Tuesday, June 6, 2006

Adventure of "Guindy - Tambaram" 7.30am Unit! - Relived!

It’s Raining here so madly today (yes, madly I say cause it wasn’t a rain of the normal sort) as if to imply that, the Rain-God however, had decided to let go of his longstanding anger on being so mean to us -- and so he goes splashing and drenching frenziedly, every nook and corner of the oven-baked Land stretches and the sun-tanned terraces of the multi-storied buildings that distinctively stand proof for the overtly populated, ever – buzzing and westernized proviso of this once traditionally enriched and culturally enhanced metropolitan mega-city of mine – The Chennai. Rainy days are definitely a feel good factor and a welcome change for us, who are, always open to the chastisements of sizzling and searing Universal God of Light – The Sun! Eventually taking sometime to roll back to the past reminds me of an almost adventurous rainy day experience that I had five years ago! It was 1999 mid-October and yet again not-so-surprisingly it was pouring down so hard and heavy (I bet hailstones included which I probably didn’t take much time to notice) just to add more to my most renowned and exemplary late-start to the railway station to catch my “Guindy-Tambaram” 7.20a.m Electric Train. I was doing a half-run and half-jog journey across the 100ft road to reach the sub-way and find my way thru’ the tunnel that was crammed with office-goers, college-goers, school-goers, market-goers and business-seekers all heaped up under the single roof of a lengthy stretch in vain tries to be saved from getting sodden by the heavy down pour.



The same sub-way which used to look like a creepy under ground place for all sorts of illegal (business) dealings on all those sunny afternoons was unbelievably over populated with a strong stench of unwashed socks of the school kids huddled towards the corner of the narrow passage-way peppered with the reek of moisture, sweat, unwashed clothes, unwashed bodies and what not’s?! It was 7.13 already and I was still at the threshold of the sub-way and I had a long way to go, though buying a ticket wasn’t a problem because I had my train-pass with me, so that process at least was a time-saver! In the menacing crowd that was unsuspectingly manhandling me from all four directions in their desperate measures to find room in the constricted space available, I was trawling to find my way out of this deadliest trap with quick-glances at my digital sports watch once in 15 seconds and even quicker prayers coming out of my mouth naturally at the time of crisis such as this to get into the 7.20 unit & even hoping to empty my last minute ditch effort at that as long as it serves the purpose in the end to find me in my train!! Slowly trudging my way through the messy mass I was getting restless....and suddenly like a gust of wind from nowhere with a quick-push from a group of ladies behind me I was shoved towards the egress of the eternal sub-way! At the first rush of the fresh air, I thanked the almighty for letting me survive the Tunnel-Effect Syndrome! But then that definitely was not all there was to it! Well in fact it wasn’t even half of what it took to make this incident a wholesome adventure as I called it before! Now comes the most intriguing part where I am to choose between two options: Either taking the long route of walking another furlong surpassing the heavy road-side traffic or to do a high-jump across a 4 and a half feet high wall amidst all the unknown and unauthorized bushes and shrubs and not to mention with a nostril-flaring thick odor of the fluid-downloads done (at morning, noon and night) by our fellow humans in and around the area. For once, being lightweight and athletic did help me in a real-time situation such as this, to go in for the high-jump option, which almost none of the girls who travel by the same transport media as that of mine fail to choose. After having achieved a successful time-saving tactic, I look at my mega sized sports watch to make sure that its still working having lived quite a strong hit against the half demolished side parapet wall. Thanks to god the watch is intact! Defiant as always as I am to my mother’s advise right from rising early from my bed in the mornings to starting out early to reach the railway station in time, as usual it was cringe time to hurriedly recoil all the advises of 'amma' while maintaining a fast gait across the railway gate towards the steps to my platform, I must appreciate myself at managing a prayer cum time-check all at once…oh gosh! It showed 7.23. I split into a quick run down the steps now praying that I don’t end up falling-down face first stepping in a slippery pool of idle waters formed at both ends of every step due to the mad-rain fall…in the past how many ever hours it had been raining for…but thanks to my Reeboks it was very much firm to give me all the grip that I needed to do a safe-landing. Guess I was too young back then to have managed such a remarkable speed. Therefore I reach my platform, and let out a sigh of relief at the notice of my usual train-mates.


A couple of college girls, a vegetable-vendor and a 40yr old lady who works for the “Tambaram” sub-registrar's office. It was that dainty lady who first acknowledged my last minute inclusion in the prolonged wait for the train and ensured me with a soft pat on my shoulder that I haven’t missed it and that the train is delayed due to the wash-out of the tracks at the basin-bridge. Now…Another creep begins to unveil its face slowly when it was not even 2 minutes since I felt happy at having kept up the time before the train reached the station. It was “Will I be able to reach my college on time; which is at 8.30 am?” And it takes 1hr to reach Tambaram especially.... when it’s raining like this.... it would take a quarter more extra to reach Tambaram from where I am to walk again for about 10 minutes to reach my destination! And I immediately skip into a mental arithmetic of approximate arrival time of my train at Tambaram from 7.27am which was what my watch displayed at that point. I was damned sure to be late for a minimum of at the least 10 minutes to at the max GOD KNOWS! Anyways gathering some more energy to withstand the loud and disgraceful barks of my college gate keeper and instructor and the stifled ridicule of my own class-mates as a topping to everything that I had gone through for the past half an hour or so made me emulate a shiver followed by the real one that was due to chillness of the climate and my wet dress. In utter distaste at the mental picture of being ridiculed and yelled at, I feel a sudden urge to hop down the railway crossing and get back to home and produce a leave letter the next day at college saying that I was sick with fever or had a bad stomach pain that kept me immobile. But then that again was an even more irritating procedure, as I must produce a prescription to the college authorities so as to make them believe that I wasn’t being dishonest about my fever. Hell with that. At least going late stopped with few warnings and a minor ridiculing. Consequently, I decide going to college somehow as a much better and a saner option.



With in the next 10 minutes the train comes puffing and gasping, with maximum possible number of passengers foot boarding and clinging to the windows of every compartment from the first to the last as fast as a buffalo walking in the rain. My instinct tells me not to get into this train but as I have no other go if I loose this train…My gut warns me again at least, not this compartment; My usual one. The ladies compartment. But who dares wins, I tell myself - It's going to be crowded only for the next few stations to come but after Airport it’s going to be all right, so I decide to dare. As fast as I can manage, I push across the trampling, squashing, tumbling bunch of ladies fighting with their full force, yelling on top of their voices to find a place inside…I take pride in spotting just the right spot on that compartment - just near the entrance, but not too near. I let myself into the two straps of my legendary black bag and rest my back with a semi-cushion effect that my bag gave my back resting atop the partition between two sitting enclosures.

The next station comes even before I could start feeling comfortable with the convenient place that I found for myself. So I feel all the more happy…thinking after all this isn’t as bad as it looked a few minutes before. Just then from the station by which the train had just stopped emerged a crowd of ladies that I never imagined could fit in 5 compartments of the train.

A female with a hefty built and an unfriendly appearance with a funny face skewed in the process of chewing what looked like a truck load of tobacco grumbled and cursed at the new faces in the compartment for snatching her private little place (the one facing the entrance where my bag and in turn by back was rested upon) that according to all virtual non-existent rule books belonged to her…and showed her full-frustration at placing a huge jute basket full of vegetables on my right foot. Apparently, that took me few minutes to gather my strength to react to the acute pain on my right foot, as a result of the mercy bestowed upon by the hefty-lady!


I tell her she had conveniently rested the basket on my foot and she retorts back asking “Vera yenga vechhi tholayaradhu?? Ingadhan moochu vidakuda yedam illye?” [Meaning:“where the hell am I to put it then? There is no place here to breathe even!”]

Hurriedly without wanting to hear another verbatim to be blurted out from the dear lady I keep my big-mouth shut and indulge in the process of slowly releasing my foot from underneath the heavy vegetable-basket inch by inch. In what looks like a few decades, the train reaches the next station.

To me it only means more crowd. But the hefty lady some how managed to shove in a few lean & wiry girls who work for the leather company next to airport and got herself some place to stand by me comfortably, looking down she pushed the basket towards herself and said “Romba valikuda papa? Vera edamey illayema na yenna panrathu ?”
[Meaning: “does your feet pain real bad? What am I to do dear there was no place around”]

I was taken by total surprise, at her sudden concern about my hurt foot and beamed at her with an assurance that I am perfectly ok and that it didn’t hurt much when in fact it did hurt very badly with a numb-some pain that I was going through I couldn’t actually gauge the depth of the damage done to my poor little tail ender toes.

Having received my endorsement about the state of my hurt leg, she switched on to her ranting again about the new crowds during rainy times giving the usual passengers a big time trouble because of lack of space and about her morbid profit rate at selling these vegetables on a heavy–set day such as this and what wud she do if the rain continues this way spoiling the meager money that she was making.

Although I nodded, I was wondering what a world it is…we wish, pray, chant, do Pooja’s and perform Yagnya’s wishing for rain but here we are when the rain decides to drench us as an answer to all the Pooja’s and Yagnya’s carried out in favor of the same, We LAMENT & CRIB about it. Just another perfect example to the fact, that, Life is always a mishmash of ironies and paradoxes. A sudden jerk of the train brought about with the blow its whistle got me back to the practical world where I found the lady next to me grinning and saying “yenna papa na sollradhu sari dhaney?”
[Meaning “what dear, don’t u think I am right?”]

Well apparently I didn’t know what she was referring to as I had lost myself in my thoughts about rain and its consequences. So I manage with a grin in return and a nod, which made her feel, pleased and kept her happy at that. With that blow of the whistle, I was expecting the next station to approach very soon. Unfortunately which never happened for the next 15 minutes, and I was getting restless, at last when inquired, I was told that the train was waiting for the clearance and it seemed like the dangling half-dead signal had totally broken down last night as a result of the wind blowing at some hundred and odd kmph. Very Insightful – I think – and feel pissed off! After what seemed like hours (Actually 15 or so minutes) we got the manual clearance from the station guard who was late for the day (because of the mad-rain...Ha Ha) and had no knowledge about the knocked down signal, got threats for being reported to his higher authorities for failing in his duties by few of the furious passengers.

Having done all that the train got back to life again and my heart was pounding and racing more than the speed of the train because as for now I was already running late for about 20 minutes and I had 1 more station to go. The rain hadn’t slowed down all the while and amidst all the pushing and pulling and hodge-podge of the crowd there were shouts and screams of missing and broken umbrellas…. Thankfully I was wearing a jacket so wasn’t running the risk of losing one or breaking one.

And the train stops abruptly; definitely meaning it’s not the station where I was supposed to get down and did not move an inch for the next 20 minutes. By now I definitely was undergoing a repetitive stress injury because of the excessive load on my shoulders as a result of my the trekking bag stuffed with my engineering drafter, Chart pipe, books, lunch, water bottle and other college essentials. I was holding on to the central pole at the entrance as if my life depended on it.

Actually it did! The train starts moving (just after my feet go numb and I can feel a 'spring' in them) only to stop midway, a few yards from where it had started to move. Another twenty minutes in the middle of nowhere. I try to perfect my transcendental patience practice. It just doesn't work. I give up.

Every inch of my body either aches or feels funny. I feel absolutely hopeless. And then it was time to get another announcement --- Due to some engine choke-out we were told that the train wouldn’t move any further and that we were to go by walk for about 1 km to reach the last station, which was also my destination – Destination Tambaram! How did I know that something as worse as this was waiting for me in this train journey making my gut feeling come true that I got at the first look of this train propelling itself as slow as it could to reach my boarding point? Nothing worse than being a skeptic, I tell myself…. Too ghostly I say! I start thinking about who said, "Thank God I'm an atheist."


And I find no answer to that so I give up. I surpass. Now, all I can do is eagerly wait for the moment I'll be pushed down by the raging and growling crowd jostling me all over and put me back to square one to trudge my way to my destination once again – just the way it had all started !

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Series of Accidents

The morning bus that leaves at 8.15am from our stop was not all set for a shocking picture that was waiting for us at that half-blind curve before we had another 2kms to cover the last lap of our not-so-F1'ish race to reach office that Tuesday.

It was a gruesome scene of a man lying right in the middle of the road with his head almost severed from the neck and squashed out on the top to bring out all the contents in the most grisly way possible. Lying by his side was a battered bi-cycle and a cloth-bag contents of which were strewn around languidly. It was all fresh and new – the food he had brought for his lunch and his slaughter as well.


Should it be the tanker lorry driver or should it be the cyclist himself who has to be held responsible for this brutal outcome?

I couldn’t digest the picture of this cruel accident that hit me hard; pulling out a strong chord linked to my heart and pushing out all the enthusiasm I had saved in for that Tuesday morning... IT was plainly disastrous!

Believe me I couldn’t have 2 of the 3 meals for that day and anymore than a glass of milk for that night. The same continued for the rest of the week as well..

The very same day while was traveling back to my home taking the last bus for the day which happens to be the one at 11.30pm – I was shocked yet again when I had to see an almost similar accident – but this time the victim was a calf, the horrifying sight of this calf being crushed to an extent that its innards were squeezed out and laid in an awkward position with its eyes half-open in the middle of the same highway, just a couple of kilometers away from the previous accident scene.

And it didnt end here either.... After getting down at my stop from my office bus, I had to get across the road to walk though an alley which would lead me to my home. There was hardly any traffic at that point of time and more so on that not-so-trafficked road that I was trying to cross. I would have crossed the first half of the road, when I suddenly saw a Qualis from nowhere speeding towards me at 80-90kmph on that deserted road, and for a second I thought I was dead.


Hell! It took me one full minute to assimilate the miraculous escape that I had from an accident that would have seen at least one of my leg severed!

I was still feeling the throb in my left knee where I got a close-contact of the Qualis brushing past me. I screamed behind the car with whatever swear-words I could muster-up at that moment, only to see the trailing tail-lights getting far & out of my visibility zone.



What’s with these late night and early morning drivers that they’ve taken for granted, the roads that they drive on is completely theirs and that they care the least for others who unfortunately happen to take the same roads to reach their earthly destination but end-up finding their eternal one!

"Please do not destroy lives even if you cant save them!"



Monday, March 13, 2006

Chai.. Chai…Chai….

This post came into existence after a reasonable amount of inspiration that I gathered from my T-shirt quote which read “Chai.. India’s National Drink… Stronger than Vodka, Healthier than Rum, Cheaper than Scotch!”

Hmmm… Very Insightful… pondering on the same lines, relating the above quote to a few real life instances of mine, leads me to an affirmative conclusion on the simple and plain truth about the ever refreshing, revitalising and of course the most sought after hot-drink of the Rest-of-the-India (with the exception of south where in still our trade-mark “Filter Kaapi” continues to rule).

Living in the warm & vibrant western India, in the capital city of Maratha Empire, which is closely associated with the great warrior Shivaji, for an year and a half now (to be more specific) has made me learn and speak fully-qualified sentences in our good-old national language with which my basics were very wobbly & shaky as a result of my only Prarthmic level (meaning Primary education which included reading and writing of Hindi alphabets and numbers up to 100) prior knowledge of the language.

Unfortunate for me, could be because of being a stiff “Thamizhachhi” since the day I remember having gained the faculty of senses, my primary Hindi wasn’t of much help to manage with my day-day talks with the shop-keepers, vegetable vendors, laundry men, servant maid, auto-walas and all the other assorted people of our everyday life!

With lots of difficulty, erring every time with Genders/Tenses/Names of and about living or dead people and existing or evacuated things… Now after 16 months, At least I am sure I can comprehend the language very well to get its full implication, which was nothing more than a meaningless cluster of phonetics thrown at me randomly, before; when I had just stepped in to this all new West-India life in late 2005…

I remembered the day when I made fun of a new class mate of mine in my school who was from Kuwait and knew no more than “Yenku Taamil little little teriyum” – Read it phonetically the way it’s spelled to get the original sound effect of it!

Believe me I was made fun of, the same way I made fun of this guy at my school… when I said “mujhe hindi thoda thoda aati hai” – on hearing that there was an effect of a laughter bomb being blasted successfully and people plunged into the pool of laughter for the next how many ever minutes they can manage in the deafening Laughter-Mania.

(Adappavi makka… Yarukku theriyum thoda thoda atha hai or thodi thodi athi hai nu sollanumnu???) -

Come on dude… I was trying to get gender specific here… Atha – Male , and Athi – Female…. And I frankly didn’t know thoda(meaning little in English and Konjam in Tamil) also had a gender attached to it types…

(Adi-aathi yellam nasama pocchu… keli pecchukku aalayachu!)

Anyways, marching back to our actual topic of the day… Chai…

Apparently, I wasn’t impressed much with the taste of tea as long as I was a pure chennaiite, with no sniff of an outside state, caught in the air that my nose was inhaling ever since I was born.

My first experience with the typical Maharashtrian Chai happened to be in a renowned tea-stall that was the talk of the area in a place called Laxmi Road where all the youth went in for their colossal salwar/chudidhar shopping here in Pune.

It was a perfect blend of Adhrak(Inji), Elaichi(Yelakai) and an awesome flavor of tea-leaves which made the fresh brew taste heavenly – I was simply blown away!

With the taste of this masthi chai still lingering on my senses and taste organs, I got desperate when I looked at the board, having the name Chai marked Rs.4/- at my office canteen’s menu list on my first day of office at breakfast.

As swift as I could, I got the coupon and made sure to be the first in the long queue that was waiting there to pick up their breakfast plates and the tea with nothing more than a flat or grim expression on their faces which I couldn’t relate to before but am very clearly able to now!

“Hey Sal, maybe they traveled a lot before reaching in here, so they are tired or they must be sleepy, so never mind” – I tell myself that and find a comfortable seat with my tea cup with a lot of expectations and anxiousness to take in the wonderful combination of the early morning nature’s beauty and taste of the best brew of the most awaited chai – (after that first experience of mine).

Sitting there…. I took the first ever and most unforgettable ever sip of that most insipid tea by far, giving me a sense of shock and realization at the same time about the T.E.A that I had in that stall and the tea that I had in my canteen!

I gave up on the idea of tasting a good tea after that day until recently, driven forcibly by one of my colleagues to visit a Tupri (Nammuru Potti-Kadai) where the tea was popular in the 5kms radius of the IT Park of which my office was a part of.

I was hesitant and was almost expecting a similar experience that I had long ago on my day-one at canteen… But to my surprise, the first sip of the cutting (half-glass) chai gave me the old revere that I had for the tea I tasted in the Tea-Stall at Laxmi Road.

I was very happy and felt rejuvenated at my unexpected rendezvous with this miniature-heaven in the name of “Tupri” which still continues to feed me with exotic blend of tea that I always longed for!

Finally, Alice found her wonderland, where she would get her unlimited supply of the “National Drink” which costs Rs 2/- per cutting and Rs 3/- per full-glass.

Thanks to my dear colleague who’s onsite right now.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Conceptualism!

Sometimes we simply know. We simply know what is to be done to handle a situation. We are completely in sync and are fully aware of another person. How did we know that we know?....we may or may not know.A person's Insightful, Intuitive or the innate understanding of a certain situation/scenario/person - Conceptuality - as I would like to call it.A person's conceptuality on someone or something is function of his or her experience and/or genetics. Clearly, if you have spent a great deal of time with someone, after a point in time you begin to sense how that person might react to certain stimuli. In conversation you end up completing his/her sentences even before he/she does. This is in essence conceptuality as a result of experience. So while you may not be born salesman, if you have spend about 5-8years in the field, at the end of it, you intuitively know how to sell, what clicks, what works and what doesn’t. Conceptuality as a function of genetics is debatable. We have all; based on empirical and extrapolative observation, at some point of time or the other would have observed certain people having a command over certain subjects and situations for as long as we've known them. Some are born mathematicians. Some by nature are very good at handling people. Some we've felt are born sportsmen/women. In several cases I have observed that either or both parents or ancestors have to some extent been involved in the field where the person is seen to be displaying conceptuality. Perhaps either or both parents or his/her ancestors themselves would have displayed conceptuality in the field.Conceptuality in a person is not dual in nature. One has to develop one's conceptuality. First one must recognize one has it. On recognition, one may choose to develop it. What helps a person develop his/her conceptuality is a function of genetics, environment and self. You may realize you are a good sportsman. You may want to develop it. But your parents may not agree, your academic pressure takes away most of your time etc. Clearly, the environment here will not allow you to develop your conceptuality.At the end of the day it is important to understand what one is conceptual at. Whether one chooses to develop it or not is one's prerogative. At least choice made should be an informed one.

Conceptuality to a level that is unsurpassed can be reached with an ease if you are a constant practitioner of open-attitude and whole hearted acceptance of the “Law of Conceptuality” at every step!

We come,We see & We aspire…but do we conquire?

Disruptive Creativity

Like Poles Repel…Unlike poles attract…..

Disruptive creativity has become the latest fashion of getting to learn things.Everyone of us has a predictable order to his life...We get up in the morning, brush our teeth, break fast, work, dine and sleep to repeat the same routine again...Routine is the word...Human beings (at least most) hate change and love predictability, safety, hence the routine...corporations have evolved their own notion of routine in the name of efficiency...Job descriptions, hiring and firing policies..
Although on the other hand, the constant hues & cries raised by the inner self fuelling up the burning desire to break free – To see a drastic change from a dull mundane sickening life to a life of a valor – an exotic life with a phenomenal blend of bravery and , its quite a controversy at that point when 2 ends meet,Umm..No wonder they choose to remain asymptotic!
A freak is a guy who cannot be predicted. A mad man has no logic...Logic can be predicted hence freaks are equivalent to mad men??...Maybe.. But i guess we call that sort of madness creativity...So creativity is all about being unpredictable!!....So simple!So what we can do to be creative is to break free of all semblance of routine, in other words, logic...Breaking free also has a spiritual connotation..Science relies on hard logic...Hence scientists may claim that there is no God because there is no proof that He exists. No logic to the claim that He exists...So believers have to be creative...to seek out form to an incomprehensible non existent form.....So by default, believers are creative people...........To sum it...break free of the traditional mould, climb out of the well, lose yourself in that incomprehensible vacuum of thoughts that are void of ordered structure.

To be free and in the process find thy liberation...

Banana Leaf!

Food served in traditional banana leaf had always been delicious, mouth-watering and not to mention an all time favorite for food-lovers or gluttons if you may call in a mean sense.

Well, now there is a controversy, which would pull-up to denote, being a food-lover is nowhere related to being a glutton because for all you know a person who loves food may not necessarily be an over-eater or glutton, but just a person who simply enjoys every fraction of his time spent on admiring & taking-in his food...

Anyways all the controversies apart, the topic of the day is definitely not the one about the hubbub mentioned above but it’s about the scrumptiousness that would make you go crazy over the food that’s been served in front of you in an extremely heartwarming way, much more, to keep you connected to the ethnics that once sunk deep inside you and has now gone astray with the busy race of your (our?!) modern existence!

As a matter-of-fact I would say food always tasted much better than what it had been, when served with all the warmth & hospitability.

There really is a paramount difference in the flavor of the food, based on how hostile or how cordial it’s been served to you!

It's really strange how much one can accomplish by following a simple uncomplicated life. How complicated, needlessly we have made life for ourselves. It really does not matter I guess what you are as long as you are happy.

And to be happy with simple things in life is an art and learning alone wouldn’t suffice, you would have to master the art to live every inch of it!

The threshold of every July, back at home would chime in the arrival of a bunch of festive days to follow bringing in more joyous moments to slurp in the yummy, hot-sweet & hot-spicy food on the traditional serving leaf .

The taste I say is more, in eating that way because it’s more close to being in touch with Mother Nature; you feel you are still a part of the earth and its earliest inmates!

Unsurprisingly, it gives you the fulfillment of having had a good meal, let alone the extra appetizing effect that you get in as a bonus!

More often than not, it impairs the savory of the edibles in an awful manner on a daily routine whenever you are pushed into the trend of having to eat on ceramic plates having to perform a solo hockey or javelin match invariably in a crowd of high-society polished community, or the delirious inhabitants that queue-up with steel-plates in an ostensible middle class canteen/mess.

On that note, one must really be lucky to appreciate the aftertaste that he/she gains, upon eating one of the most sought-after food items of South-India, officially named as “Sugar-Pongal” and practically identified as the brown-colored rice, a residue we get when we boil the rice with milk & jaggery, drenched in ghee & festooned with dry grapes, cashew nuts, Pista and badam… served hot & sizzling on a lush green, garden-fresh banana-leaf , which would in turn cause the green leaf to go black cause of the intense heat radiating from the steaming Pongal – “Man its Heaven!!” is one simple line to explain the feeling on a much precise account!

At that golden moment of ecstasy with your eyes, nose and mouth watering when you take-in the first morsel of the most delightful food, prepared by the world’s best cook – Your Mom (of course)…Gushing out is the feel of paradise and fantasy – Unsurpassed !

Friday, October 29, 2004

Eternal Change!

Some people never budge or never are they prone to any change thats brought about by say, climatic conditions or personal experiences or thru experiences of others!



I donot know what they inturn intend to achieve by being so deterministic about things that are traits defining their characteristics.



Hmm...



Maybe its cos we seek change in everything at the exchange of our expectations at every other second in life that the change is also being so crabby about changing itself.



Dualistic nature of humans...



argumentative attitude of humans...



Pessismistic mindset of humans...



Possessive thoughts of humans...



Every thing above is a definite minus to very budding success...



But i guess not even one puts in a skimpy amount of useful energy in leashing the same..



ALL TALKS AND NO PRACTICAL IMPLEMENTATION !



catering to the cacophonies of nocturnal idiosyncracies ..... juggled up with whats right and whats not...



Centrifuge and separate the liquid and precipate



MORE OF ACTION THAN JUST MERE WORDS !!