random philosophy

Means, meaning and change !

A twitter friend informs that a Singapore friend a store carries a bowl with an announcement “if you fear change, leave it here” ! Ah, change ! That universal constant.

Finding change is difficult. All the time. In the organization. Or in the wallet.

There was a time when a handful of such coins would get you a fair distance. But those were times when inflation was something that you did to a balloon or a cycle tyre !

The modern day frenzy of glitz, glamour and big ticket acquisitions, these coins don’t curry any favour. You run the risk of being politely told to keep the change that you left behind for the waiter, if the change was nothing more than a grand jingle of a fistful of coins !

There are those that rue “For 10 ps you could get an ice cream. For 25 the town bus would traverse the distance that would do the milestone proud”. Ofcourse, people from a generation ahead would talk about ‘annas’ that used to have far more bang for the coin.

In a process of evolution, these are becoming relics of the past. A couple of years ago, while exploring the Daulatabad fort a young boy tugged at the camera bag. “Psst..want to buy old coins ?” It was much later that I learnt that the ‘cloak of secrecy’ was a class act. A ploy to work on the ‘genuine’ quotient of all what was sold.

There was no way of identifying if the coins were fake or otherwise. They all looked faded, oddly shaped and interesting. The missus was appalled that I was even pondering exchanging coins that had ‘no value’ with hard currency that would set her back by an arm and a leg.

Someday, these coins will be a collectors item. Out of circulation. Called antique pieces. But that’s the story of life, isn’t it !?! These coins, if they had vocal chords, what stories would they tell. Of endless toil to acquire.

Inevitably wrapped in those instances, stories of how ‘means’ superseded ‘meaning’ !

I write this pondering about life. The setting sun is taking the Sunday with him. Tomorrow is Monday. A busy week ahead.

Theres loads to do. But that’s not going to stop me from wishing you a meaningful week ahead. By all means !

Silence of the guns !

The Daulatabad Fort houses some canons. Big bad canons. Canons that must have maimed and killed at will.

“A range of 35 kilometers”, says our guide with an arm movement that seems to stretch to the end of the world, looking at one that sits pretty atop the fort.

A tourist attraction. Pointed at the city. Its ornamentation and heavy metal frame, intact. The dance of death seems to have been an art form back then !

Its easy to imagine its hey day! It must have instilled fear in the enemy and pride in the rulers ! And presided over death universally.

Today, a royal steadied silence permeates the touristy air. The canon looks down on the city and on the few monkeys jumping about nearby and the newly weds who rest on it for a moment to be captured on camera !

As the snaps register on the digital camera, the only sound that can be clearly heard is the sound of silence. A sound that vanquishes the war cries, victories and wails of earlier times.


A few hundred kilometers away in Ahmednagar is the Tank Museum. A bristling bevy of Tanks from around the world sit (should i say ‘stand’ ). Quite a bevy http://premier-pharmacy.com/product-category/cancer/ they are. Patton to Rolly Royce to others.

Driven by a litany of armies that reads like a list of countries out of a Geography test. Jordan. Israel. China. India. USA. Russia. Germany. UK. France. ETC ! All of them stand tall.

Pure metal. Pure hard metal. From the early 19th century on. Some with those metal tracks firmly on. Others with nuts and bolts where perhaps tyres stood once.

One of them is called Valentine. If irony were a ballistic missile, it sure would get launched from this gun ! . Today, a regimented steadied silence permeates the tourist air. The tanks stare aimlessly into the plastic roofing as the bees hover and the odd crows crow.There are newly weds here too clicking snaps and walking about.

As the snaps register on the digital camera, the only sound that can be clearly heard is the sound of silence. A sound that vanquishes war cries, victories and wails of earlier times.

Man ! His life. The frenzy of his pursuits. The noise of the guns and those around. And finally silence ! Silence survives. Only silence survives.

Of course not counting the odd crow, bee or monkey.

Pushing it !

“Try the pineapple juice”. We have been advised. Many times over, by well intentioned friends. Mustafa seems waiting for us today. A juice vendor on a side street at the heart of Mumbai , he indeed is proving to be quite an attraction ! And so is his offering. Almost as proof, a crowd gathers.

That he does something to his offering is evident. Tossing up the oranges before they go into the juicer. Pouring milk from the packet. Actually squeezing it from about three feet away, straight into the mixer. Seriously. No typos there. From three feet away !

Customers ask for more. We wonder if the lip smacking taste comes from the the showmanship of the man or the freshness of the fruit ! Perhaps its just his talent in weaving it all together.

At other times, there isnt space for wondering, for we are busy taking gluttonous gulps as the juice disappears from our glasses with the suddenness of a power shut
down ! Its obvious that there are regulars. And if the local gossip is to be believed, there are a steady stream of ‘office types’ girls who gather to see his 3 ft milk show !!

Lets leave the showmanship and the taste to the others for now. Focus on item NO: 3 on his menu !

For all his showmanship, there seems to be a philosopher lurking in him. For sure, he didn’t put this up to get a blooper spotting blogger excited. This goes beyond. Think about this.

What has the man done ? ‘Pineapple’ has been spelt ‘Painapple’ ! Sure. You are saying ‘this could be a spell error’. Sure.

“But doesn’t ‘Pine’ lead to ‘Pain’ !”, i spout, licking the remnants of juice from the corners of the lips. Spouting the grand ‘pine-pain philosophy’ to the missus.

What follows is stare. With an intensity that only seems to grow. Like a cyclone warning flag going up in slow motion ! A cyclone of the highest intensity. A stare that seems to mean ‘ one more word and anything about this on the blog….and you have had it’

‘In the new year’, i had promised, that i will ‘push’! That statement had the missus letting go a half smile. So here i am. Pushing my luck !!

But this ‘Pine’ leading to ‘Pain’ bit…makes sense, no ? Watsay ?