tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68481172047626175572024-03-14T01:06:32.592-07:00psychotic mindUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-76596500079956238222010-01-29T15:55:00.000-08:002010-01-29T16:22:46.303-08:00Comfortably Dumb...There are some people who consider themselves to have the wand that baptizes people into mature or dumb. These opinion leaders of the society create an altogether different kind of caste system, a system that subtly gets pervaded in the lives of the victims. It gives them immense pleasure to take shots at those for whom the destiny decided to have a lesser steep learning curve. What surprises me here is that they also feel the need to get their baptization approved by the seemingly “mature” class. I thought to pen down something for those who live their lives with the tag of “dumb” and yet keep their ship afloat in the repeated Tsunamis that come.<br /><br /><br />Perhaps, it has been extremely difficult for a human mind to accept the dumbness as a reality that is as beautiful and innocent as the drops of dew. This barometer of intelligence discards all the virtues and all the other different pearls of wisdom that God must have dropped in the chosen few minds remain unexplored. So many virgins die so young. And in these countless deaths, die the buds of those areas of wisdom that perhaps even God could not have ever imagined !!! <br /><br /><br />In the continuous war between the dumbness of matured and maturity of the dumb minds, I find myself perplexed. I am definitely not the one who can decide which side will win, but what I can see is that both sides are increasingly getting “dumbed”. I find education failing miserably in giving a shoulder to the one who followed it religiously. For it is the one whom he thought will come to his rescue and it is the very same that he wants now to disassociate with. <br /><br /><br />Why are people so vulnerable? Why do not their identities give sufficient cushion that does not ask for any reinforcement? Is it necessary to achieve something to get that peace and solace of mind, because if yes, this target setting will go on till the last breaths of life. <br /><br /><br />Imagine how beautiful it is to say “I am dumb, comfortably dumb”. <br />“Kar Lo Jo Karna Hai”<br /><br /><br />Well this is something I have a strong belief in since my graduation days. I still laugh out loud at them when I act stupid and they call me “dumb”, for it is fine with me to act stupid and this is irrespective of its frequency as well. For this is me and if I will not respect it, who will? And since then the amplitude of shocks have gone down and I find myself flowing in tides, repeatedly and smoothly.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-11503634140009246302010-01-03T15:32:00.000-08:002010-01-03T15:49:47.056-08:00My two cents on 3 idiotsLet me first clearly define the “good cinema”. It is the one that takes me closer to reality, and if I wish my world to be fictional, a virtual reality is also acceptable. The movie’s basic philosophy is to force the youth to emphasize on what they wish to do and unfetter themselves from the seemingly unbreakable chains of mark. “Success will follow the excellence” is the mantra which it wants to propagate. Throughout my college life and even today, there was nothing in which I have believed more. However, there was always a great sense of admiration and respect for those who sacrifice their present to build the future of their families and to me, it is an acceptable way of life. And this is where the film starts getting everything wrong.<br /><br />The characters in the film are someone, whom today’s youth can easily identify with. My most of the friends will concur with me that in reality, the shades are skewed towards black end of the spectrum and toppers do keep leveraging their marks at every stage. Caricaturizing them (referring to Chatur) so brutally is blasphemous as this takes the viewer miles away from the reality, only to find himself in the same dark well a couple of hours later, when wisdom finally dawns upon him. And as if this was not enough, can you ever imagine, leave apart seen, any modern maverick (alluding to Mr. Khan) topping the exams without doing the route learning, getting 400 patents and holidaying in Ladakh!!<br /><br />Cinematically, I am highly disappointed. They got the cast completely wrong. Amir Khan comes across as the most mature personality in the industry and in fact, I can even compare him to Mr. Bachan on this. When Amir philosophizes the message, you assimilate it from a person you consider very balanced and here is where it starts loosing the hand of reality. (Think again, when you see him telling to abandon studying for marks, don’t you confuse him with the professor of “<span style="font-style:italic;">Taare zameen par</span>”. For instance, the analogy of Farhanitrate and prerajulisation resembles the one Amir used to explain Ishan Awasthi’s dyslexia to his father). To add to this agony, he maintains his calm and cool composure in every situation, be it paralytic attack of his friend’s father or somebody’s delivery. For instance, you find him in jolly mood, when a mother is anticipating that her child is probably dead. (And the reason for this is that Mr. Khan was extremely scared to look younger and went completely out of context. He has no concern for the parents of his friends and in his constant effort to look younger, he even mocks at them while arguing, which was so much against his personality). Turning to Madhavan, ask yourself what words come to your mind when you think about him. He perhaps, acted relatively more balanced !! (Though I guess it was a deliberate attempt to make look Amir younger and focus on him entirely). I fail to see the naivety everywhere in the movie, which I know these budding engineers have (the kind of stuff that you associate with Raju)<br /> <br />Though I commend on the team’s ability to identify what needs to be shown for rejuvenating engineer’s memories, yet the execution failed miserably. For instance, the scene in which the trio is having the drinks on the stairs and is discussing about each others’ weaknesses is so true to the reality but it seems so artificial that it completely turns you off. But then why was it such an instant hit?<br /><br />The reality is everyone is frustrated on the road and people long those days when life used to seem so promising and was fun filled. For three hours, one just forgets the reel world and simply dives into his own real world where he was playing those very same roles. As I mentioned, the movie gives you ample shocks to come out from those past memories, but one wants to remain unperturbed. <br /><br />More importantly, a lot of attention has been paid to “<span style="font-style:italic;">masalafise</span>” the movie which actually overshadows all the pitfalls. So, one can do sightseeing in Shimla, Manali, ladakh etc. “<span style="font-style:italic;">Alls is well</span>” was when it touches the height. Can one ever imagine a young baby giving a stroke on listening to Amir’s new movie’s mantra. But yes, it strikes instant chord with the Indian masses, who easily fall for these traps. You see, there was a magic in “<span style="font-style:italic;">Jadoo ki Jhappi</span>” as it was given by a character that came in the movie with a life’s experience with him. How can a young engineer reweave the same magic, as is being done here? And I just held my head in my hands when I saw a reputed company offering a job on the candid behavior of the candidate, even after recognizing that it will not gel well with their diplomatic culture. To add another flavor to this badly prepared cocktail, a bride plans to run right from the mandap to jump directly into the car.<br /><br />I leave up to you all to reconsider your decision if this movie was a runaway success because of its theme and marketing, or if it truly deserves as what Mr. Khan’s rest of the movies do. The part I though liked was the sound of the water in the end of the movie, sound of the bluish river of Ladakh, so pure, unadulterated condemning the very those who were holidaying there. Amen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-87754601884679704482009-10-24T07:45:00.000-07:002009-10-24T07:51:39.701-07:00Partha and his puppies(This is a story of a person who laid his life in the social and economic upliftment of the downtrodden among dogs. For this noble cause, many came and went but one who undoubtedly stood steadfast was this great man.)<br /><br />Outcasted by the society in the early childhood for his unconventional love, he decided to submit himself at the mercy of his puppies, the bare touch of whose used to bring tears in his eyes. Such was the obsession that during visits to a temple, he often used to give alms based on the species to which one belonged. There were times when he had a real fight with those who used to abuse others by calling them dogs. The youngster in his early childhood sensed the prevalent malaise and started taking efforts to eliminate it. <br /><br />And this was further heightened when he was gifted a pair of puppies on his birthday. He couldn’t have thanked the mother of those puppies anymore!! He named them: Puru and Paro. <br /><br />Time moved on and Puppies of Partha grew up. The former became mature but the fatherly love of Partha remained pure, unadulterated but immature. In fact he started caring them every now and then. The grownups started getting embarrassed and wanted him to take care of his own matters. The relationship got seriously affected when Partha started peeping into their love lives and keeping a watch if they are crossing the lines. This was completely unacceptable to both as they argued what right he had when he did not have any such life of his own. This shook Partha completely and tears kept flowing out on that long night.<br /><br />Disillusioned by his growing insane deeds, Puru, the elder one decided to search a girl for Partha. Though he knew what he was getting into, yet there seemed no way out. He asked Paro to persuade her friends’ masters to consider this proposal for this kind hearted person. <br /><br />Interestingly, Partha was quite a celebrity in their community and it was eagerly looking forward to repay for his love and affection. In fact, he was respected to such an extent that all the new born puppies were supposed to take a hug by him within the first week of their birth. And all the tears that used to come in his eyes were distributed as Prasada. And as if this was not enough, any swear that is taken in his name needs to be honored or else the poor fellow was given capital punishment!!<br /><br />With most of the young girls sharing a strong relationship with their puppies, it seemed that Partha would finally find his love of life. But great people have their own style and attitude. <br /><br />Thanks to Puru’s efforts, offers were raining in Partha’s house and for a moment, it seemed that the obedient son will finally get success. But Partha blatantly refused to accept the offer. He was deeply touched by his dog looking for a bride for him and could not handle the societal shame and ignominy of sharing his love with a human; for which a different species has been given the exclusive rights.<br /><br />Time further moved on and today he is an 80 year old person. I, Ashish, a human being is deeply touched by his sacrificial life and has almost completed the interview. His story should be a lesson for those who cannot love “out of the box” and remain cocooned in their age old customs. He has vociferously fought to get them recognized for their unconditional love and has even given lectures in various Universities in the field of humanization of dogs (and vice versa). After gathering some courage, I asked him a last question.<br /><br />“Do you see a dog in you?”<br /><br />To this, he passed a contemptuous smile and I sensed him taking considerable pride in answering in affirmative. He answered it with a surge of emotions.<br /><br />“While I can see the sharp sarcasm in your question, if I wish I do not need to answer. However, it is this ingrained pro-human thought that has kept me forlorn all my life. You see, the humanity has been so Machiavellian that it has coined the most cunning ways to malign the image of a community that has worked assiduously for ages. While we have laws that send you to jails if you mistreat any human being, we are found highly callous when it comes to this very community. (For next sentence, his voice started shaking) At the same time, while the government brings so many pro poor reforms, it shoots the stray dogs.”<br /><br />Seeing me completely absorbed in making notes with a smile that was getting longer and longer, he stopped. At this, I thought to give him some more fodder for my article and asked him what he will like to inscribe on his graveyard. After a long thought, he said,<br />“One who spoke for those who barks”<br />My disappeared smile reappeared.<br /><br />While interviewing him, I was touched by many dogs and puppies and some even dared to lick my face. Sensing a strong urge to take a bath, I left for my home and hence, I put my pen down here.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-27228146142952060922009-09-28T02:06:00.000-07:002009-09-28T02:12:30.836-07:00What to do with Ravana?Once again, I can see a lot of money spending in immolating the Great Villian of Ramayan, RAVANA. Time and again, I have showed my deep respect to this vintage hero requesting authorities not to humiliate such a learned person in public and that too, year after year. Recently, in one of my meetings with the Chief Minister of Delhi, I got the assurance that she will raise the issue in the parliament and will even ask for a CBI inquiry for the commoditization of the personality that has entertained us for ages. <br /><br /><br />I am quite sure that this matter may seem trivial to you but the truth remains that Indian culture cannot be a party to something which proliferates the sense of disparagement. After discussing with a lot of pundits, it seems that the poor fellow is being punished for teasing wife of Ram. Now may I ask us, what moral right we all have, when we ourselves have been indulged in one or other such shameless instances in the past (And this question is insensitive to your gender). The truth is that your first crush must have come in class I. The seemingly unforgivable act was, perhaps a harbinger of things to come. Had Ram acted sanely and taken appropriate measures, things would have been resolved then and there.<br /><br /><br />While I was discussing this with Ms. Dikshit, she seemed to be unable to control her laughter and was asking for a deeper analysis of the situation. Now, I am not that stupid to understand the subtleties of such diplomatic gestures and therefore maneuvered my stance to another direction.<br /><br /><br />I recommended that instead of honoring him in parks and other places; let us show our deep respect by placing him in any of the routes on which Blue Line buses operate. It will be a sheer delight for the public to see two Ravanas fighting each other, devourment of any will bring the much needed respite. Ms. Dikshit was in tears with a sheer mention of this thought and expressed her gratitude for thinking so much about Delhi’s public.<br /><br /><br />This encouraged me to broaden my thinking and I then thought of another innovative way of honoring the cult personality. I suggested of simply putting him on the Arunachal border and waiting for Chinese to claim that Ravana was a Chinese. Now, a claim of this magnitude will demand a complete revamp of slightly less than a dozen faces and every face should be in coherence with the great story attached with it. Now, you and I know that the Indian stories of Ramayana are so long and perplexing that this work will be sufficient enough to divert their attention. At this, Ms. Dikshit gave me a standing ovation and immediately offered me to join politics. I again sensed her satirical tone and humbly refused to accept the offer citing the position of National Security Advisor as my dream post. <br /><br /><br />Though many such offers have come by my way, I have never forgotten to be humble and concentrated on the larger issues, such as these. It still pains me to see the pitiful condition of Ravana, yet I am going to Dussehra ground to at least empathize with this lone personality.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-80857237969002651122009-07-30T08:18:00.000-07:002009-07-30T08:22:00.706-07:00The music of mindAll throughout my life, it has been others who have decided my course of action. I have been so weak that though I claim to fight the Rocky Mountains, yet I have never able to fight them. And these decision makers have always been there. They are still with me and they never leave me, perhaps I never let them go.<br /><br />The symphonies they play bring excruciating pain and yet I crave to listen more. The rhythms are always out of sync with my frequency and yet resonations occur. In the orchestra of these countless musicians, I wish to play the role of the conductor. But it is never about the depth of the music I can produce, it has always been the arrogance that I can portray in front of my musicians that gives me the honor of holding that stick. <br /><br />I wish I can fly away. To a world that is waiting for someone to write the new notes of the music of the mind. This will be the music in which every note will symbolize an emotion; every human will be free to act as a conductor with each note carrying a story of his own emotion, the purest one. There shall not be any dependence on others to create the music. The symphonies will elevate the starving souls to the higher orbit and minds will resonate in sync, despite each having its own frequency. For the bliss will not be in achieving resonance, but in getting thousands of frequencies giving something like mass pleasure.<br /><br />And there shall the soul rest in peace. Amen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-4376960696791989632009-07-30T07:51:00.000-07:002009-07-30T08:14:10.318-07:00Romanticizing the griefIt has always been the grief that has kept me grounded and I never forget that I am just another human being. Yes, I am someone who can traverse boundaries hopping many Himalayas in search of truth and yet I am someone who does not know the purpose of my existence. This grounded person accepts his vulnerability to the external shocks and the non availability of any refuge after the hardships. He also understands the shallowness of his intellect and at the same time, appreciates his past experience of devising his own theories of this philosophical life.<br /><br />As a close accomplice, the grief has mesmerized me with its sheer prowess in showing new selves of mine. Every journey is started by a cursed traveler who on the way finds his age old accomplice and then time just flies off. On reaching the destination, the sudden enlightenment and the feeling of swimming through decades of learning keeps bringing me closer to it. <br /><br />They say that wisdom is the daughter of life lived through varied experiences. I feel myself breathing and really alive when I am swept through this rapid of emotional experiences. The stimulation gives a high that is irresistible.<br /><br />Mind you, the urge may become very high yet it has its own limitation. And this is something that I have learnt over a period of time. Life is just like that elastic band, which seems to be stretchable to unimaginable extent. And therein lies the trap and we engulf ourselves in the rapid torrents of elation and sorrowfulness. My friend grief, can only give you the yield to resist that extra stretch but it cannot give you the much needed infinite elasticity. It asks you not to push oneself too hard or you will buckle.<br /><br />Who will develop that extra yield is something I have left for the time to decide. Perhaps, there is no one. Or may be I know who he is. The cognitive dissonance, though very evident, yet keeps eluding me in my search of such answers.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-77409879636077421412009-06-26T01:11:00.000-07:002009-06-26T01:16:52.398-07:00Tryst with MyselfA spell of contentment often gets me carried away to a unique distant island. I am no more at the mercy of my contemporaries and lay my hands off at whatever I feel like. This simple freedom from the clutches of the self developed emotions, whose reins I have voluntarily chosen to give in their hands, is my aphrodisiac. And I romanticize with myself.<br /><br />I let all the tides overpower me with their vehement force, yet I keep craving for more. They challenge me and I keep getting subdued. They bring the water beneath my feet, take the sand along with them, and shake my foundation. In this bout of amazement, I keep trying to assess the strength of this ocean, thinking if something as silent as this can be so mighty and so deafening.<br /><br />Spreading my both arms I stroll on the shores. And when I find myself whistling, I test all the vocal chords by singing a few classical songs. For, these songs are mine, I am singing them, I am giving soul to them and above all I am the audience. The encore is deafening. But the birds in my head keep flying. They do not sit on one tree. The more they love one, the more beautiful becomes others.<br /><br />So, I let myself take a pause and sit down. My hands have not laid themselves on anything from a long time. And the bird leaves the old tree. I take out my charcoal pencil and a white sheet. Looking around, I find everything complicated with intricate details. But there is this, a small stone lying nearby. Is it beautiful? A vehement no. I go close to it and observe. This little fellow seems to be coming from that mountain which I was about to sketch. I was in awe of it and this is a highly unimportant part. Honoring it will be a dishonor to me. But can I honor the mighty mountain? Let me then deal with my equal. And on the barren landscape, the pencil starts making contours of it depicting its mountain like and stone like features. <br /><br />The more I break myself free, more the self gets sublimated. I want to go back to the real world, which in reality is virtual. I take out a book of Dr. Rushdie and get myself drowned in his ancestral problems and issues. For, I am dreaming a dream of somebody who is a bigger dreamer than I am. There is a thread that connects his characters and objects and he keeps pulling one or the other part only to leave some as happy while others sad. And I aspire to get this control in my own play of characters and objects, with me also playing a role though the one who is observing them all sharing some of their agonies and pleasure. <br /><br />The bird wishes to hop to some other tree. And indeed this is the most beautiful tree it has ever seen. Once again a white sheet is taken out, but along with a pen. This time, there is nothing in this world that holds my attention. I blind myself, hold my own hand and look for the shafts of light. There are some but not enough to dazzle me. I get tripped, gather my courage and then stand again to search. Suddenly there is a flash in the sky. The light blinds me completely and I find my pen starting its’ hours long journey. My characters dance in the praise of feeling this eternal pleasure, objects create symphonies and rhythms never heard before and in this bliss, I dive never to come to the surface and only to go in the eternal search of the bottom of this ocean of emotions.<br /><br />I don’t want to come to your world. Amen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-5514861053470747132009-05-11T15:16:00.000-07:002009-05-11T15:19:26.370-07:00Poor Boys !!There is one thing that has always amused me and I am quite confident that it will keep amusing the future generations as well. It is about the plight of my great clan, which destiny has purposefully decided or I will say conspired, so that I can be a part of it. However, after seeing the miserable condition of the male youth which has now turned to a do or die situation, I have no other option but to raise my voice. And therefore, through this medium, I implore you brothers!! Come and unite, we shall march together to redraw the lines.<br /><br /><br />After traversing 24 years of my life and seeing all this happening right in front of my eyes, it has become unbearable for me not to fight out the injustice meted out to my brothers. I have been made to wake up in the middle of the night, countless number of times with my friends telling me, that a girl has finally asked for their number, a girl has started a conversation, a girl has written a testimonial for them and finally a girl, by some remotest possibility of luck, has touched them. Their eyes keep wandering and it is an endless journey where they simply refuse to settle. After all, where they have not searched them? Starting with the holiest temples, loneliest parks to the busiest malls, they seem to keep setting their foot in every possible area. But it would have been still manageable if they had stopped here. In their unending pursuit, if they somehow find a one, they will start following locating all her whereabouts on a map with a precision that I am sure Israeli military can use in their GPS systems. And in their nomadic life, they forget their parents, brothers, sisters and above all, intelligent people like me!!! And all this sacrifice leads to few pious drops of salty water, with the convicted even ignorant of any crime being committed.<br /><br /><br /><br />But the worst has not been told. When after all of their unsuccessful adventures, they finally feel defeated, they then turn to their own brotherhood and just to keep themselves titillating with the same feeling, they ferociously attack their male counterparts charging them with something that I cannot mention here. And in this game, poor souls who had not been able to venture into this foolish game, generally become the targets (probably their behavior shows a softness and tenderness that these young machos were desperately willing to feel!!). <br /><br /><br /><br />Let me ask a few questions. <br /><br />Why do only girls have the right to show attitude and at the same time, why modesty has been so sacrosanct to my clan? I hereby challenge the word “chivalry”!!<br /><br />If you had not been completely blind, you must have observed that invariably, all the houses and all the corporate offices are being run by women, with male being the nominal head. Doesn’t this reflect too bad on us, considering the conventional wisdom that male is the stronger counterpart? Imagine, had we been considered as softer ones, what would have been our plight today. I am sure you must have said to yourself that they would have crushed us under their foot !!<br /><br />Even if you would have been blind I am sure you must not have missed the significant evolutionary difference between the fashion of the two sexes. What is that that you and me can wear to look good? Don’t think much as there is nothing more than trousers or jeans with a shirt. And if you look at them, your jaw I assume must have started falling by now. And if that was not enough, they have the liberty to wear it to their level of comfortability. Now why, society has given this freedom of wearing less only to them? Don’t you want to look good? I hope you must have now reconsidered your decision to wear to your level of comfortability. <br /><br /><br /><br />Brothers !! I know I must have brought you into tears by now. But this is in benefit of not only you and me but for our male children as well. I am sure they will never be more grateful to you for anything other than this. After all, this will give them a pride and confidence to relive a life without chasing them like rats as you had, all throughout your life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-27238439289107306832009-04-25T08:45:00.000-07:002009-04-25T08:48:58.455-07:00My sleep...(I wrote this to prison my memories of first few days at FMS...they call it as "induction period")<br /><br /><br />If I had been allowed to write “sleeping” as my hobby, I would have been doubly confident of clearing any management interview during my preparation. However, the world is strange and so are its rules. However, I always ensured that no matter what the situation is, I am always following what I love to do i.e. to sleep. <br /><br /><br />Not any longer, I guess. Unlike others, my biggest worry while entering into the hallowed portals of FMS was loosing my sleep. I thought of sleeping for some extra hours before joining the college but thanks to pre induction assignment, my smart plans were not materialized. However, I managed to sleep for a “comfortable” number of hours and was quite excited to see myself getting adapted to the new system. But destiny had some other plans in store for me. The first day at the college was marked by an acute shortage of sleep. While I was doing the pre induction assignment, I was continuously looking at my bed which was crying to take me in its arms and I started empathizing with it. The silence of night was whispering something and I was getting more and more confused. Finally, I decided to take a break and take a bath for a short time in the eternal bliss of, “sleep”. But as it was destined, I got drowned only to wake up at 7.<br /><br /><br />And the second day started with a big yawn. I really wonder if it was the appropriate start for a business school student. All throughout the lecture, my mouth was breaking its last record of the maximum volume of oxygen that can be taken. Finally, I woke up to the call of my body and decided to sleep. I lowered my head and allowed the eyes to have it. And I slept for entire 5 minutes. Just then somebody asked a question and I thought of kicking him right where he deserved but the class decorum forced me to think otherwise. Then after taking a “deep breath”, I went on for another long journey. <br /><br /><br />For the next few days, all of my prayers to God to let me sleep for some hours went unanswered. Yes, I lost my faith in God and decided to complete the work in advance to earn those coveted hours of “sleep”. But my weak shoulders were not geared to handle the pressure of this mountain of write ups. And I crumbled. I slept on the third night despite having a number of assignments to be completed and paid off the appropriate fine. But, I must say, the sleep was worth it. Perhaps it was more than the fine and much more than anything else in this world, as it was “my sleep”.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-6965773799512034812009-04-20T15:23:00.000-07:002009-04-20T15:26:31.285-07:00In pursuit of CAT…This is a true story of one of my friends. A story, of a person whose life’s fun got sublimated by the fire of the CAT’s dragon. <br /><br /><br />After passing from one of the reputed institutes of the country Ravi was looking ahead for a career he had always dreamt of. Oh! This reminds me of those days when you can find our little Ravi selling his teacher’s pen to the class while the latter was busy in taking the practical tests in the lab. Completely unaware of the fact that his little entrepreneurial venture has been caught by the owner of the pen, he enthusiastically kept on persuading the people to test his product. In the end, he faced the wrath while the class enjoyed the drama but that didn’t stop his newfound adventurial spirits, for he started selling again!!<br /><br /><br />If there was something that used to give adrenaline push, it was his own PJs, skillfully crafted with a complete plan of how to irritate the other person to the last possible extent. He and his gang of 7 guys whom he used to proudly lead were known for eating your brains and chewing your grey matter with panache. <br /><br /><br />And yes, he was a brand conscious person. Nothing less than a bag of Nike will do and if that is still less, he plans to buy a BMW. He has some other plans, if you are interested. He used to buy 3 pairs of shirts and trousers from Van Hussein every month. But his first love was the party wear, which if you allow, he can come wearing at your funeral.<br /><br /><br />He was spending his life in the circles of smoke and his imaginations used to wander with them in the vast blue sheet traversing one horizon to the other. He just dreamt of one dream: NOTHING.<br /> <br /><br />And lo! Here I entered in his life with my dream of becoming youknowwhat (see “in pursuit of more”). I always looked at him with contempt, for the people with low aspirations are like slum people for me, no matter whether you have it or not, you would not make it. But to flaunt, I started those intellectual and philosophical discussions in which I swim day in and day out. And he was impressed, damn impressed. <br /><br /><br />While he started looking up to me, I finally decided to take a pity on him. And then started the stories of glory of the managers of IIMs etc and how they earned million bucks. While I was selling him his new dreams, I was least bothered whether he will ever reach up to that level. “It won’t be difficult for you. After all, you are an engineer. DI and Maths can be done at the sleight of your hand. Just improve your English.” <br /><br /><br />And that day Ravi dreamt. He dreamt of a person working hard, burning “MIDNIGHT OIL”, and then joining that elite roll. And he has been dreaming it, dreaming that way since that day. He has stopped laughing, chirping and even selling. Cocooning himself in an attire of marketer, a war has started and he keeps wounding himself every now and then. Ask someone like me, I can recognize those wounds. They show themselves in Ravi not cracking those PJs, not carrying Nike’s bags and if that was not enough, not making those circles of smoke on whose voyage I never dared to volunteer. They are showed when he calls me to inform me about the work at the office that is breaking him from within. He simple does not like the work. So did I. <br /><br /><br />And despite my repeated attempts to assure him that MBA does not change much, I am not listened anymore. He asks me repeatedly, “Will I be able to make it? Will I be able to handle the pressure of their academia?” To hell with it.<br /><br /><br />What is the use of such a degree that makes the life of most of the people so miserable and a heavenly one for a very few of them? I had seen not ones, tens but hundreds of people solving AIMCATS, SIMCATS and all those mock CATS on their weekends, on those few days of sunshine in one’s life. And as expected, when they do not go well, they start the new week all over again with a raised expectation that this time it won’t be the same again. And the beautiful years of bachelorhood of one’s life are spent in the dreams of a wonder land. The beautiful evenings of Sundays are taken over by the analysis of the mock CATS in understanding why I did the way I did. Insane.<br /><br /><br />Was dreaming low, so punishable, I still ask myself. Wasn’t my contempt against his contentment? Can I smile and laugh the way he used to, even today? Questions and questions. Answerless ones and answerable ones. Sometimes, I feel like to run away, run to touch those clouds of smoke, run to touch those careless laughter, run to touch my own soul and just check if I really exist or if it is just an aspiration that is waiting for a time to get fulfilled. Amen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-23133486531955087352009-03-30T11:59:00.000-07:002009-03-30T12:02:39.632-07:00In my pursuit of more...It has been a long walk now. And when I look back, the past seems to be hazier than the future. What was that I was searching and running all this while? In my unobtrusive sleep, I dreamt of becoming a big man. How big, I don’t know. The packages seem to be getting smaller and smaller and I am getting more and more desperate shifting every now and then in my sleep. The more I grow old, more is my urge to become young, immature. Is the wisdom dawning upon me or am I starving more than ever?<br />When was the last time I started writing like this, carelessly, aimlessly, hopping from one world to another? That calm and composed self used to welcome the withdrawn person and the two used to chirp, sing, dance, and laugh holding each other’s hands. I still search for him. Where are you? I haven’t woken up.<br />That childhood friend of mine seems to be lost somewhere in the race of becoming a big man. How I used to spend hours lying under his blue umbrella wondering what would have been going, on the other end of the horizon. That overwhelming feeling of being the owner of that vast sheet allowing only circles and a few sparkling objects to encroach and make their huts, still haunts me. And in that aimless tour, I used to revolve my index finger estimating the area I possess. Why on the earth, I have grown old?<br />And when in some primary classes of Delhi, a newfound love was trying to establish its foot and in their complete unawareness of this psychotic world, the two birds used to exchange glances even without knowing the reason behind them. And when that little princess obliged me and sat beside me, I got the chance to look at her small tender hands and fingers, some of them trembling. And when she looked at me, I never realized that it was the time to freeze and take millions of snapshots as every shot is worth living million lives. But I was busy in dreaming to become a big man.<br /><br />And when a friend of mine knocks the door hoping that I will come, I search for the back door to run and take a safe haven to continue my dream unobtrusively. How our aimless march in our unknown world can make you forget the march of the military as ours was a carefree, meaningless life where we often took flights to different worlds but in complete resonance. Why I do not get tired of shifting myself in this long sleep?<br /><br />And today, when my mother stand beside me feeling proud of the wonderful son she is gifted, I feel I have perhaps sacrificed for her and my future. But when she looks at me asking for the same exchanging of glances we had 25 years ago, when I was completely unaware of my relationship with her, I remind her cost she and me have to pay to become, youknowwhat. Isn’t it enough or at least sufficient and if not what will then be?<br /> <br />I fear asking questions. It seems they don’t have any answers. Perhaps, I will never get them as I know what they are and that is a pity which I fear I will take to my deathbed. Amen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-20395759643570596402009-02-13T11:49:00.000-08:002009-02-13T11:51:27.025-08:00Eternal truth<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> 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table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"> One of the major complexities I am trying to solve is if whether the shades of life really are greyish or is it the result of the man’s nature to find the shortest route to the most challenging questions. Simply put, it has always been easy for the people to terminate the discussions on “IT DEPENDS”. So, if righteousness of everything is incumbent on the individual’s upbringing, it should have been very easy for each one of us to justify the most indefensible acts. And also, where will you then find any room for the least understood drivers of humanity viz. contemplation and thereafter, self reprimand that helps us in analyzing the acts objectively. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">This philosophy of the eternal truth sometimes makes things very complicated. It has always been easy to finally settle for the grey shades but for a black and white world, you need to strip off your prejudices and stereotypes which inadvertently will be amalgamated in your objectively analyzed problem. It is here, that extreme prudence needs to be shown and the impossibility of error free solution is the aphrodisiac for those for whom shores of the seas are dangerous areas.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Let me put it in another perspective. In case you believe in God, you can safely assume that he cannot set different criteria for different people. The rational mind given to the human being is of no use if he takes refuge under his past circumstances as there will hardly be any difference between him and an inanimate object whose physical strength is decided by what has been done by the external circumstances to it. Even if you are an atheist, take the case of films. As an external individual, how do you analyze a character? You rarely give him the benefit of the circumstances (unless you find yourself in the similar situation) and thus the person is analyzed without any prejudices. </p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-47640772944302326882008-03-31T10:00:00.001-07:002008-03-31T10:00:49.223-07:00To The Unknown...........When I used to look at stars in my childhood, I used to think that destiny had conspired and put them beyond my reach. But the same destiny conspired once again to put all those stars in one person and obliged me to take the hand of that person. And when that moonlight used to soothe my feelings I used to wonder whether there is anything whose light can dim moonlight. That day, when I saw you, I felt as if the moon itself has come on earth and asking you to show the path for him.<br /><br />Oh! Dear! Your smile pulls the soul out of me and it starts flying around you. It tries to touch your lips gently, fearing as if it can burst the beautiful bubble. And when your eyes blink, life seems to me moving in pulses where I find myself getting birth and dying continuously. And when you pull the knot out of your hair and lean your head backwards in order to let them dance, I feel as if the winds of romance start blowing and hammering my heart. And when you lean towards me and I get a chance to see how you breathe, I wish to freeze that moment and let you and myself spend whole of our lives in that freezing position.<br /> Dear! I just wish to keep myself swimming in the ocean of love where I see a lot of fishes and when I see my starfish, I feel the currents of ocean pushing me away from you so that the final pleasure of touching you becomes unbearable. And in this beautiful journey of mine where all roads and their destination end on you, I wish I can hold you beside my seat for just a bit longer duration that can last till the last breathe of my life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-45951942933302250962008-03-31T09:58:00.000-07:002008-03-31T09:59:57.000-07:00Truth of His HolinessThe annexation of Tibet by Britishers in the early 20th century to contain Czarist forces was not something uncommon in those days. But nobody felt the sliding of the plates underneath the China-Tibetan border. Tremors of the earthquake were felt recently in the wake of Olympics going to be held in China in October 2008<br /><br />China has gifted the highest roof of the world with the highest railway in the world. With the opportunity of participating in China's growth story, Tibet has indeed come a long way. With the abandonment of slash and bury technique of farming and switch over to modern ways of farming, development has not left any corner of the country. However, the dark side of the story is the social and cultural disintegration through which the country underwent during Cultural Revolution. But the question to be asked is whether Tibetans are in euphoric or gloomy mood. If they are satisfied, then let vested interests keep fishing in the troubled waters, China knows how to handle them. However, Tibetans are extremely spiritual people for whom the fabric of development is immersed in the red color of their Dalai Lama. It will be not an exaggeration if I tantamount it to illiteracy and poverty which they had seen for the last 100 years and prevented them to see the other side of the story.<br /><br />It will not be entirely futile to evaluate Dalai Lama’s decisions and their impact on his people. When he fled away to set up a government in exile in Dharamshala, India took a big risk and laid the condition of not using Indian soil for any anti-seccesionary activities. However, the blatant violation by the Noble Peace Prize winner is an open secret. He even seeked UN assistance for Tibetan autonomy much against the wishes of J.L.Nehru. And to add another feather in his peace loving cap, he colluded with CIA to train people to resist Chinese oppression.<br /><br />Things start settling if one dives a bit deeper. Dalai Lama asks for an autonomous Tibet whose defense and foreign affairs will be in the hands of China. He even wants Tibet to be divided into four provinces, thus dividing it ethnically. Now, Tibet forms a quarter of China’s territory and demands like these are a direct assault on the country’s sovereignty. The comparison with Hong Kong, Makau and Taiwan is irrelevant as they have germinated from different books of the history.<br /><br />Incidentally, the Indian response in this context is a slightly less balanced one. Though we have reiterated, time and again, our stance on Tibet and prohibited the meeting of Dalai Lama with any of our senior leader, the appeasement of US keeps taking the sanity out of Indian diplomacy occasionally. Allowing Ms. Pelosi and Dalai Lama to meet and issue a statement on Indian soil is, in fact, quite hypocritical. What right does India, and for that matter US, have when in its own backyard, the integrity of army operations in J & K and in N.E. states have not been entirely unquestionable. More so, when China has taken the Indian side on both the issues. Perhaps, it could have been given as a good token for diplomacy on the unresolved issue of Arunachal Pradesh., in future.<br /><br />The indisputable fact that no country has recognized Tibet as an autonomous state, will take time for Dalai Lama to reconcile with. Nonetheless, a secular country like China welcomes Dalai Lama with open arms. With Tibetans getting a holistic development under the shade of Chinese banyan tree, what more can he ask for than to just guide his followers spiritually.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-18831482153715180612007-12-19T11:25:00.000-08:002007-12-19T11:26:59.353-08:00storyIt was a usual day, as usual as it has always been. With every day passing by, it was getting more and more painful for him. She was standing all alone in the same black T-shirt, as short as it could have been. All through these years how she has allowed him to see that small bright zone is a mystery.<br /><br />She saw those radiating parts in his eyes. He sighed heavily. Releasing the birds, he felt light and moved towards her. She was growing pale.<br /><br />“Will you mind talking with me?” He finally asked her.<br />She pulled her T-shirt down and let some birds free.<br /><br />“I hate minding and talking.”<br /> She looked straight into his eyes for an answer. His eyes had said it all long before he could muster some courage to frame a few sentences.<br /><br />He sat on a chair and took his head into his hands.<br /><br />“The day I saw you, sculptor in my soul didn’t abstain himself from laying his hands on such a masterpiece. While I was relishing your freely flowing motions, that sculptor was busy in giving life to the stone. Those sporadic bursts of your laughter used to make both of us forget our existence. Pulling out of knot from the hair and that cascading of black waterfall used to blow the winds of romance. Those winds had sharply cut that idol to bring out the same emotions from its figure.<br /><br />Oh! Dear! That continuous pulling of your T-shirt has kept me glued to those pictures of high illuminosity. Yes, I have requested my soul to bring out this illuminescence in the whole sculpture. That thin round line of pink cloth you used to show under the radiating zone is the road on which I had wandered aimlessly for miles and miles for hours and hours.<br /><br />That belly I die to see used to be on auction when you used to jump. In that small little cave, I had hibernated for months rolling here and there. I hate to tell this but I don’t need you. You are as lively in my imaginations as you are in reality. Sculpture has been completed and I play with her. Often she and my soul play, laugh, eat and even sleep together.”<br /><br />She withdrew her eyes never to look back.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-47839423094536789932007-12-18T11:35:00.001-08:002007-12-18T11:40:05.046-08:00THE MOTHERsome people live the life completely but very few live in moments. She lives in those when i come across her glare of light and then afraid of blinking her two mini cameras she takes millions of photos in a second. Unaware of coming into sudden limelight i find myself completely exposed.<br /><br />i asked her once<br />how was it to stay with me for so many months<br />to be gifted with honour of producing someoone<br />she said, its a heaven on earth for once<br /><br />her affection and compassion<br />24*7 complete deviotion<br />i gifted her, she recalls<br />when voice box just worked hard to say 'ma' with full emotion<br /><br />and when i used to sneeze<br />suddenly somewhere some heart gets freezed<br />and that doctor of mine<br />kept serving me nine to nine<br /><br />seldom do two souls talk with words<br />but our breathes free those birds<br />which captivates those motions with emotions<br />fly coyly to led them have their premonitions<br /><br />an arom of gloom creeps in<br />when a hard blow is given on face for some sin<br />but to see me suffering within<br />she finally spreads her arms to let me in<br /><br />i see myself being sliced<br />she wants me to hold finger of my wife<br />for no cause she pulls her litttle finger<br />to push me away to another woman, why i wonderUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6848117204762617557.post-74607343700189051742007-12-18T11:29:00.000-08:002007-12-18T11:33:58.021-08:00psycotic minddont read me i will drive you crazy<br />i am neither sane nor i have lost my sanity<br /><br />hey this psychotic world of mine<br />where i and my soul often dine<br />whispering words of our divine<br />incomprehensible to the other each and every line<br /><br />Run, run away dont come near<br />self immolation is not for the weak to bear<br />sweat thus has to come in form of vapour<br />burnt minds of ours can never be your saviour<br /><br />all your sensory organs work with your mind<br />and i belong to the world where everyone is blind<br />i can see what i can never get to<br />but you cant what you an always get toUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0