May 24, 2017

SWITZERLAND!

SWITZERLAND! Three places stole my heart away:
In order:
1. Zermatt
2. Lausanne
3. Brissago Islands



Next time, I am gonna book a hostel in Zermatt and come and stay there for 5 full days. You may know that sublime feeling. From Zermatt trip, I was going back in the 3:00 p.m. Glacier express to Visp to take a train back home, with its centralized heating on lending my shivering body some warmth of home. The huge-big, bustling with snow-snowy, snowy-mountains were all around and they were not leaving me, wanting me to extend my arms and touch them with the tips of my fingers. At every bend and turn, they were there as if wanting to come with me and sit, have tea and samosas and just talk and tell stories hidden deep within them needing the right audience. And I felt proud that moment to realize myself worthy of being among that right audience. Only at Brig/Visp, most probably Brig, did they said Bye and not good bye. They will call me again and I will go up Mt. Matterhorn for sure. Klein Matterhorn? No problem. Matterhorn might be world-famous, I didn't know it before this trip. When I glimpsed it from Zermatt valley below, its snow was playing hide and seek with the clouds hovering and trying to engulf the peak. Precisely that time, to me, it looked as if it rose straight from the books of Lord Shiva, the high and mighty mountain God!. Shiva has the grace and charm of enticing Mountain lover as well as the fiery, tandav-loving Mountain man. In fact, it looked like a younger sibling of Mt. Kailash, Shiva's abode, with a height of 4478 m as opposed to Mt. Kailash's towering height of 6638 m. And having to experience again that legendary chill and warmth, two polarities which I was happy to experience there, is a big pull.

In the pic posted above, the pointed tip mountain in Matterhorn! It is the pic depicted on the wrapper of chocolate giant brand, Toblerone!!

April 2, 2014

Poem by myself after a decade or two :-)



If you must and will,
If you can and should,
If you could and shall,
Love the Nature all along.

The streaming rivers shining,
In the cold autumn evening,
The meadows spreading green,
The morning warm sunshine.                

The brilliant million roses,
The lilies in the sunset,
The daisies in the night,
Folding for the onset.

Of another day,
Of another time,
Of another season,
Of another rhyme.

Which will come along,
Which will spread the day,
Through cocktails and the sunsets,
Through evening, nights and stars.

The moon coming again,
The sun coming again,
The colours changing along,
Happiness going astray,
The rains coming again, coming again, coming again.

February 24, 2012

The Miracle Window




Lots of time, we have seen the sun and the moon together. And have wondered, how come when there is a rising, shining sun, the moon is still visible.

I had been given a moment when both the sun and the moon were hanging like colored crystal drops from the sky in their full grown-up avatar and full clear visibility.

It was 6:15 a.m. In the newly awakened morning. The plane was getting ready for a big leap ahead on the runway, still standing still. The whole plane field was a void, plain silvery expanse enabling me to peer away beyond the horizon. Nothing. And yet, everything.

The full moon was there, right in front of my eyes. Round, sparkling. Difficult to separate the pure, divine silver of the moon with the silvery expanse on the earth. Difficult to know whether the color of the earth was because of the moon's radiance or because of the morning time.

Ahead of my plane, on the runway, a plane landed.

It was now time for the journey of my plane. It started slowly, the moon still sitting coyly up-above in front of my window. The plane gathered speed, accelerated and leaped above the earth, breaking its bonds with it slowly but surely.

The moon was now parallel. And giant. It seemed to smile at me welcoming in its habitat. I waved a hand.

The plane changed its course. Its wings were now playing a see-saw. The moon started to leave my window.

All of a sudden, the scarlet-red majestic sun alongwith its dark-orange rays spread on its sides appeared. A clear scarlet red. The dark-orange rays looked every inch the sun's queens. I forgot who I am. And God! The good plane brought it parallel to my window too, as if I would be sprinting out from the plane and walking over the planet Sun. It was now time for the moon to bid adieu, and the sun to spread over its warmth and bringing life into action.

I, for one, was left without a camera photograph, but with a photographic memory of a miracle only an early morning flight can bring.

A big thank-you to my plane window.

P.S. Days later,  I could get a photograph of full moon in its regalia at 5:00 a.m. morning. Posting the cynosure:



October 5, 2011

Love in the clouds!

Walked alone to a shore...




 ...Found Love!




My blog has turned one year young. Cheers, my blog!!


June 11, 2011

Serenade




Morning today, the sunlight filtered through the thick curtains and ray-traced my arms and onto bed where I was sitting. The cool AC room added to the peace. I drifted to a boat-ride at Kumarakom. I had been looking forward to the ride eagerly.


The boat was beautiful and like all things natural which I immensely like, was  made of cane. Very comfortable chairs also of cane were placed strategically. The narrow stretch of lake was lined abundantly with trees and dense vegetation. Ducklings were swimming alongside. So many beautiful houseboats were awaiting their customers, but I liked my own boat the most, because it was pretty and most of all, it was open.
The thing of beauty is this:
The boatman was a very thin, jovial fellow, age about 35 and he had a dreamy countenence. Step one good going. Now the boat was pushed out of its place where it was lazying around, not wanting itself to be jolted out of stupor. Then, very slowly it was made to rest in one direction. After a minute or two, the boat was wide awake for action. Again slowly, languorously, it swam and I got the first freshest breath of freshest air in my life coming overmixed from the vegetation that lined the lake and the lake itself. The slow motion of the boat chided the air around to move. The air moved. Like a straight current in my face, at times like a whirlpool all over my body. I felt I was flying. The air, the breath of life, started to capture me by diffusing inside. Stupefied, I just sat where I was letting the air work its charm. I was thrilled. I didn't want it to end quickly. And sure it didn't. It stretched far and far. You know, the lake added to the coolness and crispiness. And I just sat there absorbing without even trying to.


The slow motion was continuing. Almost suddenly, there was wide expanse of water all around. Unexpected. And therefore slightly fearful I became. Water, water everywhere. The 5:00 p.m. setting sun shone on me bringing me face to face with it. The water sparkled. Its expansiveness made me feel I was lying flat on a silvery surface.

The boat delighted in being brought to a wide expanse from the narrow space. The boatman's cunningness came to fore when he too suddenly accelerated. What an experienced timing.  The good boat whirred, gathered speed and met full-on with the water. The water smiled and let the boat jump, hop, whirr and speed away. No matter how much the water was being shorn and sheared by the boat, it never lost patience once. I got frightened, if it loses patience then I am drowned for I do not know swimming. I drowned my fright by looking not at the water but the sun!

Far away, a jet boat was playing at full speed. My eyes again spread over the water and again the same fright but lesser than before. And wonder of the wondrous things, the boatman had one look and he immediately opened his magic box of tape recorder and a song came over to lull and soothe us all, the boat, the water, the lagoon trees, the sun and of course, me. Everything fell into place.

April 26, 2011

India: North-eastern Beauty



Dreamy-eyed, I asked a teacher from Manipur, whom I had just met at the University Guest House, "How is Manipur?".

Coming from Delhi and now at Hyderabad, my mind was wandering all over the yet-to-be-seen land, wondrous in imagination, capturing it in its idylllic form. Mountains, meadows, lush green earth, chirping birds, cows and yaks grazing about peacefully, big smiles on  faces of people. Picturing never-before-seen sceneries. Relishing new taste of delicious hot cuisines. Gathering experiences to tell.

The Orchids!! Of course.



"Just like this place", pat came the reply. I fell. Almost. From the highlands of the heaven to the lands of planet Earth.

I gathered courage, thought to prod along. "And food?", "Just like this"!

Where is the Indian diversity being told about from the school days and even experienced in fullness in childhood?

Where is that sumptuous richness of India?

Where have we forgotten our dreams? Our imaginations taking wings?

I had been musing all along, and then along came a girl from Nagaland. Visa! I saw her explaining the extracted DNA bands in the gel documentation software to her juniors. What energy! What self-confidence! Thank God. We talk every other day. Bit by bit, I will know about the mysteries of North-east land, leaving some mysteries to my own imagination...














January 19, 2011

Infinite Wisdom :-)

There's always a little truth behind every "just kidding"; a little information behind every "I don't know"; a little botheration behind every "I don't care"; and a little suffering behind every "it's okay!
                                                                                                                                        -Dr. Niyaz Ahmed

January 18, 2011

Lake View Guest House at the University of Hyderabad...



It is 6:00 a.m. The tranquil lake beyond the balcony at Lake View Guest House at the University of Hyderabad is basking lazily in the mist of the early morning and awaiting patiently the sun's first rays.The sun rises and the lake is tranquil still. It is silver.



When the sun starts its westward motion and reaches a crescendo in between sometime, the lake will display its shimmering bluish water flowing in a unidirectional pattern, a slow, gentle motion giving it a certain rhythm, I know. I look around the green of the earth, the tree branches hung up in the sky, beautiful criss crossing habitation of the peaceful co-existence of varieties. One of these is Gulmohur, tall, giant, its leaves fall down covering the balcony as if they like  decorating it. It is a like a meditation, a prayer watching even one of these leaves fall. They fall down happily, defiantly, for the bridal decoration of the earth. The lake bank invites me. I am greedy, but defer going to another time. The architecture of the guest house is in a meandering pattern, not seen ever, really, believe me. It is not the relatively straightforward way of buildings as is usual. Walking through the zig-zag corridors, the rooms are situated at the angles between these. The balcony offers complete privacy being separated in a zig zag way too, and the more wonderful thing is that beyond the balcony, no concrete, just the plain old woods and the lake lending a soft touch to the otherwise rough, wooden landscape. Even the room windows open outside to the lake and the first rays of sunlight come streaming and knocking inside to wake up and remind me of the lake calling. I admire and let the architect remain unknown. After all, this building itself makes him/her known.I quickly look for Howard Roark's Monadnock Valley in The Fountainhead.

It was the hills, this is the plain, though small hills are seen spread beyond the lake. Amazing how the plains now look transformed into hills, its architect in the form of Nature and a Human!!

January 14, 2011

Something to write! Hmmm!!



Well, roaming around in house at night is something one looks forward to from time to time. Not getting used to monotonosity, in the stillness of night when others are asleep, a yellow subdued light, a quiet corner, a comfortable position, an ambient room temperature and a laptop that speaks to you personally is what one looks certainly forward to. Piecing together thoughts. Watching the pure delights of words in front. A song and music running in the background.
Words do get limited, yes. But that is the beauty! An expressed thought enhances the joy of living. It is like a fast-flowing river, like Ganga at Haridwar. Flowing furiously, undulating, unidirectional. It cannot be chaotic. Without limits, yet having to keep within limits. Being given an ironical sustenance.  
An unexpressed thought! It is the real beauty. Because it has a mysterious element. Beauty is incomplete without mystery.  It is like the wind. Multidirectional, surviving the deserts and oceans alike in its path. Chaos is its leitmotif. And chaos is order in the context of an unexpressed thought.
Delving deep into the world of an unexpressed thought dancing in the stillness of night when the crescent-shaped moon is looking down at you and saying, Hi!

October 25, 2010

Fly me to the moon!


First and second flight trips ever, both to Hyderabad, taking my priceless solitariness with me!

Solitariness? And I am wrong, and it is a pleasure.

Both onwards and return journeys at night at 8:00 p.m., I didn't ask for any specific seat, wishing it were the window seats always. And, ahem, I did get.

And you know whom I got as my companions, never once intruding into my priceless solitariness. The moon! Looking at me from my window, as if I had more glitter than Him, wondering to ask me my secret! Left side onwards trip, right side return trip. What blessing! Can anyone believe?

The majestic A320 aircraft wing spread beside me like my own wing, one arm extended, yet giving the feeling of a full form with two wings. The moon, 3/4ths way towards being a full moon, shone its brilliant white light on the wing.

The plane lights dimmed, I had a grand view outside into the night. Blue color of the day sky replaced by greyish black colour of the night. I love midnight blue of the night sky as it looks from the planet earth. But in sky, it looked different. What a synergistic color combination Nature has made for itself, yellow sun and blue sky, white moon and black sky, a symphony making music each hour of our time.
In that hour, the sky was expansive, not constricted as the black color is generally thought of. The moon, steel white radiance shining, the rays coming and enveloping me in a milky white robe, nearly blinding me. Oh! I forgot. It was the concerto between the sky and the moon. How I came into the picture, I don't know. May be I myself have personalised, but I weren't writing this out if I hadn't. The plane wing spread out, absorbing the shine and the light of the moon, and so also into the picture! So, in that hour, we were foursome. And enjoyed each other's company thoroughly.

Within a span of another hour, the plane gliding down to touch the earth, the moon presiding over the glamour of innumerable, symmetrical yellow diyas below, never once losing its identity, I and the plane wing were separated. The sky and the moon remained. Congratulations to you both!

Wondering how the moon will look on a Diwali day from that distance between the earth and sky, bridal adornment of the earth vying to take its place!

Oh! I remember, it will shy away as always. Or may be, as John Galt says in Atlas Shrugged, the moon will speak the same lines, "...I was here, hidden by nothing but an error of your sight, as Atlantis is hidden from men by nothing but an optical illusion...".

**************

October 11, 2010

Extempore!


Questions posed by my third-grader kid to the eighth grader one in Q&A sessions:---------

1. Why you love cireyals (serials)? Explain.
2. Why Akshara and Naitik is crying? Explain? and  color and draw.
3. Why are you chirchiri?
4. The Lord Krishna is why smiling? Write? Explain?
5. Why you not not love oggy and the cockroaches?
6. Why your favorite color is purple? Explain.


Questions posed by my eighth grader kid to third-grader one in Q&A sessions and answers of the third-grader:

1. Who is Shah Jahaan? Explain.
Third grader reads and asks, kya matlab? Elder one says who is Shah Jahaan? Third one: who is he? Elder one: The one who made Taj Mahal. Third grader: What is Taj Mahal?

Elder one: O.K., I give up. I change the question to : who is Shah Rukh Khan?
Answers of the third grader: a. Shah Rukh Khan is a big actor. Shah Rukh Khan made the movie My name is Khan. Shah Rukh is a sweet boy. My mother and sister love actor Shah Rukh

2. Whom do you love the most in Billy, Mandy aur Life mein Haddi? Name anyone. Why?
Answer: Mandy because Mandy is so funny and strict.

3. Which sweet do you love a lot?
Answer: Gulab jamun, white color.

Rockstar!


Clicked by I, me, myself!!

Feel like John Lennon has come down to view this pic in my blog today. Or am I humoring myself, again this I, me, myself coming into the picture. Something missing? A dancing couple? Well, here it is again, clicked by I, me, myself. Come on, humor me again.




A song is going on in mind:

Bol baby bol, rock and roll;
Bol, bol, bol, rock and roll;
Mere sang dol, rock and roll;
Duniya hai gol, rock and roll,
Aankhon se baatein kar,
Bol nazar ki boli bol.........

You can get up from your prestigious seats and rock and roll. Come on, no one is eyeing you!

October 9, 2010

Cobwebs!

It is 6:00 a. m. morning. Cool October breeze blowing, the bare arms feeling its first touch. Having brushed my teeth, I trudge outside to the balcony. Silvery expanse, the sum of all the rainbow colours. A guy walking his precious snowy (read spaniel) alongside. The white colored spaniel is at once camouflaged and obvious. I open the balcony door, peek out for newspaper. Empty space.

I go to the kitchen, make a cup of tea. Come to the balcony, peek out again. Empty space. Tea is getting finished without the hypnotic presence of a newspaper. Oh no, enjoy every sip of your tea, dear. Forget the newspaper and the world that comes inside it. Eyes wander outside the balcony towards the green trees shielding me from the wild road.

Cobwebs, I remember. Yesterday, I saw them. Here, there, everywhere. Now there is something hypnotic about the cobwebs too. You see them, you have an itch to clear them. All this while, you seem to be feeling cleansed, purified, spiritually as well as physically. How is that so? Over to the whole process of cleaning the home of the cobwebs now.

The maid is there, but she looks always downwards, not heavenwards, rooted as she is firmly to the ground. She will not clean the cobwebs for you. So, I tightened my waist with a dupatta, warming up for the action. I picked a broom that is not that long for me to be comfortable reaching the skies above. But I have tools, chair, a table, a dining table, a bed, a small bathroom 'peedha' to help me reach my goal. I chose one of these little by little as I go about exploring every possible nook, corner and crevice for the presence of cobwebs. Brooms swaying over these letting the spiders run away, dangling on the edges, I reached and with a whole sweep in two opposite directions, cleared an area. Again, I got down, pushed the chair to another area and started with the whole process again. The dining table is whole lot of fun, since it actually helps me touch the sky with my own hands. The fans above are also taken care of. Wherever the fans are too high to be reached, they are revolved and cleaned, revolved and cleaned, revolved and cleaned, though not thorough, that is the best I can do. On the bed, the sky is higher still, so I put a bathroom 'peedha' on it to reach. It helps. Wow! the walls are shining with their oil-bonded colors coming alive, biscuit color, pink color and mauve color. Some nooks, some corners and some crevices I cannot reach and I leave it to Mother Nature and often, it is magic, disappearing all by itself the day after. Or so it seems to me.

A feeling rises inside, I have cleaned the cobwebs. The home is shining. Getting up and down from the chairs, tables etc., I have exerted myself physically. Getting a dose of endorphins and awakening my kundalini shakti, I again peeked outside the balcony, and sure enough, the emptiness had disappeared. I sat down on my coffee table chair with the smooth feel and integrated senses on the newspaper......

Paulo's Inventory of Normality


1] Anything that makes us forget our true identity and our dreams and makes us only work to produce and reproduce.
2] Making rules for a war (the Geneva Convention).
3] Spending years at university and then not being able to find a job.
4] Working from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon at something that does not give us the least pleasure, so that we can retire after 30 years.
5] Retiring only to discover that we have no more energy to enjoy life, and then dying of boredom after a few years.
6] Using Botox.
7] Trying to be financially successful instead of seeking happiness.
8] Ridiculing those who seek happiness instead of money by calling them “people with no ambition”.
9] Comparing objects like cars, houses and clothes, and defining life according to these comparisons instead of really trying to find out the true reason for being alive.
10] Not talking to strangers. Saying nasty things about our neighbors.
11] Thinking that parents are always right.
12] Getting married, having children and staying together even though the love has gone, claiming that it’s for the sake of the children (who do not seem to be listening to the constant arguments).
12ยช] Criticizing everybody who tries to be different.
14] Waking up with a hysterical alarm-clock at the bedside.
15] Believing in everything that is printed.
16] Wearing a piece of colored cloth wrapped around the neck, known by the pompous name “necktie”.
17] Never asking direct questions, even though the other person understands what you want to know.
18] Keeping a smile on your face when you really want to cry. And feeling sorry for those who show their own feelings.
19] Thinking that art is worth a fortune, or that it is worth absolutely nothing.
20] Always despising what was easily gained, because the “necessary sacrifice” – and therefore also the required qualities – are missing.
21] Following fashion, even though it all looks ridiculous and uncomfortable.
22] Being convinced that all the famous people have tons of money.
23] Investing a lot in exterior beauty and paying little attention to interior beauty.
24] Using all possible means to show that even though you are a normal person, you are infinitely superior to other human beings.
25] In any kind of public transport, never looking straight into the eyes of the other passengers, as this may be taken for attempting to seduce them.
26] When in an elevator, looking straight at the door and pretending you are the only person inside, however crowded it may be.
27] Never laughing out loud in a restaurant, no matter how funny the story is.
28] In the Northern hemisphere, always wearing the clothes that match the season of the year: short sleeves in springtime (however cold it may be) and a woolen jacket in the fall (no matter how warm it is).
29] In the Southern hemisphere, decorating the Christmas tree with cotton wool, even though winter has nothing to do with the birth of Christ.
30] As you grow older, thinking you are the wisest man in the world, even though not always do you have enough life experience to know what is wrong.
31] Going to a charity event and thinking that it is enough to put an end to all the social inequalities in the world.
32] Eating three times a day, even when not hungry.
33] Believing that the others are always better at everything: they are better-looking, more resourceful, richer and more intelligent. Since it’s very risky to venture beyond your own limits, it’s better to do nothing.
34] Using the car as a way to feel powerful and in control of the world.
35] Using foul language in traffic.
36] Thinking that everything your child does wrong is the fault of the company he or she is keeping.
37] Marrying the first person who offers a position in society. Love can wait.
38] Always saying “I tried”, even though you haven’t tried at all.
39] Putting off doing the most interesting things in life until you no longer have the strength to do them.
40] Avoiding depression with massive daily doses of television programs.
41] Believing that it is possible to be sure of everything you have won.
42] Thinking that women don’t like football and that men don’t like interior decoration.
43] Blaming the government for everything bad that happens.
44] Being convinced that being a good, decent and respectful person means that the others will find you weak, vulnerable and easy to manipulate.
45] Being convinced that aggressiveness and discourtesy in treating others are signs of a powerful personality.
46] Being afraid of fibroscopy (men) and childbirth (women).
47] And finally, thinking that your religion is the sole proprietor of the absolute truth, the most important, the best, and that the other human beings in this immense planet who believe in any other manifestation of God are condemned to the fires of hell

-By Paulo Coelho

The Perfect Heart

Republished From Paulo Coelho's Blog: Reader's Story


A young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it.
But an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said,
“Your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine.”
The crowd and the young man looked at the old man’s heart. It was beating strongly but full of scars. It had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in … but they didn’t fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. The young man looked at the old man’s heart and laughed.
“You must be joking,” he said. “Compare your heart with mine … mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears.”
” “Yes,” said the old man, “Yours is perfect looking … but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love….. I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them … and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart but because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges.
“ Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away … and the other person hasn’t returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges … giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too … and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?”
The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man.
The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart.
It fit …. but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since lovefrom the old man’s heart flowed into his.

October 8, 2010

Hey Gorgeous!


Move over all ye stylish star moms: Angelina Jolie, Katie Holmes, Jennifer Lopez and the likes. Here is the very real, quintessential Indian beauty.
Smiling with abandonment, the jet black hair waving synchronously with the waves, skin shining with the pinkness of health, polka-dotted dress hung stylishly over her slender shoulders with the dark-blue straps caressing her shoulders softly. Figure the right amount of slimness and voluptuousness, will give any unaware mom a run for her money. The boys held close to her heart up, close and personal, absorbing the magic of the great Indian 'Jaadu ki Jhappi' lending their closeness the form and outline of a human heart. Watch for the outside contours of the trio united and you will know. Everything about this pic is mystical, even the large balloon (Oh, I know it is called a parachute) like a mini-rainbow in the background. The waves come running to her to touch and feel her, but in a slow, gentle motion. Am I also as gorgeous and mesmerising as you are? the mighty ocean wonders.
3 cheers to gorgeous Ruchi at Turks and Caicos Islands!!

October 7, 2010

We are Hi-touch, but C U L8rR!


"We had the railways, the hawkers, the coolies, the rickshawwallahs. We tried to recreate both the order and chaos of India. We could have gone hi-tech, but we didn't. China is hi-tech. We're hi-touch. We're a tactile nation. It was all about touching lives, bonding."

                        - Prasoon Joshi on Commonwealth Games 2010 Opening Ceremony

"Thumbs down The result of two million years of evolution: C U L8R.

The great biological watershed that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom and puts us on top of the evolutionary heap on this planet is our opposable thumb: our ability to fold our thumb against our fingers which enables us to hold things. Things like tools, and weapons, and paintbrushes, and pens, and screwdrivers. Other animals don't have the opposable thumb. That is why no animal other than man could have constructed the wheel, made spears and knives (and, later, AK-47s and nuclear bombs), written the works of Kalidas and Shakespeare, made the Taj Mahal and sent rocket ships to the farthest reaches of our solar system. The story of human civilisation is the story of our opposable thumb. No opposable thumb, no human civilisation. And no text messages on our mobile phones.The great biological watershed that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom and puts us on top of the evolutionary heap on this planet is our opposable thumb: our ability to fold our thumb against our fingers which enables us to hold things. Things like tools, and weapons, and paintbrushes, and pens, and screwdrivers. Other animals don't have the opposable thumb. That is why no animal other than man could have constructed the wheel, made spears and knives (and, later, AK-47s and nuclear bombs), written the works of Kalidas and Shakespeare, made the Taj Mahal and sent rocket ships to the farthest reaches of our solar system. The story of human civilisation is the story of our opposable thumb. No opposable thumb, no human civilisation. And no text messages on our mobile phones...........................................By now my thumb is sore with all the effort. But the game of SMS ping-pong isn't over. I get another message: WHR? I look up the SMS dictionary I've bought and confirm that WHR? means WHERE? Where? Where - or rather, what - is the shortest location to text? I steel my thumb to one last effort: HRE. And let the other guy figure out which HRE (HERE) I mean when i say - or rather, text - HRE (HERE).

Why do we do it? Why do we SMS? When it's so much less effort, and less costly, to just phone up and talk to the person instead of all this back-and-forth SMSing? We do it because telecoms, which make more money on SMSs than on calls, have convinced us that SMSing is KEWL (COOL) while calling is UNKEWL (UNCOOL). Besides, what else but to SMS with do you (U) think Darwinian selection gave you (U) your (UR) opposable thumb?

Putting an ice pack on my traumatised thumb, I reflect that a medieval instrument of torture was called a thumbscrew. Are SMSs the 21st century's thumb screw?"

                - Jug Suraiya in The Times Of India

This all published in the today's edition of ToI.
The Horizon is always there waiting. Touch the Horizon, please!!