Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Monday, December 27, 2004

Wee Wee chu a merry christmas (and a happy new year)

This blog goes personal from today. I will fight the temptation to write for an audience. I shall become withdrawn, and blossom into a butterfly by the end of it all. A monarch.

72 hours without sleep, a new presonal best. Insomniacs anonymous, unite! Where everything's in 2d, and language is beyond gibberish!

All it takes is one moment to change a desiny. For the worse, I mean.

Quants - 800
Verbals - 630.

Lost out on the draw of choice of verbal section getting evaluated. Now I've got to walk around college with virtually everybody else hitting 1500+. Embarassing. I wish I believed in god, then I would have somebody else to blame. But no, the weight of grief is heavy upon my heart, and there's no one left to shout at but myself.

Ever wondered about fate? What does one do when he realizes he's stuck in the land of the poor, and there's no way out?
[Cliche incoming]

Fuck the system.

Need alcohol. Inundatory amounts. Till I bleed sweet ethanol.

I've noticed that I'm writing more for myself now than anything else. Is this unexpected, or something that was bound to happen?

[Light filters in through drawn curtains. Streaks of acrid light fall across Pi's face.

Cut to OUTSIDE THE ROOM. Pi's dad, an aging plump man, over 50, is knocking softly on the door, with a vexed look on his face. What's happened to his cheerful son?

Cut back to INSIDE THE ROOM. ZOOM IN onto Pi's hand. Involuntary twitches. Our friend is obviously not on this plane of existence. The knocking stops. We hear footsteps walking away.]

Pi1: We fucked up bad. Big time. We're going to disappear amongst a sea of indistinguishable faces, and it's all our own fault.
Pi2: I agree. So this is what anger at self feels like. I don't like it. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK,

[banging of keyboard echoes in cold desolate room. The phone vibrates silently, but Pi isn't paying any attention. He looks up and stares at the screen, wondering what so many vowels are doing in one word. ]


Pis 1&2: Huh? Huh? HuHu?h?

[Slowly the two voices merge into one deep voice. In the distance we hear the faint sound of bells tinkling. ]



Perfectly alright.

[It's the dawning of a new day. The curatains are drawn back and the wind blows in,almost gale-like shots, to russle up, to tussle up, to play a game of ignorance with the constant. Camera follows a circular path, focusing on the centre where pi is hugging himself. Suddenly, a flash of bright light, followed by the pleasant scent of strwberries. ]

Pi: Hello world. I've been reborn.

Till next time. That'll be a couple of hours from. From the land of guise and deception.

What me sober?

Fuck- what a beautiful word. Strong, expressive, short, profound. Like tequila.

Wee Wee chu

Please don't read this blog. It's inconsequential. It's cathartic to me, ergo I'm posting. If you feel you relate at all, on any abstract basis, drop a comment.

Blogging after a really long time. This blog comes the night before my GRE, so I'm positively freaked out about impending doom. Dad's going to scream at me for dumping cash down the loo, but what the hell? ETS owes me a booze treat for all the pain I've gone through.

Nothing substantial to be written now, though I have been jotting down notes at regular intervals in a text file hidden on the comp. Must remember to write about them soon enough.

No sleep for about 60 hours now. I can literally see phantoms of light and darkness passing before my eyes, teasing my peripheral vision and making me glance sideways despite the knowledge that they're not there. I wish they were real, life is approaching a thoroughly boring anticlimax. I'm 21, and I feel like I've seen it all. Nothing, absolutely NOTHING amazes or surprises me anymore. A burst of interest surfaces sporadically once in a while, while I feign pleasure and all the conventional oohs and ahs that are expected of me. The only genuine happiness happens when I read a book, so I owe Mukka a big thanks for introducing me to the Blossoms book store. Picked up a couple of short story collections there, VOX2 and O'Henry award winners of the 1970s. Brilliantly different from the usual stuff.

Also, I personally recommend that you, the reader, to pick up 'The End' series from Marvel. Just read 'The Hulk:The End' and it's god-awesome. Not faking that emotion, I promise you. I expect the rest of the series to be as good.

Sleepy, but the will refuses to let my eyes close. Burning eyes.

Thoughts- (will elucidate on next blog)
->If at all a God exists, then he/she has forsaken mankind.
->India loves mediocrity. Correction- Indians love mediocrity. I see it around me all the time.
->Loneliness is bliss. Expect a full-fledged blog on this.
->Science is heading for a standstill. Every 'breakthrough' is relevant only to human needs, not to the objective of furthering knowledge. I dare you to think of an idea that'll NOT benefit mankind, yet is knowledge nonetheless. Theoretical physics is not an option.
->Zen works; there are certain inimitable advantages to letting the world think you're a fool and non-productive, things even the Zen masters couldn't percieve to work in a modern world. Pirsig, you ain't one; you aren't even close to becoming one. You fooled the world, you won't fool me.

Who will be a friend to the one who feels he's friendless?
Who can love someone who doesn't desire to be loved?
Who will talk to someone who talks mostly to himself?
Who can understand the silence that is this person's most profound speech?
Who will open the doors to the mind that refuses to unlock?
Who will talk to me?

"Can Anybody fly this thing?
Before my head explodes,
Before my head starts to ring?
We've been living life, inside a bottle (2)
Well, confidence in you,
Is confidence in me,
Is confidence in a High Speed."

Saturday, December 18, 2004

Last night I managed to catch a Spike Lee flick on Star Movies, his version of a 9/11 movie. Nothing to do with the actual towers crashing, but a story that's set in NY post-BinLaden. A truly brilliant movie, Lee manages to catch the ultimate sliceoflife demonstration and makes a thoroughly engrossing 2 hour timepass. Gripping stuff. Sorry I didn't catch the name of the movie, but it did start after midnight, and starred Edward Norton. (Produced by Tobey Maguire, strangely enough)

That was followed by 'Dead Poet's Society'. Groan. I wish they wouldn't make movies like that, with hajaar impressionable kids ready to lap up anything that tells them that it's ok to 'seize the day'. A good performance by Neil's dad (Red Foreman in the 70's show), but the story dies somewhere. What a pansy chickflick. An abrupt ending, a mockery of Tennyson, and omigod- a love story hidden in the script somewhere. Throw in a ghagra choli and some songs, and you've got yourself a hindi movie. Hold up... Mohabbatein? Damn. I still prefer "Good Morning Vietnam' and 'Mork and Mindy' as Williams' better works.

Also, the 9 o'clock movie was 'Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo'. Memorable quote: "Who's the HUGE bitch?" Snark, Snark. (So I'm gross. Bite me.)

Abstract thoughts
---Only randomness, or a stochastic likeness to reality, could validate Godel. Now randomness has been verified ages ago, so we might as well give up looking for a '42'. Ergo, GUT dreams go down the drain.
---Chicks are better than guys. They're smart and believe their own stories. Hence, their sincerity is genuine.
---In a few more decades, I'm not going to want to die. Right now, I don't want to live. What's in between? (Besides, I understand that none of us want to die. My question is- why are we AFRAID of death? Not liking it is one thing, but wher's the fear coming from?)
---(Bertrand R.) The world has been created just a few moments ago, with your memory being just an illusory past that's been programmed into your head. Worth some thought.

PS- The brickbats that're going to come for DPS, let me offer a preliminary defense- The movie said nothing new, it was obvious as hell where the story was going, and I'm not sure RW had more than a couple of pages of substantial dialogue throughout the movie. Oh captain, my captain... Patch Adams had more soul than this.

Friday, December 17, 2004

Well, this blog comes extempore, from a stinky cyber cafe where the power's gone out and the queue is half a mile long. Suckers. Today I blog to satisfy myself, and to make sure I've got something to read a few years later when I'm 'soul-searching' and doing other psycho-bullshit.

1. Borges is my new literary God. The man is a true master of the short story, and has a knack for pulling twists to a story when it isn't even necessary. Inventive as hell. Notables were "Tlon, Uqbar and [something] Tertius", and the entire Artifices section.

2. This week, E.A.Poe slips down to second spot, but only because 'the purloined letter' didn't seem as mentally stimulating as any of his other works. Then again, maybe I'm too obsessed with the idea of gloomy writing to appreciate this piece right now.

3. No matter how much people claim that they're broad-minded, open and non-judgemental; through cracks in this viciously deceptive facade I can recognize sarcasm, hate and the opinions biased by atleast a decade of opinions being shoved down their throats. No need to be apologetic, of course, but I figure even the most wicked of witches (from the east?) can reform by adhering to the 3-step rule:
One- Honesty, let manners be damned.
Two- Like Aristotle said in 'Apology'; we're all stupid. (or something to that effect). Once that knowledge as been truly accepted by us, can we hope to achieve any sort of greatness.
Three- The ability to choose must be exercised at EVERY possible chance. And all choice must be determined by what you already know to be true, not by what someone has convinced you to be true.

Oops. There's a contradiction in there somewhere. Won't you be a darling and tell me what it is?

4. Last night I swore never to have anything to do with juniors. It's going to be just me and my buddies. Those kids sure can hurt someone. And I'm supposed to be the nice guy around. Giggle, pshaw and all that.

5. (Brag mode ON) Finally got a nifty new digital camera. Really cool. Awesome. Yummy. Say cheese, please.

My little world of readers, good night. Any questions?

PS- the whole iitm gang who visit this blog, hi there. My name's Pi, i hope you're having fun at my expense. Watch out for more incomprehensible doggerel. It can only get worse!

Sunday, December 12, 2004

Nice Guys

Hey people,
This is one post i'm republishing, cuz right now the flavour of the week happens to be short stories and many more people visit the blog now than when i had published this for the first time.. this one was written in my basic course in humanities exam, long long time ago(not really round 8 months ago!)...its retro-kini!:D hope you like this one. its one of my favourites.


I saw her then, looking absolutely ravishing in a blue gown as the sapphires she wore rested oh so lightly on the curve of her breasts, glowing with the same radiance her face seemed to exude. I was in town only for a few days and I’d already decided that I didn’t like London. I decided that I’d spend my last evening in the city with the only people that I ever liked, arrogant French painters…

There was an art exhibition of Auguste Renoir’s just off Bond Street and I forced myself to take the cab there. I didn’t know whether I was hallucinating or whether it was the scotch that I had during lunch but she was walking towards me. I offered her a drink and we talked through the evening. I was taken aback by how easy it was just to relax with her. It seemed as if it had been years since I’d known someone like her.

I decided to offer her a ride home, but before I could act she suggested that we go to my place for dessert. I took her to the plaza (I never stayed anywhere else). We entered the room and just then I felt the overpowering need to be intimate with her, the need almost bordered on obsession. I reached out for her and she never resisted.


I woke up in the morning to find my wife and daughter sitting on the couch. The tension in the room was palpable. It was heady feeling. I didn’t know what to say or what to think. My daughter slowly got up and walked over to me and in an instant she had embraced me. I hadn’t seen my daughter in eight years. I hadn’t made love to my wife in eight years... until yesterday. I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. But then again, nice guys don’t always finish last!

P.S:- Pi hope you dont mind the fact that i used the hyphen line thingy to space the story more effectively, its a trick i rather like!:)

Mukka's Door

an insight i found in final block...one of many insights on life to be gained in that mythical place... on mukka's door as the name suggests.

"This man is free from servile bands,
Of hope to rise or fear to fall,
lord of himself though not of lands,
he who craves nothing, yet hath all"

awesome shit!:D

The Haiku Dialogues

hello everyone...
have been immersing myself in a little bit of creative conversation these days with some interesting people i know and at the front end of these talks has been the art of the haiku. couple of people i know, namely anushya and pi have been belting out haiku's at a frenetic pace and my sms folder is bursting with them at the moment, hence this post comes with a certain note of desperation attached to it.. i want to empty my inbox, its annoying me!:p

i shall try to state the context of each haiku comes up and memory failing will leave it to the readers fertile imagination to try and decipher what sort of ludicrous train of thought brought those collection of syllables together. a refresher for the novice...

haiku = ancient japanese style of poetry with three lines containing 5-7-5 syllables each. i encourage everyone who drops by to try composing one of their own, a word of warning though, this may lead to many a sunday afternoon spent mindlessly counting syllables trying to fit them into the requisite format! enjoy!

This one was written just a couple of days back, with me sitting in final block(NIT surathkal) pi had his last exam the next day and dare i say was in a very life's a bitch but what the heck sort of mood. entertaining conversations at night canteen ensued following this haiku, kinda was a sort of cry for help...i hate software enginnering too pi...whatever the heck it is!:p

The boy stares at the screen,
loves porn for all the big boobs,
wants to touch himself.

The next two were written by pi the night before my math end sem, the last one in line, me and anushya were sitting in the library with her desperately trying to get me to grasp the nuances of the art of abstract mathematics, with all its delta's and epsilons! god they were giving me hell when suddenly my cell phone beeps and i guffawed quite heartily for a while after reading what the msgs were. lol...a ray of hope and nothing else, showed me humour was possible even when math was being learnt!

light guides me at night,
relief for bladder and mind,
dont pee in the fridge.

frogs watch the sunrise,
tongues flash out in crimson sky,
oh poor dragonfly!

This was anushya getting all thoughtful when i was sitting on the train ride back home, we were pursuing the higher art of haiku dialogues via sms.. yay for technology!

look into my eyes
search not for what you do see,
but for what you dont.

the only actual dialogue that we had via a haiku, she was gettig steadily more and more tangential as the haiku's began to flow and i sent her a reply this was fun to do! nice party game i say!(ok i just sounded like rajinikanth! whattaman!)

as you race by me,
remember its easier,
to stab from the back.

stab you in the back,
how i'd love to do that,
damn, my brakes don't work!

This was a result of anushya sending me a particularly sad haiku regarding a hungry girl...funnily enough it encouraged me to write my own haiku on the theme...kinda pointless this one..oh what am i saying..all of them are pointless!

hunger strikes full on,
loud cars, louder men honk on,
oh red light be gone!

Anushya's best one to date according to me and pinni agrees. dont think it requires too much of an introduction. good work anu! profound, but i wish she was more hopeful sometimes!

in the maze of life,
i cannot get lost for i..
have nowhere to go.

this was me a couple of seconds ago...its a sunday evening (duh!) and well am listening to a few senti songs and the sun outside is well..intoxicating to say the least! i love lazy times!

the glitter of spring,
earthy guitar notes fill me...
ah sunday evenings!

well until next time guys!:)

Saturday, December 11, 2004

Ché faro senza té?

(Mind you, this is still a rough draft, and I've simply ctrl.c-ctrl.v-ed from my LJ blog. I hope you like it.)

Ché faro senza té?

Meera came home that night later than usual.

It was way beyond a decent hour before Meera actually reached the door of her double bedroom apartment, now badly in need of a new coat of paint. But that was later. Right now she was driving down the road at a comfortable pace, despite how late it was. She took the left bypass and noticed how empty the roads were. The dashboard clock showed 11:45 pm, and made her realize how late she actually was.

Idly she thought to herself, if I lived in a different time zone, life would be much better. Life sure had changed in the past for Meera and Krish. Krish had one of those ‘creative’ jobs in the marketing department of a cosmetics major, which basically meant he was being paid peanuts for sitting and designing ads for cheap shampoo and bad cologne. Meera advanced in the executive ranks through the textile industry though, and was getting to be quite the breadwinner for the home. Of course, this meant that she wasn’t home most of the days, and some of the nights. A case of want versus need.

Red light.
“I’m sorry, but the customer’s phone you’ve called has been switched off.”
Dammit. Krish never puts his phone off. I wonder what’s wrong.
Green light.

They used to be the favorite young couple in their social circle, but that was a long time ago. There is nothing to be said of their friends, plainly because there weren’t any. They hadn’t even gone out to dinner for a long time, now just living off delivery and ready-to-cook food. It wasn’t too difficult making the house up with pretty figurines and yuppie artifacts. Krish used to while away most of the night surfing the net, bored out of his skull. Once a week he would lovingly wash and polish his bike, then ride around for a half hour before coming back home and hitting the sack. He’d indulge in a book now and then, but of what use reading one, when there’d be no one to talk to about it? In short, not only had the romance in their life died, but they had also become total strangers to each other.

She even forgot his birthday that year.

Krish looked at his watch for the umpteenth time. That’s it, he thought. That’s as long as I’m going to wait for her. She hasn’t turned up, and that’s fine by me. But tonight he’d give her one last chance. Till midnight. He poured himself another shot of whisky and gulped it down. And waited.

The radio was playing one of those mundane Bollywood themes, but that didn’t bother Meera too much. She was thinking about the past, and not many things can distract a person from doing that. She remembered the long drives, the dinners, the marathon phone conversations… life had seemed quite perfect then. They’d been very much in love, and everyday had been a futile exercise in keeping their hands off each other. They didn’t realize that life was getting repetitive and the spark that had brought them together in the first place was long gone. By then it was too late; the full mouthed kisses soon became informal pecks on the cheek, and now they just gave each other an informal pat on the back every morning.

The clock beeped at midnight. She found herself feeling sorry for the sordid state of affairs. An involuntary tear rolled down her cheek which she absent-mindedly wiped away with her left hand. Maybe she could give some more time to her husband. He had been generous, kind and caring; she was obligated to atleast try and salvage the marriage. It might even happen that some buried love would come out of this attempt. Ironic, she thought, that such a boring end would have come of this relationship. None of the pomp and glamour associated with a Hindi movie breakup. She immediately shut the radio up and cursed it for trying to put sublime thoughts into her head. She missed him too much already. Tonight she’d talk to him, and try to get back to a life of a married couple, living the life of a husband and wife as they should. It seemed to be the right thing to do, and she spent the rest of the drive planning the conversation she would have with him, and the words she would use in it.
Soon the car passed through the gates of the residential complex, with little interference from security. The guard couldn’t help but notice the look of anxiety on Madam’s face, like she was nervous of confrontation. He looked up at their flat and observed that the lights were out, which probably meant that Krish Sahib was asleep. Back to work, he thought, and settled into his chair. Meera locked the door of the car, and walked hurriedly to the lift. The ‘out of order’ sign turned her towards the stairs, and in a few hops and jumps she was standing outside her apartment door.

The nameplate ‘Krishnan and Meera Iyer’ stared back at her, making her want to burst into tears that very moment. But no, she had to remain calm and composed. She wanted to talk to Krish in a proper manner, and not project herself as an emotional fool. Her key opened the door easily enough and she stepped inside, only to be disappointed to see that the lights were out. He’s asleep, she reasoned, so I guess this’ll have to wait till tomorrow. Almost relieved of a burden, she walked into the dimly-lit kitchen, looking around for leftovers. She found some curry and rice in the fridge, and decided on a bottle of fruit juice as well. She placed the meal on the table and noticed a clean white envelope on it. The words ‘I Love You’ were written in the center, and for a moment, Meera didn’t know what to do. She took the envelope and walked to the bedroom, meaning to ask Krish about it. After reaching the room, the sight of him sleeping quietly in the darkness changed her mind. She walked back to the dinner table and opened the envelope as she sat down. Inside were his wedding ring and a single sheet of paper. Hesitatingly, the paper came out and she saw a letter in his handwriting.

Dear Meera,
I love you. Ché faro senza té?
For many a lonely night, my heart has become sadder and heavier. The queen of my life has lost her love for me, and nothing I can do can get it back. Where have you been?
I miss you so much that it hurts. I ache inside when I remember the life we used to have, and the love that swept through it, consuming our every waking moment. Why did it go away? Was I mistaken when you said ‘forever’? How could someone I knew so intimately become a stranger in my own world?
I don’t want to hurt so much anymore, honey. You were the center of my life but now you’ve turned away. I apologize for the times I couldn’t make you happy, and for all the misguided attempts at doing so. I understand the life you live and the commitments you make; yet I cannot bear to be around in an empty house waiting every time for you. I know I can’t hope at us getting back together, and that thought saddens me even more. What more can I say?


The shock of the letter burned through her soul in an instant. He was going to walk out on her. After all the silence, he was leaving her. Ché faro senza té… where had she heard that before? She stood up and walked to the bedroom door, now determined to wake Krish up. She would beg and plead, try to get things worked out. Maybe it wasn’t too late after all. Atleast now she knew that he still loved her. And she truly believed that she loved him too. She flicked on the switch and walked up to the bed, and casually looked at the bedside table. On it was a glass, a half-empty bottle of whisky, and strips of tablets. Sleeping tablets. Slowly, she turned Krish over and placed a hand on his chest, hoping to find a heartbeat. And that’s when she realized where she had heard the phrase. When Krish used to write poetry to her, this Italian piece was a recurrent line. The motionless chest seemed to scream out those very words to her now.

Ché faro senza té?
What would I do without you?


Friday, December 10, 2004

Five minutes alone

Everybody leaves. Suddenly the whole room seems colder, and the walls emptier than a prostitute's soul. It takes a few seconds to get used to the rapid change of mode, from 'nice chap' to 'nobody'. I feel every fibre of cloth rubbing against my skin, asking me to lose myself to the essence of pure touch, skin vs thread. The phone buzzes in my pocket silently, but I'm too much into the sanctity of self-imposed peace to bother about that. That's right, it feels great to be by myself, falling deeper and deeper into the vissicitudes of a soul that's been corrupted by the world for too long.

A light flashes slowly across the night sky, and the oil refinery skyline seem to be talking to me today. In words I cannot describe, they scream out " ". It's a personal emotion that gives me joy, oh dear lord, what joy! My dear friend the wall lizard takes his own solitary walk across the cupboard, aiming for the poor insect stuck in the corner. Ah, evolution and the food chain.

In my mind, I see my reality. It's a big ugly fish that swallows all the tiny fishes, effortlessly and without mercy. I'm one of those tiny fishes. I truly believe that I'm enveloped by hate, pain, suffering and a multitude of opinions that try to change me, my thought, the way I lead my life. Oh, for one moment of unadulterated thought, where my mind would wander the world as it pleases, away from the artficial metallic air that poisons it. What must I do?

I close my eyes, and flashes of light streak across the mental horizon, with no room for untruths. The patterns they form remind me of the cosmic dance that the starss above perform all by themselves, heeding not the human wants that rule us, nor the needs that define us. Like globules of heaven, the dance contines. On and on...

"Dude, pass the joint."

Huh? Back to the real world. Dammit. Just when I was starting to enjoy myself.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Did you know?

Hi, my friends call me Pi, so I guess you can too.
I make clickety sounds with my left foot. On a good day, I can do it with my right as well. I can even do the heel-clicking thing that chaplin made so famous. Nothing more I can say about myself, so I guess this is the best introduction I can make of myself.

"One does not apply shit on his own ass in order to become a cow." - Profound Konkani saying.

I write as well. Hello World, and all that.

Sunday, December 05, 2004


"You're on in 5 sir..."

The lights whizzed, the colours hung in front of his eyes, the music played over and over again. This was it... peace. "Its been so long.." he thought quietly to himself. The crowds sang, chanted, and yelled for him. "Poignant, that’s what it is, them calling for me, wonder if they ever think for themselves?"

He was 3 when he first picked up the guitar. He furiously worked at that instrument, religiously picking at each string and listening in amazement as it created music. Talent never really was an issue. He loved it more than life itself. "Or so I thought". It took him places that nothing other than a combination of rock and stupid decisions could have. Away from the people he loved and into a world where chemicals created most of the reality.

"Dad I’m sorry I never meant to hurt your feelings when I left, I loved you too, and mum too, she was awesome, I thought you wouldn’t understand but you were right, I should’ve paid more attention to who I hung out with." The chanting continued, the thoughts continued to whiz in his brain, clarity was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time, the effect of the acid wasn’t as tangible this time “maybe that’s because it’s the first time I’ve thought of dad in a long time, damn if only I’d seen things like this when I was 14”....

"3 minutes to Showtime"....he chuckled softly.."Showtime..Ironic, don’t really have that much to show for myself. I’ve been preaching death, cynicism, pain and everything that negates life and the worst bit is that those nimrods listen...why...why...WHY GODAMMIT?"

"Crap, why did Tom have to "discover" us in that fucking dingy hole of a club? The dirt that came there didn’t have a chance anyway, but not that kid...he had a chance. He had a girlfriend that loved him, 17 he was they told me, a kid sister and parents, just like me..a long time ago. Andrew, the kid had a name. the bastard was smart, full scholarship to Berkeley... fuck...it isn’t my fault, I don’t want it to be my fault! I didn’t want those kids to listen...I swear it"...1 minute.

"Acid, of all things, the kid had to take too much acid...god damn it, fuck Hendrix, its his fault, he started it and I listened… damn it I listened, and he listened to me, no it ends here, no more listening." He grabbed as many pills as he could in one shot, “Idiots” he thought.. “they’ll kill themselves with this shit someday” and then chuckled.. “Irony.” Swinging the guitar round his shoulder he headed out into the smoke and the colour.

Showtime... "No more"...chanting, lights, music, fuzz.

"No more listening..."

Monday, November 29, 2004


well thats the first thing that came to my mind when i tried to describe how my head was feeling.. i write this post exactly 50 mins before my end sem chemistry exam in hope that writing will clear some of the crazy static in my brain. wish these bastards would understand that cramming a crapload of information to study in one semester doesnt really help in the deeper understanding of chemistry. but then again, senile bastards can be that way sometimes...

as i speak heated discussions rage in the corridors of 7th wing..as to how the molecular orbital theory should technically be the most stupid idea on the planet.. and guess what? it works...surprise surprise.. that goes for almost every other mind numbing piece of mathematical bullshit that they try to pass of as the behaviour of materials around us! i dont know whether i'll survive this...but for now i shall have idli sambar and coffee in the mess...(O Joy!)*hangs horns*

Sunday, November 28, 2004

To Live Life

These are the words of the master himself. Henry David Thoreau. And they shall speak for themselves and for me...for this is how i wish to feel for the rest of my existence.

.... I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately,
to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not
learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover
that I had not lived.

I did not wish to live what was not
life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation,
unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck
out all the marrow of life


O Me! O Life!

Another poem that i came across that i positively adored. hadn't heard of this whitman chap until recently, but boy can he write. such pertinent questions, such insightful and luminous answers...heck such insight on life.. this is what perspective (the right one is all about). i love the answer.

O ME! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring - What good amid these, O me, O life?


That you are here - that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Walt Whitman

That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. the thought itself makes my skin tingle with inspiration. beauty in words incarnate.

The Road Not Taken

This one is a poem... i've always liked frost. most of you might have read "stopping by the woods on a snowy evening". thats the one that ends with the lines "And miles to go before i sleep".

have always been able to relate to him on a very honest level. just thought it'd be apt to share this one cuz its kinda what i'm wishing i'll say 20 odd years down the line..

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

Saturday, November 27, 2004

why is it that time seems to sit on its ass and stare you in the face whenever you're supposed to be doing something responsible?

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Reliance Industries.... talk about oxymorons.

Haiku Of The Dew

here's something i found when i was surfing the net and random blogs.this is supposed to be a haiku, the ancient japanese style of poetry which follows the rule of 5-7-5 syllables in the three lines.

poetry par excellence...keats didnt know what he was talking about.

i drink mountain dew
its yum
its also yellow.

ROTF LMAO...still cant stop laughing!

Thursday, November 18, 2004

The Edge

guess all i needed was a makeover(for the blog that is...and no metrosexuality implied(/pun)hil:D) ...and a poem from hil.

i'm back and i needed some therapy for myself, i'm not sure whether i have it yet...but i'm sure leaving this place isnt the answer. but the previous post will remain serving as a reminder to me as to how much it hurt when i tried to leave, writing is my love..but for now i shall say oh whatever...nevermind!

coming back to the topic at hand. i went back home this weekend. was an awesome trip, old memories relived, old friends revisited and family well thats another story altogether..home always seems to welcome me unconditionally, fantastic feeling that i can never really get over. the sights, the sounds and even the smells of such a familiar place like mangalore (i've lived there all my life) are indeed therapy for a supposedly skinny, prematurely balding, neurotic juvenile delinquent like me!

one of the most wild-ass (no other adjective to describe it) trips was the one i made to surathkal. NITK like i said has changed beyond all recognition, but walking among its familiar corridors that played home to me for one year was something that cant really be quantified, beautiful (understatement). meeting friends, pi and barua especially was something that was something i couldnt really stomach in one go..but not in retrospect they were totally awesome to me!(notice the over use of the word awesome in this post):p.

Me: dude, it feels like life called me up and put me on hold.
Pi: its ok let life do it, she's paying the bill.
Me: *therapy attained!*

ok so NITK has this place called "final block" its where all the final years live..and needless to say its the hub of all activity, the core of which is called the "H" wing and the H is completely open to interpretation. i'll have to elaborate on its legend before i proceed, people even go to temples so that their chances of getting a room in final block during the drawing of chits. supposedly its sheen has diminished with some of the crowd with the coming up of 8th block and its sanitised environments, but to me final block will always remain the stuff of legend. as for "h" wing..at the risk of sounding like one of those "orange is the new pink" fashion gurus...i shall say "h is the new g"...cuz before this year "g" wing was the hub of all "activity".

so i go there with pi..who at the risk of sounding cliched and with due apologies to pfunk and the NW gang is "whattaman!". and after a lot of climbing of metaphorical altitudes, we decide to do it literally and climb to the terrace of final block, which is closed unfortunately, but *there's always a but* there's this opening big enough for a man to fit through, so we climb up there and after quite a few rather precarious stunts we get onto a tiny little rainwater ledge, big enough to seat about 6 people.

this place has like the most amazing view, you sit 150 feet in the air, in a boat like ledge, facing a sheer drop onto nothing, its the night, the stars are out and right in front of you is the most amazing view, mangalore has this factory called MRPL and it night its nothing but a huge string of lights strewn perfectly in view of the edge, the lights suspended in the night along with you and your thoughts form the most amazing experience you'll ever know. you cant talk, you cant think, you're just there suspended along with the rest of time. patterns that arent discernable at first shot come whizzing into focus after 5 mins and you finally begin to digest the whole experience (stomach it if you will). patterns like japanese anime like fighter jets, a dead upside down cow, a man with a severed head.. they're all there open for you to see and interpret and there are people you know and like by your side, its another world altogether. awesome...truly.

the trip back and the recovery from it gave me a lot of perspective on life, so did a couple of internet therapy sessions with great pals (M credit to you). i guess i havent lost my way after all. just got sent to a new place, and i needed to find myself again. i dont know if i have yet...but i know i'm getting there! couldnt let go of the blog...i literally had withdrawal symptoms.

current mood:hopeful
Music:"learn to be still" - Eagles

"there are so many contradictions
in all these messages we send
keep askin...how do i get out of here?
where do i fit in?"

i love those lines!

Monday, November 15, 2004

as M put it... the dawn of a new day

lets cut to the chase.
life has moved on...i guess its about time i should too. hil got his own blog and i found out about it 4 months later, NITK life has been recast beyond all recognition, ol' pals are that much more distant. but i guess thats how the cookie crumbles.

couple of good things this blog has given me.. i've learnt to lower my expectations, so life now seems so much better. i'm smiling all the way, and even thought this post may sound dark, i leave here with hope swelling in my chest. the past month has been the best when it comes to relationships, nostalgia, love, old friendships, new ones too, meeting people and relating to them.

its been awesome and (now that i've quoted min lets quote barua) here at the end of all things:D i stand alone, its time to move on and accept IITM as my beautiful tropical forest of a home (the most reassuring part is that i think i have!:D). i might get my own hillstation(punny?)... or i might continue to write privately for catharsis as CB and barua put it. but the goat's bleat of free uncluttered thought shall always resound on terra firma and beyond *grandiose as usual eh kini?* (oh that was my sub-conscious mind).

i loved writing for you all.. and i wouldnt trade the experience for the world. i just need solitude's earnings(that one was stolen from Pi). lol i'm such a great thief.

i bid you all adieu.
Kini a.k.a MGM a.k.a the wise goat

Monday, November 01, 2004

Just had an afterthought... a sunny one at that. to quote a friend of mine in IITM.

"oh balls! cha, whats the point with you screwing with your head. shut up and be happy."

amen bhide...amen!

No I Don't Have A Gun!

everything seems to be going well...
i went for a concert, met old friends and made new ones, heard abt the ones at home going crazy and having a thumping good time and have made some great pals in IITM. so whats missing? i dont quite know.
simple and trite as this answer is its the truth.

dont quite know how to place it. and i know i've been ranting on the blog about this rather pointlessly for quite a while now and the charade of making it look like real literature has been wearing thin with every passing post. i apologise for the gloss, but its an old habit. actually an inbuilt reflex if you may, business, showmanship all in my blood. a couple of things that i do decently well.

here's the deal...i'm stuck in a place filled with gifted mathematicians and people who are passionate about what they do...at least some of whom i've met are like that...i'm sure there are the ones that have no clue as to what they are doing and are just here cuz their parents told them they should get there...but then i think it'll be fair not to consider them cuz such people exist everywhere.

so back to this place i'm in. i dont quite know what it is...maybe its really as stifling as i make it out to be, or maybe its just home sickness and initial adjustment, or maybe i'm just a prick who cant be happy even when there's an amazing thing staring him in the face. the fact is regardless of the reason... the consequence (i.e the emotion of deep unsettlement) remains.

then there are the things i do well on campus...writing, literature generally, theatre, quizzing to some extent, talking to people mostly, playing basketball... here's the catch.. and this time as i promised myself, i'm going to be brutally honest. i'm in a branch called metallurgy and materials science and problem? i want chemical. the irony? i dont know whether it'll be of any use whatsoever in the future.. (i'll elucidate on that later) here's the issue laid very very bare (this constitutes emotional pornography) for a branch change, i have to slog my butt of for a good cgpa. and i hate being judged relatively...alright fine thats bullshit...we're all judged relatively. the problem is that i want to study when i want, do theatre when i want, be able to attend every practice session of the insti basketball team without fail and still do fairly well in the exams and at the same time not care about my cgpa.

yes yes i know i made abt half a dozen or probably more contradicting statements over there... but thats what i really want.. to hell with logic and reason.. happiness is what i'm looking for? arent we all?
and since its pretty evident that all that shit i wrote above isnt likely to happen anytime soon, its very likely that i'll be spending quite a while scratching my prematurely balding scalp (as i put it when i wrote in to another friend). yes folks.. there it is, i want to bake the cake, make the icing, have the cake and eat the bloody thing too... i want it all.. and i'm sicky of being guilty abt it.

now we come to the issue of why i want chemical. i've been trying to figure that one too and well i come up with a nice big list of so called "conventional" reason...ranging from i'm familiar with it cuz a chem engg was my roomie for 2 years and so i'll have an easy 4 years if i end up in chemical to the fact that my dad owns a paint factory and i've always been surrounded by chemical reactors since i was a kid ... yes this is all true, but bottom line is that the other day when i tried to give up on the BC thing, i went and sat in the lib in front of the chemical engg section and for no reason (remember i've let reasn fly out the window.. this is me..naked) i wanted that branch, i felt a longing, the air being knocked out of my lungs, the works.

i've always wanted to be a businessman.. the high flying, jetsetting, over ambitious son of a bitch that owns wall street. and i always project an inhuman almost obscene amount of confidence when it comes to that. but here's the truth (and i'm tired of hiding it) i'm scared.. shit scared.. i dont know whether i'm good enough to make it. heck i dont know if i'm any good with real money.. sure i know some management jargon and i can dazzle people for a while with the whole slick boy routine but i dont know if i'll ever learn enough and be good enough to get where i want to..

and here's the greater fear.. i'm scared i'll give up on the dream someday and spend the rest of my life in some half bitter-half hearted effort to "rise". i'm shivering as i write this, but i need my fucking therapy.. i'm sick of bottling it all up. i dont bloody know how to deal with it. i need help and i dont know what kind. i dont know whom to ask. i dont know if i'm alone, i care abt that.. i dont know why, sympathy, empathy, love, people's opinions, my dad and mum, my sister, ria...all of them matter to me. screw individualism i need people around me. i'm scared that by the time i sort this monumental emotional mess, life would've moved on and i'll spend the rest of my fucking life on some metaphorical empty highway with nothing to gain and no will left.

i dont know..but somehow if someone told me that all of us are as lost as i am.. it would make me feel better.. does that make me a sadist, a kill joy? i dont know.. but its the truth.

i'm breathing easier now... i dont know for how long, i still have to study, i still want good grades and yet not care about them, i still wanna play basketball and be able to see my angel whenever i want. impossible requests.. why the fuck do we make them even when we know we wont get them. god if you're up there and offer free therapy, this would be a great time to pay jamuna a visit.

the goat rests...for now atleast.

Thursday, October 28, 2004

Learn to be still

i'm back.

its been a while and well to be honest my head's been in a really erratic state of mind. trying to deal with expectations that didnt quite turn out the way i wanted them to and battles that lasted longer than i wanted them to. well to out it very bluntly,(i'm going to let artistic tendencies fly right out the window here and be very blunt about the damn thing) my head is shot to hell, i'm tired of fighting and having expectations thrown right back in my face and i'm back to the one thing that'll listen to me and wait for me no questions asked...my keyboard.

the thing is that when i came here there was a very strange touch of "not quite". for years i thought... this was it. the place, the home of heroes, my glory run.. the olympic torch..all the bells and whistles. but here's the catch..simply put. its "not quite" it. i figured, i'd get here and it would all be done for a long time (at least until i graduate). well part of the blame has to fall on the people who paint this place as if its the end of the world. bright people do live here... really bright people to.. the kind of people that you expect to get somewhere in life. but here's the catch. they push you to the limit before you go out there. you know that old corny saying "the strongest steel goes through the hardest fire" well surprise suprise...its true!

i wanted something... i thought the ordeal was over and done with in august when i got here. but right now after a lot of agonising and grappling with the whole..whats wrong? why don't i feel like i belong? why isnt it over? why is that feeling of "not quite" still nibbling away at me? i've come up with one answer. its a hard one to digest so its probably the right answer (thats usually the case). the work is never done, glory runs arent things that just happen after writing a six hour long phy-chem-math slug fests. glory runs are the results of a whole life's work. plugging away at a singular goal.. like a laser, unrelenting, intense and achieved only by those who realise what real hard work entails. i know this is pretty obvious shit and our parents keep telling us this. but like i said, its easy to listen to but hard to digest.

i've always wished for all that jazz! the works, comfort, learjets, lifestyles of the rich and famous (who doesn't?). but i thought i had a chance... but i never did until today. today was when it really hit me. if i want to take it easy for a nice reaal long time then the planet will run rings around my sun tanned brain. i will have a good time, but it cant cost me my work..i like working... but the trouble was that i looked at work like it was a chore. and heres the problem. when you look at something like its something mundane. you tire of it real easy and i guess thats where the mistake lies...two simple things.. very commonly heard..in fact my dad always told me this...but i always pushed it aside saying it was drivel.

1)enjoy your work...love it like you love your life, because thats the one thing you'll be doing for a long long time.

2) dont assume things about life. those assumptions come back to bite you in the butt. same goes expectations..which are the worst kind of assumptions.

i guess now finally...i'll learn to be still. the eagles knew what they were talking about!

Wednesday, October 13, 2004


Sometimes things hit you like a brick wall you've been running into all the time but didnt notice because it was all dark around you.. and then there's that moment when it all happens.. suddenly someone switches on the light you see the wall in front of you but its way too late. you ram into it with full force. the magnitude of the realisation hits you like a runaway train.. and then your left scratching your head wondering where the hell you were headed all this time.

then you start telling yourself that you thought it would be different. but then again there always was that little something in your head that kept telling you what you didnt want to hear. that this wasnt the end. that the culmination was waaaaay off and this was just a path, a tough one at that. something you'd have to endure to be branded as the best. suddenly you step back and take defensive measures and try to have as much fun as possible in the process. if you havent felt it yet... its quite a rush. Life, someone once told me...has much more to it!

"when rape is inevitable....lay back and enjoy!"
-R.D.Kini(a.k.a me dad!:D)

Thursday, September 30, 2004

The Man Who Lived

I was sitting at the coffee shop the other day when I realized that I enjoy talking to people a lot. They have myriad things to teach you. It’s all about the human experience. The way they think, the perspectives from which they view things and even the sorts of music that they like or the magazines they read, all these things offer a chance to learn. All these attributes of the men and women I meet coupled with the so called “flaws” are what make them truly interesting.

The best part about people is that even though they’re so different, they co-exist, they have a common ground, a plateau on which they can communicate with their fellow humans. This art of communication is what totally intrigues me. All of us have experienced that moment when you make direct eye contact with another person and you just “know” what he’s thinking. This sort of or rather level of communication that two humans share is something that even the most analytical branches of science can’t justify or comprehend.

The universal language of a laugh, a tear, a frown or a nod. The way you somehow convey to a vegetable vendor in Beijing that you would like some carrots at a particular rate even though you’re bloody lost in the market, the way you tell the woman you love that she’s the one that lights up your day and adds color to your world just by a gentle caress and a deep look into her eyes, the way you tell your son that your proud of him just by giving him that look with you chin high. All these gestures are so innately human, so exquisite that they are in essence what add that delicate and intricate touch to the beautiful trip that is our mortal lives.

I had a great tendency to be an individualist. A stand alone rebel, a man who kept saying, one man is enough to change the world and the others are completely irrelevant. But over the course of time I’ve matured enough to admit a couple of things… other people matter. Why? Simply because they exist. Yes, a man, one man and his will can change the whole world; he can work miracles, build industries and create marvels in art or music. But life isn’t complete without other people. Be it the love of a woman, the protectiveness of a father, the nurturing sentiment of a mother or even the respect of a fellow producer, a brother in arms so to speak. All these emotions, these gestures of love, respect and brotherhood are what truly convey to us why we are social animals.

I agree with Ayn Rand when she said “I swear by my life and my love for it, that I shall never live for the sake of another man nor ask another man to live for the sake of mine.”
But most people have a great tendency to misinterpret this line as something where you completely alienate yourself from society in general and become some crazed ego-maniac who thinks others are immaterial.

I am a man. I love my life, and I live it for no one else. I have an aim, a purpose, and a direction. I wish to be able to afford the price of admission to heaven… my heaven. The heaven where the corridors are lined with the great men that I admired, a hall of fame of victory and of triumph. A place where all the men of ability, logic and reason reside and my heaven to walk amongst these men, these creators of life and beauty and get a pat on the back from them. I want to hear the words “well done sahil” at the end of it. From the men I respect and no one else and then I wish to take my place among those corridors and await then next generation… the men of the mind. My dream is to be respected by those I respect. My dream to earn the earth, live my life and own both. My aim is to prove that the goal of existence on this beautiful planet is happiness itself.

Here on earth, I live for my work, my principles, my love, myself. My life will be a beacon, a light, not to be misinterpreted as some fanatical individualist propaganda, but to be seen as a man, in the real sense of the word. Not some parasite who bought and lived on the ideas, thoughts, labors of others and not as an elitist who ignored the existence of a world around him and fellow men fighting with him, but as someone who knew what the real relationship between two true humans must be like, who knew where the threshold for one human being began and where it ended and how it demarcated an individual from a brother in arms.

In my heaven I have stated the essence of how an army is built by a soldier, an economy by an industrialist and a hall of fame by a man. I don’t want to say that one man alone is the end, for he wants approval, he wants appreciation, he wants a sense of belonging, but all this only with the people he has the respect for. I’m certainly not promoting any sort of collectivism here… every man is an isle but the ocean is dotted with them.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

Confessions Of A Dangerous Mind

This is one really honest piece i wrote when i was studying for the JEE. the context in which was written was one of great uncertainty, vascillating between too many doubts and a future that was very unclear. NITK was a time when i didn't know where i was going and was fighting too many battles at once, trying to do decently in a new college, study for jee and manage relationships that i probably wasnt mature enough to handle. but there always was this small sense of hope in me.. it's a beautiful thought in retrospect that some part of me (even if it was the over confident side) didnt give up.. i held on.. it was worth it!:D here's the piece people.

"And then I collapsed with a dull thud, like that when someone dies without knowing, without meaning, but at the same time without protest and without thought. Shallow breaths, taken not in panic, but out of a state of exhaustion, out of lazy disgust for the state of things around me and within me, my eyelids droop out of too much sleep out of a feeling of redundance so repulsive that my release would be the gift of nothing.

The feeling of drowning in quicksand engulfs me. Slowly, deliberately like the fingers of a paralysis that I never really had. But the horror lies not in the fear of being paralyzed but in the dull knowledge that the quicksand that’s eating me, my thoughts, my happiness (if I ever knew it), is not that of the beautiful nothing that I desire, but that of senseless chaos that seems to seep through every pore of my skin. I want to feel panic... I cant, I want to feel pain.... I cant, I want to feel nothing.... I cant! I cant because of the muffled paralyzing feeling bordering on the claustrophobic.

Why doesn’t it just cross over to full-fledged claustrophobia? It would be so much easier then! So much easier to feel nothing, so much easier to detach myself from it all and laugh, like a child, carelessly like I haven’t laughed in years. I would smile in peace knowing the pain would be complete then. Because completion comes finality, a terminus I so desire, an escape. An escape that I want, not desperately, not with a sense of panic and urgency.

All these adjectives would detract from the sanctity of release, but a completion i desire with a sense of slow conviction, a patience that I thought would wilt but to my delight only seems to grow stranger only in silent opposition to the insecure side of me. that my release will come, it doesn’t matter when it comes…it only matters that it will!"

Monday, September 06, 2004


This one's really, really cryptic. Personal thoughts, I guess.

There are friends... and there're Calvin and Hobbes. If you get it, good. If you don't, better. :)

They call me Phoenix.

To quote from Varun's blog:

"We may be through with the past, but the past is never through with us"

Sunday, September 05, 2004

Down The Rabbit Hole

The tunnel has ended… the running hasn’t stopped. Its kind of strange it almost feels like the inertia is too great… but then again I guess there always is a purpose and once you realize that you have to run to get there, you never slow down… but then I ask, what happens when a man is tired, when he wants a break, when he’s weak?

Why does being worn out have to debilitate you completely? In a way, I guess it’s fair. Logic and reality don’t allow for any sort of vulnerability, but on the other hand, everybody’s allowed a break right? The frustrating thing though is that people start thinking of a break as times when you have nothing to do. I consider this line of thought profane, for I have felt such moments and all you feel is this horrible emptiness, this void that seems to eat away at your thoughts and your ability like nothing else…

A break should and does imply something that relaxes your mind and body…doesn’t leave it idle but rejuvenates it, prepares it for another round of battle. Reality is harsh at times and escaping from it isn’t necessarily running away from reality but probably looking at it from a new perspective and finding time to gather your thoughts, ability and self into a refocused beam…I’m probably being very clichéd here but that’s rather irrelevant. The most clichéd of statements aren’t always the most obvious. Its only when they hit you real hard that you realize why people have been saying them all this time.

“Run, rabbit, run…
Dig that hole,
Forget the sun…
And when at last the work is done
Don’t stop… its time to dig another one”
- Pink Floyd

Friday, September 03, 2004


Hello people...
i realise its been quite a while since i've posted anything. but i guess this poem will pretty much encapsulate my thoughts for now. inspired by floyd and written at two in the morning, this probably has a very different flavour from the rest of my work.. guess i was scared of showing my fears in my literature, but its about time i showed that every human (even an over-confident nimrod like me) has an achilles heel. this ones called autumn and its dedicated to someone who showed me not to be afraid to feel.. she knows i'm talking about her. angel thanks.

Thoughts constricted, chest drawn,
Mind numb, happiness gone,
You thought you were headed for the green grass
But the raw deal you got is a senseless mass.

Run, little one, run
Crawl into bed
Doesn't matter that there are things left to be done..

Reality, preception and belief,
Things that were important..
But you've turned over a new leaf..
You've turned over a new leaf..

What an irony that the leaf is new!
The effect is the same,
The suffocation still reaches your nerve and sinew.

You thought you'd reached home..
But the grotesque jokes continue;
Life's about irony,
Something you thought you knew!

Escape seems impossible,
What do you escape from?

Reality, perception and belief,
Things that were important,
But you've turned over a new leaf..
You've turned over a new leaf..

The tunnel has ended,
But there is no light.
You walk into the darkness
And there aint no moon in sight.

Life's a bitch
And she's got an affinity for mirth;
You don't get her jokes,
The greatest one probably was your birth.

You've turned over a new leaf..
Yeah, you've turned over a new leaf..
Things are still left undone,
But guess what? Autumn's come...

- Kini

Saturday, August 14, 2004

The Last Post

This is Hil. This is my last post, basically. I figure that there's no way I'm going to be able to continue blogging here from college. The college CCC has some very stringent user restrictions. Blogging doesn't seem to work from the terminals there. Kini, you know how it is. I've had a blast. Loads of fun writing with Kin, the goat, the armadillo, the IITian animal and assorted personalities. Basically this is just to say bye. Kin, delete this post when you feel like it. I think that's kinda what it deserves. I sent you a couple of messages to tell you about this, but your bloody phone is NEVER REACHABLE. Just keeps saying you're out of range. Am developing good relations with the Hutch female who says "This Hutch number is not reachable. Please try again... later". Bah!... Call when you can or send me a message. I'll give you a ring. Loads happened at college. Have to run. Am in bangalore, M awaits. Bye.

~ Hil

Friday, August 13, 2004

Disjointed ends...

Absence of meaning, cynicism, electrical workshop and no coffee...i just found synonyms for the end of reason.

Time goes on...routine sets in...thoughts get disjointed and yet i need release. was this meaning? i dont wish to be cynical, but certain things just make me wonder. i came here expecting to find the quintessential eccentric genius, the man who was inordinately amusing and had a mastery of life and happiness while having a grip on reality, someone who i could learn from and smile in the company of and know that he understands. i came here looking for someone....i havent become him yet..for those of you who didnt understand that...the line is inconsequential and for those who did...keep smiling.

People are the same, some study, some dont want to...some have bath early, some never do. i love coffee and my roomie never touches chicken...it takes all kinds of people to make this world. i love that line... it justifies so many things!

Life has so much more to offer...but patience is the key...what is on offer is food for thought...

"Dont take life too seriously...you'll never get out alive"
-Van Wilder (party liason)

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

mobiles, piskunov and to-do lists or "why kini needs an aspirin!"

College's taking its toll on me... work, assignments, laundry, xerox copies, no music, no becker, no chinese food... lack of reason, direction and sense...only sources of solace include basky, philosophical ragging sessions and no prizes for guessing the last one.....coffee.

caffeine be praised,
spiegel be damned,
and if i write poems like this again....
may i be hanged!

Monday, August 09, 2004

it doesnt stand to reason

Reason, perception and english...lost causes in IITM... my thoughts have been obliterated...my literary skills irreperably damaged by cries of bhen chot! and my inclination towards philosophy mocked and ridiculed by those who claim to be more experienced than me in the methods of survival and literature...from russell and plato...i've moved to spiegel, beiser, bhen chot and life's a bitch... a sad demise of a flame that had a small degree of promise...

i promise myself that i shall make an attempt...however meek...to rise again... steadily...pacing myself...testing stuff out with floyd in the background...(they really do encourage thought)...and i will return with worthwhile and sensible literature...all that will happen though only once i get my PC (not for another month) *sigh*...

until then i plead thee...
tolerate me.

IITM Diary

welcome back to myself...i report from this strange and far away planet that is IITM...i check out the blog and predictably our overtly senti goodbye's have been rightly deleted. Now for the second observation on the blog, which is oddly depressing...since the time me and hil left the hit counter has clicked over 7 times....conclusion...a) life's a bitch b) we were the only ones actually visiting the blog. damn...a writers ego obliterated...nevertheless i shall rant on abt my first week at IITM.

lets go through this thing with a day by day account of the whole....shall we say...."episode".

Day 1: I come here....see madras...to my dismay (optimism be damned) madras is still stinky, dirty and friggin hot! i go to the gymkhana (club where i spent my last vestige of comfort) and settle down...
4.30 p.m: we go to the insti look around get a lil familiar with the whole place and decide to come back the next day when the whole parade begins.
10.00p.m:Reading da vinci code....*whattabook!* and thinking about the loss of comforts i'm about to suffer (yes i'm a very vain man)
10.30 p.m: Mr.Sandman pays a visit

Day 2: Come to insti huge suitcases and all and go straight to the hostel...i stay in a mad house called Jamuna (jam for short)...i reach there and the first thing i see scrawled on a huge chart paper on the notice board "ALL YE NEW WORMS....BE COMFORTABLY NUMB", supposedly a philosophy propounded by someone by the name floyd and misconstrued to be a way of life among these sad eccentric souls at IITM.

i step further into the halllowed portals of JAM and lo and behold...i'm greeted by a symphony of construction (pun intended...stupid as it is) i see wooden pillions.... insane tam contruction works throwing chappals and other assorted personal paraphernalia from the heavens...dust, grime, noise....=depression, shock, disbelief.
ooh no there's more... then we discover there's a shortage of rooms i'm packed off to a room 6'x4' where i'm supposed to share it with another guy and my brilliant calculations unfortunately pay off when i discover that there isn;t enough space for our luggage+us+table to fit...ergo, more depression, shock, disbelief...i stand in the corridors and start announcing Jam as the official abode of lucifer!

ten minutes later warden arrivess..cacophony of parents yelling...chappal throwing (not by parents) and wall drilling ensues...i repeat at this juncture...with a sufficiently dejected tone..."life's a bitch". then suddenly luck shines a wee bit brighter... they tell me that i'm in a triple seater=more space if i jostle my way there. to my pleasant surprise...a place with distincly lower quantities of dust...trees just outside the corridors and a much more peaceful place is the new address for the goat! finally a smile appears and jam suddenly looks like a better place!

i then return to the hall where we're greeted with a barrage of congratulations for getting into IIT... you guys are the best...but the job's not yet done...mug mug mug..yada yada yada... you get my drift...

7.30 p.m: i return to the gymkhana for my last night of heaven...chicken..ac...and a soft mattress...those were the days!

10.00 p.m:ponder direction, life and purpose=when i'll eat chicken chilly again....read da vinci code...think of soft bed...insomnia evaporates...

Day 3: Forms...forms...forms...food...forms....forms....ice tea...forms...did i mention forms?...
6.00 p.m: mum leaves....get senti...hold back tears on the street....its a stupid rule and i dont know why i obey it... i didnt cry. walk back...IITM seems strangely desolate and hostile...even a glance at the girls hostel only reveals either oiled tam aunties or mega mess-I....life has a way of making bad things feel worse...

walk further into the campus and finally start seeing signs of life....ice tea drowns most of my sorrows and a couple of msgs from rii and a chat with her help immensely...i feel human again...

walk into jam...and at this moment i'll think it appropriate to introduce my room mates...aah yes.. i can literally see you sadistic souls salivating at the thought that i might have gotten a bunch of oiled gults as my roomies...but life was a little kind!...i get a guy who's studied in DCE for a year and so is very well versed in the ways of college...prasanna.... then yes you cant be in IITM and be spared the company of a gult so there is one called hemant in my room...he seems to lack a larynx and never seems to be in a room....methinks gults have a mobile association in each hostel...they like girls in public places...hunt in packs... coming to roomie 3 the guy is a very meek and mild fellow called vipul who seems utterly oblivious to the fact that there is a world out there...Computer Science and Engineering... a blaspheming branch in my parlance...for most of the souls belonging to this branch at IITM have spent the last 36 months in solitary confinement with only H.C.Verma, Irodov, Das gupta and Boyd for company...may god forgive them for their sins....

Day 4: Ragging begins...others please note...all statements claiming that ragging is non-existent in IITM are null and void...i'm taken to the infamous 5th wing of Jam wherein the literati of the hostel reside...where i make the very unfortunate error of admitting that i read and write philosophy to a small extent....then for the next 2 hours i'm quizzed on the philosophies of aristotle...schopenhauer and russel...and at the same time am introduced to the concept of "naming"....here every fresher is named by a senior, each name possessing a funda (basically the geneology of the name)...i'm tortured and tortured (have good fun)...but no name yet....btw samples of JAM names include...brandy, vidwa, BBC, 10G...and so on and so forth.

Day 5: ragging continues and so do efforts to find a name for me...eventually their "hard work" pays off and i'm christened MGM...no no not after metro goldwyn mayer...or mahatma gandhi memorial (the PU college i studied in) but hang on *drum roll and kini ducks in embarrassment* 'meri gaand mein'...or "in my ass/arse"...the origin of this name comes from an exercise that i was put through wherein i had to repeat the entire story of the intelligent crow who was thirsty and used stones to raise the level of water...each sentence ending with...predictably...MGM...ergo as of now for the rest of my four years in IITM i shall be known as MGM in the insti!

Day 6 & 7: classes begin....infrastructure boggles the mind.. personal arc welding booths...classrooms with projectors and comps... ac seminar halls where some of the classes are held...experiments on super conductivity....electron mircoscopes that are massive...everything larger than life and well this is what first makes a freshie feel like all that work was worth it....

but the true spirit obviously lies in the hostel spirit...hockey sessions in floodlit grounds (each hostel has one), rock sounding as i wistfully think of when i'll get my comp...the same rasam being served over and over in the mess*winces* (i havent mentioned more on the mess for fear of getting senti in the comp center)...

jam is the most enthu hostel of them all ...please note i'm not saying this just cuz i'm from jam...the guys here are absolutely nutters...some of them more than others... there's always the large population of sad and innocent souls who dont know what maiden or floyd or even baskteball is... but then again.. they'll learn and so will i!

until IITM releases me for an hour again...MGM a.k.a the goat rests. my alma mater calls.

Friday, July 30, 2004


the egg came first....or the chicken wouldnt have been born...hang on... who put the egg there? damn relativity!


bleary eyed, comp on, screen bloody flickering....fan rattling happily away in the background (too silent without it), my bitch(literally) yelling her tail off outside, rain drops drippin from the roof..... Is my life an analogy to this...god its insomnia...coffeeee?...naa too much jhanjhat. ditch maadi, NITK... done deal, was good, arbit but good. fan still rattling, raw nerve...this isnt making sense, sadism hits. read this and feel sorry...dont know for whom though...

i need sleep. good night.
coconuts dont suffer from acrophobia...coffee is a drug and goats cant talk. life is weird


Two guys were under a tree feeling happy.....and then happy got up and walked away.


Thursday, July 29, 2004

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

There is me. And there is life. When did we cross last?
What am I doing? And why? Where is all this taking me? I wish I could see myself in a bright, happy future. It's amazing how my visions of a bright future are always clouded while visions of bitter past are as clear as crystal. Sometimes there are tears. Mostly brought on by frustration. I stare at the ceiling quite often. Thankfully, there's anonymity in darkness.

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Chronicles of an Insomniac - III

We WON!!! Amazing match... Damn! I'm still sweating... I figured we were out the way Jayasuriya and Dilshan were playing... And then Sehwag comes out of nowhere and gets rid of Dilshan with an absolute beauty. And then he gets J'suriya, and I'm like: "Hang on! This could be fun!!!". Irfan sends down an awesome over with a well deserved wicket, and bang... it's the last over, with 11 runs and 2 wickets. I was praying that the over wouldn't go to Zaheer Khan (considering that he'd been giving a steady 8 runs an over) and then, lo and behold... he comes up with a nerve-wracking, crazy finishing over. Just one thing, Zaheerbhai... why don't you bowl those yorkers in your first nine overs?

Negatives from the match:
a) Parthiv Patel. He really needs to improve on his keeping. He's one rung higher than Deep "where's the fu@#ing ball" Dasgupta.
b) Anil Kumble, who needs to think about either retirement, new glasses or a "how-to-spin-the-ball guide". He's hardly as dangerous as he used to be now that most of the world's cricketers have figured out that the ball isn't going to turn at all. In fact, when it does turn, he's more likely to pick up a wicket.
Bhajji came back with a bang today. Awesome stuff from the fiery Surd. Wish he'd batted though. Yuvraj was awesome. No other word for it. Every time that man scores a 50, we win the game. I doubted it today for a while, but we came through. Tendulkar was in ominous form. Tough luck he got out.

It finally rained in Ahmedabad today. This, after four days of dark clouds and light drizzles. The MET department's also finally given up trying to forecast weather. Methinks they'd make better palmists/fortune-tellers/fortune-cookie makers etc. My dad, of course, blames the late monsoon on Modi (along with all market fluctuations, his students' not working, Sachin Tendulkar's non-performance in Asia cup and my dress sense).

Had gone to Pantaloons today to shop for shorts and some footwear. I find that I'm quite unable to shop for myself. I couldn't decide if I liked the red shorts with white stripe more or the blue shorts with white stripe. And whether the blue reebok floater was better than the grey reebok floater. Despite having Rich helping, I ended up buying nothing. When I complained about this to M, all I got was:

"And you are mad because? Most men can't shop, love. It doesn't make them less capable"

Last time I went to Mumbai, my dad's friends' daughter (8 years old) renamed me "Goat Bhaiyya" (in honour of the semi-goatee I was sporting). Then she said:

"Bhaiyya, you look like Hagar"
"Haggard? Of course. I'm working quite hard at college. Studying and stuff..." (At this point I was thanking God that she didn't call me Hoggard... I have hair. You just have to look for it. And 32 teeth as well)
"Not Haggard, bhaiyya. Hagar... Hagar the horrbile"
"@#$*!#$)" (Unprintable)

She was quite candid about my dress sense and the frequency of my bathing at Surathkal. Apparently women even at eight years like clean shaven, nice smelling, decently dressed men. Damn.

What's the fuss about metrosexuality about, really? Is the fuss simply because these men groom themselves? Because they wax chest hair, get curly hair and use shampoos with 1,43,269 extracts? Is this really a movement at all? Look at it this way. Even one century ago, in Europe, and even in the U.S., men wore wigs, make-up and effeminate dresses. So why is it that when the same things are done today, it's suddenly a movement? Metrosexuality is just another smart marketing gimmick.

"Let's put hair gel in cool bottles for men. Hell we won't paint them pink. Let's paint them... ummm... yeah... steel grey!" (Sexist)
"Get in touch with the woman in you. Use Kleeno Wax for unwanted chest hair" (Still sexist)

It's strange how we love to categorize people. There are nerds, jocks, gays/homos, heteros, bis, lesbos, Pais... and now metros... (heavy sarcasm) Maybe in a decade or so we'll have 'Metrosexual quotas' in our colleges instead of 'Scheduled caste and scheduled tribe quotas'. (/heavy sarcasm) My point is this. There is no such thing as the 'metrosexual man'. It' s just a name. The metrosexual man has no distinct identity. Contradictory to popular belief, metrosexual is not a synonym for 'gay'. By calling someone 'metrosexual' we simply provide a chance for loser homophobes to show us very clearly why sexuality is not linked to higher brain functions. I despise ads like 'Bajaj Pulsar: Definitely male'. Is it sexist or does the bike have a body part we haven't seen yet? Truth be told, the ad is made for the significant buying demographic. Quite obviously, the chances of a woman buying a Bajaj Pulsar are about as high as Anil Kumble spinning the ball more than 2 inches in a cricket match (i.e. non-existent). It's the same with metrosexuality. Except, the tag-line's "Definitely female".

Some guys like dressing well. They like shopping. Even if it is for aloe-vera enriched bio-fresh natural apricot-extract ultra-pure hair-strengthening lotion, so what? Get over it. They aren't any less male than any of us. And they sure as hell aren't gay. And the whole 'getting in touch with your feminine side' thing is crap. What feminine side? Last time I checked I didn't have breasts.

Or maybe you're one of those good ol' sweaty, hairy, rugged males who thinks:

"I've heard about guys going to beauty parlors to get facials and pedicures! Are women actually falling for men who get their legs waxed? I'm being threatened by the man in designer trousers, pink shirts and make-up"

Me... I'm proud of all the hair I've got. Considering that I don't have much on my head, I have to make do with whatever there is. Facials? The closest I get to a facial is a face-wash with Dettol. I have a dog. My dog has a zillion ticks. I spend an hour everyday plucking ticks off his body and after one hour with him, it's tough figuring out who smells worse. Most people give us a wide berth when we go for evening walks. But I have nothing against the man in the pink shirt. Even if it does happen to be a moron like Govinda.

We have enough problems as it is thanks to the categorization of our society and the two billion scheduled castes and tribes in our country. If you're reading this and you claim to be a proud metro, poke yourself in the eye. If you're a proud metro-phobe, go take a cold bath.

Monday, July 26, 2004

Of god and man

                The insomniac in me has arisen again...its one in the morning and i need sedatives...so i'm here to pontificate on something that has been brewing in the cess pool that is my brain for quite a while now. Who is this god guy? Is he for real? why are we so obsessed with this concept? what is it about an omni-potent being that makes most of us swoon like teeny boppers and start talking abt faith and otherwise? what makes him tick? (in reality and in the mind of those with faith!)
                i realise by putting up this post i will be inciting and re-awakening one of the oldest arguments in the history of mankind, but right now i dont really care about being politically correct. i must, in the interest of fairness, state my inclination on this front...i happen to be agnostic bordering on being an atheist. so i must confess that this will inevitably end up being a slightly(or majorly..again i state my bias isnt the point here) biased post. but is always up for objective discussion.
             at this point i'm compelled to examine why we had to have a god in the first place? maybe for the spirituals i posed that question in wrong way, for them it should've been why god exists? but in the end all grammatical corrections aside i'm asking the same question...why?

             for the longest time i always thought people just didnt know any better and just assumed what their ultra-religious parents told them was right, that god exists and we arent anyone to question that...anyone living in a religious community (this happens rather often in india) would've experienced this. but there are more facets to a person, during the course of my existance i've realised something very poignant. i.e: that people are crazy, but the person is always smart. he questions, wonders, examines, seeks answers, some of us more than others; and some of the traditional guys wont ever admit publicly that they questioned god at any point in time, but we all know that we've had our doubts and questioned at the same time. when we lost something we really wanted, when it felt like the world wasnt being fair, when we didnt get what we deserved, when the credit for what we worked so hard for was given to "gods grace", we questioned, we wondered....we always will....

             there are so many ways we can look at the concept of god, as to why we humans need it. some say its an emotional crutch, its a way of de-valuing our defeats and failures, its real easy to say "oh well, god has a reason for everything". we are given an easy exit route in matters of the world, at first the mystics denounce reality by saying this world is an illusion and we are all puppets of the almighty, and then when we do fail that is blamed on the guy upstairs as well.

          i've always wondered, if its all his doing and his game...then what part does a man's will and ability to make something of himself play in where he gets in life. if how far he's going to go is all predetermined then why should that man work at all? destiny is a concept thats directly a brainchild of blind faith in "gods plans". the idea of prayer is also lost on me, they say work is worship and yet the most "supposedly" pious are the saints who sit in ashrams and dont do any work at all...all their ability for charity comes from the financial power of productive donours. then there is also the question that (considering god exists) he's given us two arms, two legs, a brain, etc etc every thing thats needed to make something of ourselves in this world. now wouldnt the most profound form of religion or worship be to do our work in the best and most dedicated way possible. the tool of survival for a man is his mind and his ability to apply that in the process of creation and execution of various tasks. if we denounce it in the name of faith, then what are we to trust?

         then there are the people who say that we ought to do everything we can...and then what happens is all a direct function of gods blessings. what is that supposed to mean? lets look at this statement. if a man does everything in his power then there are certain consequences...it would be inadequate if one said that he will be rewarded accordingly. because they are several things that are outside the purview of a single humans power, but they are within the purview of reality. if a man gets less than what he deserved it can be explained by the simple factor that something in the world (please not i'm not implying divine intervention or karma or any such metaphysical concept) interfered with his efforts and they entire product was something less than what he deserved. this is also the case when he gets something more than his efforts have merited. where does god fit in?

           we also have this great tendency to explain the freak phenomena that happen in our life with by crediting them to god, the titanic, hindenberg, a miraculous recovery from a horrible car crash, ganesha statues absorbing milk during ganesh chaturthi...etc etc the list is endless. but we refuse to look at the bare facts. for every miraculous recovery that occurs..there are millions that die. for every one medical marvel, there are a thousand that go exactly according to the doctors predictions and for every ganesh statue drinking milk... there's something called capillary action induced by concentration gradients.

            i don't want to denounce the idea of god altogether. the other day i argued with one very old uncle of mine on the concept of god. he tolerated me for a long time and patiently heard out every shred of damning (or so i thought) evidence i had against his existance. but then after waiting patiently for the better part of an hour all he said to me was "If my faith helps me get through the day, why should it bother you?". from that day on i gave up on my quest to convince every theist otherwise and realised a couple of important things....

            i realised that in my case the existance of god does not make a difference. my belief in him is inconsequential, an omni potent being doesnt thrive on the belief of others. it would be an end unto itself. therefore i conceeded my own atheism and moved to become an agnostic. i also realised a simple but great truth that drives me to this day "to each his own". i have no right to question anothers beliefs, only a right to express my own. i end in hope that we will all find our own principles that'll aid us in the process of becoming the best men and women we can be. amen.

"To those who believe no proof is necessary, to those who don't none will suffice"

Sunday, July 25, 2004

In India I Trust

Damn. We lost. Tomorrow the papers are going to be bloody full of stories about how Tendulkar never performs under pressure and how if he had made 150 we would have won and how we are not really the second best team in the world and that our bowling is weak, our batting is shaky and our fielding isn't all that good.

I'm sick of the debate on the Tendulkar issue. Seldom has there been a player as gifted and yet as dedicated as this man. There is no-one on the planet who can wield a cricket bat with the finesse of an artist, the grace of a dancer, the arrogance of an aristocrat and the power of a tyrant. Brian Lara, Matthew Hayden, Adam Gilchrist, Rahul Dravid... the list is endless. They are pretenders to the throne. Gifted, they are. Tendulkar, they are not. To all those who say he never performs under pressure, I suggest you go back and watch replays of the Sharjah matches in 1996... or watch the way he decimated the Pakistan attack in the last world cup (Especially when he kicks Shoaib's butt... I love that part). Yes, I know you're going to say he didn't perform when it mattered the most, in the world cup final. Tendulkar, when he walks out to the middle, carries the expectations of a billion people on his shoulders. Even cynics who claim that he never performs secretly cross fingers and pray for a Tendulkar-storm to begin. Imagine what he must contend with each time he steps out to bat. And we blame him when he fails. Everytime. And when he succeeds, it's a pat on the back and a "Oh but he's Sachin Tendulkar". Face it. There is no greater joy in world cricket than to watch Sachin Tendulkar in freeflow.

We lost today not because we are a poor team. We lost. It's one of the inherent features of cricket that makes it the incredibly interesting game that it is. Pakistan lost by a huge margin to Sri Lanka and came back and beat us. That's all there is to it. They played well. We had a bad day at the office. Let us not read more into this than is necessary. Tendulkar did everything he could today to win the match. So did Ganguly, and Sehwag and Dravid and Yuvraj and Kaif and everybody else. No matter how small their actual contribution to the match. The positives from this match: Tendulkar's batting, Ganguly's batting, Pathan's batting, Tendulkar's bowling. We need to beat Sri Lanka to reach the finals now. All the best to the men in blue. We know you can. Just do it.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

India Shining: A dissident Indian's perspective

What a week!

The British parliament debated that war on Iraq was an unnecessary measure, the American press finally decided that it it's as much fun to rib John Kerry as it is to rib President Bush, Ralph Nader's finally lost the support of the Green Party, the Indian hockey team's coach has been sacked, Tendulkar hit form against Bangladesh and Navjot Siddhu is not a commentator for the Asia Cup. Sidin Vadukut hasn't posted anything for three days either.  

I watched the Indian parliament in session today. The FM was going through another long speech on his budget, the people of India, the opposition and the NCMP. And all this for a grand total of a hundred people; fifty of whom were half-asleep. A hundred people? With over four hundred and fifty MPs? That's an attendance of less than 25%; lower than the attendance in an extra class on Sunday on "Yoga and the science of Patanjali: how your breathing style can increase your examination marks"!

Is there no minimum attendance required for members of the Indian parliament? These are the people we elect to rule our country. They are the guardians of our democracy. They make important decisions everyday that affect the way we live... be it finance, railways, defence, civil aviation, mining, transportation, media, agriculture... These decisions are to be taken by a consensus among all the members of parliament. What intelligent consensus can ever be reached through a total lack of debate and discussion? Of course, the day any decision is to be taken, the house is overflowing with MPs. I doubt most of them even know why they're in Delhi at all.

"I am in BJP. BJP is in opposition. Therefore I will vote against the motion."
"What is the motion about?"
"Er... I am in BJP, you see. It doesn't really matter."

The same goes for the ruling UPA too, of course. Their MPs just come to vote for the motion as blindly as the opposition MPs who vote against. Of course, in bizarre cases such as the UP assembly, politicians start throwing footwear and mikes at each other whenever decisions are required to be taken or when contentious issues arise. It is true that perhaps there will never be a complete consensus on any issue on parliament. There will always be objections, people to convince, rules that might get bent slightly... issues will arise, no doubt; but these objections raised must be geniune. Objection for the sake of objection is unfortunately the hallmark of the political leader of today.

It is sad that the world's largest democracy must find itself in this lamentable state. Our leaders choose to settle personal scores in parliament rather than address the key issues that face the nation today. Of course, Pakistan is one key issue that we never tire of, but I think I'm tired of that one too.

"Bomb blast in UP. Who's behind it?" "Pakistan"
"Two airforce pilots crash in Kashmir. Who's behind it?" "Pakistan"
"Indian football team loses 18-0 to Gambia. Who's behind it?" "Pakistan"

Water, health, education, infrastructure development, the issue of minorities and the categorization of society... these are issues that our politicians love to talk about when the next election is only five months away. Once the election is over, they're swept under carpets and back into dusty cupboards only to be brought out during another election. Gujarat hasn't had anything that even resembles rain all this year. Basic health services in the country are abysmally poor. We are ill prepared, if at all, to combat the onset of any epidemic. Most hospitals lack even very basic health-care facilities (such as a doctor). Education is more or less a joke. 30% of India cannot read or write. Most villages in India have one dusty road and a tube-well for infrastructure. Unemployment rates in the country are alarming. While it is true that the Indian job market is improving, the question is, who for? For us, the inhabitants of India's cities, yes. For us, who have access to good education and therefore, good jobs, yes. If we are to make our dreams of one day being an important player in geopolitics, internal stability and well-being are essential. For every Delhi, Mumbai, Chennai, Bangalore, Calcutta and Ahmedabad we have five hundred villages with no power, no water, no education, no food and no means of getting any. Concentrated efforts must be made to improve the state of India's poor. Our politicians, despite being aware of the state of things do nothing about it. Until they realize their duty, as the upholders of our democracy and the chosen representatives of our people, and set about solving our country's multitude of problems, the Indian parliament will remain merely a theatre of the absurd.


© New Blogger Templates | Webtalks