Indomitus Ignis , in Greek is Wild Fire , I am talking about my companion for 5 years, my partner , she made me smile everyday at times laugh till my stomach hurt, she helped me navigate the most serene places , yes I am talking about my Phone .
In an age where slim was in, where the thinner they are, the hotter. She begged to differ, a little meat made her that more attractive. In an age where wi-fi was in, she begged to differ, games where her maiden name, Splinter Cell, Call of Duty and on a lighter side Snakes.
She was a wonder to most, enabling the key pad was a task to many. A Piece of art most peoplewould compliment upon. Good maintenance some would say.
She survived some of the toughest times. Through pounding rain, a fall in the bucket of water , drenching in the Bay of Bengal. An owner who would throw her hard, just for losing a game . She survived the Humidity of the Chennai summer, The 3 day trek through Karnataka’s most treacherous paths.
But in the end age caught up to her, every beginning must have an End.
Filled with guilt , like an ungrateful owner euthanizing his dog , I had to put her out of her misery , a final switch off and battery removed and the final cello on the cofin , now she rests, as though just asleep.
Dedicated to my Indomitus Ignis, may you come back as a better model. Amen!
One of the motivations for me to wake up every morning and go to college is the sound of my motorcycle engine coming to life
A Transcend Mp3 player , her earphones carefully tucked under my helmet , gives me the incentive to drive those 7 kms from home to college , The sound of Guitars from the Dire Saints , the chorus from the Mamas and the Papas , or an old joker talking about the “old days” drowns the noise of those pesky 2 stroke autos , Anand singing about“Life being a puzzle , sometimes happy other times sad “ helps me ignore those bikers who think cutting off someone impresses that girl at the bus stop
After the tragic killing of the engine , 4 hours of theory and couple of hours of stabbing at the keyboard , I am glad to be back to my transcend an the 20 minutes of bliss she gives me while I make my way back home
Dedicated to my transcend hope you recover soon
P.S
In a tragic incident involving my back pack falling off a rack, my transcend has a broken display, she required surgery but should be back in a couple of days, those who are very concerned can donate their ipods for the time being.
- MohandaaS
Well like every busy bangalorean, my conscious awakens with the most unique cacophony – my cell alarm, and the much hated grind of the day begins
This is followed by various gadgets screaming in sync – the doorbell, the microwave, the idly valve’s whistle
Then a step away, the world of commotion awaits – our own transportation system where the loudest horn has his way through the rush
Then comes the most dreaded sound – the bell of my college – which rings while I am still parking my bike as if mocking me that I lost – struggling and begging my way through our unreasonable chronicles of college – to my destination class
Then follows the most awaited sound of my life, the bell marking the end of each class
As the day follows there are so may more sounds that follows in random – from the canteen where the “chefs” aresounding in distress or just simply all friends head banging to a good song , and then follows the same grind of sounds backwards
But in all this routine grind of sounds that makes up my day, is the sound of that which intuitively grabs my attention, my mom’s payal, faint fragile a very soft melody
Each time it rings it brings in me a sweet sense of happiness , because it brings with it something my heart always longs for ( even though the feeling is not portrayed explicitly ) – my first belief mom
Bad internals, a fight with a friend, an unreasonable parent, all these may sometimes find you in a state of self pity. The best thing to get your spirits back up would be a ‘secret place’. The secret place frees your mind and tells you how insignificant your problem actually is, it may be a book, it may be the last bench of a KSRTC bus watching people and their mundane lives. It may be an unreasonably priced cup of coffee or a chocolate fantasy! The secret place for each person may be different, but the feelings which come with it are absolutely the same. For some people who are yet to find a secret place, find it quick cause you don’t know what you are missing!! -Mohandaas
Well, as such I am a very organized person…with well defined compartments for every physical entity and also every personal relationship…example: I have a college life section separate from family, and the like, its all sorted and organized in my head. To give a taster, I switch from ‘college mode’ to ‘home mode’. But in this sorted out world of mine also, life sometimes clicks the ‘panic’ button and everything goes for a toss…! And then, comes in my standby or default mode-which takes over to automatically repair my problems and bring it to normalcy- my ‘escape mode’ Sometimes, it’s a silent lonely walk, or just sometime on my bed at night (analyzing) or just looking at the fading clouds in the evening, to the shinning moon. But my favorite secret place is my ‘bike’ where I have the best time! Whenever I ride, I get connected with myself- two parallel Taniya’s come alive..! they talk to each other, comment on things, make things up, ’interview’ each other on various topics, or just a plain conversation with myself….. So my secret place- my ‘dhanno’- love you, always! -Taniya
The Blog has 2 authors , after reading the blog address your comments to the concerned author .
Thank you
Regards - MohandaaS & Taniya
Having got up at 11 am today morning , I realised that I had to attend a function , as exited as I was[read sarcasm],I told my mom that I didn’t want to . Despite the fact that she had a busy schedule, she went to a restaurant and bought me lunch .This is the start of the blog, I wanted to write about how much a human has goodness in him,
The good is imbibed in a human, the name itself is after all Humanity. There is a certain degree of good In every person and it is hate that makes us forget this essence
Good is in many forms sometimes a smile, some times a helping hand. The problem arising of being good is the want of recognition. As Joey: P once said “No good deed is unselfish “. As I veer off course and my coauthor curses me.
Let me end by saying, Pray for the good in you and let it not lose faith.
- MohandaaS
I as always believe, in the "Circle of life”. Much inspired by my Lion King Mufasa, I believe life teaches every one a little of everything, emotions, qualities and all. But, more importantly I believe God has blessed each one of us with a perfect balance of understanding every emotion, with goodness and monsterity in right proportions in a nutshell, I believe the wonder of nature - MAN was born whole, complete and perfect
Recollection now on these lines comes so many little stories from the wardrobe of memory , and to sum them up , each person in my opinion expresses oneself differently and thus portrays 2 the world in a certain way , but some where each man would some time of the other experience every mood and flavor of life
- To start off I think of Ashoka, who as history recalls was an ambitious brutal conqueror initially but later turns into a symbol of ahimsa
To think of Aurangazeb also, our history books brand him as a tyrant ruler but, many documents quote him to be Just and humble. C’mon to think the sole ruler of such a great empire made his livelihood on the bare earnings of the books he wrote is something worthy to ponder over
So there is goodness even in brutality, lets not loose faith after all.
