How to setup a home workstation and work from home during a lockdown?

Prologue:

Lockdown is a novel idea to prevent novel viruses from spreading. You can identify a lockdown if you find more policemen and cows in the streets than people. A lockdown has a role reversal effect too. If you are in the streets during a lockdown, a policeman is more likely to charge towards you than a cow. People who roam in the streets during a lockdown are often seen returning home with bruises in their backs and bums. The safest way to survive a lockdown is to stay at home and work from home. But working from home is a challenge, specially when you are in your relatively remote hometown where family and neighbors believe that the concept of working from home is an imaginary tale from the lands far far west. The IT awareness quotient of such hometowns can be measured in people branding themselves as qualified computer professionals because they know how to install Microsoft Office and in expert salesmen at computer shops explaining how one laptop is better than the other because its hard disk has higher giga-hertz!

The Story:

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. 

I had to put this disclaimer for my safety, but it is up to you to believe it or not. Let's get started. Your challenge is to setup a workstation at home and manage to work the same way you are used to. The bare essentials that you need is your brain (must be functional despite the lockdown), a laptop, a manageable internet connection and electricity. Please read the next line only if you are one of the so-called IT aware people from the the kind of hometowns I mentioned above; others can skip it. When I mentioned a 'laptop' earlier, it includes the adapter as well, and the term 'electricity' refers to the thing that powers tube-lights, not fireflies. You have an advantage if you have an inverter that holds during power cuts and protects from frequent voltage fluctuations.

To setup your workstation, you should start with looking for an ideal corner in the house that is relatively quiet and gets a good wifi signal. Once you have identified potential corners, check which corner gets the best wifi signal (by installing apps like Wifi Signal Strength Meter or SpeedTest in your mobile phone). Make sure the room you choose also has a working fan because winter is gone now (Bran Stark rules Westeros now, remember?) and summer is coming.

Because you cannot sit down on the floor all day with a laptop, you must find a table. In all probability, the table in the drawing room is too tall and the tea table is too short. So you should check in the secondary kitchen room downstairs where you may find a spare table that is just the height you need. Request your wife (or beg, depending on her mood) to help you carry the table upstairs and she will readily help, though once it is done, she may give you the look that now you owe her one. This pandemic may change lives around the world, but do not expect your wife to change. There is no proof of pandemics causing positive behavioral mutations in wives.

If the table has paint stains on top, you need a table cloth to hide it and add a visual appeal to your workstation. Since your mom won't let you take the nice table cloth from the tea table since a bare tea table won't look good in front of guests (I wonder who in a sane mind would visit us as a guest in these times!), you would be lucky to find an unused plastic table cover in the store room. You should however overlook the fact that the cover is green (urgh!) and has pictures of fruits printed on it (oh no!). In normal circumstances, you would never have a green-colored, fruits-printed, plastic table cover for your workstation, but this is a lockdown and venturing out is risky. It is wiser to accept green on a table top than to accept black and blue all over your body.

When you try setting up the table, you may realize that the power socket is too far. So you should sneak the only available extension cord out from the living room (your dad will probably complain later because he will now have to walk farther to charge his phone, but you should act as if you don't care). With the laptop adapter connected to the extension cord, you can switch on the laptop. Connect to the WiFi, download and install essential software in the laptop like a pro. In short, use IE to download Chrome and then use Chrome for everything else. When you have your bookmarks synced, you will feel blessed. It takes a while to configure the laptop and you may notice using the touchpad is slowing you down; you need a mouse! Get the old-fashioned wired mouse you have and connect it to the laptop. Oh, what a drag it is to scroll on a plastic table top! If you are born in a family that reads newspapers, you are lucky. You can use an old newspaper as a mouse-pad; it works. It may be wise to place a thick newspaper below the laptop as well (because plastic table top!).

Wise men said that time is so powerful that it can bring the mightiest on his knees. I don't know those wise men personally but perhaps they said this when they were using a laptop in a standing position for too long. It hurts your legs, literally bringing you down on your knees. The harsh reality sinks in. You don't have a chair yet!

You may scramble around the house looking for a chair with proper height, but this time, both your luck and your brain will desert you. The best you can find is a comfy plastic chair, on which you have to slide to the edge and lift your hindparts every time you want to reach the keyboard. To uplift your spirit after the disappointing discovery, you need something on the chair to uplift your buttocks. Thankfully, there will be spare pillows in the house. Some day someone will use the pillows to rest their heads on, but today you can rest your buttocks on them. Worry not, for this sin will be forgiven.

You are all set now. There is a lot to catch up at work and you miss the multiple screens you are used to. Perhaps you can manage that too. Fetch the desktop monitor from the storeroom that has not been used in years or may be a decade. A few sprays of Colin should bring its shine back. Alas! your only extension cord can accommodate only one three-pin plug. You scrape through the house again for a morse of hope but return empty handed. You then remember there is a spikeguard in your bag you brought from India. You are allowed to make a few sufi dance moves of joy as the white light on the monitor glows and you take the VGA cord (it's a very old monitor from ~ 1200 max resolution era of desktops) to connect it to the laptop. Stop dancing though when you notice that the laptop has no VGA port. Sigh! You have been through so many excitements and disappointments in the few hours, if there were an API to chart them out, it would look like an ECG print out.

You need an HDMI-VGA converter, and you think there is no place in this house that you can get such a sophisticated tool lying around. Wise men said success comes to those who are persistent and keep their calm in difficult times. Again, I do not know who these wise men are but they are always right. Thanks to all the almonds you ate when they were on half-price sale in an online portal in India, you still have a good memory. Last year, you had helped the tenant who lives on the ground floor buy an HDMI-VGA converter! Thankfully, your tenant is willing to lend it to you. Viola! You have two monitors to work with.

Epilogue:

When you have setup a workstation and spent over an hour at work undisturbed, you may think you are all set now. But in the third world, if you desire something desperately, the universe conspires against you (unlike the Bollywood movie that told you otherwise). You seek peace at work, but it is not that easy. It may be the country of Buddha, but you are in the town of Rama, who partied fcuking hard for ten days when he got his kidnapped wife back (I mean, who celebrates when his wife returns home, and for ten days, really??). You should watch out for fringe elements like family, friends and neighbors. In the span of one day, these fringe elements can make up-to two attempts to unsettle you, including an incident where someone walks in during a work related call to get an old mosquito net from the room to filter the syrup of the sweets being prepared!

Out of office hours aren't peaceful either. Early next morning, you may find two of your neighbors shouting with a lot of treble in their voice. Reason: Mr A's cow delivered its dung on the doorstep of Mr B. Mr B is furious as if it was Mr A himself who took the dump. Well, a cow may be a mother goddess, but she does not have toilette etiquette. You choose not to interfere for it is none of your business.

Peace demands difficult decisions. So you should start locking the door from inside during the working hours. This little act of yours may send unsettling waves around the house; suddenly the house is short of a room. Nobody says a thing, but the fringe elements are at discomfort. Through the day, there will be intermittent knocks on the door but you should not respond. It has been hours now and nobody has knocked. The fringe elements have surrendered to you.

A week later, you are happy that things are working your way. The setup has been stable. Sometimes the pillow disappears from the chair but you can always find it in the proximity. Items from the room you hijacked have been disappearing, but it is a good thing. It means the family is taking out stuff they need since you never open the door during work hours. You can trust the knocks now, if there is one. Mostly, the knocks are to deliver food, and you can respond at will. In the times of global health emergency, puny household emergencies can wait.

Stay safe. Stay at home.

Stay hungry, stay foolish

Steve Jobs is dead. I am not him; I cannot make this statement beautiful. On Facebook, his death made at least two things popular than usual: a cartoon of Steve telling St. Peter that he has an app to help him replace the pile of files in front of him, and the story of three apples. As the world mourned his death, many tech enthusiasts and entrepreneurs-to-be remembered his words: “Stay hungry, Stay foolish”.

Since the news of his death, the Internet is swarmed with multiple articles and posts; some admiring him on being himself and some questioning if the mourning at his death was exaggerated reaction. My post is one of the millions, but I am one of those inspired by his thoughts and ideologies, and so I write in the memory of the man who deserves an appreciation.  

My encounter with Steve
I was familiar with the name since my graduation as his name was always synonymous with Apple. Although we talked, Microsoft and Red Hat, Apple was mere a topic of general knowledge to me till I graduated. I spent almost my entire career in Microsoft technologies; I remained oblivious of Steve except for occasional encounters in tech news, back then, for all sad reasons: his exit from Apple and the diagnosis of his cancer. Then came iPod, it was a cool gadget. Never mind, I wasn’t getting one.

Then came 2007 and the day of iPhone. For the first time, I saw this man in a black t-shirt and jeans on YouTube, already lean from his cancer. This man talked sense; he had a gadget with multi-touch, appealed my appetite the first instance, and although owning the phone that costly would remain a distant dream, I had but admirations for this guy. My encounters with Steve then increased, as he appeared more and more on news and chat shows, and I got more access to the Internet.  

A source of inspiration
About a year later, a friend of mine shared a video of Steve talking to Stanford graduates in 2005, probably the most popular speech he ever made. I liked the content of the speech, appreciated it, talked about it and forgot it. It was only four years later, when my life had taken enough turns shaking me off the path of social rationality that I happened to watch the video again. I googled about him, learnt the ups and down he had in his life as an individual and as a tech enthusiast. I came to know him as an artist, someone who was far above the ideologies of other technology pioneers including Bill Gates. It did not take time for me to learn that here was a man I could align my ideologies with, to the extent possible. I was reading a lot of motivational books then, from multiple authors, and his speech was one of the sources of inspiration I would use as anecdotes in my talks and eventually in my actions, to a larger extend unconsciously. I stopped worrying about the dots. I have not been able to connect them yet, but I strongly believe it will make sense someday.

If I have chosen a path of meaning than social rationality for my life today, it is also because Steve’s words always inspired me. I would never resist noticing and appreciating him for how he outsmarted Bill Gates with his answers at D5 or how he got the better off the guy who insulted him at one of his public talks. To be successful, you have to be appealing as an individual and as an orator. If despite his ways of running a company with internal divide to get the best of his employees or of the late evening meetings with early morning follow-ups, there are millions who appreciate him for his contribution to the world; this man has got to have touched so many lives. I am mere one of the millions.

When I watched him unveil the best phone till date, I could not help recalling Bill Gates notes “if you cannot make it good, at least make it look good.” When I watched him say “real artists ship”, I could not help thinking of how many times have Microsoft postponed their scheduled shipping dates. Apple is an epitome of quality, substance and delivery that I cannot help comparing it with Microsoft, its best and noteworthy competitor. Steve Jobs steered his life towards his vision with passion, and not only trying but also delivering, and that is one big lesson to learn. You have to think different, you have to be the rebel, you have to sweat and you have to deliver. That’s how you survive and that’s how you bring sense out of life. Follow your passion and give it all, it’s the only sensible thing to do. Steve’s personal life, though not of my prime interest, was mostly ignored part of his life.

I am eagerly waiting for Walter Isaacon’s biography on Steve that is scheduled to be released on 24th this month. Unlike previous books written on him, I believe this book will contain the fragile Steve Jobs that I have seen in him; it is going to be the first time the world will know that he was human after all. Perhaps there will be some more words of inspiration he has left for the world to keep moving towards better technology, not just in progression but also in significance.  

My perception of Steve Jobs
I appreciate Steve Jobs as the man who shaped the world with a vision that made technology aesthetic. I know him as one who believed in the meaning of aesthetics, brought spirituality into technology and directed the world towards multiple technological enhancements that made the world better than before. His attitude, despite him being temperamental and erratic, appeals me. You’ve got to be foolish if you are going to redefine the rules of the game. Had Steve been healthy and with Apple all through, we would have had more innovative gadgets around. Had he lived more, we would have seen more stunning products from Apple like the mesmeric iPhone and the fascinating Mac Air. Steve, for sure, had the potential to make things beautiful. He was one of the rare artists who contributed to technology. If you compare the Newton MessagePad (the project that Steve scrapped on his return to Apple) and iPhone, you will know the potential of this man’s imagination.

People always compare Steve with Bill Gates, claiming Bill as the fake Steve. To an extent, it is true, but it is just because there is an overlap in the area of their contributions. If it had been for Steve, I would not own a computer at home today. Apple products always remained appealing, but costly. Bill is a geek and a businessman and someone with a vision to make technology accessible. For Bill, technology is business. Steve was different. Technology was a religion for him and it was his spiritual interest. Steve was neither a geek, it was Steve Woznaick’s efforts and Bill Gates’ floating point algorithm that made the first Mac possible. There is no basis on which you can make a comparison between the two greats. Yet today, if I think of Steve Jobs higher than Bill Gates, it is because I know that, in technology, quality matters.

Almost all new products to be launched in 2012 from IBM, Acer or Dell (think of laptops or tablets) are going to be inspired by iPad and Mac Air. Steve’s contribution in recent years is going to profoundly impact at least another five years of product launches. May be the world of technology won’t be as beautiful as it could have been if Steve were around, but the essence of the visions is rooted into the industry and it will flourish.  

The future of aesthetic technology
Steve is not around. There are articled on the Internet calling it the death of innovation. I disagree. May be, with Steve around, we could have had a more beautiful set of future gadgets. But when I look at the industry now and the gadgets around, I see that the need of aesthetics in technology is instigated into many, including the so call “sluggish follower” Microsoft itself. If Microsoft thinks of investing in Surface and comes up with an operating system for personal computers and tablets alike, Steve has done his job. I hopefully believe that the ideologies he placed in Apple will be retained by its employees, and I stay positive that it must have been some brilliant minds at Apple who collaboratively thought of revolutionary products like iPhone and iPad, along with Steve. I am hopeful that innovation will continue with the same spirit, by another Steve Jobs, and technology will not only grow, but glow as well.

An avalanche of memoirs

I have to go back to code in a while. I work round the clock these days, with short breaks here and there. It keeps me busy; away from thoughts and memories that I want to keep a distance from. In late evenings, I take a stroll in my pajamas to a very posh street of Pune; hardly a minute’s walk. I am either in a corner of Café Coffee Day sipping on my favorite hot Cappuccino and staring at the 3.2” screen of my mobile phone, tweeting and browsing tweets, or on the stairs of the grand Mariplex Gold Cinemas mall watching people get impatient for the red traffic light to turn green and the ensuing sigh of relief when it finally does. Times have changed; they always do. It will be insane to root for any similarity between the life of today with bountiful aids of the twenty-first century advancements and the oblivious days in a then remote village of a developing country. But there are moments like today when one gets submerged into an avalanche of memories, compelled to ponder over the differences of yesterday and today. I have been shaped through this evolution of time; matured through the hardships of the life of yesterday and coddled by the comfort of the life of today.

I have a choice between two huge departmental stores when I think of groceries and sometimes I even hop into both on the same day; and I even own a membership card for both. How is it different from walking down the dusty road to a grocery shop about half a mile away only to get half a kilogram of sugar because we were out of sugar to serve tea to the guest, and savoring an orange flavored chocolate ball on way back home? More than often, when I make instant wise decisions to dine out today, I make sure I have my shopping card in my wallet, rather than cash. How is it different from flipping through the pages of notebooks looking for a ten-rupee note placed the earlier week in order to go for a samosa treat at a roadside cart shop in the nearby square? The weekends are fun when I get bored in the ten by eight cell of my room, switch start my bike and in half an hour, find myself reading my favorite book in a quiet corner of an abandoned seventeenth century fort, twenty miles away from city. How is it different from planning a vacation twice a year, traveling for two hours on a steam engine and then walking three miles in scorching sun, stopping a couple of times under the shade of aged banyan trees on way, only to reach a relative’s place mere twenty miles from home?

The life of yesterday involved me; today I am either the initiator or the customer or a mere spectator. It is only natural of me, when I select a few mangoes at the store and get them weighed and tagged with a bar code, to recall those days and nights in the mango orchard in the outskirts of the village, guarding the mangoes with my kin. Hundreds of mangoes were gathered over a day, scores of them quarreled over and gulped, hands washed again and again in the same water logged in the nearby paddy field. The mud-soaked dress and dirty hands went ignored all day, and nights were even more fun, hushing up and peeking out of the cottage waiting for the well-known lady ghost who supposedly roamed with a torch at midnight. How is it different from vacuuming the slight dirt on floor, washing hands so often with a liquid soap and getting back to the couch to watch the “most haunted places” series on Discovery channel? Life has, for sure, moved at a faster pace than I did. It has taken a giant, a really giant, leap from borrowing a VCR player from a local shop to watch a recent movie to the cozy cushioned seats of the multiplexes that I can book tickets online for, and for sure the 3D glasses.

The calling of a friend’s name from our bicycles outside his house and that too at the top of our voices so that his mom will get irritated enough to let him go, the paper boat competition in a road side temporary water stream after a monsoon shower, the witnessing of weird shapes moving in dark and the scare to death when the kerosene oil lantern went off during evening studies, the days long cycling from village to village to distribute a relative’s marriage card and the list would never end; the individual memories that gushes in this avalanche now. It is only human nature to desire for what I miss, but not at the expense of losing my today. There is a certain liberty that I am hooked to, that makes me crave for an escape from the incompetency of today but then tugs me back to its comfort and indolence.

The green lush of paddy fields, and the mud houses in the village, whatever is left now, still entices me today. And when I crave for the tranquility in air and the panoramic feast to eyes, my status on Facebook says “I need a break”. That’s the restful me inside. I have undergone a metamorphosis, induced by the hallucinations of technological and social encroachments all these years. I am either living the hallucinations or reeling under its after-effects; the life of today is now my habit. A click of a button at my desk does half my job; my favorite book arrives at my doorstep adeptly packed and couriered, access to my favorite wine is only the distance to the refrigerator, I don’t have to go to my neighbor’s house to watch the prime time soap and my friends in the States can call me any time, free of cost. There is too much at stake to advocate against the life of today. The green lush and the mud houses are only a “break” for me from my routine, unfortunately.  I might love it, but I cannot think of my life as a life of yesterday. But yes, I do miss them.

Imperfections at both ends. While I have to reach out for my mobile phone as soon as I wake up in the morning to check my Facebook and Twitter updates, I desperately need the serenity of a rural dawn with the crimson sun. While I need to play loud Akon’s creativity in weary afternoons and plug in my ear phone for Pink Floyd’s creative creations at night, I would prefer the busty village girls singing the countryside folklore on their way to fields to the zero-sized over-smartly dressed girls at the mall bitching about their friends. The chirping of birds is more soothing than the conking of cars at the signal; the life of yesterday was more beautiful.

I know a blend is not possible, because technology kills nature and knowledge kills innocence. Today has risen from the death of yesterday, and the cycle repeats every moment. But awareness of this brutal truth is not going to make memories of the past any less substantial. This avalanche passes by for today, but it will come again, some other day in some other form with some other memories and raise the same questions again. The same questions will emerge significant once again, and once again subside. Life goes on, leaving behind memories; and times do change.

Debugging is like having sex

I have been working as a software developer for about four years now and have known many people from this industry who have chosen development of software as their career path. As exciting as it looks from outside, the task of development if full of filth, gamble and uncertainty. It is true that after having been around for a while, a person begins developing boredom and less liking towards a job. But I do not write this text in such a mood or state. I choose to remain a developer for a while, just because it often becomes challenging enough to let you enjoy your job.

Software development is an above average paying job in many countries now and so I expect it to remain for at least a couple of years after which the global pay scale will slightly decline and then saturate for some time. Despite of other important respectable positions that can be held in a software development company, the role of a developer is more challenging if you like to be at the root of problems and ignite your own solutions. How can a software developer be recognized? A simple management trick! Take your employees for a walk, say around some paddy fields. Those who jump into the fields and run around, they are useless, throw them out! Those who take out some gadgets, a laptop or a mobile or a camera, and starts pretending to be busy, they have good management skills, but obviously not a developer! If there is a group of people, physically not very active, standing at the edge of the fields, grouped together and talking about various topics ranging from the cellular biology to the Proxima Centauri, each person impersonating a genius when each is a jack than a master, you have chosen the right people! These people babbling nonsense and every other person in the group having a say (but remember, they speak because they have to say something!) are the true developers. Another unique idea - talk to them. If you cannot understand them and they look confused all the time, you have met the right person for the post of a developer.

But however the individuals be, respect the job they do. The most challenging task for a developer is debugging. It is an art of going through the garbage so that the garbage remains in tact and the rat with dirty plague hiding inside and squeaking all the time is dead. (Well, you assume its dead, but its just unconscious!) Ok, I will rephrase it...so the rat is dead at least for a while. The patience and skill needed, the analytical power needed and the monotonous task of re-executing the code to reload the scenario are virtues of a developer. In fact, a developer is already a cyborg. His thoughts are mechanical and social consciousness is artificial. His desires are technically sound but morally absurd, and no matter how many wives he can pride on, his first wife will always remain a lousy 17" desktop with a crap keyboard.

Debugging is like having sex. The pleasure that a developer experiences when a bug is solved, is ecstatic. But since debugging is a human task and the debugger is still a human, the level of discomfort always troubles him. That is why, the speed and accuracy of the solutions provided by developers are directly proportional to the junk food and coffee on his table. There is an old teaching for wives that the best way to reach a man's heart is through his stomach. Since successful companies like Google and Microsoft have already learnt this lesson, all projects managers in this industry must. Cutting short the crap, developers need something to munch while he has something to crunch in mind. What about trainings? They are secondary. Oh sorry, did I get the women rights people behind me? But I could not help assuming that all (well, almost all) debuggers are men, because women are good at developing new solutions, but perhaps being hygienically conscious, they rarely like to overturn the garbage for the rat. You do not agree, well no problem, I didn't say all....I said almost all. Congratulations, you are an exception!

It was a funny thought I had when I was trying to explore why software developers are given the facilities they enjoy at their workplaces (well, in many of the workplaces). It seems like the project managers are aware of the nuptial bond between a developer and his PC. They have to do nothing but lure them to stay together, which requires much less effort, because I have never heard of a developer going for a counseling session because his relationship with his first wife is not working! He pays very less attention to other relationships and that is why software developers find wives (or mates) even though they are fat and lousy. You asked why? Well, the wives do not have to worry about planning for future or any expenses that the dummy developer would incur. All he needs is some gadgets (and the much needed munch is often free at his workplace), and the balance from the salary is a treat! You can also watch your favorite TV shows and visit late night parties because the dumb ass is still unaware of the world beyond his PC!

There is much more I could explain about the creepy looking people of this alien world who call themselves the creators of software and pride on their creation unaware of the riches that pour in through it. But I am already upsetting many and I will, for my safety, let it be for a while. When I find less humidity around, I will get back to it.

An atheist

How do you define an atheist? An atheist is supposed to be a person who does not believe in God. If someone does not believe in God, he still holds a firm belief in non-existence of God. He is still a believer. Now doesn't that sound a bit awkward that an atheist is a believer?

Couple of years back, I met a person who called himself a die-hard atheist. During the conversation, he mentioned that he does not visit a temple nearby although the members of religious society insist him to. He had not visited the temple in last fifteen years since he became an atheist. I smiled and replied, "For me, you turn out to be more religious than the rest. For all these years, you have not visited the temple because you believed that it was a place of God and as an atheist, you should not. That sounds like you firmly believe that the place is the place of God. You have started believing in the existence of God more than us. If you were an atheist as you define it to be, you would have found no difference in the temple and a neighbor's house. I do not see a point in hating to visit the place, then!"

A true atheist would be the one for whom the existence and non-existence of God does not matter at all. A true atheist would be the one who does not hook up his independence of decision making and realization of self-existence to the mercy of anyone else, be there God or no God. But a human being can never remain a true atheist for ever because however independent one is, he always turns out to a savior during difficult times of life. It is not necessary that the savior be a founder of a religion, it can be your nearest friend or a good person you know. At various moments in life, we tend to surrender our independence in decision-making and the grace of realization of self-existence to someone else, and this is possible only if you put your trust into. Once we start realizing that it is time now when we do not need help from anyone else, the dependence of faith is revoked and one becomes independent in belief again.

Every person is born atheist, but the nature of survival makes a person hook up their faith to a supreme power. And it is necessary to accept a ruler, because fear and luck are two virtues of life that no being can claim itself safe from the grandeur of the nature. It is fear or greed that makes a person religious, but it is the nature of existence that makes a person theist.

The passage of life

Life and to live has always been a mystery for me. Every year, I celebrate my birthday with friends and family, and feel happy about it. But it was on my eighteenth birthday that my consciousness asked me a question that knocked me hard. It asked me to explain my life and the eighteen years. Not in terms of success or studies, or wealth or grief, but in terms of the meaning of life.

Having failed to explain my own life, I struggled to write down the moment as it meant to me. But it took days, more difficult days, and finally one day, I wrapped up the fearful voyage in the dreadful world of emotions. By the time, I had a few lines ready to be shared.

This is the most beautiful poem I ever wrote as yet today, I discover a new self with its help. Seven years have passed by and I crave for it the way I did then. Welcome to the passage of life!

Meandering through, in pastime of the eternal sleep,

By sheer chance of the law, that gave me a creep,

Entrapped within the weird length of the passage,

Was welcomed with love, in a prevailing queerness.

High up, the blue giant, extended its caring arms,

But bewildered, stood I, with a feel of wariness.



On the carpet of roses, I could smell their bloom,

Laid heaped in a corner, my preserved heirloom.

Two steep marble cliffs, proud of their grandeur,

Had engraved on them, with hands blood-stained,

Rewards for the dead and epitaphs on who lived,

Beyond the gossamer veil, so through ages remained.



A primeval gallery, with profound paintings on show,

Limned by some splendid hands, marvels of the graffito.

I gazed upon each, my eyes kindles in excite,

For I could see the priming, of smiles, hopes and tears.

The pros and cons of the art, tossed deep in my mind,

As I witnessed, their own blood, a couple endears.



And a crowd of imposters, each had an edifice of hopes,

Headed petrified to the other end of knowing the ropes.

Pondering over the oddity of their own bizarre paintings,

For I could not see theirs, and neither they mine.

Some lolled for an instant, some kept their pace,

But none accompanied me, through all my lifetime.



Reading the ciphers, I’ve been through two short of twenty,

And as the next comes looming, I can relive a plenty.

Determined to face the muscle, in the murky road ahead,

Rich in verve and the paradise boons bestowed in a ray,

The ablazed crave to see more of the art, I tread ahead,

With hopes that the other end, lies still far far away.

(It took me days to record this vision in appropriate words. There were times, when I would fall short of words just because there was so much to describe. I finally completed it on 5 April, 2001.)

The boulder

It has been years since I wrote this, but it still stands so fresh and so true. The mixed emotion of love and fear still dwells in me and I know not if I can claim anything has changed since.

There rests a boulder, pious and divine,

On the top of a hillock, my house aside,

That stares at the sky – a diamond shine,

Engraved on a ring, so the hillock to be.

I oft be lost, know nay what to detect,

Significant so high, I can’t describe,

Numbers fall short to count its worth,

To me and my love and the beats to beat.

I wander in thoughts when the wind is calm,

And dream of my apt love come true.

My ‘she’ do I praise, unfading charm of ever,

With her I be blessed, troubled never.

I dream of then when we two together,

The day in memo, me and ‘my’ on the rock,

Will sing and cheer and kiss and smile.

If my love turned so, I’ll be drowned in joy.

But to me terror times, I dream the worst,

Sweet dreams hampered and heart pierced.

True do I speak to the purity the most,

Will cast my self from the height unknown,

To end my dreams and the pricking breath,

With agony of pain and tragedy in love.

Then will the future write an epitaph on me,

And the boulder decides, life or else for me.

Uncertain yet, me and my love spellbound,

Life is in speed and in search of life,

But still rests a boulder, pious and divine,

On the top of a hillock, my house aside.

(I don’t exactly know when I wrote this. But I am not really satistfied by the way this was formed. It does not quite reflect what it should have. But then, this is the best way I could put it then. It must have been somewhere around the end of the last millenium.)

Crucifixion, a sacrifice?

"People talk of the sacrifice of Christ as evidence by His crucifixion. But, he was surrounded and bound, and crowned by the crowd who captured Him with a crown of thorns, and later, nailed to the cross by his captors. A person bound and beaten by the police cannot say that he has sacrificed anything, for, he is not a free man."
(Source: http://saigrace.com/christmas.html)

A lily by the road

I did not have enough time to write these days. Perhaps due to the workload at office for the new project and extended hours, I hesitate to switch on my computer at home. Yesterday, lazy and bored, I was browsing through my collection and came across a couple of poems I happened to carve in my pre-university days.

One evening, under the jackfruit free in our college garden, staring at a few flowers at a distance, I could not resist myself from trying to narrate the beauty, strength and the being of a flower. Pure imagination, but hope you like it.

Flowered in a bough, a lily by the road,

Spreading her fragrance to a limit unknown,

Her aroma so adhesive, gravitated me more,

Circus of humming bees and drone, the clown,

Her nectar so sweet, elixir of arthopods,

Ergo her essence, the least been shown.



So the queen elegant, lured passers by,

A drunkard glared firm, amazed to the sight,

For the beauty alone, appeared to him many more,

The false desire to pluck, deserted him to fright,

And refreshed the officer of the bandit gaol,

Tired, longing to rest, returning late at night.



Came a poor soldier, energetic and so armed,

Bleeding his arms and in tatters be his dress,

His staggering legs braked on the marvel beside,

She embraced him in warmth, stole his distress,

Stared at the charm, martins in iron cage,

What noticed the gypsy, she the best actress!



Ever loved her the most, was a little babe,

Would kiss her all day, from its cradle window by,

A dawn was staged, and when fell on its sight,

Lo! Missed the beauty queen and broke its cry,

Lost in a temple or faded in a lover’s knot,

But will make her lovers’ faces pulled wry.


O! lily by the road, bade you goodbye!

(Written during the Samaritans days, this poem was recorded on 27 November 1999.)

Kathmandu - 100 years ago

A few days back, I noticed a calendar at my friend's that got my attention. It had in it a few precious photographs of Kathmandu, the beautiful capital of Nepal, taken before a century. Who, in Nepal, can resist looking at how Kathmandu looked a hundred years ago? A far cry from the pollution and over-crowded streets of today! Here's my treat for them.

Let's start with the easiest one. Try to identify the first image. You are right. The Ranipokhari and the Durbar high school ! Things haven't changed much there except for the broad coal-tarred road and railings, isn't it?

The second image? Yes, looks easy but wondering if it is Tundikhel, the parade ground, right? You got it. But isn't that amazing? The dusty road has now turned to one of the busiest roads of the central Kathmandu. The Martyr's gate and areas around is crowded with vehicles (thanks to the surprisingly growing number of vehicles that ply on the roads of this city). The army's headquarters have come up there. But look at the image ! Who could have imagined, it will be what it is today!

The third image is a shocking one. The Ghantaghar! My goodness, except for the monument itself, nothing around seems familiar, does it? You can not even see the first college of Nepal yet, the Tri-Chandra college, since it was established only in 1918 A.D.

Look at the fourth image. Its the Dharahara, years before the historic earthquake shook its base some 70 years ago. What you are looking at is the untouched Dharahara, void the paintings and fixings of today. This information could thrill any Kathmanduite for sure.

The fifth and the sixth images are of the Swayambhu, the most popular Buddhist monastery of the city, and perhaps of the country as well. There's a pouplar legend about this monastery. As the legend goes, Swayambhu, a manifestation of the Adhi Buddha, the primordial Buddha, was a brilliant flame emanating from a lotus flower that rested in the midst of the lake Nagarad. From atop distant Mandapgiri (now Nagarkot), Majushree gazed at this wondrous sight and decided to worship this flame more closely. By going to the lowest hill in the southern part of the valley and slicing a portion of it with his Sword Of Wisdom, he drained the lake, thus creating the Chobhar Gorge (which till today drains the rivers of the Kathmandu Valley). The valley with its fertile soil appeared, and Manjushree proceeded on his mission to worship the Swayambhu, which had rested upon the small hillock of present-day Swayambhu (meaning "the self-existent"). (Description of the legend extracted from : www.baronboutique.com)

Look at the seventh and eighth images. The two popular durbar squares! They are full of temples and many ancient architecture, still preserved. The Kathmandu durbar square, also popularly known as the Hanumandhoka now has the central jail (a funny and worth a thought utilization of an ancient venue!). I don't see much difference in these two images, just that it has some modern shade in terms of tiles and maintenance now.

And the last image was the most shocking one (to me!). Can you guess where are you looking at in this image? No? Yes? No? Confused? The NewRoad ! The busiest, most congested street of the city! It is the venue that everyone longs to be, be it for shopping or business or even just a visit. people go there for evening walks, across it to Hanumandhoka. Gadget and fashion lovers peek into the busy shops and plazas. And it becomes a must visit when festivals come up and the road is lightened up to attract the city. I would call it the second gem of the city (considering Thamel to be the first, just a thought!). And in this image, it lies as a quiet street, perhaps unaware of the essence that it holds for the valley in the future!

How did you like it Kathmanduites? I loved it too much. I cherish to have established a mini-museum for you here (laughing)! And please forgive me on the copyrights of the images. I was so excited to share them with you that I gave a damn to the copyright law! Oops, I see the lawmakers behind me!