Is it yours? And that surely is the question

After a really long absence from this blog, i have a strange post. While visiting my mum's place in Bangalore, it was a daily ritual to take a walk in the park which was conveniently overlooking the house. It being a new park, a lot of gardening work was still in progress. I could see workers toiling in heat just to make sure the park had good Fauna in a few weeks from now. That's probably why i was waiting to see the park in it's glory. One evening, while me and mum took our walk, i saw a lady bending over and plucking a few grass stems to offer for the God probably. Mum agreed with me that it was worth it buy it from the market or pick it from where there's plenty. Not where the garden has not even taken off. The next evening we saw the same lady plucking the only blooms in the park. That's when i lost it. This was the exact thing that happened next. (it happened in Kanadda, but i write it here in English)

Me: Aunty what are you doing?

Park flower thief aunty (PFTA) : Taking some flowers for home god.

Me (pointing beyond the gate) : Do you see that shop across there?

PFTA (losing interest in me already) : Yes

Me: Well, buy some flowers for 5 Rs. You'll get enough to last you for 3-4 days.

PFTA (ignores me): Hmpf!!

and continues to do the thieving

Me : Can't you see that these are the only blooms in the park ? Please don't do this.

PFTA : Don't teach me! I'm taking this for God. It's his anyway. Is it yours?? That i should i listen to you. (and marches off in the opposite direction. Stops a few metres away, talks to another lady while pointing in my direction, probably sharing my 'interference' in her good deed)

I walk across to my mum who's been watching quietly and sigh. She smiles kindly and we walk for some more time and when we reach the exit, we find there, lying the one bloom that was plucked. The lady probably dropped it in a hurry.

Whose is it now?

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Donkey Donkey Old and Gray!

Donkey, Donkey, Old and Gray, Open your mouth. And gently bray;. Lift your ears, And blow your horn, To wake the world this sleepy morn.



I Found this mother-son duo standing still in a street in Malleshwaram in Bangalore. They were probably enjoying the amazing weather on that weekend by just standing still.

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"When are you going to finish all of these?" exclaimed my mom when she saw a bag full of books i bought on my last trip to Bangalore. "Can you not buy few at a time, finish them and buy the next lot?" she advised much to my growing irritation. I dint explain to her that i might just finish ALL of these by the time i hit Bangalore next. Or that the fact was that i actually got greedy and picked more books than i had intended to. My logic was already yelling at me for having spent a good amount on a single day and that too because i was stupid to buy a majority of books from Crossword while i could've saved about 30% at another place. This place called Bookworm(off MG Road/Brigade Road) is a heaven for book lovers. You'll get straight 25-30% off on brand new copies or can pick up read copies for half the price. And what's more,You read the book,did not like it that much, return it and get 50% of price paid back. Now that's great. For people who don't believe in keeping books. Not for me. I keep every book i read. So i buy my copies even if i've originally read a borrowed one.

And i don't believe in 'read-as-per-your-age' nonsense. I love Harry Potter. I still read comics. I reread my books. I love fiction. I dont mind the author as long as the story keeps me wanting to get back to the book.

I experimented with the recent copies by clicking pictures of them as objects. Wanted to share them here.



A very popular book written by Elizabeth Gilbert. Quite interesting part of her life. Liked the indonesian part of her journey because it's all happy happy. Have't read the sequel yet. Might just pick it up on my trip home this time. ;)



This was a very cute book. One of the cutest i've read so far. Was recommended by the bookworm guy. Meant for teens i guess but that din stop me. It's about a autistic teen boy who wants to find out who murdered his neighbor's dog. Mark Haddon brightens the book with some illustrations of what's going through the boy's head. Nice!!




This was recommended to me about a year back by my younger cousin (who's overtaken my number of books read quite sometime ago now). For some reason i had'nt picked it up. Loved the book. Was disappointed when it was over.




It did not take too long to finish this one. Did not connect to it for some strange reason. Liked the cover. :)

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Where are you from

SO,...Where are you from?

This question irritates me. Honestly. I mean, why is this question asked?
It is one of those clever little detective questions in disguise which make u blurt out things you wouldn’t have bothered to answer if asked in any other form. Don’t agree?

Ok!! I'll be one of those insane people who finds fault with an innocent little question. What's wrong with asking "Where are you from?"

But for me, this question is very difficult to answer. Every time this question is put in front of me, my brain fumbles to find what could be the correct answer to it.
It's been pursuing the right answer for so long now.

What should be the correct answer now?
Well, I was born in Bangalore, India (The IT city that I love so so much). But, my parents are from Mangalore(The beautiful coastal city of Karnataka,that I’m proud of too). My Grandparents were from Kerala/Udupi. So if the person asking this so-called inncocent (read twisted) question, should I say—“Ahh!! I’m a Mangalorean born in Bangalore. But I could also be from Kerala! And by the way I live in Goa now.” And have that person look at me like I’m some idiot?

Another perspective-

Should I wonder if that person is asking me Where am I from as in where I belong? Which element of the Universe is it that truly calls me it’s own? And should I explain to him how I belong to every bit that this world is.


Or even worse should I start explaining to him how I think i probably descended from the Greek and traveled all the way to India over a period of million years to sit and explain to him how difficult I find his question is to reply to.


Or maybe I should keep it simple and ask him if he means, Where are you from you Middle-class migrant in the modern world.

How I wish, that the next time I’m asked this question, I could yell at the top of my voice and say, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY WHERE I’M FROM?? COULD YOU PLEASE ELABORATE?”



But mad-angle that this life is, I will probably just smile and go on to explain about how, ‘I’m a Mangalorean, born in Bangalore but living in Goa now.”

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New home!!

Mowgli has now found a new home. I'm so eager to blame this too on the Global warming. But he seems content here. This was at a peanut fair that happens in southern india where many farmers from around bring in their harvest of peanuts to sell in various forms. Raw, shelled, boiled, roasted. Yum!
Sent on my BlackBerry® from Vodafone Essar

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