Idyllic Thoughts

In Kundapur, we went to see a nearby river which was too picturesque to be described. The trees kissed the water as if standing in a mangrove forest. Seeing a temple across, we crossed the river in a boat and reached the temple only to see that it belonged to a daiva, as they call it in Dakshina Kannada and Udupi. The god had come on the body of the priest and he was dancing with a sword. My young cousin, who had never seen such a scene before with a priest dressed in cloth made of gejje, stood gaping at him even when he danced dangerously close to her. I came out only to see a hen with throat cut, jumping up in air writhing in pain, to take its last long breath and fall dead. What do any amount of literacy, education, sophistication, wealth and power amount to? Nothing, when it comes to following such rituals in fear of god, if not true devotion. The hen's jumping in pain is still dancing in front of my eyes. Why are people so desperate to get what they want at the cost of other l

I have just returned from a short trip; a trip long pending. I went to Kundapur and Hallihole, a tiny village at the end of Udupi District, flanked by forest on three sides and a beautiful river on the other. Travelling to Kundapur, I revisited the place where I studied for six years; the school and college on the serene hill in the middle of nowhere and felt like once again walking down the slope with books in one hand and my close friend's hand in the other. We felt like being in the top of the world with our little secrets and lots of laughter. I wonder where those days went. It was in the middle of the night, around 1 or 2 am, when I passed my school. I remembered the ghost stories that we used to frighten each other with, about the school as it was said to be built on a graveyard. The blooming of a life above the dead. Nice. Isn't it? Coming to ghosts, there was a dilapidated house a few kilometres after the school on the roadside. It had mosses and small plants on its ste

Today I realised that people always don't mean what they say and say what they mean. It is up to us to understand the meaning behind their words and act accordingly. But what if we understand them wrongly? Then it is our turn to get surprised when we finally realise what they always meant. So how do you understand what somebody actually means? I don't know. I have failed in analysing people and admitting it is a great step towards losing my ego. But the lesson also turned out to be quite hurtful. After all, falling is quite natural for those who walk, right?

Who am I? No, don't be frightened. I am not stepping over to the philosophical realm; well not really. But I have been thinking of this since a few days. I do not like to call myself a journalist because though I go for reporting (some times), edit, manage pages, take decisions on what the Mysoreans should and should not read, I do not feel I am a true journo. I am not a writer. Of course I write and people read. I have been doing it since college days (and even before that in my diary). But I do not churn out books and articles at others' will. I write only when something inside me compels me to write, without letting me to be in peace, torturing me. I am not a scientist. I studied science and considered it my favourite, thinking of myself as a scientist even in thoughts, a true scientist. But lately I seem to have withdrawn into the world behind scientific temperament, that of beliefs. So there goes that identity. I think I am just a girl. A girl like crores of others. Jus

Everyday morning I see men, young and old, loitering near tea shops everywhere in city, drinking tea and smoking cigarette, watching girls pass by, for hours together. I thought they sat there only during mornings and evenings; but was shocked to see them there whole day, doing nothing. Why? Do they have nothing better to do? There will be at least 5 to 10, sometimes more, men at each tea shop. Why are they so unproductive? They are a burden to the society and their homes who feed them, attire them and give them extra money to buy cigarettes and drinks. No wonder I see more number of women nowadays in buses, going to work and feed their family. And then they say just because women work, they get no jobs. In truth, they get no jobs because they are either very lazy or carefree and they are unemployable too. Knowing not much except speaking of politics in mid-afternoon with great expertise. What a great waste of human resource. I also see teachers going from house to house in hot sun ta