The end.
The epitome of finality. The endgame. Full stop. over.gone.goodye & god bless.
But what beyond the full stop?
Have you ever taken time out from your busy calendar that is synced with your blackberry and wondered what is above and beyond this finiteness?
Generally stories begin at the beginning. I believe it always begins, where the others end.
I wondered what lies ahead ( during a space-out-session pulling out equity stats from bloomberg ) of THIS.
What next?
As conformists in a nation glorifying conformity, we all will grow old, make some money, sleep around, lose some money, get married, sleep (just ! ), have kids, attend their kindergarten interviews, talk to them (awkwardly) about sex, watch them grow older while they watch you getting old, switch from bread-butter to muesli and watch them grow up to be conformists too...
Please don't get me wrong, my critique on conformism and not on conformists. Conformists, by definition, can not be blamed. We do what we are told to, read what we are supposed to read, and not ask questions that have difficult answers... They(we) do everything they(we) can to lead a non-invasive life in an stereotypical non-disruptive world. Much like the MATRIX.
My point is well, to point out the pointless pursuit of conformity. Are we to be conformists or not conform to tradition.... doest not conforming make us a conformist, by sheer definition of the term. I don't know... and Its six on a Saturday, so I don't care.
The question is what next? that is the question always... When your mind is stuck in the past and worried about the future. When you show utter disrespect to the moment that currently passes by. THIS MOMENT. right here. gone. never to come back. This is next. moment by moment. It passes. Like the sands of time, like the ocean blue. It slips right through or fingers...
So enjoy it while its alive. be alive in it... be alive with it.
What next huh?
Don't know, Don't care.
Peace out.
The beginning...
"We like someone because.
We love someone although."
- Henri de Montherlant
Friday, November 07, 2008
Sunday, October 05, 2008
what the f***?
I would imagine at some juncture in their lives, every individual wonders 'What the fuckin' hell am I doing here?' or more on the lines of 'Why me?' These periods of dread, conundrum and confusion.
A purposeless tread into the unknown that paints out a hazy picture of your life to come, albiet in melancholic hues. A sudden anxiety attack, like a tourette's tick, recurrs each time you think about what you were sent out here to do, to acheive. A good question for all of us to ask ourselves is, What should your epithet read, while you lay six-feet under, rotting unto the earth. Ash to ash, dust to dust.
Here lies you,.... and what?
And does it really make a difference to anyone that you are gone ?
Well it should, ideally. But look around, if you don't see cars that park themselves and phones that ignore calls from call-centres, chances are that the world you live in, is not IDEAL.
So re-run that Goodwill Hunting scene in your head, and realise that "It's not your fault... it's not your fault".
So whose fault is it?
But then again, everything, or so i feel, has the tendency to sort itself out. why? when? how?
I don't know. Keep the faith. we must.
Being the self indulgent sonofagunn that I am, my epithat would read,
Here lies Srini... Lived and Died... and made some people happy in the interim... ( or so he died thinking! )
Bottomline : Don't be afraid of the future, it's equally afraid of you...(yes like that stray dog)
Do the things that you make you feel alive.... and then die...
A purposeless tread into the unknown that paints out a hazy picture of your life to come, albiet in melancholic hues. A sudden anxiety attack, like a tourette's tick, recurrs each time you think about what you were sent out here to do, to acheive. A good question for all of us to ask ourselves is, What should your epithet read, while you lay six-feet under, rotting unto the earth. Ash to ash, dust to dust.
Here lies you,.... and what?
And does it really make a difference to anyone that you are gone ?
Well it should, ideally. But look around, if you don't see cars that park themselves and phones that ignore calls from call-centres, chances are that the world you live in, is not IDEAL.
So re-run that Goodwill Hunting scene in your head, and realise that "It's not your fault... it's not your fault".
So whose fault is it?
But then again, everything, or so i feel, has the tendency to sort itself out. why? when? how?
I don't know. Keep the faith. we must.
Being the self indulgent sonofagunn that I am, my epithat would read,
Here lies Srini... Lived and Died... and made some people happy in the interim... ( or so he died thinking! )
Bottomline : Don't be afraid of the future, it's equally afraid of you...(yes like that stray dog)
Do the things that you make you feel alive.... and then die...
Friday, September 12, 2008
That Song
Tell me the words
and I'll write you a song
give me some time
and it won't take that long
Don't be scared, darling... now don't run away
I'll tell you my story and be on my way
Show me the colors
Ill paint you a piece
guide me through their shades
of which some i can't see
Don't be scared, darling... don't tear it apart
This picture, your picture, i hold dear to my heart
Tell me your fears
Ill tell you my sins
some of which are by-gone
some yet to begin
Don't be scared, darling... and now don't be blue
And thus went that song, from me unto you.
and I'll write you a song
give me some time
and it won't take that long
Don't be scared, darling... now don't run away
I'll tell you my story and be on my way
Show me the colors
Ill paint you a piece
guide me through their shades
of which some i can't see
Don't be scared, darling... don't tear it apart
This picture, your picture, i hold dear to my heart
Tell me your fears
Ill tell you my sins
some of which are by-gone
some yet to begin
Don't be scared, darling... and now don't be blue
And thus went that song, from me unto you.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
hmmm
I sit and I write, with nothing to bare
of pointless talks and purposeless dares
I now write of things, both good and bad
of memories, of people, some happy, some sad
Never the money, not the things that you gain
You cherish your peace when you live through the pain
I speak of my deeds, of unspeakable sins
of fires that burn-up the pyres within
I write of stories, known, and some still untold
Of starless nights, some lonely, some cold
I speak of this moment, some still stuck in past
some rushing through life,some racing too fast
Of beauty, that beauty, that words even fail
I speak of a ballad, a lover's tale
Questions, that silence may ask of you
Of answers that lie,and some which are true
My own convictions, now breaking my fall
I speak of everything, yet nothing at all.
of pointless talks and purposeless dares
I now write of things, both good and bad
of memories, of people, some happy, some sad
Never the money, not the things that you gain
You cherish your peace when you live through the pain
I speak of my deeds, of unspeakable sins
of fires that burn-up the pyres within
I write of stories, known, and some still untold
Of starless nights, some lonely, some cold
I speak of this moment, some still stuck in past
some rushing through life,some racing too fast
Of beauty, that beauty, that words even fail
I speak of a ballad, a lover's tale
Questions, that silence may ask of you
Of answers that lie,and some which are true
My own convictions, now breaking my fall
I speak of everything, yet nothing at all.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Dazed and confused : Confessions of an inebriated mind.
The human mind is perpetually wrestling its own mirage in the melee to make sense of its senses. To sweep shards of painful memories under the carpet of 'bygones', to hold on to hope, to comprehend the incomprehensible, to question and to reason.It is wrestled between the turbulence of your past and the uncertainity of your future.
Like somebody smarter than me once said," Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is a mystery. But you have been given the gift of today, and hence it is called the present."
The subconscious is blissfuly ignorant of its own subconscious effects on our psyche. Manifested as dream; both nightmares and fantasies juxtaposed to create a collage of our hopes and fears, ambitions and anxieties, faith and doubts. It never does directly impact on the way you perceive things around you. But it ticks, slowly yet surely, moulding your mind to see what it wants you to see, feel what it wants you to feel. You become a function of your sub-conscious. Like a shark, it lurks under the ocean of you memories.
Never let the fear of the unknown scare you. Never let your apprehensions dare you.
They want you to be a product of your environment, I say have your environment be a product of you.
And therein lies our ascension; from means to end;from clueless to aware; from doubt to faith. From questions to answers...Completing our journey from the ignorant sub-conscious to the blissful super conscious.
"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries of life disappear and life stands explained."-Mark Twain,1898.
Like somebody smarter than me once said," Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is a mystery. But you have been given the gift of today, and hence it is called the present."
The subconscious is blissfuly ignorant of its own subconscious effects on our psyche. Manifested as dream; both nightmares and fantasies juxtaposed to create a collage of our hopes and fears, ambitions and anxieties, faith and doubts. It never does directly impact on the way you perceive things around you. But it ticks, slowly yet surely, moulding your mind to see what it wants you to see, feel what it wants you to feel. You become a function of your sub-conscious. Like a shark, it lurks under the ocean of you memories.
Never let the fear of the unknown scare you. Never let your apprehensions dare you.
They want you to be a product of your environment, I say have your environment be a product of you.
And therein lies our ascension; from means to end;from clueless to aware; from doubt to faith. From questions to answers...Completing our journey from the ignorant sub-conscious to the blissful super conscious.
"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries of life disappear and life stands explained."-Mark Twain,1898.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Distinguish betwee : india n yankeeland
1. Tipping in America, unlike India is mandatory. Here you quietly sneak out of the hotel with not tipping before the waiter finds out you haven't left him anything and gives you a " I'm so disappointed in you" look that you are accustomed to from your father , but in Yankee land be prepared to dodge some sneering snarls if you don't tip a prescribed 5 % gratuity
2. Coffee doesn't not mean filtered rich kaapi brewed in your grand moms small filter drip by drip till it fills the kitchen with aroma. In America, Coffee is a dark liquid served to you in Starbucks at the end of a long queue, often characterised by a Hispanic voice whose entire English vocabulary is ' That's a dollar fifty sir, thank you, have a nice day'
3. Sticking with coffee, in India, well, coffee is 'Coffee' colour. In the states, its black unless you want latte. Latte may not be sweetened. Do that yourself from counter at the side.
So, if you go to a store in the US, and ask ' Can i get that in a coffee shade ? '. Chances are he will come back with Black.
4. In India, neighbors are people with whom you are supposed to interact with, someone who comes to your place asking for a spoon-ful of sugar but leaves with a bowl-ful with the words " D I A B E T E S" flashing in your head, some one you exchange pleasantries with in the lift.
The American Gospel says love your neighbor, but just don't talk to him. Only serial killers and deranged pedophiles interact with neighbors. They even let them borrow sugar sometimes.
In America, the neighbor is defined as a guy who dials 911 if you end up raising a stink when lying dead, undiscovered for weeks in your apartment.
5. In America, the switch is pushed up to turn it on, the screws go in counter-clockwise and there is no such thing as manual transmission when it comes to cars
6. "Sodun dyaa na saaheb, parat nai honaar, he ghya 100 baksheesh, usheera hot aahe " will almost definitely not work when a cop pulls you over for a speeding ticket.
7. You cannot bargain on a pair of jeans, when yanks say its the final price, they tend to mean its the final price. No dene-ka-bhaav-bolo business here
8. In the states, Rubber almost always means contraceptive. So don't have your ten year old throwing a tantrum in the middle of the street for a new rubber.
9. Indian Parents scare their kids with stories of the boy who was attacked by the bogey monster. American children scare their parents with stories of the couple who were arrested by American Child Services for yelling at their kids.
10. All the fuss about Americans being advanced in their way of life. I have just one point to make America uses paper, India uses Water. I rest my case
2. Coffee doesn't not mean filtered rich kaapi brewed in your grand moms small filter drip by drip till it fills the kitchen with aroma. In America, Coffee is a dark liquid served to you in Starbucks at the end of a long queue, often characterised by a Hispanic voice whose entire English vocabulary is ' That's a dollar fifty sir, thank you, have a nice day'
3. Sticking with coffee, in India, well, coffee is 'Coffee' colour. In the states, its black unless you want latte. Latte may not be sweetened. Do that yourself from counter at the side.
So, if you go to a store in the US, and ask ' Can i get that in a coffee shade ? '. Chances are he will come back with Black.
4. In India, neighbors are people with whom you are supposed to interact with, someone who comes to your place asking for a spoon-ful of sugar but leaves with a bowl-ful with the words " D I A B E T E S" flashing in your head, some one you exchange pleasantries with in the lift.
The American Gospel says love your neighbor, but just don't talk to him. Only serial killers and deranged pedophiles interact with neighbors. They even let them borrow sugar sometimes.
In America, the neighbor is defined as a guy who dials 911 if you end up raising a stink when lying dead, undiscovered for weeks in your apartment.
5. In America, the switch is pushed up to turn it on, the screws go in counter-clockwise and there is no such thing as manual transmission when it comes to cars
6. "Sodun dyaa na saaheb, parat nai honaar, he ghya 100 baksheesh, usheera hot aahe " will almost definitely not work when a cop pulls you over for a speeding ticket.
7. You cannot bargain on a pair of jeans, when yanks say its the final price, they tend to mean its the final price. No dene-ka-bhaav-bolo business here
8. In the states, Rubber almost always means contraceptive. So don't have your ten year old throwing a tantrum in the middle of the street for a new rubber.
9. Indian Parents scare their kids with stories of the boy who was attacked by the bogey monster. American children scare their parents with stories of the couple who were arrested by American Child Services for yelling at their kids.
10. All the fuss about Americans being advanced in their way of life. I have just one point to make America uses paper, India uses Water. I rest my case
Sunday, July 20, 2008
walk the line
I roam the streets in the dead of the night
with no regrets, but with no respite
I look for something that is no longer mine
I look for the dimples, and that lustrous shine
A dollop of laughs, a pinch of strife
such, my friend, is the mystery of life
If I had chains of attachment, I'd bind you to me
If I could help it, you'd be all I could see
If only, all night, I'd whisper sweet-nothings in your ear
If only God read my script, my dear
A dollop of laughs, a pinch of strife
such, my friend, is the mystery of life
with no regrets, but with no respite
I look for something that is no longer mine
I look for the dimples, and that lustrous shine
A dollop of laughs, a pinch of strife
such, my friend, is the mystery of life
If I had chains of attachment, I'd bind you to me
If I could help it, you'd be all I could see
If only, all night, I'd whisper sweet-nothings in your ear
If only God read my script, my dear
A dollop of laughs, a pinch of strife
such, my friend, is the mystery of life
Friday, July 04, 2008
flash-back
Being idle. Something that doesn't come naturally come to me. That is my indigence. But my back has a mind of its own. A will of its own. And sometimes it spasms-up in rebellion to the will of my mind...
Back-spasms are natures way of ensuring introspection. A way of ensuring compliance to its principles. Any deviance or disobedience is punished with a strong electrical impulse by the firing of millions of synapses on the neural network around the spine. Something we refer to as brain-numbing pain.
There you are. Resting on your bed. Laying there. No... that has a comfortable ring to it. I'd call it being horizontal. Giving you a different perspective of the world around you. In another plane. The ceiling overwhelmingly covers up your vision. Direct and peripheral. And you stare at it. Unflinching. Unforgiving. It stares back right at you. Into you.
What does it see?
It sees what you have blinded yourself. Beyond what you have yourself fooled. To believe. To remember. To forget. It sees the unseen. Beneath and beyond.
Underneath the Underneath.
Its imminent. Like chinese torture, wherein the gigantic tank of water hangs ominously over your head. But its attacks you, drop by drop. Teasing.Guffawing.Momentary yet infinite.
And so you are at mercy of your own sub-conscious.
Remember the back-ache. It serves another purpose. You cant fight the ceiling. Can't distract yourself. Can't read. Can't listen to you ipod. Cant call your 4 am friend. the phone seems trans-continental in distance. So you learn to fight the voices in your head. its like being thrown into the deep end. Into the vastness of the Ocean of memory.
As slabs of concrete peer into your sub-conscious, you have the overwhelming urge to get up. you cant. You want to lie down. But you don't want to. You have to make a choice.
Your back or your head. Neither will mercifully let you collapse into a pain-forgetting slumber.
So you put up with it. Take it as it comes. A lot like life itself.
Live it or die trying.
Back-spasms are natures way of ensuring introspection. A way of ensuring compliance to its principles. Any deviance or disobedience is punished with a strong electrical impulse by the firing of millions of synapses on the neural network around the spine. Something we refer to as brain-numbing pain.
There you are. Resting on your bed. Laying there. No... that has a comfortable ring to it. I'd call it being horizontal. Giving you a different perspective of the world around you. In another plane. The ceiling overwhelmingly covers up your vision. Direct and peripheral. And you stare at it. Unflinching. Unforgiving. It stares back right at you. Into you.
What does it see?
It sees what you have blinded yourself. Beyond what you have yourself fooled. To believe. To remember. To forget. It sees the unseen. Beneath and beyond.
Underneath the Underneath.
Its imminent. Like chinese torture, wherein the gigantic tank of water hangs ominously over your head. But its attacks you, drop by drop. Teasing.Guffawing.Momentary yet infinite.
And so you are at mercy of your own sub-conscious.
Remember the back-ache. It serves another purpose. You cant fight the ceiling. Can't distract yourself. Can't read. Can't listen to you ipod. Cant call your 4 am friend. the phone seems trans-continental in distance. So you learn to fight the voices in your head. its like being thrown into the deep end. Into the vastness of the Ocean of memory.
As slabs of concrete peer into your sub-conscious, you have the overwhelming urge to get up. you cant. You want to lie down. But you don't want to. You have to make a choice.
Your back or your head. Neither will mercifully let you collapse into a pain-forgetting slumber.
So you put up with it. Take it as it comes. A lot like life itself.
Live it or die trying.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
writen on water
The sands of time like the ocean blue
slip through my finger, like memories of you
The more you grab, the less you get
The more you cry, the less you forget
No route to tread, no path to find
leave me alone, alone with my mind
The water, your canvas
Your fingers, yours brush
you trace out your story
in the tranquil hush
No route to tread, no path to find
leave me alone, alone with my mind
Life, all your life, throws questions at you
questions, there are many but answers few
Don't take your life seriously, if you must survive
'coz there is no way that you'll make it out alive
No route to tread, no path to find
leave me alone, alone with my mind
slip through my finger, like memories of you
The more you grab, the less you get
The more you cry, the less you forget
No route to tread, no path to find
leave me alone, alone with my mind
The water, your canvas
Your fingers, yours brush
you trace out your story
in the tranquil hush
No route to tread, no path to find
leave me alone, alone with my mind
Life, all your life, throws questions at you
questions, there are many but answers few
Don't take your life seriously, if you must survive
'coz there is no way that you'll make it out alive
No route to tread, no path to find
leave me alone, alone with my mind
Saturday, May 17, 2008
free-dumb
Ladies and gentlemen... I have given up this lost cause. I, as a writer, have surrendered to the oft-periodic lull in my creativity. The juices have dried up and the flesh is corroding. I have nothing to write on. I have no muse. I empathize with the out-of-work-populus. I am objectively subjectless and my writing has become subjectively objectless.
Let me analyse my subjects.
My favorite subject was me. perversely obsessed with my ownself. obsession bordering on addiction. not anymore. i guess this is the withdrawals.
however i put my thoughts into this text. my memory mapped in this grid of words.
i feel like that old clapton song. I feel free.
I feel free, I feel free, I feel free.
I can walk down the street, theres no one there
Though the pavements are one huge crowd.
I can drive down the road; my eyes dont see,
Though my mind wants to cry out loud,
Though my mind wants to cry out loud.
my street is my mind. i walk it alone. and in a strangely liberating way. today. i feel free. i dont know if this feeling is evanescent. fleeting. but its true. today.in this moment i feel liberated. i forgive the 'pavements are one huge crowd.'
My eyes dont see them. i am oblivious to their to effects on me. i forgive them.
i feel like god himself. i embrace them. today. this moment. they have no influence on me.
forgive.never forget. this day. like all of them.
i forgive my foes.
i forgive my teachers.
i forgive my friends.
i forgive her.
i forgive god.
i ask for their forgiveness.
your life is a function of your mind.
i feel free.
catch me if you can.
Let me analyse my subjects.
My favorite subject was me. perversely obsessed with my ownself. obsession bordering on addiction. not anymore. i guess this is the withdrawals.
however i put my thoughts into this text. my memory mapped in this grid of words.
i feel like that old clapton song. I feel free.
I feel free, I feel free, I feel free.
I can walk down the street, theres no one there
Though the pavements are one huge crowd.
I can drive down the road; my eyes dont see,
Though my mind wants to cry out loud,
Though my mind wants to cry out loud.
my street is my mind. i walk it alone. and in a strangely liberating way. today. i feel free. i dont know if this feeling is evanescent. fleeting. but its true. today.in this moment i feel liberated. i forgive the 'pavements are one huge crowd.'
My eyes dont see them. i am oblivious to their to effects on me. i forgive them.
i feel like god himself. i embrace them. today. this moment. they have no influence on me.
forgive.never forget. this day. like all of them.
i forgive my foes.
i forgive my teachers.
i forgive my friends.
i forgive her.
i forgive god.
i ask for their forgiveness.
your life is a function of your mind.
i feel free.
catch me if you can.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Remembrances
You think away lonely nights
Think about the laughs, you think about the fights
Then you learn to grin and bear
what was once , is no longer there
And so lingers a voice in your head
Remember... Remember what she said...
Peering through the evening sky
to look for him and ask him why
then you trot and move on
the child has grown and the dream is gone
Fear is fuelled and inhibitions well fed
Remember... Remember what she said...
She said it will last forever
Doubted that, I had never
Then she left me all alone
You promised her the stars
now she has never seemed as far
your head is heavy and your eyes red
and then she called and she said
I, like her, must move ahead
wat was once, is now dead
quiet whispers from her side of the bed
Remember... Remember what I said...
Think about the laughs, you think about the fights
Then you learn to grin and bear
what was once , is no longer there
And so lingers a voice in your head
Remember... Remember what she said...
Peering through the evening sky
to look for him and ask him why
then you trot and move on
the child has grown and the dream is gone
Fear is fuelled and inhibitions well fed
Remember... Remember what she said...
She said it will last forever
Doubted that, I had never
Then she left me all alone
You promised her the stars
now she has never seemed as far
your head is heavy and your eyes red
and then she called and she said
I, like her, must move ahead
wat was once, is now dead
quiet whispers from her side of the bed
Remember... Remember what I said...
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
testing time
"If you don't know what you want, you end up with a lot you don't." ~Chuck Palahniuk
This day is unique and special, just like the day before and the one that beckons tomorrow. But this day is unique, for today you can change the world.
Knowing what you want out of an endeavor is akin to performing the task itself. Knowing has various levels of existence. It could be a flying thought into your head or it could be a detailed blue print sketching out every minute measurement of your road to salvation. Knowing and awareness of the world around you is a lot like being in love. One day you get up and you just know. So stop thinking. Just know.
A lot has been written and said about unconventional and bold choices that others make. Nothing ever will be written about the turmoil inside of us when we are given a choice to make. The bipolarity of our emotional tussles are the best kept secrets in the world. Secrets you long to confide in someone but would do everything in your power to keep it from them. Bipolarity.
There comes a time in each of our lives when we have to stick our neck out and take a call. Half of us make the wrong call. It was a 50-50 shot anyways. Amongst them, half will cry and wail about it, while the remaining will bide their time and wait for an opportunity to punt. To be a master of their destiny.
Sometimes the things that you own end up owning you. You become your Sony psp. You are your Honda civic. You end up as you hp dx 2000. You are no longer you. You become them.
This is digression. So weren’t we talking about knowing what you want?
Some people are just lucky to find their calling in life. Some others are luckier to answer life knocking on their doors at a very young age. While the others end up in jobs they don’t like just to pay their bills. It’s a compromise that they make with life. The only problem is that life never compromises. It puts you in an illusion of security. So much so, that you devaluing your blessings. Then life pulls the carpet from under your feet. On your way down your mind is caught between counting those very blessings and cushioning the emotional thud.
Funny ways life has to remind you that you are still alive. We all have to wake up to the fact that we all aren’t going to be successful, money minting machines that have women slithering over us. No, some of us aren’t even going to see our 40th birthday. At least one of us will be dead by the end of this year. But that however must not stop you from enjoying your lives.
If you think you are in pain, say that to the guys undergoing chemotherapy. If you think your life stinks, meet those orphans who don’t even know what it is to be loved. If you think your god hates you, think of those fetuses that are aborted every 45 seconds who don’t even see the light of day till they see the wrong side of a lethal vacuum pump. God doesn’t hate you, no you aren’t even that important. He is just indifferent. Or he may be hopeful that you are smart enough to figure your life out. I know I am. I hope you are.
Monday, March 17, 2008
karma-yoga
Karma.
What goes around comes around...
It surely does.
concepts to keep our morality in check. concepts that are more than just concepts. they are a way of life. this never ending cycle of karma is what binds us to the earth.
Karma, loosely translates into deed. However the concept of karma is beyond the simple task of a verb done. It chalks the impact that one action has on the space-time continum. How a simple shake of the hand or a kind gesture creates a domino effect in the larger picture and changes the future from what it could have become... albeit in the very minutest of details.
His judgement cometh and that right soon.
There is no heaven or hell. There is a life and hell and heaven are what you make of it...
so live your life... and you shall sow as you reap.
The challenge is to live through life without regrets.
"Karmanye Vadhikaraste Ma Phaleshu Kadachana,
Ma Karma Phala Hetur Bhurmatey Sangostva Akarmani"
What goes around comes around...
It surely does.
concepts to keep our morality in check. concepts that are more than just concepts. they are a way of life. this never ending cycle of karma is what binds us to the earth.
Karma, loosely translates into deed. However the concept of karma is beyond the simple task of a verb done. It chalks the impact that one action has on the space-time continum. How a simple shake of the hand or a kind gesture creates a domino effect in the larger picture and changes the future from what it could have become... albeit in the very minutest of details.
His judgement cometh and that right soon.
There is no heaven or hell. There is a life and hell and heaven are what you make of it...
so live your life... and you shall sow as you reap.
The challenge is to live through life without regrets.
"Karmanye Vadhikaraste Ma Phaleshu Kadachana,
Ma Karma Phala Hetur Bhurmatey Sangostva Akarmani"
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Rose-ary !
Saw out of the corner of my eye
This sight, till today that i try
to forget...
her silhouette
haunts me
all the way to my bed
Now in love, as that story goes
You live by the rose and you die by rose
Still remember they day we met
Seemed like the person i'd never forget
Now I'm trying to kick them blues
Singing about my cardiac bruise
Winning a battle, i had lost in my head...
Now in love, as that story goes
You live by the rose and you die by rose
Dreading the day when i look into her face
gasping my breath and holding my gaze
shivering hands scared to step out of line
Then see her smile and to fate we resign
Though both of us are a handshake apart
Inside the distance never so afar....
Now my love, as the faithful bows
You live by the rose and you die by rose
This sight, till today that i try
to forget...
her silhouette
haunts me
all the way to my bed
Now in love, as that story goes
You live by the rose and you die by rose
Still remember they day we met
Seemed like the person i'd never forget
Now I'm trying to kick them blues
Singing about my cardiac bruise
Winning a battle, i had lost in my head...
Now in love, as that story goes
You live by the rose and you die by rose
Dreading the day when i look into her face
gasping my breath and holding my gaze
shivering hands scared to step out of line
Then see her smile and to fate we resign
Though both of us are a handshake apart
Inside the distance never so afar....
Now my love, as the faithful bows
You live by the rose and you die by rose
Thursday, January 24, 2008
?
"God, in his elaborate game of dice, has given man the gift of reason, of choice of which he many have more than one.
But every man has but one destiny"
This man. He journeys from cradle to grave in pursuit of his destiny. Lucky are those who find it earlier than most. Lucky are those who don't.
The pursuit is a measure of the man's temperament. Adjectives range from laid-back to feverish to describe his quest to unravel his plan for him.
Life quite unlike in the movies, has a script of its own. Each mans life observed independently, each life stand-alone fits into a larger puzzle. A jigsaw that needs a macroscopic perspective. A perspective that you and me are far too insignificant to have.
Here is an analogy for the analogists, what if god is just a naughty kid out to have fun?
What if we are guinea pigs in his basement box?
What if we are running through life in much the same manner those rodents run on circular discs?
What if he is trying to understand us in much the same fashion that we are trying to understand him ?
Like how we are trying to 'know' him.
What if our god is answerable to his parents ?
What if he has his own god to pray to every Sunday ?
What if there is no god ?
Then again what if... there is ?
Would it change the ways of our lives ? Would we be any different?
Would you have hugged your parents today ?
Would i have scored more in CAT ?
Would the hungry in Sierra Leone be blessed with a meal tonight ?
The list is endless.
The answer is mostly no.
So where does this take our discussion. God is an idea.. a very comforting idea invented by Man. His invention became something that he could no longer take control of. Like in those creepy robot movies. His instrument became his destiny. God stood for everything good, noble and correct. Till divinity began to be indoctrinated into a charter to benefit a selfish few majority.
All things detrimental to intellectual progress and more importantly to their own branded ungodly.
There are questions that don't have answers. And then there are questions which are pursuits in themselves. A pursuit of destiny. The same one that took our man from cradle to his grave.
Many questions.. more doubts but there is one certainty.
Each man has but one destiny. It is the scale of his being that separates a saviour from a non entity.
A NEO from a MORPHEOUS.
The capacity to change the world lie in the corrugations of our palms.
Hence... you and not he who has the whole world in your hands.
make the most of it... while your still alive.
"For he can only show me the door. My faith must walk me through it "
But every man has but one destiny"
This man. He journeys from cradle to grave in pursuit of his destiny. Lucky are those who find it earlier than most. Lucky are those who don't.
The pursuit is a measure of the man's temperament. Adjectives range from laid-back to feverish to describe his quest to unravel his plan for him.
Life quite unlike in the movies, has a script of its own. Each mans life observed independently, each life stand-alone fits into a larger puzzle. A jigsaw that needs a macroscopic perspective. A perspective that you and me are far too insignificant to have.
Here is an analogy for the analogists, what if god is just a naughty kid out to have fun?
What if we are guinea pigs in his basement box?
What if we are running through life in much the same manner those rodents run on circular discs?
What if he is trying to understand us in much the same fashion that we are trying to understand him ?
Like how we are trying to 'know' him.
What if our god is answerable to his parents ?
What if he has his own god to pray to every Sunday ?
What if there is no god ?
Then again what if... there is ?
Would it change the ways of our lives ? Would we be any different?
Would you have hugged your parents today ?
Would i have scored more in CAT ?
Would the hungry in Sierra Leone be blessed with a meal tonight ?
The list is endless.
The answer is mostly no.
So where does this take our discussion. God is an idea.. a very comforting idea invented by Man. His invention became something that he could no longer take control of. Like in those creepy robot movies. His instrument became his destiny. God stood for everything good, noble and correct. Till divinity began to be indoctrinated into a charter to benefit a selfish few majority.
All things detrimental to intellectual progress and more importantly to their own branded ungodly.
There are questions that don't have answers. And then there are questions which are pursuits in themselves. A pursuit of destiny. The same one that took our man from cradle to his grave.
Many questions.. more doubts but there is one certainty.
Each man has but one destiny. It is the scale of his being that separates a saviour from a non entity.
A NEO from a MORPHEOUS.
The capacity to change the world lie in the corrugations of our palms.
Hence... you and not he who has the whole world in your hands.
make the most of it... while your still alive.
"For he can only show me the door. My faith must walk me through it "
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Look around
Annual Prognosis
Syndrome : Annual progressive migraine
a.k.a : New year fever
Symptoms: drunk driving,rebound relationships, desperation to avoid being a stag, mistaking beer for water,mad rush for passes among others.
Congenial atmosphere :helter skelter. hype. loneliness. bad and loud music. alcohol. DUI. sneaking into and out of houses.
may also cause : police harassment, unplanned pregnancy, groping, molestation,serial puking, mugging and digging out phone numbers of girls/guys that you underwent therapy to forget.
New years.... its all hype no substance. My sweet Jesus... whatever happened to sitting at home and ushering in the new year with a quiet night out with family and close friends. why this animalistic devolution into a maniacal behavioral pattern.
How many times do you remember a refreshing cover story on the 1st Jan edition of your daily newspaper. Instead all you read about is the numbing gore that detail a car crash carrying teens and 20-somethings.
Or, just for variety; a story on the grizzly groping/molestation incident that is penned and presented with a titillating tone by the journo-junta just to sell some more copies.
Have we become so numb as individuals, as a society that we do nothing unless the victims come forward to register a complaint. What are we doing with the photographic evidence. Incubating them under our overweight-obese posteriors.
Id like to pass on a message to those courageous photographers who captured the incident.
Your mum just called...she said you left your balls at home.
I mean..common.. if you are a man worth your seminal vesicle then its your duty to obliterate or even attempt to do so, any guy who tries and gets fresh with a women under the pretext of alcohol.
Don't get me wrong, i am all in for partying and late nights. gals and guys alike. I'm a closet feminist so to speak. But what i have a needle with is the characterless display of carnal instincts that is unbecoming of a human society.
Mumbai has its balls wrapped up in its pastel panties. It is lubed up every New years day with the grease of bribe and power-display and meticulously and mechanically raped by its custodians.
I once did pride myself at the safe-quotient that this city used to display when it came to women. It was once a hard city. A hard city with a character.
It wasn't Delhi, where anything that moves can be potentially raped after nightfall. It wasn't Chennai, where girls date burly guys just to move around safely. It wasn't Bangalore. Don't even get me started about Bangalore. with a name like that... what do you expect ?
It was Mumbai ( Bombay...whatever gets you off! ). Now it isn't. Its just mumbai. A shadow of its old self.
It doesn't need a metro system. It doesn't need a mile high skyline. It doesn't need a fancy marathon.It doesn't need new roads. Hell... it doesn't need dug up ones either.
It needs human fabric. It needs its old self back. It needs to have a heart.
It needs a hero.
Look around.
Syndrome : Annual progressive migraine
a.k.a : New year fever
Symptoms: drunk driving,rebound relationships, desperation to avoid being a stag, mistaking beer for water,mad rush for passes among others.
Congenial atmosphere :helter skelter. hype. loneliness. bad and loud music. alcohol. DUI. sneaking into and out of houses.
may also cause : police harassment, unplanned pregnancy, groping, molestation,serial puking, mugging and digging out phone numbers of girls/guys that you underwent therapy to forget.
New years.... its all hype no substance. My sweet Jesus... whatever happened to sitting at home and ushering in the new year with a quiet night out with family and close friends. why this animalistic devolution into a maniacal behavioral pattern.
How many times do you remember a refreshing cover story on the 1st Jan edition of your daily newspaper. Instead all you read about is the numbing gore that detail a car crash carrying teens and 20-somethings.
Or, just for variety; a story on the grizzly groping/molestation incident that is penned and presented with a titillating tone by the journo-junta just to sell some more copies.
Have we become so numb as individuals, as a society that we do nothing unless the victims come forward to register a complaint. What are we doing with the photographic evidence. Incubating them under our overweight-obese posteriors.
Id like to pass on a message to those courageous photographers who captured the incident.
Your mum just called...she said you left your balls at home.
I mean..common.. if you are a man worth your seminal vesicle then its your duty to obliterate or even attempt to do so, any guy who tries and gets fresh with a women under the pretext of alcohol.
Don't get me wrong, i am all in for partying and late nights. gals and guys alike. I'm a closet feminist so to speak. But what i have a needle with is the characterless display of carnal instincts that is unbecoming of a human society.
Mumbai has its balls wrapped up in its pastel panties. It is lubed up every New years day with the grease of bribe and power-display and meticulously and mechanically raped by its custodians.
I once did pride myself at the safe-quotient that this city used to display when it came to women. It was once a hard city. A hard city with a character.
It wasn't Delhi, where anything that moves can be potentially raped after nightfall. It wasn't Chennai, where girls date burly guys just to move around safely. It wasn't Bangalore. Don't even get me started about Bangalore. with a name like that... what do you expect ?
It was Mumbai ( Bombay...whatever gets you off! ). Now it isn't. Its just mumbai. A shadow of its old self.
It doesn't need a metro system. It doesn't need a mile high skyline. It doesn't need a fancy marathon.It doesn't need new roads. Hell... it doesn't need dug up ones either.
It needs human fabric. It needs its old self back. It needs to have a heart.
It needs a hero.
Look around.
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