bhee.. you've lost the "you" in me. You may seem to be full of life, but your thought in me has already been dusted. Nothing of you touches my inner chords. You can't tune them, you can't play around, "you" have been nothing but a kind of void. jindaa ho kar bhee.. tu mujh mein kaheen kho gayee hai.. that it's not even worth a tiny space.

I know that's crazy, sounds crap and you wanna call me names for being such a demoralized soul. Hang on! Aren't they "n" no. of people who walk into us, literally daily and just vanish off forever? We don't remember every single soul, do we? They continue to exist, it's just we aren't bothered. Hence, the flirting wasn't that bad an excercise.

"C'mon, you don't write verse or sing for such fluff?" might be your challenge. Agreed, that's the reason I neither wrote a poem nor sung it for you! Ahem, that's some justification. I know!! Living upto my reputation of being just too good at self-defence. :P

Well, Atif! Thanks dude, it was a intriguing half an hour, the one that just passed off! :) YOU ROCK!!

Lives intertwined..

I guess, this was a couple of years or more, ago! There was this program aired on Zee TV which was supposedly a talent hunt to rope in new faces for the Bollywood. Nothing great about the idea, nor the execution, but still every Friday night, I used to watch it religiously. In one of the episodes the participants were paired to form couples and were given a scene to enact. One of them, though was a mediocre performance, stuck with me to date. The scene was: For whatever reason, the lady has nightmares and denies to sleep in the newly occupied house. The guy trying to pacify her, says something to this effect: "If sleep is that scary to you, don't sleep. We'll not let that come to you.. it may only be a night, but it still can pass off as a day in our company. If I can't lull you to sleep, I can at least accompany you all through the night sleepless." I needn't repeat how much I love these lines.

Watched "A Beautiful Mind" today and that is what set off the swarm of thoughts. ABM is supposedly the story of a nobel prize winner with a grievous brain disorder, John Nash's story. And in all certain, it his story. But for me, it is somebody else's life too. I wonder why lives are so intertwined with one another, that a point it is so hard to guess who is it? The journey which starts as  "you and  me"  surpasses enough hurdles and transforms into "US" and it is now next to impossible to pick "the you" and "the me" again. Is it called losing identity or getting a new one? I wonder!! Nash's story is nothing but a life time experience of the line.. "If I can't lull you to sleep, I can at least accompany you all through the night sleepless"!!

Well.. only yesterday, one of my friend went on this statement, "No matter how close people are to me, they can never "feel" my silence as I do. They may empathize and sympathize, but they never gonna "feel" the way I do". "Aptly put!" was my initial response on it. Watching this movie, all I could understand is having nightmares is one, and empathizing nightmares is another hell. Your mind is clear, serene! You think only what you are really sure of. And yet, you go ahead, step into a mind that is utter mess, understand his plight, be his strength and march ahead in life. Boy.. isn't a nightmare lot better than this experience! It isn't your feeling, yet you live it! These are the particular moments, when I feel that all these romantic expressions, "I'm you" and "I love you" turn terribly to their true meaning.

A Beautiful Mind is not about a genius, not about a brain disorder, not about prestigious nobel prize. It is about  love, Love and LOVE! Nothing works like it!