கல்லா பிழையும் கருதா பிழையும் கசிந்துருகி

நில்லா பிழையும் நினையாப் பிழையும், நினன்ஜெழுத்தை

சொல்லா பிழையும் தொழா பிழையும் துதியாப் பிழையும்

எல்லாப் பிழையும் பொறுத்தருள்வாய் இறைவா கச்சி ஏகம்பனே...

i am surprised when people give themselves an identity, by religion or by color or by race. when someone is a brahmin, a person who learns scriptures, a person who is revered in the community because of his knowledge, and his rhetorical skills, and the gift of the gab, the scholar; a kshatriya, a warrior, who is every bit as good as his counterpart, only much better, and is not the least hesitant to give up his life for the good of others, the sacrifice; the vaishya, the clever merchant, also the person who is responsible for making everyone responsible for their finances, the business man; the shudra, who cleans up for the good of the society, who is ultimately the one responsible for the demise of epidemic and plagues, who is the pre-emptive action against ill-health, the caretaker;

only when a person is competent enough to take up each of these tasks during various stages of his life does he understand the point of his life;

that being a brahmin is not in criticizing every other action but in helping others understand and gain knowledge;

that being a kshatriya is not in mindless blood-letting and vindictiveness but fighting for a just cause;

that being vaishya is not in being a cunning money monger, but in helping others financially to live a decent life ;

that being a shudra in not being complaining about the inferiority of the task, but in understanding that nothing is infra dignity and everyone has to do so called infra dig things at times.

when there is a will, there is always a way, to break it. when there is a fall, there is a always a climb that is agony. when there is loneliness, there is always company that is painful. when there is loss, there is always hope that is fleeting and evanescent. when all is lost, there is this will, hope and pain that makes us go through the whole spiral of life, only that, it gets better than better, and worse than worse. what do we make of the life spiral? does it try to tell us that it is simply impossible to lead a life that might make us happy all the time? or is it that suffering is a journey that we must undertake to understand the ultimate point of living? or is that life is always aimless and random, misfit, and imroperly tailored to suit anyone's requirement? or is it that we just complain till the very end about how this life is taking us nowhere to wherever it was supposed to take us? or that i should shut up and stop writing and stop thinking altogether for the good of the people around?

MoM:(moments of madras)

it is scorching in madras, i am told, but also, there are light showers at times.(ok, there was just the one time) my congratulations to barath for successfully getting married; also, i am really happy(oh yeah) for the friends who turned up for the wedding, and who had a wonderful(?) time together. i am sure these things would last for a while from now on, and i hope i would be able to make it to some of these, and definitely not miss mine, or that would be catastrophe.

the best part, prabu deva marries nayantara. and that is how the gods play dice.