Can I be?

Yes, I can but won’t be allowed to. It’s a question I have always asked myself and wondered. The impossibility of the implausible hypocrisy of the religious, cultured, educated Indian is the stark reality that stands out.

We search for and create godmen. The same we go ahead and find faults in our creation. Question the sanctity of the unbelievable acts of godmanship. We pride in our ability to isolate the bad. But, all this from the same individual we catapulted to the sanctum sanctorum? The sights in life and my living is evident of the invasion of the human being by the mind of the lifeless madness.

What is life? A race towards death or the celebration of birth? We, or let me not generalise, rather say most ofus live the years with no sight of our final goal and create an expectation of endless journey. 

The little things

The beautiful song that you listen to on repeat mode for a few days

The chaat you ate on a gloomy day

The hello you heard from a person who matters on a dull morning

The surprise gift one nice day

The habit you give up for someone you care

The wonderful meal you were pining to eat on traffic-ridden drive back…is now hot on your dining table

Mom’s call when you are down and low

The one last mint you find after a onion-filled Indian meal just before you enter the meeting

The long drive for a small cuppa

The surprise on meeting the bully of your class who is now a beautiful person

The wonderful tender coconut seller on a long hot stretch on a road trip

The sweet nothings from a friend

The sparrow you spot on a Sunday morning in Bangalore

The traffic-less streets on a Bundh day in Bangalore

The small eats you find at an eatery that you indulged in as a kid

The petrichor on summer day

The early morning lush green clear sight after a bout of heavy rain the previous night

The surprise of a beautiful pleasant early morning for the non morning person

The smell of coffee on a rainy day

The bottle of cola, at the perfect temperature, on a sunny, hot, sweaty day

The dusty jean you find after a decade and it still fits!

The beauty of plain ceiling on a lazy day with no disturbance but for the occasional noise on TV or the loo breaks

The crispy white shirt, neatly laundered, found at the end of the week when everything seems like it was just out of the cow’s mouth

The bubbling burst of  joy in your mind as you hear the stupidity from the person who is a show off and you hate

The flash of brilliance that makes you feel intelligent and want to go get it for the next 2 minutes

Do I? Do I?

The statements I have heard from people about me, makes me wonder: Do I really ask too many questions? Do I ? J

Wondering…In the making of a human, is there a clause that indicates the number of words that one can use in a life time? I wonder, if it was the case. Acknowledging the fact that I have lots to talk, my quota would have run out two times.  The creator is being grateful by giving me the bonus or so I’d want to think. But then what happens to the ones who don’t use it? Does it have a validity? Or a no use penalty akin to our credit cards policies. So everyone is on the same boat as me. Or they are stingy and selfish. 

I have been part of conversations in a group and in a dialogue and have swayed away, as far as Paris sometimes. Talking to people is boring. It’s not something that interests or rather I can hold on my attention to for more than a few minutes. It depends on the person or the group. It more than often happens that I leave the conversation and drift away. I like my space, my ability to travel virtually and stay afloat with the conversation in reality. The people who matter, it’s mutual by the way, always manage to hear you, respond and make time for abruptness or the deadly rambles that goes on – be it intelligent, foolish or even the paucities. So, Do I? ahem ahem…

I would, in my world, brand the yes ‘ers’ as aliens in my world – the nuisances that make an appearance once in a while.  And who don’t matter except for a study of the kinds.

My ability to question and retort with an answer to it is a gift, I’d want to think. It’s the ability to ensure that the others listening are in conformity to the question’s essence. If they have in anyways misunderstood, that happens often. Considering this life is time bound, I have no time to understand an answer or even want to have to rephrase my question. I question in many ways, could be to start a conversation, end a conversation, interject in a conversation or simply to ensure there is some noise among two people. Questioning is only a quick way to get a response rather than cajole the user into telling you, after 100 of words that have fallen out without much meaning. But then, when there is an equation between people, does it matter if it’s a question, answer or a statement? If it still sounds like noise, in my world these beings would then become part of the UFO that hovers my world.

But then, sometimes I prefer the world of silence. When people are not interesting, it’s better to deal with the chaos of though in silence, rather than chaos in your head and outside. In retrospect, think about it, my rambling might seem annoying, as you don’t like me or my company. Its mutual. Totally agree. In this world of worlds I could be an alien in your world.

I am as I am. I will be as I am. If my talk kills you, your silence kills me. So, the aliens to my world, stay away.

It’s not money honey. It’s the thought.

I remember a one-liner about a dull rose in a bouquet; “A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.” It meant that rose is a rose no matter how fresh or dull it is. But what beats me about the statement is the triviality of the disregarding the thought of the gift. An expression of thought is disregarded with such frivolity. On the flip-side, it does not mean that it has to be guarded with one’s life or sheltered for the rest of one’s life. But, the value of a gift is invaluable.

On a mass celebratory occasion, I’ve found a selected few who give a thoughtful, heartfelt gift, the rest of the hound re-cycle gifts or even let the shopkeeper select and pack something for them. Why the fuss? Exactly, why the fuss. I’d rather have a strict mandate for people to not give out gifts on a mass celebratory event.

The thought in selecting a small card, the time spent on finding it in the dusty store rack, ensuring the cover is not as sepia-ed in color, signing it and giving it to someone who matters is a gift. How does the one receive the card will depend on what they get next. The value you show in the joy of receiving a gift or the value in storing it safe is what matters to the person who spent the time and thought in giving it. It’s human to lose something but the attitude in disregarding it after its lost adds on to the lack of thought and just displays indifference. A gift is about the thought. The disregard is the value attached to the person who gave it.

Gift to me is more about the thoughtfulness of the person. The gratitude is the value added to it by the person who receives it, rather than the thank you gift equal in amount. It’s not money honey. It’s the thought. 

I am born. I pledge my life. Live it for me.

The young Indian is usually stuck in the hypocritically infused, community conscious, religious meltdown. To further explain, it only means the kid is unsure what to do when it comes to making a decision as they are bound by innumerable abstract blackmails – emotional, religious, threatening consequences, monetary, vocal, muted, and irrational.

Starting at not wanting to eat a meal – “if you don’t eat it, the old man will carry you off “. Now I wonder what it would have been if I had said ok let him. The parents have learned and mastered the art of blackmails. It comes to teacher who says “if you don’t submit your homework by tomorrow, I will make sure you stand the whole day”. Out the fear of pain, we give in. What if I had then told my teacher if you don’t make sure I understood what you taught, I will ensure you stand for two days. Then it’s the guard at the school gate who says “do not stand below the tree”, should I have told him - "ok then I will sit". Wonder if he was retesting gravity under that tree. Or was being a nicer human and warned against sanity – his place to answer nature’s call every cold night. :O . The bully friend who said, “If you don’t give me 2 chocolates for your b’day, I will beat you up”. If only I had hit him and run away. Considering the bully is usually fat and will not bother to run..but then there is another corner all the time.

To the grown up life or so we think. To make choices to start professional courses. How many kids have said this “OK, if you insist”. These will be the ones who just want the sound of music from the parents off their ears. Or the more naïve would have said “so I can score more and be like Sam uncle” (btw, Sam uncle is the uncle in the family who is supposedly doing very well in the Nigeria. Oh yes Nigeria…it does happen). Or many more who are just told they have two choices, Engineering or Medical, later do we realize the world of opportunities. Then it’s the induction at home for those going away to hostels (and sometimes even if they don’t) about being good and ensuring its only about name and fame of the family (that probably does not exist), about promising not to even go close to non-vegetarian food, about not talking to girls/boys (the girls/boys who will be friends, but girls/boys who one can call sisters/brothers are totally ok). Then comes the threat from the chairman, lecturer, the guard, the peon (the influential one who sits outside the Principal’s chamber), the lady teacher’s husband, the girl’s brother and what not. Even the eagle at times roaming the low skies during lunch with that menacing 'I’ll get you' look. Not to mention the cycle stand guy and the photocopy shopwala. It’s a tough life to graduate with all the clauses.

Then comes the wide world. All threats to make one an educated kid, now in the world of professionals – the sound of music of another induction starts. If its about going abroad for higher studies it’s the same what happened when I started college but this time around there is more about shunning the non-Indian single people, the ills of alcohol and smoking (little do they realize the body is addicted already – in many cases). With the promise of coming back and letting the parents select a better half and few tears later, the kid sets sail. This is a similar situation if the kid stays back, only though it might be more real time. Let’s say you come late – then it goes like, where did you go? did you drink? (if yes is the answer it could result in a cannon ball of tears of self pity, or a list of abuses and a strong promise to end it.). The cajoling to eat, the screams if you don’t, the annoyance if you come late, the spying, the comparisons, the list is long and known.

The colors of parenting take a turn at marriage. If you have been bold enough to think you let your mind make a choice and not your ‘mamma-papa’ then it’s about reliving all that was said above. Good bye peace of mind, happiness, and what every state of mind you are in. Then comes the question of giving back all the time, effort spent on care giving, love and food and what not. What do we say “how much?” If its only about paying back to get a better half whom you are happy with, its worth a try. Because most of the time it’s accepted after a matter of time. I guess it’s a test of perseverance of the kid or it’s a display of the real parent. The parent I never knew existed. The parent who gave in after all the sounds of music – for my new bike, my laptop, my mobile and my long trips. How I don’t understand the calculation of life. Is it about the time spent + money spent + good food = listen to me? This is mostly the case in family which are influenced heavily by communities and their position in them. Then comes the religion, the demand for their happiness (which is usually only got if the kid agrees to marry someone of their choice), the questions on ethics, the social status, the mental health of the kid (hehe). To end it, it’s a test of what one wants – do you want to be happy? Or do you want them to be happy?

The sad part is the lost state of the kid. There is no religious belief the kid goes by strongly, there is no reason to ignore the want of life. There is only a reason to give into the sound of music, the blackmail of the abstract. If it’s about living the experience of the experienced, then what is life? Repayment? Finding a means to be happy in a journey that starts to end is about annoying many.

The kid then grows to be another parent. No religion was every conceived to create chaos for the living. It was only a means to enlighten or follow a belief. Not an epitaph of life. Another kid is born. The cycle goes on.

And why does Uncle Sam have an issue to allow us Indians to work there?

In-depth analysis has unearthed the following 3 issues.

The g’s of dressing

The ghastly, gaudy, garish dressing of people from the sub-continent. This has created an eye-sore for the native Americans. They have increasingly tried to get themselves medicated and stop the eye-sore epidemic. This has taken a violent turn in the recent days. People have taken the law in their own hands to curb this epidemic. They have resulted in shooting the sore point. Law makers are unable to come to consensus in drafting a policy about gun licenses when users are trying to use this for their own security. This has a twin impact. Gun laws and medical treatment condition in the US is deteriorating.

The anglicized English speaking

It has been stated that it is not wrong in picking up an accent to fulfill a task. But picking up an accent to sound ‘cool’ without the need? In a bid to sound American, the accented folks have managed to confuse the already confused American so much that it has slowed down the economy. This has now become a national issue. The bulldog will be set loose to chase the accent out of every Indian who picked up the accent en route to the Amrica.

The education market

Indian seem to export the not so cream of the intelligent layer to the US; and this s in hordes. GRE and GMAT are no match for the street smart Indians. The Indians use their genetically gained intelligence to get into the US universities and get out too. Hook or crook is the mantra to finish the thesis and find a job. This has changed the American education. Now, this erodes the chance of another American to be college educated. The issue: the govt of America is investing heavily on education, but the rate of uneducated people in America is not decreasing. 

Mr. President, there is no reason to worry. All that has to be done is just let it be. As a complacent lot we generally don't do much. No conquering or hurting anyone. 

Long live the King. The King is dead.

I still remember my analyzing speeches session in a theory class. Everyone picked speeches to analyze the structure. Abe Lincoln, Washington, Luther King, Clinton, and host of personalities made their way. I was stuck for a lack of finding a speech from a long list of speeches from speakers hosted on a website. I wandered around only to think why a politician and why not a technology person, and then found ‘Stay hungry, Stay foolish’. The all time famous commencement speech. I realized how he followed no structure, no taught theory and thus I failed to impress my professor. But analyzing the speech made me a richer person.

THe sheer honesty of being and the simplicity of life amazed me. The honesty was evident, the passion to make it happen, make Jobs use the opportunity to encourage to live. THe need to remain foolish never seemed more respectful. The feeling of hunger was only a thought to succeed. Cheers. The glass is half full!

I might not own Apple products, but that does not keep me from being a fan of the man, who lived his passion, his life. From the finding a name Apple (the most important part of his diet those days), to finding dressing up for a occasion ridiculous, to working towards his dream and getting people to live his dream. I might not be brave, as brave as you are to live a dream but am delighted and honoured I have lived on with a legend. Same era as the Jobs. Long live the king. The king is dead.