Son of a beach ..
Yeah the title sounds really cocky, but I like the ingenuity of it, so decided to stick with it. The Far East beach is supposedly the most happening one in Singapore, however opinions differ. Ranging from a Hyderabadi calling it "a fraud way of making money" to a Delhiite like me freaking out and playing like a 10-year old, everyone feels something or the other at this 5 meter stretch of sand along the sea. Agreed its not one of the ideal sitcom material beaches like those in Australia and India, but eventually its all about what you make of the moment being there.
We landed on the sand at around 6 in the evening after a long train journey from one end of the city to the other. A sand castle competition had just reached the ending stage, and excitement filled the air. Everyone was buzzing, talking, from what I could make out, in at least 3 different languages. I got down onto one knee to take a closer at the finesse with which the teams made their castles - I am not exaggerating when I say that making sand castles is an art! Sweat dripping off the chin, intense eyes, concentrating hard not to give too much of a dab to the small rivulet flowing under the gate. The whistle blew and the hustle-bustle came to a sudden standstill. It was time for the judges' verdict - to come after 15 minutes. I scampered down to the beach, not really a scurry because I distinctly remember it was more like a squirrel after a nut than a rat running for cover ;) Flung my flip flops into the sand and ran into the water, till I fell forward for sheer force of the water, t-shirt all wet, and me laughing like crazy as if it was the first time to have touched water. I splashed. Sprang. Ran. Lay. Danced. Gazed into the distance. But I did not pee! It was time to announce the winners, and though I couldn't get which team won, but twas the one in the middle that was being ooh'd and aah'd. But what really set the mood for the evening for me was the fact that all teams stood together like one unit around the castle and said "cheese" for the camera :)
A Thai boy (he had the name sprawled all over his t-shirt) came up close to me and threw sand at me. Nah, I didn't go all red, instead he got a splash of water along with seaweed on his head. We chased each other on the beach, laughing, and me pulling down his shorts once as he whined, pulled 'em up and started scurrying after me again - yup he definitely was scurrying! ;) Both of us got tired, and we sat down, letting the water tingle our toes and draw back, before his mommy called to go home. The lil fella had the cutest "ba ba" for a goodbye. Sat there for a few more minutes, looking into the distance, completely blank, not thinking, funnily enough. The sun had already set, a line of ships defining the horizon lit up, a majestic view, as if the twinkling lights celebrated life. It was getting a little late and the tummy had started rumbling, demanding food, the stage for a request had long gone.
Made my way through the beach-side stalls, peeking in to see if there was anything to munch on without having to choke on seaweed. I have begun to doubt that the seaweed used here is actually an easy catch along the shore! :P Reached a joint selling coconuts, bought one and sipped on the definitely genetically engineered hunk of a coconut. Walked down to the lake, sat on the grass and enjoyed my drink as water skiers, boarded, glided and eventually fell off into the lake. The cool breeze blowing, my hair NOT flowing, the evening serene. Some might still say that I had a very mundane day and there are things that might have been more fun, but what the heck, I had fun - and I don't give a damn for anything else. True this wasn't one of those more hilarious posts but it's definitely one I enjoyed writing, coz today is the day I got my groove back! ;)
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Of etiquette and common sense ..
In the mid-20s it becomes a dilemma as to whether we are youngsters or mature adults. The anxiety of responsibilities lingers and the fervour of youth remains. At such a juncture in life simple things might get a little too complicated. I experienced such a confusion yesterday in Singapore. At the outset of this post I'd like to send a disclaimer that I ain't all that well versed with table manners et al so pardon my ignorance :)
Two of my friends and I were having lunch yesterday at the "Outback Steakhouse" - I still maintain that I'm a vegetarian ;) Truth be told, despite having had a crab already at a Jap restaurant, I didn't have the balls to go in for the fish after looking at the photograph in the menu, so like a devout Indian, I ordered the murgi .. chicken wings to be precise. Now normally I'd not give a damn about the way I ate, but unfortunately one of the two guys was a chinku and I just had to hold my country's head high and show him that we have good table manners too. The order was placed and the chinku, hereon referred to as D'Seung (disclaimer: I do not know how to spell his name, so ma guessing from the way it sounds that this would be the spelling) ordered the marinated or something like that grilled fish. We waited, about 20 minutes before the dishes arrived. The chicken wings in front of me and my friend (obviously a serving each) and the gooey, dark almost alive salmon in front of D'Seung. Very conscious of having non-Indian company, I picked up the knife and fork, fiddling with them, switching hands unsure of which one to hold in the right hand and which in the left! Finally, the fork ended up in the right and the knife in the left ( DO NOT bother correcting me if I was wrong). The urge was to chuck the fork and knife and start gnawing at the wings, because c'mon whoever had a boney piece of chicken with a knife and a fork in India ?!
I struggled with the first two pieces, creating more of clattering noise with the fork banging against he porcelain plate than the kid whining on the next table. A chunk of meat actually flew by near the water, as I conveniently placed the coaster over the broken rock from the plate I saw carrots on my plate, liberation at last! I put the knife and fork down, munching happily on carrots with cheese dip. But alas, as I slowly nibbled my way to the end of the last carrot, the soiled cutlery was staring in my face, daring me to pick them up and make a meal out of the chicken. Unwavered from my resolve of proving a point by sticking to the fork and knife, I went about the turmoil again, so much so that after the fifth piece I had to put the fork down as the slicing and pulling had sent the joints of my index finger numb. All this while I hadn't been paying heed to D'Seung except for of course the occasional question to make small talk. At the last piece I surrendered and gently placed the fork and knife in a closing position on the plate, careful not to cause a clatter, as if that were going to change the fact that I had made sure that the passers-by outside the restaurant knew there was porcelain plates inside!
Sipped on the ice water, and looked in different directions, anything to get my mind off the last piece, and as I watched D'Seung munch happily on his fish with parts of it in hand, I just could not stop staring. Here I was busting my ass to look good and well versed in table manners, and there was this chinku who just wanted to enjoy his meal come what may. The embarrassment didn't let me pick up the last piece and munch at it joyfully, but I realised one thing - its our thinking that keeps us ahead or behind people, I've been looking down upon our culture as not congenial to the modern ways, but I guess I was wrong. I mean who was I kidding, chicken wings with a fork and a knife ?! Gimme a break !! I consciously killed the inner voice in me that told me to pick up the piece for heaven;s sake and just bite at it.
End result - I ended up wearing a kurta to a pub today and got a few smiles on my way out ;) This place is cosmopolitan so make the most of it, as long as you think you're confident of what you do, nobody can take that charm away from you. So here I am, still in my kurta, a little drunk after the Heineken, sporting a Singaporean hairdo telling you of the time I, contrary to my usual behaviour, gave in to etiquette and fed common sense to the dogs! ;)
In the mid-20s it becomes a dilemma as to whether we are youngsters or mature adults. The anxiety of responsibilities lingers and the fervour of youth remains. At such a juncture in life simple things might get a little too complicated. I experienced such a confusion yesterday in Singapore. At the outset of this post I'd like to send a disclaimer that I ain't all that well versed with table manners et al so pardon my ignorance :)
Two of my friends and I were having lunch yesterday at the "Outback Steakhouse" - I still maintain that I'm a vegetarian ;) Truth be told, despite having had a crab already at a Jap restaurant, I didn't have the balls to go in for the fish after looking at the photograph in the menu, so like a devout Indian, I ordered the murgi .. chicken wings to be precise. Now normally I'd not give a damn about the way I ate, but unfortunately one of the two guys was a chinku and I just had to hold my country's head high and show him that we have good table manners too. The order was placed and the chinku, hereon referred to as D'Seung (disclaimer: I do not know how to spell his name, so ma guessing from the way it sounds that this would be the spelling) ordered the marinated or something like that grilled fish. We waited, about 20 minutes before the dishes arrived. The chicken wings in front of me and my friend (obviously a serving each) and the gooey, dark almost alive salmon in front of D'Seung. Very conscious of having non-Indian company, I picked up the knife and fork, fiddling with them, switching hands unsure of which one to hold in the right hand and which in the left! Finally, the fork ended up in the right and the knife in the left ( DO NOT bother correcting me if I was wrong). The urge was to chuck the fork and knife and start gnawing at the wings, because c'mon whoever had a boney piece of chicken with a knife and a fork in India ?!
I struggled with the first two pieces, creating more of clattering noise with the fork banging against he porcelain plate than the kid whining on the next table. A chunk of meat actually flew by near the water, as I conveniently placed the coaster over the broken rock from the plate I saw carrots on my plate, liberation at last! I put the knife and fork down, munching happily on carrots with cheese dip. But alas, as I slowly nibbled my way to the end of the last carrot, the soiled cutlery was staring in my face, daring me to pick them up and make a meal out of the chicken. Unwavered from my resolve of proving a point by sticking to the fork and knife, I went about the turmoil again, so much so that after the fifth piece I had to put the fork down as the slicing and pulling had sent the joints of my index finger numb. All this while I hadn't been paying heed to D'Seung except for of course the occasional question to make small talk. At the last piece I surrendered and gently placed the fork and knife in a closing position on the plate, careful not to cause a clatter, as if that were going to change the fact that I had made sure that the passers-by outside the restaurant knew there was porcelain plates inside!
Sipped on the ice water, and looked in different directions, anything to get my mind off the last piece, and as I watched D'Seung munch happily on his fish with parts of it in hand, I just could not stop staring. Here I was busting my ass to look good and well versed in table manners, and there was this chinku who just wanted to enjoy his meal come what may. The embarrassment didn't let me pick up the last piece and munch at it joyfully, but I realised one thing - its our thinking that keeps us ahead or behind people, I've been looking down upon our culture as not congenial to the modern ways, but I guess I was wrong. I mean who was I kidding, chicken wings with a fork and a knife ?! Gimme a break !! I consciously killed the inner voice in me that told me to pick up the piece for heaven;s sake and just bite at it.
End result - I ended up wearing a kurta to a pub today and got a few smiles on my way out ;) This place is cosmopolitan so make the most of it, as long as you think you're confident of what you do, nobody can take that charm away from you. So here I am, still in my kurta, a little drunk after the Heineken, sporting a Singaporean hairdo telling you of the time I, contrary to my usual behaviour, gave in to etiquette and fed common sense to the dogs! ;)
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Billabong .. Billabongbong .. Billabillabong .. n a Billabong
Today’s day marked the end of the search for a pair of flip-flops at the Shaw Centre – there they were, hanging off the hook calling out to me to buy them. Obviously I obliged. There was more reason to buy a pair than my stinking feet at the end of a sweaty day. Wanted to put on my Gio t-shirt and Quiksilver shorts, frizzled hair and a pair of flip-flops, walk on the beach. I hurried off back to Treetops, happy with myself, Billabong flippityflops is all I kept humming all the way back. It might seem a little corny, but I did imagine myself walking on the beach, open shirt, the breeze blowing. If I were to enjoy the beach, I would have to hasten, so I gulped four fish fingers down with a glass of juice, seemingly filling. But a few hassles here and there, and I inevitably got delayed till 4 in the evening. Michelle, the chinki who always smiles and greets me at the reception, said it would be better if I went elsewhere rather than the beach, but I chose to take my chances. After all can’t blame me for being excited for the brand new look I’d given myself!!
I have a very bad habit of “pondering” too much and it got the best of me by the time I reached the bus stop. “What if Michelle is right and I end up losing out on the beach experience – didn’t want to ruin anything about today?” The tourist information centre seemed to be the best bet to find out what to and what not to do. A choice presented itself – do I take the bus and get off two stops later or do I flaunt the cool look and walk on bustling Orchard Road instead? Wondering how narcissistic can I get, I was looking good there’s no two ways bout it – if you got it, flaunt it! ;) Reached Singapore Visitors’ Centre at 4:20 p.m., entered and cut a few tourists in queue to barge in on the “what I can only imagine as a mellow albino boy” at the counter as I bombarded him with a million questions. The poor fellow softly asked me to repeat all I had just blabbered. Nah, I don’t always oblige. So instead I just asked him to tell me if its worth going to the beach now, got a reply in the negative and got the Battle Box as an alternative.
Got off at Dhoby Ghaut, the closest station to Fort Canning, where the Battle Box lay. A kilometre hike through stairs and a heavy canopy of trees, I reached the road mark leading up to Fort Canning. Something inside told me that this was going to be worth the trouble the friggin’ humidity would give me. So I marched on, along meandering paths, gaping slides, smooching couples (you read that right!), photography obsessed Thai couple, and reached the ticket office of the Battle Box. At this point I asked myself one very simple question – when exactly in God’s name did Singapore of all places FIGHT a war?! Suddenly there was a very sickening feeling in my tummy of losing 8 S$ for crap. But like my numerous other wrong habits, I am gifted at being ignorant and painting the image of a world as I like it to be. So there I sat in front of the TV, airing the initial documentary on Singapore and World War II. The guided tour included a British family, a Swede and a German couple who just could not stop kissing, and of course, yours truly. We continued on to the actual war rooms once the 15-minute documentary was over.
We were supposed to have headphones on for listening to the war commentary. I have no clue why they chose to have the technique, because eventually all of us ended up standing in a pose as if playing Twister! No, do not even imagine what position I ended up in, because I can tell you, I am glad the German couple did NOT have any spicy Mexican or Indian food for lunch :P At the end of the first room, we all laughed thinking of what we just did. The next few rooms were exactly the same apart from the fact that the little Brit kid threw a tantrum after hearing a mock World War II bomb explode. What fascinated me was the fact that how much we know about Hitler’s role in the war, but hardly have any clue about the Japanese involvement, or probably I have been too ignorant of their significance in the war except for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Did you know that like the German Gestapo, there was a Japanese equivalent too – Tasatemi – or something like that, I guess my Japanese ain’t as good as my Chinese ;) What was surprising was the fact that all the scribbling on the wall that had been conserved was in a straight line! I made that observation, and got a pat on the back from the tour guide, see told you, there was absolutely nothing wrong about today ;)
Once out of the Battle Box, the details of the war stories of which I don’t want to bore you with, I had to hurry downhill, as the closing time was at 6 and there were only a couple of minutes left. While sliding down, and hopping in between, I realised that the humidity never really got to me, not even to my ailing lungs! I know that’s none of your business, but its my blog, so go fish! ;) I was in no mood to go back to my room and lay in bed watching TV like the rest of my fellow interns were busy doing. The bloke dressed up in a traditional dress of probably Singapore was kind enough to guide me to Istana Park, which I have been told is the Presidential Park of Singapore – take that Delhi’s botanical gardens! Thenga! ;) Strolled, rested, threw a few pebbles into the pond, tried photographing a gooey snail stuck on the wall, vertically, with my crappy cellphone camera. Almost every nook and corner that turned into a dark opening had a couple making out or just lying on the grass – I was jealous – big time at that!! Stopped by a few teenagers practising a few dance moves, watched them pull off some exciting twists. One amazing thing about the water fountains here is that the water comes out gently and where you stand it appears like a wafer thin layer as if the entire ground was literally floating on water. Was very hard resisting the serenity of that water, wanted to just poke a finger in and just check if it really was water and no trickery, but then why even bother shattering a misconception even if it were one, as long as it amazes me! ;) So I moved on, back to Dhoby Ghaut, took the train home.
PS The boy’s name is Gregory – what is it with the Brits and their freakin’ Victorian era names ?! Might as well have named their kid Sir Gregory the VII or something. Jeez! ;)
Today’s day marked the end of the search for a pair of flip-flops at the Shaw Centre – there they were, hanging off the hook calling out to me to buy them. Obviously I obliged. There was more reason to buy a pair than my stinking feet at the end of a sweaty day. Wanted to put on my Gio t-shirt and Quiksilver shorts, frizzled hair and a pair of flip-flops, walk on the beach. I hurried off back to Treetops, happy with myself, Billabong flippityflops is all I kept humming all the way back. It might seem a little corny, but I did imagine myself walking on the beach, open shirt, the breeze blowing. If I were to enjoy the beach, I would have to hasten, so I gulped four fish fingers down with a glass of juice, seemingly filling. But a few hassles here and there, and I inevitably got delayed till 4 in the evening. Michelle, the chinki who always smiles and greets me at the reception, said it would be better if I went elsewhere rather than the beach, but I chose to take my chances. After all can’t blame me for being excited for the brand new look I’d given myself!!
I have a very bad habit of “pondering” too much and it got the best of me by the time I reached the bus stop. “What if Michelle is right and I end up losing out on the beach experience – didn’t want to ruin anything about today?” The tourist information centre seemed to be the best bet to find out what to and what not to do. A choice presented itself – do I take the bus and get off two stops later or do I flaunt the cool look and walk on bustling Orchard Road instead? Wondering how narcissistic can I get, I was looking good there’s no two ways bout it – if you got it, flaunt it! ;) Reached Singapore Visitors’ Centre at 4:20 p.m., entered and cut a few tourists in queue to barge in on the “what I can only imagine as a mellow albino boy” at the counter as I bombarded him with a million questions. The poor fellow softly asked me to repeat all I had just blabbered. Nah, I don’t always oblige. So instead I just asked him to tell me if its worth going to the beach now, got a reply in the negative and got the Battle Box as an alternative.
Got off at Dhoby Ghaut, the closest station to Fort Canning, where the Battle Box lay. A kilometre hike through stairs and a heavy canopy of trees, I reached the road mark leading up to Fort Canning. Something inside told me that this was going to be worth the trouble the friggin’ humidity would give me. So I marched on, along meandering paths, gaping slides, smooching couples (you read that right!), photography obsessed Thai couple, and reached the ticket office of the Battle Box. At this point I asked myself one very simple question – when exactly in God’s name did Singapore of all places FIGHT a war?! Suddenly there was a very sickening feeling in my tummy of losing 8 S$ for crap. But like my numerous other wrong habits, I am gifted at being ignorant and painting the image of a world as I like it to be. So there I sat in front of the TV, airing the initial documentary on Singapore and World War II. The guided tour included a British family, a Swede and a German couple who just could not stop kissing, and of course, yours truly. We continued on to the actual war rooms once the 15-minute documentary was over.
We were supposed to have headphones on for listening to the war commentary. I have no clue why they chose to have the technique, because eventually all of us ended up standing in a pose as if playing Twister! No, do not even imagine what position I ended up in, because I can tell you, I am glad the German couple did NOT have any spicy Mexican or Indian food for lunch :P At the end of the first room, we all laughed thinking of what we just did. The next few rooms were exactly the same apart from the fact that the little Brit kid threw a tantrum after hearing a mock World War II bomb explode. What fascinated me was the fact that how much we know about Hitler’s role in the war, but hardly have any clue about the Japanese involvement, or probably I have been too ignorant of their significance in the war except for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Did you know that like the German Gestapo, there was a Japanese equivalent too – Tasatemi – or something like that, I guess my Japanese ain’t as good as my Chinese ;) What was surprising was the fact that all the scribbling on the wall that had been conserved was in a straight line! I made that observation, and got a pat on the back from the tour guide, see told you, there was absolutely nothing wrong about today ;)
Once out of the Battle Box, the details of the war stories of which I don’t want to bore you with, I had to hurry downhill, as the closing time was at 6 and there were only a couple of minutes left. While sliding down, and hopping in between, I realised that the humidity never really got to me, not even to my ailing lungs! I know that’s none of your business, but its my blog, so go fish! ;) I was in no mood to go back to my room and lay in bed watching TV like the rest of my fellow interns were busy doing. The bloke dressed up in a traditional dress of probably Singapore was kind enough to guide me to Istana Park, which I have been told is the Presidential Park of Singapore – take that Delhi’s botanical gardens! Thenga! ;) Strolled, rested, threw a few pebbles into the pond, tried photographing a gooey snail stuck on the wall, vertically, with my crappy cellphone camera. Almost every nook and corner that turned into a dark opening had a couple making out or just lying on the grass – I was jealous – big time at that!! Stopped by a few teenagers practising a few dance moves, watched them pull off some exciting twists. One amazing thing about the water fountains here is that the water comes out gently and where you stand it appears like a wafer thin layer as if the entire ground was literally floating on water. Was very hard resisting the serenity of that water, wanted to just poke a finger in and just check if it really was water and no trickery, but then why even bother shattering a misconception even if it were one, as long as it amazes me! ;) So I moved on, back to Dhoby Ghaut, took the train home.
PS The boy’s name is Gregory – what is it with the Brits and their freakin’ Victorian era names ?! Might as well have named their kid Sir Gregory the VII or something. Jeez! ;)
Thursday, April 10, 2008
The Motorcycle Diaries ..
Part Two - The Nemesis
Day 3 - Chullu bhar paani
It wouldn't be wrong to suggest that I already had premonitions of having a miserable session this day. The clutch as it is wasn't problem enough that the accelerator also had to kick in - "its all about perfect co-ordination" - tell me 'bout it, easy to say but have YOU ever tried your hand at the friggin' co-ordination ?! Kick-start, a gentle race, and a slow but steady release of the clutch was all that I had to manage. Sounds easy doesn't it ? The scorching hea
t, the distant stench of the railways tracks, and the weariness from last day's failure - could I have asked for a better way to start off ? Still ripe with confidence and determination to keep at it, I started the bike, clutch pulled back, shift to first gear, steady as she goes, slowly, slowly, a little vroom, almost there, just a tad more, and the bike sneezes to a halt. Never mind, was a loosener, will definitely get it right on the next try. Same ritual - shift to neutral, a little race, clutch, gear shift, slow and steady, a little more on the engine, and achhoo goes the bike yet again. They say third time lucky, but there I was, still stranded on the road hitting a double hat-trick already, third time lucky my ass !!
I wouldn't mind such setbacks, after all "practice makes a man perfect" wasn't suggested by a fool, but when you have on-lookers standing by just to watch you mess up again and whisper in each other's ears, human tendency makes you desperately search for that chullu bhar paani. C'mon people, its 9:00 in the morning, don't you have an office to go to ?! Now that I think of it was funny in a very weird way, at least I got a good part of the attention they were going to have all day anyways ;) This being the third day on the trot, a local boy must have noticed my tussle with the bike, and just to show off the brat decided to take his splendor out for ride at the very instant when I was busy trying different mantras to make the bike budge (trust me, open sesame does NOT work with everything !!) Kudos to the kid though for his bike antics, but guess that wasn't good enough to inspire me to do better, as long as the back being patted ain't mine, the adrenalin rush ain't gonna come :) Ended the session on that question mark, demoralised on the inability to get the smooth start that have been used to seated on the back seat.
Day 4 - Reprieve
Woke up in the morning today, still lay in bed, contemplating on whether to go for the bike session after yesterday's misery, and if not what excuse to give to my bro who'd have definitely fried my ass for giving up so easy. I did try to come up with an excuse to get out of it, but then my bro has this uncanny knack of being 'right' - hate it sometimes! So there I was again, in a white adidas t-shirt, ready to take on "one of the better things I have been involved with". No points to guessing who called it that ;) It wasn't a fairytale start for sure as I carried on the hiccups from yesterday. A few more tries and I finally got the beast roaring on the road. Whatever be my inability to handle the clutch, once the beast is under control, have to say, everything's smooth and feel like going on for miles without stopping. There was no denying that today was one of the better days, the success rate was higher, and I think I took care of the unwanted audience. Had to turn the bike 180 degrees on a wide road, gear was at one, and the accelerator at full throttle while turning, the sudden jerk towards the crowd gave them a scare as they scampered around. Yeah, be afraid, am out of control with the bike, might take down a bunch of you with me!! Don't think they'd be taking time out of their busy schedule to watch the gladiator tame the beast again tomorrow :P
I'd like to make myself happy by explaining the brat's absence today with him being grounded by his mommy for speeding or using the bike yesterday without permission. I do not know what kept him from coming, but whatever be the case, life was easier today, its one liberty I can enjoy being 25 - I've got NO SCHOOL !! ;) Didn't become a pro overnight but I realised that giving up now would mean chucking the bike into the dumps just the way I did the two-wheeler. Tomorrow's a new day, and though today was hard, am sure a couple of days more and I'd have mastered that freakin' clutch. After all "its all about the accelerator and clutch co-ordination" - how hard could it be ? :)
PS That's item number 15 ticked off the bucket list - "not to give in to fear" ;)
Part Two - The Nemesis
Day 3 - Chullu bhar paani
It wouldn't be wrong to suggest that I already had premonitions of having a miserable session this day. The clutch as it is wasn't problem enough that the accelerator also had to kick in - "its all about perfect co-ordination" - tell me 'bout it, easy to say but have YOU ever tried your hand at the friggin' co-ordination ?! Kick-start, a gentle race, and a slow but steady release of the clutch was all that I had to manage. Sounds easy doesn't it ? The scorching hea
t, the distant stench of the railways tracks, and the weariness from last day's failure - could I have asked for a better way to start off ? Still ripe with confidence and determination to keep at it, I started the bike, clutch pulled back, shift to first gear, steady as she goes, slowly, slowly, a little vroom, almost there, just a tad more, and the bike sneezes to a halt. Never mind, was a loosener, will definitely get it right on the next try. Same ritual - shift to neutral, a little race, clutch, gear shift, slow and steady, a little more on the engine, and achhoo goes the bike yet again. They say third time lucky, but there I was, still stranded on the road hitting a double hat-trick already, third time lucky my ass !!I wouldn't mind such setbacks, after all "practice makes a man perfect" wasn't suggested by a fool, but when you have on-lookers standing by just to watch you mess up again and whisper in each other's ears, human tendency makes you desperately search for that chullu bhar paani. C'mon people, its 9:00 in the morning, don't you have an office to go to ?! Now that I think of it was funny in a very weird way, at least I got a good part of the attention they were going to have all day anyways ;) This being the third day on the trot, a local boy must have noticed my tussle with the bike, and just to show off the brat decided to take his splendor out for ride at the very instant when I was busy trying different mantras to make the bike budge (trust me, open sesame does NOT work with everything !!) Kudos to the kid though for his bike antics, but guess that wasn't good enough to inspire me to do better, as long as the back being patted ain't mine, the adrenalin rush ain't gonna come :) Ended the session on that question mark, demoralised on the inability to get the smooth start that have been used to seated on the back seat.
Day 4 - Reprieve
Woke up in the morning today, still lay in bed, contemplating on whether to go for the bike session after yesterday's misery, and if not what excuse to give to my bro who'd have definitely fried my ass for giving up so easy. I did try to come up with an excuse to get out of it, but then my bro has this uncanny knack of being 'right' - hate it sometimes! So there I was again, in a white adidas t-shirt, ready to take on "one of the better things I have been involved with". No points to guessing who called it that ;) It wasn't a fairytale start for sure as I carried on the hiccups from yesterday. A few more tries and I finally got the beast roaring on the road. Whatever be my inability to handle the clutch, once the beast is under control, have to say, everything's smooth and feel like going on for miles without stopping. There was no denying that today was one of the better days, the success rate was higher, and I think I took care of the unwanted audience. Had to turn the bike 180 degrees on a wide road, gear was at one, and the accelerator at full throttle while turning, the sudden jerk towards the crowd gave them a scare as they scampered around. Yeah, be afraid, am out of control with the bike, might take down a bunch of you with me!! Don't think they'd be taking time out of their busy schedule to watch the gladiator tame the beast again tomorrow :P
I'd like to make myself happy by explaining the brat's absence today with him being grounded by his mommy for speeding or using the bike yesterday without permission. I do not know what kept him from coming, but whatever be the case, life was easier today, its one liberty I can enjoy being 25 - I've got NO SCHOOL !! ;) Didn't become a pro overnight but I realised that giving up now would mean chucking the bike into the dumps just the way I did the two-wheeler. Tomorrow's a new day, and though today was hard, am sure a couple of days more and I'd have mastered that freakin' clutch. After all "its all about the accelerator and clutch co-ordination" - how hard could it be ? :)
PS That's item number 15 ticked off the bucket list - "not to give in to fear" ;)
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
The Motorcycle Diaries ..
Disclaimer: This post has no relation to Che Guevara and does not in any way endorse or criticise his ideologies. :)
Day 1 - Vroom..
As if the apprehension of getting onto a bike for the first time on the driver's seat wasn't bad enough, the painstaking effort to actually ask my uncle to coach me at the age of 25 just added to the embarrassment. But then there are a million things which others haven't done and I have, so guess it all eventually levels off (shut up if you think am just pacifying my ego!). Anyhow, there I was, in my biking gear - puma shoes, tracks, and a black t-shirt with the 7 sins and a skull, waiting pensively. We rode down to the common practice area where I vividly
recollect poppy giving me my first cycling lessons - those were much simpler times I guess :) Strict instructions - DO NOT accelerate too much, DO NOT handle the clutch, DO NOT press the break, DO NOT act all gung-ho - you are not Genghis Khan !! Fidgety hands, sweaty palms tentatively rested on the handle, as the bike was kick-started and shifted to first gear. I would not deny the fact that those first few seconds were scary and I drew what can only be described as a drunk's walk, yet the feeling of handling the beast I felt scared of all my life was liberating. Even cruising at 20 kmph it felt as if the breeze was flowing through me, as if I had wings. It may all sound cliche but I won't deny my feelings just for want of better, more regular words!
Balance was the key I had to focus on the first day. It surely was no poise of a ballerina, but hell that first day of biking on my own felt like I had accomplished a world of good. Left turn, right turn, circling, slowing down, all seemed so simple. All was good, till the gaming freak in me kicked in and the accelerator got a clockwise vroom to it - 20 my ass, 30-40 kmph here I come ! ;) In a perfect world I would've been applauded for my antics, but alas, this world is all but perfect and what ensued for the next 2 minutes was a powerful lecture against speeding. My rights to independently handle the bike revoked :( But heck, to be able to enjoy the first day of riding a bike, cruising, felt amazing. I could very easily come up with a hundred synonyms to describe the feeling, but eventually it'll just tell you how awesome it felt to have finally started that engine and vroomed off into the wind!! ;)
Day 2 - Press .. shift .. leave .. *boing*
If day one was liberation, the next day was punishment. Clutches - what got me off the two-wheeler - the nemesis I wanted to avoid were back to haunt me yet again. I still do not get the reason to having a clutch for gears and having to leave it slowly - please spare me the mechanics of it if you know - I'd like to stay ignorant ;) Anyways, the first gear change after a kickstart required a slow release of the clutch. As if that weren't hard enough - leave it too soon and you'll stop with a jerk, leave it too slow and you won't budge and the bike would go off !! "Once you master the co-ordination between the clutch and the accelerator there would be nothing else to learn" - easy for you to say unc, you've been friggin' riding the bike for like a million years ! First try at the sweet release of the clutch - I didn't do that bad actually, except for a little jerk, was pretty smooth shifting. Well I believe that little jerk also should not have been there - must've been my unc's wrong accelerator handling or something ;) A couple of more tries, jerks, and popat's later, I was literally flexing my wrists. You might not understand but seriously, all the mental pressure was being taken out on the poor wrists.
Ten rounds later, we did a full round-up of all I had learnt in the two sessions, just in time for my unc to leave for office and me to feel proud of my achievement. Everything went along fine, all the clutches, breaks, gears, speed and what not, but damn that one stupid little thing just almost always has to fuck up - and there I was - still holding onto the clutch after changing gears as if it were my darling angel going off on a bloody cruise ! Argh ! End result - tomorrow ain't going to be an upgrade session but a REVIEW - again ! Goof-ups are a norm of life - am just glad they're not the only thing in life. Whatever may have happened over these two days, I realised one thing for sure - my grandkids are going to have an amazing time listening to grandpa's motorcycle diaries for a long time to come ! ;)
PS - This post would sound way better if I could read it out to you with all the voice modulation and actions - but as I said, this world is everything but perfect ! ;)
Disclaimer: This post has no relation to Che Guevara and does not in any way endorse or criticise his ideologies. :)
Day 1 - Vroom..
As if the apprehension of getting onto a bike for the first time on the driver's seat wasn't bad enough, the painstaking effort to actually ask my uncle to coach me at the age of 25 just added to the embarrassment. But then there are a million things which others haven't done and I have, so guess it all eventually levels off (shut up if you think am just pacifying my ego!). Anyhow, there I was, in my biking gear - puma shoes, tracks, and a black t-shirt with the 7 sins and a skull, waiting pensively. We rode down to the common practice area where I vividly
recollect poppy giving me my first cycling lessons - those were much simpler times I guess :) Strict instructions - DO NOT accelerate too much, DO NOT handle the clutch, DO NOT press the break, DO NOT act all gung-ho - you are not Genghis Khan !! Fidgety hands, sweaty palms tentatively rested on the handle, as the bike was kick-started and shifted to first gear. I would not deny the fact that those first few seconds were scary and I drew what can only be described as a drunk's walk, yet the feeling of handling the beast I felt scared of all my life was liberating. Even cruising at 20 kmph it felt as if the breeze was flowing through me, as if I had wings. It may all sound cliche but I won't deny my feelings just for want of better, more regular words!Balance was the key I had to focus on the first day. It surely was no poise of a ballerina, but hell that first day of biking on my own felt like I had accomplished a world of good. Left turn, right turn, circling, slowing down, all seemed so simple. All was good, till the gaming freak in me kicked in and the accelerator got a clockwise vroom to it - 20 my ass, 30-40 kmph here I come ! ;) In a perfect world I would've been applauded for my antics, but alas, this world is all but perfect and what ensued for the next 2 minutes was a powerful lecture against speeding. My rights to independently handle the bike revoked :( But heck, to be able to enjoy the first day of riding a bike, cruising, felt amazing. I could very easily come up with a hundred synonyms to describe the feeling, but eventually it'll just tell you how awesome it felt to have finally started that engine and vroomed off into the wind!! ;)
Day 2 - Press .. shift .. leave .. *boing*
If day one was liberation, the next day was punishment. Clutches - what got me off the two-wheeler - the nemesis I wanted to avoid were back to haunt me yet again. I still do not get the reason to having a clutch for gears and having to leave it slowly - please spare me the mechanics of it if you know - I'd like to stay ignorant ;) Anyways, the first gear change after a kickstart required a slow release of the clutch. As if that weren't hard enough - leave it too soon and you'll stop with a jerk, leave it too slow and you won't budge and the bike would go off !! "Once you master the co-ordination between the clutch and the accelerator there would be nothing else to learn" - easy for you to say unc, you've been friggin' riding the bike for like a million years ! First try at the sweet release of the clutch - I didn't do that bad actually, except for a little jerk, was pretty smooth shifting. Well I believe that little jerk also should not have been there - must've been my unc's wrong accelerator handling or something ;) A couple of more tries, jerks, and popat's later, I was literally flexing my wrists. You might not understand but seriously, all the mental pressure was being taken out on the poor wrists.
Ten rounds later, we did a full round-up of all I had learnt in the two sessions, just in time for my unc to leave for office and me to feel proud of my achievement. Everything went along fine, all the clutches, breaks, gears, speed and what not, but damn that one stupid little thing just almost always has to fuck up - and there I was - still holding onto the clutch after changing gears as if it were my darling angel going off on a bloody cruise ! Argh ! End result - tomorrow ain't going to be an upgrade session but a REVIEW - again ! Goof-ups are a norm of life - am just glad they're not the only thing in life. Whatever may have happened over these two days, I realised one thing for sure - my grandkids are going to have an amazing time listening to grandpa's motorcycle diaries for a long time to come ! ;)
PS - This post would sound way better if I could read it out to you with all the voice modulation and actions - but as I said, this world is everything but perfect ! ;)
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Memoirs ..
They say that memories are worth having if they don't make you think of the past. They also say that every memory is unique, and worth treasuring. Why then do we shed a tear when reminiscing of someone lost? Why is it so hard for us to smile at every remembrance? The void haunts us for several nights before we curl up in bed, squirming with an aching tummy wishing it all away. It seems difficult to drive away the demons of solitude and sorrow thinking of the close friend we lost. Depression seems imminent. Life in all its grandeur seems not worth the effort anymore.
I cannot present to anyone the elixir of life, nor can I tell you what the secret is to make yourself immune to such attachment. Yet I sit at my laptop today, trying to figure out for myself and possibly in
the process relate to you what life's been about since the 20th of March. It is easy for us as humans to fall into the abyss and be lost in it forever, to hide behind our sorrows and hope that the feeling of guilt and sadness would eventually fade into oblivion. But it is equally hard to derive strength, to be able to accept reality, if not for yourself, then at least for the ones you care about. Denial is what I used to call that feeling. I now realise the difference. It could not have been denial, because the acceptance of never being able to see her again was there, and denial precludes sorrow, but tears had already been shed, how then could this feeling of not knowing how to feel be denial ?!
Uneasy with the inability to explain the drying up of tears, the mind often ventures into the subliminal. For me, denial was followed by indifference as a plausible explanation. But then again, indifference to 'what' exactly? It still was not possible to pin-point the source of such a discomforting explanation, and I thankfully moved onward looking for reasons to believe in. After several phases of calling it ignorance, apathy, shock and what not, all synonyms of 'denial', I sat down on the parapet wall outside my room one evening and looked up towards the sky. I do not know why, but that evening the stars were scattered afar, not close to each other, but spread across the vast canvas of the sky. The sparsity didn't diminish the beauty in any way, but just gave the sky a different look. Being far from each other didn't mean they stopped complementing each other, their twinkle still sparkled and bounced off each other's radiance and as I lay there gazing upwards, I understood.
Not feeling depressed anymore was a good omen, for all I could remember was the good times spent with Ami, the leg-pulling, the camera sessions, the long lectures, the French movie, the hike up the mountain, the tumbling down it ;) The hope of having her in a much better place, and being happy that her life's best year was the last one she had, all came rushing in. Reminiscence of losing someone is worth having if you miss them for the good times spent, rather than crib for the ones you could not. To be able to smile at the fact that by being with them for whatever time you could, you brought a smile to their face and made them feel special, is what makes it worth treasuring every memory. To know that she could not have asked for a better friend during her final moments, to know that she was happy with what she'd become, to know that she saw how beautiful life could be, makes you realise that everyday hundreds of people pass away and only one lucky person is fortunate enough to go with a smile, knowing that they lived life to the T, without any regrets. :)
Remember Ami for her smile, her giggles, her scolding, for that is what made her special. For what good is it to keep memories if they make you think of the past ;)
PS: This post has been possible because of a special friend of mine who made me realise what Ami ought to be remembered for :)
They say that memories are worth having if they don't make you think of the past. They also say that every memory is unique, and worth treasuring. Why then do we shed a tear when reminiscing of someone lost? Why is it so hard for us to smile at every remembrance? The void haunts us for several nights before we curl up in bed, squirming with an aching tummy wishing it all away. It seems difficult to drive away the demons of solitude and sorrow thinking of the close friend we lost. Depression seems imminent. Life in all its grandeur seems not worth the effort anymore.
I cannot present to anyone the elixir of life, nor can I tell you what the secret is to make yourself immune to such attachment. Yet I sit at my laptop today, trying to figure out for myself and possibly in
the process relate to you what life's been about since the 20th of March. It is easy for us as humans to fall into the abyss and be lost in it forever, to hide behind our sorrows and hope that the feeling of guilt and sadness would eventually fade into oblivion. But it is equally hard to derive strength, to be able to accept reality, if not for yourself, then at least for the ones you care about. Denial is what I used to call that feeling. I now realise the difference. It could not have been denial, because the acceptance of never being able to see her again was there, and denial precludes sorrow, but tears had already been shed, how then could this feeling of not knowing how to feel be denial ?!Uneasy with the inability to explain the drying up of tears, the mind often ventures into the subliminal. For me, denial was followed by indifference as a plausible explanation. But then again, indifference to 'what' exactly? It still was not possible to pin-point the source of such a discomforting explanation, and I thankfully moved onward looking for reasons to believe in. After several phases of calling it ignorance, apathy, shock and what not, all synonyms of 'denial', I sat down on the parapet wall outside my room one evening and looked up towards the sky. I do not know why, but that evening the stars were scattered afar, not close to each other, but spread across the vast canvas of the sky. The sparsity didn't diminish the beauty in any way, but just gave the sky a different look. Being far from each other didn't mean they stopped complementing each other, their twinkle still sparkled and bounced off each other's radiance and as I lay there gazing upwards, I understood.
Not feeling depressed anymore was a good omen, for all I could remember was the good times spent with Ami, the leg-pulling, the camera sessions, the long lectures, the French movie, the hike up the mountain, the tumbling down it ;) The hope of having her in a much better place, and being happy that her life's best year was the last one she had, all came rushing in. Reminiscence of losing someone is worth having if you miss them for the good times spent, rather than crib for the ones you could not. To be able to smile at the fact that by being with them for whatever time you could, you brought a smile to their face and made them feel special, is what makes it worth treasuring every memory. To know that she could not have asked for a better friend during her final moments, to know that she was happy with what she'd become, to know that she saw how beautiful life could be, makes you realise that everyday hundreds of people pass away and only one lucky person is fortunate enough to go with a smile, knowing that they lived life to the T, without any regrets. :)
Remember Ami for her smile, her giggles, her scolding, for that is what made her special. For what good is it to keep memories if they make you think of the past ;)
PS: This post has been possible because of a special friend of mine who made me realise what Ami ought to be remembered for :)
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Trickle..
Just out of the winter chill, the Ahmedabad weather played foul on Monday morning. Apparently rains up north in Delhi had driven a chilly wind into the western reaches. All tucked
up under a comfortable and cozy blanket, any alarm sounds like a blistering screech in the ears, yet the fear of an annoyed professor proves to be the kick on the bottom that gets you out of bed! With half shut eyes, a loose grip on the toothbrush and toothpaste virtually dripping off its ends, I drag myself to the washbasin - in the past year having trained to reach the correct basin even with my eyes closed, not bumping into a wall. A droopy posture, the hand moves a little, takes a break, eyes go heavy, thoughts subliminal and soon the bobbing head rocks forward and backward, a tad too much and the eyes automatically pop wide open for fear of falling! The hand eventually gives up for want of energy and the to-and-fro turns sideways, end of brushing my teeth, a few gargles *gurble* *squizzle*. Pull the towel off the hook, grab a set of underwear, and the usual stuff that goes with the showering ritual. There has been no change in the pace at which I walk, no sense of urgency as yet.
Getting into the bathroom I realise for the first time this morning that its really chilly outside, in half a mind to get out and not shower. Shorts, t-shirt off, I stand there shivering just a little, not so much of the cold than the contemplation of having to reach out for the shower knob and then stand underneath a stream of ice crystals. I conjure up the courage, reluctantly drawing close to the nozzle, arm outstretched as far as possible. The knob turns slowly, but the stream decides to surprise me and bursts out with a flourish, I withdraw back as if acid were flowing out of the nozzle, unaware that space is limited inside the tinsy-winsy bathroom and *bang* goes my knee into the shut door. I swear. Water flowing, looking amazing from a distance, not just for its beauty but also because its far away from me, yet the tiny splashes on the floor manage to reach my ankles and give that tingling and inviting sensation. With baby steps I draw closer. I have learnt with the numerous bruises that the swift stripping off a band-aid is better than the slow and painful peeling off. So I barge into the waterfall, eyes shut close - my Chinese origin to the fore :P The best way of getting inside a cold shower is with your face upwards towards the nozzle, because that saves your back - the most sensitive part of your body on a wintry morning to cold water ;) I rub my tummy, scrub my back like crazy, trying to drive away the shiver and chill running down my spine. Before long am already having fun, singing at the top of my voice, waking up other droopy souls while they brush their teeth outside cursing me to stop screaming for the love of God!
I have to confess here that the face trick was always meant as a defense mechanism against the beating of that hailstorm blowing out the shower. This Monday was different though, in the sense that those drops on my face meant something else - a sense of liberation. Its funny to explain but those few minutes underneath the shower I simply stood smiling, enjoying the water crashing against my cheeks, trickling down my entire body. I guess that feeling of standing there and having the drops tickling the cheeks fed my sleep - nope there were no hidden figurative revelations about life or anything - just loved the feeling :) I do not know why, and come to think of it, I don't want to know either since this is one thing I'd love to have remain a mystery. I do not remember how long I smiled, how long I just stood there looking up, but I do remember that sensation - which was broken by the rampant scream of my dorm mates yelling out that it was time for the lecture ;( But there are only a few things in this world that stand up to the ruthlessness of a professor and unfortunately the shower was not one of them, I zoomed off getting into whatever I could get hold of.
Since that Monday morning, showering has been what I look forward to after a long gym session, probably one of the motivators that makes me slog it off at the gym to enjoy the shower all the more, never know ;)
PS I was late for the first lecture that very Monday morning and was kicked out - but the shower sure as hell was worth it :P
Just out of the winter chill, the Ahmedabad weather played foul on Monday morning. Apparently rains up north in Delhi had driven a chilly wind into the western reaches. All tucked
up under a comfortable and cozy blanket, any alarm sounds like a blistering screech in the ears, yet the fear of an annoyed professor proves to be the kick on the bottom that gets you out of bed! With half shut eyes, a loose grip on the toothbrush and toothpaste virtually dripping off its ends, I drag myself to the washbasin - in the past year having trained to reach the correct basin even with my eyes closed, not bumping into a wall. A droopy posture, the hand moves a little, takes a break, eyes go heavy, thoughts subliminal and soon the bobbing head rocks forward and backward, a tad too much and the eyes automatically pop wide open for fear of falling! The hand eventually gives up for want of energy and the to-and-fro turns sideways, end of brushing my teeth, a few gargles *gurble* *squizzle*. Pull the towel off the hook, grab a set of underwear, and the usual stuff that goes with the showering ritual. There has been no change in the pace at which I walk, no sense of urgency as yet.Getting into the bathroom I realise for the first time this morning that its really chilly outside, in half a mind to get out and not shower. Shorts, t-shirt off, I stand there shivering just a little, not so much of the cold than the contemplation of having to reach out for the shower knob and then stand underneath a stream of ice crystals. I conjure up the courage, reluctantly drawing close to the nozzle, arm outstretched as far as possible. The knob turns slowly, but the stream decides to surprise me and bursts out with a flourish, I withdraw back as if acid were flowing out of the nozzle, unaware that space is limited inside the tinsy-winsy bathroom and *bang* goes my knee into the shut door. I swear. Water flowing, looking amazing from a distance, not just for its beauty but also because its far away from me, yet the tiny splashes on the floor manage to reach my ankles and give that tingling and inviting sensation. With baby steps I draw closer. I have learnt with the numerous bruises that the swift stripping off a band-aid is better than the slow and painful peeling off. So I barge into the waterfall, eyes shut close - my Chinese origin to the fore :P The best way of getting inside a cold shower is with your face upwards towards the nozzle, because that saves your back - the most sensitive part of your body on a wintry morning to cold water ;) I rub my tummy, scrub my back like crazy, trying to drive away the shiver and chill running down my spine. Before long am already having fun, singing at the top of my voice, waking up other droopy souls while they brush their teeth outside cursing me to stop screaming for the love of God!
I have to confess here that the face trick was always meant as a defense mechanism against the beating of that hailstorm blowing out the shower. This Monday was different though, in the sense that those drops on my face meant something else - a sense of liberation. Its funny to explain but those few minutes underneath the shower I simply stood smiling, enjoying the water crashing against my cheeks, trickling down my entire body. I guess that feeling of standing there and having the drops tickling the cheeks fed my sleep - nope there were no hidden figurative revelations about life or anything - just loved the feeling :) I do not know why, and come to think of it, I don't want to know either since this is one thing I'd love to have remain a mystery. I do not remember how long I smiled, how long I just stood there looking up, but I do remember that sensation - which was broken by the rampant scream of my dorm mates yelling out that it was time for the lecture ;( But there are only a few things in this world that stand up to the ruthlessness of a professor and unfortunately the shower was not one of them, I zoomed off getting into whatever I could get hold of.
Since that Monday morning, showering has been what I look forward to after a long gym session, probably one of the motivators that makes me slog it off at the gym to enjoy the shower all the more, never know ;)
PS I was late for the first lecture that very Monday morning and was kicked out - but the shower sure as hell was worth it :P
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Oh crap ..
Twas 2 in the afternoon, hardly anything to study for tomorrow. Would be lying if I said that I hadn't been planning on making this trip for the past few days, but something or the other always turned up. Determined on getting off my lazy bum this one time, threw my cap on and set out in the scorching sun. Was just off the ramp when I realised I had come out in slippers - just for the record I love wearin shoes - so you can imagine how awkward it felt ;) If at this point I went back to my room it would have been virtually impossible to convince myself t
o get all the way down here again! Ah what the hell, set out as I was, to be honest felt liberating to break a norm. Waved to a rickshaw, got turned down, and again, and again, till I finally gave up and set out on foot. Hafta say I never realised how freakin' long the red brick boundary of the campus is - kept walking but it just would not give up following me everywhere ! Passed a juice vendor, he'd diced a pineapple in a way that it looked like one of the couture hairstyles that could easily be paraded on the ramp of Milan or Paris. :P Stopped by a book vendor to browse through a few second hand reads - guess what, apparently all he's got is 'fantasy' novels - so gave 'em a pass. Do NOT judge me okay ! ;)
After about a 10 minute walk along the road, I could hear voices - well shrieks, screams, yells, and a few swear words in tween. I cannot read Gujju, but looking up at the banner to the entrance of the run-down building with fading blue walls I could easily make out the words 'handicapped' and 'disabled'. I drew closer to the entrance, slightly bent forward, slightly wary of whether I should be poking my nose too far into their premises - I guess curiosity got the better of me. All I could get a glimpse of round the corner of the gate was a couple of young boys jumping up and down frantically celebrating what appeared to be the fall of a wicket. My feet moved further into the foreign territory, unable to control their anticipation. A chalk drawing on one of the raised pedestals mimicing a wicket, and on the other side of the compound two bricks on top of each other, it was easy to make out that cricket was in progress. Its been a while since I rolled my arm over, so obviously all the more reason for me to stay. Simply stood there watching a bunch of kids, some of whom couldn't walk properly, some who appeared to be a little mentally weak, some with an arm missing and a fielder on the boundary with crutches. Nah I won't preach any sermon on learnings of life coz to be frank I don't have any. I just enjoyed watching them play, have fun, and celebrate without a care in the world. When was the last time, I wondered, when we as healthy people had so much fun ?! Am proud that I was so engrossed in their game that I actually applauded the fall of another wicket :P It was 2:35 already - time to move on since the heat wasn't getting any less punishing.
After another 15 long minutes walking down the dusty road I finally reached the destination I'd set out for. Yup, am gonna call it a destination for what else do you plan for over a couple of days ?! ;) The place wreaked of the typical fragrance of medication embroiled with beauty products - Planet Health - that's where I was. Normally I'd be glad to be greeted by two charming young ladies at the entrance asking me whether I needed any help looking for something, but this one time I'd wished they'd not been there!! Told 'em that I'll manage and was just looking around. C'mon you just don't go telling people what I'd come for - its a lil weird :P Finally reached the counter where everything had been neatly arranged to bring out the aura associated with the stuff. But alas, was life ever easy - there stood two of 'em - behenjis - bent down looking at things what I can only hope was for their daughters and not for them ! Looked as if two cows had come down for a nice afternoon graze :P I ambled up and down the galley, wondering how to squeeze tween the chitter chatter and grab hold of what I came for and get the hell outta there. The way I kept looking at that particular section, even the salesgirls got suspicious and sent a salesboy over, again to ask me if I needed help. As usual, I declined. I even tried staying close by at the closest counter, just to sneak in whenever I get the chance and then scoot, only to realise it was sanitary napkins! Can you even imagine the look on my face when I turned around just to see all three salespeople just LOOKIN at me. Grabbed a chocolate bar, put a crumbled 10 rupee note on the payment counter and swivelled outta there as fast as I could. My ears had gone all red, body itchy, and heart beating like a freakin' steam engine. Took me 15 minutes of walking back to the institute before I calmed down. Wasn't long before I reached the same blue walls again that I was calm. Don't know why but wanted to see those blokes playin still, and was a lil disappointed to see an empty compound. Its weird how small things grab your attention and when they disappear you just feel kind of weird not having them around.
Strolled back at a leisurely pace to those engulfing red walls, again to drown into the silence of the muggers. In case you're wondering when this happened, it was about 2-3 weeks back, and as far as the 'stuff' I went for is concerned - was a face scrub!! ;) I know - guys - when will we EVER learn ?! :P
Twas 2 in the afternoon, hardly anything to study for tomorrow. Would be lying if I said that I hadn't been planning on making this trip for the past few days, but something or the other always turned up. Determined on getting off my lazy bum this one time, threw my cap on and set out in the scorching sun. Was just off the ramp when I realised I had come out in slippers - just for the record I love wearin shoes - so you can imagine how awkward it felt ;) If at this point I went back to my room it would have been virtually impossible to convince myself t
o get all the way down here again! Ah what the hell, set out as I was, to be honest felt liberating to break a norm. Waved to a rickshaw, got turned down, and again, and again, till I finally gave up and set out on foot. Hafta say I never realised how freakin' long the red brick boundary of the campus is - kept walking but it just would not give up following me everywhere ! Passed a juice vendor, he'd diced a pineapple in a way that it looked like one of the couture hairstyles that could easily be paraded on the ramp of Milan or Paris. :P Stopped by a book vendor to browse through a few second hand reads - guess what, apparently all he's got is 'fantasy' novels - so gave 'em a pass. Do NOT judge me okay ! ;)After about a 10 minute walk along the road, I could hear voices - well shrieks, screams, yells, and a few swear words in tween. I cannot read Gujju, but looking up at the banner to the entrance of the run-down building with fading blue walls I could easily make out the words 'handicapped' and 'disabled'. I drew closer to the entrance, slightly bent forward, slightly wary of whether I should be poking my nose too far into their premises - I guess curiosity got the better of me. All I could get a glimpse of round the corner of the gate was a couple of young boys jumping up and down frantically celebrating what appeared to be the fall of a wicket. My feet moved further into the foreign territory, unable to control their anticipation. A chalk drawing on one of the raised pedestals mimicing a wicket, and on the other side of the compound two bricks on top of each other, it was easy to make out that cricket was in progress. Its been a while since I rolled my arm over, so obviously all the more reason for me to stay. Simply stood there watching a bunch of kids, some of whom couldn't walk properly, some who appeared to be a little mentally weak, some with an arm missing and a fielder on the boundary with crutches. Nah I won't preach any sermon on learnings of life coz to be frank I don't have any. I just enjoyed watching them play, have fun, and celebrate without a care in the world. When was the last time, I wondered, when we as healthy people had so much fun ?! Am proud that I was so engrossed in their game that I actually applauded the fall of another wicket :P It was 2:35 already - time to move on since the heat wasn't getting any less punishing.
After another 15 long minutes walking down the dusty road I finally reached the destination I'd set out for. Yup, am gonna call it a destination for what else do you plan for over a couple of days ?! ;) The place wreaked of the typical fragrance of medication embroiled with beauty products - Planet Health - that's where I was. Normally I'd be glad to be greeted by two charming young ladies at the entrance asking me whether I needed any help looking for something, but this one time I'd wished they'd not been there!! Told 'em that I'll manage and was just looking around. C'mon you just don't go telling people what I'd come for - its a lil weird :P Finally reached the counter where everything had been neatly arranged to bring out the aura associated with the stuff. But alas, was life ever easy - there stood two of 'em - behenjis - bent down looking at things what I can only hope was for their daughters and not for them ! Looked as if two cows had come down for a nice afternoon graze :P I ambled up and down the galley, wondering how to squeeze tween the chitter chatter and grab hold of what I came for and get the hell outta there. The way I kept looking at that particular section, even the salesgirls got suspicious and sent a salesboy over, again to ask me if I needed help. As usual, I declined. I even tried staying close by at the closest counter, just to sneak in whenever I get the chance and then scoot, only to realise it was sanitary napkins! Can you even imagine the look on my face when I turned around just to see all three salespeople just LOOKIN at me. Grabbed a chocolate bar, put a crumbled 10 rupee note on the payment counter and swivelled outta there as fast as I could. My ears had gone all red, body itchy, and heart beating like a freakin' steam engine. Took me 15 minutes of walking back to the institute before I calmed down. Wasn't long before I reached the same blue walls again that I was calm. Don't know why but wanted to see those blokes playin still, and was a lil disappointed to see an empty compound. Its weird how small things grab your attention and when they disappear you just feel kind of weird not having them around.
Strolled back at a leisurely pace to those engulfing red walls, again to drown into the silence of the muggers. In case you're wondering when this happened, it was about 2-3 weeks back, and as far as the 'stuff' I went for is concerned - was a face scrub!! ;) I know - guys - when will we EVER learn ?! :P
Monday, January 28, 2008
Olives please ?!
When you are seated at the dining table, chinaware neatly placed before you, a flower vase at the middle of the table, the sunlight of the afternoon sun trickling in through the balcony, nothing adds more flavour to your comfy afternoon than the expectation of a hearty lunch just on its way to the table. The cooker lid is taken off and the whole kitchen fills up with the aroma of rice and dal (yummy Indian serving of pulses) - even a whiff of which is enough to let those butterflies in your tummy flutter around crazy!! Truth be told, nothing beats this combo for its s
implicity and tingling of the taste buds. I am a simpleton, I agree, when it comes to Indian cuisine - was never really a big drooler for those lavish extravagant four-five word long dishes nor the ones that sound more of a tongue-twister - love keeping it simple and boy was I hungry that summer afternoon, anticipating how after having spent almost 2 months on European stuff, and what I can only describe as Indian muck, I would be tasting the essence of what makes our recipes so renowned ;) There they lay - right in front of me, steaming hot, two huge pots - one with rice and the other with dal. For want of table manners I resisted pouncing on the two and gobbling up whatever I could get my paws on! As we spoke, twas hard to keep the drool from being noticed, come now don't judge me for this - I was being cooked for - its my right to drool !! ;)
At this point the dream ends and reality bites you on the arse, for there is always a catch in everything that's supposed to be going perfectly - its God's way of telling you - "what da hell were you thinking?!" ;P She opens the pans .. err pots .. does it really matter anyways ? :P So she opens 'em, I close my eyes and take the fragrance in - only to regret having closed my eyes. I open them slowly - and egad - what the hell is that - black roaches - nah they seem too squishy for insects, I poke gently at 'em, make a face and look up - eyup its confirmed, those friggin' chopped balls of black goo certainly ain't from this planet ! :O She eggs me on to try 'em, and when you are a big time foodie, that teeny tiny voice inside your head tellin' you to be a tad sceptical DIES! So I swish a spoonful of the dal, splurt it onto the rice, still poking at the black UFO, before it finally touches the upper palate of my mouth. Not being too sarcastic, lets just say dehydration is too mild a description when there's frothing of the mouth after a snake bite ;) A quick gulp or two of water made sure I didn't choke on this creature from beyond. Aww you'd think the torture would end here wouldn't you ?! I'm told that the entire, the whole friggin' meal's just for me - talk 'bout luck going ugly on me ! :( I swivel the spoon once more, splurt again, and another shot of adrenalin shoots through my brain! Unable to frown, unable to slow down, my ordeal was far from over ..
At this very moment if I keep describing the flashes that went through my head - I'd either be facing charges for explicit violent content or would push it over the edge into the realm of the unimaginable. I did, however, conjure the courage to ask her what exactly those black demons of death were - olives - yes I know it is surprising, but I had never really tasted 'em before! :O In my defence, whoever puts olives in DAL man ?! I mean gimme a break, why'd you want to contrast a beautiful blend of green and yellow and a simmering layer of ghee on top with black boulders floating about like chopped roaches ?! Hafta admit though, that afternoon was one of the best ones on that trip and probably twas more so coz of da dal fiasco - bottomline we had a good laugh in the end, a perfect end to a warm sunny afternoon, with the pots still half full and the aroma still filling the room, and a slight streak of steam making its way out ;)
When you are seated at the dining table, chinaware neatly placed before you, a flower vase at the middle of the table, the sunlight of the afternoon sun trickling in through the balcony, nothing adds more flavour to your comfy afternoon than the expectation of a hearty lunch just on its way to the table. The cooker lid is taken off and the whole kitchen fills up with the aroma of rice and dal (yummy Indian serving of pulses) - even a whiff of which is enough to let those butterflies in your tummy flutter around crazy!! Truth be told, nothing beats this combo for its s
implicity and tingling of the taste buds. I am a simpleton, I agree, when it comes to Indian cuisine - was never really a big drooler for those lavish extravagant four-five word long dishes nor the ones that sound more of a tongue-twister - love keeping it simple and boy was I hungry that summer afternoon, anticipating how after having spent almost 2 months on European stuff, and what I can only describe as Indian muck, I would be tasting the essence of what makes our recipes so renowned ;) There they lay - right in front of me, steaming hot, two huge pots - one with rice and the other with dal. For want of table manners I resisted pouncing on the two and gobbling up whatever I could get my paws on! As we spoke, twas hard to keep the drool from being noticed, come now don't judge me for this - I was being cooked for - its my right to drool !! ;)At this point the dream ends and reality bites you on the arse, for there is always a catch in everything that's supposed to be going perfectly - its God's way of telling you - "what da hell were you thinking?!" ;P She opens the pans .. err pots .. does it really matter anyways ? :P So she opens 'em, I close my eyes and take the fragrance in - only to regret having closed my eyes. I open them slowly - and egad - what the hell is that - black roaches - nah they seem too squishy for insects, I poke gently at 'em, make a face and look up - eyup its confirmed, those friggin' chopped balls of black goo certainly ain't from this planet ! :O She eggs me on to try 'em, and when you are a big time foodie, that teeny tiny voice inside your head tellin' you to be a tad sceptical DIES! So I swish a spoonful of the dal, splurt it onto the rice, still poking at the black UFO, before it finally touches the upper palate of my mouth. Not being too sarcastic, lets just say dehydration is too mild a description when there's frothing of the mouth after a snake bite ;) A quick gulp or two of water made sure I didn't choke on this creature from beyond. Aww you'd think the torture would end here wouldn't you ?! I'm told that the entire, the whole friggin' meal's just for me - talk 'bout luck going ugly on me ! :( I swivel the spoon once more, splurt again, and another shot of adrenalin shoots through my brain! Unable to frown, unable to slow down, my ordeal was far from over ..
At this very moment if I keep describing the flashes that went through my head - I'd either be facing charges for explicit violent content or would push it over the edge into the realm of the unimaginable. I did, however, conjure the courage to ask her what exactly those black demons of death were - olives - yes I know it is surprising, but I had never really tasted 'em before! :O In my defence, whoever puts olives in DAL man ?! I mean gimme a break, why'd you want to contrast a beautiful blend of green and yellow and a simmering layer of ghee on top with black boulders floating about like chopped roaches ?! Hafta admit though, that afternoon was one of the best ones on that trip and probably twas more so coz of da dal fiasco - bottomline we had a good laugh in the end, a perfect end to a warm sunny afternoon, with the pots still half full and the aroma still filling the room, and a slight streak of steam making its way out ;)
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
I do wonder ..
There are moments in life when stagnation gets the better of you and leaves you clueless about what to do next. Nah this ain't gonna be another whine session. I resolved on the 1st to keep the cribbing in abeyance for as long as possible. What then, I do wonder, is the reason for not being regular on this blog. The problem in all probability lies remotely in a dark corner unwilling to express itself for fear of rejection. Come to think of it, these dark corners are what make us fragile - not necessarily in a negative connotation, rather to the effect of being vulnerable to emotions.
I have often found myself caught up in the intensity of the moment - forgetting all that surrounds me - at a Strings concert, when the hoax was uncovered, when I picked my new shirt, the day I presented in Korea. Yet that passionate self fizzles away as soon as the moment's over - what is left behind is a burning cinder - ashen with the remnants of what has passed. A constant reminder of the bliss I felt, the feeling hardly ever stays. Why then, I do wonder, do we get so excited about all this stuff.
I have yearned for so much more than having to study my ass off day in and day out from one of the reputed B schools. The will to be something more than a minting machine, to
be able to "spread my wings of imagination" - to quote my poetic self. For most part of my life, it has usually been a struggle to be the best in business - excel at what I get into and give my complete conviction. How then, do I wonder, do I expect to question the purpose of my being if there is not much that really was different.
Crossroads have been an inseparable part of life. A fork has always been there to pain me on the ass - "whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer .. the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune .. or to take arms against a sea of troubles .. and by opposing end them? to die : to sleep". Where do we draw the line between passion and obsession ? Is it a cardinal sin to listen to your heart once in a while and let your conscience take a backseat ? Where then, I do wonder, is that zeal in me that made me memorise this soliloquy by Hamlet to eventually win me a part in the school play?
In all of what I think about, there is a common string that binds 'em to something innate in me. The essence of inquisition never really died down - faded away perhaps - but a revival was always in the offing. I tend not to think of life as a constant learning lesson anymore, and for that I am glad - because in this quest for "knowing" I let a lot of momentary glimpses of 'life' pass me by. When then, I do wonder, will the ethereal effervescence of my mind assume the unfathomed calm of the sea and settle into a cozy nook to spill out the very quintessential zest of life.
Sometimes .. I do wonder ..
There are moments in life when stagnation gets the better of you and leaves you clueless about what to do next. Nah this ain't gonna be another whine session. I resolved on the 1st to keep the cribbing in abeyance for as long as possible. What then, I do wonder, is the reason for not being regular on this blog. The problem in all probability lies remotely in a dark corner unwilling to express itself for fear of rejection. Come to think of it, these dark corners are what make us fragile - not necessarily in a negative connotation, rather to the effect of being vulnerable to emotions.
I have often found myself caught up in the intensity of the moment - forgetting all that surrounds me - at a Strings concert, when the hoax was uncovered, when I picked my new shirt, the day I presented in Korea. Yet that passionate self fizzles away as soon as the moment's over - what is left behind is a burning cinder - ashen with the remnants of what has passed. A constant reminder of the bliss I felt, the feeling hardly ever stays. Why then, I do wonder, do we get so excited about all this stuff.
I have yearned for so much more than having to study my ass off day in and day out from one of the reputed B schools. The will to be something more than a minting machine, to
be able to "spread my wings of imagination" - to quote my poetic self. For most part of my life, it has usually been a struggle to be the best in business - excel at what I get into and give my complete conviction. How then, do I wonder, do I expect to question the purpose of my being if there is not much that really was different.Crossroads have been an inseparable part of life. A fork has always been there to pain me on the ass - "whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer .. the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune .. or to take arms against a sea of troubles .. and by opposing end them? to die : to sleep". Where do we draw the line between passion and obsession ? Is it a cardinal sin to listen to your heart once in a while and let your conscience take a backseat ? Where then, I do wonder, is that zeal in me that made me memorise this soliloquy by Hamlet to eventually win me a part in the school play?
In all of what I think about, there is a common string that binds 'em to something innate in me. The essence of inquisition never really died down - faded away perhaps - but a revival was always in the offing. I tend not to think of life as a constant learning lesson anymore, and for that I am glad - because in this quest for "knowing" I let a lot of momentary glimpses of 'life' pass me by. When then, I do wonder, will the ethereal effervescence of my mind assume the unfathomed calm of the sea and settle into a cozy nook to spill out the very quintessential zest of life.
Sometimes .. I do wonder ..
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
I thought that I heard you laughing
Have been staring at the blog for the past fifteen minutes, thinking. Seems like a long time back when I created this blog with one of my friends, can't tell you how excited I was. Nah it ain't because its inexplicable, more so since I cannot remember that feeling anymore. Sounds a lil sad doesn't it? But then again aren't more than half the ideas, passions, and dreams frizzled away into time. I know that this does not present itself as an argument to let 'em die away, but just kinda understand that feeling now. Staring into the computer screen, am just scribbling random jottings, something I love, but still who am I kidding, in all probability this might not even turn out to be a worth-its-while read eventually.
Had to break the shackles of inaction, had really forgotten what it felt like to be able to write something and then read and re-read it, just to know how you really feel. This might not make sense to you all, 'cause everyone's got different things to be passionate about. Lemme rephrase my thoughts. Have you ever felt that nagging churning in your stomach, to go back to something you so dearly loved doing? I'll be honest .. I miss writing .. miss it big time! And I ain't gonna lay the blame on circumstances or time. The onus was always on me, to step up and not let go of that passion, I simply looked the other way. Lol .. not that I get a lot of readers here anyways, just a few freelancers crazy enough to type in that freakshly long URL of my blog :)
Still haven't thought of a topic for this post. The 'why' arises .. hmm .. inquisition .. to make noise .. let yourself be heard .. move forward with the will to be .. ! You know what, there are times when you can hear yourself laughing those good times through, and you wish you could re-live those moments again. This is prolly what I wanted at the start of this post. Can't live in the shadows of the past hoping that good times will return, that passion will revive. Stand up for yourself, and make your own destiny. This ain't meant as an inspirational post, in fact is far from it, but just that lil notebook you scribble down on.
As I rest my case here, chewing gum, music playing in the background, and gently swaying my head to the beats of "where'd you go", the way I used to write, wanna close this post with a disillusioned memory and a faint fervour of a laugh that came everytime I wrote .. the one in my head :)
Saturday, October 13, 2007
O in God's name what da fuck was that ?! :O
Of all the worst nightmares you've ever had, the ones that suck the most ain't the scariest ones, but those that don't make you pee in bed and instead stay up all night wondering how da bloody hell could that ever happen ?! :O Nah .. don't think you've still gauged the enormity (imagine .. i couldn't think o this word a few days back!! :P) of the situation here! Lemme reframe the idea - imagine the feeling of a hefty vada pav you've had regurgitating and workin its way up your throat unwilling to go down or come up, choking you there and then, leaving you to painfully fritter away into the afterlife, acidity in your tummy's makin you burp and the stench stays on around you making the excruciating pain inhuman and absolutely unbearable!!!!! And worst of all .. THINK .. if you actually paid for such torture !! As if bein knee deep in shit wasn't enough, you actually get to pay extra for the lil additions of solid fluids and liquid pastes flowin in ! :(
The name's "Johnny Gaddar" - the nemesis that confirmed that there is a bigger evil in this world than Satan himself ! :P A Bollywood movie aimed at an audience that the director prolly assumed wouldn't have even a shred of sense or a hint of grey goo in their heads ever since birth, Johnny Gaddar (hereon referred to as JG coz there's a million veins that go pop inside my head sayin it out loud ;( ) illustrates painfully at a snail's pace the life of 4 conmen. Wonderin what could possibly go wrong with a movie on conmen .. aww .. will remove all your doubts ..
Oh crap .. have been writin on movies a lot lately .. jeez ! I need to get myself a drink !! :O
Of all the worst nightmares you've ever had, the ones that suck the most ain't the scariest ones, but those that don't make you pee in bed and instead stay up all night wondering how da bloody hell could that ever happen ?! :O Nah .. don't think you've still gauged the enormity (imagine .. i couldn't think o this word a few days back!! :P) of the situation here! Lemme reframe the idea - imagine the feeling of a hefty vada pav you've had regurgitating and workin its way up your throat unwilling to go down or come up, choking you there and then, leaving you to painfully fritter away into the afterlife, acidity in your tummy's makin you burp and the stench stays on around you making the excruciating pain inhuman and absolutely unbearable!!!!! And worst of all .. THINK .. if you actually paid for such torture !! As if bein knee deep in shit wasn't enough, you actually get to pay extra for the lil additions of solid fluids and liquid pastes flowin in ! :(
The name's "Johnny Gaddar" - the nemesis that confirmed that there is a bigger evil in this world than Satan himself ! :P A Bollywood movie aimed at an audience that the director prolly assumed wouldn't have even a shred of sense or a hint of grey goo in their heads ever since birth, Johnny Gaddar (hereon referred to as JG coz there's a million veins that go pop inside my head sayin it out loud ;( ) illustrates painfully at a snail's pace the life of 4 conmen. Wonderin what could possibly go wrong with a movie on conmen .. aww .. will remove all your doubts ..
- Conman 1 - An old hag with wrinkles all over his face showing through his make-up, trying to enact his young self of yester years and in the process coming across as a lame shadow of a desperate showman who even had to dye his moustache black !! :P Lo and behold .. Dharmendra paaji ! ;)
- Conman 2 - I held this fella in awe till he performed in this movie. A conman who wags his doggie tail in front o his overbearin wife, and would faint at even the mention of a murder - how the hell is that supposed to NOT make me laugh at such a pathetic excuse for a fraudster ?! :P - Vinay
- Conman 3 - Oh this bloke was the corniest of the lot. His idea of being the bad guy stemmed from a weird dressing sense - suited more to advertising for technicolor in movies or the stripes that appeared at the beginning of a VCR tape we used to watch when kiddies :P His dark side was revealed to the audience through remarks like "Meri biwi hai .. ya to mere saath drink pi ya mere pair daba" .. O da bloody humanity !! Who the fuck talks like that now ?! :P
- Conman 4 - Our hero .. da gaddar himself! A morose freak who couldn't even manage a single gesture or expression on his face went on a killing spree! Wanna know what the funny part is - none of the fellow conmen he murdered had even the slightest doubts that he was the traitor .. and before every murder there was a confession that all the previous ones weren't intentional! You seriously gotta give it to the writer to actually comprehend such crap that borders on lunacy .. he had the audacity to actually think of us as doomed buffoons by showin someone who freakin killed people on the premise that they knew bout him, when he was the one makin the totally outta context confession !! ROTFL !! " O sorry dude .. just so you know .. am gonna kill you ... it ain't intentional .. but tis your fault that you now know that I'm gonna kill ya " DUH !! :P
Oh crap .. have been writin on movies a lot lately .. jeez ! I need to get myself a drink !! :O
Friday, September 21, 2007
Way 2 go!!
Not going to write bout an idea but about a person in my batch this time round. This fellow's really one heckuva lunatic considering the way he acts in class .. the way he carries himself around. As soon as the prof enters the lecture hall, his eyes widen and glisten with a weird sense of accomplishment as if today is the day he'll get the enlightenment he had been yearning for all his life. Such is his ecstacy that even if the prof happens to evaluate 2+2 = 4, he religiously jots it down in the 300 odd page thick notebook dedicated to that one subject only. Any arbit discussion ensuing in the lecture, this fellow would be a keen observer, bending forward in his seat, slightly tilted towards his left and looking side-on at the prof with a cock-eyed glare that would, I daresay, penetrate into the soul of the prof! :P So much for his enthusiasm in observation, the moment he raises his hand for some class participation, the prof immediately acknowledges and the words that come out are somewhat to the following effect:
"The elemental forces depriving the current market scenario for the business proposition of Mr. Narayanmurthy, border upon the subliminal criteria that underly the essential business functions we define as part of Porter's 5 forces model. Moreover, the point of contention here is not the issue itself but the consequences of addressing the issue through an amalgamated approach engrossing the human resource aspect and the operations faction to ultimately align the outcome of the proposal with the organisation's mission and vision. However, we must also allow for some scope of delay in the enactment of these measures as they require expertise and skill inherent in the top echelons of management, who in turn are unwilling to co-operate on such inconsequential matters. Thus, I'd like to refute the author's deduction that Mr. Narayanmurthy was not bound by restrictions in the current wake of the company's positioning in the IT industry."
Well it ain't half as "OMG" as his is, but you get the picture :P Effectively by the end of the 5 minute monologue the prof and majority of the batchmates are at a loss for words failing to even grasp a shred of what just hit them. Won't say I wasn't taken in the first time too, but since then, have held him in awe, to be able to come up with such a complex delicacy of words that really do make sense is applaudable. However, his antics, or rather 'weird' antics in class have won him the 'laughing stock' title for the batch. And yet it is this very person who made us feel rather small on a day when we were supposed to remember our martyrs, for the only bloke in a reputed institute of 500 odd students and 100 strong faculty, who even cared to distribute sweets in remembrance. And to top it all off, composed a poem for the day, and since then respect this guy a lot, coz to have such sense of pride in our nation is hardly genuine nowadays, and it fills me with pride to say that I study with an Indian who really is proud to be an Indian and says it in the most beautiful of ways:
A composition by this bloke:
Celebrating 1942
It is impossible, they said,
The sun will never set on the empire.
The gentlemen continued with their game of bridge.
Meanwhile, on a dark night,
There was a knock on the doors of
A passenger traveling in a railway train.
Soon, there were sounds which were heard.
The sound of a crashing suitcase,
But louder still was the sound of injustice.
The journey of the traveler thrown out of the train
Had not ended, It began.
Meanwhile, the game of bridge continued,
It is impossible, they said.
The gentlemen playing bridge grow old becoming millionaires,
But the traveler grows to become a Mahatma,
It is a usual August morning,
But the sun comes out, the heavens watch
In silence. There is no sign of a dark cloud.
‘Do or die’, he says, people rise like a tide.
Words are magic. The agents of the gentlemen
Imprison the traveler. But two words
Are enough. All are one in the nation,
A small, young boy runs around,
Shouting, ‘Quit India’. His voice is louder
Than that of the nation.
The traveler watches from behind the bars
Of the prison.
A policeman catches the boy,
Threatens to drown the boy in a well,
Holds him up, Asks him to shout
The praise of the Crown.
But the boy knows only two words,
‘Do or Die’, he remembers. The boy shouts,
‘Quit India’. The policeman continues lowering
Him into the well. The boy keeps shouting back,
‘Quit India.’
It was impossible, they said.
But a young boy has shouted louder than the nation.
The traveler watches with misty eyes.
The nation will soon be free.
The sun will soon set on an empire,
The game of bridge will be disturbed.
And it will be disturbed nonviolently.
The boy doesn’t shoot with a gun,
He merely shouts. And his shouting is sufficient to
Awaken the man in the policeman.
Today our eyes are no longer misty,
We may have lost respect for the traveler,
We may feel embarrassed calling him Mahatma,
But let us remember the boy,
Let us celebrate his heroism.
And let us feel what he felt.
Kudos to you dude ..
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Chak de .. the afterthought!!
Vain - the word that comes to mind trying to remember where my train of thought left me the last time I was visiting the world of sports. Much has passed tween the day of the last post and today, India gave a scintillating performance in the T20 world cup, came back from an underdog's position to salvage some pride in drawing the Natwest series to a closely matched 4-3 loss. Ah.."the age old cricket-centric story" I hear you say ;) No offence to cricket as a sport, but temme one thing .. where exactly does India stand in other sports? Do we hold any weightage when it comes to ANYTHING beyond the realm of the bat and the bowl? True, we do not have to excel at everything we might be interested in, but that inkling of interest, a slight shadow of existence, has to be present for us to acknowledge the vigour that goes into an Indian team for hockey, basketball, anything!!
I know it might entail a blame game that am expecting too much of the sportsperson represented by the girls in Chak De if I say, that for all this lack of focus they too are to blame at some level. But I daresay, doesn't the onus lie with the sportspersons too, to actually pursue their dreams and desires in a manner that ensures their efforts realise their true destiny? Sure we idolise strong women and idealistic men of the past, for their principles and resolve but we fail to see beyond the obvious. These people weren't born great, twas through their concerted efforts to make sure that they fought for what they considered worthwhile. It isn't enough in a bureaucratic country like India to simply perform. The initiative rests with you to get the performance accepted and rewarded its due credibility. Sure sounds a lil out of the way and outright superficial, but consider this - if you were the sportsperson, and you achieved something absolutely extra-ordinary, wouldn't you like the world to know that it made you feel amazing, that of all the laurels showered on cricketers, you deserve some too, even if you failed at something but to just reach that level of competition means a lot to you personally and as an Indian?! :)
I know most of my views wouldn't find any takers, prolly the reason why I never trust my words to convey what I really meant. However, there remains the remote possibility of rekindling the desire in sportspersons like the Chak De girls, who have long forgotten the legacy they left behind, to achieve something far more satisfying than the mere sense of achievement. One might pacify the craving by simply stating that these laurels are inconsequential for their personal satisfaction. But alas, wish it were that simple, in a country that runs on word-of-mouth, the need to boast about your achievements becomes incessant. Its not about giving in to the system, its about working around to make sure it does not screw you over. If I, as a total average sports lover, can realise this fact, and actually have the audacity to tell all the sportspersons out there to publicise their feats, I sincerely hope they can respond in the affirmative as well!! :P Until and unless the veterans do not ensure that people come to know of what they did for their country, the future of these sports shall remain bleak, coz deny it as we may, this nation needs a wake-up call - and if being boastful is the key - then so be it! I do not mind sacrificing a prejudice to uphold a virtue! The words say it all ! ;)
Amidst all these thoughts, I reminisce of a simpler time when things must have been so much matter-of-fact to explain. For all these random ramblings, all I can surmise is - if you ever did it for India .. let the people know it .. for there is no other way to go about making people love the sport you once fell in love with ;) And that is the rub .. to become that medium of passion for the sport that once defined you and that you remain to be an embodiment of :)
PS Chak De has become the national slogan for the Indian T20 cricket team .. another wasted opportunity .. prolly am reading too much into it .. or prolly am not ! ;) And for heaven's sake .. tell the director that goals scored in a penalty shootout for hockey DO NOT get added onto the final score !! :)
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Chak de .. India ?!Dunno why, but the song just clung on during "Chak de India", so decided to name this article differently, prolly during the course of this discourse you'd realise the rationality behind this choice :) But then again .. there's always the "prolly" ! :P Its been eons since I commented on India, or anything prevalent in India, and instead of passing the question as a triviality, I'd go to the extent claiming it was because of the fact that am surrounded by so many issues that just like the ticking of a clock's seconds hand, these all retreated into the background of conscious presence! Yet as I sit here to jot down my lil scribblings during the movie and give them a structure that makes sense, I forget what the purpose of this post is. And then again there arises the question of "why" does everything have to be pondered only when someone shows em in our face ?! Why do we just write about these things, talk a lil, make it a hot topic for fora discussions et al, and eventually let it vanish into thin air! I'm not here to complain about our treatment of such issues, but to elucidate on something that has been outside our comprehension, mostly due to lack of information, however, also due in large to our sheer ignorance!
I do not plan to affect a revolution amongst the Indian public, nor do I want to glorify any particular sport, yet I want to accomplish one thing today - an effort to make people aware of the fact that there is a difference in watching a movie and actually connecting with the movie at a completely different level! Beyond the obvious issues of exploitation and discrimination that have become the inherent mark of Indian administration, there are points of contention eating away like leeches the very core of sportsmanship in India. Place yourselves in the sportsgirls' position in the movie and then ask yourself as to how would you have reacted to such a situation .. do not place her in your shoes and take a judgment call .. instead realise the agony and irritation that ensues from such ignorance and apathy faced by all of them. The subtlety lies in the fact that we fail to see that these players have aspirations too, that the sport means a lot more to them, its their religion! Our beloved Sports ministry both at the state as well as centre ensure that whatever spirit these talented youngsters kindle gets quashed by superficial bureaucracy and uninterested dimwits! But even if such a hollow system exists, you owe them at least a fair chance to take a shot at winning something. However, trust our dear old assholes sitting atop positions of power and control to enforce sub-standard conditions for players like the ones in the Chak De women's team, demoralise the team till their self-cofidence is shredded to the core.
Through all this glim future for Indian sports there shines a silver lining in the face of adversity, and that is the enthusiasm of these young sportsmen (and women of course ;) ) to pursue their dreams, relentlessly tackle the system, coz for them their dreams and aspirations rule supreme. I respect this valour in all of them and hats off to their never-say-die spirit in the face of adversity. There is so much more that still remains to be said in this thread, and am going to elaborate on that only after some more reflection, but for now shall wind up saying that with such disregard for their efforts, it might as well be said what point is there in trying to live your dreams in vain? :(
Ah but therein lies the rub .. and for that rub you hafta wait .. coz that is what forms the concluding second post on this thread! :) Stay curious ;)
Friday, July 06, 2007
O what dreams may come!
Now there's a limit to imagining things, at times we border on the elusive realms of sanity and logic, caught up in the timeless battle between reality vs. absolute reality, and often embark upon a journey through unexplored waters, which most of our metaphysics and philosophy blokes are hell bent on terming as the sub-conscious. All this gibberish jargon aside, how many times have we wondered about the purpose of life, the eventual realisation of the meaning attached to existence. Most of us give up midway thinking of the futility of pondering on a subject with no definite answers, a few carry on to the brink of lunacy unaware of the repercussions the over-dosage of philosophy, but those who are the most interesting are the ones who take the discussion to a totally new level. What starts off as an abstract discussion of something material metamorphoses into something so volatile that even the mention of the subject to anyone makes it vanish into thin air. Recently a similar conversation came up, and my friend actually remarked that I won't give the remark any credit owing to its what we shall now commonly refer to as "volatility" in the remainder of this post.
Interestingly enough, what bamboozled me was not the statement itself but the brevity with which it illustrated something so out-of-the-blue that supposedly should have sent me into denial but instead captivated me with its sheer honesty. Twas probably because of the way it was said, but whatever may be the case, the topic remains and the notion still bowls me over. Before I set off elaborating upon what transpires as a consequence, those who are just gonna bullshit me without actually listening may please excuse themselves and carry on with whatever it is they were doing but once you're in, to endure is your obligation, and there are no two ways bout it! :-)
Started off at the meaning of life, we wound up talking bout the possibility of dreams, that what we perceive as death is just a dream, probably so much more because we actually stop being a part of that dream. The end of a captivating drama, characters unbound, that eventually ceases to exist for all except one who persists in that dream and eventually becomes not the owner but much larger than life itself, he becomes the guardian of that dream. Unlike an inspiration from the Matrix trilogy, this theory actually had something else in store, it could not be put into words, though am making an attempt here, yet what lingers at the back of my mind as I write, hovers in the murky waters of imagination and abstraction. To ask me to reason it out with anyone is what an idiot would expect, since reason does not always follow, it does defy logic, but for us to understand that, there is still a lot of time. However, I will give a brief insight into what lurks in the darkest unexplored corners of this fantastic illusion.
Death as we know is certain, yet there ceases to be any recollection of what transpires once it happens. There seems to be a point of no return once the edge is reached, for what good would it do to have actually reached the final frontier and then sent back to start from square one. Dreams as such are abstract and hold no tangible credibility, yet we still dream, despite all causal chains, logical formulations, dreams remain inexplicable, and an inherent part of life. Analogies exist, but what gives them weight is how well they complement each other, if death were not a dream we would still be aware of the vicious circle that entangles life, unable to explain a true starting point for life to exist. However, for what dreams may come is not for us to decide, yet we formulate small fragments, we know not the source of, and in these snippets passes an entire lifetime of possibilities that happened and those that went haywire. Let me quote a more concrete example, deja vu, to have actually seen something before it actually happened, stands testament to the dream analogy. To have experienced something, probably as part of someone else's dream, is what we lesser mortals term as "coincidence". There is a larger scheme to things and what we fail to understand is that an explanation here is not desirable.
Once that we pass on, smell up the daisies, the dream ceases to include all the patrons that had been a part of it, and the one who remains, becomes the rightful guardian, for owning one is tarnishing the beauty of something so special and magical, that the experience that encompassed that one tiny marble, amongst infinite sparkles, meant the lives to so many, and tis not through our minds that we cherish such memories but through actually going through the whole thing in our heads all over again, because to take away the dream forever for the one who remained would be injustice. And those lil anecdotes, shared emotions, are what give the dreams their value, to cherish and behold in life till death do them part! :P An end of a dream, an era of love, that became the guarded palace or the dungeon for some.
To know that there exists somewhere in this universe a leaf with all the dreams, dripping off like tiny droplets of dew, now don't tell me that ain't enticing enough for you! ;-) There shall be times when reason would get the better of you, but just stop to ponder as to what sets us apart, is it the lives that we live or the dreams that we pursue ? And therein lies the rub, for what other proof would you need? ;-)
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Am I livin' it right ?
Questions galore .. inquisitions profound .. skeptical introspection .. innumerable modes of human curiosity being expressed; paving the way and ultimately leading to a realisation of the true potential of the human intellect. True: curiosity killed the cat, but wheneva were we rational enough to stick to pithy sayings or adhere to the norms of acceptance? A craving to know .. the yearning to be aware is inherent, though the degree to which we drive each of these during our lifetime varies a lot. The spectrum varies from those bordering on mild jolts of desire to know to the incessantly nosy ones who just hafta know bout all that's around ! ;-)
Yet amidst all this inquiry, we hardly ever get any satisfactory answers, coz once we do, the questions vanish into obliteration instead of escalating into a greater willingness to know. The purpose is lost, knowledge loses focus and we end up acquiring what could easily be termed as gibberish crap. I ain't advocating structured information gain, but wanna show you that there's a reason we're curious and the direction and sharpness of this eagerness defines our persona to an extent much greater than what we generally comprehend or rather anticipate. Where does the topic come into all this you say ? Well on the contrary, I had the concept first and twas after listenin to the song "Why Georgia" by John Mayer that I decided that twas bout time I shared these ramblings with you all .. after all why should I alone suffer the unbearable twangs of this cuckoo philosophy ?! :P
Life's been termed a journey by all and sundry, a fruitful one for some while an overbearing pain for others, and with all its varieties and flavours, what's on offer is often an issue of contention. ;-) It won't make sense right away as to what am trying to get at, but guess there are a few who would understand this kinda dilemma much better than others since they've been at crossroads where the next step does not depend on whether it'll bring happiness or misery, but the expense at which this step would be taken, the price to be paid for the happiness and the amount of gain that may accrue from this misery. Am not here to advocate any sides, coz trust me I am the last person anybody should approach when it comes to thinking rationally :P
Why then would I even bother bringing up the topic? Coz recently I realised that I got the answer to the Q .. "am I livin it right?" without ANY effort.. wanna know why ? .. coz I knew what I wanted from that moment .. the moment of my happiness or misery .. what it is that deep inside me matters more than the eistence or being in that very moment ! ;) Wouldn't make sense to many .. coz there's a delusion we kindled for centuries that its always mind over matter and that the mind always knew the smartest thing to do .. but did we eva stop to actually question ourselves .. is what is smartest always the same that is "desirable" ? Do you always have the same zeal and passion to achieve something smart as that you'd have for what's a necessity for your faith to exist ? ;) I bet the demons inside your head would be coaxing you to resist the temptation of agreein with me :P To be honest .. I did something yesterday people'd consider completely irrational .. the devising of a mad-man insatiably obsessed with his craving for something so precious .. and ya know what .. I don't mind bein that bloke at all ! ;) Surprised eh ? Tis very easy for me to say this coz that ecstacy o KNOWIN why I was in it was what drove me all the way without a trace o stress or regret .. I had nothing to lose and the world to conquer ! :) And guess what .. I got what I wanted ! :)
In an ever-changin world we tend to lose track of our passions .. substituting them for newer corporate principles and methods .. squeezing out all that makes us a class apart from everything else .. Just wanna conclude on a line hope that'll make you ponder a lil .. it wasn't the fact that we had brains that made us what we are but the ability to KNOW what we feel and be true to that emotion that took us so far .. and for all I know .. am gonna pursue on the path I set out on .. coz I just know it'll work in the end :)
Questions galore .. inquisitions profound .. skeptical introspection .. innumerable modes of human curiosity being expressed; paving the way and ultimately leading to a realisation of the true potential of the human intellect. True: curiosity killed the cat, but wheneva were we rational enough to stick to pithy sayings or adhere to the norms of acceptance? A craving to know .. the yearning to be aware is inherent, though the degree to which we drive each of these during our lifetime varies a lot. The spectrum varies from those bordering on mild jolts of desire to know to the incessantly nosy ones who just hafta know bout all that's around ! ;-)
Yet amidst all this inquiry, we hardly ever get any satisfactory answers, coz once we do, the questions vanish into obliteration instead of escalating into a greater willingness to know. The purpose is lost, knowledge loses focus and we end up acquiring what could easily be termed as gibberish crap. I ain't advocating structured information gain, but wanna show you that there's a reason we're curious and the direction and sharpness of this eagerness defines our persona to an extent much greater than what we generally comprehend or rather anticipate. Where does the topic come into all this you say ? Well on the contrary, I had the concept first and twas after listenin to the song "Why Georgia" by John Mayer that I decided that twas bout time I shared these ramblings with you all .. after all why should I alone suffer the unbearable twangs of this cuckoo philosophy ?! :P
Life's been termed a journey by all and sundry, a fruitful one for some while an overbearing pain for others, and with all its varieties and flavours, what's on offer is often an issue of contention. ;-) It won't make sense right away as to what am trying to get at, but guess there are a few who would understand this kinda dilemma much better than others since they've been at crossroads where the next step does not depend on whether it'll bring happiness or misery, but the expense at which this step would be taken, the price to be paid for the happiness and the amount of gain that may accrue from this misery. Am not here to advocate any sides, coz trust me I am the last person anybody should approach when it comes to thinking rationally :P
Why then would I even bother bringing up the topic? Coz recently I realised that I got the answer to the Q .. "am I livin it right?" without ANY effort.. wanna know why ? .. coz I knew what I wanted from that moment .. the moment of my happiness or misery .. what it is that deep inside me matters more than the eistence or being in that very moment ! ;) Wouldn't make sense to many .. coz there's a delusion we kindled for centuries that its always mind over matter and that the mind always knew the smartest thing to do .. but did we eva stop to actually question ourselves .. is what is smartest always the same that is "desirable" ? Do you always have the same zeal and passion to achieve something smart as that you'd have for what's a necessity for your faith to exist ? ;) I bet the demons inside your head would be coaxing you to resist the temptation of agreein with me :P To be honest .. I did something yesterday people'd consider completely irrational .. the devising of a mad-man insatiably obsessed with his craving for something so precious .. and ya know what .. I don't mind bein that bloke at all ! ;) Surprised eh ? Tis very easy for me to say this coz that ecstacy o KNOWIN why I was in it was what drove me all the way without a trace o stress or regret .. I had nothing to lose and the world to conquer ! :) And guess what .. I got what I wanted ! :)
In an ever-changin world we tend to lose track of our passions .. substituting them for newer corporate principles and methods .. squeezing out all that makes us a class apart from everything else .. Just wanna conclude on a line hope that'll make you ponder a lil .. it wasn't the fact that we had brains that made us what we are but the ability to KNOW what we feel and be true to that emotion that took us so far .. and for all I know .. am gonna pursue on the path I set out on .. coz I just know it'll work in the end :)
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Parzania
It ain't a myth that Bollywood flicks have been always found wanting in the faculty of substance and depth, and whenever an idea with a different flavour surfaces, we have a rush of excitement through our veins and we leave no phrase untouched while praising that very sentiment invoked by the work. However, as time passes the sentiment fades away and the passion dies out, all that is left is a faint recognition that "yes .. there was a movie that was different" and we may even watch occassional re-runs .. not for the sentiment but for the occassional comedy, stereotypical dialogues and what not ! Rang de Basanti is a typical case study for this kinda lack of concern or rather hypocritical sense of national pride we are so used to boast of ! :P Trust me, there was a time when I used to get angry at such hypocrites but all I have now is pity for 'em .. coz they are unaware of the sheer ignorance that embodies 'em. It ain't the fault of the director, or the actor, or for that matter even the story writer, but us as the audience to lift a realisation to the height of Mt. Everest and then let it fall with equal carelessness and disregard.
And that is exactly why I was more than impressed by "Parzania" .. it ain't the typical Hindu-Muslim clashes story and it doesn't pretend to instill a sense of hatred for any section, but of course the SOBs of the VHP :P Its the portrayal of the hardship, the suffering, the endless wait, the tiring struggle of a helpless family amidst all this chaos, the telling tale of a frustratingly helpless father, the resolve of a mother whose turmoil never showed on her daughter, and the innocence of a sister - unaware of the unspoken horror that she might never see her brother again. Funnily enough and to my utter satisfaction, once the movie was over nobody spoke ill of the rioters, or curse the Gujrat government, but most of 'em soaked in a much more relevant and significant realisation, that those who suffer are people .. just like you and me .. we sympathise after movies like RDB, Shaheed Bhagat Singh .. but with Parzania .. I empathised .. I could feel .. associate with the ailing father, frantic mother, lost sister .. Guess I realised what the difference between empathy and sympathy was .. something which someone very special had been tryin to get through to me for some time! ;)
I won't say anymore at this juncture, coz I hope that readin through might have at least invoked a slight curioisty to see the movie and cancel plans for other commercial "crap". This ain't the end of my description of the land of Parzania .. where the buildings are made of chocolate .. and the there's ice cream all around .. ;)
BTW Love the title of the movie .. couldn't have thought of a better one myself ! ;)
It ain't a myth that Bollywood flicks have been always found wanting in the faculty of substance and depth, and whenever an idea with a different flavour surfaces, we have a rush of excitement through our veins and we leave no phrase untouched while praising that very sentiment invoked by the work. However, as time passes the sentiment fades away and the passion dies out, all that is left is a faint recognition that "yes .. there was a movie that was different" and we may even watch occassional re-runs .. not for the sentiment but for the occassional comedy, stereotypical dialogues and what not ! Rang de Basanti is a typical case study for this kinda lack of concern or rather hypocritical sense of national pride we are so used to boast of ! :P Trust me, there was a time when I used to get angry at such hypocrites but all I have now is pity for 'em .. coz they are unaware of the sheer ignorance that embodies 'em. It ain't the fault of the director, or the actor, or for that matter even the story writer, but us as the audience to lift a realisation to the height of Mt. Everest and then let it fall with equal carelessness and disregard.
And that is exactly why I was more than impressed by "Parzania" .. it ain't the typical Hindu-Muslim clashes story and it doesn't pretend to instill a sense of hatred for any section, but of course the SOBs of the VHP :P Its the portrayal of the hardship, the suffering, the endless wait, the tiring struggle of a helpless family amidst all this chaos, the telling tale of a frustratingly helpless father, the resolve of a mother whose turmoil never showed on her daughter, and the innocence of a sister - unaware of the unspoken horror that she might never see her brother again. Funnily enough and to my utter satisfaction, once the movie was over nobody spoke ill of the rioters, or curse the Gujrat government, but most of 'em soaked in a much more relevant and significant realisation, that those who suffer are people .. just like you and me .. we sympathise after movies like RDB, Shaheed Bhagat Singh .. but with Parzania .. I empathised .. I could feel .. associate with the ailing father, frantic mother, lost sister .. Guess I realised what the difference between empathy and sympathy was .. something which someone very special had been tryin to get through to me for some time! ;)
I won't say anymore at this juncture, coz I hope that readin through might have at least invoked a slight curioisty to see the movie and cancel plans for other commercial "crap". This ain't the end of my description of the land of Parzania .. where the buildings are made of chocolate .. and the there's ice cream all around .. ;)
BTW Love the title of the movie .. couldn't have thought of a better one myself ! ;)
Saturday, September 16, 2006
A composition inspired by 'Miss Misery'
I'll fake it through the day
With some help
from Johnny Walker red
Send the poisoned rain down the drain
to put bad thoughts in my head ..
Corrupting the soul
Have I lost control ?
Am I dreaming still
plummeting into the abyss
All the things that I feel
Etched in memories shall I keep
Without a tad of sorrow or regret
A place for my head ..
I'll fake it through the day
With some help
from Johnny Walker red
Send the poisoned rain down the drain
to put bad thoughts in my head ..
Corrupting the soul
Have I lost control ?
Am I dreaming still
plummeting into the abyss
All the things that I feel
Etched in memories shall I keep
Without a tad of sorrow or regret
A place for my head ..
Friday, July 28, 2006
Lose yourself.
'Tis all a muddle !! .. A favourite quote of mine from Hard Times by Charles Dickens. Complexities of life and human nature complicate matters of significance as well as inconsequential affairs to varying proportions. Its upto the individual to regulate this effect and keep things under control. As I said in a previous post, more often than not, philosophy stands out as a solution to simplifying the thought process, or maybe complicating 'em for some ;-)
To this effect philosophy always provides questions that are often rhetorical but when they're not, it becomes even further complicated for most of us as we never want to ponder or delve into the depths of information we gather through our senses. As a driving force that draws material from all assets of life, philosophy assists an individual to acknowledge life as it is and stand out in third person and observe his/her life as it passes by every second.
Despite all these facets, philosophy presents a rather unruly face when it becomes a way of life. In such circumstances we tend to analyse and judge a lot, making it hard to let things go. Ponder and ponder for days we do, yet to only end up with a resolution that could have been arrived at without much ado. (if only it were so easy :P) Wouldn't equate philosophical analysis as cribbing necessarily but if it becomes long-drawn and dominates your thinking and perception rather than simply being an aid, then one has to stop and look at oneself from the outside to realise the futility of it all - or as in my case you can have a friend ask you sorry tell you to quit analysing every gawd damn thing on the planet and let go of stuff easily ;-)
Once you realise where to draw the line, an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and bliss takes control and you lose yourself in the serenity of the peace of your mind :-)
'Tis all a muddle !! .. A favourite quote of mine from Hard Times by Charles Dickens. Complexities of life and human nature complicate matters of significance as well as inconsequential affairs to varying proportions. Its upto the individual to regulate this effect and keep things under control. As I said in a previous post, more often than not, philosophy stands out as a solution to simplifying the thought process, or maybe complicating 'em for some ;-)
To this effect philosophy always provides questions that are often rhetorical but when they're not, it becomes even further complicated for most of us as we never want to ponder or delve into the depths of information we gather through our senses. As a driving force that draws material from all assets of life, philosophy assists an individual to acknowledge life as it is and stand out in third person and observe his/her life as it passes by every second.
Despite all these facets, philosophy presents a rather unruly face when it becomes a way of life. In such circumstances we tend to analyse and judge a lot, making it hard to let things go. Ponder and ponder for days we do, yet to only end up with a resolution that could have been arrived at without much ado. (if only it were so easy :P) Wouldn't equate philosophical analysis as cribbing necessarily but if it becomes long-drawn and dominates your thinking and perception rather than simply being an aid, then one has to stop and look at oneself from the outside to realise the futility of it all - or as in my case you can have a friend ask you sorry tell you to quit analysing every gawd damn thing on the planet and let go of stuff easily ;-)
Once you realise where to draw the line, an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and bliss takes control and you lose yourself in the serenity of the peace of your mind :-)
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