Answering her Unanswerables

Eyes wide open- Travis

All these visions in my head
shoot the gunner baby for the watershed
some are live and some are dead
makes no diferrence when they're in your head...head

Keep the door open a crack
so I can see then when they attack
some are white and some are black
makes no difference when they're on your back

And I can't stop crying
And I can't stop trying
'Cause the day is dying...dying...dying
With my eyes wide open

Kept the sheep jumping the fence
so I can see teepers when I'm feeling tense
disbelieve hung in suspense
I die down with my own defense

And I can't stop crying
And I can't stop trying
'Cause the day is dying...dying...dying
With my eyes wide open

All these visions in my head
shoot the gunner baby for the watershed
some are live and some are dead
makes no difference when they're in your head

And I can't stop crying
And I can't stop trying
'Cause the day is dying...dying...dying
With my eyes wide open

So, I was randomly going through Her blog and found this post, so I've decided to respond... why? I don't know... let's put this in the 'searching for life's answers' category, shall we?

1) People weren’t thinking, were they? But, it’s like a fad… things run their course. It’ll probably be the same with the yuppie look, and it’s the same with ladies, come to think of it. In the 50’s and 60’s, wide hips were indicative of sexuality. Now it’s the hour glass figure where hips are narrow (or not as broad).

2) Well, human beings are inherently incapable of satisfaction. So it’s not humanly possible, but it is possible. You just have to be a dog that has his bone and a scratch on the head, or are dead… I guess that’s eternal satisfaction (unless you’re Hindu…)

3) No, they’re not. They never were, and neither is her 6-pack. It must be a Jackson trait… they might even use the same surgeon… something like a family discount.

4) A good parent realizes that they are not wardens, and don’t own their children. It has to be a relationship, much like between a man and a woman. The rest then falls in place neatly. Then again, good is defined by whose standards? The child? Or the parent? Again, rather subjective, but I guess the first sentence would hold in either case.

5) Hindus believe in hell because that’s where the Rakshas’ emerged from, and apparently Sri Lanka is the gateway to hell. Don’t tell Mafaz that. They don’t believe that sinners go there, but they believe evil emanates from there (much like Lucipher and the fallen angel story). And that’s where Rakshas’ go back when they are banished. So, I guess the story is for them, and recited to us because they ran out of other stories. You want to tell Mafaz now, don’t you? (If you don't know Mafaz, the joke is lost on you)

6) Hmmm… now, that’s wishful thinking. Depends on his diet, his addiction to booze, and his general lifestyle. Sean Connery had the added advantage of being the sexiest man on the planet, so he had vested interest in keeping up that image.

7) This is a classic “grass is greener on the other side” example. The western world is more acceptable of casual sex. Indians, for the very large majority, are still frigid and actually do it missionary style. So anyone who doesn’t is either a sex goddess or a hussy like Bridget Jones. In the US, they all like variety, and enviously glance at our sculptures and wish they were immortalized for sexual acts. If they keep it up, they just might.

8) The Gods tempt us only to deceive. Pairs are never meant to be together, not the least when you’re in a rush. Something about paying for a lack of organization. Now, this begs the question: when were you in a rush to don your panty hose?

9) Simple: take the average IQ of all the men in the world.

10)She has fans?

11)Again, this is rather related to the whole stereotype of men/women and being confident. Broad shoulders are taken as a sign of an assertive personality, and someone who’ll be taken seriously. Now, naturally, women aren’t gifted with the broad physique (for the majority), so enhancements of the non-permanent nature were devised as a welcome solution.

12)If gay was okay, and straight was not, it wouldn’t be categorized as such, would it? See, being straight derives from normal sexual preference, but normal sexual preference is being homosexual, not attracted to the opposite sex. So, you would actually be straight, and being gay would then be falling in love with the opposite sex. You would still be a taboo, for most societies. It would make procreation a problem though, a very serious one.

13)No they didn’t. Else, they would’ve cremated and carried their secrets with them into non-existence. (It normally would be taking it to their grave, but that’s the issue, isn’t it?). I don’t think we’re that sophisticated or advanced. Everyone knows everything about everyone else, so no need to really exhume people for the heck of it.

14)Okay, so this is an unanswerable. I could tell you what dogs are thinking of though, not cats.

15)More sensitive nerve endings and more twitch muscles. Normally, if you work out a lot and build muscle (tonic muscle) or grow fat, you lose that sensitivity. Also, developing a good sucker punch generally puts rest to you being the example of ticklishness. If you believe all that, man alive, you deserve to be conned. If I am correct about all that, man alive... I should get an award.

16)Stress, strain and a generally depressing life. T.V. shows violence, people have lots of skeletons in several closets, George Bush is a powerful man… the list is endless. So being depressed is the in thing, nay, the only thing. Plus, apparently, neon lights have a big role to play. The brightness stunts brain development and makes people more irritable. Something to chew on…

17)Hmmm… the female form is more attractive. Two of them, doubly attractive. Three of them… you see where this is going? Penises are not as attractive as breasts. They hang, shrunken and shriveled up, and have to be kick started (not literally, please) to get to work.

18)Because Cassius Clay just doesn’t ring the same bell, does it? Nom de plumes are what people know you by. Rajeev Bhatia is a very popular Hindi film actor. And he goes by another name. Let me know if you figure out who he is.

19)Yes, actually. Put an ice cube there, with your mouth on it, and you’ll reap the benefits over the next 40-50 minutes.

20)A misnomer. They’re not French; they’re Belgian (apparently). One more reason for them to start bickering. It’ll keep the UN in that part of the world busy at least. They seem to have very little to do in either area. And the name came because people in the US can’t describe stuff, so they say fried potato pieces by the Belgian as French fried food, or French fries.

21)Unchained melody is actually a song for an obscure film called Unchained. Deep meanings, huh?

22)The exact opposite of a black hole, with no event horizon. That’s all I understand of it. For more reference, maybe I should introduce you to Wikipedia. Then again, maybe I don’t need to

23)I don’t know about that one. George Bush would be murdered, not assassinated… even though he’s supposedly important. I guess if people give a damn about you, that should matter more than fame.

24)They probably don’t… don’t think they have the same reflex response as other creatures. Puppies sneeze… they sound cute when they do. And they look lost as well.

25)That criminal genius would be the Saharan African tribesman who wore it for easy maneuverability when hunting. Also, the women liked seeing their men’s buns hanging out. Turned them on or something

So, there you have it... 24/25 answered. Not bad, if I say so myself. Which I do. While I bid thee goodbye, I shall pat myself on the back for this accomplishment.

Edit: Houseism:

Cuddy: You think I want the cameras? You think I want the whole world watching you check out my ass... question my wardrobe?

House: Would it be better if I checked out your wardrobe and questioned your ass?

Epiphany... behind the wheel...

Glorious Day- Embrace

Who could send something so pure to lure me away
I fought the last of my breath
But you came along on a glorious day
By the time that you left I was crawling again
Yeah you came along on a glorious day
Now I want you to save me again

Ooh oooh ohhh

The fire that they said would burn just lights up the way
I lie in the place where I fell
And three years on this nine day wonder won't go away
Till you bring an end to my hell

But you came along on a glorious day
By the time that you left I was crawling again
Yeah you came along on a glorious day
Now I want you to save me again

Let them all keep their plans
Cos all I want is in my hands
And I can't look down
Back then I had it all, now I want it back that's all
And I can't get out

Ooh oooh ohhh

You came along, on a glorious day
By the time that you left
I was crawling again
Yeah you came along on a glorious day
Now I want you to save me again
Now I want you to save me again
Now I want you to save me again

I was driving the other day and I heard Joan Osbourne mournfully dole out If God was one of us and it got me thinking...

If God had a name, what would it be? And would you call it to his face if you were faced with him in all his glory? What would you ask if you had just one question? (These are the opening lyrics of the song, not my questions...).

Interesting, isn't it?

Money talks... so does bullshit

Heroes- The Wallflowers

I, I wish you could swim
Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim
Though nothing, nothing will keep us together
We can beat them, for ever and ever.

We can be Heroes, just for one day.

I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing, nothing will drive them away
We can be Heroes, just for one day
We can be us, just for one day

I, I remember standing, by the wall
And the guns, shot above our heads
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall
And the shame, was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever

Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
Just for one day

Bring out the pom-poms, wave the jhandas and yell at the top of your voice: victory is sweet. Savor it, for it may be another false dawn, much like what several sporting memories have been for this harrowed nation. For all the double-digit growth this country has had economically (and demographics-wise), India as a sporting nation is starved of success. As a nation, we perhaps stand for the exact opposite of success breeds success. All it breeds is a burden of history, a burden weighing down many a mighty career. But, that’s not the issue here.

It was nice to hear the Pakistanis, each to a man, acknowledge the opposition in defeat. It’s the true hallmark of close sporting challenges that the vanquished opponent stands up and says, “Well fought. You were the better man today.” To that, I doff my cap, but put it firmly in place for the ensuing events. Money has for long been the name of the game, and just how big a name was shown today. In a show that can be described as farcical at best, and a PR fiasco at worst, the BCCI announced a $2 million bonus for the Indian cricket team, this on top of the $1 million that the organizers were handing out as prize money. That’s $3 million split 22 ways, unless you are named Yuvraj Singh, because if you are, add another 10 million rupees on top of that. Not a bad effort for 2 weeks worth of bashing the ball around. Alarm bells are ringing. While it is undoubtedly a stirring riposte to all those who wrote off the Men in Blue (yes, remember those ad campaigns for the world cup?), $2 million?? 10 million rupees for bashing six sixes in an over?

Granted, they played out of their skins. It’s not like they did it for free. Granted it was a backs-to-the-wall job, but then again, if you play shit, where do you expect to be? The bookies aren’t going to place you as odds-on favorite unless you are odds-on favorites. Wonder what would the extra prize money would be if India lost? Now, I may seem like the-cup-is-half-empty but all I ask is for realism. It’s a victory and let it be a spring board for more. Compensating them with twice the prize money of the tournament is just plain stupid. It’s like your boss walking up to you and saying: I hired you as a troubleshooter, you shot out all the troubles, here’s thrice your salary for doing the job that I promised to pay you a fair salary for in the first place. And it could’ve been announced at any other point, not at the presentation ceremony in front of a gallant team that played its guts out and lost by a whisker. I bet there are a fair few in the green and yellow of Pakistan wondering what it would take to get that sort of money in their lives.

Money talks, bullshit walks. I remember Danny DeVito telling this line to Arnold Schwarzenegger (damn name is so hard to spell) in a movie. I never understood it then (I was a kid) but it has to be modified today: the bullshit talks as well. The BCCI is well known for knee-jerk reactions, and this could very well be another one in what is already a very long list. The nonsense that has come out of that office in the last 2 decades leaves people wondering where the next fiasco will come from. Yet, when they talk, everyone else listens. It’s a pity they don’t listen to themselves.

But for now, the streets of Delhi, Bombay and Bangalore will still be awash with people and color singing to ‘Chak De India’, dancing in gullies and streets, sharing the joy. And they should mirror that sentiment in Peshawar, Islamabad, and Karachi, because there is no shame in Pakistan’s performance. It takes two to make a match, and if the coin flipped the other way, no one would begrudge the winners then, as no one does now.

Snow White’s Seven Stooges... my version

Late for the Sky- Jackson Browne

The words had all been spoken
And somehow the feeling still wasn’t right
And still we continued on through the night
Tracing our steps from the beginning
Until they vanished into the air
Trying to understand how our lives has led us there

Looking hard into your eyes
There was nobody I’d ever known
Such an empty surprise to feel so alone

Now for me some words come easy
But I know that they don’t mean that much
Compared with the things that are said when lovers touch
You never knew what I loved in you
I don’t know what you loved in me
Maybe the picture of somebody you were hoping I might be

Awake again I can’t pretend and I know I’m alone
And close to the end of the feeling we’ve known

How long have I been sleeping
How long have I been drifting alone through the night
How long have I been dreaming I could make it right
If I closed my eyes and tried with all my might
To be the one you need

Awake again I cant pretend and I know I’m alone
And close to the end of the feeling we’ve known

How long have I been sleeping
How long have I been drifting alone through the night
How long have I been running for that morning flight
Through the whispered promises and the changing light
Of the bed where we both lie
Late for the sky

We all know of the seven stooges Snow White had in her very own movie. Imagine that… the movie is named after you when you’re a relative unknown… why doesn’t Ridley Scott direct “Robert De Niro” starring… you guessed it Bobby ‘you lookin’ at me’ Junior (his dad’s name was also Robert… go figure). It would be more than amusing, however, if Scott signed up Al Pacino to play the role of Bobby. That would sell tickets. But, I digress…

So, we’re all familiar with Doc, Grumpy, Sleepy, Bashful, Happy, Dopey (she gets to have illegal drugs on her own movie, and this is for kids, yeah?) and Sneezy. Now, I must confess, I had to look up to find these names, coz, well, I don’t remember them so well. But they greatly aid me in this game of tag, where I have to point out seven kooks of mine. My only problem is…just seven? Well… here goes.. My modified version of who should have accompanied Snow White on her quest for stardom:

1) Grumpy: no surprises there. I am as grumpy as they come. Sarcasm is my forte, and dispensing it judiciously (read wantonly) is perhaps what I live for. He, him, and her can all testify to it. In fact, I don’t think I give a straight response to any question that is put toward me. Just ask Bastard… He’ll tell you. E.g.

“Where did you lose it?”

“I don’t know. I placed it there, and now it’s gone.” That's what normally would happen. But if it was me:

“Where did you lose it?”

“Well, if I knew where I lost it, it wouldn’t be lost, would it?”

Yes ladies and gentlemen… if I were indeed in a movie, expect more of the same. It would be a one man show… literally. I don’t think anyone would care for such spontaneity on the set, regardless of how much they are paid.

2) Smiley: shocking? No, no… I’m not smiley… in fact, I’m the exact opposite. I have this seemingly bizarre handicap of being unable to smile for a picture. It has been called the South Indian smile (because it goes downward. Don’t look at me… I didn’t coin it. A British born part Sardar with an affinity for the corny things in life is the one you want to trample all over). Poke fun, make faces, have two ladies feel each other up right behind the camera, you’ll get nothing. Nada! Zilch! I am as expressionless as Abe Lincoln is, sitting wherever he’s sitting in Washington. You’d find more cheer in a graveyard when you look at pictures of me. Flashing grins to one side, weird looks and kooky faces to the other are all centered on the look from hell: touch me and I’ll kill you is what it conveys. It’s mainly why we don’t have a family portrait after I crossed the 5^th grade. Apparently I’m scary… *shrugs*… Big deal! It’s what’s on the inside that counts, right? Well, we know what’s on the inside… just look at point 1, and you’ll instantly want to be my ‘best-bud’

3) Geeky: Yes, I’m a geek in some respects. It takes me 15 steps to come from the landing to my room on a good day (when I’m bright and peppy) and 20 when I’m in a foul mood. How do I know this? I counted. That’s what I do. I count the number of steps it takes to get around places I’m familiar. This all stemmed from the fact that I had a poor sense of direction as a kid, so I decided to take matters in my own hand, and count the number of steps and the time taken to get to known places. It helped in telling if I was going the right way, or was getting sidetracked. It has now become a subconscious thing, and I do it for fun sometimes (the sense of direction has improved, so I no longer rely on this technique). I read for fun, and read a lot. I once went through exam month (we never had weeks, just months for midterms) reading 14 books in 28 days instead of spending most of that time studying. Why? Just for kicks, I think. I like assembling things, mainly Lego pieces or puzzles, fixing PCs and generally doing geek like stuff. Sue me.

4) Fiddly: I fiddle with things. Whether they need to be fiddled with or not, that’s a separate issue. I have taken apart phones, just to see what a speaker looks like. You might think that’s being geeky, but it isn’t. I have a destructive streak in me, since the age of being able to lift things that could be destroyed. I have tripped the power board to my house, gotten electrocuted, caused sparks and a small fire and banged my head while doing so all in the last 3 months. Yes, I come with a hazard warning. I have been known to open up electronic devices, not know how to close them back, like the thermostat for the central AC controller at home in Bahrain. The temperature kept dropping, and it was not taken too kindly. *Shrugs again* I’m curious… it killed cats, not humans… nothing wrong in that. I have also fiddled with the faucet for the gas cylinder while it was connected because I forgot to tell the guy to open it. I used a hammer and steel contraption, causing sparks to fly off… the gas cylinder was full, and I’m still here to talk about it. All’s well that ends well. Maybe I should call this destructy. However, it helped that I had a fiddly roommate as well, who took it to levels beyond my wildest imagination. Yes… those were the good days…

5) Fidgety: I cannot sit still, almost never have been able to. This is partly why I don’t like going to movies. You have no choice but to sit in one chair for 2 hours (or, God forbid, 3 if it’s Hindi) and watch some other idiot run around shooting off a gun, screaming profanities, breaking down into tears, or humping the hot chick he spent that last 1 hour 55 minutes wooing. I mean… that’s 2 hours of paying someone else money to straightjacket you to a seat and throw insane shit at you. You cannot move, coz other people ask you, politely, to sit the fuck down. You cannot talk, coz either the machine gun is going off, or other moviegoers politely ask you to shut the fuck up. In my opinion, movies are wasted. In fact, when I watch a movie on my PC, I’m chatting, playing Freecell, browsing the net, and watching all at the same time. Kooky, but yeah… works for me. Even for foreign films with subtitles. I twiddle with pencils when I’m in class, scratch my head, look around, stare at the clock and make a nuisance of myself. I pace in the room when I’m bored, chew my lip when reading and stick my tongue out when focusing. *Yet another shrug*I have issues… sue me.

6) Angry: I have a temper, and I will use it on you. I don’t care if you cry, scream, moan or sit there and pout. If you are stupid enough to raise it, you will bear the brunt of it. Deal with it. Life’s all about getting what you asked for, and you sure as hell ask for it.

7) Singy: Not stingy, singy. Yes, I sing. When I’m driving, I always sing. I don’t know why. As soon as my hands touch the steering wheel, it’s like Pavarotti (may his soul rest in peace) infuses his spirit in me. And I don’t sing good… not by a long shot. And not many people have witnessed it, although Bastard has seen me dance when driving… much to his amusement. Which reminds me: I’m a magnet for bad driving. Whenever I get on the road, it seems like the spirit of Idiot God takes over some drivers on the road, and they proceed to show me how bad they really are at driving. I have one word to describe them: assholes.

Well…there you have it. If I were the stooges of Snow White, I would be those. It would thereby assure that I am the main protagonist because she’d have fled long before the first shot was done, and never returned. Suits me… I never was a big fan of Disney anyway.

And since we’re on the theme of movies, here’s a line that came up to me recently and still cracks me over. The movie: Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. The scene: 4 guys with no experience of crime want to rob their neighbors who are peddling drugs, thereby having experience of the shady underworld. Two of the four guys are name Soap and Eddie, and they are discussing the schematics of conducting the robbery.

Eddie: Oh, one more thing, they’re going to be armed.

Soap: Armed? You mentioned nothing about them being armed! What are they going be armed with?

Eddie: Oh, I don’t know. Bad breath, colorful language… a feather duster… GUNS, you tit!

I love that movie… and to take another line from that… it’s time to bid adieu with the words *Jamaican Accent* chill Winstaan!

Of broken promises and lying truths...

Acoustic #3- Goo Goo Dolls

They painted up your secrets
With the lies they told to you
And the least they ever gave you
Was the most you ever knew

And I wonder where these dreams go
When the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming?
No one's listening anyway

Your voice is small and fading
And you're hiding here alone
And your mother loves your father
Cuz she's got nowhere to go

And she wonders where these dreams go
Cuz the world got in her way
What's the point in ever trying?
Nothing's changing anyway

They press their lips against you
And you love the lies they say
And I tried so hard to reach you
But you're falling anyway

And you know I see right through you
Cuz the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming?
You're not listening anyway

Image edited with Adobe Photoshop CS2.

Pictures always spoke more than words... always.

Musings...

Winding Road- Bonnie Somerville

Well, the rain keeps on coming down
It feels like a flood in my head
And that road keeps on calling me
Screaming to everything lying ahead

And it's a winding road
I've been walking for a long time
I still don't know
Where it goes
And it's a long way home
I've been searching for a long time
I still have hope
I'm gonna find my way home

And I can see a little house
On top of the hill
And I can smell the ocean
The salt in the air
And I can see you
You're standing there
And you're washing your car
And I can see California sun in your hair

And its a winding road
I've been walking for a long time
Still don't know
Where it goes
And it's a long way home
I've been searching for a long time
Still have hope
I'm gonna find my way home

All these dreams took me so far
And I felt I just couldn't go on
And I want to hang
Out the window of your car
And see just how good this baby can run

'Cause it's a winding road
I've been walking for a long time
And I still don't know
Where it goes
And it's a long way home
I've been searching for a long time
Still have hope
We're gonna find our way home

It's a winding road
Still have hope
One day we'll find our way home
It's a long way home
I've been searching for a long time
Still have hope
We're gonna find our way home

It's a long way home
It's a long way home

Well, it’s been a while since I have written anything of note here, so I guess it’s time to shake off the cobwebs and bring out the rusty nib and scratch away on dried out parchment. And maybe knock off some of the rust that’s there in my head as well. Having written about music festivals, appearances, thoughts, teachings, religion (a major fiasco that was) fireworks and some others (all in my previous blog which has been deleted), it will be a pleasant change to write about myself directly. I use the terms pleasant and myself very loosely: those who know me know that I detest opening personal closets for the world to see, but I guess updates are required to leave a signpost to look back on in the future. Provided I don’t delete this blog as well, that is.

Not much has happened over the last few months. Liverpool lost the final of the Champions League, sadly, India has a first woman president, the first female of Indian origin landed safely back on earth, and I’ve graduated, and successfully managed to stay unemployed, a situation I hope to redress in the coming weeks. Until then, I’m left with my own demons to battle, and I plod along stodgily, albeit with a great amount of help. To that person, I have two very inadequate words: Thank you. I hope I never have to reciprocate the favor to you, but if the situation does arise, well… don’t think twice about it J.

The weather has brought about many changes, none so much more than the fact that it has trapped me indoors. I hate that, and coupled with a massive head cold, it has not been a very nice last couple of days. I’ve learnt a lot about what I want over the last few weeks, and how much I have to work towards getting it. Many hard decisions will have to be taken, and the concept of deferred gratification (those who took sociology with me in school would know what I’m talking about) must soon end. I never truly understood what Macbeth (or rather, Shakespeare) meant when he said “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Creeps in this petty pace from day-to-day and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death” until now, and having grasped the meaning of it, I shall not wait for my Birnam Wood to come to me. Not that I have before, but I was more content to take a “big picture” view of life. Unless you’re in business, it’s a very dangerous attitude to take: life gets so far ahead of you that the dream becomes idealistic. Yet more musings propagated under the influence of meds and hot drinks.

Oh man, this is harder than I thought it would be. The rust doesn’t seem to be clearing, and I’m running out of ideas. Must be a whole lot of introspection going on, most of which I won’t share and bore you. I’ve read on how holes are the most important inventions (not body orifices, the ones you bore/dig), how luck evens out for some people, but the next point is perhaps more important. One of my friends (let’s call him Bastard… so that he knows who he is, and the rest of you shall find him amusing. If Terry Pratchett can do it in a publication, so can I) raised a rather interesting point in his private entry (which was to be the first of many, but sadly remained at that point) of the know-it-all person who really doesn’t know it all. Bastard claims that just because you’ve successfully achieved something it doesn’t mean that you know how you did it. Bastard feels that it doesn’t give you the knowledge or wisdom of repeating the success again. Meaning, there are several factors that go into success, not just individual brilliance. Now this is a rather insightful point that Bastard has brought up, and one that I agree with on some levels, and on some I disagree. Luck does play a part: just look at your workplace. At least one of the bosses there has absolutely NO idea what he/she is doing, and just commands people around because they got there by plain fluke. Conversely, you might have some wise ass who knows it all, is a prick and knows that he/she is one, and doesn’t give a shit.

Bastard doesn’t believe that just by achieving something, you’re considered an expert: well Bastard, that’s where you might just be wrong. Usually, the pioneers are not the ones who teach, but are the ones who write the books on success that no one else can replicate. The ones who write the textbooks are the ones who have achieved the level of expert after the pioneers and can prescribe that the average Joe (and Bastard) can replicate successfully.

(At this point you must be wondering why I refer to Bastard as Bastard and not him/he… well… that’s because he is one… I mean, come on… if he was an angel, I wouldn’t call him Bastard now, would I? It has an almost cathartic feel to it, mmm… yes… Bastard… you’re a bastard… see I feel better already… feel happy that you made some difference to someone’s life)

And so, with that excellent summary of what Bastard (the serotonin levels are increasing) has said, and my response to it, I take your leave. I don’t know when I’ll write next, but maybe when I’m suitably bored, I shall enthrall you with words of wisdom. Till then… be good…

For the Special Ones... all 45,000 of you...

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark

Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

When you have 45,000 odd people screaming you on, there's very little else you can say except...See you in Athens boys...You did us proud.

Nil Desperandum, Auspice Benitez

In Memory...

(courtsey Yahoo)

The tragedy that occurred yesterday in the US leaves me at a loss for words. Innocent students, not unlike myself, literally gunned down in the prime of life, and there's no one to hold accountable for it.


My thoughts and prayers go out to the victims and their families of the Virginia Tech massacre of April 16th, 2007. May the souls of the departed rest in peace, and may their families find some solace in life, as meaningless as it seems right now.

Currently, CNN runs the news as a breaking story. I intend to update as time progresses and more details are filled out. This is not out of mockery, or the need to be gossipy, but because this has hit very close to home. I genuinely hope that something good comes out of this, but I would rather have it come at a far less price. The life of 32 students to send a message is 32 too many... sadly, it's reflective of the times we live in.

CNN: http://www.cnn.com/
Yahoo : http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070417/ap_on_re_us/virginia_tech_shooting
Identity of the Killer: http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/04/17/vtech.shooting/index.html
List of victims: http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/04/17/vtech.shooting.victims/index.html

Vigil: http://news.yahoo.com/photos/ss/events/us/041807vtechvigils

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier,
I know that the clubs are weapons of war...
(Thank you for the lyrics, Mafaz)

Overcoat of memories

“We all came out of Gogol’s ‘Overcoat’”.

Cryptic words and one that burdens an immigrant’s son for most of his adolescent life, as Ashoke Ganguli leaves his son, Nikhil ‘Gogol’ Ganguli a book from Nikolai Gogol as a graduation present. That it took four months to locate and purchase is lost on Gogol, but the book holds more value that he acknowledges first up.

Mira Nair’s adaptation of Jhumpa Lahiri’s novel ‘The Namesake’ is an art film with a difference: it caught my fancy, and very few of them do. It traces the lives of two Bengali (a husband and wife) immigrants, who married as strangers and moved to New York, and their first generation Americanized children. That Ashoke and Ashima’s first born was named Gogol is mildly humorous, the reasons for doing so are more emphatic. It highlights the difference between West and East, and the perceived lack of understanding of each other’s cultures. And so this divide continues to exist in the lives of the Gangulis, as they move up in life, both professionally and personally. Ashoke and Ashima grow to love each other, respect each other, and ultimately value each other in their lives. Theirs is a story of the perfect arranged marriage, highlighting the virtues of the traditional Indian matrimonial system. That it doesn’t work now is not the point: this was 1977, not 2007.

I will not bore you with details, nor spoil it for those who haven’t had the opportunity to either read the book or watch the movie. It is tastefully done, with soft colors, mild environments and an amazingly soothing musical score from Nitin Sawhney. While the growing pains of Gogol could’ve been more dramatized, the generational gap conflict was handled in good taste. There was no storming out of rooms, loud yelling of parents/children, nor rebellious to the point of sadistic behavior from either side. It appealed to the logic, not the heart, and thereby offered more connection with practicality. Interspersed with light humor, and witty dialogues, the movie was one in which you didn’t sit and wish the hour hands to speed up to the end.

Perhaps two scenes stick out from the movie, and I’ve dwelled on them since I’ve seen it. Both occur towards the end, and both are reminiscent of the times that we live in today. As two of the protagonists (keeping in line with the non-spoiling idea) walk to the banks of the Ganges to sprinkle the ashes on the holy water, a group of kids are busy somersaulting in the background, and doing general tricks in the water like it was a normal day. A poignant scene, it gave you a life-goes-on feeling, and one that is typical of India. Despite the tragedy that goes on everyday, people rarely stop to look and help you. The other is Ashima’s farewell speech, one which moves the heart to realize just how far we travel in life, and when we finally come to a rest in the place where we started from, we miss the little things that make life worthwhile. In her case, it was the life she shared with her husband and children in New York, one that she’ll remember as she fulfills her lifelong wish of going back home to India. And what of Gogol? Will he ever find his home?

Gogol’s journey of self discovery continues, even today, in us. Being born outside our home country, it is easy for us to understand his pains and his sufferings in dealing with his parents. He reproaches the ‘traditional’ approach, claiming it to be decadent in the society he lives in, and advocates for the ‘modernist’ way of life that Americans lead. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? The traditions of our ancestors seem cumbersome today, a burden that we have to carry purely because we’re descendants. But if we stop to look, and look deep inside, we realize that the tradition is our identity.


Much has been made of India’s progress over the last 5 years, and as we stand on the cusp of superpower status, we tend to forget the virtues that led us there. Hard work, dedication, and moral responsibility are all hallmarks of the Indian workforce. Today, we wish to pride ourselves in our innovativeness, our ruthlessness and our cunning. It’s like a business and its core competency. When we change the latter, the former automatically changes. The Americans realized that, and they stuck to what they do best: innovate. They’re not pretentious enough to think that they can slog their way to the top… they just slug it out when they reach there on the back of another’s effort. We should realize what ours is and stick to it. There’s no point in changing for the sake of change: just ask the Indian cricket team. We prove that our way is best, not someone else’s.

Gogol Ganguli has his own demons to conquer, his own memories to make peace with. And speaking of memories...

Appreciation from Grade 9: Had an appendectomy… was quite painful… the scar’s still there as well

Lower Sixth: A birthday card… for me…

Thank you to Patrick (yes, I still remember who made the card) and Karan (well, that one was easy… your name was plastered all over it!)… Thanks to those who were in school with me, I don’t fight with many memories. To you all, I owe a deep debt of gratitude. School was always the best for me

And I sign off with the single most important thing I’ve taken from The Namesake:

It was on a train that Ashoke met a stranger, who gave him the advice that would change his life: ''Do yourself a favor,'' the man said. ''Before it's too late, without thinking too much about it first, pack a pillow and a blanket and see as much of the world as you can. You will not regret it. One day it will be too late.''

All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go,
I’m standing here outside your door,
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

FAQs

Always attached with program setups, enquiry fill-up forms, websites, tutorials... you name it the FAQ section is never too far away. So is the case in life as well... we always search for answers to questions that seem to never tire out. Life after death? Does God really exist? Is there life on Mars? Is George Bush really THAT stupid? Questions that always leave one scratching their head for answers (believe me... I've seen several people really wonder at the miracle that is the American President, not in terms of a boon, but endless wonderment at the prolonged longevity).

And then there are the other types of questions: the questions that you ask but don't receive an answer. You would like one, but the answer is just not forthcoming. Maybe they don't have an answer. Maybe the choose not to give you one. Maybe it doesn't warrant an answer. Maybe it's rhetoric. And maybe it's plain cop out... fear of sounding weak, stupid, or silly. Maybe they're afraid of the answer, and don't see it as a question. Whatever be the case, you get a lot of these in life. And you don't know what to do when you're the one asking those questions. Hell, you never know what to do when you're the one it is asked to. All you know is that, in either case, you'd rather be somewhere else, doing something else that is more "worthwhile". And the silence festers doubt... you doubt the veracity of enquiry... doubt the workings of your mind. And you blame yourself for the question: It was too harsh a question to ask. Maybe there is no answer to the question. Maybe it's not a question.

Cop outs are nothing new in life. Just ask Stephen King regarding his Dark Tower series (man, was that an abominable waste of time...), or the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI). These luminaries have done it several times, and in the case of the latter, made a profession out of doing it with alarming regularity. Taking the easy way out has been man's (and woman, child, animal... plant, maybe? I don't know... they don't move much... it's hard to say) greatest ally in times of distress. Forget the samurai/ninja/ancient warfare teachings of a quick mind and sharp reflex being your greatest weapon in times of distress. They're now replaced with an easy escape route, the backdoor out, the trapdoor beneath your feet.

Taking the easy way out, paradoxically, is never easy. The guilt associated with it lives with you, and unless you develop shallowness, will stay with you for some time. And whether you can live with that guilt determines whether you're the person to run and hide or stand and fight (well, if that sounds dramatic, it's because I saw 300 yesterday... the rhino was a complete waste if you ask me... no carnage whatsoever). And if you're the one asking it.. don't doubt the veracity of your question, or the harshness of it. If it was a query, and a genuine one, then you did the right thing by voicing it. Be at peace with that knowledge. "The art of letting go was learnt easily, and quickly. Not by will, but not exactly by force." Letting go is never easy, nor is learning it. It's one way of dealing with things, but not the correct or only way. Some day, you'll realize that, and also realize....

... there was truth in what you said, reason in what you voiced, and a right to know in what you ask.

"Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime,

The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine,

It's hard to tell the nighttime from the day.

And you're losin all your highs and lows,

Ain't it funny how the feelin' goes away?"

P.S. God bless Wikipedia... You have made my life amazingly easy. Now if only George Bush knew how to access it...

New Beginnings

It is often said that the worst piece ever written by any author can be seen in a blank page. The key to good writing is writing first, and then writing well. Turn over a fresh page and chatter on a keyboard, scribble with a nib, or scratch away with a pencil. There should be nothing blank, nothing white, and nothing to suggest that words don’t belong there.

This sheet was blank, until what is above was written. Too often I’ve been confronted with the pristine whiteness, and each time I’ve turned away, unable to scratch out the cleanliness that was in front of me. A blank mind? It could be that. I’d like to think that it was the repetitive staleness that I kept harking back to. And often it ended with apologies about not blogging… in the end, there was no point to it.

Every once in a while, a fresh start is good, however. For every writer, there comes a point in time when the burdens of the previous page need not enforce itself on the next page. A clean break is good and a new perspective even better. Writing should not be a burden, least of all to those who don’t make a living out of it. And for certain, I will not make a living out of it. It may sound trite, but I never was a good writer. I had way too many thoughts and too many expletives to go with those thoughts. For those who know me, the two are never far apart when it comes to expression of opinion.

Who knows, maybe this is the blank page I needed. Time will tell, and I’ll let that be the judge of things.

“What I am to you is not real
What I am to you, you do not need
What I am to you is not what you mean to me
You give me miles and miles of mountains
And I'll ask for what I give to you”