Saturday, April 26, 2008

The Online Ennui

An atmosphere of dissatisfaction surrounds our present day social setting. And this is particularly true of the setting that exists only virtually, inside our very own fluffy computer set. Not all of them are fluffy though, especially now that sleek and stylish notebooks and laptops rule the roost. The new idiot box that it has come to be regarded as, together with internet – its enduring companion, would have us think that nothing’s really working for anyone. If life were a zero sum game as some game theorists would have us believe, then ‘it’s going trashy’ for a hundred people should translate into ‘it’s rocking’ for an approximately equal number. But from what is apparent, it is trash all over the park. Have we ever stopped to wonder why it’s a desert of woes with an occasional oasis of hope and not the other way round? If the desire for ‘other way round’ is foolish optimism, we could at least settle for a fifty-fifty which was so true of a time not long gone, couldn’t we? Even with that yardstick, the existing equation is alarmingly lopsided.

The trend can be seen amongst a wide array of people, cutting across boundaries of age, religion, location and gender. The young most prominently fall in its line, but the old and middle aged are not far behind. Everyone cosies up to their virtual avatar on the internet to seek solace and reassurance. It is available without much hardwork, and works in a way strikingly similar to our good old analgesics. Instant gratification notwithstanding, it makes one forget, even if fleetingly, that he’s any less, or that he’s not worth. The catch however remains – it’s virtual.

On social networking websites, on blogs, and on discussion forums – the writing is on the wall – we’re not very happy the way we are. It is a particularly intriguing category of gloom, the one that appears most widespread on the web. It is not a sadness of loss of job, it does not reflect an epidemic or extensive medical illness, it doesn’t give a picture of a hard-up man struggling to make ends meet, and no dear, it’s no love lost either. In fact, it is no clearly visible crisis, this one that seems to be ailing scores of us. As a basis, it is this absence of a distinctly defining explanation of this category of gloom, which sets it distinctly from others. Dissatisfaction comes close to describing it appropriately; boredom comes closer, and loneliness closest. But none of them quite captures it comprehensively.

As a case in point, consider blogs – although the content holds equally for other realms of the internet. Scores of amateur writers and hobbyists turn up regularly to give text to their thoughts and publish it for everyone to see. As has become a practice, one goes and appreciates fellow bloggers’ work – which, make no mistake, can at times really make the day for the one being appreciated. For he might never have guessed that something he mumbled out of sheer boredom and angst, something that took two minutes to prepare and publish could be hailed as a masterpiece or compared to the prudence of thought reserved as a label for the likes of William Wordsworth. The veracity of these lavished praises will however remain doubtful as long as the possibility of a hidden motive of being appreciated back on the part of the one who showered the praises can not be eliminated. And, umm, well, ok, it can’t be eliminated. Scratching backs is completely sanctioned here, and goodness, it’s rampant. Citing a personal experience here, the first and only time I went to a particular blog and commented on it off the cuff, the first thing I got back was an invitation to be part of their mutual appreciation circle wherein they shall appreciate whatever I write, in return for me appreciating theirs. The ‘invitation’ came in a tone of humorous disguise though; the one that signals: “If it’s taken positively – great! If not, then it’s just a joke.” This delusion, as I increasingly discovered, is getting so firmly embedded among avid netizens that they no longer consider how absurd receiving an admiration would be when you already know it’s under a contract, whether or not you want to acknowledge it. What kind of fulfilment can be derived out of it is beyond logical understanding, but it’s welcome as long as it comes. There, you see, is an anomaly, and it's only the proverbial drop in the ocean when seen in the larger perspective.

The one logical backing that I can think of for the thing I just referred to as an ‘anomaly’ is the neural circuitry that says ‘applause garners further applause’. People with a sub-urban and rural grounding would appreciate this principle more than others, for they must have seen halwais and street-food-hawkers deliberately getting bogus customers to surround their stalls, so that wandering souls would come flocking too, thinking of their stall as a popular food-haunt. This precept might have one tempted to beg, borrow, steal, or ‘make arrangements for’ some applause initially in the hope that more of it would eventually follow. Often it does. But quite often it doesn’t and we’re back to square one – more dissatisfaction and dejection, and higher levels of despondency than before. Even when it does the desired there still remains an iota of suppressed conscience trying to outburst, which even though might forever remain unable to actually burst out, but carries out the task of spoiling the unblemished gratification (that true appreciation otherwise gives) pretty effortlessly.

Now let us move out of the web for a change. Even though a leading radio station would want us to accept a frivolous report that considers Delhi-ites amongst the happiest people on earth, you don’t need to be a social scientist to be aware that in India’s capital city, cases of suicides have risen exponentially ever since the new millennium dawned on us. A more sombre fact that concerns is that for every suicide committed, there are nearly twenty attempted. Psychiatrists never had their bank accounts this bubbling, and spiritual healing has mushroomed into becoming a full fledged industry in itself. The problem however is that all this isn’t showing the results. The situation is only getting grimmer by the day, and it is there for all of us to see and fret. Don’t fret. Chose to ponder and make a dignified way out.

I would like to sneak in another personal experience at this point. Recently, a company that rewards the students it appoints with an initial remuneration of around Rupees Forty Lacs per annum, short listed one from my class for the final selection. Far from being proud or wishing that he makes it, their must have been a hundred silent prayers going up the heavens from my class-fellows themselves, all wanting that this guy doesn’t make the cut. Just for the record, eventually he didn’t. However, this leaves it very clear, that the students measured their own success based on how successful their peers are. Ponder closely, and you will find how absurd this line of thought is. The forty lacs dream job, for which you were already out of reckoning, will now not go to your mate who you also rivalled all these years. Reason to be content, it seems. But it won’t come to you either, and it will certainly go to some other guy now, only that you don’t know him. You’re still going to get your four lacs an year, but your mate didn’t get forty either congrats, but it’s not as though no one’s going to get it now, someone who’s not your mate is going to get the forty. Figure an anomaly here? There it is. Another drop in the ocean, one into which we must save ourselves from drowning. As long as we measure how rich or popular or accomplished we are according to how rich or popular or accomplished the guy we envy is, we are doomed to languish in our self made cocoons of frustration, grief, and general ennui. Because, at the end of the day, the guy we envy is invariably going to be better than we, isn’t that the reason we envy him in the first place ?



Wednesday, April 16, 2008

ILU ILU

Why should most of the stuff you write be about your past, or grow upon memories or just be ramblings of prudent hindsight; why should it be a thing from history most of the times, I asked myself today. Except that I chose not to answer it. Because to answer it would have meant more deliberation of the past, more of the same thing I was trying to caution myself against.


I found an old friend on the internet a few days ago. And for a moment it was like being transported to a time of fifteen years back. When phones still meant landlines, letters had not become obsolete, and wearing jeans with ‘Baazigar’ or ‘ILU ILU’ printed on them was a rage, at least among kids my age. And when it was still okay, for me, to tell a girl I loved her, and tell my Dad back home that I loved that girl, and all that without even knowing what love meant. All that I knew, for all I recollect, was that in the films the hero invariably loves a girl, and that I should be no less than a hero! It was truly wonderful to have caught up with him. I was only six then, but I remember every detail of the times I spent around him just like I remember what I had for lunch today. In fact, when I think of my lunch today, I don't go back to smelling it. But when I think of those times, I can sense the aroma of air so peculiarly characteristic of my junior school's staff room. Perhaps, at some point in my life I will also miss the hostel mess I so hated at one time, and about which I am entirely indifferent now. But then, don't you start missing everything that was once there, just because it was once there and it isn't now; rather irrespective of whether or not you liked it when it was there ? H'm anyway I will never be sure if it brought about a similar cheer in his disposition also, but from the looks of it he seemed as happy as I had been. The regrouping didn’t intensify to live to its initial promise, and that's quite alright, really. The short gush of overflowing simplicity of days that have gone by, was more than worth-it in itself.


Simplicity, well almost! I remember there was one thing I had found particularly complex back then. It's like yesterday, when we were told to write a paragraph on 'My Mother'. What did I know, that just like mine the respective mothers of the other thirty odd students also happened to be the 'best mother in the whole world', and that too with such certainty that this was put forth in the first line of everyone's paragraph, without exception. And hey I thought I was told there could be only one 'best' ! Well, that was the first of the innumerable contradictions I was to discover in the many subsequent years of my education, and also one that remains etched in my memory more compellingly than all others because it told me contradictions needn't be untrue, in fact they could be more true than accepted truths.


Ah ! I had cautioned myself against retrospection just at the beginning of the post and as it turns out, I filled the whole of my post with it. Now I feel I typify incorrigibility, and I had better tell myself not to study, in order that I actually end up studying.


Sunday, March 30, 2008

Title kal tak batata hoon soch ke

I was reading some old posts on my own blog today. Although it only reaffirmed by unfailing trust in that I had always been writing non-sense, yet I could make out that I have started taking myself way too seriously over the last year. And there wasn't a need for it. I mean, why ? I still get the same pocket money, I am still in the same college, still without a suppli, still single and .. Also, in one previous post I read I had written none of my friends were single any longer. I thought I must have been quite dejected then but I should cheer up as even that's not the scene now, since I made new friends who were single, and made Mayawati like faces at those who were no longer and they ran away frightened. Back to the topic, I could see this change to a more stern disposition in everything. The way I take care of punctuation marks bein at the rite places ,that I particlarly make it a point to uses grammar of highest standard, and not under any circumstances should I make use of slang or lingo in my posts lolz, and spellings - my God as if thay are the most important thing on arth ! No but, why ?? Why should everything be that orderly. Ok it's a good thing to keep it right, but to be obsessed with it, that’s just too much. As if I make a mistake and my folks will pack me off to work in Sivakasi. Jaa tu vahin reh, patake phod. Ok forget the semantics of language, I started questioning myself way too much. The way these recent posts have been, I wrote moronic loser-ish things like 'Why can't I perform better?', 'Why can't I set things right?'. Eeek. In contrast, earlier I'd have written, 'I can't perform any better', or 'I can't set a cow straight' . Seriously, what was the need of that why. Without it, see, it means the same thing and still exudes so much more confidence. Similarly, 'why can't I look better' is hundred times more foolish than 'I look horribly-terribly-loathsomely ugly, and you would wanna spit on me if you didn’t take your lessons in decency from Simi Grewal.' Be clear, yaar, and unambiguous, I told myself on reading all that.

Anyhow, forget it. If morning's bhoola comes back to home in the evening, then we don't call him bhoola. (<- bhi="" bill="" call="" chahe="" clinton="" do="" hai="" him="" kisi="" lena="" mera="" original="" p="" pooch="" se="" we="" ye="">

Yesterday, in my coaching centre our maths sir said in the class, ''If you are studying regularly, you might just or might not get through. If you aren't, you certainly wont.'' I don't know why I have this strange hunch as though he said that specifically for me, while the others also happened to be sitting in the class at the time. But then I know, he addressed the entire class, but still I feel as if he was talking to me. Paranoia. Just like Chor ki daadhi mein tinka. (<- -="" a="" ab="" about="" all="" also="" and="" anyways="" araam="" as="" auto="" back="" banda="" bas="" before="" bete="" better="" bhi="" bit.="" blog="" boooooring="" calm="" case.="" chahta="" chalo="" coming="" confidence="" cursed="" dad="" de="" dedicated.="" didn="" don="" down="" eight="" eyes="" five="" for="" from="" grudgingly="" had="" hai="" hain.="" have="" he="" heard="" him="" ho.="" hundred="" i="" imaandar="" immediately="" in="" it.="" it="" itna="" jab="" just="" kar="" karte="" know="" ko="" koi="" lacking="" le.="" leave="" lekin="" life="" like="" maana="" manmohan="" me="" memorised="" memorizing="" moist="" much="" must="" my="" myself.="" na="" newspaper.="" newspaper="" now="" of="" one="" original="" p="" padhna="" paper="" picked="" picture="" presented="" problems="" quite="" read="" readers="" really="" rehne="" replayed="" rickshaw="" s="" saying="" scared="" scene="" see="" sentence="" seriously="" sight="" since="" singh="" sized="" so="" soon="" specially="" started="" still="" surprised="" t="" tang="" taxi="" tell="" than="" that="" the="" then.="" then="" they="" this="" thoda="" thodi="" though.="" times="" to="" today="" twenty="" up="" ve="" waiting="" was="" which="" with="" woke="" words="" wrote.="" you="">

Gotta Go now. The tooths are needing the brushing of their selfs.


Saturday, March 22, 2008

The blog remains afloat ..

I say I am not that good not because I don't think I am good. It is because I think it's bad manners to claim one's credentials by one's own words. At the same time, doubts abound in my mind if such a behaviour of mine is only but hypocrisy. May be it is. But won't the converse behaviour be pompous. The choice is between hypocrisy and vanity. The choice is between a punch from Sunny Deol and a kiss from Johny Lever. Can't blame myself for being confused.


I usually don't help others, even with things I can. If asked, I do. But at least, I never offer help myself. Even when I know the other person could do well with my help, and sometimes even screw up without it. It is because I feel, offering help to a person is in some ways assuming your superiority on the matter without that person having had acknowledged it. You might be well meaning, but it could get, for the other person, demeaning. I fear being mistaken for condescending behaviour too much, for me to try being helpful. I could let it at that and be happy, but can't. Something in me wants to help when I am dead sure my help would do it for them. Something in me, stops me.


These are just two, and probably the less important ones, of the confusions that outline my existence. I have as many as five long posts, unpublished, between the last posted one and this. I attribute them, and their unpublished status, to some more confusions. And then there are the bigger ones. Increasingly, I am discovering, that I am rich only in my confusions. I sense I am not as sharp now as I was perhaps a few months back. The bigger confusions have taken the larger share of the outdated pentium-II processor in my mind, and there's no memory unluckily even for the recycle bin here.


I'm hopeless. I had promised myself I won’t be maudlin on the blog anymore, but ended up following the drift. Anyhow, I coined a new name for flatulence meanwhile. When one of my old school friends ripped one off when a few of us got together the other day, I asked him if he ever gave a damn to global warming. The other guys, obviously not him, found it so funny they have almost entirely replaced 'global warming' for 'fart' in their usage, I hear. I think the reason they liked it was that it looks more sophisticated and you can show you've not been a student of science for nothing. Think of it as giving something to peers, now this should make me happy.


Happy Holi ! Got to scratch-remove the dirt and grease now. Oh shit it's all over the keyboard now! Aaj tak saaf tha, barso se ise Colin se jo saaf kar raha hoon. Ab fir karunga.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

TAG

Here's the tag.


1. A book that made you laugh: Many. In bits and pieces, I've laughed at many sentences from many books. But if I were to name one book which had the most stylish humour, it has to be Catch-22.


2. A book that made you cry: None, actually.


3. A book that scared you: Haven't read any (scary ones).


4. A book that disgusted you: Many. , 'The Fountainhead' - disgusted me right from the preface, its popular run being a fine example of how good publicity can affect one's perception of books, 'India: What it can Teach Us'- for the super-bore it was; some more you wouldn't want to know about.


5. A book you loved in elementary school: I wasn't quite reading books when I was in Elementary school, for as much as I can remember. Of course, I liked Billu and Pinky comics, and was a big fan of Chacha Choudhary, a fascination for whom I grew even before I started attending any school, elemantary or whatever. To let a little secret out, I could read and infer sentences before I stepped into any school or pre school or play school or whatever we call it, and it was largely thanks to these comics.


6. A book you loved in middle school or junior high school: H'm I can recollect having a liking for one particular Mickey Mouse book, the exact name of which I'd have to check and see. Also, the Ninja Turtles series - in some parts, not a big fan of it, on second thoughts. And some stories of the Short story compilation called 'Malgudi Days'. And I loved looking at the Atlas a lot, if that qualifies.


7. A book you loved in high school: I was thoroughly impressed with Premchand's short stories. So two of his compilations 'Premchand ki Sarvshreshtha Kahaniyaan' and 'Premchand ki Lokpriya Kahaniya' were among my favourites of those times. Also, I liked his novel 'Gaban' a lot. For some strange reason, I liked 'The Bachelor of Arts' more than any other of Narayan's more acclaimed novels.


8. A book you loved in college: 'The Stranger', without a doubt, before any other. Others that I've loved are Catch 22, The Google Story, The Argumentative Indian, iCon, The Idle Thoughts, and some more.


9. A book that challenged your identity: None. Though many contributed, and introduced new dimensions to my identity, none challenged it.


10. A series that you love: I haven't read any series, except the comics that I told you about, and

some magazines. No books.


11. Your favourite science fiction book: Haven't read any.


12. Your favourite fantasy: Haven't read any.


13. Your favourite mystery: Haven't read any.


14. Your favourite biography: 'The Boys' Life of Edison.'


15. Your favourite "coming of age" book: I don't know what that means.


16. Your favourite classic: 'The Stranger', again. Also, 'The Fall', 'Catch-22' and 'The Catcher in the Rye' also up there among my favourites, again.


17. Your favourite romance book: Haven't read any.


I am not much of a popular fiction/genre fiction fan. Literary does it for me.


Since the only one I could hope to complete the tag if I tagged, is one who actually tagged me with this in the first place, I tag no one in particular. Goes without saying, anyone who wants to pick it up from here, please pick it up.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

aise hi

We had the first mock test today and it was quite a wake up call for me. The results though aren't out; I don't think I have reason to be satisfied. Even if it turns out to be a good performance relative to others after the results get declared, I'd still be disappointed since I know I could have done much much better than this. In contrast, I'd have been much happier even with a lower percentile but only if I could say to myself that I gave my best. On second thoughts, no I am happier only this way. Lest God will choose the other way for me – work more, score less wala. Like the last time (last post) I caught fever. This way it’s fine. Just make me, Oh god, a little more hardworking. Please Please.


And I've become quite an addict of facebook apps. Ever since I joined it the other day, I have played endless number of quizzes and games on it both of the non and cognitive variety. It is quite an addiction, whhooop – I just keep seeing one game or quiz after another, tempted to try all of them, wasting a lot of time in the process, and consoling myself with the affirmation that I’d have wasted that time anyway. But time is limited, and .. oops .. it’s limited, so bye. I’ll play a few more quizzes and shut down.

Friday, February 8, 2008

शिक़ायत पेटी

Really need to get things into order now. It's like being a laaton ka bhoot. I've been some months into this coaching thing now but truth be told, haven't even begun with solving the study material they gave me. It's a really guilt-inducing thing, being wrong while being aware of being wrong. I've made some really ambitious plans now, and just hope that I stick to them for some time until the rhythm sets in, because I feel it is always easy to follow through once you get your rhythm or flow.


One more thing that is and has been troubling me to some extent over the past few weeks is this stubborn acne problem that I caught about four or five months back. And its just not going away. I know it feels kind of odd to admit a thing as trivial as acne is troubling you, as though you've got no better things to think about, but it really is. Honestly, I don't think any personal discomfort of an individual level has bugged me as much as it has. Fevers and all, they make you a little gloomy, but this thing makes you particularly irritable and generally unenthusiastic. Add to that, that you do not feel like going out or meeting people all that much, and it takes considerably larger dimensions than just dots on the skin.


Apart from that, life is pretty smooth. We're having the usual fun in the hostel, that does start getting monotonous once in a while, but then you can't complain about every goddamn thing in the world.


Added later : As it turns out, within hours of writing down this piece, fever grips me. These days God just needs the slightest clue. ''Hell yeah, fever's better eh ? Take it.''

:(

Friday, February 1, 2008

Bicycles

When I rode a bicycle as a child and then as an early teenager, I saw a lot of bicycles around me. When I rode a bicycle, bicycles were important things. I saw a large number of people riding their own, it made me wonder why the elder people don't ride it swashbuckling swiftly the way I did. Probably they underestimated their bicycle's thrill value, was what I often concluded to myself. Then I stopped using one. And before I could realise, or more appropriately, pay any heed, they were gone. They weren't to be seen in schools, or in college streets. They weren't even thought about, except in irritation when some sluggishly moving bicycle with an old man on top of it, or a trembling one ridden by a kid, either hindered my speed or blocked my way for a second; and I thought of them as mere nuisance for those, like me, on their respective vehicles out for some real, valuable, get-things-done work. So, effectively, I didn't want to think about them when I thought about them, and for the most part I actually didn't think about them. They were as if they were not. Today, as I was walking down a road after my own assessment of people having had stumped me, I was quite unsure of myself, actually still am. For a while it was as if all strong opinions I had formed in these years were falling down on me after having completed their way up against gravity. I was unsure of the wisdom I always thought I was only too comfortable with. A bomb alert at that time wouldn't perhaps have diverted my mind from my own perplexity, but after I sat down on the pavement I saw a bicycle travel inches from me at great speed. I somehow felt that this kid looked like I did, but was even more sure that this feeling would also turn out to be another absurd figment of my chimera, that I had started trusting over these years. Lazily I turned my head towards it when it was already three cricket pitches from me, and frankly I hardly cared. I turned back again, and a few bicycles passed over again. I stood up, and about-turned to see as far in the horizon as I could, to figure how many more are there coming at me, and there were scores. More than the cars, or the motorbikes. I could instantly see that they were always there, had always been. I could sense that I had grown oblivious, though 'grown' wouldn't be apt to use here. Whilst my cultivated wisdom should have made me more aware, it made me slightly the other way. And I wish I don't become oblivious to bikes when I graduate to cars. Being unsure, ironically, has always taught me more than being sure and confident.

Monday, January 7, 2008

holidayendingpost.edu

Today is the last day of the holidays. Tomorrow onwards its back to hostel and mess and college and all. Since it was the last day I thought I'd update the blog once more, I tend to blog a lot more frequently during holidays, I notice. Don't know, maybe because I have very little to be engaged with otherwise during holidays. Truth be told, I am one of those guys to whom listening to things like 'wonderfully written' gives a great kick, but then, to whom it doesn't. Everyone would like to discover that in their rants was hidden a spectacular philosophical treasure. Its like going to an astrologer all depressed and tired and getting to know all of a sudden that the grihas at your time of birth are ones that repeat only after thousands of years, each time to see the birth of a polymath and stuff, and the last time such griha combinations happened was when Lord Krishna was born. So I thought I'd make one last try at being lord Asaaramji.

Today I went to college for the registration for this semester, where I met many of my classmates after about forty days. Its always a good sight seeing your classmates after so many days. Even during school days, I was always eager to see them after the summer vacations and all, I don't know what inside me made me think that a lot must have changed in these guys in these 40-50 days. And even after all these years of repeatedly finding out that no such Johny Lever to John Abraham change is possible in this much time, I still look forward to it. Habits die hard, really. One of my friends was visibly depressed there. Not the unhappy kind of depressed, but the not-happy kind of depressed. I mean when you're supposed to smile and all when someone wishes you Ooyey happy new year, he just remained blank as if he's just been yawned at. And after a pause added a hardly audible 'you too' that ended before it started. Then I prodded him, out of habit, to know what was troubling him. You know I get a bang out of asking people why are they so badly down and depressed, when they aren't actually all that depressed; because being asked this makes them all the more depressed.

'Who's down, me??'', he said faking amazement.

'I thought, you know..'.

"Who told you to think? Don't strain your knees." Boy, he was down.

"Okay if you don't want to tell, Ranjana was asking, but who cares"

"What did she ask?"

" Nothing, duffer. You thought she really asked. You really believed that, did you." and I deliberately followed it up with a big sarcastic laugh.

" You know what, I've made no 'progress'. Holidays wasted." Its funny that people tell you what it is only after you stop asking them what it is.

" Shake hands bhai, no progress here either, didn’t study a word." I added just to incite him further.

" Shut up, you know what I mean.", he replied. He'd have licked the books all month anyway. And after a brief pause he went on to add," S*****t, I am a loser."

You know you are a loser when you start telling your friends you are loser, expecting them to reply by saying that you aren't a loser. You know that they are being polite, but that politeness is all you want for that fleeting moment.

And then I replied," No, you aren't a loser" :)

Just as he started to look relieved, I feared that he might have actually believed me when I said he wasn't a loser, and added," You don't need to worry too much about it yaar. You know you are far better any day". I shouldn't have been lying all that much, that too right in the beginning of the year.

"Do I look like I care", he retorted. He looked like it was all he ever cared for.

"No dude you don't, at all".

And then I saw for the first time signs of true relief on his face. I don't know what it is about these guys nowadays. You try to lift them up, they pounce back at you. You call them dude, you lift their mood.

Anyway, enough for now.

Friday, January 4, 2008

Just like that

Vacations are good times. Actually all times are good times. In the beginning though, we show resistance to any change but slowly carve our comfort with it, start liking it, until the next change comes, and then we resist that change and so on. Like when exams just got over and vacations had just started, I didn't like the idea. But now, after slowly getting used to the blasé being, I wonder if I'll be able to cope up with the routine-bound life once college reopens. Of course I will be, just like every semester, but still those apprehensions. Just when I've slowly started liking the slow life, a change comes up! College reopens in 3-4 days and I am like Nooooo, the way you do as a 1st standard student, only that I don't do it in real, I just think of doing it.


Noooo brings me to Taare Zameen Par, which I went to watch yesterday with Mummy. Words will fail me if I sit down to describe how much I loved the film. You don't expect pretentiously tough twenty one year olds to be sitting and crying in a cinema hall, which I actually didn't, but certainly would have a number of times if Mummy wouldn't have been around. Even then, it was a tough task for me to control the rush. Both Ishan played by Darsheel Safary and Nikumbh Sir the character played by Aamir were extremely likeable, obviously for the purity that Nikhumb Sir and Ishan exude, but also struck a deep chord with me as, people, or just cinematic characters you'd unusually identify with. I often heard people talk about such and such character they could identify really with, but could never truly understand what they meant by that. I got a feel of what they meant for the first time when I saw Swades. In certain parts where Mohan Bhargav is this reflective, guilt-prone, vulnerable self, coexisting in others with someone who thinks of shielding the susceptible and has fun with those who don't, in his own little way. Paradoxical to some extent, but true to a larger. Yes Swades is one of my favourite films; and now Taare Zameen Par, after a very lOng time a film that set me thinking, reflecting, and agitating within too.


There are many sensations that happen to you and you feel like asking every single person if that happened to them as well, only that you never actually get down to asking people. If I list my questions of that variety it'll perhaps need a full post to itself, but the reason I am putting it up now is because a scene from TZP just flashed beneath my eyelids. There's this scene in which Ishan moves around, disillusioned, on the roads outside his school, staring at random things and thinking about them, and remaining disillusioned all along. I did that a lot as a child. I don't know any other person in my life who gets such fits of near insanity walking on the roads. I still do that daily when I leave for a long slow stroll after dinner every night. But it is different now than it was as a child. Now I worry whether I appear a c…..a this way, or should I be impervious to it even if I do, and some more insignificant, extraneous doubts other than the one that made me look, stare, glare as a doubter. As you grow old, you're no longer certain in your doubts. Ironically, you doubt your doubts and are not faithful to them. Coming back, so seeing Ishan in that particular scene made me think that Ok yes now there's someone with whom this happens. Maybe not Ishan, may be the writer Amole Gupte, or maybe Aamir, the director. With whom is anyway irrelevent, but I knew for sure that it does.


And Why does English slander like fucked-up-slob,f..u, f..er, invite far less scrown than their Hindi counterparts, which mean pretty much the same, and sometimes provide a more appropriate description than any other word ? I've stopped mulling over this, for a change, now. After all, double standards are the order now, and who ever said it shouldn't be.


Added Later : Yeah, the kid who played Rajan Damodaran also deserves a special mention. If I were the jury, I'd be confused between Darsheel and Aamir for the best actor in the leading role category, but wouldn't take a minute to decide whom I'll vote my best supporting actor as. This boy.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

My defence against being different

This notion of being different, I notice, has gained mass popularity amongst GenX/Y/Z/iGen or whatever it is being called these days. So much so, that the impetus behind a lot of actions that the youth around me embarks on is provided solely by the motivation to be different, to appear distinctively from the norm. Being different, as such, is misunderstood by many as the path that will lead to higher platforms. The character of backing your instincts to follow your dreams even if it takes you away from the well worn path, is truly wonderful and appreciable. But clear distinction must me made between this virtue and that of purposely rejecting a path because it is well worn and doing something out of the box for the sake of being different. Unfortunately, it is this brand of 'being different', that has found widespread acceptance.


To clearly express my defence against it, I must first state the argument of those for it. I am often told, and often I read about the remarkable success of some distinguished personalities based upon how different they were. And it makes me crazy - firstly the immature analysis behind such statements and secondly the silly instant acceptance of it. That people like Edison, Einstein, or even Steve Jobs were and are great men is absolutely true. And so is the fact that they were different. And so is the fact that this difference was what put them so distinctly ahead. But to conclude from this 'to be great, be different' is as immature as saying that the Silicon Valley will do great business this year since guavas had a good yield last year in Orrisa. So to say, it makes no sense. True that they were different, but if difference was all there was to it, then even the drunkard who drinks all day on the road should be great on the grounds of being different. Precisely speaking, it wasn't the existence of a difference that mattered, but what that difference actually was, an intricacy often ignored in today's glossy reporting. Its not about whether you are different from the others, its about what is it that sets you apart. If being different in itself was a criterion then everyone should have had some claim to prominence, since no two individuals are ever identical. So when I see people with their usernames that read like Name - be different, or XYZ - not in the norm, minor concerns arise in my consciousness as to whether this person actually understood the meaning behind it or got carried away by some irresponsible but fascinating portrayal of the same.


That this concern is not completely unwarranted, is certain. How else can one explain the fact that people, young educated guys and girls from cities like Delhi and Mumbai, are part of online communities that Hail Hitler, those which say Dawood Ibrahim is a genius, and those which say Secularism sucks. Perhaps a minute percentage of their members truly believe in these ideas (that no one with a sound brain would), but to believe that all of them actually endorse such ideas after a well thought internal deliberation, defies all common sense. It is very clear, that the desire to 'appear' different propels a majority of such apparently rebellious memberships.


On a lighter and different note, am I wrong in assuming that 'different' is one of the most inappropriately and overused words in the English language? All across Orkut, I see testimonials and about-me's that claim the person to be such a 'different' person, that it makes me wonder if ninety percent of the people are 'different', then what's different about being different.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Tagged!

I am doing a tag today because Lavender tagged me. This is my second tag. This was the first one about an year and a half ago. I hope I've got saner with time, lets see. So without any further ado, lets get started.

1.Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it ? Yes actually I got sort of carried away the other day with that Russian lass entering the Metro. Aaah! It still hurts, she had such long pointed nails.

2. What does your phone look like ?
It looks like Katrina Kaif. Happy?

3.What is on the walls of your bedroom?
I don't have a bedroom specifically to myself. So I lay down in any of the rooms, and all of them have different things on their walls. Anyway, my hostel room has the following things on its walls :
a) Cracks
b) paint stacks breaking out
c) my shoeprints
d) dead bodies- (c) and (d) are inter-related. My shoes kill the mosquitoes on the walls.
e) Lizards
f) Spiders and Spider nets
g) Big cracks

4. What is your current desktop picture?
Currently, it is Mahatma Gandhi. Actually changed it only yesterday. Before that it was Mother Teresa. Preceding it were pictures of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, Nelson Mandela, Al Gore, Bharat Mata, Sai Baba, Lord Rama and family, Asaaramji Bapu, Sudhanshu Ji Maharaj, Baba Ramdev, Hope you got the drift. I am not one of those perverts who keep all that 'haaa ji'/'chhee' stuff as their wallpapers. Really I am not. I am one of those perverts who keep them in a hidden folder.

5.Do you believe in gay marriage?
What's there to believe in. If two men tell me that they got married, so its obviously a gay marriage, and I have no reason to believe they are lying. So yes, I believe in gay marriages. So to say, I FIRMLY believe in gay marriages. Otherwise, how will he, I mean, how will we.. Ooops! I am not supposed to tell you all that.

6. What do you want more than anything right now?
I want gay marriages to be legalised in India. I've heard migration to Netherlands and Canada is a tough task indeed.

7. Are your parents still together?
Yeah, still together. Vaise what was the need of this 'still' in the question. 'Are your parents together?' would have meant the same thing, minus the amazement at parents being together. Its like saying - Uff abhi tak saath hain tumhare maa baap, bade old fashioned hain yaar. Must have been an American who made this tag. Could have been a member of the Kasauti Zindagi Kay teleserial family too, I am not sure.

8. Last person who made you cry?
Myself. No one else can. Exceptions include Uday Chopra and Tushar Kapoor. But I have been cleverly avoiding them of late.

9. What is your favourite perfume/cologne ?
Ooooooh how much I've waited for this question to be put up to me. I always saw this question in those glossy magazines where every one had so many new names to tell, I wondered how much people research to get down to the perfume type most suited to them. So my answer is 'Elizabeth Arden's Daytona 500'!! Impressive naa ? I picked it up from Nana Patekar's interview, or was it Mithun Chakraborty's ?

10. What are you listening to?
Nagging from Mummy. I didn't take a bath yesterday. And today's just not that kind of a day you'd like to leave your blanket you know. But she doesn't understand all that. Today I am thinking of taking a bath in Daytona 500 itself, so that she doesn't complain for the rest of the vacations.

11. Do you get scared of the dark?
I get scared even when dogs bark, let alone dark. When our tubelight fluctuates - I am like [:)] -> [:(] -> [:)] -> [:(] -> [:)] -> [:(] -> [:))] bach gaye! Jai Shri Ram!

12. Do you like pain killers?
Oh yes I like them a lot. They are just soooo lovely. Aren't they soooo seductive, with their silvery metallic covering, so lustrous and shiny, ooooooh. Look I am getting turned on already. Oh Combiflam!! My darling, where are you ? I have a secret crush on Rofecoxib also. Sssshh don't you tell anyone.

13. Are you too shy to ask someone out ?
Actually yes. I can't even say a hyper happy Hiiiiiieee! A 'Hi' is all I am capable of. Also, I am too shy to ask someone to get out, if that was what the question intended to ask.

14. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Daal baati ? But that's because I don't eat non veg on Thursdays.

15. Who was the last person who made you mad?
He made me mad. The way he glanced at me and immediately turned his eyes the other way. And then again leered at me until I caught him… oops I am not supposed to tell you all that. No one made me mad, haan nahi to!

16. Who was the last person who made you smile?
Myself!! I have been so proud of my answers here! I have already patted my back a thousand times answering these questions! Arre waah S*****t, tu toh kamaal hai , tu toh Raju Srivastava hai, tu yeh hai , tu voh hai, bhai waah, chhaa gaya, shabaash, and all that. What a self obsessed smug am I !?! So much that my back is aching now after all that patting. Nooo, I will not take the bath now. Nooooo!

17. Is someone in love with you ?
My parents love me a lot, my brother too, yeah grandparents too, one of my uncles surely! Yeah, that much. On those lines ? Oh no one's romantically inclined and all that. Wait a minute, maybe he is !

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Reflections on what this blog was and shouldn't have been

Today is one of those days on which things don’t flow the way you wish they would. One of those days things don't go right. Actually, these are important days. Such days are far more important, I feel, than those on which everything just clicks.


I have often felt this nudge that stops me from writing some things, all for the reason that I am conscious of the fact that people, even if only one or two, do read it. So I often found myself writing things and then deleting them later all because doubts occur to me somewhere if that stuff is appropriate to write on a blog. I reflected upon it for a moment the other day and somehow felt strongly that I should be entitled to write whatever I think. In other words, things that I would have written in case no one ever read them, should be written by me even if it is read. Because only then, in true sense, I can see it as an unadulterated reflection - a purpose which I think personal blogs primarily should be for. This, however, does not mean that all I had been editing out were things straight out of a hooligan's dictionary. But there were times when what I wrote wasn't exactly justifying the extent to which I should have written it to, if I were honest. For instance, on occasions when I did something I was very happy about and felt as if I have achieved something substantial, thoughts of being understood as an egotist by others discouraged me from writing them, or the fear of the written stuff being perceived as self praise. Similarly, sometimes I was neck deep in guilt and I cleverly mellowed down the self bashing, only so as not to 'appear' really all that bad. Quite naturally, I'd surely never have omitted my memorable achievements and my valuable mistakes, if I were to be writing it entirely for myself, the way it should ideally be. And without them, alas, this blog of mine is only a distorted reflection of me - certainly not something I wanted it to be.


@ Lavender : Oh, this doesn't turn out to be a happy post either. But you do understand the mood these days, don't you. Maybe next time around, I'll write the sequel to 'The Try : Part 1', I hope that will be fun. After your comment , I actually scanned my blog a bit, and found out the last 'happy post' was 'The Try' on Oct 10th. Since that too was fiction, the last actual happy-post was on Oct 4th. That’s full two and a half months! Gawd! I've become so gloomy all this while and never realised. Thanks you reminded.

Friday, November 30, 2007

Void


जब मेरे पेपर चल रहे थे तब मुझे हमेशा ये ही लगता था की यार कब ख़तम हों ये, और कब मैं फ्री हो जाऊं। और अब जब पेपर पूरे हो गए हैं और छुट्टियां हो गयी हैं तो सच में ऐसा लग रहा है की यार इससे तो कल तक ही अच्छा था कम से कम हर समय कुछ करने के लिए तो होता था. Tension रहती थी लेकिन बोरियत तो नहीं होती थी. आज तो सारे दिन मैच ही देखता रहा. जफर सही खेल रहा था लेकिन फिर भी यार पूरा दिन, वो भी test match, इस T20 के ज़माने में, हद् हो गयी! और उसके बाद से यही सोच रहा हूँ अब क्या करून, कहाँ जाऊं, वगेरा वगेरा। इसी सोच में बैठे बैठे घर पे राखी हुई मिठाइयां भी सारी खा गया पता नहीं किस किस के शादी की नाम की अब ये post लिखने भी इसीलिए बैठा हूँ की भाई बाँदा कुछ तो करे. Exams से पहले तो घरवाले भी इतने काम बताते थे, अब उन्हें भी को काम वाम नहीं करवाना मुझसे, कमाल है.

ठण्ड तो काफी हो गयी वैसे इस बार, पर देख रहा हूँ कि कोई मूंगफली and all नहीं मंगवाई हुई घर पे, आज ही ले कर आऊंगा।

हॉस्टेल में रहते रहते शकल भी कौवे जैसी हो गयी है. कल रगड़ रगड़ के मैल उतारना पड़ेगा।

चलो भाई अब मूंगफली लेने जाता हूँ, आधा घंटा और time कटेगा।

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Urgent Updates!!

Its been some time, hasn't it? I am never so busy so as not to find the time to write a post, but I somehow I didn't have anything to say. Anyway, November wasn't much different from the other months, except that we had our exams, which are infact still underway - two more of them to go.


Speaking about exams, they tend to distort the person you actually are. I often find myself doing things during exam days, that I normally wouldn't even think of. Like setting a 3AM alarm bell. Like coming back from an exam and immediately sitting to start studying. Like thinking that the stuff I'll be cramming five minutes before the exam would turn out to be a sure shot scorer for me. Though it’s the time I am always behind schedule, it is also the time that makes me think the most weird of things. Like around 5th or 6th of November, I had my Dynamics of Machines Viva the next day, and I didn't know a scratch about it then. It was about quarter to seven and I sat to make my calculations about how much time I'll need to grasp things at a superficial level, because it was just a practical. Unrealistic as always in making these hour and minutes calculations , I figured out that I could do that much just in time if I started studying from seven in the evening. But by the time this schedule got ready, it was already seven fifteen. So I thought lets delay the whole thing a little more, and start it at 7.30, 7.15 doesn't look nice. Its so strange that when you know you don't have the time to rest or lay down, you crave for it so much. Ok not you, I. And when you're completely free, you do far more physical movements the entire day and when logically you should have been more tired by the evening, you never give resting or anything even a thought. I'd even shrug off a suggestion to rest as ridiculous otherwise. And there I was, elated at the thought of lying down for fifteen minutes. And there's this weird compulsive disorder with me. Some years back our Munna Bhaiya at Vidyamandir Classes, which, for the uninitiated, is an iitjee coaching institute, gave us an advice about managing our time and minimising our re-fresh time effectively, told us that you could extract as much relaxation and rejuvenation from a 15 minute time slot as you'd from a 3 hour rest, but the condition is that you should keep yourself completely blank. Thoughtless. Think nothing. Zero. Since I was so fond of him and anything he said was worth gold for me, I have this compulsive disorder now of trying to think nothing whenever I want some rest, which on the contrary makes my mind wander all that much more. So trying to think nothing, I lay myself on the bed looking at the fan on the ceiling move at a low speed. It was early November then, so the fan had been set at a somewhat medium speed. It was fast enough to shake the spider nets turbulently and still slow enough to not cause it any harm. Even as I started scanning Delhi Times, my mind wandered back again and again to the spiders that were vibrating like anything, when it struck me what an awful life they have. Its like sitting in your room when the earthquake happening, and continuing sipping your tea hoping that your house won't collapse. Awful life but the spiders don't complain. Probably they haven't ever tasted the good life. And some more things. And then I thought what weird things I've been thinking when I am already short of time for preparing for the test. That’s when I kicked the mattress hard and checked the watch only to find that it was already 7.40. That’s when I showed the utter heights of procrastination and decided to start at 8, and making up for the lost time by giving next morning's bath a skip. And drew myself back to my tryst with the spider.


Added later: Reading this post again after posting it, I honestly feel what boring gibberish this one has turned out to be. But I told you beforehand, I don't have much to say these days.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Out of Place

Sometimes these days, I really feel very much out of place. Sometimes it pinches that I am no longer the child who falls congruently into perfect harmony with wherever he goes. As a child, I recollect, I always used to find something interesting to do even when I would go visiting with Dad, his friends' families who were complete strangers to me. Even then I was this reticent kid who would open up to other kids in these families only if they took the initiative majorly. Most of the times they did, and it wouldn’t be long before we'd mix so well that I started my once favourite activities of calling names, leg-pulling, and playing weird games that made so much sense then, with these two hour buddies. Even on the rare occasions such gel and get along wouldn’t take effect, there was always the advantage of a G-I-Joe or a Hotwheels toy car at the host's place with which I could gladly pass my evenings. If I had my way, I would never go to get-togethers or parties with people I am not truly close and friendly with, but with relatives sometimes I am forced to take exceptions. Yesterday, I went to this cousin sister's son's birthday party and knew almost no one there apart from this sister herself, her husband and son, and a couple of cousins I went with. As a child I used to play a lot with these cousins, until they grew into adults even as I remained a child. Then most of them got married when I was still going to school, and somehow I always fell short of things I could talk about with them. So yesterday, I spent about two-three hours fiddling with my cellphone, untying my shoe laces and tying them again, drinking dozens of glasses of water, and coochie-cooing small little kids I hardly knew. Of these the most difficult was the coochie-cooing thing as I lack the inherent warmth required to see all kids as cute toys, and more importantly, my inability to fake it. I was thinking all this on my way back home when it occurred to me it isn't just these parties I am an outsider to.


I feel a little out of place in the company of rich girls with a post-modern outlook on things. I feel a little out of place going on outings with friends who are considerably more affluent than I. I even feel out of place in regular hostel inmate gatherings in which the guys smoke and drink and smile wickedly at my unmanliness in not joining them. On the other hand, I feel out of place when they drop their so called retrosexual manliness and dive into never ending sessions of mushy SMS typing and mobile phone whispering.


The height is when my long time best friend doesn't quite let me be all easy in his company either. Sometime in 2004, I remember I was nudging him that we should try a cigarette to see what it's like when he got all senti and asked me to vow not to get into it, or else dosti toot jayegi, main teri mummy ko phone kar ke bata dunga etc etc. At that point, I thought he was being childish. Now, on the once-a-month meet-up we usually have, all he has to tell me about is how he got high on such and such thing and rammed the hell out of so and so guy, or went about dancing madly at so and so party impressing so and so hot chick in the process. How unlike our yesteryears when we talked about good literature, beautiful girls or upcoming plans, shared classic humour, played cricket or went about riding on the roads.


If only God grants that in-place life, who the hell wants to kill time scanning orkut profiles of scores of people one doesn’t even know, but just because they either look beautiful, or share the same viewpoints as his, supposedly.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Kuch na kuch

Ghazal maestro Ghulam Ali was in Delhi yesterday for a concert on Eid eve and the venue was Qutub Minaar. I came to know about it at 6 pm and the show was slated for 6.30. I quickly rang Vipin for his company for this occassion, and he didn't disappoint, like always. In five minutes I was racing my bike against the jammed roads, and getting restless by every passing second. Just when I had crossed the jam, the brakes failed, thankfully in a jammed position too. So it wasn't like I couldn't stop the bike now but that I couldn't start it. I called Vipin again to come to that spot to help me out and then we rushed to the nearby auto-workshop to get thing mended. It took a bad half hour, this brake thing. Then I raced it like I had never before, though I admit I was still way behind Vipin's jittering Bullet, to reach Qutub Minaar. Once we hopped the wired walls to get inside the seating arena, and succeeded. Only to be sent back by a hawaldar with stare and a compliment a minute later. Just when we were hopelessly going back, one guy offered us his passes for hundred rupees. That was it. I witnessed one of the most mesmerizing live performance of true genuine music I had ever seen. In this age when mediocrity is hailed as genius, and noise is called music, I was really thankful to God to have had the fortune of hearing some exceptional renditions live, atleast once.


And that was it. I decided what I have to become. Yes, I found it. I have to become an Urdu poet, or a shayar. I even wrote a nazm today, and here it is :


जिंदगी किस कदर कहती है आने दो समंदर को

इताब-ऐ-अश्क ही भारी पड़े जिसके मुक़द्दर को


कहाँ ये हौसला उसमें है आता पस्त-हौसला है जो

कि अब मसरूर है हबूत में मसरूफ होने को


क्यों उम्मीदें नही हैं वहम -ऐ -नुसरत के अलावा कुछ

खता को भी नही मिलता तगाफुल के अलावा कुछ


यह सालों की खलिश है या है ये ज़द्दोजहद कल की

कुछ मिलता भी है तो रहती है बेक़रारी-ऐ-दिल हलकी


वफात-ऐ-ग़म भी शायद हासिल कर लेते हम लेकिन

बेशुमारी-ऐ-ताबिश पहले ही हावी है हयात-ऐ-बुझ


क्या कुछ हस्ती है मेरी गैर -पेशा भी इस आलम में

तरसता हूँ वुजूद को फिर भी हूँ मौजूद इस ग़म में


कार -ऐ -कशाकश में था मैं जब किया था एक इख्तियार

तब भी इज्तिरार-ऐ-इजतिराब , जाने किसका है इंतज़ार


The following might be needed for a good comprehension:

Itaab : Anger

Ashq : Tears

Muqaddar : Destiny

past-hausla : Pessimistic

masroor : glad

huboot : decline

masroof : engrossed

vahm-e-nusrat : illusion of achievement

tagaaful : ignore/neglect

khalish : anxiey

zaddojehad : inner turmoil

beqaraari-e-dil : lack of heartfelt satisfaction

beshumari-e-taabish : immensity of sorrow

wafaat-e-gham : death from sadness

hayat-e-bujh : sluggish, insignificant existance.

gair-pesha : other than professional

aalam : universe

kaar-e-kashakash : professional dilemma

ikhtiyaar : choice/option

iztiraar : helplessness

iztiraab : perturbation/anxiety



* My mood's got nothing to do with my poem.


** Poem inspired by, this feeling. My approximate interpretation, in verse.


*** I am not going to become a shayar. I wanted to become a cricketer after India's breathtaking quarter final victory over pakistan in 96's wills world cup. I wanted to become an actor after seeing 'Pardes', an engineer after seeing 'Swades', a non-engineer after entering DCE, a ghazal singer after seeing my first Jagjit Singh concert, a cartoonist after seeing a Sudhir Tailang interview, An author/philosopher after I was exposed to Albert Camus, An IPS officer after watching 'Sarfarosh', a Hindi author/poet after reading Premchand/DInkar's works in ninth standard, a stand up comedian after watching Omar Sharif perform when in 10th standard. So just like I haven't got any closer to becoming any of these, I most probably won't be a shayar either. In short, aspirational hobbyist.



**** Evolution


The Try .. will continue , I mean that story of the last post.