Dreaming Last Night

Most often, I end up dreaming now-a-days. Not a good sign though but it’s a kind of escape from current state. And, last night I dreamt about being dead – leaving my bereaved mother. It was a sorry[ful] sight but I found myself sleeping nonchalantly.


No friends, no shrouds, nobody around – it was quiet death, and I was laid in some unknown earth by few men. I dreamt of my mother listening to the rituals and was the only person “sad”. [Sigh!] This brings me back to normal senses and spent the night recalling one person who’s close to me; I find none. All are ‘history’. [Hmmph!]

Living among Homophobes and Homosexuals - A Tie

Okay, everyone got these fundamental rights like ‘a flaccid dildo’ – have it on the closet but unusable. That’s what the ‘Big Book’ says. So, last week we had a dildo fight.

It all started when a regional news cramp from undersexed staffers sneaking into the private chambers of few gay men and end up sniffing them unwashed. However, the best is yet to come (or cum). High on their orgasm, these crew-members start ejaculating televizle ending into a society creampie. Jesus!   

Well, somebody has to pay the price […in a homophobic world]. So, they pick a few ‘un-naturals’ (I don’t support); made them look sleazy, soft-core maniacs and did an expose.  Come on! What a journalistic masturbation! Did somebody realize it’s an intrusion and exposing that the world is either homosexual or homophobic? Goddamn’ revelation.

So, what the ‘Big Book’ did then? Snub the fundamentals. (I got an advice. ‘Let us live’: we do no harm. But make a living by loving [our] self.) To the moral police: Don’t you have better things to do in life?

Eroding Education - 1: (Series Post)

I’m an Instructional Designer [since it will take hours to explain my job so better skip that for another post] worked with oppressively numbing cubicles in hermetically-sealed offices with Corporate Alzheimer’s; my job sucks!

Interestingly, one of my workplace recently published a sales presentation wherein claim to bring change to the lives of 3.8 million people that inspires me to write the blog. (Unedited reaction: WTF!) Excuse me Corporate Ballers, did anyone realize that we do nothing but produce pseudo-animated content over the Flash application and host it over a Management System to bring moolah. Neither the client nor we cared whether it makes any contribution or not. Outrageous!

Proponents of Instructional design and eLearning gurus may take any offence but I’ve a reason to my big mouth. This goes as a disclaimer which will be ignored as a common practice.   

First and foremost, we are protégés of an education system that force students to ‘rote’ their lines without realizing the conceptual framework; and secondly, we’re made to believe a fact straight-jacketed than question or discover them. No doubt, National Education System is at grave degradation phase. Thus, we can’t revive or bring a change to a single, forget the millions. [Hyper-reactive agents can react now.]

Now, let’s debate. According to my opinion (which I’ve on everything around me) we ain’t made as ‘thinkers’ thus we can’t be good educationist. Period. Our self-learning is based on politically-practiced education thus; we can’t rationalize our own thought beyond belief. We are the by-products of the education system that politically muzzled to make citizens a state or nation.  

Citizen, as universally defined, is a native or naturalized member of a state or political community. Thus, he/she is a political person [who] owns certain rights or duties towards the state or the nation to which it belongs. Hence, the two word – ‘citizen’ and ‘politics’ should be used interchangeable and inseparably. Now, how does this influence the education system of [our] society?

This is a big mess. A citizen being a political person has its own belief based on certain principles or dogmas propounded by leaders who influences the thought. Every man is not a leader or a thinker. Some seeks inspiration. [Factual tip: Most follow and few leads.] This is the key to erosion within the education system and learning process or a citizen gradually.

Gifted with special oratory skills, the leader(s) always has an edge over the fellow citizen because they grow powerful in a society to the extent of being invincible and authoritative – both into a Democratic or Fascist environment. You can’t avoid this or control. No voting out is not the solution. It’s a mechanism to replace one political system/ ideology with another without changing the fundamental issue. And, what is that?

In a political system, leaders believe to bring a change and set an example that continues to exist for the rest of the Earth Life. In a process, leaders get involved in brainstorming to shape the nation’s education system and use it as a mode to propagate. Citizens read what the system offers. Thus, leading to the conflict of thesis and anti-thesis within a politically charged society where a particular ideology is strongly enforced and forcefully.  

In an instructional way, ‘forced learning’ is a formula to educational and mental depravation. Generations after generations of Earth Life we succumbed to it thus, education in the modern society that eroded beyond recognition.

Education is the fundamental platform to make citizens of a state or nation and should [be] freed from political or biblical governance. If [education] is impartial in nature, and not influenced or governed by the political institutions, [it] invariably leads a person to rationalize, question, and inquire till they discover. 

I would love to throw examples to support my theory but hold them meanwhile for other posts; thus creating a thread for future discussion. To conclude, “…education system doesn’t need a revision but absolute rebuilding”. Given this purview, I don’t agree that web learning solution companies in India (at least) could even contribute or have scope of action within.

The sales presentation should read, “…we are edging faster to a Corporate Cannibal by notoriously by eating up the Mom and Pop elearning shops out of business.” Come let’s be the party poachers. 

One Serious Blogging Finally

Tuesday morning 7: 30 a.m.

Logged into my system and then to Facebook like any other day. But, it wasn’t a usual day – it can’t be one again. Posted with photographs of giggling friends in the [now] unkempt lawns of the institution that played a pivotal role in my growing up; my Wall was never as colorful as it is today.

Ah! The School…the school friends…the famous Spring Fest…

In fact, nothing has changed except of the ceiling that heavily needs a plastering, wooden benches that need carpentry, and wall that needs to be repainted. Despite of shortfalls, the old lady stands in silence with bellowing holiness within. She witnessed many school-goers [like me] crawled onto her and then, left. Years-after-years!

Personally, I’m go-getter kinds who lend many but borrowed a zilch. I’m quite a brooding old autocrat quite old-fashioned and speak a lot. I boast for having ‘never begged’ even when I need the most – [but] – had never returned to the institution which made my beliefs. I never realized or cared to paint the walls, or replace the broken glasses or offer a hand to facelift – the institution.

Springs after spring…more depreciation added. And, this spring a piety within me have usurped. Time to give back; time to give it back to one that matters ‘the most’.

First Photo Blogging

Of late, I am concentrating hard to become a Pro-Photographer and lose the tag of being 'the amateur' or 'wannabe'. The journey is truly evolutionary rather than unprecedented. But, it's nice to camouflage and make it 'historic' by crediting my 'Boromama' who instilled within me the passion with his superb work. (Most of which are now lost...sigh!) 


So, it take three years experimenting with my Nikon Coolpix P60 and then, P90 and travelling around the parts of India till I dare to make these worthily posting that, on personal note, is my best. 

The  Blue Window: Shot at IDPL Colony, Hyderabad the color and the setup was tempting and I hopefully did the required due. Windows and doors often attract me maybe I love the idea of a 'peeping tom' but there's always a mystic associated to the partially ajar windows and door. However, the key point of this photograph could possible be the wall which broken open. 

White and Blue: I always wish to do this photograph and have seen it among many great photographer's profile. This is my version, shot in Balanagar opposite to Az's house. 

A Small Wish: Oh, yea! I did some photo-editing for this and it doesn't appear 'bad with splash of coloring. Shot near the Balanagar, Hyderabad (opposite to the mosque where Az was praying). A short trivia to this photography - when a was alarming a soulful rendition over the loudspeaker praying 'wishes be granted', the child stand before the Hero Honda bike thoughtfully. Someday, his wish will also be granted...hopefully.

School Days: This photograph reminds me of the turmoil of 'being schooled'. The strappy bag laden with books which are of no-use and open no window to growing up. The dusty road is symbolic to hard life need to walk, so keep marching. Books give no education but life does...

Happily Employed: Shot nearby the school area at IDPL, Hyderabad where the two children fiddling with the public phone booth to figure out whom to call. School days are full of grievances and there's no helpline. I always had a silent days when at school or college. Maybe, that's why I look at children in a pitiable light. 

Quacks at Best: India has splurge of quacks and sex-afflicted life. People are curious, eager, violent but unaware of their sexual self. The advertisement posted by one of the roadside quacks nearby the Balanagar, Hyderabad is equally confusing as its client. Just read it...(Enjoy!)

Windows again: The broken window looking at the dark room through the cobwebs is one of the best shot after a long time of photography. They tell story of a life that once have occupied it but now disowned and ignored. The photography reminds me of the life an its practicality (maybe, that's why I have changed it to black-and-white). Used and Ignored!

Once a Ruling Prince: The AP9R 1138 is an Ambassador that once being the pride to its owner (when bought) but now stand under the shade with layers of dust on its wind shield and bonnet. She is ignored and dying a painful but slow death. Life is like AP9R 1138. 


All photos are copyrighted by me. 
Regards 

Anything interesting…

Scratched my scalp more than often, rephrased the title more than often, smoked cigarettes more than usual but still trying to figure out anything interesting. The answer is ‘zilch’. Ui-ma! How could I turn to a ‘Plain Jane’ in past one-year?

Trying hard and harder and now hardest…! Anything interesting…(zilch). There’s nothing, almost nothing in my life worthy to pen-down. So, finally give-it-up and zilch!

Yearly Random Thoughts…

Resplendent wintry morning… and the year in its full throttle. There’s many a thing happened since the last time I blog. Wish I could have been writing more often now.

The Historic Proposal – Indecency Withheld

Well, before you deduce any conclusion lemma intimidate and inform I ain’t suffering of Delhi belly or other cerebral maladies but perfectly sober unfortunately, when writing. Added disclaimer, this is strictly adult porn for Teenagehood when virginity is ‘one’ of those excited doses that you like to experiment. For sappy historians or history lovers, read yourself out of content. 

He was the Young Turk with a mansion and a harem. She’s sexy floorboard wench wily enough to be whoranndo; both walk into the history with a *indecent proposal* - and voluntary death by fire for poetic justice to follow.

The story begins in circa 13th century, when Chittorgarh, was under the rule by ‘not-so’ glorious King Ratansen. The king walked into the history book for his famed wife, Padmavati or Padmini; a beautimas and could make men enjoy masturbathing with a mere reflection. According to me, the King is a perfect obsolesce in the tale playing the role of a ‘source’ or the ‘reason’ to this grandiose and much-hyped legendary story which otherwise would have been another great Indian love affair. 

Now, for those who have already familiar and have dropped their pants off, lemma’ bring you back to your senses by telling the fat-free bootilicious ‘babe’ lived in her own time and now died. We’re reloading her story. So…, a Young Turk from the North travelled with his cheerleaders and Green Berets and lived in canopies in the wild desert with a wish for a glimpse of royal beauty. (Dude, she ain’t Greta Garbo?) But, all in vain and end up waiting until one-day he tricked the ‘husband’ to agree.

As I’ve mentioned and now my theories confirms, Ratansen was a feeble jerk, a compulsive wanker, and meanie. In fact, he’s the mastermind to the history’s most indecent love affair that sought for a poetic justice to sound sober. Anyways, where was Alauddin Khilji?

Standing in the middle of a chamber that overlooking to the Queen’s Palace through the mirrors on the wall, the Young Turk with a mansion and harem was impatient yet; composious till the voluptosaur meekly stepped out and did the reflection thingee. Scientifically and on human ground, I consider the MAN to have fallen in love thus contradicting to the age-old historic belief who blames Mr. Khilji to be lecherous.

First, Mr. Khilji is a MAN who owns a whorehouse and plenty of sex, daily; but languishing in the desert for such a long-time thus sex-starved. Secondly, reflections produces better imageries than the real (that’s why they invented camera) and Padmavati happened to have shown her glimpse in the water which produces a mirror-image and genuinely hallucinates the Young Turk. Third, per human nature – the neighbor’s wife is sexcillent than one that you own. Finally, Padmavati is sedusive in her own way and perfectly orchestrated her looks and reflection to make the MAN start glistening. Poor Khilji, for he’s sexcommunicated in the history whereas, in real, he’s only a prey to Mr. and Mrs. Schematics. Ouch!

What happened later is a poetic justice or myth, yet to be proved. Still, I consider Mr. Khilji acted as a brash and quite foolishly to be easily fooled out. He trapped the man, who was otherwise has no significance apart of possessing a beautiful wife whom he showcases to earn enemies. He laid a siege to capture the fort immediately which inspire his sexi-natalie to walk into the History’s Wall of Fame by committing Johar or Indian hara-kiri – an act of jumping into the fire and turn to ashes. And, thus the glorious story of a would-be love tale abruptly ends into exalted act and history continues…

The Fortress I Seieged : Kumbhalgarh

There she stands recluse in isolation amidst the ravines of folded mountains overlooking the snaky walls that circumbulates the fortress and disappear somewhere in the scrub jungles. From a height of 3,568ft you look down to the panoramic rugged scenery and feel nothing less than powerful.

Situated at a distance of 80kms northwest of Udaipur, on the banks of Banas River; the bulbous Kumbhal-garh fortress was one of the least-known yet historic citadel, took 15-long years for Rana Kumbha to build. And, what a stupendous creation of man containing a domed palace along the 36km long winding walls that defended the citadel from series of battlements and second-only to the famous wall of China.


Now, if you got the itching notion that this overwhelming fortress is an abandoned medieval structure with almost no inhabitants around; you’d be disappointed to find delighted activities with fertile landscape around. Built in circa 1485, the fortress is guarded by seven lofty gates as you climb the steep walls which are wide enough for eight horses to march abreast. For years, though she served as impregnable hideouts to Mewari rulers during crisis and stands as a wary sentinel but it was a mammoth task for Rana Kumbha and his men to make such a creation stand to its ground.

In fact, the most interesting part to any Rajasthani fortress is the associated folklore or legends mix with history and Kumbhal-garh is nothing short of it. In 1443, when the king started the construction the structure eventually crumbles to ruins by the sunset until a spiritual preceptor address the king to offer human sacrifice but voluntarily done. The king sent out word, but, as can be expected, no one volunteered. But one day, a pilgrim (also considered to a soldier from the commandment) volunteered and been ritually decapitated. The sacrifice was necessary to ensure that the battle walls being constructed by Rana Kumbha would be strong enough to withhold the sieges. Today the main gate of the fortress, Hanuman Pol contains a shrine and a temple to commemorate the great sacrifice.

The palace at the top of the cliff, known as Badal Mahal is a two-storied structure divided into two interconnected distinct portions i.e. the Zanana and the Mardana Mahal and elaborately decorated with oil paintings. The Zanana Mahal is provided with stone jalis which facilitated the queens to see the court proceedings and other events in privacy. (Note: Most of the rooms are currently restored by the Government of India and thus, found to be locked, the views over the walls to the jungle covered hillsides and across the deserts of Marwar towards Jodhpur, are simply stunning.)

Close to the fortress as you climb down the plains is the Neelkanth Mahadeo Temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. The six foot high stone Lingam (the symbol of Shiva) is the only deity in the area still being worshipped and maintained by the locals. A legend says that Rana Kumbha was said to be so tall that as he sat for his prayers on the floor of the temple, his eyes were on level with the deity! It is said that the king was about 9 feet tall. He never began a day without performing prayers to this deity himself. What an irony that he was beheaded by his own son, as he prayed. It is easy to get lost in time as you stand on the walls of this fort, listening to the stories of its legendary king – the king who gave his name to this area, and who lives on through his deeds long after his tragic demise.


But the story of a fortress doesn’t end here unless you recall the sieges that she defended or succumbed. Accordingly, Kumbhal-garh was captured many a times and passed through various hands. First the Mughal forces captured the fort soon after Haldi Ghati and forced Maharana Pratap to seek shelter in the forests. The Marathas captured the fort and later returned it for a ransom of Rs. 70,000. Finally, in c. 1818, when the fort’s garrison was on the point of mutiny for arrears of pay, the East India Company stepped in and Todd secured the fort on paying a large sum of money to clear the arrears. And, finally one glorious morning of March it was seized by me…or vice versa.

(Note: The Banas is a river of Rajasthan state in western India. It is a tributary of the Chambal River, which in turn flows into the Yamuna, a tributary of the Ganges. The Banas is approximately 512 kilometers in length. Best time to visit the fortress is during the winters and especially if you love to adventure than safari to the jungles is highly recommended.)

The Mystic India (2010): Jhalmuri on Beach

As the final moments nearing and I tucked myself in rucksack, there’s something missin’ for the final fantasy. The roaring tides crackles on the shore while the wayward breeze rustle through my hair; and suddenly I spotted him with big basket. The Jhalmuri wala. Ah, the delight!

It’s simple, lip smacking, and heavenly salivating refresher. Exaggerating…nah! Ask any Bengali brethren and they would describe the magical taste still lingering at the tip - never to forget. To start:

• Add puffed rice, hard green grams, sprouted beans, roasted peanuts, finely chopped onions, green chilies (as many as you could), cumin powder, aamchoor powder, and red pickle in a large salad bowl.
• Sprinkle mustard oil and salt and toss nicely till all mixed appropriately. 
• For optional choices, add grated coconut and chanachur.

O! don’t forget the hot cup of sweet milky tea and gossips to add-on, Nothing could have made vacation in Puri – a perfect memorabilia – without the jhalmuri. Now lemma munch and listen to the blowing conch shell on the seashore.