9 Reasons Why I Don't Regret Buying An Andorid

I can get very anal when it comes to purchasing phones. I wanted to buy a Samsung Corby for a while, but the fonts in it turned me off so completely that I stuck to wonderful Sans Serif typeface on my N73. When the N73 graciously decided to throw in the towel after two long years of abuse, I moved on to the C5. The Nokia C5 is a brilliant phone, I tell you. However, as you may have noticed, this post is not about my Nokia C5.

It happens to be about my Android. I'm not entirely sure why I purchased this HTC Wildfire S in the first place, much like why I am not sure why I am typing out the model names so specifically. I believe it had something to do with the urge to play more levels of Angry Birds. I won't admit to that, however. It seems entirely wasteful to stop using a phone as brilliant as my C5 just to play Angry Birds.

Then again, my Android has turned out to be no less remarkable. In fact, after having had used for some six months, I may actually have a list of reasons as to why I threw in the 'I HEART NOKIA!' towel and moved on.

1. It had Angry Birds. Notice the 'had'. It is now gone. I have found better uses of the phone memory.

2. I no longer get lost in Delhi, or anywhere else, for that matter. I have GOOGLE MAPS! I can now find my way about town without the constant nagging fear that I will get lost and mater dearest will call child services.

3. It has conversation view. I'm a sucker for pineapples and conversation views.

4. It lets me shut GPRS on and off as required. People who have drained their Nokia batteries twice a day because of GPRS will understand. Also, Wi-Fi support.

5. I can now Whatsapp and Gtalk with people, meaning I save on daily SMS's.

6. It syncs everything with my google account, which sucks if my family ever found the password but is otherwise great. Something I found out only after losing all my contacts. (All you blogger friends, message me yours!)

7. I operate a touch screen phone now and have avoided carpel tunnel syndrome till the days when I sit down to write my novel come calling.

8. I can load apps on the phone. Apps are these interesting things that can do a lot of stuff, if you just know where to look. For example, I can now blog from my phone. I can look for places to eat immediately. I can search for stuff on the internet.

9. It is my only inspiration to get into shape. I can track exactly how many kilometers I have walked and the calories lost, which means I no longer can entertain lurid fantasies of having walked ten kms and lost 2000 calories.

I won't say that now I can check my mail, because I was checking my mail on my Nokia phones as well. But I can check my mail faster now, does that count?

I still pine after the C5, for reasons such as - "You've been using it the WHOLE day and you STILL have battery left for tomorrow?" Android phones have a terrible battery life. But hey, at least I'm avoiding carpel tunnel for the while.

Signing Out,
Ze Android Owner


Placidis Puella

I suppose I've always loved the tranquility of life far more than anything else it has had on offer. And maybe, just maybe it is a resigned acceptance of the accelerated pace of life even when nothing really changes. Perhaps it is melancholy better disguised in form and feeling. But as far back as I can remember, neither the adrenaline rush of days spent hectically nor the slow trajectories of lives around me have been quite as beautiful as tranquility. Both in its simplicity and complicity of our souls, it is a marvel to behold.

Tranquility. It is in the soft murmurs of the vagrant night, where evolution has yet not stripped dogs of their lupine memories. Their echoing howls mix in with the slight bass of the trucks that incessantly blow their horns on a near empty highway, bringing back memories and melodies in equal amounts. All of which is heavily sighed upon, while sitting upright, legs tucked under the chin - a pose of tranquil - that many before have assumed. Till of course, the eyelids burgeon with helplessness and sleep spreads it's own peaceful embrace over a lonely young 'un in her bed.

It is in the cantankerous winter mornings, where one might choose to spend a little more of their life under the soft warmth of a blanket and nothing more is desired than the ability to shift from the bed to the woolen caress of daily life. Yet, such mornings are undeniably peaceful especially when the home is rid of all other human presence, leaving one free to gaze soulfully at a patch of sunlight chosen by the pet dog to sunbathe in. Indeed, what is truly unhurried - such as the morning routines - is what is most precious as time runs past by.

It is in the unfurling haze of morning dew as the world wakes up and for a moment, we are all but nature's children who no longer have a connection with the material world. It is found in the suspension of all senses required to fully appreciate the work of Mr. Poe. Such tranquil moments are few and far in between, but nonetheless, they inspire for longer than reality does. And quite possibly, that is the sole point of difference between the dreamers and realists, for us dreamers search for the tranquil mind, over and over again.

Signing Out,
Resignedly beneath the sky,
The melancholy waters lie.


This Is The Metro

At some point, you will find yourself wondering why you bother traveling by the metro. It's a convenient way but let's face it. Unless the coaches are empty, it's a bad way to get somewhere.

The people are terrible. They are loud and unyielding. They keep attempting to make space where there is none. The sallow faced men and women are the worst, their craggy faces in no way betraying the sheer elbowing power they can display. And elbow you they will, anywhere they possibly can. The women with their embroidered clothes that prick with each turn.

It definitely isn't the charm of the whole thing. That lost out after the first six days spent with some woman's hair lodged in my face and her hands on my shoulder for support.

But then, once you can get past the people and their grabby hands, you can't help but feel some pride. Pride in the metro, in the way it functions and that even the whole of Delhi still hasn't managed to degrade it completely.

And just as you start welling up with that pride, a woman comes and manages to scratch your arm, claw at your face and step on your foot all at the same time. While squishing you against the door.

Signing Out,
Disgruntled Passenger.


Yellow Lights

Sitting under arc lights, I almost feel like I'm an acclaimed author ready to hand out autographs.

Sitting in between two people connecting with each other over the luxuries afforded to them through smoking, I almost feel like I'll never really belong to this kind of life.

Sitting here, writing these word down, I do wish I had my laptop with me. The sound of the keys going clickety clack prices to be soothing for frazzled, tired nerves.

Instead, I walk about the dimly lit, almost ochre parking lot and it feels like home. The sight of the spider run about frantically on its web, spinning away till kingdom come, is beautiful. Yes, perhaps this is my world, watching the eight legged beauties and remembering their origins as a beautiful maiden in the legend of vengeful Greek gods and goddess.

Its a different world, its a different time than what it was. The serenity of sitting on the couch till the clock quietly strikes five and wakes the morning again, of watching tiny ocelots take their first steps, of smiling at their scowling faces.

Worlds will come, world will go. It is inevitable. I realize this only today, while sitting under arc lights. Such wise lights the turned out to be.

Signing Out,
Arc Lighting Inc.



The more time I spend letting the voices inside my head talk to each other, the more things seem to ease over. It is quite a pleasant experience to finally talk to someone who agrees wholeheartedly with me on every single topic.


All That Ails Mankind

It gets very hard occasionally, to be sitting in office and watching documentaries. Some documentations of the tragedy that is humanity are best viewed in peace and alone, where only the walls are privy to the emotions that spill forth.

It is a wonder to me how people move on with their lives in the face of such brutality. Their stories are tinged with heavy shades of helplessness. And you want to cry when you take it all in. From the girl forced to marry a man in a life and culture she still doesn't quite understand to the woman left helpless because of the war-time rape camps. They have seen family being killed right in front of their eyes, paralyzed in fear and unable to help. Some turned into lab rats for what the Government fancied at the time and others held to disintegrated societal and moral values.

With the end of every story, come more questions. The sheer sadness of their lives hits you out of nowhere. I desperately want to pull them out of the screen, take them into my arms and promise them that I will make their world perfect again. I want to take their tormentors, shoot them and punish the guilty for all the wrongs inflicted in this world. But more than all of that, I want these people to once, break down and cry because I need to know I am not the only one who does.

It is hard, so very hard to live their lives.
Yet they manage, somehow.

Signing Out,



Sundays are by and large the worst day to be staying home. There is nothing to do, the weather is usually dreary and the internet connection tends to slow down somewhat. The one saving grace is John Mayer telling me it is perfectly alright to get stoned and plan trips to Japan. I wonder if there is enough money in my account to do so. I doubt it. I could however sing Dancing in the Dark till it is night time and go African on my balcony.

The mater is growing slightly concerned with my mental health off late, ever since she walked into my room to find me attempting to recite To be, or not to be under my breath over and over again. Poor soul, she's bundled with a child far more dramatic in ways she does not want to handle. Now if I were the kinds who was dramatic like her, she'd be more than enthusiastic to join in.

I'm craving for some chips right about now and it doesn't help knowing that family will be dropping on my head in a few day's time who will wax eloquent about the Fish n' Chips near their lovely Yorkshire home. Why they can't wrap up a few servings and ship them to me is a mystery. I disdain family coming over. They rarely ever invite me around to their place, what with me being a sourpuss and all half the time. I can't help it. I do not have the same world view as them and I am unwilling to relent. Till somebody gets me Fish n' Chips of course. So I just pretend to be extremely interested in the family dynamics of some random family on SABtv till they figure I'm hopeless and let me be. I'd much rather be watching the African wild cats do their daily business but people find it slightly disconcerting to be dining with visuals of a zebra being torn to bits.

And they call themselves carnivores.

This books makes me think a lot. And nothing particularly useful.
The flowers were a gift. They are precious. More than the book.

I have a new phone. It lets me click photographs like these.
Marcello must be getting jealous.

Signing Out,
Waiting For My Chips


Hello, once again.

Yes, I am back. It is very hard to live without being Purple Brains. I've missed being able to write freely like this, without being anonymous.

And yes, having bought a new phone, I might just turn this into a daily photo blog.

It's like living near the sea, only the water is on the other side.
And you sit on the road, staring at the world pass by.

The sky looks beautiful in the monsoons.
So blue, so white.

My friend brought me flowers.
They liven up the office.

But more about this later. I shall have tea with the blog and catch up on our lives.

Signing Out,
Purple Again


Hark, Me Hearties

Being Purple Brains has been one of the best parts of my life and I'd never want to stop. I can never abandon this darling of mine, but we need some time apart. A new blog seems like a rather good idea at the moment.

I'll be shifting to a new blogspot (or wordpress) soon. In a few day's time. Drop me a comment here if you want to meet me there. I'll be nice, promise.

Signing Out,
See you soon.