Knowing Self - The Journey - III

To go back to where the thought began, just imagine what my mind would conjure up when something closely relative happens in my life or I hear that somebody else had a certain kind of experience. Whatever that may be, I’d have relatively a large number of opinions or prejudices or perceptions. Of course, I’m lucky I do not indulge in blabbering away those becaus

e another thing that reading teaches or cultivates within a person is the ability to understand that freedom of opinion is a self centered aspect and it involves largely, understanding the person to whom you are portraying the opinion towards. Clint Eastwood mentioned it right when he said “Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one”. Might sound a little coarse but that’s the truth.

You can say so…but, you cannot argue and win so …’cause it’s just an opinion. In fact, opinions should stand as the beginning of a conversation and a discussion instead of being the end of it. You should listen to them and then let the imagination flow from there on wards.

  

But the interesting aspect of writing is that all these opinions – our own as well as somebody else’s can be presented in a manner which is acceptable to all parties concerned. This was a trick essentially; amazingly; unexplained within me. I pop an opinion about something or mention a point of view, the person to whom I partake this goes into a tirade on the dismal nature of my argument and pooh-poohs my theory and lets me know that I’m not worthy of even sheer mention.

I take the same thing write down the complete incident and also harp my opinions and disagreements about the thought add a little bit more due to the argument that took place and then publish it in some godforsaken, murky tabloid anonymously. The guy reads the same crap and later mentions that the subject matter of the article relates with the pow-wow we had. I’m sitting there acting all surprised. “Really!” But this time he says it all makes sense and my point view for him (now that it comes from some other mouth which has no face and has been published) makes all the sense in fact, he says unlike my thought or even his own original thought it has all the bearings of a perfect set solution to whatever the issue was. “Ridiculous!” I kept mum and moved on, as usual.

How is it that I got attracted to poetry? From what I remember it was William Wordsworth’s “Daffodils” and Robert Frost’s great poem "The Road Not Taken". It was not just the poetry but it was the person who first read it out to me and also explained to the intricate details. I was young and everything around me was romantic, loud, happy-go-lucky and boisterous. I wanted a peek into everything and I embraced all expressions with delight. The person who read this out to me was a wonderful woman and a great teacher. She made me sway to the tune of the daffodils. I could easily see those flowers swinging in the wind and so well embedded it is within me that I can still feel the elaborate happiness that it gave me.

“The Road Not Taken” was a masterpiece. Even at that tender age I could fathom the fact that I have just read or heard something really worthwhile, something which I would never ever forget. It’s etched within me. So here goes a part of it:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;      

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

-----------

----------- 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood,

And I— I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Then I was glued to Frost, who wouldn't be; that another poem that comes to the fore (of course a million others also might love to quote) is “Miles to go”. An exceedingly pleasing work of art using the simplest of imagery and no grandiose words. Within its simplicity lies its wisdom.

Whose woods these are I think I know. 

His house is in the village, though; 

He will not see me stopping here 

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer 

To stop without a farmhouse near 

Between the woods and frozen lake 

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake 

To ask if there's some mistake. 

The only other sound's the sweep 

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, 

But I have promises to keep, 

And miles to go before I sleep, 

And miles to go before I sleep.

Now these are just presented here so that the widening of my mind is understood as I slowly and steadily enter the world of art. My friend Ashish, Dinesh and I had discussed the nature of Francis Bacon’s essays and Oliver Goldsmith’s classic piece of work on Pigs and Chinese cuisine. The discussion about who is great among Shakespeare and Marlowe and the extreme regard for anything which was closely related to Hippie culture was always something which we all looked forward to. Janus Joplin’s famous line “All I wanted to do with my life was get stoned, get laid and have fun” was in the forefront of our minds limited growth. We loved that line we felt one with that line of thinking with a few corollaries added to it. The corollaries made us what we are because it got personalized.

“All I wanted to do with my life was get stoned, get laid, listen to music, read all, travel and blossom for nothing but myself and just myself”

Guess what! We follow it to the T. I do and from what I know the other two also does. 

Knowing Self - The Journey - Books - II

I was amazed and intrigued by every book that I lay my hands upon. Russian Literature impressed me. I was a little bored by Tolstoy earlier in my time, but I loved Gorky and I was crazy about Dostoevsky and still am and shall always be. I was amazed by the way he would explain about his characters. How he built his characters and the way they obeyed his pen. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. The "Crime & Punishment" can only be written by somebody who had a deep observation of the human character. I had read it in one go, it enthralled my wits to understand that the greatest punishment of it all is the human mind for any crime. I read it again and again, and somewhere along the line I realized that the crime took may be about 6-7 pages (not completely sure, but sure that it was less) and the punishment, especially the mental torture almost putting me in pain all through, went on for close 200 odd pages. Stream of consciousness at its best.

I learned and then I began to understand the need to learn everyday and I started devouring every goddamned philosophy or story there was. I was always seeking to understand the writer also. Deep within his own story, I've always understood we can seek the explorer of character. Almost all writers in their own way showed themselves autobiographically and delivered the results for us to fathom the intricacies of the human character and design.

An example of my growth is that "Don Quixote" by Cervantes when I read that the first time and discussed the same with few of friends in school sounded dumb, extremely childish and lousy to the core as a book even if I read the abridged English translation with extreme interest. But when I grew and during my college days when I read the unabridged version again in English but this time forgetting the preconceived notions of other readers whom I know I found that it’s a classic work of art. It shows the frailties, arrogance, piety and vanity of human nature. But it picks us up and shows us the infallible authority of the human mind which can make us believe and achieve.

It was the same with Voltaire's book on Optimism. I forgot the name of the book of the cuff, but I still remember me and my friend laughing away thinking how dumb the whole thing felt. But the truth is exactly different. My people did say then that these are books beyond the measure of the intelligence that I've developed at that particular age. But later on when understanding of the reality among several of such wonderful works of art, I figured it was good of me to have taken that plunge 'cause I knew the measure of development of my own intelligence and intellectual capabilities on the whole.

Kahlil Gibran was a wonderful study. Especially the well edited and amazingly classy "The Prophet". He had a big bent towards eastern philosophy but hell that was good. It rocked me for quite a number of years. Still when I pick it up and go through some the lines, it rejuvenates me. Richard Bach was amazingly precise and profound in his rendition of philosophy by correlating it with his understanding of flying. I've also seen the movie on those birds with Neil Diamond rendering some great music. I did get into the habit of remembering "The Albatross" as well as "Annabel Lee's" dream sequence whenever I read that "bird book" (By now you might have figured I forgot the name of the book) by Bach.

I continued into Sartre, Camus, and Robert Prisig etc and then moved into beat generation where I was more impressed by Bukowski and Jack Kerouac. Then I embraced a bit of Hegel, Einstein, Emily Dickinson, Thoreau, Emerson etc. That’s a nice mix; a little bit of poetry with a lot of philosophy intermingled with existentialism and Science (just to keep myself rational). Now, I can tell you the above might be sounding like "damn - am I geeky". Nope, you got that wrong, I got the right mix when I mingled all of the above with Tintin, Asterix, Jackie Collins, Playboys, History, adventure yarns, travelogues, Readers Digest and Nancy Fridays(just to keep all you guys happy, I've never read a complete one only tits and bits that could be vividly expanded for whatever purposes).

I would continue with my rendition about my development and also the same thought which bought me to write about books in a later post. Remember, digression is normal, because I jump into things just like that and that means I digress just like that. But failure or success, I do go back to where I began and get the pieces together so that it does not look like a jigsaw puzzle. I like it simple, I keep it simple. I mingle, I add, I subtract, I divide and I multiply but I use only ordinary numbers and make it easy to fathom. But the result is always an extended hand towards infinity....no endings.....just continuance...

Knowing Self - The Journey - Books 1

We always begin journeys after some considerations. We all do. I would say, I am really not that kind I just jump into things especially things that I love. Failure or success is a lateral thought I keep that aside. "What’s wrong in trying?" 
My people used to tell me that that is a very wrong notion. Because it’s a risk which we take. And risks are dangerous and sometimes the results are outright awful. That’s the catch; my people were always worried about results, about what others would think and I was the rebellious elder born son who used to do things just for the sake of doing it. Forget the results. Now, if you ask me whether I do think of the results? Yup, I do, but that did not or does not stop me from doing a lot of the things that I did and I shall be doing. The ends do not stop me from working something out with the means. I have been trying to be like that since quite a long time and they are all tired about telling me how it’s bad. So they stopped and I continue...
The result is that my experience is something which I calculate in what I do on a given day and what I've carried further on any given day. All experiences need not be exemplary in its morality or its values. They just need to be experiences - bad or good. Would you have to learn from all of them? Well, I can tell you one thing somethings can be really outright pathetic and may be the whole world would think that’s a lousy way but if you like it lousy or way too awful keep it with you and enjoy every moment of it.
A lot of people have passed me by during my little lifetime that I don't even remember quite clearly each one of them. They are all there somewhere still living, some successful exactly the way the world wants them to be, some others successful but not what the world expected out of them and some others shamefully and regretfully failures the way they never intended it to be. But what I wonder is that why do we or they themselves have to differentiate anything or anybody based on some wondrous idea we generated in our long history or span of so called human growth.
Why can't we be just simple humans? It’s true that we are animals. I completely support that concept. The other day, I was watching "Animal Planet" and there was this program about Lions. They just go about their business. The females of the species have a pride to take care and they do that. Some days they are successful, some days utter failures. Here, when I say failures it means they do not have food for that given day. Now that is exhausting in a jungle especially when you are the king out there - on top of the food chain. But the pride sticks together and they stick together not to allow any other lonely pregnant lioness to be part of the pride. There idea is simple, it's a tough world (understand) but it’s also important to understand the economics of food. They can manage a big pride but no extras. Live and Let live but no concessions. We call them "Wild animals". Bah!!
But consider ourselves - humans, its way too dismal. We are worse than the wild animals. A group of people taking care of each other would complain and rant on the possibilities that were missed and not taken. They would cut each others throats and kick out at each other on every opportune failure from anyone within the group. Forget outside of the group that does not even exist. It’s just a mundane existence where what matters is just one's own self. We are considered social animals. We are not even close. I sometimes, feel that our problem is that we can think and that the mind can conjure up a million ways of figuring out a load of stuff, and most of that conjuring seems to be not very worthwhile in terms of the larger good.
Anyway, coming back to knowing of the self, me being human and social and all, my exposure with books and what I am has been designed due to the presence of books in my life. I began, I still remember with comics: Phantom, Mandrake, Bahadur (Indian), Superman, Spiderman and the works. I never felt even once that I wanted to become any of those super characters. Instead I always loved the way they went about their lives. I mean their homes, their girls, their dog etc all those aspects were cool to me. Then I moved to Secret Seven, Famous Five, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys blah blah blah. The next growing up stage was "Three Investigators". Hell, that changed my attitude towards books. I loved the way Jupiter Jones would think and how sensible even Pete (I hope that was his name) was. I loved the introductory element of having Hitchcock write something in the preface, I reckon. That was brilliant content management. I loved the idea, now that I think, it is brilliant way to bring me into the set-up because there was this massive aura about Hitchcock and he being the person introducing the story went a long way, at least, one me and my impressions. I reckon, my obsession with Jupiter Jones began due to that introductory aspect.
By the time "Three Investigators" was on I was thinking the "secret seven's and famous five's and Hardy's" were all absolute crap. Then one of the guys in my school introduced me to some Sidney Sheldon. Waoh! Now there was sex involved and that took up quite a bit of my time. I mean I loved every bit of it. The excitement of reading some cowboy "Louis L'amour" stuff and then switching to Irving Wallace, Ludlum, Forsyth and hell what not. How can I forget Perry Mason and Agatha Christie in this list? And, guess what I was hell bent on covering up all the books. I was keen on reading everything they have written. Then one day I found that they almost write the same thing over and over again, in different methods, vaguely different ways and we love the excitement of something which does not give us any answers. We just love the excitement of not wanting to think beyond. Just the matter written on those light brown pages, take them exactly by their face value. I could not relate with any of those people, those characters (except the guys who had a chick in bed anytime they talked - wonderment {how the hell!}. I was not confused or loosing it or anything of that sorts. But I started to hate the crap that the paperbacks were delivering.
Then started the development. I was introduced to Dostoevsky, Kafka, Russel, Sartre, Kazantzakis, Kant, and Shakespeare. I began to read poetry - Neruda (to impress the girls), T.S.Eliot (For myself), and Robert Browning etc. Satire - George Orwell was very impressive...

Pharrell Williams - Happy (Official Music Video)

Find Self...

Your story is all about crossing the horizon, passing the bend on the road, singing songs that you have never heard before, crossing the seas to see purple sunsets, going over the hill so as to find another one to climb, rowing away as the sun shows the way to places that most dare not even tread.. that is you.

You! you don't just want to know, you want to see and smell and feel, if possible touch, even the paint used...You want to know and feel and be,on how it feels to wake up on a man's chest and feel his heavy breathing and snuggle up his shoulders just to let him know that you would love him until the end of time and that broad chest and shoulders are all but yours to know of.

Once more on to the beach, dear friends, she may scream (all the movies that she may have watched by then, hopefully)... but she would never wanna be near one, she would never wanna know how it feels to hold her best friend's head on her lap and see her gasp for her last breath looking only to her for help, she may never wanna know how it feels to fail everyday and yet get up and place a smile and go back to doing what you are doing in a choice less world where the war is within oneself, she may never wanna know what it feels for a lady to pick a homeless orphan and see him cry looking longingly into her eyes as if there is no tomorrow..

You! you feel for most things moving, you want to be there, you want to embrace all that makes up life, not just listen or read stories...You are too grown up within of you, your age seldom speaks, your mind seldom falters but you are not grown up enough to fathom as to what a li'l fella whom you love can do to make your life a living hell just 'cause he thinks he is in love with you... seek answers from within of yourself, seek answers from the crevices of your mind, your heart and your soul.. now you have most of them left with you..soon a day may arrive when not much of all that matters would be left with you and that would be the rape of a soul which could have really moved a million others, a repository of goodness which would wither inside the tantrums of another's obsession.

On Selfishness and Indolence

Don't I love to be a slave to the inept attitudes
Don't I like to sit saddled on a wooden frame
                                   crouched within a world of my own

As the lights change colors on the use of the remote
                                    the dark solitude surrounds me
and I'm bound to my selfishness
the milkman straddles down to the door
                          I wait until the dawn settles within the confines
I gather myself in paces,the remote still hanging to my fingers
                      I'm ensconced in my dull, lethargic mass of flesh

where has the optimism of life withered
where did I loose the symptoms of acknowledgement
Are we not adding reason to the disbelief's

Did we pass the ram-shackled quarters in disdain?
Are we not supposed to look within?
                                    Have we deep within us lost the humaneness?
                                   Are we dour and indolent to the mass ineptitude?
Lest we think, let us forget and...

                              Let us watch the sunset and cuddle up once more in our oneness
                              let us loose the world outside to its grief and wanderings
                              let us create a nest of love and nothing but love
                              let us partake only in our own agonies and ecstasies

My withered wisdom has imparted me nothing today
another day of indolence and solitude does not surprise me
I've tasted the forbearing fruit of lazy boredom
it has its own delightful elegance ....

On Kids

I had the quaint opportunity to witness something really memorable in my early morning walk today.
A kid in a nearby slum about 5-6 years old was on his tiny little bicycle riding away at the best possible speed that he can. The mother screamed from inside of her dwelling some place as to where the hell is he thinking he is going. Prompt came the reply that he is going to the shit joint to do what he needs to do in the morning. Mom retorted " on the bicycle' and the kid hollered back that it allows me to reach the place early and also get back fast.

It was quaint because he was a scrawny little fella and he already seemed to have a great sense of practical humor. The ability to pick up the bike and travel to the shit joint which is about a a few hundred meters away and then his retort making his mom giggle made my day. Kept a smile on my face for the whole time.

I have a friend who keeps bringing a smile on my face whether it is over chat or a phone call. whatever the situation and the environment around she would always be buoyant in her spirits and yet always considerate about what is going on.

It is easy for the kid to do what he did and I have seen kids come up with amazing one liners that no copy writer or author can ever fathom. In fact art copies real life. It is great to listen to kids. On an earlier occasion I had mentioned about the advertisements that TV keeps doling out. The kids lap it up and come up with perceptions of their own. They would talk about it. We Indians have a habit of repetition in our language. One of the kids was expressing his disgust on complaints to parents and said please do not complain-shamplain about this matter...and the other kid who was told this, retorted quite firmly, "I understand complain and I would not be doing it but what the hell is 'shamplain' . Things like these are quite common among kids. Their positive energy is infectious. They see everything in the light of now. There is nothing else that matters. The ability to stay in the now and recourse your actions based on the current incidents and scenarios without worrying where it is going to take them, makes for a great human spirit in a relative sense. Dig deeper and yes there are flaws in that too.

But the primal human nature is necessarily to be free willed and free spirited, to be one with nature and enjoy in the partaking of this brilliant celebration called life. Of course, we have complicated this whole easy going wonderful way of life to something of a quagmire that we cannot seem to untangle from. The need for positivism in speech, thought and action emanates from the fact that we have crumpled ourselves into the deep throes of painstaking wants and needs that do us no good than bring in more wants and needs. This imbroglio we pass on to our kids and further to our grand kids and keeps going on and on.

But the primal tendencies showcases itself whenever we witness a kid in action. It is pure pleasure to watch and listen and learn from these minuscule brilliance of a creation with its insurmountable, unconscious love for life.  

Listening to them is a gas, at all times and sometimes, they could be this small monsters but still cute and funny...

" I like these holes on electric things, it makes me want to place my fingers in them" - Curiosity

"There is a monster behind the door, I can here the sounds he is making" - Imagination

" That bike is good, look at the number of girls who love it" - I dunno what this is exactly hopefully it is that the kid is going to be straight - I am not anti gay or anti- LGBT community, but I would like it if the kid I love is straight

"Grandfather was young then he became old and with graying hair, now he will die, then papa you would become old and graying, then you will die and grandmother also looks like she will die soon, but momma would be there with me forever" - Matter of fact, clarity and love

Adding further after a few seconds of thinking "You would not gray Papa, I think you will not have any hair. you already do not have any" - precise in observation and dagger to the heart straight forwardness.

On the question of vegetables and having a vegetarian burger: with mom asking the question " How come you eat this burger, it is vegetarian and you do not have any vegetarian food I make at home" Pat comes the reply "If you make vegetarian food like this, I will surely have it" - And the truth shall prevail.

On Empathy

A miserable and sick situation of physical abuse by a known individual towards a kid that I'm acquainted to, popped up in my life recently. Still continues to haunt. I needed to talk to someone, and of course, what do you do mostly, you turn to your partner, turns out she had a lot of other things to handle. My mistake. Well, in the first place, it is right what she said. I was the one who took up this work of helping children who had abuse issues of any kind at the NGO. I was the one who said yes, when somebody approached me from the NGO. And in that world even if there is a lot of cheer and extreme amounts of satisfaction about matters that bring a smile to a few people, there is always this lurking danger scenario. The monsters of the world, humans of course, not to be mistaken with Hollywood identities, they seem to lurk at such places looking for the eternally damned ones, I reckon, because these children do not have anyone and hence can be harmed without many questions being asked or may be the law does not have that kind of tentacles. Whatever, anyway that answer was pure, untrammeled and without an iota of doubt the best, 'cause, she did not sugar coat it. If you enter war and complain about shrapnel wounds that would be pathetic...

I still prefer silence or just a just a conversation as a much better alternative to snapping reality. But that is my preference, so hence I may have expected that kind of a response, and that's the reason of my dissatisfaction.

Next person, a friend of mine, she started eulogizing about empathy and her office matters. She talked about people with physical disabilities. Politically correct terminology for that would be differently-abled people. So she talked and took me to some place else. That was nice. Considering she is a world renowned consultant on matters of financial and economical importance for companies and an extraordinary friend for more than 25 years, and I just began my journey in the forties, what she was doing was being empathetic yet taking me some place really worthwhile. She was saying that empathy is an extremely difficult emotion to be in because only the person who endures something would be really able to understand the depth of that. She elaborated talking about two of the accidents that I faced, the other miseries that I endured and also about the wonderful things that I have experienced in my life. And what she said made sense, because we have shared almost all stories and the story was hers to partake in and enjoy or be miserable and the same other way round. But she had a different take about the differently - abled people considering she had the privilege of working with some of them and they had their share of problems but one thing they hated was the sympathy of all the son's of guns around. She said that it can be taught and it can be experienced to a certain extent.

I am still not in favor of the last statement 'coz the everyday pangs and the mental torture that we go through on our pains is our own experience and even if shared at length you may get a few cry baby's around but empathy could be a very difficult thing. I was at this institution once, brilliant place, and they had invited a person of repute who was differently-abled and this lady enjoyed the privilege of being there, the reception and the infrastructure of the institute being completely friendly towards every kind of people, in this case, differently-abled-friendly. Before she was supposed to deliver her message she wanted to go to the washroom and there was a differently-abled friendly washroom and after she came out, she met the big boss of the joint and told him quite categorically that everything was fantastic but there was not a mirror in that particular washroom, which somehow did not go well, because it was almost like differently-abled people do not need to look good. Slight mishap, lot of learning.

That depth of empathy is very difficult. I have been to the misery joints from World War II era of Germany and Poland. I even went to that New York place of similar nature. I felt bad, very bad for all them the millions of Jews who got killed and the places did have an eerie element surrounding  or within them. These are museums telling the future generations of the utter disaster that the regime of Hitler bought about to a race. I felt it quite deep and in an extreme way. But I can never ever get into the shoes of an old man or woman (now) who lost their complete family then when they were just small kids. That is difficult. I have been to Cambodia looking for answers, the south of America looking for connections and answers to the pains endured in the past. Nope. I could come home and feel the pain of losing my world when I lost it. That was when I kind of understood how it felt.

The answer does not lie in being completely aloof, or being absolved of such matters about our friends or people we know. It is purely about listening and sometimes in complete silence between both the parties, yet listening, that makes empathy special. Empathy is important for human nature to understand the wonderful need of sharing, caring and being completely non-judgmental. It may not go far and deep into the intricacies but if we can at the least touch upon the surface that would make the world a better place.

Lastly,  word for the differently-abled, it is not our fault that we feel the need to give sympathy. It is by default that we are all good people to feel the need to give that sympathy. Nobody needs no sympathy but the ignorance can be excused with a smile instead of disdainful rhetoric.But, I guess that applies to the whole lot of us...

And about that kid who was physically abused, she is fine of course, lost in her little world and silent since that day. The man who committed the crime is behind bars, but I don't know for how long and we have all been sitting silently in the room where she is being kept a watch on and the slow creaking sound of the fan and the sweat from the afternoon Sun's crackle seems to be telling a lot of stories to all of us.....

Echo Chamber, Marketing and Diablo in the details

We live in a world surrounded by a new kind of wall. I am sure there have been many a kind of wall surrounding the earlier generations. For us, it is different, but there is a wall. Media, bombardment of information and the steady flow of thought from people whom marketers call "influencers". And that is what surrounds us every waking hour, among everyone that we know. I do not know where it begins I mean, is it the morning newspaper or is it the twitter updates that popped in the night before, or was it the feed on 'Mention' or innumerable local videos on 'Periscope', or the lure of photos, quotes and material objects on 'Pinterest's' divine-equaling  lengths, or is it one of the million videos on 'YouTube' or 'Vimeo'. I can go on and on because even my own 'Pocket' has a list that seems to be never ending. Where did that conversation on the road with fellow travelers get lost? I am not being nostalgic as most of what I remember of the conversations with fellow travelers have been highly immobile and completely used as an excuse to  move time on a journey that was taking too long. But I do remember that conversation with friends used to pique curiosity and that was one big reason to gather information. Of course, the other one being to showcase intellectual capabilities to members of the opposite sex who loved the attention harnessed as well as the information shared.  I do not know what for people use the information that they find these days, but I know this much that there is so much information that they are continuously gathering that they do not have the time to share it with someone. There is a massive tilt towards envy and perception on other people's happiness, other people's knowledge betwixt all this without a clear idea about the depth of neither matter. These perceptions are being created from the bombardment of photographs and regular updates that swarm around us. All of them being an enactment of cheer or delight that burst out purely because the camera seems to be at hand for every little detail to be saved for one more hour of posterity.

Going back to the surrounding walls, it's a world filled with advertisements and enticements that excite, tingle and seems to get in touch with  any of our sensory organs and thus create an aura about a brand which we consciously do not need to spend our money on and about a product that we never ever thought of before the onslaught of visual cues and jingles began to enter our deep senses. Most people I know of, on meeting over a mug of beer, do end up talking about a brand. If it is beer we are having then the conversation, obviously moves towards 'Hoegarden', 'Miller', 'Brahma' and others that they have found lingering in the vicissitudes of his or her mind and needed to throw at someone at the first sip of cold brew they could lay their hands on.

They build these walls around us and then they have all these screens that keep flickering for our attention and we are bound to watch it and we do; it flows into our daily conversations, if any, it clouds our insights, our acuity and when we see the product with the very similar shade or color our sub conscious tells us to satiate the desire and may be the cloud that hangs inside would float away. But nope, they know of our attention span and they manage to keep regularly attending to that. They also know the kind of people that are attracted to similar things, have similar tastes, eats and drinks akin, wears alike and so on and so forth so they create a loop in the virtual world. Haven't you been witness to the line ' Parag, Louis, Julie like Kentucky Brew - what about you'. If any of those mentioned friends or acquaintances are worth their while; Boom! you also 'Like'. That begins your journey with the flood of updates on anything the 'Jack Daniel' world wants you to witness. It is called an echo chamber, trapped within these walls you slowly become a pawn to the advertisers whim and fancy. As the constant assault of updates would create that little corner in your subliminal state purely for this brand. A seat of regale temptations that shall poke you as and when desire needs to step in for the green to be exchanged hands.

Marketing is interesting. It is psychology playing its brilliant games the best possible way. Digital marketing is much more interesting since it entered your pockets and your daily hour. Earlier, the barrage was on the billboards when you are travelling, reams of information when you open that magazine or newspaper at home and also when you are watching TV, but there were limitations to the reach, now it is different. The ability to enter every aspect of your waking hours excited the brilliant people who helm such marketing endeavors, they got excited and they molded their ways and technology was induced in such a manner that in every little turn you take, every little nook you pick, every little notification that you seek is filled with a product, service or brand that wants to tell you a story. It is inspiring the way they want us to be part of the journey. But at the end of the day it is all about getting you to reach your pockets and spend so that they can get that return of investment (ROI) going well so that the incentives can be explained and the money these multi-billion dollar enterprises or even the small players can partake is improved day in and day out.

From a cultural and sociological point of view, we have lost the way we feel. When I was in school things were a lot different. Television was attractive but it was not something for which I found me or my dad or for that matter anybody go back home to. I was not stuck inside a cocoon browsing the internet at web parlors or hangouts, I wasn't sending messages to people or listening to music on gadgets or applications or watching a trailer on the umpteenth gadget that I found interesting. I was not checking my watch for an update on how much I ran and how much more I need to do so to get to a target that would make my muscles bulge. I was free, I was boundless, We all talked, listened, thought about a lot of things that may have been trivial but it was sharing of the kind which was more real not a smile that was not there, not a quote from Emerson that defined how to live and not a visual carnage from another part of the world that makes sense there but not here where we are. There was no tirade of advertisements and content to seek and enlarge my scope of unnecessary knowledge. Now there is pressure, I could be shot at from anywhere because I do not have a place to run. I can switch off my gadgets, I can stop the TV, but I am so induced into this vacuum that I feel lost if I switch off. My need to be needed, my want to be patted on the back, my need to be acknowledged takes over and I am back again, reading, watching, listening, seeing, sharing things which do not have any deep sense of meaning to myself or others. I'm stuck within these checklists of things which I need to complete everyday. I'm stuck to a few electronic gadgets which make me think in a way that somebody else wants me to think. I'm bound by my 30 GB of music which I do not align in a manner I want to listen to, I keep it on shuffle and sometimes it grabs my attention and other times it is lost in the whirlwind of notifications. I'm aligned to the search strings of Google to read what others think of the world the way it is now and may be in the future.

I'm stuck in this rigmarole, a daily grind within four walls which seem to grow higher and higher and someday I feel I might not even look up at the sky I might just be wedged somewhere watching images flicker on some small goddamned screen and I would not even realize the essence of life which my youthful exuberance and the milieu imbibed in me.

Now, I am busy eating my Nestle Maggi noodles, with a hot and crispy Chicken from KFC, a wonderfully brewed coffee from Starbucks and watching my Samsung phone flicker with Android updates and notifications from Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram and a few messages on my WhatsApp groups. There is also the Ipad on the side which continuously demands my attention but my family is busy with it playing Angry Birds and Candy Crush, while an ad popped up about the new Temple Run which is a paid app but has some really difficult running scenarios. My TV shimmers with IPL reruns where the good old sixes in cricket is defined as 'Yes Bank Maximum' and the game is bought to you be 'Vivo'. My Panasonic refrigerator is in anticipation of TGIF for me to open the cans of Carlsberg beer and the lone bottle of Jack Daniel's is awaiting for the night cap to be poured. My partner says that Fab Furnish is a nice place to linger upon for furniture fantasies to be fulfilled. My Toyota care representative reminded me that I need an oil change soon and it could be Castrol or Mobil. The prestige pressure cooker has been dysfunctional so a change over to Hawkins could augur well and the air-conditioning from the Hitachi 5 star is not soothing enough and the new Whirlpool ad with 55 degree centigrade promise to keep it cool with a beautiful belle seems alluring. I looked at my Moto watch and found that my walking is not up to the mark and decided that it is the shoes and non-sweat absorbing T-shirt may be the hassle. Hence, Nike is out and in comes Skechers. and Jerzeys out and the new Nike absorbers get in.

While I ponder on such matters of extreme importance, why don't you move away from this Lenovo- HP-Apple-ASUS screen and move to a smaller screen of importance and take in the delights of the Mcdonald's burger or the Dunkin Donut that has been waiting for its salvation in your salivating oral cavity....

The feel that Talking gives

One of the things that talking a lot does to a lot of people we all know is that there is a feeling of accomplishment. I was in this meeting, like the many other meetings that I have had the privilege of attending and turns out the one person who is most satisfied is the one who talked. You can see that very vividly in the way the person steps out of the room. There is a certain kind of fulfilled air about the individual. The person took over most of the proceedings, felt encouraged to cut off other thought processes, did not hear a single whimper of any other person and felt proud of the points that he felt he has manufactured out of thin air and expressed in a manner that was commendable to himself and the rational that he has done what needs to be done in the best possible way.

Others in the crowd mostly feel awkward to express their opinions because of this enormity of fighting out that one individual who craps all around.Then there is the regular perception about talking among the crowd, that it means the person knows his stuff and can express it delightfully and the articulation skills makes his content beyond reasonable doubt an almost expert. The crowd feels that he has displayed his skills once more, and then settles into their menial everyday tasks only to find out in about an hour the amount gas they have consumed in the name of articulation skills and the ignominy of the fact that a load of the bullshit that was communicated now needs to be re-drawn because nothing in effect which is do-able was even minutely lingered upon.

It is an everyday affair, the one or two individual with their baritone, or skill of language takes over a completely decent exchange of ideas (mental masturbation in Jack Welch's language) and creates a vacuum of sorts which is totally hollow in its nature. The halo that such individuals carry among circles of friends, family, professional associates etc; is enormous and when dug deep the dirt exposes itself to showcase nothing but skeletal remains of words of high order which the 26 letters can converge into after convoluting them in multifarious ways.

For once, lets listen it is just too good to comprehend, learn and just leave it all like that....

It is the way we are..

Almost on a daily basis; there is some kind of line that is thrown down at us from all these media elements that we are stuck on.
A line about FEAR, about SUCCESS, about FAILURE, about LOVE, about WISDOM and the million other things that we love to get a line for. What amazes me is the sheer sarcasm that almost all of them seems to roll in. At least the bunch I am connected with on whatever medium, Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, Instagram etc all of them seems to have an edge for sarcasm and related buoyancy.

May be it is me. What is interesting is that even that line popped up due to a memory that has installed itself inside of me because of a line I read someplace. All things you read, watch, listen or speak are manifestations of who you are, propagating itself at the precise moments so as to carry yourself further in the stories. So a writer may write something incredible and someone may have expressed their total commitment to have read the details and found it harmonious. But the deeper essence of the harmony is purely based on ones own experiences interspersing with the story and creating an aura that is commendable to the cells that adorn ones memories and detailed past experiences. Hence, Oh Yeah! and Yeah, Right! may seem simple expressions of acknowledgement but in the grander visualization if I am to elaborate, my friends, family, the inner circle that I correlate with seem to only see one thing and that is sarcasm. In both these expressions there is an enormity of sarcasm that is writ deep and we all enjoy it when that comes around to profess itself.

So after this long dirge I feel it is me, and I reckon the people I follow are purely based on that echo chamber element that we all seem to be stuck inside all of these mediums.

There is a lot more to this earth than us and our brains....

"The fact that jelly fish has survived 650 million years despite not having brains gives hope to many people."

I got this mail first thing in the morning from a very esteemed colleague. I am sure the idea was to point out in a politically correct way that there are assholes in this world and all around us and that they have survived and that hope floats for them. Nice little chuckle. But a few minutes later I was thinking of how we humans are, that we measure everything in accordance to us. It is all about us. I mean all other beings on earth are of no good and are dumb the way they are purely because we are top of the food chain now. We believe that what we do and what we are is the right thing and what we have become after the long journey of development from simians and I dunno from where all, is the ultimate development of anything that moves naturally. Or anything that can be called natural.

There is a tree in our backyard in my hometown. My dad used to mention that it was older than most people he knows. It has been there for a very long time. Nobody even knows the exact time-frame. I mean we do not have biologists measuring that in our backyard. But it has survived many a problematic situation and it has survived well, 'coz it still jingles in the wind, drops those fruits and shines bright green in the spring. Isn't she smart and happy and somewhere in its core it knows what is to be done to survive. I dunno how but it does. I mean it may not have a brain, a central nervous system and that extraordinary bullshit that is propagated called intelligence among us. It has its own way and guess what it survived and keeps shedding, and surviving.

The jelly fish example is absolutely stupid. In fact, we should be thinking that may be it is us who need this thing called a brain to survive, mebbe organisms do not. I was watching a program on Animal Planet about how bacteria takes pains to survive and how smart it is at reaching that place which allows it to survive and thrive. It was a brilliant insight on how things work or how nature has a mechanism to get things in order. This particular bacteria can only survive inside of a cat, so what it does is that it searches for the rat and anything that the rat eats. It gets the rat to do that and then mold the rats brain to loose its one primal control which is to stay away from cats. The rat would make sure that it attracts the cat and then easily fall prey to it. All this because of the bacteria functioning inside of it. The bacteria reaches inside the cats body and all is hunky dory for it after that.

Now in human terminology it would go, bacteria has brains. Hahahaha...

Jelly fish has survived 650 million years because it knows how to survive. It has the necessary skills to survive. Nature has endowed it with those skills. And it is way better than us. Even for a motivational speaker who wants to go sarcastic at times this example does not augur well because survival with or without a brain is the most important skill. All the intellectual capacities and brains in the world does not allow a lot of us to manage our relationships, time, energy, inefficiencies, professional life, simple tasks etc etc etc.... But if we manage to survive and work our way through life with the varied perceptions of success each one of us has and at least achieved some of it partially, I reckon it has never been because of the brains. I reckon it is because of our ability to react to situations in accordance to the needs of the occasion. That has brain coming in between, but mostly that has experience, understanding of things as we grew up, the enormity of situations that we have faced continuously and it has nothing to do with the part of the brain that allowed us to read, write, learn and become masters of the universe through creating things which are mostly destroying our primary way of life.

Anyway, the primary attempt from my end was to state that all beings in their state whichever way they are; are brilliantly smart. They do what they do. They eat shit, they eat raw plants, they eat plastic created by us and sometimes they fail to live and sometimes they succeed to live. But to say that they are dumb that they cannot differentiate between what we can differentiate or have to come differentiate is not a thought worthy of someone with brains.

Amen...

Eric Clapton - BB King -Crossroads 2010 - Live

On Passion

You have to take a stand if the music is too loud for you to take. Facing the music is tough sometimes you may run but that’s not guts and what’s guts is to take that stand and face it, for at least you know you can face it, at least you can say you faced it, at least all things being the way they are - ain't not that great or good, so what the hell- better face it and die a strong one with passion rather than a weakling who ran away. Sometimes you may but I'd prefer all times you stay and face it.

Passion is embarking on something that’s difficult, that’s the reason why it’s called passion because it involves all your senses it takes you out of the delirium of life and place you on a pedestal were you would feel that the Damocles sword is hanging over you. Its inert, its within and it unwinds and brings forth an energy that’s unforeseen and that’s the reason you feel you have two choices either to run or to stay, and its due to the energy that it unwinds from within sometimes you feel weak and from deep inside each of us, a pressure seems to build which does not let go and we fear failure which is again an emotion that we term as Satan : when it manifests itself into something other than the defined basic morals and values  and the winners term as 'the losers’ or as people who could not take it &c.. and we run and we hide forgetting were we began - losing the energy that catapulted us to this level.

At this stage we feel the comfort level of having lost all that energy and it makes us sullen from within withdrawing away into nothingness - the state which is most pleasant, as we are not answerable to anything and anybody- except ourselves, but that phase it is quite easy because the questions that demand attention gets muffled by the calm breathing patterns that ensues in the outer core. But this hangs on our neck for forever and we feel helpless as days move into months and months into years and we loose ourselves to the world of least inertia.

Now the choice is ours again as always, which is better - the inertia-less existence were we do what natural circumstances pushed us to do and loose our own self to the withering masses, or the boundless freedom of seeking what we intend to do with ourselves and enjoying the freedom of failure, of trial and error, of judgment, and at last of eternal peace and success, Amen.

Passion is within all of us we have to keep disturbing it all the time and it would challenge us with multitudes of corners which are unappealing to the senses but we got to try to love those corners that’s all life is, simple...I guess that’s what makes the world such a beautiful as well as pathetic place at the same time. It's because of people with passion. All of us who go about their business in a manner which affects other's lives in a good or bad way have ardor. That’s where I appreciate some of the movies that Hollywood comes up with. I've never been exposed much to movies from other cultures except may be Indian, Italian, some Akira Kurasowa from Japan, some French and a lot of Malayalam and Bengali. But almost all movies, which affect us in some manner, are really based on passion. That’s the base pattern. The movie's character has passion - we love it, the movie's story-line has passion - we love it. In fact, everything we do, we say, we enact on, we react on, we conjure up in our mind; all of it is based on the the fervor we have in our innards. That’s why we tend to do it and then redo it again and again until we achieve some semblance of having reached a crossroad which looks more welcoming.

A lot of my conversations with friends, family, acquaintances or strangers are instances of listening to anecdotes and yarns from their past. And they keep repeating these tales or reaching the very same stories again and again and each time they narrate its always mentioned in a different manner trying to make it more attractive than the previous time, but at the end of the day we do get bored of it because we know its the same story. But look deeper and you would find that that’s the thing they had passion for. In fact that is the one thing, if followed religiously with extreme vigor, without worrying about money, society, family, circumstances and all those things that stop us, the person would have achieved heights hitherto untouched and the happiness that accompanies such simple passions is beyond a lot that we tend to experience.

They keep repeating these stories because the intensity of the passion that they tasted and the absolute exaltation they got familiar with during those few days that they did those things. They remember every tiny detail so picturesquely, precisely and their eyes widen and the lips move faster, and they want for us to respond similarly, they are on a high; a raise that even the best psychedelic drug cannot deliver. During those few days of their monotonous existence they had forgotten almost every other thing of this world. Nothing mattered then and when they are telling you the story nothing else matters to them but to seek the very same ecstasy and enthusiasm and share it with others.

A friend of mine went for a two week mountaineering program. She has told me that story at least 50 times. In myriad ways with multitude of emotions and it was almost a lesson for me on understanding human depth and sensations. She would talk about the difficulties of terrains, the beauty that awaited at the end of the road, the small hassles of morning chores in the open mountains, a majestic horse that suddenly came out of nowhere in a misty morning, unfurling its heavy brown mane between the flow of the fog, the haze lifting itself for the regal animal. I could see it and I could visualize everything she spoke of. I had felt a tug in my heart, a heavy brimming within me: it was not sadness in the fact that she is corporate honcho who busies herself in the everyday muddle but because of the force of the sentiment she was sharing I was moved at the exhilaration that she was infecting. The achievement of reaching the top, her team, the teamwork they enjoyed, the camaraderie with the instructor, the stories of small issues and small delights : all coming together to form a brilliant anecdote of  extreme passion. I reckon she never had anything as exciting as that ever in here life. Many a thing may have passed her by were she was happy and thrilled: a promotion, marriage, kids, the dream job, an awesome salary &c but nothing compares to that particular elation.

There are stories that would make one weep, and there are stories of brilliant souls that took the jump and came out smiling; which by the way, is always.

That’s what passion is about. Its about wherewithal freedom in your life.. When one has passion one does not have to really think about thinking out of the box or looking beyond to come up with something extraordinary. All those philosophical gaga goes for a toss as these are natural ingredients which are within us and permeates itself outwards when the nature of things you do are obsession and zeal bound. The deep rooted human need to do something special, to show that we are important and that we are to mean something with our birth is extreme and the outward expressions of those primary requirements seep out only when you follow your deep endemic purpose. All the self-help books in the world would have lost their relevance and value if we found what we wanted to do and followed it without any fears, inhibitions or hangovers that make us chained to the paradigm of safe existence.

I would like to quote one of favorite authors Mr. Charles Bukowski here "We are all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing."

Of images

Everyday our eyes see, watch, contemplate, ignore and memorize images that keep moving around us. The one's we memorize sometimes stays with us forever, sometimes they leave us as we speak about them or place them out in words which makes our expressions more imaginative. This I speak of our everyday lives. But when we move around and we are on the road there are images and pictures that capture our heart as well as our minds in a demeanor that we rarely fail to fathom. They hit us hard, now, when I say hard, the emotion could be anything - it could be harsh, it could be soothing, it could be elevating, enlightening blah blah blah.                    

 These dour and sometimes picturesque details when captured through the lens stay on for posterity. And if the story and the hardship behind picturing them are presented in a manner where the best possible adjectives are avoided so as to present the eye a small background score and let the eye that beholds contemplate, judge, rationalize and assimilate : much better. And when the stories are told to others and when the others would want to regale in the same expose and enjoy the fruits of their imagination then the success within those frames become immortal. A name gets attached and a million more of these others, for years to come, would like to sleep or get up and watch these endearing images grow within them for the questions they may have, for the thoughts they may render and for the serenity they may provide.
 What we have here in this life is a series of images with a small detail about them and the rest is for you to enjoy, unravel and marvel and take off to where your imagination would carry your thoughts. 

The colors, the detail and the vivid imagery of our wonderful earth whether it's in the most beautiful landscapes or the smoky, smoggy terrains, the dourness of everyday life or the pathos in the dirt that we accumulate and keep hiding under the carpet of dust and sand, the sadness of our wisdom in things which we ourselves created but we never took care of, the accumulation of our sins or the ignorant washing of the same, the majestic idealism of the structures that make us feel grand about ourselves and all of it. 

Probably we tried to capture all of this within a small-calculated frame and tried to portray all things that have carried a deja vu within us since childhood and still do and will always do. These are images, which every one of us has seen and probably thought of too, but we haven’t thought enough to have bought it across to ourselves. We are so bound within the idiosyncrasies and monotony of everyday existence that we have forgotten that particular area in our brain where we have kept all these small but extraordinary details. You may look into something and find that somewhere within you a door opened and the floodgates slammed out and heralded for you the details of all that you might have forgotten to look back upon. Isn't that what an image does?
 All of us sometimes in the rush forget where we come from, what we have seen, what we have captured and what we have gone through. It’s important to revisit the times that we might have had if... And it’s also the time now that we do not forget that past is like a history book that teaches, and morals and values are contemplative thoughts that we garner due to our past, we are what we are due to our past and the future is but an amalgamation of all that’s done and all that we are doing, to a place unknown but way better off if we haven’t forgotten the exotic imagery and ecstasy of being alive within the frames that we lived in.
 So, grab a cozy blanket and a cup of hot chocolate, prop up your feet, and enjoy a perfect weekend afternoon, within your confines and watch, as your imagination takes a ride...

On Pornography and cuckoos

Pornography, articles relating to it, movies or documentaries underlining its benefits as well as dangers associated with it, all of that stuff has some sort of curiosity build into it and that is a secondary reason on why it is an industry that thrives. The current streams over the internet and the virtual reality elements that seem to harness quite a bit of news is a new way but these wi-fi speeds and the sheer on your face sorta thing that seems to be all over could possibly be the beginning of the slide of an industry grows exponentially year by year. The primary reason being curiosity being satiated quite early and quite fast. The beauty of all things taboo or for that matter anything at all is the reach as well as the difficulty of achieving it. This thing is just too easy and the fun of it all is down the drain.

I remember my days when the first time, someone bought a few pages from 'The Hustler' and 'Playboy' to school. It was consternation the first time around, and then all the boys circled around a lot of oohs and aahs going on with the lady in the picture doing something absolutely incorrigible. First time around everything looks just too good. I remember that photograph and the lady to this date and I don't think I will ever forget. She was a willful companion on many a nights then. But the way this kid who bought it to school became a hero of epic proportions on that day was amazing. I wanted to get my own, but never could.

I remember the day when we found our first porn video cassettes from the local video store. It was so difficult to ask the guy in the first place, once done, it was all about when are we gonna watch it. It took us two days to figure a place we can. And when we did, misery, the damn visuals had grains all over. The worst part was when the female of the species who had been strutting and gaining our attention, wants to remove that small t-shirt of hers and show what we were waiting to see, the screen would go all awry, blinking and static and I dunno what all. Damn! damn! damn!

The beginning of attraction is opaque. The unseen is the most attractive. Then it floats over to translucent. That is the best stage. The adrenaline is going haywire and the uncontrollable urge takes over. Transparent is good just immediately after translucent but not at all times...the current issue is that. It begins with transparent and then there is only transparent. There is no curiosity being built.

Funnily, nowadays, the curiosity is for the tool that showcases this thing. First the laptop, oooh! a tool that's personal and does not involve watching with other people, but contrived to a room in the house or wherever. Then when it moved on to the phones, wallah! brilliant, too personal hold it in the hand and watch stuff. Now they are moving it closer to the eye, Virtual Reality. It is not the porn which attracting attention, it is the gadgets that are attracting attention. As soon as those VR glasses come around, the first thing to do is pop it in and watch Khalifa's or Amber's or whatever is available, they are all the same. That is it, end of story. After that it is purely awaiting the release of the worthy documentaries, the visit to the moon, Pyramids, Amazon etc.

Easy accessibility  is dangerous for all businesses and brands... 

On another level, a little story from a few days back. 

The amount of energy wasted on considering and dreaming of materials consisting of pornographic elegance is shocking. I read some statistics regarding the same in a local newspaper and it’s appalling. But another way of looking at it is that the photographs and the headlines for this particular newspaper article was quite evidently chosen with thought to attract attention and it was too much tilted towards the same genre it was talking about. May be journalism demands that or may be the sales department demands that. 

Whatever, the next day it seems they found that the sales for that edition were pretty high. It was a Monday, and it seems Monday blues hit newspaper circulations. So exactly on a Monday they came up with article - sales tactic. 

Whatever was written and the pictures attached all of it made interesting reading and a good raise in knowledge about some websites one can go to. Instead of the real intention which is to say that pornography is a bane of the society. My girl-friends read it and they came up with genuine queries about having visited a few of them and on how the others mentioned in the article stand. Well, needless to say as usual I gave them a download of information on all the porn websites that we all know of or visited of course, the information had to be female oriented and so it was. That gave way for a good conversation. It really does almost all the time I’ve ever broached the subject whether it’s with friends or quaint acquaintances and it has always turned out to be long, knowledgeable and boisterous conversations. 

In a different sense and manner, morally so to say, it is a very pathetic way of looking at women. But guess what, this is what men are all about most of them. They strut their stuff, blow their horn about imaginary sexual escapades, wade thru' life in the same demeanor forever and brag about it as old bastards sitting on creaky old park benches and laughing one's heart out and going back home and trying to figure what the hell all that brouhaha was about. 

Lastly, I knew a guy once who used to have ejaculatory benefits out of all these newspaper articles that come out once in a while. In almost any developed country his people would have taken him to a shrink, but in India it turned out the guy's big brothers, mom and daddy dearest were all hunky dory about it and not only that, they thought that their little brother was endowed with a fantastic libido. 

Libido my ass, the guy is cuckoo; that’s what I'd say another rape specimen being slowly trained into the drain of dirt.... 

Obituaries...and then Some Epitaphs

You have heard of obituaries everyone believes in them.
Except the Greeks of yore.

They did not believe in obituaries, they looked out for only question when a person dies or even when he is alive. ”Does he have passion?”

Ask yourself this question and that’s when they say that a human understands themselves and that’s when they find out what they are and why they are and how they can know what they shall be otherwise it’ll be just another life wandered about, made some money, spent some money, had sex, had food, created kids (of course, the cycle has to continue rolling), bought a house, drove a car, went touristy to a few places and thank you very very much;  moved on to the kingdom of god or wherever hell we move on to.... Period

Epitaphs are an interesting element. Love 'em

For me what I want is
                                  She smiled and then                    
                                         he loved and then he stopped existing
                                 he lived, they lived
                                        a cheer spread around them, at all times
                                  A visible passion clothed them
                                            Still clothed, passion floats here

There could be a million variations to this.. but for now this...

The best I have seen
                                 Les Gunther from Alamogordo, NM
                            Spat at a dog
                                     two slugs from .45
                                 no Les, no More

On Perception

Perception is a funny thing it gets me to do a load of stuff. It may sound ominous 'coz again perception has a bad rap. But it in turn allows you to be free to do things which in normal circumstances, rather, realistic circumstances does not allow you to do...

For example the doctor told me to keep my drinking to a bare minimum due to diabetes. I was like okay, sounds good. This was Monday, by the time Friday popped, okay became 'what the hell' one drink won't make a difference. I checked the internet for company. Found a few articles which supported my notion. Perception turns to small reality as you get a supporters along the way. But still the rational mind kept popping up, what are you doing, take care, these things will bust your can, take care. Okay accepted, I take a little step backwards. I say lets spend some money, buy some Kentucky brew, Jack Daniels, to be exact the cost here in India is a little over the top. That helps. I am drinking now and I am fine, the liquor succors me. I know why, my perception helps... the cost of the liquor assuages my rational that it wont affect my liver or my diabetes, because it is good liquor, The mind simply ignores the fact that wherever it is brewed in whatever way whiskey is whiskey, it is going to affect my liver and my diabetes. But mind over matter, my perception is extremely strong since the money takes over where rationale stops.

A lot of the stuff we do is such, this above is a very small example. We look for reasons, we look for support and in a billion odd population, hell, I am gonna get support at all times, because there sure shall be a nincompoop like me someplace everywhere who believes my kind of truth. That is what makes life so beautiful. Perception may have a bad rap and shall continue to do so till the end of time, but perception helps in faith, in hope, in mirth, goddamn it in every possible way. 

I heard a friend of mine has a colleague at his workplace, who always believes that he is right. Because of this he is continuously tearing apart the system, the attrition levels there are at a record high, nobody can stand this adamant soul. But the adamant soul is thinking well this is the way it is and it is right, let the world say otherwise, I know my shit, I know what I am doing. What a brilliant perception, dumb for the whole world, but for him the fool at his woeful brink he survives and thrives on this.....

Let us continue living..perceiving....

River Saraswati Popped Up Bah!!

It is amazing how media to gain eyeballs could go to any lengths and never consider the average readers intellect. The average reader reads only the headlines. But this number is very huge, I mean the average reader. The remaining bunch, the more curious ones pick up topics based on their level of curiosity and their level of need to gain knowledge or information. All three categories, as is the whole human race fall into the muck of perception before any article is read.

For example if I am reading Sartre on a plane and someone who has heard of Sartre thinks that I am intellectual, first up, then haranguing their head over whether I am first time reader...then they see my face and they go oh! nope should be intellectual. The other guy who does not know Sartre is thinking goddamn it even now we have people wasting their time reading such monstrosities, even the photograph on the cover is no good. But we all perceive. And we all insist on that perception to be right. You know what I am talking if you have sat in a crowded place and watched people with your friends. I mean I remember us betting on who is gonna go which way and to what restaurant and who is gonna kiss when or hold hands. You may thinking Voyeurs!!! For the sake of being nice, lets say observers....Anyway, when we get it right we love it, there is a feeling of having arrived. Even if it is nothing...

Now going back to the article, There was an article in today newspapers that they found a lot of water about 50 kilometers close to the Pakistan border in the desert of Thar, Rajasthan, India. Everybody is excited, for heavens sake, it is desert..so hell! ought to be excited....The article reads that people are digging for water and that at about 500 odd feet they find water. And it is not just a little bit of water, but gushing, strong, large quantity of water. The article headline states " Saraswati River Comes up in Thar".

The complete article then goes on to elaborate on how many people are finding water and how good it is and how scientific evidence suggests granite's of yore having water kept in them for centuries may have popped out..etc etc etc..and also that all people have denied that this has anything to do with the mystical river of Saraswati and that is a legend and still stays as one and that there is no river underneath all this buoyant talk.

If this above is the case then the question arises, why that headline in the first place. I understand you are media and you need eyeballs but.. the general population, the average Joe is set to get a few tongues wagging on this extraordinary discovery of his. There may be purists who may have read the article due to curiosity but with the perception of Saraswati someplace in his mind and after completing the article they may have cynically expressed their delight to their friends about their new found discovery because the hangover of why he read the article in the first place stays.....

Wooh! not to pinpoint that all things are bad and awful, the art of grabbing eyeballs is fantastic, but the art of marketing something wrong is going to go down in an awfully wrong manner. And the paying population remember is getting more and more ignorant even with the bombardment and proliferation of information and at the end somewhere when I am not even part of the stories someone is going to say "what the fuck happened"

Take care!!!

Exponentially Communicating Yet None of It

The dearth of communication in an over-communicated world is surprising. Or is it? I see people around who feel that they are communicating. Someone send me video of a R&B song recently on Whatsapp, And this person was sending me something after close to 8 - 9 months. I thought it was a mistake 'coz, personally for me, I forgot he existed. I send him back a thumbs-up emoji. And that's that. We communicated. I reckon we both felt that we did.

He did his part by sending in something totally out of the blue and he may have felt that I would enjoy the pleasurable company of the brilliant singers and the cacophony of the liberal dancing and in return when I acknowledged what he did with my emoji it came full circle in terms of the tenets of communication.

I do not speak to my partner or to my friends as much as we did before the invention of the Facebook, Twitter, Whatsapp, Pinterest, Snapchat and the scores of others that are available as tools of communication.We do send emojis  to each other and there are quaint expressions over the phone, but it is purely need based and requirement oriented and nothing that is permeated purely for the sake of having a decent communication. There are a load of other people, who really are not in the play of relationship or even close to personal, and they seem to be more interactive and condescending when it comes to having a decent conversation. But again, who am I kidding, I mean, they are also the kinds that is purely need based. We talk for the need of achieving an end purpose.

Suddenly, I just realized while I am writing this that there is not a single soul that I speak to or who speak to me for any other purpose other than a reasonable end goal. That shows how pathetic I have become as a individual.

Isn't it important to just simply have a chat with no end purpose or no results. Isn't  it the most beautiful thing to be free in terms of the deed of communicating without any kind of orientation  to consider. I miss a friend, or two , big time. 'Coz, floodgates of memories just opened and the can is looking good. I mean those were the good ol' days where we would sit on corner stones, pubs, or wherever we can find a li'l space to park our asses and talk of all the things under the sun. It never used to be about weather or about the shit loads of crimes that went around. It used be about music, books, dance forms, chicks we dig, chicks we don't dig, philosophy, sociology, culture, religion and booze characteristics, disease, social evils, change, politics, rhetoric and yes of course who can forget movies and documentaries.

Quite a lot of stuff was not accessible easily, things never got to us before they were supposed to, cassettes and CD's had one song which we liked and the remaining were in another cassette or CD and we could not buy that easily as it costed more than we could afford with our weekly pocket money. The pocket money was for the tea, cigarettes, coffee, booze and dates, if any. But this accessibility thing has made life different. There is nothing wrong, I mean I could be doing all these things even now if my friends were free and we were of that age, may be.

But, some aspects of conversation has changed. I was sitting with a friend of mine, we had dated long time back, things did not work out then and we continued with our own journey's, We met, we were happy long lost friends meeting each other, catching up...the works. But all that brouhaha left in about 6-7 minutes as the notifications kept loading in. None of it was work. Starbucks Coffee could not bring in the necessary camaraderie for a chit chat of the old kinds. There was a good connect but those phones were wrecking it. She did talk in between, in fact, she notified me of all the notifications and also updated me of the recent WhatsApp joke that she received. Almost all of what we spoke was from someone else's updates of things that don't matter and philosophy that do not fit with us.

Everybody has to have someone whom they need to talk to. I have found mine quite recently and it is brilliant revisit as well as a great journey. I am enjoying every bit of it and may be so is the person because the conversation continues without any hindrances and a lot of spillages, which makes it special. Spillage means you care, means you thought, means you want to bring in the perspective even if the hour or the day has passed and you mean all of it. I know this shall also not last, as all mortal things that matter but it is here, it is now, it is transcending space and time and all of that bullshit that carries us forward and it is beautiful.

To each his own.... please keep talking,,, you will always find someone to listen and if they want to listen that means it is worth it all, it is worth the deed....So keep it going...