When we announced

... our upcoming wedding to the team at office, we (read "I") thought that we should add a bit of flavor to it. There was no wedding invitation card that we planned to send out, because we weren't inviting anyone, because the wedding was to take place in his far-off home town, because we didn't expect anyone to attend, because we ourselves wouldn't want to do all that traveling. Well, so we ordered a nice big Black Forest pastry-cake to make the very much expected announcement a little more interesting.
So why am I posting these 4 months after the wedding? Simply because I installed Picassa and am loving the neat little collage it creates for me :o)

Edited to add: I forgot to mention it gives this kickass feature of creating posts for Blogspot right from within its own UI. However, the last time I tired it, Picassa didn't allow me to use more than 4 pictures in a post... but that could be due a limitation on the size of upload... will work that out, but otherwise it's a pretty cool tool!!

PS: The pictures have been taken by one of my colleagues with her Sony Walkman phone. Kewl na? I think she did as fantastic a job as her camera!

The rooftop becons

Here's what it looks like

... from the rooftop on the building that is our present home (no, the yellow one is the millionaire neighbor's).

There is a bird

... or two, who can almost touch the beauty of the evening

... or more, who take a little along of everything that they pass through!

And then, there is the moon

... the husband

... and the lights to make the dusk complete!

Lightning captured!

Need I say more?

[Big devilish grin!!! :D]

For those interested in more (and just because I can't contain my excitement), see http://picasaweb.google.com/pallavigsharma/LLC01.

Being yourself

Picture courtesy: www.shutterandpupil.com/images

Yet again I quote from Like the Flowing River by Paulo Coelho, a poem, which itself is quoted. Originally written by Mitsuo Aida, a Japanese poet and calligrapher, here's what it says...

Because it has lived its life intensely

the parched grass still attracts the gaze of passers-by.

The flowers merely flower,

and they do this as well as they can.

The white lily, blooming unseen in the valley,

does not need to explain itself to anyone;

it lives merely for beauty.

Men, however, cannot accept that 'merely'.



If tomatoes wanted to be melons,

they would look completely ridiculous.

I am always amazed

that so many people are concerned

with wanting to be what they are not;

what's the point of making yourself look ridiculous?



You don't always have to pretend to be strong,

there's no need to prove all the time that everything is going well,

you shouldn't be concerned about what other people are thinking;

cry if you need to,

it's good to cry out all your tears

(because only then will you be able to smile again).

This also reminds me of an old post, and by the way, this chapter in the book, titled Meeting in the Dentsu Gallery also mentions synchronicity: the author is paid a visit by the son of the Japanese poet, whose poem he narrates.

Also an expert from the end of the chapter...

"I want to be someone capable of seeing the unseen faces, of seeing those who do not seek fame or glory, who silently fulfil the role life has given them.
I want to be able to do this because the most important things, those that shape our existence, are precisely the ones that never show their faces."

I don't know what exactly this means to me at this point of time, but I'm sure the mystery will unfold in the days to come. There's something significant about to happen in my life too.

How one thing can contain everything

[Image taken from http://www.joangreinert.com/femenchrist1.htm]

And this is one of the loveliest explanations I have come across recently:
--------------------------
A meeting in the house of a Sao Paulo-born painter based in New York. We are talking about angels, and about alchemy. At one point, I try to explain to the other guests the alchemical idea that each of us contains the whole universe and that we are, therefore, responsible for its well-being. I struggle to find the right words, but cannot come up with a good image that will explain my point of view.
The painter, who has been listening in silence, asks everyone to look out of the window of his studio.
"What can you see?" he asks.
"A street in Greenwich Village," someone replies.
The painter sticks a piece of paper over the window so that the street can no longer be seen; then, with a penknife, he cuts a small square in the paper.
"And if someone were to look through there, what would he see?"
"The same street," comes the reply.
The painter cuts several squares in the paper.
"Just as each of these holes contain within it the whole view of the same street, so each of us contains in our soul the same universe," he says.
And all of us applaud the lovely image he has found.
--------------------------
Again quoted from Like the Flowing River by Paulo Coelho. The title of this post is the same as the chapter title.

A synchronicity I felt the urge to mention

This is one of the sleepless nights that I often encounter. To add to it, I have a slightly upset stomach and a slight irritation in my right eye: there's something growing on the inner side of the eyelid. That is besides the usual chain on endless thoughts zooming in my mind like honeybees around a flower, or rather, like horseflies. The fact that I am sleeping next to my mom doesn't help. Ideally, I should sleep like a baby with her around.
So, I quit trying to force myself to sleep, get out of bed, tiptoe to the living room, switch on the lights, and continue reading from where I left off Like the Flowing River by Paulo Coelho. I'm reminded of something that happened last week with regard to the same book.
It was a regular weekday morning; I got my regular bowl of corn flakes and milk ready, and walked into the living room where I usually relax and have my breakfast. For no specific reason I started thinking about faith, and for no specific reason a scene from The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown played in my mind. The scene where Silas goes to the Saint Sulpice Church, destroys the keystone, and then goes on to slay the elderly nun. Then I thought about Jesus and why his teachings were so popular and why would people believe him to be the son of God. It also occurred to me that Jesus existed some 2000 years ago, very close to the estimated period of the Mahabharata. Was it Krishna whose legend spread by word of mouth and is so distorted that people came to know him as Jesus? I know this sounds ridiculous but, as I said, this thought came to me for no apparent reason. Oh, and just a necessary disclaimer: I do not, in any way, mean to demean the legend of either Jesus or Krishna. To me, both are respectable and irrelevant at the same time. Then, inspite of having no plans to read that morning, I picked up Like the Flowing River and started reading a chapter titled Raj Tells Me a Story. I have been reading the chapters in their serial order, though it isn't necessary. Incidentally, the previous night, I was about to read this chapter, but on second thoughts, left it off for the next reading session. I will quote the entire story here. I don't think any further discussion will be required.
--------------------
A widow from a poor village in Bengal did not have enough money to pay for her son's bus fare, and so, when the boy started going to school, he would have to walk through the forest all on his own. In order to reassure him, she said:
"Don't be afraid of the forest, my son. Ask your God Krishna to go with you. He will hear your prayer."
The boy followed his mother's suggestion; Krishna duly appeared; and from then on, accompanied him to school everyday.
When it was his teacher's birthday, the boy asked his mother for some money in order to buy him a present.
"We haven't any money, son. Ask your brother Krishna to get you a present."
The following day, the boy explained his problem to Krishna, who gave him a jug of milk.
The boy proudly handed the milk to the teacher, but the other boys' presents were far superior and the teacher didn't even notice his gift.
"Take that jug of milk to the kitchen," said the teacher to an assistant.
The assistant did as he was told. However, when he tried to empty the jug, he found that it immediately filled up again of its own accord. He informed the teacher, who was amazed and asked the boy:
"Where did you get that jug, and how does it manage to stay full all the time?"
"Krishna, the god of the forest, gave it to me."
The teacher, the students and the assistant all burst out laughing.
"There are no gods in the forest. That's pure superstition," said the teacher. "If he exists, let's all go and see him."
The whole group set off. The boy started calling for Krishna, but he did not appear. The boy made one last desperate appeal.
"Brother Krishna, my teacher wants to see you. Please show yourself!"
At that moment, a voice emerged and echoed throughout the forest.
"How can he possibly want to see me, my son? He doesn't even believe I exist!"
--------------------

Wish I were the Black Mamba of Kill Bill

Sadly, that character so awesomely portrayed by Uma Thurman does not fall under the category of a Superhero.
So, this is what I'm left with being...

You Are The Hulk

Super strong and super scary, you were never meant to be a superhero. You're not really into saving the world. And the world better get out of your way.

What Superhero Are You?

And that shows how thoroughly jobless I am.
Wait a minute! That's not true.
The truth is... I have too many tasks to handle, too many roles to play, and I need a breather. In fact, I wish could brush some of the tasks off my shoulders, but the superhero that I am... I have to get on with it :(