<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547</id><updated>2012-01-03T21:43:07.138-08:00</updated><category term='university of madras'/><category term='epstein'/><category term='poem'/><category term='drawing'/><category term='poem?'/><category term='politics'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='music'/><category term='eezham'/><category term='dream'/><category term='philosophy'/><category term='book'/><category term='bharathi'/><category term='A K Ramanujan'/><category term='diary'/><category term='life'/><category term='movie'/><category term='reservation'/><category term='travel'/><category term='economics'/><category term='caste'/><category term='novel'/><category term='religion'/><category term='anger'/><category term='beauty'/><category term='monologue'/><category term='health'/><category term='love'/><category term='fiction'/><category term='work'/><category term='ridiculous'/><category term='money'/><category term='morality'/><title type='text'>chumma</title><subtitle type='html'>just scribbling, seriously!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-1979261254078408207</id><published>2011-10-21T06:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-21T06:12:23.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Hundred Ramayanas and a Discussion</title><content type='html'>From a discussion in Facebook with a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Anup Pandey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/pandey.anup/postshttp://www.blogger.comhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif/img/blank.gif/304082506272654?notif_t=share_reply"&gt;Why all SICkular and ***hole born in Hindu community only ? Here is anothttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifher one ..&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Delhi/article2550965.ece?homepage=true"&gt;http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Delhi/article2550965.ece?homepage=true&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Hindu : Cities / Delhi : Ramayana row: DU Council ignored opinion of three experts &lt;br /&gt;www.thehindu.com&lt;br /&gt;Delhi University's Academic Council seems to have relied on the opinion of one expert, conveniently ignoring the collective opinion of the remaining three, in its controversial decision to drop A. K. Ramanujan's celebrated essay on the Ramayana from its history syllabus.&lt;br /&gt;Like • • Unfollow Post • Share • Yesterday at 2:47pm • http://www.blogger.com&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Anup Pandey&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://anilbali49.sulekha.com/blog/post/2009/03/three-hundred-ramayanas-legal-notice-to-oxford-university.htm"&gt;http://anilbali49.sulekha.com/blog/post/2009/03/three-hundred-ramayanas-legal-notice-to-oxford-university.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Vidyasakaran Dhanapathi &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a sample...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From your second link by anilbali49... (nothing edited/removed/read in between lines)&lt;br /&gt;//It gave an example of Dog’s Urine to comment on Holy Ramayana. It say’s “a dog came that way and pissed into his mouth” and on return from Ram Lila he tells his wife about Ramayana that it was “Terrible. It was so salty”. The article published by Oxford clarifies that “what happens when you really listen to a story, especially to Ramayana”. In another place the writer has compared Holy Ramayan with ‘Aristotle’s Jack Knife’ of a carpenter. //&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me. I have listened to this story in 1991-92 in my school days. Nothing detrimental about Ramayana here. It's about someone who sleeps in the Ramayana recital. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anilbali has edited and pasted from the original, which is 'Ever since, he has been respected in the village as a wise elder, and he has also behaved like one. That's what happens when you really listen to a story, especially to the Ramayana'. Now, read again the edited part from Anilbali. He doesn't want you to know the whole passage. Why? He wants to turn you against the passage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Knife... During my childhood itself, I have heard the above story and the story of 'Sita as Ravanan's daughter' and few more as well. I have even read that Krishna of Brindavan and Krishna of Dwaraka and Krishna of Gita 'might' all be different people. We even have more than one researchers concluding that the Lanka mentioned in Ramayana is not today's Srilanka but it is a place near Vindhyan Hills. Now, what to say of the hundred small hills in south india said to be the stones fallen from Hanuman's hand, and the other 'tourist' places in sri lanka? &lt;br /&gt;Now, what's wrong in bringing up 'Jack knife' as in 'is it like Aristotle's jack knife'? If one doesn't ask that question, what kind of researcher he is? If one doesn't ponder over that question, what kind of 'student' he is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These Hindutvavadi's are trying to terrorize the so called Hindus into a phobia by overreacting and propagandizing. I wish not many fall prey to that.&lt;br /&gt;People in DU Academic Council don't deserve the power they have. They are just the incapable psyches afraid of facing any question or argument. Let them rest in peace with their peanut brains!&lt;br /&gt;16 minutes ago • Like&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-1979261254078408207?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/1979261254078408207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=1979261254078408207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/1979261254078408207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/1979261254078408207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2011/10/three-hundred-ramayanas-and-discussion.html' title='Three Hundred Ramayanas and a Discussion'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-2936906249230241875</id><published>2009-05-17T12:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T12:34:32.099-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><title type='text'>WHEN NOT  DEFINED</title><content type='html'>The following is a poem one of my friends wrote. Title was 'When not defined.....'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;When I see the truth I say what I feel,&lt;br /&gt;but I found that to others I couldn't appeal.&lt;br /&gt;I tried to tell them, but words couldnt explain&lt;br /&gt;what I felt inside, be it love or joy or pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more I tried to make myself clear,&lt;br /&gt;I found that the truth had become dirtier.&lt;br /&gt;The truth of the heart is corrupted by the mind;&lt;br /&gt;Some things are clearer when not defined......&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My reply is what you see below!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice! I remember we discussing something on these lines, back in 2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have bigger worries.&lt;br /&gt;Bigger or different, or whatever. Oh!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is this life, full of care; No time to stand and stare;&lt;br /&gt;stare, at the truth; and indulge in it. &lt;br /&gt;Dirty it with words; &lt;br /&gt;reclaim its purity with silence &lt;br /&gt;filled with more words, just expressed in limit.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Stare! To stare at the truth and indulge in it!&lt;br /&gt;I might soon become incapable of seeing anything; &lt;br /&gt;Running, running along with closed eyes.&lt;br /&gt;With pain and joy limited to the physical realm.&lt;br /&gt;When it is anything other than physical, &lt;br /&gt;it is something I would otherwise have laughed at. Trivial.&lt;br /&gt;And the other thing... love. &lt;br /&gt;Is there a smiley that is self-geering, Hello hello Tahoma!?&lt;br /&gt;Aureliano! Are you me!?&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness, there are some kids around.&lt;br /&gt;Spreading some cheer and dreams.&lt;br /&gt;And, more thanks to goodness,&lt;br /&gt;I dont have to take these kids to my home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My home, where I can,&lt;br /&gt;sit aone and stare at the truth;&lt;br /&gt;indulge in its dirtiness;&lt;br /&gt;silently swear, jibe at its pretentious clarity.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-2936906249230241875?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/2936906249230241875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=2936906249230241875' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/2936906249230241875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/2936906249230241875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2009/05/when-not-defined.html' title='WHEN NOT  DEFINED'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-644850452097120940</id><published>2009-05-13T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T12:14:49.329-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='morality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>A PROUD FREEMAN</title><content type='html'>When one of my colleagues was appreciating my reading habit, I replied 'It is not such a good thing as you say. All that reading does to me is to make me be available for more pains. It just makes me so sensitive and aware for everything that can cause pain'. I was trying to tell that one doesnt have to regret not having the habit of reading. Even as I was saying the abovementioned, I realized how true what I was saying was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I read my last post two days after writing it, I wondered why it should be so negative. Was it really negative? Why I sound a bad egotist to myself, when no one around me would want to believe it? I wondered why I make things difficult for myself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few more days later, I was reading &lt;a href="http://www.shelfari.com/books/39032/Utilitarianism/editorialreviews"&gt;Utilitarianism by John Stuart Mill&lt;/a&gt;. Below text reminded me of my previous post. I wasn't sure how well related these are. Let's see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Next to selfishness, the principal cause which makes life unsatisfactory, is want of mental cultivation. A cultivated mind-I do not mean that of a philosopher, but any mind to which the fountains of knowledge have been opened, and which has been taught, in any tolerable degree, to exercise its faculties-finds sources of inexhaustible interest in all that surrounds it; in the objects of nature, the achievements of art, the imaginations of poetry, the incidenets of history, the ways of mankind past and present, and their prospects in the future.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like someone approving of my varied, at times contradictory, interests. By no means, I want to proclaim that I am that so called 'cultivated mind'. At least, it is something I want to be, it looks like. To hold back on most of those interests, just to be able to pass the remaining days in peace (!?) is just unthinkable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reminded of &lt;a href="http://darwin-online.org.uk/content/frameset?viewtype=text&amp;itemID=CUL-DAR210.8.2&amp;pageseq=1"&gt;Darwin's words&lt;/a&gt; 'My God, it is intolerable to think of spending ones whole life, like a neuter bee, working, working, &amp; nothing after all.' This he wrote, when he was pondering on the question, To marry or Not!? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, it is probably not (just) a so-called normal(!) life that can sway me away from being a real cultivated mind. There are thousand other things. Or, probably nine hunderd and ninety nine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Stuart Mill says &lt;blockquote&gt;'Many who begin with youthful enthusiasm for everything noble, as they advance in years sink into indolence and selfishness. But I do not believe that those who undergo this very common change, voluntarily choose the lower description of pleasures in preference to the higher. I believe that before they devote themselves exclusively to the one, they have already become incapable of the other.'&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I wonder which point I am at, in this common change. I am almost certain I am in it. I wake up late every morning, I don't exercise regularly, I don't read regularly, most of the times I read, it is all junk. Am I becoming incapable of the enthusiasm for everything noble?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I always say, it's probably this realization, this alone, that can help me recover. Every night, when I retire to bed, I chide myself for having wasted so much of time. Hope there is a turnaround, soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Utilitarianism says elsewhere &lt;blockquote&gt;'Genuine private affections, and a sincere interest in the public good, are possible, though in unequal degrees, to every rightly brought-up human being. In a world in which there is so much to interest, so much to enjoy, and so much also to correct and improve, everyone who has this moderate amount of moral and intellectual requisites is capable of an existence which may be called enviable; and unless such a person, through bad laws, or subjection to the will of others, is denied the liberty to use the sources of happiness within his reach, he will not fail to find thi enviable existence'.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This enviable existence sounds almost like a compromise to my ears. And, I have to hope for it. The reality is, I am not going anywhere. Start was good, I guess. The past few months have been a regresing time period. Lot of work at office, and the standard of my other activities have gone down steadily. I need to pull up my socks before I lose the self respect. Come on, I can! I am, after all, a proud freeman!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-644850452097120940?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/644850452097120940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=644850452097120940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/644850452097120940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/644850452097120940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2009/05/proud-freeman.html' title='A PROUD FREEMAN'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-7737857159098289533</id><published>2009-04-23T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T10:44:00.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT DO I WANT?</title><content type='html'>Ok, seriously, I don't know what is that one thing(if there is one), by doing which I will be happy. But I'm sure it's not what I am doing right now. I don't want to be in this corpo-rat(e) race. I don't want to spend all my time reading, doing and thinking of datacom and networking. I don't want to burn my days, competing with my colleagues for that extra money and a safe job. I don't want to become a superman, who can help some company earn few more dollars. &lt;br /&gt;I want to read political science, economics and sociology. I want to understand the history of the human race, history of its history, science, politics and life. And find out, if it could be better. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Some times I doubt, if I am a pessimist, always rejecting all the good that is around. I doubt, if I am just incapable of doing well in the current setup, and if that's why I am working around it. Just being a spectator, taking up the role of a researcher or reporter, who has interest but is not part of the thing that he is reporting/analysing; At the same time, anxious of his place in it, realising his stake in it secretly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to keep my body fit so that it can do anything my mind wants it to do. Nevertheless I indulge in excessive/rich food that is not good for my health, and very soon regret it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I call myself a slave, a slave of the idea called freedom. I can't rely on anyone for my goodness. I want to live and die on my own hands. Not because I don't trust fellow human beings. I trust them to be human beings, nothing more. I am aware fully that their lives are their business, and mine is mine. When I say life, mine or someone else's, I am aware that everyone's unerstanding of it is different, and the limits are different. Mine is bound by that too. Meaning, my life may not be limited to the singular body and emotions of mine alone. &lt;br /&gt;It will be great to live a nice evening, leaving oneself fully to a loved one. But, very soon, the urge to break free will become unbearable. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;One thing I dread is ordinariness, though I want to look very ordinary (especially when everyone around me try their best to look extraordinary). Basically, we are all trying to do the same thing. It is just that I am not comfortable with the common definitions. I just don't want to play by the rules set by people who didn't think what I am thinking. Why should I? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to learn. Almost everything. I want to be able to create the best drawings, I want to be able to sing a song that is good enough to sound good to my ears. I want to be able to dance, very well (I'm a pauper of adverbs, I am running out of them). I want to understand how things work. I am not too worried about the minutest technical things, but I want to understand the logic that stands behind each one of the things that I see. After understanding a few, most of the times, i lose my interest, and the feeling of not 'doing' anything overcomes me. I wouldn't want to sell my drawings or writings to earn my meal. Because I know these are not good enough. I want to really 'do' something. Like doing agriculture, growing rice and making my meal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be good to everyone, for only then, I can think good of me. I look like, speak like someone, who is too concerned about society. But, in actuality, I am worried about only myself. Society figures in my life, only because I am in it. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I want to remain very simple, in every way. I watch in dismay, the lives, mine and others' becomeing complex slowly; mine, by my own doing. Making myself simple, removing everything that is not necessary, will probably help me find the 'essential me'. That might make it easy to satisfy myself. But, I understand that it is probably against the nature, which has seen to it that an amoeba becomes a human, so complex that my words can't describe. How can learning things can make myself simple? Doesn't it add ideas, making myself complex? Here is the twist. I think I learn things, so that I can reject them. Unknowingly (not any more!) I have rejected all those already. I just want to be sure, so I learn. I remember reading all the religious text I could get just a few years back, and now I am an atheist. Why is it necessary for me to find out the 'essential me'? Because, 'essential me' is not going to be different from 'essential anyone'. That will probably be the smallest unit of a being that can think. I guess that will help. Will it, really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I crave appreciation. On receiving it, I get disappointed, I feel I have grown small upon receiving it. I feel I don't deserve it, purely because I had craved it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How self centred, I am! That's another thing I am dreadful about. Can I ever be in a relationship, where I am responsible for another life? I have been a responsible son, brother at home; a very responsible worker, mentor, colleague at office. So, the chances are that I can be. But I am anxious about it. When I am not sure what I am doing with my life, how can I join it with someone else's, or how can I bring a new one into existence? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember &lt;a href="http://nagarjunan.blogspot.com/"&gt;Nagarjunan &lt;/a&gt; telling, during a discussion, how he had moved on from existentialism to structuralism. I am not sure if he meant that the essential-being becomes kind of inessential when faced with the groups of beings, which are not worried about the essential or non-essential beings, which are concerned about everything that an essential-being seeker would abandon as inessential, at the same time infringing upon every individual being. &lt;br /&gt;I dont know if I would abandon all this and become something else. I have no opinion about that right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have more questions. What the hell is this 'essential me'? That was a word I stumbled across a few minutes back, while wondering what I am looking for. Do I mean err... God by any chance? Hell.. no! This search probably is same as the one the atomic scientists have been doing. Please don't call me spiritual. I hate that word.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-7737857159098289533?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/7737857159098289533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=7737857159098289533' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/7737857159098289533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/7737857159098289533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-do-i-want.html' title='WHAT DO I WANT?'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-5519603536422452402</id><published>2008-12-27T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:19:41.170-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='economics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='caste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='epstein'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='university of madras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reservation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>RESERVATION - Anti-Constitutional?</title><content type='html'>I was going through the study material of 'Indian Economy - Problems and Policies', a first year paper of Madras University's Distance education B.A Economics. &lt;br /&gt;(It has spelling mistakes and grammatical errors in almost every page.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I happened to come across this part, which discusses the impact of caste on Indian economy and its development.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Following are the points mentioned there. I have copied the statements as given in the material.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Section 1.5 - Page 9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;The close and rigidities between caste and occupation prevent occupational mobility vital to economic transformation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another defect of the caste system is the existence of a class of untouchables who can never move up the social ladder. This has resulted in waste of human talents and potentialities.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Probably they meant 'close &lt;em&gt;relationship &lt;/em&gt;and rigidities')&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Section 2.6.2 - Page 23&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Rigid rise between caste and occupation restricts occupational mobility and supply of efforts&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(rise? They must have meant relationship, I guess)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After discussing few other points on the similar lines, here comes the concluding paragraph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Though our Indian constitution prevents discrimination by caste, the recent policy of reservation has lead to the strengthening of this institution. Even if its influence has reduced due to selection of individuals by competitive exams, it is still a very much living institution, according to Epstein.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First it states that reservation is anti-constitution. Then it says, it is reservation that strengthens the institution. Then it goes on to say that the competitive exams are to reduce the influence of caste/reservation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caste is still a living institution, yes I agree. But I'm not sure if Scarlett Epstein identified reservation to be the cause of this. It would be interesting to know what solution, whoever it is, Epstein or Dr.K.K.Muruganantham (Course writer from DRBCC Hindu College), would suggest, to nullify the impacts of the caste system on the economy, if reservation is anti-constitutional and if it strengthens the institution.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-5519603536422452402?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/5519603536422452402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=5519603536422452402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/5519603536422452402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/5519603536422452402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2008/12/reservation-anti-constitutional.html' title='RESERVATION - Anti-Constitutional?'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-5049778641570461450</id><published>2008-05-20T00:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:58:42.796-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>SUCH A LOVELY PLACE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_saLzwa1tFf0/SDKClDDyUyI/AAAAAAAAABg/b1AehJUMUHo/s1600-h/full_moon_over_sf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_saLzwa1tFf0/SDKClDDyUyI/AAAAAAAAABg/b1AehJUMUHo/s400/full_moon_over_sf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202364092554302242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on the highway&lt;br /&gt;And the FM was filling the car&lt;br /&gt;Serving melodies and memories sweet.&lt;br /&gt;Up ahead in the distance&lt;br /&gt;Dark dark sky and a gold coin moon&lt;br /&gt;An Indian's moon in Californian sky&lt;br /&gt;Visible through the thin cloud layer&lt;br /&gt;The dark thick clouds painting black everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sudden storm of grief struck my heart&lt;br /&gt;Farther I go and I Wouldn't see my moon...&lt;br /&gt;I told myself&lt;br /&gt;Stop in this moment &lt;br /&gt;And just stay with the present...&lt;br /&gt;Pity Pity!&lt;br /&gt;Where will I stop?&lt;br /&gt;Time or space?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a nice surprise!&lt;br /&gt;Moon followed my eyes,&lt;br /&gt;Forty miles per hour,&lt;br /&gt;shining through the clouds&lt;br /&gt;Making them look thin and pale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't a thin layer &lt;br /&gt;That allowed the moon to shine.&lt;br /&gt;It was the moon&lt;br /&gt;that made the cloud look thin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my eyes on it,&lt;br /&gt;I can go anywhere,&lt;br /&gt;For wherever I go, My moon!&lt;br /&gt;May the sky be dark and the clouds thick,&lt;br /&gt;You brighten my way,&lt;br /&gt;My eyes, my life.&lt;br /&gt;World with you&lt;br /&gt;Such a lovely place!&lt;br /&gt;Only with you,&lt;br /&gt;Such a lovely place!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Yes, You got the song FM was playing right!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-5049778641570461450?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/5049778641570461450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=5049778641570461450' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/5049778641570461450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/5049778641570461450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2008/05/such-lovely-place.html' title='SUCH A LOVELY PLACE'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_saLzwa1tFf0/SDKClDDyUyI/AAAAAAAAABg/b1AehJUMUHo/s72-c/full_moon_over_sf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-4175949916447975932</id><published>2007-11-14T07:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:59:08.508-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eezham'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drawing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Remembering S P Thamilchelvan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_saLzwa1tFf0/RzsQe7ZZYTI/AAAAAAAAAAw/3BpgInzXIlA/s1600-h/spt.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_saLzwa1tFf0/RzsQe7ZZYTI/AAAAAAAAAAw/3BpgInzXIlA/s400/spt.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132714323845144882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-4175949916447975932?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/4175949916447975932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=4175949916447975932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/4175949916447975932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/4175949916447975932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2007/11/remembering-s-p-thamilchelvan.html' title='Remembering S P Thamilchelvan'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_saLzwa1tFf0/RzsQe7ZZYTI/AAAAAAAAAAw/3BpgInzXIlA/s72-c/spt.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-3104982482350410281</id><published>2007-11-03T03:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:59:38.560-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><title type='text'>Last Laugh</title><content type='html'>Last laughs&lt;br /&gt;are always from my weaknesses.&lt;br /&gt;Even at the hours of realization.&lt;br /&gt;My conscience&lt;br /&gt;is tied to bitter smiles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-3104982482350410281?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/3104982482350410281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=3104982482350410281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/3104982482350410281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/3104982482350410281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2007/11/last-laugh.html' title='Last Laugh'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-8013421729982741064</id><published>2007-04-07T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:00:35.561-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><title type='text'>A SPECTATOR'S GRIEF</title><content type='html'>That co-passenger of mine called himself a spectator. &lt;br /&gt;He had an answer that was simple and predictable, for my question, "So, you intend to be a spectator till the very end?'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are you seeing now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm... I wonder if I am actually searching for something when I pretend to be seeing. And, just seeing, when I pretend to be searching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I'm seeing now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it boring?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiring too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever felt 'Happiness'?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, till I see that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadness? I doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huum... You don't know, A spectator's grief. Horrible, Huge, Long ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha! To everyone, one's own grief...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop with that smile, you'll remain blessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stared at him. &lt;br /&gt;It would have been dramatic, had he vanished into thin air. He didn't. At least, he could have shown some emotions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was sitting there, just returning my stare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-8013421729982741064?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/8013421729982741064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=8013421729982741064' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/8013421729982741064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/8013421729982741064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2007/04/spectators-grief.html' title='A SPECTATOR&apos;S GRIEF'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-5931484293066290337</id><published>2007-01-25T19:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:01:06.554-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><title type='text'>Words, I and Crosses</title><content type='html'>Words are&lt;br /&gt;much like us,&lt;br /&gt;human beings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They do certainly&lt;br /&gt;wonder one day,&lt;br /&gt;why they were born,&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;what purpose they serve.&lt;br /&gt;Having given birth to them,&lt;br /&gt;I carry&lt;br /&gt;their crosses too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words are&lt;br /&gt;much like crosses.&lt;br /&gt;I am crucified,&lt;br /&gt;on my words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-5931484293066290337?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/5931484293066290337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=5931484293066290337' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/5931484293066290337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/5931484293066290337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2007/01/words-i-and-crosses.html' title='Words, I and Crosses'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-1154081643053452203</id><published>2007-01-14T18:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:02:02.601-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ridiculous'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drawing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Doodle today!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_saLzwa1tFf0/RarjLM7QcNI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LNopBTfAWns/s1600-h/edited.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5020074516245672146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_saLzwa1tFf0/RarjLM7QcNI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LNopBTfAWns/s400/edited.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was doing my morning exercises. Nobody else was awake. It's moments like these that drive more thoughts, most of the times making me forget what I was doing. Even as I was stretching, I found a pen and a paper on the table nearby. As usual, I stopped exercising and took the pen to scribble something. After a few minutes, I ended up with what you see above.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love it, don't you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't worry about those words in Malayalam. I had written that before starting on this drawing. Consciously, I didn't make them related. Unconsciously, probably! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-1154081643053452203?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/1154081643053452203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=1154081643053452203' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/1154081643053452203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/1154081643053452203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2007/01/doodle-today.html' title='Doodle today!'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_saLzwa1tFf0/RarjLM7QcNI/AAAAAAAAAAM/LNopBTfAWns/s72-c/edited.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-7907111267380172641</id><published>2007-01-14T16:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:03:32.444-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Order and Disorder</title><content type='html'>When I called home last weekend, my mom greeted for my birthday, which was to come in three days. I told her that I would call her on my birthday. She said “That’s ok, just in case we couldn’t talk on that day!” Then, my birthday came and I tried calling home but only to find nobody there. I called my brother and he told that one of my Dad’s cousins in Coimbatore had a heart attack and passed away the previous night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was just forty, his wife 32. Three kids of age 9, 7 and 5. There are no words to express this. I can’t even think of the plpight of those kids. I want to meet them when I go there and to see if I can do something for them. What can be done? It’s a loss of life. Why should this happen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few months back, I was reading a &lt;a href="http://mazedmind.blogspot.com/2006/07/god-you-there.html"&gt;blog "My mazed interior"&lt;/a&gt; where the blogger had written about a book she had read. The book said, “There's no chaos in the world, only order. There are no coincidences - ever. Our lives aren’t run by good or bad luck, but by an intelligent process designed to help us evolve into our best selves”. And, she wrote, “I was so struck by this thought because it looks like it is the most sensible way of accepting all that happens around us each day. Of course, this doesn’t clear the dilemma about whether God exists or not. I would however prefer to believe that there is a bigger power above (I am not sure if this is a person or thing) that governs all of life and that it arranges all that happens, to be the way it is. Whether this a good or bad power is still debatable I guess”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought after reading it was, “wow! How true!” Next moment, I realized that it is easy for me to say. How about telling this intelligent design theory to someone who is in pain, to someone who is enslaved for generations? We need this theory to ‘accept’ what happens! To act? Should we throw this theory away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few days later, I was talking to my roommate when he told the following, not in exact words. “Every single person in this whole world has unique finger prints, isn’t it beautiful? I feel it takes an omniscient power to do this.” I replied, &lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;“I take this ink bottle, and drop it from 4 feet above the ground. I do it everyday. Do you think it will ever repeat a pattern on the floor?”&lt;/span&gt; It doesn’t take a super power. There is no need for a super power. Yes, it is beautiful, but there is no order. It’s just disorder, which is beautiful at times, or most of the times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, another friend of mine was talking about God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;God knows that the Satan would push Adam and Eve into sin; everything&lt;br /&gt;happened/happens the way God wanted; man’s journey is to become pure so that God will accept him. &lt;/blockquote&gt;Oh my! In the matters of faith, I don’t argue much. More so, because he was so honest and serious about this. I just told him that I don’t feel the way he does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminded me of something I wrote in Tamil few months ago.&lt;br /&gt;“onRaiyonRu uNdu vaazhum uyir padaithu, kaNdu kaLitthirukkum karuNaithaan ennae?”&lt;br /&gt;To translate, "How kind He is, to create lives that feed on other lives, and to admire that!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-7907111267380172641?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/7907111267380172641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=7907111267380172641' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/7907111267380172641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/7907111267380172641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2007/01/order-and-disorder.html' title='Order and Disorder'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-3124688648730909495</id><published>2007-01-07T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:04:24.648-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>A little mess, dude, do a world of good!</title><content type='html'>Another Sunday morning; and I was sitting by the window reading 'Book Review', a supplementary of San Francisco Chronicle. There was a column titled ‘Why a little mess is good for you’ and the sub title read ‘Overplanning, obsessive neatness interferes with creative flexibility’. Oh my… What the hell!? So, authors have so run out of subjects to write about, that they have to write about this? Why should they write a ‘book’ on this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A little mess, dude&lt;br /&gt;Do a world of good!&lt;/blockquote&gt;Won’t this line be sufficient? Why should they write a whole book and take the fun away from being messy? I’m not going to read the review. What was the title of the book, anyway? ‘A Perfect Mess: The Hidden benefits of Disorder’. Oh! Will it remain disorder after one writes a book listing down the benefits? Disgusting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, Happy New Year! Let the ‘BTW’ not deceive you, though it may sound as a passing remark, a bored greeting or an indifferent salute, this new year wish from me comes from my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s see what 2007 does!&lt;br /&gt;2006 tested me a lot. Physically, emotionally, professionally… Ally! It was a great teacher. My horoscope says I have ‘Guruchandala dhosha’. Even if I end up blaming 2006, I have all the gratitude for it a teacher deserves. Thank you 2006!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-3124688648730909495?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/3124688648730909495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=3124688648730909495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/3124688648730909495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/3124688648730909495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2007/01/little-mess-dude-do-world-of-good.html' title='A little mess, dude, do a world of good!'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-5144269002264024716</id><published>2006-12-12T17:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:05:02.882-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>Two weeks back, in a Los Angeles hotel, I woke up with a heart burdened with guilty feeling. It was because, in my dream, I had beaten up my younger sister. It took a while to get rid of my remorse, reminding myself that it is just a dream. It took a little longer, to realise that I don't really have a sister. I'm trying hard to remember what she looked like!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Early morning today, I had another one.&lt;br /&gt;I wake up (in my dream), to realise that I had been sleeping for 6 months. (But, with a beard much shorter for six months). One of my friends tells that once in between he helped me shave and eat some food even as i was sleeping. I was trying to get out of the house to find out if it was true or a prank....&lt;br /&gt;But, I woke up (to today).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-5144269002264024716?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/5144269002264024716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=5144269002264024716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/5144269002264024716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/5144269002264024716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/12/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-116303203096075858</id><published>2006-11-08T16:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:18:03.340-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>Life is short!</title><content type='html'>Suddenly there are many reasons to believe that life is too short. First one seems to be my heart, which is doing some customary self checks now. Second one is my hand, which is going through a painful problem, RSI. Third is my home, where, hopes of my independence is increasing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What these three seem to have done together is, to question the obvious, to cast a shadow of doubt over my so-far-safe choices, to open me to the multitude of choices by firmly closing down one or two, to give me a fresh air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels like being born again. I don't know how long this feeling will last. I might end up sticking to the seemingly safe path again. But, it is relieving, to say the least, that I am not blind to the options now. If only I can follow my heart, journey is going to be exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I keep reminding myself of is that whatever I do, it's going to be with a body and mind abused for over 25 years. The effect can't be undone in a day or two, with most of it permanent. At the same time, the experience I've had is a wealth too. I have seen some good changes happening in me, over all these years, though I suspect if they are shallow and if I shall remain the same, underneath it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I read Harry Potter and thoroughly enjoyed it. I wanted to write more about it, but let me save it for later. Now reading 'One hundred years of solitude'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sticking to my old  habits will help me, by intoxicating me and making me rush across the doors of change, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bloody, whatever I write, it doesn't touch what my heart is going through. What's the point, then? Why is it so? My usual secretive self? May be. Ego? Of course, a possibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget it; I'm getting used to it. Whatever one does, it seems to be only a substitute of something one couldn't do. Ha haa! Curse the moment I started thinking; probably I didn't get a biscuit then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-116303203096075858?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/116303203096075858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=116303203096075858' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/116303203096075858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/116303203096075858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/11/life-is-short.html' title='Life is short!'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115854989513615751</id><published>2006-09-17T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:09:49.379-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><title type='text'>I wanna go home!</title><content type='html'>Still in the same situation! So, can't type much. &lt;br /&gt;Just pasting the lyrics of the song that I have started liking very much, which Star 101.3 FM has been giving me every day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No reading between the lines! I like the song, that's it! More so, with one of my roommates going back to India tonight, in three more hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Another summer day&lt;br /&gt;Has come and gone away&lt;br /&gt;In Paris and Rome&lt;br /&gt;But I wanna go home&lt;br /&gt;Mmmmmmmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe surrounded by&lt;br /&gt;A million people I&lt;br /&gt;Still feel all alone&lt;br /&gt;I just wanna go home&lt;br /&gt;Babe I miss you, you know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you&lt;br /&gt;Each one a line or two&lt;br /&gt;“I’m fine baby, how are you?”&lt;br /&gt;Well I would send them but I know that it’s just not enough&lt;br /&gt;My words were cold and flat&lt;br /&gt;And you deserve more than that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another aeroplane&lt;br /&gt;Another sunny place&lt;br /&gt;I’m lucky I know&lt;br /&gt;But I wanna go home&lt;br /&gt;Mmmm, I’ve got to go home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me go home&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I’m just too far from where you are&lt;br /&gt;I wanna come home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life&lt;br /&gt;It’s like I just stepped outside&lt;br /&gt;When everything was going right&lt;br /&gt;And I know just why you could not&lt;br /&gt;Come along with me&lt;br /&gt;That this is not your dream&lt;br /&gt;But you always believed in me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another winter day has come&lt;br /&gt;And gone away&lt;br /&gt;In even Paris and Rome&lt;br /&gt;And I wanna go home&lt;br /&gt;Let me go home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I’m surrounded by&lt;br /&gt;A million people I&lt;br /&gt;Still feel all alone&lt;br /&gt;Oh, let me go home&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I miss you, you know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me go home&lt;br /&gt;I’ve had my run&lt;br /&gt;Baby, I’m done&lt;br /&gt;I gotta go home&lt;br /&gt;Let me go home&lt;br /&gt;It will all be all right&lt;br /&gt;I’ll be home tonight&lt;br /&gt;I’m coming back home&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Copied from &lt;a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/michaelbuble/home.html"&gt;http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/michaelbuble/home.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lyrics by Michael Buble&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115854989513615751?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115854989513615751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115854989513615751' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115854989513615751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115854989513615751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-wanna-go-home.html' title='I wanna go home!'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115621902353674701</id><published>2006-08-21T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:11:49.384-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ridiculous'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><title type='text'>RSI and a few more important things</title><content type='html'>I'm suffering from RSI (Repetitive Strain Injury), which makes it really hard to type. That's the reason behind me not writing much here. It's getting better, though it will take atleast a few more weeks for me to be comfortable here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, a few short updates...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went to the doctor, an Indian, she asked me a few questions...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Are you allergic to any medicine?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;Are you under any medication?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;Do you smoke?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;Alcohol?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;Are you married?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;Do you have children?&lt;br /&gt;Hmm?.. NO!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went on a trip to Crater Lake, Oregon caves and Mount Shasta. My uncle joined us too. Last weekend, my parents and brothers had gone to Thirunelveli for our temple festival. Though I saw Crater lake and a few other rivers, I miss Thaamiravaruni river, Nellaiappar, Azhwarthirunagari and Sreevaikundam temples, even after ceasing to be a devotee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have a beard that is more than 50 days old. Exactly on the 50th day, I had a realization, though it was from a column by one Manju in a local magazine here. It is not the column itself. One line, majorly exaggerated at that, struck me very hard. As I contemplated further, I found how hard it is for the other person.&lt;br /&gt;It helps to know the other side. I think this completes the process started by &lt;a href="http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/06/smile-in-pleasantville-2_05.html"&gt;'Smile in Pleasantville'&lt;/a&gt;. I am very happy now, to let things go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will be back, after a while!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115621902353674701?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115621902353674701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115621902353674701' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115621902353674701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115621902353674701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/08/rsi-and-few-more-important-things.html' title='RSI and a few more important things'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115450317736932106</id><published>2006-08-02T00:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:18:30.880-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><title type='text'>Life is beautiful</title><content type='html'>Few minutes back, I wrote a mail to one of my friends.&lt;br /&gt;It had these few lines...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Life is beautiful, don't you agree? &lt;br /&gt;Will I say this again, even after seeing Somalia, Lebanon, Hiroshima, Gujarat and Bombay? Or after seeing poverty, exploitation, failures, frustrations, bitter relationships and needless hatred?&lt;br /&gt;I think, there is no other choice. I will say it again. &lt;br /&gt;Life is beautiful, don't you agree?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even as I clicked 'Send' button, I remembered my previous post in this blog, cribbing about life. Which one of these is true? To be frank, I was honest, in both the occasions. Isn't this beautiful? that one can be honest and come up with two opposite ideas about one thing? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok! I agree, this is too much. When I wrote that mail, I thought that this pain, struggle itself is beautiful. That's a state of mind, probably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still I stand by it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I say 'Life is beautiful', standing in that small village 'Thiruvarangam' (not Sreerangam, this is different), near that old Perumal temple, on the banks of the river that has no water now, looking at the vast area of dry sand, that spreads across and tells you how big the river had been, once upon a time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on, be frank. You are traveling in a train. Just one moment. Your co-passengers have fallen dead or are dying, you see blood and burnt flesh everywhere. Will you say 'Life is beautiful'?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? you are going home from office at 7 PM and are caught in a nasty traffic jam and a severe head-ache. Will you dare say 'Life is beautiful'?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I don't think I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, give me one moment to reflect upon. Give me some time. I might say 'Life is beautiful'. Probably, this is what makes it beautiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115450317736932106?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115450317736932106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115450317736932106' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115450317736932106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115450317736932106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/08/life-is-beautiful.html' title='Life is beautiful'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115430227048171216</id><published>2006-07-30T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:15:18.805-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Title?</title><content type='html'>And, whose life is this I am living?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dissolve in words that lie in mind and evaporate into words that clog my heart and suffocate my lungs.&lt;br /&gt;I exaggerate, I know.&lt;br /&gt;I know I am underestimating and any amount of exaggeration won't be sufficient.&lt;br /&gt;There are things to replace these words...&lt;br /&gt;Music? &lt;br /&gt;Dance?&lt;br /&gt;Any damn entertainment?&lt;br /&gt;Physical exercise?&lt;br /&gt;Meditation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about life? &lt;br /&gt;Mine.&lt;br /&gt;And, where is it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115430227048171216?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115430227048171216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115430227048171216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115430227048171216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115430227048171216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/07/title.html' title='Title?'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115249431960775105</id><published>2006-07-09T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T02:15:59.336-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><title type='text'>Trip to Yellowstone</title><content type='html'>We were nine totally, five in our car, Dodge Durango. First destination of our trip was a place called Ketchum in state Idaho. Reached there in the early morning, slept for some time. We had delicious burger for brunch and set off to do rafting in river Salmon. After reaching the place, three of us decided to do kayaking instead. While rafting is done in a group of 6 people, kayak is to be done alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kayak trainer asked us to stay there while he was preparing to come in the river. River Salmon had other ideas and she took me along with her and I was searching if I see the words ‘The End’ somewhere in the waters. It took just a few seconds to realize that it was too simple to be worthy of a climax and I could manage the kayak easily. When I managed to take the kayak to the land to wait for the others in my group, I had already traveled more than 200 meters.. We kayaked for more than 10 miles and it was very exciting though equally tiring. Friction with the paddle peeled off some skin from my right thumb and for half the distance I was holding the paddle in a funny way and it made kayaking difficult. Once my kayak was being rocked between two rocks and I started shouting for help. After realizing that nobody is there to help me, I managed to get out of it. It was easy! &lt;br /&gt;Since I had started earlier than planned, there was no photo taken while I was kayaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to Yellowstone, the first national park of the world. On most of our way, we had the river Salmon accompanying us, just by the side of our road. In Yellowstone, which spreads over 9000 square miles, there were a lot of geysers and the scalding water erupting out reacts with the chemicals in the earth and makes different, colorful and beautiful structures. There is a geyser called ’old faithful geyser’, which erupts every 94 minutes, for more than 100 years. When it does it, it erupts to a height of 100 ft. We could see it twice on that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the canyon of the Yellowstone, view of which was great. And then, there were two water falls called upper and lower falls of Yellowstone river. Lower falls was particularly spectacular. Just a few meters upstream, river was shallow, calm and alone! I got lot of time to play around, crossing the river streams jumping over the rocks; walking on the fallen trees that lie across the river.&lt;br /&gt;We also went to Yellowstone Lake, which was so huge and beautiful. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to do boating there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was time for our journey back. Since it is a 16 hours drive, we had planned to stop and stay in Wendover city, Nevada State. Nevada being a dry state, there is nothing much to visit. But the whole state is full of casinos. We visited two of them in Wendover. This time too I didn’t gamble, as was the case in Las Vegas in 2003. But, make no mistake; I don’t consider it to be a virtue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July 4th was U.S Independence Day. We saw the Independence Day parade. It was a great sight to see the enthusiasm that the kids had. The parade had vehicles slowly driving along the road and people inside threw candies and chocolates to the kids. Parade was represented by a few schools too. I couldn’t see a single teenaged boy being part of that. It is same everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;And, I feel ashamed to think that I never wished 'happy independence day' anyone that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highlights:&lt;br /&gt;1. I drove in freeway for the first time, for around 7 hours. Driving in 75mph and above was thrilling. I found it very difficult to control it in the curvy roads in Derby dam area in Nevada. I managed somehow. Thankfully I wasn’t carried away, when my friend asked me to try following a supposedly beautiful girl who overtook us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. In Yellowstone, people bought t-shirts, caps for themselves and gifts for their friends.  I didn’t know what to buy. At last I bought a DVD on Yellowstone Park so that I can show this to my parents when I return home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. On our way from Yellowstone to Wendover, we had a long discussion on love, marriage, kids and err… self realization. My stand would have been different a year or two ago. &lt;a href="http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/07/on-ideas.html"&gt;My comment on the debate &lt;/a&gt;came under heavy criticism. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Whenever I travel far, I used to get this startling feeling. Seeing hundreds of people so far from me, so far from each other, with their own lives, joys and worries… The policeman we talked to, the gas station lady who gracefully handled my irritation, anger and embarrassment, three young girls who run a restaurant in that small unknown town, that bartender who served drinks and pizzas to our group alone well over midnight,  and a lot of others. How huge and varied and beautiful this world is, this life is! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. When I went for kayaking, I forgot to remove my wrist watch that my uncle had presented me in 1997. It drank a lot of water and stopped running promptly. So, my time had not been running since then. When it cannot run, does time stand still? That too, when you have a lot of time for thinking, with pine forest running behind fast, as you travel? No, it goes back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Today, six days after kayaking, my watch has started working. But the watch dial still has water drops. Time ticks forward, but I can still see it only through the water of past.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115249431960775105?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115249431960775105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115249431960775105' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115249431960775105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115249431960775105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/07/trip-to-yellowstone.html' title='Trip to Yellowstone'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115249405968983136</id><published>2006-07-09T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:57:54.440-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>On Ideas</title><content type='html'>Debate started&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;heated up fast.&lt;br /&gt;There go&lt;br /&gt;the swords&lt;br /&gt;sharpened for days.&lt;br /&gt;Debate on ideas,&lt;br /&gt;we called it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of it all,&lt;br /&gt;with us were,&lt;br /&gt;swords sharper&lt;br /&gt;with all the fight,&lt;br /&gt;newer, stronger weapons&lt;br /&gt;discovered and made&lt;br /&gt;from the opponents' field,&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;the same old ideas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115249405968983136?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115249405968983136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115249405968983136' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115249405968983136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115249405968983136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/07/on-ideas.html' title='On Ideas'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115231726862704713</id><published>2006-07-07T17:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:57:23.893-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><title type='text'>Tried so hard, to reach so far...</title><content type='html'>I worked really hard, for the past three days, to make this configuration on my testbed. I talked to people, referred documents, RFC etc. But, now that the test is over, I have to dismantle it. And, start on another one, which needs to be dismantled anyway, soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115231726862704713?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115231726862704713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115231726862704713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115231726862704713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115231726862704713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/07/tried-so-hard-to-reach-so-far.html' title='Tried so hard, to reach so far...'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115129115519678625</id><published>2006-06-25T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:56:42.173-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><title type='text'>Salt Knives</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A pinch of salt&lt;br /&gt;with every lesson,&lt;br /&gt;I am saltier&lt;br /&gt;than any ocean!&lt;br /&gt;It's nauseating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There fall my idols&lt;br /&gt;killed &lt;br /&gt;by the salt knives &lt;br /&gt;leaving me &lt;br /&gt;a salt mountain&lt;br /&gt;and broken idols&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's intriguing&lt;br /&gt;to scale the peak.&lt;br /&gt;An achievement,&lt;br /&gt;won't it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who needs that?&lt;br /&gt;Salt inflow never stops,&lt;br /&gt;there are new idols!&lt;br /&gt;I know&lt;br /&gt;what to get rid of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115129115519678625?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115129115519678625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115129115519678625' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115129115519678625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115129115519678625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/06/salt-knives.html' title='Salt Knives'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115086634420617893</id><published>2006-06-20T22:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:55:46.898-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Holy Slaughter</title><content type='html'>As the knowing expands&lt;br /&gt;drop dead the holy-cows&lt;br /&gt;that I worshipped&lt;br /&gt;admired, liked and loved!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have grown a few&lt;br /&gt;I have grown into a few&lt;br /&gt;Kill them all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My veins run their milk,&lt;br /&gt;but&lt;br /&gt;it's time&lt;br /&gt;to be ungrateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though insecure&lt;br /&gt;I might find peace,&lt;br /&gt;in a holy-cowless land!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115086634420617893?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115086634420617893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115086634420617893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115086634420617893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115086634420617893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/06/holy-slaughter.html' title='Holy Slaughter'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-115069129742495021</id><published>2006-06-18T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:55:14.047-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drawing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Convicted Escapist</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/400/convict2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/convict2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier this year, a haircut I had and a shave I chose not to have left me with hair of 5mm length all over my head and face. (Well, except the considerable area on my head which had forgotten the art of hair growing!) One of my friends, on seeing this, commented that I looked like an 'escaped convict'. I replied him, "I may look so, but actually I am a 'convicted escapist'!". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Childhood dreams and desires, adolescent dreams, desires and ambitions give way to a nothingness, due to failures or awareness or laziness or all of these. One grows into an individual, truly alone. Everyone, including one's parents, siblings and friends, is other people. (One remembers Sartre's remark: 'Hell is other people') One carries no responsibility, except the ones that are strictly his alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We, four friends, were traveling in Tuticorin Express, from Nellai to Bangalore, when one of them expressed his concern about the image of India that would be formed in a foreigner's mind when he sees all the ugliness that prevails and atrocities that happen here. I replied, "Well, I don't identify myself with my state or country or language or anything. So, tell me if I'm doing anything wrong. I am not concerned about anything that others do"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One sees around all the good people doing the bad things, thinking what they think good is THE good! Whole media is heated up in discussion about a national issue. There are people for and against a certain thing. One finds the truth in both. Don't ask, why can't one find out the best solution! One might come up with a best solution, but why should it be considered the best by the rest? One recognizes and respects the right of others to differ from him. And, nothingness prevails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During one lunch discussion, a friend says that we have to choose between the devil and the deep sea. Yes, we were discussing about Tamil Nadu politics. I reveal my decision of never voting again. He asks, "But in democracy, do we have a better option?"  My answer is, "Democracy? That wasn't MY choice". "I don't need anyone to represent me in assembly or parliament or temple. I am not going to mistake other individual's ambitions to be in my interest. I don't need it"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One calls it 'individualism' at times, 'wisdom' some times. There are more: ignorance, foolishness, arrogance. And, one day, one starts suspecting that it is escaping from one's responsibilities, even after being aware. One starts accusing oneself of being an escapist. But this doesn't stay forever. One is thrown between the extremes, hit hard in each point that lie between! Some call this is masochism (not in a sexual context, of course)! How about machoism? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget the isms!&lt;br /&gt;One is convicted by oneself for being aware of being an escapist (or whatever).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-115069129742495021?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/115069129742495021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=115069129742495021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115069129742495021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/115069129742495021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/06/convicted-escapist.html' title='Convicted Escapist'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114999079104090763</id><published>2006-06-10T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:53:48.180-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eezham'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Another Massacre</title><content type='html'>Look at these:&lt;br /&gt;This is in Tamil. Those who don't know Tamil, please excuse.&lt;br /&gt;A poem on a massacre that happened in SriLanka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://karthikraamas.net/pathivu/?p=143"&gt;http://karthikraamas.net/pathivu/?p=143&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is in English. But, you can understand even if you don't know English.&lt;br /&gt;WARNING: STORY CONTAINS UNEDITED PHOTO FROM MASSACRE SITE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tamilnet.com/art.html?catid=13&amp;artid=18447"&gt;http://www.tamilnet.com/art.html?catid=13&amp;artid=18447&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ayyo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114999079104090763?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114999079104090763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114999079104090763' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114999079104090763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114999079104090763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/06/another-massacre.html' title='Another Massacre'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114974592986037565</id><published>2006-06-07T22:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:52:27.732-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drawing'/><title type='text'>BEST FROM THE WORST</title><content type='html'>As I mentioned in my previous post...&lt;br /&gt;Here are the best ones I liked from me, during the past few months period!&lt;br /&gt;I feel, it's these strong emotions (up or low, right or left) that bring out the best. But these are only the second best, first one being the peace and calmness and creation therefrom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok! Here I go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me start with one of the drawings!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/mood.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/320/mood.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;*When I touch Love, that's where I should stop a post titled 'Gone with the wind'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I thought I was bored. Guess I wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*What were her pebbles? Is it those date fruits or me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Worst of all is, I cannot decide to be innocent. There is no looking back, is there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*So, I was going to tell and I felt ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;I was telling and I felt ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;I told and heard 'Ridiculous!'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*towards a new future&lt;br /&gt;as old as his past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*This is the best! March 21st. A sacrificial lamb lead the priest to the altar. Got killed and rested convinced. Felt ridiculous all through the process!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*the person, who asked me to keep in touch, but wished just the opposite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I choose to just go over all my options again and again, and then to play a game of Hearts! It's easy when played on a laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I became blind to all the other possibilities and by then the question had vanished unable to survive my constant stare at it. Questions don't get answer; They disappear. And, you are left with the answer you would have liked, anyway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I saw a corpse there, starting to disintegrate right in front of the eyes of its creator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* &lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A friend&lt;/strong&gt;: Hope you are sporting your green shirt always :) (clue: Green on Valentine's day means the wearer is waiting)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: My green shirt? I left it in Bangalore. I haven't brought anything green, except for Medimix soap. Even that I am not using nowadays. :-) I have green-gram powder instead, oh another green! But when you beat it, break it and grind it, it's not green anymore. It becomes as pale as dead. (Wow! I like this. I got it perfect, didn't I?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A friend&lt;/strong&gt;: Good luck on that. You wil find answers to a lot of life's dilemmas after that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Hmmmm... I don't see anything happening in the near future. I'm not wearing green anyway.&lt;br /&gt;If anything happens, I don't think I will find answers to the dilemmas. I will just have to ignore few of them, because I would have chosen a different path. Only way for these dilemmas to go seems to be the pressing necessity of choosing a path where you wouldn't have time/energy/heart for those questions again. Will I do it!!? Don't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114974592986037565?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114974592986037565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114974592986037565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114974592986037565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114974592986037565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/06/best-from-worst.html' title='BEST FROM THE WORST'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114974523470769899</id><published>2006-06-07T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:49:27.782-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ridiculous'/><title type='text'>I'M HAPPY TODAY</title><content type='html'>I was walking, alone, in the midst of unknown flowers that spread the fragrance in the air and happiness in the minds. I wondered that it has taken more than a month for me to walk here and to know the existence of these flowers in the neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what happened today that made me do this?&lt;br /&gt;It's not something that happened today. Probably everything that has been happening for the past few days have helped me to regain what I had lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, I unsubscribed from the groups that call themselves 'pessimists', 'terminally single' etc. Just a few days back I thought I have been a pessimist from birth. How did I forget the rainy evenings that I walked in Koramangala streets, gently touching the road side tree leaves making them shower their blessings on me? How did I forget the heavy rains that washed all my thoughts down, while I was lying on the BTM house terrace, with just a towel around my waist? How did I forget the kids that smile at me?  How did I forget the moments that filled me with ecstacy, wherever I was in, temple, travel, in front of a TV or a book, or alone! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to,&lt;br /&gt;* this space, which allowed me to pour down all I had in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;* the Sunday evening, which led me to this, probably&lt;br /&gt;* the movie 'Pleasantville'!&lt;br /&gt;* Time, which heals the worst of one's wounds.&lt;br /&gt;* hearts which I feel I'm close to.&lt;br /&gt;* one who made all this possible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next post is going to be my best! (no blind optimism, this)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114974523470769899?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114974523470769899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114974523470769899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114974523470769899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114974523470769899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/06/im-happy-today.html' title='I&apos;M HAPPY TODAY'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114957118452244196</id><published>2006-06-05T22:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:48:33.661-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>SMILE IN PLEASANTVILLE-2</title><content type='html'>This Sunday evening, I was sitting on a bench, reading a book. Shouldn't it be the other way? Reading a book, sitting on a bench? No. In my case, primarily I was sitting on the bench. While I was reading, there was another thread of thought running, which could relate and converse with the book.  The chapter was about boredom and the thought was about my interests. And, I thought I had some clear understanding of both at the end of it. But now I don't remember what exactly it is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier in the afternoon, I watched the movie &lt;a href="http://imdb.com/title/tt0120789/"&gt;'Pleasantville' &lt;/a&gt;. I liked the movie very much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the story of the movie. &lt;br /&gt;David and Jennifer somehow go back in time, into the town Pleasantville of a 1950's TV serial called Pleasantville. While they need to wait to come back to present, their presence changes the town and the lives. There are people accepting the new, there are people who hate the new things in their town. How the whole town comes to Life, is the rest of the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comedy?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's a comedy. But a lot more. The serial was telecast in Black and White era. So, Pleasantville has no colours. But, people who feel the life in them start appearing in colours. This outrages the old-timers and the town committee passes orders against the 'coloured' people. A husband is spellbound and horrified when his wife answers his question 'what were you doing' with a simple 'thinking'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More?&lt;br /&gt;As it happens with any revolution, here this change is made visible and partly possible through arts and literature. Town committee orders the closure of the library. 'Public' burn the books and destroy the building that has the paintings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching this movie, I realised how we get used to things and how we long to maintain the status quo. We like change, but not too much of it! But when you see the real life inside, you live in the present not worrying about the next moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This movie can give insights in indivual, spiritul, political or social planes.&lt;br /&gt;There can be hundreds of better movies out there. But the impact this movie had on me was just immense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This movie had a girl, whose smile was wonderful. It had the innocence, wonder, love and ... and... Life. I was smiling with her all the way. How beautiful, a smile is! When she cried, I did it too. How beautiful, a smile is! As I became aware of the happiness that this smile created in me, I was also reminded of my hatred and jealousy. I have been trying to get rid of these, but success is only superficial. Suddenly, this smile showed me a way out of these. At least I thought so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not going to tell everything I thought. Words kill the feeling. When I put down them here in words, I feel guilty of killing something. (as I wrote in &lt;a href="http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/04/one-more-in-my-mortuary-i-saw-it.html"&gt;"One more in my mortuary"&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book I read and the movie I watched made me write a mail, working in the order mentioned above, though their chronological order was the opposite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote a few paragraphs, explaining what it is for, what I want, in response to my urge to replace some untold pain with a smile. And I saw a corpse there, starting to disintegrate right in front of the eyes of its creator. I deleted them and replaced with 'I deleted a few paragraphs, which were present in the place of this single line'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before clicking on 'send', I buried that line too. Now, the mail looked much better. I am trying hard to smile!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S: I posted this yesterday. Today I enhanced it and suffixed the title with '-2'! Also, I undid one compromise I had done earlier. :-) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114957118452244196?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114957118452244196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114957118452244196' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114957118452244196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114957118452244196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/06/smile-in-pleasantville-2_05.html' title='SMILE IN PLEASANTVILLE-2'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114914329258964411</id><published>2006-05-31T23:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:45:46.665-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ridiculous'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>I don't have cancer!!!</title><content type='html'>After reading my previous posts, few of my friends are worried if I am really, fully down with some depression. ok! Not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are lot of other things happening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I completed reading Midnight's Children. Liked it. Will write more about it later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In March, I was able to do Padmasanam (after 15 yrs!). I started doing it so regularly and religiously that it resulted in tissue inflammation in my right shin. Though I ignored it initially, I was alarmed when it started increasing and spreading. I went to a clinic here. The whole thing took around three hours, most of which was spent in waiting for one or other thing. Allowed X-Rays to touch me for the first time in my life. (as if it was waiting!) When it was over, doctor told this. "I'm relieved. It's not cancer". I was relieved too, for I had thought of that possibility as well. Now, back to sukhasanam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mmm... what else? I can't think of any!&lt;br /&gt;Ah! Yesterday I changed the password for one of my accounts. What's special in it? That was the last one which had a particular name. And, it's not over. My new password has a serious question hidden in it! And, that's ridiculous! I'm back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I really, fully down?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114914329258964411?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114914329258964411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114914329258964411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114914329258964411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114914329258964411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-dont-have-cancer.html' title='I don&apos;t have cancer!!!'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114827356533314793</id><published>2006-05-21T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:46:12.651-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ridiculous'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><title type='text'>Few Twenty Firsts</title><content type='html'>Today, May 21st. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember 1991's May 21, I was in Thalayolaparambu, Kerala to spend my summer vacation. Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated and a man who came to my uncle's shop  accused us all Tamils for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was 2005, Dec 21, which saw me wandering along the streets, talking to myself over an important thing. I was trying to decide. Should I, shouldn't I? I decided in the affirmative but it was only three months later, only after I became blind to all the other possibilities and by then the question had vanished unable to survive my constant stare at it. Questions don't get answer; They disappear. And, you are left with the answer you would have liked, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came 2006, Jan 21, a Saturday. I was at home, alone, trying to draw a particular drawing, which I was trying for quite some time then. And on that day, I was successful. I have taken it with me, but haven't taken out yet. Let me see how long I can resist!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feb 21, 2006. Nothing much to say. I was battling myself again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the best! March 21st. A sacrificial lamb lead the priest to the altar. Got killed and rested convinced. Felt ridiculous all through the process!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On April 21st, I started my flight to U.S. And, I wrote the following.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bangalore Airport. 9:35PM, 21st Apr 2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a choice, now.&lt;br /&gt;A choice that gives me freedom to choose one from so many options.&lt;br /&gt;I can continue reading 'Midnight's children', from where I left a week ago.&lt;br /&gt;I can take out AK Ramanujan's poems, close eyes, open any page of the book and read.&lt;br /&gt;I can watch TV, though it's some stupid program running.&lt;br /&gt;Or, listen to one of the hundreds of songs I have in my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;Or, just keep looking around.&lt;br /&gt;Or, eat something from the coffee day outlet here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I don't know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;There is another luring option; I can just sit there and start thinking.&lt;br /&gt;About what? &lt;br /&gt;About my parents, who had come to send me off...&lt;br /&gt;My project and the hard work and a harder manager that await me in the USA...&lt;br /&gt;Or, about a call that I wanted to make before leaving, but didn't.&lt;br /&gt;About the person, whom I wanted to talk to, but didn't.&lt;br /&gt;About the person, who asked me to keep in touch, but wished just the opposite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I choose to just go over all my options again and again, and then to play a game of Hearts! It's easy when played on a laptop.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114827356533314793?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114827356533314793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114827356533314793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114827356533314793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114827356533314793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/05/few-twenty-firsts.html' title='Few Twenty Firsts'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114637117816273692</id><published>2006-04-29T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:43:16.782-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>JORNEY JUST STARTED</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/journey.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/400/journey.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was browsing a web site searching for an apartment to rent or a roommate to share it with, I found a fortune forecast for me. It read 'you will inherit a big amount today'. Good one for a classifieds page, isn't it? But, I realized suddenly that it was true. Just a few hours back, I had gone to a Bank of America branch here to close my old account and open a new account. To my surprise, she told that I had more than 1100$ in my old accounts. I didn't expect anything over a 500 dollars, frankly. So, isn't that an inheritance (though not a big amount)? From whom? From Vidyasakaran of 2003, who had come to Texas, USA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's how his financial planning was. He never knew how much money, in US Dollars, he had here. Never cared to check that. Was prepared to hear the news that his bank account was closed due to inactivity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, as on today, I am no better in financial planning. I remain the same in that aspect. I don't regret my carelessness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave financial planning out, I have changed, I think, and how! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2003 August, I landed here as an ardent devotee, believer. Now, I don't worship, I don't pray. Though I have taken the painting of Lord Shiva (which I had brought and worhipped last time) with me now, (just in case...) it is still inside my suitcase, uncovered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2003, I went to office everyday with sacred ash prominently smeared on my forehead, more prominently because of my complexion. Now, it is more than a year since I stopped wearing ash, since I dropped it when I realized that it had become just a habit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three years back when I came, I had a few senior colleagues whom I was depending, for everything. And, I was quite happy about that. They did everything for me. I just continued my home life, which I was missing from the time I left for my college in 1996. I didn't drive, I didn't plan trips, I didn't activate my ATM card, didn't take a credit card, didn't buy a phone card. I enjoyed my surrender to them. I had even compared that with Vaishnavism's total surrender, in my thoughts, then. I was taken care of, thoroughly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I still live with the help from guys here and that is intolerable. I would like to break myself free and go out and live all alone, whatever that might take. It can be probably because I am one of the senior guys here. Or because, I don't know these people before. But, I don't think I will ever be able to as carefree as I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time, I was overwhelmed looking at this country, at least for the first few days. Now, it's not there. OK, it had disappeared within the first few days of my last trip, but it came back strongly, when I saw Mumbai, Bangalore Airports and Bangalore roads on my way back. Now, it seems to be a usual place, some times. At other times, I long to be in the midst of pollution and commotion of Bangalore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time, I landed with my suitcase containing Bhagavad Gita (which I read every morning for well over 2.5 yrs) and War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy). When I went back, I had Atlas Shrugged, I had just started reading then.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I didn't take Gita. I have brought Midnight's Children, JK's Commentary on Living and Amartya Sen's Argumentative Indian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three years back, I came here with a mind that was in peace, that had faith, that was clear. Happy? I said peace, what more one wants? I never had to stop and wonder if I was happy. A real evidence to say that I was happy, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I can't say I'm very happy. Just out of a, should I write this, failed dream, though it still lingers and tortures now and then. Add to that all these... New into a project which has been going on for long time. No idea about my place in the team. Little idea about the work I'm going to do. Above all these, confusion over future, present and the past. No idea what I want to do in life. No, I'm not going to add more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's how it is right now...&lt;br /&gt;I have to get my driver's license, get a good place to stay and probably a car, credit card. Oh... I just hate all the work I have to do for these things. But, I am not going to let anyone else do these for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114637117816273692?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114637117816273692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114637117816273692' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114637117816273692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114637117816273692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/04/jorney-just-started-when-i-was.html' title='JORNEY JUST STARTED'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114566288440580708</id><published>2006-04-21T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:41:42.473-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><title type='text'>ON MY WAY</title><content type='html'>I'm on my way to the U.S.A. Writing this from Singapore Changi Airport. &lt;br /&gt;Will be busy once I reach there, at least for the first few weeks. Lot of things though, to write here. Hope I get enough time and interest!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114566288440580708?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114566288440580708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114566288440580708' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114566288440580708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114566288440580708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/04/on-my-way-im-on-my-way-to-u.html' title='ON MY WAY'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114475430733636852</id><published>2006-04-11T04:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:40:49.573-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><title type='text'>ONE MORE IN MY MORTUARY</title><content type='html'>I saw It rising.&lt;br /&gt;from an unknown corner &lt;br /&gt;of mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Took in my hand,&lt;br /&gt;enquired its origins;&lt;br /&gt;Demanded&lt;br /&gt;reason and explanation,&lt;br /&gt;for its birth, existence&lt;br /&gt;and persistence.&lt;br /&gt;Cut it into pieces,&lt;br /&gt;to analyse&lt;br /&gt;and to classify.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh.. here is some conclusion.&lt;br /&gt;Now, decorate it,&lt;br /&gt;with puzzling words,&lt;br /&gt;no rhymes, out of style.&lt;br /&gt;Try make it &lt;br /&gt;sharp and taut, though dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, &lt;br /&gt;push it into your mortuary.&lt;br /&gt;Visitors waiting, &lt;br /&gt;to appreciate, congratulate&lt;br /&gt;to wonder, feel good&lt;br /&gt;to dissect the already dead,&lt;br /&gt;and to find their conclusion&lt;br /&gt;to decorate their mortuary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114475430733636852?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114475430733636852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114475430733636852' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114475430733636852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114475430733636852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/04/one-more-in-my-mortuary-i-saw-it.html' title='ONE MORE IN MY MORTUARY'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114421805952394401</id><published>2006-04-04T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:38:42.908-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>ALL ABOUT A JUNKYARD</title><content type='html'>It's a junkyard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's a junkyard,&lt;br /&gt;seen&lt;br /&gt;from a running bus;&lt;br /&gt;through the window,&lt;br /&gt;a two legged animal would spit&lt;br /&gt;soap stinking tobacco on,&lt;br /&gt;later;&lt;br /&gt;by a twenty six years old boy&lt;br /&gt;or ... young man;&lt;br /&gt;on his way home;&lt;br /&gt;leaving behind and carrying&lt;br /&gt;his love untold and rejected;&lt;br /&gt;gathering the pieces&lt;br /&gt;of his heart&lt;br /&gt;broken in his eyes;&lt;br /&gt;towards a new future&lt;br /&gt;as old as his past.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114421805952394401?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114421805952394401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114421805952394401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114421805952394401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114421805952394401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/04/all-about-junkyard-its-junkyard.html' title='ALL ABOUT A JUNKYARD'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114364269994996751</id><published>2006-03-29T05:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:37:57.134-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>SAT DOWN AND WEPT</title><content type='html'>I was roaming around in BTM Layout, unsuccessfully looking for a doctor who won't mind working on a Sunday evening. Bought 'By the river Piedra I sat down and wept' by Paulo Coelho from a road side bookseller. Actually, I had started reading 'Midnight's children' just the previous day. Anyway, decided to complete 'By the river ..' and started reading the same evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big disappointment. Pages 50-67 were missing in the book. I was not in a mood (or state, I told I was looking for a doctor) to go and get the book replaced. Loss of these 17 pages didn't matter much as I continued reading. (Is there a philosophy hiding here?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished it the next day. I had 'deja vu' feeling when I read the way the protagonists (both of them) think and act. I had thought the same thoughts and done similar things too. I am planning to do some of them in future. Many of us (I'm under no illusion that I have a great readership to this blog :-)) would feel the same, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever the word 'ridiculous' was used in the novel, I couldn't resist remembering &lt;a href="http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/ridiculous-i-was-going-to-tell-and-i.html"&gt;one of my previous posts&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to agree with Paulo when he talks about love. But not when he talks about faith or God or destiny. Not in a mood to discuss about this more, now. Will be back, for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To close, one statement from 'Midnight's children'. (not in exact words)&lt;br /&gt;"You turned your back on us, and now claim that we are behind you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good one, isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114364269994996751?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114364269994996751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114364269994996751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114364269994996751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114364269994996751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/sat-down-and-wept-i-was-roaming-around.html' title='SAT DOWN AND WEPT'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114329208536522266</id><published>2006-03-25T04:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:37:07.654-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A K Ramanujan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>What he said, groping</title><content type='html'>Taking off glasses&lt;br /&gt;estranges places,&lt;br /&gt;reduces literacy&lt;br /&gt;to the largest print.&lt;br /&gt;Lights loom, dead&lt;br /&gt;oranges in a fog.&lt;br /&gt;Faces move&lt;br /&gt;under water.&lt;br /&gt;You no longer see&lt;br /&gt;eye to eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A hand wrapped in a glove&lt;br /&gt;can no longer pick&lt;br /&gt;a dime off the floor,&lt;br /&gt;or a carrot-red&lt;br /&gt;hair. Or thread&lt;br /&gt;a needle. Or feel the fuzz&lt;br /&gt;on a peach&lt;br /&gt;or a familiar cheek.&lt;br /&gt;You see, smell, hear&lt;br /&gt;what you cannot touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That drug&lt;br /&gt;for the racing pulse&lt;br /&gt;puts sleep&lt;br /&gt;into walking,&lt;br /&gt;moves the sidewalk&lt;br /&gt;far away and slow&lt;br /&gt;under someone else's&lt;br /&gt;feet. All day it's late&lt;br /&gt;afternoon and 3:20&lt;br /&gt;always in the radium dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving someone&lt;br /&gt;not in love&lt;br /&gt;is to lose one's glasses&lt;br /&gt;underfoot without a language&lt;br /&gt;in a village&lt;br /&gt;fair, to wake up without fingers,&lt;br /&gt;to drug the heart&lt;br /&gt;and slow down a world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;strong&gt;A. K. Ramanujan&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;From '&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.oup.com/isbn/0-19-564068-3?view=in"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Collected Poems&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;makes sense...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114329208536522266?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114329208536522266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114329208536522266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114329208536522266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114329208536522266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-he-said-groping-taking-off.html' title='What he said, groping'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114294449079937718</id><published>2006-03-21T04:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:35:32.033-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ridiculous'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><title type='text'>RIDICULOUS</title><content type='html'>I was going to tell and I felt ridiculous, I promise. Is this something that is to be told? Felt, isn't it? The very fact that it needs to be told indicated what was in store for me. But, one has to do many things even after knowing that the result is not going to be favourable. Waging a losing battle. There is no other choice; as I told earlier, there is no looking back. Go along the way. Don't retreat and regret later. Get killed and rest convinced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I was going to tell and I felt ridiculous. I was telling and I felt ridiculous. I told and &lt;em&gt;heard&lt;/em&gt; 'Ridiculous!'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Killed and convinced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'ini ennaip puthiya uyiraakki, mathithannai mihath theLivu seyvaay' (mahakavi Bharathi)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114294449079937718?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114294449079937718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114294449079937718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114294449079937718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114294449079937718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/ridiculous-i-was-going-to-tell-and-i.html' title='RIDICULOUS'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114277972313921067</id><published>2006-03-19T06:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:34:29.678-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><title type='text'>IS THERE A WAY OUT?</title><content type='html'>I had gone to one of my relatives' house on Saturday. After lunch, I was alone watching TV. K.Vishwanath's 'Sippikkul muthu' was being telecast in RAJ TV. I could watch only half of the movie as I had to leave from there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching the movie made me cry. It's not just 'tears-in-my-eyes' stuff; I was literally crying. It was not for Kamal's character in the movie or the hardships faced by Radhika as young widow. Being selfish as I am, I can only cry for myself. I cried for my lost innocence. I cried, detesting all the knowledge i have gained; all the calculations my mind can do in a second; all the books I have read; all the things that this world has taught me; all the things that I have willingly learnt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worst of all is, I cannot &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;decide&lt;/span&gt; to be innocent. There is no looking back, is there?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114277972313921067?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114277972313921067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114277972313921067' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114277972313921067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114277972313921067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/is-there-way-out-i-had-gone-to-one-of.html' title='IS THERE A WAY OUT?'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114191446153774387</id><published>2006-03-09T06:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:33:28.948-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>Humanness and the Self</title><content type='html'>There was a review for 'The Prophet' (Kahlil Gibran) in Metro Plus, a few days back. I don't remember who had reviewed though. The reviewer had mentioned about two more writers in the review. Below are the excerpts from the review.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;"Gibran, Rumi and Rilke make a little bridge outwards from the cocoon of self-reliance and self-help that we seem doomed to weave around ourselves".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;"Reading them, you can feel how the pain of suffering your humanness is the mystical journey most near you, the most accessible".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This interests me, as I wonder if I am in a self made cocoon. At the same time, I wonder if I have already crossed those bridges only to reach this cocoon. I have read 'The Prophet' and I liked it very much then. Probably I have to re-read it and try to get Rumi and Rilke too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114191446153774387?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114191446153774387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114191446153774387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114191446153774387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114191446153774387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/humanness-and-self-there-was-review.html' title='Humanness and the Self'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114165563992816622</id><published>2006-03-06T06:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:32:33.022-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>CHANGE / EVOLUTION ?</title><content type='html'>I went to a book shop (Prism) in Jayanagar on Sunday.  To my surprise, I went to fiction first and then to Philosophy section. This is the first ever time I have done this, while buying English books. With Tamil, this happened a year back, approxmately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have come to fiction from Philosophy, I believe. Two years back, when I bought 'Total Freedom' by JK, I felt like a drug addict who consumes more drug though he wants to get rid of it badly. I dread if there would be a day in which I would find that all my thoughts were taken from some book I read. That's a nightmare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, till today, I am buying and reading more and more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Midnight's Children (Rushdie), Collected Poems(AK Ramanujan), Commentaries on Living Second Series, Third Series (JK).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shop owner gave me 10% discount, when I didn't ask for any. I had fought with this old man once before and my last punch line was 'You know what, you just lost a customer'. As usual, I find it meaningless now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I didn't buy clothes, though I had gone to Jayanagar for buying me some shirts. All the shops are crowded and those lights and crowd put me off. I will buy when I really very badly need them. This morning I had to cut the hanging threads from the bottom of my pant and the shirt has worn out in its collar, it is torn too. I can manage for some more time?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114165563992816622?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114165563992816622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114165563992816622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114165563992816622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114165563992816622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/change-evolution-i-went-to-book-shop_06.html' title='CHANGE / EVOLUTION ?'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114165429615415366</id><published>2006-03-06T05:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:30:45.319-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>AFTERTHOUGHT</title><content type='html'>My previous post...&lt;br /&gt;I realize it is not that easy to say 'Good Bye!'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I do all these, I see that there is something inside me that looks at and smiles at me. It is that 'something' that keeps me awake and alive and safe from going insane. But, how different that 'thing' can be from me? It's me, again, isn't it? I am just a collection of these various 'things'. So, drama goes on. But deep inside, I feel, it's really difficult to say 'Good bye'. If one expects me to say that it is impossible, I'm sorry. If one says that one can't say 'Goodbye' if his love is true, then I doubt if I will ever live to see that 'true' love in me. If I am going to cause more pain than anything else to that person, if that person shows clearly that she is not at all interested in me, what else is the way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My habit of questioning and analysing everything, including my emotions, might well be an obstacle to someone to come closer to me. And, this is what has made me keep a distance from everyone and everything. A happy-go-lucky, little emotional and a little sensible person may be a lot more fun to be with, I agree. I am not at all fun. I live with questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not at all worried if someone who knows me reads this and enquires me about all this. I am really surprised at me for this! I can face the whole world and tell 'yes!', even if 'good bye' is all what I'm going to hear/say at the end of all this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels like I am in control with my life. I want to be accountable for everything I do. Am I trying to prove that I am not worried about my well-wishers' opinions? Probably yes. Again, that 'thing' in me starts laughing at me now. I can't be angry to him. He might have a point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114165429615415366?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114165429615415366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114165429615415366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114165429615415366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114165429615415366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/afterthought-my-previous-post.html' title='AFTERTHOUGHT'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114138839103305834</id><published>2006-03-03T04:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:30:10.138-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><title type='text'>WHAT WE HAVE?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/bye.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/320/bye.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't get to see,&lt;br /&gt;however hard I think,&lt;br /&gt;what am I to you now?&lt;br /&gt;Will I ever know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you have for me,&lt;br /&gt;Is it irritation?&lt;br /&gt;Or a heart of hatred,&lt;br /&gt;or just indifference!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know it's not love!&lt;br /&gt;I know it can't be love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know my heart well,&lt;br /&gt;It won't ever back out.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing can erase&lt;br /&gt;in my heart your face!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will be in my shell,&lt;br /&gt;that I never will reveal,&lt;br /&gt;for I know you know too,&lt;br /&gt;but you chose not to face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But, you know it is love!&lt;br /&gt;Dear, you know it is love!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't give me no reason&lt;br /&gt;you might have lots of 'em.&lt;br /&gt;How can it matter to me,&lt;br /&gt;what they are, let them be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is our station,&lt;br /&gt;where I know you part me.&lt;br /&gt;With you take these words&lt;br /&gt;just to laught at or hate me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just to laugh at or hate me!&lt;br /&gt;Just you laugh at or hate me!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bid you good bye here&lt;br /&gt;'tis bad I can't go back&lt;br /&gt;and start all over again&lt;br /&gt;not to give you a single hint!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't wanna be near&lt;br /&gt;I'll go far and find my life&lt;br /&gt;But love's what I have for you!&lt;br /&gt;never impured by words of mine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But, love's what I have for you!&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, love's what I'll have for you!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114138839103305834?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114138839103305834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114138839103305834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114138839103305834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114138839103305834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-we-have-i-cant-get-to-see-however.html' title='WHAT WE HAVE?'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114121310380138610</id><published>2006-03-01T03:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:27:23.735-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><title type='text'>Peanut Candy</title><content type='html'>While going home from office last night, I bought vegetables and milk for preparing supper. Walking towards home, I saw the small shop on the opposite street, where we usually buy pickle sachets. With the change that remains, I used to buy peanut candy. We had enough stock of pickle at home. But, I thought of buying it, so that I can buy peanut candy too. When I checked my purse, I had just a single one rupee coin and then Rs50 notes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So,  I have to buy peanut candy alone. How can I do that, being a 26 years old, going to a shop just to buy one peanut candy? No. I decided against that and started walking my way. But, how can this silly inhibition stop me from having what I want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked back towards that shop. There were three inside the shop (two men and a woman), talking to a man who was standing outside the shop. I went and put the coin and asked for a candy. Before I know, my face prepared itself to wear an apologetic smile, as if to apologize for being so childish. (Why is it that I was going to smile at the woman alone. Is it only a woman's opinion about me I'm concerned about?) No, I ordered myself not to smile. Taking that candy in hand, I walked home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, don't believe even if I say that the candy was tastier than it had ever been. It's just the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Oh, what a revolution? Do I talk in the same tone one would talk in, when one says about having gone to an er... whorehouse, without worrying about his prestige etc?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114121310380138610?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114121310380138610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114121310380138610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114121310380138610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114121310380138610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/03/peanut-candy-while-going-home-from.html' title='Peanut Candy'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114113056959252005</id><published>2006-02-28T04:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:26:08.502-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><title type='text'>Thank you!</title><content type='html'>One evening, walking on the river side, I picked two pebbles. They were mine, how nice! I held them against my cheek and enjoyed their chillness. Did the same to my eyes. How lucky I was to have them, to own them.  I ran home to show my newfound treasures to everyone. My aunt had come and she had brought date fruits. She gave me two of them. Not caring to take them, I hurried to show her my pebbles. She told, "oh, pebbles? Here, have these". How come she didn't understand that these pebbles are so good! I kept my pebbles in my box. I noticed that the box had few other pebbles too, which I had picked earlier. Some of them looked better than the new ones? I didn't care, these were new and mine. I ignored the thought that I might have to throw these away when we shift our house soon, and ran to aunt again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gave me date fruits. What were her pebbles? Is it those date fruits or me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked my aunt, for she had brought me something to eat. I put one in my mouth, still looking at my aunt. She was eagerly awaiting my response. I was too shy to thank her. As I bit the fruit, smiling and blushing, I held my cheek in my palms, and told 'aah'. My aunt called my mother, "Hey, look at your son. He was hurt by date fruit, a date fruit. How strong, your son is?". I started thinking of ways to explain my behavior, silently scolding myself why I couldn't find a better way to thank her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114113056959252005?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114113056959252005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114113056959252005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114113056959252005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114113056959252005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/02/thank-you-one-evening-walking-on-river.html' title='Thank you!'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114095135045771751</id><published>2006-02-26T02:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:24:50.766-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bharathi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>BORED?</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, as I mentioned in my previous post, I finished reading 'Gone with the wind'. Then I read Balakumaran's 'payaNikaL gavanikkavum' for the third time. Last time I read that was more than 1.5 years back. When I finished that, I remembered that I had to wash my clothes; I washed. Then, I took 'Bharathiyar kavithaikaL' and read kuyil paattu and kaNNan paattu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doing these things is not new to me. Doing these many things is not new either. I was alone at home. That was not at all new. I remember the college days when I loved to be alone, when all my roommates had gone home. There were days I, alone, walked around Bangalore, unknown parks, unknown halls, where some Kannada programmes were going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday, I couldn't stand it. After reading 'vaartthai thavaRi vittaay' from kaNNan paattu, I closed the book, wore my shirt and started wandering the streets. I thought I was bored. Guess I wasn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114095135045771751?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114095135045771751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114095135045771751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114095135045771751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114095135045771751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/02/bored-yesterday-as-i-mentioned-in-my_26.html' title='BORED?'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114094944837241622</id><published>2006-02-26T01:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:23:29.268-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='novel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>Gone with the Wind</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/gonewiththewind.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/320/gonewiththewind.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In today's 'The Hindu', there was a &lt;a href="http://www.hindu.com/2006/02/26/stories/2006022616571200.htm"&gt;news item&lt;/a&gt;, which said that the tests for Avian Flu have shown positive results in Gujarat. Just below that, a photograph showed people from some Poultry Welfare Association eating chicken and egg in a public place to (dis)prove a point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I completed reading 'Gone With the Wind' by Margaret Mitchell, which I was reading for the past few weeks. A moving experience. When I read the Avian Flu news today, I was reminded of Ashley in Gone With the Wind, who loses his old world that he belonged to, at the break out of the civil war. He is shown as a loser who was not able to adapt to the changed times, though he was very much aware of it, even before it changed. But, Rhett Butler, who makes most of the changed situation, aka fall of a civilization, longs to go back to his old days, at the end of the novel. Even before that, he starts making amendments for everything he did before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That set me thinking about me, as it happens invariably every time. Will I be able to survive if the times change now? If the industry I work for breaks down? If the country that I live in goes for war? If the world that I live in is to face new dangers? Though at first it looks like I will struggle more than Ashley, I feel, I will be able to make it. Reason is, I don't feel I belong to the present times in the first place. Not with the present times, not with the place I live in, not with the country I am born in, not with the job I am doing, not with the group I live with. No. I don't have a feeling of belongingness. If the present is denied, probably I will get to know if I really belonged to something. What will that do to me? Will it break me down? I don't think so. I think, becoming aware of what I belonged to, I might pursue life with a better interest. (So, am I looking for a disaster, just to keep me high? Horrifying!) Or probably, I might continue to do anything just to be alive on that day, with no belonging feeling again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I just realize that my previous sentence probably explains what Scarlett did in that novel. But, at the climax, she does realize that she loves Rhett. (If one doesn't realize love, how can one say it was there? It's like this. They say that a cow knows only two colors black and white. We know a few more. But there might be a lot which we can't recognize. So they don't exist to us, do they? mmmm... probably it's not like this) OK. When I touch Love, that's where I should stop a post titled 'Gone with the wind'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114094944837241622?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114094944837241622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114094944837241622' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114094944837241622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114094944837241622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/02/gone-with-wind-in-todays-hindu-there.html' title='Gone with the Wind'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114044111122852830</id><published>2006-02-20T05:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:22:12.907-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><title type='text'>WHY HERE?</title><content type='html'>Why do I write here? Is it because I haven't got one to listen to all these things? Probably. I know, it can be quite boring for someone to listen to all the blabbering that I do. And, when I get someone who is willing to listen, probably I won't write here. But, there will always be something that you have, with no takers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about sharing thoughts with other people? I'm interested. But I won't consider blog as the medium for that. Now, it's just dumping the thoughts. You go through a few of posts in several blogs and you get hooked to someone's way of thinking. And, then comes sharing of thoughts. But, it will never be equal to having someone near you to share your thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, basically, what I think I'm doing here is talking to myself. And, talking to nobody, when there is nobody listening, and I wish there is someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me sign off, before I get into my usual wandering...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114044111122852830?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114044111122852830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114044111122852830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114044111122852830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114044111122852830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/02/why-here-why-do-i-write-here-is-it.html' title='WHY HERE?'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22631547.post-114026825859189137</id><published>2006-02-18T05:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T01:20:06.268-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monologue'/><title type='text'>WAS I WRONG?</title><content type='html'>I got new spectacles. Power? athigamillai gentleman, 0.5 Right and 0.25 Left. After wearing this, ground under my feet seems to have gone a bit farther from me. I mean, I feel a little taller than what I thought I was. Not just me, everyone and everything looks a bit taller than what I perceived them to be earlier. Now, Is it just the effect of these new lenses? Or, was I wrong all these days? I will never know, I think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22631547-114026825859189137?l=vidyasakaran.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/feeds/114026825859189137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22631547&amp;postID=114026825859189137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114026825859189137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22631547/posts/default/114026825859189137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vidyasakaran.blogspot.com/2006/02/was-i-wrong-i-got-new-spectacles.html' title='WAS I WRONG?'/><author><name>வித்யாசாகரன் (Vidyasakaran)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15536006803017794701</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7508/365/1600/vidyasakaran.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
