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.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
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.
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