dont say
stop
or turn
around
hold my hand
tight and
strong

don’t you
see the birds
fly high
and beyond

don’t you
see those waves
keep coming
along

I don’t
think
there could
be an end
to my dreams
my thoughts
and random talk

would you
please stay by
and walk
with me
another 3 miles
or till the
end of time

31 Jan 2010

I know a few friends who would always prefer the last row – be it the classroom or a evam play. Their freedom to comment & yap without getting noticed. So much of their last row choices are much wiser though – like in the cinemas. Some of them don’t enjoy last rows as much. Probably they are more like me but of course are smart at times and prefer just the opposite at the right occasion.

Today, I am seated in the last row. In an airplane. Thinking and writing about it. I am on a budget airlines so the last row really isn’t the best place to be. Anyways, so I am on the last row and ahead of me all I see is a sea of heads. Some are dark, some partially and rest are shinning in the bright aircraft lighting. A few grey, white and even fewer brunette. And I am noticing something very peculiar for airplane. I can see a hand raising every few minutes trying to grab and terminate the mosquito on-board. Yes, you read that right. Some of them must have managed a boarding pass and are now guest to the airlines. Of course, under attack or rather defending the human counter attack. My co-passenger whispers (he had been quite observant as well) – “they are quite dangerous these days”. Danger + Airlines brings the word terrorism to my mind but I managed to get into context immediately and acknowledged with a smile.

The last row also means lowest on the priority for meals. Two air hostesses start at the first row and the other two from the middle of the aircraft. The only brighter side to it is – plenty of time to access the, right around the corner, rest room. The tiny little bathroom in a fairly big aircraft that is best described by Jerry Seinfled (Everything on planes is very tiny. There’s always tiny food, tiny liquor bottles, tiny pillows, tiny bathroom, tiny sink, tiny soap. Everyone’s in a cramped seat, working on a tiny computer. There’s always “a small problem, there’ll be a slight delay, we’ll be a bit late, if you can be a little patient).

I like the concept of first-in-first-out which is what you get when you are seated on the first row. The last row does give you a similar advantage if you choose the right door to step in. Pretty trivial, huh?

I am heading to a startup conference with an option to be seating in the first row (being a pre-event jury and part of the organizing team) but now I am contemplating the last row. Thoughts?

Chapter 1: Meeting Mira | Chapter 2: Hot Samosas | Chapter 3: The Blue Paint | Chapter 4: The Monsoon

I was waiting at the canteen table for Arjun to join me. I would usually wait for him before grabbing the irresistible hot samosas but couldn’t do it this time. It was a rather chilly day after the beautiful rain. The canteen was packed as usual. I was lucky that I managed to find my corner table. It had an interesting view. There were railway tracks that intersected with such great symmetry. The trains would go roaring past it – the inter-state express in particular.

I poured some ketchup on my plate to finish my samosa. Arjun wasn’t here yet. I pulled out my little poem and went over it and wondered how Arjun would like it. Arjun had a good eye for art and creative things. And besides he always encouraged me to try new things. I guess sometimes people see more in us than we can actually realize or discover. Great friends really know you and they are triggers to the unexplored talent we may posses.

I couldn’t wait anymore. I had to rush back to the new block for my elective class. It was a good five minute walk to get there. I preferred a stroll – the block had beautiful landscaping that was such a pleasure to the eye. The sunshine was still playing hide and seek behind the clouds and the gentle rays made all the green leaves look fresh and vibrant. As I walked past the path and started entering the building I wondered where Arjun had been. Maybe he took a day off and was exploring out with his new camera.

I drove down to his house soon after college. He was home. I could spot him standing on the terrace. He waved at me and asked me to come over. Arjun’s house was filled with black and white pictures taken by some of the well known photographers in the country. The staircase leading to the terrace was filled with pictures of the sky. Some of them were very dramatic.

“Hey Arjun, what happened?” I inquired.

Arjun had that mischievous grin on him. I was sure he had a lazy morning.

“Vishnu, have you ever seen the sky more beautiful?” he questioned me pointing his hand to the west. I couldn’t agree less.

“These are the days when you have plenty to learn. Things that would never be thought in classrooms or written in books. You have to see it, feel it and be in it.” remarked Arjun. I really knew what he meant.

“You are right. Absolutely right.” I replied.

We sat together for two hours talking about a lot of things. Sky, rain, my poem and our days at school. We truly relived our memories. Arjun was very happy that I started writing again. He made one good remark about my writing – “You write your heart out and not bother about anything else.”

He was quite right. I almost gave up on my writing earlier because I was trying too hard to write something that I never felt. Writing with a strategy and ‘target audience’. It didn’t last and it didn’t work.

Arjun had spent his morning clicking pictures and just lying down on the easy chair looking at the sky. Sometime we really have all the time in the world, are truly free in our minds and have everything we need to feel good. And he really made it look so real to me. I was taking home so many wonderful thoughts and views.

I went back to my pen. I wished if I could pen down something. There were a lot of things I wanted to write about but couldn’t really get started. As I was recalling what Arjun told me, Mira came to my mind. It just felt that she had also been gifted by limitless time and ability to express. Maybe, I should write about her. May be I should write to her? It felt as if lighting struck me. I was so charged up about the idea of writing to her. It wasn’t a bad idea at all but with one small problem. I didn’t have her address. I wouldn’t ask Amma about it. Arjun should have some ideas. I couldn’t wait to talk to him. I was quite restless and took me while to fall asleep.

It must have been a long night. I woke up realizing I had had multiple dreams. I could vaguely remember one of them. It must have been my early morning dream – I had gained magical powers to walk in the sky and could hop on and off any cloud to get to places. I also met a few people up there but by now it was too hazy for me to recall. I pulled myself out of the rug trying to feel the floor. It was cold. I wondered if it would be colder if I were walking in sky. I smiled to myself. It was time for me to start my day.

New look, new bio, new portfolio and new ideas. If you have dropped me a line of encouragement in the last 6 months to revive my blog – I owe you one.

I would soon be posting Chapter 5 to my short story Meeting Mira. I am resuming it after 4 long years. I would recommend you to read through the previous chapters, even if you have read them in the past. Quick links to help you (will open in new window):

• Chapter 1: Meeting Mira
• Chapter 2: Hot Samosa’s
• Chapter 3: The Blue Paint
• Chapter 4: The Monsoon

Also, please do drop in your feedback about the re-design of this blog (I know it is still incomplete in many ways). Stay tuned.

Follow me on twitter – http://twitter.com/shalin10

script/server: Permission denied

After a quick search I figured a fix and the possible cause of the problem. 

Fix: 

On your bash (terminal) run: chmod 755 script/server

Possible Cause: 

The source pushed to the git server was from a Windows machine.

So, lot more short posts ahead.