I remember as a young girl drawing water from an open well,
Fresh air wrapping my naked body as I poured the cool water on self,
The smell of water, sweet,
Dappled sunlight through mango trees, and
Birds twittering as they please.
A song on my lips,
I was in no hurry to leave.
In my village, many years ago,
Today, how delightful it feels.
Every time a new iphone comes into the market, people argue for and against it. Most talk for it, though. Even though my heart flutters a bit, I know that none can come close to the Samsung S3 I have.
Every one of us buy a phone for our own reasons. I needed one to photograph. To capture every little bit that makes me happy, from a seed to the sky, an ant to a bird in flight. And I found that S3 has been my best phone ever. My husband has an iphone and I have used it to take photographs. Nevertheless, I love my S3 more.Then, what is this post about?
No, I am not going to write stories about how Samsung S3 is the best phone. This is not a paid post.
No, I am not going to compare and contrast it with other phones and pit one product against the other.
No, I am not going to write anything against the iphone, its price and black magic. (Also, I use a macbook and I love it).
Yes, this is a post to tell say that I love my Samsung S3 camera for it helped me discover myself anew. Its going to be two years since I purchased this phone and I have had many an aha moments with it. The macro shots are my favorite and I spend quite a lot of time experimenting with it. Here are a few photos to show you why I love this phone.
I have framed spring, arriving monsoon and rain
Butterflies, bees, hornet, and dragonfly
Buds and Flowers
My favorite raindrops and refraction
I have churned the clouds and blew a moon. Also, art.
And many more that have made me happy beyond words.
The beauty of the world is in the eye of the beholder with a good camera phone.
Nalini had a “good death” Nagaraj told me.
“Good death?” I asked him perplexed.
“Ya, she was watching television and suddenly complained of breathlessness. By the time, Bhaskar, her husband went to get water she collapsed and passed away. Massive heart attack,” Nagaraj explained.
“How is Bhaskar doing now? Is somebody with him?” I asked, knowing that the couple were living in a nearby flat and their son was studying in college in another city.
“Shocked and heartbroken. Loneliness is taking a toll on him. He has got many of Nalini’s photos printed and has stuck it all around the house,” he replied in a sad voice.
A loss is a loss. Would the scenario have changed if Nalini had suffered with a disease and then died? Bhaskar would have agonized the same watching her die in pain. It is human nature to find a consolation in death. Regardless of how the passing may be, we can still find a comforting factor.
1. Do not be attached to your tweet.
2. Do your duty. Write your tweet. Don’t expect any retweets or favorites.
3. Every time the timeline decays, I am reborn as an hashtag.
4. You can delete your tweet but not its soul.
5. A tweet cannot be cut to pieces by any weapon, burned by fire, nor drowned in water or blown away by wind.
6. Don’t attach yourself to tweets. For attachment breeds desire, desire breeds anger, anger to delusion, delusion to deactivation.
7. Whatever you do, Whatever you eat, whatever you sacrifice and receive, whatever you perform, offer them to me, twitter.
8. As a river flows into the brimful and still ocean without overflowing, so does your tweet flow in the timeline.
9. There is nothing in this word that purifies like knowledge. Those who post links know that.
10. Twitter does not take the good or evil deeds of any.
My husband’s guide and mentor Prof Veni Madhavan retired from IIsc yesterday. His thirteen Ph.D students including my husband (he was his fifth student) organized a lunch and seminar in his honor at “The Capitol.”
There was a small felicitation program at the CSA department in IISc in the morning. Everyone who spoke, asked him to spend his leisure days ahead doing things he wanted to do, go on long walks, journeys and recreate his forgotten dreams.
According to Indian philosophy, sixty five is the time to shed worldly desires and take interest in spiritual world. In olden days, one left for the forest to realize oneself. But a forest is green, filled with the beauty of its freshness. The senses become keen. Eyes look out for danger, ears sharpen themselves trying to new noises, nose smells new flowers and fresh earth. Tongue tastes the sweetness of fresh plucked fruits. The heart falls in love with the world once again…
Sixty five is the autumn of life,
Time to spend in a forest they say.
It is spring time I think, asking one to fall in love, once again.
For forests abound with blooming flowers, buzzing songs of bees,
young rivulets, full moon, spreading youthfulness in its verdant green.
Born to Bala and infinite cosmic sky,
Dear gentle river Veni,
Sixty five years is still a drop in the ocean of knowledge.
Mada kai? Are you ready for another spring filled journey.
Youthfulness abounds in the rapids.
The plains are still far away.
Veni is river. He was born to Bala and Ekambaram. His daughter is Poornima, wife is Vidya. All of them part of his life and this poem.