Yes, we had heard it...
That which happens...
That it too would happen to us one day.

That which has not happened...
We are suspicious...
That this coincidence will happen to us.

This breath is not with me...
This feeling is completely strange...
It may be a minor saying, but the words are like poetry.

It will happen... It will happen...

Just tell me... your unspoken wishes...
Should I try to sleep at night... just wake me...
You tease a little... should I get upset... indulge me a little...

Unseasonal rains are only in the worlds of the heart...
The rays of your brightness are in my skies...

Hundreds of my requests are shouting out aloud...
Hundreds of commands are imploring out aloud...

It will happen... It will happen...

That what is written on your face (which you try to hide)... express it to me...
Make me write that on the pages of my heart...

You teach it to me, you write it for me, you tell it to me, you explain it to me...

The corners in which the wind blows, call me there...
The dreams that come in your eyes, lay me down there...

Questions are everywhere, what does the heart think?

Is this happening to you too? The magic that is happening around...

It will happen... It will happen...

You hear it in one, understand it in another and then repeat it in a third language

Greetings all!

I suppose this is a much better way of greeting everyone as compared to, say, "Greetings ladies and gentleman"... Greetings all.

My friend Jack always has an interesting anecdote whenever I raise any issue, or propose any hypothesis. I guess he has been around many more people than I have.

Good for you -- my friend Jack! Good for you!!!

Coming to the point, AND I AM GOING TO PUNCH JACK ON HIS NOSE if he is going to interrupt my chain of thoughts...

A word is said, a sentence is uttered, a paragraph paraphrased, a song sung... a speech made... a statement delivered... an address (well addressed!)

You hear it in one language, understand it in another and then repeat it in a third...

I have the deep most respect and adulation for translators and interpreters. If you don't have the same sense of admiration for them, why don't you try it... I dare you... I double dare you!!!

This is something I wrote in November 2007:

The translator is not a decision making man, he is a LANGUAGE EXPERT. If the original is illegible, he READS it. If the grammar is wrong, he FIXES it. If it simply makes no sense, he UNDERSTANDS it. If he’s lucky, he’ll learn a few things, translate a Security Council document in less than a week, FOR THAT IS THE CLOSEST HE’LL EVER GET TO BEING A HERO.

#NepalVotes

Sunrise on 10 April 2008 in Birgunj, Nepal. 10 April was the day the first elections to the Constituent Assembly were held.

On 10 April 2008, I couldn't vote, I was tasked to play a small role in ensuring that those who set out to exercise their rights are being able to do so in a free and fair atmosphere, deep down inside I feel I made a contribution that day, a contribution to lasting peace in my country.

Today, 19 November 2013, I am not able to vote. I am too far from my country to have this unique responsibility.

However, I encourage all Nepalese people to vote today, exercise your rights. People have sacrificed a lot, they have sacrificed their lives so that you be able to exercise your rights. It is your responsibility. Vote today!

On a side note, I will be tweeting any updates I come across. If you would like to receive the updates, follow me: @bullet350 [https://twitter.com/bullet350] I will be using the hash-tag #NepalVotes and #NepalIsVoting

Recent Kathmandu floods

If one is to look at my blog posts, immediately after this, there is a post that talks of my Shangri~la, or at-least, despite of its flaws, how I still see Kathmandu as my Shangri~la...

There are always two components that makes any thing what it is, one is how it really is and the other, how it is perceived.

For me, Kathmandu will always be a wonderful city... a few days back, I was amazed to hear about flooding in the city. Kathmandu, a valley situated thousands of feet above sea level, not being on an even gradient, drained by at least three rivers that I can think of, is not one of the places that you would think of that would get "flooded" when it rains.

I have seen cities getting inundated when it rains, same happened in Kathmandu, it is an urban setting, many complexities surrounding the inundation, lack of proper and clean sewers is one cause, another major cause is lack of proper and sound urban planning. But this happens in many cities around the world, a few months back, New York witnessed something similar, so did Mumbai a few years back. Thankfully, no loss of life was reported.

However, the reason I am writing this post right now, is upon reading a popular English newspaper from Nepal, the editor of which wrote about how the floodwater dampened his evening after work. How he called various services such as the electricity company, and the contractors who were expanding the road in front of his house, and not get any answers or assurances.

I am far away from my Shangri~la, but my thoughts were back home when I heard of the flooding.

By the time I read the news, mentioned above, it was already a day past the floods, the rains had stopped and the water was starting to drain.

It was very important to see how the rains affected the evening of the Editor, however I would beg one simple answer, dear Mr. Editor, what of the thousands perhaps tens of thousands of other residents of Kathmandu who are not editors, who do not have phone numbers of important people or personal connections. You were rightly worried at what would happen to your home, but dear Mr. Editor, as you had mentioned in your article "I thought about many other people in Kathmandu who would be suffering the same fate, or even worse", perhaps you could call the people in the right (and dry) places to chance a glance at the plight of those who were in the middle of the floodwaters.

Thank you,

...my Shangri~la

Taking some time out of the normal rat race and getting away from it all is always good for you. Whether it is just going into a hiding inside your own blanket or taking a 3 1/2 hour flight over seas and mountains to get back to the place you call home, that time needs to be taken out, from the rat race and just get away from it all...

You place, is always your place, it is your space, be it the confines of your 3m x6m office, your 6ft x 6ft bed (with a smaller blanket) or that small piece of paradise lying beyond the clouds and hidden at the feet of the loftiest of snow capped mountains... it is your Shangri~la...

Unfortunately, as with anything else in this world, it is not a void, comprising only you, you are compelled, you are destined to cohabit it with millions of other beings, starting from the tiny bacteria, going up to the mighty elephants (there are no whales in my Shangri~la), they too are like you destined, compelled to cohabit with you...

The name of the game is co-habit... it is living in harmony with your surroundings... even the miniscule mice that run around the fields, the cacophonous rooster that wakes you up at 4 AM, that irritating cat who teases your dog, those groups of clowns who carry those flags, (reason I am calling them clowns is because quite a few of them had the flag upside down, and didn't even know it, it was quite amusing actually) are all destined to co-exist in your Shangri~la...

Why? I have absolutely no idea! I guess it is just to show you that all in life isn't exactly sukuti, momo, chowmein, chilli-chicken etc... there has to be the dusty streets outside and the breathtaking perfumonus whiff of Dhobhikhola...

None-the-less, it is my Shangri~la...

What is fast bowling about?

They say the human body is not built for fast bowling, the constant pressure of the pace of the run up and the weight on the bowling foot at the time of delivery often results in stress fractures in the ankles; the arching movement of the back during the delivery is considered to be a major cause for back strain and spasms; furthermore, the strain of the sudden jerk, invariably occurring at the time the ball is released is a major factor for torn ligaments.

That said, picture this: dark cloudy skies over the Kingsmead (Durban), Allan Donald at the top of his run up, he starts, full throttle run up, and just when he's about to deliver, a streak of lightening in the background -- ball leaves his hand, the batsman didn't have even the slightest of a chance as the ball rockets into his toes and goes on to hit the stumps! All this in less than a second...

New man comes in, Donald's look from the corner of his eyes, he's at the start of his runup...

...This is what fast bowling is all about!

Kal yaad yeh hum... taaza rakhenge

Kal yaad yeh hum taaza rakhenge, is bottal purani me... ...kal hum sunenge shoor apna, apne hi sanaaton me... [tomorrow we shall keeps these memories afresh, inside this old bottle... ...tomorrow we shall listen to our shouts, in our own silence]

It is good to keep the memories fresh, and at times, the good old bottle is not required to bring back those memories.

There are many alternatives...

Then you slowly drift into Rabbi's song with its signature guitar intro, may sound like a static from a radio station long forgotten or a bunch of wannabe rockstars in their late teens...

And then from this static and the efforts of the wannabe stars, a familiar cacophony emerges... metamorphoses itself into a tune... played long back...

The fingers automatically start to play the imaginary guitar...

You drift back into the chair, close the eyes and look up... the cacophony gets louder and louder...

The cacophony now transforms itself into the sound of the bright red cricket ball, seam pronounced... as it leaves your fingers... you can hear it cut through the heavy winter air, hit the pitch... take the edge of the bat and thump into the 'keeper's gloves...

You can't help but smile...

In an instant, you are riding alongside the flowing stream... the sun beating down on you and the wind into your face... you can hear each beat of the 346cc engine... hearts attuned...

...

...

...

You open your eyes, you're wearing a suit... few strands of the hair have turned white...

A wry smile... 

Look out the window...

Fingers start to play the imaginary guitar once again, in your mind you're preempting what the batsman would do if you bounced him... he's thinking that... york him... double bluff!!! Riding 120 km/hr banking 60degress in that turn...

Hearts attuned...

Kal yaad yeh hum taaza rakhenge... is botal purani me!!!