A Fistful Of Dynamite...

I think deep down, we all are just truly optimistic.

No one is truly a pessimist. No one can be truly negative. 

No matter what, we get up everyday, and go about life, hoping things will be better today, tomorrow, day after tomorrow. Truly, what other reason do you have for going on with life? Life is hard. No one promised happiness on the day you were born. Infact if anything, they told you how life will be difficult but that you should not lose hope. Experience shows that really there's no guarantee that things will be better tomorrow than they are today. So why don't more people commit suicide? What other reason do people have to go on with life other than that tiny flicker of optimism that everything will turn all right?

It's not fear of death, let me tell you that. Suicide is easy. Very easy. When you truly want to end things, suicide becomes easy. And it's fascinating that compared to the hardships of life...death should look like a
good option...but it doesn't.

I wonder if someone who died at 45, ever thought that instead of living all these years, he should have just killed himself at 25 and saved all that trouble. I doubt. I think we humans are not only imbibed with optimism but also suffer from bad memory for our own benefit. Human race, how else do you explain? 

Sailing...

Change. The hippest new word. Talk about change, and everybody will tell you how change is good.

But change is good only when it is required. Oftentimes, what's needed is acceptance, and not change. Change at such times will only confuse you.

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The problems with us Indians is that we are so bloody insensitive towards others. We just don't give a fuck about other people. As long as I am safe and good, I don't give a damn what's happening to the other person, and even if my actions are causing harm or discomfort to some stranger, who gives a rat's ass? This very mentality saw our doom and we still don't learn! Why can't we just be a little more sensitive? Why why why? Can some economist answer?

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Why did I never get a webcam before?! It's so much fun video chatting with your friends! :) It's no match for in person talks, but still, I actually get to see you! :) Yes I know, I am supposed to be a software engineer and this should not be new to me. But heck! Better late than never! :)

I have even decided to take a pic or video of me everyday, either in the morning before I leave for work or after I come back home. I want to do this atleast for 6 months. I don't know what I am hoping to get out of it, but atleast maybe see how I change over the months. This should be fun I think :)

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Okay, why do men not like sweet-corn? Almost all men I know do not like sweet-corn, including my father. In his words, "It's rubbish." Whereas, almost all women I know love it. This is...weird? (or maybe I am just generalizing, like always :|)

Cacophony...

I have started on the journey I should have taken years back. You are not where you want to be...cause there other things you need to take care of first. And sometimes it takes the time it takes.

You might think I am late, but I am happy I atleast started on it.

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There are so many skeletons buried in my closet, I don't know which one is making the most noise. I need to clear the space.

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I always believed that if you look for the answers, you'll find them. They'll come to you. And sometimes they'll come from the most unexpected sources.

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I have a bet with G. If her dream, which seems quite impossible to me, comes true, I'll turn into a believer. Truth be told, in my heart, I want to lose the bet.

Not for her, but for me.

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When I die, they'll talk about how I loved others, them people, more than I loved myself. What a shame they'll say. And what a shame it really is.

Pancakes...

It's good to have the answers.

The Red Bell...

Was talking to M the other day, about marriage and stuff and he told me, "Make two lists. What you absolutely want in your partner and what you absolutely do not want."

It took me all these years to realize that when it comes to friends, we look for what "perfections" they have. Here  perfections is not one whole state, but little things that we like, can relate to, can understand. They have the attributes that are "perfect" for you, in your mind. But when it comes to a partner, a spouse, a lover, we see not the perfections, but stress more on the imperfections. What are the imperfections I can live with? It is somehow more important that the person I intend to spend the rest of my life has the imperfections I can tolerate, no matter how many other perfections he has.

Even if he has all the qualities in my "Want list", if he has more than 3 qualities from my "Do not want" list, I guess he's gets a strike against his name.


I find this amusing. Either we are really stupid or very smart. I don't know which.

A Glass Of Wine...

Dear God,

I am craving a funny, intelligent, scintillating conversation like a pregnant woman craves pickles. I haven't had a good conversation in ages. I am in dire need. Have some pity? Please? If I don't have a conversation that fires up my  grey cells any time soon, dear God, I swear, I shall forever be doomed to dumbness. Save me.

Yours devotedly,
A

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This is an interesting quiz. But it brings me back to the question, what is "morality"? How do you decide what is right and what is wrong?

You evaluate others relative to your own values. And so exploring what you find fair, honest, or acceptable can help you backtrack to discover the values that sculpt your personality. Read the following story and then rank Robin, Maid Marion, the Sheriff of Nottingham and Little John from most to least moral.

The sheriff of Nottingham has finally caught Robin Hood and Little John! Instead of killing them immediately, he makes the mistake of all storybook villains in simply stashing them in the dungeon. Despite their track record of heroics, there the two benevolent outlaws rot--until Maid Marion shows up pleading her love for Robin and begging for his release. Sure, says the Sheriff, if Marion will sleep with him.

She does. Robin and Little John are released. But when Maid Marion tells Robin the truth of how she earned their freedom, Robin dumps her faster than a leprous leech. Little John defends her behavior and offers his lifelong devotion if she will ride away from Sherwood with him forever.

She does. The end.

What do you think? Who's most right and who's most wrong? 

Should she have slept with the sheriff? No! And then as soon as Robin Hood left her, should she have gone away with Little John? No again I thought. How could she? She loved Robin. She couldn't possibly be happy with anyone else. So I rated MM low. If she truly loved Robin, she should not have left him for Little John.

But then I again I thought about it a little more. It's easy to say things, when we're judging others, much more confusing when you're in the same shoes as them. So if I was Maid Marion and if the guy I loved was in trouble, to what length would I go to save/help him? I probably would sleep with the Sheriff if that meant the guy I loved would be released. Anything? Probably yes. Would I hate it? Obviously I would. But would I do it? I would. It reminds me of "The Gift of Maggi" by O'Henry. You read that story and you feel the love and you wish for such a love. Della had no money to buy a gift for her husband whom she loved so dearly, but she had her beautiful long hair. She loves her hair but she decides to sell the one thing she has so that she can have enough money to buy Jim a gold chain for his gold watch.

In both stories, sacrifices were made. We look at one with disdain and the other with admiration. In one she sells her body, in the other, her hair. Why is one wrong and the other right? Who defines what sacrifices are good and what bad? Can a sacrifice made for the ones you love be bad ever?

Then again, does Maid Marrion's going away with Little John right? I am again confused. She had made clear that she loved RH, to the point that she would do anything for him. Even after that, if he rejects her love, should she pine after him forever? I guess not. If he does not want her, leaves her, why should she still be faithful to him? Why is her then staying with a man who'll lover her and care for her wrong?


I am not concerned with Little John. He seems pretty okay to me on the morality scale. There's a good woman, lonely after Robin Hood rejects her, I guess it's okay if he decides to take care of her as long as she promises to be loyal to him too. So I guess he's okay. Maybe guys would not find it so. There's "bro-code" and stuff. You don't look at your friend's girlfriend/fiancée/wife etc. You treat them like sisters, which I personally, find stupid. Why do you need to go to such lengths as to treat her like your sister, address her thus, if your heart is pure? If your intentions are not wrong? Which again why I don't believe in "rakhi-brothers", but I guess to each its own.


I am truly confused between the Sherwood and Robin Hood. Who's more wrong? Sherwood wants MM, and he's clearly taking advantage of  MM. She's in a spot and in return for a little favour he wants something from her. It's a trade. Give and take. He's wrong in the first place to take advantage of the helpless. But let's replace MM with a guy. Say Robin Hood's father came begging to Sherwood for RH's release. Sherwood in return asks for a bag of cold coins from RH's father. RH's father is poor but he somehow borrows and gathers enough gold coins and gets RH out of the prison. Sherwood still remains wrong, but now his crimes don't seem THAT very wrong. Accepting money in return makes him look like a villian no doubt, but accepting money instead of sexual favours makes him look like a lesser villian. On a scale of 1-10, accepting money would make him look bad at say 5, asking for sexual favours made me immediately rate him 10 on the least moral scale.

So, again, why is asking for money (comparatively) ok but asking for sexual favours so very wrong?

Then RH. I don't understand men. I however get that men don't like the women they love being touched by other men. Same holds true for women. But, if I was MM, imprisoned and if RH had to sleep with the Queen to get me out of the prison, what would my reaction be? I would not question his loyalty toward me and I would probably be crying tears of joy at the fact that here's a man who loves me so much that he would do anything to see me out of pain and trouble. I would probably love him more. Why then would a man reject MM?


I guess the whole argument can be really simplified if you first decide how you want to look at the "body". If you can sell your time to some company for money in return, why is prostitution so bad?

MM, LJ, SN, RH or MM, LJ, RH, SN. Or some other combination? Any thoughts? Go here for the results.


Happy Sunday! :)

Borrowed Thoughts...

True isn't it? No matter how many mistakes you make, no matter how many stupid decisions you take, that hurt you, that pain others, no matter how many times you disappoint yourself, let yourself down, in the end you do forgive yourself. You still like yourself. You might struggle to love yourself...for all the mistakes you make...forgiving doesn't come easy, when you hurt yourself...and specially when you hurt the ones you love...forgiving doesn't come cheap. But, you have no choice...you have to live with yourself after all, and you have to like and love yourself. Esle, living will be difficult.

But what about others? They make one mistake, and you stay mad at them forever. You curse them, you blame them, you say, "how could you have hurt me? I thought you loved, that we were friends, that you understood me?And even you did this to me?". You start disliking them, you accept nothing but perfection from others, that they take the right decisions all the time, decisions that make sure you don't get hurt, you expect them to always feel the right emotions, so that their reactions don't hurt you. They make mistakes, your friends, your parents, your colleagues, your important others, your lovers, and you hate them.

Now let's see, how fair is that?

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Thanks to Divya for a wonderful chat and this quote:

 “Growing up is never easy. You hold on to things that were. You wonder what's to come. But that night, I think we knew it was time to let go of what had been, and look ahead to what would be. Other days. New days. Days to come. The thing is, we didn't have to hate each other for getting older. We just had to forgive ourselves... for growing up.” - The Wonder Years

Family...

I was late for work today and didn't have time for breakfast. So I asked Mom to pack breakfast for me. She couldn't find the tiffin box, and so we had a fight. When I came to office, I opened my breakfast box and I got  all the more pissed. I decided to call her up and tell her how pissed I was. But I didn't. She hadn't melted ghee on the "puranpoli". How was I going to eat solidified ghee?



But atleast she had packed the tiffin, inspite of her aching knees.

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I remember the time I was lying unconscious with fever. I had liver infection, typhoid and malaria (Yes, all at the same time). Two days before my Maths 10th board paper. My family doctor told my parents the fever was nothing but just exam anxiety. I have never fallen ill before exams, any exam, due to anxiety. So I took a crocin and went to sleep. And I woke up to see my Mom sitting next to my bed, pressing my feet, praying, sitting there all the time, crying. Had I not woken up, I would have missed my maths paper and failed boards. A good student like me, to miss one crucial year, it was unbearable.

After my exams, when the fever still didn't abate, we consulted another doctor. After examining me he yelled at my Mom. Had we been any more late, I would have probably not survived. It was a miracle that I was still alive. If it weren't for their prayers...who knows?


I loved the message, "How one generation loves...the next generation learns."

Tabula Rasa...

I want to be a good story-teller. One of my fondest wishes.

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He's right. I am out of touch with reality. Maybe I am still playing with the doll-house I never had.

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This is going to be an immense learning phase. And this is going to see me change. Like never before. I can feel the sharpness of the chisel, the beating of the hammer, I hear the sound of carving, feel the roughness of sand paper and it hurts, but the end result will be beautiful. I know I'll come out clean, defined. I lack that. Definition.

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I must have been a child then. The only thing I remember about my trip to Mysore with parents is walking through a palatial place, and feeling that everything around me was big and opulent and well-lit, and mother's sighing and oohing at Ravi Varma's paintings. I don't remember the paintings, but even the child me was awed. This time I had decided to visit the museum again and see the paintings, at 26.

My day started with a tour of the Mysore palace. It's spectacular beyond words. Compared to these beautiful, intricately carved, decorative, colourful, the castles from Scotland seem cold and lifeless then. But guess they have their own story, these their own.

Then went to the Jaganmoham palace, which is now a museum. And what can I say, I loved them. Specially, the Swan messenger.



The story behind it goes like this. Princess Damayanthi is in love with King Nala and has sent a message to him. She's eagerly waiting for his reply. And a swan is on his way with the message. The story of Damayanti and King Nala is quite an interesting one. Go here. The part I liked in that story is how when all Gods disguise themselves as Nala so as to fool Damayanti in choosing them at the swayamvar, knowing well that she's in love with Nala,

Damayanti sees through them each time, as she is aware that her true beloved one is a human being and cannot be perfect, which sets him apart from the gods.

The picture above does not do justice to the painting. The real thing, it's beautiful. Her expression, the love and hope in her eyes...to be able to finally read what her love has sent...the eagerness...the wait...but the joy at finally seeing the swan...it's beautiful. Her graceful pose, folded hands, the beautiful saree, loved it.


Guess Ravi Varma must have loved female breasts :) If you see his paintings, where the female form is painted nude, the breasts, they are so perfect, so very beautiful.


           (1) Lady in the moonlight

 
                            (2) Sucking child

  
          (3) Victory of Meghanatha                              (4) Bheeshma Oath

I found the "Lady in the moonlight" painting interesting. Not only the setting is beautiful, perfect moon, clouds, a river, lady bedecked in all finery, waiting for her lover, but I hardly think she was "waiting" for him, I think her lover was already there :) If you see she barely holding the paloo of the saree and also her hair is open, which in those days was not quite the thing to do, unless you were in your personal chambers :)

The serene expression on the mother's face while the child is being fed. The perfect symmetry of the breasts...lovely, isn't it? Or then in Victory of Meghanatha or then Bheeshma Oath. All women seem to have  perfect breasts.

In the Krishna as envoy, I found it funny that Krishna's lips were painted "pink", no? I wonder how much of the stories we tell are coloured by our own imagination and beliefs.


              (5) Krishna as envoy

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Isn't it weird that not one single female, woman in the pics and paintings of the Wodeyar family was a stunning beauty? Infact, if I may say so, they were most plain, some even unattractive. The depiction of Goddesses however, that's were all the imagination seems to have been directed. But you'd think, so much money and power, kings and princes, they'd all have beautiful wives. But all these women were quite plain, draped in the finest clothes and jewelery, but the word that popped up in my head was not beautiful, but "sturdy". Child bearing machines? Maybe they had other attributes that made them suitable for the title of the princess, but beauty definitely not so.

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Anyway, on the trip to Mysore, met an Iranian female who had come all the way to learn Pranic healing to Pune and was travelling all over India, visiting different institutions. And I didn't even know there was an ashram in Pune! 

Had lunch with a taxi driver in Mysore. Yep. The first most shocking thing however is that I had lunch alone in a restaurant. Never done that before. 

The train journey on the way back to Bangalore was even more interesting than the journey from Kolkata to Patna. Nice. Will talk about that later maybe.

What I found amusing was that when I told Anoop's friends about the paintings, Ashish, one of his friend said, "Oh you like art and you read. Ah, you're the boring types". Wow :)

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And yes, new face. Archives deleted too. Don't crib :)

The Butterfly Moment...

No dreams, No stories. Busy making some. But till then, sing me a song please?

A Slice Of Heaven...

Selling is an art. To sell things...objects that are mere objects, lifeless...to put emotion and passion into it..to put glamour into inanimate objects..to put life in those mere things and present to you a promise that these very lifeless objects will put life back into your otherwise mundane, boring and lifeless life. That, takes skill!

That takes a whole different level of fooling and cheating.  A slice of heaven is promised...and it is only in your imagination that it exists. But putting that in your imagination, it takes skill and a sleepy conscience. No silk pantyhose is going to do wonders to your life...but the way it is marketed to you...you feel it would make you feel beautiful. Like a friend said once, people don't realise, lotions and creams can do only this much...you'll need a whole different set of genes to look like what the posters promise.

I think I like selling.