They say behind every imagination lies a wish but there are times when one wishes not to imagine. Every deep desire however dark is masked by one of those little irrelevant day dreams. Those desires we cannot accept are washed off with a shrug as a hopeless mind trick. Though we barely may admit them in the public eye. I have met very few people who can accept their dreams and term them as their desires. They seem to me as quite an interesting lot. They understand something about themselves that others don’t. I recently met such a person.
Pokey is a man in love. He’s a man I’ve known to be in love perpetually. The object of his affections resign from time to time but the love is constant, permanent and universal.
Pokey singularly follows whatever takes his fancy. It does seem a bit odd in the beginning when he drags you across the city on foot because the love of his life detests the pollution and is concerned about the carbons caused by vehicular pollution. Then there was the time when another unfortunate girl was plagued by his attributions who seemed interested in theatre. In fact, She was a rising star in the City’s art circles causing Pokey to suddenly become Shakespearean. Much to everyone’s dismay, He would keep quoting the poor fellow to just about anybody, including the vegetable vendor. The point I wish to illuminate is that, the fellow would not only be a passive lover but he would go all out and devote his attention to the minutest detail. He is what I would call the perpetual student. He studies what he likes and I rather enviously admit, he excels in them. True, He never gets the girl in the end but I suspect that he doesn’t want her. He rather enjoys the chase. He won’t admit it, mind you.
You see Pokey had once had a very dysfunctional relationship. A happy couple that went very wrong. No reason. Just one of the many things that happen in life. Pokey’s love had never died out though. He simply said to me once,” You know Aabhishek, I often wonder how beautiful love is. If it felt so bloody wonderful with the wrong person, Just imagine how ecstatic it would be with the right one.” To a cynic like me, it did seem that the beer was taking it’s toll but the problem with people like Pokey is like swine flu they are bloody contagious after you’ve been with them a while. You can’t help but be affected by his enthusiasm and devotion when he goes in for a girl. I have never once seen him unhappy. Not even for the girl he would have devoted enormous amounts of time pleasing her in little ways. When the girl absolutely assures him that he has spread more than enough joy in her life to last her a lifetime, does he shrug his shoulders and move on to the next one. I have never really understood what drives the fellow but it appeared I could learn a lot from him. Whether his desire to fulfill an unfulfilled love fuels his imagination or his imagination of his incomplete love fuels his wishes, I shall not know.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
The Tyranny Of Optimism
The Tyranny Of Optimism.
the interim period between relationships is always the most educating one albeit the most frustrating one. It is a phase where optimism must reign supreme without which the body and mind plunge into an endless anarchy of self-destruction. Optimism is a despotic ruler. It is the bastard child of disappointment and determination conceived when one faces disappointment with determination. Optimism implies an underlying disappointment to it. As without the fear of disappointment, what does one have to be optimistic about?
Optimism is a state of being, Its not an attitude. There is a constant threat to optimism. Events which can quell it. It is meant to be a temporary being. The ingredients of attitude, usually need to be of a more permanent nature, meaning no matter how screwed up the circumstances are your reaction to it does not change. Optimists often argue that it is the best route to take in uncertainty. But the dominance of this beast oversteps all thresholds of uncertainty.
Once optimism has made a conquest of you, It shall lead you into avoidable circumstances with an unrealistic belief and complete ignorance of facts. It is hard to tell when optimism mutates into overconfidence for there is a very thin line (If at all) that separates them. Overconfidence grows up to take the form of recklessness.
Optimism does seem to remind us of a great king who started what might once have been a revered dynasty only to rise into infamy due to his long line of wasteful scions and spiteful tyrants.
Similarly optimism may do wonders for you now but keep watching for that line so you don’t go into a restaurant hoping to pay for the meal with the pearl you hope to find in the oysters.
the interim period between relationships is always the most educating one albeit the most frustrating one. It is a phase where optimism must reign supreme without which the body and mind plunge into an endless anarchy of self-destruction. Optimism is a despotic ruler. It is the bastard child of disappointment and determination conceived when one faces disappointment with determination. Optimism implies an underlying disappointment to it. As without the fear of disappointment, what does one have to be optimistic about?
Optimism is a state of being, Its not an attitude. There is a constant threat to optimism. Events which can quell it. It is meant to be a temporary being. The ingredients of attitude, usually need to be of a more permanent nature, meaning no matter how screwed up the circumstances are your reaction to it does not change. Optimists often argue that it is the best route to take in uncertainty. But the dominance of this beast oversteps all thresholds of uncertainty.
Once optimism has made a conquest of you, It shall lead you into avoidable circumstances with an unrealistic belief and complete ignorance of facts. It is hard to tell when optimism mutates into overconfidence for there is a very thin line (If at all) that separates them. Overconfidence grows up to take the form of recklessness.
Optimism does seem to remind us of a great king who started what might once have been a revered dynasty only to rise into infamy due to his long line of wasteful scions and spiteful tyrants.
Similarly optimism may do wonders for you now but keep watching for that line so you don’t go into a restaurant hoping to pay for the meal with the pearl you hope to find in the oysters.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
The Gutter Of Talent
I recently chanced upon a very strange spot in the city. It’s quite funny how you might live in a city all your life but never manage to see a particular spot. You might hear about the place and may even have a vague idea of it’s location but you never get round to visiting it even though it is so close to home. The place however, in my reference exists in every city of the world. It has an omnipresent character. It is as pervasive as pollution yet hidden away from sight as sewage lines. The place is the gutter of talent.
The gutter of talent is the place where all the talents of the city which have not been utilized are eventually flushed into. You remember your friend with the breakthrough business plan? Or the cousin who was so good at acting, singing etc? Or your only graduate uncle who gave up that IIT seat to take over the family Kirana store? Well they all now stop by here on their way back from their underachieved lives. Although symbolically insignificant, the stench of rotting talent is the worst of it’s kind. The funny thing about smell is, now this is a universal principle that the person emanating the scent, rarely seems to notice it but a the third person has to put his reserve to the test, by suppressing his urge to cover his nose and retch.
Oh what a sight it is to stop by this canal of filth! It is a perfect place for many a caution stories. The once successful, beautiful, intelligent, artistic, creative the list goes on.. are now reduced to the decadent, suppressed, lifeless, depressed, unhappy…this list too goes on. Many of them confide in me from time to time telling me about their good old days. It’s the past that’s promising for most of them and the future looks bleak. Ask them how they ended up here and you get all sorts of answers on how the world’s wronged them, some begrudge the society, Some parents, some siblings, some friends, some enemies rarely do I hear self-blame. But I hear there’s another gutter for that somewhere in this city.
It’s not that their unhappy. No. They are very happy. Pretty much like Sureshbhai. Sureshbhai uses this atrocious smelling perfume and has been using it for years. I hear people have told him of it’s wretched smell to which he responds “I can’t smell it.” . What is excruciating about these people is that like Sureshbhai, they never seem to notice what they are giving out. It is the people who surround them have to bear the brunt. Each one residing in that gutter is an utterly gifted person. I have met many of the best orators, writers, singers, artists, fathers, daughters, sons and mothers on my frequent excursions there. Ironically, each one knows how good they are and can be but whether they lack in initiative or action is beyond me. For now I am content with my visits there and don’t ever want to go back. If you’re interested, you’re welcome to try. All it takes is for you to find out what you love to do and just stop doing it.
The gutter of talent is the place where all the talents of the city which have not been utilized are eventually flushed into. You remember your friend with the breakthrough business plan? Or the cousin who was so good at acting, singing etc? Or your only graduate uncle who gave up that IIT seat to take over the family Kirana store? Well they all now stop by here on their way back from their underachieved lives. Although symbolically insignificant, the stench of rotting talent is the worst of it’s kind. The funny thing about smell is, now this is a universal principle that the person emanating the scent, rarely seems to notice it but a the third person has to put his reserve to the test, by suppressing his urge to cover his nose and retch.
Oh what a sight it is to stop by this canal of filth! It is a perfect place for many a caution stories. The once successful, beautiful, intelligent, artistic, creative the list goes on.. are now reduced to the decadent, suppressed, lifeless, depressed, unhappy…this list too goes on. Many of them confide in me from time to time telling me about their good old days. It’s the past that’s promising for most of them and the future looks bleak. Ask them how they ended up here and you get all sorts of answers on how the world’s wronged them, some begrudge the society, Some parents, some siblings, some friends, some enemies rarely do I hear self-blame. But I hear there’s another gutter for that somewhere in this city.
It’s not that their unhappy. No. They are very happy. Pretty much like Sureshbhai. Sureshbhai uses this atrocious smelling perfume and has been using it for years. I hear people have told him of it’s wretched smell to which he responds “I can’t smell it.” . What is excruciating about these people is that like Sureshbhai, they never seem to notice what they are giving out. It is the people who surround them have to bear the brunt. Each one residing in that gutter is an utterly gifted person. I have met many of the best orators, writers, singers, artists, fathers, daughters, sons and mothers on my frequent excursions there. Ironically, each one knows how good they are and can be but whether they lack in initiative or action is beyond me. For now I am content with my visits there and don’t ever want to go back. If you’re interested, you’re welcome to try. All it takes is for you to find out what you love to do and just stop doing it.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Prison Diary
There was once a time, I sat alone.
Longing for company, Locked in my home.
I used to look out into the dark nights.
Hoping that a visitor just might,
Make his way unto my doorstep.
I waited in patience brushing the tears shed.
Scores of eyes glared at the manor in intense hate.
even as Many a feet crossed my gates.
Yet not one cared to tread in.
To see me well, to share a grin.
I was unaware of the outside din.
It now appears they believed I've lived a life of sin.
Tired of the waiting, I retired to my armchair
just not caring.
It was then I received a visitor.
My first one after the last had left years earlier.
He wasn't a handsome specimen mind you.
For he sported ugly horns and heeled boots.
"What do you want of me?", I asked him.
"A lime would be good, with a spot of Gin."
came the reply.
I watched exasperatedly as this guest of mine,
Helped himself with considerable audacity.
"You are accused of three heinous crimes."
He said tapping the now empty bottle.
I steeled my self for this trial of times,
even as my hair stood on its ends hearing his nasty chortle.
"Pray, speak what my deviance is?
Point him out, he who has grievances.
Remind me where I have erred,
So I may surmise what else is there to be learned."
"Very well, You shall have it as you wish."
He said waving his hand with a flourish.
There appeared a cloud from the fireplace
Broadcasting an incident where I fell from grace.
It was an incident of my youth,
Since when I have never forsaken the truth.
"Is it to be believed,
that you have acted with immense greed?
By resorting to honesty,
You have damned society to face it's own hypocrisy."
"It is true." I replied.
Undaunted, unmarred
"Then I pronounce you guilty as charged!"
"Charge number two:
Have you ever been selfless?"
He asked even as I was reeling with acceptance.
I recalled the now long gone past,
whence I had forsaken my desires and held fast.
It was then it dawned upon me, It seems
I had lived for others giving up my own dreams.
Pangs of regret began to choke me,
Even as the cursed devil moved on to charge number three.
"Has forgiveness too been your game?"
He eyed me crossly.
Sunk as I was, I hung my head in admitted shame.
"How then can we allow you to reside in this Society?
One that values dishonesty and thrives on duality."
It was thus that I was ostracized,
But it was wisdom rather than regret that donned my eyes.
So I went to the gallows a happy man,
Looking back at the world for that one last time,
It was a good run, I still say.
As I wait in my cell block for a visitor to come my way.
Over the events, I have learned.
Good deeds can't be cured.
How I wish I could join the herd!
My name is God,
And I have left the world.
Longing for company, Locked in my home.
I used to look out into the dark nights.
Hoping that a visitor just might,
Make his way unto my doorstep.
I waited in patience brushing the tears shed.
Scores of eyes glared at the manor in intense hate.
even as Many a feet crossed my gates.
Yet not one cared to tread in.
To see me well, to share a grin.
I was unaware of the outside din.
It now appears they believed I've lived a life of sin.
Tired of the waiting, I retired to my armchair
just not caring.
It was then I received a visitor.
My first one after the last had left years earlier.
He wasn't a handsome specimen mind you.
For he sported ugly horns and heeled boots.
"What do you want of me?", I asked him.
"A lime would be good, with a spot of Gin."
came the reply.
I watched exasperatedly as this guest of mine,
Helped himself with considerable audacity.
"You are accused of three heinous crimes."
He said tapping the now empty bottle.
I steeled my self for this trial of times,
even as my hair stood on its ends hearing his nasty chortle.
"Pray, speak what my deviance is?
Point him out, he who has grievances.
Remind me where I have erred,
So I may surmise what else is there to be learned."
"Very well, You shall have it as you wish."
He said waving his hand with a flourish.
There appeared a cloud from the fireplace
Broadcasting an incident where I fell from grace.
It was an incident of my youth,
Since when I have never forsaken the truth.
"Is it to be believed,
that you have acted with immense greed?
By resorting to honesty,
You have damned society to face it's own hypocrisy."
"It is true." I replied.
Undaunted, unmarred
"Then I pronounce you guilty as charged!"
"Charge number two:
Have you ever been selfless?"
He asked even as I was reeling with acceptance.
I recalled the now long gone past,
whence I had forsaken my desires and held fast.
It was then it dawned upon me, It seems
I had lived for others giving up my own dreams.
Pangs of regret began to choke me,
Even as the cursed devil moved on to charge number three.
"Has forgiveness too been your game?"
He eyed me crossly.
Sunk as I was, I hung my head in admitted shame.
"How then can we allow you to reside in this Society?
One that values dishonesty and thrives on duality."
It was thus that I was ostracized,
But it was wisdom rather than regret that donned my eyes.
So I went to the gallows a happy man,
Looking back at the world for that one last time,
It was a good run, I still say.
As I wait in my cell block for a visitor to come my way.
Over the events, I have learned.
Good deeds can't be cured.
How I wish I could join the herd!
My name is God,
And I have left the world.
Monday, September 28, 2009
7 Point Happy City Programme
This city is littered with the carcasses of unfulfilled relationships. It has been my experience as a resident for five years in this fine city, that most people are unhappy with each other. It seems to me that they are merely together to prove it to themselves that they did not make a mistake in choosing such and such a person. It’s an ego thing. No it’s not just the guys who are guilty of this charge, I have also peeked into some members of the fairer sex who take immense delight the minute the other person fucks up.
I am tired of having my date talk to me about her boyfriend and how she’s on a break with him for a month. I have a problem understanding this break concept. It’s either you’re on with some one or your plainly not but obviously I am in error. Is it like I’ll just check if I am still dateable or have I grown too fat for someone else or do people still find me attractive. If they don’t we can just go ahead and settle down. I guess it’s a shot at something better. Or someone better. Also I am plain frustrated with the boys night out becoming a discussion of someone’s tattered love life. I honestly believe most people deserve each other. The paradox is the longer you stay with someone, the harder it is to tell them the truth and so on.
The way I look at it, it seemed like a monstrous whirlpool. I have given the matter some looking into and realized the entire process works something like this:-
You meet a wonderful person and both of you perfectly compliment each other in every
way. You’re sure this is the person your going to ride off into the sunset with.
Portray that this person is the love of your life to all friends and family. Build up that romantic Shahrukh Khan Karan johar feeling. I love you You love me, we are happy family.
A few months elapse, Yup she’s getting fatter and he’s becoming an egoistic prick.
You just can’t take it anymore but you can’t get out as well considering you were so hasty to plan your whole life with them in the first 2 weeks you met. So you do what Chaddha aunty does. Find faults with that person continually and be generally unhappy about life. Crib. Yes that’s a good thing. And also while we’re on the subject, now’s a good time to reflect all their faults right back at them. If they’re a mite too loud in public, you be like Rakhi Sawant at Mika’s party. If they cook bad, you start to think of a way to burn water and rot like that.
Now that you’ve got your partner worried and irritated answer all their questions in monosyllables. Like “How was work?” and you say “Hmm” or “Did you like the new dish I made for you?” you say “Hmmm”. Now there will come a time when the partner will stand up and hold your elbow gently and look into your eyes and ask what the matter is? For easy quitters here’s an exit point. Don’t reply get out of the house, go to the cops and book your partner for assault and battery. No? Not working for you? Well let’s proceed then. Oh yes while on and about utilizing this method also be horrendously obnoxious about their presence.
Now number 6 says Do your best to show all your cronies what a suffering life you have. Crib just enough to get them started on your partner. Then defend your partner righteously. (You see I don’t know why this is done particularly but it’s deemed important. Probably so your friends can tell you later,”Oh he was a prick anyway.” or one of my favorites,”Nice to have you back buddy.”)
Now if this isn’t enough to get your partner cheating on you or dumping you altogether then just go for the unconventional method to get rid of them. Although it’s not in popular use but it is said to have great remedial qualities. Sit down with your partner and tell them that it’s just not working out. Yup. It’s that simple.
So in my view, I genuinely believe choose whatever method you prefer, but make your choice in the interest of a happier city, a happier world.
I am tired of having my date talk to me about her boyfriend and how she’s on a break with him for a month. I have a problem understanding this break concept. It’s either you’re on with some one or your plainly not but obviously I am in error. Is it like I’ll just check if I am still dateable or have I grown too fat for someone else or do people still find me attractive. If they don’t we can just go ahead and settle down. I guess it’s a shot at something better. Or someone better. Also I am plain frustrated with the boys night out becoming a discussion of someone’s tattered love life. I honestly believe most people deserve each other. The paradox is the longer you stay with someone, the harder it is to tell them the truth and so on.
The way I look at it, it seemed like a monstrous whirlpool. I have given the matter some looking into and realized the entire process works something like this:-
You meet a wonderful person and both of you perfectly compliment each other in every
way. You’re sure this is the person your going to ride off into the sunset with.
Portray that this person is the love of your life to all friends and family. Build up that romantic Shahrukh Khan Karan johar feeling. I love you You love me, we are happy family.
A few months elapse, Yup she’s getting fatter and he’s becoming an egoistic prick.
You just can’t take it anymore but you can’t get out as well considering you were so hasty to plan your whole life with them in the first 2 weeks you met. So you do what Chaddha aunty does. Find faults with that person continually and be generally unhappy about life. Crib. Yes that’s a good thing. And also while we’re on the subject, now’s a good time to reflect all their faults right back at them. If they’re a mite too loud in public, you be like Rakhi Sawant at Mika’s party. If they cook bad, you start to think of a way to burn water and rot like that.
Now that you’ve got your partner worried and irritated answer all their questions in monosyllables. Like “How was work?” and you say “Hmm” or “Did you like the new dish I made for you?” you say “Hmmm”. Now there will come a time when the partner will stand up and hold your elbow gently and look into your eyes and ask what the matter is? For easy quitters here’s an exit point. Don’t reply get out of the house, go to the cops and book your partner for assault and battery. No? Not working for you? Well let’s proceed then. Oh yes while on and about utilizing this method also be horrendously obnoxious about their presence.
Now number 6 says Do your best to show all your cronies what a suffering life you have. Crib just enough to get them started on your partner. Then defend your partner righteously. (You see I don’t know why this is done particularly but it’s deemed important. Probably so your friends can tell you later,”Oh he was a prick anyway.” or one of my favorites,”Nice to have you back buddy.”)
Now if this isn’t enough to get your partner cheating on you or dumping you altogether then just go for the unconventional method to get rid of them. Although it’s not in popular use but it is said to have great remedial qualities. Sit down with your partner and tell them that it’s just not working out. Yup. It’s that simple.
So in my view, I genuinely believe choose whatever method you prefer, but make your choice in the interest of a happier city, a happier world.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
The Anti-Hero
There has been a slow and steady change in the depiction of protagonists in today’s age. Gone are the days when the heroes worshipped by millions was a sensitive,virtuous, courageous and an upholder of justice. To sum his/her characteristics would be simple in just three words. Kind-hearted Sods. They would predominate every story laid out before the world and they usually ended up being ass-kissing pricks who would make the Subway Ham and cheese melt to soggy up in shame. Depictions of characters would always be a notch above the current social trends. In the celluloid world, the British rulers were often over-characterized as ruthless, sadistic white men who spoke Goan Hindi. The antagonists would usually be an infamous Thakur known for his expressions during rape scenes. A closer look at publications of the past century reveals, It often was filthy evil rich persons Vs glorified honest slum dwellers. In mind Premchand.
Such a depiction may not have been entirely wrong but it certainly wasn’t as dramatic as Prem Chopra’s rape scenes and Tom Alter committing genocide and mass murder until a valiant Dharmpaji socks him good after the usual vampiric threats.
I never truly believed that the entire world changes when 1999 becomes 2000. But in a way it did. The social values that had been quite firmly in place until December 31st 1999 magically changed to on 1st Jan 2000. It’s not that social values had been done away with altogether. They simply changed with time. This millennium brought in a new set of social icons and public figures. They were a slightly more realistic cariacature of each one of us. They reflected the simple evil that lay in all of us. Each media and other modes of public communication brought out it’s own likeable anti-hero. The word anti-hero is a breakthrough in itself. Anti-Hero is not a person against the hero, He’s just someone who in spite of being the protagonist does not wear the shoes of a conventional hero.
Now, 9 years later. The evidence is strewn all over the world. Tinkle, a popular children’s comic often depicted child stories which shamelessly advertised virtues of honesty, sharing and truthfulness. Today, they often depict pesky kids as protagonists who play wicked pranks on elderly gentlemen. In the celluloid world where Dharmendra once played an honest cop in pursuit of a gang that smuggles Charas, Abhay Deol is equally popular snorting those coke lines on screen in Dev D. The above statement is not a comparison to the degeneration of popular media but it merely endeavours to highlight on the change of social trends and their acceptance.
We liked our heroes back in the day but today we somehow like our anti-heroes better. At least for now.
Such a depiction may not have been entirely wrong but it certainly wasn’t as dramatic as Prem Chopra’s rape scenes and Tom Alter committing genocide and mass murder until a valiant Dharmpaji socks him good after the usual vampiric threats.
I never truly believed that the entire world changes when 1999 becomes 2000. But in a way it did. The social values that had been quite firmly in place until December 31st 1999 magically changed to on 1st Jan 2000. It’s not that social values had been done away with altogether. They simply changed with time. This millennium brought in a new set of social icons and public figures. They were a slightly more realistic cariacature of each one of us. They reflected the simple evil that lay in all of us. Each media and other modes of public communication brought out it’s own likeable anti-hero. The word anti-hero is a breakthrough in itself. Anti-Hero is not a person against the hero, He’s just someone who in spite of being the protagonist does not wear the shoes of a conventional hero.
Now, 9 years later. The evidence is strewn all over the world. Tinkle, a popular children’s comic often depicted child stories which shamelessly advertised virtues of honesty, sharing and truthfulness. Today, they often depict pesky kids as protagonists who play wicked pranks on elderly gentlemen. In the celluloid world where Dharmendra once played an honest cop in pursuit of a gang that smuggles Charas, Abhay Deol is equally popular snorting those coke lines on screen in Dev D. The above statement is not a comparison to the degeneration of popular media but it merely endeavours to highlight on the change of social trends and their acceptance.
We liked our heroes back in the day but today we somehow like our anti-heroes better. At least for now.
Friday, July 24, 2009
The Art Of Advocacy
I was recently at a guest lecture dealing with the topic of “The art of Advocacy”. Now this doesn’t really form a part of my curriculum but I was in attendance due to one of those conscience pangs of not doing your bit for your chosen profession.
The lecture was nothing to write home about but it was the manner in which it took place was a tad enlightening. In a very forgotten and underestimated experiment the speaker, an old veteran of the court room battles, asked for a good old fashioned introduction of the 45 odd people in the class.
It is quite a daunting task, I observed, to sum up your life story in about five sentences. I noticed most people fumbled up, those who didn’t, lied and those who did not do any of the above, overdid it.
I am not in the least judgemental about these people. Hell I was one of them. Although I do not know which of the above categories I fell in.
We heard life stories from legal empire scions to constitution obsessed fucks. No one person in that room could calmly talk about their lives which led me to believe , we probably don’t think as much about life as we ought to.
It was when old fogey at the podium started to narrate an entirely unrelated story ,like only old people manage to do, causing my mind to wander again to that observation. That was when it struck me. There is no real necessity to think about life. What’s important is that you go out there and experience it. Do keep one thing in mind though. Your experiences and wisdom are yours and yours only. It may or may not benefit anyone else except you. By the time you’re done tasting most of what your life has to offer, the world will already have moved on.
Someone once said, “Life’s a learning process.” I am pretty certain now, that person once attended an “Art of Advocacy” lecture.
Your experiences with life will have no bearing on the present generation that’s because you come from a foregone world and your listeners are usually creators of tomorrow. If anything it’s important to hear them out. If only for a selfish reason as you’ve tasted what the past had to offer, It’s only right that you have a chance to savour the future.
The lecture was nothing to write home about but it was the manner in which it took place was a tad enlightening. In a very forgotten and underestimated experiment the speaker, an old veteran of the court room battles, asked for a good old fashioned introduction of the 45 odd people in the class.
It is quite a daunting task, I observed, to sum up your life story in about five sentences. I noticed most people fumbled up, those who didn’t, lied and those who did not do any of the above, overdid it.
I am not in the least judgemental about these people. Hell I was one of them. Although I do not know which of the above categories I fell in.
We heard life stories from legal empire scions to constitution obsessed fucks. No one person in that room could calmly talk about their lives which led me to believe , we probably don’t think as much about life as we ought to.
It was when old fogey at the podium started to narrate an entirely unrelated story ,like only old people manage to do, causing my mind to wander again to that observation. That was when it struck me. There is no real necessity to think about life. What’s important is that you go out there and experience it. Do keep one thing in mind though. Your experiences and wisdom are yours and yours only. It may or may not benefit anyone else except you. By the time you’re done tasting most of what your life has to offer, the world will already have moved on.
Someone once said, “Life’s a learning process.” I am pretty certain now, that person once attended an “Art of Advocacy” lecture.
Your experiences with life will have no bearing on the present generation that’s because you come from a foregone world and your listeners are usually creators of tomorrow. If anything it’s important to hear them out. If only for a selfish reason as you’ve tasted what the past had to offer, It’s only right that you have a chance to savour the future.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Of Spas & Screwdrivers
NOTE:-" I must apologise for the previous post as it was the unedited copy not ready to be published but we had a technical fuckup and i guess you all read the other version. However this is how the article was meant to be."
There reeks a discerning familiarity between the health clubs today and the unfortunately named cocktail. Spas today are more of an ego boost rather than an honest effort at perfecting one’s physical attributes. It is not surprising as it is surprisingly appropriate that one should indulge in such an excruciating past time. The same way we might guzzle the horrendous liquid , we breathe in the bitter sweet odour of perspiration and room freshener in an attempt to reach out to the person we wish to see on the other side of the mirror. when once one decides to embark on the arduous task of converting the self image in our minds to reality , it is easy to see that life turns into a screwdriver. A screw driver portrays the perfect blend of mind and reality.
The orange juice represents the mind and the vodka dashes in harsh reality. The orange juice reflects how we wish to see ourselves and the vodka reflects what we truly are. We sip the spiked citrus atrocity, after all its 3 parts juice and only 1.5 parts of vodka isn't it?, in a conscious effort to cling on to fitness fanaticism. Working out is as much a part of mind fast food as it is the burning out of body. Nothing gives you a faster swollen head than a set of bulging biceps. The mind gorges on those newly acquired bulges and gives obesity of the mind a new meaning. The tangy aftertaste of a screwdriver is something that's ever quite familiar with the metallic ting at the back of your mouth when doing 10k on the treadmill. The dreams of shedding those extra pounds are something my frailer brethren will not understand. But they do notice that everyone is born with their own respective sets of luggage. You lose it from your body and goes somewhere else instead.
Ever noticed that fat girl from 6th grade who was usually the only one who would go back empty handed on 'Rose Day'? I remember mine. She was called Raji. She disappeared after school only for me to spot her years later gyrating at a local club with a new turbo engineered body with a long queue of testosterone pumped popeyes standing attendance. You now have to get in line just to talk to her. Yeah its probably true fat Raji worked her ass of in the gym. But she just transferred her love handles to somewhere else instead. Its true in school Raji wasn't the girl to take to your annual day, but at least she was a likeable sort.
I sense something inadvertently bitchy about her now. A very compulsive coldness. It slips on rare occasions. Especially when we talked about lunch hour. Lunch hour was probably the only time I would hang out with Pudgy Raji. My friends did joke about it on a few occasions but somehow tolerated my little deviance. I wouldn’t really hang out with her it was just a sort of ritual to watch her eat. Some claimed there was something particularly piggish about the entire affair. Maybe it was her snorts as she devoured one cupcake after another or perhaps it was the hoggish delight in her eye as she chomped away an insane quantity of Cadbury’s Gems. Rumor had it that Pudgy Raji could polish off two Rs. 5 packets of GEMS in a chomp.
I somehow never found her culinary etiquette disgusting. She was a good kid who just needed to reign herself in a little. I couldn’t help feeling that food was somehow her only outlet. You see, Little Raji never really had a lot of friends. She wanted to give away the enormous quantity of love she possessed. But no one wanted to be on the receiving end. So she turned to the only thing in her life that would take and receive love. Her food. And she found it strangely gratifying. Food was the only true love of her life. but all she wanted was to be like the most popular girl in class. With people swooning all around her. Today her wish has come true, Guys go crazy around her, they throng around her just to get her number, but somehow I cant help feeling she is not happy inside.
Lunchtime was probably the only fun time with Raji. She would eat with a passion. Now you would dread taking her out for dinner. Health food's expensive. Although it looks like cardboard it costs more than a big mac. Gone is the sloppy delight, Now there's usually a blank look in her eyes as she pretends to enjoy her tofu and bean sprouts steak and spinach juice. Inside I realize she is just a hungry girl craving for that one big uninhibited handi of butter chicken. But she knows she cant. She's trapped in keeping up appearances. You can guess by now what she drinks at the parties. Yup its the screwdriver.
There reeks a discerning familiarity between the health clubs today and the unfortunately named cocktail. Spas today are more of an ego boost rather than an honest effort at perfecting one’s physical attributes. It is not surprising as it is surprisingly appropriate that one should indulge in such an excruciating past time. The same way we might guzzle the horrendous liquid , we breathe in the bitter sweet odour of perspiration and room freshener in an attempt to reach out to the person we wish to see on the other side of the mirror. when once one decides to embark on the arduous task of converting the self image in our minds to reality , it is easy to see that life turns into a screwdriver. A screw driver portrays the perfect blend of mind and reality.
The orange juice represents the mind and the vodka dashes in harsh reality. The orange juice reflects how we wish to see ourselves and the vodka reflects what we truly are. We sip the spiked citrus atrocity, after all its 3 parts juice and only 1.5 parts of vodka isn't it?, in a conscious effort to cling on to fitness fanaticism. Working out is as much a part of mind fast food as it is the burning out of body. Nothing gives you a faster swollen head than a set of bulging biceps. The mind gorges on those newly acquired bulges and gives obesity of the mind a new meaning. The tangy aftertaste of a screwdriver is something that's ever quite familiar with the metallic ting at the back of your mouth when doing 10k on the treadmill. The dreams of shedding those extra pounds are something my frailer brethren will not understand. But they do notice that everyone is born with their own respective sets of luggage. You lose it from your body and goes somewhere else instead.
Ever noticed that fat girl from 6th grade who was usually the only one who would go back empty handed on 'Rose Day'? I remember mine. She was called Raji. She disappeared after school only for me to spot her years later gyrating at a local club with a new turbo engineered body with a long queue of testosterone pumped popeyes standing attendance. You now have to get in line just to talk to her. Yeah its probably true fat Raji worked her ass of in the gym. But she just transferred her love handles to somewhere else instead. Its true in school Raji wasn't the girl to take to your annual day, but at least she was a likeable sort.
I sense something inadvertently bitchy about her now. A very compulsive coldness. It slips on rare occasions. Especially when we talked about lunch hour. Lunch hour was probably the only time I would hang out with Pudgy Raji. My friends did joke about it on a few occasions but somehow tolerated my little deviance. I wouldn’t really hang out with her it was just a sort of ritual to watch her eat. Some claimed there was something particularly piggish about the entire affair. Maybe it was her snorts as she devoured one cupcake after another or perhaps it was the hoggish delight in her eye as she chomped away an insane quantity of Cadbury’s Gems. Rumor had it that Pudgy Raji could polish off two Rs. 5 packets of GEMS in a chomp.
I somehow never found her culinary etiquette disgusting. She was a good kid who just needed to reign herself in a little. I couldn’t help feeling that food was somehow her only outlet. You see, Little Raji never really had a lot of friends. She wanted to give away the enormous quantity of love she possessed. But no one wanted to be on the receiving end. So she turned to the only thing in her life that would take and receive love. Her food. And she found it strangely gratifying. Food was the only true love of her life. but all she wanted was to be like the most popular girl in class. With people swooning all around her. Today her wish has come true, Guys go crazy around her, they throng around her just to get her number, but somehow I cant help feeling she is not happy inside.
Lunchtime was probably the only fun time with Raji. She would eat with a passion. Now you would dread taking her out for dinner. Health food's expensive. Although it looks like cardboard it costs more than a big mac. Gone is the sloppy delight, Now there's usually a blank look in her eyes as she pretends to enjoy her tofu and bean sprouts steak and spinach juice. Inside I realize she is just a hungry girl craving for that one big uninhibited handi of butter chicken. But she knows she cant. She's trapped in keeping up appearances. You can guess by now what she drinks at the parties. Yup its the screwdriver.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Sitting on the fence
I love women. In fact I love them so much that I think I understand them. Fatal mistake. No one understands women. Not even women understand women. That’s the crazy part. No two women are alike. Sounds impossible yea? No I mean it. No to women are alike. They may want the same things, their demands may sound similar but they are as unique as two vada pavs from the same vendor. They both are vada pavs but one's got the vada sticking out so you end up eating more of the pav which alters the taste & the other's got more of chutney. Although both are made from the same ingredients, they both taste different. Same thing with women. I don’t intend to sound misogynist. In fact it is in tribute to these beautiful creatures ,without whom life would only consist of beer and IPL reruns on TEN SPORTS, that I endeavor to blend in two of the things I love the most. My women and My food.
Men are shitheads to begin with. They don’t need a woman to tell them that. They already know it. What's more a woman repeating the fact over and over again, to a man's ear sounds a lot like the announcement at the railway station. You know she's saying something important but you just cant figure out what it was. It puts men in an unfavorable position I agree But it's not our fault entirely. We are evolutionistically impaired. No I wont claim clemency on that ground. We are who we are. We tend to simplify things that don’t need simplification. Coz if we don’t, we don’t understand them. Its quite simple isn't it?
We are hell bent on simplifying complex issues like Shopping, Social behavior and relationships. Whatever the issue, we try to simplify it into terms understandable to us. All is viewed through the bifocals of Cause and Effect. To a man's mind, Something must take place to have an effect on his daily life. The cause must become personal in order for the effect to become personal.It's quite stupid really. We are ill-used to the practice of spending hours and hours at the mall. Which is where we go wrong. It is the woman who is a well informed consumer, hence the better citizen/First Citizen(Yea my girl's got that card too). We are the ill-informed guzzlers hence the better denizens who want nor have a right of say in such matters. and we accept that. After all Cause and Effect.
For men, we crave for logical explanation. Which becomes our undoing. For example if your woman is looking a bit low, we need to know NOW! What happened? Girls don’t know the agony men go through, we probably deserve it anyway, but our minds keep going back and forth in time over and over again trying to recall which act or omission lead to us ending up on the couch today. We don’t understand the concept that sometimes a ball has to touch the ground before bouncing back up.
A woman is the beginning and the end and for some unfortunate ones, the beginning of the end. I personally don’t buy the latter explanation. For that you truly have to put in your greatest effort to misunderstand Her. Its not that difficult to get it right actually. You don’t really know what you want in life, so she ends up telling you what you both will need. Its not that bad a deal. I don't know what I really wanted, But today I have everything that I need.
Men are shitheads to begin with. They don’t need a woman to tell them that. They already know it. What's more a woman repeating the fact over and over again, to a man's ear sounds a lot like the announcement at the railway station. You know she's saying something important but you just cant figure out what it was. It puts men in an unfavorable position I agree But it's not our fault entirely. We are evolutionistically impaired. No I wont claim clemency on that ground. We are who we are. We tend to simplify things that don’t need simplification. Coz if we don’t, we don’t understand them. Its quite simple isn't it?
We are hell bent on simplifying complex issues like Shopping, Social behavior and relationships. Whatever the issue, we try to simplify it into terms understandable to us. All is viewed through the bifocals of Cause and Effect. To a man's mind, Something must take place to have an effect on his daily life. The cause must become personal in order for the effect to become personal.It's quite stupid really. We are ill-used to the practice of spending hours and hours at the mall. Which is where we go wrong. It is the woman who is a well informed consumer, hence the better citizen/First Citizen(Yea my girl's got that card too). We are the ill-informed guzzlers hence the better denizens who want nor have a right of say in such matters. and we accept that. After all Cause and Effect.
For men, we crave for logical explanation. Which becomes our undoing. For example if your woman is looking a bit low, we need to know NOW! What happened? Girls don’t know the agony men go through, we probably deserve it anyway, but our minds keep going back and forth in time over and over again trying to recall which act or omission lead to us ending up on the couch today. We don’t understand the concept that sometimes a ball has to touch the ground before bouncing back up.
A woman is the beginning and the end and for some unfortunate ones, the beginning of the end. I personally don’t buy the latter explanation. For that you truly have to put in your greatest effort to misunderstand Her. Its not that difficult to get it right actually. You don’t really know what you want in life, so she ends up telling you what you both will need. Its not that bad a deal. I don't know what I really wanted, But today I have everything that I need.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Kebabs & Nostalgia
The older you get the more important your relationships become. Relationships have just been there throughout your life. Its quite similar to the salad in your kebab plate. You just never happened to notice it. Until you were hit that by vitamin-z deficiency, or whatever it is your doctor is trying to sell it you. So like everything else you need a prick, who charges you Rs849.30/- per hour with a long and funny sounding degree to tell you that you need to eat more veggies, which you knew anyway. The veg kheera pudina chutney sandwich you grab at intervals between Reshma ki Jawani at your local theatre doesn’t really qualify you as a green veggies man.
Apart from that we really love approval. Specially approval we have to pay disgustingly high amounts for. If your friend tells you you've lost weight ,how the fuck does it matter? they're just trying to do you a good deed for covering their ass at Lonavla '07 when you told their wives consuming a half of Royal Stag was an office ritual But when your doctor tells you "you look a little underweight.", its fucking orgasmic.
& How we long for that delicious approval! We romance poverty, we start philandering fortunes, dress like Shaktimaan and god knows what else. But unbeknownst to you, it has roots deep in your childhood. No I am not going Freud on you.
You were brought up by a certain set of ideals which you thought were going to last forever, like how you and your best mates used to hate playing with girls and the biggest worry in your life was whether you would be the 'Denner' in the next game of 'Hide n Seek' and loved your parents approval on practically everything. Specially those frilly Birthday attires. And you knew you had it all figured out in life.
Then 7th grade happened.
You suddenly started noticing those pansy girls. 7th was confusing man. Because some of your ultra cool friends were not yet hit by that 'weird' feeling. Even if they did, mine never revealed it. You craved for their approval about 'That' feeling.
In 8th, enlightenment slowly dawned in the form of that 9th grader who took you in as his protégé and soon taught you most of what he knew. And you were some fast learner. You wanted and had your senior's approval.
9th was breezy, easy and cheesy. You knew theoretically what goes on in the world, education prepared you for that . You sure as hell believed you were ready for that practical which you had boasted about so many times to your mates on having completed. You had their approval but not enough respect.
Then came 10th.
Oh the boards! And my love for them! The home delivery guys have stopped calling you Ma'am while taking your order. The extra classes & 'Tuitions' we were to go were bustling with so much opportunity that you needed to be 'The Fat Ugly Kid Who Stinks' not to notice it. The heat would usually be unbearable. And you knew where it was coming from. The hurried make-outs behind the teachers building was the best thing that happened to you since you discovered porn! Your friends bowed down to you!
11th came and went in such a hurry. There was no more of the geography and other boring subjects. Hey you even got rid of moral science. You just sat back and enjoyed the name tag of the "experienced" one and basked in the glory of your previous deeds.
Then came 12th.
Boards were here again!! Accounts tuitions, Economics tuitions and alright alright for the science guys, you had tuitions in almost every subject you took up. Your friends approval suddenly did not matter at all. It was her approval that counted. And yea you got it. Just after the Business Studies exam. All those days of walking her back home paid off. And you discovered how much approval really counts in the backseat of your dad's car near the Zoo.
But somehow with those days seemingly a distant foggy past. Another world altogether. The zoo along with all its peers may have been desecrated, degenerated. All that remains are the memories in your mind. Very much like the empty kebab plate with the greens still gleaming freshly.
Apart from that we really love approval. Specially approval we have to pay disgustingly high amounts for. If your friend tells you you've lost weight ,how the fuck does it matter? they're just trying to do you a good deed for covering their ass at Lonavla '07 when you told their wives consuming a half of Royal Stag was an office ritual But when your doctor tells you "you look a little underweight.", its fucking orgasmic.
& How we long for that delicious approval! We romance poverty, we start philandering fortunes, dress like Shaktimaan and god knows what else. But unbeknownst to you, it has roots deep in your childhood. No I am not going Freud on you.
You were brought up by a certain set of ideals which you thought were going to last forever, like how you and your best mates used to hate playing with girls and the biggest worry in your life was whether you would be the 'Denner' in the next game of 'Hide n Seek' and loved your parents approval on practically everything. Specially those frilly Birthday attires. And you knew you had it all figured out in life.
Then 7th grade happened.
You suddenly started noticing those pansy girls. 7th was confusing man. Because some of your ultra cool friends were not yet hit by that 'weird' feeling. Even if they did, mine never revealed it. You craved for their approval about 'That' feeling.
In 8th, enlightenment slowly dawned in the form of that 9th grader who took you in as his protégé and soon taught you most of what he knew. And you were some fast learner. You wanted and had your senior's approval.
9th was breezy, easy and cheesy. You knew theoretically what goes on in the world, education prepared you for that . You sure as hell believed you were ready for that practical which you had boasted about so many times to your mates on having completed. You had their approval but not enough respect.
Then came 10th.
Oh the boards! And my love for them! The home delivery guys have stopped calling you Ma'am while taking your order. The extra classes & 'Tuitions' we were to go were bustling with so much opportunity that you needed to be 'The Fat Ugly Kid Who Stinks' not to notice it. The heat would usually be unbearable. And you knew where it was coming from. The hurried make-outs behind the teachers building was the best thing that happened to you since you discovered porn! Your friends bowed down to you!
11th came and went in such a hurry. There was no more of the geography and other boring subjects. Hey you even got rid of moral science. You just sat back and enjoyed the name tag of the "experienced" one and basked in the glory of your previous deeds.
Then came 12th.
Boards were here again!! Accounts tuitions, Economics tuitions and alright alright for the science guys, you had tuitions in almost every subject you took up. Your friends approval suddenly did not matter at all. It was her approval that counted. And yea you got it. Just after the Business Studies exam. All those days of walking her back home paid off. And you discovered how much approval really counts in the backseat of your dad's car near the Zoo.
But somehow with those days seemingly a distant foggy past. Another world altogether. The zoo along with all its peers may have been desecrated, degenerated. All that remains are the memories in your mind. Very much like the empty kebab plate with the greens still gleaming freshly.
Friday, March 27, 2009
My Tiresome Tirade
The dreams that I see beyond,
Are alive within me,
The words I put across,
Are silent within me.
I once saw a homely wreck,
Put a noose across my neck
It was not my fault I felt at home,
That my lungs breathed, my eyes shone
For those few moments everything was fine,
Till I discovered, t'was all one big lie.
The dreams that I see beyond,
Are alive within me.
The words I put across,
Become silent within me.
I crave to start a new story of my own,
Now that my old story stands unwoven.
Beautiful it was, while we all lived it,
Sinners we were, couldn't appreciate it.
The true few stand martyred,
The rest alive, 6 feet beneath the earth.
The dreams that I see beyond,
Are alive within me.
The words I put across,
Stay silent within me.
Happy were we in each other's misery,
Each day controversy for company.
We all had come as kings,
Each's reputation now a mince.
How we let ourselves down,
No Scepter in hand now, not even a crown.
The dreams that I see beyond,
Are alive within me.
The words I put across,
Remain silent within me.
Its time we returned where we came from,
Carrying empty hearts & moral problems.
The hopes and dreams I had brought with me,
Lie in the gutters of this fine city.
This was an episode quite excruciatingly messy,
Left us all with the sour aftertaste of pussy.
The dreams that I see beyond,
Are alive within me.
The words I put across,
Die silent within me.
Are alive within me,
The words I put across,
Are silent within me.
I once saw a homely wreck,
Put a noose across my neck
It was not my fault I felt at home,
That my lungs breathed, my eyes shone
For those few moments everything was fine,
Till I discovered, t'was all one big lie.
The dreams that I see beyond,
Are alive within me.
The words I put across,
Become silent within me.
I crave to start a new story of my own,
Now that my old story stands unwoven.
Beautiful it was, while we all lived it,
Sinners we were, couldn't appreciate it.
The true few stand martyred,
The rest alive, 6 feet beneath the earth.
The dreams that I see beyond,
Are alive within me.
The words I put across,
Stay silent within me.
Happy were we in each other's misery,
Each day controversy for company.
We all had come as kings,
Each's reputation now a mince.
How we let ourselves down,
No Scepter in hand now, not even a crown.
The dreams that I see beyond,
Are alive within me.
The words I put across,
Remain silent within me.
Its time we returned where we came from,
Carrying empty hearts & moral problems.
The hopes and dreams I had brought with me,
Lie in the gutters of this fine city.
This was an episode quite excruciatingly messy,
Left us all with the sour aftertaste of pussy.
The dreams that I see beyond,
Are alive within me.
The words I put across,
Die silent within me.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Falsities of Shame
I love losing. Being a loser has far more fringe benefits than you would imagine. Call me sour grapes but winning seldom has its own rewards, if any, and if they do they're definitely not worth what you lost to win. Losing gives you much more than what winning takes away from you. Winning snatches humility away,takes truthfulness away, because of the need to prove yourself every time, to keep the expectations up, you lie. Winning takes away true friends by giving a whole load of falsies. Winning surrounds you with jealousy.
And losing? It gives you humility, keeps you grounded. Lets you know who your true friends are, Losing lets you be honest, So what I sucked?! Nobody's really that jealous of a loser. Jealousy usually brings in a lot of aggravation which you don’t need.
Losing lets you live for yourself rather than for others. It gives you a chance to live up to your own expectations for once as people tend to stop having expectations once you have failed. You are redeemed and given a chance to pursue what you want without the falsities of shame. Sure shame comes in at the very beginning but it’s a lot like when you stub your toe with the awkwardly placed dressing table in your bedroom, the pain comes hard and fast, but when you just stand on one leg and press your toe down on the other for a few seconds, the pain goes away. Similarly the shame goes away after the initial self-pity phases.
Losing and shame are constantly related by other people rather than yourselves. Its an unwritten and sometimes a written code that if you lose you've got to be ashamed. That’s the accepted behavioral reaction, any other form of response is unacceptable to society. Lets face it. We love our losers. They are a constant source of amusement. Our winners are always in interim. You win one, then someone wins another and you are forgotten. But losing gives you an irreplaceable place in history. Once a loser, always is. No matter how badly the other guy fucked up. Be sure people aren't going to forget where you did.
We keep losing to life, time, opportunities, people, each gives you a valuable lesson . The difference between losing and winning is the same as eating in a Chinese restaurant and an Indian one. In both you have a hearty meal but in the Chinese restaurant you get a fortune cookie with some wisdom on it, and in the Indian one you get a tissue full of Saunf which you'll be needing to digest that ego. The fact that you’re a loser always seems to bother other people than yourself. Its like they are ashamed to be around you but not against you. One loser can successfully unite 50 people more than a winner can irrespective of their differences in the process of ridiculing him.
Like always the choice is yours. Whether you want to dine in a Chinese restaurant or an Indian one its important that you satiate your hunger for life, If the Noodles do it for you well and good but if its Dal makhani you crave for, your going to have a helluva time digesting it.
And losing? It gives you humility, keeps you grounded. Lets you know who your true friends are, Losing lets you be honest, So what I sucked?! Nobody's really that jealous of a loser. Jealousy usually brings in a lot of aggravation which you don’t need.
Losing lets you live for yourself rather than for others. It gives you a chance to live up to your own expectations for once as people tend to stop having expectations once you have failed. You are redeemed and given a chance to pursue what you want without the falsities of shame. Sure shame comes in at the very beginning but it’s a lot like when you stub your toe with the awkwardly placed dressing table in your bedroom, the pain comes hard and fast, but when you just stand on one leg and press your toe down on the other for a few seconds, the pain goes away. Similarly the shame goes away after the initial self-pity phases.
Losing and shame are constantly related by other people rather than yourselves. Its an unwritten and sometimes a written code that if you lose you've got to be ashamed. That’s the accepted behavioral reaction, any other form of response is unacceptable to society. Lets face it. We love our losers. They are a constant source of amusement. Our winners are always in interim. You win one, then someone wins another and you are forgotten. But losing gives you an irreplaceable place in history. Once a loser, always is. No matter how badly the other guy fucked up. Be sure people aren't going to forget where you did.
We keep losing to life, time, opportunities, people, each gives you a valuable lesson . The difference between losing and winning is the same as eating in a Chinese restaurant and an Indian one. In both you have a hearty meal but in the Chinese restaurant you get a fortune cookie with some wisdom on it, and in the Indian one you get a tissue full of Saunf which you'll be needing to digest that ego. The fact that you’re a loser always seems to bother other people than yourself. Its like they are ashamed to be around you but not against you. One loser can successfully unite 50 people more than a winner can irrespective of their differences in the process of ridiculing him.
Like always the choice is yours. Whether you want to dine in a Chinese restaurant or an Indian one its important that you satiate your hunger for life, If the Noodles do it for you well and good but if its Dal makhani you crave for, your going to have a helluva time digesting it.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Playground Tete a Tete
As time flies, they say you keep growing as a person. All horse crap. We all know of the pristine pure beings we were in that playground. Of how spite would take on the form of your knuckle exploring the pimples of Raju's soft fleshy face. Curiosity would take the form of looking up Teena's skirt as she climbed the slide & Elation was what would come when everyone could successfully ditch pile-on Puppy. Joy was picking on tiny Akhil. Happiness would be sitting on the pavement with a bunch of your friends eating cheap ice cream. Gratitude would be getting that return gift on that rich kid's birthday. Emotions were simple as they are today. It’s the forms that they take that have changed so drastically. Instead of growing as persons, We all spiral into decadence. Pudgy Raju's knuckles suddenly decide they have to do some exploring of their own and he soon becomes the gold chain laden, heavily mustached, cheek polisher of the area, Now you have to make an appointment to meet Puppy. Tiny Akhil isn't that tiny anymore, worse he trains his kids to beat up yours in school. And Teena? Now you have to own a Pulsar or a Ford Ikon to do the same thing you used to do for free.
I mean there is not much you can do except complain about it. Every age has its own memories and mostly we end up looking forward for the past . I haven't possibly heard anyone say "Boy, Cant wait till am Sixty, Am going to rock the old age home." but you do hear the occasional geezer wheezing about the time "I was twenty two I used to date 3 chicks and could stand after twelve beers.". Childhood is the only time you do not or cannot look for the past for you have none and can only look forward to the future.
People tend to associate the fact that if you grow up with someone you know that person through and through. All Bull. Just because you grew up with a person doesn't mean you know that person but you can claim you knew them before they became assholes.
As growing up is a continuous process of degeneration, it’s a very destructive process. It starts putting an end to all the qualities that made childhood special. Imagination becomes non-existent, there is a sudden need to be extremely conscious of reality. Belief in morals you used to swear by becomes laughable, even Captain Planet becomes lame.
Old fears give way to new ones, your suddenly not afraid of that "Yuckoo" character from Chandrakanta, Its your impending divorce that features quite prominently in your nightmares now.
Its not as bad as you're thinking you know. We do have a very simple way of keeping the pieces together. Keep some connection with your childhood. No I don't mean look at your pictures or talk about the time when you ran naked across the street. You don’t even have to call those whom you grew up with. Just take something you used to like doing when you were a kid, keep doing it. It could be anything. If you liked to draw, keep drawing. If you liked to key other people's cars, just make sure they don’t have a good security system. I used to like standing by the slide. So Yes I am still trying to buy that pulsar.
I mean there is not much you can do except complain about it. Every age has its own memories and mostly we end up looking forward for the past . I haven't possibly heard anyone say "Boy, Cant wait till am Sixty, Am going to rock the old age home." but you do hear the occasional geezer wheezing about the time "I was twenty two I used to date 3 chicks and could stand after twelve beers.". Childhood is the only time you do not or cannot look for the past for you have none and can only look forward to the future.
People tend to associate the fact that if you grow up with someone you know that person through and through. All Bull. Just because you grew up with a person doesn't mean you know that person but you can claim you knew them before they became assholes.
As growing up is a continuous process of degeneration, it’s a very destructive process. It starts putting an end to all the qualities that made childhood special. Imagination becomes non-existent, there is a sudden need to be extremely conscious of reality. Belief in morals you used to swear by becomes laughable, even Captain Planet becomes lame.
Old fears give way to new ones, your suddenly not afraid of that "Yuckoo" character from Chandrakanta, Its your impending divorce that features quite prominently in your nightmares now.
Its not as bad as you're thinking you know. We do have a very simple way of keeping the pieces together. Keep some connection with your childhood. No I don't mean look at your pictures or talk about the time when you ran naked across the street. You don’t even have to call those whom you grew up with. Just take something you used to like doing when you were a kid, keep doing it. It could be anything. If you liked to draw, keep drawing. If you liked to key other people's cars, just make sure they don’t have a good security system. I used to like standing by the slide. So Yes I am still trying to buy that pulsar.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Morning Glory
Ah, She gazed at me with those exotic hazel eyes cloaked beneath a veneer of drug induced abandon. As she danced on invitingly, her pretty ,short , black dress sashayed just a little with her seduction laden moves. It was quite a visual treat that added that extra zing to my first Pernod of the night. It was hard not to spot her presence highlighted by the skanky 30ish chain smoking divorcee in the red dress with a shiny watch holding a glass of Tom Collins,with the tanline on her ring finger quite obvious, was dancing maniacally next to her. It made this hypnotic beauty just a little more intriguing, like adding an antonym to your definition makes it appear a tad more lengthy, a slight more sophisticated. They maintained a sense of equilibrium on that dance floor of anarchy. I had a comfortable panoramic view to the pandemonium. Seated on that cushy bar stool I could observe the exotic beauty towards the far corner.
By now we both had locked gazes and her dancing invitations were picking up rhythm. As I knocked back my 4th Pernod, the distance had become quite unbearable. I guess she felt it too for I noticed her dancing her way towards me, Not wanting her to stop dancing as by then I had become quite addicted to her rhythmic sways, I made my way through the seething mass of humanity. We quite bumped into each other somewhere in the middle I think. The last Pernod must have done away with most of my inhibitions because I soon got my groove on. The music, lights and people around me were just complimenting our small promenade. Just as we were about to take it to the next level, she started backing away and a few moments later she had disappeared back into the crowd. I looked for her as desperately as a smoker looks for a match so needed for his morning smoke. After a couple of rude bumps and being shoved back and forth by semi-fornicating couples, I found myself face to face with none other than the red dressed skanky who had turned the focal point of her moves towards me. Well this was no time to engage her, I quickly darted her and made for the corner where I first saw my by now long lost lust. Squeezing through two serenading lard tubs I finally reached the corner. And there she was dancing with an another guy. The whiff of the Pernod spilt on by my epileptical neighbor brought about this clarity experienced only by alcoholics in between drinks. She was a tease!! By god and I had not seen it coming. I had fallen for that hook ,line and sinker. Recovering quickly, I held my place just long enough for her to catch my gaze.
Then made my way back to the cushy barstool. It was time to resume some much missed drinking . As I sat down & ordered my 9th Pernod, I saw another small parting in this sea of people and lo there she was again. Gyrating wildly and losing some much exhibited self control. Sadly she had taken it on her ego that I had not stayed to watch the show. So she had brought the show to me. Continuously dancing with random guys never taking her eyes of me. But I had learnt my lesson. Once a tease, always is. Just to drive my winning stake, I made my way out of the pub and to this club across the street.
As I entered this new nocturnal institute, I started noticing a lot of familiar faces of the night. There was the guy with the mermaid tattoo who was sitting next to me at the bar, the two beer guzzling whales, the ever-young 50ish couple, and even that old 60 something perv I had spotted near the ladies room. So I wasn't the only Einstein to crossover . Apparently just about everyone had had the same idea. Further inspection of the place made it quite clear to me that the dance floors were quite uninteresting yet. So I settled down onto another cushy barstool and ordered my 14th Pernod I think 15th, no am sure it was my 6th, and that was when I saw her, dancing solitarily, this wonderful beauty of a mature bearing in a beautiful red dress, clutching a glass of Tom Collins. It was almost a crime that she was alone. Well I could remedy that. I made my way for the second time that night, dodging arms, legs, heads and any other human body parts that drunk people usually sway around. And there I was face to face with her.
Without saying a word I started to dance with her. I could'nt make out her expression though. Maybe it was just the smoke arising out of the ashtray on the table next to her playing tricks on my already hazy eyes. We danced for quite a bit. And then she leaned in and whispered something quite inaudible in my ear just as we were approaching the speakers. Like any seasoned clubber I just nodded and smiled.
As she led me on by holding onto my arm out of the club. Something shiny caught my eye, I glanced the time in her wristwatch. It was 5:30AM. It was going to be one hell of a morning.
Cast in this episode:-
The Tease:- Reality.
Red dressed Divorcee/Beauty:- Imagination.
I:- Us.
By now we both had locked gazes and her dancing invitations were picking up rhythm. As I knocked back my 4th Pernod, the distance had become quite unbearable. I guess she felt it too for I noticed her dancing her way towards me, Not wanting her to stop dancing as by then I had become quite addicted to her rhythmic sways, I made my way through the seething mass of humanity. We quite bumped into each other somewhere in the middle I think. The last Pernod must have done away with most of my inhibitions because I soon got my groove on. The music, lights and people around me were just complimenting our small promenade. Just as we were about to take it to the next level, she started backing away and a few moments later she had disappeared back into the crowd. I looked for her as desperately as a smoker looks for a match so needed for his morning smoke. After a couple of rude bumps and being shoved back and forth by semi-fornicating couples, I found myself face to face with none other than the red dressed skanky who had turned the focal point of her moves towards me. Well this was no time to engage her, I quickly darted her and made for the corner where I first saw my by now long lost lust. Squeezing through two serenading lard tubs I finally reached the corner. And there she was dancing with an another guy. The whiff of the Pernod spilt on by my epileptical neighbor brought about this clarity experienced only by alcoholics in between drinks. She was a tease!! By god and I had not seen it coming. I had fallen for that hook ,line and sinker. Recovering quickly, I held my place just long enough for her to catch my gaze.
Then made my way back to the cushy barstool. It was time to resume some much missed drinking . As I sat down & ordered my 9th Pernod, I saw another small parting in this sea of people and lo there she was again. Gyrating wildly and losing some much exhibited self control. Sadly she had taken it on her ego that I had not stayed to watch the show. So she had brought the show to me. Continuously dancing with random guys never taking her eyes of me. But I had learnt my lesson. Once a tease, always is. Just to drive my winning stake, I made my way out of the pub and to this club across the street.
As I entered this new nocturnal institute, I started noticing a lot of familiar faces of the night. There was the guy with the mermaid tattoo who was sitting next to me at the bar, the two beer guzzling whales, the ever-young 50ish couple, and even that old 60 something perv I had spotted near the ladies room. So I wasn't the only Einstein to crossover . Apparently just about everyone had had the same idea. Further inspection of the place made it quite clear to me that the dance floors were quite uninteresting yet. So I settled down onto another cushy barstool and ordered my 14th Pernod I think 15th, no am sure it was my 6th, and that was when I saw her, dancing solitarily, this wonderful beauty of a mature bearing in a beautiful red dress, clutching a glass of Tom Collins. It was almost a crime that she was alone. Well I could remedy that. I made my way for the second time that night, dodging arms, legs, heads and any other human body parts that drunk people usually sway around. And there I was face to face with her.
Without saying a word I started to dance with her. I could'nt make out her expression though. Maybe it was just the smoke arising out of the ashtray on the table next to her playing tricks on my already hazy eyes. We danced for quite a bit. And then she leaned in and whispered something quite inaudible in my ear just as we were approaching the speakers. Like any seasoned clubber I just nodded and smiled.
As she led me on by holding onto my arm out of the club. Something shiny caught my eye, I glanced the time in her wristwatch. It was 5:30AM. It was going to be one hell of a morning.
Cast in this episode:-
The Tease:- Reality.
Red dressed Divorcee/Beauty:- Imagination.
I:- Us.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Beggar, Bum and your Best friend
If hangovers lasted a year, We all would be teetotalers. Unfortunately they don’t. So the teetotaling vow, after last night, does not last beyond the cocktail lunch. If ingratitude lasted for a lifetime, we all would be ignorantly blissful. Unfortunately it doesn't , so the last person's ingratitude , doesn't stop you from falling a sucker to the next person's crisis. Most of our fellow humans are afflicted with the fatal indisposition of moronity. Its like we thrive on repeating the same mistakes over and over again. I speak about wading back into the same gutter of selflessness over and over again after being bitten, trodden on, nearly drowning in the filth of compassion. Ever tried giving that poor beggar kid some food? Patching up your best friend's love life? Help that old lady carry her grocery bag? It’s a thankless effort. And more often than not, you usually get spit in your face or kicked in the balls. The beggar kid will usually sell your vada pav back to the vendor to buy his daily crack shot, Your best friend will get back with that girl's sister and accuse you of trying to take her side and quote you "undependable". That old hag will claim you stole 2 bars of her mysore sandal soaps & a pack of ladies razors. These assholes know there is always another sucker like you round the corner . Unfortunately you don’t stop even after taking such flak.
I don’t really blame you. Selfless acts are deceptive fucks. They seem like a sure thing. A ticket to redemption. When selfishness becomes your way of life, You tend to search for opportunities to be selfless because its forbidden by your life's code of conduct. It stokes your rebellious urge. We have always heard selfless acts are always rewarded. The whole thing is a sham. We start seeking this unknown reward with absolutely no idea about whether you are going to like what you get. Its like playing destiny's version of Surprise Shanivaar on one of the regional channels. I have always hated surprises. It undermines your ability to respond. The rewards for selfless acts are usually like the offers at big bazaar. Like a bag of cookies worth Rs.30 is now going at 28.50. They do give you cheap thrills. You somehow think that doing one selfless act you can undo all the nasty things you thought you did and yet you always come out more shittier than you did going in.
You tend to feel this way because you enter into this swamp of selflessness draped in a clean fabric of guilt and a few minutes in you realize you wore the wrong dress for this show. Because once you get into someone's problems it gets too unpleasant in no time. And if you dont get out in the right time you will be injected with that person's frustration, helplessness and misery. Its your own guilt that drives you to charitable acts. You could be guilty about anything. You could be guilty about your deeds in the past, you could be guilty about your position in society, you could be guilty just about being so lucky in life. Its all like a symbol of non-acceptance. You may not be able to accept what you did in the past, you may not be able to accept the position society has given to a person like you, you may not be able to accept why destiny chooses to smile on you while it continues to frown upon your brethren. You often might think I should help that bum in torn ,dirty, smelly clothes because I could have been in his place or worse yet I might end up there. Here you're just not accepting who you are or who you want to be. Guilt and compassion have been sleeping together since time immemorial. It’s their bastard child that has led to many a great falls. But lets spare the history lesson.
I don’t hold anything against helping someone out. The entire problem is do these people really want to be helped? Because most people are quite addicted to their misery. The just don’t want to let go. Be it the beggar kid, the bum, or your best friend. No comments about the old lady, she just wanted some excitement and a story to tell to her satsang group. The people you see everyday with problems don’t really want help, they want your ears, time and sympathy. No problem with that too. If only you don’t become the object of their frustration. They start associating you with all the bags of emotional shit they have dumped on you and you know what, after a while it starts getting heavy.
You cannot help a person without leaving a mark upon yourself. It could be a brand of pride, or a scar of satisfaction. If you really do feel like helping someone. Help yourself.
I don’t really blame you. Selfless acts are deceptive fucks. They seem like a sure thing. A ticket to redemption. When selfishness becomes your way of life, You tend to search for opportunities to be selfless because its forbidden by your life's code of conduct. It stokes your rebellious urge. We have always heard selfless acts are always rewarded. The whole thing is a sham. We start seeking this unknown reward with absolutely no idea about whether you are going to like what you get. Its like playing destiny's version of Surprise Shanivaar on one of the regional channels. I have always hated surprises. It undermines your ability to respond. The rewards for selfless acts are usually like the offers at big bazaar. Like a bag of cookies worth Rs.30 is now going at 28.50. They do give you cheap thrills. You somehow think that doing one selfless act you can undo all the nasty things you thought you did and yet you always come out more shittier than you did going in.
You tend to feel this way because you enter into this swamp of selflessness draped in a clean fabric of guilt and a few minutes in you realize you wore the wrong dress for this show. Because once you get into someone's problems it gets too unpleasant in no time. And if you dont get out in the right time you will be injected with that person's frustration, helplessness and misery. Its your own guilt that drives you to charitable acts. You could be guilty about anything. You could be guilty about your deeds in the past, you could be guilty about your position in society, you could be guilty just about being so lucky in life. Its all like a symbol of non-acceptance. You may not be able to accept what you did in the past, you may not be able to accept the position society has given to a person like you, you may not be able to accept why destiny chooses to smile on you while it continues to frown upon your brethren. You often might think I should help that bum in torn ,dirty, smelly clothes because I could have been in his place or worse yet I might end up there. Here you're just not accepting who you are or who you want to be. Guilt and compassion have been sleeping together since time immemorial. It’s their bastard child that has led to many a great falls. But lets spare the history lesson.
I don’t hold anything against helping someone out. The entire problem is do these people really want to be helped? Because most people are quite addicted to their misery. The just don’t want to let go. Be it the beggar kid, the bum, or your best friend. No comments about the old lady, she just wanted some excitement and a story to tell to her satsang group. The people you see everyday with problems don’t really want help, they want your ears, time and sympathy. No problem with that too. If only you don’t become the object of their frustration. They start associating you with all the bags of emotional shit they have dumped on you and you know what, after a while it starts getting heavy.
You cannot help a person without leaving a mark upon yourself. It could be a brand of pride, or a scar of satisfaction. If you really do feel like helping someone. Help yourself.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Torments Of A Fulfilled Life
There are many things I long for but there are far more greater things I don’t want. Surprisingly, I guess the rocky foundations of life are steeped deep in an abyss of reverse psychology. We always keep getting things we don’t want . For example, If you assert you don’t want to lose your hair, you can be pretty sure that within 3 months you're gonna need a lot less shampoo. I know you're not asking to be fucking Goldilocks but you sure don’t want to be the "22 year old bald guy" either. Similarly, I really do not want a fulfilled life. It’s a stage where you have achieved everything you have ever dreamt of. It’s also the stage where your dreams die. It’s the time when the demons you fought are no more, so you turn on to your comrades in arms who aided you in every battle of your life. You begin by quashing hope. You commend that by plundering ambition, burning down inquisitiveness.
All that keeps you company then is the hajmola like sourness of recalling all your past follies. Hajmola tastes shitty but that doesn't stop you from consuming a dozen. Dwelling on your past mistakes is very much like sleeping with your ex. Its tempting, wrong and definitely regrettable. There is no fucking way you're going to sleep with her and forget about it the next morning. She revives your old demons but with hope lying in the dump, there is not much of a chance you're gonna make it.
Remembering your past mistakes reminds you of all that you lost in order to win every war within yourself. It renews old fears, agonies and brings along a shitload of misery. We all are educated to chase this predicament. Taught to find our way to the center of this maze. Thus we fight our way to the center. Most of us luckily never make it. But the unfortunate few that do realize pretty darn late that the center is a very lonely place. That they were better off fighting rather than be in a place where you have nowhere else to go. They are engulfed in a hollow despair of triumph. Winning is highly overrated. So is losing. The grass is always more greener than the other side. Its always is better to walk on the fence. That way you keep falling on either sides. Do so leaving some tussles for later. When you have no other shit at hand, you can pull these parasites out of reserve. Good luck with that because, There's always an asshole around the corner ready to give you a hard time.
I can't help flinching from the idea of a perfect life, perfect world and any other such fantasies. There are many things that can be perfect but life is definitely not one of them. The fulfilled life is an end to your problems, a beginning to your torment.
All that keeps you company then is the hajmola like sourness of recalling all your past follies. Hajmola tastes shitty but that doesn't stop you from consuming a dozen. Dwelling on your past mistakes is very much like sleeping with your ex. Its tempting, wrong and definitely regrettable. There is no fucking way you're going to sleep with her and forget about it the next morning. She revives your old demons but with hope lying in the dump, there is not much of a chance you're gonna make it.
Remembering your past mistakes reminds you of all that you lost in order to win every war within yourself. It renews old fears, agonies and brings along a shitload of misery. We all are educated to chase this predicament. Taught to find our way to the center of this maze. Thus we fight our way to the center. Most of us luckily never make it. But the unfortunate few that do realize pretty darn late that the center is a very lonely place. That they were better off fighting rather than be in a place where you have nowhere else to go. They are engulfed in a hollow despair of triumph. Winning is highly overrated. So is losing. The grass is always more greener than the other side. Its always is better to walk on the fence. That way you keep falling on either sides. Do so leaving some tussles for later. When you have no other shit at hand, you can pull these parasites out of reserve. Good luck with that because, There's always an asshole around the corner ready to give you a hard time.
I can't help flinching from the idea of a perfect life, perfect world and any other such fantasies. There are many things that can be perfect but life is definitely not one of them. The fulfilled life is an end to your problems, a beginning to your torment.
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