Milestones

They say our life is made up of a few seemingly small events that might not have made a lot of noise when they came to happen but in the long run shapes up what your future would be like.

Well if that’s true, I don't know why when I sit and try to recall such events that might've occurred in my life I come empty handed. At least none that comes to mind immediately. Everything that comes to mind are those big obvious ones - school, college, crushes, those stupid rage bouts, random travels, work projects. Those are probably present in nearly everyone's list. And well by definition I am supposed to be I am a millennial, we're supposed to hate being ordinary. I should really get down to it and actually think of something timid and minuscule event that made a hell of an impact in my life.

Until I figure that one out. Let me know just go on a tangent and write about the milestone this post is namesake of - This week I've completed three years of work life. Woo ooh! Yay! Yippee-ka-yay!!

that The Breakfast Club moment!

What? No jumps of exuberant cheer? No fist pumps to the air? No leaps of chair throwing glasses of beer on the floor yelling incomprehensible gibberish?

Oh yes. Why would any of this mean anything to ya’ll? My coming on the other end of the tunnel of corporate pledging period is not really going to end the troubles of the world now is it? But then, what is the point of having blogs and not being able bask in all the glory of self promotion now and then. So bleep-ya'll, I've earned this.

I wrote a similar post (seems like a century) on my First Anniversary, at First Job!. Well as the title suggests I was too spirited about it that time. When the blessed anniversary came around for the second time, I was caught up with work and stuff so much so that I didn't have any time to remember it till a month later, let alone write a blog entry about it. I am going to be such an amazing husband to some lucky woman one day.

Anyways. This time I remembered especially, well honestly, because people around me get so stumped  whenever I tell them I'd not even completed my three years of work experience. You see, over the past couple years I've come to realize that I am really good at what I do. And that is being noticed by coworkers now. So when they hear that I have gotten this competent with only just over a couple of years of experience under my belt, they give this incredulous look that says, 'You're pulling my legs/I hate your guts.' Either ways that one look, that one moment of silent comprehension - makes my day!

You have to realize now I am a fairly level-headed guy with a skewed sense of achievement. Getting a Cadbury Gems packet filled with orange and yellow ones, is an achievement. Getting to board the train in the last minute and still get a window seat, is an achievement. So for me, a muted acknowledgement of my skill in something that I do on a daily basis is a big validation of it.

Obviously, this does seem a bit megalomaniac even to me as I write this. But the fact of the matter is I did work a lot for getting here. If you were to meet me IRL, you wouldn't see me talking so freely about the  efforts that’s gone into this. But here in the internet, who gives a poodle. Truth of the matter is I don't know if there was much of efforts at all. I just really like what I do. And so whatever I do, how much every time I clock in do it, hasn't really seemed like a big deal. I am good at what I do because I like it. I like reading about it, I like doing new stuff with it. I like that I can help the clients with the things I can do. And well, it pays for the bread too. How very Fountainhead of me.

Now when I sit and think about what my life would be like if by some twist of fate I would've ended up doing something else, like working on some other core technology languages etc. I don't know if I would've been just as satisfied with it. I might've learned to live with it, maybe even become good at it. But what I do now, namely business intelligence, I adore it.

It does seem like I’ve found at least one small event in my life to add to that list we were talking off. Huh. Who knew.

Love Each Other. Consensually.

Strength has always been so much important in society.

A man is not a man unless he has a taut physique, at least six feet tall, with macho demeanor and chest hair poking out near the top buttons of his shirt. He does dare devil and challenge others without a thought of any harm happening to him. And let’s face it; he is a man, what can ever harm him?!

Don't think we are being partial either. A woman is also very strong. A woman's prowess comes from her strength of compassion, humility, values and affection. We have traditionally been a culture that holds women to such high regards. Almost all of the famous Gods in the epic stories have a strong female counterpart. We worship women and her kind.

A woman is not a woman, unless she is the humble thimble of the family, compassionate enough to do everything at home to keep her family comfortable, keep her values intact such that when the male in the family decides something she never challenges him, and affectionate enough so that she keeps his bed warm even if she is not the mood for any loving.

You see we are a country of strong people. Strong traditions. Strong values. Strong emotions. Strong prejudices.

We are proud of our history and revere our herd mentality. Some may say we are scared that if we don't shove our values down the throats of young people our next generation might forget our rituals and will lead our beautiful land becoming one of lechery and half-nakedness. Some might point out that the biggest champions of our traditions - the politicians and the heads of religions - are now more prone to watching porn in the parliament buildings and to molesting disciples. For them we'd like to point out that they only do so to show the world that they are normal people, one among the masses.

Ah the masses of our country. What can we tell about such wonderful people? No words will suffice to praise their hard work and awareness about what actually is going on in our country. Remember the big uproar of political unrest over widespread corruption in government? Tens of thousands of people on the roads protesting and demonstrating their demand for change. And look now, we now never see a single bureaucrat anywhere in the country be caught in a bribery racket. Right?

That's where we think this Nirbhaya protest went all wrong. You see this is one change where half measures won’t work. Mass revolt against corruption was one thing. But for the Nirbhaya uproar, though there was a big fight. And the politicians did bring in their valuable words of wisdom. But most of the traditional minded people, which still hold very high positions, were still not too entertained about it. After according to them all the women were clearly asking for it. Rape happened only in India and not in their Bharat.

dnaindia.com

You see... I agree with all of you... The protesters and the traditionals...

The protesters weep for the women who got violated so bad that by the end of the turmoil her entrails were dropping out of her privates...

The traditional weep for their idea of cultural living going to ruins... The culture that our country has been living in for centuries... That which is most familiar to them… They do not know any better…

For both people I will just like to point out one thing... Time is different...

The protesters need to remind themselves that while getting on the road, or on social media comment sections reminding everyone else that something needs to be done; does sound like you are doing something about it. In reality you are not.

So… Stop, please stop. Nothing ever gets done that way, who are you kidding? Mass protest worked in an era when countrymen actually believed in belonging to something. Now, patriotism only shows up when Indian cricket team is playing the World Cup. Don’t believe in the popular solution melodrama. Protect your own people. Take care of the women around you. That is the most practical solution I can think of. If every person in this country started looking out for each other, even if only their close ones, don’t you think we’d be covering more ground than spending another decade in making laws that probably won’t ever get enforced in our lifetime? Take care of the women in your life, be there for them. If they are out with someone, don’t be a stalker, but you can at least be aware of the people around her. And you, the people around her, please take care of her. Be a man.

The traditionals need to remind themselves that while yes it might be true that the old traditions are at a risk now. But then we are not the people of the old times... While it is true that women might wear tighter clothes or show more skin than the ladies in your epic stories. That does not in any way mean she is doing that to get some. Women working night shifts to earn her food for her family is not doing so because she has loose morals and is hungry for late night action. A child is a child. You don’t have any right to snatch away her right to a happy childhood just because you have a penis.

We once preached respecting women and elders and children. That was probably my favorite part of our culture. The level of affection we were taught right from a young age by and towards the people around us. Many of my friends from abroad are amazed at how close knit our families are while theirs are torn apart with divorces. I don't know where all that love and respect got lost...

I really do like what we have here. I adore what we had in the past. But I dislike the things for which we stand for now around the globe. Our country is not really that bad. We just have a bad case of inaction, and indecisiveness. More importantly, a sense of empathy at an individual level.

We have survived so many things together. It would be such a waste to be defeated now by our own failing sensibilities. Be kind to each other. Be sensitive of each other’s pain.

Today, and forever, love each other. Consensually.

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Each Time You Fall In Love

"Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does.

 Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."

- James A. Baldwin

Each time you fall in love,

You surrender a part of your soul to the other person.. 

And she gives herself to you!

Each time you fall in love, 

You give up on your vain dreams to make both of your dreams come true.. 

And she does the same for you!

Each time you fall in love, 

You see the beauty of your being in the way her body trembles at your touch,

and the way you can make her heart beat slow when you kiss.. 

And she measures her beauty by the hunger in your eyes,

and the way her shy smile takes your breath away!

Each time you fall in love, 

You strive to become a better person because she deserves it.

And she is already the best, cause you ain't met nobody that makes you feel so special the way she does!

And she is precious for-evermore cause you know you will never meet someone like her ever again!!

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Your Greatest Fear In Life.. Is Something That Is Good For You!

“Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up”― Veronica Roth

We all live in fear of something..

Fear of ghosts, spiders, vampires, heights, werewolves, depths, dark, insects, ants,

Fear of ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends, ex-lovers, ex-in-laws, current in-laws,

Fear of failure, intimacy, sorrow, calamities, extra work right before you leave office for the day,

Fear of strangers, strangers with weird physical abnormalities, strangers with inappropriate obsession with twilight characters,

Fear of, well, anybody with an inappropriate obsession to do anything with twilight,

(Clearly, I have an aversion to twilight a tad too much!)

Fear of wealth – having too less of it, and if you have some fear of losing all of it,

Fear of thunder,

Fear of lightning,

Fear of your folks finding out the pile of nasty stuff you did in past that they don’t know of yet!

Etc etc..

The list seems to go on forever!!

You always notice a little nervous sneer, breathlessness, cold skin, goose bumps, shivering, hands and feet doing things out of one’s control or a rich shade of red in faces of people whenever they feel they are in harm’s way.

A similar shade of color, expressions and etc symptoms are seen in people when they are exulted, or well, in love.

But neither love nor ecstasy really exists do they?

They are all just things resulting from our hyper-active imagination or by sheer chemical play of hormones.

What makes fear any different from these emotions?

Maybe what we fear the most in life is just another part of our being telling us that there is something going on outside/inside of us that we have to stand up and take notice of.

Maybe it is just another biological alarm-point for us, like getting a fever or wanting to throw up etc.

Only these alarms go off only inside out heads.

And we control our mind to a large extent. So we can very well mold this fear to serve our needs.

Because you see, being fearless is stupid and a blatant lie.

Fear is actually good. It makes you perform better, makes you put your best foot forward.

You think better and clearer when you feel your own butt is at stake!

You see.. Greed for success can make you successful only to an extent, but fear of failure is the thing that drives you all the way to the top!!

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Say What You Need To Say

“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”

-    Stephen King

     'Different Seasons'

Mrinal was having a yucky day. And cleaning bedpans the old age home where he worked was not helping brightening his day by any measure.

It's been almost a year of him working here, and it still baffled him how the whole place constantly reeked of urine no matter how many people were hired cleaning and scrubbing the place all day. Every nook and corner of the place stank, even the dinning hall. People were only expected to eat there for pete's sake! He and eight other orderlies were by their job description responsible for keeping the 'inmates' comfortable, how were they supposed to that if they themselves didn't know how to be so. Dr. Gupta had banished that word being used within the compound (so let's just keep this as our secret for Mrinal's sake, shall we?)

Why shouldn't these people be called by their real title anyway? Is this place any better than Tihar jail or Sing Sing? Sure this place is more colorful and has lots of comfy sofas and beds, lush landscaped lawns, people hanging around you all day to keep you in prompt accordance of your medication and all. You don't need to worry about a thing. Well, that's what they'd want you to think anyway.

In many ways this place is much worse than either of those establishments. In that place at least you'd know why you are there. Rape, murder, armed robbery, arson, burglary, jay-walking, anything. You do something, the courts sentence you to a period of time, you go to prison, spend your time in your cell with your cellmates who very well could be like the overly friendly T-Bag in Prison Break. But you knew your cause and its effect, and more importantly you knew that all of this had a deadline, either the one the courts sentenced you for or the one till your master plan to jump the prison walls gets materialized.

In an old age home, you don't have that option. There is a deadline yes, but when you reach it there's is no loved ones or fellow gang-members standing there on the other side of the gate to take you home. Once you reach the deadline to get out of here, well, that means you are dead. Any sane, and most of the insane ones also probably, would want to avoid that by any means possible. Even if that means you have to spend those last years of your life on this planet confined to a wheel chair or a bed, and you need other people to do your basic human functions for you, or that you need someone to remember where your things are and when you are to take your next diabetes pills, even if you don't recall the name of your great-granddaughter when she comes to visit you once an year on your birthday.

The life here could be tough on anyone. Both kaidis/retirees and their guards/caretakers equally. Mrinal knew what he was getting into when he started here; at least he thought he did. This was to be a temporary thing till his scriptwriting gig kicks off, which is yet to happen and by the look of things may very well never happen at all. When you look at Mumbai from outside in, it looks so fast, happening and brimming with possibilities especially when you look at all those big name studios and you dream of being on their payroll for doing something that you like doing the most in life, writing. But this past year has been an eye-opener; Mumbai had lost all its charm that it held in the eyes of an innocent recent English graduate from Gujarat. This city is tough, unkind and too-fast-for-its-own-good. This place once might've been really quite something, but now it is anything but that.

In the past one year here, he had met some really wonderful people in this compound though. Some of these old-timers have lived, by that we mean really lived. Not the kind of nine-to-five existence that most of us do now. There is a circus manager, ex-army vet, ex-politician, ex-IAS, ex-tech guru. There is a whole bunch of ex-some bodies here. Each with their own histories. Each with their own treasure chests brimming with memories of the bygone golden era. They all have done something that they have proud of. They have all seen some really exciting time. Mrinal was part of the Hazare fuss too; he thought that was going to be 'the happening time' of his generation, he is not now too confident about that either.

The new generation has missed out on lot things. Maybe the most that he thinks we've lost is our capability to empathize. And this place really drives that emotion home. Especially on that day in July where it rained all day...

Somebody and Mr. Nice Guy

  

Somebody asks Mr. Nice Guy: 'I hear that nice guys always finish last, and mostly end up alone.. This is the age of jerks and pricks.. Is this true??'

Mr. Nice Guy: 'You heard right, so?'

Somebody: 'Don't you get tired of it??'

Mr. Nice Guy: 'Well, it really depends on how you look at it.. Nice guys are winners before the race even starts, we don't let the game destroy who we are.. We stay true, honest, loyal..o conditions applied anywhere.. We don't SELL OUT, to SCORE MORE!!'

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Ma's Appointment with the Surgeon

“There's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begin.”
- Mitch Albom

  'For One More Day'

The hospital was huge!

Its large pillars and domes on the four corners made it seem more like a Mughal palace than a place where people come to when they are sick (or to die). There was lush green lawn outside with a smallish angel fountain in the center of it, around which the IN and OUT routes for vehicles were mapped out so that people may navigate themselves within the premises. It was quaint on the outside. Beautiful flowers were beginning to bloom on the decorative plants around the park benches in the lawn. This place reeked of rich monies. There was probably had a rich trustee or a patron, who had donated generously!

But on the inside, inevitably, the environment was gloomy. The whole place stinked, the usual stench of hospitals anywhere around the planet. The smells of medicines, anti-septics, alcohol swabs, maybe a bit of urine here and there. This hospital was just as big inside as it was outside. But the sheer number of people inside it made it seem tiny and crowded, especially around the reception's desk. That was where Vik was standing right now hands on hips and exasperation evident on his face.

Vik had just told the lady at the desk for the hunderedth time that he was here for an appointment with the surgeon for fixing his mother's leg. To which the receptionist has just informed him for the ninety-ninth time that his appointment was for 6PM and he has come in at 6:45PM he will have to wait now. She can only get him to see the surgeon once a gap shows up in the his schedule which was packed for another couple of hours, or he could take a seat and hope that someone else was just as punctual as him had an appointment today and shows up late so that she could get him into their slot.

Vik was always a kind-hearted guy but also had considerable amount of temper under his hood which he always kept in check. It inevitably showed up from time to time, especially when he has had a rough day in office like today.

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He had had an argument with his manager at work just an hour ago,

Their Balls Against His Bat!

“The bowler approached the wicket at a lope, a trot, and then a run. He suddenly exploded in a flurry of arms and legs, out of which flew a ball.”

- Douglas Adams
  'Life, the Universe and Everything'

 Another curve ball comes his way, a googly, a yorker, a killer bouncer right to his head.

What is going on inside the head of the guy with the bat, is it about how or why or what slieght of hand the bowler did to put this challenge in front of him?

Where are the spectators watching right now, is it at the bowler who is standing right the huffing and panting close to the umpire sweating like a pig and out of breath?

Who is the bowler and the fielders gawking at wide-eyed, expecting some action next? Is it at each other, in their shifty restless glorious squinted faces that has been standing there under the sun since God-knows-how-long?

Why is the time standing still?

Why are they all looking at him like that? What are they expecting of him?

4 more runs with 1 ball to go.

The odds are against him, yes. But do they think that all this pressure they are crushing him with, is going to help his case in any way at all?

Don't they understand the import of this fraction of second in his life?

A Long Time Coming

"I am using the truth, Master Wayne. Maybe it's time we all stop trying to outsmart the truth and let it have its day. I'm sorry."

- Alfred Pennyworth

  'The Dark Knight Rises'

Truth.

Such a fearsome idea, isn't it. A gigantic magnificent elephant in the room; that we all know about but never come out in the open and acknowledge. We see it, sense it, register it inside our brains, and even decipher the outcome of it all. But we never really seem capable to accept it as a fact of life and take in the guts, by sheer sportsmanship.

Not all men are born sporty. Not all men can live with their true faces out in the open for everyone to see.

We all are born capable of knowing and analyzing things that happen in our lives. If anyone says that they didn't see it coming. Pal, they are lying blatantly. Maybe they themselves not realizing that they are.

The Depressing One

“So in the end you try to think of someone else you're mad at, and the unavoidable answer pops into your little warped brain: everyone.”

- Ellen Hopkins

I used to have this friend (you will soon realize why the 'used to' usage here) who thought ill of almost everyone.

 

Except himself that is, obviously. He was always put himself in high regard and always thought he was right in doing so.

 

He was the most cynical, pessimistic, illogical soul probably in all of the worlds that all of the faiths that mankind has been yet been able to invent. You show him the picture of that firefighter who leapt into a burning building and saved a 10 year old girl, and he will point out how and where the guy's hands are in the poor semi-unconscious child's body and call him a pervert. You show him the story of a rich billionaire who has just started out another multi-million dollar campaign to eradicate polio in Africa; he will show you another article where this same techie billionaire had syphoned off billions from unsuspecting customers by forcing them to buy his products. You tell him about the 10th standard girl next door whose study room light was on all night, he will tell you about the time that he saw her riding on the backseat of a bike with some guy who looked to be of her own age.

 

You tell him just about anything that had for some extend a flimsy bit of positivity in it. This prick could come up with something to bring you back down and rub something completely different onto your sunny-eyed face proving to you that the world is simply not worth a single sliver of silver lining no matter what.

 

Well. That was until he happened to fall in love.

Learning To Love My Troubles

“I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me.”

- J.K. Rowling

  ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’

 

In life, there always comes a time when it seems the only thing that we seem to be doing lately is whine and crib about how life is being a bitch. How everything is going wrong for you. How everyone around us is having a ball and we are stuck with that dead end job, or a relationship that seems to be going nowhere except dragging us deeper into depression.

Now pal, no matter how much you try to reject the idea you do have random burst of happiness and good times in life. Yes, it might come very rarely, at long intervals and for seemingly very short time. Might seem like sometimes you do not get your fair share of it, but trust me pal you do get enough of it. We got to be honest to ourselves here; we do have a blessed life in some way or the other. There is probably some poor soul out there in the crowd of eight-billion odd people on this planet who is probably dreaming of having your life, with and parcel of all your worries. For him, your's is the "good life".

 

Well, shit happens. It’s not your fault that it does. It is a normal course of things when you look at it, refer to own food consumption-excrement paradigm.

You live a good day, there is probably a bad one just around the corner.

Granted, that is a depressing way to look at life. But that is the truth. You can NEVER avoid the bad things in life. It is high time we take that for granted.

There is no possible way for you to live life carefree. It is a myth. If someone comes to you trying to sell this myth, slam the door on their face. Better yet, shower some very creative (well deserved) profanity at them too, might give you a hell lot satisfaction. I surely would love to.

New Year.. Is it really?

“The future is no place to place your better days.”

- Dave Matthews, ‘Cry Freedom’

I thought first of writing something about the recent mishaps occuring all around the and with me personally, you know the usual sentimental whining about this and that and everything else. How the year was a lot many things, and not all of them especially endearing. How I hope this coming year might bring something new into our lives, some long overdue good news into mine! (frankly thats what I thought of when I started this post, so the contemplative title)

But then I thought, isnt that exactly the same that we do each new year? Write about how things havent turned out like we hoped it would. Make resolutions that we never seem to end up keeping. Dreaming huge dreams that seldom become reality. Expecting things that clearly come under the Unexpectables in your life for the time being.

So this year, no expectation. Zero cribbing. 100% fighting.

I am not gonna just sit back and see what life is gonna throw at me, bear it all silently. I am going to pick it all up, burden it more with my genius and shove it right back!

Only way to change anything in life is to do it by yourself and not wait for things to fall into place by itself. It rarely does!

This year has already started with some really good indications of long overdue changes happening. Lets see what happens.

Regardless of what might happen or might not happen, this one surely promises to be a helluva ride!

So all I can say now to you dearest 2013.. Bring it on!! ;-D

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The Doomsday can still come! The world, as we know it, can still come to an END!!

"Wild, dark times are rumbling toward us. And the Prophet who wishes to write a new apocalypse will have to invent entirely new beasts, beasts so terrible that the ancient animal symbols of St. John will seem like cooing doves and cupids in comparison."

- Heinreich Heine,

  "Lutetia; or, Paris" Augsberg Gazette, 1842

I did not know who Heine was at that time, nor did I know why he said that. But in light of recent events I am not sure if anything else would be more appropriate here.

There are times when pop culture, with all of its cliches and overdramatic urban legends, comes out with something so logically convincing and outright bizarrer that the whole world mankind unwillingly (or willingly as an escape from reality) ends up believing it.

21, December, 2012 was one such legend.

People were falling prey to it everywhere. Dozens for documentaries were made, hundreds of websites and forums created to bring together people of this cult to prepare for the "end of time" conflicts, thousands of bunkers and strongholds built in basements and high hills where people shut themselves up for most of the second half of the year. Millions spend on a high budget ($200mto be precise) Roland Emmerich movie on it, which also incidentally earned its maker millions ($770m!)

So clearly, this was a big deal. Or so everyone thought until the day actually came.

It came and it went. Nothing of grave importance occured. It was just another day for most of the planet.

World did not end. Buildings did not crumble like sand castles. Cities did not slid into the ocean. Hot lava did not pour out of the mound in the park.

All that happened was that I missed the bus to work.

Nothing new there even.

We are back where we are. Right?

Posthumous Grammy Award for Ravi Shankar (AWESOME!)

Posthumous lifetime achievement Grammy award for Ravi Shankar

Three-time Grammy winner Shankar, who died on Tuesday in California, is among seven artists including Carole King and the Temptations named as Grammys Lifetime Achievement Award honorees.

"He was selected before his death and notified last week he was receiving the honor," a Grammys spokeswoman, Stephanie Schell, told AFP when asked if Shankar was added to the list after his death.

"As one of the world's most renowned sitar players, (Shankar) is a true ambassador for international music," the Recording Academy said in its brief biography of the Indian musician, alongside those of the other honorees.

Sitar virtuoso Ravi Shankar has given Indian culture of one of the best gifts. The renowned musician even became a hippie musical icon of the 1960s after he introduced traditional Indian ragas to Western audiences over an eight-decade career.

"As a performer, composer, teacher and writer, he is considered a pioneer in bringing Indian music to the West," it added.

Shankar died on Tuesday in southern California at the age of 92, after failing to recover from surgery at a hospital in La Jolla, near San Diego last week. His family was at his bedside.

The sitar pioneer taught his close friend George Harrison, the late Beatle, to play the instrument and collaborated with him on several projects, including the ground-breaking Concert for Bangladesh in 1971.

Harrison called Shankar "The Godfather of World Music", and Yehudi Menuhin, widely considered one of the greatest violinists of the 20th century, compared him to Mozart.

The other Grammy lifetime award recipients are "You've Got a Friend" singer King, classical pianist Glenn Gould, jazz musician Charlie Haden, blues legend Lightnin' Hopkins, Motown greats the Temptations and Patti Page, famous for "(How Much Is That) Doggie In The Window."

The 55th annual Grammy Awards show will be held in Los Angeles on February 10, 2013.

- AFP (Excerpt)

  Los Angeles, December 13, 2012

  First Published: 08:06 IST(13/12/2012)

http://www.hindustantimes.com/Entertainment/Music/Posthumous-lifetime-achievement-Grammy-award-for-Ravi-Shankar/Article1-972134.aspx

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12.12.12.

"Enthusiasm is excitement with inspiration, motivation, and a pinch of creative insanity!"

- Bo Bennett

This should be interesting right.

Always thought it would be wicked to witness something extraordinary happening on a date like this. One can’t help but think so, look at what all the pop culture has got us into believing, thanks to the Mayan calendar and the Occult and whatnots.

But each darn time, they disappoint me. These dates just don’t seem to offer anything out of the ordinary. Nothing ever happens! (dates as in the measure-of-time kind, not the other one!)

To add to the burn. Even today I was so close to missing the company bus!

Today could’ve been different, at least in this small thing. It is not demanding too much is it?

Well.. Anyways, there is still the rest of the day left ahead of us. Enough time for us to spice things up a bit. So find time go out with your mates today and do something different yourself, for yourself.

I’m done expecting these symmetrical dates on the calendar to bring something exciting to me, let’s just go ahead and create some excitement for ourselves! (‘Aaj kuch toofani karte hai’ mode)

Hope you all have an exciting 12.12.12 ahead! Stay awesome!

And happy wishful thinking!! :-P :-) :-)

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The Insanely Awesome Life of E. A. Poe

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there; wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."
- Edgar Allan Poe

There are times in most human beings life when they come across something very beautifully awesome that it hurts them why they lived for so long only to discover this gem only now. He starts wondering how amazing his life would have been if he had know about the existence of this beauty much earlier.
Well in my life there has been quite a few of these shocks like Beatles, Led Zep, 'Its a wonderful life', 'Patch Adams', 'Life is beautifull', Harry Potter, Ayn Rand, fried chicken.

And now, E. A. Poe.

I am not really a big fan of poetry, let alone the dark kind. I appreciate songs with poetic sensibilities (one Mr.Paul Simon; Mr.Art Garfunkel can attest to that). But I never really got to like poetry too much. It seemed way to quirky for my taste (coming from a guy who thinks eating icecream with a fork is normal). But E.A. is something totally different. I tried gettting into other famous poet's work, Whitman, Frost etc. But nothing compares to this guy's insane outlook towards the world.

In Indian literature there was a writer Premchand 'Munshi', he wrote in hindi as far as I've read. Mostly short stories based on day-to-day lives of ordinary people of his time. He was an ultimate cynic and had the most realistic outlook towards life. Imagine that, and go atleast a hundred times vicious. Then maybe you would get somewhere close to Poe's domain.

E. A.'s work is probably the most controversial of American literature in his time. Born Edgar Poe on January 19, 1809 he is more known for his tales of mystery and the dark than his more "normal" ones and generally considered "the inventor of the short story". But just how awesome it is, is for you to discover.

There was this one article I stumbled upon that introduced me to him. I was reading about Stephen King's Carrie, it mentioned that this King numero uno in some or the other manner resembled Poe's writing. And well I was of the solid belief that Carrietta White as insanely vicious dark character as can be possibly written. So, I was wondering what this guy who died in 1849 could have done to have inspired this inhumanely carzy girl.

Like they say, ignorance is bliss.

The Birthday Blues

"Every year on your birthday, you get a chance to start new. "

- Sammy Hagar

Okay. So I was born today. Yes, today 24 years ago I came to this awesome planet and made it extra awesome with my awesomeness.

Okay, that was lame.

But tell me one thing, what is all the whole fuss about?

Take this for example. There was this Prime Minister we had in India, a very ancient but somewhat respected one. That is a rare feat out here, none of the politicians are respected much not in the real sense of it. Fear induced respect at times may be. But not the real thing.

This ex-PM hated celebrating his birthday, but since he was a public figure it was a big deal. His party members made it a point to make it headlines in all the leading newspapers and channels. On his last term of PM'ship he stated that his birthday wont be celebrated this time around.

He said, "I never really found the reason to celebrate every single birthday throughout out pithy pathetic lives. It might be out birthday here today, but it could also be somebody else's divorce anniversay or the day someone lost a leg, or when somebody lost a loved one. What is so grand about today, just because we were born today? Doesnt that only mean that we are now a day older and more closer to our death than our last birthday??"

Well he was famous for stubborness, so nobody could push him to cut the cake in the usual grand out door do. So they just did it without him, as a tribute. A reading of excerpts from his famous hindi books and articles. A play based on his life's journey so far etc. The usual.

But no cake cutting by the birthday gentleman himself.

A year later, the party lost general elections, the PM got ousted from his seat. And he never had to suffer through another public fuss over the day he was born. I think he must be just glad celebrating it with his family and close friends. Thats he wanted always right, judging from whatever he said to the media.

Ironic.

Well life is full of such baffling coincidences. I'll try and avoid them on this topic. That politician was 60+ years he has had a full life with loads of accomplishments and surely he must be satisfied a bit with it. Here, I am one-third his age, I have started my roller coaster ride. And I dont want the Irony Goddess to come striking her hammer so soon on my joy ride.

So, just to please her if not anything else. I swear:

• I will cut the cake
• I will pick up each of your calls
• I will try to answer all your prying questions truthfully (flexible on this a bit though)
• I will try not to be pissed at people who never call all year and when they call you to wish happy birthday, demand if you have recognised them by their voice or not. (seriously, why do people do that?!)
• I will reply to all the texts personally and not mass forward the templates.
• I will attend to all your RT's and posts on my facebook wall.
• I will enjoy the day to the fullest and also make you all feel the same way too (this I will ensure personally!)

Thanks in advance to all of you. You all are very kind to remember. Feels wonderful to have so many wonderful friends around!!

Thou Art Awesome ;-)

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Question: Do you realize just how messed up you are? Answer: Yes, I do!

"The egoist in the absolute sense is not the man who sacrifices others. He is the man who stands above the need of using others in any manner. He does not exist for any other man -- and he asks no other man to exist for him. This is the only form of brotherhood and mutual respect possible between men."
- Howard Roark,
 'The Fountainhead'

Yes, I know. I haven’t written anything here for a while.

And if at all I do its in long intervals. About lord-only-knows what topic, at lord-only-knows what day, and especially lord-only-knows why.

It’s not that I’ve given up on blogging, no I have not. I enjoy this, I really do!

Life’s just been coming in the way too much, lately. And people around me know what a roller coaster ride it has been for the past four months or so. New place, new city, new job, new people. Couldn’t actually find the time, not that I was at lost on what to say, or was in shortage of things to talk about. I never am!

Things were a bit too cluttered, needed some sorting out. But have cleared it out now; got a nice healthy stable routine. It’s all good.

Except…

Sometimes, for some people, making do with some lame routine just won’t do. The drag of living in monotony and doing the same thing day in day out without any novelty in it proves a terrible downer. They always are on the look-out on something to bring out the zeal in them. Something that is theirs, and nobody else’s. Something, they could call their own. Their own private territory.

For me, it is writing.

Cheap thrills? I suppose so.

But who is to blame anyone for that matter? Not one soul on this planet wants to have a life without meaning. Nobody wants to leave this planet without leaving a mark. Everybody wants their name to be remembered for awhile even after they reach the pearly gates up above. Nobody wants to be forgotten. No one wishes to fall prey to the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ syndrome we all have as a species. Why do you think all those scientists and geniuses put their own name to their theories and hypothesis or of their favorite cat’s or even an aunt for that matter? They wanted to be remembered. At least for some time.

I am rambling now.

This brings to my topic at hand today, a very innocent question to me by somebody a few hours ago:

“You talk rash. You don’t think before you speak and say whatever comes to your mind. You speak loud and laugh louder, and you walk like you rule the planet. You don’t just do what’s asked of you, you have to question everything. You know everyone and everything about them; everyone comes to you with their issues while none of them know the first thing about yours or even know if you have any. You know everything all the time, you have the solutions to everybody problems. But I have never seen you ask for anybody’s assistance; give them a chance to help you. You are way too cheery and ‘happy happy’ all the time. You go ahead and give some the most mature intellectual long speeches that I have ever seen anybody give; and then go around and eat ice-cream with a FORK like a 4 year-old!

Do you realize just how messed up you are?”

My honest answer, pal:

“I do. And if all that you said qualifies me to be messed up, then I'm darn glad that I am.”

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The Catalyst For Change

"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another."

- Anatole France

When I was about to leave home for the first time for college, most people around me were of the view that something of huge importance is about to happen in my life. Somehow this single act of getting out of ‘the nest’ is about to change me, my way of thinking, likes and dislikes, even way of doing things. They said, up until then my life was within the very safe protection of my family. Where I didn’t have to ever worry about being alone, uncared for, nor getting my laundry done and neatly ironed. At that time, it all seemed like every other long lecture that the wise elders used to give; some of these used to go longer and more boring than those that began with ‘when I was of your age’. I never could understand the compulsion for adults to give these repetitive telecasts of the same subject again and again, on an uncomfortably frequent basis. I never will until I reach their age, comes their immediately reply if I were to foolishly present this question to them. Never expect a straight answer from them, you’d never ever get it.

The thing is, even after months and months of getting into this college I couldn’t figure out what would be this mysterious catalyst within these four walls of the campus that was going to change me so drastically. Yes, I was alone and had to do everything by myself. Mother wasn’t here to tend to my needs and to provide me with her delicious food. I had to make do with whatever we could find here and try to survive on the stuff they called food and expected us to swallow. Yes, this was all new to me and so where the people here. But I was always able to make friends wherever I went and soon there was a huge mob of people that knew me and that I knew. So there really weren’t really many places around the campus town where I’d ever find myself lone for the remaining four years of college yet to come.

The college I went to was 400 kilometers far from my hometown Mumbai. So it was a one night of travel to go to and from there to home, so usually it was sometimes weeks or even more that I go to eat mum’s food. And throughout my time away from home, and even now, that’s probably thing that I miss the most. The food wasn’t that bad in the hostel, but as most things in life the monotony of it killed its novelty in time. Fortunately, the roomies that I got were all also a bunch of indolent, bamboozled, languid buffoons like me. And darn did I have a helluva time with all of them. We were a group of solid 16 idiots, give or take a few at any point of time. The best thing about it was that we met during the first weeks of college itself and we stayed together through most of it. Had millions of fights and gazillions of arguments, but as I’ve seen in most guys. None of these squabbles lasted more than a week, after the initial violent outburst. Guy friendships are simpler and less maintenance than with the female specie.

The Night Of The Wrestler, The Rich Kid And The Crazy Bitch

"Peace cannot be achieved through violence, it can only be attained through understanding."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

He never thought he would find himself in such a predicament. He always thought that he was above such petty casualties of life. And most around him believed it too. He always seemed so casual, so at ease with himself and the world around him. He was the centre of all the action, was always a fun guy to be around. He had the way about him like he ruled the earth he was walking on; people somehow had started to think so too. People loved him, and always found reason to be around him. He was a man’s man. Some envied him, most wanted to be him. Women loved him, he loved them back. Each and every single one of them, he never distinguished one from the other. Always spread his love and attention around. But then something happened. Someone happened.

All through his school and college life, he had been conscious of the effect he had on the people around him, especially those of the opposite sex. He was tall, not bad looking but his real trump card was his wit and smile. From as far as he can remember, everyone told him he was going to break some hearts when he was grows old. He took that seriously I guess, always found himself to be living in a bit too many hearts at once, making guest appearances in one too many poor adolescent and some not so young women’s nightly fantasies, each a bit sinister than the last one, each getting weirder and even more paranoid as he progressed along the in years.

Somehow he managed to keep his wits about him and not get too carried away by all this. He kept doing well at school; got all the grades required to get him into a well-reputed architecture school in the capital city. In college too, in spite of all the girls in his class going gaga over his shoulder long hair, which was a craze back then, he still stuck to being his self. He never was lonesome, had the company of the best of people around him wherever he went. The geeks, when he wanted some homework done. The queen bees, when he needed something else done, which they got done using their jock boyfriends. Sometimes a lonely spinster, or even some married, female teacher of the college had a weak spot for this boy and he had his way no matter what.

He had his merry way throughout the first and half way through second year of college. The Christmas holidays were close. He wasn’t going to be able to go home this time, not that he cared too much. But he really hoped to extort some money from his dad to buy him a new car, the old one was getting out of fashion. He was still having a brainstorming session, devising a strategy for this mission, in the dorm lobby when he heard a loud yell from the floor above. He ran upstairs, and found a girl running into toilet at the end of the hallway, sobbing. He also heard noises of footsteps rushing upstairs to the floors above and the slamming of a door.

He spent quite some time outside the toilet, pondering whether he should go in or not. He never before in his life has been at this spot, where he had to choose something for himself. He was always told what was good for him, decisions where always taken for him. And wherever this wasn’t possible he always went along with the crowd and did what they did. He never really thought for himself. And at this moment, he had to. He can either, go back downstairs to his sofa and think of ways to get a brand new car bought from his rich father’s money. Or, he can open this door and find out what really happened here a few minutes ago. Luckily for him, this time again the decision was made for him.

The door suddenly opened, and out came the craziest looking woman he had ever seen. She was almost as tall as he was, but stick thin, had funny eye glasses on which made her eyes look huge. This wasn’t one bit funny because the look in those eyes right then was murderous and that scared the living crap out of him. This was the first time he had looked anyone so angry. He was always used to people being hunky dory around him, de had never known a lousy day in his life and if were there any such day his dad’s riches were always at his disposal to make him feel happy happy again. The girl stormed out of the doorway, right past him hardly noticing him or the slightly perturbed look on his face. A part of him was glad that she was gone, but a part of him was offended by the fact that she was the first female ever in his life who had totally ignored him so offhandedly. And the curiosity got the better of him and he followed this clearly insane character up the stairs to the floor above.