REGIMENTATION

What is it that we love most about ourselves? The answer lies in a painful contradictry realisation, at least for some of us. We think we love the fact that we have free will. But, really do we?

Let's take this bull by the horns then... To begin with, no free will in terms of the family you're born into. This takes care of bloody mother tongue, your taste buds, cultural costume... and much later in life, if the need arises, it takes care of home cadre too! Second, no free will about the sibling(s) you'll have... if he's really a snitch, then you've had it with your childhood... if she's bitchy, well your call. Not much free will about the school you'll go to...that ensures your proficiency in English, in a regional language, depending on the nature, quality and capability of the teachers, it also determines to a large extent what your general character will be like. (Of course, ultimately we all have "free will" to determine what kind of people we'll be ;-)

Okay, a little bit of free will when choosing a college or vocation.... or is there? Don't marks in the board exams count? And there are cut-throat entrance exams, swelling numbers of candidates, reservations..or plain bad luck. Next stage, performance in these colleges, well this is where free will comes into play (actually the same applies when in school). It is entirely upto us, whether to be the grasshopper or the ant...

When life gives us lemons, some make lemonade, some make a face (they're trying to eat the damned sour things), and the smart ones get the bottle of Blanco, Joven, Reposado, Anejo or Mezcal (Okay quiz question... find out what these names denote and you'll get what i'm talking about)...

here here kitty...

CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT... I DEBATED LONG IF I SHOULD LET THE RIFF RAFF IN ON THIS SECRET... BUT I GUESS IT'S TIME I DID SO... SO THERE... SO LONG!

SALE

OSTRACISM MAY NOT NECESSARILY BE AN UNWANTED CONDITION, IT NEED NOT BE A PUNITIVE MEASURE THAT EFFECTIVELY CURTAILS THE SOCIAL ACTIVITIES OF THAT PARTICULAR PERSON IN QUESTION. IT MIGHT AS WELL BE A CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION; AT FINALLY BEING LEFT ALONE TO HIS OWN DEVICES, WHERE IT IS QUITE PLAUSIBLE THAT HE MAY REALISE THE POTENTIAL OF THE HUGE OAK TREE BORNE OUT OF A LITTLE ACORN.

WHAT THEN IS THE CAUSE FOR THE USUAL, ALMOST CASUAL IN ITS REACH, FEAR OF BEING AN OUTCAST, OF NOT BELONGING ANYMORE?

HOW IMPORTANT IS IT TO ATTACH ONESELF TO A PERSON, A HOUSE, A CAR, A LANGUAGE, A REGION, AN IDEOLOGY, AN IDEA?

IS THIS THE REASON WHY PEOPLE ACQUIRE OTHER PEOPLE OR OTHER THINGS? BECAUSE ONCE YOU OWN SOMETHING, THERE IS NO WAY YOU WILL UN-BELONG, OR BE LEFT LONELY?

DO YOU THEN FORGET THAT IN THIS PROCESS YOU HAVE ALREADY SOLD YOURSELF!

you're only as little as the things that annoy you

"Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not.
Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end.
Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm."
From STILL LIFE WITH WOODPECKER, by Tom Robbins, 1980

What annoyed Neitzche most was God... I guess since that's taken, I'll have to figure out something much bigger to annoy me... let me mull over what that could be; I'll get back to you about that... But let me ask the same question of you now... What annoys you the most?

The Unofficial Report PICTURE

The Unofficial Report

Well, where do I start…with my predicament with a future looming with five people from Bihar, three from Madhya Pradesh, two from Uttar Pradesh, one Kashmiri, one Marathi, one from Tamil Nadu, one from Karnataka, one from Andhra Pradesh and one your truly. Or maybe I should talk about their characteristics: one who is physically uncoordinated, one who writes Aaj ki kabita, one who recites Sanskrit shlokas, one who keeps quiet, three who shout, one who complains about his non-existent blisters, one who teaches botany (okay, I learnt a lot from that quarter), one who mouths silly South Indian stuff and thinks I’m dumb, perhaps simply because of the way I look, one who draws really bad sketches, one who pukes his guts out every time the bus moves an inch and then says blames it one something that he ate or didn’t eat, all of whom take numerous breaks to drink tea, all who showed genuine expression of surprise as they discovered that i'm quite knowledgeable in many areas of academic or practical intelligence, all who were scandalized every time I lit up a cig, or the one who religiously covered his nose at the aforementioned activity, or maybe about the who decided that he loves me too (on top of his girlfriend). Maybe I should mention that NOW THAT WE ARE BACK, NONE OF US TALK TO EACH OTHER THAN IT IS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY…(although there was one complaint today: Should I be writing an email??) Hah! You wish…sod off!

Now, I guess the itinerary of the trek would make some sense: it included Gangotri, Gaumukh, Dodital, Dharwadhar, Hanumanchatti and Yamunotri. Quite a few kms were to be spent on the bus, however we had to walk 106 kms…. Hence the mammary loss! (Despite the fact that Satya-san told me in Delhi that I don’t look thinner at all….) The terrain was beautiful, despite being Garhwal, I have inherent bias towards the un-spoilt beauty of Kumaon….but man I wish I had better company. Even though I thought I’d stay all aloof to begin with, things turned around as I chatted with an expat bihari who is almost half bong due to educational background… Then on, I calculated that I could be alone and miserable, or stoned and making fun of myself… you see there was initial thing… “Yaar, hindi me batao! Mujhe angrezi nahi aati.” So, I did… but as you well know, I have that massive Jaat influence in my language, man…I tell you, Jaw-Dropping material!

FOOD HABITS:
This bunch of people fuels themselves with tea… Subah ki chai, then another cup… breakfast, then chai, then another couple of tea breaks with maggi and biscuits as and when available, then lunch and tea, then some more tea…maybe one or two cups, even three sometimes, and then dinner and finally….chai…. All the while, between these umpteen, grrrrrrr….tea breaks the group would amble along on the trek… also, food has to be above par… and yes! Chammas lao bhai…katori bhi do…. And the poor guy at side-y restaurant in side-y town in the hills came running with said spoons and bowls, which had manufacturer stickers on them…must have brought them direct from a shop… and one guy actually turns his nose, hides it in the palm of his hand when someone eats anything non-vegetarian. MADNESS! Especially atop the thing that he excavates his nose in public, probes his behind in public, belches loudly in public, yawns for everyone in 300 meter radius in public and commits many other un-mentionable sins...in public.

Anyway, now that I’ve sat on this for too long, I’m getting tired of writing one line a day… I’ll let the picture do all the talking… it is one of the OT’s a fellow trek group member who took a bath in the local tube well and was drying his clothes on the way... Now you now what i was up with...

P.S. i had fun, and i guess i made a few friends...

Raving and Ranting

What is wrong with me? Has my conduct in life been so far wrong and so inappropriate that I need corrective mechanisms to be put in place so I can function as a right minded cog in the well-oiled (read bribed), much maligned (read the newspapers), oft-abused (ask any citizen) machinery that I am to be part of… Actually the question is: Am I part of the machine or is the machine part of me??? Is this my job, or is this me? I have never been my books, my friends, my parents, my society, my cousins, my lovers… they have been around at one time or the other depending on importance and necessity, but all through it, I have been me.

Suddenly, here I am where there is a conscious effort on to make me feel guilty of being who I am. I like me, I like being me, and I am comfortable with me. Nearly four weeks and I am struggling very hard to respect the ‘others’ for who they are, but their right of swinging their arm, rather their right of using words directed at me, ends where my ear begins. Their words cannot delve deep into my mind, let alone my psyche… if they want to reform someone, go find someone who needs it… I am not screaming for attention, it is not my fault if I look the way I do, wear what I do and think the way I do.

My mind has been carefully groomed, sharpened and edged to cut through bullshit. Social graces are almost inherent by virtue of birth, personal grace is what I was born with, and my dressing sense has been honed under the scanner of people who revel, celebrate and enjoy the way I look. I will give you the inch that you ask, but do not grab the whole fucking kilometer. In that case, I shall give it right back and twice the intensity at least, if not more. And if you want me to look interested, then for heaven’s sake have something worthwhile on display…

Disclaimer: These are my personal views, does not bear any burden on any organization, person, or combination of the two, whether living or dead, real or fictional in any which way.

ultimately

the leaf had a name
the name was yours
she stared hard at the name, hoping that the bleak letters would metamorphose into real flesh and blood
wishful thinking...

so she sent the leaf on its way to the ground
there it met with soft earth
it took on the color of earth
they said that it dried up
rain fell on it for days
they said it was decaying

then it turned into dust merging with the soul of the earth
they said it died

Enforced Isolation

If I could help it, I would never be here... No, that is a lie! I can always help being where I want to be... what is bothering me is the question: Did I really want to be here? And the ancilliary thoughts that creep up as a consequence... If I wanted to be here, did I want to be isolated and unhappy? If I didn't want to be here, then how the hell did I get here?
The next set of queries also arise: is there a way for me to alleviate my condition? Is there a way for me to escape?

The worst part is that in my quest for answers, all I find myself doing is providing myself with endless justifications... I believe that is a very dangerous sign.. it is the path to doom and destruction of my self... just as the mist covers this town in the hills, it seems to me that I'm trying to cover my eyes with the veil of the so-called life, responsibilities and the semblance of societal independence that I hope to get out of my incarceration...

I need to have a job... this is a good job... this job shall provide me with social standing, as i intend to be a single woman... etc...etc...etc...

silly excuses all of them, I do hope I have the intelligence to spot when I'm stopped being who I am and become what I do.. and I do hope I have the gumption to let go then...hope I do not fool myself any further with more excuses then.. right now, I have to give this a shot, and a fair shot at that....I owe that to myself! Or do I?

D-Day in Delhi

My last post for a while from the comforts of this home... All that is left here are a few of my memories, some photographs, some paintings and some poems...
All set...raring to go...revving up the engine...grrrrr!

flicking the pages of life

“maybe we’re always strangers…to ourselves the most…and to be reassured of our solitary existence is the only comfort that others can give....”
Puts a real twist into looking for that one person to be with…one person who’ll be there, who’ll love and be loved, who’ll care and be cared for, who’ll be woken up to. Where does one go from something like that? Where do all the dead relationships go? What of the ones in which one is now dead or dying? And what about Mira who loved Krishna who lived five thousand years before her?

I’ve pondered long enough on this… All I find is that I am exactly where I was before. I am still me, albeit changed by everyone I’ve been with, however long or short the duration. That brings me to another point: were they the ones who sought a different life? Did I not choose the same? If fate is something real then the parting was destined. Then did I not in some form (conscious, subconscious or unconscious) desire that separation, even at the very beginning?

Am I just ambling through the designs of life already pre-determined, destined and karmic? Or am I making a choice? Is this really MY life?

Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

Bear with me…I’m still in this phase of mind. Gained an objective perspective on emotional disappointment of late. This is my way of making head or tail of that. I’ve thrived on a lot of planning, I must confess. Guess we all do. Show me a person who claims to ‘go with the flow’ and I’ll show you a liar.

So we plan and we plan. Some people make one, while others like me have many contingency plans…if this doesn’t work out, then this might…if not then I have this as my backup…etc. etc. etc. And some plans fructify; others come to nought. Either which way, we lose…precious time. What was the point of planning for contingencies when this is successful? If this was going to be unsuccessful, why did I waste time planning for it?

The only objective look that I’ve found in this entire predicament is uncertainty. As we’re unsure of all outcomes, we plan for as many of them as we possibly can, given our capabilities. These are the games people play and they are the games nations play. If time is what we make of it, then is this how it was meant to be? And while I’m on it let me add another observation, since this deals with emotional disappointment. Why do we ‘pay’ attention and ‘spend’ time? (Particularly in the English language because we do very different things with both time and attention in Hindi or any other Indian vernacular languages…)

Switch

In his book “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues” Tom Robbins wrote something to the effect that (I’m paraphrasing here) - success closes as many doors as failure does. At first it struck me as completely profound and truthful as did some line in a song by Travis – the circle only has one side. Upon further rumination, I figured both are wrong. The circle has two sides as all other objects, opinions, arguments, viewpoints and counter arguments. And while failure closes that ‘one’ option, success closes the window on all other opportunities. A person gets stuck with success, while failure helps him strive again. Ask Edison, who famously said, “I didn’t fail, I figured out 1999 ways of how not to make a light bulb!”

In 2004, a friend told me, “It would be wonderful if you study hard but fail in this exam”. At that point of time I thought it was a needlessly vicious thing to say. I did fail at that exam; I was crushed. It was the last time I cried. I still remember. 3rd of August 2004. (Well, it took me until February, the next year, to recover resolve, build determination and study again, and this time successfully. Now I find my options quite limited.) The lesson however that I learnt was not to be affected by either success or failure.

About the circle and it’s two sides: inside and outside…it smacks of the Hindu concepts of Karma and Maya. A business tycoon and a typical yogi are the same. One is running towards money, the other away from money. Money thus is the focus. To reduce the sense of dimensions even if one used a point in space, imaginary for both geometry and meditation, it doesn’t amount to much… (Rather it does because a point has some existence.) I guess that is why Sankhya, Nirvana and Kaivalya culminate in absolute nothingness.

Rain!

a sensation creeps up from behind me,
it is soft and sensual,
it nibbles my ear.

it whispers bottles of life into me,
while i stand stone cold sober,
looking out to the grey skies pouring rain.

this parched land quenches itself,
when will i slake my thirst?
instead i turn around to look at you.

THE AGEING WARRIOR 6

“Devi…I have something for you”. With that the Warrior held out his hand in her direction. In the twilight it was difficult for the Little Girl to make out exactly what it was that he brought back for her. He had been gone for days now. The battle was long and hard, but evidently he won. Rather he was on the winning side, he was alive after all. He hadn’t even stopped to change his clothes or have a bath. Whatever he had to give must be really important.

The Little Girl reached with her right hand. The Warrior placed something light and delicate in her palm. Before she could see what it exactly was, it moved. She shrieked, taken aback by the animation. Then it flew from her hand and landed near the oil lamp that was burning in the room. It was then she saw it was a butterfly. The beautiful creature flapped its wings slowly…for a moment she was transfixed at the sight. For a few brief moments a tranquil sense of beauty descended upon her.

The brain kicked in after that, “You must never catch a butterfly. Their wings are too delicate. Look at your fingers, they have picked up the color off of those wings.”

“I almost had to climb a tree to get that for you. My men chased it for half a day.”

“Thank you it is the best gift I have ever received. But now will you take it away and let it fly away.”

The Little Girl pondered over it for most of the night. It was like life itself. It is beautiful, but people shriek every time life animates itself. Shrieking is okay; after all, life takes every person by surprise. After that, however it is crucial to gauge the urgency and vitality of life. If only they saw it in the dim glow of an oil lamp…the dance of life was sure to suffuse elation in every heart. Enjoy the brief moments here on earth and then let go.

The Ultimate Human Experience

Creation of mountains out of molehills, in my opinion is the crux of the ultimate human experience on this earth. Actually it falls more in the realm of society rather than the earth…because the earth is nurturing, forgiving and unconditional in terms of the opportunities provided to all humans. It is the societies that we inhabit that thrives on comparison, hence, competition. If those are the rules of the game, then for the intelligent it is imperative that they play by the ear…or if you will, take the bull by the horns.

Success thus is relative and requires constant upgradation almost on a daily basis. New mountains to climb, new seas to fathom, new horizons to conquer and new vistas to explore remain the key words in this sport called life.

What we choose as our goals, or battles, our hurdles derive from three sources, in this particular order:
- the social conditioning we received as children (including the nature and nurture by parents, extended family and assorted peers),
- the external world and its variegations, and
- the resources that we have within ourselves i.e. our educational qualifications, native intelligence kits, social interaction tools and built-in drive for excellence, efficiency and integration.

Until a point, considering the social system in place, the mountains are provided for us…class X boards, XII boards, graduation, master’s, doctorate etc… sometimes there are pop-ups like the reservation issue. But after all that is done and over the responsibility lies on us to create the next one. Most people choose the path of least resistance and choose relationships as their next goal (I shall love like none other); some choose fiscal matters (I want lots of money); very few take on the nature and purpose of existence itself (who am I, why am I here?).

No one can win here; nobody comes out of life alive. Each and every life will be wasted. How we choose to waste it is the essential query. It is our choice of the adversary and the adversity that provides the answer.

Zen

Amidst whirlpools of dust
Dervishing in the deeps waters
Spiraling up columns of sapphiric souls
That are unknowing and without hope
Expending in gaudy glitter masks
While the washed is ignored, laughed at or stoned…
There is death of aspiration, burial of illusions,
End of disillusionment, transforming the unseeing and the dying,
Into iridescent contortionists with acrobatic flair

To leave without a trace
In that onyx instance
If given an inch to move or take
Translucent mould of me it shall be you
Like the sway that induces whispering in dry flowers
I would be invisible but within
Transparent essence of you will be me

spinning yarn

sciolistic tendencies give way to defenseless proclivities
spawning tired ol' bastards that nitpick with astounding temerity
giving way to baseless counter-attitudes
that float like karmic haze all around...
or is it a rank odor of stale cigarettes and pointless perspiration
caught in her own web, the black widow spider eats her own self...the mate long digested.
hydrochloric acid lined intestines churn out masticated peices of innocence, tenderness and affection
What is left?
just a song....
perhaps?
perhaps...

My Father's Hand

beauty in monochrome