Being glad.

There really are so many wonderful things around us, all day long, that one is glad.

That’s all for now!

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Not worth it!

The garbage collection bins in our sector has been removed and now the domestic waste is being collected early morning with a whistle on mobile trucks, reminding one of the scene from the Python’s movie. A good tactic, to not let the garbage pile up, in any case we could use a secondary collection option.

We had a good fine collection bin near our area where we used to dump our garbage.

One can’t expect people of all age groups and in various conditions to tarry behind the mobile garbage collection bins that comes up in the morning. Quite difficult. I like to sleep on cold mornings.

And they might not cover every nook and corner of the maze, I know for a fact of several households near the library area who have dumped a lot of garbage in the forests of the good hill where resides the flower-eating birds of the previous posts.  They are gentle delicate creatures and the waste medicines from the nursing training centers and the general hospital areas are hazardous chemicals to be disposed off into the forests.  The drugs used for injections and various other bottles of deadly chemicals are being disposed off into the forests where might destroy the many wandering animals mostly friendly wild dogs.

When there are many profit-making home-made-chocolate factories dump the wrappers of their raw ingredients in the forest areas around the toda munds, we simple domestic waste people are being threatened by the municipality workers with fines.

Such situations in the past in Bangalore had escalated and  people had harassed and attacked me while I was returning home one night after enjoying my lunch in the evening at a cafe, it was good club sandwich having worked hard for several day & night.

It was a good neighborhood in any case, ahem, a bustling little city in itself that is rife with life and much like the towns in western movies where a showdown is inevitable.

I had a mild concussion and a headache for few days, my incisors got scraped by the impact of the punch by a large person wearing a skull and cross bones Tshirt, I had returned home after that incident, thinking not too badly about the groups and to get my shoe-sole fixed for better traction during fist fights and as always, carrying many stories of my struggles and triumphs with me, mostly triumphs, though “we learn much in defeat”, thinking how much harder one should work in keeping our confluences intact; I do like the stained glass!

Do you know what I mean?  They become “the them”, this becomes a serious disintegration of relationships in my mind and I had to transcend once again, it wears one down, it sometimes takes a lot of effort and energy to transcend and one could use the reminder of “us” like, I was.

I have been wanting to come home from that place for several years, in order to work the distance and enchantment angle, I was also  inspired by this wonderful layoutFullSizeRender(2)

and was fortunate to have turned to a new page.

I may have to go back to collect some monies, which I might not, after all.  They didn’t like my suit it seems and they didn’t like me having my coffee at Café Coffee Day, I had switched to Starbucks: much better coffee in my opinion, though sometimes they could be a little bitchy too.  I go in there for the ambiance.  I used to make the best cofffee those days which at one invited a dragonfly up close, with its compound eyes that have nearly 24,000 ommatidia each. Ain’t that something.

I might now know why he finds reason itself to be ugly. (Prisig)

Over the years many years tourists have come to our fine hill station delighting in the good home-made chocolates, all the goodness goes to their tummys, yes, the various wrappers the raw ingredients come in go to the various forests around these places,

“not good”.

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We return

Another amazing day, a Friday and a close to a good week, a tumultuous week, I hazily remember the many Fridays of the past, in the hills now. They were such Fridays worth remembering, because they were the days when it got real busy in the city and the excitement takes hold of one, especially one used to the nuances of the city traffic, life sure looks different for one on a bicycle, we have to plan more and our fuel runs out in the head, questions of (im)mortality comes up often and the navigation is very much a philosophical process, the Clog is a fascinating moment, when we could find our path aside and time our movement right, knowing well that this has always been there for us, a path that is still in use, stemming from the simpler times.

Those were times of a great personal struggle and the quest to make rent, overcome obstacles, learn, work, make friends and sacrifice much and at the end of it, one learns that one earns only what one can carry.

The cogitations of the mind; Sparrow style, (Capt.) and a general dearth of bandwidth, I was simplifying and I liked my coffee.

With the bustle comes the desire to achieve more the next week, the very night even, we had to turk on.

The fancies come out on the Fridays and the vain too, quite a charm to have been hard at work all week and see the pitiful souls in their mirth drifting towards the light eagerly, one feels immensely rich and powerful for having done our work well, the job is not for the faint hearted, one’s got to be a little mad to do this work, we know that over the years the numbers makes one insane and the lists gets ones tired.

Overcoming the odds, timing the many aspects of the weeks right, and visualizing the equations which involved the Coriolis force, and having gained the liberation that stems from having won, one looks forward to the Chicken Biryani of the neighborhood and the redly gravy and an inviting eyes of the boiled egg like long parted friends.

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We return

 

Overcoming curses; our style.

IT was a cold dark night the kind of busy night along the road where the traffic just buzzes by, ghostly pale light floods from the tall lamp posts and the road dividers have the silhouette of those dark pink shrubs, just barely visible beyond is probably one of those much revered sagars of the corner; we hear of a couple fighting while crossing the road one shouting at the other that he shall blog about the female who is in his opinion “ruins lives” or “families” didn’t quite catch what was said there.

Such random noises emanating from random people is quite disturbing to us pedestrians. But this one was striking because this was about blogs about the probable victim being of the kind that writes to ease the pain and probable defeat the supposed evil witch with the power of the words. I know on if he did write, that was a long time.

There was one other who had threatened to ruin my life while in discussion and it gives me great pleasure to be writing this night about the various ways in which the effect of those words were undone over the course of many years in my blog. Lest the “Errors pass silently”, such curses had never been uttered to me by any person and I had to suffer a great deal of pain and loss in my life, both finances and time and peace of mind over the course of many years since this event, and I had summarily discovered that my ink had turned red after much slashing and stabbing and hanging of the corpse to drip red in the sweet sun in various facebook posts, being in possession of a simple imagination I couldn’t think of much else at that point, I had researched medieval torture methods and that made me happy and it looked it like the figures were having fun, so I discounted those. I really liked Crimson Peak, I’m gonna watch that again sometime. And waiting for the Grindelwald movie.

Now, what happened to us was a resurgence in the lost power (I wish) as I continued on my demand for justice for what had happened and the search took me to many a worshipful places in demand; revenge being a dastardly option and very much unlike us, I had pursued the options that were available to us, in meditation and in listening to the voice which we can tune into, though, occasionally this is disturbed by the humans who echo something or the other for the sake of uttering something hoping to cause a ripple in our consciousness, at times they are irritating for not many converse right these days; strange apparitions; gray clouds passing quick, only the sound waves vibrate somewhere and when I tune them out, with much struggle that is, they appear less luminous and more going away, far away by their own volition.

Over the years I have been wished well by many people, strangers, mostly in temples across the landscape that I have traveled and this has given me much hope and to think that it took that many people’s wishes to undo the negative effects of a person in the past leaves me a little unnerved to associate with people of their nature in any fashion whatsoever.

Thanks & God Bless!!

 

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Many Stories. Morning ventures

Strange, even to me to suddenly remember a story out of nowhere, perhaps a trigger from having seen the personage that brings these thoughts to the surface as I contemplate sleeping at this hour.    There really are many stories and I’m working on the narrative skills necessary to do justice to them.

For now, it is simply of the moment of one morning, climbing a hill eagerly to reach the level above, as hedges line our sides and for a moment the light beyond has yet to reach us here under the shadows of the hedges, a long stretch of coolness and tamed darkness, familiar: a mossy bog(less traffic), these were simple times, time had an undefinable quality, the light too.

for you

On a day like that

The reflected light from the distance passes over us gently and eagerly we charge towards the little summit, a motorcycle overtakes us and perhaps on the same mission as ours and the recognition attaches much to some invisible things in us.   But we are early and the quality sustains our way much as the new light floods our senses and energizes us towards a new line of thinking and there ends the little zone and its stories of the morning, definitely a muse of two keep the place there, woodland creatures who like us more than we like them.

I have had the pleasure of such days in my eager search many years later and the places retain their charm and I know I can visit them in my mind.

Good Night!!

Growing trend in belittling education!

Well, I can write and I can, only in recent times: Read, and years of hard study, for my brain be little and memory too tiny, has gotten me in touch with the best minds from many parts of the world.

Some simple, others spectacularly unreal.  On the whole, I have seen and heard of the   growing importance of education from people from countries other than of our own..

Here, they have enough of everyone learned, it seems, and as I wrap up the many epiphanies from my learning and delve deeper in the nature of reality and the search and discovery of tiny yellow flowers, all tending towards the absolute nothingness which is so wonderful on rainy days when the warmth of the wrappings leads you on a journey of reliving your days in magnificent detail, a kind of fun exercise in random access and sequential replay and if you are bold enough to let your story be narrated by one Mr. Freeman and with the compendious gathering of the many years to make a ripple on the reflection.

The other day I was wondering what is considered as work in this our phase of development. Surely, interacting with technology is far away, from that of turning a screw, for whatever reason.  I may be wrong!

“A lion may die of an ass’s kick.”
Robert Browning

 

Today was a good day!

Did I hear the truth?

Aspects,
perspective,
changing narratives,
I conceive for myself a respite
having learned of a new movement

I should add here: it is nothing!

I see scenes from the past:
sunny days, windy too
the moments of victory –
simple times, splendid even
passion, courage and love

I travel to places I know
in my mind I try
transcend once more
seeking the silence that I like between

And ever remain yours truly…

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Making progress with Prisig

After much meditation on the subject of reality with Hume and Kant from Prisig; I can safely say that it is best to take this contemplation over a period of considerable “Time”, hah!

Having considered the nature of variety of articles both
“man made” (quotes; for in a recent conversation with folks- said there be no such thing as man-made) and that of naturally occurring, like the little birds who inhabit the woods and occasionally look at me from their perch and the recent discovery of lifeless rotting bluebottled animal carcass emanating an shocking aura complete in the other bough and the contemplation of noise making machines and the moppy dog in search of something has given me the proud feeling of having overcome the drag of these on our thinking or exploration.

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Money, power, land and drugs; inconsiderate hegemony in Ooty

They still haven’t changed in their ways.

They believe they can do anything with the power of their money, they also believe in the silence of the rape victims in hypothetical situations. 

Following their relentless claim that there is no higher power but themselves and can do anything without permission including growing drugs, holding it from secondary source and supplying to hapless victim in their circle ( who is the seed supplier, btw) and then subtle threats to me to stay away from speaking against this, has left me quite troubled at various times, they being Kannada people has again brought this matter an extra depth to my consciousness.   

 I had informed about their behavior to their dead ancestors: one of the things that I can do without any money. 

Crying shame in the graveyard!

Trip down the hills

Chasing the magic down the hills.
Watching the mountains melt with the glowing faerie. Speeding through the plains to meet history.

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