My first snow in 22 years

After days and days of reading the weather forecast and anticipating for the snow, my wish came true. A snow alarm rang through msn =P, and I rushed down to the crime scene. Unfortunately, I couldn't catch the culprit--they were everywhere!!!
I was squeking and jumping around, flashing the camera here and there to catch the flakes in motion. (however, the pics shown here are not from my cam =P). They were elegant, so elegant, just like what i've imagined.
I reached out my hands and tried to strike a winter sonata pose. But the flakes were too small i couldn't even feel them in my palms. I just felt a tinge of chill on my face.

The excitement was indescribable. The anticipation was well worth it. And the incident of spotting my first snow was perfectly woven like a dream. Sleep well, and we shall see a white blanket hushing the earth to its slumber tomorrow.

Edelweiss, Edelweiss
Every morning you greet me
Small and white, clean and bright
You look happy to meet me

Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow
Bloom and grow forever

Edelweiss, Edelweiss
Bless my homeland forever

Warm in -6

I woke up this morning, the sun painted on my curtains
I looked out the window, the leaves were yellow and red
I went into the kitchen, there was milk in my fridge
I opened my closet, within hung my coat, scarf and beanie

I walked on the streets, the air was frozen
I glanced on the grass, they were covered with frost
I took the subway nearby, it had many empty seats
I came out of the station, the sky was cloudless and blue

I attended pitching class, the coffee was marvalous
I shaked a few hands, the eyes seemed sincere
I headed back home, the sun just disappeared
I switched on my lamps, they filled the room with warmth

I did my laundry, they smelled really nice
I watched my favourite anime, the girl had beautiful hair
I wrote on my schedule , tomorrow is important
I flipped open "The Professor", he was teaching a girls' school

I checked the temperature, it was -6.

A book called me

Have you read the book called me?
It's before your eyes but could you see?
The glitters, the dust and the shadow cast
Told nothing of the message in the sea

Will you read the book called me?
Let the pages sing to you the solemn melody
It should not be a pat on where it sat
But a flip to reveal the rhapsody

I hope you won't read the book called me
How could you comprehend an affection that's set free
I wish there's a way I could avoid the dismay
And live a life that myself would agree

for a picture that struck me

gazing at the lake and sky
the world decided to pass me by
one is mirror one is real
one is moving but another is still

but which is which, the lake and sky
i cannot tell, i don't know why
i'm neither here nor am i there
i don't exist yet i'm everywhere

the hue's the same, inside or out
but there's no difference, with or without
one loves the other, all too much
to turn into it, exactly as such

i continue my search for the line
that divides all shadows including mine
but like i said, one loves another
they can't separate and so they solder

but then i saw something yellow
drifting afloat, gentle and mellow
the mirror failed to echo the sweetness
the image dispersed and reveal the unlikeness

and so the imposter is finally uncovered
the stalker who is caught off-guarded
even then the beauty still remains
in those two that are non-terrains

afterall my shadow loves me still
it offers itself down at my heel
and since the world is passing me by
let me and my shadow bid it goodbye!!

Meghaduta: The Cloud Messenger ~ by Kalidasa

Sriram 's father was in Stockholm to visit him, and I went over for a fantastic indian dinner with them. After dinner, Sriram, Seera (a fren from the Ideation class) and me started to discuss about Hinduism, Buddhism and the vedas.

We came across this romantic poem, the Cloud Messenger by a legendry Sanskrit poet, Kalidasa. It's about a desperate man on exile speaking to the clouds to bring his love to his wife. It's a long long poem, but please read on, and it will touch your heart. I would like to dedicate this to beibei, may the clouds bring mine to him...


... Managing with difficulty to stand up in front of that cloud which was the
cause of the renewal of his enthusiasm, that attendant of the king of kings,
pondered while holding back his tears. Even the mind of a happy person is
excited at the sight of a cloud. How much more so, when the one who longs to
cling to his neck is far away? ...

... Owing to his impatience, not considering the imcompatibility between a cloud
consisting of vapour, light, water and wind and the contents of his message
best delivered by a person of normal faculties, the yaksha made this request to
the cloud, for among sentient and non-sentient things, those afflicted by desire
are naturally miserable:

Without doubt, your path unimpeded, you will see your brother’s wife, intent
on counting the days, faithful and living on. The bond of hope generally
sustains the quickly sinking hearts of women who are alone, and which wilt
like flowers.

Just as the favourable wind drives you slowly onward, this cataka cuckoo,
your kinsman, calls sweetly on the left. Knowing the season for fertilisation,
cranes, like threaded garlands in the sky, lovely to the eye, will serve you.

Your steady passage observed by charming female siddhas who in trepidation
wonder ‘Has the summit been carried off the mountain by the wind?’, you
who are heading north, fly up into the sky from this place where the nicula
trees flourish, avoiding on the way the blows of the trunks of the elephants of
the four quarters of the sky.

This rainbow, resembling the intermingled sparkling of jewels, appears before
Mt Valmikagra, on account of which your dark body takes on a particular
Loveliness, as did the body of Vishnu dressed as a cowherd with the peacock’s
feather of glistening lustre...

... ...

The slender young woman who is there would be the premier creation by the
Creator in the sphere of women, with fine teeth, lips like a ripe bimba fruit, a
slim waist, eyes like a startled gazelle’s, a deep navel, a gait slow on account
of the weight of her hips, and who is somewhat bowed down by her breasts.

You should know that she whose words are few, my second life, is like a
solitary female cakravaka duck when I, her mate, am far away. While these
weary days are passing, I think the girl whose longing is deep has taken on an
altered appearance, like a lotus blighted by frost.

Surely the face of my beloved, her eyes swollen from violent weeping, the
colour of her lower lip changed by the heat of her sighs, resting upon her
hand, partially hidden by the hanging locks of her hair, bears the miserable
appearance of the moon with its brightness obscured when pursued by you.

... Or having placed a lute on a dirty cloth on her lap, friend, wanting to sing a
song whose words are contrived to contain my name, and somehow plucking
the strings wet with tears, again and again she forgets the melody, even
though she composed it herself;

Or engaged in counting the remaining months set from the day of our
separation until the end by placing flowers on the ground at the threshold, or
enjoying acts of union that are preserved in her mind. These generally are the
diversions of women when separated from their husbands.

... I think of the eyes of that deer-eyed one, the sideways movements of which
are concealed by her hair, which are devoid of the glistening of collyrium,
which have forgotten the play of their eyebrows on account of abstinence
from sweet liqour, and whose upper eyelids tremble when you are near: these
eyes take on the semblance of the beauty of a blue lotus that is trembling with
the movement of a fish.

And her lovely thigh will tremble, being without the impressions of my
fingernails, caused to abandon it long-accustomed string of pearls by the
course of fate, used to the caresses of my hand at the end of our enjoyment,
and as pale as the stem of a beautiful plantain palm...

... I hope, friend, that you are firmly resolved upon this friendly service for me. I
certainly do not regard your silences as indicating refusal. When requested
you also apportion rain to the cataka cuckoos in silence, for the response of
the virtuous to those who make a request is the performance of that which is
desired.

Having undertaken this favour for me who bears this request that is unworthy
of you, with thoughts of compassion for me, either out of friendship or
because you think that I am alone, proceed to your desired destination, O
cloud, your splendour enhanced by rainy season, and may you never be
separated like this even for a moment from your spouse, the lightning...



This is just the excerpt of a 14 page long Adobe file. The poem was written in such a detailed geographical references about the path that the particular monsoon cloud would take that until now it still awed scientists.

This was really a piece of centuries-old wisdom and romance.

May the cloud shed blessing rain on all that has to be separated from their love ones...

Cinnamon day!!

Just a very short post...

Today is the Swedish Cinnamon Day! Wondering what people do during Cinnamon Day? Well, you basically celebrate it by eating lotsa Cinnamon buns. My CEO pasted a notice on our office door today saying that there'll be a Cinnamon party at 1430~1445. Free buns!! haha! And it's so fun, we just sat around the meeting room, cracking silly jokes about mooses, reindeers, santa lucio day, and the H3D day =D It's amazing how people actually spend the time simply chatting with colleagues. And I don't mean just one person, but the whole company (erm, there were only 6 of us) basically sat down and had a really nice tea...

Ram Kumar with his Cinnamon

My Cinnamon!! I couldn't wait... so i took a bite =P

This was the highlight for today...

Oh ya... and i also got tricked to eat raw garlic... one full clove... I have halts in my mouth now...

写我所喜爱的方块文字

异乡，异地，异样的风采。从我这对亚洲小眼看出去的欧洲世界，任何东西都显得新奇古怪。骑着脚车叮当而过的女孩、慈颜欢笑的白头老姥、随风凋零的彤彤秋叶、城墙里边的万家灯火，这一切，曾是我的童话世界的一部分。如今，却尽在眼前。踏着脚下的石路，呼吸着一天天转凉的空气，我的梦想，就随着吐出来的雾气，慢慢兑现。

一整个月马不停蹄的周游斯德哥尔摩， 今晚又去了山顶的公园看夜景。开始点上灯采的城市，在铜镜般的海面上，显得很平静。一直都兴奋不已的心，被灯影照得透明，乖乖的，也平静了。
看着晚霞挂上彩装，这迷人的夜景，有种不真实的美。它，像一朵盛开的玫瑰，淡淡的散发着浪漫气息。它，像一首动人的情歌，邀我在晚风里翩翩起舞。它，像一个说不完的故事，让我摒着呼吸静静聆听。

我坐在崖边，享受着难得一见的美丽。我多想伸出手，握着旁边的人，对他说：“很美，对不？”，却发现，除了湿沥沥的青苔之外，我身边谁都没有。 在那一瞬间，眼帘里的缤纷，突然抹上了一片忧伤。

如无知音，要琴何用？我的知音，和我隔了一大片海洋。冷风里，我握不到他的手。眼前的美景，要如何与他共享呢？打个电话跟他说，我解释得到风中轻轻的旋律吗？动笔写下来，我描绘得到云里变化的色彩吗？多拍几张照片，照片里头又怎么会有闪闪绿光所带来的感动呢？

如今，我活在我的童话里。遗憾的是，童话少了一个王子。若能靠着王子的肩膀瞭望，眼里的，将尽是一片美好。。。