Fear, heartbreak, listicles and more

Quality.. It's one word that's been driving the bourgeois population, specially the folks in the upper spectrum of the bourgeois population, absolutely crazy. I know this for a fact, purely out of personal experience. 

It's like this. We almost fall into the category of the pseudo elite. We're "there", or so to say, but somehow, we still aren't there. We're somehow caught up between the struggles of the everyday man, and the apparent superiority of the chaps "sitting" above. None of this sounds, or is, funny. But well, it isn't supposed to be. Who gives a fart anyway!
The point here being that the quality that we are promised for the premium we're charged, is a farce. That goes for the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the entertainment we consume, etc., etc., etc. That's it about farce and farts.

Moving on to the topics for the day...

#1- Fear and loathing of "last dates'...

"Hurry! Offer valid till stocks last!!" Everyone's heard that one. 

"Last date for course registration/ institute procedures.." My dear college folks, and all the chaps who have ever attended college of any form.. How these last dates have kept us  and the administration on our toes! All the stress that builds up because of procedures that need not necessarily be there, apart from the unnecessary additional complications that ensue the paraphernalia. What a waste!

A big chunk of things that we hold in high regard, are held in high regard because of the fear they induce, if apparently disregarded. Strange how this all pervading "Big-brotherly" entity taps into our human psyche, keeping a big chunk of us in perpetual fear and darkness.

Besides, unless you're going to die in an hour, the idea of a "last date" shouldn't even come to you. Ever!

#2- On college education. I, like a big chunk of us, am not big on studies. I've done fine, screwed up more than my fair share, and did so rather shamelessly because my dad's been rather cool about it, or rather has been very successful at covering up his anger and frustrations over my screw-ups, at least in front of me. I'm not saying that I've been a problem child. But living long enough with anyone, let alone living with someone for over two decades,  is a pain in the arse, be it with anyone. I'm glad that it's not just me. Yay!

But in four years of college, I can distinctly remember the things I've learned best. And not a single one has been academic in nature. A close friend of mine and I were discussing movies. That's when we realized that in the time we spent in college, the one thing we did learn is to appreciate movies, understand what to look for in them, and that IMDB isn't that good an indicator of how truly good a movie is. That's true about being able to better appreciate books too. For some of us, this skill can be extended to music too. 

Another thing I figured out is "Never want something too badly." I got this line from a book called "Yes Please"... It goes this way.

"You can be the best at making contacts, and going after jobs, but then suddenly you want it too much. Suddenly everybody realizes how badly you want it and they don't want to give it to you."- Amy Poehler

 #3- A thing about heartbreaks. Heartbreaks are painful. And they are long lasting. And they make you restless. And they give you sleepless nights. Or maybe the weather where I stay now is just BAD at night, for I wake up far too often nowadays. That too with a startle. It feels like engaging the car into first gear and releasing the clutch too early. Bad analogy. Anyway.

Yeah, so a heartbreak is a bitch. So is the female who broke your heart. But all the pain, agony and discomfort that come as accompaniment to a heartbreak pales in front of two words...

PENILE FRACTURE. The words send a shudder through every human who has a wiener. For some very convincing, but intangible reason, "Penile fracture" inherently sounds more painful in comparison to "heartbreak". "Penile fracture" sounds manly. Probably because it can only happen to a man. Penile fracture is a reality! Heartbreak sounds like something that is never physically happen. It remains something purely proverbial. Besides, you can't break a heart. Can you? Unless you dip your heart in liquid nitrogen, and then throw it at a wall, or something.

One much rather take a little pain in the.... heart than risk losing one's chances at allowing his genes to see the future. That is unless of course you are Bruce Willis from the movie "Unbreakable". In that case, your penis is fracture-proof. What am I saying??

#4- One more thing before the end of today's rant. 2 brains working together on a labor intensive task is a pure waste of intellectual capacity of one/both the brains involved. This is despite the idea sounding contrary to common sense. Just let one of the two people, preferably the boss, jabber away with the instructions, and the other deal with the execution. Because in case both the brains try solving the problem, 

a) The problem won't be solved at the end of the day

b) The smarter one will take an unnecessary blow to the ego. More often than not, the boss is not the smarter one. 

c) One is always, ALWAYS better off without the uncomfortable vibe that lingers after an ugly argument regarding whose idea was better at solving the problem at hand. 

Straightforward, right?

#5- And about listicles... who makes these things?

Funny... Maybe

Sense of humor is a gift. You either have it, or you don't. I don't. Or maybe I do, in parts, and I have no clue that I do. That's a very strange situation to be in. It's like this usually. You utter something, and everyone erupts into a fit of laughter, and you are perpetually left to wonder whether it was what you said that got the chaps around you to laugh, or was it that you looked stupendously stupid while saying what you said. To make yourself feel a little less confused about your situation, you think to yourself that you are finally turning a little funny. A little maybe.

I go about watching stand-up comedians on Youtube. I do realize that a lot of people go about doing the same thing. So it wouldn't help my case if I were to say that I'm trying to understand what makes these people funny, at least the ones who are funny. They talk about politicians, weird government policies, apparently recent developments, about which I have not a clue. Not a big fan of the newspapers or news channels. Specially when you have this one character shouting at the top of his voice over irrelevant issues, that have absolutely no bearings to your existence. Dad says that I should read the newspaper everyday. It's important for giving interviews, apparently. Hehe.

I guess I have an idea of what's funny. Truth is funny. It has a way of becoming starkly, and darkly and darkerly serious. For instance, here's an irrefutable truth. Ladies aren't funny. That's completely besides the fact that they suck at driving. I know that for a fact, because I've seen my sister while she was trying to learn how to drive. And more so, half the traffic jams are caused by a woman with poor sense of direction, who forgot that the left she was to take was three lefts behind. Women and sense of direction never went hand in hand, as far as evolution goes, I suppose.  I'm turning into a misogynist. 

Five minutes ago, my sister said that she wanted to buy a Kindle because she likes the screen savers on my Kindle when it is in the stand-by mode. I told her to buy a photo frame instead. I have a bum sister. She read this line and shouted "Shut up, bitch" so loud that the lady from the floor above came running downstairs to ask what had happened. Not funny. 

Back to truths. There is a way to make truths sound funny. That's probably true for everything that can be said. But anyway...

You see, if I tell you that I put a lot of my time, effort and peace of mind into pursuing a woman, who eventually went and had sex with some douche bag, it would sound like I might start crying any moment. If I look in the mirror, I'd look like this...

That me? Shit!

 And the douche bag must look like...

Yeah, screw you too! Literally!

And guys aren't supposed to get emotional. Alas!

I'm still confused if I'm making fun of my predicament, or that I'm bitter about it. What a confusing predicament. And now, I'm losing my stream of thought.

Sometimes, it is rather disturbing to realize the pettiness of things that get to us. Let alone the pettiness of things that get to me. Let me stop behaving like the world revolves around me. I know it does. But so do your, his, her and their worlds revolve around yourself, himself, herself, and themselves, if any of that makes sense. 

Two chaps made me cry when college got over. One was a guy who, for some reason, could never stand straight. He's 22 and has a hunch. The second chap, I'm too close to. Not like we've had anal sex, but we are very close. And I have o clue why I mentioned these two chaps. Maybe it's because I wanted to tell the world that I haven't had anal sex. Not that I'm anywhere close to wanting to have anal sex. I don't like the idea of having my boner covered in shit. I know I'm getting too graphic. But there's more to my imagination than meets the eye, apparently. I wonder if it has ever happened that someone took a shit while having a dick up his/her/someone's arse. Now, my thoughts are getting disturbingly sexual. I wonder why.

But think of this. So much has happened on our planet. Things that are probably beyond our piddly imaginations. Or at least, 99.99 % of what we have imagined so far, has already happened, let alone some guy/girl shitting on a chap's penis. 

That could well be someone's idea of a fetish, for all anyone knows. Cringe worthy! Another thing. If you have an idea that belongs to that 0.001 % of our un-manifested imagination, and haven't made SHIT-LOADS of money out of that idea already, entrepreneurship ain't your thing, buddy.

Imagine. each moment is a Pandora's box of possibilities. A multitude of parallel universes stem from each nanosecond that is passing. So from some universe, where you or I, or both don't exist, there could be another universe where what we are, could be left purely to our imagination. Crazy, right? Point being... Well, there's no point to this. That's what happens to your thoughts when you read books like "Crisis on Infinite" earths and "Parallel worlds". From anal sex to parallel universes. What a jump! It's as if someone's arsehole was a wormhole into another dimension. Wow! Did I just say that? That's about all I can think of after each line I write.
I'm still coming to grasps with the ability of the human mind to conjure up so much of everything. I doubt any one of us shall ever completely come to terms with this ability of ours.
The most I can hope  for, right now, is that the 30-year old version of myself from the future doesn't dis-own me for what I write. And that's not the best situation to be in.

More epiphanies

There's a certain amount of satisfaction, a sense of peace and tranquility in being shameless. Break the word down. SHAME-LESS. The word inherently implies an avoidance of situations where one might need to lower one's head. Besides, more often than not, shamelessness is simply another adjective used by us in general for people who express the truest version of themselves uninhibitedly. Shamelessness is a superpower of sorts. Specially because things said without an ounce of shame are irrefutable, if one cares to notice. Enough on the superiority of shamelessness over other qualities exhibited by man.

Couple of reasons why this quality comes to mind. 

I was struck by this realization rather recently. I'd screwed up a presentation in class. I didn't screw it. I didn't turn up to give it in the first place. That's how bad I screwed it. So you know how it is. If you don't do your homework, the teacher takes it upon himself to set you back on the path of righteousness. In the process, he tries to put you into a corner and whoop your arse. Well, he won't say that he's doing so. But you know that's his end-game. Not his fault either. He was dealing with a shameless chap after all. The shameless chap that didn't know that he was shameless. What a shame! (Wow! I'm getting good with these lines!)

So, this teacher, poor person, out of helplessness, asked me what I think I should be punished with, for not doing what I was supposed to. The righteous, self conscious bum in me said something like...

 

"I thought that I would have to repeat the course, and hence pleading otherwise won't be of any use."

To that bum "myself" of Christmas past, I say "What a bum. For I knew that had I told him something on the lines of .......

"Sir, this degree of mine that I shall be handed at the end of this month, is nothing more than a piece of paper that my parents shall frame and keep in my home's living room, as their proof of having given birth to a genius son. So it doesn't make any sense to prolong my ordeal in this institute. Please let me pass the subject. I promise to never consider my field of specialization as a viable career option."

It wouldn't have made an ounce of difference to the professor in front, that one of their students was so blatantly telling them to take it easy on him, now that I think of it. Besides, in all probability, he would have admired my courage for stating things honestly, and for all I know, I'd have been allowed to pass, with Gandolf's permission, of course! But then again, i pussied out. and hence, the walk through hell. 

One can perhaps extend this philosophy to everything in life. Even asking ladies out, I suppose. It goes like this. You can't want to have sex, and be shy at the same time. That's pretty much of a no brainer. But no one wants to share this knowledge as a matter of fact. What a bummer! If I had to rephrase the message in a more fancy manner, I'd quote Oogway from Kung Fu Panda...

"If you sow the seed  from a peach, you'll get a peach tree. You may wish for an apple, or an orange. but you'll only get a peach."

 In short, you get exactly what you ask for. Each time, every time! And right now, there's exactly one thing i want. and exactly one person know what i want. now the trick is to get this person to read the last two lines. Wishful thinking.... What all it makes you write. phew!
Also, it is a time saving strategy to ask exactly what you want instead of beating about the bush. This way, you either get what you want quickly, or that you know that your precious energy will be wasted, if you are to stick around any longer. neat!

Moving on...

Maybe we should get more female song writers. This is in no way my suggestion to bring about gender equality. The deal is, most of our songs are male fantasies, written by men, disguised in fancy words to make them as tragic, romantic, warm and cuddly sounding as possible. A lady's perspective of life in a song would e a welcome change. Well, maybe. NEXT!!

I, and many of us, I'm sure are guilty of being too concerned about why people do what they do, why they do what they do, and how they go about why they do what they do. That was one hell of a convoluted sentence, I'm sure! Anyway, hope that didn't create a dent in your universe. Point being, the whys', hows' and the whats' of other people.... just doesn't matter. This too is a recent epiphany. It came after I saw this book titled "Why women have sex". The title intrigued me. I stared reading the book. Ten pages down, I was hit by a thunderbolt as usual. Why should I bother about WHY WOMEN HAVE SEX??? Why get into business which ain't mine? And honestly, I felt a little dumb for losing my 10 minutes reading the book. I've lost my mind. And more so, my father was around the corner in the next isle of the bookstore. YIKES!

You know what? All is okay. Bad days will come, they'll go, come, then go again. Vicissitudes of human life. you can only get such lines in your head after the peace and tranquility of taking a dump. Before that, there is all too much of a thing called pressure. if I'm writing this in reality, and if there words are actually hitting a set of retinas other than mine, your life is pretty sexy. Mine surely is. For if you are a guy reading this, your biggest problem so far is "Man! My girlfriend left me/ I don't have a girlfriend/ I flunked an exam (or three, or four)."

If you're a girl, well, the worst thing that could have happened is (I'm getting beaten up for this for sure)... the condom tore. 

Life's sexy, man! Life's sexy!

Another thing about us humans is the jargon we use. We use two-syllable words to name things we have absolutely no clue about. Look at the words "Love" and "God". If you're smart, you get it. else, NEXT!

I have fallen in love with the word "Shit-Storm". Besides, it  will let me end this post on a funny note. You see, we are tremendously capable of bringing shit-storms upon ourselves. Sounds like fun! And you needn't sound eloquent this way. If your life has been uneventful, start reading biographies of controversial people. You can define "Shit-storm" for yourself, then. For some reason, no one has suggested the word to the Oxford English Dictionary people. What a waste of pages! Try picturing a shit storm. It's lik a storm with shit in it for debri. Maybe, I didn't have to be that explicit. but who cares? As long as you maintain safe distance, you won't get the smell.

One more thing I learned is this. For a change, this one actually makes perfect sense. "Don't bother about whom you offend. Those who mind, don't matter, for those who matter, they don't mind."

And for now... SOMEBODAY STOP ME!

Judgment day

I begin to wonder how much one can judge. Can one judge the action of anther for everything he/she does? If so, how much bearing does your judgment have on the one being judged? Should it have any bearing on the person in question? Or will the story of this particular person in question simply turn into a treat for gossip mongers?

Why is it not that we leave someone's actions to their own choice? Not like any of our opinions are going to make a real  big deal to the person's world, if one looks at the larger scheme of things, unless of course the person in focus is extremely sensitive to popular opinion of themselves. But then again, if push comes to shove, we know for a fact that our fears of what "They think" is just a mirage in all eight directions, keeping us trapped within our own confines. 

A thing about epiphanies... They come to each one of us, with some of us getting a bit/lot more than out fair share. What's strange is the range of epiphanies that hit us. It could be absolutely revelatory, even path breaking. It could be the purest form of truth known to one. It could be a sense of true liberation upon realization of an obvious fact, that was once, perhaps staring one in the face for goodness knows how long. 

An epiphany could put someone at peace with oneself. An epiphany could also turn one immensely horny! More on that some other time.

What is surprising is how sometimes it becomes a little difficult to not judge, in all honesty. To the extent that even a little amounts of self introspection sometimes, makes you judgmental about yourself, as strange as that might sound. Those little quirks, short strains of madness, uncontrollable bursts of emotions, sometimes, too much of all of them together. It all makes you question your sanity. Then you look at the face in the mirror, and wonder, why the hell are you the way you are. And could you be any other way than this?

There's a little about courage here too. Judgment stems from our inability to take things at face value. For a lot many of us, including myself of course, we're too tied up in making sense and adding our own interpretations to whatever happens around us. We just can't let things be. Courage comes into picture here because that's what's required to let go of all the post event processing. 

Courage also comes in handy when it comes to facing the truth. As Bertrand Russel says, 

Be scrupulously truthful, even if the truth is inconvenient, for it is more inconvenient when you try to conceal it.

 A lot many times, we lie to ourselves, for the reasons why we desire, want something. Although this has little to do with being judgmental, knowing the deep down stripped out unadulterated version of one's own truths perhaps helps us see those of another's with clarity. And yet, we attach superficial illusions to the rawest of our temptations, to make them appear more noble. Sadly, no one ever tells anybody that we all would much rather prefer plain truth, than wade through the labyrinthine stories that we like to weave around our intentions. 

Trouble being that once we make it our habit to churn stories after stories, everyone gets taken aback when we decide to drop our masks. It's not part of the plan, you see?

I'll leave an example of this out of my personal experience.

It's been about three years since I've had an urge to make love to this one woman. the kind of love making that would leave the woman convulsing in pleasure. For one, she is beautiful as hell. Second, nothing had turned me on more than this creation that I had the fortune of running into. Now, here's the deal. i didn't know how to deal with my sexuality. And so, like most men of today, I draped my want to have this woman in the cloak of "Love". BIG mistake. Actually, a bunch of BIG mistakes. They being that I didn't understand myself. Then, I lied to myself. Thirdly, I lied to this woman.
More so, when I did muster the courage to tell the truth, all the courage came of no use, as the reality seemed hard to grasp hold of, specially when love and lies had become such an intricate part of the plot. 

Love... How little we understand about it. To the point that I feel like a hypocrite even speaking about my lack of understanding for this elusive phenomenon.  

I can only wonder how different things would have been had I not decided to place my intentions, rather their end result on a pedestal. Lies are just not worth the convenience they promise. For when later, when you look at ourself, escaping your own judgmental gaze simply becomes unbearable.

Bye, sexy!

Let's start with a random sentence.

It's better to have a newbie who has plans to reinvent the wheel, than to have someone who's already gone through the motions.

That line came to me while I was taking a dump. Amazing place, the commode is. And now, in these moments, I fight to keep my sanity intact. For I know it won't b long before a part of me leaves my one-mile radius. Is it a sense of loss I'm feeling? It probably is. But the part of me that's leaving now, is not something that was a part of me from the very beginning. I can't believe that this part of me began to exist just a little less than four years ago. And how I knew it would end up being a part of who I am, and shall be. A thing about sentimentality here. It always sounds stupid as hell when you look back at times when you got a bit too carried away by your emotional self. To the point that one almost always denies to oneself of  having ever been so emotional at any given time in his/her history. Does that even make sense?

My eyes feel droopy. It feels like I cried all day yesterday. But then again, I didn't. Well, I almost did, but then I didn't. I still don't understand what causes an emotion to be so hellishly overpowering. It starts like a seed in the ground. It sprouts. It grows. it grows, it grows, and it grows  a little more. But you manage to avoid it without it becoming too much of a hassle. Then one day, you come back home, and you're looking at the elephant in the room, and you think... "What the hell just happened here?"

It grows to the extent that it has become you. The problem being that it, this emotional entity, is not going to stop at the barriers of your skin. It wants to grow. Like a black hole. Sucking everything in its vicinity into itself. So now, you know that your own skin can't hold onto itself for long. You finally understand that you need to let go of what ever it is that you are so hopelessly trying to contain, or rather, hold onto. That's when the second part of your troubles comes to light. How the hell do you bloody well let go? Another question.  Should you let go? If so, why? Now let's add to the confusion. Why should you not let go? Why not allow yourself to be all consumed by what is trying to engulf you?

Woah! Woah! Woah! Wait! Now I get it! It's a trap! If you give in, you're trapped for ever! And we shall, for as long as we last, be drawn by the temptation to give in to that which is tantalizing. Specially because what is on offer is so appealing to the sense. Somewhere at the back of your mind, you know for a fact that once you give in, you're not going to get a THING of what's on offer. It is surprising how still there are so many of us who happily give in. Now, why do we give in? Why do we feel that we can be bought by a bunch of fake promises? It's like putting a price tag on our heads. That again, is because we haven't seen the part of us that cannot be bought, that which doesn't have a price, that which is beyond inside, outside, above, below, ahead and behind. Don't know if it strikes anyone, but we all have a part of us that is so out worldly. It doesn't belong to realm that we live in. Strangely, it's just that very few of us happen to have the fortune to have seen this part of oneself. 

One more thing. I jut realized that the words now, own, and won are three words made using the same three alphabets, and that all the three words have a meaning. Why did I say that?

To the part of me that shall leave me today afternoon. probably for ever, I tell it to go away. Never come back. Because for the moments that part of me was mine, it unknowingly became mine for eternity.

A bunch of things

On Hurting

Isn't anybody getting hurt nowadays, or is it just me? Each one wearing the same expression of indifference, or maybe that of a fake smile. Or maybe, as usual, just mayyybe, it's all just a façade. Anything that seems incomprehensible, is ruled out as being wrong. 

One second! Is it that we, all of us, have gotten used to passivity? Ignorance being bliss, let's not even deal with what's wrong, now. Ain't it?  Just like "Why fix something that's not broken", "Why say things that cannot be spoken?", eh?

I admire our race's ability to just let things flow, even when they aren't supposed to. More so, I admire our ability to nitpick at things that are of absolutely no significance. And I also know for a fact that it all sounds a tad too vague. That's what happens when there is a big mush of stuff building up inside somewhere, I suppose. And by stuff, I don't mean Marijuana. Goodness, this state of mind is going to get me into trouble! But then again, much rather than living like you don't exist, I'm sure it's better to be a problem child. 

How do you tell what you want to tell exactly? That's a big issue when you get anywhere close to 'good' at making convoluted sentences that probably have no meaning. It's just complications upon complications that you keep piling onto yourself. The end result being that 

#1 -your verbosity remains pretty much pointless, 

#2 -the thing that you want to say remains strangely unsaid, and 

#3 -the person you want to say it to remains perfectly unaware of what you want to say. 

Now THAT's a hat-trick! 

On TACT

I have come to respect folks who have a knack of getting what they want by one way or another, without use of force. The tactful chaps, if you may. But what I also have come to notice is that these folks, more often than not, plainly lack testicles. It's nature's way of balancing the distribution of balls evenly among folks of our race. That sounds all well and good. Rarely will you come across someone who has both balls, and tact. To be honest, I've only come across one such person. To such folks, goodness! Hats off! A big bow. Jahaapana, tusi great ho! Tohfa kubool karo!

VERY NICE! I like!!

Well, let's hope this is the expression for the previous picture...

Okay, just as I was writing this post, one female, an invigilator in the lab comes along, snapping her fingers near my ear. She looks at the picture where he ladies are flashing their bums... and says "Entertainment sites are not allowed."

See? Even ladies find the sight of the backsides of other ladies entertaining!! Goodness Gracious! Me too! Me too!

But on a more serious note, an observation that came to me as an epiphany is that when push comes to shove, REAL shove, tact just fizzles in front of brute force.

Now....About ladies with beautiful arses!

Let's chuck vulgarity and PG ratings aside and discuss stuff that really matters. Now, there's nothing more beautiful than a woman with a beautiful "Hind-sight", if you may. Specially so if it is accompanied by even a remotely beautiful face. You see, breasts are sort of overrated. And I may get slapped any moment now. Anyway, as I was saying, Derrières are awesome. Specially when they move so seductively when the lady wears heels. Do ladies start putting in extra effort in walking the way they walk after wearing heeled footwear? I bet this is what a lady thinks when she wears heels.... 

"Ohkay! People, now I'm wearing heels. So I'm going to move my arse in the most seductive manner, so that I shall make each one of you wolves out there drool at the sight of me."

To be honest, that shouldn't be taken in a derogatory sense for a moment of anybody's existence. Let's get it straight. One, that what I said is plain general knowledge. Just that no one dares to say these things aloud. Two, sometimes, it is because of such well endowed women that life seems worth living, specially when things ain't going your way. 

On Goodness...

Goodness! What the hell is goodness? Well, firstly,  it's purely overrated. Secondly, a big chunk of the "goodie-goodie" people are, to be honest, a bunch of fakes. (I wanted to say "Fake fucks" instead of just "Fakes". But you see, I made a promise to  my mom that I would never use the word "Fuck" while writing. Guess I just broke that promise... TWICE! Sorry mom...)

It's so tiring! Being good to people***, to be read "Being what you're not", more often than not. What bores.But then that's the deal with society, when you look at the larger picture, I suppose. Cooperation. And if you cannot cooperate, the least one can supposedly do is appear cooperative. What a farce!

I guess I feel  little less hurt now. After all said and done, and all that remains to be said and done, I only wonder if there's anything called genuine. Or is it just another word our parents taught to us? Why all the niceties? Why all the masks? Why all the pretense?

Pure serendipity

Sitting behind on the pinion seat while on a road trip leaves you with a lot of time to think about things, a lot many things. Things like the mental trip you go on each time you breathe in more than your lungs can hold, the reason the rain decided to bestow its grace on you, the reason why she looks at you on moment, and then away, almost as if she's teasing you with everything tantalizing. Things like why does the exhaust pipe on all buses and trucks, and pretty much every vehicle in sight open/point to the right side?

Most of us see the last one, the exhaust pipe each day, every day, and never wonder for a single moment, why it is the way it is. Either that, or I am the last person to not have not known the reason for the right hand sided exhaust pipes.

Now, I haven't done any big award winning research on the reason for why the exhaust pipes are the way they are. But as per my brilliant hypothesis, the exhaust pipes on almost all vehicles point to the right because..... the footpath is on the left side. The explanation sounds so obvious. Doesn't it? I mean, why on the planet should the exhaust pipe point to the left when there are people walking on the left side? Damn! It is so humbling to understand how designers had taken care of pedestrians while making their machines. Don't blow smoke onto the pedestrians. Just direct the exhaust onto the other side. Simple! That's one thing. It is obviously needless to state that in countries following a left-hand-drive traffic system, the exhaust pipes will be facing towards the left. But then again, I just stated that as a matter of fact.

Here's something more! The song "Chal Chaiyya Chaiyya", written by none other than Gulzar, is an example of the lyricist's prowess, apart from his other great hits. For most of us, and myself, who happen to have heard and admired the song, more often than not, we have been enamored by the ring in the song's lyrics. "Chaiyya Chaiyya"... Almost sounds like a beautiful lady's Ghungroo when she's dancing in a trance of her own, like the world is dancing to her tune and rhythm. But the real meaning of the song, as luck would have it, is far from what I'd thought, or most of us have come to believe in, thus far. "Chal chaiyya chaiyya"... Walk in the shade...

The song is the most purest dedication to the woman you'd happily let go of your life for. 

Here's a few of the translated lines from the song

My lover is like a fragrance, sweet as the words in Urdu. 

Sometimes, she flirts like a flower, so fragrant that if you're lucky, you can see her scent.

She walks like the morning dew, and beneath her feet, heaven moves.

Sometimes amidst branches, then under fallen leaves, I look for her in thin air!

 

Have I had the fortune to meet this woman yet? I haven't a clue. Or maybe I do. But why spoil the fun, eh? For some reason, there are not many faces that turn up in my head when I hear this song. Frankly, there's only one that comes to mind. But here's the deal. This ain't even my own creation. So how dare I dedicate it to a gorgeous face my mind conjures up, when the words ain't mine? Only words. That's all this exercise of my admiration for a face amounts to. Just a heap of words. My only consolation is in the fact that the song that rings in my head now, is also a string of words, albeit an unimaginably beautiful string of words at that. And look at my fortune for having run into the real meaning of what I have only admired so far. Serendipity. That's what you call it.

Here's the song with translation.. "Chaiyya Chaiyya"

Too many questions!

To be or not to be? Now that's a question. Or so wrote Shakespeare.Some question!

To be mad, or to not be mad? Now that's another question. 

To say, or not to say? Then if to say, then what to say? Or if to not say, then how to contain your silence? This ain't the first time that the comfort of silence has proven itself more inconvenient than the unease of thinking out loud.

Now, there's another dilemma that confronts me. 

To think or not to think? If to think, then how much to think? Well, if not to think, how much not to think? But to think is to be, says Descartes. So there you have a circular argument. Basically, the whole problem of whether to be, or not to be shall resolve itself the moment one decides whether or not to think! Wow! Did Descartes and Shakespeare know each other? They've lived within 25-30 years of each other's time. Crap! Who knew that their dilemmas would be solved by. or at least connected by a complete nincompoop about four centuries after these two minds left the planet. One second! Was there a problem to solve in the first place? Or was it the French stringing together a fancy looking sentence that basically meant...well, not a lot, to be honest?

It obviously started with Englishmen,trying to pose their imperial questions onto the world, and then completely forgetting about their own question.

 

Here's another question. To start or not to start? If to start, when to start? More importantly, when to stop? Do you let yourself be taken away by your thoughts?

Really! Shame on the person who, despite living on this planet, doesn't know how to enjoy the beauty this place has to offer.

To go, or to not go? If to go, how far to go? How do you know you went all the way you were supposed to? And how far is too far? Or is it just thoughts fiddling with all the gray mater?

There's more trouble up ahead!

To hold back, or to let go? If to hold back, how much to hold back? Enough to keep the world at bay? Or do you let the world in, one bi at a time? In small parts? Then again, when it comes to letting go, the word on the street would be to let go completely. Then the question is, if you've let go, the what do you have left remaining with you? Or is it that we all came empty handed, shall stay that, way, and leave all the same? Or do you have something  that you can call absolutely unequivocally yours? That's actually a foolish question, I realize. If someone were to take my laptop and run away, I can already imagine myself running after the chap, blood thirsty, knife in hand and all. 

But then, why did I not run that way, when the creation in my embrace was taken away?

Sometime ago, my future self came to me and said, "Kiddo, you just got soft too fast. Stop being a bum! Not a problem if you're the arsehole you are. That shall help you filter the friends you want to keep, and the friends who are friends for namesake. But don't go soft. And another thing. Blue roses are found in the Himalayas, on the other side of the range. It's a bloody pain to get there. But for what it's worth, the trip, all by itself is liberating. Mind you. You won't be able to smell the flower. Your nose will be far too sore to smell anything. But the trip will be worth it."

Makes and takes

There's a line from the movie Unbroken that goes like this...

"If you can take it, you can make it."

Now, this line has gotten stuck in my head like a fish's thorn in the throat. I shall not bother to explain the situation in which the above mentioned line was said in the movie, because, 

a) that would be boring, 

b) It would screw up my plans to conquer the world.

What was "b)" again?? Anyway, about "taking" and "making", There are two types of people in the world. Those who can take a joke, and those who can make a joke. I shall completely neglect those who can take a joke, but not make a joke, and those who can't take a joke, but can make a joke. Needless to say that I have completely not bothered to even think about those who can neither make, nor take a joke. Oh crap! I almost forgot about the folks who can both take and make jokes. Phew! I guess we can now make a Venn diagram of sorts to map the different types of people according to their ability to deal with jokes, or something. What a farce!

A little on war here. You see how we wage wars nowadays? From behind screens, by pressing buttons? Like cowards. It's become a spectator sport of sorts. All in the grand plans of showing how one can outsmart the next one. Like anyone truly cares. It all ends up as entertainment. But then that's the deal, right?

"We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives."

Just in case a fist or two do clang against a few jaws our of a rare outburst of testosterone, the cause behind the BIG FIGHT will, in all probability, make you ask yourself "No really, why were these chaps really fighting?"

Its like asking an aquarium vet "What do you do?" 

The aquarium veterinarian says "I'm an aquarium vet."

Then the first chap asks, "I mean, what do you do to earn a living..."

Okay, bad joke. Was that a joke? I lack empathy, I guess. Don't we all? Damn! That was my failed attempt at justifying my lack of empathy. 

Here's the deal. Look at where the world is headed. It's all too soft to wear. And we call it software! Look at the tragedy there! Convenience stores aren't convenient enough. We play virtual games inside a virtual reality, all in the pursuit of adding a number to everything we do. I'm not too sure if the last line makes sense to everyone, as I happen to have just blurted out the first words that came to mind that could even remotely express my idea even vaguely, for I cannot pinpoint what my idea is exactly. Lack of emotional eloquence. What a curse.

What I am wondering all of a sudden is, why the hell do all of Pikachu's, the pokemon's attacking moves, except the one where it runs at crazy speeds, look just the same? The creature just keeps electrocuting everyone in sight with each and every one of its moves. each move having a separate name, despite each of them doing the same thing. Wonderful! What sort of a mind would it have taken to combine the concept of electricity and that of a mouse into one creature? 

More so, what kind of a mind would we have had as kids, to actually sit through hours of watching a cute yellow mouse with red cheeks, shooting sparks of electricity, and not to forget, all the other creatures that came as  part of the parcel?. By the way, how different is a mouse from a rat? Wikipedia time!

Ice cream cone

I love ice cream. And that is a redundant expression. I mean, who doesn't like ice cream? Unless someone's lactose intolerant, and develops flatulence after eating ice cream due to pathetic genetics, we all scream for ice cream. With that settled, I shall proceed with my usual pre-exam-day rant. Evidently, I have an exam tomorrow. And fortunately, or unfortunately, most of my ideas come at a time when I should be swimming, rather drowning myself in books. Nevertheless.....

I took a walk after all the "efforts" I'd put into my day for my exam tomorrow, which involved a little reading, a lot of time on the Internet, another hour of sleeping, and wondering about what the hell just happened on the farewell party that was held on the day before. Before I delve into the specifics of the farewell party, which I shall desperately try to avoid, here's what I originally started writing today for.

As I was saying, on my walk in this very sombre weather, clouds and all, devouring an ice cream, I happened to look around, only to see the chaps that have been in my vicinity for the last four years. We came in as boys. Now, we've sprouted beards and mustaches. Goodness! How people change just because of a spike in facial hair density. A big chunk of us have lost the integrity of our spines. That's even philosophically speaking, given the amount of hours some of us have subjected ourselves to on the chair. It's only sad to see how many among us can barely run. Perhaps, they were never gifted with the ability to run. But then, that's fine, I suppose. Not everything is meant for everybody. Or is that so? We shall walk out of our places here looking partly like the men we shall turn out to be in the very near future. Now, let's not talk about men alone, as I wouldn't like to be labeled a sexist.

About women.. Phew, these gorgeous creatures! Okay, to be frank, not all women are gorgeous, as unfair, and rude as that may sound. But the ones who are, GOODNESS!! Molded from some unidentified ethereal matter.. Remember how they walked in? There was absolutely NOTHING remarkable about what they were. Somewhere, a lightning bolt struck, and it became a privilege to get your heart broken by one, if not all of these creations. It feels good to know that the heart hardened itself each time it got broken by these sometimes heartless souls from Venus. But then that's okay too, I guess. It's at least better than sitting insulated in the warmth of your mother's bosoms. The mind learns each time. Or let's hope the stupid thing sitting between our ears does learn from the mistakes we commit. I highly doubt that happening. But that's only personal experience. Hardly matters in the larger scheme of things. 

Sometimes I wonder about why things happen the way they happen, about how they happen, and also about what the hell's happening. As like a handful of people, I have very poor calisthenic awareness (a sense of where your arms and legs are in space).

Is each one of us another Duracell battery, getting prepped up to power some bigger body? Do we exist? Or are our thoughts just the remnants of an entity that existed a really long time ago? What I  do know for sure of all things, is this. This skin that we feel, the face we want to hold, the strength in our feet, that which allows us to float on the ground below, it shall all perish. And now, I shall enter my Fight Club mode....

“This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.”

This is something I am trying to tell myself. But hey, why not think a bit aloud? Maybe the message might just resonate out into the universe and come of some use to another soul too? That's the deal with writing, I feel. “People do it everyday, they talk to themselves… they see themselves as they’d like to be, they don’t have the courage you have, to just run with it.”

So here I stand, another soul, trying to run at the speed of my thoughts. I just realized that all of this, each word that anyone has ever written, is all selfish rant on one form or another... All of it! All in the search of someone who'd have the patience to hear what you have to say. Besides, the sound of every key clicking under your fingers is absolutely intoxicating. I wonder how it would have felt on a typewriter.

Last but not least, there's one ability that I wish upon every living soul....

The ability to let that which does not matter........ truly slide!
Okay, maybe not on every living soul.

All this thinking while chomping on ice cream? Wow! I wonder what would have become had I been on something more potent. The human mind, I tell you!