You were there when my life was Silent.

You were there when my life was Violent.

Your voice made sure I was Alive.

But alas! What did I do to you all this While?

I smoked like an idiot, Madly

I choked you with poison, Deadly

But now I know, it was a Mistake

I know you suffered lot of Aches

Today I take this oath through this Art,

Oh My HEART,

“I WILL QUIT SMOKING”

Because, I know, I know,

I will Stop Breathing,

The day you stop Beating.

Note: The poem is dedicated to souls who have decided to quit smoking for good but can’t muster enough will power and the support to back their decision.

Love Yourself, Love your HEART!!

-------- RAJ

In Between and After, LIFE & DEATH !!

"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live." Marcus Aurelius

“Are you scared of living or are you scared of death?” or does this question scares you more than life and death?


Oh, never mind. I am just curious.


If you ask me, I am scared of both depending on the situation.


But hey, wait a minute. Do we really need to think about life and death? What I mean is , why cant we think about the things in between life and death?


Ok, for the sake of argument. Let me think. What’s in between this life and death?. There is me with a bold “I” screaming out and yelling to prove my existence. The bold “I” which thinks that survival is the only thing that exists in between life and death. But if death is certain then why survive?


Oops, a vicious circle. So is it worth to survive? If survival is everything then whats the difference between a human and a beast? Can you figure out any ? We both survive, live and die. So what could be that one thing that could differentiate me and you from the beast?


What? Say again. Oh, you got it. Humanity. Humanity my friend, humanity. Well, its shame that there are only few of them left, so it could easily be one of those endangered species. What about me? Well, I am half human half beast. Each decision is the outcome of the constant struggle between this beast and human. I could only pray that humanity wins.




Hey, if you are human, one of those rear species,then you got to guard yourself. Because there are beasts who would try to bend, twist and break you until the human in you succumbs to death. So , I guess we got to practice humanity otherwise you could be one of those endangered species.


Now, once you start practicing humanity, somewhere in the midway, you could face some questions like, “What’s the height of Humanity?” Well, I didn’t have an answer. But guess what, HE gave me an answer last Monday.


Am I kidding? Na, I don’t think so. HE was in a news paper.


A short-lived toddler’s parting gift


K. Venkateshwarlu




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Eighteen-month-old Ishaan succumbs to brain tumour, but lives on through others, having ‘donated’ his eyes and kidney


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

— PHOTO: P.V. SIVAKUMAR

BRAVE heart: Swathi Vedam holds the photo of her son, Ishaan , whose organs she and her husband Venugopalan Vedam (not in picture) donated, in Hyderabad recently.


HYDERABAD: Putting behind the grief of losing the apple of their eyes, eighteen-month-old Ishaan, to a killer tumour, a courageous city couple donated his eyes and kidneys, making him one of the youngest multi-organ donors in the country.


“It was a tough decision but we took it as we wanted to make his short life meaningful. We could now see him live through the eyes of two otherwise visually-challenged youngsters and a middle-aged woman, who had suffered kidney failure,” said Ishaan’s mother, Swathi.


Ishaan was born on April 14, 2006, as a normal bubbly baby to Swathi and Venugopalan Vedam, both software engineers employed with IBM and Infosys respectively.


“There was no health complaint till Dasara last year. Suddenly he started vomiting and we thought it was a simple case of indigestion or electrolyte deficiency.”


Tragically for the young couple it was not so, as Ishaan suffered bouts of unconsciousness.


Complex scans


For a week from October 21, 2007 the couple made several agonising rounds to hospitals and a series of complex scans and tests later revealed that he suffered from a rare type of brain tumour.


Without losing time, the couple consented for a complicated and extremely risky surgery for the removal of the ‘large carcinogenic tumour’. Their prayers were answered when the October 26 surgery was successful. “He came out from near comatose condition, recognised us and cried,” recalled Swathi.


Just when they thought the worst was over, his condition deteriorated and he again slipped into a coma on November 1.


“He was put on ventilator and doctors told us that his chances of survival were bleak. It was then that we took the difficult decision to donate his organs,” she said.


What inspired the couple was the brave decision taken by an Army major to donate organs of his son of the same age as Ishaan who succumbed to grievous injuries in a fall. “My son came into this world and left in a brief time but gave a new lease of life to three others,” she added.


----------------------



So, did you meet HIM? What do you think? Does that satisfy my question?


She lost here son. Her eyes are still damp. Her heart is broken. But her soul is still free. Instead of yelling, “ Why God, Why?” , they choce to embrace humanity and make peace with Him.


Now, Can you figure out the height of humanity? If God exists then its here, I guess. He comes, helps and leaves. Those who can figure HIM out, might have won the battle within them.


So is it really about life and death? I don’t think so. Its about, something in between life and death. Its about LIVING and LIVING even after Death.


“You might not have much choice in deciding the time of life and death but surely, the in between time and the time after death is in your hands.”


Do you want to just live and die or do you want to live the human way and continue living even after death? Remember,

“Whatever comes our way, whatever battle we have raging inside us, we always have a choice. It’s the choices that make us who we are, and we can always choose to do what’s right.” – Spider man

DESTINED TO BURY A DEAD BIRD !!

Last Saturday for me and my friend, was a working Day,

It was hot Chennai afternoon, though it wasn’t May.

We got out of the cab, profusely Sweating

and rushed to our cubicle, literally Cursing.

As we tested the application tirelessly, in that room filled with hot Air,

My friend said,” Let’s get out of here and have lunch, this is very Unfair”

We forced the tasteless Saturday food down our Throats.

I asked my friend, “Do we look like Goats?”

We got out of cafeteria to be greeted by angry hot Sun

A few meters away, on the compound we saw a bird, dead One.

We passed by, but I couldn’t get it out of my Mind.

I said,” C’mon we can’t be this Blind.”

So we went to pantry and got a paper Cup.

I carefully lifted the bird and placed it in, with its Head up.

We walked around the smoking zone, looking for a shady, marshy Land.

So that we could burry this lifeless, small and light bird with our Hand.

My friend dug up a hole and I looked around the unusually, silent Place.

I wondered, if someone dear to bird was watching us with a vivid Gaze.

We buried the bird and placed a Flower.

“May your soul rest in peace and your loved ones would miss you Forever.”

As we sat back on our seats, I wondered what could have killed that bird this Neat?

Was it a suicide, the heat or the intrusion of the human Beast?

Whatever the reason was, I said

“We were destined to bury a Bird.

This Saturday in office was therefore more than just test case’s in excel and Word.”

-------- RAJ

“THERE’S NO MORE FUN , YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

HE SAID, “THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

She said, “

My dad was struggling hard to keep his emotions at Bay,

my mom had tears rolling down all the Way.

My little brother had hugged me and wouldn’t let me Go,

but I left them all because I thought from today, it is you whom I got to Know.

And you say,

“THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

You go out of home at morning 8,

And return at midnight and very Late.

I come home early, to spend time with You,

But end up talking to loneliness, which is no more New.

And you say,

“THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

I come home tired but still cook delicious food and wait for you to come for Dinner,

because I feel like talking to you and making your life much Easier.

But you don’t let me know that you will be Late,

I would almost always doze off on the sofa or table, tired after all the Wait.

And you say,

“THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

Sometimes you come home very Drunk,

Shouting, screaming and calling me Junk.

I remove you shoes, and carefully put you on Bed,

Even though you murmur that you would like me to see Dead.

And you say,

“THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

Now, tears were overflowing from the dam he maintained in his Eyes,

He knew that he was a cruel beast and it wasn’t all Nice.

He fell on his knees and his head tilted down overburdened with shame,

Because he knew that its time to take all the Blame.

“Sorry, now, would be such a shameless thing to Say,

Because I know I have damaged your lovely heart in a great Way.”

With his hands folded as if he was begging for Mercy,

His eyes meet her’s like the horizon and the deep blue Sea.

“There is no fun, without You,

Please I beg you to help me to start all New.

I was such a jerk to say, you were not the One,

Please give me a final chance or you may shoot me with a point blank Gun.”

Listening to this, I think the river in her heart was overflowing with forgiveness,

She helped him to his feet and hugged him with that child like innocence.

Note:

For all those who take her love for Granted,

Believe me or not, she is your strength, without her you are Unwanted.

------ RAJ

A LOVE STORY IN BUS N32

Everyday I stood there at 8,

In formals and Straight.

I would wait for my bus N32,

If you don’t have a pass, the driver would ask,” Where 2?”

Most of the day’s she would pass by Me,

I knew, some day for her, I would fall on my Knee.

She was very pretty, beautiful and Sweet,

Drops of sweat would run down my face, I bet it was because of her and the Chennai Heat.

Her eyes were the prettiest of All,

Something that reminds me of my niece Barbie Doll.

She would look gorgeous on days when she wore Pink,

Now, I must admit, this is what made me a poet with the paper and Ink.

One beautiful day, as I got into bus N32,

I was surprised to look at her on seat number 2.

My eyes went red, white and Blue,

I could only hope that she got a Clue.

Next day I mustered all my confidence and Energy,

Asked her, “Can I sit here?” with perfect Synergy.

I guess she thought I was something like that boy on wrapper of Parle-G.

She said, “Oh? Sure.”

But I thought I heard, “Yes, my Dear!!”

I asked her out on a date,

She said, “How about breakfast? I can’t Wait.”

So, my first date was in cafeteria,

I don’t remember what I said I had, malaria, diarrhea or Lovearia.

Anyway, next few days N32 was the most cheerful Bus,

We spoke about politics, roads, people, work but nothing about my Crush.

Many a time’s I thought I got to tell her how much I liked her Here,

But it reminded me of the betrayal in the movie Primal Fear.

One day, she said smilingly and sweetly, “Finally, I am getting Married.”

I heard something inside me, thought it was my heart which just got Buried.

I looked into her eyes with an innocent and blank Face,

Consoled my heart with words like, “someone beat me in the Race.”

My eyes were damp, tears rolled down my Face,

But hey I couldn’t have cried, then what is this Maze?

I wiped my eyes, to see my mom with a half bucket Water and a Gaze,

The other half I knew was what on my Face.

Mom said, “You idiot stupid. Who is that Girl?”

I thought, “Am I still dreaming?” and said “mom, what Pearl?”

She said, “Get out of the bed, there is a GIRL waiting for you in the Hall.”

I ran my figures across my hair and rushed to the hall almost missing the Wall.

I saw a girl looking out of the Window,

“Hi, you will not find me there” said I, which sounded like a Kiddo.

She turned around to face Me.

I fainted screaming, “Oh my God, someone help Me”

NOTE :

Dedicated to all those who snore loudly in the Bus

Just to let you know that there are possibilities plenty and Enough.

OUTSOURCING E-WASTE or MAKING INDIA A CHEAP DUMP YARD ?

Alright, who is wrong here? You are dumping the garbage in your neighbor’s house or your neighbors who allows you to dump the garbage because they get paid for it.

If you ask me, both are equally at fault. But what about those innocents who are not aware of the consequences of staying with these dumps? They are the people who face the music for this idiotic act of some one else.



We all, at least most of them who cared, know about the French flag ship Clemenceau which was supposed to come into Alang ship breaking yard in Gujarat, to be dismantled. It was decommissioned from service many years ago This ship was full of asbestos (around 40-50 tonnes), PCBs (polychlorinated biphenyls), TBT (tributyltin), lead, mercury and other toxic chemicals, which France and no other European country was willing to or able to scrap due to expensive environmental costs.



Then why do the Government of France sends it off to India to be broken in a scrap yard where impoverished workers are injured and die every day due to various occupational health hazards?



I will tell you why? Strange it might sound but, few Indain’s sold their soul along with the lives of innocent thousands for some quick money. Now, can you believe that the government which on one hand talks about Global Warming, Environment and all b*** s*** sold their people for colored papers with some thick head printed on it. The Indian company had bought it and the union government supported it.



The workers who dismantle these very hazardous materials do it without any kind of protective clothing’s and very soon one out of the three land up with a cancer or die due to mishaps during the process. In addition to this, the worst part is that they aren’t covered under any labor benefits. I mean we understand that the workers are knowledgeable enough to know these things, yet they do it because surviving for just one more day is their only criteria. But isn’t it the duty of the government and these companies to stop preying on these people’s weakness?



The irony in fact is that, it was the Greenpeace and other three anti-asbestos groups which raised their voices against this movement and Indians were kept in dark until supreme court intervened.



On Saturday, as usual I was having a quick scan of the news paper when my eyes caught hold of this headlines, “Urban waste ‘imported’ from U.S. to be shipped back”



Three containers carrying URBAN waste arrived at the Kochi Port from the United States in the first week of October. Exactly what is this urban waste ? It means, 40 % of the 60 tones of the consignment contains plastic, glass, metal, cartridges of photocopying machines, food waste and gloves.



Now, it’s a shame that these developed nation’s brag about being technically advanced and superior but cannot fix their own waste. Instead they outsource it to the third world countries because it works out cheap. In other worlds what they mean is that, “The value of life in Developing and under developed nations is doesn’t weigh much compared to the life of their own people.” A real shame.



I will tell what’s even more painful. The consignments are had been brought to Kochi by selling the lives of our people for $130 a tonne. Our own traders are importing these materials for money. If I was given a choice then, I would have brought out a rule to have at least one of the close loved relative’s of these trader’s to work with those workers who survive only to die tomorrow. Then and only then, they would realize the value of life.



The developed nations who always boast about their superiority should realize that instead of dumping their waste on the lives of the million poor, they should find out the way to manage it at the source itself where it is manufactured. Every product manufactured, instead of filing for patent to copyright should also have a solid method to dispose their products safely after the life time of their products. This holds good to our nation as well.



We as a rapidly developing nations would not remain the same for long and before we start dumping our waste on someone else, lets set an example by designing a very effective, efficient and safe waste disposable system.

One of my friend commented, "Its really hard to imagine or face the grime realities of life. I hope we as collective force can do something about this. Like sign an online petition, arrange road rokos, spread awareness or file an RTI demanding an explanation for these acts from the Government. "

I agree that we could make a difference by raising our concern but the only problem that I see is that, the magnitude and the frequency of issues is so much that our life time will be spent on only in fighting these causes.


For example the Jessica Lal case received so much publicity but on the other hand there are millions who are still suffering judicial betrayal. I mean it would be almost be impossible to give the same amount of publicity to all.



Now, currently we have become intelligent enough to realize this and hence we create a general body which for example the Green Peace Activists who have an agenda and a common cause. One of its committee fights against all these instances and the other is responsible for creating the general awareness among people about what they do. Now both of these are equally important but I guess we need to fight the root cause, you know.
These waste materials that was being dumped since many years in Kerala was creating all kind of environmental issues. Though late, the Kerala govt. did well to stop it. However, all said and done, they fail to execute it because some how, some where, some one would know how to beat the system.

 

“Lets respect the value of the everyone’s LIFE. It’s price less.”

My First Experience as, THE SCRIBE !!

3 days back, on Friday I received a forwarded email from my collegue. The email clearly stated that it required a scribe for the visually challenged student’s exam. I wasn’t sure what scribe meant so as usual like 99 % of the software professionals I opened the internet explorer and google.




So now that I knew what scribe is all about, the next option was to choose to be one or not to be one. I didn’t have any problem with the timings because our work at office starts at 2pm so I could catch our cab somewhere in Adyar, I thought. Anyway, I was apprehensive about being a scribe because I had no experience at all with this and moreover I didn’t want to mess up someone’s exam.



But my theory “interested in everything and committed to nothing” was at stake. So took a plunge. I replied back to Suchithra Ramaswamy stating that I would be available at any of the mentioned dates provided she was willing to share her experience as a scribe and that I could catch my cab in time so as to come to office.



Now, it would be unfair on my part if I don’t give you a glimse of this amazing person with a beautiful and strong heart I guess. Strong? Yeah I will let you know in some time. I haven’t meet her personally but we did have few emails flying In and Out of Box’s interestingly placed in Outlook. Also, I did have a look into her blog. Now, isnt that too much? No it isnt. I am just interested in everything you see. Alright. This wonderful person has initiated many beautiful projects. Now I call it beautiful projects because it’s got something to do with bonding hearts and making this world a better place for everyone. Pay the Fee’s Campaign is something which I guess, she is proud off because in her blog she quotes : “Pay the Fees Campaign 2007 happens to be the most successful campaign I have done all my life. Once I knew where my heart was set the going was so much easier. This was one spending I wont regret all my life.” It was the campaign started to initiate a fund raiser for deserving kids who could not afford to pay fees for their studies. Now to know why I call her strong, you got to read her post, Blood Donation – My Story J



So, now that I have shared my interest to be a scribe, I waited for the reply, which I get in no time. She told me that she required people who could write tamil because their was an immense requirement but limited volunteers. But she had blocked my name so that I could be a scribe when the requirement arises. I was thankful for that and continued with my weekend weird story which of coarse I would not wish to share.



So on Monday I get this email with my name mapped to a visually challenged student whom I would assist in writing exam by lending my ears, eyes and hands which could write English, for sometime. To be frank, I don’t want to get too emotional with things, so I was happy enough to spend my half day as scribe outside of my room. I was happy enough to gain this experience and was happy enough to know that I could make this world a better place and share it with all. So, I replied to this email letting her know that I would be glad and am excited.



Now, finding addresses and reaching at RIGHT time is something which people don’t associate with me, especially when I am in a new city. However I try to make up for this good quality of mine by landing at this location a day ahead. I mean, at least 2 hours a head of RIGHT time. So again I do a google search to find the Queens Mary College. I get to know that it’s a girls college, so I think, being a scribe isnt that bad u know. Anyway, jokes apart. I leave my house at 7:30 and take a shared auto ( I had christened it shatadoor for some weird reasons when I was new to the city. But that would take another post.) to thriuvanmiyur bus depo. I get into wrong bus and get almost kicked out of it by the grumbling conductor( I hate those men in blue. Will let you know why ). So, next time without mistake I double check that I have got into the right bus and it goes to the right destination. I again get that grumbling from conductor for repeatedly asking the same question in different tones. One of the many good souls like me over there in the bus asked me to get down one stop after light house and then I was there. Time 8:15. Almost, 1hr 15 minutes before time. Gosh, I thought I would never ever get the RIGHT time, I thought.



Well, now I needed to search this college. But I used my super charged brain to follow the girls who had got down the same bus because somehow I guessed they were going to the same college. One of the girl in the group starred back at me as if I was really following them for reasons other than the one I had in my mind. So, gauging the unnecessary trouble that I would invite, I moved ahead of them hoping to cite the college by myself. So there was it. A man in his 50’s at the gate was having his breakfast. I couldn’t stop gazing at the white iddli’s and sambar. He didn’t look like a security guard so he must be a watchman, yeah the one’s who just watch and watch and yeah you got it. So called me and enquired ‘enna venu’. It’s been a year now in Chennai, so I could understand few basic tamil words and could efficiently guess the rest of the words spoken based on pure mathematics which I hate to explain.



“Err… blind… scribe..venu……. Me… exam…where?” is what I heard myself speak but some how I knew he was gonna bang me out of the gate. Miraculously, he understood what I said and I was happy about my new communication skill. I call it tamilish. Anyway, he lifted his right hand to point towards the temple. Arre, he was a lefty yar, remember he was eating breakfast?



So, I went near the temple. I saw many people, err girls I must confess reading as if its goona be the end of the world and only a word in that book if pronounced properly in right time could save the world.. It reminded me of my days in +2, of coarse not engineering. I meet this guy from Andra. He was as confused as me. So, as the saying goes, two confused make up a good company of entertainment. I learnt that he was there as a scribe for the first time as well and was looking for his person. Finally a lady arrived from a group of students sitting on the bench just a feet away from us and asked us if we were scribes and the names that we are supposed to write the exams for. I was wondering how blind we were. I mean all the girls on that bench were blinds and they were having their fingers on this braille script on the yellow pages or some fat book, studying. We couldn’t figure that out from a feet distance. How blind can you get, aint it. The lady told us that she heard what we spoke and thereby wanted to help us out to find the respective person. I wondered how sharp her ears were because she was partially blind as well.



I got to know who I am writing the exam for and THEY LEAD us to this place were we get the question papers. Along with these blinds there were others who could see and who would write the same exam. The teachers in their typical dictatorship style asked everyone to fall in line and they asked them to sit under the shade of the tree. We watched this from some distance. I thought then, that it was some kind of drill or something but guess what. They distributed question papers and asked to write exams. I had mixed emotions, obviously confusing me. I mean, I was happy that they have the opportunity to learn and write exams when millions of those don’t have this opportunity but on the other hand they didn’t have the basic facility of a desk or a classroom for that matter to sit and write exam without distraction.



They collected their question papers and came to us. We selected a place. Pushed and dusted some of the broken desk and chairs and started with the scribe business. The desk had an unequal leg so I was almost doing a see saw, but it was fun. Technically, there is nothing that you need to experience in order to be a scribe. Technically, all that you need is the ability to read and write neatly in the language specified in the question paper. Non Technically, you need a beautiful heart. I hope you get the funda.



Half way through the exam a teacher comes in with a strong voice she said, “Are you girls from 2nd year English literature class”. The girls replied positively in unison. “Your teacher told me that you have done very well in your last exam.” I saw few blushing and heads beaming with pride. The teacher continued, “So your teacher is doubtful about it. Have you girls given notes to the scribe or have the scribes used their own knowledge to assist the students?” I was shell shocked and so were the students. I mean, you don’t have the basic facility here. I know that these students are visually challenged and may be fighting even more challenges in their home and here is a teacher who doubts them for doing well in exam. I think my fellow scribe got really irritated by this stupid act and he said, “Ma’am I don’t think anyone of us could read Braille script here even if they had given the scribes the notes”. The teacher asked for it, I thoguht. I think she knew it was stupid of her so she said, “ very well then. But meet this teacher of yours before leaving alright?” and she left.



All these girls were staring at each other with little of disappointment on their face. For a second I thought they could see. What I could see was their disappointment because they told us that they had studied very well and if the admin was really doubtful about it then they could have placed a person to monitor during exam. Well, there is no room, no desk, no water near by to drink, how could they afford a person to sit and monitor, I thought. We finished the exam real quick in 2 hours. But I was happy they couldn’t beat me in that. My all time record was 1 min. I am sure someone would have broken it by now. It was English literature and all were bouncers for me. You would have realized that by now. It was all about Shakespeare and Milton all the way back to 1100.



I wished her good luck and told her that I learnt a lot today from the time I woke up to this very moment. I thanked her for that and waited for my friend or colleague from GMR, Arjun to complete the paper and join me. We left the place in no time as it was very VERY hot. And wondered, instead of sweat if it was blood that was flowing out of me then I would have died million times by then due to lack of blood. Since it was too early to catch the cab for me, we got into the bus to thiruvanmiyur. As I sat next to the window looking at the vast stretch of marina, I thought how wonderful and interesting life could be if and only if we could get the shoes on and step out of our home into the beautiful world of unknown yet beautiful possibilities. A gush of cool breeze blew right on my face as if it agreed with me.

“Be THE SCRIBE. After all, The BEST you can offer them is not the money, it’s your TIME.”