Tuesday, June 23, 2009

At the coffee place


A refuge.
A refugee.
Seeking solace.
Seeking company.
Waiting, eagerly.
At the coffee place.

Freshly brewed.
A cup or two.
Keeping watch.
Keeping time.
Hoping, anxiously.
At the coffee place.

Freshly brewed.
Changing mood.
Looking hard.
Looking long.
Gazing, expectantly.
At the coffee place.

Afternoon.
Tad too soon.
Feeling loved.
Feeling lost.
Praying, patiently.
At the coffee place.

Afternoon.
After three.
Holding up.
Holding on.
Half-empty cup.
At the coffee place.

A bit confused.
Silly me.
Forgetting once.
Eternally.
Weeping, silently.
At the coffee place.

A refuge.
A refugee.
Finding peace.
Finding me.
Smiling, knowingly.
Leaving...the coffee place.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Staring at Citrus Maxima


In my right hand, I'm holding a pomelo. And in my left hand, I'm holding a pomelo the size of my head! We got these from my aunt's place in town, and walking under the tree I'm surprised people don't usually duck for cover with these fruit hanging overhead. Quite an amazing fruit this, with a milder-than-grapefruit flavor. They seem to be seedless, which prompts the obvious question, "How does it grow?" Well, beats me. And if you came to this site for botanical reference, you came to the wrong place. Sorry.

Speaking of reference, the Wikipedia site (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pomelo) does a good job of providing an ample amount of information on the pomelo, a.k.a. Citrus Maxima or Citrus Grandis, and a detailed series of pictures, very much in a manner that I strive to emulate. The reason for my Walk-Like-An-Egyptian pose? I was trying to hold up the fruit so you could see which was bigger, the pomelo or my head. ;-)

Monday, June 15, 2009

Mowing the lawn, old school


That's me in the jungle of a lawn out front. It hasn't rained for a couple of days, but the rain that we did receive turned this patch of what was once stone and mud into a knee-high jungle of grass and other assorted wild plants. I thought it was time to get down to making it look like people still inhabited this place, wild-growing lawn and all, and the folks at home applauded my sincerity and drive. It's almost as if I'd proclaimed that we were going to rise up and make our stand against an alien invasion; I could just about hear trumpets blaring. Backed by such enthusiasm and fanfare, I dove into tackling the problem head on.

What the people at home failed to tell me, however, was that the house lacked an appropriate implement to go about this task. Immediately, my vociferous supporters fled their ranks, and any questions about what my next steps would be given this gaping hole of a discovery were quickly dealt an I-don't-know blow to right where it hurts the most. So, reeling from this shocking coup de indifference, I decided to put my own brains to good use and come up with a viable solution. Again, I could hear trumpets, but they were further away this time.

Perhaps a trumpet could've been just the thing that I was looking for; it would have been easier to choose between lulling the wild lawn into a blissful retreat and beating it into submission. This wasn't to be the case, unfortunately, because the use of brains that eventually led to ransacking the house in search of a suitable lawnmowing implement turned up a pair of dull scissors and a snap-off blade. As if that wasn't splendid enough, it turns out that the cats use this strip of land as their toilet. :-| So, with a what-the-hell-did-I-get-myself-into, I got down to some mowing the lawn from when human settlements first formed civilizations.

I only got halfway through before the stench of cat faeces made me want to gag so bad I just couldn't take it anymore. On this finalistic note, two questions crossed my mind: 1) Why in the world was I doing this when I knew that this was an open air cat toilet?...and 2) What the hell were we feeding these little beasts? ;-) Oh, and that's not a smile on my face, trust me.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Perspicacity

It was a somewhat cool evening at the Golden Palms Resort in Bangalore, and we the participants of the Hornby ELT Seminar were gathered around a table to celebrate the week past with a cocktail dinner. I was accompanying John - my manager, friend and mentor - on behalf of our company, one we both worked for at the time, as much a wide-eyed understudy to my learned mentor as a willing participant in general proceedings. It had been a week of learning and fun, and most importantly for me, it had allowed me to get to know John a little better. He regaled me with various hilarious instances from his time in India, and with equal ease, he wowed the participants of the audience with his thorough knowledge of English Language Training.

Gathered together for the cocktails and dinner, the conversation of the group touched upon many things. Suddenly, in our corner of the gathering, one of the other participants asked John about what it was like to work with me. An obtuse question, no doubt, and I was about to jump in and apologize on this idiot’s behalf, putting it down to the effects of the alcohol that was being served willy-nilly. However, with a poise that I hadn’t until that time in my life experienced firsthand, John turned to this person and said, “I hired him because he has a good head on his shoulders and he gets my ideas and can execute them effectively. He may be a bit cynical at times,” at which point in his response he turned to me and finished with a, “but I want you to know that cynicism usually gives way to perspicacity later on in life.”

Perspicacity. That was the first time I came across that word. It was one of the millions of things that I would learn from John. But ever since that evening, it’s had a very moving impact on my life. I’ve thought about what he meant by it, quite often, and although I understand the idea and the definition of the word, I realize now that it’s a state of being that one eventually achieves. You can’t be there by simply understanding what it means conceptually. It’s a sort of enlightenment – one that I have often visualized but had my own issues with trying to live and be – that one eventually finds oneself armed with. What one does with it from that point depends on the several things, mostly how one came upon this understanding, the circumstances surrounding this “arrival” and the underlying character of the individual in question. But, I digress, albeit momentarily.

The best example of John’s being perspicacious that I can remember from my time working with him was how he had accepted his place in the greater scheme of things and was just living his life with a definitive aim in mind. He just took each day as it came, and made sure that he was enjoying what he was doing. Needless to say, there was an unmatched shrewdness about him when it came to his professional life, which made him very successful at what he did; yet another reason I enjoyed working with him and considered myself most fortunate to be his mentee. That’s what I think it means for me. It’s simple, really. The “cynicism” that he referred to is a result of discomfort in my own skin. There are things that I don’t like on a regular basis, and I make no bones about them. Well, usually I end up going on and on about them and attempting to deal with them is what sometimes ends up being slightly abrasive to all those involved. But I guess perspicacity is knowing that there are some things that you can change, and some things that you can’t, and probably shouldn’t change. That’s a lesson that you can never learn enough, especially if you have to come back to it again and again in your life.

As a mentor, John taught me several invaluable lessons in people management, business process and operations management, and that which I’m most grateful to him, the trust in my ability to carry out any task that he would set me. He didn’t try and dumb things down, and he always welcomed a fresh idea, even if it vetoed one of his own. This is a sign of a great leader, in my humble opinion. But more than being a great manager with immense knowledge, an insatiable curiosity and myriad life experiences, John was a people person who made all those he came into contact with thirst for more of his words of wisdom and to spend more time in his aura of peace and tranquility. I count myself one of the lucky ones in this lot.

I take this comment of John’s, on this somewhat cool evening at a resort on the outskirts of Bangalore, to be one of the most significant things that he ever said to me. Don’t get me wrong, there were several instances of ideas that I had the opportunity to learn from him that I know I’ll remember for a very, very long time. But, I look at this as one of the many lessons that was handed to me as a result of his knowledge of the kind of person that I am. Also, the fact that it came at a time when our professional relationship was well established endears this comment to me all the more. There were many more things that I wanted to learn from him, but I seem to have to had to go through a very turbulent phase in my life that didn’t allow me to be around my mentor just before he left this world for good. Saddening, yes. Yet, not one to give in to excessive bouts of emotion, I’m sure John would wish all those who had the opportunity to get to know him the clarity of vision and focus of emotion to carry on. And for that, I know I’m grateful. He looked out for me. And he gave me what could well be my purpose for the remainder of my existence. Thank you John.

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

As the lily reaches up


Hot.
Stone.
Pavement.
Burning.
Desolation.

Bleak.
Sight.
Alone.
Searching.
Isolation.

Hope.
Lost.
Broken.
Weeping.
Resignation.

Small.
Space.
Slender.
Growing.
Indignation.

Fresh.
Bright.
Yellow.
Blooming.
Consolation.

Life.
Time.
Skyward.
Reaching.
Realisation.

Cosmos, flower


This plainly symmetrical beauty is called the Cosmos. Not much to look at, its beauty apparently lies in its vibrant colors. In my humble opinion, if I walked past this flower I'd probably go, "Oh, a flower," and not even pause momentarily. Why am I putting it on my blog if I don't care enough about it? Well, I'd like to know what others out there think about it and for them to offer insights into aspects of what makes this flower so beautiful. Aspects that I've obviously missed.

Fire Fern


I love the color of the leaves of this innocuous looking fern. I think that the color is a bit more of a shade of deep rust, but who am I to argue with the experts, eh?

This is a closeup of the plant, which makes its leaves appear larger than they are. In reality, however, these leaves are no bigger than your thumbnail. Well, the average human thumbnail is what I had in mind, so as not to cause those of you with freakishly large thumbnails and confusion. ;-)

Sunday, June 07, 2009

My Companion


My silent companion,
Is a girl like no other.
She nods in obedient silence,
And saves me from my negligence.
Her effortless charm,
I cannot but admire.

My agreeable companion,
Is a lady like no other.
She hears me out earnestly,
Watching my lips move endlessly.
Her poise and calm,
I cannot match.

My feisty companion,
Is a woman like no other.
She firmly stands her ground,
In matters oh so sound.
Her sheer conviction,
I am always in awe of.

My little companion,
Is a soul like no other.
She epitomizes the ideal,
Making life seem so real.
Her flawless being,
Is why I write this.

-
An ode.
To one so refreshingly simple.
And so honestly brave.
Don't let the world shake you.
Ever.
-

--

*Image from WBU.edu

Where the ocean meets the sand


Moving on. Getting by.
Watching the horizon change color.
Arriving, just to leave again.
This life, like no other.

In the sky. Looking down.
My world grows steadily smaller.
Below the heavens, above the ground.
In-betweening now, forever.

Brown, the land of shifting sands.
Blue, the ocean that meets her.
Heaven and Earth in a bid to command,
The translucent haze of never.

The world rolls by, as time stands still,
Saluting the marching piper.
Men go forth to fall in line,
Acknowledging a fate thereafter.

Knowing how, yet never been,
Seeing the world fall away.
The time has come for here and now,
Taking life in its ultimate sway.

--

*Image taken from Waterlandcapital.com

Friday, June 05, 2009

Rain at Sri Vilas


Welcome to Sri Vilas during the South West Monsoon (rainy) season. This constitutes the second discernable season that we have here in South India, specifically Kerala. It's only just begun, Monsoon 2009, and as you can see, it's already pretty intense. It's only going to get heavier and heavier from this point on.

There's a brief lull in the force of this rain, as I write this post, but I'm no fool. Sure, I may only be the occasional visitor to Sri Vilas from back when I was still in school, but I've been here during the rains before to know that this is by no means anywhere near what the Monsoons can dish out in all their glory.

However, it's truly a sight to behold! The sheer volume of water that ends up pouring down on us is unfathomable. Sure weather reports talk about inches and centimeters of rain, but when you're on the receiving end it's all the same, wet story. Ah...rain. Glorious rain.

:-)