Adoloscence and after

A child has a mind that runs insanely. An adults mind is a marathon runner. It might not be as fast and instinctive as a child (read child brain) but it gains more stamina. None of us is new to this, but the issues that accompany this fact are interesting. One of them is our mind clock.

Mind-clock, as I prefer calling it, is a ticking machine right inside your brain that keeps counting moments, with some reliable precision, differing from person to person. It is this clock that makes you feel time. The clock that ticks a long boring hour in a tenth minute lecture before the lunch, and that runs like a Ferrari when you're on the bed or in the ground. As we grow up, especially in schedules and recurring time-tables, run timed goals and life's races, we learn to pace it right. It is a consistent habit you would find with most successful people. The subtle truth hides here.

"Minutes tick longer and days tick shorter."

Consider a simple day. You wake up, get ready to your school / college /office, go out and work all day and return home. Needless to say, the clock races around when you gave a variety of things to do, a large different set of instructions for your brain to handle, and relatively slower at works that repeat themselves in a day. These presumptions considered, we complain of long work days as our brain tunes itself to the recurring pattern. We get tired by the end of such days, postponing most of our activities to weekends. Results being, a large variety of activity towards the weekends which snap off in a blink. The weekdays become longer due to recurring processes and weekends shorten due to variety.

Let us consider this over time. Remember your childhood? Being a child, writing the same date at least ten times over a day, each time in a different mood and thought process, makes us feel the years had been longer. As we grow, in a focus oriented world, we decrease the number of thoughts and increase their depth. As we store these thoughts down a memory lane, you'll be surprised to notice that you remember a twenty x to have been shorter than a Y teen than a z year child. The years run faster.

In reality, you can witness this happen in a child. Pick a baby 4 or 6 year old and observe. The child who's been sobbing about a toy train 20 seconds ago is merrier playing with mud and cake. A grown up? No. The grown up buddy rather sulks around a thought over and over, giving lesser time for others, leaving the mind bored. If boredom and monotone are your complaints with growing older, then, "this" is your problem.

Summing the theory up,

1. Mind clock works based on your moments, it ticks faster when your mind has more areas to explore, and bores during iterations.
2. Mind-clock accelerates with age because of the depth of thought and reduced numbers.
3. The problem with most of us is that we reiterate a lot during the weekdays and mourning shorter weekends. The solution being, doing varieties on weekdays, and lazily sleeping on the weekend. This will reduce the illusive effect of shortened weekends.

The other side

The poor peasant wants a nine to five, with a cushioned ride.
The urban man, he who flies high, misses the countryside.
The priest wants a new smartphone, one to track his time.
The resource wants to be left alone, to listen to heavenly chime.

The rich man wants his tender son, to walk down to the school.
The poor man shades his son from sun, waiting for climates to cool.
The good boy who carries his lunch, wants a full day fast.
The poor guy wants to see, how many burgers would he last.

The village head flees to the town, to be mister anonymous.
The entrepreneur wants a crown, and craves to be famous.
The urban kid finds the cotton cool, flaunts it off to friends.
The country kid wears jeans to school, the one he lavishly lends.

The bachelor geek misses his mom, and her handmade food.
The homebound guy feeds his tom, as he walks to eat some good.
Oh, the irony, my bitter sweet world, you wish to be a perfect place.
I can bet all my household, utopia hates her own grace.

Around the hill is a circular pass, for the world to ever stride.
And there always is the grass, greener on the other side.

The Golden Necklace

The golden necklace long and sleek,

sleek as a thread and equally meek, 

meekly subdues to the ups and downs, 

down the desert's folded gowns. 

The gowns bordered in sparkling beads, 

beads that house the perfect meads, 

meads made out of inhumane deeds, 

deeds of the rich and greedy breeds.

As far as the hovering falcon can see, 

the sea beyond being the end to thee, 

the necklace adorns the lands free, 

free from the humanity's selfish glee. 

The glee in the shiny bead is clear, 

clear from the mask of natural shear, 

shear we attribute to our earth dear, 

dear we say though we consciously fear.

Trees we plant along the paths to travel, 

the travel to the shores of fine gravel, 

gravel wherein the stories unravel, 

unravel the tales when there was no gavel. 

The gavel of nature is inaudible tonight, 

tonight when she sings her weakest plight, 

plight to back off from the wildest fight, 

fight that shall end man's glory's flight.

Planting trees in the driest of deserts, 

deserting forests in the richest soils, 

soiling the faces of earth so strange, 

strangest shall be our race to her.

The golden necklace and emerald beads, 

may look pretty on the bride who leads, 

but shall hurt when you kiss her neck, 

and you would be turned off in a speck.

Rusted strings

It had just been a week, my heart had been rendered weak. 

The long terrible one year streak, of being a single independent geek, 

had been put down by your grace, one more time did my heart race, 

Love was in the air I could trace, I finally lost my regular grimace.

It is too shallow now again, but the feeling is not in vain, 

I realize it's my mistake to train, against the heart over the brain. 

I feel as young as spring, for you pulled the rusted string.

I wish to last longer, this thing, that again made my heart sing.

The fate has decided against me, and my will is keeping the company. 

I wish miracles out of the sea, living in the city that knows no tree. 

I will try to buy one chance, under the table, out of the glance.

I'll be left with my dull single stance, in case we won't do the smoother dance.

You are wasted, spoilt am I, but you're beautiful to my eye. 

Darling, can we dream a sweeter lie, against our fate that's always sly?

Writers' block

You and I, we try to tell a tale,
we don't know why, it turns out to be pale.
We love and cry, and write it in the ink of tears,
we smile and try, but end up penning our fears.

The devil lives, brooding in the adjective detail,
gloom he gives, with his curly pointed tail,
We try to fake, a world out of a tiny infinity,
we bake a cake, out of brown rice off the city.

Beautiful shall be, the fairy tale of castles and princes,
but you tell me, to believe in such glimpses?
Don't you see, it is clear as muddy water,
Wont it be, your mistake of you falter?

Go get a life, you people with fake stories and smiles,
or I'll get a knife, to let your blood flow the miles.
The crowd aren't fools, though you and I too act like one,
it cognizantly drools, making you believe that you won.

Welcome to the new age, to the smart brainy logic,
stop being a sage, orating like we believe in magic.

Clouds

I'm a windless cloud, stuck in the desert so proud, 

a thousand eyes stare at me, so were we destined to be. 

I was sent to wet and drench, but I flood them into a trench, 

a trench of joy and wisdom, in a desert of studies' boredom.

Four years since it had started, teaching this innocent cute dumbhead, 

understanding how her eyes speak, how her words into the worlds seek, 

to be my such sincere student, Oh how I wish she wasn't, 

for loving her is my obsession, someone get me this concession.

All the day a river flows, up and down as it goes,

it sees the cons and glows, life and death all it knows, 

your name nature, your form god, 

you bless me happier, you fill the heart.

A dream holiday

The sky is clear and painted azure, clouds are scattered and the bliss is pure. 

The sun is shining like a red ruby, into the perfect gold it was set to be. 

The white sands are exquisitely carved, by the bristles of wind the sun starved. 

The blue waters cool from the sea, would dance in waves in front of me. 

Into the dark teak woods is my bar, tending is the man with the sharp old scar. 

In the parking, standing alone is my bike, Oh!! That exhaust, the music I like. 

The Palm umbrella gives me the shade, as into the sands my time does fade. 

Chilled beer cans that would never end, and joints of hash in the right blend. 

Not a sound but the nature's song, all day long and all night long. 

I lie thinking on and on then, oh then go pause the Big Ben. 

I want every such thought to drain, I want to clean my fizzy brain. 

I'd wait for that forever long weekend, when my life would be relightened.

Nahi bole toh sunte nahi

Do pehr ko dum biryani, meethe me mast ghadi Qurbaani,

naukri karne Dubai nakko jaa bole, nahi bole toh sunte nahi. 

Kabhi toh matka toh kabhi tandoori, paatha basthi me pani puri, 

paison ka peeche nakko bhaago bole, nahi bole toh sunte nahi.

Amma khilayegi baigan ka bartha, bawa ke jeb se apna saara kharcha, 

ghar chodke door nakko jaao bole, nahi bole toh sunte nai.

Baarish mei necklace road pe jaate, pottiyaa leke sau pe bikaan bhagaate, 

nakko jaao mia loya saahab bole, nahi bole toh sunte nahi.

Roz irani chai pe baatakhaani, milke daawataan karne poora khaandhaani, 

Hyderabad nakko chod jaa bole, nahi bole toh sunte nahi.

Dil mei sukoon sa buddha hai, jawaan toh mohalle ka har buddah hai, 

iss sheher mei mehmaan na bano bole, nahi bole toh sunta nahi.

Jahannum hai mama apna Hyderabad, isko chodoge toh sab chain barbaad, 

baigan me mila denge nakko jaao bole, lekin apun toh posaan maarke uthaaye jhole, 

manaa karne pe bhi yaadein laut hi aate, kya kare yaaron vo bhi humre hi aulaade, 

nakko bole phir bhi sunte nahi.

I know what I'm doing

I'm not silent I'm not calm, I'm not waiting for the wrinkles on my palm.
I'm not believing the mysterious globe, I'm not hollow inside this grey robe.
I'm not adhering to your saintly advice, I'm not sliding down my intellectual demise.
A day shall come when I shall rise, high above you belittling your skies.

I'm not lost behind the misty smoke, I'm not the one you need to provoke.
I'm not waiting for an apocalypse, I'm not mute though I sealed my lips. 

I'm not alluded by the rolling dice, I'm not the one without the spies. 

A day shall come when I shall rise, high above you belittling your skies.

I sense the language your hands speak, I read your eyes to know if you're weak. 

I hear your words like Chinese song, I know your mind deep and long. 

I know that you are a bag of lies, I'll shun your sweetness to the houseflies. 

A day shall come when I shall rise, high above you belittling your skies.

I am shouting a silent call, as the dark lights now befall, 

I am rising like a skyscraper tall, in the dead sands you don't know at all.

Facebook newsfeed is so wrong

A few days ago, a roommate of mine was scrolling down his timeline, until he found a random "mechanical" joke, and was sharing it with me. It turned out that I had to point out that I was the one who shared that post. Some deep thoughts had to follow. We, the youth of today, not teenagers, only the youth are not using the Facebook today like we used to, or for that matter of fact, like it was intended to be. It was meant to be social networking, where people connect with each other, and learn about each other too, however useless it was. But, what do we do today? An average youth today spends most of his/her uncounted time on Facebook. And what do we see? Scoopwhoop, laughing colours, 9gag, thatscoop, buzzfeed and all. This is more of a news an average addict follows. 

Facebook Inc had strategically manipulated our newsfeed through years until we ended up here today. Not that it is bad or something, but we are missing out the basic purpose of connecting with people. We are connecting ideas, philosophies, humors, sciences and more. Whilst it can be seen as a successful business strategy from Facebook to have succeeded in succumbing the entire contents into it, it will sound equally disgusting that Facebook is now least serving its primary purpose, much like a mobile phone. If you are not in unison with what I'm saying, I'd like to congratulate on your immunity towards websites with arbitrary interpretations and data services. Keep calm. What further? 

3 years ago, when Facebook first came up with the idea of close friends' list, it was to notify the important friends' happenings. Today, I see that these notifications are the only things I get to know about friends, disregarding. display pictures and some life events. Mostly, not all though. Now that I wish you're also nodding and wagging your heads, let me tell you, you need to clean up your feeds until this content is diminished below a certain margin, and lots of feed comes from your friends. May be , you can try blocking or unliking a couple or more pages you are least interested in, clear preferences which manipulate the feed by continuously feeding from the people you have put up your thumbs to, and trying to revolutionize back into friends. 

Happy addiction. Hail "disown the websites" revolution.

Reflections

It's past 10 pm, lights racing past the tinted window of the bus, a shadow over the other side of the bus was speaking to me. I could hear it's voice, but inaudible it was.

It was not heard by the young girl, probably in her teens, sitting in a seat front of me, speaking over her phone. She was talking casually to her old friend, to whom she didn't talk for past two months, or so it seemed. She had a guy dump her recently. She says, "the guy who was with me two months ago, supporting me in every decision I took in my life, telling me I was beautiful did not stick to me when I said I cannot hold it. He just moved away saying, what's the point if you don't love me. And now, he does the exactly same affectionate thing to someone else. And ends up telling me that he's got into a relationship with her. He didn't have any fixed emotions." There was a touch of grief as she spoke the last sentence. I was listening intensely looking at the shadow. I could see her reflection look back to find an older guy, me, sitting behind her. She instantly pushes her strap under her pink top. The shadow said "Insecurity is a very strong defence. It makes you stronger, and less vulnerable. She is growing into reality. Turning from her fairytales. Gaze at her, make her stronger." I fix my gaze at her, expecting her to notice, but she's busy on the phone. I give up staring to watch around.

There was another lady, in her early twenties, may be. Clad in her black coat and skirt, over a white shirt, completely fit. She held her phone to her ear. Yes, she was on the phone too. I paid attention to her, eavesdropping is bad, but nevermind. She resigned to her job, and is moving to Singapore for higher studies. She was talking to her "baby" who was just asking questions to keep the conversation up. A why for a pause seemed his top trick to flirt. She says, "I am going to study Very large scale integration in my masters. Do you even know what it means. *pause* You used to call me a dumb blonde. See, I am not as dumb as you think I am. I'm even getting stipend and scholaships at NUS. *pause* I want to end working early, piling up dollars by 40, and getting into my swinging armchair by 50. *pause*" That eager shadow says, " look at her who studies for a settled life. People prefer higher studies to earn money. No one understands what it means. People plan as if life is their chess game. No one understands its more of a snake and ladders than it seems to be. Everyone thinks Steve Jobs is their role model and "connect the dots" is their only commandment. And that is why people don't want to live on this planet anymore.

The voice was inaudible to the third guy who sat on the last seat too. He was using headphones after all. The way he was making expressions on his phone confirmed the selfiesh addiction. All the world is losing its power of memory and time is the smoke of hash#tags. We are living fake lives.

We are turning education to be more about progress reports than progress. We are mistaking the dire need for support to be need for affection. We are creating lives wherein people look into the screen in their hand, wrapping a 800 metres building into 800 pixels and nothing more. The shadows stop speaking to us, because the screen is too bright.

Thanks for the eye-opener, Ash. You are the best critic I ever had.

I do what I want

Clad in branded plain black suits,

stamping clean and shiny new boots,

iPhone shining past their coat, 

into closed chambers some do float, 

paying in cheques they hate to count, 

piling pennies in their account, 

are these countless gentlemen, 

their dreams limited to the pen.

Some work in cool airs nine to five, 

for prestige and fame they do thrive, 

all they know is their own high, 

how happy are they, they do lie, 

they do things they never knew, 

and do nothing that is new, 

scientists they are, O hypocrisy, 

literate they are, such illiteracy.

There is a writer I see earning tons,

but his typewriter never runs, 

there is an engineer I heartily adore, 

he just works like a swinging door, 

there's a violinist I always love, 

she just plays on the top of a stove, 

all these people lost their dream, 

in the ill waters of money fame stream.

I serve those feeble gentlemen, 

by hatching their eggs into a lovely hen, 

I teach the fruits of masters of science,

because they gave it up in their whines,

I see my dreams not when I sleep, 

I know I don't make a cognizant heap, 

I too don't idle on a daily beat, 

I seek the delicacies of a cognitive treat.

I do teach, it's not any fault, 

I don't preach, my life isn't at a halt.

I am the one who knows I enjoy, for I am deaf to your taunt, 

I am the dream I saw as a boy, for I do what I want.

Monday morning 2

The last cool breeze towards the sea, over my face did it flow free.
The sun was up burning in glee, as I stood under the shade of a palm tree.
All the night did I restlessly walk, every party animal did I curiously stalk,
I heard them laugh and sob and talk, in voices of a kid who ate the chalk.

Red and black short skirts they wore, as high as one could call them a whore.
Their glossy lips in smiles that bore, in silence did their jealousy roar.
Smiles and hugs and kisses on cheeks, and more poses from the selfie freaks,
attention is what each one seeks, on a phone wherein no one speaks.

They met over tequila shots, and drank over like new mud pots,
as their gait stumbled from the spots, where their friends were but shiny dots,
each would kneel and sob the pain, till the mascara on silks did rain,
ditching and bitching is their complain, in the city which knew no rain.

The rich party had jewels rare, the hosts had their fair own share,
the profiles had some backs bare, the likes sprang up like a morning hare,
but none saw her passion tears, all knew fashion but none her fears,
none knew what was between her ears, none saw her soul but all her years.

Clad in the best leather jackets were men, whose bikes would roar like lions ten.
Their muscles knew rods more than pen, all of them met in the alien den.
They watch the ball being kicked and hit, they speak of how one stays fit,
they tell all stories of valour and grit, but none can speak in humorous wit.

They meet over the chilled beers, and turn into bulls in three cheers,
reds and blacks are their steers, and to the ladies their herd nears.
A couple of punches in the face, one trades the hash for golden brace,
some machine freaks would run a race, some would vanish in a witch's trace.

The rich party had cars of gold, the hosts had got a booty to hold,
changing was the man defined to be bold, over all drugs stealthily sold.
The valour was also put to stake, in the casino of the unholy mistake,
none knew why their muscle did bake, if not for the girls' eyes' sake.

Like its people who didn't know why,
like its birds that never fly,
like a beautiful moronic lie,
on a Monday morning slept Dubai.

Circle

The world is going round and round, 

and leaping always over the bound, 

the world is like a hungry hound, 

the meat of change is what it found.

We see men who lack all hairs, 

we see women who trekk in lairs, 

we witness when they are not in pairs,

studs to studs and fairs to fairs. 

We evolved to civilize the ape, 

from waters to juices of grape, 

from cottons to pieces of cape, 

from strong men to men who rape.

We don't see for our eyes are stuck, 

in the screens where colors' muck, 

that nature's clock had now struck, 

the hour when we inverse luck.

We can't dodge or we can't duck, 

we shall barter and hate the buck, 

we will go back to the wild fuck, 

it's all our luck stuck in fuck muck.

Dangerously dense

Travelling from Dubai to Sharjah on a Friday afternoon by bus for work, I boarded, along with a bunch of other passengers into a double decker which was already full. Standing was inevitable. While it might sound strange for the Emiratis who know me, I would like to reiterate that this is nothing new for any Indian. The bus has exceeded it's capacity by almost double the numbers. And then, I took critical notice.

Not every woman got a seat despite young n capable men were dozing and nodding in the seats. Not that I am against feminism or something, but UAE is one country where any woman is rarely deprived of seating in journeys. However, in contrast to the daily metro where women are more preferred to have a comfortable journey, the situation in the bus was more Indian. Also, a woman who had reserved for her better part failed to offer the seat to the standing woman. Oh, the irony. If people started the handkerchief reservation (rumal daalna) here too, I don't see any reason why should Dubai be any comfortable than Hyderabad or any other Indian city, if not for its scarce population. Yes, population density is the cause, and my concern. People who compare Mumbai to Sharjah, Delhi to Dubai, or Hyderabad to Singapore, welcome to the conception of population density.

We are speaking of population density. Look at the list of cities and you'll know the stark reality. Limited to Philippines (somewhat) Indian cities monopolize the list. Every Indian city has, on an average, one and a half times the NYC Manhattan. And we don't live in high rise. Exactly explaining the lack of proper space. Lack of proper space can affect human development in many ways. A few I try.

1) Improper roads, traffic congestion is common place. Even good roads tend to be worn out of excessive use.

2)Heavy slums, unhygienic residences, Improper supply of resources. A bad quality of life is evident.

3. Rapid rate of increase in population leading to further deterioration, like in Kolkata.

4. Increase in pollution of every kind, harmful practices, nature becomes unable to purify herself. 

5. Congested public transportation, longer queues, lethargy and bribery, unclean cities.

Many more can be explained by a social scientist, but this is the essence. I hope everyone realizes the need to support rural india to maintain the balance, and family planning, of course.

P. S. : India is my country. I love my country. I'm just trying to show the root cause.

విశ్వాసం

"పెనుతుఫాను తలొంచి చూసే తొలి నిప్పుకణం అతడే" అని రోజూ చెవులు అరిగిపోయే దాకా విన్న తరువాత ఒకానొక నాడు సీడీల షాప్ లో తిరుగుతూ "అతడు" సీడీ వెనక్కి తిప్పి చూడగా అర్ధమైంది ఏమనగా ఆ గీత రచయిత సిరివెన్నెల గారు కాదని. ఆ రోజుల్లో పిచ్చి పట్టినట్టు మహేష్ బాబు సినిమాలు చూస్తున్నప్పుడు, అతడు టైటిల్స్ లో పడుతున్న లిరిక్స్ కార్డు కూడా చదివే వాడిని. పాటలు సిరివెన్నెల గారునూ, విశ్వా అని చదివినప్పటికీ ఈ విశ్వా అనే వాడు ఏదో చిలిపి పాట రాసాడు అని భ్రమ పడిన మాట వాస్తవం. మీరు ఇప్పటికీ ఆ భ్రమలో ఉండి ఉంటే ఈ వ్యాసం మీ కోసమే.

విశ్వా, విశ్వా వేమూరి ఒక తెలుగు పాటల రచయిత, గాయకుడునూ, సంగీత దర్శకుడు కూడానూ. ఇంతటి వైవిధ్యభరితమైన కళాకారుడు అయినప్పటికీ ఇతని పేరున ఒక వికీపీడియా పుట లేకపోవడం మన తెలుగు పరిశ్రమ విధి విధానాలకు అద్దం పడుతుంది. నేను కేవలం ఒక రచయిత విశ్వాను మాత్రమే చూశాను. మీకు కూడా అతడినే చూపిస్తాను. పది పైన మంచి పాటలు రాసినప్పటికీ ఇతగాడి గురించి ఎవరికీ తెలియకపోవడం గమనార్హం.

"సంతోషం" లో ప్రభు దేవా "మెహబూబా మెహబూబా" అంటూ స్టెప్పులేసినప్పుడు ఇతడి మాటలే ప్రాణం పోసాయి, పోస్కున్నాయి. మొత్తం ఇంగ్లీష్ లో ఉన్న ఈ ర్యాప్ పాటలో మనము చిందులు వేసినప్పటికీ మనము పాటను చూడలేదు. ఆ తరువాయి వచ్చిన గీతాలలో చాలానే మంచివి. మణిశర్మ గారు ఇతడికి రెండు మూడు ఆణిముత్యాలను ఇచ్చారు. "అతడు" లో "పెనుతుఫాను తలొంచి చూసే" అన్నా, మన ప్రియతమ మైఖేల్ జాక్సన్ కి గురువు గారు అంకితమిచ్చిన "నర్తన తార" ఆయినా, పవన్ కళ్యాణ్ "తీన్మార్" లోని "చిగురు బొనియ" ఆయినా, "చిరుత" లోని "చమ్కా చమ్కా" ఆయినా, "డోలే డోలే" అంటూ ఉర్రూతలూగించిన "పోకిరి"నూ ఇతగాడి పాటలే. అలా అని మిగిలిన సంగీత దర్శకులతో ఇతనికి పరిచయం లేదని కాదు. యువన్ తో కలిసి "హ్యాపీ" సినిమాకు గాను "ఛల్ ఛల్ రే ఛల్ మేరే సాథి", రమణ గోగుల గారి సొంతం అయనట్టి "ధగ ధగ మెరిసే మెరుపుల రాణి", దేవి తో "ఆర్య" లో "యౌ రాక్ మై వరల్డ్", ఇద్దరమ్మాయిలతో లో "వయోలిన్ సాంగ్", హార్రిస్ జయరాజ్, ప్రభాస్ ల "మున్నా" లో "కదులు కదులు" మరియు "చమ్మక్కురో ఇలా", మన ప్రియాది ప్రియమైన తమన్ "నీ దూకుడు సాటేవ్వడూ" ఇతడి ప్రయోగాలే.

ఈ పాటలన్నిటినీ గమనించినట్టయితే ఇతడు ర్యాప్ లో ధిట్టనీయు, తెలుగు పై ఇతని పట్టు అపారమనీయు, తక్కువ ఆయినా మంచి పాటలు రాసే రచయిత ఇతను అనీయు చెప్పొచ్చు. వేటూరి లాంటి పునీతమైన తెలుగు రచయితల కాలం చెల్లిందనే చెప్పుకోవాలి. ఈ తరం సంగీతమంతా ఊపుడు దిమ్పుడే. ఈ మారిపోతున్న కాలానికి ఆద్యం పోసింది గురువు గారు సిరివెన్నెల గారు. ఆయనే ఈ మార్పుకి కర్త కర్మ క్రియ. అయితే అనంత శ్రీరామ్, భాస్కరభట్ల, రామజోగయ్య లాంటి వారు ఆ రాజసం తేలేకపోతున్నారు. తమన్ లాంటి సంగీత దర్శకుల ఆగమనమే మన తరానికి, తెలుగు సినిమా సంగీతానికి దూరం పెంచుతోంది. ఇటువంటి కష్ట కాలమున విశ్వా లాంటి వారిని ప్రోత్సహించడం అవసరం. తెలుగు పాటలు చిరకాలం వర్ధిల్లాలి అన్నా, ఇంగ్లీష్ లో తెలుగు కలిపే విధానం ఏ ఖిచ్డి లా కాకుండా పెరుగాన్నాము లో మామిడి టెంక లా ఉండాలి అన్నా గురువు గారి తరువాయి ఈయనే దిక్కు. తెలుగు చలన చిత్ర సంగీతం వర్ధిల్లాలి. మనం మరింత దూకుడు తో ఇంగ్లీష్ బాషను కలుపుకుంటూ ముందుకు వెళ్ళాలి అని, విశ్వా లాంటి వారు మరెందరో రావాలి అని, అందులో నేను కూడా ఒకడిని కావాలని ఆశిస్తూ, అవుతానని మరెంతో విశ్వసిస్తూ ....

మీ,
రవి కిరణ్.

Senseless

If ever did a bucket of tears trickle down your cheeks, 

if ever you wished to be buried under musky reeks, 

if ever have you been screwed literally by an iron nail, 

if ever had you felt what's it like to fail, 

and you believe it is the worst part of life, 

I would like to tell you of my strife, 

Oh I'm senseless, senseless.

Not that I have taken the lover of weed up my nose, 

not that I have red wine along blood in my hose, 

not that I have gotten high or I am lost, 

it's just my senses have fell asleep at last. 

I fail to sense the changes around my being, 

so much is visible I'm not seeing, 

Oh, I'm senseless, senseless.

Oh yeah, so much is visible I don't think of what I see, 

the Arabic aromas around I don't smell what is free, 

exquisite of food and caviar I don't want to taste, 

the best violins slide through my ears in haste, 

all I crave is for the sense of touch, 

I burn out of jealousy on her clutch, 

Oh, I'm senseless, senseless.

Clutch, I would be, dark as I am,

I'll censor my words I won't frighten the Sam,
Dam, ram, and all that naughty scam, 

you better know what I am,
Oh, I'm senseless, senseless.

India's children : You

What are we ashamed of, my dear friends? Why are you so hurt when BBC puts up a documentary regarding how Indian men who rape think? Are you one of them?

Before I even start expressing my distress on your distress on BBC, let me put your facts right. Quoting a quoran "Leslee Udwin, the director of the documentary, is a rape victim herself. She says that she was inspired when she saw the protests against Nirbhaya's shocking rape all around India. She says it was a beacon of hope, for her, that Indians all over are coming together to protest the rape, and she hoped that things would change now. (The fact that nothing has changed is a different story entirely). She committed 2 years to making this film, and while I might have issues with the way it has been filmed, I think everything deserved to be stated. We need to bring the reality of hundreds and thousands of men thinking exactly like this and maybe mentally or verbally agreeing with the sentiments. This documentary should be watched very closely, to understand the rationale of such behaviors and developing programs to counterattack them. Rather, be happy that this topic has raised so much debate and awareness in India and the world over."

I further put forward the following.

They (Miss Udwin and her team) did not hype the rapes in UK because the citizens, and Media of United Kingdom are neither crazy not concerned about the security of the women. Rape cases are occuring throughout the world, but not every other country's citizens are as sensitive as us about what happens to others. Brutal rapes are reported everywhere, wherein the accused or convicted is stamped as a psychopath and sent to imprisonment. No other is concerned but the family and friends of the victim, especially in the developed countries. The media too reports the incident like any other crime and gets back to other issues. We, on the other hand,
1. Have no work at home, so go out and shout on the streets
2. Are concerned about what happens to the women of the nation and want to curb the unethical practice
3. (the media) highlight the personal life and problems for high TRP
4. (the media) want to create awareness and bring about the good change in the society
5. Desire to conserve the culture and ethics of the nation where woman is the supreme creation of God, and Hinduism is that religion where women are treated with utmost respect and henceforth highlight the issue of rape.

Now, anything the public is concerned about is a news-issue for the news channel. If you look at the list of previous documentaries published by BBC, you'll know that they tell the world of such issues bothering a nation, where from 

1. The world often helps the cause and the problem gets solved.
2. The world criticizes the concerned nation and ensures further chaos in the nation. 

In either way, BBC is successful in influencing it. Henceforth, more TRP, more business. Or genuine concern for a better world and attempts. The same applies to other international broadcasting networks like CNN too.

I hope you understand what I am trying to say. Indian Media was hooting since 2 years, BBC understood the seriousness of the issue and took it to its own level. There are 2 viewpoints to it. You can read it as a business-oriented man complaining that BBC is being unethical regarding its TRP of whatever equivalent you name it. You can see it as an attempt to point out our negatives. In the latter case, you have 2 possible solutions. You can again complain that BBC is unnecssarily interfering in the matters of our state, or you can be happy that the country is concerned, and work towards the cause, and not against the medium.

Frugal Dreams

Lush green fields around the home, where crickets chirp and rabbits roam,

walls of burnt brick and gray granite, standing away from the concrete might, 

where the road to the city runs in sight, where the train chuckles in a music light, 

far from the masses driven by cash, far from clean cities far from trash, 

shall be a beautiful home of mine, by the day I'm twenty nine. 

There shall my kid study and shine, and learn about the mire and mine.
And count the stars in clear skies, where a thicket of darkness lies. 

Tons and tons of fairytales, in summer nights a fairy tells, 

thunders roar and frighten us, lanterns burn to lighten us, 

so shall be a country child of mine, I show him coarse, he'll know the fine.

Physics Rhymes

Early to bed, early to rise,
To sing as a poem, is so sweet and nice.

Twinkle twinkle little star,
I don't wonder what you are,
refraction is the reason why,
you're like a diamond in the sky.

Jack and Jill, went up a hill, 

to fetch a pail of water.
Find the P.E, gained and lost, 

before they climb and after.

Humpty dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
If the wall was 10 feet tall,
find the speed just before the fall.

Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
If one weighs a quarter, a full costs a dime,
how much would I gain, if you don't bargain?

Ringa Ringa roses,
pocket full of poises,
Inertia!! Inertia!!
We all fall down.

The end

It had been a long time since I started speaking about God. I spoke about God. I spoke about love and relationships. I spoke about heavens. I spoke about making earth a heaven. I was delighted to deliver ways to make the world a better place to live in. I had dreams, that were irresistible to change. Engines to design, poetry to philosophy, learning to teaching, the life had been changing. This blog is a great source of how I had changed myself over time. I always believed in these. 

Recognizing people around as an integral entity and not as toys to play around with. It's true that masses control lives. But, individually, humans are the most beautiful manifestation of diversified psychological abilities. God is the ultimate, they say. We created God. Architecture is amazing. We created it. Computers calculate at speeds unimaginable. We created them. Humanity is the best way to see how powerful nature is. And as you recognize it, being a human, you are far above nature to perceive it, thus going into the inception of the marvel. 

God is a conception created by such humans. Like computers, like automotives, like constructions and medicine, it is used. The better universe lies in the fact that you use it towards being a better human by heart. Religion is as misguiding as anything else. This weapon needs to be handled with utmost care, in cases like India. 

Youth is a very important phase of one's life. It's in how you create such youth that decides where your succeeding generation is going to end. I am glad my parents whipped me to study and end up in an NIT, thanks to the love story for helping me out of IIT, whatever happened was for good. I have learnt very important lessons at MANIT. For all the friends I gathered and all the life I learnt, and all the memories I built, they've been the best moments of my life. ROCKING AP and IBC have carved into being someone who is proud of himself and his actions today. 

I see myself to be matured and successful enough when I'm 21 whilst many youngsters are hardly falling in love the first time. I'm out of it. I can pretty much guess I would be claimed to age 30+ by anyone who meets me for the first time.
I am winding up this blog. The versatile Versifier is no more. I shall move on to the next one by March. It'll be operated on a Mac. 

Thanks to all the people around me for all your love. 

1. Avinash a.k.a ash. Without your selfish views and honest reviews, I will not be here. You're the best critic to me. THE BEST. The day you say I wrote well, I feel real fucking awesome. Welcome to the Golden Sands. Welcome to dxb. 

2. Vamsi bro, my soulmate, literally. If not for your (our) way to look at the world, I would have been blind forever. You bro, are that one guy I would sell my life for. 

3. Vivek Reddy Babai, thanks for everything. I know our views never match. Our ideas do. Our tastes never are the same, but you're the only one who competes with me. Thanks for the athesse concept, it's been the start of a revolution. 

4. Bhargava, bhaiyya, your night walks taught me that a friend is one with whom you can bitch about anything and everything. All that matters is being considerate. 

5. Anviti, Arnav and Diksha, you people are my favorite. The professionals who don't know their potential. Just waiting for the right chance to endow upon you, all the love you deserve. 

6. Last but not the least, Pallavi, you are the life of this blog. You coined the name. I'm sorry for the past. Some issues need to be solved the hard way. 

Thank you all for everything, thanks to the amazing readers who keep up my spirits. Thanks to me. 

Bye.

The fault in our stars

Every lie is not sweet to the conscience, nor is every truth bitter.
Every metal is not in gloomy luminescence, nor would every gold glitter.
Every camera shall not stare forever, beauty is in the blink of a shutter.
Every love shall not last forever, every heart shall stop to flutter.

Truth is bitter, the lie was sweet,
our memories did glitter, our ends shall not meet.

Every end is not a fairytale, every love shall not end in hate,
every rose may not turn out pale, every life has to obey it's fate.
Every thought shall not be towards you, every step shall not take me near,
every ship doesn't get the best crew, every pain won't you have to bear.

The tale has ended as you grew, the love has ended reminiscent.
The Sands have blurred my thoughts true, my steps had followed the scent.

Every kiss shall not be of romance , every hug shall not cure a heart.
Every Knight needs no Lance, every shield needs no dart.
Every memory cannot be in verse, every wish cannot hop the draft,
every hiss isn't a venom curse, every art is not brimmed with craft.

Such a fraternal kiss to end, hugs deserve a moist pillow,
such verses shall  no heart lend, such wishes can't wait for a willow.

The ship has drowned, the sun has sunk, the day has rested in the grave.
The owl has frowned, in the banyan trunk, for colors did hearts crave.
The owl is a memoir, that watches in dark, till the death will take,
it's not a choir, grievous to hark, for our own better sake.

Sleep my dear, sleep my heart, sleep for it's the end.
No more tear, none to part, no caring hand to tend.
It's all past, it's memories good, it's fate that had scars.
This is the last, the ink on wood, the fault in our stars.