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.

How I fell in love with Ayn Rand

'THE FOUNTAINHEAD' is a book by Ayn Rand. This was casually introduced to me by my friend. I fell in love with the author just as I started reading her book. Her 'Introduction' on the 25th Anniversary of the book put us on common grounds. In the preface, her quote of Nietzsche was the first sign of attraction, stated thus: "... It is some fundamental certainty which a noble soul has about itself, something which is not to be sought, is not to be found, and perhaps, also is not to be lost - The noble soul has reverence for itself - (Friedrich Neitzsche, Beyond Good and Evil.)" The second was the wonderful rendition in the text, stated thus: '... The water seemed immovable, the stone - flowing.' Now I am a fan of Ayn Rand. A search on The Internet revealed that she's also the creator of the Theory of Objectivism. She has one more famous novel named Atlas Shrugged, a copy of which will soon find its place on my Bookshelf. Ah, I relish the marriage of Storytelling and Philosophy, and am delighted to find just the person I was looking for. I have to read the rest of the book, hope all goes fine as I sense negative criticism in almost every review I read! - Aravindh

The Sink

 

With Quicksand all around me, I sink slowly, And so sink the people around me, I wave my hand in fury, lest a hand from heaven save me, No trees around, not even grass, nothing to grab hold of, I sink slowly. With the advent of rain - the slightest hope goes faint, The more I struggle, the more I sink, I give up all hope, close my eyes, wait for death to come, And I sink slowly. - Aravindh

Three Little Birds

THREE LITTLE BIRDS lived in a nest on a giant oak tree, Their mother to feed them choiciest food, They lived on worry free. On one day the wind blew hard and their nest began to shake, Firm winged of them on that day took off, Leaving the nest to break. The hard wind did no harm to the nest and the two little birds played on, Until the day the curious of the two, And now firm winged, was gone. One little bird now in the nest lived on all alone, Hoping some passer-by would play with him, Until he is grown. - Aravindh

The Chained-Free Elephant

The title is not an oxymoron. It is a story of an elephant who spent his life chained to a temple tree. As a child, 'Deceived', the elephant was chained and brought to the temple as the sacred elephant. All his childish playfullness disappeared as he spent days and weeks of his life chained to a temple tree. However hard the young elephant tried, he couldn't free himself from the strong chains bound to the strong temple tree. As the elephant grew older, he got used to the devotees of the temple, temple food, and the chain tied to his legs. He no longer tried to break the chains, as he knew they wouldn't give in. When I visited the temple, the elephant was 7 years old. The chain still remained, but, was tied only on one end - his legs. The other end was left free! If 'Deceived' wished, he could, in his youthful vigour, break the chains and free himself even if they were tied to the tree. However, the memories of the childhood remained with him - he was chained strongly to the tree in his mind, though he was free in real! And he died chained. - Aravindh