Fountainhead

Just finished reading Ayn Rand's Fountainhead.

There is something about that book that makes you wanna sit up n think... Its not like I could relate to any character as whole nor could i really visualise the buildings described in the book, coz they seemed too beautiful to be true and hence the incomprehension.
if I were to talk about Dominique, I really dont grasp her. I understand her 'reason to be'. its true, the moment you start really likng something/someone, it becomes a threat to your independence. Hence her fear for commitment.
Howard Roark, I understand this fellow a bit more than Dominique. But how can someone be so impervious to people? To be so 'unneedful' for friends or company? His quest for doing what he loves, in the way he loves is what inspires us to be more true to ourselves.
Gail Waynard, I guess he's the only character that I could relate to even a bit. Hardened by his chilhood and driven by a desire to command the city, he establishes a great but sleazy chain of tabloid. He vouches for sleazy n the dis-respectful coz he's learnt early in his life that people are very basal. that this world is such that each man has to fight for himself n that the fight for Honesty is probably the most difficult. Well, that serves him good and soon he commands the fear (but not respect) n awe of the entire city.

This book ends with Gail Waynard becoming a defeated man, a thing that he never thought could possibly happen to him. And that's whatmakes him realize that after loosing his belief, he cannot carry on and becomes just an existing, breathing body not alive any more.
Howard, who has won his struggle against the society of 'second- hander's', continues to live life in the only way he knows- by being true to his passion and with Dominique as his wife.

One man who looses everything he had including himself and another man who never had anything to loose and hence didnt loose anything.

This book is brilliant in what it wants to convey.The bane of the book is that it conveyed a bit too much at times and that became difficult to handle/grasp

LOST IN THE USHERS OF TYM

“Y r u so sad? I hav been noticing it 4 quite a few days ….”
“Who me??? HeHe… no, I m not sad . Wat gav u d impression dat I was sad ?”
“Dunno …. Nothing expressible ….”

This piece of conversation initially seemed funny 2 me. Der was no reason y dad shud feel I m sad ! I laugh n talk; do d normal routine stuff of eatin n sometyms going out! Even though I cant say dat I m happy, at least I m not unhappy!
Wat cud hav givn dad dat idea ….

Is it true, wat he said??? Is it possible dat I m really sad, only dat I didn’t know it yet.
Maybe my body knows it… jus dat I m stl unaware.
D next tym I caught ma reflection, I looked at it … n realized wat was missin.

D eyes r listless …. Empty.
D voice sounds bored, kinda like it prefers not 2 b heard ….
D smile ends wher it starts, on d lips ….

A year ago, it was different!
I was happy …. Genuinely happy!
Even ma body knew it! I knew it! We were in harmony!
D eyes were shiny n filled with laughter,
The voice bubbly n excited,
D laughter waiting 2 break out on the slightest pretext, an infectious laughter dat used 2 reflect in ma eyes in the form of the tears rolling down my cheeks!
Looking bac, it seems as if I m staring at an entirely different person …

I want dat vivacity bac!
Is it possible … mite b , all I need is 2 b truly happy again n dis thot only propels me into further misery coz I know I cannot b happy ere ….
Ma present life never makes me live …
It only succeeds in keeping me existing

But maybe in a few months tym , it will b different !
I mite b in a different place …
Change is not only possible but mite very well b on er way n sometimes on quite mornings I can even hear her breathe

The Prodigal Summer

Humankind holds a special place in the world. It’s the same place held by a mocking bird, in his opinion, and a salamander in whatever he has that resembles a mind of his own. Every creature believes this: the center of everything is me. Every life has its own kind of worship. Its mockery to think that a salamander is worshiping some God that looks like a big two-legged man. To him a man’s a shadowy nuisance compared to the sacred business of finding food and a mate and making a progeny to rule the mud for all times. To themselves and one another, those muddy little salamander lives mean everything.
”Who cares if a species is lost?” Well, the loss of any species would be a tragedy to some other creatures that was depending on it. Everything alive is connected to every other by fine, invisible threads. Things that u don’t see can help u plenty, and things u try to control will often rear back and bite you.
Solitude is a human presumption. Every quiet step is a thunder for the beetle life underfoot, a tug of impalpable thread on the web, pulling mate to mate and predator to prey, a beginning or an end. Every choice is a world made new for the chosen.
The spiraling flight of moths appears haphazard only because the mechanisms of olfactory tracking are so very different from our very own. But for species that rely on the sense of smell, the organism compares points in space, moves in the direction of greater concentration successively, moving in zigzag towards the source. His scent burst onto her brain like a rain of lights causing her to know him perfectly. This is how moths speak to each other. The wrong words are impossible when there are no words.

Whose world is it anywayz ?

For months I hav done nothing else but wish dat I cud go bac; bac to the world I loved, the world n ppl I called ‘home‘n ‘family’. I didn’t wanna leav but at dat point didn’t hav any other choice.
I forced myself 2 move on;
To leave…

N now I desperately yearn 4 my world, 2 feel again as i used 2 feel

N slowly as I walk bac 2wards my world , I realize dat its not wat I had left . It’s different somehow; it has bcum someone else’s world .I can no longer identify it as mine. I had hoped & depended on it 2 b always der, had thot dat i cud go bac 2 it wenevr I tire of this artificial life. Had xpected 2 crawl bac into its warmth again.
How cheated I feel now, as I fail 2 identify my world n it fails 2 recognise me.

Gradually it dawned on me wat I had overluked all this while…
N dis it is:
Even when I was exiting my world, my world refused 2 depart frm me. It had clung right 2 me, all these months…
Only, I was so desperately waitin 2 go bac in time ,so that everything cud just b like it was, that I had failed to notice it. But now as I traveled bac , I found my world, only , my world had traveled forward with me . I carried it in ma heart, N wherevr I go, it will remain solidly etched in every of ma heartbeat. Now wenevr I feel the need 2 b in my world , surrounded by that familiar feeling of oneness with everyone around me , all I need 2 do is close my eyes n u will b der in front of me N wen I open my eyes u all will b der with me in the form of tears .

2 B or not 2 B

its d same old story frm ma side again ;
stl sittin at home doin nothin ...
u know , i m so comfortable doin nothin dat now its dificult 4 me 2 try n do somethin...
at tyms wen i get bored i remind myself dat ders not much dat i can complain abt..

i get free food , shop wenevr n watevr i want , ders no pressure on me 2 do nythin , i hav d whole tym 4 myself 2 do nythin i like ... :)

at tyms wen i feel dat i m wastin my life .. simply sittin
i convince myself dat i m not gonna liv ma life in a rat race ..
y shud i do somethin coz evry1 eles is doin too...?
cant i take a 6 month vacattion n do nothin !!!

at tyms i sit n wonder whether dey r all comfrtable lies dat i feed myself , in order 2 run away frm d gulit of simply sittin n rottin ??

pata nahi ...

is it coz of d huge tym dat i spent alone dat i feel lonely ?
i miss my hostel , ma life der ...
u know nowadays , i m jus existin ...
draggin myself frm one day 2 another ...
nothin 2 luk 4wrd 2 ...

but am'nt i d only only one 2 b blamed ?
its my fault dat i m sittin idle n bcumin unwilling 2 let go of d past?
isnt it ma fault wen i confess " i know i wudnt b so upset abt being away frm ma hostel if i had been doin somethin regular? say somethin likea job or studies ?"

nothin cums easy in life ..
if u want 2 b complete , den i guess i hav 2 strt takin pains..
strt explorin ...
srtr bcumin uncm4rtble n find ma way 2 cmfrt ...

all i need is a resolution !
a moment wen on d verge of my perish , i decide dat enuff is enuff n dat i m nt goin 2 let myself rot !!!

i will strt afresh ..
i'll b a new sannya
a sannya dats gonna b diffrent frm d exquisitiv sannya dat ma hostel created...
a NEW sannya , wid n whole new different personality !!!

THE REAL DELHI

I wish I cud show U my home...

The place I have been born n bought up in.

Ppl new 2 dis place wud probably call it untidy, polluted n filled with nasty rude ppl ….

I wud luv to show u the monuments

To tell u its history which in itself makes this place so unique

I wish I cud show u the grand wedding celebrations complete with the ’band-baja’ n ppl dancing away to glory ; the groom elegantly seated on the horse; the lights n color, the delightful sounds , the gaiety dat always pulls ppl into d celebrations .

I wonder wat it is in theses celebrations that forces the ppl out of their comfortable sofas towards the balcony n c d sight dat dey have been viewing since their childhood .

Y hasn’t d marriage celebrations stl not list their charms ???

I wud like to expose u to the heat n dust of this city ..

The scorching sun dat makes ppl swear everytym dey get out dat dey will probably not step out into the torture again .

I wud like u to experience the traffic jams ..

All so dat u can enjoy the rains n how d day suddenly cools down n wat a relief it is 2 step out into the surroundings made green ….

The smell of the wet earth n d freshness of the wet air on ur skin makes u want d day to go on…

The cool nite breeze soothing on ur skin after the harsh rays of the sun….

I wud want u to see the endless sea of humanity flowing thru the day

Stugglin to make ends meet ….

Struggling to make money so dat they can make a home 4 their wives …

I wish u cud feel their anxieties n their happiness

They cum away from their home n in a few yrs dey will call dis place their home

I wud luv to show u the d spirit of this place…

I wish I cud show u “dill wallon ki dilli”

A title so very apt 4 it

hum dil de chuke sanam

NJOY :)

THE KITE RUNNER

Khaled Hosseini's stunning debut novel The Kite Runner follows a young boy, Amir, as he faces the challenges that confront him on the path to manhood—testing friendships, finding love, cheating death, accepting faults, and gaining understanding. Living in Afghanistan in the 1960s, Amir enjoys a life of privilege that is shaped by his brotherly friendship with Hassan, his servant's son. Amir lives in constant want of his father's attention, feeling that he is a failure in his father's eyes. Hassan, on the other hand, seems to be able to do no wrong. Their friendship is a complex tapestry of love, loss, privilege, and shame.

Striving to be the son his father always wanted, Amir takes on the weight of living up to unrealistic expectations and places the fate of his relationship with his father on the outcome of a kite running tournament, a popular challenge in which participants must cut down the kites of others with their own kite. Amir wins the tournament. Yet just as he begins to feel that all will be right in the world, a tragedy occurs with his friend Hassan in a back alley on the very streets where the boys once played. This moment marks a turning point in Amir's life—one whose memory he seeks to bury by moving to America. There he realizes his dream of becoming a writer and marries for love but the memory of that fateful day will prove too strong to forget. Eventually it draws Amir back to Afghanistan to right the wrongs that began that day in the alley and continued in the days, months, and years that followed.

ORE KADAL

This is a film that turns out to be significant not merely for its singular plot, but for the tower house performances of its leading cast as well. It starts off with a series of vivacious shots of its protagonist making love; and in conversation, looking harried and a tad jaded. Mammootty lets go of an alleged reticence and is at ease being the unfussy womanizer; the slipshod gait or the unyielding gaze as he words those hazy lines in an outlandish accent lingers around as a trademark of a seasoned actor who knows his way about a job that he simply loves.Meera builds up her feat not out of grand gestures, but out of countless subtle little moments of growing love; the frenzy and the fury of a hapless woman caught in the midst of a surge of passion that leaves her devastated has been dexterously captured. Bela is an otherwise uncomplicated persona that should throw no fresh challenges to the fantastic actor in Ramya Krishnan. But the kind of anguish that she carries somewhere deep inside reflects particularly in her hazel eyes that refuse to shed a tear. The obstinacy and sturdiness of a bruised heart is all too evident in a staunch stare or a casual smirk.

Naren as the mystified spouse confidently underplays his part to perfection as well.The vital tale simply glows and demands a genuine attention to the nuances of voice and gesture. This is an account that could so easily be vulgarized, could be reduced to obvious elements of seduction, sex and melodramatic parting. Mammootty and Meera weave a spell, and it is based on that particular knowledge of love and self that transcends all ages and time.

get a grip, gal

There are times in one’s life when you’ve just got to tell yourself – get on with it. You can’t cling on to the past or beg for a future that won’t ever take shape. Sometimes, life is a whole lot easier and fun if you can just put your head down and work your way through things without thinking of what could be.

Right now, am reminded of Oscar Wilde’s quote: “MOST PEOPLE ARE OTHER PEOPLE.” Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.

I don’t wanna live my life being someone else. I don’t want to die as someone else. I want my own life, and my own death. However insignificant it might be in the scheme of things.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

- Robert Frost

FAREWELL TYM

someone rightly said " time n tide waits for none "
3 yrs ago this place was new for me .... it was unexciting n boring to say the least ...
i was sad dat i had 2 b stuck ere for the most imp tym of ma life : ma colg life :
i cudnt imaginea worse scenario for me ....
slowly life started crawling ....
i met new ppl , made frnds thot of adjusting to this place ...
life continued ...
n i didnt evn realize how 31/2 yrs passed by ....
now within 6 months i m supposed to pack ma bags n say gudbye to dis place , i hav strtd calling hme ....
surprisingly ,inspite of ma resoulution of not gettin attached to this place , i find myself entangled in a web of luv n affection with not only this place but evn with d ppl ere ... : a web i hav no intention of freeing myself frm ....
nowadys wen i luk out , at the coconut trees looming big infrnt of me , the famous backwaters , the typical houses with their beautiful roofs ... i feel a wave of nostalgia sweep ovr me .... something tugs at ma heart n a lump forms in ma throat wen i realize dat soon they too will bcum a part of ma past ....
i wish as if i cud stop tym .....
scratch its face , hurt it .. do nythng possible to prevent tym frm ticking on....

HOW SELFISH R V??

is mans evry action motivated by the thot of reward????
is it so difficult 2 do sumthng jus 4 d fun of helping d person ?????
are v heading towards a selfish " i , me , only me" world ????

HOW UNCOOL IS USING ABUSIVE LANGUAGE

some ppl consider it as cool 2 use abusive language!!!
well ,well ,i cant thnk of anythng dat is more uncool.....
ppl sound so 'below standard' ..... sheesh ..


wat say???

what is literature

A must read for all those who support prose.Here sartre explores existentialist thoughts and expresses why prose is far superior to poetry where the use of language comes up.
Its really interesting but make sure you have a dictionary with you cause the book can certainly change your approach towards life too i.e if you understand it..

ME & SANNYA

some people really look like cows................................................

THE BUK WORM SPEAKS .....

this is a call 2 all book lovers ....
tell me the book dat u r all presently reading n ur views abt it ... also speak abt ny buk u guys r intrsted in reading n ny useful site relating 2 ur passion