I love the very idea of a book. The very fact that so many emotions, ideas,innovations, fears,thought and inspirations are nestled between the covers waiting to clear the cobwebs between our ears is a joy beyond comparison. I for one prefer the refuge that a book gives rather than any other form of entertainment for two very simple reasons; the first because I love the feeling when a book stimulates my nerves and the synapses start firing. For the uninitiated or the couldnt care less souls , try it! it is the ultimate high. The second is the cost advantage. The boundaries of realms of thought and imagination are shattered with utter disdain by a good book for a price thats next to nothing, or so I thought.
I was in for a rude shock today when I was reading 'Times of India' sunday edition of the 21 Dec 08. You are probably wondering why would any kook read a newspaper thats two days old. In the part of the country where I live, newspapers arrive two days late but are still devoured with relish. The rude shock came when I was reading the reviews of the various new books that are due for release. Any sane person with a teeny bit of desire to read any of those books would have been put off by the prices that are being quoted. Out of the collection of titles that were reviewed only two would be worth their weight in salt but somehow the cheapest of the lot was priced at Rs.775. What a truckload of crap we are being subjected to.
I have yet to understand the entire scope of the word 'globalisation' but I know for sure the one gift it has bestowed upon us, the cost of every small joy in our lives is rising beyond heights globally achieved ever before.
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
Thursday, 18 December 2008
Journey into Heaven
Have you ever started a journey without ever giving a thought to how and when you are going to reach your destination, or better still, without knowing what your destination is going to be? What does this thought evoke in you? Fear, cynicism, contempt, amusement or an electric ripple rising from the coccyx and searing through your spine till you involuntarily shiver with excitement. This was a question that haunted me for a long long time.
On the morning of the first day of an exceptionally long weekend, I awoke to the heartwarming blessing of a blue sky and shrieking peacocks. I decided in that instant that the next four days werent going waste. I pulled out my rucksack, stuffed in a couple of essentials, kicked my bike alive and ripped through the green, oh so lovely! green fields. I wish I could say " The wind was rushing through my hair" but I had to settle for the less exciting but safer helmet option.
The feeling of exhilaration when the mind is free of the responsibilities of making decisions, making choices or planning is one that we rarely ever experience. Dont take my word for it, feel it and you will realise that it has but one name ' True bliss'. The thumping of the heart in resonance
with the beat of the bike's engine is a rare form of music that one does not hear but feel.
A four hour ride from Jammu through Nagrota and Udhampur lands me at the mouth of a seldom appreciated engineering wonder of modern India. The Jawahar tunnel is 2540m long and bores through the heart of the lower himalayan ranges. One cannot but feel claustrophobic riding through utter darkness of the tunnel, especially since you know that you are hardly a mile and half away from blinding daylight. Roaring out of the tunnel one cant refrain from marvelling at the tenacity of those men whose made this tunnel possible. The tunnel is almost like a magical doorway which
connects to two vastly different worlds. This is the beginning of the magical valley which stretches till Srinagar and a little beyond. Another hour of a delightful ride sees me ride in to Srinagar. Steaming cups of chai and a sunset throwing out amazing colours is perhaps the wierdest and most wonderful combination all at the same time. The fishermen on the dal lake have a very strange but effective way to make sure their boats are safely moored and also form a mysterious restaurant in the parts of the lake where shadows reign. A number of shikaras are tied together and
a couple of those that are in the centre are converted to a makeshift kitchen. The meal is simple roasted fish from the lake and boiled rice with a thin but tasty dal kind of gravy. I dont dare attempt explaining what was in the drink that we had before dinner. I settled into the bottom of a
shikara open in the sides cuddled up in a blanket near a coal bukhari. I couldnt help but wonder at the way I spent the previous night in a cozy bed after a 6 course meal and compare it to what I had experienced just a little while before. I watched the dancing stars and realised the magic that
they were weaving into my heart was but a part of that day. The bike ride, the simple souls that shared their dinner and opened their makeshift home to me, the emotions in my heart that conflicted with the trepidations in my mind, all formed a part of this amazing and spontaneous day.
I pondered on for a while and realised that the answer to the conflict was staring into my face or rather was depicted on my face. The last memory of that night was the smile that played and danced on my face while I was slowly lulled into a sound sleep by the gentle bobbing of the shikaras and
the distant but haunting tunes that somebody was strumming on a sarangi. I was blessed that night by the spirits of nature and travel.
To be contd.
On the morning of the first day of an exceptionally long weekend, I awoke to the heartwarming blessing of a blue sky and shrieking peacocks. I decided in that instant that the next four days werent going waste. I pulled out my rucksack, stuffed in a couple of essentials, kicked my bike alive and ripped through the green, oh so lovely! green fields. I wish I could say " The wind was rushing through my hair" but I had to settle for the less exciting but safer helmet option.
The feeling of exhilaration when the mind is free of the responsibilities of making decisions, making choices or planning is one that we rarely ever experience. Dont take my word for it, feel it and you will realise that it has but one name ' True bliss'. The thumping of the heart in resonance
with the beat of the bike's engine is a rare form of music that one does not hear but feel.
A four hour ride from Jammu through Nagrota and Udhampur lands me at the mouth of a seldom appreciated engineering wonder of modern India. The Jawahar tunnel is 2540m long and bores through the heart of the lower himalayan ranges. One cannot but feel claustrophobic riding through utter darkness of the tunnel, especially since you know that you are hardly a mile and half away from blinding daylight. Roaring out of the tunnel one cant refrain from marvelling at the tenacity of those men whose made this tunnel possible. The tunnel is almost like a magical doorway which
connects to two vastly different worlds. This is the beginning of the magical valley which stretches till Srinagar and a little beyond. Another hour of a delightful ride sees me ride in to Srinagar. Steaming cups of chai and a sunset throwing out amazing colours is perhaps the wierdest and most wonderful combination all at the same time. The fishermen on the dal lake have a very strange but effective way to make sure their boats are safely moored and also form a mysterious restaurant in the parts of the lake where shadows reign. A number of shikaras are tied together and
a couple of those that are in the centre are converted to a makeshift kitchen. The meal is simple roasted fish from the lake and boiled rice with a thin but tasty dal kind of gravy. I dont dare attempt explaining what was in the drink that we had before dinner. I settled into the bottom of a
shikara open in the sides cuddled up in a blanket near a coal bukhari. I couldnt help but wonder at the way I spent the previous night in a cozy bed after a 6 course meal and compare it to what I had experienced just a little while before. I watched the dancing stars and realised the magic that
they were weaving into my heart was but a part of that day. The bike ride, the simple souls that shared their dinner and opened their makeshift home to me, the emotions in my heart that conflicted with the trepidations in my mind, all formed a part of this amazing and spontaneous day.
I pondered on for a while and realised that the answer to the conflict was staring into my face or rather was depicted on my face. The last memory of that night was the smile that played and danced on my face while I was slowly lulled into a sound sleep by the gentle bobbing of the shikaras and
the distant but haunting tunes that somebody was strumming on a sarangi. I was blessed that night by the spirits of nature and travel.
To be contd.
Thursday, 11 December 2008
An addiction I love and recommend!
Have you been to a place that personifies heaven on earth and hell on fire all at the same same time? I have and let me tell you its an addictive love affair, one thats much too difficult to let go and simultaneously much too hard to get rid of. Confusing ehh!! The contrasting points of view are because the former is an opinion of tourists and the latter of those who actually live there.
There are no words to describe the assault on senses that this place unleashes. The aroma of wonderful exotic spices and insultingly abundant apples are tantalising to say the least. Injustice ,is the word to describe the absence of recognition of this land. A land that has memoirs written in 'thoth' but has yet to be credited with the allure it projects the most , in any of its 800 official languages.
The beautiful lavender blossom hued, laden badam trees and the boughs weighed down by the bride of fruits 'the green apple', present a view thats disturbed only by the oft repeated explosion of gunpowder and the disturbing 'thwaack' of bullets into the wood of these trees. The view that I have when I have my lazy breakfast at 0700hrs is one of 6 layers of mountains , all of them snow clad and each one of them bearing a resemblance to the fantasy image of a pure and innocent
(read ignorant) bride, and I wonder how many people would be lucky enough to live in places that most others can only see in coffee table books and dream about visiting.
This post may seem like a random rambling but it is rather a pathetically incomplete review on a place that deserves much more credit for its beauty and splendour than what is claimed falsely by many of its sister states in the country. This is only an addiction I would sincerely recommend to every genuine traveller.
There are no words to describe the assault on senses that this place unleashes. The aroma of wonderful exotic spices and insultingly abundant apples are tantalising to say the least. Injustice ,is the word to describe the absence of recognition of this land. A land that has memoirs written in 'thoth' but has yet to be credited with the allure it projects the most , in any of its 800 official languages.
The beautiful lavender blossom hued, laden badam trees and the boughs weighed down by the bride of fruits 'the green apple', present a view thats disturbed only by the oft repeated explosion of gunpowder and the disturbing 'thwaack' of bullets into the wood of these trees. The view that I have when I have my lazy breakfast at 0700hrs is one of 6 layers of mountains , all of them snow clad and each one of them bearing a resemblance to the fantasy image of a pure and innocent
(read ignorant) bride, and I wonder how many people would be lucky enough to live in places that most others can only see in coffee table books and dream about visiting.
This post may seem like a random rambling but it is rather a pathetically incomplete review on a place that deserves much more credit for its beauty and splendour than what is claimed falsely by many of its sister states in the country. This is only an addiction I would sincerely recommend to every genuine traveller.
Sunday, 27 July 2008
Heads you win, tails I lose!
Let me tell you the inconvienience of choosing a career which is totally out of the box when compared to the friends that I grew up with. First is the total ignorance of each others worlds,dreams, goals and achievements. What I perceive as an earthshattering accomplishment would be something that my friends would probably deem insignificant and vice versa.
The loneliness that envelops me, when I manage to get some time off for vacations, is another. Imagine motivating oneself to do ridiculously difficult and absurdly disgusting things as part of our job all the while dreaming of the forth coming vacation. The ultimate carrot in front of a donkey with its ribs sticking out and struggling to drag a load of shit through a slushy patch in a jungle track in the rain. The hard earned vacation is all set to begin when the inevitable happens. Most of my friends who work according to the deadlines set by their bosses who sit a 22 hr flight away cant make it. I mope and groan but end up spending my vacations devouring a book a day , and curled up in front of the tv. The salt is however rubbed in when the next trip is planned and all arrangements are made and this time I cant make it. The point where I begin to pity myself is that, its either me or all of them who cant make it. Either way I end up the loser.
The freedom, of slogging like the proverbial donkey behind the carrot for 5 days of the week and eating the carrot in the weekend, is one I would adore. If that thought was not for the fun and the money and the hardwork it would definitely be for the fact that I miss the fun of spending time with friends I made wonderful memories with. I miss sharing the good and bad things in our life. A single phone call in a month in which we read out a list of what happened to each other is not nearly enough.
I guess destiny has a flowchart ready for us in which my friends and i have chosen differently at the many decision boxes and are now many page connectors away from each other.
Sunday, 20 July 2008
A tattoed sin
What is it about tattoos that petrifies people? Is it the typical revulsion of the unknown? Is it an outburst of jealous energy? Or is it the realisation that one doesnt have balls sufficiently strong enough to do it? The outraged interrogation of the tattoed individual is testimony in itself that our people are not ready for the power of free expression of ones individuality. We still desire and slog like donkeys to do nothing different. Blasphemy, sacrilege it would be if one dared to follow ones dreams and indulge in ones impulses. What a world we live in? One that doesnt recognise individuality as a virtue, instead condemns it as a blemish. I for one pity those who have a rigid view of what is right and what is wrong. I wish they could experience the pain of committing a mistake, the joy of retrieving whats lost, the astonishment when one realises ones own potential, the exhilaration of a rare moment of success. what would life be without non-conformity? What would be the joy in living life if all there is to life is dour and dull? Points to ponder eh!
Monday, 16 June 2008
50 or 100 years of life expectancy! Which would u choose?
Moments of epiphany or insight often stare into our face when least expected. The most mundane of rituals or the most absurd of chores may become the most enlightening instant of our life. What could one possibly realise or visualise while standing in a maddeningly long queue in an ATM. I for one was taken aback by the happenings I witnessed.
I was in a hurry to get some money out of my account and blow it away even faster but was stuck in a lousy queue outside an ATM. I endured the passing minutes ogling the girl who was standing in front of me. She however had the annoying tendency to not face me when standing before me in a queue. I had hardly realised how stupid my frustration was when I noticed an old man hovering outside the shop next to the ATM. This was a shop that sold stuff for new born babies. Actually this was a shop that pandered to newly made mothers who bought absurdly expensive stuff to equip babies which did nothing but puke or piss on all this indulgence. The old-timer tried to get a couple of coins from the baby shop owner who very professionally threw the old-timer out. The shop next to the baby shop was incongruously a liquor shop and a very seedy one at that. It was awfully crowded even though it was monday night and the crowd was determined it seems, to drink till dawn. The old man went into the crowd and started begging among the boisterous and sometimes rowdy crowd. I was laughing internally about the old man's stupidity in begging from a most probably insensitive and drunk crowd. The old man proceeded to pick up 5 and 10 Rs from most of the crowd and probably had a couple of hundred rupees when he exited the liquor shop.
A seedy liquor shop that caters to daily wage labourers and people of mostly lesser means is not exactly a happy hunting ground for beggars. What made those early evening revellers dig into their meagre earnings and give a decent percentage of their earnings to that old man. At any other time the only collection that the old-timer would have made from this crowd would have been one of swear words.The only common factor that connected all the people there, seemed to be the spirits that had possessed their consciousness. Some would have felt the prick of their conscience, some would have felt the stirrings of their dormant emotions that form the basis of sympathy. If people were destined to be more sympathetic and more human in sentiment only when they are drunk then mankind deserves to be drunk all the time. What if drinking kills you by the time you are 50? I for one would say living 50 years as a good human being is better than living a 100 as a self-centered parasite.
I was in a hurry to get some money out of my account and blow it away even faster but was stuck in a lousy queue outside an ATM. I endured the passing minutes ogling the girl who was standing in front of me. She however had the annoying tendency to not face me when standing before me in a queue. I had hardly realised how stupid my frustration was when I noticed an old man hovering outside the shop next to the ATM. This was a shop that sold stuff for new born babies. Actually this was a shop that pandered to newly made mothers who bought absurdly expensive stuff to equip babies which did nothing but puke or piss on all this indulgence. The old-timer tried to get a couple of coins from the baby shop owner who very professionally threw the old-timer out. The shop next to the baby shop was incongruously a liquor shop and a very seedy one at that. It was awfully crowded even though it was monday night and the crowd was determined it seems, to drink till dawn. The old man went into the crowd and started begging among the boisterous and sometimes rowdy crowd. I was laughing internally about the old man's stupidity in begging from a most probably insensitive and drunk crowd. The old man proceeded to pick up 5 and 10 Rs from most of the crowd and probably had a couple of hundred rupees when he exited the liquor shop.
A seedy liquor shop that caters to daily wage labourers and people of mostly lesser means is not exactly a happy hunting ground for beggars. What made those early evening revellers dig into their meagre earnings and give a decent percentage of their earnings to that old man. At any other time the only collection that the old-timer would have made from this crowd would have been one of swear words.The only common factor that connected all the people there, seemed to be the spirits that had possessed their consciousness. Some would have felt the prick of their conscience, some would have felt the stirrings of their dormant emotions that form the basis of sympathy. If people were destined to be more sympathetic and more human in sentiment only when they are drunk then mankind deserves to be drunk all the time. What if drinking kills you by the time you are 50? I for one would say living 50 years as a good human being is better than living a 100 as a self-centered parasite.
Sunday, 11 May 2008
A Lie is a heavenly gift
Imagine life without a lie
A life where truth rules
A life where everyone knows the reality
One where reality cant be cloaked
In the safety shield called a safe lie.
What would one say when faced with awkward questions
Imagine the grimace and the grin which says am telling the truth forgive me
Imagine the reaction when one says ' you look fat' .
Life would be fun one would think
Would it?
It would be painful.
How would one explain the lack of love
Towards ones wife , ones life
Hatred would rule the instant one reveals
The truth behind the repulsion of others
But truth it is , the unadulterated , unabridged truth.
The truth we darent say.
How would egoes be satisfied?
How would yearnings be gratified?
How would one learn to be happy?
Without the safety net called a lie.
Would you dare to reveal the truth
When you you dont touch your partner?
When you grin and say it was a wonderful party
When you put up a brave face and say life is wonderful
Would you dare reveal the truth behind reality.
Ridiculous it seems
Imagine a life with nothing but the truth
Whats the fun in that?
Lawyers and Politicians would be without a job
Only because a lie is the foundation of their career.
A lie is a universal leveller
An antidote for the bitter medicine called truth
An alternative but not entirely the right choice.
A choice thats a pain
It does work though , not always but mostly
A lie thats gifts you love
A lie that grants you piece of mind
One that bestows confidence
One that ensures success is better than truth
However against one may argue.
Love your life my friend
Utter the truth when it is required
Conserve your anger
And ration your lies
The most precious of vices is indeed
The most effective of all utterances.
A life where truth rules
A life where everyone knows the reality
One where reality cant be cloaked
In the safety shield called a safe lie.
What would one say when faced with awkward questions
Imagine the grimace and the grin which says am telling the truth forgive me
Imagine the reaction when one says ' you look fat' .
Life would be fun one would think
Would it?
It would be painful.
How would one explain the lack of love
Towards ones wife , ones life
Hatred would rule the instant one reveals
The truth behind the repulsion of others
But truth it is , the unadulterated , unabridged truth.
The truth we darent say.
How would egoes be satisfied?
How would yearnings be gratified?
How would one learn to be happy?
Without the safety net called a lie.
Would you dare to reveal the truth
When you you dont touch your partner?
When you grin and say it was a wonderful party
When you put up a brave face and say life is wonderful
Would you dare reveal the truth behind reality.
Ridiculous it seems
Imagine a life with nothing but the truth
Whats the fun in that?
Lawyers and Politicians would be without a job
Only because a lie is the foundation of their career.
A lie is a universal leveller
An antidote for the bitter medicine called truth
An alternative but not entirely the right choice.
A choice thats a pain
It does work though , not always but mostly
A lie thats gifts you love
A lie that grants you piece of mind
One that bestows confidence
One that ensures success is better than truth
However against one may argue.
Love your life my friend
Utter the truth when it is required
Conserve your anger
And ration your lies
The most precious of vices is indeed
The most effective of all utterances.
Saturday, 29 March 2008
Hopeless!
Do u think life is interesting?
The life that u have strived for
The life thats been the essence of every breath that u have inhaled
The very soul and spirit of every single emotion that has consumed u
A life that has been dictated by those around u
a life that has been corrupted by the public image that is u
a life led by u because u dare not lead another
a life that lives but yearns for life
What is the reward of enacting a play that is of no significance
especially to u
just because it conforms to stereotypes
The subtle pressure of our parents
the greedy pressure of our relatives
the peer pressure that we subjugate to
the merciless pressure of your inamorata
Life is sacred but is it worth living
Considering it has nothing unique to offer
Sheep in a herd is what I wud say
u , me , the beggar in the street corner temple
the flower seller and the psuedo-sophisticated bitch
In an exploited mercedes of another exploited entity.
What would u give to live what u imagine
however coarse , however expensive
however thrilling, however disgusting
however and whatever it may be.
especially because it is ultimately someone else
Who decides what is thrilling and what is disgusting.
It is not impossible to live your imagination
It is just that we dont know how to
What is life, when it is lived according to impressions?
Can we learn to be free?
Can we be the spirit that really doesnt care about others
Can this thought ever germinate
I wonder
And I feel hopeless.
The life that u have strived for
The life thats been the essence of every breath that u have inhaled
The very soul and spirit of every single emotion that has consumed u
A life that has been dictated by those around u
a life that has been corrupted by the public image that is u
a life led by u because u dare not lead another
a life that lives but yearns for life
What is the reward of enacting a play that is of no significance
especially to u
just because it conforms to stereotypes
The subtle pressure of our parents
the greedy pressure of our relatives
the peer pressure that we subjugate to
the merciless pressure of your inamorata
Life is sacred but is it worth living
Considering it has nothing unique to offer
Sheep in a herd is what I wud say
u , me , the beggar in the street corner temple
the flower seller and the psuedo-sophisticated bitch
In an exploited mercedes of another exploited entity.
What would u give to live what u imagine
however coarse , however expensive
however thrilling, however disgusting
however and whatever it may be.
especially because it is ultimately someone else
Who decides what is thrilling and what is disgusting.
It is not impossible to live your imagination
It is just that we dont know how to
What is life, when it is lived according to impressions?
Can we learn to be free?
Can we be the spirit that really doesnt care about others
Can this thought ever germinate
I wonder
And I feel hopeless.
Saturday, 23 February 2008
I fly!
Imagine a cool january morning in the usually balmy city where I live. Am soaring against the wind, my wings flapping only when I just begin to lose lift. Gliding , soaring , diving all in a quick succession of ethereal & deft movements. So eloquent , so beautiful that it hurts when I think it may come to an end.
It was something that I had dreamt of, from the very first memory I have of when I thought about what I would love to do. Whatever the rapid and fleeting new attractions that a small boys mind can register, it all comes back to the one and only love that has possessed his heart. It is an altogether different story that often little boys tend to forget the very thing that they love and are sidetracked in to the cesspool that is the black hole called convention. By the time the little boy realises what he really loves and what his heart desires he is no longer a little boy. He has earned a lot of wealth and goodwill but in return has squandered his childhood , his youth. The question that now comes to the mind is , whether the exchange was worth it? Will any man who was once a little boy with dreams in his mind and laughter in his eyes, dare to answer this question? Will the question reassure him as to the wisdom of his choice or will it mock his inanity? The question and the answer have to come from the same entity , then why the fear of the question or the answer?
The problem begins when we in our sub-conscious mind split ourselves into two distinct personalities. The half that is true to the real us lives for us and our beliefs and our passions. Sadly this half is the submissive half in most of us. This is the half that revels in the pleasure it derives in the simple things of life. The twinkle of sunlight on a drop of dew, the smooth flowing sweet lines of a teasdale poem, the smell of a freshly brewed cup of filter coffee and the comfort of an old shirt and a torn jeans. This is the very essence of life for this submissive part.
The dominant part within us is ironically the part which gets dictated to, by most external agencies. It embraces convention and herd mentality as if it were the very purpose and meaning of its entire life. What a waste one could say but one does conform though one professes a very strident opposition to this concept of blind faith or fear of the road less travelled.
The tranquil hedonism professed by me in following my heart is a matter of deep concern for some and a manifestation of depraved brain capability for others.
I still fly, I still love the caress of the wind in my hair, the kiss of the morning sun on my cheeks, the whisper of companionship that touches my heart. If to fly is to follow the dictates of my heart then I still fly. If to fly is to let my inhibitions drop away because they cant keep pace with my progress then I still fly. If to fly is to slap the doubters, the smirkers and the abrasive gossipers then I still fly. Most of all I still fly because that is the very essence of my existence , the very purpose of what I was born to achieve and the very meaning for my chapter in this world , my life , for this, I shall always fly.
It was something that I had dreamt of, from the very first memory I have of when I thought about what I would love to do. Whatever the rapid and fleeting new attractions that a small boys mind can register, it all comes back to the one and only love that has possessed his heart. It is an altogether different story that often little boys tend to forget the very thing that they love and are sidetracked in to the cesspool that is the black hole called convention. By the time the little boy realises what he really loves and what his heart desires he is no longer a little boy. He has earned a lot of wealth and goodwill but in return has squandered his childhood , his youth. The question that now comes to the mind is , whether the exchange was worth it? Will any man who was once a little boy with dreams in his mind and laughter in his eyes, dare to answer this question? Will the question reassure him as to the wisdom of his choice or will it mock his inanity? The question and the answer have to come from the same entity , then why the fear of the question or the answer?
The problem begins when we in our sub-conscious mind split ourselves into two distinct personalities. The half that is true to the real us lives for us and our beliefs and our passions. Sadly this half is the submissive half in most of us. This is the half that revels in the pleasure it derives in the simple things of life. The twinkle of sunlight on a drop of dew, the smooth flowing sweet lines of a teasdale poem, the smell of a freshly brewed cup of filter coffee and the comfort of an old shirt and a torn jeans. This is the very essence of life for this submissive part.
The dominant part within us is ironically the part which gets dictated to, by most external agencies. It embraces convention and herd mentality as if it were the very purpose and meaning of its entire life. What a waste one could say but one does conform though one professes a very strident opposition to this concept of blind faith or fear of the road less travelled.
The tranquil hedonism professed by me in following my heart is a matter of deep concern for some and a manifestation of depraved brain capability for others.
I still fly, I still love the caress of the wind in my hair, the kiss of the morning sun on my cheeks, the whisper of companionship that touches my heart. If to fly is to follow the dictates of my heart then I still fly. If to fly is to let my inhibitions drop away because they cant keep pace with my progress then I still fly. If to fly is to slap the doubters, the smirkers and the abrasive gossipers then I still fly. Most of all I still fly because that is the very essence of my existence , the very purpose of what I was born to achieve and the very meaning for my chapter in this world , my life , for this, I shall always fly.
Monday, 18 February 2008
Gentleman! Would you please rot in hell.
What would you do if you are 2200 Kms from home, alone and are sitting in a train that will take you home in two days time? Sounds like an incredibly dumb question right? Hold your horses!the catch is what if you have managed to lose your wallet with 3000 Rupees in it alongwith the ticket for the journey you are about to undertake, as well as a dozen cards credit, debit, entry passcards, smart cards?
That is precisely the situation in which I found myself on arguably the most romantic day of this year 14th Feb.
I boarded a crowded TN Exp and settled into my seat in a 3 tier AC compartment fondly anticipating the next 10 days at home doing nothing. My hands were doing the habitual self frisking to ensure everything is accounted for when I felt as if somebody had stabbed me in the rear with a knitting needle which managed to skewer my stomach cavity as well. That was
probably the first time I ever broke into a cold sweat. I searched everywhere I could in the 2 mins left for the train to officially depart. The train started precisely at 2230 hrs which in itself was a rude shock,considering I had spent 26 yrs of my life consistently travelling on trains that were as a a norm late for everything. The one time our railways had to be punctual was when I had everything to lose.
The RPF were kind and very helpful and did everything but throw me out of the train, though I should be held responsible because my ticket was in my wallet alongwith everything else. No FIR filed, no proof of my ever having purchased a ticket and the RPF was ready to classify me as one those countless morons who travel ticketless almost by compulsion. What saved me was an idiosyncracy of mine. I have this habit of memorizing the 10 digit PNR number and the ticket serial number of every ticket I purchase. When I rattled out these numbers and asked the TTE and the RPF to verify this against the passenger manifest they looked at me as if I had sworn at them in aramaic. The numbers did match and the TTE reluctantly let me enter the cabin again.
Now the first hurdle was cleared , I was on the train homeward bound. Now to solve the rest. Oh yes! I forgot to mention that I was also sufferring from a 102 fever combined with an asthmatic attack. To complicate things further my throat became hoarse and I couldnt utter a word. I checked everything that I had and found that besides my luggage I had a single Five rupee coin and half of a litre bottle of bisleri. This was at 2245 hrs on 14th Feb 2008. I had to get through till 16 Feb 2008 0900 hrs with what I had.
Have you ever gone through the agony of watching people throwing away a half eaten meal while you yourself are starving? Let me inform you, I had to almost restrain myself physically to avoid throttling those people. The vadas deep fried in the probably week old mutiple times used oil, the thin watery coffee and dry-as-paper chapatis were agents from hell bent upon torturing me, a hardcore foodie. The worst part was rationing the water. I realised how spoilt I had become in the past few years because I couldnt bring myself to drink the water from the public water dispensers set up at each railway station. Instead I chose to have half a mouthful every four hours.
"No food for 30 -0dd hrs" would not have been such a daunting ordeal under ordinary circumstances, however coupled with a raging fever it was bad.
By the next night I was drained, my bedroll drenched with the sweat of my fever and I was hungry enough to gobble down a dozen big green bananas. I was trying to will myself to sleep, but Sleep, my bosom buddy till then ran off on a sudden vacation and I ended up tossing all through the night in that cramped top berth.
My deliverence was hardly 15 minutes away. I was about to reach Chennai central. I took out the jealously guarded five rupee coin and walked out of the station with my huge rucksack and booked a prepaid auto. Thirty minutes later I was home, downing hot scalding coffee and dosas. When I related this entire episode to my shocked parents all my dad said was " you are stupid". On my enquiry he revealed that one of my cousins lived in jhansi and if I had given him a call I would have probably been flush with money in time for breakfast on the 15th. The irony was that I had spoken to that cousin less than two weeks ago but had clean forgotten him when I actually needed his help.
I wonder who the gentleman was who picked my pocket and how considerate of him to do so just before I commenced a long journey. I do sincerely hope he was in dire need of that money and if not, may he please kindly rot in hell.
That is precisely the situation in which I found myself on arguably the most romantic day of this year 14th Feb.
I boarded a crowded TN Exp and settled into my seat in a 3 tier AC compartment fondly anticipating the next 10 days at home doing nothing. My hands were doing the habitual self frisking to ensure everything is accounted for when I felt as if somebody had stabbed me in the rear with a knitting needle which managed to skewer my stomach cavity as well. That was
probably the first time I ever broke into a cold sweat. I searched everywhere I could in the 2 mins left for the train to officially depart. The train started precisely at 2230 hrs which in itself was a rude shock,considering I had spent 26 yrs of my life consistently travelling on trains that were as a a norm late for everything. The one time our railways had to be punctual was when I had everything to lose.
The RPF were kind and very helpful and did everything but throw me out of the train, though I should be held responsible because my ticket was in my wallet alongwith everything else. No FIR filed, no proof of my ever having purchased a ticket and the RPF was ready to classify me as one those countless morons who travel ticketless almost by compulsion. What saved me was an idiosyncracy of mine. I have this habit of memorizing the 10 digit PNR number and the ticket serial number of every ticket I purchase. When I rattled out these numbers and asked the TTE and the RPF to verify this against the passenger manifest they looked at me as if I had sworn at them in aramaic. The numbers did match and the TTE reluctantly let me enter the cabin again.
Now the first hurdle was cleared , I was on the train homeward bound. Now to solve the rest. Oh yes! I forgot to mention that I was also sufferring from a 102 fever combined with an asthmatic attack. To complicate things further my throat became hoarse and I couldnt utter a word. I checked everything that I had and found that besides my luggage I had a single Five rupee coin and half of a litre bottle of bisleri. This was at 2245 hrs on 14th Feb 2008. I had to get through till 16 Feb 2008 0900 hrs with what I had.
Have you ever gone through the agony of watching people throwing away a half eaten meal while you yourself are starving? Let me inform you, I had to almost restrain myself physically to avoid throttling those people. The vadas deep fried in the probably week old mutiple times used oil, the thin watery coffee and dry-as-paper chapatis were agents from hell bent upon torturing me, a hardcore foodie. The worst part was rationing the water. I realised how spoilt I had become in the past few years because I couldnt bring myself to drink the water from the public water dispensers set up at each railway station. Instead I chose to have half a mouthful every four hours.
"No food for 30 -0dd hrs" would not have been such a daunting ordeal under ordinary circumstances, however coupled with a raging fever it was bad.
By the next night I was drained, my bedroll drenched with the sweat of my fever and I was hungry enough to gobble down a dozen big green bananas. I was trying to will myself to sleep, but Sleep, my bosom buddy till then ran off on a sudden vacation and I ended up tossing all through the night in that cramped top berth.
My deliverence was hardly 15 minutes away. I was about to reach Chennai central. I took out the jealously guarded five rupee coin and walked out of the station with my huge rucksack and booked a prepaid auto. Thirty minutes later I was home, downing hot scalding coffee and dosas. When I related this entire episode to my shocked parents all my dad said was " you are stupid". On my enquiry he revealed that one of my cousins lived in jhansi and if I had given him a call I would have probably been flush with money in time for breakfast on the 15th. The irony was that I had spoken to that cousin less than two weeks ago but had clean forgotten him when I actually needed his help.
I wonder who the gentleman was who picked my pocket and how considerate of him to do so just before I commenced a long journey. I do sincerely hope he was in dire need of that money and if not, may he please kindly rot in hell.
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
Love- The inside story
Love is not why I would die for you.
Love is not why you would forget everything else for me.
Love is not why thorns in my heart feel like tender blossoms.
Love is not why you think nothing else matters.
Love is not why I adore your body.
Love does not exist when you plan to mould me.
Love is not because society accepts us.
Love does not mean no more nights alone,
Love does not hope that my wishes become your dreams.
Love does not mean the moon and stars visit us everyday.
Love never says no more sighs or tears.
Love cant guarantee implicit trust forever.
Love just means no matter what,
We promise to never give up, never feel alone,
Never to feel betrayed, never to expect being said thanks,
Never to pray to have our tears wiped or be told sorry.
Love just says the hands, that are together today,
Promise each other to never let go no matter what.
Love is not why you would forget everything else for me.
Love is not why thorns in my heart feel like tender blossoms.
Love is not why you think nothing else matters.
Love is not why I adore your body.
Love does not exist when you plan to mould me.
Love is not because society accepts us.
Love does not mean no more nights alone,
Love does not hope that my wishes become your dreams.
Love does not mean the moon and stars visit us everyday.
Love never says no more sighs or tears.
Love cant guarantee implicit trust forever.
Love just means no matter what,
We promise to never give up, never feel alone,
Never to feel betrayed, never to expect being said thanks,
Never to pray to have our tears wiped or be told sorry.
Love just says the hands, that are together today,
Promise each other to never let go no matter what.
Tempest
Dear Tempest, blow there-on
Do take my missive for the girl I love.
I pray my love, to be the knight
You want me to be, I sincerely do.
Not for society, not for people
Not for respectability, not for me
But for love of a girl in a far far land
With tears in her eyes and pain in her heart,
The heart she once gifted to a unworthy me.
The canvas smiles, wry and sympathetic
Paint as much, I see you in every stroke
Of the brush and of the weak flesh of my heart.
I long to rush, across the rules and wrath.
Of the countless who rise against us...
What do they know my love, of love that is.
Love that was untouched and serene, so cherished
I see you now with a cup of tea that you flavour,
With the salt of your tears, the grimace you put on
To satisfy your husband, a soul wronged.
Hurt him no further, my dear love!
Not for the sycophants, not for the hypocrites
Not for your parents, not for our love.
Love him or atleast like him
Punish him no more, for the weakness of another.
Oh Tempest! The bearer of tidings,
Do tell her I loved her, but now love she must
Her husband no other, cherish him on her bosom
Hold him tight and become precious together.
So I can see them, in the hell for myself
That I choose, but choose I will
So I can gift the honey of heaven to my love.
Do take my missive for the girl I love.
I pray my love, to be the knight
You want me to be, I sincerely do.
Not for society, not for people
Not for respectability, not for me
But for love of a girl in a far far land
With tears in her eyes and pain in her heart,
The heart she once gifted to a unworthy me.
The canvas smiles, wry and sympathetic
Paint as much, I see you in every stroke
Of the brush and of the weak flesh of my heart.
I long to rush, across the rules and wrath.
Of the countless who rise against us...
What do they know my love, of love that is.
Love that was untouched and serene, so cherished
I see you now with a cup of tea that you flavour,
With the salt of your tears, the grimace you put on
To satisfy your husband, a soul wronged.
Hurt him no further, my dear love!
Not for the sycophants, not for the hypocrites
Not for your parents, not for our love.
Love him or atleast like him
Punish him no more, for the weakness of another.
Oh Tempest! The bearer of tidings,
Do tell her I loved her, but now love she must
Her husband no other, cherish him on her bosom
Hold him tight and become precious together.
So I can see them, in the hell for myself
That I choose, but choose I will
So I can gift the honey of heaven to my love.
It might have been.
Those haunting eyes, disturbing smile
Charmed I was stunned more likely
Not a word passed, not a look exchanged
All it took was a piece of paper with her face on it.
She smiled out of it and into my heart,
I never knew or felt her seep in.
I refused her hand for lack of a spine
And faith in love of a woman that never was.
Maybe she liked, maybe she thought of me,
Maybe she sneaked a glimpse
Of my face, on a piece of paper
I never will know, that she’s gone.
Think of her and wonder how she would be,
In front of me, that deep-dimpled smile,
Dancing eyes and vibrant brows,
Mocking my choice and sense, so it seems.
What would it be to share my dreams,
And dream her own.
To love her faults, adore her anger,
To be chided in her yet unknown voice.
Wonder what she would say in my ear,
When I try and coax sweet nothings out of her,
Smile and comply or demur and deny.
Either would intrigue and enchant me more.
Wonder what it would be to let
Her sleep on my lap, a half-smile on her face
With eyelashes twitching, no doubt dreaming,
While I run my fingers through her hair
And dream that this should be where
They say, If time stood still.
Wonder what it would be if the fool
Who now dreams on this paper
Had used his eyes and soul
To accept her and realize their dreams
And not cry over, what it could have been.
Charmed I was stunned more likely
Not a word passed, not a look exchanged
All it took was a piece of paper with her face on it.
She smiled out of it and into my heart,
I never knew or felt her seep in.
I refused her hand for lack of a spine
And faith in love of a woman that never was.
Maybe she liked, maybe she thought of me,
Maybe she sneaked a glimpse
Of my face, on a piece of paper
I never will know, that she’s gone.
Think of her and wonder how she would be,
In front of me, that deep-dimpled smile,
Dancing eyes and vibrant brows,
Mocking my choice and sense, so it seems.
What would it be to share my dreams,
And dream her own.
To love her faults, adore her anger,
To be chided in her yet unknown voice.
Wonder what she would say in my ear,
When I try and coax sweet nothings out of her,
Smile and comply or demur and deny.
Either would intrigue and enchant me more.
Wonder what it would be to let
Her sleep on my lap, a half-smile on her face
With eyelashes twitching, no doubt dreaming,
While I run my fingers through her hair
And dream that this should be where
They say, If time stood still.
Wonder what it would be if the fool
Who now dreams on this paper
Had used his eyes and soul
To accept her and realize their dreams
And not cry over, what it could have been.
Sunday, 20 January 2008
Whats worse not being noticed or being forgotten?
Somebody once said 'God and the soldier are remembered and sought after only in times of personal strife and war'. How true and how cruel! I wonder how many people have ever considered the fact that many things that they take for granted are in fact a rarity for many other people in this country. Its been 6 months since I last had a morsel to eat that I relished. I do eat and by most opinions eat well but where does this food rate next to the food flavoured and scented by the love of our parents, siblings and other loved ones. What wouldnt I give to share my dinner everyday with those who love me and those that I love.
People like me can count their well-wishers on the fingers of their left hands without flexing it too much. May people do ooh and aaah once and say we are doing a great job but what a pity , we rate the same accolades as a hyper rich, self-obsessed egolomaniac because he acted in and produced a juvenile drivel of a video which has been projected as the nominee for the farce that is the oscars. Talk about mediocracy showering accolades on stupidity. I am not being diplomatic or using code language, because if u have seen om shanti om u wud know what I mean. What a waste of money? Talk about the rich sucking up to the rich and the rich insulting the not so rich.
Every 20 yrs or so every average Indian remembers somebody who is distantly related who is in the defence forces and thumps his chest to parade his adoration for that so long forgotten individual. What a shame that a family feud between two sisters like India and Pakistan is required to reinforce the solidarity within their people. We were not born sisters , we were created after 5 milleniums of existence. We were the by product of blind greed of people from both sides of today's border and the impatience of a colonial empire who could not wait to get back home in time for high tea.
Though it may seem highly laughable that two neighbours need massive mobilisation of manpower to defend themselves against each other, it is a fact that being called a paki in India is an insult that is worse than something aimed at ones parentage. I am sure the vice versa is true across the border. This is a result of more than half a century of mistrust and bitterness. Two massive armies are an inevitable result when two people apparently mistrust and hate each other so much that they prefer shooting each other to shooting stray rabid dogs. In such a scenario I for one would appreciate the job done by all our soldiers in guarding our borders. There are sceptics who say that these soldiers are paid for what they do. Are they truly? in todays world what would u consider a yearly increment in salary? a measly 3oo rupees or $7.5 annual. Isnt this worse than a joke? Why then does the government report an appalling fall in the number of recruits for the armed forces every year as if it is a surprise?
Men and women who were attracted into the defense services for various reasons are now queuing up to leave, manufacturing very creative reasons for doing so, and nothing can be done to stop this exodus except to stem it when it is a trickle. A little appreciation would go a long way in reassuring the hearts of the millions of souls who sacrifice their every day today for the rest of the country's people.
We are a people who see divinity in everything. So much so that it borders on the ridiculous but how does ridiculousness matter as long as it is beneficial. It is beyond my comprehension that we adore and worship snakes and trees while we forget the Indian soldier who ensures that we enjoy the new found money and fashion during the day and sleep well at night. All that a soldier wants is to be reassured that his/her family's welfare and future is taken care of by the country whose name he breathes and utters every second to bolster his dwindling courage when his enemy is face to face and in our case this is a daily occurence.
The filmy representation of a soldier just before his death is one where he screams 'jai hind' or mouthes the choiciest of swear words. Let me assure u thats the puerile imagination of pampered film makers like the johars and the chopras. The last thought that runs through a soldiers mind is the hope that his life wont be a waste and the fervent prayer that his family should be taken care of. Shame on us if we cant reciprocate by a small gesture of appreciation and assurance for the families of the bravest souls this great country has every given birth to.
People like me can count their well-wishers on the fingers of their left hands without flexing it too much. May people do ooh and aaah once and say we are doing a great job but what a pity , we rate the same accolades as a hyper rich, self-obsessed egolomaniac because he acted in and produced a juvenile drivel of a video which has been projected as the nominee for the farce that is the oscars. Talk about mediocracy showering accolades on stupidity. I am not being diplomatic or using code language, because if u have seen om shanti om u wud know what I mean. What a waste of money? Talk about the rich sucking up to the rich and the rich insulting the not so rich.
Every 20 yrs or so every average Indian remembers somebody who is distantly related who is in the defence forces and thumps his chest to parade his adoration for that so long forgotten individual. What a shame that a family feud between two sisters like India and Pakistan is required to reinforce the solidarity within their people. We were not born sisters , we were created after 5 milleniums of existence. We were the by product of blind greed of people from both sides of today's border and the impatience of a colonial empire who could not wait to get back home in time for high tea.
Though it may seem highly laughable that two neighbours need massive mobilisation of manpower to defend themselves against each other, it is a fact that being called a paki in India is an insult that is worse than something aimed at ones parentage. I am sure the vice versa is true across the border. This is a result of more than half a century of mistrust and bitterness. Two massive armies are an inevitable result when two people apparently mistrust and hate each other so much that they prefer shooting each other to shooting stray rabid dogs. In such a scenario I for one would appreciate the job done by all our soldiers in guarding our borders. There are sceptics who say that these soldiers are paid for what they do. Are they truly? in todays world what would u consider a yearly increment in salary? a measly 3oo rupees or $7.5 annual. Isnt this worse than a joke? Why then does the government report an appalling fall in the number of recruits for the armed forces every year as if it is a surprise?
Men and women who were attracted into the defense services for various reasons are now queuing up to leave, manufacturing very creative reasons for doing so, and nothing can be done to stop this exodus except to stem it when it is a trickle. A little appreciation would go a long way in reassuring the hearts of the millions of souls who sacrifice their every day today for the rest of the country's people.
We are a people who see divinity in everything. So much so that it borders on the ridiculous but how does ridiculousness matter as long as it is beneficial. It is beyond my comprehension that we adore and worship snakes and trees while we forget the Indian soldier who ensures that we enjoy the new found money and fashion during the day and sleep well at night. All that a soldier wants is to be reassured that his/her family's welfare and future is taken care of by the country whose name he breathes and utters every second to bolster his dwindling courage when his enemy is face to face and in our case this is a daily occurence.
The filmy representation of a soldier just before his death is one where he screams 'jai hind' or mouthes the choiciest of swear words. Let me assure u thats the puerile imagination of pampered film makers like the johars and the chopras. The last thought that runs through a soldiers mind is the hope that his life wont be a waste and the fervent prayer that his family should be taken care of. Shame on us if we cant reciprocate by a small gesture of appreciation and assurance for the families of the bravest souls this great country has every given birth to.
Saturday, 19 January 2008
what ails and fails us and what ultimately bails us.
A country that has achieved, half of what the so called great USA has in 232 years, in just 60 yrs has nothing to be ashamed of. Till date the so called greatest democracy in the world cant bring itself to elect a leader that is either an african-american or a woman. Now, today that is exactly the predicament it is in, one of choosing between its two definitely undesirable entities, an african-american or a woman. Let me make it clear am from a country that has suppressed and destroyed the essence of womanhood for many a year but it still has managed to put forth a woman President, a woman Prime minister and umpteen women chief ministers. Whether these women deserve it or not is a different question altogether.
The country that has given me all that I have is today the trailblazer in many ways. It has a young population that is hungry to earn, preen and prove itself many times over. This young population I refer to is definitely restricted to certain pockets and is mostly intent on self-gratification but nevertheless, it does bring up the standard of life for many. The rest of the population in the same age group as these trailblazers as well as the many other freeloaders in the form of trade unions, politicians, agriculturists, small scale businessmen and NGOs do nothing but fill their coffers by exploiting this country's potential, while contributing nought to its day to day development. On top of this leech like behaviour these entities raise a huge hue & cry about being the deprived lot. If u need proof of this all u need to do is watch any channel that parades itself as a news channel and u will find a score of these entities busy criticising everything this country has except themselves and their mothers. These entities; do not pay taxes but demand good roads, save every paisa to send their sons and daughters abroad while raising a hue and cry about brain drain and finally either buy or sell the most sacred of all things that is Indian , the right to choose our leader, our vote for the price of 1/4th a bottle of Royal stag.
The disparity between those who have and those who dont is not the fault of those thousands who work in white collar IT jobs, but that of those who make every profession look cheap with pathetic facilities and abysmal wages. A country with a 1.2 billion in population and out of which 800 million is in the earning bracket has an depressing 24 million tax-payer strength. This measly 3% taxpayer strength has to fulfil the demands of the rest of the 97 % who contribute nothing, absolutely nothing to this country's growth. What a shame! and what a shameless 97% people.
Lets now come to the so called leaders of our nation. A country where more than 60% of the strength of its governing body is involved in criminal cases ranging from fraud to murder, has a lot to worry about. From the recent events in the over-hyped IT state and a state that has dedicated itself to pandering to internal and external addictions and obsessions, one can conclusively say that our politicians have found new depths to sink into. The depressing part is that neither do they regret it and nor do their supporters relinquish support. What a waste of such a population-wise young and vibrant country's present!
Enterprise is the foundation of our survival. Our people may trade in wide-ranging things such as tamarind seeds and human flesh but the aim has now improved from the yesteryear aim of survival to todays aim of middle class hedonism. If only we had the fore-sight and the self-discipline to reign ourselelves into a streamlined path we could shine for a long time.
Inspite of all these depressing and deflating Indian-ness, what finally shines through is the ability to live through adversity. Irrespective of the billion internal scuffles and acrimonious debates, any external pressure or offensive has been repelled with a solidarity and resoluteness that is seldom seen in people of similar upbringing,language or society let alone in the people of a country like India with more than 800 official languages and a million different castes and subdivisions. What is it that makes every Indian's skin pucker with goose-bumps and sends a shiver up his/her spine whenever his national spirits are stirred? Every single thread that goes into the tricolour is the representation of the courage and guts of the Indian people and their joy of living for the sake of living. It shows , when a billion throats bay and bellow from the base of their bellies whenever any foreign entitiy dares to even contemplate stepping on its breathing space. Beware, India is rising! patronise and perish, be a partner and profit.
The country that has given me all that I have is today the trailblazer in many ways. It has a young population that is hungry to earn, preen and prove itself many times over. This young population I refer to is definitely restricted to certain pockets and is mostly intent on self-gratification but nevertheless, it does bring up the standard of life for many. The rest of the population in the same age group as these trailblazers as well as the many other freeloaders in the form of trade unions, politicians, agriculturists, small scale businessmen and NGOs do nothing but fill their coffers by exploiting this country's potential, while contributing nought to its day to day development. On top of this leech like behaviour these entities raise a huge hue & cry about being the deprived lot. If u need proof of this all u need to do is watch any channel that parades itself as a news channel and u will find a score of these entities busy criticising everything this country has except themselves and their mothers. These entities; do not pay taxes but demand good roads, save every paisa to send their sons and daughters abroad while raising a hue and cry about brain drain and finally either buy or sell the most sacred of all things that is Indian , the right to choose our leader, our vote for the price of 1/4th a bottle of Royal stag.
The disparity between those who have and those who dont is not the fault of those thousands who work in white collar IT jobs, but that of those who make every profession look cheap with pathetic facilities and abysmal wages. A country with a 1.2 billion in population and out of which 800 million is in the earning bracket has an depressing 24 million tax-payer strength. This measly 3% taxpayer strength has to fulfil the demands of the rest of the 97 % who contribute nothing, absolutely nothing to this country's growth. What a shame! and what a shameless 97% people.
Lets now come to the so called leaders of our nation. A country where more than 60% of the strength of its governing body is involved in criminal cases ranging from fraud to murder, has a lot to worry about. From the recent events in the over-hyped IT state and a state that has dedicated itself to pandering to internal and external addictions and obsessions, one can conclusively say that our politicians have found new depths to sink into. The depressing part is that neither do they regret it and nor do their supporters relinquish support. What a waste of such a population-wise young and vibrant country's present!
Enterprise is the foundation of our survival. Our people may trade in wide-ranging things such as tamarind seeds and human flesh but the aim has now improved from the yesteryear aim of survival to todays aim of middle class hedonism. If only we had the fore-sight and the self-discipline to reign ourselelves into a streamlined path we could shine for a long time.
Inspite of all these depressing and deflating Indian-ness, what finally shines through is the ability to live through adversity. Irrespective of the billion internal scuffles and acrimonious debates, any external pressure or offensive has been repelled with a solidarity and resoluteness that is seldom seen in people of similar upbringing,language or society let alone in the people of a country like India with more than 800 official languages and a million different castes and subdivisions. What is it that makes every Indian's skin pucker with goose-bumps and sends a shiver up his/her spine whenever his national spirits are stirred? Every single thread that goes into the tricolour is the representation of the courage and guts of the Indian people and their joy of living for the sake of living. It shows , when a billion throats bay and bellow from the base of their bellies whenever any foreign entitiy dares to even contemplate stepping on its breathing space. Beware, India is rising! patronise and perish, be a partner and profit.
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