A Marathon

The alarm screamed. Manav woke with a start. Today was a big day for him. There was a marathon organized in his town. He was elated, when he heard the news the day before... A wonderful opportunity, he thought.

He went to the stated starting point, and looked for the organizers. He had expected a big gathering there. To his shock, there was just a calm old man sitting, coolly smoking his cigar. He enquired," Sir, where is the marathon?". The old man smiled. " Here...".
Manav's muscles tensed. " Sir, Am I late? " The old man smiled again. " Noone is ever late here. You may begin!"

"Funny", thought Manav. "Don't I need to wait for the others? Sir, May I know who you are?", he asked politely. He was doubting if the old man was indeed the organizer. The old man seemed to have read his mind. " I am the chief organizer of this sport." That very moment, gave a whistle, a signal to 2 persons who appeared on the horizon...as small as dots. " They will guide you in your initial stages. They are participants too."The idea seemed incredible to Manav. Why would they waste their time for me? The old man really seemed insane. But to his astonishment, the 2 people did stop and wait. They gave Manav a warm welcome.

Soon enough, he had outstripped them. The old man was wrong, he cursed him. He was indeed a bit late. The old man really seemed cracked up. When he had asked him, " How do I identify the way?", he had replied, " the way you take will be yours."

He rode on... He met numerous others on the way. People from all ages and walks of life. Few were too fast that he could not think of coping with them. He doubled his speed. Something was shining by the roadside. Gold coins. He picked it up. He thought that he would give it to the owner as soon as he met him.

The sky was blue... It was noon. He had begun the march at dawn. His speed was considerably slow than it was in the morning. He was wiser now. He knew the tricks of running, thanks to a lot of people who had shared it with him. He had found rubies, emeralds and diamonds on the roadside, the same way he had found gold. There was no one to claim it though. He pocketed them too...

His body wanted to take rest, but his mind urged him on. He had a long way to go, and he would not rest until he won.He quicked his pace and with a focused mind set out. He came across lush green trees,sprawling fields, birds and dancing children and some of the runners stopping to have a look at them. He did not spare them a glance though. "They were wasting their time in futile things, he thought.The cool breeze whipped across his face. He had initially started the road going downhill.Now it had slowly acquired a gradually increasing slope. But he wasn't a person to give up. He trod on and on...

At about 4:00 PM , he was on the verge of falling from exhaustion. He stopped and panted. A fellow runner offered him a bottle of fresh water. He drank it and felt fresh. " Are you a participant?", he asked the other man. "No... Everyone has an accomplice here to run along and guide them when needed." Manav was surprised. He had not noticed the other person till then. He told him so. The man laughed. "A lot of people only get to hear my voice. Very few in dire need get to see me. You can consider me as a combination of advisor and record-keeper." Manav was fresh. He remembered hearing some voice stating the direction to take." So it was this person", he justified to himself.

" I must take leave from you. Thanks for your guidance". He bid adieu. Though he had come a far way, he could often sense the other person coming along. He turned his attention to the road again.

He had to run fast. He still ignored the cheerful chirpings of the sparrows, the cool breeze, the colourful sky and the rustle of the leaves. There would be time for that later. He had an important business on hand. He had to win this race.

Soon, it was dusk. With an anxious heart, he saw the Sun set behind the hills. He could at most walk, a few steps at a time. The road was extremely steep now. He still had the precious stones he had collected with him. He saw some young boys outstripping him, laughing. As he considered giving up, he saw something that made his heart cry with delight.

The old man. For a moment he wondered how the old man managed to travel so fast. Then the truth struck him. He observed that he was back at the starting point of the race. The old man smiled yet again and asked," How was the experience? Did you enjoy it?" This time Manav laughed. "Enjoy? I was focused on winning.... Where is my medal? Have I won it??" The old man smiled again. "There are no winners or losers here. This is not a race, my son." " What was the purpose of the sport then? ",Manav cried. The old man calmly replied, " It is its own purpose. What matters is what you give rather than what you take" Manav's mind was numbed with exhausion and shock. He wasn't sure he understood what the old man was saying.

He felt himself unable to take the two steps necessary to complete. At that time, the old man put his hand into Manav's pocket and pulled out the gold, silver, rubies and diamonds. He threw them by the roadside, and to Manav's shock, told him that he could not take anything beyond the finishing point. " They are not yours either. You were just the trustee for them."

As he stepped onto the finishing line, Manav had attained a strange clarity of mind. The fog in his heart cleared as the storms of disappointment were pacified. He just wished that he had got this understanding a bit earlier. Even as he thought, he could feel a strange detachment from his body...that he no longer bothered about the tiredness... his feet gave way and he fell. Not onto the ground, but into the open arms of the old man, who smiled yet again. As his brain slipped into oblivion, he saw with his closing eyes another soul roaring to begin... begin the the marathon called life.

September 11th 1752 !!!

Ever knew what happened on September 11th 1752 ?

Nothing.

Please take a look at the calendar of 1752 :

September 1752
Su Mo Tu We Th Fr Sa
xx xx 01 02 14 15 16
17 18 19 20 21 22 23
24 25 26 27 28 29 30

/* Try cal 9 1752 on your shell*/

PS : The reason??? Please see http://www.trialsofgrizelda.com/harvest/September%201752.htm

Worries at School.

Karthik alighted from the school bus with a sense of foreboding. Something similar to Spider Man's spider-sense that he had come to associate with the school atmosphere. He quietly collected his lunch bag, and walked towards the old building. For some strange reason, he never relished this time of the day when you had to walk into the class, only to find some homework forgotten or some sincere sigamani preparing fervently for an anticipated test.

Silently he dragged himself towards Class V 'A'. On the way he met numerous tiny pupils, who slunk away from him. He gave a smug smile to them, which he hoped would be reassuring to them. Upon entering the class, he was happy to find no book open. His friends were busy playing pen-fight, a sport that had evolved from the carrom-board and which could be played on the teacher's desk.

He placed his bags in his place in the front row, and sat down to watch the proceedings. It consisted of intricate understanding of the physics of the pen movement, not to mention the pen choice ( reynolds 045 could nover hold fort against a jetter, for instance ) and accessories ( like rubberband, that were used to add to the weight and power and prevent the sliding of the pen ). He wasn't a player though. He had always been a silent spectator. So, he hid his Ink pen deep inside his bag, as he could not afford to let his friends break its nib again.

For some reason, he was considered peculiar by his classmates. He knew it, but he was too shy to talk to them about that and so, used it to remain mum on most occasions. Even during the lunch break discussions, by the time he clearly decided to add to the ongoing discussion, his friends would move on to some other topic, leaving him a mere spectator.

The bell rang. The students lined up outside the class for the assembly. He liked the morning assembly a lot. For one thing, he could not be singled out in the crowd. Following the prayer, he took the pledge. Even as he was stating the pledge, he wondered what was the reason behind taking the pledge everyday. It definitely was not prayer and if it was a sincere vow, he thought that the number of times did not really matter. It was followed by a brief sermon by the principal who found the discipline lacking in some classes. He let his mind freely wander in this period. He observed that his French Sir wore the same sequence of shirts every week, and that the PT Master was clean-shaved every alternate Monday... Soon, it was time for the National Anthem.

______________________________________________________________

Social Science Period :

After a hectic day, he finally got to the period that he awaited the most, the Last one. To add to his joy, it was Social Studies, taught by his favorite teacher in the school. He simply loved Social Studies, to the extent that he would read the book at home, even when there were no exams, a feat that no other subject had induced him to perform till date. He considered history on par with the stories his grand-mother used to tell him - about kings, emperors, wars and glorious victories. The way his Miss taught just added to his interest. On that day however, she was to teach a lesson from Geography. Suddenly, his neighbour asked him for a sharpener. He gave it, with a face as though he had been interrupted in the midst of a movie.

His Miss went on to describe the composition of the earth, its temperature and how it was slowly rising due to deforestation. She also painted a vivid picture of the consequences, if it continued for some more time. Young Karthik was shocked. With tears threatening to burst forth from his eyes, he mentally imagined a flooded situation, with no current. No fan or computer. No computer games. No schools. ( a thought that slightly cheered him up ). All people struggling to get fresh water.

He considered the adults too stupid to have not learnt even that much in so many years. He fervently wished that his Miss should be the Prime Minister for some time till such affairs were set in order. On the way back home, he saw clouds of smoke emanating from the factories, and logs of wood carried in lorries. All this enraged and frightened him.

Once at home, he poured out his fears to his mother. To add to his shock, she merely smiled. That very evening, he forced his mother to buy him a Mango sapling from the nearby nursery to be planted in their backyard. He named it Madayan, such that its full qualified name became Manga-Madayan. Madayan was his best friend ever since. He sincerely requested Madayan to work overtime to consume more greenhouse gases and save him from the trauma of floods. Till date Madayan has obliged. It is upto the 'intelligent' homo sapiens to do the needful now.

As you Like It

A view from my balcony

Colinjivadi Impressions

A strange name for a post indeed. For my friends wondering about what this is, let me clarify. Colinjivadi ( or Kolinjivadi) is the name of my native place, a small village nestling on the banks of the Amaravathi River, amidst the lush green fields near the popular Palani hills, 35 kms from the town of Dharapuram. Oops.. I almost forgot... It also stands for the C in my name. :)

Last week, we had an opportunity to visit this village. Max Mueller had once remarked in his popular speech " What India can teach us" that if one really wanted to know India, one had to visit the India of the villages. It presents a scenario that is totally unknown to the city dwellers.

Most of us pride on living in posh localities in the biggest cities of India. Yet, this small village comprising of 2 streets, 133 homes, 1 school ( built 2 years back ) and 1 post office completely took me over. Such is the charm. As I approached Dharapuram, I could not help but enjoy the sweet breeze, the cool surroundings, the lush green paddy fields and the gentle drizzle that brought about a sense of freshness and blew away the tiredness of the journey.

From Dharapuram, we went to Meenakshipuram, another small village lying beside Colinjivadi, famous for its Meenakshi temple. The pundit of the temple was my grandfather's friend and he was extremely pleased to see my father after all these years. He reminisced about how the things had changed. The wonderful temple atmosphere, with the wind literally whistling in my ears, made me marvel as to what made the people migrate to the cities. Whilst the pundit was busy with the temple chores, we happened to strike a conversation with another lady, from the neighboring Veerarajamangalam.

First she enquired about our whereabouts and how we happened to visit that place. As soon as we mentioned Chennai, she seemed alarmed. She asked my mother, in her typical Coimbatore accent ," Amma, pattanathula yethaarthama irukka mudiyadhaame? " ( It seems we cannot lead a natural ( free ) life in the cities. Is it true?) This simple question alarmed my mother, and brought me to fits of laughter ( which i supressed of course) . My mother assured her that it was definitely not the case, and people do lead happy lives in the cities too. She further asked her as to why she came to have that opinion. The reply she gave stunned us all. She casually told ," Amma, pattanathula veetellam pooti pooti veppangalaam. Tarandhu vechutu velila poga mudiyaadhaam. Veetla kuzhandaigalaiyum periyavangalayum paarka ve neram kidaiyadhaam"( she had heard that in the cities one had to lock their houses all day... and they dint find time to look after the children and elders in the family).

It was then that we understood what exactly she meant by a natural way of life. We, from the cities, live in an atmosphere of tension and discord and have come to accept it as a natural way of life.

We then walked over to our village. I observed the doors of each house. The lady was right. Each was wide open. The houses there are lengthy, start with a pyol, have a dozen rooms and end with a back-door leading into the other street. We entered my father's classmate's home. He lovingly welcomed us. He enquired about my uncles and the two friends updated each other about their lives, much to my awe. He also told my father about the happenings in the each of the families of Colinjivadi. I kept listening, wondering how they managed to keep abreast of the matters of the entire village, whilst the city-dwellers seldom ever care( or even identify ) about their neighbours, in their fast paced life.

We had a sumptuous lunch there. We thanked our hosts, visited our ancestral home and a few more neighbors, each of whom, though in their 80's, identified my father and recalled fond memories, and compelled us to stay for a few more days. ( ! ) We thanked them profusely and left for Palani.

This short, t his visit left a deep impression on my mind. I have studied that the technology had made our world a global village. True. We, truly live in a global village, where we live in houses, that are divided by and connected to my technology. Unfortunately, it has also paved way to a frenetic pace of life wherein, we don't have enough time to truly admire the actual source of happiness in the day-to-day life. " No time to stand and stare" was never more factual. We spend all our time catching up with yesterday's work, take undue pressures, get frustrated and burnt out.


Today chatting has come to be synonymous with GTalk and socializing means nothing but Orkut, facebook or MySpace. Meeting others in person happens only at the workplace. Visiting relatives is a rarity. People prefer to watch a pirated DVD on the laptop rather than take a stroll whilst sharing jokes with ones' friends. No-one has the time to listen to a child or help others out. We have assumed this life to be a Zero-Sum game, where if one has to win, the other has to necessarily lose.

Technology is indeed a boon to connect to the dear ones who are far away, but it should not become a bane to the relationships with our dear ones who are near. It was meant to make man live a life of luxury but the inherent greed has robbed us of our curiosity and originality. The villagers do what they need to do, when they need to do it, enjoy their life in its truest sense and lead a happy life. On the other hand, we struggle with our life all through, feeling guilty, frustrated, regretful and take recourse to superficial sources of enjoyment. It is indeed a sad state of affairs.

What we really need technology to do, is to develop the global "village" into a village, in its truest sense, as depicted by the kind lady from Veerarajamangalam. To bring the hearts of people together, to develop trust amongst them, to sink the differences.

As we waited for the bus, we met a small boy of about 8 , just returning home from school. We became instant friends, as he shared his views on different teachers teaching him. With sparkling eyes, he told that he wanted to become a Software Engineer or an astronaut. We wished him the best and I bid him goodbye as he set out on his journey, even as the wind whistled loudly and the birds' cheerful chirpings reassured me that there was still hope and lots of it.

Eight Queens Problem

Hi,

Moving away from the stories, I would like to share with you one of my favorite assignments, written more than a year back. The Eight queens problem.

The problem, as you might already be knowing, is to arrange 8 queens on a 8X8 chess board in a non attacking way.

My solution to the puzzle (exe file... no viruses :) ) can be got by clicking on the link below:

http://cvkrishnakumar.googlepages.com/EIGHTQNS.EXE

Source code in c++ is given at http://cvkrishnakumar.googlepages.com/EIGHTQNS.CPP

This uses the backtracking technique in placing the queens.

Hope you find it interesting. Please pardon the lack of comments. I would be grateful for any suggestions or comments to improve.