Mysore Travelogue Part 1 – The Tennis Player

“I am going to write about that trip when we get back”

Will probably be a thought tucked into the minds of many a traveller as they get off the bus/train/plane as they step back to whiff the first senses of familiarity of home or something in that general direction.

This post is brought to you by part ego and part desire to not be the stereotype who commits to nothing at all. The case of giving out the photos is an altogether different matter.

Long story short, we (as a team) were in Mysore (city of Silk, I reckon?) for the weekend  to a take a break from everyday proceedings.

But, the devil, as they say, is in the details.

Part 1 is going to be extracts from the onward journey.

Refer picture below (hereafter referred to as Exhibit A) for a look at one of the sample Boarding Passes at the onward journey (Names redacted because Chrome has an awesome extension that lets me do that)

Screen Shot 2015 04 07 at 15.32.21

There comes a point for every human being where they look upon things that are about to happen and there is a clear distinction between things that are within and beyond their capacity. All the trouble afterwards comes because of the small errors in drawing the lines.

Now, this theory need not necessarily be applied to events of cosmic significance because, the cosmos takes care of itself.

Of all the things that are not supposed to be done on an international flight, among the top would be to not lose Exhibit A. Although if you’re smuggling something, I’d be more concerned about not getting caught.

Murphy’s law intervenes and we were in the middle of the airport arguing with somebody because one person lost his boarding pass while walking from the tarmac to the security gates.

The second rule is to not piss of the official who happens to be already pissed off about matters concerning national security (probably).

The third is to not probably wear matrix glasses when being questioned by customs but that’s a lighter tale for a different day.

Apologies for sounding mundane, it’s been a long time.

P.S To regulars, the title has not been explained. Ping me if you’re curious.

To one part and to many after it!

The Big Score

When you cease to exist, you fade away.

Considering that the last post was a ‘smashing success’ Ram has decided that the best way forward would be to keep writing. The quotes are making a comeback. Three cheers to whatever that they mean! Who’s with me? I’d sincerely like to thank WordPress for making a formatting called ‘Quote’ that makes my words sound deep and resonant.

The answers to life’s questions pop up at unexpected places and you’ll never see them coming even if you read between the lines. The best of thoughts are those which originate in the shower but by the end of the line I have this nagging feeling that the reference has already been made in another one of my posts.

Psst. Nobody would remember. Keep it coming.

That was not me! That was the red guy on my left shoulder who keeps giving me brilliant pieces of advice like putting out the question of, ‘What is known as breaking the fourth wall?’ Look to the first line of the second paragraph and tell me that I’m not awesome! I dare you. Refer to Deadpool comics writing methods to get an even better insight on the whole breaking business.

There are two men; they come from similar backgrounds. They had a hard life as boys; struggled as adults to keep their feet on the ground. They had street smarts, skills that only come through experience. They began to love their lifestyles. It was independent and it was free. They were answerable to only a couple of superiors in their line of work. But it was not enough. There was peace; but they yearned for a different kind of life; the one in which everything is paid for and the bills don’t matter; the kind that goes to art galleries and shops for ‘abstract’ art; the kind that has a chauffeur to take them on the car that would take them to the car that they are going to drive; the kind that could sit out in an empty balcony and sip coffee, with only a few things to worry about, because let’s face it, nobody can be truly careless.
One of them is working his ass off for an MBA admit; the other one is casing a bank that he’s gonna rob next week.

They’ve got their eyes on the big score.

The words within ‘’ are meant purely for sarcastic purposes and are not meant to be taken seriously.

Next up by the boring blogger : The science of talking to oneself in the third person.

Well then,
Until Next time.

I dare you to comment! (‘Reader Engagement’)

The Last Goodbye

Some things you write about and some things, you don’t. This obviously falls under the first category.

Point number 1. The Blogpost hashtags are gone. Why you ask? Because nobody seems to give a certain rodent’s hairy backside about it anyway. Honestly, that got me thinking. Why doesn’t anybody give a damn? Literature, like all great media, must make you feel involved, otherwise, what’s the point? Too many question marks right? See, I did that again. Let’s just call them a culture in reader engagement.

I hereby invite upon you to comment upon my articles either here or on if you were redirected from my Facebook page, over there. Sounds good? Please start challenging my opinions and picking out my lame attempts at being funny. That would help me in the long run also the short and medium runs.

Point Number 2. The things that we write about. This has been on my mind for more than a week. Now, all this might look like I’m opening up and sharing my so called feelings and stuff; but as always, I assure you, it’s something that you’d have to figure out for yourself.

*Secretly hopes that he is not talking to a wall*

It’s taken me all of one week to write about what I’ve been meaning to write and let’s just say what happened and what I’d hoped for, are two different things. There are bridges that take us to where we want to be and what we want to see ourselves as; we keep some, we nurture some and we desperately cling on to some. And then there are those that we lock away due to our own actions or due to the actions of those around us. Are you still with me?

Point Number 3. But it’s always about the things that you don’t want to write about, right? Let’s get down to the point of why i started writing the whole thing. There is one more bridge; the ones that we burn. I’ve burnt a couple of them over the last week. Shook my hands and told goodbyes. One of them was the last goodbye and ergo, you have the title.

P.S Soon enough someone is going to catch on to what I’m ranting about but forgive my ambiguous thoughts. You should never trust the words of a man who writes just because he can sleep until 6 AM.

Well then,

Until Next Time.

Rule #1 of Science Class

I read of a syndrome once where, if you read about something, you keep seeing that more and more in the subsequent days. Right, anyway, I’d like to suggest something of an alternate theory to this; the case being, there was this word that I happened to notice a couple days back and it’s kinda stuck ever since.

So, good luck figuring out what the word is.

Well, circa early 21st century when I was still a sixth grader, there was an important lesson that I learnt. I was learning a lot of lessons in the subjects, but I’m talking about the kind of lessons that stick for a long, really long time; so long that I have the residue to make a blog post about it, ten years later.

The first thing about graduating from primary to secondary school was the fear of Sriram (name changed to protect identity) sir that was put into us. I kid you not when I tell you that this was more than the fear of god that the management tried to put into us. He though physics, discipline and good behaviour; most of the times, it was in good faith. This being one of them.

Case in point. It was a class test that was upon us and me being the innocent kid that I was had prepared in full and proper terms to tackle anything physics that would come my way. That being said, we moved on to the test, the question papers being handed; I set myself to the answers and found myself gaping at the 9th question. Memory does not serve me to the question but I do remember that the correct answer had something one the lines of “total force is equal to the product of blah blah blah”. The shadow of the grammar nazi that I was, I promptly stood up with a question,

“Sir, do I write ‘total force’ or ‘the total force’ for the answer”

He was grim faced and 12 year old me had trouble comprehending what he told me next,

“Strike out that question. You will not receive marks for it”

Circa 2008 when I was sifting through memories and then it hit me what had happened to deserve that one mark being taken away from me.

Lesson learnt : Do not question the grammar while sitting in the physics class.

You’re open to comment on the article if you require further clarification on the article.

Brownie points for anybody who can figure out what the secret word is.

Well then,

આગામી સમય સુધી.

Kaaviyathalaivan and the Hat


There is a bloody brilliant movie out there made out of the struggles of actors, the ego of competition and the elegance of romance. I mean, the name of the movie when spoken in a native tongue has such a nice ring to it. Right, so, the movie is a period film set in pre-independence (Indian for the sake of clarity) era about a drama folk.

To stand out from the crowd means to be the one who makes all the difference or the one who is left behind. I really don’t know why I’m saying this but the point is, I’m not planning on reviewing the movie; just the events that surround it.

I’d like to talk a little about theatre experience. With India as it has been, the idea of cinema has evolved over time. Now, I’m not talking as far as the Madras talkies or Satyajit Ray; I’m gonna limit the brooding to experiences that I’ve had, growing up. There is a possibility that I’ve already had a rant about this but, it’s evolution that we’re talking about. It should be fun.

If memory serves right, the first theatre experience comes from Godzilla; that was way back. Now, I remember the movie probably because I cried my lungs out on seeing the dinosaurs; see that’s how memories are made. In that sense, Kaaviyathalaivan was a similar experience.

Honestly, the mall cinema experience is a little dull. It’s boring, people judge you for ripping out a whistle (that necessarily doesn’t stop a lot of us) and they’re like, ‘Sheesh, these people’. I might be a little biased about the whole deal and the rambling has branched out like a trailing kite without a base. Let’s set the ball straight.

So, to the hat now. The movie ended around 11 PM. We walked out and the mall was empty with two guards patrolling each floor. Mind you that this was the end of November and looking at Christmas decorations this early was a little annoying. There were elf hats, ornaments and socks hanging from the ceilings of the floors. The hats caught our eyes.

It was silent, with a look out for the patrolling guards, we jumped up to grab a couple of them and walked away with the panache of having pulled the Italian job.

I read back through this and realize that it’s an average post; but, superstars come and go; it’s the ones that grind away, day after day, that make a difference in the end.

P.S Thank you for reading and if she is reading this, let her know that where there is chance, there is always hope.

Well then,

Until Next Time.

The Journal on the Journey


Lame title. Yes, I know! If you’re looking for purpose in these words, sir/madam, you’ve treaded into the wrong marsh. The path beyond is for those who can take a pinch of lame with their everyday (in my part of the world, it’s called ‘mokka’). There is a train headed in one direction (not a metaphorical one mind you), the same as my thoughts. Thank Guttenberg, we don’t publish hand written manuscripts anymore! This would have been shelved before the reader even got to this part.

My thoughts, they’re focused on staying awake at the moment. No spiritual notions; just a plain keeping-my-eyes-open affair. Why, you ask? The details are a tad embarrassing so, I’ll steer clear of them. Insert generic graveyard shift lament here. Honestly, I envisioned these words in a different way and so far it’s fulfilled 1/10th of its potential; but that’s still good, considering the fact that this train is quickly making me lose motivation and I’ve reached the part where I’m starting to miss my laptop.

Some things to brood upon : note to self – do not drink the coffee on board. As of now, the plan to writing has served its purpose, but still a long way from becoming ground breaking or anything. Pity me for thinking that there’d be a J.K Rowling levels of inspiration! I’d be grateful if I could garner enough material for a blog post. Also, Jagadhodharana is an awe inspiring piece of music.

For the record, this is the first line of the second page (screams inside : “Laptop! Now!”). The world would be a happier place if we all referred to each other in the third person.

Sriram thinks that writing on the train is both good and bad. Good because he comes up with strange and random ideas; bad because now he has no way of improving his handwriting. On second thought, his handwriting was a lost cause long before he got on this train. Sriram is happy that at least a few people read his blog. Giving up the pen for technology would be morally wrong on a certain level but for someone like him, the tech actually helps in that regard. It should be noted in no less capacity that Sriram loves his laptop and the best of his writing has come out of it.

He really hopes to fill the second page with this ‘third person’ thing. He is now beaming because of the lame number pun that he just made up. He is happy because the endeavour of writing seems to be working as he’s close to filling two full pages with words on a moving train. He proclaims that his words will make a mark on the world in the future. In regard to that statement, he also believes that random thought will pave way to regular writing. Insert generic verses about train moving across fields, greenery, old man with plough and all that blah.

This is the end of the second page and the third person fiasco. I would like to thank it full measure the two shots of espresso that came together in making this blogpost possible.

Well then,

Until Next Time!

Damn! Them Memories!

Consider this, life as a kid was very very different. It is not possible to stress that enough because as an adult, nostalgia comes from the impact points in our childhood. Fair warning, this ramble might turn out to become emotional because we’re touching upon the area of nostalgia.

Right, so, I’d like to quote Calvin and Hobbes “Everyday seems the same but when you look back, everything is different” It’s not the verbatim but it’s the best I could do given the circumstances. The significance comes later in the post; also, a special mention to the video about “If you could change one thing about your body, what would it be?” The answers from the children struck a realization on the importance of being a kid. I’m more or less financially independent but, but, things were so much more simpler back then.

To add some background; my grandparents used to live in Pondicherry when I was maybe, 10. Really great neighbourhood, peaceful town and all that. There was a tradition where the grandkids where shipped off to the grandparents places for the vacations and we were no exceptions to the rule. That place was especially memorable because I was at an age where I could think for myself to a small amount and before the time when the idea of “teenager” was not around. When my grandparents moved cities, Pondi suddenly became this luxury town that people went to for weekends and then to a certain extent, it lost the charm of a grandparents place (this was because they had moved back to Madurai which was the original location).

A week back, I was travelling to Pondicherry for a weekend like the multitude of people from Chennai. I thought nothing of it at first. On the evening, when we walked down the beach, it hit me, full and totally unexpectedly. I was transported back to a time when reaching the Gandhi statue before the cousins was a feat; ice creams or nothing was a way of being stubborn, the elephant at the local temple that everybody was fond of and a lot more memories kept surging in. I was face to face with nostalgia and was unable to handle it; it was overwhelming. It was good.

Thus it remains true. Kids want to grow up; adults want to go back!

Well then,

Until Next time!

Imagination, a cruel mistress art thou!

A woman, a city and a little bit of luck. I’m good on the second and third; about the woman, it’s kinda hush hush. As soon as incriminating information goes out on the web stating this here and that there, I might try to come out and reveal her identity. Albeit, this might all just be a big giant hoax; but that’s really not the point is it? The point is simple. You’re drawn. You’re getting curious. You want to know what’s really in store. But, pray, just one more time, look upon the title of the post and you might want to rekindle your imagination back to base. We clear?

When thoughts are loud enough to be heard, they are strong enough to be made into actions. Sadly, this is just one of those quotes that will not make it to the books. This one is simple, like I said. It is a series of events where everything that I assumed turned out to be something else and hence the title.

#1 Instance.

Rainy Thursday evening. I’m lying on my mattress, too lazy to wake up but too awake to go back to sleep. Being snug inside my blanket is the only thing on my mind. That was when the evil thoughts started to creep in. As I get into the mood of going to the office, it starts raining; not the normal monsoon dose. Imagine bursting a near full water balloon except this one sets down as droplets. Sanity would dictate to wait for the cab to arrive and travel safe and sound in it. Imagination was ready to disagree.

This is how I imagine my mind voices going about their business,

Dude, it’s raining, we should totally take the cab.

Are you crazy? This is the best time to show off the Man Utd jacket.


And that voice drained out and I ended up getting to the office fully drenched waist down. I still have no idea as to what purpose it served, but, the heart wants what the heart wants right?


Cue next day and there’s this sudden urge to travel on the train wearing formals. Again, not looking to impress anybody (subject to argument). There, I am, sweaty but safe after walking 2 KM in largely dirty road space.

As I proceed to enter the building, it hits me. The access card and locker keys are not with me.

Guess where they are? At home, in the side pocket of the jacket that I was so keen on wearing.

P.S : I imagined that I’d be writing this as a two part post, but imagination, cruel mistress art thou!

Well then,

Until next time!

I Give Up!

I really do. At this point, there’s nothing left. I ransack my brain to find something to hold on to, something appropriate, something relevant; but all I’m left with is a perpetual sense of déjà vu. A feeling that no matter what the outcome is, it has already happened before and so I give up! I’m out of ideas on what to name posts that revolve around my weekend.

Totally inappropriate title away, there was something that did happen this weekend. It’s probably trending on twitter and Facebook and what not. Interstellar. So, I’ve noticed this particular split in the trend. Mind you when I say I’ve visited the parts of the internet that pop culture sees as a rebel. It’s this thing, there’s people saying “Interstellar, vera level (a whole different level), Nolan mass, #randomcrapaboutonterstellarornolan. Then there’s the hipster group that goes on like, “Meh” for all thing and saying stuff like, “Scientifically inaccurate”, boss, I know you have a PhD in particle physics but stop talking like you’re the only guy who has a PhD in particle physics.

Stuck between these two groups is me. I mean, the movie was bloody brilliant; kudos to Nolan for making such a space epic. I have parts of the movie that still haven’t sunk through; but that’s okay, I’ve come to expect that from Nolan. My ranting on Interstellar ends here.

That was the scoop of the weekend. Now for the mentionable headlines. Read your show time before you get to the cinema so that you don’t end up being there an hour early to stand in the mall, look like a lone duffer walking around with seeming schemes of shop lifting. I’ve lost hope over the malls and over the people, more so. It’s not worth writing about.

The coffee place that I love just upped their prices by 50%. I rediscovered a part of my childhood with “Nestopia” google it and you’ll maybe find a part of yours too. Next up should probably be PCX2 which would be a search of my pre-teen/teen years.

Honestly, I only wanted to rant about Interstellar but I realized it’d be unfair on my readers.

Well then,

Until Next Time!

Appanukku Pillai

I’ll just say something that’s been said countless times over and over in more than one way. As we keep living our mundane everyday, life slowly slips by.

This one is really short and simple. The realisation of it was sweet.

So, um, I have a memory. But before that, if you’re wondering what the title means, it’s “His Father’s Son”. So, to the memory; I’ve travelled to Chennai and back with my dad countless number of times and every time, the agenda or the purpose of the visit was different. There were some factors that remained unchanged though. We always came on the Yercaud express; took a train until Guindy and then an auto or a bus depending on external factors. There was one more thing on that list.

I found myself at Chennai Central one morning. The roles were kinda mixed up considering the fact that I work in Chennai now. I did what any other sane person would do when left without sleep for nearly 18 hours. I went to get myself a neat filter coffee.

The first sip and the scene became vivid and clear to me. All those time that we had come to Chennai, the one, absolutely constant scene in the backdrop was standing with my dad and sipping the coffee. It was bliss. It was multiple memories rolled into one and it was good coffee.

Well then,

Until Next Time!