Seedr to the rescue



I am writing this small review about Seedr because I am using it for some time now, and honestly it help me a lot even if I am not expert in these things. At beginning I was confuse how this cloud torrent system is working, but Seedr make the whole process much easier for me to understand. The website look simple and not too heavy, so I can find the buttons without searching too long.


When I paste a magnet link, it start downloading very fast, faster than I expected. I don’t need to install any special program or deal with complicated settings, which is good because many times I don’t know how to configure those things. Because everything happen in the cloud, my computer stays light and not slow.


Also my internet sometimes is weak, so normal torrenting becomes difficult. But with Seedr it still downloads the files even when my connection is not stable. Then later I can stream or download the files when I have better connection. This is very useful for me.


I feel it is safe to use, and I don’t worry too much about technical problems. If anyone wants something simple and not confusing, Seedr is a good choice. You can visit their website here: https://www.seedr.cc/

e-Book - Nothing out of the Ordinary

 


It was the annual fox hunting day in the field. We were running through the rows of cabbage crops chasing the purple foxes as they ran with a Cheshire cat smile on their face. As I stretched my hand out to catch one young and brilliant purple fox it turned around and winked at me like it was some trick. I found myself inside an empty train car with my hand still stretched out.

Download and read the full (short) story here for Free.

Next step in Evolution

Theory of evolution suggests that all species are related and gradually change over time. Everything, every living being that we've known and yet to know have all evolved from a single cell. Survival of the fittest doesn't imply that the fittest destroys all that is not its equal. Fortunately that's why we still see the many organisms around us today because of the importance of their existence to maintain the balance in the system.

Imagine if humans could photosynthesise and create their own food and oxygen using the sunlight. The role of trees, forests and everything depending on it would have been extinct at least a couple of millions of years ago. We have left the trees only because we still depend on them for one thing or another.

What happens when we evolve to something that doesn't have to depend on anything that we depend on today?

Genetics would help us for a few hundred more years but the future belongs to a fitter generation that may only remember humans as humans remember the neanderthals and even deny any relation to such inferior species.

Robots, Humanoids, Cyborgs!

Neuroscience and Robotics has seen a phenomenal growth in the last few decades. We have the technology and intelligence to build machines that could build machines better than we, humans could. 

Factories crowded with thousands of humans are replaced with millions of tiny robots and few humans to push a few buttons and monitor readings.

Wars fought with millions of soldiers are being fought with a few hundred guided drones with the intelligence to acquire target more efficiently than soldiers who spend half their life-time on rigorous trainings.

Only our politics, morality, ethics and fear of armageddon between humans and the superior machines has prevented us from handing over the full control and freedom to machines to be what their potential would allow them to be.

Because there is a difference ethics, politics and morality among the people of different groups and countries sooner or later one country tying to dominate another will end up creating the machines that could evolve to be better than the creators. If we could create killing machines with Machine learning and Artificial Intelligence and allow them perform better than humans, we could also create machines that would learn to survive on its own.

Today, the richest in the world could be considered the fittest and through the theories of evolution will continue to survive. The rest of the world are not extinct yet only because the fittest still needs the rest of the world to survive and maintain its position at the top of the peak. Without the poor faction that spends its life toiling away in factories and fields with a hope to make the future of its offsprings, the rich faction cannot exist.

Likewise, machines will need humans only till the time they are dependent on machines. Once they evolve above that humans will be an inferior species and will have to learn to coexist without claiming the special status or go extinct.

We've only cracked the atoms and we already possess the potential to destroy continents and send out probes to other worlds and spies into the interstellar space. One or another of our next discoveries will help us evolve beyond the weaknesses of humankind as we know it today. 

If humans created superior machines that replace humans, is that not Evolution?

(Inspired by the thoughts of Yuval Noah Harari and Carl Sagan's thoughts and writings.) 

Are we (INDIANS) not a Patriarchal Society?

Dear men of India,

You may scream all day till your juices dry about how you treat your fellow Indian women equally while silently or ignorantly enjoying the benefits of the Patriarchal society that you are born into.

Men are ALLOWING women to work as equals in organisations you say, but there still is a huge divide in the ratio. "The number of female workers is about less than half the number of male workers"[sic].

And then there is the Gender pay gap. You may very well compare yourself to your lady colleague and cry that she gets paid equal or over you. Well, even with that lady earning more than you the Gap is still not evened out which means everywhere else the gap is so much that a comparison is just a joke.

"Gender pay gap high in India: Men get paid Rs 242 every hour, women earn Rs 46 less"[sic]

But then, what motivated me to write this post in the middle of all the atrocious and heinous crimes committed against women daily (some holding the attention of the entire nation for  a couple of weeks) is something I came across in the 'Hindu_Succession_Act,_1956'.

Let me call your attention to one interesting piece from this Act. Particularly to the 'property of a Hindu male dying intestate (without a will)' - "Class II heirs"

Class I heirs are pretty straightforward and no hassle. But the class II heirs is a clear definition of Patriarchy. 

"Class II heirs: Absence of Class I heirs

In case of absence of the class I heirs, as given above, the class II heirs will become entitled to the property of the deceased.

The class II heirs consist of many relatives who have been classified into categories and placed in a hierarchy. Preference is given to the one ranking above, wherein if there is even one member available in the higher (preceding) category then all of the property shall pass to the members in that category and none to the ones coming after that (succeeding).

However if there is no one available in the higher (preceding) category then it shall pass to the members following next in the category (succeeding)."[sic]

Class II heirs are categorized as follows and are given the property of the deceased in the following order:

  1. Father [MALE]
  2. Son's / daughter's son [MALE]
  3. Son's / daughter's daughter [FEMALE]
  4. Brother [MALE]
  5. Sister [FEMALE]
  6. Daughter's / son's son [MALE]
  7. Daughter's / son's daughter [FEMALE]
  8. Daughter's / daughter's son [MALE]
  9. Daughter's /daughter's daughter [FEMALE]
  10. Brother's son [MALE]
  11. Sister's son [MALE]
  12. Brother's daughter [FEMALE]
(yeah, I do not see Sister's daughter in the list either)

Apparently, the rights of the property of an Indian male dying without a will goes to the MALE relatives before the FEMALE.

This is justified by the assumption that a MALE (who is evidently earning more than FEMALE in the our society) is the bread-winner of the family and should be given priority when there is any extra benefit comes their way and the FEMALE is already assumed to be living with another MALE (married off) and will not require these extra benefits.

If you have a brother and a sister, the law gives your property to your brother and not your sister in the absence of any living person on the other higher categories. 

How's that for an Equal and well-balanced society? 

No, we should not compare ourselves with countries where women still do not have rights over property today but work towards rectifying our flaws.

Ministry of utmost happiness - Arundati Roy (About the book)

How to tell a shattered story?

By becoming everyone? No. By becoming everything.

Ministry of utmost happiness's plot runs like a river through the crevices let open by the political climate of the country. Goverment after government ensuring that the cracks expand and go deeper and deeper while opposing the same when they are thrown out of power and replaced with a different one who claimed to be exactly the opposite of the current and promised freedom, prosperity, peace and 'solution'.

Hopes shattered, people live on their lives turned upside down because someone somewhere has a vision. A vision to be loved, feared, remembered.

Arundati Roy takes us on a ride on a houseboat on a lake that is grey reflecting the gloominess of the country, wading through the corpses of those killed by meticulous plan or some as collateral damage, we can't see the faces of the dead because they have been crushed by force, or blown out by a goverment owned light machine gun at point black range when facing it unarmed, naked with private parts tortured with electric shocks. We don't have to close our nose, the corpses do not stink, by the magic of her language she has filtered out the smell but allowed only the sadness to wash over your face, mind and conscience.

A story of the broken who have seen the many faces of brutality, negligence, disregard for their freedom of choice to be as born and die peacefully so.

A real slow boat ride that shows you your country as you already knew but never cared to acknowledge

Put him to Sleep



Dali, our pet dog, has been quiet for the past two days, as if he has understood that the day has finally come. Dali is grandpa's favourite.

Grandpa spends his early mornings sitting in the lawn, throwing Dali a stick or a ball to fetch, wincing a little every time, until he could throw no more.

We are out of dog food, coincidentally.

Time sucks. It sucks away the energy, happiness and strength out of our lives and leaves us behind with the burden of the memories of all the jumping and running around without a worry in the world.

Today's the day.

We get onto the car. I take the seat beside mom in the front while Dali and grandpa are slowly settling down on the back. Mom planned it so that grandpa gets to spend more time with Dali. Nobody says a word during the entire 120 minutes drive along the coast. Neither the chirping birds from the park nor the cheerful beach-goers bring us any joy today.

We're here. It's time to say the final good bye.

Dali, the cleverest, and dearest to grandpa walks to him resting his head on his lap and avoiding to look at his face. Grandpa gently strokes his head while finishing off the formalities and signing a few papers. Once the formalities are done, grandpa gets up and hugs Dali. He hugs him so tight that we feared his ribs might crack. They know that it's the last hug and they both don't mind the pain or discomfort.

The doctors assure us that the process will be painless. And we left him in their hands and walk back to the car.

Though our hearts are troubled by the loss, we are glad that at least we put him out of misery. In the car, I turn around to look at the empty seat and let a drop of tear slide down my cheek bothering not to stop it or wipe it.

Mum stops at the supermarket to get us some supplies; essentials; soft drinks; and a new flavoured food for Dali and some new toys.

Dali will have to get used to playing with us from now.

Nod baby Nod!

Nod baby nod,
So long as they prod.

Prod you with their questioning stare
Stop you from everything before you dare
Oh! you may sit on your pappa's comfy chair
Spread your legs and your momma’s gonna glare.

Relax, It's just a bra strap
Why do you keep falling for the same trap
Even from the best places in the world map
They're screaming, crushed by the patriarchal bull crap

Televisions blare of a new seductive cologne
Then they question the victim why she walked alone
If they can touch you, you’re not so far
Remember, age no bar

They’ll have you on top
They won’t have you on top
I know, It’s an irony
They won’t mind to see you on your knee

Blood, sweat and tears of generation
From the days of your creation
Drowning down lifelessly
Pulled to the bottom mercilessly

When the last bubble of your breath goes a-pop
Someone somewhere is pushed down before they could reach the top

A card, a pat and a cute looking hat with a satin ribbon
Smile, to not offend the generosity, through these conferred upon 

Walk darling walk
Let your walking do the talking

Their heads will turn
Their eyes will burn

So long as you walk in a circle
This could only be cured by a miracle

Break free and run
On a track free of them

It sure will rouse a cloud of dust
That’s when they'll look you apart from an object of lust

Game Over (Rap it)



(Rap it)

She was a fashion model
From some fancy online portal

It's all just porn so i start to scroll it
It's boring, I couldn't control it
So i start to troll it
Licking one end I just roll it
Darn it!
I just burn it
And smoke it
Now I'm tripping through another dimension

It's an ascension
An illusion
A delusion
With no earthly description

Nevermind, I'm the water
That's in all three states of matter
I couldn't say if I hurt her
Just know, y'all kids will see my documentary in a theatre

You fear that im dangerous
I tell you it ain't contagious
Until i know you're courageous
I try to act all sagacious

I couldn't care less to look acceptable
respectable
a spectacle
a miracle
prophesied by an oracle
You'll see me yakety-yak and cackle
When i hear your spine crackle
Though my hands would be bound in a shackle
There was never prequel
And they caught me before an artful sequel

They said i went for the head shot
I just heard the siren, now the police is taking a mugshot
The blood splash on my face is thick, hot
I hurled away my freedom with a slingshot
Knock knock
Here comes the noose knot
To be reborn, i fucking wish not
'Game Over' followed by a giant fucking 8-bit white dot

Neither a saint nor a sinner (possibly a rap song lyrics)

NOTE: Try it in EMINEM style

I'm neither a saint nor a sinner
Life ain't a race, cry or die there's no winner

It's not up to you to judge
And turn my life around with a nudge

For, fucker, I won't budge
Fuck't all I hold no grudge

With the dead and the dreaded filling the trench
Through which I numbly bloody trudge

Lying down, I see her chasm,
She said, "You're a fucking king of giving orgasm"
Years pass before I get the sarcasm
I was green and believed I was awesome

I give no fuck no more
Baby, really
Of course, literally

Upon conquering it all, why do I feel empty
Broken, am I, like the fallen Humpty-Dumpty
Oh, no King nor his men on knee,
Come running to help the broken me

I'm the tornado that brings destruction
Tearing open everything that's an emotional obstruction
Calm and quiet at the centre,
That's where I find my shelter
To escape from all the helter-skelter

You may beat me up, black and blue,
Though my heart's broken, I won't beg you for glue

Exhausted, I lie down on a ground a little higher,
Turns out that's a pyre, and you set it on a fire
With a dry voice I challenge your manhood
Command you to pile upon me more wood
Disbelief and anger replaces your gay mood
Drains out the blood under your black hood

You can't kill the dead
Run away before you lose your head

I live my life a'mocking,
a'joking,
a'knocking,
a'breaking,
a'smacking,
a'whacking,
a'hacking,
a'choking,
a'shaking,
a'making y'all a'shocking,
a'waking up from this nightmare

Stripping you down
Ripping you open like a gown
Let there be no error
I'll fill you up with sheer terror

I'll close you up neatly with a stitch
Upon which you'll find no glitch,
Oh, rest assured, you'll find no itch
For that's the least of your worries. Bitch,
I'm neither a saint nor a sinner
Life ain't a race, cry or die there's no winner
For, fucker, I won't budge
Fuck't all I hold no grudge
You can't kill the dead
Run away before you lose your head
I have put the reaper to bed
Now shut the fuck up for he's sleeping like a lead

Forest story


This forest is under the protection of the government, meaning, only they could destroy it and they’ll beat all competition hands-down. ‘Reserved Forest’, says a label over a green patch on the map that has been shrinking over centuries, at a pace faster than before, every time the government changes.

Within this forest lies a mystery that remains hidden from a time before civilisation. A mystery, that, if had eyes, would have seen how, its present threat, the humans, evolved from a single cell amidst arguing against it all through centuries. A mystery, that, if had ears, would have heard the loud roar of the dinosaurs and the shrieks when their world was burnt down, when they ran panicked, stampeding the unfortunate ones trying to escape the devastating doom.

A gigantic tree, with roots visible and floating above the ground, would have been an obvious discovery. Luckily it wasn’t that obvious. And that’s why, no human, savage, slave or saint ever knew of its existence.

The Devil Tree, we’ll call it a tree, though it may have only less than a hundred leaves and its stem is not thicker than a slender, light-green, silky drumstick, has lived beyond ages, unnoticed, not forgotten, for nobody knew about it in the first place.

On the first day, the new forest officer, in a bamboo hut, a few kilometres away from the centre of the forest, drinking the forest’s fresh water to quench his thirst, signed away the approval papers for a non-existing company, whose ghost proprietor has promised to quench his financial thirst.

And so began the destruction of yet another forest. Slowly but surely the green patch started to shrink again. After few weeks of felling, thanks to the modern equipments that helped to achieve many months’ labour in just a few weeks, they reached the centre of the forest.

As the fellers started advancing to the centre of the forest, unlike any other forest they’ve worked on in their lives, the noise of the birds and hints of the animals started to dwindle away. Presuming this strange behaviour to be due to the change in climate that corporations and college students debate about, they resumed their work, cursing this discomfort and working their lives through, feeling no remorse for their actions, which, of course, is not personal but just to follow orders that reaches them after passing through at least four levels of order-takers, not that they have been tree-huggers before they chose this job.

When they finally came, when the chain-saw started whirring furiously, the sky darkened, obscuring the sun by mid-day threatening to pour any second now. The blade of the chainsaw, singing a metallic hum, started to cut through the strong barks of another huge and ancient tree, at least a hundred or two hundred years old, like a sharpened butcher’s knife slicing through the boneless meat of a tender pork. 

Along with the century old tree, the Devil Tree was cut down. Without any resistance, the thin branches, gave in, not standing a chance against the blade’s jagged teeth running at an unimaginable speed, biting through it with the effect of a thousand blows from a sharpened axe delivered in less than half a second.

Before the severed branch fell to the ground, the earth shook and started to vibrate as if tens of thousands of angry Rhinos were rushing up, thundering their heavy hooves, rising from under the very feet of the fellers. Confused and astonished by this unexplainable quake they stood there frozen in fear, while the blades of their saws never stopped where the chainsaws were dropped. At that instant, a mystical darkness fell over the forest, blanketing not just the light of the sun but also the sounds of the forest, for, otherwise, the sound came after that would have deafened every living thing within a circle of a hundred kilometres.  In that silence, there arose trillions of birds, of countless species,  brilliant and bland coloured, tiny and monstrous, pretty and beast-like, birds, that not one living soul has seen or heard of, flying out from a hole where the Devil Tree stood before. From the roots of the Devil Tree, which was a mysterious network that housed all the birds that die above the earth and go to rest away from the cruelties of the rotting world, they were driven off, forced to find another sanctuary, above the clouds, beyond the moon, and a million galaxies away, away from the hunters, away from the predators, away from humans.

Moon Story



Sitting alone on the beach he was trying to calm down the wild waves that beat up inside him. Knowing that he will not succeed in his first attempt he was prepared to try the whole night if need be. Allowing the sound of the Ocean's waves collide against the noise of those of his inner self and pacify them, he was making a slow progress. 'Alone' aids him in this effort. But what you desire is not what you always get. Up came a villain. With an angelic glow, quietly the moon sneaked up, throwing feather soft darts of light all over the beach. A few landed on him. He may not have liked it much. In that soft light his emotions were not visible, he was not popular for exhibiting his true emotions anyways.

Pulling out a balloon from his pocket he started blowing it up. When it reached the size that he can't hold with his one hand he tied a knot around its opening and let it go. Up and up went the balloon. Black and dimly lit by the moonlight, we may say it would be hardly visible even for him. But he knew it. He knew exactly where it was at that moment. He didn't even have to look at it to know its current spot and where it would have been at any point in time. Soaring up silently, in just a few minutes it reached where he wanted it to be.

Any romantic couple promising to seize the moon and present it to their darlings at that moment would have been puzzled, surprised, even heartbroken, for, the moon was not to be seen anymore. Growing in size even as it was soaring up the balloon reached the size greater than the moon before it reached its planned altitude. Acting as a black body that absorbs all the light that falls on it and reflects none, it stole the moon away. With his device in place and the moon shut off, he was happy to let the conversation of the monster waves resume undisturbed by any intruder.

தாகம்

தாகம் என்à®±ு கடல்நீà®°்,
மழையை யாசித்தல் நியாயமோ?

à®®ோகம் என்à®±ு நான்,
உன் கை  வேண்டுதல் வேà®±ோ?

Lake story



Nobody knows when it started. But there is a legend, according to some, a myth, according to some other, which is now called the lake story.

Have they not been told, these white hatted tourists may not be watching them pass by, like floating coconuts as they wade through the lake on a slow boat. Even now, once in a while, there is a lady or a gentleman that faints, shrieks or at the least gasps at the sight of the scene.

Floating heads is not a thing our world has come to believe to exist. Even if they try to, they cannot do so without attributing it to some dark magic or sorcery. What makes it more interesting is that their faces. All the heads have the same face. It's an unsettling feeling to see such a sight.

The locals, no more try to rest on the lakefront after a tiring day, wishing to enjoy the pleasant view their ancestors used to enjoy a few centuries ago.

Things have changed since the lake story.

Today, it exists in multiple versions that people don't know which one is true or simply don't care of its origin or authenticity. That's what happens when something is passed on for centuries through word of mouth. It branches into multiple versions, each  branch containing a taste of its narrator's creative juice, gets polluted with exaggerations, omissions, inventions and pure magic without which the younger minds would readily object and then dissect every word of it to prove it all a fantasy tale.

The lake that sees and is seen by at least a hundred tourists today, once had a single log floating on it. It was said to have been washed in by a flood that has suspiciously not revisited this land for more than nearly seven hundred years now. The flood, that replaced the land, lives and everything on this patch of Earth and thus became a lake. Here, on the log was the body of a woman, still having enough life and will to breathe but not move. The bump of belly was not hidden as was her whole self. Was she wearing leaves or was she wearing clothes woven with cotton, no clue could suggest. Nothing would have been so imperishable as her to withstand such strong force of nature.

On this very lake, the log and the pregnant woman were afloat with no direction to follow, no word to utter, no land to reach, no friend or foe come looking for; absolutely forgotten by land and all the lives on it.

A week from that day was seen the first head.

That of a new born child.

There was no body, no sign of mutilation, no wound or aperture of any kind but a perfectly round ending neck. One cannot say it was severed from a body. White, rough skin was covering the bottom of the neck as any human's feet, like it was how a human child would naturally have been born, with only the head and a round feet in place of the neck, with no toes.

Within days, there were about five heads, all alike.

Nobody dared to touch them, till today.

As days passed on, the faces start to change.

It started to grow. Grow older, and older every month. But, all the faces that were seen at any time were alike. Vacant and expressionless like a mannequin but as real as yours and mine.

Every month the faces started to age, by one year and every fifth year, they all start to decay. For a month the whole city is abandoned to escape the stench that's said to have killed a whole village in the past. A month following that, anyone looking at this lake would find it no different from any other on Earth. It looks more ordinary than any lake, until the head of another baby slowly floats to the surface, wobbling this way and that.

Tourists dare themselves to come and witness this gruesome phenomenon while the local population is slowly dwindling away.

Such is the story of the lake, as I've heard.

Bounding



I had a hint of a headache, but that was okay.

I felt light, lighter than the little pigeon's feather that keeps floating for hours before landing on the road to be found and picked up with joy, like a treasure, by some kid by the side of the street.

Was it the weather? It was a blindingly bright day with the sun straight over the head and yet it was pleasant. I wondered if the giant icebergs have finally arrived in the city carving up their way, splitting open the annoyingly busy roads, toppling the cars and buses all the way. I was smiling for no reason.

But that was only the least of the strangest things that was happening around today.

The angry guy at the tea shop wasn't his usual self. He didn't pour the skin-burning, boiling water on me but continued to talk merrily with those guys, laughing so loud that filled their hearts and overflowed on their faces. Such a happy, magical sound, it was! I think I was happy for him.

Bounding and bounding around, I went off to explore those quiet streets. Oh! how I had always wanted to go around with no fear of entering any gate or sleeping in any cool shadow without being startled to wake up by some by-stander who enjoys throwing stones at me. I never understood their cackles when they hit the target and see me run amok, yelping in pain, fearing that the sky was falling on my head. Oh, the slight headache was still bothering me.

I thought I noticed that the people in this city are really pretty when they were talking to each other and wearing a happy face all the while. May be that's what was filling me up with energy that I didn't feel a bit tired.

I've been on these straights for years but I had never been allowed to come closer those kids playing by the side of the street. They are adorable and very different from the grown-ones. One minute they will be jumping and singing and the next they'll be fighting and howling but within another minute they would be back to singing and dancing together. Would these adults have been kinder to me if they were also able to forget their anger and despair and celebrate life like these kids do? May be, as they get old and wise their hearts becomes cold and less nice.

*Yaaaawn!!!*

How I would have liked to sleep then! Though I was not tired, I loved to enjoy a really good and peaceful nap.

Why did I feel so free today? Is this freedom? How did I find it? Or, did it find me?

Oh, wait! what did I see over there?

Why was that one sleeping in the middle of the road, unafraid of the cars?

What a sheer coincidence! That one's tail was also all brown, with a few open patches showing the skin where the hair has fallen off!

I went closer to see how could anyone sleep so calmly in the middle of a busy road.

Oh, well, that explained my headache.

When your head has been smashed, headache is nothing to complain about.

Is this freedom?

Bounding around the streets with no fear. Sleeping anywhere with no worries in the world. Standing in the middle of a circle of kids singing and dancing and going round and around, without them running away or me getting chased away.

I asked again, is this freedom?

And then I started to ask why it didn't come sooner? Why have I been living a prolonged life that delayed the sweetness of this freedom?

Would I have enjoyed this freedom if I had not lived a life that has denied me that throughout?

Not wanting to find answers to my own questions, I thank the shiny car for granting me this freedom. The car, as red as my blood that's drying on the dirt of these streets. The car, that never stopped. The car, that never showed a hint of regret or remorse. The car that was on its way to free a few more miserable creatures.

In ten seconds



"They don't even know that I'm lying here, in the middle of a busy road. In fact, nobody does.

There have been many who had been in this very situation as I am, in the past. It is that time of the year. But most of those incidents were during the quiet nights when this part of the world is safely blanketed with cold darkness, thanks to the lack of lighting up all the roads which seems either unimportant or unnecessary for their governments.

But, this is happening in broad daylight, and there are super heavy machines, robots, speeders at least many hundreds or a few thousand times my own weight, suddenly appearing and vanishing from all directions.

Any minute now, I'll no longer be.

Alas, I can't scream for help either, for I've not learnt to commune with them in terms of words. Our communication is only by touches and kisses.

Oh, they care for me and would never let a harm fall on me. But nobody knows that I'm here, at the door of doom and staring right at it, waiting for it to open any time and suck me in.

Wait, there is one, coming this way on foot and not on a speeding robot. May be, I could seduce him a bit and make him attempt to save me, forgetting the safety of his own under my spell.

I could see his pace increase and the fall each of his foot step is changing its course and he is coming my way. What else could he do while under my spell. I've always been proud of my looks, charms and spells.

At last, I will be saved.

-- SKWEEECHHHHHH --

What luck! What fate!

Though the probability of being squashed by a three-rolling-wheeled robots is less than that by a four-rolling-wheeled ones, I now know possibilities could not simply be dismissed by greater probabilities.

Half deformed, splashing more than half of my yellow blood on the face of this black canvas of a road, my spell is broken and nobody, anymore would want to save or help me. I've lost everything, my beauty, pride, charm and will to attempt to live a little longer.

All I long for is for this to be over soon. This agony, to go away so that I feel no hope or pain anymore. But time is a cruel sadist. Slowing down and stretching each second to eternity, he rejoices in my pain as I lie here, silently bleeding on my way to another world. Like being controlled by the hidden hands of the time, all the robots seem to miss me now, though I'm an easier target now.

If my fate is to lay here, away from home, away from all pleasures I've enjoyed by allowing every passerby a good look at my skin and kindling their lustful thoughts of what lies beneath my skin, so be it. I would bleed all yellow until it clogs and I could not longer bleed and thus no longer die but rot away slowly. So be it.

I'm prepared to remain on this mute road that doesn't care to share the pain of the likes of me. I'm now helpless, hopeless but and at peace.

Though it feels like eternity, if there is a time-keeper, he would say hardly nine seconds would have passed since my charm was broken. May be..."



Epilogue: 

At the tenth second, probabilities joining hands with possibilities a six-rolling-wheeled speeding robot transporting humans squashed the rest of the mango and only the juicy yellow splashes remain to sing the song of its story, for a few more hours.

May it rest in pieces!

புல் à®®ீது

à®’à®°ு புல்லின் நுனியில் நீ அமர்ந்திà®°ுந்தாய்,
மறு புல்லின் இடையில் நின்à®±ு உன்னை பாà®°்த்தேன்.

ஆசை கொண்டே à®…à®°ுகில் வர நான் நகர்ந்தேன்,
சுà®®ை தாà®™்கா புல் பாவம் à®®ெல்ல தலை குனிய,
இக்காட்சி கலையுà®®ென பயம் கொண்டேன்,
அசையாது à®…à®™்கேயே அமர்ந்தபடி பாà®°்த்து கிடந்தேன்.

காலம் உறையட்டுà®®், இந்த காட்சி தொடரட்டுà®®்

When Breath Becomes Air! (Book Review)


Death follows birth (slowly may be, but surely).

We’re no strangers to this fact and yet we laugh, we cry, we fight, we run, we dream, we fly, we love, we hate, we push some down, we raise others up, we rejoice, we regret, we LIVE until we die.

How would you feel when you’re holding a promising book that suggests being at least of a thousand pages however by the 40th page you see a hint that suggests the book would end on page 60 and by reaching page 50, you know for sure that it really is ending on 60 and the rest of the pages have ‘the END’ printed in big, bold, black letters filling the whole page?  (Answer: Cheated / Disappointed / Fooled / Angry / Broken / Silenced / Nothing)

Paul Kalanithi, a neurosurgeon, was gifted one such rigged book. He too, like everyone else, believed in ‘work hard now, and you can relax and reap the fruits of this hard work later’.

Well, he worked hard, really hard, straining hours continuously bent over slit bodies trying to find a way to save a life, and when the fruits were ripening enough, a dark cloud engulfed his life and drained him off it mercilessly.

We all know we’ll die, we (most of us) just do not know when. We just believe it is not in the near foreseeable future and so ignore it altogether.

When you’ve been a doctor, dealing with patients, problems, lives; a neurosurgeon, who has been in the very rooms where you’ve witnessed life and death countless times, knowing that there is one more life which is halved could’ve just been one another case in the hundreds you’ve done paperwork for.

But, when it is your life that is halved, how do you face it? How COULD you face it?

Then, after the bargaining, came flashes of anger: “I work my whole life to get to this point, and then you give me cancer?”

As a doctor, I knew not to declare “Cancer is a battle I’m going to win!” or ask “Why me?” (Answer: Why not me?)

Paul was neither foolishly brave to deny that he is going to die soon nor was he silenced by it.

Given only a few years to live, he altered his choices in life.  A comfortable life, with less working hours, enough money, settling down for good with a comfortable retirement plan would be one choice we all prefer if given one.

Paul, at the age of 34, being denied this choice, chose to accept the unfairness of life and decided to live life with simpler (unthinkable for many of us) options.

He chose to write a book, have a child, live peacefully (to the extent possible) and depart so.

A life balanced between nihilism and optimism. He quotes how ‘coming in such close contact with my own mortality had changed both nothing and everything.’

Speaking from his grave where the heads of the tulips and flowers left behind are eaten away by deer today, Paul prepares us to be not disappointed come what may and live on.

Life has always been unfair for many and by not accepting it we simply make fools of ourselves and by hating it we just ruin not just ours but that of everyone around us.

While reading the book, when Paul inhales and then releases one last, deep, final breath when Breath becomes Air, we return to our normal lives but we do not feel as normal as we used to until then.

Harmony with A.R.Rahman


There is no oil and water that doesn't mix, when it comes to music. Storm and calm are both the essential ingredients when mixed at the right proportions with mastery, produce an exquisite kind of music, an elixir that allows you to forget all the meaninglessness of life and live it as it is, seeking no knowledge of what tomorrow holds or sleep on the dents yesterday left.

Harmony - an experiment by the maestro to blend sounds, mistakenly assumed to not mix, and create something stimulating.

The techno-magician who converts digits to sounds that tap our energy to hop around or allow us float around on a sea of sadness, safely without drowning, now brings in a traditional instrument, an unconventional one, a mountain vocalist, a natural soother, each unique in its own way, and creates magic.

To envision a way to contain more than one essence in one mammoth apparatus, device a method and distill the perfume of the highest quality that arrests, enslaves the smeller, proves the genius of the mind.

Music, like science has the ability to give birth to new species as we experiment with the ideas not imagined till date and Harmony is proof enough.

We, each and every one of us, in our own fields, could never stop being curious. We falter on our way to finding new destinations but once we’ve been to those places where nobody has been before, our journey ends; and at the same time a new one begins.

Kudos!

Tiny Tales (31 to 35)

#31: Washed my wrist thrice already and couldn't find any cut. Bleeding continues with no pain.

#32: She jumped from the seventh floor and ran after the ambulance that was carrying her away.

#33: After our car crashed we ran forward to hug and passed right through the other. Only when the rescuers talk to us will we know which one of us is alive.

#34: He's afraid of sleeping. When he sleeps he wakes up in a world less pleasant.

#35: He hugged her. His heart was quiet. The longer she listened, the quieter her world became.

White Out

The day has finally come, after 20 years. There won't be any need to peer over the telescope to look at it anymore.

He still remembered the day they identified that one dot, brighter than the rest in the deep dark void.

For a few months every space research centre across the globe jumped on it and started sending out instruments to get a closer look, to pick the weakest radiation, to feel the mildest temperature or anything that they could read and comprehend.

He figured before the rest of the world that today will come, what path chosen for the future of this world and he hoped against all hopes that his observations and conclusions are somehow wrong. But, they weren't.

He looked up at the sky, and saw with naked eyes, the universally known secret, shared in silence only among the research organisations across the globe holding no information back from one another.

It would be only 10 more years when it will finally be the END.

He wished he didn't have to see the day the bright light is just over their head and the lives on this blessed planet becomes darkened.

Had he chosen to work in a coal mine, miles away from the surface from where he now saw the brightest demon smiling down at them, he'd have lived a few more years peacefully, completely ignorant of the shiny blade hanging overhead and he'd have only felt the pain of the tons and tons of earth that would have squeezed the life out him in the blink of an eye.

Alas, he is an astronomer and being the best one at it he had to suffer the weight of the crushing truth that the world is coming to an end.

Unlike the natural process that the human mind derived, the sun fading out, world becoming colder and eventually freezing out inn the cruel cold coal black space, though it still is a natural process, but against the imagining of men, the world was about to end by a star that followed all the physical laws men knew and so, exactly so, will crush world.

It didn't need an astronomer with excellence in the field to tell that the course of our planet could not be altered by setting sails or rowing in the reverse direction to avoid the hit. Like a murderous stone released from a catapult, hitting a bird right on the head, sitting unaware of the danger, the bright dot will wipe the lives out, but the only difference and the worst part is that we'd know it before hand and await it without hope.

All he wished now is that, may be, if it hit the brighter side of the planet at noon, at least the people on the darker side would have gone into a deep sleep not to wake up forever.