Definition of cool

One of the many that exist.

The Michaelmas term ends

As I sat at the library reception, waiting to swipe in after finishing my coffee, occasionally interrupted by the greetings of familiar faces, I was mostly burying myself in my own thoughts. For better or worse, I would be associated with this institution for the rest of my life. If the years ahead brought success, LSE would lay a partial claim to it. If they brought discredit, onlookers would greet the association with surprise. And if I followed the path of most of its alumni, it would just remain a line on my resume, an observation brought up over coffee and a reminder of marvellous days as a student.
The years ahead, I wonder, what do they bring?

Tsubaki Sanjuro

After wrapping up the IS strategy presentation for a case study we were working upon, Utham and I were off to watch our first Kurosawa film, Sanjuro. The plot was simple and, without the current day computer-graphic and sound-effects excesses, Kurosawa was able to effectively carry a not-so-extraordinary story forward. Nine naive and inexperienced samurais have to bring corrupt and powerful village officials to book. Their gullibility leads to the kidnapping of one of their uncles, the Chamberlain of the village. Without an inivitation a scraggly samurai called Sanjuro steps in to help them and the rest of the movie is how Sanjuro leads the young warriors to eventual victory. Sanjuro's cynical yet reasoned approach to the enemy's moves constantly contrasts with the idealist and impulsive actions of the young warriors, and in the process rescues them always. However, Sanjuro is also the recipient of words of wisdom, when a lady tells him "Killing people is a bad habit . . . You're like a drawn sword . . . but good swords are kept in their sheaths."
Good swords are kept in their sheaths, food for thought.

Till death do us part

Krishna Panicker was born in 1912 in a small village in Kerala, India. He grew up in a time when a foreign empire had altered the way the country had been ruled over. He wouldn't have the same upbringing that previous generations of his family had. The economic conditions prevalent in the country by the time he became a young man did not provide him the opportunities to find a job, which he needed to take care of a family whose responsibility had fallen upon his shoulders. There was no time for self-pity, and the man understood sacrifice for a cause. So he set sail across the Indian Ocean to a country called Yemen where he had found work in a shipping company. Thus began an extended period of his life away from his country, away from his family. In a few years he realised the need for a companion and began to consider marriage.

In a small town in Kerala, a lady from a family called Pandyat was causing concern for her family. She had reached a marriageable age and despite the many proposals that came her way she refused to consider any. Her parents were unable to understand her decisions. But it was probably fated that she wait until the proposal of a certain Mr. Panicker came her way. She met the man, and without much fanfare a wedding was arranged. A few days later she made her first trip outside the country, on a ship to Yemen. Krishna and Sharada were to begin their life together in a land unknown to them. Life routines were slowly set that would remain unchanged forever.

It wasn't long before they had a child, Mrs. Panicker gave birth to a beautiful baby girl in a hospital at Aden. India won it's independence around the same time. Their lives began to revolve around their only daughter. Self-sacrificing parents that they were, they continued living in a foreign land to ensure that they could provide their daughter with all that she needed.
Time flew by, their daughter grew up into a beautiful young lady, it was time to arrange her marriage. The daughter displayed the same traits that her mother had, so they waited patiently until the right man came along. A marriage was conducted, with a little more fanfare than their own, the apple of their eye was finally going to start her own life.

After having handled their resposibilities so well, Mr and Mrs. Panicker finally decided it was time to return to their country and start a new chapter in their lives. They bid adieu to Yemen. They built a home for themselves in Mrs. Sharada's town, they were finally home.The years continued to race by. They had a grand-daughter in 1978 and a grandson in 1980. As their grandchildren grew up, it was mandatory that 2 months in a year they spend it with with their grandparents. Every year they looked forward to those two months. The grandson especially kept them on their toes, at a period when they should have been relaxing, he had them running after him as he ruined their garden and climbed up mango trees.

Time rolled ahead, their grandchildren turned into adults, inheriting a country with more opportunities than they ever had. Their grandaughter's wedding was the next big event in their lives, and they watched with pride as their grand-daughter wed a man of her choice. In a few years they had even more pride and even greater joy when their grand-daughter gave birth to a baby boy. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they held their great grand-son close to their hearts. But as time had raced by, they had begun to realise that their time was running....

On Nov 21, 2007 Krishna Panicker breathed his last. He was 95. In a show of solidarity, Sharada Panicker followed suit 10 days later. The only thing they asked for in their last few days, was to be in the company of their daughter. 63 years of life together, it was only fair that they leave this world together. I have no doubt, that the decisions that they made together, keeping in mind the futures of the generations that would follow, has eventually led their grandson to where he is today.

I will miss you all my life.

Winter concert

Jeroo, Chirag and I went for a concert last evening. It was the Rosamunde Trio, formed of Martino Tirimo on the piano, Ben Sayevich on the violin and Daniel Veis on the cello.The location was the Shaw Library at LSE, which is a classic British library, the kind you read in the classics. Wooden cupboards with glass casings line the walls. Thick, heavy curtains of the colour burgundy drape the windows. The Steinway piano lies at one corner of the room and upholstered armchairs invite visitors at the other end. A chandelier hangs from the center of the room. I haven't seen a more beautiful library. Well, I allowed myself to be carried away by it's ambience. The concert was a pleasing one and I had no doubt that they were accomplished musicians. Jeroo and Chirag, both being players of instruments, were probably able to appreciate their skills better. 2 of the compositions were Beethoven and Brahms. The third one was called 'Softly in the dusk' composed by a certain composer called Peter Fribbins. It was supposed to based on a poem by D.H.Lawrence called Piano, though the 3 of us were left guessing, because the inspiration that he seemd to have derived from the poem seemed to have been quite different from the ways in which we would have been inspired. The concert went on for close to 90 minutes.
Not very far however , music of a different kind was being played in one of the kitchens of Northumberland. Utham and Tanvi were orchestrating a feast, their instruments an oven, 2 hobs and a few pans. Post-concert I satisfied a hunger that longs for good home-made food. If Rosamunde was music to the ears, U&Twere music to my appetite. My friends, you made the evening perfect.

Woman

Every so often I am asked a question,
whose answer will always remain a mystery.
But this cold winter evening I dare to attempt,
to explain a creation called woman.
Just like a river that gurgles and giggles on it's way from the mountains,
and attains a poised elegance as she flows through the plains,
a woman is the same embodiment of that grace.
She has the capacity to lift the spirits of wearied hearts,
as she steps into a bus or as she walks with abandon on the streets.
If a smile escapes her face, it lights the faces of many.
When alone, she is the dainty rose that adorns the vase,
In the garden of people, she is the daisy, the lily, the orchid, the tulip
She can turn men with hearts of stone,
into poets they never thought they could be.
She is humanity's everlasting symbol of hope, beauty, love.....
I could ramble on, and winter would be past us,
And the birds of spring would soon be chirping for her at her window
The world outside beckons me and as I bring an end to the words I write,
I can only hope I have done justice to the woman in this poem,
The woman in this poem that is you.

Musique

As Agalloch plays in the background and slowly uncovers the layers of memories that lie buried in my mind, I am forced to give an account of my ideas about musicianship. The greatest musicians, I believe, are those that evoke emotion within the listener. The deeper and more thoughtful musicians have the powers to force a revisit to your past. The memories that lie buried deep under times bygone are unearthed by their music, forcing the listener into retrospection, and correspondingly bringing either a smile to the lip or......a tear to the eye. Their capacities are however not limited to releasing the past, they are equally capable of taking the listener into journeys into the future. They can unlock the forces of imagination in the mind, giving one brief glimpses of the limitless possibilities that lie ahead, if only one displayed the courage to venture into the unknown.

Home away from home

I met a young man from India. I said, "I'm a patriot".
He replied, "I'm a jingoist."
A friendship is forged.

End of a week

Last night officially brought to an end the first week of active LSE life. the only things that continue over the weekend are parties and the library. Otherwise, there aren't any public debates, lectures, classes or society meetings. The initial part of last evening was spent with friends from Bangalore, the later part (which went on until early this morning) was cross national, Pan-European. LSE is defined by interaction, abounded by the opportunities to meet people from all walks of life. The lack of a sprawling campus is sometimes seen as a disadvantage, but the lack of it helps in integrating the 50 odd departments. You are bound to bump into students from different departments everyday. The sharing of lecture halls between the various departments itself creates an idea of unity, students of different departments connect with each other under the LSE umbrella.For an active student, there is a constant dearth of time. For all the activities that a student can engage herself/himself in, there is not enough time. The philosophy of teaching at LSE stresses on students searching for information and being prepared for classes, the concept of "spoon-feeding" is virtually absent. Contact classes are few, and the library is maybe the most important institution of learning. The most wonderful aspect of LSE is that learning happens everywhere, right from the library to the Quad(the students cafe).

A busy day

It started with an hour of anti war activism at Trafalgar square. Leaders of the Stop the War Coalition (http://www.stopwar.org.uk/) gave fiery speeches demanding the British government to bring the troops back home. Later there was a march to the parliament where the agenda was to catch MPs on their way parliament for answers. A quick lunch later I was in a lecture hall listening to a professor discussing the perils of technology. Another 2 hours later I found myself at the Old theatre in LSE attending a public debate on the topic of freedom of the press in Russia. Soon afterwards I attended the first meet of the debate society held at Hong Kong theatre, which then moved to to the more relaxed surroundings of a pub, where the rest of the evening was spent discussing imperial colonisation and the classical Roman civilisation among many other subjects with a beautiful American lady and an Irish man. The night ended with a very informal gathering of Indian brethren outside my hall of residence.
The day couldn't have been more satisfying.

Falls to pieces

"...cos you're born again, until you're worn again."

End of a journey.....the start of another

After more than 3 weeks of touring across India, my beautiful country, it is quite ironic that I finally get the time to blog in London. It seems like a sunny day, but I have learnt to never trust British weather. The sunlight peeps through the window, and sets the mood to post a few thoughts.
The Bharat yatra was a great experience. I have done a lot of meaningless things in my life, but this one is definitely going down as one with a fair deal of meaning to it. Across 3 weeks I walked through the thick forests of the Western Ghats, the black soil of the Deccan plateau , the towering Himalayas and the fertile Indo-Gangetic plains. In the final leg I drove 1500 kms over 3 days across South India. Everywhere I went I was greeted with the kindness of many people, eager to hear about my experiences( and almost always inviting me to have a cup of tea with them).
And now I find myself in London, an aspiring and eager-to-learn scholar. By the middle of next week I will be in the classrooms of the London School of Economics, interacting with possible leaders of the future, listening to popular and controversial leaders of the present, and learning about the travails of heroes of the past. The year ahead is filled with the promise of exciting opportunities for learning.

Slob days

I've been playing the classic American slob the past few days. I've spent more time with my playstation than with people, nights usually extend into the wee hours of the next day. The only thing that drags me away from it is wanting to meet Ved, putting him to sleep is sometimes equally challenging as certain chapters in Resident Evil, definitely more satisfying I should say. Not having a lady in the house takes its toll on orderliness. The slob's days are numbered though, I'm throwing him out of the window soon. In a few days, I become a traveller. They say the best traveller is one who has no plans, the next 3 weeks should see a lot of journeying.

End of a chapter

It happened silently, the severance of the relationship, the end of my association with one of India's largest software service providers. As of 10 Aug 2007, 1700 hours, my employment with the organisation stood terminated. The network adminstrator effortlessly deactivated my ID with a single click of the mouse, it symbolised the end of a 5 year association. I have been asked quite often whether it was hard. I wouldn't call it hard, but I may miss a few things solely because the daily functions of swiping in, meals/coffees at the foodcourts, browsing the intranet, ...etc had become a part of life. What is hard instead is leaving behind the friends who had come to mean so much to me in this span of time. I was touched by the gifts and emails, I couldn't fathom that I meant so much to a few people. That was my greatest honour as I left the gates of the sprawling campus.
Hi I'm Suneel, I'm 27 and unemployed..... and the world has never looked better.

Rise!

He couldn't hurt a fly, he was a lady's best friend, he would go out of his way to help people. He epitomised respect, for he had it for all. He was intoxicated neither by power, wealth or wine. If one had to spell a bad quality of his there would be none. His ego is virtually absent......................I despise him.
Given a chance I would crush him, I would send him to the depths of the netherworld to rot, for he is a disgrace to the spirit of man. As Ayn Rand has implied, it is man's ego that is the fountain head of human progress. I would respect an honourable enemy more than a spineless friend. A man unable to stand up for himself, can never be entrusted with leadership.
So rise my men, strike out, the strongest and the most righteous amongst us shall survive.

Towards the light

It was dark, very dark, and I never knew whether I had gone blind or whether the sun had abandoned this world. The perpetual darkness brought along with it a perpetual state of anxiety as well. I drifted in and out of sleep, I couldn't know whether it was day or night. Almost always I was awakened by the loud flapping of wings. Some great winged creature roamed the skies, and I could never be sure whether there were more than one. It's presence was ominous, and I remained as still as I could whenever I heard those wings. At times, for a fleeting instance I could see a flicker of light. However it would almost immediately be obliterated by this blanket of darkness. I gave up trying to figure if my vision was being restored, or whether the clouds had parted to give me a glimpse of the sun. Some beast howled in the distance, was he as lonely as I was?
I was constantly driven by the desire to run, but my fears prevented me from venturing too far. It didn't take long before I finally overcame them. I knew not why I ran, but I just did with all my strength. I only stopped when I ran out of breath, or when I heard the wings. They were everywhere and I couldn't escape them. Maybe they were as blind as I was, because no matter how close they seemed to be at times, when I remained motionless I went undetected.
There were days I fell and injured myself. I could never know how bad the injury was. The only indicator was the pain, when it dissipated I assumed I had healed. The silence as well as the cacophony of the darkness competed with each other to capture my mind with the grip of insanity. I resisted.
Then one day, my feet lifted off the ground. I stretched my toes as much as I could to feel the earth . But they couldn't. I didn't feel like I was falling, and I couldn't imagine I could fly. The flapping sound returned louder than ever and I couldn't hide. But unlike previous times, this time it did not subside. Then it dawned, the wings that displaced the air around them were mine. I soared into the darkness that the skies had become. When I looked down I could see silhouettes of my kind, I didn't know where they would fly to. I looked up and saw the same flicker of light again, it seemed a little closer this time.
The journey thus began, a flight in search of the light....

Give us the news!

Who gives a damn if Paris Hilton goes to or gets out of jail?
Who gives a rat's ass about Bipasha's infidelity?
How on earth does it make a difference to my life if a certain Prince called William gets back with his girlfriend?

I'll tell you news that would make a difference to my life:

• Tell me about the possibility of terror cells in India, especially after the shattering of the myth of Indian muslims being immune to jihadi calls.
• Tell me what runs through Muqtada'smind when he sees American military bases in his country.
• Tell me about the plights of the farmers of Vidharbha, when nature puts them through drought and floods, both in the same year.
• Tell me about the changing face of Tibet, the continuing plunder of Africa's resources, the Latin American rise against USA

Many media houses, the diseminators of information, seem to forget that they bear upon themselves the responsibility of nurturing a well-informed public. Paris Hilton's immoral antics may amuse the public, but does nothing to improve's it's understanding of the world. Between an amused public and well-informed public, I think the latter holds a better chance at taking this world forward safely.

Shifting shades

The day until now has been one that has offered a lot of contrast.
I shared a general class compartment with poor labourers from Tamil Nadu crossing over the state borders to work at construction sites and mills in Kerala. That was at 4 in the morning. A few hours later I shared a flight with entrepreneurs from Kerala heading to Bangalore for business needs.
I left Kerala feeling slightly disheartened, having to come to terms with the senility of my forebears. But back home, as I saw Ved kicking and punching wildly after his feeding session, I was reminded of life's promise of hope and opportunity for a newborn.
The rainy skies of Kerala were replaced by a sunny morning in Bangalore.
Isn't this contrast essential for our appreciation of life's facets?

Ved

It was an impatient wait, despite the awareness that there was no perceivable risk involved. It was one of those rare moments when the mind displays it's innate ability to singly focus all it's attention on the point of concern. In our case the point of concern was my sister's delivery of her first child. After what seemed an eternity a nurse covered in his green overalls, broke out of the OT and announced the arrival of Ved(as in Veda).
So on a bright sunny June morning, Ved Menon was born in good health(with a stable weight of 3.2 kgs) amongst close family. The elders have waited 18 years for this moment, the first heir of the family has arrived. While it is indeed a loss that his Muthachan(a man of towering character that he was) is not around anymore, he will not grow unguarded. He will play, he will fall, he will learn under the shadow of his uncle.
Ved Menon, Born: 8 Jun 2007

Bangalore today!

After a 2 year hiatus, I am back living a life in Bangalore. A few notes:

• Definitely more crowded.
• Not that the pedestrian enjoyed great respect earlier, but his condition has gotten worse. You could be hanging your clothes on your terrace for all you cared; if it happened to provide a motorist with a shorter accessible route, he'd run you down on your terrace and curse you for coming in his way.
• If you take a new mobile connection, chances are high that it's a recycled number. Within a day of taking mine and sharing it with only family and close friends, I began receiving calls from unknown numbers by the dozen. Each one enquired for a certain Mr.Manjunath instead of me.
• ATM's no longer stand for Any Time Money, at peak hours you could stand upto half an hour to gain access to one.
• Getting into town to head to your favourite pub for a nice cold beer, is now an effort. The thought of the traffic, the search for parking space and the futile wait for a table at the pub makes mum's mint juice more refreshing.
• Cab/auto drivers are everywhere to offer you a ride. You could come out of the airport arrival lounge driving the latest Audi, I reckon they'd still stop you and ask "Sir, auto bekaa?"
• Many concerts this year, went for the Aerosmith show, only because we had free passes. The good thing about big concerts, you could leave in between and no one would notice. Steve Tyler, now is he a drag queen or a rock star???