Value Drift - 2

This certain someone, whom nobody but I can know the best in this world, marvels at his ability to "take calculated-risks" and "lead a planned life." Will someone be so kind enough to tell him that life is not about coming out clean and winning every game, but about enjoying every moment of it. Love, why are you bogged down by ideas of Religion, Society and the like, and why have ideas of complacency hit you at such an early age ? Seems like what's happening to you is the one thing you ever dreaded - societal conditioning. It is now, more than ever, that you need more of yourself.

Judgement and Parody of Techno-predictions

Life as an example to others Whilst returning home from an inconsequential place, I chanced upon Magan -- it is rarely that I find myself face to face with Magan of late. A dialogue was inevitable: A: I wonder if I will ever understand the meaning of life. M: Will triviality do as a reason ? Atleast your life can be useful to an observer. A: I hate to believe that 'guinea pig' can even be considered. Who will judge you M: Perhaps. You'll have to satisfy the ultimate judgement. A: If I've understood something from life thus far, it is that there's only one person capable of making the ultimate judgement and that is oneself. Future of technology I've deciphered the future of human beings, the era that's going to succeed and supercede the era of technology. I've seen the future ladies and gentlemen, hear and be enlightened. The next age is the age of Magic and Socery; and no, it's not the latest flick that's introduced this thought in me, but deep meditation, crystal gazing and statistical analysis. Wizadry and Magic will make useless all the technological innovations - who needs a petrol car when a broomstick can do ? - Will make useless physics - need an atom, poof, here it is - and will provide entertainment and a new culture. Wait for the dawn of the next era, and behold it's king, I.

A Family's Train Journey

On a busy railway platform, Platform Number 2, this typical family is waiting for a train. Going by their looks, they're lower middle class - perhaps waiting for their second class seats. The mother, who's aged about 50 - looking clueless, a young daughter - about 15 years who's all excited and a son of about 22 years, on whom their travel rests. The son looking attentively in the direction from whence the train will approach -- perhaps to fight for three seats in an unreserved compartment. The son is carrying their baggage - a small blue plastic handbag, a gym bag, and a purse. He's holding on to them with so much conviction that gives one an idea that it's all they have. The daughter is getting restless and the mother is getting worried. The son moves a bit towards the edge of the platform to catch a glimpse of the train before others, but the tracks are dry so far as the eyes can see. There's a booming announcement on the speakers that says the train will be late by 1/2 hour. There's a sudden rush on the platform, everybody who was standing close to the edge now runs to find a seat for themselves. In a few minutes, the platform is all settled, but this family does not manage to find seats. The son decides that they'll sit on the floor. He lays down the three articles on the floor and squats - slightly leaning on the gym bag and gently closing his eyes - perhaps to compensate for the morning's hard work. The mother and sister squat besides him. He's suddenly woken by the jolt of the moving platform beneath him. It takes a while, perhaps a dreaded minute, before he realises what's going on. It's perhaps this minute of reckoning that costs him dearly. He's squatting not on the platform but in a train, his bags - which are tightly clinched by his rustic hands - are placed on the seat that's close to him. His mother and sister are not to be seen around. And the train is moving, leaving the platform, picking speed as it does. He's clueless how he ended up over there. All of a sudden he's taken by fear about his family's whereabouts. He looks around but finds only strangers. He tightens the grasp on his belongings and heads to the nearest exit door. In desperation he gets down on the coach stairs, but by now the train has picked up speed and is too fast to get down. It has left the platform behind by about a kilometre. He stands there, stiff, with the overgrown bushes brushing past him, a few that are not so kind, piercing him with their thorns or hard twigs. He looks around to gather his bearings, but just notices strange and plush countryside. He notices a fork in the railway line a while ahead, with an old man waving at the train standing in the middle of one of the tracks. For a moment he's concerned for the old man, for if the train goes his way, there'll be no time for the old man to get out of the tracks. The train, perhaps as intended, takes the other leg and moves on. He waves back to the old man. Just then, a thought tickles him, that if he hadn't wasted a minute in discerning the situation, he would have just been able to get out of the train before it gained speed. His worry for his sister and mother now has no bounds. He thinks about how he'll get back. He'll perhaps jump out and run back, or he'll perhaps get down in the next station and take a train backwards. Will a train be going back at this time ? Will it reach within 1/2 hour ? Perhaps he'll take an auto back. What would his sister and mother have done ? Would they have got into their train ? Would they be stalked by a stranger ? P.S: In a real life situation thus, there's an emergency brake located in every compartment. It is usually captioned 'To stop the train pull the chain' which you can use to halt the train.

Medley - 2

The Concept of Irony ? It is difficult to comprehend, let alone judge, the life of a person who has willingly weaved Irony into his life. That is because the person always appears to be what he intends to appear as and not what he is. This he may do either for a greater good or bad or for trivial amusement of his own mind. What if such Irony that's weaved into one's life begins to consume oneself ? Such is the life dissected by Soren Kierkegaard in his Thesis and collective writing titled 'The Concept of Irony, with continual reference to Socrates'. Socrates is supposed to be consumed by his own 'Concept of Irony' or so I'm made to believe. However, it's not the dissection of Socrates's life that I look for, for it takes a Hegel or a Kierkegaard to dissect and comprehend a personality such as Socrates.

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Swimming during Showers and etc. Bangalore's deceptive Summer Showers lend themselves to the conduction of a basic pleasure of mine - swimming during showers. No amount of description can get you to visualise what you may by swimming for yourself during showers experience, however, here are the heartening highlights: The chillness causing you to stay underwater; the rain drops pricking like cold needles on your bare body that's exposed forcefully to let you stay afloat and alive; the occasional white teeth of the sky that illuminates the whole of the swimming pool for a while; the rumble - strong enough to make its way through the water and the headgear - causing you to shiver under the exhibition of nature's fury. It doesn't take solitude and penance to visualise Nature's fury. Try pitching a tent on top of a mountain on a night, when you'd be hoping for undisturbed sleep to ward off the tire of climbing the mountain, nature sticks to it's routine in spite of the slight aberration - that is you - and fells your tent secured with your triple-scout-knot like a card-castle in front of an electric fan. Have you ever experienced pitch dark ? Where the trees that usually protect you from Sun's fury turn against you to block the light of the stars and moon, where your own torch's batteries have exhausted, where your trek-mates aren't returning your call, where you have no trail whatsoever, and even if, no light to make out such. That is pitch dark, where you'll have to touch to see, feel to visualise. Where in the midst of a harsh jungle you're let to yourself, and you can see nothing, that fear down the spine when you're clothed but naked, vulnerable to any predator lurking in your neighbourhood, that fear - is nowhere close to the fear you experience during Bungee jumping.

Yes, I do flirt with nature and her creations, do challenge her in every way possible. But that's because I know that she has her rules, I know that I'm trivial enough not to distract her attention and that when I need her, no matter who I am, she'll have a protective hand out for me.

Absurdity?

Writing about topics that are close to my heart is so much unlike me. I'm like that pristine flower which hates to unfurl, hates to reveal itself, hates to be looked at or judged, which is here just because it has to be, blends itself to the surrounding never announcing it's existence, and is ever replaceable. Nevertheless, the commonplace topic of Absurdity of Life is such a volatile subject that if left unrecorded, the original idea - no matter how strong and steadfast - decays with time. An individual seeks the meaning of his life, for by nature, one is compelled to believe that everything exists for a reason. There are many offshoots of this search, many theories, many dictums, customs -- some that seem to clarify one's meaning of life, some that claim to direct him towards the answer. To a logical mind, assertions without proof are of no use, and so, in such a mind this search is repeated - in each and every one of such mind.

It is the mind that compels one to judge, to seek an answer, and at that time when the mind ceases to exist, the reason to judge, seek answer and clarify exists no more. If one realises this simple fact, one's life falls apart, for he sees no meaning to his life after him. A person with such a realisation falls apart, relinquishes the world, the entities and forms a world of himself, a world with no meaning. 'Life in a world without meaning' is deceptively simple. Though it's easy to visualise it, it is nearly impossible (for many) to forgo the bonds, possessions and the reason. Thankfully, we of such lot, have found a way out - self deception. It is easy for one to deceive himself into believing that the whole world revolves around him, the world did not exist before him and will not exist after him. He's the King of the World, other are mere players, here only to amuse him. It is an easy principle, this. And it does provide a purpose to one's life. An interesting facet of this principle is the control principle. Nowsince the whole world is (believed to be) dedicated to oneself, for what reason will one follow the tradition, customs and rules ? For what reason will one observe discipline ? For what reason will one keep up the promise ? Beware, since it is not truth but self-deception, one has to adhere to discipline, kindness and humility, without which such deception results in conceit and antipathy. And the only reason one has, to practice these, is that he just has to.

Highlight of the Day

Just when one thought an average day - with hints of bad luck and unrequited love - was going to get worse on the way back home from work, perhaps, his wish of a highlight of the day was granted by way of summer showers, lightning-lit sky and a wonderful drive. While the majority of Bangalore would welcome the summer showers in the hope of being relieved of the unbearable heat, a few would love rain without any expectation, reason or logic. A few would love feeling the heavenly mist on the face, arms and legs, the chill down the spine, and the innocent dance of leaves as the showers pour on them; the exalting feeling, the feeling that washes away - like long settled dirt on weathered rocks - all the pain, all the misery and all the agony. Which, for that while, will cause one to forget himself, forget the pain, and forgive the whole world for all the agony it's caused - and for that while, render one in unison with the pristine mist, in unison with nature, and engross him in heavenly bliss.

Medley - 1

If there's a set of qualities that compellingly attracts me, it's definitely the triad of Grace, Discipline, and Punctuality. Grace, Discipline, and Punctuality are the observable symptoms of an individual's self-respect and self-control, a transparent reflection of an individual's personal quality. An individual who treats themselves with respect and acts with restraint is, I dare say, forced to exhibit these qualities. The analogy of knowing a person to an unfurling flower is only apt. As the unfurling flower, with every exposed petal, reveals about itself things that were earlier masked by a veil, each day interaction with a person reveals something beautiful about them. Whether it works or not is immaterial. What matters is whether you've given it your best. Working is controlled by luck and other forces, all of which are beyond your means. This might come as surprise to you now, but someday you'll realise that what matters the most is whether you've given it your best, and not whether it worked.

The Threefold Gamble

Philosophy - that which transcends the tangible sciences - is not my forte. But being a Human is enough, they say, for in him is intertwined Philosophy; with knowledge he comes pre-built. What else would explain the seemingly philosophical bent of this writing, or it's reasoning, which is inherently illogical? Objects, People, Relationships - these form an integral part of Human life. Human is wont to own the Objects he likes, live with the People he likes, and maintain the Relationships he likes. He will not let them go; he wishes to hold on to them forever, so much so that when the mighty dominion of Nature forces him to part with these, he offers, in his capacity, all the resistance he can. If I've understood something about life, and understood it well - it is that Objects, People and Relationships are ephemeral. As much I hate to admit, opposing Nature is futile - Someday Nature reduces all possessions to mere memories, whose reminiscence though initially joyful, invariably cause the agony of departure. I know that the things around me, people around me, and the nurtured relationships, I will be forced to let go. And, as any other Human I shall seek, in agony, consolation, a rational explanation, barring which I shall have to take solace in the fact that someday I will die and all this will not matter anymore.

Traffic Inspector Sir, when can I curl my hair again ?

I have innocuous and innocent habit of playing with my hair during driving; twisting my black hair around my index finger, curling it up - I just love doing it (Better with "Ae Naazni Suno Na" kind of music playing in the background.)

Lately however, I cannot afford a moment's distraction in the Bangalore traffic, let alone play with my hair. Indifferent motorists: two wheels trying to get past busy traffic, call centre cabs trying to overtake - leave me a nonexistent chance of seeking pleasure during driving. With one hand on the gear stick, second on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road, and mind working hard to avoid accidents - I am even oblivious to my favorite songs playing on the radio.

Every time I spot a Traffic Inspector on the road, I cannot help but recollect this question, for of late, I yearn for a pleasant drive.