On a Permanent Rewind

Permanency does not look good on me. My vacillating nature extends to all facets of my life including music. However of late, I have been listening to these fifteen songs to distraction, some old favorites and some recent ones.

The Beatles - Hey Jude
The Doors - Roadhouse Blues
Pink Floyd - Learning to Fly
The Beatles - Norwegian Wood
Parikrama - But it Rained
The Doors - The End
Oasis- Champagne Supernova
The Verve - Bittersweet Symphony
Dreamtheater - Glasgow Kiss
The Who - Behind Blue Eyes
Steppenwolf - Born to be Wild
Aerosmith - Janie's got a Gun
Led Zeppelin - Ramble On
Eddie Vedder - Hard Sun
Bob Dylan - Like a Rolling Stone

Drugs, Alcohol and Religion

As I write this I feel the last strains of scotch and weed ebbing out of my body. I have been and am suspect to a plethora of addictions, not all fluid in nature. Yet nothing rouses epiphany as does alcohol and weed. Reflecting back, I guess it was the first conscious decision that severed our links from a parochial culture. By succumbing to the poison with a troubled conscience most of us took that leap, we made sure that we had a semblance of control about our life. While it has been argued that abstinence is much more difficult than addiction, I believe the conscious embrace of non-conformance also argues for more steel than society gives due credit for. As for the pure visceral pleasure of it, I suppose few things would come close to give it a run for their money.

The images that alcohol evokes of the last five years is indelible. We just seem to shed off the veneer and seem human and fallible not berated for it. While alcohol brings the best out of our social nature, could there be anything that plunges you to unfathomable morass that is your subconscious than weed. The primal pleasure that engulfs every single pore of your body on being able to discern individual notes of The Doors or Pink Floyd is an experience stranger to weed-virgins.

It is a singular thing that religion is oft mentioned in the same breath as drugs and alcohol. Maybe it is the same exhilaration that people seek in something intangible and yet powerful enough to lift their spirits from the daily hum-drum that life is. As for me I am a Hindu, in the true sense of the word.

A Season of Faith's Imperfection

Seasons as we know it baffle me. Something that has permanency etched all over it, yet remaining so transitional. They are primal in nature, our earliest memories remain attached to them, but their innate fleetingness doesn't leave much of an impression other a half-remembered post-card from the past. A sense of deja-vu is probably the most one can glean from the passage of seasons. Me, I believe the seasons leave their best imprints on our moods. My moods decide my seasons. They can range from delirious sunny ones, to overcast with doubt and indecision, to the tipsy and trippy akin to the first showers, to the keening acuteness of cold reason and the far in between balmy spring ones.

And this has been a season of faith's imperfection. For a cynic like me, having faith has always been a crown of thorns. The longing to step out of the darkness, from the miasma of doubt and dispassion is as strong in me as it is with me everybody. And for once I thought I belonged. For once I felt understood and as normal as I could wish it to be. I was happy. It was something I had been seeking and found serendipity. Yet all good things come to an end, often in a manner that make you doubt if they ever existed. It passed by leaving in its wake a cauldron full of unsaid thoughts, boiling resentment and a barely concealed anger and hatred. Blind faith had turned me blind. The light had dazzled my eyes. And it is time to slink back to my dark shell once more.

The Scales of Imbalance

Often I am suspect to spells of crystal-clear thought and moments of incredulous wisdom. Sadly most of these occur under the influence of alcohol. A remarkable person I know, deciphered some lines of sense amongst a mindless babble. And I believe, being the best judge of myself, that those four lines of sense encompass my whole being and vindicate that maybe astrology has some truth to it.

I am not trust, neither am I doubt. I am the indecisiveness in between. I am Justice.

Musical Me

My balls cringe with shame when I realize how juvenile I was four years ago, when I along with three other morons belonged to the crappiest group in Orkut- I hate music. Thankfully I came to my senses soon and Orkut is history. But then, I sort of redeem myself when I think of the shit that Bollywood dishes out in the name of music, that had made me turn away from music in the first place. Fucking retards, the whole bunch of them and the public who thinks that lots of jiggling melons, preferably white( and we crib about the Australians being racists) accompanied by some plagiarized tunes is music.

Well it took a bit of Nirvana to shake me out of the notion that music was either about some Bolly-mindless-romantic crap or booty show featuring Ricky Martin, Enrique or Snoop Dogg. I discovered that guitar and drums could traverse the entire spectrum of human emotion. They could give an expression for all the angst and frustration building inside you. They could soothe frazzled nerves and provide a panacea for all the wounds you sustain. I could go on and on. But I don't think anything, I can ever write can do justice to music, my music. How do you describe life itself. Its better left to the strains of the guitar and throbbing of the drums to speak the tale.

Be Yourself

The question of the past, the doubt about the future and the hoariness of the future is omnipresent in our lives. Any plans for the future almost always land one in the most unexpected places. The present is a rudderless ship. The past haunts, chides and presents phantasmagorical images of what-would-have-been presents and futures. Its almost like living in parallel worlds, only you are not living in any of them. And the reality has none of the allure. Do we learn anything from the past? Is experience all that vaunted as they make it out to be. Would the future be what we would like it to be, if we start acting on the present. Or learning is all a myth, and our actions are either pre-ordained or plain randomness. What if the anthropic principle is the grand truth-that this present is the best of all possible worlds. Then does the past has any significance. Do the intrinsic qualities of man define his actions or the social and environmental constructs play a larger role. Does it make any sense to adopt any philosophy or set of ideals and change one's psyche under such randomness. If there is no independency of the fundamental opposites then where do we decide to align oneself. Or is being rudderless, the way it was ordained to be. To make serendipity possible. Yes, maybe being yourself is the best decision that we can take under the circumstances. Atleast knowledge of the self wouldn't land one in any unknown shore or uncharted waters. Is there any answer?

February 2011

I had intended to start this on February first. Yet as I am an ardent follower of the philosophy of procrastination, it inadvertently got delayed one day. But its better late than never.

So, February, yet another February, the shortest month of the calendar, the month of purification according to Romans and in modern connotations, the month of Cupid where you get your wallets fleeced, as these days even love comes attached with a price tag.

What are my goals for the month.
1. Stick to this list, which I have never done.
2. Stick to office hours. No more arriving late and leaving at inhuman times in the night.
3. Get back to my old reading frenzy days.
4. Write more often.
5. Prove to my relatives that I am not as anti-social as they deem me to be.
6. Start sketching after a ten year long hiatus.

Enough for two months. I think so.

Inspiration

From the days of prancing around in half-pants to the days of self consciously attiring yourself for your first job interview, one question transcends that vast gap of time. Who has been an inspiration for you? From hackneyed answers like Sachin Tendulkar to the flabbergastingly dumb answers like Mother Teresa(relive Priyanka Chopra-Miss World title), we have seen them all. The spectrum of the answers are also mind numbing. From fathers and mothers to celebrities to business tycoons to sportsmen, actors, models, we seem to have spared none. The bloody self-help writers have made a killing out of the phenomenon of people needing an inspiration.

And yet, no body seems to have answered the fundamental question. Why the hell do we need an inspiration. If every jackass who had Sachin Tendulkar as his inspiration, achieved even an iota of their idol, a Murali Vijay wouldn't have had a chance to flop three times in a row. And as for having your father and mother as an inspiration, I think its a terrible lack of imagination. And instead of trying to ape a Ratan Tata, its better to divert one's efforts to actually try one's hand at entrepreneurship. And I wont even start on actors and models.

I beg to differ. Its hard enough to live upto one's own expectation. And then you have your parents, relatives and peers. I don't subscribe to the foolhardiness to add to that wretched list. I am just about happy being myself.

The Dark Knight

What is it about a superhero, that keeps us humans, so rational and logical at all times forsake those and feel awed at the glaring impossibility of the subject. Yet it pervades all cultures and transcends all civilizations across the eons of time itself. From Gilgamesh to our homemade Ramayana and Mahabharata, from the Nordic tales of Valhalla to the strange chalk paintings of the Australian aborigines, mankind sure loves a hero.

Apart from extolling the virtues that half of mankind surreptitiously chooses to turn a blind eye to, superheroes are an idea of perfection. Something that is meant to be aimed at, while being impossible to attain at the same time. A classic paradox. Yet every superhero has an alter-ego, and more often than not, a very nondescript character who doesn't attract a sideways glance. While it was a matter for deep consternation within me, the reason behind the mask, it was much later that I understood no superhero could have endured the ugliness and vacillations of mankind without a mask. It doesn't take long for the capricious mob to turn a hero into a villain.

And my vote goes for the Batman. The cape, the Batmobile, that batcave, the mansion, the riches, the playboy alter-ego, the utility belt,the Libran sense of justice and the greatest arch-enemy of them all-the Joker. Thats enough in my book any day.

New Home, Old faces

Rewind one and half years, and the last place I wanted to be in, was Bangalore. A lot of well-intentioned relatives with abnormally long noses, a city that held no surprises, and the impossibly obnoxious yuppie crowd. The only thing I could see in the positive was the impossibly temperate and soporific climate.

Now as I look back on it, Bangalore or as it has been rechristened Bengaluru is not that bad a place. I am at my antisocial best, paying a visit to my Grandpa's only when I miss the home made food. The constant penury makes sporadic visits to the pubs weigh heavy on one's wallet and a protective shield of friends makes female intrusion a probabilistic impossibility.

The abject mess that surrounds us, the dump of unwashed clothes, shoes strewn across half the hall, the stinking bags of rubbish that had to be thrown out a couple of days before should put off the majority of the population that deserve to be termed homo sapiens, yet curiously enough it is a throwback from the much reminisced past. The oft disastrous attempts at cooking, the compulsory drinks on weekends, friends dropping in all the time and the reliving of hostel life have made it an unlikely haven.

Last Minute Blast

As I begin writing this post I am acutely aware that yet another weekend has gone by. The pile of unwashed clothes keep piling up, the amount of pending work from office has gone up to a harrowing level and my copy of White Teeth is still awaiting completion. As usual, I wonder if the rules of relativity are relative for me. And as usual time has slipped by akin to coins from a torn pocket. Ans as usual nothing is new.

Nothing has changed from the days where I used to run about a headless chicken on the eve of exams. It must have been a wonderful sight to watch. A drowning man deliberating on the strength of a multitude of straws. It was a time when attending the call of nature could cost valuable marks the next day. As I graduated to a more deplorable state, where the choice was to pass or fail, the habit became more pronounced. Suddenly a game of AOE became more interesting, an elusive picture of Bill Gates daughter almost drool worthy, every message on LAN Messenger sinfully tempting and the buffer time of a HIMYM episode almost nerve jangling.

I just take solace in the fact, that there are empathizing voices all around.

Five Snaps and a Four Year Tale

We live in the past, nonetheless we vehemently protest the same. Yet there is always a fluttering of the heart, a breathless anticipation and waves of mirth rollicking inside us, when we peruse through the past. A simple device, yet the camera unleashes the real person inside us and strips one of the veneer shrouding our drab and dreary lives. Well without further ado, I present the five snaps that evoke uncounted memories and a wish to relive the moments.

1. Awesomeness descends on Koilighughur.

The journey took a shade over five hours, deep into the Maoist ridden forests of Western Orissa. The unsettling and unspoken apprehensions turned into squeals of joy,at the discovery of a pristine waterfall snuggled in the midst of a verdant and virgin forest. Four hours later, in the freezing waters, the seven people in my branch, who made the drudgery of going to class everyday a bit less tiring. Guys, the best picnic ever.

2. Gung-ho at Goa.

It took me just about a minute to decide to leave for Goa, three hours before the train would leave for Mumbai. Bankrupt, ticket-less and without making my parents any more knowledgeable, I departed for Goa to experience the best weekend of my life. Four days, crates and crates of beer, uncounted cigarettes and a healthy dose of weed later, we discovered a simple motto for life. Let the circumstances go fuck themselves, just enjoy what is on hand. Aptly summarized by our Goa tag "fir bhi chalo".

3. E_Clan-We live to game.

I will always take pride that one of the greatest gaming clans ever at NIT Rourkela was christened by by name, albeit as a joke. But E_Clan was not just another gaming clan, it was a way of life where you needed to belong rather than prove your gaming prowess. We never won a tournament, yet we left an indelible impression on the gaming legacy of NIT Rourkela. AOE will never be the same after us. I just have one regret. We could never get the fourteen of us on a single snap.

4. B-Top-Perfection has another synonym.

Was there a more complete wing. I know C-Mid will be after my blood when they see this. But then, when was there competition among friends. The artistry of Amit, the financial genius of Kp, the understated brilliance of Debi, the 200+ IQ of Chirag, the stolid Bhuyan, the hacker-monster-leecher-gamer Zhenga, the simply himself Nuka, the King of good times Gyana, the Mr. Organiser Nk, the pre-evolutionary Pran, the impish Susi and the gentle giant Abhinab. We showed the rest how to have a weekend, didnt we guys.

5. EE-2010.

Period.

On the Wrong Scent

In the yesteryears, there were poachers and there were hounds that sniffed them out. These were the days before technology put paid to the romance associated with tramps and their vagaries. These were the days of Huck Finn and the various unnamed vagabonds. And these were the days when brain triumphed over smell. The tramps used an innocuous yet ingenuous way to ward the hounds off their scent, using smoked herrings to cover their tracks. And hence arrived the term " A Red Herring".

And I loved the concept. I always have found the concept of playing to the part and putting people on the wrong scent perversely pleasurable. And hence the name A Red Herring.

Hey Me...Its Me Again!!

Disclaimer: I write this and hopefully the next thirty posts at the behest or should I say, mortal threats from two of my best friends. Whatever inference may be drawn out of this is to be kept strictly confidential. As for my own vacillating nature, I believe the following fifteen lines are the closest that I can get to permanency.

1. I am a quintessential Libran, as per astrology. I can argue both the faces of a Mobius strip and still find myself in an indecisive morass.

2. Although I am considered an irredeemable optimist, I see pitfalls everywhere. Its a combination of exceptional bad luck and faith in others that I often see myself in those pitfalls.

3. I like talking to myself more than anyone else. And I am generally surprised by the multitude of contradictory voices battling it out inside me.

4. My aim in life is to become literate. In the age of super specialization I prefer to be a Jack-of-all-Trades. I would like to know everything about everything.

5. I love the English language, but regret to see its modern connotations in India. An affected accent and improper grammar hold people in greater stead than proper usage of the language.

6. I believe half the people in the world are blind, and the rest cannot see the truth even if it danced naked in front of them, so wrapped are they in their own perceptions.

7. My anger is imperceptible and often goes unnoticed under the veil of cynicism.

8. For a person who is used to living in a dump, I can be fastidious till the point of ad nauseam.

9. I find the concept of machoism and the associated tenets pre-evolutionary and a flashback from the days of the cave men, where the man with the biggest club was the leader of the pack.

10. Chandler Bing, Andy Dufresne and Cal Trask are my most three favorite characters, respectively drawn from soaps, movies and books.

11. I have a remarkable memory, although I make blatant excuses for a bad memory.

12. I take a perverse pleasure in making myself misunderstood and playing to the part expected out of me.

13. The ideals of politeness and traditional chivalry are endearing to me, while the aura of affected coolness enveloping plain boorishness, equally distasteful.

14. I love smoking and in spite of all the statutory warnings, will continue smoking.

15. Finally, before signing off, Isha and Nick both of you, are a credit to girls all over. Pity that you form a tiny speck of your species. :P

As per popular requests, here I am uploading my latest nondescript self :P