Month: June 2013

Pebble #5 : Being Abnormal…

This post is a sequel of my previous post Phase I : Being Different…

Phase II : Being Abnormal


My teenage was really messed… Whatever you think ‘fun’ in that age were taught as ‘sin’ to me.

I remember the first book I ever  read (apart from my textbooks) was the Holy Bible. I was taught bible, in home, in church and in school. Even before I could think and conclude which is good and evil, I was taught and trained in following certain things which are believed to be good. By then, I had gone through the whole bible.

I had the same attraction that everybody had on the opposite gender, but I was filled with guilt for it. I felt guilty and thought myself as a sinner for just looking at a girl whom I found to be immensely pretty. I felt guilty, falling in love (maybe infatuation by that time).

I found that friend of mine to be a sinner, for he was dating a girl in my class. I had a regular battle between what is meant as Good and Evil inside me.

My classmates found it really abnormal to be a teenager. I found it quite restless, during my teenage. Because every time I looked at a girl, the following verse from the holy book echoed all over my mind…

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Do not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that whoever looks at a woman to desire her has already committed adultery with her in his heart”. (Matthew 5:27-28).

I was totally devoid of peace. I felt guilty all the time and I tried living upto the life bible taught me. But I failed and I became a guilty man. I was driven by guiltiness. Yes, that was a little chaotic.

When that first girl proposed me, I yelled at her saying “You bloody evil, I won’t fall for all these. Get rid of me”. She must have really found it immensely abnormal.

Every Sunday I went church and I ended up realizing that all the youngsters who were believed to be good disciples and who were set as good examples, had their own boy / girl friends and the worst part is they did all those non-sense in church itself :'(. When given a chance, every youth in my church were preaching about blessings and miracles of the Lord, I was one who preached about sin and questioned everyone. My church elders and the senior preacher found it abnormal for a teenager to preach so much about sin.

Once, myself and a friend of mine were walking in the tower park, where the pond was filled with lilies. She asked me to pick one for her,

I said “I wont”.


“If you like the flower, let it be in the plant. Be it live”

“I don’t need explanations, I need the flower. Why aren’t you plucking one for me? Let the rest of the flowers be in their plants”.

I said,”I feel, it will be painful for the flower if we pluck it”.

She looked at me so strangely and in her eyes i could see how abnormal my reply was..

 (…to be continued with Phase III : Being Chaotic…)


Pebble #4: Dives and Lazarus

It was one of those days, where my dear depressive thoughts just started to feast with my happiness. It started to replicate on my words and actions and immediately my close friend caught me.

Let us say, the friend’s name is BestFriend. We all have this BestFriend and we are also one to certain people. I was sharing my problems and feelings to him.

Being the BestFriend as he is, with all the patience, he was consoling me with caring words. As the conversation happened, he told me to think about the people who are really suffering out there and what kind of luxuries I am having.

Rich man and the poor by a French artist, Gustave Dore

Rich man and the poor by a French artist, Gustave Dore

All of a sudden it struck me very hard. How cruel it is to think that there are people, who are suffering worse than us and to feel better comparing our self with them. how casually those words are  told. It is not just he. I am damn guilty of having uttered the same words to many people in my life with the same concern.

Putting it aside, who am I to judge that a person, who is not having all the luxury as I am, is suffering. Or to judge a person, who is having all the luxury that I am not having, to be joyous and free from suffering?

Will someone else be looking at me and feel good! yes, there would definitely be. Let those souls be happy.

Pebble #3 : Being Different…

Some say, “You are different”.

Some say, “You are abnormal”.

Some say, “You are chaotic”.

Very few say, “You are nothing”… and I prefer that.

What do they really mean by the adjectives, different, abnormal, chaotic???

Does anybody really know how does it feel to be one of those??


Phase I : Being Different

Yeah, as a child I did few weird things.

When everyone used their notebooks from front page, I tried using them from the last page.

Yeah, I had some strange symbols in the place where my name should be.

Yeah, I spoke to walls… I preferred them than those people around me.

Well I found it funny by the time, but my teachers didn’t. They found it crazy.

Yes, in my every notebook I had a set of pages simply filled with question marks and those favorite strange symbols.

Though I was the youngest in my class, I was excessively built and had moustache and beard stumps in my fifth / sixth standard itself; they found it different again.

All those teachers of mine, wanted me to sit in the last bench far far away from them all. Except for a few who knew what I was then. I had this situation of changing my seat every hour based on the teacher yet to come to class. I had  a different time table for my seating arrangement.

I was hardly speaking till I was eighth standard.

My parents found it different and they initially started asking me to talk what’s there in my mind. They also meant that they were ready to listen. But had I anything to speak??.

Days went on, and they started worrying about me and pleaded me to talk out. And in a couple of days, they found it very strange and frustrating which resulted in I getting beaten off for not talking.

A fine night I decided, I will talk henceforth. But I had no subject to talk of, so I had the stress of creating events or things so that I can talk of them. Later I found my tongue immediately delivered whatever I was thinking in my mind, even before I could finish thinking about it. My parents turned happy that at last I am talking.. but I felt it bad, speaking something meaningless always just like the way am writing this post now..

Yes, everyone laughed when I induced that friend of mine to ask a doubt in that specific chapter in biology which every teacher deliberately skipped all those years. But I didn’t know, that it was so embarrassing to question / answer that topic.

Well they all said, “You are different”.

(…to be continued with Phase II : Being Abnormal…)

Reflection #1 – ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’

“Let the world change you;

  then you can change the world”.

There are certain things in our life, which are just waiting for their time. If we just allow them knowingly or unknowingly, they do their part so fine. When you encounter them for the first time they seem like they are yet another same thing that you’ve crossed a million times, but slowly… slowly they breach into you, your most private portions of your soul.

They make you cry. Cry not out of pain but out of ineffable Happiness.

They make you feel your presence and its prominence on this lonely planet.

They change you, make you what you weren’t ever before.

They keep knocking you from within and churn you like anything.

This is one such creation…. ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’ a Spanish movie directed by Walter Salles.


When i heard people talking about this movie, i thought it will be yet another movie with some motivational cliches. But it proved me wrong. Not the first time, nor the second time, every ‘n’th time i watch it, it makes me restless, it tears me apart. I had no idea about Che Guevara, nor his revolutions before watching this movie.

The Movie :

The movie starts and ends with the below quote,

“This is not the tale of impressive deeds…Is a piece of two lives taken in a moment when they were cruising together along a given path…With identity of aspirations and conjunction of dreams”.

In 1952, two friends Ernesto Guevara a medical student and Alberto Granado a biochemist embark on a  mission of traveling 8000 kilometers in Alberto Granado’s  bike “La Poderosa” (the powerful) across the villages and untouched places of South America in a span of 4 months. Their mission was to crown Alberto’s birthday with this journey of a lifetime. Their travel plan starts from Beunes Aires and stretches through Chile, Atacama Desert Machu Picchu and end it in San Pablo by the time they would have came across varied people. distinct cultures and living styles, varied landscapes etc. The road leads them into various situations where they meet various people.. a old woman who is waiting in the doors of death, people of Incas (a great civilization which was wiped off), people who travel through desert just in search of a job, poor farmers, leprosy patients of  San Pablo, etc.

Throughout the journey, we can see that the roads are the same for both Ernesto and Alberto. But the journeys aren’t.

Scenes to Remember :

1.  The scene in which they meet a couple in desert who wander for a job.


2.  Ernesto treating the dying old woman


3.  Alberto crying while selling his completely collapsed bike, La Poderosa.


4. The whole sequence in the San Pablo medical camp. Especially the scene in which he says that the river keeps the healthy away from the sick.


5.  Ernesto crossing the Amazon river by swimming, inspite of his Asthma and bad lungs to celebrate his birthday with the patients of San Pablo.

The Motorcycle Diaries DVD2

There are so many such scenes, which rip off a portion of you to make you new.

The music of  Gustavo Santaolalla, keeps pulling the strings of our emotion throughout the movie. It makes one feel heavy and at the same time empty. He has done justice to the movie with his music. His music moved me and shattered me like anything.

The Echo :

The movie, music and all those mixed emotions from the movie echo within me. It laid an imprint on me. It is a strange experience. But am sure of one thing, as the movie’s last dialogue reads,

“I am not me any more. At least I’m not the same me I was”.


P.S :
If you had expected a movie review, I am sorry.

I thank my friend Anand  for introducing the movie to me.

Myself and Anand in the photo above with La Debile (the weak).

Pebble #2 : R-O-S-E… Rose

‘R-O-S-E… Rose”

Did you find it hard to spell the word above?? Certainly you didn’t, but I did when I was in my Upper Kinder Gardens.

Yeah, a small flashback. 18 years ago.


A fine evening in the year 1995. In my home.

We were a joint family by then; a family of 10. Including 4 of my uncles (Chithappas and Mamas). The privilege of being the only boy baby didn’t work well for me. I was the target of all those angry people in my home. Whenever, somebody was angry, they quenched their anger by beating me off 😦 .

I could still remember that particular evening. I was doing something in my home and I could see one of my uncles, in fact an angry uncle entering the house with so much anger. The moment he entered the house, my elder sister sensed something was gonna happen. But poor ‘Me’ didn’t know that i was gonna be the victim.

He was so angry, and unfortunately his eyes laid on me. The next moment he asked me to bring my English four lines notebook. I struggled finding it from my clumsy bag, but somehow my sister managed to find it for me. He received the notebook in his hands, and turned a few pages looking for something. Finally, he found what he looked for i guess.

He commanded, “Come here..”


“Spell.. Rose”, this was him.

“…” I was simply blinking. Imagine a 4 years old kid in his half trousers standing with the very shudders sent by the commanding  tone of a ferocious uncle.

“Spell it, I say..”

“R… R…” i was looking at my sister helplessly.

The next moment, the room was filled with the noise of a boy being slapped and beat like anything. I was shouting, crying, pleasing… nothing helped at all. The Gods were cruel that day. My sister stood helpless, watching it all. When he had transcended a portion of his anger on me, he left the house saying, “I will come back in an hour… be prepared to spell it you bloody. Else, it is gonna be your last day in the earth”.

I was crying, rolling on the floors. My sister came closer to me, who was just 2 years elder than me doing her second standard.

She tried consoling me, but nothing worked with me. A few minutes rolled on, and she remembered that the uncle will be back in an hour or so. She thought of preparing me for the second battle. She consoled me and started teaching me to spell the word ‘Rose’.

I was sitting in the staircase along with my sister and practicing the spelling with tears trickling down my cheeks and chin. I was reading loudly, “R…O…S…E… Rose.., R…O…S…E… Rose.., ” and it continued for sometime, till I was thorough with it.

As said, the uncle returned in sometime, and he saw me with the same angry eyes and asked me to bring the same notebook again.

By then, i was ready spelling the word within my mouth…

He went through the pages of the note, and asked me,

“Spell it…”

“R… O… S…E… Rose”

“Spell again..” (with so much anger)

“R… O… S… E… Rose”.. oh man i made it.

He looked deep into my eyes and uttered those most terrible words.. “Now spell it in the reverse order…”

I looked at my sister with the same expression on my face and the room was filled with the noise again.


“WeChat with Anyone, Anywhere!”

Hi all,

WeChat, an App that’s booming up like anything. This blog post  is a part of Indiblogger & WeChat’s “WeChat with Anyone, Anywhere!” contest.

WeChat is an awesome application with various features like Live chat, voice chat, video call,etc,.

Check out WeChat here :

If I ever get a chance to talk to people whom i really really wanted to talk, I will end up choosing so many to whom I am grateful, For whom I’ve loads of respect, people who transcended me.
But here am choosing only 5 of them, and here it goes…

1. Kahlil Gibran :



The first person will be Kahlil Gibran ( a Lebanese-American poet, artist and writer), to whom I am very much grateful for transcending me into ‘Me’. I would welcome him to watch sunset walking along the shores of Pacific, sipping the old-old wines he ever preserved. I will be discussing him the beauty that i see in every soul wandering in the world i live. I would like to know what transcended him the Kahlil the world knows now.

2. Che Guevara :


The second person will be Che Guevara, (an Argentine Marxist revolutionary, physician, author, guerrilla leader, diplomat, and military theorist). I would join him for a Motorcycle journey, just like the one he did in the 1950’s. Will talk to him regarding the current scenario of my country and will ask him suggestions to stand against all those things that corrupt my country & let my fellow beings suffer. Would take his assistance in changing the society I live into a better place to live. Later, in a fine evening I would call him to play football and for a Cigar.

3. George Carlin :


The third person will be George Carlin, (an American stand-up comedian, social critic, satirist, actor, and writer). It’s really a pleasure and full awesomeness to be with such an awesome thinker. We will watch together with a cup of coffee from my terrace certain kids playing in my street. I will be discussing my school day fun and funniest events that ever happened to me, to make him laugh for he made the world laugh for decades.

4. Balu Mahendra : 


The fourth person will be Balu Mahendra (an Indian filmmaker, screenwriter, and cinematographer). Will discuss him, the short film ideas that I’ve and will work together with him in that short film project. Working along with such a legend will be an ever lasting experience. I will talk to him from dawn till dusk about all those beauties his magical eyes saw. Will Sit in the terrace with him, silently watching the colourful sky in the dusk.

5. Bob Marley : 

images (1)

The fifth person will be Bob Marley (a Jamaican singer-songwriter and musician). I will be discussing him about the musical spirit that lies within him. Will be discussing the ways of music and would take him to the nearest prison, to sing a song for all those prisoners who would like to hear a song and taste the freedom that music brings unto one.

I would like to include, Helen Keller in the above list. Such a miraculous women she was. But unfortunately, she couldn’t see or listen. I respect you madam.

If possible will call them all together for a trek and camping with me where we shall share each other’s lives and its journeys.

I thank WeChat and Indiblogger for providing me a chance to remember and write about all those wonderful people i ever respect a lot.

Thanks Again.

Pebble #1 – Art is a chain reaction…


I was a paper scribbler by then.

During my schooldays, just because I was lack of friends and had nothing busy to do; I started filling the papers i see with characters (I mean alphabets & some strange curves). Soon the characters turned into words that I knew by then. It all started in my mother tongue Tamil. I used to fill papers with words of randomness, there was never a pattern. Later, once the random words formed a meaning to me. The meaning that only I could decipher. Just like a Rorschach, they gave me a different meaning every time I looked at them. Soon, I started writing, stuff with some imposed meaning on them and the very little read people around me called them poems.

Lo, I started scribbling poems. I kept writing things just the way did earlier.

My childhood was quite a different. I was very desperate about people. I was desperate, for nobody understood my silence. My room walls had been my companion for years; I simply sit and stare at them for hours. From the peeled off paint of the walls I was able to figure out certain images just like the way we do with clouds (Yet another Rorschach..!). I was able to form, fictional characters from the rorschach and started playing my own invisible cartoons and stories in the empty walls of my rooms. Later started sketching the things my walls shown me, and pasted them everywhere on the house. I included the  writing skills that I had developed by then, to give captions for my so called sketches.

Lo, I started sketching then.

Years rolled on, my walls turned so dull.. I was desperately in need of something more than the walls. By the time it caught my eyes.. A local magazine (the magazine is still running successfully). The center page of the magazine was filled with a sketchy scribbling on one side and a cluster of poetic words on the other. I understood neither of them, but they were catchy. Started gathering the center page of the old releases of the magazine, at a point of time the scribbling and the word cluster made some sense to me. Years, rolled on. I became a decent poet among my friends (they called me so, for they wanted poems for their girls.. 🙂 ). Later, I started writing a book of poems for a person whom I cherished the most. That is when I started a blog too, in the memory of that person.

Lo, I started blogging too.

For my blog posts, Mr.Google helped me with all sorts of pictures and images I wanted. One fine day, I felt guilty about using someone’s creation without their permission. I tried sketching few of my own, and later saw a man with camera capturing me somewhere and just got my first intro with the term Photography. Just out of curiosity, I borrowed cameras from my friends and started doing atrocity with it in office, home, streets, everywhere possibly. For the past two years, am clicking with my friend’s cameras.

Lo, I started clicking.

Photography introduced me short film making and most importantly traveling.
I along with my friends, tried quite a few films so far. Each one of them failed in a different manner… 😛

Yet am happy, that am a traveler now…

Art is a chain reaction… Isn’t it??