Cognito Ergo Sum ... or am I ?

2008-09-07T23:27:00.000-07:00

A Few of my Favorite Things

Five near-perfect months after the big move have reaffirmed my conviction that moving back to Bombay has been one of the best personal decisions I have taken (quite a lucky break for one who is known to take some of the worst decisions in his personal life). Life has developed its own sweet pace- undulating from hectic at work to laid back at play. I haven’t really had any strong feelings good or bad to voice in quite a while; ergo the long hiatus in my blogging. But I figured I kind of love voicing my thoughts and so I have decided that I shall go against the written word of a friend and blog even though I have nothing in particular to say.

So I think I will begin the first of many soon to come chilled out posts on.. yep yep you guessed it smartass, the topic in bold above! No no, I am not putting myself up for adoption by the Von Trapp family or writing a sequel to that 'Sound of Music' movie that gave me quite a headache as a kid (I was brought up to appreciate 'The Godfather' capice!!). These ARE a few of my favorite things.

Bagel Shop: This quiet little unassuming place off Carter road. Take a right from the police station if you are coming from Carters or a left if you are exiting that charming Shirley Rajan road and Voila!!!! You are there (pun intended). It’s a place where time literally slows down to a nice languid pace, your breathing gets more relaxed and even your orders take ages to arrive. Large comfy cushioned chairs, lovely music (at most times), almost invisible waiters and people who are pretty much always smiling. I have spent hours there reading, talking to the other readers as they take a break from their books for some conversation over coffee (Note to cynical optimist friend: There IS black coffee left in this world, only the bloody Yanks took over it and decided to call it Americano, how creative!!!!). I even like playing chess there at times even though I get my ASS whooped. People saunter in lazily on a Sunday, some friends some strangers just adding to the collection of books, magazines and weird conversations (more on that later). If it is a Sunday morning (read 1:30 pm) you will usually find me there, book in hand killing my hangover with a coffee and a peanut butter bagel.

Sunday Night DVD Club: Although I openly disagree with a number of decisions made there (for starters, Why Becoming Jane!!!! And no double thumbs up for Eurotrip!! Hello it’s a cult classic) I think there is potential in this motley bunch of people (an author, a technical consultant, a movie person, a freelance journo and a lazyass) Last night we watched Hoax, a supercool true story that was as much about a man with a hyperactive imagination as about an billionaire OCD patient who was only heard for one scene over the speaker phone. Terrific movie! Go watch it if you are wondering which DVD to pick up for an evening at home. But I say this with all honesty and love as I plot and scheme to form ‘The Authentic DVD Club, Bandra’ that hanging out with a bunch of friends, watching good cinema is one of the best ways to spend a lazy holiday.

The 60’s (More Specifically Lou Reed, Neil Young, Credence and The Who): It’s quite interesting how a man’s taste in music progresses chronologically backwards as he moves forward in time. Even though I hate admitting it my initiation to music was ‘Take that’ and ‘East 17’ (in any case I never listened to them Backstreet Boys so all you boy lovers eat dirtttt). I did my whole Maiden, Metallica, Pantera shyt then moved to Floyd and now I am stuck in the 60s. I think this is the perfect amalgamation of some minimalistic yet beautiful music (no heavy duty riff raff noise to clutter your mind), amazing vocals of men who sing like men and not in girly falsettos and some really good sense of humor. Cases in point:

‘Candy came from out on the island
In the backroom she was everybodys darling
But she never lost her head
Even when she was given head
She says, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side
Said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side
And the coloured girls go.. Doo doo do..
- Wild Side, Lou Reed

'Ah we're drinking and we're dancing
and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high
And my very sweet companion
she's the Angel of Compassion
she's rubbing half the world against her thigh'
(Comment: I went out with one such angel of compassion once!!!!!!!!)
- Closing Time, Leonard Cohen

Music and books- they populate most of my days, but I have rambled on too long and I have too much to say about too many books so I shall leave it for another time. For now, wheres my BLOODY coffee!!

2008-07-03T22:41:00.000-07:00

Wake Up

I have been having these wierd mixed feeling lately. I seem to wake up in the mornings confused without realizing what the hell I am confused about. It has been bothering me a bit in an enjoyable sort of way since I really haven’t had thoughts that bothered me for quite a while now. But finally, finally realization hit me like a slap in the face at Zenzi (yes yes I have grown to quite like the place contrary to what previous posts might suggest, not that I really had a choice considering everyone wants to meet up at Zenzi). It wasn’t really a tight slap, more like a gentle chiding by a higher force looking out for me perhaps (where the hell were you for the past two years biatcchhh of a guardian angel, getting stoned? huh huh!!!).

So what did I realize I hear you ask? (in case anyone ever reads) I have realized that (drum rolls.. ta daa!!) I have turned into a total loser. I mean, what the f%^&in hell man!!!! I always had a dream in life. Always. I have to confess that even in my stoner hippie days when everyone else was drawling about some newfound epiphany I used to close my eyes and picture myself putting on a dapper pinstripe suit and doing all the things that people in dapper pinstripe suits do. Or I used to dream about being some kind of a creative guy wandering around the world selling off my work in an exhibition in Vienna one day and hiking through the drug mafia infested Andes another. Two totally contrasting dreams but tangible nevertheless. And what the hell did I turn into? A drifter. Ever since I had the distinct feeling of sharp pain like someone electrocuted my balls and then punched me in the solar plexus in January 2007 I totally lost it. I sleepwalked through the bloody most important part of my two years of MBA, never paying any bloody attention to the most important parts of the recruitment process while everyone else around me kept busting their hump off. I didn’t even do any of the supercool crazy things that I thought I would pursue instead of a regular career. Instead I let myself be led by external forces like some fucking dry leaf being bullied around by an autumn wind.

And a year and half later I wake up from this reverie holding a drink in my hand, making fun conversations with some really nice new friends. It pissed me off. I might say I am pissed off at lady luck for handing me the short fucking end of the stick again or at people around me who did not care enough to beat some sense into my head with a bloody two by two. But really, I am pissed off at myself. How and when the fuck did I turn into a goddamn vegetable man! I mean I read some of the posts that I wrote on my blog and they made me gag. They had that putrid air of the rotting vegetable that was me. I feel old, set back by some really really vital years of my life, somewhere at the bottom of the heap and it is all MY FAULT (ok discount the hyperbele please, as always I was a little dramatic there)

Honestly, I don’t know what I am going to do about this once this anger subsides. I want to pick up the pieces and get my fucking act together. I want to reclaim my dreams, my ambitions. I want to be the man that I always wanted to be. But this feeling of lethargy lingers in my cells, an atrophy set in for a long time. I want to fight it though. I want to say “I am sorry” over and over again. But unlike other days, today I want to apologize to myself. Hopefully there will be a comeback, a Shameek V2.0 (man that was a little geeky wasn’t it !!). I hope I have learnt from my mistakes and they have made me a better, stronger man. But, then again, who knows? I might wake up tomorrow as that dumbfuck radiation soaked cabbage that I was all this while. I hope to God that I don’t.

2008-06-13T01:15:00.000-07:00

Borrowed Wisdom

Normally I am not given to posting other people’s work on my blog (aside from a little Knopfler). But someone at work sent me this and absolutely insisted that I put it up on my desktop and read it everyday. I wonder why? Maybe I should make it a point to flash my signature grin more at work! Its a short verse that has spoken more than the most verbose prose!

Wisdom

When I have looked life in the eye,
And grown calm and very coldly wise,
When I have realised that compromises wait
Behind each hardly opened gate
Then life would have given me the truth
And taken in exchange my youth
-Sarah Teasdale

2008-05-13T03:04:00.000-07:00

Beer and Loafing in Bombay

Life has gotten relatively better in the past month or so. Work alternates between “Holy Shit!!!! I don’t know jack about this” and “Piece of bloody Five Spice Mudcake!”. Speaking of cakes the phrase that totally takes it is at the workplace is ‘Delegate’. And after a hard day’s work (for those who do!) I get into the first public vehicle I find and say “Pali Naka”. This place is such a great stress buster that just uttering these two words brings back the taste of Old Monk and coke. Or as Prem (for the traditional minded- benevolent ann data, for the modern- bartender) delicately puts it ‘Just Coke’. Pali Naka, the ubiquitious, unassuming, untarnished (OK Shameek enough of the alliteration!) street that houses the only two watering holes in Bombay that feel like home.
Unfortunately the Shack (Hawaiian stupid!!) passed away sometime this year. Dont know whether it was the loss of the deejay or the Air India airhostesses that precipitated this most unfortunate demise but the carcass is a most painful sight. Gone are the funky coconut grove stamps or the good ol Macs who could find place to jive when there was barely enough to plant both your feet. Instead it is full of PYTs (Argggghhh I HATE PYTs) and wierd men who think wild hip movement to Fifty Cents makes them the next Tupac (Yawwww Bro Anyone??). And then theres that .. that..abomination called Zenzi, but we shall leave Zenzi for a later date.
Fortunately though Pali’s flag flies high thanks to Mr Totlani (God bless his soul and more importantly his ‘Totlani Investments’). A place where waiters know your name, where you can tell the next song that will play just by the day of the week. It has small, its full of tyres, cramped on weekends and just like home its doors NEVER shut for you (except for post 1:30 and dry days) Its TOTOS! Totos also has this wierd quality of inspiring people to say the darndest things. Here are a few samples:
1. Prem: Sir, you will be looking good today
Sir (I have noo idea who): (Looking at the watch) At what time?

2. Alcoholic 1: (After he has pointed out 5th cheezy Bryan Adams song for the night) You know, the scary part isn’t that Totos is playing so much Adams but that I seem to recognize all the songs
Alcoholic 2 (Again noo idea who): No, the REAL scary part is I seem to know the words!

3. Dumbfuck Stranger 1: Hey you reading a book at a bar.
Angry Wierd Loner(Lets leave his name out): Excuse me!! (Frowns)
DS 2: Looks like you came straight from work. What do you do?
AWL: I work in the Strategy team at___ P
DS1: So what do you do in Marketing?
AWL: Its Strategy (Spells it out slow while saying Dumbfuck!!! In his head)
DS1: Aahhh so you are in Finance! Must be an MBA no! I did my MBA from IIPM
AWL: Aaaaaaaaahhhh (In his head finally puts 2 and 2 together)

4. Feminist Girl1: Argghhhh this place is a sausage fest. It is only full of Mac men drinking beer. And I am so hungry
Feminist Girl2: So what do we get?
Smartass Loner (for the last time I really don’t know who!): Here have these really nice juicy ‘Goa Sausages’

5. This one takes the cake
Drunk Girl 1: (Hugging drunk girl two!) I am sooo glad my friend is getting married
Drunk Girl 2: (Looking sheepishly at the men she has been hitting on and then at her fiancé) You don’t need to say it all the time. Its not like we are getting married tomorrow.

Aaahhhh Totos! Bandra! Good times. God!!! It feels great to be back in Bombay. I daresay things will look decidedly better as soon as I can figure out the one among the holy trinity of roti, kapda and makaan that I presently lack.

P.S: Just thought I’d drop in a huuuuge thank you note for the ‘Candies’ people for opening up a new one next to Teachers Academy. The upstairs is lovely, green, peaceful, perfect for reading a book. And apparently if you are 17 year old horney teens its the perfect place to make out. Just don’t mind the wierd old man reading his book.

2008-02-06T01:46:00.000-08:00

Claustrophobe

I close my eyes
I see the skies azure
Bright green abounds
And I open my eyes

I can’t breathe
The walls close in on me
The slit to let light in
Reinforces the dark
I breathe

I start to sing
Guitar strumming in my hand
Cigarette dangling by my lips
Eyes shut, heart open
I start to scream

My scream
A gasp for clear air
A desperate cry for help
A soundwave to ricochete
A prayer for a dream

I dream
Of soaring through skies
Cut off, left off to free-fall
To try, to learn to fly
Or crash and burn
But I live

I live

2008-02-02T23:34:00.000-08:00

Sunday Morning

As I laze around in a strange albeit cheerfully colored room in a day that began on a perfect note in the engaging company of Murakami’s Kafka Tamura I begin to feel highly contemplative. Gentle melancholic strums of Mike McCready guitar blend seamlessly with Vedder’s words making me realise once again why I believe Yellow Ledbetter is a song I will always cherish. The Velvet Underground wait, not so patiently in anticipation to put their version of this “Sunday Morning” in verse. It’s a good day to look back and laugh at some of the stupid things, some of the happiest moments not so long ago, old friends, old hangouts, old books and old loves.

I started writing this post with the aim of wanting to take a deep dive into one of those questions that always haunt a man willing to think about it “ Who am I?” but now the depth of this question seems laughably trivial. I have gently excavated my past in an attempt to understand this question and now standing at the depths of my memories I look up. I find unrelated, possibly insouciant musings on the surface but for some reason I want to climb back up. And since I am incredibly limber in my thoughts I am back up in a heartbeat.

One of the things that strike my mind first, possibly because Gabriel Oboe’s kind, loving tune of Nella Fantasia gently nudges my memories is a movie that touched me. Not the conventional emotional tear jerker but my eyes still feel a little moist as I write about it. A movie about people kind enough to find it in their hearts to embrace the very man who sold them to a lifetime of slavery. A man so drunk in his power that he refuses to see the pain of people who are instruments in his power game. A man who consigns himself to a penitence so hard that it melts the hearts of the priests who fight him, a man whose joy at finding forgiveness melts your heart. And yes, the man whose compassion is only matched by his resolve to never give up on people who are doomed to obliteration. I don’t know why I love “The Mission” so much but somewhere deep down I believe it kindles a hope in me.

Maybe someday the people that I wronged will know that I was so wrapped up in me and my fear of loss that I did not see what I did to them when they only gave me the truest love and affection. Maybe someday I will truly lose my apathy for the people I blame for having turned me into the man I was and realise that no matter how warped their lives were they loved me and took care of me the best way they could. Maybe someday I will present my true, slightly bedraggled, mildly scarred face to people I meet rather than being just an exciting collection of cool events and places in my life. Maybe I will figure out why the dark scares me. Maybe I will truly live to the words of Cohen's "Anthem". Maybe I will find myself within myself for good and not wait to see fleeting glimpses of Shameek in other people, their written words, their sung verses and their created art. Maybe someday I will find My Home. I don’t know how to classify what I feel today. A little nostalgic, a little melancholy, a little happy, a little closer to being an “Emperor of Solitude” yet a little lonely, mildly hopeful. Maybe someday I will figure out a word for what I feel now. Maybe ….

2007-09-23T00:29:00.000-07:00

Which way does God lean?

I have had this small thought bubbling in my head for a while, it probably entered my head a year and a half from now as I was strolling through bandstand. Offlate it has been trying to push its way out, through my upper middle class, sometimes greed driven mindset. I could discern its voice as I watched the first few scenes of ‘Cider House Rules’ where Michael Cain so succinctly puts it “Orphan babies learn not to cry; they realize its of no use". It got louder as I was going back home in a cab listening to this rather mediocre Hindi song from the 90s. It had a decent guitar solo from a guy no one will hear about. He played really well given the almost un-creative limitations set by the music director and I couldn’t help but think, “If only he were born in the Summer of Love in America!” And this thought almost ripped my mind apart as I was reading ‘ A thousand splendid sons’ (By the way I SWEAR I will NEVER read Hosseini again- Great great author but I cannot take the pain in his books, its too damn real) It got so loud that I had to keep the book aside and start furiously hitting the keys on my laptop.

So the crux of the thought is this, Why are people made unequal? Why does one kid drive by in his car on his way to college staring out of his tinted windows at the world outside, A world that holds his dreams of excellence, a dream to be someone big, in his jock language “Be a superstud once in his life before he calls it a day” while on the other side of the window there are dirty street kids deftly balancing their tyres with sticks picked off the road thinking about how much money they will have to collect today to fuel their fathers drunken frenzies. Why are some women educated, well employed, empowered enough to feel nothing about bitching to their boyfriends about their ex’s who couldn’t give them a good orgasm while for some women sex is nothing but an act of enduring pain and submitting to a man’s borderline violent desires. Why do we have couples who forgive, learn, grow and stick together and couples that never learn, never forgive and fall apart? Why is someone pretty and someone else ugly, why is one man taller than the other? Why is someone given the brains to pick up stuff in an hour while someone with much more sincerity takes days grappling with the same?

I know I have written a lot about inequality and how it is good for the country, the civilization. I know I have made it clear that I am a card carrying capitalist who believes that some men have the right to be better off than others, but today I think I realize why communism and all other forms of leveling the playing field for everyone were doomed from the outset. The one who started it all, God is a capitalist, and not just economically. I am not so sure I like it very much.

2007-05-12T09:44:00.000-07:00

Shamanisms 5:41

I have received a lot of queries from friends (who else can I armtwist to read my blog!!) as to what a shamanism actually is. Well the queen’s dictionary will throw up diddley on shamanisms but then the it also throws up diddley on diddley! I am sure there is some irony there somewhere if you are a manic depressive female rocker from Canada (I think she is manic depressive primarily because she is majorly pissed at being Canadian). In any case I shall get to the point as soon as I find what it is or if there actually is one! Anyways today I shall share some shamanisms with all you kittens who have managed to save yourself from being blindsided and clobbered to death in a shady alley by Curiosity. Read on and convert to this movement (Please.. theres just me so far!!)

Goals: Since it has something to do with soccer and life lets use a soccer analogy. Goals are like the football that you keep kicking along a straight road. You kick the ball, run after it for a while till you catch up only to kick it harder and run behind it again. This process might seem stupid but it keeps you occupied for a long time (Or till The Reaper catches up with you)

Truth and Lies: Bastard children of the anthromorphic personification called Catch 22 and the Bitch (See Life). Truth says they are twins. Lies says its younger.. the debate rages on In any point of life you get butwhacked if you take ones side and butwhacked if you take the other’s

Honesty: A sweet demure woman who has forever been having an on and off thing with Lies. You do the math.

Guilt: Strikes mainly the stupid. If you are stupid anyone will load you up nicely with dollops of it. If you are smart you realize that it’s all a hoax anyways (See Life). Sometimes though a little bit of it gives you the right perspective and helps you lose your righteousness.

Righteousness: A really really smart invention (but just like inventions go it needs to be created, never exists just by itself). Sort of an anti-guilt shot. Take it once and drastically reduce the odds of guilt ever striking.

Relationships: Life’s equivalent of an appendix. Practically useless when they are around but letting it go involves a whole lot of pain (and maybe some passing out)

God: The Shaman’s favorite conversation partner. He nods in semi-approval .. errr maybe semi-disapproval. But he always smiles. Hmmm … the Shaman needs to do more research in this area.

Life: A total BITCH!!

Death: Usually seen wearing a black cape with a black hood covering the head. Very few people know that Death is actually a woman in a black gothic evening gown bearing a striking resemblance to Monica Bellucci

Marriage: Something that is supposed to be about Truth and Honesty but its most probably where Lies and Honesty began their passionate liason. Don’t believe me???
Where will you hear these lines most often “Darling the food isn’t burnt at all its just well done and crispy!!”. “I promise ill come back home early next weekend” Haha!!!

Happiness: A hoax played by God (could this be the reason why he is smiling all the time?). Like all hoaxes the dumb people believe in it and the smart ones see through it. So does it really pay to be smart??

The Shaman: Peter Pan in a Neverland, which is quite empty. Tinkerbell is currently pursuing a career in showbiz and all the other kids have gone of for higher studies. Or have been diagnosed as retards and receiving treatment at present. Shaman escaped treatment by hiding on Captain Hook’s vessel. Now he is all alone wondering if he should’ve grown up. Last heard he was wooing someone who looked suspiciously like Monica Bellucci (see DEATH)with an obsession for gothic wear and coming up with this new movement called Shamanisms (whatever that means) to make new friends. Loneliness does funny things to people!

2007-04-26T05:10:00.000-07:00

Lessons in Economics, the Indian way!

I am awed by the enlightment self-styled old school southpaw “economists” (atleast that’s what they pretend to be) are bestowing upon the people of the country. Last I heard a certain editor wanted us to get back to a growth rate that has been described ad nauseum as “Hindu”. Maybe he thought it would get him more free publicity for the paper he is employed with. I have been thoroughly educated over the past few months by listening to them and reading about them. So I think its about time I spread the knowledge in my own humble way.

Lesson 1: Stock market is bad. More importantly videshi investment is bad. This is so true. I mean asymmetry in the capital markets is vital to the success of any economy. The cornerstone of any healthy economy is its vibrant family run enterprise. Patriarch sets up business, puts his finger in every pie. SBU 1 makes losses and SBU 2 makes profit so what does patriarch do. Takes money out of the cash reserves of SBU 2 and put it into SBU 1. Who cares about the hard working people of SBU 2 who feel screwed out of it. Vibrant stock markets would have probably had shareholders crying foul and responding by plummeting the stock of both units but that’s a horrible horrible thing. I mean company as an independent legal entity. Blasphemy Blasphemy!!! Company is the personal bitch of the patriarch of the family run business. Company coffers are his personal funds. He can do whatever he wants to do with. I used to believe that FII is a good thing because no matter how “Hot” the money is called it never really goes away. I thought India is a growing economy and funds from developed ergo slow growth countries have to inevitably flow towards India. All that FIIs will do is portfolio adjustments which will lead to corrections and realignment in the stock market which is healthy. Such a fool I have been!

Lesson 2: Huge taxes are good. High interest rates are good. I lived in the illusion in which some economist obviously had too many magic mushrooms and drew the IS-LM curve which showed that interest rate rises lead to a fall in investment and therefore slowdown in the economy. Another really stoned economist dude (Man these Keynesians know how to live it up!!) dreamed up this idea that low taxes leads to high disposable incomes which leads to higher investment and consumption which causes growth in industry which then employs more and more people and eventually leads to a virtuous cycle that eradicates poverty. Looks like the only circles he could see were smoke rings he blew! I mean who needs to provide easy loans to entrepreneurs, housing loans to the middle class etc etc. What we need to do is to squeeze this upwardly mobile educated productive middle and upper middle class by high taxes and high interest rates to help the poor. The money obtained from high taxes will be spent on building infrastructure ( where the truly poor babu, contractors et al will benefit from all the money leaking out of the system through a hundred pores), education ( where we pay the really poor teachers good money from tax funds so that they can develop political clout and muscle their way into not showing up in school and not teaching, bookish knowledge sucks balls)

Lesson 3: Government intervention in agriculture in terms of dictating price and market mechanisms is the right way. These damn Walmarts will only come in develop their cold storage chains all over the countryside and buy all the perishables straight out of the farms. Then no farmer will throw his vegetables on the streets because he cannot afford to carry them to the marketplace as the price he gets out of them is lesser than the transportation costs. This will deprive the soil of useful manure of rotting fruits and vegetables ultimately ruining the Indian agriculture system. Videshi Retail hatao.. agriculture bachao!!
Lets all go back to the Indira Gandhi days of garibi hatao. Her solution was simple. Tax the earning bracket so much that they all become miserably poor. After all when everyones equally poor in India we will have eradicated inequality completely!!

2006-06-07T23:18:00.000-07:00

Mr Knopfler I am sorry for blatant plagiarism. I feel compelled to life the lines below from your creation ... nothing describes how I feel about life better ..

I dont care if my liver is hanging by a thread
Dont care if my doctor says I ought to be dead
When my ugly big car wont climb this hill
Ill write a suicide note on a hundred dollar bill

2006-04-26T00:05:00.000-07:00

My Spirit

The skies are turning from azure to grey
The thunderclouds gather for their dance of death
The storm in my tea cup has spilt over
But I am man, I wont be afraid I wont ever fret

Bring on the deluge, the fire, the storms of hail
To the drudgery of normality they provide respite
Hear me all ye fierce forces of mother nature
I know your bark is loud but you never bite

If all the four horsemen of apocalypse
Decided to charge on me today
As they ride lances pointed at my heart
With a smile on my lips I would say

“Bring it on ye cowardly weaklings
You think you can take on man
For thousands of years I stood my ground
While you took flight, you ran”

All this time without aim I have been
Directionless I have walked the lands
But my failures have awoken me
Behold! before you a Giant now stands

Now that I have fallen I rise refreshed
My own blood and sweat are my steroid
I will perform miracles unseen, unheard of
Build universes out of nothing but void

Try and stop me now if anyone dares
I will swat away every insignificant obstacle hurled
When all is said and done and the dust has settled
You will see me standing on top of this world.

2006-04-15T11:25:00.000-07:00

Equality

I know for sure that this post is going to ruffle some feathers but after having the same argument with so many of my friends I am gripped by this fear, a fear that I had relegated as an insignificant worry for too long a time perhaps but now I feel its high time someone stood up and talked about it. My fear is that if the crusaders for equality took over the world civilization as we know it will come to a stand still or worse still regress several steps backward.

Equality, the word seems to generate utopian hallucinations of a place where everyone has just the same amount of money, food, clothing the works and most importantly everyone is HAPPY. This idea seems quite benign, nay I daresay it seems very welcome, but it is anything but. Equality for all of humanity is a potentially devastating concept. It will rip through the very foundations on which civilization after civilization have been built. Confused? Think I need to be put into a straightjacket? Read on …

Lets start with what got us here in the first place. Now I am not talking about any apocryphal tale of two humans cast away from the Garden of Eden that spawned an entire race to which we belong. I am talking about the most scientifically plausible explanation of evolution, Darwin’s theory. According to Charles Darwin the entire history of evolution can be summed into one phrase ‘ Survival of the fittest’. What it means is during evolution some sub-species were stronger, smarter than the others and thus beat the weaker ones to build a better gene pool that ultimately led to the development of the human. If, by some divine law these strong, smart subspecies were prevented from defeating (and killing) the weak wouldn’t all of us be hanging from branches of trees?

This same philosophy applies today. Lets consider a hypothetical case of company ABC where every employee right from the clerk to the CEO gets paid the same sum. What incentive does any employee have to work harder? None. Ergo the clerk won’t aspire to be a senior clerk, the assistant manager would not care about a promotion to manager and the CEO (assuming he gets paid partly or fully in stock options) will never give a damn about the bottomline. Such a company would crash before it lasted a quarter. Now think of an entire industry, an entire economy, an entire country that is run on similar lines. What do you think would happen to it? Lack creative imagination? Google for 'Cuba'.

To all over zealous socialists whose hearts burn with the intense desire to picket everytime they see a man driving a Mercedes or living in a mansion I beseech them to get one thing through their incredibly resistant belief structure. Inequality is GOOD. It is what drives our society. It is what spawns art, literature, science, industry, commerce in short every aspect of our civilization. If a certain young lower middle class man had not aspired to own oil fields while working at a gas station we would not have an industrial behemoth (or two smaller ones) called Reliance in India. Similar examples exist everywhere. What we need to do is to provide the tools necessary for the people from the disadvantaged section to climb up the ladder and claim the position they desire. Thats where our job as responsible citizens should stop. Redistribution of income, quotas for jobs and education these are meaningless bunkum propogated by retards who refuse to be realistic. Inequality will never go away. If it does so will we!

2006-03-26T13:35:00.000-08:00

Time

Why does one wait for tomorrow or the day after
Everyday will be just the same as the one before
With the ripples of time through the ocean of eternity
The universe heaves and collapses on itself once more

We are like some characters trapped in a movie
Destined to live the same scene over and over in vain
Laugh at the same jokes grieve over the same miseries
Like tides that rise only to recede, then rise again

There is no better pleasure than being a vagabond
Giving in to the pleasures of simple vanderlust
For it is he who seeks joy in every single moment
Till the receding tides turn his body into dust

Why do you aspire to be a raindrop someday
When you are something of much more beauty
Tiny icicles on edges of the nimbus suspended in time
The prism through which the rainbow we see

2006-01-21T07:43:00.000-08:00

Courage

Courage, its a word most of us use sparingly to show respect for an act or a person. But it is also a word whose essence very few of us can comprehend. A few incidents that happened around me made me embark upon a search for the true meaning of this word. And wonder of wonders I ended up at the one place everyone visits these days to learn about everything from neo classical art to sex-ed, Google. What google dished out for me was:
Courage-The state of mind or spirit that enables one to face danger, fear or vicissititudes with self possession, confidence and resolution.
Now i don't know about the rest of you readers but I completely lost the plot at the v-word.The best way a simple soul like me can define courage is by narrating an incident that has become part of forklore. A student of literature was asked to write a five thousand word essay on courage and his submission consisted of only one sentence, one sentence that summed up the students understanding of courage without saying anything about it. He wrote " This is courage ". In my mind this story always stands out because it doesnt talk about glorious deeds of saving people and countries or embarking on perilious adventures but a simple act of having faith in oneself and doing what one believes in. If you are thinking " what the hell is this guy talking about?" remember to count your blessings because you havent been put in a spot where you have to choose between a conventional, safe option that people advice you to take and an what you truely want to do. I have seen many people fall prey to this phenomenon. The guy living next to me in my dorm is a real genius, he could have done anything he wanted to do in life and currently he is sitting on an amazing job offer from one of the biggest investment banks in the world. But it is hard to miss the twinkle in his eye when he talks about his one true passion, aeroplanes. Then there is this other guy I know who has tried his hand at everything creative. He has acted in plays, written songs but his one true love has been painting. However by stroke of luck or misfortune ( I dont know which one) he landed up at the most premier management institute in Asia Pacific (or so they say!). He seems happy but I have caught him letting out a sigh everytime he looks at his sketches. I think he is thinking "what if?" Maybe it is not my job to judge but I sometimes think these guys would have been much happier had if they had the courage to flout convention, give up their potentially secure lives to pursue their true passions. But then I wouldnt be using the term courage here if the choices were so easy would I?

Courage, I believe is also the ability to face your arch nemesis, your ego and come out trumps. There is this certain person who would never ask a girl out no matter how much he wants to because he, or rather his ego is afraid of rejection and perhaps ridicule. "How silly is that!" you may say but that man's ego is so big that he is petrified of confronting it. Thats why I believe that the most courageous people are people who are able to make fun of themselves, their frailties and shortcomings without feeling the slightest wrench in their heart. It takes real courage for an obese guy to make fun of his girth or the wierd looking comedian, who is ubiquitious in most masala Hindi flicks making an utter fool of himself while the hero walks away with all the glory. I am sure these men have gone through phases when they questioned the reason for their misfortunes. But these guys have succeeded where many of us have failed. They have fought their egos, their complexes and have emerged victorious. Kudos to them for they truely deserve the title of the brave.

I think on this note I should stop the meanderings of my mind and wrap up but not before adding that you dont have to be a decorated war hero or an x-sports star to be truely courageous. Courage is displayed in the strength of ones will, in relatively mundane, not so dramatic choices that we make in our lives.

2006-01-16T07:02:00.000-08:00

My Favourite Adventure Sport

I dont know why people believe that the average human being's life isnt frought with thrills and excitement. I believe people living their mundane lives face dangers and perils far greater than adventure sports enthusiasts, a club that i am a reluctant albeit active member of. The other day I was having a conversation with my backpacking buddy about the good times we had backpacking and trying out new thrills and out of the blue he pops the question ... " So whadya think is the most daring adventure sport ?" This question got me thinking for quite a while and finally the answer that appeared out of this contemplation was quite surprising. So here I am extolling the virtues of my favourite adventure sport .. Travelling in Mumbai local trains!

Alright i can actually picture the raised eyebrows of people reading this blog ( if there are any reading it that is!) but hold on to your horses for a minute willya. I admit this sport does not have the same glamour as jumping several feet off a ramp at high speeds or having the surf of perilious streams you navigate in your precarious little raft splashing in your face but travelling by mumbai locals has a little bit of everything for all you adventure sports enthusiasts. Let me give you a blow by blow account of what you go through on an average rush hour trip on a mumbai local.

First off you wait at the station waiting for the first train to arrive your senses primed like a hunter on an african safari. You see the minute speck approaching closer and you feel your muscles tighten in anticipation. As the train gently chugs into the station unaware of what lies in wait like the innocent game being stalked by a hound of wolves you jostle for space at the edge of the platform so that you can be the first one to get in. When the train finally stops you either pounce on the happless train or get carried into it by a wave of humanity that the most seasoned surfer would be proud to ride. Now that you are in the real fun begins. You find a way to wriggle into the last remnants of empty space contorting you body in wierd positions and balancing on two toes of your left leg in a way that would give the best yogis a complex. Suddenly your nose catches a strong odour and you realise that you are in a train full of people who believe that spraying themselves with fake brut is a more hygenic substitute for taking a shower.

The next thrill is only for people who have to live with the curse of being above six feet tall in India where the public transportation system seems to have been created for people slightly shorter than adolescent hobbits ( Hope Tolkein doesnt have a trademark on this one ). The station arrives and somewhere behind you some person lets go off the handlebar and it comes and not so gently hits you on the head PLONK!! you move forward and PLONK!! another handlebar hits you on the head again .. you keep oscillating this way at the same time bracing yourself against the tsunami of people trying to get in till you feel you are a pendulum in one of those old clock towers. Finally after you have killed enough brain cells ( now you know why this piece sounds so dumb dontcha !) the train moves on to its next destination. After you have been through enough of such thrilling experiences its time for that final head rush! You have to GET OFF! You start inching towards the exit with the dexterity of a rock climber squeezing himself through the smallest crevices of mountains till you can finally see light ( or the slums which are at a hands lenght.. either one works) and you see a faint sight of the station. The train slows down and you feel like you are being jutted off the top of a terribly active volcano. Miraculously enough you seem to land on your feet and sadly your journey is over. Now you wait for when you have to take the train back home with bated breath ( or maybe you are just practicising holding your breath so that you dont have to take in the stink when you are in the train)

So there was a description of the most daring adventure sport in the world. Dontchu wanna try it?

P.S: Details like groping and leching by fat middle aged and apparently homosexual men have been left out mainly because the blogger is too embarrassed to admit he has been subjected to it