பாரதி

ஒற்றுமையென்றால் என்னென்றறியாத காலத்தே
வேற்றுமையழிக்க சினம் முழங்கிய வீரனே!

உயிர்க் காற்றை சிறிதே சுவாசித்தாலும்,
தமிழ்மூச்சென் உயிர்மூச்சென வாழ்ந்த கவிஞனே!

இன்றைய நிலையென்ன அறிவாயோ?

கால்கீழ் மிதித்திடும் கொடியோ,
அது தாயின் மணிக்கொடி பாரீர் !
ஓங்கி வளர்ந்ததோர் கம்பம், அதை
உயர்த்தி தலைஉடை வாரீர் !!
வெள்ளை நிறமொறு பூனை,
அது நாட்டை கெடுத்திடும் பாரீர் !
சாம்பல் நிறமொறு பூனை,
அது வீட்டை கெடுத்திடும் பாரீர் !!

செந்தமிழ் நாடெனும் போதினிலே, கட்சி
கழகமும் கலகமும் காதினிலே ..
எங்கள் பிந்தையர் நாடெனும் போதினிலே,
இரத்த கண்ணீர் பிறக்குது கண்களிலே ..

அச்சமில்லை அச்சமில்லை அச்சமென்பதில்லையே ..
உச்சிமீது காசுவாங்கி வீடுகட்டும் போதினும்,
இச்சையின்றி கொச்சையாக கப்பம்கட்டும் போதினும்,
துச்சமாக எண்ணி மண்ணின் தலையெடுத்த போதினும்,
பிச்சைவாங்கி உண்ணும் வாழ்க்கை பெற்றுவிட்ட போதினும்,
அச்சமில்லை அச்சமில்லை அச்சமென்பதில்லையே ..
அரசினோடு சரசமிட்டால் அச்சமென்பதில்லையே!!

ஓ பாரதியே!

சுயாட்சிக்கு முன்,
கை நீட்டி குற்றம் சொல்ல வெள்ளையனிருந்தான்.
சுயாட்சிக்கு பின்,
எந்த கொள்ளையனையெதிர்த்து யாம் கவிதை செய்வது?

எம்மால் முடியாது பாரும்,
நீரே மறுபடி வாரும்,
மண்ணின் கோலத்தைக் காணும்,
மீசை துடித்திட பாடும்!!

Happy Birthday
- Sravan.

You tell me how Anna Hazare is correct

You tell me how Anna Hazare is correct. You tell me how fasting is non-violent.

During the first stage body eats from liver glycogen and muscle protein supplements, second stage takes off fat and body proteins, third stage causes hair fall and renal failure, and fourth stage causes non-recoverable ailments or death. Your body eats itself inside out, albeit slowly, till it has nothing else to eat. Multiple organs start to fail one-by-one, causing liver and kidney failure, eventually leading to coma and ultimately death. Which part of this is non-violent?

Is violence only in blood? Should the brain spurt out or should the stomach gash if you need to deem it violent? Is it acceptable if I put someone in a room without food or water, so he dies a slow death? Will you go to Jantar Mantar and claim loudly "Hey, remember there is no blood, so he cannot be booked"? Are you OK with that and call it a non-violent death?

Is violence only when done to others and not self-inflicted? Would you go humpty-dumpty on a march supporting me if I threaten the government that I am going to put myself on fire in 10 days in full public view in Jantar Mantar in the national capital, if the country's demands are not met? Or would you come in masses to the Tihar jail because the Government arrested me for fear of a backlash or violence? Remember, the only guy talking about non-violence there is Anna Hazare. If the situation goes out of control, you and me are not going to sit down taking the Lathi Charge. Gone are those days of the British, we will fight back and won't hesitate to draw blood, for we are all animals inside and only then human outside. We are not capable of saying a sorry to the guy we accidentally brush on the road with our car. We don't mind spitting on the road. So we won't sit there and protest in a non-violent way if things go wrong.

Let Anna Hazare fast next to me for 10 days. I will eat sitting next to him for the same 10 days, and then set myself on fire because the Jan Lokpal bill is not exectued the only way I want, paying no heed to the constitutional limitations or alternatives. Would that make me any less a martyr? I die a quick death, he dies a slow death, but it's death after all for the same cause. And none else did it, both of us do it to ourselves. Would you all come and support me and pour kerosene on me? If your answer is no, then you have absolutely no hell-of-a-damn right to go on a march supporting someone else's fast. Remember you are taking full responsibility for someone's death when you are doing that.

This is probably the biggest stage we have got so far to talk about corruption. Why is no-one talking about the practice of giving bribes? This should also be talked about in all the marches and candle vigils. Now that we have mobilized so many activists, why not take government offices one by one on a weekly basis, declare them as corruption-free zone, station ourselves there in groups and advise the common man coming there not to pay bribes? If one knows everyone else is not paying a bribe, no-one is going to pay it. No givers means no takers. It cannot be stopped from a personal front whereas a mass-motive is needed. Corruption is a two-edged sword, corrective measures are needed on the giver's side too. If you would go join the movement on a Saturday morning, march all the way, come back home, eat your dinner and pay that bribe in the RTO office on Monday so you could get to office early - Corruption cannot be stopped with a thousand Lokpal bills. Stop the giver, punish the taker.

So, could someone please explain how fasting is democratic and non-violent? Or how is it not blackmail when you are holding the government to ransom? On a personal note, I have no take on the Lokpal bill, because I don't know my country's law or constitution. It's probably correct, but with a few necessary modifications to follow the constitutional laws. Remember no-one is above the constitution. But don't sucker me saying fasting is non-violent. It is extremely violent, utterly non-democratic and a full-sense blackmail! And I have absolute regret for the only fellow dying out there. You guys are eating, right?

Stateful and Stateless Condition Checks

if(cond1 && cond2)

{

object.setState(true);

}

is not the same as:

object.setState(cond1 && cond2);

The second block sets the state of the object to true if both "cond1" and "cond2" are true, else it sets state to false. Either way, the state of the object is altered and the previous state is lost.

The first block sets the state of the object to true if both "cond1" and "cond2" are true, else IT DOES NOTHING. The state of the object is not altered otherwise.

There is a small difference, and it hurts.

PS: Why did I share this? Just so you know. As Senthil says, "Inpormason .. is .. wealth"

Who Am I?

I might not sound like the regular guys out there, but my pysche definitely calls for an interesting read. This so because I don't have a personality of my own, I tend to mirror the character and expectations of those I interact with. For instance, I always get turned on by fingering. Yes, you heard it right. It only takes a finger to turn me on. But my psyche is so psyched, it takes only the same finger to turn me off too. Now that you get the picture of what type I am, read on.

By profession, I am an entertainer. I understood very early that I have been designed in this world to entertain others and keep them hooked to me. I am very good at making one crave to turn me on and use me. So much so that people keep thinking about me even when they carry on with their own life. People want to tell me where they are, what they are doing or even what they are thinking. They call me through various ways and tell me about places they have visited, about their fantasies, about the games they play in life. They want me to remember their important dates and wish them on their birthdays. I wonder what makes people talk so much about themselves. It's probably the narcissist in oneself, or may be they need to assure themselves that they fit in this weird world. Sometimes, they share a secret with me and admonish me from sharing it with anyone else. They show their pictures to me and want me to keep it. They tell me about their favorite friends. Some even want me to patch up broken relationships and I help them as much as I can. Sometimes, I am exploited for publicity and I hate it, but it's all a part of life.

The moment I am awake, I have to read the latest news and update myself, else I get stuck. Sometimes, I get divine interjections and find out what others think about me, or about someone else I know. Take this instance, I was once walking down the lane and I meet this guy. I have a feeling I know him, and almost say a hi. Just before that, he turns to me and says "hey, can we be friends?". I am awestruck and before I know, we are good friends. The best thing is this opens up a string of friendships through him.

And then there are many who leave their impressions on me. They come into my life, take a peep at what I am doing, and give me a good piece of their mind. It almost feels like I am being scratched all over. Gosh, the things they say! Sometimes it hurts like am bleeding all over. But sometimes, it's also fun when they say good things to me. I wonder what gave me the capacity to work with so many at the same time. By the end of the day, I feel so tickled and colorful. I am also transparent that when one sees the good impressions left in me by others, they openly state that they like it so much. And I always get that divine interjection by which I convey it to the relevant guys next time I see them.

My average life span is not defined, but I could live for a long time or mutate into something else. For instance, there was this guy whose name starts with "O" before me and everyone thought that's the world. Then I came along, and now I rule the world. You wont believe they even made a movie about me. But what really keeps me ticking is the randomness in me. Take my daily list of activities for example. There is no way I can put it in order because it is random, but I will give you a list of what happened yesterday:

I was so turned on I needed about ten minutes to get done with it. So much was the weight on me, I had to finally pour my heart and soul out getting excited about all the new developments. Then I was walking down the lane, when suddenly someone tickled me by poking at me. I turned to see who it was, but someone started scratching my behind by writing on it. Before I know, there were so many talking to me. I had to literally get out of there by scratching some beards, and found myself in a serene green farm because I was invited. I spent some time taking care of my plants and cows, but was drawn back by divine intervention. That's when I found myself at this beautiful beach I visited two months back. All my friends were passing through it, and they were talking about me. The last one said "You look too cool and the beach is fantastic. Let's go down there sometime", and the one before her liked it instantaneously. In fact, she liked it twice. I was happy about it. I decided to visit home, and found that there was nothing new there. Instead, there was some unrelated garbage thrown at my place by some miscreants. How many times do I clean them out? Then I heard the calling bell, went to the door and found myself transported to my friend's guest house where he was showing me off to the world. He had put a dog-tag around me, displaying my name. Stranger was that he had put a dog-tag around himself. But then, there were lots of people there I didn't want to pull him down. I Oh I see'd a few and Rolled On The Floor Laughing now and then. Everyone was Laughing Out Loud. In My Humble Opinion, I thought how weird all this was. The guy who came in after me had pulled down his pants and was "Laughing My Ass Out"-ing big time. He sometimes rolled when he did this. There was even one guy who kept asking everyone about their Age Sex and Location. I boldly asked him With Respect To this and What The Fucked him. My friend later came to me and asked me if I enjoyed the party. I told him What You See Is What You Get, Talk To You Later'd him and decided to call it a day. That's when the finger turned me off.

I have always tried to put a coherence and consistency in my activities but it's beyond my capacity. But I am good, I am interesting, I am addictive and I am popular. I am your facebook profile!

Exam Blowers

With all the other sections of media busy storming themselves towards the do-wellers, we decided to take a dig and visit some of those not-so-lucky exam bloopers. These students pride themselves albeit in silence for marking the other end of the spectrum in a nation that goes into frenzy during the months of may and june.

Okkaliyappan is a small-city small-time student who visits his school in Idukkankottai near Nelvalaiyanpatti near Virudhunagar near Madurai in Tamilnadu. We visited him in the usual meadows where his cows graze. Says a proudly beaming Okkali - "I was surprised rather than shocked when I got my results. I had scored 10 marks in History, though I didn't attend any exam. It could be because they gave me free marks for vote.". Okkali's father Makkaliyappan had never attended school because his father Sakkaliyappan never had, and this is a lasting moment to cherish for the entire village. Makkali says "I am going to shave my head, fall at the feet of the Chief Minister and ask for a government job for my son. He knows how to graze cows very well. All the cows listen to him and never talk back.". Okkali is hoping he will get that job, and most probably he would.

Aspiring doctor Bhargavi Jadhav, whose delighted father is also a doctor in Bihar scored 20% overall. "I had run away with my boyfriend and was in Samastipur when my father called me to say I had scored 20%. I couldn't believe what I heard and even asked my dad to stop forcing me to come back. But he sounded serious and I knew that moment I had topped the state. I was ecstatic and hugged my boyfriend who in turn hugged me back with great caution after a lot of looking around. We came back home and I couldn't find him ever since. But I am delighted for my results. Probably I even topped India.". Bhargavi's mother is a happy lady, and in celebration of her daughter's acheivement, she has forcibly collected Rs.10000 from all the household in her region to make a garland for her daughter. She says her daughter will grow up to be Bihar's Chief Minister one day. But all Bhargavi's father wants is to make her a doctor too. "I never went to school, but became a doctor by God's grace. Now I see my daughter following me and I can't hide my emotions", says a teary-eyed Rakesh Jadhav. Bhargavi doesn't plan to leave Bihar and said she will never leave her land even if she runs away again.

It was a gala festive atmosphere in Kolobolopur of Murshidabad disctrict in West Bengal where Debanjana Sengupta is elated to have scored 40 marks in all subjects. Cameramen who managed to find the route to Kolobolopur and those of them who managed it alive were happily clicking photos of the beaming Debanjana who was wearing a two-piece and singing sheela ki jawani. Happy family members were feeding each other with laddoos, Gulab Jamun, Rasgulla, Golgappi, Ledikeni, Rabri, Malpua, Jal-bhora, Kheersagar, Raskadamba, Bonde, Rajbhog, Pantua, Mihidana, Kadapak and other such Bengali sweets which were in abundance. Debashish Sengupta says "My daughter shcored 40 morksh in all shobjectsh. I mean, put together. My shon had schored 27 in hish year. We are plonning too shenndd Debi to Kolkota to take yoga clooshess from Biposho and bekome the next sheela.". Debanjana is on cloud nine and says innooshently with a pout "All my relatives were in disbelief. None of them thought I would be able to manage 40! I did put in all the efforts, but didn't know I would score this much at this level. This is another occasion to eat all those sweets, please help youself." Her favorite star is Shahrukh Khan and she spends her day dreaming about him. "Stay focused, party hard, eat a lot of fish and worship Saurav Ganguly" is her advice to her fellow students.

Last stop was at Aamchi Mumbai where Silind Maman is still trying to board the 9 o'clock Fast train to Dombivili. He stays in Andheri and had been trying to go to school since the day he joined, but was never able to get into the rush-hour trains. He was fortunate the exam was held in Andheri, so he could write it. He barely passed all the subjects because of the thousands of coaching centres, but his girl friend has not been able to do so well. Nevertheless, they roam around in the high-rise shopping malls, where we caught up with Silind: "I think it was my uncle who owns the real estate and mafia business who passed the exam, not me. These pani puris and vada pav's have some amount of brain power in them. I almost missed the exam because I had to take my girlfriend for an abortion. Luckily, my dad said he would drop her while on his way to office, so I went to the exam instead. I asked my dad if he would help me this way daily to attend my exams and his answer was a firm yes! Without his support, I would not have been able to achieve this, I owe so much to him". Silind hopes to join IIT on the lines of the three idiots, and wants to become a computer engineer. "After all, dude, I have all the traits, don't I?" asks a smiling Silind who missed the train again.

These are only some of the under-rated acheivers who prove time and again that marks are not the only commodities that count in India, that is, if you have other necessary commodities.

Mystic Oblivion

She followed him to all places he went. Sometimes, the unsolicited company was too much to take, persisted through his gamut of tolerance and he wished he could simply walk away although he knew it was impossible.

He woke up to find her sleeping in peace beside him. She was muttering his name, or was it just his imagination? It seemed only like yesterday when his exposed nerves braided with her hair and lay as a red-black splotch on the concrete. Her soft hair which he had always adored spread over him, the smell of its roots wrapping him in a cocoon of aromatic embrace, giving him the first smell of separation from her forever. The accident could not be averted, and it was simply too much for her to take the pain. She chose to close her eyes in peace, not undestanding he needed her last look, that it was important for him in those moments. Everything they had done together flashed in front of his eyes, and he didn't want to let go. He was lying in a pool of blood asking them to save her as they took her in the ambulance.

Ambulance! He hated the siren now. The rise and fall of the nerve-wracking siren was the last sound he had heard before she left him forever. Infact, all sounds disturbed him now. Even the rhyming chimes of the church bell, that once felt peaceful to his aching heart now excruciated his crying soul. He wished she was now with him, and that they could just walk across the bridge to the park they usually wandered about, hand in hand. He went shopping at Graceys, the local store they always came to. Gracey stopped greeting him ever since the accident, even she knew how hurt he was. As always, he returned empty-handed, too strained to buy anything from there. This place was now strictly for memories, for reminiscing the fond moments of a bond that did not exist in the physical world anymore. Gracey did not mind that!

He watched from his balcony sipping coffee, the little children playing cricket. He remembered how she used to call from the bedroom, "Can you get the clothes darling? It might rain". He wanted to shout back as always, saying she might as well do it, instead stood with tears in his eyes with utter helplessness. He silently wished he could get them for her, would get it for her a thousand times over if only she was asking now. Instead his sobs just echoed off an empty bedroom. It was an irony that a small shack like his could be occupied by so many people, but any number of them could not fill the vast space she had once created and filled. How cruelly empty could this over-populated world be without love!

He pulled on his running shoes, and started his hour-long run. This was the only chore he could do easily now. It was easier to push her thoughts away when he was running, when his heart was beating endlessly, when the persipration was too thick he could be swimming. He always imagined he was running away from her, trying to put distance between them. But she somehow always managed to gain speed, and he would find himself back at home against his will.

He ignored all his friends in office, not that any of them tried to be of valuable support. He had spent so much time at work, helping colleagues, clearing up pending works, even taking up others'. Everyone had been nice to him, but the accident seemed to have pushed them away. May be the world laughs with you and lets you cry alone. His friends avoided him like his pain was a disease that would transmit instantaneously, that they could catch it as easily as common cold just by being in his proximity. He ignored them back, and went about his daily chores, though he was losing his grip slowly. Sometimes, he wound up at home wondering what file he was staring at the whole day. Time just slipped by with more and more empty lunchboxes and a not-so-empty heart.

Then came the part he could simply not understand. He felt her presence as usual during dinner, and he would talk to himself about all they had done and could have acheived together. He felt she was nodding, though he couldn't be sure. Sometimes, she raised her face and gave him a vague smile. He could see her clearly, the most benevolent face in all worlds, the nose that he wished he could gently bite again, those lips that kissed him so often he could still smell her sweet breath, those eyes, it was always her penetrating eyes that got inside him and churned his emotions for her. But he never understood why they were always filled with tears. May be she didn't live happily in the other world? May be she felt too lonely? May be she was wishing him to come join her? Or is it that she couldn't let go though she wanted to, just like him? He would never understand. Then he washed his hands and went and slept in his grave, to return tomorrow.

Gruhapravesam

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