Psychedelic Slippers

M bac wit yet another story.....yeah but this time its nt from a Paulo Coelho, its from a collection of Short stories by John Grisham. This particular story rather intrigued me. Its an amazing story nt because its simple and short... bt wat it speaks about is so obvious yet unobvious! The author traced the origins of this story to arabia.. I guess it formed part of forklore... So here it is... Death Speaks There was a merchant in Baghdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions. In a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, Master, just now when I was in the market-place I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture; now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there death will not find me . The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as

another one from my archives... Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joy ride. Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy. When loved ones come home, always run to greet them. When it's in your best interest, always practice obedience. Let others know when they've invaded your territory. Take naps and always stretch before rising. Run, romp, and play daily. Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Be loyal. Never pretend to be something you're not. If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it. When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently. Delight in the simple joy of a long walk. Thrive on attention and let people touch you. Avoid biting when a simple growl will do. On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree. When you are happy, dance around and wag your entire body. No matter how often you are criticized, don't buy into the guilt thing and pout. Run right back and make friends

i was surfing around aimlessly in the virtual infinitude of the internet. robots have always fascinated me, the probability of me googling robots is 7 in 10. I came across this self balncing scooter called SEGWAY. Well m not much into technical writing and I would not spoil the fun of exploring this amazing concept of self balance in machines. For more on it u may as well surf the site .. Ill do what m good at.. speaking about more abstract stuff... The concept of balance I was reading through a web page by one of the enthusiasts who tried building a prototype of the balancing scooter . one of the toughest steps in the development he said, was that when the rider leaned forward, the scooter had to speed up n move further in the same direction so as to adjust to the new centre of gravity, and when he leaned behind, it had to the same in the opposite direction. The toughest part is not this.... Every machine (jus like man) has its limitations . So the scooter cannot speed up beyond a cer

My net connection has becme whimsical offlate, so don b surprised by bursts of posts on the blog. This hols are givin me lots o time to unmess n also to read... so I hav been reading a lot these days. Not ma conventional reads, I jus end up readin netin that I can lay my eyes on. In the TOI edition of satday 21 st june. I came across this article by andrew sullivan... about how technology changes the way we think. He shared an incident about Friedrich Nietzsche Friedrich Nietzsche useda typewriter. Many of those terse aphorisms and impenetrable reveries were banged out on an 1882 Maling Hansen Writing Ball. And a friend of his at the time noticed a change in the German Philospohers style as soon as he moved from longhand to type.Perhaps you will through this instrument even take to a a new idiom. The friend wrote. Nietzsche replied: You are right. Our writing equipment takes part in the forming of our thoughts. For more read have we all surrendered to the internet?

As I said in ma last post I was unmessing my room. Its goin on in phases. So yesterday it was the turn of this massive pile of cuttings, n write ups of sort. It was this huge collection of stories, poems, articles, some originals, though most were a part of my collection. I found this article in that pile... thought it was worth sharing. ART of EVERYDAY LIVING Most of us are obsessed with what we dont have, use it as a justification for abandoning our dreams and get anxious and highly strung up. You can experience your everyday life as art by bringing to it the qualities of an artist-inspiration and absorption, creativity and resourcefulness, play and delight. Artists play with limitation. There are only so many words in any language, but that doesnt keep the poet from writing. There is only a certain range of colours the eye can see, but that doesnt keep the composer from composing. The artist accepts the limitation of form as a starting point of creation. If you have twelve crayons

i was unmessing ma room today. i had this drawer full of letters.. i had been putting it off for years. i finally decided that it was time to make room for newer things. it was this dustbin full of letters.. letters for me, from me.. letters i d never managed to post, letters i d never bothered to reply, letters of a time, when lips betrayed u at the right moments. to dispose them off i took a longer route, of tearing them to pieces. my thumbs are still swollen by the effort. i dint want to burn them, nor keep them whole.. the oldest of the letters dated bac to 2002... i found it funny.. the letter i mean. i laughed at myself for all the things i had written. i had diaries, bt then i wud often write to people i wud never b able to speak to. i was amazed at my inability to speak up! i havent changed much, but i gues i hav grown over the letters, most of the letters were depressing. they were filled with complaints, accusations, of how right i was, n how the world was the most unfair pla

15th June.. was celebrated as father's day this year! daughter's hav alwes been closely associated with dad (is it becos they both begin with D's?) i wouldnt b wrong in saying i am ma dad's pet too.... i still wonder how i ended up calling him daddy (i gues its cos of ma bro) Dad is this person.. who as a child drilled into ma head that dad is alwes right . i was blinded by this idea then. n for me dad alwes had to be right... n never otherwise. as i grew up.. n so did ma dad, things began to change. from dad's alwes right.. to dad could be wrong some times... but i realised its very easy to live with the former belief.. whn u begin to contradict things, the ground beneath u begins to shake. "everyone's a first timer at life" ... and yet we expect our parents to hav perfect solutions for everything. we are all shaped by our parents.. n when u r brought up in the "my dad my hero" society... he becomes the one who influences you more. this i

An excerpt from the book i jus finished reading (The Village by the sea by Anita Desai)..... "Good!" cried Mr. Panwallah. "That's what i wanted to hear u say. Learn, Learn, Learn- so that u can grow and change. Things change all the time, boy- nothing remains the same. When our earth was covered with water, all creatures lived in it and swam. When the water subsided and land appeared, the sea creatures crawled out and learnt to breathe and walk on land. When plants grew into trees , they learned to climb them. When there were not enough plants left to eat, they learnt to hunt and kill for food. Dont think that is how things have remained. no, boy, they are still changing- they will go on changing- and if you want to survive, you will have to change too. The wheel turns and turns and turns: it never stops and stands still...." ......." You are lucky," Mr. Panwallah twinkled at him, sinking back into his chair. "You are young, You can change and lea

its a perfect day to be sittin in the porch with a book in ur hand n a coffee mug besides u! its raining outside... GOAN monsoons ... its jus peculiarly them.... the whole day is cloudy n everything is stuffy inside, bt if u go out nothing can be more refreshing. after the scorching summer.. the showers are the most welcome thing! the transformation frm bright blue to dull grey above n golden yellow to bright green below i love rains, even more to get wet . love to feel each drop that touches ma skin, n then slides down to become one with millions of others! i love those puddles on n off the road... love to jump in them, love the water splashing onto me (n others besides me... ;)) love to roam about on the road with soaked jeans n wet hair! wats so pleasant about rains? its not jus the water pouring from the height (or is it? even our screen goddesses enjoy that) what makes u close ur eyes, face the skies n feel the rain on ur face? " FEEL "... guess the whole point

this is ma time to sleep... yea ryt 8 o clock. i get into a weird schedule during exam days. the clock that runs ma normal days gets dumped. that apart... 4 of 6 done... 2 more to go. m i glad..n how can i forget those ominous viva's!!! jus tryin to take a break frm it all ( n thankfully my net connection is nt letting me down) ... so all this recent talks ard abt blogging screen stars, made me take a peek at amir khans blog its an elegant piece of work.. its jus plain feed for his fans! i gues they jus live on it!!!!!! --- a first hand report on his movies, releases, fall downs n get backs--- his life! notorious as one of the stars who kept a pretty low personal profile.. y is he out into the open now.. blogging, speaking out! thats none of my business though.... ciao.. m kinda sleepy now! still to get over the miserable paper