Gone?

I don’t know if it’s right to feel happy about the death of another human. Maybe it’s because we’ve all heard of the things Osama Bin Laden has done, but I think it’s safe to say that events of Sunday won’t be forgotten in a hurry. The assassination of Osama Bin Laden has affected everyone, not just the Pakistanis or the Americans, but the whole world, it seems to me that right now, everyone is an a frenzy to find out all they can about this man, the attack on his home, and the official statements of all those oh-so-diplomatic politicians that just don’t seem to add up. Conspiracy theorists and reporters are jumping at any chance to cry ‘Government Cover-up!’
Being a budding conspiracy-buff myself, I just couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by even though I thought Obama becoming President was a good thing... it turned out real well ha? But I digress, so here's a compiled version of what I know, conjectured, theorized and concluded after brainstorming with a friend a slightly romanticised (and completely logical) account of the event- (*this is just what I think, it maybe true, but it probably isn't*) on the night of 30th April, Libyan Oppressor, Muammar Gaddafi’s son and grandchildren are killed in an air strike. But on the same day, far away, in some secret spy-division of the US government, a courier to a house once described as ’suspicious’(or something to that effect) by the ISI was tracked. The reason for tracking? The package was probably just a hair-dryer ordered off eBay, but does the CIA need an excuse to investigate the house? It was probably some ex-spy who suffered an accident and then got stuck at a desk job who was given this odious task. He probably worked all day, just like all those ex-spies and ex-cons we've read about or seen on TV, piecing together bits of information, and suddenly sees a large terrorist bunker. So the CIA decide to look further and realise they may well be looking at Osama’s hideout. Could it be? The great hero of all those extremists, hiding out in a simple house, and they are reminded that he is after all human, and obviously needs a place to keep all his wives and kids right? So they go in, guns all ablaze, and realize that they are just staring at a normal family, a little too large and a little too quiet perhaps, but a normal family nonetheless. However, it’s too late to turn back isn't it? The Pakistanis are a bit annoyed because they weren't told earlier; the troops are dejected because they killed for no good reason, and President Obama’s hands are, as they say, tied. I bet the people of USA, would be just psyched to learn that Operation Geronimo was no use. So the two intelligence agencies decide to cover the whole thing up. How creative! And thus was born the pseudo event that is Osama’s death.
If you don’t believe me then, consider this- The Pakistanis and the Americans were saying two differnt things right after the announcement, then, overnight their statements magically became the same did they? If they had really killed Osama, I don't think they were very proud of it, they never actually showed his body to the world! Was it really THAT gruesome that not even an autopsy report could be published? Is it really THAT inconceivable that Osama never really did anything, I mean it’s hardly likely that the widespread terrorist movement was headed by just ONE man? If you still don’t believe me, then ask yourself- Why have NONE of the terrorist groups that he supposedly inspired, retaliated? Is their hero, the champion of their cause, to die unsung? You may say that this is wishful thinking, but let’s just agree to disagree, for this is my belief.

The Unabomber gets me thinking

  Most people get up in the morning, and read a newspaper, I however –thanks to my mother cancelling our subscription to the newspapers, believing it to be the spawn of negativity- wake up in the morning and go to news websites. And on Sunday morning, while navigating through pages of information, I happened to come across a ‘This day in history’ segment, commemorating the arrest of the Unabomber back in 1996. I had heard of Ted Kaczynski before in passing (they talked about him in ‘Good Will Hunting’) but I didn’t know much about him, so off I went, to the place where all those in the quest for knowledge go…Wikipedia! Let me summarise for you what I learnt from his heavily hyperlinked page - This domestic terrorist gained notoriety after 16 bombings spanning over 20 years. The name Unabomber came from the code that the FBI used to refer to his case –UNABOM (UNiversity and Airline BOMber). It is quite obvious from his manifesto that despite being a child prodigy and a maths. Ph.D. at the age of 25, he was a Luddite, believing that ‘The Industrial Revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race.’(Direct quote from the manifesto). So there we go, one genius upset with the way the world has become, decides that bombing is the only way to make the country an anarchy in the complete sense of the word. Reading this, led to me look up anarchy and I found out that it could mean one of two things: a. A state of general lawlessness or b. A Utopian society with no need for a government. Although the second definition seems far-fetched, it was this one, that inspired the Unabomber and it was this one, which got me thinking, if we could live in such a society. How long would we survive before we turned back to fascist principles? Can we ever really change our increasingly fascist policies to accommodate a population of gargantuan proportions?

   Now I’m not fascist myself, I’m a strong believer in democracy, but it seems to me that almost every important nation these days calls itself a democracy or promotes libertarianism, but in practice, it is invariably fascist. Fascism and anarchy seem to be completely contradictory, but isn’t it true that in a Utopian society, that people follow one single ideology and nobody questions it simply because it works? Maybe it’s just my understanding of fascism, but don’t they sound the same now? Does that mean that we should stop making such brouhaha about democracy and become fascist? But that’s exactly what the conspiracy against FDR was about. Back then, the only way out of the great depression seemed to be fascism, but I forget, it could never work just as it didn’t work back then. Why? Simply because we’ve gotten used to equality, liberty and free-thinking, we would never submit to an oppressor, especially not the military. Although in the case of this conspiracy, it was the military who wouldn't comply with the conspiracy.

   Considering the way average people think, and the way our society seems to be developing, I’m starting to think that no matter how many new ways we find to accommodate differences, there will always, always be one group of people who don’t seem to want it....we may never be happy with our government. But that’s no reason to stop trying is it? It’s like the song ‘Mona Lisa’ by the All-American Rejects-‘What can we do better/When will we know how?/ A man says from a side walk to a crowd’.  I guess right now I’m that man. My opinion may be worth nothing, but I’ll still stand on my soapbox and proclaim my thoughts to you all.

Of cricket and exams

   From the title, I guess you can tell that a lot has happened since I last wrote to you. First of all, the board exams ended, a welcome event, but a thought- provoking one nonetheless. It seemed like a reiteration of the feeling of finality; it showed me how nothing except change is constant in this life. And so, I changed, once again, from a student driven by her pursuit for a decent GPA to one of those aimless people who don’t seem to have any purpose in life except strutting down the street. I had so many things planned for the holidays, knowing all I needed was time and I would able accomplish all those things that I had to put on hold for the exams, but I think I may over-estimated my reading abilities by putting ‘Wuthering Heights’ AND ‘Twelfth Night’ at the top of my exhaustive and extremely long reading list. “Why?” You ask, probably because I’m becoming a literature nerd.
   Anyway the flipside of this schedule is that I only manage to read a couple of pages every day, giving me a lot of time to listen to all my favourite artists on a loop-obviously GOOD music takes a backseat when studying. Another thing that I have been doing is watching cricket matches, which I haven’t really done since I turned 10. I used to be a huge fan of cricket, how could I not after being raised by a loving grandfather who believed cricket to be the only useful thing on TV; but I guess somewhere along the long winding road to teenage, I left that piece of baggage behind. Watching these matches has helped me rediscover my love for the sport and those men in blue. The freshly leveled green pitch, the anticipation right before the toss, frustration at the inclusion of power play (seriously, how much easier can they make it?), the crack of the bat as it hits the ball, that whooping feeling at the pit of your stomach when you realize that Dhoni hit it out of the park…to infinity and beyond, all these feelings that make a cricket fan what they are, I wonder how I could have forgotten it all!

Days Gone By

Well hello there! Yes, I know I said I wouldn’t be posting till APRIL, but I’ve just had a bit of free time , and I just couldn’t resist.
A lot of things have changed in the past month, we finished one battery of exams, then the second one began and the last official day of school went by. It’s not like I really love school, but this whole year has just been too amazing for me not to feel anything. I’ve made a lot of new friends, become close to someone I thought I hated (in truth I was just being stupid), and reconciled with a forgotten mate. This year for me, besides being about studying and securing a future, has been filled with a long parade of perfect people, who made me feel welcome amongst them, like I was even wanted. I remember my last day like it was yesterday, filled with fun, much more than usual, owing to the fact that we were all so determined to have a memorable time. I remember that at the end of the day, I was feeling quite proud of myself, because I hadn’t shed a single tear, while my classmates wept freely around me, but as luck would have, when I left my classroom and entered the hallway, I started to tear up! (O_o) I suppose it was just the finality of it all, hitting me when I saw everyone hugging. I realized that I would never see so many of my friends ever again, suddenly I felt like a kid on a tree, all the way up, but afraid to climb down, a feeling I'm almost a stranger to. Just thinking of that day, a myriad of emotions come rushing to me, compelling me to pour my heart out, and here is the result of that-

Days gone by

Memories come to me,
Thoughts racing around my mind,
Each more vivid than the last,
Each, an important marker of the past.

So many sunny days,
Spent without care,
Sly little pranks, played on friends,
Finally being allowed to write with pens,

But the memories that are most clear,
Are the ones of the people I hold dear,
So many amazing people passing easily,
Through this inconsequential story.

But the question remains-
Did I treat them right?
Or was I far too casual,
About relationships so valuable?

And the answers I can’t find,
Perhaps I am afraid of the truth,
Afraid of feeling regret,
Friend, don’t go, not yet!

I find myself hoping,
Hoping it’s not too late,
To make amends,
Can we still be friends?

-Annapoorna.N

The true madness begins

Its so hard to believe that its been just a week and a half since I last posted something. The past couple of days have been sooo filled, that I had to remind myself now and again to catch my breathe. This is the first bit of free time I've had, and that's only because I'm taking a break from studying math. I've heard people say that 10th is a hard time where you have to focus a lot, but no one ever told me that the last three months would seem like a meteor crashing and coming to glorious fiery end. Let me explain this analogy to you- the first couple of months were fine, not too different from other years, but the whole atmosphere just changes in the last few months when the sheer weight of it all comes crashing down on you.It's a crazy, crazy time, but I'm sure all of us will get through it just fine.

As the end begins,
and we leave the thicks to enter the thins,
every laugh is treasured,
every moment with a friend is cherished,
every smile is truly worth a million,
every unexpected moment is a bargain,
as the world come crashing down,
let's face it all without a frown.

This will be my last blog post till April, I really need to focus on studying. All the best everyone!

It's called Holiday Madness

I’ve been thinking for DAYS what to write about, and I haven’t come up with a SINGLE thing to write about, so let me just tell you what’s been going with me. I’ve been sooo excited about Christmas (no idea why) that when Christmas ended, I just went on with my caroling forgetting ALL about new year, so now that new year is here, I have absolutely NO idea what to do, and I’m used to outrageous celebration on the 31st of December, I mean my parents and I stay up till 12, say, “Happy New Year!!” and then, we go to bed! It’s quite a riot (insert silly face here->). But I guess it doesn’t matter much to me how I celebrate New Year’s Eve, so long as I stick to my tradition of making a silly resolution, that I usually don’t keep. Last year it was to put on my left sock first every time I got ready for school. Being the jobless nut I am, I stuck to it until March, when I finally got tired of it. I have no idea what I should resolve to do this year, but then again, I never know until late night.

Anyway, now that we’re all in the ‘Hopeful-New-Year’ Spirit, here’s a little limerick- sort of thing I wrote-

To all those with a teensy bit of fear,

I say- Don’t you worry, my dear(s),

2011 is going to be a good year.

Silly right? I know, I'm just glad I was able to write SOMETHING, despite my writer's block,for some reason it's not going away, and if you're a writer you'll probably understand how annoying it is, if you're not, let me try to explain this blessed experience to you: Imagine that a thin, long thorn entered your hand, and whatever you do, you can't get it out, it bothers you when you eat, it bothers you when you sleep. You can't do anything but wait, and wait until you come up with a new idea that works. that's how writer's block is, you've got to find a new cure for it each time. Anyway, all's well that ends well,right? Oh, and have an Amazing Year Ahead!!

A world though my window

Through my window I see,
A different scene every day,
Below a beautiful tree,

I see a shed,
That was once a shop, but now,
An old lady sits there instead.

Some days the tree is yellow,
and other days the old lady sits below it,
with a winnow.

Many more trees,
Capture my eye,
As they rock in the breeze,

People walk by frequently-
a groups of school girls i see,
with a bunch of boys following devotedly,

Many people pass by every day,
And I find it strange,
That none notice these trees as they sway,

These are the things I love so,
the beautiful, perfect world,
outside my window.

Motorcycle Diaries

Riding a scooter symbolizes the beginning of a new phase in our lives.The purr of the engine is like a fanfare of trumpets heralding a queen. To me, it means freedom and power, responsibility and seriousness.Whatever be the emotions attached to the bike, it is undeniable that your first riding lesson is one of those special 'First's, right up there with first friend and first crush. So let me tell you a little about my first lesson.

It was clear, bright, slightly chilly morning. At a 7 am, my dad and I took the scooter to a secluded network of small roads.Malleswaram, being a sleepy neighborhood was almost devoid of human life. May dad and I got off and he taught me about the mechanisms of the bike. As I started up the engine, I could feel its power like an untamed rocket that I could barely control. As I rode it around, and slowly got the hang of it, making a left turn here and a u-turn there, I could feel my father's tension rising, his nervousness was obvious from the way he kept yelling instructions at me and the shaky tone of his voice. But I guess I was good, for at the end of an uneventful hour,he surprisingly decided I could drive us home. Of course the moment he started to trust me, I just had to do something wrong. What happened is that he wanted me to stop at the newsstand, but I stopped six feet away, right behind a parked auto. So, I restarted the bike and tried to turn away from the auto, but I had cut it way too close and we ended up bruising our legs. As if that wasn't enough, the tree that was supposed to be on the other side of the road, was suddenly much too close for comfort. "Brake! Brake!" yelled my father, hysterically, but as luck would have it, I pulled the throttle before the brake, giving a 'smashing' end to our ordeal.

Later that day, showing off my 'Spoils of war ' to my friends, all I could think about was how I had been terribly lucky, and how I'd never forget that moment with my dad.

The little note

This was actually a short story I had posted a long time back, but somehow half of it got deleted, so here it is,rewritten-
Little Andy looked nervously around the playground.He was new to town and hadn't met anyone as young as him yet.On the ground,he saw some big kids playing with a ball,there were also girls his age, building sandcastles,but there were no boys at all...except for one.
This boy was Tim,and none of his friends had come to the park with him,so he was looking for someone to play with.As he looked around the playground,he saw a shy shy boy, who looked his age.
Tim went up to Andy."What's your name?",he asked,curiously."I'm Andy",came the answer."Hi Andy,I'm Tim. Shall we play?",asked Tim. Andy nodded and then thy were playing and laughing and having fun like they known each other all their life.

Ten years later:
Both the boys had reached the turbulent age of fourteen.But Andy had moved away a year ago. Although they had promised to stay close, it had not worked.
Tim was waiting anxiously for Andy to arrive. His family had finally moved back! But Tim was not anxious with excitement, it was a kind of anxious fear, a fear that his friend might not be the same as before.
Waiting outside for the door to open,Andy felt the same way. Nevertheless, he braced himself and entered the house with a fake smile plastered on his face.A moment passed as the two friends stared at each other.The awkwardness was in the air, almost palpable. Hasty 'Hello's were exchanged, but the tension didn't ease. Suddenly, Andy had an idea,he got a piece of paper, quickly wrote something on it and handed it to Tim, with a happy grin on his face. As Tim read the note, his smile became wider and wider until he nodded. The two boys then ran outside and started to play, just like they used to, laughing and teasing, all awkwardness and anxiety completely forgotten. Tim's mother had been watching all this. She became curious about the note. She picked it up from the place where Tim had dropped it . It read- Hi Tim, I'm Andy. It's been a long time, shall we play?

Unearthly visitor

My day had been very bad, I was upset. It all began when I woke up late,I was late for school, and then followed a series of events, so misfortunate, I cannot even BEGIN to explain them.When I went to bed that night,I was still sad.But,when I was asleep, I dreamt,I dreamt of a vividly dressed extra-terrestrial friend, who who told told me of wondrous places, buildings so high that they were cloaked in clouds,beasts so terrifying and magical that they couldn't possibly exist. She spoke to me of all the times that she had felt sad, and how things had always turned out well, she said that if on her poisonous planet, where jealousy and envy,took on entirely different meanings,things could turn out well,then it would definitely turn out well here, on my planet too.Her words gave me hope,and I realized how silly I had been,to let one bad day get me down. She spoke to me a little while longer,and then, she left.But just before leaving,she gave me a pen, not very futuristic, I know, but she told me it was a communication device. And that was the end of my dream.I slept peacefully after that.The next morning,I woke up feeling fresh and well-rested(at the right time-thank god!) As I got up, and looked around,I realized I had something in my fist.I opened it,and there sat a pen. Hmmmm.... I wonder, what if I click it.....

Moving Day!!

As I sit amidst all these packing boxes, I recollect yesterday. You see, we just moved back to our old house, which we had renovated, so I like to call it our ‘new-old house’. Anyway, yesterday, when I woke up, preparations were already underway. My dad, ever the late packer, was almost done with his cupboard and my mom was trying to fit the whole kitchen into a single cardboard box. I was assigned the job of eating my breakfast and finishing up with my room.
I had finished packing my room two before, thanks to my mother’s frequent reminders that we were moving soon-really, that woman would make a good alarm clock-and for the past week I had literally been camping in my own house, practicing ‘Leave No Trace’ with utmost care. Whatever came out of my backpack, went right back in without so much as a clue that it ever left the bag.
Anyway, thanks to all this meticulousness on my part, I finished up with my room within half an hour (phew!). Then, I went to help my dad. Now my dad isn’t really one of those super-organized types, he doesn’t really have much time for it. So, I guess my help was quite welcome. Just as we taped the last piece of bubble wrap into place, the doorbell, the tempo truck that would take all our stuff was here!
It sounded to me like the battle cry of a primitive army, sounding the end of the end. In came the infantry and stood in a line, they surveyed the carnage they had to clear, without time they got right to it and about 2 and a half hours and 15 buckets of perspiration later, the truck left with our house in its cavernous belly, as my mom and I were left with a seemingly empty house, although in our eyes, it was full of memories.

The Spider Of Swan Lake- an ode to my leg

The two spiders crept out of the house,
long before dawn to meet the ballet mouse,
one was big, all purple and grey,
the other, smaller,blue like the bay,
with the mouse they danced,
and moved as though entranced,
but when twirling,the little spider,
got tangled and landed in a bottle of cider,
she felt some pain in her leg,
saw that it had been broken,and sat by a peg
although she was in obvious discomfort,
she did her best to look unhurt,
the ballet mouse kindly helped her,
by bandaging her leg with fur,
so ends her ballet career,
so small was her leg, as was her swan lake tenure.
                                                  by Anna Narayanan

Hello!!

Hi! I'm Anna,an average person,lost in cyberspace who is bored with life. I recently injured my leg, and the inactivity is literally KILLING me, so I decided it was time for me to start that blog that I've been mening to for such a long time. So here it is.