It all starts with a brown ball ( or at least, almost a ball) of slightly elastic and adhesive material. Its a simile to ecstasy. 20 seconds into it and a suffocating quantity of highly corrosive and potentially pathogenic fluid starts to pour out of every available orifice. The fluid collects around the round material, slowly and painlessly etching away the outer surface of the material. The wall thickness of the material starts to get washed away by the microns. A very small quantity, but at a rate that can beat time. The fluid is drained every few seconds and is replenished by a fresh mixture of the same corrosive agent and same level of pathogens. The fluid is drained with a force. This is to ensure the fluid raises the small projections (buds) placed on the floor of the chamber. As the fluid raises the projections, some of the etched material is deposited on the walls of these buds. Again the material's wall thickness is reduced by the rejuvenated and fervent fluid. But the volume of the fluid is not enough to completely fill the chamber. This means that only one half of the material will be etched. Its now time to drain the fluid and flip the material over.

This causes the flow of a fresh batch of the fluid. The process continues for a while and finally, when there has been enough material removal and enough material deposition, and when the wall thickness of the material is almost non-existent, the dark, smooth and bitter paste oozes out. This new paste that emanates from within the material itself, has to be slowly sucked by creating a low pressure region at the inner depths of the facilities. The fluid, excited by the fresh oozing goo, helps initiate and hasten the flow of the thick paste. It helps by slowly dissolving the paste, making it a liquid and again raises the buds on the floor of the chamber.

The flow of the material and the material itself, govern the specificness of the buds that are raised. That is, certain materials raise certain buds while some other materials raise some other buds.

With this material, the buds at the front tip are raised and they pick up the dissolved material. The buds reach their highest peak when the goo oozes out and thats when you realize you have just a few more seconds before your chocolate completely melts in your mouth.

And this is how a jobless freak describes the way he eats his chocoliebe.



I am a distraught resident of the Coimbatore city. I am blessed with a room on the terrace, right in the heart of the city. Coimbatore, for those who are, were and almost, part of the city, is a city that is sleepy, just short of lazy. The lights of every kind imaginable go out by the time its 9.00 in the night. Everyone and everything comes to a stand still. Cops and the traffic lights are laid to rest beside the almighty law. The mosquitoes that keep you in the house during the evening, driving you to an inch from blood drought, just show no semblance of existence after 9. The city becomes still. Hotels no longer cook food and just put up with the customers they cant lock behind the shutters. The only signs of life is the swarm of people, pushing, trampling and nearly killing each other to get to a bottle of some form of alcohol outside the infamous "TASMAC' shops that are strategically placed near every police station to better the people.

Because my place of work is well out of the city limits, I generally work late into the night and this is the plight of the city when I get off the bus from work and walk towards the parking lot where I put my bike each day. Today was just a little out of the ordinary.

It was 9.45 in the night. I had not had any dinner as usual. I was walking towards my bike. Today was different because I had at least a dozen tube lights, glazing with fury to rival that of the sun, guiding me towards my destination. The median that divided the mettupalayam road was just beyond recognition from the staffs that were neatly driven into them to hold these lights. 9.45 in the night, the signals were working and I was made to wait for the green to cross the road. There was a police constable waving his magic wand at me cautioning me to stay where I was. I had to wait for a whole 45 seconds for the non-existent traffic to pass. I was patient. I got my bike and drove home bound, only to be held up at a further 5 signals(please, there are only 3 junctions from where I park to where I stay). I was patient. I was still driving when I saw that the number of side-road hoardings had increased from one every 3 feet to 3 every one foot. They all lead to a blocked road(again at 9.45 in the night). The cops were feverishly diverting the steady trickle of traffic. I made my way over to the cop ad was astounded by the wonder that lay ahead. The kalaiyarangam in R.S.Puram was being worked on by what can only be described as an army. The place was nothing less than breath taking. I was sure there were more lights n there than the Eiffel Tower, or even the whole city of Vegas. It was as if the place was burning. Lights dancing off every parked car, every inch of the fire truck that was parked there, every inch of the cats eye that were neatly laid, for the first lime on a clean road. Yeah!!! The roads had been almost washed.

I could no longer be patient. I went across to the cop waving the wand carelessly at me and enquired what theses changes and fuss was all about.

I was awestruck at the response and Ive come to greatly appreciate the nation and the state for its cause.

Amidst all this power in-adequacy, inflation, stock market roller caster rides, Indian Space Probes and all, we have made some time to clean the roads, collect lights form across the world to light up the cleaned roads, lay cats eyes on the cleaned roads to better show the path, channel the electricity from every earning citizen in the nation to light these lamps, for an 82 year OLD man to cross the streets of COIMBATORE.

Please Mr.Karunanidhi, come to our city more. I like to see it being clean, at least for you.


One More Off The List

I wanted to die, then, there. I missed my chance. The moment has passed.

It a Wednesday, 2 in the afternoon. My legs were shaking, cramping from the torture I had put them through. They were worn out from the weight they were made to bear. My shoulders were aching. I had my colleague massaging my back, while completely delirious in laughter. I had just completed my turn on the HARLEY ROAD KING that we use for testing.

This is perhaps one of the most thrilling moments of my life. I remember telling my mother I always wanted to die driving a Harley. I had my chance to drive it, I chose not to die.

I managed to get my feet over the seat and tugged at the handle bars with all my might. I finally got the beast standing. I now had all the 786 pounds of raw metal between my thighs. I wanted to give my best shot at cranking the engine to life. Someone fore-saw this and decided to pull the crank off the bike. Had to settle for the button. I could feel the monster that lay asleep while I turned the battery on. It was eerie. But it was a amazing feeling, adrenaline rushing to my head. I could have done something stupid. I respected the bike. I turned the key to ignition and pressed the button (Oh and I almost forgot the run switch, a fine touch for these bikes). The beast was alive. Rumbling, like a hungry lion. I t was no purr of the stupid plastic bikes. This was just music. My hands were shaking beyond control. The bars were just reverberating. The throttle was smooth. The sound was deafening and it scared me out of my skin. I did not panic. I reached out for the foot peg and slowly eased the beast into gear. The resonance lessened. My body was no longer shaking with the bike. This was a pleasant feeling. I eased the clutch and throttled. She moved. I kept her gliding. It was amazing. I cant explain anymore in words.

I drove a HARLEY. Read that again. That has been my dream for perhaps all my life.

People...Don't call my work a hassle anymore. Its made most of my dreams come true...



Well, they usually say, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do'. I would just retort saying, why? When in Rome, just do what you want to do. As a kid, they teach you how to behave as a kid. In school, they teach you how to be a student. In college, they try to teach you how to be a professional. At work, they teach you that morality is what at stake. At each stage, they teach you to be something they think is best for you. They teach you what they missed in their lives. They use you to fill their gaps. They think they are helping you be better than what they turned out to be. A kid is an individual as long as he thinks for himself. A man is an individual as long as he decides for himself. The moment there is someone trying to sort things out for him, he loses his identity as an individual. He is obscured by the bonds of the so called society. I love the saying 'it was man who created civilization. Not the other way around'. Its true. If man did not think for himself, he would not have lost his fur or shaved his arm pits. If man did not think for himself, there would not have been any mankind. Who taught man how to feed or how to commit suicide? He tried, he succeeded. Those who failed are hungry and alive(the worst things that can happen to someone at th same time). Man has a mind that grows with him. It remembers. It recollects. Only when you see, you remember. Only when you remember, you recollect. Only if you recollect, you can prove your point, any where. Well, unless you think for yourself, you can't be you. Its people like them who tell you there is a right way to think and a wrong way to think. Theres only one way to think...Your way. The m0ment you have someone else doing your thinking, you are institutionalized. You have lost your identity in the land of the free men. The moment you start thinking like a man when you are a kid, you are institutionalized. The moment you start thinking like a retired man at 21, in your first job, you are institutionalized. Be free. You have a mind of your own. Stop using what others use. Find your mettle and focus your way, screw the world.

This is a bloody straight forward post. Please don't look for any hidden meaning or wise-cracks. There aren't any. This was not written in frustration. This was written as a reminder for me to not stop myself from doing what I want to do. Same goes to you.