zimbly mallu

Visual DNA

2007-04-27T11:03:00.001-04:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

I fell victim to this meme and enjoyed it.

descriptive writing exercise: columbia university at dusk

2006-08-05T14:26:00.000-04:00

I sat in Columbia for an hour tonight. At eight pm on a Friday night, a steady stream of humanity trickles out of the buildings and onto the main promenade. Knots of people cluster in front of the library and pretty young things wander by like gusts of fluttering butterflies. The lights in the hall slowly make their presence felt, smoothing over the transition as the earth turns away.
A gibbous moon hangs in the sky, face shadowed behind gauzy painted whorls of clouds. The copper green roofs seem brighter, caught by the westering rays, arrayed across the quadrangle like sentinels on duty. Argus of a hundred eyes could not have more viewpoints than the combined windows of these stoic watchmen. The dark is slowly taking over; crickets set up their chirping in the bushes and a squirrel saunters out to look over its property. Halogen lamps extend their rays like cold stars come near and the golden glow of low wattage lights fills one side. In 25 minutes, the place has not become any less busy. Were all these hundreds hidden away in treasure houses all day?
As the noises of the day die down, a fountain chuckles into life, filling the air with susurrations of splashing water. I get up and join the ebbing tide. Night has fallen.

The master: discourse on loneliness

2006-08-05T14:19:00.000-04:00

The master sat on the mountaintop and told his disciple.
"After much meditation, I desire some chicken and rice from Manhattan's 53rd and 6th street cart vendor." The disciple took his way down the mountain, across the plain and flew to New York City, where he found his master waiting in line in front of him.
The master said,"I got bored after you left."

Return from native

2006-08-05T14:01:00.000-04:00

The train jolted to the rhythms of unseen tabla players. She opened her lunchbox; mounds of fresh steaming rice packed into blinding steel containers with sambhar and curd.
The creepy man sitting nearby remarked with a leer.
"Coming from native place?"
She replied, "From my husbands."
She cursed herself then for lying, and hated society.

This is the additional masala in the chatpati mix.

Just Gravy on your Mashed potatoes

2006-07-15T04:12:00.000-04:00

Dinner over; the children awaited their story. She swirled her glass of red wine.
"Midnight, overlooking the Hudson. Car radio playing."
"Si, I told her I dance the bachata!"
He got up from the table.
"Dance!" "Dance!" "Dance!"
The years rolled back as they danced.
"Kekkatadi avaruh, nee annu paraja vakkuh"
"Ai, mi indio lindo"

55 Friday came this Friday in all its multilingual glory.
"Kekkatadi avaruh, nee annu paraja vakkuh" -
Let them hear the words you said then.
"mi indio lindo" - my indian cutie

Outsourcing; starring Tom Friedman and Seema

2006-07-03T12:52:00.000-04:00

Manjesh sent me this video that explores the repercussions of outsourcing on India's metropolitan middle class. This link is here because around the 22nd minute, Friedman goes to meet a local RSS leader in Bangalore and we get a glimpse of Seema, my former classmate who sits in on that interview. I'm not quite sure what she is doing there. Since that little tidbit is only of interest to those of us who know Seema, be assured that this video is fascinating without the star power at work.

Keep a look out for the deference shown to Friedman everywhere. While it isn't servile, there still is an element of reserve in everybody's conversations with him, and even though several people complain about respect for elders disappearing, I find it very apparent in all the encounters on tape.

There were interesting parallels betwen the argument made against Valentine's day by the RSS leaders and the ones made by a lot of mallu pentecostals.
Consider a quote from V.A. Gopala. "In India, all our traditions are kept intact because of all the rituals. So even though they leave their parents, they should keep all the family traditions."

There are a few mallus in the video. I picked them out by their names. Interesting moments in the video include a proposal for kama sutra day and some wonderfully ideological arguments on the amount of exposure allowable to villagers. There was a phrase thrown out, "its creating a dependence and creating a kind of vacuum in the natural organic fabric of our societies.", and I couldn't help wondering... how are societies, any of them, naturally organic? Is it the abundance of technology and metal use that makes a society inorganic somehow?
In marked contrast to the attitude adopted by Vimochana was the Shanthi Bhavan school, which encouraged instead exposure to technology and education in the hope that these children could become part of India's future. That right there was a sentence that should be in some indian newspaper. And on that depressing note, I end.

Thoughts in the office

2006-06-22T15:28:00.000-04:00

Thoughts in the office
Originally uploaded by zimblymallu.

Let me introduce you to www.imaginationcubed.com. Its a great way to collaborate online to share visual ideas. My friend Naomi and I came up with this piece one afternoon as we both tried to keep sleep at bay. We call it "Thoughts in the office" Post modern structural criticism is totally up to you, but do let us know what you think of the tool we used.

Huttidare Kannada Nadalli Hutta Beku

2006-04-12T10:55:00.000-04:00

Huttidare Kannada Naadalli Huttabeku , Mettidare Kannada Manna Mettabeku, Badukidu Jataka Bandi....
If you had to be born, you should've been born in the land of Kannada, If you must be somewhere, it should be on the soil of the land of Kannada, life is like a bullock cart,...

Listen to the song by selecting the song Huttidare, Kannada Nadu

He was, and he lived and breathed and died in the land of Kannada. He passed away on April 12, 2006(13.45 IST) following a cardiac arrest on Wednesday afternoon in M S Ramaiah hospital, Bangalore.
After which people obligingly burned tires on roads, shut down businesses and generally declared mourning.

Now I'm not what you would call a fan of the man. I roll with Upendra's posse. But even I must stop for a minute and remember the moments of his life. There is the song that changed my whole image of the man, that goes along the lines of "Nan yejmandru..." I heard it only in bits and pieces, sung by Omkar while he was initiating us into the wonderful world of kannada music, but it made an indelible impression on me. Even now, I get the heebiejeebies, mind you, thats the heebiejeebies, remembering "nan yejmandru.....".
The next time I had a chance to get to hear about him was when Veerappan did my sister a favor by kidnapping him for more than 3 months. While Rajkumar might have been famous in Karnataka before that, this was the real showstopper that ensured he made it to the national stage, and all for going Survivor on Veerappan's team. The usual mayhem ensued in Bangalore, and spring break came again for all the kids as schools were closed for two weeks. Meanwhile, kannadigas took out processions and vilified tamilians and lit pyres in the streets with Veerappan effigies.

and that really was all he ever did for me, until I downloaded "Huttidare" While it's nowhere near the quality of "If You Come Today", it shows the pure versatility of the man as he makes an impassioned peal for us to fall in love with Karnataka all over again. Life truly is a bullock cart, so pour some gomuthra out for our beloved annavaru.

here's a video of the man in his prime.

and here are the lyrics

I've found a last interview with the mannina maga for you.

the midnight coffee run

2006-03-25T15:30:00.001-05:00

P1040182
Originally uploaded by zimblymallu.

I drank my mocha espresso. She drank her chai latte. We both stole surreptitious glances at the next table.
"I think they're a cute couple."
"We'll see in a minute."
When he went to the little boys' room, she hugged herself as a smile escaped.
"Pay up lover boy. She just had a good date."

Friday came and went, and I showed up a little late to the party. But this fobby-san brought his kattan kaapi to the mix.

the spill of crumbled earth from a broken flowerpot

2006-03-23T15:09:00.000-05:00

Your photo, your face, your name. A brief splash of color pasted on the door of the neighborhood blimpie's. I've walked by the store so many times, always stopping at every other store in the strip mall. Never walking in. I'd see the people inside, beautiful young people, who looked like they had no care in the world, eating their sandwiches and drinking their fountain soda. It was a world of laughter, bright joie de vivre spilling from the doors, neighborhood friends gathered at the table.

Today when i walk by, an empty silence. The only illumination a backlight behind the counter, the only color the flowers on the door. Oh Amir Chalabi, my heart breaks for your family. Gathered to mourn your passing, they will tell each other stories of your bright smile and weep. Your mother will never look at another child without remembering you. Your father will look at other men and think of you. Time will bring its cold forgetful comfort, but you have lived, and brightened their days, and their memories. As for me, I only saw an image on a closed door, and the epitaphs your classmates left. A few flowers and scrawled words of comfort for your parents. And it near to broke my heart.

Dear child, I did not know you. I do not know your parents. I do not eat at the restaurant that was closed by your passing. But death has come and gone, and I would that it had not.

Better than disneyland

2006-03-20T10:20:00.000-05:00

031906_205019.jpg
Originally uploaded by zimblymallu.

For those of us who like magic a little bigger than tinker bell, a river of gold with garuda headed swans. What secrets might lurk in those dark thickets on the mountainside.

And if you ever want to order from the restaurant, here's the menu.

Mr. Death and his pussycat

2006-03-08T23:24:00.000-05:00

The master sat on the mountaintop. The woman waited patiently till the evening meditation was done and drew near. She smiled with longing and whispered,"Do you see me, o man of solitude?" The evening breeze carried his reply to her.

A cat caught a mouse for dinner and asked. "Tell me, would you want to know that I was going to kill you when I caught you or would you rather have death come without warning?" The mouse looked up and said,"Death comes to all of us. If you must, introduce us before we leave." Now you know why cats toy with their prey.

nan bandh bittay; caesar would say "veni"

2006-03-01T09:24:00.000-05:00

Surreal is an adjective that gets overused in the company I keep. I can't think of a better word to describe my first impressions of Bangalore. I hover at the exit from the airport, looking for a face I recognize, injunctions against thieves and errant taxi drivers and lowlife predators running through my head.

Dare I run that gauntlet of people without a guide? It is not so much the people as the noise level that strikes me as I move closer. The hubbub primes me for a great many people, while my eyes tell me a different story. Thankfully, as I shift my grips on my luggage and peer out into the night from the shelter of the cordoned area, I see a familiar face and relax. My first impression of Bangalore is one I cherish. I walk out into the parking lot, and the quiet descends. At first glance, I can't decide whether everything looks the same or not. The night surrounds us, but bright yellow sodium vapor lamps cast little spills of light in the distance. Why is there a dull patina of dust on the leaves i see?
I recognize all the roads that lead home, but its like a dream. Distances seem to stretch out forever, and then disappear behind me. Occassionally a passing "motorist" drives by and recognition sparks at the shape i see. All the concerns about traffic in Bangalore fade in the wee hours of the morning. We head for the one restaurant that is open at 2.30 in the morning, "Empire" and sit down for some kerala parota and butter paneer. I stick to bottled water and a little of the gravy. I'll take on the microbes a little at a time.

-01.02.06 Sitting at home, wide awake and unable to sleep at 6 in the morning IST. Jake sleeps in the next room. I've tossed and turned, unpacked, walked around the house, taken photos and watched early morning mist across the lane that runs in front of my house. The women draw their rangoli in the street. The milkman drops off his sachets of milk. I stand on the balcony and watch life stir as a cool breeze brings the whiff of another sunny day.

On the 6 train

2006-02-24T21:11:00.000-05:00

"Why would i touch her titties?" My girl grinned as I turned around. He kept talking. "This fat black woman. I walk by her and she's all I know you tried to touch me. Honey, I'm gay. and trying to listen to Madonna." We play Madonna on our ipod. Anchal whispers,“This little piggy went to..."

Anna's back with her 55 on Sepia Mutiny and I couldn't resist the invitation. Here's my dose of nanofiction to start this weekend off.

Penultimatum

2005-10-28T12:53:00.000-04:00

“Eda! Are you studying?" His father pops up at odd times, looms menacingly and disappears. Its study vacation and the stakes are high. The cane of justice can descend at any moment if he's not careful. On guard, his eyes drift to the novel open in his lap, "Oh God, one more chapter, and I’ll stop."

Read the rest of the anthology.

mr. lobo's healing

2005-10-13T03:47:00.000-04:00

St. Germains High School has got to be my favorite school. When I am old and senile, I will still be telling my grandchildren about St. Germains and the education I partook in. I missed the first day of 10th grade. I managed to get typhoid during that summer vacation and it was a while before my parents would let me out of bed. Since the first day of school was always wasted, it was decided that I didn't need to go. So off I went on the second day to school, only to find that I had ended up in 10 A. St. Germains had about hundred and fifty kids in 10th grade that year, and we were divided up into three classrooms. The 10 A class teacher was Mr. Amal Raj, also called Dubba by those in the know. which was pretty much everyone. We had nicknames for every teacher in school, and the good ones usually stuck around for years. Dubba was one of the good ones, and it had been handed down to us through the years along with the fragments of the legend. All i remember is that it had to do with his lunch box, which was this huge steel tiffin box set that he carried in a bag on his classic indian bicycle. The green one with the bent handle bars and the huge seat and steel cargo rack.

me and dubba were not really on the best of terms over an incident that happened at the end of 9th grade. you can imagine my horror when i found out he was my class teacher. the real fault i had with dubba was that he had favorites, and i was definitely not on the list. in fact, i was convinced he hated me. we both had reason... luckily for me, i managed to go home and somehow convince my father i wanted to change classes, and he actually came to school and talked to mr. toppo, the vice principal and it was all done.

In the middle of this eventful first week of school, however, mr. lobo found time to heal me of a persistent cough i had. and very effectively too. its never come back since. mr. lobo was one of the teachers who'd been around for a long time and he taught physics. he was generally looked on as a harmless old man who could be teased easily. word on the classroom aisles was that it wouldn't do to piss him off however. I still remember he used to wear short sleeved shirts which used to generally be white with vertical stripes. And he had a paunch and greyish white hair that he combed to the side and a moustache. He also used to wear grey or dark brown slim boot cut pants and brown loafers and he walked slowly. It would always take him a while to get from the staffroom to the class.

Our classrooms in 10A, 10B, and 10C were in a row on the side of the quadrangle right outside the vice principal's office and below the principal's. It was done so that we would be less tempted to goof off. It worked, because we'd end up being chased inside our classrooms a lot. All three classrooms had really low roofs and the door was towards the back of the class. When you stood in the doorway, you'd see the last rows of benches and tables. We had an aisle in the middle of the classroom and benches and tables in rows all the way to the front of the class where there was a single desk and chair for the teacher and the blackboard. Opposite the door, all across the far wall were set huge square bay windows. The far end was open except for decorative metal grating and these windows could be closed up on the near side with wooden windows that had murky glass panes. We also had a single tubelight set in the ceiling. We used to have a lot of fun taking the little starter out of the tubelight and persuading the teacher there wasn't enough light in the class for us to see anything on the board. The students would sit three to a bench, according to height, and thankfully enough, I'd end up towards the back.

It was my first class with Mr. Lobo, and a first class with a new lecturer is always a time of testing. You always want to see how much you can get away with. In this case, I was sitting near the windows, in the second bench from the back and we were writing down stuff as Mr. Lobo dictated from his notes. During the course of the dictation, he drifted back and sat down on the last bench, near the aisle. I was in the middle of the next bench, with a friend next to me, and we were all bent over writing in our 200 hundred page ruled square notebooks.

All of a sudden, Mr. Lobo coughed. Immediately a smile blossomed on a few faces. There were a few furtive looks. Suddenly, a cough sounded in the back to my right. I waited. There was another cough to the front. Then I coughed. If you thought a yawn was contagious, you have no idea what a teacher's cough can do to a classroom of boys who are just waiting for an opportunity to goof off. Suddenly, it was as if the whole class erupted in a fit of coughing. We heard all kinds of congestion clearing up, from a simple sore throat to a deep hacking cough. In a matter of seconds, it petered out, with the final cough showing up somewhere in front of me. I didnt want it to end just yet. I decided I'd cough again. So i did, only it came out staggered, so it ended up sounding singly in the silence. "ahuh, ahuhh". satisfied, a smile began to make its way to my face.

BAM. Out of nowhere, a hand had come and slapped me across my right cheek. I looked up, in growing horror. Now it was a matter of finding out exactly how bad the punishment was going to be. I look around to hear "SO YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE A FOOL OF ME?" Now was not the time for an answer. I could catch the look of horror on the faces of my classmates and friends. This was new to them too. There was no precedent in our short history together with Mr. Lobo on how to handle this situation. So I did the only sane thing. Kept my mouth shut. "GET OUT. GET OUT OF MY CLASS RIGHT NOW. AND YOU CANT SIT IN MY CLASS TILL YOU BRING YOUR FATHER TO SEE ME"

Getting out took only a manner of seconds, excruciatingly slow though they were. Now it was even more important that I get out of 10 A and into 10C. I knew he taught physics in 10B too. So I went home and told my father again that I needed to get out of 10A because Dubba hated me. By the end of the week, it was done. But they threw me into 10B instead. I kept my mouth shut and my head down and tried to blend into the dirty brown of the desk. It didnt work. Physics class rolled around and he asked me again to bring my father in. So I went home and told him about how the new physics teacher wanted to meet him. My dad happens to have a B.S. in physics. I put the whole spin on it. Nice physics teacher, physics is important, physics is good, i love physics, my teacher wants to meet you. All that. So my dad came to school, and they talked right in front of me. All Mr. Lobo said was," your son is a smart boy, but he needs to pay attention sometimes". Then my dad went home and all was good. I never had a problem with Mr. Lobo again. Needless to say, I was eternally grateful that he did not say a word to my father and he never had a problem with me. And that cough? It never afflicted me in his class again.

the real steel kaapi

2005-09-15T10:57:00.000-04:00

hung out with chetan and praveen on wednesday. we ate thai food and had a hankering for some real indian coffee. hit the madras cafe. even got the steel glass to go with the coffee. after a lot of soul searching, decided it wouldnt be right to order tea too.
the end.

flower of the cauvery

2005-09-09T13:14:00.000-04:00

i was looking for an equivalent in tamil. i figured i'd ask a tamilian friend. it turned out better than i expected. i learned a lot more than i needed. especially since i made up everything about padma lakshmi

[05:51] zimblymallu: what's a word of affection in tamil?
[05:51] zimblymallu: like, say
[05:51] zimblymallu: thankamani?
[05:55] d. f. pandi: lol
[05:55] d. f. pandi: i dont know any such word
[05:56] zimblymallu: thangam - mani
[05:57] zimblymallu: gawd. exploit the language already
[05:57] d. f. pandi: lol. why ?
[05:57] zimblymallu: just for kix
[06:08] d. f. pandi: kixing whom ?
[06:08] zimblymallu: umm. nobody ?
[06:08] d. f. pandi: lol.
[06:08] d. f. pandi: am i being enough of a dip?
[06:09] zimblymallu: not really. but u want to come up with a nice tamilian term of endearment?
[06:09] d. f. pandi: why ?
[06:09] d. f. pandi: which tamil chick are you talking to ?
[06:09] zimblymallu: dude.
[06:10] zimblymallu: why would i be talkin to a tamil chick?
[06:10] zimblymallu: romba nalla pattu
[06:10] zimblymallu: did u see that video ?
[06:10] zimblymallu: mia
[06:17] d. f. pandi: yeah.
[06:17] d. f. pandi: i did
[06:17] d. f. pandi: lol.
[06:17] d. f. pandi: so why is it that you want a tamil endearment
[06:17] d. f. pandi: ?
[06:17] zimblymallu: romba nalla pattu
[06:18] zimblymallu: and i need something after that
[06:18] d. f. pandi: why why why ??
[06:18] d. f. pandi: tell me why ??
[06:18] d. f. pandi: does she look like padma lakshmi
[06:18] d. f. pandi: ??
[06:18] zimblymallu: nooooooooooooooooooooooo
[06:18] zimblymallu: dont tease me with the impossible
[06:19] d. f. pandi: lol.
[06:19] d. f. pandi: but shes one hottie though huh ?
[06:20] zimblymallu: ok. see. lets keep that in our mind
[06:20] zimblymallu: now. im talkin to padma lakshmi here,
[06:20] zimblymallu: and im like, hey my
[06:20] zimblymallu: .... /???/
[06:21] d. f. pandi: nice try
[06:21] d. f. pandi: i want to know why u need
[06:21] d. f. pandi: it in the firwst place..
[06:21] d. f. pandi: muahahaha1!!~!
[06:21] zimblymallu: fine. i met padma lakshmi at the hilton the other day
[06:21] zimblymallu: k.
[06:22] zimblymallu: i was there at this seminar and she happened to be in the lobby, so when i saw this cute indian woman, i walked over and said hi.
[06:22] zimblymallu: do u know about this awesome chicken and rice place thats right outside ur hotel
[06:22] d. f. pandi: and ..?
[06:23] zimblymallu: what and.?
[06:23] d. f. pandi: what happened after that ?
[06:23] zimblymallu: so we talked about how america's cool but not as cool as india
[06:23] zimblymallu: and stood in the line for chicken and rice and she really liked it.
[06:23] zimblymallu: and she's going back soon to shoot some movie, but before she leaves, we're hitting the chicken and rice place again
[06:23] d. f. pandi: and she happens to be tamilian ?
[06:23] zimblymallu: so i need that word
[06:24] d. f. pandi: shoot some movie ?
[06:24] zimblymallu: to throw into the conversation
[06:24] zimblymallu: umm. yeah
[06:24] d. f. pandi: ah, hm. you lucky luck duck (its not really duck, u know that, right...)
[06:24] d. f. pandi: how come u meet all the cuites
[06:24] zimblymallu: can u tell me the freakin word now
[06:24] d. f. pandi: and you just went and spoke to her just like that ?
[06:25] d. f. pandi: lol. hm, you could call her kunju mole ?
[06:25] d. f. pandi: oh damn thats mallu.
[06:25] zimblymallu: not mallu
[06:25] d. f. pandi: call her kanamma ..
[06:25] d. f. pandi: wait .. i'll talk to some proper tamil boys a and come back
[06:25] d. f. pandi: gimme 10
[06:25] zimblymallu: c'mon. that sounds cute? ?
[06:26] d. f. pandi: kanamma is beautiful .. its from this tamil poets poetry .. bharathiar
[06:26] d. f. pandi: or you could go ' paavi ' thats a sinner, the female form of the word ..
[06:27] d. f. pandi: like "adi paavi" we could go for dinner or something
[06:27] zimblymallu: hmmm.
[06:30] zimblymallu: LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
[06:30] zimblymallu: are u still around?
[06:32] d. f. pandi: what was LOLLOL ???
[06:32] d. f. pandi: yeah i am
[06:32] d. f. pandi: all wasted bums here ..
[06:32] zimblymallu: oh. well.
[06:33] d. f. pandi: but tell me .. is this woman coming back to blore or something ?
[06:33] zimblymallu: i just made up that story
[06:33] zimblymallu: ahahahaahahahahahahahahahaahahhaa
[06:33] zimblymallu: i am currently rolling on the floor
[06:33] d. f. pandi: and i bought it.
[06:34] d. f. pandi: there isnt going to be any end to this is there ?

bhagatram's

2005-08-15T07:17:00.000-04:00

i was sitting at work when my phone rang. well, actually, it makes this nice little electronica space music thats never gets in the way of whatever's happening. i take a look and realize its a call from india. i pick up the phone and hear my sister on the line.
"we're lost. we're on dispensary road and we need to get to commercial street. how do i get there."
i'm thinking... dispensary road? i remember the name. then i think. hold on. im sitting here 3000 miles and 3 years away, and she wants me to remember the name of a street? strangely comforting that she thinks i've got perfect recall. but you've got to understand. i dont expect street signs in bangalore. i just know how to get where i have to go. from viveknagar to coxtown to banashankari 2nd stage to cornerhouse. (cornerhouse demands its own location on the map) well, i didnt know where it was. but google comes to the rescue again. i type in dispensary road and find this map. from there it was pretty simple. and that's how i got a box of bhagatram's burfi.

fair and lovely

2005-07-22T04:41:00.000-04:00

found this post at Vikrum Sequeira's blog Vislumbres

had to chime in.

the results are in

2005-07-22T00:46:00.000-04:00

for the ethics and blogging survey conducted by the Singapore Internet Research Center

View the results

preethialli dhamar agi bidbidthay

2005-07-19T04:59:00.000-04:00

working in collaboration with pooja, we came up with the kannada remix of UB40's "Can't help falling in love with you"

Sing along, lyrics below...

Wise men say, only fools rush in.
punta helthanay, goobe bega odtharay

But I can't help falling in love with you
andhre naanu nin preethialli dhamar agi bidbidthay

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?
nan idbidla? adhu pappa agatha?

I can't help falling in love with you
naanu nin preethialli dhamar agi bidbidthay

As the river flows gently to the sea
kaveri heriyothara nidanakay samudra athra

Darling so we go, some things were meant to be
darrrrling, nadionna, solpa samaan hagaynay

Take my hand take my whole heart too
nan kay ethko, nan poorthi hridaya thoko

'Cause i can't help falling in love with you
andhre naanu nin preethialli dhamar agi bidbidthay

aside to mother earth

2005-07-15T05:38:00.001-04:00

knocked blindside up on the techno revelry of the past. we rot and roll, pushed out of our shells and wondering at the pristine gore. laid out in morgue fashion, lost in the tepid scrawl of waxy black tar that spills over your furrows of clay.
i wonder at the images filling my head.
the stark black shutter stop click click click and off we go. running at break neck speed down the winds of tomorrow, we slide past grottos that hold secrets we will never grasp. lost amidst the insouciant wraps that clothe this world in green.

aiyo

2005-06-30T01:49:00.000-04:00

Mallu Vocabulary Lesson 1

aiyo - an expression used to denote shock, horror and emotional or physical pain.
It is often used when something unfortunate happens and can be uttered either by the victim or by witnesses. To add authenticity to your mallu disguise, use aiyo whenever you stub a toe, burn your tongue on some hot coffee or get beat by your parents.

Transcript
Aiyo - aiyo

Examples

Aiyo kashtam - oh how sad...
aiyo daivame - oh my god
aiyo karthave - o christ...
aiyo njan oru arishta manushen - o wretched man that i am

Repeat after me

Aiyo

the music of the spheres

2005-06-28T03:08:00.000-04:00

i love going to church.
inspiration strikes me here in the assembly of the saints. our anthem of praise a banner that floats on the winds of time. our songs of joy a foretelling of bliss to come. our cries of longing, the spirit's call for revelation.
i stood in church today and heard the love song for my savior. the chords filled the air as ordinary people took up the words. my voice wandered the throng that surrounded the throne of grace. blending into the melody that rises on this sunday morning, standing on the fringes of the joyous crowd, i am lost in the beauty of the song. yet again.

christianity is for ADULTS

2005-06-25T13:43:00.000-04:00

im tired too. of the vanilla flavor that permeates the knowledge of the holy. the washed down version of christ we portray on the stained glass windows of our soul. please. no more pink frilled sunday school classes full of beautiful pictures and g rated stories.
i want the sweat, the blood, the tears and grimy dirt in the corner of my eyes that tell me i'm bleeding and broken, splinters of the cross under my nails, sleeping in the garden of my gethsamane. tell me of the acrid sweat tinged air that surrounds a betraying kiss.
i wonder sometimes, when it was decided that the god of the little children could not handle growing up.

manjesh in america

2005-06-02T03:28:00.000-04:00

this post will probably be full of kannada references. in keeping with the situation. adhikay, kannada kalsbittu ba... (so, learn kannada...)

praveen and i showed up at the airport to pick up manjy. for once, we were early. so we spent the time looking at travellers and wondering if it was manjy. then we spent some time wandering the terminal looking for him. finally he showed up, and went straight to the phone booth. yeah. we were watching him go by and laughing the whole time. i wanted to take a photo, but praveen kept telling me i'd get arrested.
manjesh at the airport
manjy looks the same, but like most of us, men and women..., he's got himself a buddha belly.
so we drove him over to the hotel where he was staying.
manjesh and praveen at homestead inn
that whole hotel seemed to be populated by indians. after checking in, the first we noticed was the king size bed. yes, of course i asked him to pose on it. he seemed strangely reluctant. i want to know what he associates with a kingsize bed. oh, did i mention that it was the only bed. and he had a roommate showing up later. you would have to ask manjy if he was cute...
well, after eating some really good "sweets" that manjy carried all the way from bangalore, we settled down to the serious business of unpacking. manjy ate some too. thanks, raghu and preetham. i heard raghu did all the actual buying and preetham was managing... this hotel had a kitchen, so off we went to buy enough food to see him through the next few days.
in the lobby, we met this nice indian girl. so we asked her where the nearest indian store was. she said "goh straiiigggghhhhttt, take a laeft, you will come to circle. there are some shops there." man, immediate flashback to bangalore. yes, she was kannadiga. no. no pictures of strange indian women here. we managed to let her know that we knew kannada too, by talking to her in kannada.("oudha, neev ella bangalore indha...") then we found out she really didnt know too much about the place. so we went off to explore. picked up some food and a knife from a chinese supermarket. got back and decided to start cooking. praveen was in charge of the whole curry operation. i sat around looking good. like i usually do. manjesh kept on talking about how he knew cooking. turns out american kitchens are not like indian kitchens. puntaaaa.... excuses, excuses. then we figure out he doesnt know how to cook rice either. hahaha. so now praveen tells him. 1 cup rice, 1 and a half cups water. while praveen and i cut up the stuff, and throw it in the pot, we hear noises about showing him how to cook. instead of paying attention, manjy is busy putting his nonstick frying pan together. the one that he got for free when he bought another one. then he showed us how you dont need to put oil in a nonstick pan when cooking eggs. after scraping off the resulting mess, we made some more eggs and settled down to eat dinner.
cooking eggs
praveen will give you the recipe for the curry if you want. it was chickpeas, tomato paste, onions(?), whatever spices manjy brought( the hero brought sambhar powder, rasam powder and chili powder. what is the world coming to when indians dont know their spices... we threw them all in) and coconut milk. i think.
did i mention that a girl who works with him dropped by to say hi. far be it from me to say more. other than say that he went up to her room first. and she told him to come over the next day and learn cooking.
our kitchen dada did send an email about how he was really busy, didnt he...

entomology

2005-05-31T18:31:00.000-04:00

pinned down by the glue
of my inadequacy
i strain against the skewer of
doubt that pierces my
soul
and holds me fast on
a sea of glass
without wings to lend
impetus to my struggle
choking to death on a
surfeit of hope
i lie back and wait

balanced on the fulcrum
of mediocrity
my days pass in the
silence between
my ears
foreshadowed by hope,
weighed down by waiting
i seek cheap thrills,
lifting a foot, dancing
on the edge of my
seesaw of life

bushido mio

2005-05-09T00:01:00.000-04:00

seppuku
my entrails spill
on the altar
at the general's request
an offering

blood and guts
my reasonable sacrifice
an offering of love
torn out of me
day by day

praise falls
a scattershot of blood
forced, choking,
from my throat
it flows

gah

2005-05-08T23:51:00.000-04:00

gah,
anger rips
through my
throat, caught
by my
glottis
the rage burns
in my wrists
forcing words
on paper
quicksilver fire
runs in my veins,
held back by the
epithelial
lining of grace
here lies my
transmuted venom

back to the fold

2005-05-08T23:39:00.000-04:00

i am undone, betrayed
by flesh and blood
grasping fingers, the
skeleton bones of my
past wont let me go
they hold me back,
cold grasp on my
ankles,
cold hug for my
shoulder
bleached ivory white
entwined in my palm
a jawbone whispers
in my ear
malayalee
malayalee

existence, anyone?

2005-05-05T10:42:00.000-04:00

Would you choose nonexistence?
To never have lived?
the whole thing started in the comments section of this post, when i took exception to a phrase uttered by jake
a separate thread seemed cleaner...

edit. jakespeak

introducing the konkani kiss master

2005-05-04T04:11:00.000-04:00

also known as the mallu hridaya kallan (MHK)
or the brahmin beast of love.
the one and only dove raja.
will be, in collaboration with me, telling us how he wooed his one and only.
since he refuses to let me know anything about her, i have made it part of my mission to find out details and let the world know who actually got omkar's banner of love all over her...
If anybody has any information to contribute, do post it as a comment somewhere...
So far i've found out that she is from philly.
and he's only telling me good things about her.
a picture of our hindu brother

heena manu jananam

2005-05-03T05:50:00.000-04:00

this is a malayalam post.
i heard a song that went like this. and i post this because i love the tune.

Heena manu jananam edutha
yesu raja nin samipay nilpu
etu koll avanay thalladhay x2

literally translated, it goes like this

weak, man incarnation/birth/form took
jesus king your side standing
closer inflict/take him dont push him away

or

the one who was incarnated as mortal man,
lord jesus, stands by your side
confess him, dont reject him.

It is not easy translating malayalam to english.

thoughts on organized religion

2005-05-03T05:32:00.000-04:00

the insidious fear that keeps us bound to tradition betrays a lack of trust
we wonder what will happen if we let go of the familiar structure of our religion. if we stop, will god still love me?
will he still stay with me?
will we be lost, adrift abandoned by God after we have abandoned our religion?

everybody's guilty of this. those who embrace the rituals of denial by atheism and those of us who strive for holiness with our pure lives and never miss church attitudes.
if only we realized that god's love is predicated on nothing we do but on who he is.
what freedom.

on main street

2005-05-02T23:52:00.000-04:00

the bleeding ribbons of my soul
flutter in the wind

left out to drift
and fall,
streamers, after a parade,
tossed aside by
revelers
in their
pounding frenzy

the wind whips by
lashing confetti

abandoned streets
darken to dusk
as the sweeper appears
picks up the
fragmented remains
and puts back together
a piñata,
treasure inside
a papiermaché man

weird mallus - thengapatti

2005-04-28T10:11:00.000-04:00

i can already see that this is a subject that is going to end up with a few posts at least. call this the mallu version of those milf videos. i find a mallu in a kerala chat room, and try to get the lyrics for the song nada nada by the band avial. if you want to try, follow the link and go to the music video. All i want is the lyrics. names have been changed to protect people from spam.

this is the man who wanted to shit me bloody...

[04:49] thengapatti: nallathu thanne
[04:49] zimblymallu: ok.
[04:49] zimblymallu: evidunna?
[04:49] thengapatti: ekm
[04:49] zimblymallu: ?
[04:50] thengapatti: ernakulam
[04:50] zimblymallu: oh.
[04:50] zimblymallu: ok.
[04:50] zimblymallu: how old are you?
[04:50] zimblymallu: old/young ?
[04:50] thengapatti: u?
[04:50] zimblymallu: im 25
[04:50] thengapatti: Young
[04:51] thengapatti: 27
[04:51] thengapatti: m/f
[04:51] zimblymallu: oh ok. cool.
[04:51] zimblymallu: im male, monay.
[04:51] zimblymallu: entho cheyana. sorry
[04:51] thengapatti: iam f mone
[04:52] zimblymallu: oh. ok. manoj.
[04:52] thengapatti: ok
[04:52] thengapatti: 8its my nick name
[04:53] zimblymallu: hmmmmmmm
[04:53] zimblymallu: yeah.
[04:53] zimblymallu: well. can you help me out?
[04:55] zimblymallu: aiyo. entho pati?
[04:56] thengapatti: para u
[04:56] zimblymallu: hehe.
[04:56] thengapatti: What help u want
[04:56] zimblymallu: well.t here is a song in malayalam and i dont know enough malayalam.
[04:56] zimblymallu: so i need some help with that.
[04:57] zimblymallu: to figure out the words, and maybe then i can put up the words on my blog.
[04:57] thengapatti: ok
[04:57] zimblymallu: ok. the site is at poormanproduction.com
[04:57] zimblymallu: its the music video nadanada original.
[04:57] thengapatti: Shit u Bloody
[04:57] zimblymallu: what?
[04:57] zimblymallu: shit me bloody?
[04:58] zimblymallu: :))
[04:58] zimblymallu: eda, njan serious a
[04:58] thengapatti: ok Clear it
[04:58] zimblymallu: clear what?
[04:59] thengapatti: for that name
[04:59] thengapatti: of the song
[04:59] zimblymallu: what do you mean?
[04:59] thengapatti: poda
[04:59] zimblymallu: do you want the link or something ?
[04:59] zimblymallu: the name of the song is nada nada
[04:59] zimblymallu: which i know means walk walk
[05:00] zimblymallu: it was done by a band called avvial.
[05:00] thengapatti: ?
[05:00] thengapatti: Please sent a photo
[05:01] zimblymallu: of what?
[05:01] zimblymallu: vattano?
[05:01] zimblymallu: its on the site.
[05:01] thengapatti: Its nice Adipoli songs
[05:01] thengapatti:
[05:02] zimblymallu: ok.
[05:02] zimblymallu: thats cool. now could you hook me up with the lyrics ?
[05:02] thengapatti: =;:o)
[05:02] zimblymallu: yeah...
[05:03] zimblymallu: i c how it is. lol
[05:03] thengapatti: ok

born on the battlefield

2005-04-19T05:54:00.000-04:00

dropped in the mud,
breathing the foul effluvium of war
fighting from nativity
no respite, retreat or refuge

sam nikhil philip was at church for the weekend of 4/10. he talked about a lot of stuff, and the phrase 'born on the battlefield' stuck in my head.

if i ever wrote a song, the chorus just might be

born on the battlefield, dropped in the mud x2

whitenoiz

2005-03-28T10:24:00.000-05:00

Follow the link for more information :
WhitenoiZ

Band members :
Sam Thomas John-Vocals
Moncy Abraham
Godson Gigin
Samuel Alexander

I found out about this after a conversation i had with moncy.
btw, he plays the most killer riffs and leads ever...
of particular interest to me was the fact that Sam "Throat" John is the screamer...oh for a chance to sing with them... hehe... when i show up in india next, im definitely going to jam with them.

i got a small preview via text message from moncy. he said...

[01:24] godguitar: our own comp called god-mode is one big hit around
here..wait till u hear it!
[01:24] zimblymallu: i saw u got four of them
[01:24] zimblymallu: def. going to come to one...
[01:24] godguitar: sam goes CRUSH!THE SERPENT HEADCRUSH!THE SERPENT
HEADCRUSH!THE SERPENT HEADCRUSH!THE SERPENT HEAD
[01:24] godguitar: its madness

riven, risen

2005-03-27T19:29:00.000-05:00

reverse entropy
eternity sighs
earth moves aside, bows down, gives way

behold the God
the Son of Man
break free the sands of time

enthroned on high
as gifts rain down
an open grave, life, love and fire

christ is risen
he is risen indeed

a long day passes

2005-03-26T18:48:00.000-05:00

interminable waiting
a shabbos dawn
no rest today for the living or dead

take me home

2005-03-26T00:29:00.000-05:00

more meditations on the subway platform.

i love standing on that platform.
i hate standing for extended periods of time with nothing to do. it wears me out.
but.
i love standing on that platform watching trains come in, go out, go by.
the distant thunder on the rails, the rattling of the carriages, the sheer wall of sound that comes up to shelter you from the locomotive, i love it all. i love to see the train coming in, the cold wind blowing past my face, the waiting for the doors to open. and you're in. and the best way to travel on the subway is to lean on the doors. Why else would so many people do it? there is a fine art to it, a rhythm that takes you over, you step in and you stop. the train moves, and you lean back. the whole thing is done by body memory, you just keep doing whatever it is you usually do on the train, read, listen to your ipod, look around and avoid eye contact...

well, it took me this long to get to the "profound" part of the post. and im not going to use the train as a metaphor for God and how we should lean blah blah blah...those doors that open and close regularly spoil the accuracy of the comparison for me.

no, this is more of a meditation on the nature of my walk through life. prompted by my walk home during the morning rush. i get on the train, and i'm surrounded by people on their way downtown. rushing to work, reading the morning newspaper, thinking of the day ahead. am i the only one going home? it sure looks that way when im taking the stairs down to the platform. but i know that its not true... hidden in the press of people are others like me, all headed for home. the few, who found grace in the journey, and rest at the end.

lies here a God

2005-03-25T15:11:00.000-05:00

Fade to black,
extinguish,
those eyes that look upon the face of God

today, forevermore,
blood rent earth,
the death of our separation

batman begins

2005-03-22T00:19:00.000-05:00

its pretty cool to be working nights. its like you're at the eye of the hurricane, people walking up the escalators on the subway, rushing through the doors of the transit station, and all the while, you move cleanly through the press, walking your own path.

on the news today

2005-03-16T08:22:00.000-05:00

There is a lady who waits in the mornings,at the subway entrance by madison and 53rd next to the salon, and hawks newspapers. I think she sells the metro. She's friendly and nice, greets people as they walk by and shouts out a headline once in a while to get a sale. The other day, I heard her cry out "OHsamuh Bin Laydennnnnn" and I could not help but glance at the newspapers she had in her hands.
Sometimes however, she cant win.
She just cant win.
Like today.
As I was walking up the stairs to the street, I saw her look at the newspaper to see if there was a headline worth shouting out. She sort of straightened up, got ready and said in that singsong
"MAN RESCUED FROM TREE..."
And then she trailed away to a stop.
She just gave up on the news today.
She didnt seem to be that motivated anymore.
Who could blame her, when the most exciting thing on the front page was about a man being rescued.
From a tree.

~subway artists

2005-02-24T22:23:00.000-05:00

saw them at
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=utf-8
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit

~subway artists
saw them at 53rd & madison playing 'i wanna b with u all nite...rock the night away'

022405_190305.jpeg

2005-02-24T19:16:00.000-05:00

A Leaf by Bronislaw Maj

2005-02-22T22:35:00.000-05:00

A Leaf by Bronislaw Maj

A leaf, one of the last, parts from a maple branch:
it is spinning in the transparent air of October, falls
on a heap of others, stops, fades. No one
admired its entrancing struggle with the wind,
followed its flight, no one will distinguish it now
as it lies among the other leaves, no one saw
what I did. I am
the only one.

found the text at kottke.org
its "enhanced" by PhotoImpression 5 which works great for a program that came with the digital camera cd. I didnt think I could make the picture look so clear.

ethics and blogging survey

2005-02-08T01:12:00.000-05:00

Take the survey at
An Investigation of Ethical Practices and Beliefs Amongst Webloggers
The Singapore Internet Research Centre will have the results when the survey is over.
I got this via email. So help Andy Koh and his teammates out.
if you want to pass this around, here's the url to use in your emails.

http://www.sci-duet.ntu.edu.sg/NSurvey/survey.aspx?surveyid=56&uid=[--invitationid-

nada nada mallu rock music video

2005-02-04T13:05:00.000-05:00

Watch a malayalam rock song by poor man productions
brought to us by jakespeak

considering that this is probably one of the few mallu rock song music videos in existence, i think it rocks.
I liked the shots of the houses and the rain and stuff. but i didn't get it.
what was with the guy running, the guy boxing and the girl on the toilet?
and all the air guitar and air drums and air banging...
Maybe if i get the lyrics.
If i do, i promise to learn the song and sing it for whoever wants to hear me.
nadanadanadanadanadanadanada (thats how mallus speak... ever seen a songbook? )
walk on.........
owww

kandisa translation

2005-02-02T22:20:00.000-05:00

It is aramaic, but clearly.

Kandisa Alahaye Kandisa Esana Aalam Balam Aalam, Amenu Aamen,

kadishat Allaha, kadishat Haylthana, l-'alam 'almin amin.

Holly God, Srongly God, for ewer Amen.

Sliha Mar Yose, Almaduba Kudisa, Aangen Dhanusa Nehave Dukharana,

Sliha Mar Yosef (?), Al Madbhakh (?) Kadisha, ----? , Nehwe Dukhrana

Apostle St. Joseh (?) on your Holy Altar (?) ---- ? it might be memory

Kandia Alaha Kandisa Esana Kandisa La Ma Yosa Isaraha Malem

Kadishat Allaha, Kadishat Haylthana, kadishat la mayutha, ethraham 'layn.

Holly God, holly strongly, holly not be died, be mercy for me.

Sorry my english is not good.

This is a old sang or pray in the Syrian church. It saed, that the Engel teached Nikodemos during the funnary of Christ to sing it.

regards

Gabriel Rabo

That is the email i got from Gabriel Rabo, who is a really nice guy for doing this. I will not make any changes to the english. The fact that he replied makes it beautiful. Also mad thanks to jakespeak, because I'd never have heard this song otherwise.

kandisa - indian ocean

2005-02-01T11:14:00.000-05:00

indian ocean has a song called kandisa that i really like.

Its in aramaic.
The lyrics are

"Kandisa Alahaye Kandisa Esana Aalam Balam Aalam, Amenu Aamen,
Sliha Mar Yose, Almaduba Kudisa, Aangen Dhanusa Nehave Dukharana, Kandia Alaha Kandisa Esana Kandisa La Ma Yosa Isaraha Malem"

inviting translation...
posted by Anetra at sulekha
the song is a traditional prayer sung by syrian christians in kerala. It was, anyway. If anybody has more information, share.
kandisa means praise.

terrified by love

2005-01-29T09:45:00.000-05:00

found one of the reasons im not a very good christian.
I'm terrified by love.
I was doing something mundane and felt my soul twitch. turned around for a glimpe of the eldritch and felt the gaze of love. A long deep dark longing that made me want to dive in and lose myself. the semblance of the deeps of heaven and the stars across the void. It was like the eye of God looked into my soul and laid my desire bare. ran a finger down my shuddering soul and waited.
I ran for my life. shut the door. closed my eyes and pulled the covers up. hyperventilated.
My lover spoke well,"For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it."
And so i creep back to wait by that window to the heavens, watching for another glance. Holding the tenuous cloth of faith in my blood stained hands. tracing stutter steps across the path of virtue.
what blind unreasoning fear grips us in those moments when we are naked before deity that we try to hide?
here i sit, singing the siren call of longing.
oh. for one more glimpse of eternity.

cadburys

2005-01-28T16:15:00.000-05:00

eclair, originally uploaded by zimblymallu.

What indian sweet are you?
Without using quizilla, I have determined that if i'm candy, I'd be cadbury's eclairs.
You are sweet on the inside and a treat to chew on. Everyone knows you are brown like the chocolate and sticky like the caramel. You get to places in people's mouths where they have to lick a lot to get you out.

my muslim friend

2005-01-28T15:31:00.000-05:00

heard Sammy Tanagho the other day, talking about

"Glad News! God Loves you my muslim friend" Published by Calvary Chapel.
I couldn't find a link to buy his book online. Not that I looked very hard. I did find a .ram file of his sermon "how to witness to muslims"
What caught my attention while he was talking was the phrase "For in him we live and move and have our being". It was actually a quote that Paul used from the writings of Epiminedes.
Tanagho was talking about finding a point of contact between cultures and presenting christ. So get over the ignorance.
Allahu Akbar

mowgli 2000

2005-01-28T13:05:00.000-05:00

pramod, originally uploaded by zimblymallu.

once upon a time, in a land far, far away...

vulture without culture

2005-01-27T20:39:00.000-05:00

Mr. Keerthy (bonda... we called him) used to say "If you have no culture, you're a vulture".

After all these years, that and "Don't be cold, be bold" are all i remember about his classes. Well, all he did for my classes was substitute and spend the whole period catching various kids and coming up with weird phrases to tell them. The culture vulture thing stuck. If anybody remembers more phrases, please post them.

my issue however, is not with the term "culture vulture". Even though i find it extremely upsetting to my stomach, I can deal with the fact that people use it

i have a problem with malayalee pentecostal culture. maybe i'm a mimic man. read v.s. naipaul...
or maybe i'm like moses trying to leave egypt and rediscover his jewish heritage. i wonder if moses ever felt like this around the israelites. Am I supposed to be the guardian of mallu culture? Shouldn't I be conforming to "godly culture". Does God have a culture?

music, art, writing, dance, drama. commonly used as outlets to express cultural heritage.

We have music. lots and lots of music. I love singing those old mallu songs from the song book. i have this "manglish" songbook to sing from, "Athmeeya geethavali" and its great. Especially when you dont know how to pronounce some of those words. And as part of our culture, we play these songs at weddings, and sing them when we gather and parody them and write new ones.

No, we dont have any art floating around. Somehow artists dont enjoy a prominent place in our society. I'll lump architecture in here too, because we usually just put up 4 walls and a ceiling and we're good to go. I like that tendency because it puts the emphasis on the people instead of the building. Maybe we will see artists in the future.

Our literary efforts seem limited to biographies, commentaries and theses. Maybe we need to get articles going in "good news" and "hallelujah" and "trumpet"(couldn't find any links)... short stories, and poetry. and not the sub par moralistic plagiarism that usually gets printed in lieu.

LOL about dance. I think almost all indians see dance as something for the gods. and we seem to have cut dance totally out of our lives... It should be said that malayalees have a lot of folk dances, and all of them are gender exclusive. Which is why you'll never see me doing the kathakali with my wife. And because I'm shy.

if you're a mallu pente and you're reading this, i'm only going to ask you if you've seen a skit on repentance or the second coming. This is not to say that people aren't coming up with other ideas, but a lot of our skits and plays are rehashed time and again. How important is drama to us? Is there a stigma attached to being actors? Oh. wait. yes.

the diaspora has circled the world, and we are here to stay. serve kappa and meen for hor'd ourves. rock those mallu beats. tha tharigada tha tharigada. and work those bharatnatyam moves to "this is the day"

conan the hilarious

2005-01-19T14:15:00.000-05:00

writer andy blitz goes to india when he needs to fix his computer.
fix that popup

if you want to see more conan videos that are legally posted on their website. check out more conan. i knew it wasnt just his rugged good looks.

chayatv

2005-01-17T17:39:00.000-05:00

chaya, just sip it.

the dawn of indie mallu movies.

translating james into malayalam

2005-01-10T21:55:00.000-05:00

there is no word for james. in malayalam.
only yakob. which actually means jacob.
i think we should change it to yamiyaer.

we already have a yakob in the bible. jacob. why should we use yakob for james too? lets change it to yamiyaer.
think about it. say this out loud...
yamiyaer inte pustakam onninte pathu...
or
yamiyaer um yohannan um prarthikan poyappam...

if you want a "pet name"/"short name" for yamiyaer, you can call him jems...
like how my name is thomson and my family calls me pramod.

so i found a place online where they have the bible in malayalam.
the word, with the little i know starts off sounding like pustaka(kazcha)?
the rounded spaceship figure is pronounced ka.... notice how the similar figures appear side by side.. kakairaphi? kakairipam? i cant read the last part... havent learned conjugated letters yet. it'll happen tho.

ewes

2005-01-10T21:39:00.000-05:00

just how do you pronouce that word? out loud.
ewwwwwwwwws?
eoooooooos?
eveees?

i had the greatest difficulty reading this out loud in church. i rarely read out loud in church. and it was my dad speaking. this time i thought i'd go for it, since it was friday night at charles' house, and not a whole lot of people were there. not coz im shy, jst giving other people a chance. it was the verse with 200 cows, 30 bulls, 50 donkeys etc... and there had to be 200 ewes...
so i see it and it suddenly pops into my head that it sounds jst like ewwwww
unfortunately, i'm already committed and i have to finish reading. so i'm reading
two hundred female goats
and twenty male goats,
two hundred ewes and i start spluttering, trying not to laugh out loud, coz pastor philip philip is sitting there and i dont need to get into more shit with him... and this was even before i started growing my hair.
i just hit a mental brick wall right there. it was like an ewe came and kicked me in the head.
i could not say that word for the life of me without laughing...finally, i limped through the rest of the verse, and it was never mentioned again.

i think we need to change the pronounciation to evays.
ewe references in the bible.
lol. read them aloud.

The Donkey, The Stallion and the Strategy of the Hills

2005-01-10T21:11:00.000-05:00

The Donkey, The Stallion and the Strategy of the Hills

i found this story while browsing DesiringGod.org
its a retelling of the promise of apocalypse. and the gift of forgiveness before.

Though arrogance and rage assail
Conspiracy will not prevail.
In death recall unerringly
That you will always reign with me.

it must have been the stylistic rendering that drew me into the story. or that last line... waiting, waiting, waiting. i'm waiting too.

reality check, entrepreneur

2005-01-09T14:40:00.000-05:00

for all those looking to get some capital funding and more...

here's Guy Kawasaki on the upstart art
You can get all the hype from the video. it's moving up the best seller lists and it should have some good info if the video's anything to go by.
If you're not going to buy the book, watch the interview...

sothram

2005-01-04T01:39:00.000-05:00

you know how a lot of malayalee christians say sothram all the time.
( for all the non mallu christians, sothram is how sthothram sounds. sthothram is pronounced ssthothrum - sss from snake, th from thick, o from raw, thrum like thrum... you kinda swallow the first th.. so it comes out sothram sothram ...
sthothram is the malayalee word for praise)

got me thinking...

don't these people say sothram all the time. like its a chant... to keep the devil away and praise god.

and then i thought about how people say oh god all the time too. the english equivalent.

since i happened to be discussing sexuality at the time, it seemed natural to wonder how oh god gets used...
and i wondered if ppl say sothram the same way...

sothram sothram sothram sothram sothram soTHRAm soTHRAm SOTHRAM SOTHRAM SOTHRAM
SOTHRAM SOTHRAM OOOO sothram

i hope all of you forget about this by the time you're in church and you hear all the sothrams.
jst making a comment about how even the best things can become meaningless and then ridiculous.

a whole new world

2004-12-30T21:57:00.000-05:00

what is it about flying?
you meet a whole different type of people. who do crossword puzzles. who read books. who sit in hallways. who all seem a part of this subculture that exists only on the other side of the security check.

makes me wonder how well i fit in. all i have left to do is crossword puzzles. somehow they've always seemed the preserve of a pipe smoking man in tweed. besides, i dont have a lot of patience for word games.

how much of a culture is influenced by the activities we do? has a microcosm developed that has its own rituals?

pilots, the hand of fate. flight attendants, the high priests. accorded their status and wearing their robes. we the weary pilgrims who descend to earth.

everywhere i look, the hum of silence. weary travellers, adrift on the jet stream, alight for moments of sanity and go back to their abode in the sky.
you know what gets me about flying? the indifference of it all. long hours of solitude spent among the bustle of people. we all look busy doing the same thing.
stuck in a holding pattern 190 miles from chicago. it gave me time to think.

i preach to be

2004-12-28T10:17:00.000-05:00

I've noticed something about preachers. Everybody puts a different emphasis on the gospel. Some people talk about how God is holy. He has these standards that can never be met. Others like to talk about grace and forgiveness. Then there are people who love to talk about doing things for christ. You've probably met other people with a central theme to their message; obedience, faith, love, freedom, evangelizing, the gifts of the holy spirit, the hope of the second coming, separation from the world...

the truth remains that the gospel of christ encompasses all these and more.

so why do people tend to fixate on one idea?

i think its because thats where the gospel had its deepest impact in their life.
you preach about freedom if you're fighting for true freedom.
you preach about love if you're looking for true love.
you preach about obedience if you know how difficult it is.
you preach about faith if that's what keeps you alive.
you preach about grace if you feel wretched.
you preach about forgiveness when you understand the need for forgiveness.
you preach about evangelizing if you were lost.
you preach about the second coming if you've no hope left in this world.
you preach about the gifts of the holy spirit when you learn how much you need them.
you preach about separation if you know how much you need to be apart from the world.

it follows that as the gospel of christ impacts your life over the years your message will change accordingly.

me? i preach to be. to be one of the sons of god. to be obedient, to be loving, to be separate and forgiving and free of the trammels of this world. to be alive and know God.

everybody preaches... if not about christ, then about something else that forces you to live. what does your preaching betray?

water vs toilet paper

2004-12-23T18:19:00.000-05:00

since i'm probably going to india in the summer of '05,
a very important question has begun to arise.
will there be toilet paper in india for me to use. or will i have to use water.

im undecided on this issue. call my personal hygiene into question if you will, but if i have to use water, i'll use water. if there's toilet paper around, watch me swipe.
the only issue that remains is that i would have to get my ass clean when i shower.
here's another article at Rolf Potts' vagabonding
i remember a conversation i had about this with two friends while standing at 'upahara sagar' and eating vada sambhar(i think) and drinking chai.
friend 1,"you use toilet paper in the u.s. dont you? snigger..."
me,"yeah, its what everybody does there."
friend 1,"so how do you actually do it? you jst take some paper and wipe your ass? hehe what man, that is crazy..."
me,"yeah, you jst take it and wipe your ass, jst like when you use water, but with soft paper instead."
friend 2,"ewww, thats disgusting, how can you do that. how will it be clean there?"
me,"you wipe carefully. and a few times to make sure you didnt miss anything."
friend 1,"oh man, that is just dirty. no water, nothing... "
friend 2,"and this is what you do there.... hahahahaha"

recently i had another conversation, only it turned out differently.
person 1,"ewww, i dont want to go to india, i hope they have toilet paper there now."
me," haha, whats wrong with using water?"
person 1,"ewww, you have to use water, its so wet, and messy, and you have to wipe your ass with your hand, and get the shit all over it."

in passing, let me mention, that like all indian customs which use the hand, there is a technique. no, im not offering to teach. i will say that you dont want to get in there and scratch the shit away, you want to lightly flick/rub it off as water pours over the general area in a thin stream. isnt there poetry in a clean butt speckled with beads of water? and you can be pretty sure there wont be an aroma either.

i would think its a better way to go in hotter climes. either way, everybody i know is real big on making sure you wash your hands with soap after... so dont forget that.

the future for now seems to be baby wipes. a wonderful compromise, for those who can afford to buy them in bulk. there doesnt seem to be a way to use them easily however. if it was on the toilet paper dispenser, in a roll, it would dry up quickly... and who wants to open up an air tight box everytime you want to wipe. read will smith on what scares him more than technology

and so america waits for another brave man to bring to the public the joy of an asian ass wipe.

the travails of south indian men

2004-12-23T08:53:00.000-05:00

here's a link to sidin vadukut's blog.
this is the one that gets forwarded around all those email lists which have people who know what a south indian is.
i've noticed, i dont know if casual browsers are aware that the title can be a link to another page. does that say something about the way people tend to think of information...? do they expect a link later on, instead of immediately?
either way, here's the link again, lol. do post and tell me if you followed the one below or you noticed the one above. we're using the honor system here to maintain accuracy...
The travails of south indian men

i finally found the author of an email that gets forwarded a lot. a lot, relatively, because of the size of the target audience.
the interesting thing is the reaction. i've seen some posts about how sidin is what he writes about. most people seem to accept the underlying truth of the article, and laugh at it.
more of sidin's articles are on his blog, unfortunately, he doesnt seem to post very often.

btw, even tho sidin seems to be mallu, he is in no way related to me.
no. he is not my father's brother's uncle's wife's cousin's son's nephew.
he could be related to that guy tho.

at the washing stone

2004-12-17T17:02:00.000-05:00

the guru said.
a man took his clothes to the dhobi(the man who washes clothes) and asked him how much it would cost.
the dhobi replied,"i wont charge if you let me wear these clothes once before i wash them and return them to you."
he agreed.
did the world change right then ?
my student of the bodhi tree,what is your first question?

true fantasy is real

2004-12-13T22:05:00.000-05:00

having devoted so much of my reading to fantasy, you must forgive my air of wisdom.
true fantasy is reality. and not even, as some would say, expressed reality that uses the fabric of fantasy to show us the reality we live in.
true fantasy is all that is the most real in this world.

it is the essence of what and who we are, the shape of our thoughts and the color of our actions, the mind of truth. it isnt the truth, but it holds a mirror.
you see, we are not truth. we are fantasy. just as the world is.
and that is why we delight in fantasy. it isnt escape from this world, but the way we grasp at our totality.
read some of the great authors - J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Ursula K. leGuin, Steven R. Donaldson, Orson Scott Card(Seventh Son series), Lloyd Alexander, G.K. Chesterton, Robert Jordan.
they resonate within our soul because their fantasy is almost real.
to see frodo sail into the west.
to know that aslan was no tame lion.
to find that the shadow you cast comes from your soul.
to realize that absolution heals all wounds
to catch a glimpse of that crystal city
to grow unaware into a man and find true love
to brave all for love
to live, duty a sword...

and that is why fantasy is done a disservice by the prattling on about wizards, ogres, dragons, elves, witches, minotaurs, dark elves, mages, sorcerors, knights, magical beasts and fairies.

like all great fiction, its only worth it if its about people. and if you'll notice, even the beasties have human attributes. would we pay any attention to them otherwise... ?

where it goes beyond common fiction is in embracing the possibility of the real.
and that is why i love it.
and one day, when it becomes our reality, i'll say,
i told you so.

the vagaries of mallu vocabulary

2004-12-10T01:25:00.000-05:00

sometimes i have the strangest urge to blurt out words that i know will get me stared at.
i grew up knowing that shorts could at any moment be called bermudas, knickers or half pants.
"eda monay, GO-n-put yuwer nhikkers onn."
(yo son, go put some shorts on)
of course, i didnt hear

that a lot, since i wasnt much of an exhibitionist.
half pants is heard in snatches of conversation, its slowly dying out... i miss the half pants. i want some half pants.
of course nowadays you'll probably hear..."these boys and girls, i dont know what to do with them. all with their baggy pants and tight shirts showing their underwears."

then there's brassiere... the less said the better. i know all those who've heard it will cringe in sympathy.

then there is the famous "fileman". for the longest time, whenever i walked around the house without a shirt on, my dad or mom would make a comment about looking like a fileman. i really did hear it as fileman. when i asked them what it meant, they said..."its like a bodybuilder ... dont show off your muscles... especially when you're all skin and bones" only now do i realize that over the years some mallu must have gone somewhere and heard the word "pehalwan" which seems to be a hindi word indicating wrestler/strongman. i suppose they walked around in thongs or the indian equivalent - loincloths. i dont want to talk about that anymore, lest i get a visual.

the latest word i've encountered is hippyism. uncovered this gem in the last 2 months. pronounced - hippiysm
the state of being a hippy.
a hippy was a bad person. he would grow his hair out long, smoke ganja and say "peace, man!"
more importantly, he was always disobedient to his parents. such a bad boy.
at various times, i have now been accused of hippyism. the clincher being, "who's a hippy nowadays... nobody, so why r u still doing this hippyism?"

Hark, Now We Sing

2004-12-08T21:23:00.000-05:00

SITE OF THE DAY. this is so freakin awesome.
i found my old school's site.
Here's the school song in its entirety,
SCHOOL SONG (also referred to as Hark, now we bark.)

Hark! Now we Sing
Of St Germain's the school we love
For it is here that we learn to uphold the right
Seeking light, seeking help from above!
Strive might and main,

Let the odds be what they will
We shall conquer all, trials great and small,
Onwards lads ! We must climb the Hill!

Lo! on the heights,
Rays of glory illumine the skies,
'Tis the land where Truth and Virtue dwell;
Where the sunshine of honour abides;
March! Falter not!
Though the way be weary and long!
All the toil and strife face we bravely now,
Firm in faith, bold of heart and strong.

They have lots of pictures in the archives section.
St. Germains through the years.
refer to the 1990 - 94 archives for pictures of chori, mangamma, dubba, mistry, i've forgotten so many names, i wish i knew where the old class pics were. jake, u in there dawg, represent...
where the hell am i? no. i have no comment. no comment, do u hear.
btw, somebody should release the single "hark, now we sing" any takers?
i will be happy to host the mp3 version for download.
all thanks to manohar who sent me that oh so stupid its sublime poem about gone are the days.

the tortured dreamscape of my soul

2004-12-05T19:59:00.000-05:00

frustration harbors rage,
the scream of the madding soul demesne.
how long must we endure
banal existence on this plane,
tied down by strangler's cords,
beat into despair.
hush, my soul,
hope leaves you alive

english names if a mallu said it.

2004-12-03T20:01:00.000-05:00

brandon = bhrandhan (madman)
tara = thara (floor) / tharav (duck)
i think james = jems(james) /yamiyaer(james) not yakob(jacob)

the c programming language = mal, the programming language

for all those who want to learn malayalam online ->
Your Friendly Malayalam Tutor

you cant get more mallu than your trendily frendily malayalam tudor.
he's the man who got me up and running in mal in about a month.
mallu shoutout. represent, monay, represent.
monay = literally son , kinda like homi, b, bro, nigga, maga(kannada)

2004-12-02T21:28:00.000-05:00

group from school