Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2
The humming got louder; everything around seems to quiver with a hidden disturbance. The stranger had a fraction of second for the fear to register on his face before he exploded into thousands of bloody pieces; all splattered on the ground he was standing a second before.
Silence screamed.
Lei lay sprawled on the ground knocked by the force of explosion, drenched with blood and pieces of flesh; too shocked to move or speak. His mind was not yet ready to comprehend what just happened, his muscles not yet ready to obey. Then he heard it: footsteps, behind him, coming closer.
His every instinct was to run away. He urge his unyielding muscles to move, but they refuse to respond; deserting him in his hour of need. He forced his neck and slowly looked behind, wondering what form of horror approaches him; but he saw only a lady dressed all in brown and green, blending with the background of the clearing they were at. She passed where he was lying, and went over the ground splattered with blood and shredded flesh and seems to search for something among the mess. She seems satisfied with something and turned back to where he was.
She smiled to him as if this is the first time she noticed him. A spell seem to break, he can move now and tried to stand up. The lady was not very tall, he noticed, but enchantingly beautiful, and she wore a cloak that was between green and brown, and she seems to hide a tremendous power inside that cloak.
The lady seemed to beckon him without speaking, to follow her. His shaking leg moved forward on its own accord towards the path the lady pursued,deep into the wood.
~tbc~
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Unjust! Unjust!
I was wondering, as I most often do when I have nothing better to do, why do I write blogs.: I like reading other people's blogs, but surely, if I were to peruse my writings, I would find it undeniably depressing, moody and suicidal.
Coming to the title of the piece ( as I like to call my ramblings as), I remember Charlotte Bronte using this particular phrase, "Unjust, Unjust!" in Jane Eyre, when the protagonist was shut in the Red Room during her childhood.
Gawd help us!
Mr Manish Sabharwal, of Teamlease mentioned about the ovarian lottery in his guest lecture today, and I can't but help myself ponder upon how name games play an important part of our lives ( and for an unlucky few, deaths as well ).
Why do we have to blame the ovaries when the testicles are equally at fault! Surely I have not been taught the wrong life science lessons in my school classes: that it takes unfaltering effort from both of them for procreation!
Had I been Mr Warren Buffet ( then I would have been unimaginable rich, but that is beside the point here ), I would have rather chosen a more hygienic and unbiased name for the 'world is unfair' concept of his : perhaps "The game of the Winning Wombs' would have been more suited: though it is not totally unbiased to gender, it sounds a tad more hygienic and clinical.
To those of us who got the wrong ticket in the ovarian lottery, it would have been a consolation had we had a chance to play a game in the winning womb; that way everyone would have at least have a chance, however insignificant, to prove themselves and carve their t; and if we lose, then we would have had walked away proudly, with our head held high, saying, 'we tried' at the same time mumbling about sour grapes.
Coming to the title of the piece ( as I like to call my ramblings as), I remember Charlotte Bronte using this particular phrase, "Unjust, Unjust!" in Jane Eyre, when the protagonist was shut in the Red Room during her childhood.
Gawd help us!
Mr Manish Sabharwal, of Teamlease mentioned about the ovarian lottery in his guest lecture today, and I can't but help myself ponder upon how name games play an important part of our lives ( and for an unlucky few, deaths as well ).
Why do we have to blame the ovaries when the testicles are equally at fault! Surely I have not been taught the wrong life science lessons in my school classes: that it takes unfaltering effort from both of them for procreation!
Had I been Mr Warren Buffet ( then I would have been unimaginable rich, but that is beside the point here ), I would have rather chosen a more hygienic and unbiased name for the 'world is unfair' concept of his : perhaps "The game of the Winning Wombs' would have been more suited: though it is not totally unbiased to gender, it sounds a tad more hygienic and clinical.
To those of us who got the wrong ticket in the ovarian lottery, it would have been a consolation had we had a chance to play a game in the winning womb; that way everyone would have at least have a chance, however insignificant, to prove themselves and carve their t; and if we lose, then we would have had walked away proudly, with our head held high, saying, 'we tried' at the same time mumbling about sour grapes.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Those were the Halcyon days
"Five were the years
that we had to bear!'
These two lines made me smile in retrospection, for it contrast wit the very image and impression these last five years left on me
We used to complain a lot about how things works in the institute, especially the pedagogy - fewer classes and more self studies, more projects and cases rather than firm theories. Now that I can look at it from an objective point of view, being no longer in the system, I realise what this particular method of pedagogy meant: rather than confusing the professor and making their life miserable, we have more time to question ourselves and reflect and go forward in a journey of self discovery and actualization. And that is as it should be, the teacher must only guide and the student must do the walking.
Not surprisingly, students go to all sorts of direction with their interest, and not only from the academic point of view. Exams are no longer of importance, for it is the gyan that takes front seat. It is funny how they manage to pass exams by studying just the day before the exam. But then, on deeper thought, exams are not to test our knowledge, but our cleverness. I wished I were still at school where all these things are straightforward: they ask questions and we answer. It was not so simple in engineering or mba: they ask questions and either we remain silent or we rant. lol
Well, that was what we wrote on our answer papers: rants. I wonder if any of our answer paper got checked; to get through all the 'diatribes on paper' of each and every student would be excruciatingly painful, even for the most patient of professor; my sympathies go to the professors and their assistants who actually does the checking of answers. Who in their rightful mind would want to read through boring tirades of shares and bonds from 50 different viewpoints? But that was the beauty of it! Multiple different viewpoints; we were not marshaled to think in only one direction or one solution, as we would have otherwise, in a formal theoretical pedagogy! That is what we called innovative thinking! Edison did it, we did too.
In reflection, I see a wholesome experience abundant with freedom, liberty and equality in terms of what we want to learn and what we actually learned. And I believe that such quality of education I would not have found anywhere, and that is why I am glad as glad can be, that I once walked in those hallowed hall of freedom learning!
that we had to bear!'
These two lines made me smile in retrospection, for it contrast wit the very image and impression these last five years left on me
We used to complain a lot about how things works in the institute, especially the pedagogy - fewer classes and more self studies, more projects and cases rather than firm theories. Now that I can look at it from an objective point of view, being no longer in the system, I realise what this particular method of pedagogy meant: rather than confusing the professor and making their life miserable, we have more time to question ourselves and reflect and go forward in a journey of self discovery and actualization. And that is as it should be, the teacher must only guide and the student must do the walking.
Not surprisingly, students go to all sorts of direction with their interest, and not only from the academic point of view. Exams are no longer of importance, for it is the gyan that takes front seat. It is funny how they manage to pass exams by studying just the day before the exam. But then, on deeper thought, exams are not to test our knowledge, but our cleverness. I wished I were still at school where all these things are straightforward: they ask questions and we answer. It was not so simple in engineering or mba: they ask questions and either we remain silent or we rant. lol
Well, that was what we wrote on our answer papers: rants. I wonder if any of our answer paper got checked; to get through all the 'diatribes on paper' of each and every student would be excruciatingly painful, even for the most patient of professor; my sympathies go to the professors and their assistants who actually does the checking of answers. Who in their rightful mind would want to read through boring tirades of shares and bonds from 50 different viewpoints? But that was the beauty of it! Multiple different viewpoints; we were not marshaled to think in only one direction or one solution, as we would have otherwise, in a formal theoretical pedagogy! That is what we called innovative thinking! Edison did it, we did too.
In reflection, I see a wholesome experience abundant with freedom, liberty and equality in terms of what we want to learn and what we actually learned. And I believe that such quality of education I would not have found anywhere, and that is why I am glad as glad can be, that I once walked in those hallowed hall of freedom learning!
Friday, July 04, 2008
Tryst with Tyranny
Perhaps I would not call it 'tyranny' but, yes, it has been a hard time. I am exhausted both mentally and physically. To be alert all the time, to be always on the lookout, to be ever in attention, to be physically present, mentally there, an keep frothing forth words of wisdom. Is that what life is all about?
Dear Reader, all I ask for, in life, is to have a quiet, normal and peaceful life. Is that too much to ask for? Have I no right to wish something for myself? But no, I have to always keep my eyes open, to always look right and left, with a feeling of being targeted and preyed upon. Is this the life I asked for?
The answer does not come that easily. And I am not sure if it will ever come; with whatever knowledge I have, along with the EYE that SEES, I can only steer myself from all these things, and hide in a cocoon of my own formation.
But is that what I really want? And does anyone knows what they really want? Perhaps some enlightened soul does, but when I look around, everyone is as it should be - full of ignorance and uncertainty. If we know all the answers, then what is the meaning of living? If we have already discovered the meaning of life, what is the purpose of living at all!
Dear Reader, all I ask for, in life, is to have a quiet, normal and peaceful life. Is that too much to ask for? Have I no right to wish something for myself? But no, I have to always keep my eyes open, to always look right and left, with a feeling of being targeted and preyed upon. Is this the life I asked for?
The answer does not come that easily. And I am not sure if it will ever come; with whatever knowledge I have, along with the EYE that SEES, I can only steer myself from all these things, and hide in a cocoon of my own formation.
But is that what I really want? And does anyone knows what they really want? Perhaps some enlightened soul does, but when I look around, everyone is as it should be - full of ignorance and uncertainty. If we know all the answers, then what is the meaning of living? If we have already discovered the meaning of life, what is the purpose of living at all!
Friday, May 09, 2008
The Road ahead and the road behind
The Road ever goes on an on,
right from the door it starts
and leads to other roads.
And I with weary feet,
tread upon these roads,
footprints that I follow,
footprints that I left behind.
Fellow travelers that I met,
One dearer than the next,
but must always part
when the road divides.
And wither then? I do not know.
right from the door it starts
and leads to other roads.
And I with weary feet,
tread upon these roads,
footprints that I follow,
footprints that I left behind.
Fellow travelers that I met,
One dearer than the next,
but must always part
when the road divides.
And wither then? I do not know.
Friday, May 02, 2008
A better world
If we smile a little more than we usually do,
If we wave as we say goodbye a little vigorously
If we sing a little loudly
I believe the world would be a better place.
A little smile as we pass by, someone hopeful,
brightens every passing soul.
A little word of comfort makes the burden lighter.
A little voice to the music, makes the heart fonder.
A little familiar touch makes life worth living.
This is not to be a regular poem, for it is not to be. As we come across everyday, people, unnoticed, unfelt or unheard... makes me wonder about life's small things. When I see a little smile on a stranger's face, it makes me want to smile too. Smiles are contagious. And so is singing. If I hear someone humming a song, I feel like joining the tune.
The world would be a better place to live, if we are not too miser with our smiles and words and touches. If we are little less selfish, maybe the world will be a little less wretched.
If we wave as we say goodbye a little vigorously
If we sing a little loudly
I believe the world would be a better place.
A little smile as we pass by, someone hopeful,
brightens every passing soul.
A little word of comfort makes the burden lighter.
A little voice to the music, makes the heart fonder.
A little familiar touch makes life worth living.
This is not to be a regular poem, for it is not to be. As we come across everyday, people, unnoticed, unfelt or unheard... makes me wonder about life's small things. When I see a little smile on a stranger's face, it makes me want to smile too. Smiles are contagious. And so is singing. If I hear someone humming a song, I feel like joining the tune.
The world would be a better place to live, if we are not too miser with our smiles and words and touches. If we are little less selfish, maybe the world will be a little less wretched.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Passed by
A bicycle rolled by, the child riding it expertly, half pedaling, half pushed by another child running behind, half laughing, half gasping.
The warn morning breeze of spring greeted Ketan, as he looked out of the only window of his 2nd floor apartment. How long has it been? 22 springs? The same breeze, the same warmth. The same empty street below. He took a deep breath of the freshness that is spring.
The minutes whilst away, as he lay by the window gazing out to the barren road below. What passes through his mind, none can tell. It has been 22 years since he finally got a job and moved out of his parent's. And ever since, in this small two room apartment, alone, living a quiet life.
Maybe he is looking back to his life; two and twenty years ago, he might have had dreams.; maybe he is dreaming about his old dreams, dreams that never came to pass. Maybe he is thinking about life, and how many more springs he have to endure, lying there, by the window gazing out to the empty street, until he can meet the final embrace of mother earth.
The two boys were arguing whose turn it was on the over-sized bicycle.
The warn morning breeze of spring greeted Ketan, as he looked out of the only window of his 2nd floor apartment. How long has it been? 22 springs? The same breeze, the same warmth. The same empty street below. He took a deep breath of the freshness that is spring.
The minutes whilst away, as he lay by the window gazing out to the barren road below. What passes through his mind, none can tell. It has been 22 years since he finally got a job and moved out of his parent's. And ever since, in this small two room apartment, alone, living a quiet life.
Maybe he is looking back to his life; two and twenty years ago, he might have had dreams.; maybe he is dreaming about his old dreams, dreams that never came to pass. Maybe he is thinking about life, and how many more springs he have to endure, lying there, by the window gazing out to the empty street, until he can meet the final embrace of mother earth.
The two boys were arguing whose turn it was on the over-sized bicycle.
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