The approximate depth of Mariana Trench is about 10.7 kms. It is supposedly the deepest point on earth known to man.
Now, imagine being at its bottom. Just imagine staring at the surface of water from 10.7 kms deep down. I imagine you will need lights down there, to look around you, to really know at how creepy a place you really are. Then there’ll be weird creatures all around you. Unless you’ve checked some of the best encyclopedias around you wouldn’t know which of the ones a poisonous or dangerous. Which of them can be ignored, befriended or avoided. Then there’ll be really tight clothes to keep your veins from narrowing down to increase blood pressure. Finally, two huge and heavy oxygen cylinders on your back with a tight water proof mask to cover your nose and mouth. Around you, you’ll see the bed of the sea. Filled with rocks, shells and silence. You look up from there at the ceiling. It’ll be so dark you might not see the surface of the sea at all.
Now does my second paragraph have the same effect upon you as the first line this piece starts with? I tell you in my first line that the depth is 10.7 kms. So you know just how deep the trench is. In my second paragraph I describe just how it might be feel to be there. This is precisely the difference between knowing something and understanding it.
I’d often heard the clichéd expression “Actions speak louder than words.” And trust me I knew its meaning. But as I said there is a huge difference between knowing the meaning of and understanding the meaning of. Certain experiences last year have just made understand the various meaning that one sentence may have.
I would've written a lot lot more and yes, you've guessed it right, I will not! Why? Because Actions speak louder than words.... Hehe...
Prince...
Monday, May 28, 2007
Sunday, May 13, 2007
A Winner's Life
Disclaimer: I wouldn't really call this "Winner's Life" but well, I have to call it something. I found this written at the back of my old diary. I don't remember when I've written it, probably sometime last year. It has no date. But whatever it is, I still believe in it.
Sometimes some things are not good merely because better things exist. Such is the case of life and death. Millions of people die every year, thousands every day, but we hear of those who die a more dignified death than others. But does that mean that those we did not hear of died a bad death?No! It only means those who we did hear of died a better death.
Life as we all see it, isn't about living. It is about dying.Yes, dying.
Its like studying for your exams. You have to prepare for it every day. Some study more, some study less. But ultimately its the result that matters. Examiners dont care how you studied or whether you did at all. All thy care about is whether your answers to their questions are satisfactory. However, to do well, you need to work every single day.
Thats true with life too. YOU NEED TO LIVE EVERY SINGLE DAY to die a dignified death.
So Prince, did you LIVE today?
Prince...
Sometimes some things are not good merely because better things exist. Such is the case of life and death. Millions of people die every year, thousands every day, but we hear of those who die a more dignified death than others. But does that mean that those we did not hear of died a bad death?No! It only means those who we did hear of died a better death.
Life as we all see it, isn't about living. It is about dying.Yes, dying.
Its like studying for your exams. You have to prepare for it every day. Some study more, some study less. But ultimately its the result that matters. Examiners dont care how you studied or whether you did at all. All thy care about is whether your answers to their questions are satisfactory. However, to do well, you need to work every single day.
Thats true with life too. YOU NEED TO LIVE EVERY SINGLE DAY to die a dignified death.
So Prince, did you LIVE today?
Prince...
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Which Hills?
Which Hills?
Paying prices
Buying things
Dreaming castles
Building wings
Aiming victories
Watching rings
Knocked out many times
Now…Waiting
Lots of flowers
Lot of rain
Not the time to smell them
Not the time to drain
Roller coaster is rolling
I can’t see the coast
All the winds are blowing
I can’t sail the boat
The captains keep changing
And I don’t know whom to follow
I wonder what to do
My talents all lie fallow
I’ve paid a heavy price
And bought the best of skills
I don’t know how to use them
I am to climb which hills?
Buying things
Dreaming castles
Building wings
Aiming victories
Watching rings
Knocked out many times
Now…Waiting
Lots of flowers
Lot of rain
Not the time to smell them
Not the time to drain
Roller coaster is rolling
I can’t see the coast
All the winds are blowing
I can’t sail the boat
The captains keep changing
And I don’t know whom to follow
I wonder what to do
My talents all lie fallow
I’ve paid a heavy price
And bought the best of skills
I don’t know how to use them
I am to climb which hills?
Child Marriage
CHILD MARRIAGE
They discussed her marriage without her consent
And she was red with rage as she heard them talk
“Rs. 20,000’s the dowry” said the father in law (to be)
“Start paying in installments now”
And she clenched her fists and punched the mattress under her
“Don’t send her to school now
Or else she won’t milk my cows!”
As she cried for her mother aloud
“Here’s my son and he won’t drink like me!
But who knows if someday he does?”
She was kicking in the air by now!
“And for my wife a sari in silk”
“Yes, yes!” said her father; ”I’ll give you all that and a little more”
“But pray keep her, please don’t sore!”
And they made her deal in money, gold and silk
As she cried for little milk…
They discussed her marriage without her consent
And she was red with rage as she heard them talk
“Rs. 20,000’s the dowry” said the father in law (to be)
“Start paying in installments now”
And she clenched her fists and punched the mattress under her
“Don’t send her to school now
Or else she won’t milk my cows!”
As she cried for her mother aloud
“Here’s my son and he won’t drink like me!
But who knows if someday he does?”
She was kicking in the air by now!
“And for my wife a sari in silk”
“Yes, yes!” said her father; ”I’ll give you all that and a little more”
“But pray keep her, please don’t sore!”
And they made her deal in money, gold and silk
As she cried for little milk…
Women Of India
WOMEN OF INDIA
In India
Scarce they are
Like the drops of rain
But regular
Like the barren lands in winter
Nipped in bud
Before they sprout
Tested, Wasted, Molested
But allowed to grow
Uprooted from life
As saplings
And axed at roots
When Kalpavrikshas
Living like the barren lands
They learn to drink the drops
…….their tears
In India
Scarce they are
Like the drops of rain
But regular
Like the barren lands in winter
Nipped in bud
Before they sprout
Tested, Wasted, Molested
But allowed to grow
Uprooted from life
As saplings
And axed at roots
When Kalpavrikshas
Living like the barren lands
They learn to drink the drops
…….their tears
Saturday, April 07, 2007
A century in 100 kms...
No, I’ve never been to the USA but I have cousin who’s been there for over 4 years. He returned 2 years ago and he still keeps on visiting it quite often. He’s a successful young man as far as my family is concerned. He’s been projected to us, youngsters, as a role model and so every word that falls from his mouth is to be heard with the due respect.
We, he and I, quite often go on a stroll here and there. Few days ago we were visiting a newly constructed mall somewhere when he remarked “oh…cool…” just as he entered. I asked him what happened and he replied saying “so now we have malls as big as the average size that of the USA.”
Trust me, though I’m a diehard Puneite, malls neither make me proud nor angry with all their splurge of resources. I’m just indifferent to their very existence. Had they not been there, I’d still have loved Pune as much as I do.
Few days later I was visiting Koregaon, my native place, about 18kms south of Satara. We started from Bombay, speeding in an air conditioned car on the expressway, talking to my dad of the booming Indian economy. On the way we stopped at Pune as some of us had some shopping to do. We parked in the underground parking of a mall. It was amazing; easy to drive down there, lot of space, very disciplined and safe. Just as they show in all those Hollywood flicks.
After all was done, we hit the road again. This Pune-Satara is a segment of the Golden Quadrilateral Project our government’s been up to. It too is just amazing. We could sail there at about 120kph. I was reading a news paper article about the coming boom in telecom sector…
My friend Vinnie called me up while I was at Koregaon; busy with my cousin’s friends. Vinnie’s dad is a Kannadiga, her mom a Konkani. Though she’s been born and brought up in Pune and understands marathi, like many of us, she isn’t very comfortable with it. We usually talk in English.
I was on phone with her for about 25 minutes I guess and as I ended the call I noticed motley of about 40-45 people surrounding me. I thought I’d done something offensive. I looked at them confused when a child suddenly remarked addressing my sister sitting just across “Tumchya varad dadala sagla english yeta?” Meaning “Does your Varad dada know entire english?” There was a look of shock on his face. Fear, surprise. Varad dada who’d been so close to these kids just 25 minutes before was now alien.
As if this wasn’t enough my aunt who’d been witnessing our conversation, mine and Vinnie’s, remarked “Does your friend have a free phone?” I didn’t get her at all. Again the same look, confused. “You were on phone for 30 minutes! How can anyone afford that? Besides you weren’t talking anything important, I haven’t seen a “How are you today?” call going this long!”
I cant tell you how I handled these situations. Had I been home, my mom would have shouted for “wasting time on the phone” probably after like 40 minutes, but 25 minutes only?
My uncle there is considered King of the stock market. He invests moderate amounts and gets back good dividends on his stocks. I was discussing with him the concept of “Free phone”, the one that involves listening to ads for a few seconds before calling and he seemed completely ignorant of it. Where did you read it, he asked me. Times of India and Economic Times, I replied. He said they don’t get those papers there.
Later my dad introduced me to his friend’s son. He’s doing law. First year, ILS Pune. At first I was happy I’d finally found someone my age. We went to the computer in my uncle’s bedroom to pass some time. I found he couldn’t really use the comp because he didn’t understand English. I thought it was okay. But some time later, as I referred to some site in the course of conversation, he asked me “What is internet?”
I was shocked.
This moment the only line I can think of is:
“Different parts of India live in different centuries.”—N.A. Palkhiwala in We, The People
Today, sitting here, typing this on my PC, I realize how privileged I am to think “How do I improve my French?” or “Which is the cheapest plan for my cell phone?” or “How do I reduce my net addiction?” while a town just 120 kms away is still figuring out the century it is living in.
However the most important question I want to ask here is, which is that booming economy we’re talking of and in which India is it? In which century is she living?
The Happy Prince...
We, he and I, quite often go on a stroll here and there. Few days ago we were visiting a newly constructed mall somewhere when he remarked “oh…cool…” just as he entered. I asked him what happened and he replied saying “so now we have malls as big as the average size that of the USA.”
Trust me, though I’m a diehard Puneite, malls neither make me proud nor angry with all their splurge of resources. I’m just indifferent to their very existence. Had they not been there, I’d still have loved Pune as much as I do.
Few days later I was visiting Koregaon, my native place, about 18kms south of Satara. We started from Bombay, speeding in an air conditioned car on the expressway, talking to my dad of the booming Indian economy. On the way we stopped at Pune as some of us had some shopping to do. We parked in the underground parking of a mall. It was amazing; easy to drive down there, lot of space, very disciplined and safe. Just as they show in all those Hollywood flicks.
After all was done, we hit the road again. This Pune-Satara is a segment of the Golden Quadrilateral Project our government’s been up to. It too is just amazing. We could sail there at about 120kph. I was reading a news paper article about the coming boom in telecom sector…
My friend Vinnie called me up while I was at Koregaon; busy with my cousin’s friends. Vinnie’s dad is a Kannadiga, her mom a Konkani. Though she’s been born and brought up in Pune and understands marathi, like many of us, she isn’t very comfortable with it. We usually talk in English.
I was on phone with her for about 25 minutes I guess and as I ended the call I noticed motley of about 40-45 people surrounding me. I thought I’d done something offensive. I looked at them confused when a child suddenly remarked addressing my sister sitting just across “Tumchya varad dadala sagla english yeta?” Meaning “Does your Varad dada know entire english?” There was a look of shock on his face. Fear, surprise. Varad dada who’d been so close to these kids just 25 minutes before was now alien.
As if this wasn’t enough my aunt who’d been witnessing our conversation, mine and Vinnie’s, remarked “Does your friend have a free phone?” I didn’t get her at all. Again the same look, confused. “You were on phone for 30 minutes! How can anyone afford that? Besides you weren’t talking anything important, I haven’t seen a “How are you today?” call going this long!”
I cant tell you how I handled these situations. Had I been home, my mom would have shouted for “wasting time on the phone” probably after like 40 minutes, but 25 minutes only?
My uncle there is considered King of the stock market. He invests moderate amounts and gets back good dividends on his stocks. I was discussing with him the concept of “Free phone”, the one that involves listening to ads for a few seconds before calling and he seemed completely ignorant of it. Where did you read it, he asked me. Times of India and Economic Times, I replied. He said they don’t get those papers there.
Later my dad introduced me to his friend’s son. He’s doing law. First year, ILS Pune. At first I was happy I’d finally found someone my age. We went to the computer in my uncle’s bedroom to pass some time. I found he couldn’t really use the comp because he didn’t understand English. I thought it was okay. But some time later, as I referred to some site in the course of conversation, he asked me “What is internet?”
I was shocked.
This moment the only line I can think of is:
“Different parts of India live in different centuries.”—N.A. Palkhiwala in We, The People
Today, sitting here, typing this on my PC, I realize how privileged I am to think “How do I improve my French?” or “Which is the cheapest plan for my cell phone?” or “How do I reduce my net addiction?” while a town just 120 kms away is still figuring out the century it is living in.
However the most important question I want to ask here is, which is that booming economy we’re talking of and in which India is it? In which century is she living?
The Happy Prince...
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
I want Them to stretch,
And tear my eyes apart
To give a bump in my butts,
An aching dent in my back
I want Them to give
Sleepless nights for years to come
Dark round circles
Around my eyes
But They shall fill my empty mind
With openness
A feeling of satisfaction, a glow
On my face
A life worthy of living,
An occupied mind worth having
....THE BOOKS
The Happy Prince
And tear my eyes apart
To give a bump in my butts,
An aching dent in my back
I want Them to give
Sleepless nights for years to come
Dark round circles
Around my eyes
But They shall fill my empty mind
With openness
A feeling of satisfaction, a glow
On my face
A life worthy of living,
An occupied mind worth having
....THE BOOKS
The Happy Prince
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