A devotee's prayer !

Is it the fault of the multitudes who crowd ? Is it only the fault of the administration which is unable to manage the crowds at Kanchipuram ? As per reports, the administration did not expect lakhs to enter and hence were clearly unprepared.

I think it's the media to blame.  It's the hype created around the Lord, so much that people are just curious. How many are true and ardent devotees ? And where is the divine ambience in the midst of pelmel, chaos, helplessness and giddiness...I wonder....

Well ! The temple town is small and it's but obvious that even a few thousands of vehicles can choke the tiny lanes leading to the temple. Forget how people manage to get into the queues in the first place. God save them. I just can't even imagine how they manage to get past the highway and the lanes to reach the temple. The sheer number of vehicles on Kanchipuram highway is staggering....Just unimaginable....

As per news reports vehicles could not enter the temple town on the 18th day and the 28th day. Those that entered could not make their out of Kanchipuram easily. Imagine the chaos and the helplessness of the people who panicked, gasped for air but also waited for hours to  get a glimpse of the Lord who as per practice, rises only once in 40 years.

As an ignorant woman, who knows nothing about the puranas but can't bear to hear and read stories of people suffering,  who knows that God is omnipresent and yet as an ordinary mortal, as a believer in the Almighty, my only question is......

"Why should Sri Athi Varadhar go back under water after 48 days ? What can't the idol be installed permanently on land, so that the devotees can have a hasslefree and a peaceful darshan, whenever they want to. What is the point of standing long hours in queues, under the sun, dehydrated, exhausted but feeling great after having a glimpse of the Lord....

Is it only to announce to the world ?.....Hey....I got a darshan of the special Lord. As for those who returned without even standing in the queue, they can only thank their stars that better sense prevailed atleast then and they decided to come back without the darshan.

&

As I hear sad stories, bad experiences, many of those, including myself, who returned without darshan had Special VIP Passes. Just saying because duplicating passes, I realised yesterday, got easier with technology. As people waved the passes in desperation, the cops blocked the VIP entry, and a long serpentine queue in loops formed outside the temple....

Times change and even the Gods do adapt. Aren't we already experiencing this via social media ?

As per tradition a deity should be worshipped daily. As per belief an idol is not just stone or wood. When we worship an idol, we worship the almighty who is omnipresent.

If Athi Varadhar has risen for the good of mankind and welfare of the universe, isn't it our duty, as ordinary mortals to give him a sacred abode on land from where he can give darshan and his devotees also feel safe ?

Why should devotees get a chance to meet their idol only once in 40 years ? I don't understand.

It's the 21st century and his pictures have gone viral. Sri Athi Varadhar is famous and immensely happy about it. Go, check the smile in the pics and you will be surprised. The smile keeps changing. The attention seeking God is none other than the Srinivasa Perumal himself. Now why would anyone want a happy Perumal to go back under water ? I am sure he doesn't want to go.

Deep under water, he sleeps for 40 years...So they say. Who are they ? Why do they say ? I don't know. Pardon my ignorance..

My relationship with Srinivasa dates to the day I was born and I know he loves sakkarai pongal, vadai and ladoos...Can you imagine, how sad he must be under water for 40 years ?

I say....Our Lord Sriman Narayana  is deprived of food and daily worship for 40 years. This amounts to gross injustice and negligence.

Can't there be two Varadaraja perumal temples in the same place ?

Forty years ago, there was no media, no frenzy, no hype and Sri Athi Varadhar had very few devotees. So probably, he decided to stay on land for 48 days, got bored of being ignored and then went back under water.

Today in 2019, Sri AthiVaradhar has a large fan following and can't even think of going back. So, necessarily, in the interest  of devotees, taking into account several factors including daily worship, offering of neivedhyam and safety of devotees, Sri AthiVaradhar will have to stay back on land in order to answer the prayers and fulfil the wish of granting "pass and queue free," free darshan whenever they want to....

#sriathivaradhar
#dontgoback

Such a wateraholic !

How do you experience joy ? Don't you find happiness in small things. While I write, I will tell you what makes her happy and joyful .

 Variluxed for good reason, she takes joys in simple things. The daily newspaper is a joy to read, when the vision is clear and when the spectacles are brand new, neatly arranged newspapers, preserved with a reason are a joy to behold.

Well ! The scarcity of water gives her ideas and newspapers come in very handy......You know....To sponge in the water or even to wipe. Very often she throws in the sheet of newspaper on the spills. She has finally mastered the act of total surrender. An act, she now owes to the  papyrus......The total surrender to the efficacies of the newsprint and the paper lead to new revelations such as.....

So long as water continues to be scarce, there will be hard copies in the digital world. A hard fact to swallow in soft times.....

She is a tidy freak. An obsessed one...Sometimes or rather mostly. Simple things or sights give her great happiness. Sights of droplets of water on the leaves. That is enough as a motivating trigger...A morale boost which takes her to the uppermost level of satisfaction." H20," As she says often is magic..

Water is scarce, she says. Drops of water that trickle scare but raindrops give her immense joy. A fully filled bucket of water makes her sing with ecstasy. Sparkling clean stainless steel vessels make her so light hearted that she simply feels elated for hours for no reason. The rapture lingers on until the taps run dry and hurriedly she switches on the motor. Thanks to the rain water harvesting systems, the ground still has water and her mood is soon upbeat...

She trades her happiness for bigger joys as well, coz there is a need to celebrate when thoughts of simple joys seem overwhelming. Her joys are too simple, too many and water oriented.  If a bucket of water is a simple joy, a bigger joy is a long drive along the coast, where she can see the large expanse of water. Nothing else gives her much thrill as much as she derives from seeing and feeling the miracle that is water. 

Another bigger joy is simply sitting on the beach mesmerised by the waves that remind her of the pile of laundry. The big ocean that seems to toss and turn at the waves comes to her mind as she puts the clothes into the washing machine. She is delighted when there is running water and prays for more water and more rain. The clothes get a dettol toss and a spin dry.  Life is meaningful and she is an enlightened being much like Sri Ramakrishna or Sri Chaitanya.

The joy flows in her nerves and in her arteries. She prays to nature that transpires to bring her closer to water whenever she think of it and she feels blessed. As she experiences a surge in good energy and when the sky is overcast, the sun hides under the clouds she checks the TN weatherman's page and all is well...Is she assured ? Not as yet...You bet..

A spotless kitchen is her ultimate idea of emancipation. Her spirits soar on filling the glass bottles with pure RO water and drops down low on seeing the wastage from the outlet of the water filter.

In the event of mess or spills which is rather common in homes where too many cooks lend their hands to enhance the flavour of the favourite foods, she stays composed because she knows that where there is water there is a way...

" Where's the water ? " she shrieks in despair as she pull out the disposable kitchen wipes. Water doesn't solve all problems, she realises..It's good to practice alternative methods and dry cleaning also....Aah...The thoughts that can conjure up in the mind of a water obsessed woman... You never know...

Nevertheless...She moves on. Too many cooks but a lone sole cleaner...She cribs to no avail..

"There is an alternative to everything," advices an inner voice, as if to reassure her and quickly she gathers her sanity. Staying calm and cheerful is the key, she realises as she looks at the 90 year old father in law who oblivious of all that is happening around remains in a state of meditation until it's meal or sleep time.

Ah ! This is bliss...Indeed ! Wait till I get to get to that stage.....She mumbles and with thoughts racing, she starts dreaming of  the grand Sri Athivaradar inside a temple.

The year 2059 and a temple is built for the Lord. The rivers, lakes and ponds are brimming with water and Bharatavarsha is prosperous. Immersed in thoughts of the divine, drenched in euphorivc emotions, she fills the flask with hot water.

"Give me water Ma" pleaded the thirsty daughter, who was just back home after a long day at work. The daydream interrupted, she handed over the water bottle to her daughter....

" Till 2059, when I will be 90 years young, I will search for solace in some organised chaos " murmuring, in a bid to recover bits and pieces of herself she tends to leave, wherever she sees a spill, a drop, dust or mess, she jumps in joy because she knows  that a dreary routine is a blessing, to wipe and mop meant staying physically fit and more importantly there is rain and there will be water....

She is contented and at peace....

Badam Gully Girl !

When I was a kid, I spent summer vacations in Secunderabad, where my maternal grandparents lived. They lived in a quaint bungalow in Marredpally, Secunderabad. My grandparents lived on the first floor. My grandmother's younger sister and family lived on the ground floor. During the summer months uncles, aunts and their families got together at 208 Marredpally.

There was an old abandoned garage to the right as you entered, a pomegranate tree and a guava tree to the left. The address, 208 Marredpally was a warm home, bustling with activity and echoing with the noise of boisterous children. We were 8 on the top floor plus 4 on the ground floor....

We formed a cousin club. Marredpally was a quiet residential area with lots of greenery and open spaces.We played on the streets and bylanes during the day and slept on the open terrace in the night. We played gully cricket, gilli danda, seven stones, hide and seek, played on the slide, the swing and the seesaw in the park nearby. We had to be literally dragged into the home during meal times and bedtime.

The cousin membership did not grow past twelve. The youngest missed all the fun. We played throw and catch with him as we would do with a ball. We had rubber balls, cricket balls, big throw balls, small ping pong balls and Aditya the roly poly ball.

All of us were well behaved, as we liked to call ourselves and were called in the neighbourhood. My brother and myself attended school in Kolkata. The others went to schools in Secunderabad and Hyderabad.

For the entry to the cousin club, a password was mandatory. By a password, I mean a code word, which would be changed every day. Time has wiped them from my memory but it could have been anything such as Badam Gully, Lingam Pally, Chinna Anna who was my mother's youngest mama, Periya Anna who was my mother's eldest mama, Merchal Appa my mother's grandfather or Gnanambal who as you all know was my grandmother or Kaduganoor which was my mother's maternal home town.....

We made the daily entry into the cousin club, a fun ritual. Each day, one of us would decide on the code word. A chit system was followed and the one who picked up the chit reading "You are the Code word generator " had the privilige to decide on a common familiar word. Based on clues, the others had to guess the word.

We were together all the time, we ate and slept together, we played, fought, we hugged, we laughed, we cried and every morning, while stepping out of the house we had to mutter the password in order to qualify to participate in the day's activities..

Say for example, Ruby Stones Parvatham or Niagara Viswanathan it could be.....If you said it right, you could enter. Parvatham chitti and Viswanathan chittappa lived on the ground floor. They were USA returned and the entire family looked upto them in awe. The password could be Brownie the German Shepherd or Snowy the Pomeranian. Then there were those days, when we used to rack our heads, especially my brother and myself when the word would be Charminar, Koti, Mirch Bajji, Bhaingan ka saalan, Sultan bazaar or Begum bazaar.

Now ! fast forward by many decades and I find, lacking in our lives "A Cousin Club," but dominated and ruled by passwords. Those were the days when we could survive without the password. I would cry, bring the house down, make a fuss and scream " I do not know." A sweet caring elder brother would let me in.
That is no longer possible. In case I do not know my password for access to any site, I have to manoeuvre my way on my own, verify my genuineness through a link in the mail and create a new one.

Our daily existence today, depends on passwords. Today, we cannot live without the password that connects us to devices, which in turn connects us to the world. The devices, the phones, the pads, the pods, the laptops, all the digital, electronic gadgets we live with, without a connect to the real....Yet, it is a necessity, a need of the hour...something we cannot do without...

Passwords and their dangerous cousins, the PIN numbers which can fall easy prey to hackers, have the potential to make us all crazy, so much that for instance, in a situation when money may be withdrawn from the account without the account holder making any transaction, the individual has to rush to the bank, file an FIR, lodge a complaint in the bank, deactivate the internet banking account and cancel the cards...So much for technology advancement...Thank God for the SMS alerts ....

Without the password, there is no internet, there is no email, no Facebook no IRCTC,no Amazon, no Snapdeal, no Flipkart, no PepperFry, no Make My Trip, No Urban ladder. Without PIN numbers, we are rendered swipeless. My relationship to my passwords is getting stronger day by day. The number of passwords in my custody has been rising steadily. Lest with advancing age, I forget, I have written them down.

It is always better to be safe than sorry. I would recommend usage of strong passwords with alphabets, upper cases, lower cases, characters and numbers. which involves complicated numerical codes say for example.....1942 a LoVe_QuiT stOry or 1857=sEpOyJhAn_sI. But these are vulnerable, much within the grasp of any hacker. Frankly I don't know why anybody would want to know about the passwords I would like to use or prescribe..Anyway all in good intent...

I don't deny my dependence on the gadgets and devices. They give me the comfort that I need, so that I can relax. It is clearly evident that relaxation gives me the space to blog and I am enlightened in ways too many to be able to narrate the benefits in one go .

It is the era of the gateway and adding to the shopping carts, the secret numbers, the PINs, the OTPs, though sometimes I realise that they can also be the reason for me to get flustered.

So on the 21st of June, Two thousand and nineteen, I have decided to evolve into a strong username and a password, unique to my roots, across all the sites where I have an account. Henceforth, I am my username. I am my password....Gives me a great sense of relief. So while on the one hand, I will never forget my passwords, on the other hand I will be reliving my childhood days...Sounds fun, Doesn't it ? :-)

Here's an example :-)

Username : Badamgullimaykhili
Password : kadDUganOor#chOks_65

Of a broken thumb, a yawn, a troll and a dimension.....

Oh ! how our own armchair perspectives, keep changing, within our comfort zone, with a bag of chips and without a bat or a ball in hand. As in life, the result of a match is neither fair nor unfair. I was just thinking about how I would feel while fielding on the boundary with more than a thousand phone cameras focussed at me. Immediately I started feeling very uncomfortable and so i have decided to defend a sportsman who is also a fellow human...

The game is all about swinging fortunes and opportunities that come one's way. The game is not over till the last wicket is down or the winning run is taken or the DL method is enforced. 

Rains are predictable whereas performances are not. The ICC chose to hold the tournament in venues, knowing the weather conditions. This decision of the ICC alone can be questioned. 

I can only pray that the rain clouds move with great speed to faraway Chennai...

What seemed perfect till a few days back, at the beginning of the tournament, has no relevance at all today.  One can choose to write his own destiny and create his own path by working hard and progressing on the desired path. But the same destiny may have other plans for him and compel him to take a detour. So, with 3d or no 3d glasses, Ambati will only sit back and watch while Rishabh will get a chance to strike. Shikhar's broken thumb will heal but not before the cup is lifted. All the three players are gifted in their own special ways and blessed to be a part of the WC 2019 Indian squad.

Trolled and humiliated, cricketers who are heroes only until a defeat are criticised for their decisions. If a toss could win and a match won without a single ball being bowled, Sarfaraz would be hailed and not trolled for yawning. To stand strong and grounded when own countrymen criticise is tough but only gentlemen can. Sarfaraz is one such gentleman. Sportsmen have families too and have a right to their private lives, which unfortunately is trespassed beyond all lines of decency. There should be no personal attacks in good sports.

Truth be accepted. As being into the semifinals doesn't ensure a slot in the finals, so also doesn't make the final winner as the best team in the world. The celebration lasts for a few days and the winning team can only thank their good times.

Coz,

" I want to lose " wished no team ever...

A World Cup tournament is not only about how well the winning teams played as a team or how lucky they were to win. It's also about the sportsmanship displayed on the field. Losers who smile in defeat, who embrace their opponents and wholeheartedly congratulate them are human and winners too.....The top 12 of their respective countries....

In the end, it's about the love for the game, the body language and the camaraderie of the players of both teams amongst themselves, in victory or in defeat, that touches the hearts of millions of viewers and stays on in their minds. As far as spectators on the ground are concerned,  they should be able to enjoy the game wholeheartedly, getting the full value of their ticket's worth, without excessive display of patriotism.....

#WCC2019

When a murder inspires........

Director Bharath Neelakandan's debut flick #K13 is a mystery thriller of a new genre.

Madhiazhagan played by Arulnidhi and Malarvizhi played by Shraddha Shrinath meet at a pub and hit off immediately. It happens in films...You see...After all the director has to convey so much just in a little over two hours...So we don't analyse and reason logically...

A fully drunk Madhi accompanies Malar to her home and the story takes a mysterious turn within the four walls of the 20th floor apartment.

Madhi is a struggling assistant director with scripts in his head and bits of papers stuck on the walls of his home. He visualises his scripts and dreams of becoming a director. Dreams take years to realise and Madhi struggles for 10 years in the industry without much progress. A worried mother serves an ultimatum to Madhi and a director friend serves a notice period of two days, urging Mathi to come up with a script soon or perish. A depressed Mathi approaches a psychiatric counsellor for help.

Malarvizhi is a writer who has thoughts in her head but has published only one book, without recognition, with the unsold copies neatly stacked in a drawer in her living room.

As all writers go through block phases, so does Malar. A relationship with a dear friend gone sour, allegedly over a misunderstanding, arising out of the real life story as depicted in her book, Malar who is already seperated from her parents, becomes a loner, cannot write anymore and in the process also suffers from depression.

K13 is a slow one room thriller, depicting clash of an individual with his creative instincts and how attempts without success can manifest into depression. The film manages to hold the attention of the viewers with some  powerful performances by both Arulnidhi and Shraddha, a clever screenplay that takes the story back and forth, so that an element of surprise and guessing is maintained throughout until the climax....

I will give the movie a 3&1/2 on 5. Go watch it and if the climax seems to confound, let me know....I will write about how a murder can inspire.....