Rubik’s true colors

I like how it feels light, yet solid in my hands.
I like its even, checkered surface,
I twist it, twist it, again and again,
to hear it click beneath my fingers.

I play at this madly sectioned cube,
and its corners and edges, collapse and depart,
in rapid incessant succession, just like,
its center seems to be lost, found, again.

They tell me it is a riot of colors,
waiting to be set straight.
They tell me it teases their brain-
Is it more fun that way?

Bharath Kishore is at it again!

The latest Bharath Kishore origami piece is an Ellipsoid. It is magnifique.

Bharath Kishore's latest work

Bharath is my fried and he folds paper. His photo stream on flicker is a mix of personal photos and his origami.

Weird #1

Ants in your ears

Ever had tiny red ants go into your ears?

I woke up, in the middle of the night with a throbbing feeling deep inside my left ear. My god, it hurt!. I didn’t know what to do. I mean what do you do?

I realized what it was only when the ant, or ants, (“Hurry Hurry excursions to Kaber’s ears. Yes you can bite all you want. No carrying home any wax please”) started trickling out of my ear.

More weird stuff to follow

Ears + Ants = Arghhhh!

I-Internet #1

Hi,

Do you have multiple accounts with google? Multiple accounts on wordpress, facebook, youtube… The list goes on doesn’t it? I discovered (rather late) that there is Flock.

Now you can integrate your multiple email accounts, blog accounts.

I’ll tell you something I’ve always wanted to have, a collective internet experience.

If I could view all my emails at one place, my messages from different social networking sites at the same place, and blog to all my blogs from the same place, and yet be using multiple accounts, and service providers, I would be floating

The problem is there are way too many services and accounts that I want a master password, but then if someone hacks into my master password, ah, well I don’t want a master password anymore.

Even the most popular of account integration services like OpenID are not really where they can be.

Flock come closest to what a perfect window to the web will be, except that you can’t use your flock from any where around the web.

I an currently experimenting with myvidoop.com (I can act like I found it out my self, but I just noticed it on the openId website) and I’ll tell you how I like it soon

Oh, and Google is good.

Cheers

Kaber

Changes

Hello,

I changed the theme today. It is plain, white and simpler to navigate. Bigger fonts too. Also I’ve registered accounts at .co.nr and freehostia to build a better website for my music and writing, I will be blogging here too. Also I am going to start reviewing blogs/websites that I like and eliminate the blog roll altogether.

Visit http://kaber-vasuki.co.nr if you’d like

Cheers

Kaber

Haiku #2

Her Hair

by Kaber Vasuki

Maybe the wind blows

To her hair’s tune, but I see,

Quite the opposite.

Haiku#1

Morning sun

by Kaber Vasuki

Is my new morning

A conquest of the day sun, or

A trail of the night?

Raman’s Fish

Hi,

The following is a poem called ‘Raman’s Fish’ which is metaphor on  how people are self centered in this world.

Raman’s Fish

by Kaber Vasuki

You are made of a thousand clouds,

And yet you are always one.

You stay in the backdrop and show us the sun,

There is only water all the time around me

Sometimes I am covered by slime sometimes by seaweed

You are the sky. You are the sky

I am just a fish in the sea.

You are the sky to me, because you make the water blue

You are the sky to me, because you make the water blue

Cheers

Kaber

Toothpaste

Hi,

This is a short story I wrote quite sometime back.

Toothpaste

by Kaber Vasuki

The sunlight trespasses through the window and tears my eyelids open. I sit up and feel the redness of my eyes, weighing my eyelids down. I look around to see colours whizzing in front of me. I shake my head and rub my eyes.

My mouth splits open to let out a yawn. I realize that I am not asleep. My mind is in crossover, in between awake and asleep. I am swimming in the river between the two banks of consciousness.

I get out of bed; the coldness of the floor irritates me. I slowly throw away all the clothes that I am wearing. I pull a towel out of the floating clothes line and tighten it around my waist.

The bathroom door’s creaking annoys me.

I squeeze out a blob of tooth paste. The bristles bend under its pressure. My grip on the brush is slight and it turns over. The toothpaste falls somewhere.

The fools who make tooth paste must make it more adhesive. I should get a tooth brush with a better grip.

I search around, I don’t find any trace of the fallen blob. I scan the sink completely, I look all around the floor, but it isn’t there. I mumble a few swear words and squeeze out some more.

I brush; I turn the water tap open and place a bucket under it.

I bend down and wash my face with some water, in an attempt to become fully conscious.

I notice something white on my ankle; I touch it. It is the lost splotch of toothpaste.

I wash my face again and some idea comes to life in my head.

I blamed the people who made the toothpaste; I blamed the grip-less brush handle, I tried to blame the sink for hiding my tooth paste, the floor too. They bore my inspection.

The only person I did not blame is myself.

Cheers

Kaber

Squeak, squeak…………

Hi,

This post has a short story I wrote about five years back, when I was fifteen.

Squeak Squeak..

by Kaber Vasuki

“Ding Dong” the clock in the living room struck twelve. My mother was on a midnight prowl of the house. It wasn’t normal for my mother to walk around the house in the dead of the night, but tonight was not like all the other nights. Tonight was different. There was a rat in the house.

“Wake up, wake up it is here”. Her voice streaked through out the house stabbing fear in our hearts. There was a soft sound of dirty paws on a dirtier carpet. We all awoke; my father with anxiety got up and started to search for his specs. My grandpa with his scientific approach to every problem, started to bait the rat in a mouse trap with a piece of rotten onion. My grandma started praying for the capture of the elusive rat. My uncle prepared himself, with a broomstick. My aunt had a bucket of water ready to drown the enemy in. My mother had already equipped herself with a dustpan. My sisters and I took high perch on the table. My father had now found his specs in the bath room. “Alright rat, come out!” he said folding his dhoti. The battle was ready to begin. The enemy however was not to be found.

After a few minutes of waiting my father got bored “Where is that rat. There is no rat. It was only you and your false alarms”.

“Oh!” said my mother “If you had placed the mouse-stick under the door, this would never have happened.” (For the information of the reader: The mouse-stick was an ingenious innovation by my grandfather. It consisted of two lengths of thin P.V.C pipe bound together by a large amount of cello tape, which tape I could have used for more practical purposes like mending my torn kite. This was used to block the gap under the main door through which, my imaginative mother had hypothesised that rats entered the house).

“Yes Anna, you are very careless” my uncle added his bit.

“Am I responsible? You misplaced the mouse-stick.” My father was trying to reason.

“Now what about the onion, wouldn’t it draw the rat.” My grandpa was asking himself.

“Om guruvaurappa. All of you stop chattering and search for the mouse” my grandma said. My sisters had already started a game of ‘oh caterpillar’ (which involved chanting an irritating poem and slapping your hands with that of your partner till both were red). Only my aunt and I were searching for the rat. Me, due to the fear that it might climb up the table (you never know do you?). And my aunt due to her sense of duty. Amid all the confusion and my grandpa changing the bait for the fifth time, a soft sound was heard. A small head emerged from under the table. “Squeak”. “The rat! The rat” I shouted. My father, my mother and all the other soldiers of our army started the chase. The chanting of my grandma got louder. My grandpa was congratulating himself for having found the perfect bait. My sisters stopped their chanting to watch the action. The rat ran up and down the room, my father chasing it with his finger pointing at it. Uncle, mother, and aunt were involved in chasing the rat. “Here!” yelled my father “No, no there!” .After what seemed like a few hours, they finally caught it. Finding this as an excuse my sisters started to bellow from the bottom of their stomach “Yea………”. “Drown it!” I shouted trying in vain to outdo their yelling. The rat was brought to the bucket, hanging upside down by the tail from my father’s hand. “Oh what a sin you are committing” said grandma. “Let it go outside”. And thus the rat was saved. We carried it out to the nearby play ground and let it free.

Cheers

Kaber