Root of Peace within and Love about Life…

The Principles we stand by and the Emotions within us have major influence from kind of childhood we spent. Childhood is the time when we didn't have our own intelligence/opinions and influence of people/nature around us was at its maximum. Our immediate reaction to a situation comes from our upbringing, just that we ignore to notice it. ‘Rights’ and ‘Wrongs’ learnt as a child shapes our principles and are very difficult to amend.

I was fortunate to have people and nature of a small village which brought me up in early years of my childhood at its refuge of warmth. A beautiful village called ‘Magegar’ at foothills of Western Ghats, having around fifteen houses covered with betel nut plantations and paddy fields is where I took my first steps. We were renting one of the out houses of Hegde who was considered as leading person of that village. My parents were teachers in primary school of next village, which was the only school for surrounding five to six villages.

We would cross two foot hills and two vast plains daily to reach school. In heavy rains of Western Ghats’ Monsoon, umbrella was the mere symbol to protect us from rain. I think, that is when I started loving rain… Completely drenched in rain, splashing water on each other we enjoyed rain at its high intensity. An emergency holiday declared to school due to heavy rains would be very common during Monsoon season and we would enjoy paper boats sinking in water flowing everywhere! Umbrellas turning upright due to heavy wind… People crashing down on slippery slopes of foothills… Kids army laughing out loud at these small instances… are the pictures I don’t want to forget along with Monsoon rains I love.

Even now I feel warm if I remember those moments of sitting in front of the fireplace meant for boiling betel nuts during shivering winters. Jack fruit seeds and Cashew seeds roasted in that fire taste heaven. It was the time when schools would open at eight O’clock in the morning. We would keep glowing charcoal in coconut skull and circulate between us from one palm to the other to keep ourselves warm on the way to school!

Daily route to school taught me the first lessons about Nature. The daily journey of passing betel nut plantation… Crossing ‘Small Bridge’ and ‘Tiger Bridge’… Uphill and downhill of ‘Jamun Tree Hill’… Passing ‘Sabi Plain’ and ‘School Plain’ would offer us a new experience every day. We would chase colorful butterflies with the passion of hunters, whenever a butterfly would die from our attack; “Poor butterfly died” - We would regret with tears for its death! We would even carry out its cremation by burying its dead body! We never intended to kill a butterfly but just wanted to catch it! Pocketful of wild fruits used to be part of our daily diet on the way to school. Climbing any tree was never taught, it was natural skill learnt. We had an understanding of the depth of ‘Tiger Bridge’… We had sniffed almost every wild flower on those hills… We had witnessed the Cobra crossing the pathway many times and every time experienced the fear it comes with.

The kids army containing five to six of us was known for all the mischiefs in the village. Doddanna Hegde’s dog was always under our radar as a target to our stone missiles. On holidays we would attack mango plantation with salt and chilli powder stolen from home. Along with having feast of raw mangoes with salt and chilli power under the shades of mango trees, we would discuss topics ranging from “Shidhar Hegde’s Gouri has given birth to cute calf” to “Day before, Tiger caught Bhat’s cow”. These topics were discussed as if they were not less than any international breaking news. We always had differences in “Calf is male? or Female?”… “Tiger caught cow Or Was it bull?”!

Names of the regions of our kingdom were also very funny.  Pond in the school ground where we would hunt frogs in rainy season – ‘Frog Pond’… Even though hanging cashew fruits were mouthwatering, access restricted – ‘Ghost Plantation’… Cliff having gooseberry tree where we believed there are snakes – ‘Gooseberry Cliff’…  The Bridge where we all believed tiger is hiding – ‘Tiger Bridge’. Probably all those Ghost, Snake, Tiger were the characters created by elders to prohibit us from entering those zones. But, we never respected those scary names!

The Jeep which would come to Hegde’s house once in while from town was one of the wonders of our world. We would run behind the Jeep till the end of the village not bothering about the red dust cloud created by the Jeep. Becoming Jeep driver was the biggest and only aim of our life. We would practice Jeep driving sitting on still bullock cart with at most enthusiasm. Milking machine in Hegde’s cattle shed, Huge bio-gas Plantation drum, Gudigaar Hegde’s paintings, Vidya akka’s colorful Rangolis, Vani akka’s melodious Songs … were the amusements we would cherish.

In entire village only Vani akka’s home had TV. Sunday evening was the only time cinema was broadcasted. Not just the kids, even elders would gather to watch the cinema. If antenna shakes because of the wind, then it used to be nightmare to get the signal back. I remember the fight scenes we enjoyed from those black and white cinemas. During Ganesha festival TV and VCP were rented from town to show Mahabharath, Ramayan and Krishanvatara to villagers. I still remember entire village watching ‘Kalinga Mardana’ holding their breath.

Preparation would start very early for Bull race and Kite flying competitions during Diwali. We all believed that Bull having long and sharp horn runs faster. Depending on the size and shape of the horn, we would predict "This time Kariya Bull will win the race" like expert astrologers. Bulls decorated with circular colorful marks on their body, glittering paper tied to their horn… would always be in our discussion topics during Diwali season. We would trouble Venka, Hegde’s servant to prepare Kites for us. While all elders’ Kites would fly high in the sky, our Kites would stumble and hit the ground… Standing helpless, we would cry at out Kite crash. We never understood that along with under rated skills Venka had in preparing Kites, daily newspaper we used, to prepare Kites was also the reason for Kites to crash. We all thought, “We don’t know how to fly the Kites”!

Ganesha festival was our favourite festival. We would peep into Gudigar Hegde’s house daily on the way to school and enjoyed sensational news like “Today Ganesha sitting on lion has got eyes”! During Ganesha Festival along with special festival food we would get wherever we go; it was an opportunity to see dangerous thing like ‘Lakshmi Cracker’. Fire designs created by rain pots and fire wheels rotating on floor… Rocket crackers jumping from bottle to sky with thrilling sound… Cracker which blasts when you hit it hard on the ground – Nelagumma… Train Cracker running on thread tied between windows… created a wonderland for us. After a week of Ganesha festival we would start troubling Venka; Even though elders were against it, Venka would get into the lake and take out bits and pieces of Ganesha for us. If we get Ganesha’s hand, mouse, crown as it is then there were no limits to our happiness. From then on we would start experimenting clay sculpturing skills… Ganesha only knows what we made out of clay… Man, Jeep, Cow, Dog, Mouse… Finally we would label the statues like "This is Mouse"!

In that village my family was the only non-brahmin family. But, I don’t remember anybody behaving in a manner to make the difference visible. I never entered their pooja room, but I remember Hegde saying “No Kid is different; there should not be any difference between the kids”. I would go to Hegde’s cattle shed to get the milk daily. He would give milk directly from milking basket. Till I came out of that village, I did not know people mix water to milk while selling it. When we were caught by an elder during our butterfly hunting, we were taught “Nature is Mother; every life is given birth in this world for a purpose. We don’t have any right to kill any life for our joy. You all love Butterfly for its beauty, killing a beauty like butterfly is cruelty… God will never forgive you if you do it again”. I don’t know how much we understood at that age. But, for sure we all understood it was terribly bad thing to do.

Betel nut drying roof tops… Women workers who would come daily from neighboring village to peel betel nuts and the love they showed to all of us… Vatsalakka, who would give snacks whenever we go to her house… Cowboy Rama, who showed us every corner of the foothills… Hegde’s dog, who would daily follow us till the school… Venka, who would fulfill all our demands while scolding us for troubling him always…  Shridhar Hegde’s cow Gouri, who had holiness in its gesture and its cutest calf ‘Putti’… Strange games we played literally everywhere in the village… This list can go on and on!

In every sense that village was living in unity. Even there would have been small jealousy, misunderstandings between people… But, in Celebrations during Festivals and helps during tough times differences were forgotten. The inconvenience of surviving alone because of the challenging geographic location would have taught them living together. The village and nature which showered love and affection on young heart is the root of peace within me and my love about life.

When my parents got transferred to my home town from that village, after thirteen long years they spent there; I was in the thrill of travelling long in tempo traveller… There would have been tears in the eyes of entire village which came to send us off...

Cheers!

Kiran

[ This is rough translation of one of my blogs published long back in Kannada Magazine ‘Kenda Sampige’. My English skills are adopted and nowhere close to what I write in Kannada. Those who can read Kannada… better to read Original @ http://www.kendasampige.com/article.php?id=3346 ]

Gun Makes Sound and I Fire !!!

I close my eyes for a moment… Take a deep breathe… My toes and fingers grip hard on the ground … I turn deaf for all the noise around but could hear my heart thumping loud… My eyes stare at a distance but stopped seeing everything… brain concentrates to the maximum it can and listen only to the ears… Gun Makes Sound and I Fire !!!

I never experienced that thrill again in my life. I can’t explain in words - how thrilling it was being at starting line of state level high school sprint track. I can very easily go into that moment even now and feel high about it. After so many years, slowly I am understanding - what it means to me.

  

It all started with… Running from school to home and who will reach home first! It was my regular game with my schoolmates who were my neighbours as well. From the school which was almost a mile away from my home; I played this game for at least five years till my 8^th standard. While zipping through my home-town main street, all of us possessed an amazing skill of not crashing with anybody in crowded market.

I started running for my school when I was in 9^th standard. We practised bare footed at least two hours in a day.  Our sports teacher and one of my friends who was self-appointed coach made us run every day on hard surfaces with small pebbles, on the tar roads, on the beach sand, on the rocky mountains… with one goal of 'Finishing First'. Probably those were my first lessons to focus and determination.

I represented my school for two years in sprint section at Town, District and State levels. Every time when I was at starting line… I learnt how to handle pressure and keeping me cool. Every time I set off… I learnt importance of speed and how important it is to give my 100%. Being starter of our 4X100 relay team, which also made it to State level… I learnt handling the responsibility of handing over the batten first. Every time I won a race… it boosted my self-confidence.  Every time I lost... it taught me how to accept failures. Every day training sessions brought so much of discipline into life. Volleyball was my another passion around the same time I was sprinting, which taught me being a true team player.

My 10^th standard academic scores were not very impressive after so much of hard work on the grounds. When I stepped into Pre University, priorities were different and I left sprinting forever. Engineering was all about coping up with new world. Except few amateur Volleyball sessions, irregular jogging and few trekking adventures; it was coma period for my body.

When I started working in Mindtree, I started running again. This time I picked up long run and my lead was pushing me to run Bangalore 10K that year. It was very easy for me to getting back to run... It is in my soul ! I managed to finish 10K that year and got addicted to long runs. Long running increases temperament of mind and sense of achievement for every extra mile covered. If I am bored/stressed I get out for a run, Long run is a very good stress buster. Sweat drips from body… Joy fills within!

Around last year this time, I realized I was completing 5 years since I started long runs; but there were no traces of improvement in my timings because of the lack of disciplined schedule. I came up with one year plan which was not just about running, but improving overall fitness. I am satisfied with what I have done in last one year and feel fit than I was ever before. Group Cycling, Boot Camps, Boxing Circuits @ ‘Nuffield Health’ dramatically improved my overall fitness. I ran 6 km in 25 mins last week and finished a 20 km run recently after long time. In last one year I am getting addicted to Badminton as well. After every Badminton session I desperately wait for the next one. My Badminton game is improving as well. This Blog is part of my Celebration of successfully completing one year fitness plan !

Rule to be regular is very simple. Getting into sports shoes is first priority in daily task list; all other activities are planned after it!

When I was sprinting during school days, it was all barefoot. During State level meet is when I borrowed a pair of torn out spikes from one of my friends’ brother and patched it with rubber of cycle tube pieces.  It was heavy like hell when I was running because of my patch work. In the same meet, one of the long runners from Bangalore we met was wearing a pair of Asics shoes. He told us - his uncle brought it from US for him and shoe is not available in India. He was generous enough to allow us to try those imported shoes. I remember, we were talking about those shoes for months. I never even dreamt of owning those shoes in my life. Price he told was way beyond my imagination. What I remember is - it was costlier than bicycle I was dreaming to buy!

Photo Curtsey - Jagan

Today I am running @ canal side with Asics shoes on… Lush green around, spreading calmness… Cool breeze, filling me with pleasure … Rising Sun with a generous painting of red and yellow shades,  bringing boundary less joy … I close my eyes and Thank God for blessing me to be so privileged. Sense of ‘having everything in life’ liberates !!!

Cheers!

Kiran

Lost Boy in City

Disclaimer :) – I am trying to write state of mind and blog need not be in organized/structured format. I have used ‘I’ too many times… I believe that represents me and many like me!

I crave for what I left behind. I brought up in refuge of nature. It offered me spectacular views. I had green everywhere. I had clean and blue river which flows in my heart. I had beaches just behind my home, where I sat alone in front of boundary less ocean… being part beautiful sunset every other day. There was ‘peace’ everywhere. I never realized the importance of what I had. I never made an extra attempt to enjoy/understand the privilege I had. It was all very natural for me and taken for granted. Now I regret… How lucky I was!

Like every small town boy I dreamt of being in City. When the time came and I moved to city, I was watching the glamour carried by the City with my wide opened eyes and jaws! It looked like a dream land and I was pinching myself to make sure I am really part of it or not. I was encroached by the man-made rush… The speed of the city amazed me… It was thrilling. I thought I am too slow for City speed and was afraid of being left behind. I started working hard to cope up. Unknowingly I became part of the rat race to become so called ‘successful’.

‘City’ runs everything as business. It makes you ‘smart’… more appropriate word is ‘opportunist’.  If you are not fast enough, it labels you as ‘looser’; hence it pushes you to be faster. Its ‘value’ system is very weak, measures almost everything in money. It manufactures machines out of human beings. Relationships are mechanical and don’t have the moist they should carry.

I am scarred… I am already part of the mad rush. Small town boy has lost all the innocence he had. I can’t sit in beach for hours, I get bored easily. I can’t sit alone doing nothing... thinking of a poem. I always enjoyed writing. My happiest day is the day I write an average poem/article than I resolve a complicated technical issue. I always say – I write for myself… It is personal and where I am honest to myself. My command over my mother tongue is many times my command over English… then why did I start writing in English? Am I started writing what people want to read? Did poet in me has almost died? Probably I have become greedy too?

I don’t blame anybody, not even ‘City’ for what I chose and what I became. City also gave me an opportunity   to understand the rest of the world, out of my home town. It expanded my horizon of thought process. It made me to be more open in my thinking. It provided an immense opportunity to mingle with different people from different background and culture. City gave me a wide range of experience to my life. More than anything else, it supplies my daily food!

‘Should I wake up before I reach more miserable state?’ or ‘Am I thinking too much?’ :). I feel I don’t belong to where I am. Even though I live in center of technology, it never excites me. I want to go back to the green I left… I want to go back to the blue river I left… I want to go back to the sea I left… I want to go back to the fresh air I left. But, how strong my thoughts are? How easy it is to go back and start again? Am I looking like a foolish cynical?

I stand alone… lost… with blank eyes… confused !!!

Cheers!

Kiran

Alchemy and Anoushka !

What I dreamt was not hyped ! I am following Anoushka Shankar for more than two years now. Every other day I listen to her Sitar irrespective of what is the mood; to the extent that even my flat mates can now identify her tunes :). It was my dream to attend a live concert of her to which it is very difficult to get an entry.

South bank center organizes annual Alchemy Festival which is celebration of cultures from India, South Asia and UK. It show cases fine blend of these cultures starting from folk, food, music, painting, literature to fashion for ten full days. Not just the shows, it conducts lots of workshops teaching Sanskrit to Bollywood dance.

When I came to know about this festival two months ago and Anoushka Shankar is playing in in this Festival, all tickets were sold out! I couldn't do much apart from troubling ticket office multiple times and refreshing ticket availability page on ticket booking website hoping cancelled tickets will appear on it. I did this daily at least twice for almost two months and just a day before the show, the moment I refreshed the page I saw four seats available. I managed to book one for me… cherry on ice-cream - third row from front ! I was literally jumping with joy for rest of the day.

When I started on Saturday afternoon for the show it was drizzling in London. Rain always reminds me of my home and I enjoy rain. It always fills me with fresh mood. I wouldn't have asked for any better start than drizzle for the day. 

When I reached Queen Elizabeth Hall there were many events going on as part of alchemy festival. There was an interesting play going on in Sanskrit called 'Witness Stone', which was a very nice execution of pure folk from ancient India. All artists were so professional and natural. After that I was roaming around Royal Festival Hall which was packed with people drawing Rangolis to dancing for Panjabi tune.

I was surprised to see more than fifty percent of the people were native British. I saw an old English lady who was teaching Indian traditional embroidery work to kids. I spoke to her about her links to Indian culture and art. She was talking about twenty plus years she spent in Mysore and its richness in art and culture with glow in her eyes. I did not know half the things she was talking about art of Mysore! I had read about the respect English people have towards art, culture and history and it is nothing to do with the British bureaucracy. I witnessed it for the first time. We should visit these kind of festivals one in a while at least to realize 'How much less creative we are', 'How much less informative we are about your own art' and 'What we are NOT worth off' ! 

I was there primarily for the show of an internationally celebrated artist but realized that there is an equally talented folk and art which are not celebrated.

I entered the auditorium half an hour before show started and was waiting for the show to begin. Show was based on Anoushka Shankar's latest album 'Traveller' which explores link between Indian classical and Spanish Flamenco music. I don’t understand much of classical music but always liked fusion; which is more rhythmic, exited version of Indian classical which retains the soul of Indian music at the same time removing boring part of it ! 'Traveller', 'Rise', 'Breathing Under Water' are the albums from Anushaka which are class examples of what I like.

Show started with opening of Rajasthani folk band setting up rhythmic and vibrant sound with colorful Rajasthani traditional dancers adding their twist to it. When Anoushka entered the dais with light brick color Selwar with her big smile, I was stunned by the grace she carried with her! Probably I am biased :). She started with a simple composition setting mood to upcoming excitement. When she started playing 'Inside Me', 'Kanya' along with the breathtaking voice of Sandra Carrasco… I was already lost. Sitar and Guitar were talking to each other in such a harmony when they played 'Buleria con Ricardo'… I was holding my breath for the song to get over. When she started flashing her Sitar with my favorite 'Traveller' with Sanjeev Shankar's Shehnai melody in the background, entire auditorium was vibrating. It is lot different from listening to it from album at home. There was loads of improvisation and vibration created was very high. When Sitar started competing with mad Mrudangam from Prasanna Devaraja and dancing Tabla from Tanmay Bose 'Dancing in Madness' shook the auditorium… I was actually going mad ! Suddenly she shifted to beautiful love song 'Si No Puedo Verla' which brought heart beat to normal with its melody. She concluded the concert with 'Folk' her father's composition where Rajasthani band joined her with their rhythm. Rajasthani Gipsy, Hindustani classical and Spanish Flamenco together sounded so unique and vibrant. That was a master piece! I went blank by looking at the accuracy of each musician and the way they connect to soul of the audience !

When entire auditorium stood up and bowed and clapped for more than five minutes … I was like, 'Why did it get over?'  It was absolute bliss of two hours. I was walking out as if I am walking in dream. Of course, "What I dreamt was not hyped" !

Cheers!

Kiran

A Beautiful Journey !

"I can bare the pain of being away from Home for the overwhelming feeling of bursting happiness I get, every time I head off to Home…"

I remember one of those typical visits to home happen during monsoon season. I jump into one of the so called 'Super Deluxe' buses from slurry footpaths of Mejestic. I throw myself into one of those seats which carry smell of my home town. A typical conversation about last week's heavy rain and how tough it was to drive… in my home town accent between the driver and his helper brings smile on my face. Every time I get into one of these buses, something tickles my emotion deep inside… A joy appears within me moves me into tears… I look outside the window… City lights flash with blurring pattern in front of my wet eyes. Bus makes its way out of Gobi Manchurian, Fried Rice odor dominated city streets. A relieving feel of escape after surviving a long chase, fills inside me… Escape from sense of tension which haunts in city life...

Bus stops at 11 O' clock in the night for dinner (?). I start chatting with driver and his helper about the recent updates of roads and news of my home town from their own unique perspective. We don’t even know each other's name; but, they recognize me with big smile, every time I board these buses. I feel connected to these people than many others I daily interact and personally know in Bangalore! When bus hits the highway again… I try to sleep… The roller coaster ride of ghaat sections feels like baby cradle swings for me… I slip into cozy sleep with the colorful dreams of exiting tomorrow!

( Amazing Snap - NOT by Me ! )

I always get up when bus starts cruising with joy on NH17 in the early morning. The highway I love the most! It is drizzling outside with the perfect intensity… how I love it! Droplets hitting the window glass leave trails as they roll down… I watch this pattern game for some time. I slide the window glass… Monsoon welcomes me to its favorite territory by sprinkling tiny rain drops on my face, along with a warm hug of chilled air! I can sense freshness around created by last night's rain. Trees look like they are just out of daily bath, fresh and green... Paddy fields with fresh corps dancing in resonance with the blowing wind… Green covered hill range… Compound walls naturally decorated with green algae dress... There is green everywhere!

Farmers heading towards farm fields with their beloved ox couple always remind me of my roots. I wave back to the kids in school uniform waving at the bus and witness they jumping in bursting joy for the reply they got! I can completely understand that joy! I have waved at every bus passing on this same highway for hours when I was kid… I have jumped with the same matchless joy besides this same highway. 

As bus climbs up the last uphill before reaching my home town, I look back from the window to have a glance of Arabian Sea which is integral part of my life. Salt extracting fields in the foreground create an interesting view. I make a point to visit my favorite beach today evening.

  

I wait my eyes wide open for most exiting view of the journey… Bus is going to cross Gangavali Bridge! I witness sun peeping out from the hides of Sahyadri ranges standing like protectors for the river. With his yellow, orange shades sun is painting peaceful love all over the sky. The river reflects these colors on her shy face. Green paddy fields around celebrate this moment by nodding their head along with morning breeze. I capture the beauty in my heart once again with astonishment of a kid first time witnessing a rainbow. I can't count number of times I crossed this place, different seasons, different times; this river never disappointed me! Every time it is different, it is new… but beautiful.

Bus enters my home town… Passes many of my relative's houses. I peep out to try my luck to spot somebody. I get down in front of Ankola bus stand… I feel home! If not raining heavily or my luggage is not heavy, I prefer walking down to home. Hotel owner sitting at cash counter waves his hand with a broad smile. Paper boy stops his bicycle and talks to me for a while…

I reach my sweet home… My father has just finished his pooja… waiting for me. He gives a pat on my back… actually bang on my back! I throw my bag and put my hand on his shoulder. We walk into kitchen… My mother is busy preparing thin crispy 'Dosas'. I am reluctant to brush or wash my face… My mother is complaining I have lost so much of weight… 'Coconut Chatni' is ready… I don’t want to reveal how many Dosas I eat! We all sit in the hall after breakfast… Talking about various topics ranging from who are all got married to whom… to local politics. I am sitting on the floor with Kannada newspaper in hand… My mother is massaging my head with coconut oil… I close my eyes… I sign off…

(There is so much to write about my home, home town, rain, beach... Continues…)

Cheers!
Kiran
nayakkiranraj@gmail.com

The Kite Runner...

I wanted to like this Book! I was left in confusion for long time after I turned over the last page of this book. I was left incomplete, disturbed as Afghanistan… My attempt to pen down my journey through ‘The Kite Runner’.

A shattering story of betrayal and redemption starts with the glimpse of life in Afghanistan before the Russian invasion. Its utilitarian prose portraits the Kabul, a lively city where schoolboys recited Sufi poetry and secular businessmen thrived. The inhumanity of the Class System of different forms would have shaken the history of every nation in the world. I have read few breathtaking books choosing this as a theme, as this book does; the story of Barrier between the Pashtuns and the Hazaras with its emotional insight. The story continues with the Russian invasion and the horrific realities of the war. When Taliban took over, Afghanistan lost its freedom again! Heartrending truth of Taliban ruled, turbulent recent Afghanistan is compelling. The political, social and cultural view of turmoil in modern-day Afghanistan flows into your veins. At the same time book develops characters whose heartbreaking struggles and emotional triumphs resonate within you long after the story ends.

Khaled Hosseini accomplishes what very few contemporary novelists are able to do in his debut novel! The novel starts strongly with a strong quote “There is a way to be good again”, as you go on every page has got beautifully crafted thoughts which strikes your emotions strongly. My emotions were going haywire. Hosseini offers sometimes tragic, sometimes fun filled, sometimes emotional, but always heartfelt view of a fascinating land. The way Hosseini uses the story of great warriors Rostam and Sohrab in this book is amazing. This book is about friendship, discrimination, jealousy, bravery, cowardness, betrayal, self-loathing, love, family, emotions, redemption, retribution, acceptance, disloyalty, forgiveness and much more. An unseen country becomes visual with the details captured in every frame. Hosseini works as an artist, the frame being Sun rise, Kabul Market, Kite fights in winter or Taliban ruled Afghanistan.

Being close to the reality is the strength as well as the limitation of this book. The book might mislead a reader who has not read the modern history of Afghanistan, if he believes this as a memoir. The first half of the book is so realistic that, implausible turns and twists in the second half disturbs the flow of reading. It is hard to accept few dramatic plots towards the end, even though this is a fiction. I agree, strong emotional impact being the strength of the book throughout, but in few places importance given to create this emotional impact compromises with the strong story built. Towards the end Hosseini tries to answer every mistake made, which becomes visible and looses the depth it carried. The last few pages would have been better, that’s where ‘The Kite Runner’ falls short of becoming a legendary book.

A shattering story of betrayal and redemption set in war-torn Afghanistan. As emotionally gripping as it is tender, ‘The Kite Runner’ is an unusual and powerful debut… A must Read… I bet you will like it…

I repeat, I wanted to like this Book!

Cheers!
Kiran

Bangalore…The Wonder Land !

What we are is because of the path we walked on. The emotional I within us is not built by ourselves; he/she is built by the people walked with us along the path, world around the path, experiences along the path. Our emotional characteristics come out from the mould of these experiences, and are immortal. Certainly we show least respect to the world along our walkway, even though we are reflections of it. As a normal human tendency we rarely appreciate the present. As an old phrase says “You will understand the importance of it, when you don’t have it”.

I am missing my Bangaluru a lot! I wrote the above lines as a proem to memories of Bangalore. Sitting at the end of a week-end I am recollecting the city which flows inside my heart, and was left unnoticed! What I am today, this city has got significant contribution to it. This city is embedded inside all of us with its rich heritage of culture, diversity, tolerance … An attempt to retrospect the best days of my life spent in this city.

Almost eight years back I was thrown on the streets of Bangalore by Sugama tourist on a beautiful chilly morning of early winter. The next day morning I was walking with one of my friend on the Sampige Road, ‘Green Street’ of Malleshwaram. The mild breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees has created the impression, city itself is air conditioned. Boy came from a small town was amazed by the speed and color of the city. I still remember the pizza I ate that day, before that I did not even know what pizza is. I think that was the starting point of understanding the city. 

My journey of becoming Bangalorean started in Ramaiah College. I was forced to come out of the bookish world and face the reality. I started understanding the city with my own scale of good and bad. Finding the best set of friends having the same frequency is a boon, which I am always blessed with. I wouldn’t have survived in this city with the same mindset and knowledge I stepped in. My friends prepared me for the rest of my life in this city. How genuine was the thrill of zipping the bike through the traffic of the city…? How fake were the colors of MG Road - Brigade road…? With the very limited money in our pockets we enjoyed the college life to the most. Those crazy rides to Nandi hills in rainy midnights… Late night walks in the BEL road… ice cream melting in shivering winter nights… Sagar Bakery Bun Samosa, Chees Maggi with Ginger Chai… Hostel life… Horrible study holidays and night outs… College fest … With all these my grades definitely declined, but I was learning lessons for my future. When I came out of the college and started working, city unfolded different flavor of it. City taught me the value of money… City taught me thinking using brain not always using heart… City taught me the importance of communication…

How can I forget morning walks in Lalbagh… Evening walks in KR Park … Fragrance of Gandhi bazar ... Crowd of DVG road … Ankita and Sapna ? Oh they are book stalls! … Jogging in calm streets of RR Nagar… What you miss most when you come out of Bangalore is 'The Taste of Bangalore'. Idli-Vada dipped in sambar… Dwaraka - Khali Dosa … South Thindis- Masala Dosa… Sree Krishna Bhavan - Batani Idli … Kamath - Jolda Rotti Unlimited Meals … Kanti Sweets - Mysorepak … Conner House – ice creams… Gappa Pani Puri … Enough … I can continue for pages :)

Crowded majestic is a different world compared to peaceful RR Nagar. Shopping malls and multiplexes shine with all their color… temples next to them are crowded too, they still have time for God ??? !!! KR Market is a wonder, coconuts and computers are sold in the same manner! Driving is a type of adventure sport … Unpredictable blessings of rain… Streets ruled by Fried Rice and Gobi Manchurian odor. Bangalore is a true Wonder Land.

I love Bangalore with all its limitations. Here in London I am standing beside a road, waiting for the right time to cross the road. I would have comfortably crossed the road in Bangalore with more number of vehicles on it. Bangalore runs by trust, whereas London runs by rule. I like ‘Trust’ than the ‘Rule’.

Bangalorean by soul !
Kiran