People say Lance Armstrong has been stripped of his seven Tour de France titles and given a lifetime ban by the United States Anti-Doping Agency (USADA).
“Today I turn the page. I will no longer address this issue, regardless of the circumstances. I will commit myself to the work I began before ever winning a single Tour de France title: serving people and families affected by cancer, especially those in underserved communities. This October, my Foundation will celebrate 15 years of service to cancer survivors and the milestone of raising nearly $500 million. We have a lot of work to do and I’m looking forward to an end to this pointless distraction. I have a responsibility to all those who have stepped forward to devote their time and energy to the cancer cause. I will not stop fighting for that mission. Going forward, I am going to devote myself to raising my five beautiful (and energetic) kids, fighting cancer, and attempting to be the fittest 40-year old on the planet.”
Orissa as we call it, or Odisha as they call it,is what you call a decent place. It’s hot and humid. It’s green and barren. It’s greenery is like Antonia Valencia’s pace – it is there, but rarely does it thrust itself on to your face. It just melts into the overall scheme of the place. If you go around Orissa a lil bit – you know, hunt for those Jain caves, follow Ashoka’s trail, soak in the temples and in general try to go the tourist route on your own you’ll understand what I’m saying. So, I did all of that. But I also learnt something new.
I remember it vividly. Even now.
It was sometime around in the afternoon – when stomachs are generally full and when the tidings of the day are already established. When you already know what kind of day it is going to be. When you simply stop fighting against the tide and get amalgamated in whatever fabric the people around you have already knit for you.
I did not want it to happen. I did not want to hear that voice , which would burst the momentary bubble of happiness that I had somehow managed to concoct around me. The bubble which had stopped the tremendous revulsion that my heart launches into every now and then just by thinking of the sheer implausibility of the task in front of me.
I have somehow realized that there is no such thing called meaning.All such meanings are what we perceive with reference to something. What that something is, is irrelevant as long as there is something.
For the quest to define something, to understand something is meaningless, as the moment after which I had understood the system, the definition will change. The definition can only hold true only for the past. For change can be so huge and so strange that you cannot predict it.
In order to define something, you are going to need a reference set. This reference set can be so varied and so diverse that trying to find something which makes sense along the entire spectrum is practically impossible.
Dear Madurai (aka all the wonderful people in it ),
For 22 long years you have been the place I called home.
I’ve walked among the dust-filled roads, braved the sweltering heat, found joy in roaming the crowded city, fell in love with our own brand of tamil. You have equally frustrated me, embraced me and nourished me. And sometime later today, I’l be moving away from you.
I’ll terribly miss
- those roads which taught me driving and caring for people’s life
- The fact that there are no traffic rules
- The buffaloes that could cross, the donkeys which would walk and the elephants which always choose to take a casual stroll whenever I want to get to someplace in a hurry.
We needed a miracle.
They had scored 75 runs of 12 overs. 12 overs of sixers and fours. 12 overs of toss balls, slower un’s and short-pitched balls. 12 overs of desperately shouting not to bowl fuller.
We had 3 more wickets remaining. We needed 62 more runs. The hour had come for the miracle worker.
I removed my slippers, it was restricting my feet. I rolled up my sleeves, it was constricting my hands. I flexed my bat, it felt light and strong. I could feel the power surging from my shoulders through to the tips of my fingers. This was it. This was the moment. This was when heroes were born and legends created.
You know how people always go on about football. I mean, it is becoming less and less rarer to find a football fan these days. I counted around a 100 Indian users for FIFA 11 on Gameranger on Thursday when the India-Australia match was on.
But the annoying thing with them is how they go on about the beautiful game – about how slick the passing is and how they roar about when Berbatov misses a sitter or when Nani dumps a long one.
Football is all about the skill moves – the deft long ball from Scholesy, the sweet caress of Van der Vaart, the diagonal raker from Stevie G, the sheer power of CR7, the cut inside from Messi, the Rooney through-ball, Zizou’s piroutee and other countless tricks. They stand up from a mundane match and scream aloud – look at me. Look at me.
I do realize that you may probably never exist in reality – but I simply cannot ignore that poor chap who has been coming around my neighbourhood all these years with a badly attached beard every christmas. So, with the spirit of rewarding vida muyirchi I’ve decide to believe in your existence. Concurrently please do get me the following for Xmas.
Amazon Kindle – 3G
To start off, my reading rate has declined steadily over the years – so could you please bring me a Amazon Kindle – 3G would be smashing, but hey I don’t reckon it’s of any use down here where even the limited 2G has already kindled quite too much.
I do have the highest respect for our traffic policemen. However, they seem to come up with completely ludicrous ideas to control traffic almost with an astonishing consistency that would shame even the legendary Don Bradman. The sheer simplicity with which they create traffic in areas where there needs to be none makes me rub my eyes everytime I pass that way.
Case in hand, a relatively straight highway, steady traffic. Group of trafficpolicemen get together and think ‘Damn, everybody is going properly here. Things are very smooth. This cannot happen. We should stop this.’ They gather together and conduct detailed meetings till they finally hit it.
How to stop free flowing traffic ?
Stop the flow – SPEEDBREAKER !
Also posted in Travel Tagged Madurai, Roads, Traffic
As I was leaving college that day something particular struck me. It was not the fact that I would be leaving my home in roughly 9 months, but that I never fully appreciated the things that this place had given me. I’m not generally very attached to things – but once in a while I love something very strongly and deeply like a sketch pen [ Yes a man can love something other than a girl, albeit rarely ]. I thought about the things I love in this city, things I’m fond of, things I think are beautiful and adds character to the city and here’s the result.
Also posted in TILIM, Travel Tagged Madurai, Shops, TILIM