Father's day and a eulogy that can't be written

It's not really easy to cope up with a sudden event that abruptly forces you to stop using a particular word from your vocabulary. ''Dad, appa, and pa'' words which used to come out with every breath, now feels new and I rarely use it while I converse. A year it will be very soon and it has passed by, as if those few days were just an aberration in our lives. We've been living as if the particular segment of our memory has just been wiped out just like in Men-In-Black. But then, they probably haven't made them of the kind which can erase memories from the heart. Father's day never felt so hapless.

During my growing years whenever I witnessed days with some tension, like an agitation, bandh or something that would have some violence, I used to dream that dad wouldn't come back home get nightmares that dad wouldn't come back home. Thick skinned that i was, always used to wake out of it, slap myself and go back to sleep thinking the slap would take care of it. I have been trying to slap the daylights out of me and make myself believe that what has happened, hasn't really happened. It's a different thing altogether that neither have i been able to slap myself nor make myself believe of anything. Somebody please shake me out of this nightmare of a slumber that won't let me sleep. This has gone on for way too long.

An year normally enough to change the course in a person's life, has done so to mine in just a fortnight. When i was wading through all of this, i did think that spending some time away from writing might help me gather my mental space and one day i'll write my dad's eulogy.

That now, I know will not happen, not after a part of  me has also vanished with him. While I hope, I still will some day in my life pen a proper prose, all i can only think of right now is ''Pa, wherever you maybe, please guide me and I'll take care of everything here like you would. Or I'll at least try!" 

Credits of the video and the sketch go to my sister.

Of moving on and Resignations

There are a lot of changes around me these days. This is one mail I wrote once upon a time, when change meant a hell of a lot to me.

Resignation

This post is dedicated to everyone who is smitten by change and is embracing it on the way.
Happy exploring!!!

Cricketalicious Shivraatris

Good Night Ladies and gentlemen. 

Well... wait... this isn't how it sounds. Even though in normal parlance it would seem so, there are times when what time of the day it is hardly matters. Giving job interviews during the placement season, attending a business fest, getting the stage ready on the previous day of a major event, getting things ready during your sibling's wedding, and many more such occasions are good examples of it.

While the above are memories each and everyone of us had nights to remember, this night long ago used to be a night full of passion, intensity and vigor. Night to remember, full of passion, where am i headed, eh? If its not about sex, then in India it has to be about cricket.

I am talking about how spirited the nights of Maha Shivaratri used to be, just some 8-10 years ago. The locality where i stayed, then used to be a hotbed of gully cricket. A compound hexagonal in shape yet looking like a huge square, it had coconut trees on the left within two arm distance(my size :P) of one another, an open well on the extreme right corner and a depression of 4 feet just after the playing square. Yes we had a proper bowling square of 22 yards, that's where I learnt my trade of fast bowling running in from the toilet end. The boundaries in operation were 2d and as many as you ran. So the deal was that if you happened to pierce the field and ensure the ball got out of the compound after pitching within, you were assured of 2 runs declared. If you happened to hit it out of the compound you were given OUT. 

If you are wondering what's all the fuss about, you only have your lame, boring childhood to blame. Ask any kid what his passion was while growing up in Bangalore or for that matter anywhere in India and getting anything other than cricket for an answer, would be like finding a dead black ant in a bowlful of sesame seeds. 

With such already existing craze for the game, the pinnacle for us used to be the Shivratri night out or 'Jaagarane' as its called in Kannada. It was not joke after-all, we played for the Maha Shivratri cup. Cricket here was so popular that it brought a lot of people to our road striven locality. On this day especially, there used to be so many players in the field that you even had teams with substitutes after the 11 members and the number of teams ran up to as many as 4-5 in the best Shivratri nights. And then there was my best buddy lakki's house, from where there was a constant supply of water and other refreshments not just on the festival, but every single day we set out to play. I have this Those-were-the-best-days-of-my-life feeling right now.

We shreevaishnavites don't celebrate much of Shivratri due to statutory purposes at home, but i have never again felt the joy of tying shoe laces by 9.50 PM in anticipation of 10PM. While the larger purpose of the night out on a shivratri was to pray the lord and seek his blessings, we only prayed the lord to help us win his cup. Passion, Intensity, Vigor, Aggression. 

And there is now, 21st February 2012. Its so easy to stay awake all night, I don't even have to try. Isn't this post an example ? Har har Mahadev. 

Good Morning!!!

A year that shouldn't have been

2011 was an year of dichotomy of emotions for me. An year that brought me together with my 91' Royal enfield and fiat Palio-my first car, A promotion at work. Unfortunately had the latter 2 come any earlier, it would've had a totally different significance.

Be that as it may, 2011 is an year that has basically been before June22nd-July 7th. World was still a beautiful rosy place with everything to look upto, when June 22nd brought a turmoil in the form of an accident that snatched away a pillar of my strength, my dad! 16 days of my life was spent sheer helplessness against HIS will. All I could do then was to pray, pray and finally ask GOD to have mercy on dad. Looks like God sought the easier way to do so and took him away. 6 months hence, I understand what it means to go into an absolute mute mode. A shell I'm now trying to break away from. 

Will I, won't I ? 

Honestly, I don't know and don't bother any longer. All I want to do now is to be the best son to my mom and a responsible brother to my sister. 

It's not about me anymore. Is it?