The real terrorists

Last year, this month, we witnessed the wrongful hanging of Saddam Hussein under a sham of a trial. This year, same month, we have seen the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. This latter death causes me to feel a shade of the grief I felt at the former death. But I do not want to get in to such comparisons at this moment. What I do want to talk about is the fucked up state of affairs in Pakistan for which the lone "superpower" of the world deserves to share the blame.

The Bush administration has, under the rubric of support for the war on terror, supported the military dictatorship in Pakistan while forcefully bringing democracy to another country, whose above-mentioned dictator was hanged (disrespectfully, as some who watched the videos on YouTube would say). It has provided billions of US$ to the country for it to spend on armament, while also providing the army with ammunition and weaponry. The Pakistani Army still complains that the US has not supplied it enough war machinery to tackle "terrorists" and "extremists".

It was only the recent imposition of Emergency in Pakistan that the US was forced into making at least some noise about the state of things in the country, and Bush called upon Gen Mush to put "democracy" back on track by lifting the state of Emergency. Of course, it seemed quite content with the fact that the "restoration of democracy" involved suspension and replacement of almost the entire bench of the Pakistan Supreme Court judges, tinkering with the Constitution, and other such "democratic" measures that ensured Gen Mush staying in the Presidential seat. I guess its only fair for one militant President to give such concessions to another.

Militants and terrorists killed Bhutto? When it was Gen Mush who had the most to fear from her performance in the soon to be held "free and fair elections"? Actually, how much of a difference is there anyway between Gen Mush and a terrorist? A terrorist, in layman terms, is someone who uses terror tactics to achieve his/her ends, and as a military dictator, what else did Mush do? Of course, the self-appointed custodian of democracy throughout the world, that ape called Bush, lauded the General for his unflinching support in the war against terror and gave him more arms.

The Emergency had been imposed under the excuse of controlling the terrorists and militants that were running free through the country. If that really were the case, then it only goes to show the ineptness of the Mush administration, since it is now freely ascribing the killing of Bhutto to the very elements the Emergency was supposedly meant to tackle. Yeah, right.

I am sure I am hardly the only one who sees these things to be the way I do. And yet, no one in any position of authority, who can actually influence such matters, will even bat a fucking eyelid. This world is such a fucked up place, makes me want to take up arms myself and systematically assassinate many of these world leaders. We will see which terrorists they blame then.

Pirates and prices

I feel strangely elated every time I hear of someone saying a big FUCK YOU to the organised capitalist world in general, and even more so when it is said with a measure of panache. I am, in this instance, referring to the owners of PirateBay, an Internet portal that hosts torrents. For those of you who don't know, torrents is another peer-to-peer file sharing technology, and the only one that I would recommend in terms of safety from viruses etc.

So this company is based in Sweden, where the fine for copyright infringement (which is what peer-to-peer softwares usually get hauled up for) is either US$ 200, or 200 Swedish Kroner. Either ways, the few instances that the company does get hauled up, they don't mind paying the fine which they consider trivial. But of course, they are sick of it now, and have announced their plan to raise money to buy an island, declare it a micro-nation where piracy is legal, and move their servers to the island.

Now before you start lecturing me about the importance of copyrights and the artists who suffer due to piracy and all this amounting to theft and blah blah blah, let me assure you that I know all that. But do you know of Radiohead? Or to be specific, do you know that Radiohead (its a band, they make music, some of it very good) released their new album earlier this year, and you could download it off the Internet and choose how much you wanted to pay for it? And yes, you could choose 0.00 (in whatever currency you like) if you wanted. And that was official. Isn't that how it should work? I mean, who decides how much something creative is worth, the record label?

If a band was performing live, and charged a lot for the tickets (like 125 fucking pounds for the recent Led Zep show), it could make some sense since it is a unique performance and only so many people can be accommodated, bringing in the age old idea of supply and demand, etc etc. But for a standard copy of a CD, why should anyone be forced to pay whatever amount is dictated? If someone wants to live a rockstar life, let them earn it the hard way. (No, I am not implying that its easy in any way.)

So yeah, my point is that if things like music, movies, games, even software, you know, entertainment in general, was not so obscenely priced, maybe there would be much lesser piracy. If more people could afford it, lesser would want to steal it. But since capitalist morons who run big companies seem to not understand that (partly because there are so many other rich morons who are only too happy to spend whatever is demanded of them), it ain't going to happen. Hence, long live the pirates!

For the complete lack of anything to do...

I figured I will waste some time writing another post. Wow, talk about living a boring life. I mean, on a Friday evening, I have nothing better to do than sit at my computer and write a random blog entry for the lack of anything else to do. But why the hell is it being Friday evening a big deal?

Personally, its not. And I have often wondered why it is such a rage among almost everyone in this city. People start planning for this Friday two Fridays ago! It is as much a part of London culture as is getting drunk, eating cheap shit kebabs, or saying "Cheers mate" for anything and everything. The peer pressure to go out on a Friday evening is almost as much it is for things like owning interesting pencil boxes when you are in grade 2. Week after week, people travel in crowded tubes and buses, and if you merely smile at someone for any reason or for no reason, they look at you like you just stabbed them or something, like you are a psycho freak on the loose. And come Friday evening, they will be shit-faced, inebriated all the way to oblivion, and will be actively looking to snog with strangers. Once they are done, they probably say "Cheers mate".

I wonder what such behaviour says about the state of human society, or at least its London bits. What kind of "civilised" behaviour is this? Is intoxication a necessity for people to simply interact with each other? Is it only behind the cloak of alcohol that people can be themselves? Has sobriety reached that much of a nadir? And what does a teetotaller do then, not have any social interaction? Or perhaps pretend to have a good time in a room full of rolling drunkards?

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against getting completely trashed. What I am ranting against is the link between drunkenness and the supposed lowering of inhibitions. Why have all these fucked up inhibitions in the first place that you actively seek to lower every fucking weekend with an unhealthy overdose of alcohol? Talk of hypocrisy, double standards and all that similar jazz. I mean, its not like you don't know what you do under the influence of alcohol. Its just convenient to blame it on the alcohol, that's about it.

Oh shit, I just realised its almost 8pm! And its Friday evening!! I have other things to do, you know. Need to get ready to go out, I hate to keep people waiting. Especially when they are planning to get drunk!

I am a racist! Hahahahahahahahahaha

It is with much amusement that I take to being called a racist, which I have sometimes been called. And usually, such mislabelling follows a "racist" joke I would either make myself, or would laugh at, were it to be made by someone else. (The label is usually worse, and quicker, when I make a joke about gas-chambers and a swastika tattoo.) But that is as stupid as calling Iran an anti-Semitic nation for hosting an international conference to discuss the Holocaust.

The problem with such quick-to-label-someone-racist people is that when they hear a racist joke, they hear the racist bit more than the joke bit, and assume that everyone else does the same and then go on to assume that the elicited laughter was focussed at the racist bit rather than the joke bit. And if the laughter was aimed at the racist bit, its still a fucking joke, right? I mean, how dis-similar is it from making jokes about any stereotype? The trouble is to make a good joke, in fact, since there are too many trite ones now which have been heard hundreds of times.

In the same way, discussing the Holocaust does not condone the atrocities committed against the Jews by the Nazis, or any other atrocity anywhere at any time. All it does is try to understand the actual extent and nature of what happened at the time without involving the usual history that the victors always write. (And lest anyone have any doubts, the victors in this case were very pliable by the Jew lobby which supplied more-than-significant sums of money to finance the machinations to halt the Nazi world takeover bid.)

A joke some of you may have heard from me, in another form though:

A big fat white American (bfwA), a humongous nosed Jew (hnJ) and a pants-hanging-off-the-knees black man (p-h-o-t-k bm) are all taking a piss in a john somewhere. bfwA finishes, zips up, rolls over to the washbasin, pumps out a handful of soap, washes off with a gallon of water, and as is drying his hands with a whole box of tissue, says, "In my people, they teach us to be hygienic."
hnJ finishes, zips up, ambles over to the sink, takes a squirt of soap, only as much water as he needed (which wasn't much) and while handling his single paper-towel, says, "In my people, they teach us to be frugal."
p-h-o-t-k bm finishes, zips up, puts his hands in his pockets and as he is swaggering towards the door, says, "In my people, they teach us not to piss on our hands."

So how racist was that?

Kids with guns

I was perturbed, to say the least, by the news of two 14 years olds shooting dead one of their classmates in their school premises. The reports are still a bit hazy, what with the accused being juveniles and the law about maintaining their anonymity and such. But apparently, one of them shot the deceased 4 times before handing over the gun to the other who shot him once more to finish the job. According to the killer kids, they did it because the killed kid regularly bullied them a lot and supposedly even threatened to kill them.

Last time I checked, there was a big, BIG difference between bullying and the threat to kill, especially when it came from a 14 year old. And I knew that even when I was 14. I was bullied a fuck load, my school life consisted of many many beatings, more than I care to recount, and they were merciless. And while my lot was worse (in this one regard) than many others in my school, I was not the only one. But I do not recall anyone (from among the 500 or so) harbouring a death-wish for anyone else, even while vocalising many violent threats (mostly empty, and rarely openly). Anyway, much as I hold human life in low regard, if any, this still seems quite unacceptable.

And since when did kids in India get access to guns? The gun belonged to the father of one the killers, but is there no such thing as a safe place to keep things in the house? More importantly, where the fuck from did these kids get this "shooting to settle scores" idea? Is it a spill-over from the media coverage given to similar incidents (which are usually not such directly pointedly revenge-based) in the gun-mad USA? Or is it an independent incident, fuelled by the new lifestyle changes in urban India brought on by the ranks of nouveau riche and the explosion of technology?

I am tempted to blame television more than anything else. But since its only my conjecture, I will refrain. But man oh man, the damage television has wrecked on humanity in general! (And here, I can speak authoritatively, for I am an anthropologist of media after all.)

A novel way to tackle the AIDS epidemic

This will probably not sit well with some people, and is slightly (but only slightly, for where there is a will, there is a way and so on) impractical to implement, but hey, at least I had an idea! What have you done, eh? So read on.

The deal with AIDS is that we don't have a cure for it, and there is no real cure in sight as yet either. The epidemic, of course, is growing every year despite all the governments of the world supposedly warning their citizens to take precautions etc. It is my belief that it is not a part of fundamental human nature to only have one sexual partner in a lifetime, and we all know that "unsafe" sex with multiple partners is a potential way for HIV to enter the system. As for safe sex, personally, I hate, HATE condoms. They are such a fucking kill-joy (quite literally). Furthermore, even as the quality of condoms has improved over the decades, instances of them rupturing during the act are still not uncommon. And please, anyone who is going to suggest wearing two condoms or something equally stupid, shut up and shove it. Anyway, the virus also spreads through other human pleasures such as injection of drugs, and there is no point telling the junkies to sterilise their needles.

Too much digression. What I am suggesting is, everyone on the planet, every last one, should be tested for the virus. And all those who are infected should be quarantined. Build communes, nice big, modern self-contained ones. And send them there. They will keep their occupations, albeit in a new locale. They will even keep their families, if their families wish to go with them. Make it as "democratic" as possible, and as humane. Think of the greatest good for the greatest numbers. After all, why should the rest of us be forced to keep the libido in check, under the HIV-laced sword of Damocles? I am sure all the fucking Catholic puritans (they are just an easy target, the same holds true for many other religious zealots) probably think of this as a punishment dealt by the ever-generous and merciful god to the human race for its non-monogamous ways.

Again digression. If we manage to carry out this quarantine effectively, we would have isolated all the carriers and hence also eliminated the chance of the virus spreading. We will have to then wait for the next time a man fucks an infected monkey (the stupid theory about the origin of the disease) for the virus to run rampant again. I must stress that the communes built for this purpose will be like any other place. Completely normal in every which way, since people who are HIV+ are also normal in every which way except having a useless immune system.

How many of you think it could work? For those of you who are going to lash out, please frame a proper cohesive response.

What a fucking bummer

I did as I said I would. Went to the O2 hoping to catch the biggest concert yet of the new century. Man, that place is not bum-friendly at all. The stage etc is all the way indoors, not just beyond physical reach (which I was not planning anyway) but even beyond aural reach. All I could hear once every few seconds was the dull faint sound of bass. There are huge screens there that were playing everything but the concert. Fucking shyt. And since the doors to the venue had opened 3 hours before I got there, there was no mad crowds milling around either, since all the other ticket-less losers like me must have left long ago. But there were still about 50 people hanging around, perhaps too disappointed to even leave. Sure enough, after about 7 minutes there, to make sure that there was ABSOLUTELY no way to hear anything, I left with a heavy heart. Only to reach home and to read on the news that it was a completely smashing concert, completely unlike their previous feeble re-union shows. Made me feel SOOOO much better, wow.

But while I was there, something else I noticed. Of the 50 odd losers hanging around there, not a single black person. (Actually, has anyone ever seen a person who is truly black? I mean, if you know what the colour black looks like...) So I was saying, not a single Negro there. Not necessarily an accurate marker for the population inside the venue, but perhaps a decent sample anyway. Why is it that every Negro I know likes hip-hop and rap, or at least those? Why is it that you will see only a couple of black faces among thousands at a Metallica concert? How defined are we by the colour of our skin, or more precisely, how much do we define ourselves unknowingly based on the colour of our skin?

And on another tangent, why do youngsters from the Indian subcontinent try to behave like black people? I have noticed this both here in London, where it is much worse, and back in the streets of New Delhi. It leaves me a tad bit disgusted, not because I have a low opinion of black culture but because I have at least some regard for my own (I am referring to that of the subcontinent, not my personal one) and I see no good reason why kids in such large numbers should give it up in favour of some trash they see on television. I don't even know if its television that is to blame. I honestly don't understand this phenomenon. And it seems that Asians pick up the worst of black culture usually, you know, the bling jewellery and the terrible slang, the unnecessary swagger and the (non)sense of fashionable clothing.

I don't know if there are any such Asians reading this post, and I am hoping that at least one black person is. Your views, as always, are welcome.

Hopes for tonight

Led Zeppelin is playing tonight at a venue that's about 3 km from my house. Of course I don't have a ticket, which were only being sold through a lottery, and then at a prohibitive price of 125 pounds! I had been bold and registered for the lottery anyway, but my luck, like always, did not fail to let me down. (Keep in mind that I like to sometimes say "If it weren't for bad luck, I would have had no luck at all.") I had also been keeping track of ticket sales on eBay and well, the price was 750 pounds when I last checked. As of now, I don't spend that much over a whole month, hell, I don't even make that much in a month!

I have managed to find out that the gates to the venue open at 6:30pm. Now I am hoping that what with all the other bands playing etc, Led Zep don't come on till about 9:30 or so, giving me enough time to get to the venue from my work, from where I will get free at 9:00pm. Then, I am hoping that the sound is loud enough to carry all the way to outside the venue, which is where I will be huddling like a bum, hoping to catch all the great music I can. I am pretty sure I will not be the only one there in the cold windy outdoors (the forecast is about 3 degrees with about 15mph winds, but no rain). Now if only I had money to get hold of some thing to smoke... but I guess I will have to make do with some cheap alcohol to brave the elements.

I am no die-hard fan of Led Zep, or any other band. I don't even have a favourite band, for that matter. But if I had to choose one, I would choose them. So I figure I owe myself this much. If nothing else, it will make for some cheap kicks at the very least.

Older, not wiser

On the 3rd of this month, I turned 26. It is a rather unreal, surreal feeling. Just saying it feels almost like a lie, it gives me a strange sensation of being disconnected with myself, like an out of body experience. But a fact is a fact, and the fact is that I am getting old(er). And please don't ask me what I did to celebrate. I don't think birthdays are big deals (likewise for New Year's Eve and religious festivals), and so I don't care about celebrating. Of course, if anyone wants to send any gifts my way, I will happily accept! :)

And for reasons that have nothing to do with age, life is being a little fucked up too. I am sick of going for job interviews, getting through, and then being shown the door (the metaphoric one) on account of my current visa status. And even though it will surely change in the coming 4-5 weeks, it doesn't make me feel any better in the present. And of course, I have to also make ends meet, even if it is only for a hand-to-mouth type of existence. My present shit job is taking its toll on me, with its brain-dead monotone and close to minimum wage pay scale. Maybe this is the right time to feature in a pornographic production and make some quick cash. Anyone got any leads for me?

Before I move on from this age issue though, I must mention the strange feeling evoked by the news of an old friend getting married. Most of my old friends are all the same age as me, and even though the first one got married some 3 years ago, it seems that an increasingly greater number is tying the knot. It just makes everything a lot worse in my mind (in regards to how old I am versus how old I feel) and a lot scarier in my life (the prospect of marriage is perhaps one of the few things that scares me, and no, it has nothing to do with commitment-phobia, as it is called).

So an empty mind is the devil's workshop, or so the saying goes. My mind is quite empty these days for the most part, but I don't have many devilish thoughts. In fact, I find it devoid of the delicious naughty (and no, I don't mean sexual, or at least not just sexual) thoughts that so entertain me usually. I am bored of discussing politics and religion with people, as also with dispensing advice to them about solutions to the myriad of problems they seem always have, most common of which deal with relationships. And no, I do not offer unsolicited advice, but only when specifically asked for it. About time I advised myself, eh?

Ir-responsibility and the wisdom of teeth

I had an interview for a job the other day, on a Sunday afternoon, to be precise, which I had chosen as my preferred day since I am working on Mondays, which was my other option. So I decide to not go out on Saturday night, started drinking and smoking weed at about 5pm on Saturday, went out at about 9:30pm to get to another house to consume more weed and whisky, and play some first-person shooter game on the xBox 360. My plan, as also that of others present, was to leave at 2am. At about 3am, I remember being asked what I was going to do about my interview the following day, to which I had confidently replied that I will enjoy myself till 6am and then go home and then get to my interview on time. Sure enough, I left the house at about 6am with 2 others, or so I am told. When we got to their destination, I was asked to crash at their's since I was apparently in no state to even walk, or so I am told. I told them I had done this hundreds of times and that I would be fine, or so I am told. They went on their way, and me on mine.

So I come to my senses at about 11:30am, in the London Underground, headed to I-didn't-have-a-fucking-clue-where. I stepped out on to the streets and discovered myself in a far flung area in the north-west (I was in south-west at night, central in the morning, and headed east where I live) with less than 2 hours for my interview. I was still significantly high and had a blast trying to make my way to the venue for the interview. I got there in time, intoxicated, shit-faced, smelling like a combination of a a brewery and a chimney stack. Of course, I must not forget to mention the t-shirt I was wearing from the previous night, which told the world that "Cartman's mom is a dirty slut". I don't quite remember some of the interview, and what I do remember mostly involves me struggling to put together my thoughts in a linear coherent string of words. And yes, the look of shock on the interviewer's face. Later, he told me that the only reason he actually interviewed me in spite of my appearance, etc was only because he was also an Indian and therefore had a "soft spot" for his fellow countrymen.

All the same, I cleared the interview. Yes, I am truly a genius, what to do? I dazzled him with my brilliance even in the state of mind (and clothing etc) that I have just described. But I don't remember feeling so... disappointed, shall we say, with myself ever. I mean, getting wasted the night before an important event is no big deal, but fucking up the event as a consequence of it certainly is. Especially in a scenario like this where I am presently doing a shit job (call centre in the garb of market research, a shameful sordid story to tell my grandchildren and girlfriends that I don't have) and am looking for other better ones (though I still maintain that all jobs suck, its just the degrees that differ) and this was one that specifically was looking to recruit an anthropologist (the first job ad I saw of this kind... and also, I am not exactly sure if I am actually an anthropologist). Anyway, I am not keen about this job anymore for other reasons. But the point is, I have rarely handled myself with such profound irresponsibility. Made me think about how fucking lazy I have allowed myself to become, and it made me physically sick enough to prevent me from going to work on Monday.

All day today, I have been cringing in pain, and those who know me better know that I don't feel pain easily (there are historical reasons for it, but let's leave that story for another day). Fucking wisdom teeth shit. But it is rather strange, I must say, since the last time I had this feeling was about 7-8 years ago. Rather long gap for those goddamned molars to act up again. Mayhap I gave them reason to... but that doesn't make the fucking pain any better. I considered smoking a little weed to numb the pain, but after Sunday, I had decided to not smoke any at least till Friday evening. So I haven't, and am trying to grin and bear it, though grinning is a problem. Oh yes, there is the concept of analgesics, and I am aware of it. But I need something in the belly before I throw in the pill, and I have rarely waited for a meal like I am right now!

So before I go to try and hurry up my dinner, I will leave you with another poem I wrote almost 5 years ago. Its called "showtime". Enjoy!

logarithmic equations that confuse
chemicals that react mysteriously
the paparazzi on question paper
it hangs on the edge perilously

worries float up in smoke
youth took care of the rest
do i have to come of age?
i know i will pass the test

myriad pathways of my life
just as many ways to end it
i know i will get my kicks
even through all the shit

time is banging on the door
the hinges come off loose
the whirlwind blew in a mess
and left me hanging by a noose

gotta make it last forever
i am gonna queer the pitch
does it have to move so fast?
life, aint it a bitch?

And again, I have been tempted

What else do I do? Someone decides to be a prick while trying to look like a pair of boobs. Of course, I don't like it. Neither will I like it if someone says some stupid shit about something that the someone in question either doesn't follow properly, or follows too far. Yes, I am again referring to the over-intellectualisation of this space due to the nature of the comments, which of course are a cause of the contents of my posts obviously. I am not entirely sure, but if I were a reader of this post as opposed to being the author, all this ruckus between the author and those commenting would put me off a decent bit I think. Hmmm... does anyone have any ideas which will circumvent the imposition of such blather on innocent readers?

I must also confess that the idea of making people think that I am absolutely pathetic is quite interesting, almost appealing. It reflects the power of words, and more importantly, how seriously some people take themselves, others around them, and life in general. I don't know if they need to take some drugs or something, but they sure need to chill out a bit. I am sure that somewhere in this blog, I have talked of my hatred for political correctness. I should also add to it my hatred for the compulsive need some people feel to point out the factual inaccuracies in a joke, or some other form of humour. Of course, there is the idea of humour itself, and personally, the darker it is, the more I like it. (I was tempted to add that it works the same way for me with women's skin colour, but I think I will leave that out. On hindsight, its already been said anyway, right?) Anyway, it's a fucking joke, its meant to be funny, you know, when you open you mouth and go "hahaha" or "hihihi" or "hehehe" or "hohoho" (which is the perfect sound of laughter in the company of a drunk 'under-dressed' woman who is all set to put out to the stranger in the corner; yes, even if she is a 'friend'; especially if she is a friend) or whatever other retarded sounds you like to make when happy.

Some of you, my readers, really need to take life a little easier in general. If you go looking for issues, there will also be countless to find. But why this counter-productive love for complexity? The simpler you keep things, the higher your chances of finding happiness in life, which I think should be the main purpose of anyone's existence. I can already hear half of you thinking in a voice you would hate to hear me imitating "But Himanshu, things are not as simple as you make them out to be...". Yes, I know, and fuck you too. The existence of the possibility to complicate something does not necessitate it. And the existence of a certain complexity does not necessitate you to entangle yourself in it. If you still choose to do so, good for you, but stop trying to tell me to do the same. Complexity of thoughts DOES NOT mean increased awareness. If I were any more sensitive a person, I would hurt from seeing all these minds damaged by education.

Now I must rest so that I can get up on time for another day of drudgery and slavery. And one of these days, I must write about the most irresponsible thing I remember doing in a LONG time.

Nothing much to say, little time as well

Another delay in making posts, one that I regret more than any of my readers, I am sure. After all, writing seems a much better way to spend time than doing a shitty job, or applying for other shitty jobs, which is what has been keeping me away. But we got to do what we got to do, and there are no free lunches, etc.

So this US soldier returns home from Iraq after a year, and thanks to his faithful Wii, discovers his wife has been not so faithful to him. There were a few things about the story that made me think. For one, the soldier in question had his Wii with him for much of the time while he was "serving" in Iraq, to keep him company. Some war going on there, eh? For two, he trusts the Wii more than he trusts his wife, and with good reason. But is that the state of things to come, when we trust gadgets more than fellow humans? After all, machines can't really lie, can they? Of course, then there is the notion of privacy, and how much personal data is stored even on something like a gaming console. And then, I feel in the mood to add that the poor soldier deserved it for fighting an unjustified war.

Oh, most of you perhaps don't have a clue about the story itself. Feel free to read it at http://uk.news.yahoo.com/register/20071121/ttc-wii-grasses-up-cheating-wife-d1d76f9_1.html

While you are it, try something else. Go to Google maps, and search for your street address. You will probably find it. Now search for Mt Everest. Fucking idiots.

Answering questions for a (wise) friend, etc.

For starters, the friend in question rightly said that you choose your critics when you choose your friends. But that's hardly the reason why I refer to him as wise. He also showed me the stupidity behind disbelief in god. Of course, I hope that he has moved beyond agnosticism himself. (I don't think there should be any confusion here, but one can never be sure these days. He did not make me a believer, no, he made me an agnostic. And by beyond agnosticism, I refer to simply not giving a fuck about god's existence.)

The poem in my last post was written not too long back... in fact, it was in February this year. So that is my current opinion, so as to say. I enjoy education, like we all enjoy so many pointless things. I also enjoy it because it keeps you away from work (in the organised fashion of being an employee etc). Problem with education is that it "opens the mind" to all these possibilities, which even while being completely contradictory, seem equally "logically" or "rationally" appealing. You can stretch certain "ground-breaking" theories to prove just about anything. That is what I have tried to convey in the poem as well.

As for rules of poetry... what rules? I have heard of notions like metres and other such 'esoteric' jargon, but I have never really bothered much with those ever. Unless of course while trying to compose a haiku or a limerick or some such, but I don't really do that much (usually for exclusively private consumption). Blank verse, or free verse (which is what I indulge in; blank verse has some metric technicality involved) is a different deal altogether, but again, I have never given it much thought, other than making a choice between writing that or prose. I don't think writing should follow any rules since it is meant to be written in your own style, reflecting your own chutzpah. And if you need to copy someone else's, please get a life.

So now that that is out the way... whew! I got a little ambitious and tried writing a poem in Hindi. Actually, I wrote a couple of them many years back, when I was about 15 or so, and this reminds me that I should see if I can still find them. But anyway, here is what I came up with now, and I have to say, I am not entirely dissatisfied with the result. Of course, for you Hindi-illiterate people out there, I will post a translation as well. I call it अंत भला तो सब भला

विशाल रेगिस्तान, थकी हुई साँसें
चिलचिलाती धूप, दो बेचारे प्यासे
मंज़िल का कोई नामोनिशान नहीं
यहाँ है शरीर लेकिन दिमाग कहीं
अकेला तरुवर अपनी छाया बिछाए
मृगतृष्णा अपना कपट दिखाए
रेत का समुद्र में रेत की लहर
दयालु भगवान का प्यारा कहर
मौत की लम्बी नींद की छोटी पुकार
अब क्या फ़ायदा, सारे यतन हैं बेकार

Now for the Anglophone version. Again, I will keep the translation as literal as possible, even though it will mean venturing (unwillingly this time) in the territory of free verse. The name, however, is simple enough to do. "All is well that ends well"

vast desert, tired breaths
scorching sunshine, two miserable parched folks
no sign of the destination
the body is here but the mind elsewhere
lone tree spreading its shade
mirage displays its deceit
wave of sand in the sea of sand
generous god's lovely curse
small cry of the long sleep of death
what use now, all effort is futile

Doesn't read half as well in English. But that wasn't quite the idea anyway.

If only readers could stay on the same track as me...

I wrote a silly little poem a while ago, but I think there is still some truth in it. Before I reproduce it below, I shall first answer a question posed to me in a comment to the last post. Causality need not be the real "meat" of any given issue. It depends entirely on what one is looking for in any issue, if we must call it an issue. I describe phenomena that I notice and find amusing, or at times, a tad bit irritating. Why they happened to come about the way they did is of little consequence to me, since I can spend two life times of research trying to find the answer and still not be satisfied. Looking into the beginnings of a phenomenon helps us understand it better, but I am not trying to understand anything. I am merely observing and noting.

It is not difficult to over-intellectualise things to pose ever more questions without finding enough answers. And yes, questioning is a good thing. But in the process, it could become difficult to stay on the same level as the original topic. If I were to make ill-founded claims about beginnings and causalities and someone were to rebuke me for it, I would take it most gracefully. But jeez, don't try to tell me that I am on the wrong side of the fence because I am not going in the direction of your interests. Something similar happened with the post on Buddhism, where some reader(s) completely missed the point of my post, and took issue with something I never wrote (perhaps precisely for that reason?).

Anyway, here is the poem. Its called "the wonders of education!". As I said, its a little silly. But all the same, I hope the connection between the poem and general unnecessary over-intellectualisation does not escape the reader.

pack your bags, time for school
for the infusion of confusion
pointlessness of so many points
instruction of deconstruction

relativity theories of kith & kin
scientism used to beat itself
rationality stretched to extremes
now sits uselessly on the shelf

notions of nations are imaginary
as is anything objectively true
objects, subjects inter-mingle
all part of academic obscure stew

nothing can be pinned down ever
not even perceptions of space-time
philosophy, arts, science, history
nothing at all is worth a dime

space no longer the final frontier
space, frontier, finality are all false
comfort of categories is misleading
so break down all them damn walls

after courses in so many discourses
existence itself looks like a circus
purpose of education at the end is
that education has no real purpose

One for the Devanagari readers

Before I set out to do this, I think I should clarify a bit. I have more time on my hands than I would like, or even know what to do with. So I thought I will give this a shot, at least with a short post. Of course, I did not want to do this at the expense of cutting down the number of my readers (not that there are too many anyway). So for those for whom the script below might as well be Martian, scroll down a bit, and you will find a translation that you will follow. Now that I have explained...

तो मैं सोच रहा था कि क्या लिखा जाये? अगर हिन्दी में लिख रहा हूँ तो क्यों न अपने देसी भाई-बंधुओं के बारे में लिखूं? लेकिन मेरे दिमाग के गधे प्रवासी नागरिकों की ओर दौड़ रहे हैं। तो वही सही।

मेरी जान-पहचान के जो भारतीय इस शहर में रहते हैं, उनको मोटा-मोटी २ भान्तियों में बांटा जा सकता है। पहली भाँती वह जिनको अपनी मात्र्भूमि से कोई खास लगाव नहीं है, बल्कि उनको बहुत प्रसन्नता है कि वो किसी developed देश में हैं जहाँ औरतों की चमड़ी गोरी है। ऐसे लोगों के बोलने का लहजा बदलते कोई समय नहीं लगता, हवाई-जहाज़ से उतरते ही अचानक उन्हें "fake accent" नामक बिमारी हो जाती है। (लेकिन कुछ ऐसे भी होते हैं जिनको यह बिमारी दिल्ली या मुम्बई हवाई अड्डे पर हवाई-जहाज़ में बैठने के साथ ही लग जाती है!) यह पहली भाँती के लोग ऐसी भी कोशिश करते हैं कि इनके मित्रगण में अन्य भारतीय कम से कम हों। मेरे ख्याल से ऐसा करने से उनको एक तरह की "truly international feeling" महसूस होती है, जिससे उनके अपने छोटे से ब्रह्माण्ड में ख़ुशी कि १-२ लहरें दौड़ जाती हैं। अगर उनको ऐसी छोटी निक्कार हरकतों से ही ख़ुशी मिलती है तो मैं या तुम कौन हैं उसे रोकने वाले? हाँ, अगर तुम्हारा इरादा उनको चूतीया बुला कर उन पर हंसने का है तो मैं तुम्हारे साथ हूँ।

अब दूसरी भाँती। यह उन लोगों की है जो अपने देश से दूर जा कर उसके और भी करीब हो जाते हैं। अंग्रेजी में एक कहावत है, "distance makes the heart grow fonder"। मैं इस कहावत में विश्वास नहीं करता लेकिन ऐसे लोगों से मिलना मुझे दुविधा में डाल देता है। शारीरिक और मानसिक दूरियों के बीच का उल्टा संबंध मुझे कुछ समझ में नहीं आया। जब वो भारत में थे, तब वो सामान्य थे। लेकिन अब, जब वो भारत में नहीं हैं, अचानक भारत देश महान और जय गंगा मईये। भिन्न भिन्न प्रकार के लोगों के बीच में जब अपना खुद का दिमाग काम नहीं करे तो अपनी देश की आन को बीच में ले आओ। पहले अपने देश को जितनी गाली देते थे, अब उसके उतने ही गुण गाओ. मेरे ख्याल से काफी कट्टरवादी ऐसे ही बनते हैं।

मैं अभी तक इस निर्णय पर नहीं पहुंच पाया हूँ कि ज्यादा चूतीये कौन हैं, पहली या दूसरी भाँती? आप की क्या राय है?

Alright, I have to say I have impressed myself a bit with all this Hindi. Small pat on the back. Without ado, here is the translation (which I will try keep as literal as possible):

So I was thinking what to write? If writing in Hindi, why not write about my desi brothers and friends? But my mind's asses run in the direction of diasporic citizens. So be it.

The Indians living in this city that I know can be more or less divided into 2 kinds. The first kind is those that have no special attachment to their motherland, in fact they are happy to be in a developed country where the women have white skin. It takes no time for such peoples' speech to change, they acquire a disease called "fake accent" the moment they step off the aeroplane. (But there are also those who get diseased the moment they sit in to the aeroplane at the Delhi or Mumbai airports!) These people of the first kind also make efforts such that in their circle of friends, there are as few Indians as possible. I think doing this makes them feel a sort of "truly international feeling", which causes 1-2 waves of happiness to flow through their small universe. If they derive happiness from such small useless actions, who are you or me to stop them? Of course, if your intent is to call them a moron (the word 'moron' does little justice to चूतीया, which would literally mean closer to 'fucker' but that is not the implication I seek here-in)and laugh at them, then I am with you.

Now the second kind. It is of those people who go far from their country to get even closer to it. There is a saying in English, "distance makes the heart grow fonder". I have never believed in this saying but meeting such people puts me in a conundrum. I do not quite follow the inverse relationship between physical and mental distances. When they were in India, they were normal. But now, that they are not in India, suddenly India is a great country and Praise Mother Ganges. When the mind doesn't work amid a group of people of many many different kinds, drag the honour of the country in between. Earlier, the extent to which they called their country names, now, sing as many praises to it. I think this is what leads to the formation of extremists.

I still have not been able to decide who is more moronic (चूतीया once again), the first or the second kind? What is your opinion?

The idea of 'humanity'

So, this can take a few hours to write, but since I don't want to waste that much time, I will do this in my own lovable random style.

What makes us humans? Or rather, what makes us humans different from the other living species on this planet? Compared to plants and other vegetation (minus a few which exhibit some or the other form of movement, which I must confess, I find awesome, such as the Venus Flytrap in action), we humans, like most other animals, are capable of movement. Compared to other animals (since we are technically also animals), we are capable of more thought since our brains have evolved more than theirs etc. So it will not be wrong to conclude that our 'humanity' derives from our ability to think. Then of course, we have the overused term of the 'social animal' which tells us that the human tends to socialise, and that in fact, is one of the things that makes him human. But how do we define 'social'? Animals tend to also congregate in groups for all sorts of reasons, and we all know about schools of fish, murders of crows and prides of lions and other such. Furthermore, even the beauty of their natural formations, such as a flock of geese that could give the best air-force display a run for its skills, is breathtaking to behold. And why should we not term such phenomena as social, but be content to merely label it as natural?

So my point is that social behaviour exists outside the human spectrum as well, and we have no reason to feel special about it. Of course, one can throw at me the argument that the scale at which we have achieved so much progress is surely noteworthy, and that it could not have been possible without human society being organised in the meticulous ways it is. And of course, there is always the rhetorical question about why other animals could not do it if they were as good as humans? Well, this is what I have to say. We have achieved what we have at the expense of many other species (I am not getting into a moral argument about it being a good or a bad thing) and we have managed that because we developed tools that made us more powerful than other species, thereby effectively controlling the way of things. Which makes it a matter of survival of the fittest, or of might being right, etc. I wonder if that is a 'human' trait or animal. Even socialising itself is an extension of groupism and the need to live in herds, like cows or sheep do. We surely do it in a more organised fashion, and even with some style sometimes, but thats about that.

The big difference I think is between being human and being 'humane'. The latter is a concocted notion, dreamt up over thousands of years by some fiendish souls to bring about a sense of 'order' in the world. To use a spiritual (literally) idiom, its like these souls keep living on across all generations, shifting from one body to another, since such champions of 'order' are to be found from the present, all the way down to a siginificant depth of recorded history. Of course, this sense of 'order' itself is made to seem like a necessity, whereas no one ever even thinks of the merits of chaos. I can already see half of you think "merits of chaos? what the fuck is he on?" But the point of this rant is not chaos theory, so I will let it lie. Back to 'humanity'.

Under the rubric of 'humanity', we try to negate all that which is animal about us, in an effort to forget the fact we once were (and still are, after all is said and done) animals. Violence, lust, indifference to others' suffering, mob mentality, it is all a part of our biological make-up, I think. No, there is nothing wrong in trying to overcome them, but then again, who are you to say that the age of Barbarians was not a happy one? Or that in this age of Civilisation, there is any dearth of inconsolably sad people? And if your point is a purely ideological one, you might as well shove it up your you know where.

Jeez, it tires me, the thought of how deep-rooted this notion of 'humanity' is among a large chunk of the human populace. Thankfully, there are still some outside its purview, and I can only hope the numbers grow. And as for this post, I will have to continue another time since I had rather not get too angry right now. All the same, I am happy if I have ruffled some feathers with this one. Come and get me, fellow humans. Pour your scorn (or even just feel it) and fall to my level! And oh, while you are at it, at least try to have a decent argument that goes beyond "But how can you even think in such a horrible way?" Of course, that would require thinking, but then again, maybe you are more humane than you are human!

Continued rant against idealists

Now why would someone equate pragmatism with cowardice? Just because I have the pragmatism to avoid death by not falling on the railway tracks, say, does not mean I am a coward to not jump in front of the next oncoming train. And my last post where I mentioned the college kid who had to apologise for his personal taste testifies to the fact that even college (and accompanying idealism, in some cases) does not safeguard your right to speak freely, which is far more important that speaking ideally. Idealism is, according to me, not too distant from idle-ism, especially when the former involves mere talk.

Jobs don't preach pragmatism, they preach their own idea of idealism. And in the course of your job, if you don't practice what you preach, you can still be forgiven if you at least tried. But if you didn't even try, don't blame the working life, you dogdamned pussy. Going against the established norms is painful, no matter where you try it. Don't blame your own issues on realpolitik.

Problem with idealism is that it takes very little pain and hardship in to account, since it doesn't involve any of it when sitting with a bunch of pseudo-hippie wanna-be world changers, who will decry the corporate world while their corporate dads fund their educations, while they wear designer jeans (torn for the hippie effect) and spend considerable time primping themselves everyday, only to go out to speak against other forms of discrimination. This whole idea of good looks and beauty pisses me off, to be honest. I was reading something the other day, and there was this quote by one of those actresses from Sex and the City, which was something like, "After all, the show is about beautiful people". What a cunt! What the fuck is that supposed to mean anyway? And those of you who watch it, how obsessed can you be with looks anyway? I am sorry, but "there is nothing wrong with wanting to look good" is no fucking excuse. Its shallower than being racist, misogynist or whatever other form of bias you can think of. Especially since the idea of 'beauty' is as constructed as that of races, religion, madness, or society. So take a look in the mirror (not a real mirror, you vain fools, but the proverbial one) before you cast allegations of bigotry.

Working sucks ARSE!

And that arse is certainly not mine, but merely a proverbial one. Coz if it were mine, I certainly wouldn't be complaining, but lying back and enjoying instead. Why I am saying that is since my last post, I began a shyt job and didn't find time to do anything else, other than look for other jobs! Of course, now I have quit that job and still haven't found another, so I am posting again. Working again is as little fun as I thought it would be, but it's all about the money, ain't it?

So I was thinking a few days back about some random similarities I have noticed between what I will label 'Punjabi bravs' and 'Nigga mundas' (मुंडे for those who can read the script). I think it's the music that started me off. The emphasis on the 'beat' (and no, I am not referring to old school hip-hop which is hella cool, or to folk Punjabi music which is an art) in the music listened to by both these kinds of people, and even the similarity of this 'beat' which also makes for easy integration of the two genres, was truly astounding when I thought about it. Of course, it also seems that both these varieties of people are rather loud (often obnoxiously so, much to the chagrin of those around) when in company of their brethren, as also flashy in their clothing, jewelery, hairdo and overall general appearance. Of course, I am sure there are some of you who are thinking I am being racist, perhaps the moment I used "nigga" above. I am not generalising, but merely speaking of a certain kind of Punjabis and Blacks who fit the description I have mentioned. Of course, I don't see why its cool for one nigger to call another nigger a nigger, but wrong for anyone else. I mean, I don't give a shit about skin colour; even Black people are not really black. And if you disagree, then you are short of cones in your eyes, you colour-blind ape. Which is why I prefer the word Negro (even though it does mean 'black' in Spanish and Portuguese).

The spectrum of behaviour that can be termed 'racist' has grown to become a bit of an inconvenience. For instance, stereotyping, even though a bit stupid, is not racist. All drug dealers I know in this country (except one, who is French white, and a pain in the arse) are dark-skinned. You tell me what I am supposed to do! But just because I will ask the darker man for my fix doesn't mean I think he less intelligent than me, or sub-human, or any other negative thought. The only negative thought I could have towards him would arise if he ripped me off, but it has little to do with his skin colour. If some dude doesn't want Arabic music in his party, and says as much in his invite on Facebook, he is not a racist pig, damnit. Can't we even have preferences now? Next thing I know, some dumb shit will accuse me of being racist because I won't sleep with her (or even him, you never know)!

We are being made in to intolerant idiots under the ever-expanding definition of racism, and also its evil cousin, political correctness. Fuck, how I hate pretentious arse-wipes who will hide their true thoughts and feelings because to express them freely would (or could) be considered improper under the protocol imposed by political correctness. Of course, I take great delight in breaking the norm (never for the sake of it though, that would be just as stupid) and it is most amusing to see peoples' reactions. If only I had a photo-album of all those faces... I would perhaps not need to hear or read another joke in my life, and still die laughing. Argh! How I despise spineless nit-wits who don't have the balls to say what they really want to! And I feel sorry for those who have imbibed the quality to the point where they don't even see the difference.

I was talking to some people the other day and the conversation turned to someone's parents coming over for a few days and proposed activities etc. Someone suggested that the parents should be taken to hang out near the Parliament where the family could then indulge in some protest of one kind or another against the government. Did I miss some meeting where we were putting good old fashioned fun on to a rocket ship to Titan? Whats with some youngsters these days anyway? Jeez man... if my kids ever try pull off some such crap with me, I would advise them to go get laid.

Good to be back

So my dissertation is over, and I never let it get in my way of having a good time, so I am happier than those who went through considerable self-denial towards this pursuit. And of course, the fact that I am happy with what I wrote, as opposed to many of the self-denied mentioned above, I guess I should have another reason to celebrate. "Sex on TV", pretty catchy title, eh?

The drudgery is about to begin. 8 hours at work, 2 more spent travelling to and fro. Wow. Isn't that just what we all need? Bring home the dough so we can eat some bread. But seriously, I can't be bothered to complain. I was getting a little tired of college, to be honest. I mean, I love being on campus... a lot more vibrancy compared to most offices. But all the same, too many naive goody-two-shoes ignoramuses walking around who are completely oblivious to how the real world works. Someone needs to seriously put them in a fucking sweat shop or something, so that life can bitch-slap them at least a little bit. So much idealistic banter in one year, it was quite a serious assault on my pragmatic self. Don't get me wrong, I love, LOVE bullshitting. But serious ideal crap, no fucking way. Anyway, all good things come to an end, and hopefully, so will working.

Now I shall make leave, and return soon.

Apologies for the absence

Sorry folks, I had been traveling and had little access to the Internet, and much less the luxury of time to write a post. Traveling is done now, but I have a house to shift and other associated logistics to take care of. Am also trying to get a job, since we all got to eat, right? And no one is paying for my lunches. Also, my dissertation is nowhere near completion. So I am forced to take another short sabbatical before I post a proper one again. As Arnie once said, and was copied by many, "I'll be back". With a bang, or a whimper, remains to be seen.

But before I vamoose, there is one thing I would like to say. Someone needs to hand me a flamethrower so I can go and burn the balls of the self-righteous mother-fuckers who like to preach to anyone who cares to listen (and there seem to many of those) about the wonders and benefits of asceticism and the 'simple life'. Has anyone ever seen the bank accounts of those unholy bastards? Makes me almost want to become one of them, for the sheer money involved. And no, I don't mind being called an unholy bastard myself. Au contraire, I would prefer the title of 'Bastard King'. Which reminds me of something I wrote a few years ago. Since these are just fragments from it, I won't give it a name... enjoy if you will.


Some people are born bastards, others have it thrust upon themselves. A more significant third variety, knowingly or otherwise, work towards being the biggest baddest bastards ever, and manage it very well. I am their king. After immeasurably saddening the one closest to me, and oh! in what a way, there was no obstacle between me and the crown. My handiwork, the house of horrors still stands, and will stand for an eternity, which ends with the end of its lone occupant. Well, credit must also be given to the fine gentleman who laid down the unbearably strong foundation for the house. Without it, all my masonry skills would have been futile. Not that I was very good at it anyway, which is why I didn't do much except chronicling. Pieces from the past flew out into the wind which had turned the pages, and with a dexterity that otherwise only exists in imaginations, assembled themselves into the house. She just happened to be on the plot at the time this was happening, but that was only because thats where she had been living for quite a while now. Thats where I had found her, before I fell in love with her. The walls rose up surrounding her, and the ceiling just fell in place, shutting her in, while I was away visiting lesser kings. Of course, when I found out, I summoned all the masons in me and went to work. But masons isn't exactly what one would expect to find inside the king of the bastards of the third variety. There went all my efforts to break the house down. I just wasn't up to it. And I think no one ever will be.

The person who had met her on the plot died a few months ago. Or did he never exist? He tries to exist now, but is not allowed to. One day, I met this person who is still trying to exist. He tries by sometimes invading precious memory space, too crowded with images of horror, real or as is sometimes the case, imaginary. No wonder he tries with little success. The fate of the person who never existed is not known. Anyway, so this person who is trying very hard even at this moment to exist once took a break from it, and tried to seek an audience with me just when I was letting out a flow of the warm yellow. And he asked me why exactly the hell was I not doing anything. I told him I was pissing. He told me to cut the crap. So I told him that I was trying. There is only so much a man can do. Specially if his hands are tied.

Not that my hands are tied right now. But they will be when they decide to throw my body in the river after putting it in the sack that they bought last night. They will come for me soon. The curse demands they do. The house is my curse. It imprisons my soul. It gives me the crown. The crown has a great demand. They will come for it.

A comment on comments

Aaargh! What would it take to keep certain conversations on the same track as the one they were on to start with, when trying to make a point? All I was trying to say in the last post is that Buddhism borrows a lot of its teachings from Hinduism. No judgements of the teachings of either, because I don't give a shit. Anonymous who had to try to give me reasons as to why I don't "get it" assumes there is something, in the first place, to get. Anyway, I was not even talking about getting it, or anything else, which is the whole damn point she/he seemed to have missed. This whole talk of social constructs around religion in general is very true, and half my reason for condemning religion in general. If you, in defense of your faith, choose to offer a discourse that has nothing to do with the facts being discussed, try barking up another tree. Don't play the part of the politician who changes the topic to avoid agreeing with something, just because he doesn't want to agree and has no intelligent way of disagreeing.

The so-called pearls of wisdom of Buddhism, Hinduism or any other religion or ism can be found within ourselves, without recourse to religion. Faith is a self-answering mechanism, which requires leaving behind thought and any enquiry in to its nature, since it is not meant to be understood, but merely believed in. If it makes you happy to believe that Christ walked on water, or that Hanuman flew with a mountain, good for you. And if faith brings such belief into our world, still good for you. I had rather fart on it, to be honest, and not leave my thinking behind.

I am not trying to offer any explanations of concepts and/or subtle differences. This is not meant to be a theological discussion, which is what my dear anonymous has tried to make it in to (perhaps for reasons already mentioned above). For dear anonymous, and other like her/him out there, learn to stick to the point if you want to make a point. Don't start with organic chemistry in a lesson on history. I merely tried to point out a fact that some Buddhists are of denial in, and that has absolutely nothing to do with anything else. I gave her/his comments ample thought and realised that she/he is on a tangent that they she/he doesn't want to come off, and I don't want to bother trying. Faith, after all, is a powerful driving force. The pity is, most of us need something outside of ourselves to have faith in.

A thought on Buddhism

I almost forgot about Buddha and the religion he spawned! Well, I don't have too much to say about it, and what little I do might upset any Buddhist reading this. If so, even better! Anyway, I have realised that many Buddhists think that their religion has nothing to do with Hinduism, and according to many Thais, nothing much to do with India either. Well, maybe I am a victim of state propaganda, but out of morbid curiosity, read on. And a disclaimer - I am not promoting Hinduism, since I am against religion in general, and wish it would disappear forever.

Many outside India don't know of a religion called Jainism, and its uncanny resemblances to Buddhism. They even came up around the same time, and some say Buddhism borrowed a lot from Jainism. Read up on it, if you like. And they both sort of derived from Hindu teachings at the time. Of course, Buddha (and Mahavira, the most famous proponent of Jainism) developed his own strands of philosophical and metaphysical thought that deviated at least a bit from Hinduism, but Hinduism was what formed its base. Buddha, after all, was born a Hindu, in a place called Lumbini in present-day Nepal. So here are some of the similarities between the two religions: the concepts of Ahimsa; Karma & Dharma; Yoga & Meditation; Reincarnation; Nirvana; and their ideas on Cosmology and Worldview.

Before you start thinking of disagreeing and shooting me down, go read. Please do yourself a favour. I am not trying to subsume Buddhism within Hinduism, but am merely pointing out facts that the followers of the former often deny. Its akin to Sikhism, which is a religion in its own right, but depends as much on the sayings of its founders as on tenets from many other faiths such as Hinduism, Islam, Sufism, etc. That, in fact, is what makes Sikhism unique. But that does not take away the fact that Sikhism has borrowed a lot from many other religions. Don't deny facts unless you have issues of your own. And if you have issues, go sort them out. Then we will talk facts.

I have also been prompted to write about the meaning of life, and other such. But I am tired. Writing such serious stuff really isn't my style, and it takes its toll.

Facebook and Buddhism

Well, certainly not a very usual combination, perhaps not a popular one either, but then again, I am not linking the two anyway. Just writing about both on the same day, is all.

Facebook. Orkut. hi5. And so many other social networking sites that got eclipsed by competition. They have taken the world by the horns, so as to say, or at least the cyber-world. Some have preached to me the networking benefits offered, while others have told me that its the way of the future where email will be obsolete, in much the same way as post is becoming now. And then of course, there are those who have told me that its a great way to share photographs, lists of favourites, appointments, and lots of other trivial and non-trivial crap - in short, our lives - with other people, some of which could be actual friends.

Here is the deal. Networking existed, and functioned very well, even before the telephone was invented. Now of course, we don't even sit on the pot to crap without our mobile phone. Post is still not obsolete, and never will be. Its like the fears about hardcopy newspapers and real books dying out in the 'electronic age'. So with email in the 'social-networking-site age'. And if your idea of 'sharing' involves large-scale exhibitionism, with voyeurs you perhaps never will meet or even know, good. And so many you are sharing your life with aren't even really interested in it.

Such sites have some real merits, and I will not deny that at all. But they seem more like an online extension of popularity contests and mutual back-scratching. And oh, how can I forget the attempts to date on such sites, by the very same people who will look down upon online chatting with strangers. I could also mention the many hours of man-hours (or for those feminist fanatics out there, woman-hours too, which perhaps account for more anyway!) wasted on this phenomenon. But nothing gets to me more than the mental laziness (and some physical too) these things drive you to.

It takes about as much effort and time to email someone as it does to send them a message through these sites. But mental blocks and laziness tell us otherwise. And this anecdote takes the cake. Before I narrate it, I have to say I have an account on Facebook, which will cease to exist in 5 days from now. If it weren't for my intoxication, and the (irritating) persistence of a friend, I never would have been on it. Tino, you prick. Anyway, so I sent a message to everyone I knew on Facebook (which took me about 45 minutes to figure out, since I don't really use that site at all and was unaware how it worked) saying I was out of it in a week since I hated it. I gave my email id (two of them, in fact) for those who wanted to keep in touch and asked people specifically to not reply through Facebook. Sure enough, I have had more responses on Facebook than both my emails put together. And at least half the people haven't bothered responding at all. Hahahaha. Very clever, Very social.

Something else I heard yesterday that impacts you Facebook users. There is now an application for it (which needs to be bought, it ain't free) which allows one to look up complete activities of other users, from which pages you visited to who you poked (whatever the fuck that means) to whatever the fuck else people do on Facebook. Enjoy your public lives!

Have written enough in one post I think. Buddha comes in next!

The locust called love

I once told someone not too long ago that if I put all my friends that I have accumulated over the years together in a room, it may not make for a giant party, but it will surely result in some jaw-dropping (pun intended) violence within the first 10 minutes. But a common strain that cuts across this diverse bunch of people (I am not speaking for all of them, merely making a vague generalisation) is the love of, or desire for, love. As an (just a little bit though) aside, I also read a quote recently which I thought very profound, "Desire does not desire satisfaction. To the contrary, desire desires desire."

The point is, I have been prompted more than once by life to think about love, and its wide-spread affliction in this world. And my thoughts go something like this.

There is love - the emotion, and very distinct from it is the idea of being in love. Many of us keep chasing the idea of being in love, because well, love is, after all, a great exhilarating feeling. The problem is, we get too caught up in that chase. Life is not fair, and love does not happen to everyone. There is no point making yourself miserable over not having 'found' love, or even more miserable in trying to find it while putting yourself through fucked up relationships one after the other.

Of course, there are those who think that every relationship they had was out of love, and that is, according to me, bullshit. But this line of thought has at least one benefit - it could make for a happier and more peaceful life, which I think is what every life is meant for. But there is no need to tie the idea of love to happiness, and its a common mistake, as I have seen. If love happens, good. If it doesn't, still good. The idea of there being a perfect match for us all is a myth, and if I found the first person who began its propaganda, I would gladly rip his balls out with my bare hands. :)

The concept of perfect love or a perfect match is pure fantasy, like unicorns (which are infinitely more possible) or utopia (in its objective sense, and in not a personal subjective way). So to quote Jim, my good old dead friend, "Please don't chase the clouds, pagodas". People change all the time, including your self. Someone who seems perfect today may not seem as immaculate tomorrow, unless you expect two different unique people to change entirely in sync throughout their lives, which is a rather unreasonable expectation.

I am not trying to say that one should give up on love. Au contraire, even though it is perhaps among the most over-rated things ever. What I am saying is that as it is, we humans tend to let too many emotions get in the way of our lives, love being the most pressing of them all. And that is not a very smart thing to do. And no, I don't want to be told about love being irrational or other such bullshit, because I have been there, done that. And for those who know me well (admittedly, there aren't too many of those) will vouch for me when I say I know what I am talking about.

Another sort of side-track. Love is distinct from lust, but they are very close cousins, at least as long as we can still get it up (and for women, as long as they can still get it on, hormonal troubles notwithstanding). The two can co-exist in one person, and it is even better if the two are felt for the same person!

So yeah, stop being in love with love. And enjoy life while you still can. I think I wanted to write more, but I have been side-tracked, and I need to get back to writing about how television ushered in modernity etc in my lovely cunt (a great abbreviation for country that I stole from Megha, hehe.)

Running away, blah blah

I wish I could say what prompted me to write all this, but hell, who cares?

We all try and do things we want to do, and then we try and do things we need to do. As for me, I try and minimise the difference between the two, and therefore find little need for running away. If there is something that I feel like running away from once in a while, its myself that I can't stand. But there is nowhere to run from yourself, so I am learning to cope with that too.

Friendships and love are cousins that rule the lives of most of us. And since I do not like my life being ruled by anything other than myself, I try to keep both at a certain distance. Not to say that I am a shallow friend, or haven't loved, but its just that well, I don't get too affected by others' actions towards my life. And I don't make too many efforts to do things for others, or to even keep in touch with, since I already have enough on my own platter to take care of, and that is a pretty damn difficult job anyway. I don't know how I do it, but my friends' list only seems to grow (there are some who drop off along the way, but hardly anyone that I strike off myself) while I don't let that list impose itself on my life in any which way whatsoever. And to be honest, there has only ever been one exception to this "rule" in my life, and that is Megha, the one person I can say I have truly loved.

When she and me got together, well, thats not exactly what I was looking to do at all. I was just going where I thought life was taking me, while trying to get to many places at the same time. All the same, I learnt a lot from the experience, and still am. I do not think that I realise the value of time spent with someone when I am far apart. I do not much agree with the notion of distance making the heart grow fonder. I spend time with someone in the first place if I think the person is worth it (or if I have some ulterior motive, which is possible, but I can't recall any examples). And once that time is over and gone, life has changed, and I have moved on. When I think back on it, its not nostalgia I feel, since that refers to a sense of longing for the time gone by. What I may have are happy memories that may even bring a smile to face, but I guess I am far too practical (or far too cold) to feel anything more than that. Since there are no regrets about the past, there are no wishes for the past either. And the wishes (which are more like designs) for the future (sadly) usually only involve me, since my own life is the only thing I have a relative degree of control over.

Over the last few months, I have been accused by a couple of friends that I maintain a mysterious front. Well, I won't say they are right, and I won't say they are wrong. I will just say that thats the way I am, its not something I try to do. I guess I work mostly on a need-to-know basis. Someone wants to know something about me, I will be happy to tell. Someone wants to know something involving me AND someone else, or just about someone else, I am not interested. And if I am not interested, I ain't talking. My idea of, and dislike for, gossip and other such things.

There is a couple of more things I have to say about love, but I will do that in my next post I think.

Some regularity, thanks to TV!

I figured that if I ever want to actually be an author, I need to stop being lazy about writing. Of course, whether I have readers or not is another matter altogether. So even though I don't really have anything to write (of course, there is always ample frustration in life that can easily find a vent here, but there are too many blogs of cry-babies, and I won't quite enjoy the association), I will write something all the same.

Might as well share some funny trivia. I was watching the news yesterday, and there was a story about a would-be groom who was thrashed by the would-be bride's family after he refused to marry her right before the wedding on the grounds that she was ugly. (For those of you who are ignorant about things outside their own little worlds, there are such things as arranged marriages. If anyone wants to engage in a discussion about its merits/demerits and notions of individuality and human rights involved, feel free to comment, and I will respond. And just for the record, I personally don't have a stance on it one way or the other.) Of course, soon after beating up the guy (who claimed he had been cheated), the bride's family filed a dowry case against the guy.

Its no news that American TV programming is often obnoxious, even the crap they dish out to the rest of the world. Commenting on a protest against the war on Iraq in Athens, this is what a programme had to say "They seem to have forgotten that if it weren't for us, they would still be living in some hick town in Hitlerville. Don't make us come out there after you with bombs and planes, because we will!" Wow. So much love, it kills me.

I am going to start working again soon. Hopefully, that is. Not that I am looking forward to it, but I need to pay off a huge damn loan which I took to study a bit, just so that I could take a break from work. Working does suck ass. Anyway, I will be going for an interview to be a professional interviewer. Sounds almost ironic. But any suggestions anyone?

Before I go, I will leave here another bit of writing from the past. Pretty weird stuff, this one. And at the time I wrote it, I meant a lot of it. And bits towards the end, I still mean some of it. Hehe.

I don't know how, but somehow - maybe a vision or something - but he seemed to know that our destinations were the same. He levelled his thumb and I stopped the car next to him.
Hi, can you give me a ride?
Where to?
The end of the world
The soft throbbing inside me pounds at my soul as I see flashes of darkness, that blanket me like thick mist over a lake.
I was walking by the lake one evening when I came across two beautiful women. We got talking. One was called happiness, and the other, hope. After some time, we parted ways and haven't met since. I often wondered what became of them, till the day I read in the news that they had been raped and killed. And I have been incurably sad ever since. They said, drink and forget your sorrows. All I did was throw up. They said, dope and forget your worries. All I did was talk philosophy. They said, make love and forget the world. All I did was ejaculate. Is that all there is to life? Sex, booze and drugs? A little voice in the back of my mind screams a huge Y-E-S-YES! at me.
I woke up to find myself on this one way escalator going upwards towards the top of this cliff next to a sea of hopelessness. The cliff is made of depression. There is only one way to get down - jump off the edge. I stand on the edge for sometime, contemplating whether to jump. As I let myself freefall, expecting to crash into the soft stillness below, an air cushion obstructs my way, lifts me up and places me right back on the elevator.
I can hear them in my head, blaring horns, blazing guns, crying children, dying housewives. I am afraid my head will burst open. Not because it will kill me. Because it will spill the seeds all around. Seeds of tales of true horror that this world is infested with. The seeds will germinate. And make this place more terrible than it already is.

To cut a long story a little longer...

It was funny how an 'IT superpower' banned the whole of blogspot.com for months on end only because it wanted to block access to 2-3 blogs that it found anti-national. Thats why I could not access my own blog soon after I made my first post, and the habit that had never formed died a premature death. So here I am, giving it another go.

But of course, laziness has its own big role in my life, and I do not wish to deny it its few moments in the spotlight. So I will put something here that I wrote on a good day some months back. Still as valid as ever. And I don't say its great, but for fuck's sake, even if you like it a lot, don't rip it off. Just let me know.

While the true spirit of youth still hasn’t left us, when we are still hot-blooded and raring to do everything that qualifies as dangerous, and when rules are still made to be broken, there are three things that matter to a person; sex, drugs and rock and roll.

Everything at stake, not a care in the world and new territories to chart and everything else to try out, we are like rolling stones, flowing rivers or the blowing wind. Here this minute, gone the next. At it now, done and over with then. This bed today, that one tomorrow.

Anyway, age catches up and responsibilities come crashing in like meteors, leaving behind abysmal craters that last a lifetime. Too much at stake, much to account for. The flowing rivers have reached the plains to become slow and sluggish. We grow up.

Somewhere along the way, love comes along, and the next thing we know, life is a different place. The rolling stones all come to a halt. The moss has finally gathered around. The pheromones do their smelly business, the heart hops and skips beats, and we join the ever-bulging ranks of the fallen. All those butterflies in the stomach, they make us dizzy with pleasure that we can’t get enough of. And then, one day, following the lead of the butterflies, we come face to face with someone.

Say hello to heartache, friends, Romeos, countrywomen. And oh, to heartbreak too. Say hello too, to some more rolling of the stones in the hay. And there we are, without the triangular energy of youth, robbed of our crutches that was once love, in a world full of fools who once trod the same path as us.

Too many fools surround us, for who can resist the magical lure of love? And in this pool of fools, we swim towards unsure shores that take shape as we draw closer. We grow up some more; we grow old. This is where we go our separate ways, thanks for your company though.

My shore is called insanity. Feels like I spent all my life on these comforting black sands.