She’s got everything she needs
She’s an artist, she don’t look back
She’s got everything she needs
She’s an artist, she don’t look back
She can take the dark out of the nighttime
And paint the daytime black

You will start out standing
Proud to steal her anything she sees
You will start out standing
Proud to steal her anything she sees
But you will wind up peeking through her keyhole
Down upon your knees

She never stumbles
She’s got no place to fall
She never stumbles
She’s got no place to fall
She’s nobody’s child
The Law can’t touch her at all

She wears an Egyptian ring
That sparkles before she speaks
She wears an Egyptian ring
That sparkles before she speaks
She’s a hypnotist collector
You are a walking antique

Bow down to her on Sunday
Salute her when her birthday comes
Bow down to her on Sunday
Salute her when her birthday comes
For Halloween give her a trumpet
And for Christmas, buy her a drum

Hawww!!! What heights hypocrisy can scale! Run! Hide! Avoid! Escape!

A month ago there was some shitty Green Day celebration in office, for no reason whatsoever. There was no occasion, but the HR suddenly had this brainwave that we needed to acknowledge nature and everything it has given us. So we were asked to come in green. A few token potted plants were gotten and placed around office. There were some sorry green card-sheet hoardings screaming “Go Green” in cheap faint sketch pens from the walls. The air conditioners were switched off and the windows were opened. Honestly, I hate this tokenism and Green Day and shit. But I didn’t want to throw the spanner that was my cynicism in the wheel that was the celebration. “Perhaps”, I thought, “I am just being too critical of everything. These guys could be serious. And it is a good cause after all. Who knows. They might even mean it, and may in fact do something real in this regard.” So quietly, I turned up in green. And the day was panning like any other. In the middle of the day, the ‘celebrations’ began. The team was called in one of the rooms with a potted plan kept on a table, in the middle of the room. It was supposed to be some bamboo thing- Chinese symbol for luck or something. Then, we were asked to make a circle around the table, hold hands and scream “Go Green” in unison. Thrice. That’s lame ass- thrice. Then, each of us were asked to describe in a few lines/minutes, what we were doing or planning to do to save the earth. No one wanted to come forth, but the HR had to force the issue. So then, people who would otherwise have loved to turn a blind eye to these issues were forced to think of lies that would further put them at discomfort at night. I heard stuff like “I will plant several trees this year”, “I will use a bicycle instead of a motorcycle”, “I will tell others to plant more trees!” (that one was my favorite). Anyway. I too said something, but was proud of myself that I didn’t have to lie. Then there were some speeches types from the bosses. Honestly, it all reeked of compulsion and obligation. But I guess they made some sense with what they were saying, and also talked of some grand plans and commitments towards the cause. All this while, I was still trying to not be cynical and to be supportive of the whole shebang. So the day ended afterwards, with a few more token gestures. I said whatever, and got on with my life, trying to believe some people had at least made a start.

Fast forward to a month later. Mind you. That’s it! A month. 30 days. I walk up to the tea place thing we have in office and look for a cup to pour my tea into. I notice there are no cups. Instead, there is a whole stack of disposable plastic shit in a corner. Now I might be particularly hard on those things because I hate everything about them. They are tacky, cheap, too light, weightless, and formless. But more than everything, they are plastic. I can’t stand that one material somehow. With these disposable cups, I just lose it. I think they are a commentary of sorts on people who use them and don’t feel like something is drastically wrong with the world. So I look at these cups and feel disgusted. But I also felt pissed off with everyone who was nonchalantly using those cups like nothing had changed. I storm to the HR and ask her to explain how this development agreed with the Green Day charade. I get a pathetic “er ahem, you know, actually, well, ta ta pa pa” types response from the super dimwitted lady there. I make it clear that I want an explanation from her or I (and my whole team) are boycotting every celebration in office. She uttered the standard loser’s-last-resort-response and told me that the directive had come from one of the bosses. I ask her to come with me right then and force the boss to do the right thing, the same way she had acted all evangelisty asking us to scream “Go Green” a month ago. Devoid of any sort of mettle as she is, she tries to weasel out. I literally drag her to the boss’ cabin, mainly to make her uncomfortable about being a hypocrite. I knew she was not going to be able to say anything to the boss, because she had no guts. But more because I was making her pretend like she believed in a cause that she absolutely didn’t care about, beyond it being a “theme” for a “day”. But the argument with the boss takes the cake today:

“Hey, I just noticed someone has put out crappy disposable cups there. What was wrong with our clay mugs?”

“Yea, actually I asked them to use those. We will be using those from now.”

“Oh, ok. Why again?”

“The clay cups are a bit too much to clean actually. They have to be washed like thrice daily. These cups are better, don’t you think?”

“Since you ask me what I think, I think this is a really bad decision. I think you can hire an additional guy to wash them or buy more cups so they have to be washed only once a day.”

“Yea well, that would work out to be quite expensive. Plus, since we are growing, we need to think of a permanent solution. How many mugs can you wash in a day if we grow to say 200 people tomorrow”

“So ok. We can decide to go in for these plastic cups when we grow to that size. Its not like people need to get used to drinking tea in shitty cups so we need to train them from now, is it?”

“Look, I understand what you are saying. But its just not possible.”

“Ok. And the whole commitment to environment thing you said the other day…that was just for kicks then?”

“See, you need to view it practically. Sure, we are not doing the best thing by using these plastic cups. But we can make up elsewhere. Say by switching off air conditioners for one day every week.”

“Yea, that would be good. But I don’t see how that has to come at the cost of not using clay mugs? Plus, as I am seeing it, the theme really is sounding like cost cutting, rather than go green. Plus, are you seriously suggesting that the amount of garbage we’ll be causing by using several hundred plastic cups each week can be undone by switching of air conditioning for a day? Really?”

“Look, some decisions have to be taken even if they look painful. Still, let me consider what we can do.”

“Yea. I understand that. I understand it bigtime. But why ask me to make a fool of myself by holding hands and shouting and giving heartwarming speeches and stuff? If you want to use plastic cups, go ahead, use them. But at least let’s not make a mockery out of the cause by celebrating and expecting me to celebrate these crappy days in office? Are you getting what I am saying?”

“I understand. But it was all in good spirit. Like I said, we’ll see what can be done.”

“Ok. Thanks”

And thus the search for a less hypocritical employer begins.

It had to be this month. The rain had to come again, falling from the stars. It had to feel like a different season needs to begin. I had to be feeling down, like I could sleep through life. And I had to be here. Everything, just fucking, had to be.

If you can sense any beauty at all, you will know what I am going to talk about. There is just something about a relationship that a nine year old girl has with a big ferocious masculine dog. It is something to be studied I feel. I tried to make some sense of it from the bench I was sitting on. But about a minute into it, I gave up and just started admiring what I was seeing.

Now this is a big, super aggressive dog I am talking about. He is a cross breed between a mongrel and a german shepherd, I think. Off-white in color. People absolutely fear him. And with good reason. His barks are deep and full. His growling could easily be that of a wolf’s. The look in his eyes makes it double clear that there is no love lost there. Quite honestly, unless you are a thorough bred dog lover, this dog has nothing you could love him for. I am yet to see a person he is friendly with, leave alone playful. I also hear he has quite a few dog bite victim feathers in his hat. I, somehow, have some sort of an equation with this guy and he deals with me with a little more civility than others. Like he will only stare at me suspiciously but not growl. Or he will allow me to pet him for 10 seconds before he starts barking madly. I don’t know why he is so tender with me. Could be just because I am not as afraid of him. Whatever. And yet, I can safely say that I have never felt at ease with him. He flies off the handle and gets jumpy and growly in no time. I try and put on a façade like I have seen it all, but I am sure he can sense my fear. Anyway, I digress. That’s about the dog.

Now the girl. She is a huge brat herself. Knows she can get whatever she wants from whoever she is talking to. Throws tantrums like it’s a bodily function. I suspect she doesn’t have too many close friends at school. Has a nasty habit of never talking straight. She’ll keep saying the most inappropriate things all the time, assuming she is going to get away with it. I have heard her ask a dark person why he is so ‘dirty black’ and laugh. She is everything the word annoying has ever meant. Cute, but annoying. Now I have some equation with her too. I don’t talk as much to her anymore, because I know sooner or later she is going say something extremely inappropriate and I am not going to be able to ask her to shove it. But apart from that, she is quite fond of me and usually comes up to me and indulges me in some idle chit chat.

So there, an incorrigible young girl and a nasty big dog. But put them together and you’ll know why I don’t hate either of them as much as someone would. The dog never utters so much as a semblance of growl when he is with her. She will run towards him and jump on him and pull him by his tail. He will only be mildly amused by it. She will pull him with his snout and his ears. And he will pretend like he doesn’t have the strength to fight her. He will pretend to try to get away because he sees some stranger needing to be barked at. But she will not let him get away and will jump on his back and close his eyes with her tiny palms. She will walk around her house with his collar in her fist and the sweet guy will follow her everywhere, pretending like he is being dragged. He is her dog, in every way. Then, there will be times when the dog will come and jump on her little body, begging her to come play with him. When she is with him, she will not care about anything in the world. He clearly means more to her than her bicycle, her sister, her tennis racquet, her hairpins, everything. I have heard her mom get wild and yell at her asking her to leave the dog be and come in for dinner at 10 o clock in the night. I suspect she also talks to the dog and he listens. I have seen this. But I couldn’t tell if she was talking to him, or if she was just humming a song while she was with him.

So there is something there that I can’t put my finger on. There is a girl that I don’t particularly like. Hardly actually. I can see her grow into a brat who will think the world is her private bathroom where she can do as she pleases. And the dog too is hardly my favorite, as far as dogs go. Now, the dog doesn’t do anything that he shouldn’t do. But even so, he’s not particularly endearing, is all. Yet, I love the chemistry they have. He acts so protective of her when she is talking to someone else. I think the only reason he grants me some latitude is because he has seen me interact with his girl and has detected a somewhat non-negative vibe between us. So I made the cut, so to say. But other random people dare not go and start talking to her and playing with her while he is not on the leash. I find that sweet. She too, is a little less of a rascal with me, because she sees some similarity between us (being fond of the dog). I always thought I would love to have that sort of an equation with someone. Anyone. A person. Or a dog. Where I don’t care what the whole world thinks about me, as long as the ones that matter understand.

I feel all girls should have a dog.

My composition - An hour in a grown up office

It was like I was 14 all over again. I was asked to explain why I had turned up at work in my usual ripped jeans and t-shirt when it was supposed to be Traditional Day. The problem was not so much about me and my attire, but that because of some weird stroke of misfortune, all the guys in my team had come in regular clothes, and all the girls in an astonishingly elaborate, super-ethnic attire. Somehow, apparently, that "makes us guys look like losers". And I was asked to explain.

The boss kept saying, "Come on guys, its just one day and there have been posters and emails and everything for quite a while now. The girls have shown so much interest and look at us. Is it that hard to not wear jeans and tees for one day?"

But I kept hearing, "You, roll no. 7, why is your uniform not ironed, and why is your hair so shaggy?"

And so, like a real fourteen year old, I honestly answered, "All that hype was last week. I totally forgot about it over the weekend. And so did all the other guys, apparently". Though I have weaseled my way out of such slimy jams in school all the time, I must have lost my edge. Because I couldn't sell the "I forgot" reason with reasonable credibility. Or maybe I just didn't care enough anymore.

Now the fact that the boss himself was wearing something that could not be more untraditional, is besides the point. He accounted for his own gaffe with smooth usage of the words "us" and "we" when reprimanding yours truly. The point is that it somehow appeared that the "rot" in the team came from me. Like somehow, I had secretly arranged an attire-coup of sorts to sabotage celebrations. I could not help control my laughter at how ridiculous the whole thing was sounding. I even thought that this was a perfect occasion to get mad and throw a tantrum and stand up for myself (seriously, someday I am going to do that). But the whole thing was too kiddish, so I just couldn't get mad! I got a vibe that things would still have been alright had only I been in trad clothes. What that the rest of the team had worn wouldn't look so bad then. I also suspected slightly that the boss and the woman in HR had some weird fetish to see me dressed in ethnic clothes, because that was the only sense I could make off their insistence.

Now I am not saying that anything the HR does is complete baloney. It is no more or less pointless than what I do, and what I think everyone else does, in every other office, in an existential sense. So I don't intend to trivialize their feeble endeavor to spice up our dreary, workaday lives. Its actually quite sweet of them. But I somehow don't see the sense of forcing a particular template of happiness or positivity on everyone. Not just in office, but generally. I have done that in the past myself. So I know it rarely works. Unfortunately, there is no known middle ground here. So we walk the line, the best we can. And sometimes, when we fall short, we need to step up our game. Whatever. And to be fair, the way this whole thing was unfolding, it actually was quite fun and amusing. Definitely better than a regular Monday morning. So, well...

Anyway, I had to "step up" and decide how things could be made right. I had to decide to either postpone the celebrations to another day (not feasible, not desirable, would imply delaying the inevitable) or to somehow ensure that the team made it home and back in ethnics in the least time possible. Kinda annoyed with the whole thing, we decided that everyone would leave and rush back in "proper" clothing. Basically, get over with it. There we were, a bunch of grown ups, being sent home from school in the middle of the day, essentially because the principal had objected to the properness of our uniforms. Just to get my kicks out of it, and also because the whole thing was kind of amusing, I did my bit to act the 14 year old. "Actually, I don't mind going home and putting on some nice clothes. But you see, I don't have the keys to my place with me. So I don't know when I will be able to come back." There! As lame an excuse as any 14 year old has ever given. (I have actually given the exact same excuse 13 years ago when I was asked to go home and get a haircut. The excuse had worked then. Full circle.) Obviously, no one bought it this time and I just had to figure something out.

I always have to. I always do.

Patterns

Mathematically, there is a pattern, even in randomness. Is there really? Let's experiment and check if anything can be established.

20 odd lines quoted from page 181 (randomly chosen number) from the first book I find next to my bed. Lets see what we get:

Now the tears did not run down his cheeks, but fell from his eyes to the ground. Let me see you cry, I said. I did not feel that he owed it to me. And I did not feel I owed it to him. We owed it to each other, which is something different.

He raised his head and looked at me.

I am not angry with you, I told him.

You must be.

I am the one who broke the rule.

But I am the one who made the rule you couldn't live with.

My thoughts are wandering, Oskar. They are going to Dresden to my mother's pearls, damp with the sweat of her neck. My thoughts are going up the sleeve of my father's overcoat. His arm was so thick and strong. I was sure it would protect me for as long as I lived. And it did. Even after I lost him. The memory of his arm wraps around me as his arm used to. Each day has been chained to a previous one. But the weeks have had wings. Anyone who believes that a second is faster than a decade did not live my life.

Why are you leaving me?

He wrote. I do not know how to live.

I do not know either, but I'm trying.

I do not know how to try.

There were things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So I buried them. And let them hurt me.

I put my hand on him. Touching him was always so important to me. It was something I lived for. I never could explain why. Little, nothing touches. My finger against his shoulder. The outside of our thighs touching as we squeezed together on the bus. I couldn't explain it, but I needed it. Sometimes I imagined stitching all of our little touches together.

Now, 5 lines from a random piece of news from randomly selected newspaper page:

In a democratic age, bandhs have lost their pre-independence aura and have outlived their purpose. They violate fundamental freedoms and reek of the old style of doing politics, leading to Supreme Court strictures against them. With rising literacy and growing economic activity, modern societies search for moderate political methods such as debate, discussions or protests that do not involve public disruption. Today, bandhs evoke cynicism rather than promote any solution to the problems they invoke.


Last words someone said to me just before this post was published:

"I think yesterday evening was actually quite fun. Was it?"

Pattern anyone? Hmmm? Guess we'll need a supercomputer to decode if there is one...

There is just something about rain at night. When you hear the pitter patter on the plastic roofs on the terraces. It can wake me up out of deep sleep, and make me think thoughts I am scared to have, when I am awake. It is a welcome break from the routine nightmares, to be awoken by the beautiful rain; and the quiet eeriness of the night coupled with the chaos in my mind can transport me to a different world. One where everything is alright. One where I want to be.

A worried man with a worried mind
No one in front of me and nothing behind
There’s a woman on my lap and she’s drinking champagne
Got white skin, got assassin’s eyes
But I’m looking up into the sapphire-tinted skies
I’m well dressed, waiting on the last train

Standing on the gallows with my head in a noose
Any minute now I’m expecting all hell to break loose

People are crazy and times are strange
I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range
I used to care, but things have changed

This place ain’t doing me any good
I’m in the wrong town, I should be in Hollywood
Just for a second there I thought I saw something move
Gonna take dancing lessons, do the jitterbug rag
Ain’t no shortcuts, gonna dress in drag
Only a fool in here would think he’s got anything to prove

Lot of water under the bridge, lot of other stuff too
Don’t get up gentlemen, I’m only passing through

People are crazy and times are strange
I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range
I used to care, but things have changed

I’ve been walking forty miles of bad road
If the Bible is right, the world will explode
I’ve been trying to get as far away from myself as I can
Some things are too hot to touch
The human mind can only stand so much
You can’t win with a losing hand

Feel like falling in love with the first woman I meet
Putting her in a wheelbarrow and wheeling her down the street

People are crazy and times are strange
I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range
I used to care, but things have changed

I hurt easy, I just don’t show it
You can hurt someone and not even know it
The next sixty seconds could be like an eternity
Gonna get low down, gonna fly high
All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie
I’m in love with a woman who don’t remember me

Mr. Jinx and Miss Lucy, they jumped in the lake
I’m not that eager to make a mistake

People are crazy and times are strange
I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range
I used to care, but things have changed

10 confessions I would rather not make in the real world because I know they may be objectionable for various reasons:

1. I find the Beyond Here Lies Nothin' video extremely artsy and romantic in a very real way. It evokes emotions that I don't think can be expressed easily, but can be congruously identified with. The lyrics (just wow!), the music, and the video convey so much together. I find the end too beautiful.

2. I feel people who communicate using bad punctuation, wrong spellings, and awful grammar, just out of callousness ought to be sent to jail. Or at least ostracized from everyday society. To me, it is akin to, or even worse than, drops of spit flying right into your face, while the person continues talking to you remorselessly. I can understand when the person deliberately communicates with certain people in such a manner. But some people communicate with everyone, in only that one way. Those are the ones I am talking about.
I hate the sms lingo too. Yes, I use it extensively myself. But that is because I know it is not a criminal offence today. I will gladly give it up as soon as it is made one.

3. Once upon a time, at the root of my existence, somewhere, there was a trace of socialism. Somehow, I used to think there is something wrong when kids who had rich parents enjoyed and flaunted their wealth. I hated that 18 and 19 year olds got to drive around in swanky cars without having to work for it. I don't feel that anymore, but I once did, very strongly.

4. I love the air kisses thing. The pretentious cheek brushing and the muah-muah. I love doing it. And I love watching it being done. And I am a straight guy in my 20s, who would play hard football all day for no money, if the system allowed that.

5. There have been times when I have felt that Sex and the City is just as beautifully written as Seinfeld. I am still the same guy in his 20s.

6. I think we can help society and people better with a faceless online identity than we can in the real world being ourselves. I know I can.

7. Sometimes I wish a major natural calamity (not terror attacks or bomb blasts or shit) occurs right where I am. A major, high profile one. Like a volcano or a tsunami or something. I don't care as much for the fact that I might die, as for the fact that it would be something really exciting to witness and battle.

8. I feel at some level, education really leaves you emasculated. It cuts your balls off. I think I am the biggest pushover in the world sometimes. People can dish out (and have) any nonsense to me and rest assured that I will probably only grumble about it on some blog. I am not comfortable tackling a situation head-on, or picking a fight and resolving issues right there. Also, its not so much about being generally non-confrontational (that too!) because I love to argue and debate and stuff. Its more about overthinking and over analyzing consequences. That comes from education.

9. When I was a kid, I used to have some fabulous ideas about how I would be when I was 'grown up'. I didn't know what age that would be at. Even now, sometimes, I want to be certain, drastically different things that I am not right now, when I am 'grown up'. And I still don't know what age I am talking about.

10. There are several things I want, think about, and wish for, that I may never be able to admit to. Even on an anonymous blog.

Google is only second best...at best

My brother bugged me for the 63 millionth time in a week to clear some space up on our shared computer.

Confidently, I replied, "Dude, there is nothing that can be deleted, I just need all that stuff. You are going to have to back it up."
"I'm sure you don't need all of it!"
"Well, turns out I do. Like you know anything about data! Scoff"
He then swirled around on our new revolving chair, and randomly opened some folder and a file within it and went through it. "Are you telling me, you need to know what time you ordered a Smokin' Joe's pizza on the night of December 21, 2007? As cheap as you are to jot down the time of ordering, so you can ask for a discount when they overrun the delivery time, do you really have to maintain that record forever after that?"
I was caught unawares. "Uh, well, its just a text document dude. What do you need, 2 bytes of space urgently?" I defended feebly.
"Its not about the 2 bytes man. Its your whole personality. Delete some crap dude."

I ended that duel without an answer. But I pondered over it later. What he said was true. I am a hoarder. I big fat hoarder who is eventually going to run out of space. A hoarder of text documents with random telephone numbers. Hoarder of receipts from restaurants I haven't visited in ages. Hoarder of random internet links that I thought someone else would find interesting. Hoarder of clothes. Oh! Clothes! Thats a Pandora's box right there! I have a shirts and t-shirts in my cupboard that I have neither worn nor been able to fit myself into, since years ago. I hoard old jeans thinking maybe one day, when I am in dire need of shorts, or if mens' hot pants ever come into style, I would have something ready. I have a sweatshirt that must have last kept me warm when the Queen was still hot. I hoard pictures, I backup old emails and chats, I do it all. My security guy has asked me around 250 times if I wanted to sell my bicycle that hasn't been used for years now. I tell him off each time, with an unconvincing reason- that I will start using it some day. The real reason is that I am a hoarder and I can't let go of anything. Not the good, and not the bad.

It is actually a vice of sorts. It consumes you. Its an obsession with random things that once upon a time may or may not have been special. Preserving old pictures and gifts and books is normal, healthy even. But the separating wall between a museum and its attic is paper thin up here. And this attic has apparently rendered many a fertile acre of mindspace, fallow. Regardless...

I have come to realize that this is a personality thing. One, that hasn't been typified in any personality class (type A/B, X/Y etc). At least to my knowledge it hasn't, which is actually not saying much. So yea. Hoarding, and an inability to generally let go, is a part of a bigger philosophy that we hoarders inadvertently follow. I can't remember at what point I chose to be a hoarder. But ever since I have converted, I have been a staunch follower. Which incidentally, is another hoarder trait. We don't switch sides easily, if ever. Sometimes, this is confused with having a big ego and generally being stubborn asses. But the truth is, we get so attached to one side, that we consider switching sides as an act of betrayal. Betrayal unto our own selves. Which is why we just blindly refuse to budge from our positions. For better or for worse.

One more hoarder trait is that of not being impressed easily. When someone recommends something to us, be it a movie, a restaurant, a book, anything, we find it difficult to appreciate from the get go. We like to explore our own stuff and to get attached to it for life. By ourselves. If the recommendations come from a fellow hoarder, then they go down a little bit better. That brings me to another point. We seek out hoarders. Active as well as unaware.

A somewhat helpful, but definitely not confirmatory, test of a hoarder is good memory. It indicates how much random stuff has been well-indexed in our well-oiled brains. Some of us may not be able to rant out old dates and times. But give us a scent of a memory indexed up there and we will easily trace out the entire day before and after that...with the crucial details.

There are several such traits I can cite. Thats not the point. The point is we are. Personally, I think hoarding makes us more endearing and more enriched as people. People who are able to easily let go, may be more blissful and happy in general. But I find them too shallow. Like a flat plate. Like a computer with a small page file memory. They exist in the extreme present. We exist mostly in the past, and somewhat in the idea of the future. I find that cute. For all its pitfalls and potential for self destruction, I wouldn't want myself to be any different. So in a way, what I told my brother was actually true. I actually did need that stupid text document. To be who I am.

So here's to it all. All that is in here. To stay. To the files and the folders. To the shirts and the shorts. To the bicycles and the books. To the times and the people. The shitty ones and the jewels. To the ones who escaped, and to the ones who stayed. To the ones who returned and to the ones you thank your stars didn't return. On behalf of the hoarder community, I thank you all. For it is all of you, that make us the awesome people we are!

Actual conversation:

Boss: Why don't you use the big rectangular bag you have to carry the laptop home anymore? The laptop really stayed safe in it. Is this bag as good?

Me: I love that bag for a slew of reasons. But there comes a time in a guy's life, when he needs to stop using bags that are exactly the shape of his face and head.

Boss: Yea, I guess. Don't worry. This new bag isn't too bad.

Save our conscience!

I was in a supermarket the other day. I bought some stuff and on my way to the checkout counter, I noticed they were selling eco-friendly bags. Made of jute or whatever. I felt they were priced way more than they should have been. But right then, as if hunting down my previous thought, came a conscience-driven reprimand. "Price? Is that what you are considering? When it comes to saving the environment? A few meager units of currency? Shame!" So I had to purchase those bags. And I must say, I felt really proud of myself. After all, I had spent money buying something I didn't need, just so I could save the world. If that doesn't make you proud, what does?

I came out, did some other stuff, and then went home. I was damn happy! People who were in the streets that day will vouch for me. They will testify that they saw a guy move around, beaming like a moron. Why a moron? Because moronic is what it was, I realized later. Its astonishing, the distance we will go, just so we can look into our eyes in the mirror. I spent a little extra money. Other people do something else. But, in the end, its all about that. Feeling good about ourselves.

What the hell are we thinking when we make/sell/buy stuff to save the world? Do we not know what the real, REAL problem is? Its that there are too many of us. Thats whats destroying the world. This planet wasn't built to have one species (humans too) breed to a seven billion number and dominate proceedings this way. If we really wanted to save the world, they'd sell "Put yourself to sleep instantly" injections at supermarkets. Not jute bags. What the hell is 'eco-friendly' anyway? You consume 100 and give back 1? Is that how we plan to "save the earth"? More like, "lets try and keep this place liveable till we are alive. There's no hope beyond that anyway!". The annoying part is that we (including me) actually know there is no hope. And yet, we continue to lie to ourselves. Doing what we can hoping it will be enough. Hoping...and denying.

Denial is not just a river in Egypt. We have taken it so far, that now its become a part of our composition. Its like we have a conscience...and then we have a metacognitive (word?) section of the brain that has genetically evolved to suppress the conscience. We have no control over that anymore. We don't want to acknowledge that deep down we all know its almost certainly a long lost cause.

The fact that humans live only for 80 odd years has some role to play there. Right now, all of us know that we only need to be bothered about sleeping well for the next 60 years. And jute bags do that for us. So jute bags it is. We don't really (I mean really) care for what happens after we are gone. Imagine if we lived for 400-500 years. You think we would resort to lame ass jute bags to bail us out then? Haah! We would have to acknowledge that the bags and such aren't even a speck of cleanser in the ocean that is our trash ridden planet. There is ABSOLUTELY no point in pretending like we 'have a solution, but the onus is on the people'. "A huge ocean is made up of tiny drops" and all that is too pathetic and we should just get off it already. We have no answer. Well, we do have THE answer, but no one is ballsy enough to say it.

I want some scientist types to explain to me how a gazillion eco-friendly consumables are going to save this planet, if we keep fornicating and reproducing like rats, consuming disproportionate amounts of resources on the other side. I know there is no solution in sight. But for once, I would like someone to just stand up and say, "You know what? This eco-friendly pretense is all good. But lets not kid ourselves. Until we start eliminating people or introduce a impotency inducing virus, we are headed for that wall. Maybe not us, but the ones after us. And for all the eco-friendly products that we buy, we are prolonging the end by a few minutes, at best."

I will continue to buy jute bags, 'do my bit' (whatever), and I will continue to hope. Hope, that maybe nature has a larger plan to reset things here. That maybe, we'll devise an organic fertilizer that makes tall trees grow in minutes. That maybe, one day we will invent cars that are made of wood and run on water. That maybe, air conditioners will one day give out fresh nutrient-rich air as exhaust. I will hope that I am so stupid and wrong that I don't understand how this 'save the earth' plan is actually going to work. I will hope, because I have tremendous faith in nature. It still holds the power to start a major shakedown anytime and restore sanity within hours. I believe I am smart enough to not undermine that force. But all this is the active and dominant part of my brain performing its job.

My conscience will always read 'Stall' whenever it sees 'Save'.

My dad, whom I have been seeing almost every day of my life, and who has always, always, had a beard, went clean shaven yesterday. I don't know why he had to shave off his beard, all of a sudden. I think there is more to it than 'I just felt like it'.

He is looking at least 10 years younger and attractive, and he was definitely feeling good about it. But having known him for so long, I felt really sad and betrayed looking at him. Betrayed. That is the word I had been looking for, all of last night. I couldn't believe I had never seen his chin, up until now. As a 27 year old, when you suddenly feel like you don't know your dad at all, just because he has shaved off his beard, it raises questions about own sanity and 'normalcy'. Its a really difficult and weird feeling to be dealing with. More nauseating and complex than what most people in this world will understand.

I guess a lot of people feel a more juvenile version of what I am feeling, when they 'go through' this experience as kids. Because I hadn't been through it, and because its not the same going through it as an adult, I wasn't equipped to digest it. I dunno...

I want him to grow his beard back.

A rainy trek with a shaggy dog

Its one of the few things that I can write about, without any disclaimer. It is just pure, unadulterated happiness. Its something I have wanted to do for a while now, and I have finally been able to do it. And it was almost as good as I had imagined.

A trek with a lovely dog. In the monsoon. When the sky is crying enough so you can afford a smile. It was one of those days when you feel everything around you is as it should be. Lush green mountains, huge roaring waterfalls all around. Green carpets of fresh grass submerged in water for as far as you can see. And a heavy downpour to make it perfect.

I think it is a sort of rite of passage that everyone should go through, once in their life. You learn so much about yourself and about dogs and about relationships in general. Whether it is the way the dog gets ecstatic after being let off the leash in a green, water sopped field; or the way it runs around jumping, swimming and rolling around in the knee deep water, or the way it ignores you and simply wants to soak in all the nature it can. You learn that pure affection is a vibe that never fails to come through. You learn that what really makes you happy is watching the innocent creature explore and push its realms. That one happy moment can make up for a whole weekful of sad ones.

Most people won't believe me when I tell them of an incidence that happened today. It was the most beautiful experience. She had run ahead of me, ignoring me, jumping and scampering across gushing brooks and over bushes. She kept rushing back behind, just to make sure I was on track and hadn't gotten lost. On one occasion, as I was trying to climb up a slippery slope with an unrecovered torn calf, she ran back and looked at me with innocently raised eyebrows. She sensed I was in pain. Then she did the most amazing thing. As I hung there in limbo, neither here nor there, she came and licked my face sweetly. In the rain, out of nowhere. Then, she offered me her collar...to help me climb up the slope! She actually looked over me and beckoned me with her paw, to grab her collar so I would have something to hold on to. How overwhelmed I was with that gesture is beyond words. So much for all the ignoring I thought I was getting...

It was obvious that she was having the most enjoyable afternoon ever. She felt like she could conquer the entire landscape. The way she ran around madly, trying to liberate herself to the extent possible was awfully sweet. She wanted to convince me that she was indeed establishing herself on all those overbearing trees and powerful streams and impregnable rock faces. But when the moment of truth arrived and we turned the corner to stare up at a roaring, intimidating waterfall, the girl could do nothing but stand next to me and look at it timidly. Head titled, eyes full of fear. All her energy drained itself out and the best she could do was to run away from it and hide behind an excuse of a bush. When she saw me wade through the thickets towards the waterfall, purposefully, she meekly joined me and kept herself at my feet. As if expecting me to respond to her trust, by protecting her from this disaster. She would have much rather returned to one of her ponds and swam around blissfully with me. But because I wanted to enter the waterfall, she decided to tag along, fighting her own fears! Or perhaps she wanted to come just so she could look out for me!

The world will still have its problems, and an afternoon, no matter how beautiful, won't make everything alright. But in that moment, as I sat at the edge, with her cuddled up against my chest, scared, depending on me to shield her from the monstrous waterfall, I knew I could put off worrying about everything, for another few hours.

Europe was good. Frankfurt was nice. I fell in love with Grenoble. Paris floored me. And Brussels was just fantastic.

Paris was good. Did a lot of Parisian things there. Mostly cliched. But didn't care. I walked by the Seine, ate cake, browsed bookshops, sat in a roadside cafe, read a book and smiled to people walking by, played with strange dogs, took lots of pictures, lost myself in a song, felt loved, cried, felt hated, spoke in French and giggled, walked through obscure and unknown Paris streets, looked at ordinary buildings with awe, walked through the rain in beautiful narrow lanes, ambled pointlessly in a violent hailstorm with couples all around clinging to each other running for shelter, stopped at the corner and listened to a lovely song that the street musician was playing...

Europe really was good. Did a lot of strange things, especially after dark. Drank ridiculous amounts of strange and brilliant alcohol every evening, and beer all day, like there was no tomorrow, got hopelessly drunk and cut loose, tried to make up for lost time, sang horrible karaoke in front of strangers who were sweetly amused, tried my hand at dancing to reggae music with a hot teenager, almost got talked into a getting a body piercing done, woke up at 12 and went out at 1 everyday, watched French movies late into the night, with an adorable girl by my side who painfully explained each scene to me...

And now the suns gone down...but the shadows will linger.

Hair, fair or unfair?

Perspective! Got it! Like always. Probably fickle again!

So I was very happy with the way people were helping me out in Europe, right from the time I landed. Strangers asking me where I was from, how my trip had been so far, how India is...and so on. But then something changed gradually. I had come to Europe with the perfect length of hair, clean shaven and what have you. Slowly, the perfect length of hair overgrew. A stubble appeared. And the warm and friendly people too disappeared. More people were now mistaking me for being Turkish and Pakistani than for Spanish or Portuguese. The moment I said, "Excuse moi, madame..." women sped away. People didn't smile to me as much in the streets and looked at me strangely when I smiled at them. One gentleman asked me upfront, 'Are you a Hindu'. I was just too amused to care about how random that question was and what its purpose could have been. Another very sweet elderly gentleman, walked up to me and started talking in Francais. When I spoke all the French I knew to tell him that I didn't speak French, he reluctantly ran his hand over his smooth cheeks and kept saying, 'Espangole? Espangole?' He then said something very fast and when I looked clueless, he reluctantly produced a zero machine from his bag and began giggling. I think I was about 83% amused and 17% confused. Or maybe I was 100% confused.

To add to my plight of being misjudged for another hapless illegal immigrant...a Muslim immigrant too, the cold weather cracked my lips with blood oozing out from them. I don't speak the language here, nor do I have much money left. About 85% match with 'All-time Classic Illegal Immigrant Traits', I think. But the incident from today morning just beat everything hands down. That will be another post. So...

There are two things possible here. One, I am totally crazy and paranoid. Two, people judge me now because I have shaggy hair and a stubble. But that throws up another sub-dilemma: I have seen scores of white guys here with all kinds of dubious hairdos and stubbles. Some of them couldn't have attracted so much attention from people, if they went up to them asked for it. Yet, my 10 day stubble stands out so much. Is it because it is a 10 day stubble on a brown face, instead of a white one?

I will have an internal discussion over this later in my head. For now, I am not going to let a few (or a lot of) stinky apples spoil my dessert. The Pain au Chocolat beckons in the background...

She hangs her head and, cries on my shirt
She must be hurt very badly
Tell me what's making you sadly?
Open your door, don't hide in the dark
You're lost in the dark, you can trust me.
'Cause you know that's how it must be

Lisa Lisa, sad Lisa Lisa

Her eyes like windows, tricklin' rain
Upon her pain getting deeper
Though my love wants to relieve her
She walks alone from wall to wall
Lost in a hall, she can't hear me!
Though I know she likes to be near me

Lisa Lisa, sad Lisa Lisa

She sits in a corner, by the door
There must be more I can tell her
If she really wants me to help her
I'll do what I can to show her the way
And maybe one day I will free her
Though I know no one can see her

Lisa Lisa, sad Lisa Lisa...

Oh, the streets of Rome are filled with rubble,
Ancient footprints are everywhere
You can almost think that you’re seein’ double
On a cold, dark night on the Spanish Stairs
Gotta hurry on back to my hotel room,
Where I’ve got me a date with Botticelli’s niece
Yup she promised that she’d be right there with me
When I paint my masterpiece.

Oh, the hours I’ve spent inside the Coliseum,
Dodging lions and wastin’ time
Oh, those mighty kings of the jungle, I could hardly stand to see ’em,
Yes, it sure has been a long, hard climb
Train wheels runnin’ through the back of my memory,
While the daylight hours too increased
Someday, everything is gonna be smooth like a rhapsody
When I paint my masterpiece.

I left Rome and landed in Brussels,
With a picture of a tall oak tree by my side.
Clergymen in uniform and young girls pullin’ muscles,
Everyone was there and nobody tried to hide.
Newspapermen eating candy
Had to be held down by big police.
Someday, everything is gonna be different
When I paint my masterpiece.

A few days late, but here is a desperate attempt to document some of the beautiful things that I have seen in the last four days. I only hope that even several years later, these words will help me touch all those areas of my brain that have these images embossed and relive all the imagery each time.

Day 1:
Left India at 2 in the night. Don't really want to think of and write about anything that happened till I landed in Europe. So I landed at 6 in the morning. Checked out at 6.30, and with nothing to for 6 hours until my train to Paris, I decided to wander the streets. Alone, obviously. Its a very beautiful city. But not for its roads and shops and buildings and parks and the weather. To me it was a beautiful city because everyone was nice to me. People saw me wandering the streets at 7 in the morning and stopped to say hi. I hardly met anyone who knew English. They just came up to me, smiling, and started talking to me. When I said, 'No Deutsche...sorry...' almost all of them made really sweet attempts to talk to me in English. I was amused to find out, that some of them thought I looked Arabic. People told me I was in the wrong place if I wanted to see Europe. They said there was nothing in Frankfurt except the headquarters of all the major banks in the world. When I kept pestering them to tell me of some place I could visit as a tourist, one person reluctantly told me to go to the old part of city and look around it. Maybe I would find something interesting, he said. So I walked there, talking to strange people on the way, taking pictures of everything that came in my lens' way and utterly overwhelmed by how nice everyone was being to me. Whoever told me Frankfurt is like Mumbai where a first timer is dead meat is the dumbest person alive. The only similarity I could notice was that both cities thrived on the Financial business. Anyway...

So I went to the old part of town and I was floored. Easily the most amazing place I had seen ever. There were old churches, some sit out restaurants, cafes, bakeries and all kinds of quaint places. Most of them were opening up since it was still early in the morning, but that gave the whole landscape an even more old world charm. I sat on a bench for a while. Thought about everything. Felt sad, then alright. One man walked up to me and asked me if he could sit next to me. Even though there were several other empty benches around. I smiled and he sat down. He asked me where I was from and things like that. He too turned out to be a single traveler. But he was traveling on business. He had a flight to take sometime in the evening. Whenever he had to came to Frankfurt, he came down to that part of town at odd hours because everything there seems so nice then. I could only nod and smile. He then asked me if I would like my picture taken since I was alone and was only taking pictures of everything around me. So just like that, since he saw I had no one to take my picture, he offered. It was extremely touching. He took two pictures of me and I did of him too. He asked me if he could take a picture of me with his camera. I was kind of skeptic. But the next second I hated myself. That was exactly why I had come there for. To just be. So I let him take my picture, we said goodbye and he walked away.

I sat down on the old wooden bench for a while, just thinking of something. I noticed this beautiful young couple across the cobbled courtyard, reading a book together, holding each other. It was very sweet. Sometimes I feel eachother should be one word. I asked them for a picture and the girl happily climbed down from the bench to take my camera. When I told her that I wanted to take a picture of them, she suddenly cringed and became very reluctant. "Why us?" she asked. There was no way I was going to be able to explain that to her. "Well..." were the only words I managed. She asked her boyfriend and he too was somewhat reluctant. I decided to not pursue it and said sorry and began walking. Well...

I saw a very small old church and decided to look at it from inside. I opened the door and I was quite surprised to not find anyone there. It was completely empty. But fully 'working'. It was heated, there were candles burning, beautiful soft lights and chairs and everything. But no person. I waited there, sitting on a chair, and did nothing for 15 minutes. It was a very strange experience. Like there was a God there if you wanted to see it that way. But it was a very beautiful place either way.

At mid-day, I came out of there and walked back into the city, walking towards the train station. I saw a lot of very interesting things. It felt good to know that people liked me, or at the very least, weren't repulsed by me. And thats what I loved most about the place. I realized I loved people smiling at me. Some even made the effort to talk to me in a language they didn't know. It was very pleasant and it felt very good to be there. Add to it the fact that this was supposed to be a monster of a city with no heart, driven by commericalism.

If that was so, I couldn't wait to see what Paris would be like!

Tape recorder playing...Joel Barish. I want to erase Clementine.

Joel: Hey, Clementine.
Clementine: Hey. Nice to see you.
Joel: Yeah.
Clementine: Yeah.

...not really very educated. I mean, she's smart, I think, but not educated. Her vocabulary leaves something to be desired. Sometimes...I was embarrassed in public...

I think if there's a truly seductive quality about Clementine, it's that her personality promises to take you out of the mundane. Amazing, burning meteorite...will carry you to another world where things are exciting. But what you quickly learn is that...it's really an elaborate ruse.

Clementine: I'm sorry I yelled at you.
Joel: It's okay.

So flashy in a kind of obvious way. But still, it seduces you.

Clementine: Joel, I really like you.
Joel: I hate that I said mean things about you. Let me turn this thing off, okay?
Clementine: Hey, it's... it's only fair.

Where's the real Clementine? I mean, the whole thing with the hair...it's all bullshit.

Joel: I really like your hair.
Clementine: Thank you.
Joel: I do. The world's a goddamn mess.

Is it some kind of a revolt? Change your hair color?

Joel: You want a drink or something?
Clementine: Do you have any whiskey?

No, I don't think her sex is... motivated. I saw it clearly the last night we were together. It wasn't sex. It was just sad. The only way Clem thinks she can get people to like her...is to fuck 'em...or at least dangle the possibility of getting fucked in front of 'em. And she's so desperate and insecure...that she'll, sooner or later, go around fucking everybody.

Clementine: I don't do that.
Joel: I wouldn't think that about you.
Clementine: Because I don't.
Joel: I know.
Clementine: Because it really hurts me that you said that because I don't do that.
Joel: I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about all this.
Clementine: I'm gonna...go. I'm a little confused. I don't really think I can be here. Um...bye.
Joel: Bye.

I thought I knew her so well. But I don't know her at all. What a loss to spend that much time with someone, only to find out that she's a stranger.

Joel: Wait.
Clementine: What?
Joel: I don't know. Just wait. Just wait.
Clementine: What do you want, Joel?
Joel: I don't know. I want you to wait for...just a while.
Clementine: Okay. Really? I'm not a concept, Joel. I'm just a fucked-up girl who's looking for my own peace of mind. I'm not perfect.
Joel: I can't see anything that I don't like about you.
Clementine: Right now you can't. But you will. But you will. You know, you will think of things, and I'll get bored with you and feel trapped...because that's what happens with me.
Joel: Okay.
Clementine: Okay?
Joel: Okay.

2 mins

Clementine: Okay.

Joel: I really should go! I've gotta catch my ride.
Clementine: So go.
Joel: I did. I thought maybe you were a nut... but you were exciting.
Clementine: I wish you had stayed.
Joel: I wish I had stayed too. NOW I wish I had stayed. I wish I had done a lot of things. I wish I had...I wish I had stayed. I do.
Clementine: Well I came back downstairs and you were gone!
Joel: I walked out, I walked out the door!
Clementine: Why?
Joel: I don't know. I felt like I was a scared little kid, I was like...it was above my head, I don't know.
Clementine: You were scared?
Joel: Yeah. I thought you knew that about me. I ran back to the bonfire, trying to outrun my humiliation.
Clementine: Was it something I said?
Joel: Yeah, you said "so go." With such disdain, you know?
Clementine: Oh, I'm sorry.
Joel: It's okay.
Clementine: Joely? What if you stayed this time?
Joel: I walked out the door. There's no memory left.
Clementine: Come back and make up a good-bye at least. Let's pretend we had one.
Clementine: Bye Joel.
Joel: I love you...
Clementine: Yea...Meet me...in Montauk...

Joel: Hi.
Clementine: Hi. Didn't figure you'd show your face around me again. I guess I thought you were... humiliated. You did run away, after all.
Joel: I just needed to see ya.
Clementine: Yeah?
Joel: I'd like to, um, take you out or something.
Clementine: Look, man, I'm telling you right off the bat I'm high maintenance, so I'm not gonna tiptoe around whatever it is you've got going there. If you wanna be with me, you're with me.
Joel: Okay.
Clementine: Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a fucked-up girl who's looking for my own peace of mind. Don't assign me yours.
Joel: I remember that speech really well.
Clementine: I had you pegged, didn't I?
Joel:You had the whole human race pegged.
Clementine: Hmm. Probably.
Joel: I still thought you were gonna save my life, even after that.
Clementine: Mmm. I know.
Joel: It would be different...if we could just give it another go around.
Clementine: Remember me. Try your best. Maybe we can.

Clementine: Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a fucked-up girl who's looking for my own peace of mind. Don't assign me yours.

My name is Clementine Kruczynski. I'm here to erase Joel Barish. What is this? I don't know. He's boring. Is that enough reason to erase someone? I've been thinking lately how I was before and how I am now, and it's like he changed me. I feel like I'm always pissy now. I don't like myself when I'm with him. I don't like myself anymore. I can't stand to even look at him. That pathetic, wimpy, apologetic smile. That sort of wounded puppy shit he does, you know...

Clementine: You don't tell me things, Joel. I'm an open book. I tell you everything. Every damn embarrassing thing. You don't trust me. Constantly talking isn't necessarily communicating.
Joel: I don't do that.
Clementine: I want to know you.
Joel: Hmm? I don't constantly talk. Jesus!
Clementine: People have to share things, Joel.
Joel: Mm-hmm.
Clementine: That's what intimacy is.
Joel: I'm really pissed that you said that to me.
Clementine: I'm sorry.
Joel: It just... really just isn't that interesting.
Clementine: I wanna read some of those journals you're constantly scribbling in. What do you write in there if you don't have any thoughts or passions or...love?
Clementine: Joely?
Joel: Yeah, Tangerine?
Clementine: Am I ugly?
Joel: Mm-mmm.
Clementine: When I was a kid, I thought I was. Can't believe I'm crying already. Sometimes I think people don't understand how lonely it is to be a kid. Like you don't matter. So, I'm eight...and I have these toys, these dolls. My favorite is this ugly girl doll who I call Clementine. And I keep yelling at her: "You can't be ugly! Be pretty!" It's weird. Like if I can transform her, I would magically change too.
Joel: You're pretty.

Clementine: Joely, don't ever leave me.
Joel: Pretty. Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.

Clementine: Hi.
Joel: I'm sorry?
Clementine: I just said hi.
Joel: Hi. Hello. Hi.
Clementine: Okay if I sit closer? How far are you going?
Joel: Uh, Rockville Center.
Clementine: Get out! Me too! Really? What are the odds?
Joel: Do I know you?
Clementine: Do you ever shop at Barnes & Noble?
Joel: Sure. Sure.
Clementine: That's it!
Joel: Yeah?
Clementine: I've seen you, man! Book slave there for, like, five years now.
Joel: Ah. I would have thought I would've remembered you.
Clementine: Jesus! Is it five years? It might be the hair.
Joel: What might?
Clementine: It changes a lot. The color. That's why you might not recognize me. It's called Blue Ruin, the color.
Joel: Right. Yeah.
Clementine: Snappy name, huh? I like it.
Joel: Yeah.
Clementine: Anyway, this company makes a whole line of colors with equally snappy names. Red... Red Menace, Yellow Fever, Green Revolution. That'd be a job, coming up with those names.
Joel: You think there could possibly be a job like that? I mean, how many hair colors could there be? Fifty, maybe.
Clementine: Someone's got that job. Agent Orange! I came up with that one. I apply my personality in a paste.
Joel: Oh, I doubt that very much.
Clementine: Well, you don't know me, so...you don't know, do you?
Joel: Sorry. I was just...I'm trying to be nice.
Clementine: Yeah. I got it. My name's Clementine, by the way.
Joel: I'm Joel.
Clementine: Hi, Joel.
Joel: Hey.
Clementine: No jokes about my name? Oh, no, you wouldn't do that. You're trying to be nice.
Joel:I don't know any jokes about your name.
Clementine: Huckleberry Hound.
Joel: I don't know what that means.
Clementine: Huckleberry Hound? What are you, nuts?
Joel: It's been suggested.
Clementine: Oh, my darlin', oh, my darlin' Oh, my darlin' Clementine You were lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry Clementine. No?
Joel: I'm sorry. Just...It's a pretty name, though. It really is nice. It's, uh...It means "merciful." Right? Clemency?
Clementine: Although it hardly fits. I'm a vindictive little bitch, truth be told.
Joel: Gee, I wouldn't think that about you.
Clementine: Why wouldn't you think that about me?
Joel: I don't know. I just...I don't know. I just, uh...You seem nice, so...
Clementine: Oh, now I'm nice? Oh, God. Don't you know any other adjectives? I don't need "nice." I don't need myself to be it, and I don't need anybody else to be it at me. Okay.

2 mins...

Clementine: Joel? It's Joel, right?
Joel: Yes.
Clementine: I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm a little out of sorts today. My embarrassing admission is, I really like that you're nice right now. I mean, I can't tell from one moment to the next what I'm gonna like, but right now...I'm glad you are. I have so much stuff that, uh, I probably should, uh...Oh! I'm sorry.
Joel: Okay.L-I'm writing, and...No, no. I just...
Clementine: Sure. No. That's okay.
Joel: I just have...You know, this is...
Clementine: Okay. Take care, then.

10 mins...

Joel: Hi. I could, uh, give you a ride, if you need. It's cold.
Clementine: Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Yeah? It is frosty. You're not a stalker or anything, right?
Joel: I'm not a stalker. You're the one that talked to me. Remember?
Clementine: That is the oldest trick in the stalker book.
Joel: Really? There's a stalker book?
Clementine: Mm-hmm.
Joel: Okay. I gotta read that one.
Clementine: Look, I'm sorry if I came off sorta nutso. I'm not, really.
Joel: Oh, it's okay. I didn't think you were.
Clementine: Did you wanna have a drink? I have lots of drinks, and I could, um...
Joel: Um...
Clementine: Never mind. Sorry. That was stupid. I'm embarrassed now.
Joel: No, no, no, no.
Clementine: Good night, Joel.

5 mins...

Clementine: Two Blue Ruins.
Joel: Thank you.
Clementine: Drink up, young man. It'll make the whole seduction part less repugnant.
Joel: What?
Clementine: I'm just kidding! Come on. You're kinda closed-mouthed, aren't you?
Joel: I'm sorry. It's just, you know, my life isn't that interesting. I go to work, I come home.
Don't know what to say.
Clementine: You should read my journal. I mean, it's just...blank.
Joel: Really? Does that make you sad or anxious?
Clementine: I mean, I'm always anxious, thinking I'm not living my life to the fullest, taking advantage of every possibility, making sure I'm not wasting one second of the little time I have. I think about that.
Joel: Yeah? You're really nice. Ohh! God, I have to stop saying that.
Clementine: I'm gonna marry you. I know it.
Joel: Um... okay.
Clementine: Joel, you should come up to the Charles with me sometime. It gets frozen this time of year.
Joel: That sounds scary.
Clementine: Exactly. I'll pack a picnic. A night picnic. Night picnics are different. And, um, we could...
Joel: Sounds good. But I...I should, uh, go. Now.
Clementine: You should stay.
Joel: No, I really... I'm... I...I have to get up so early.
Clementine: I would like you to call me. Would you do that? I would like it.
Joel: Yes.
Clementine: Wish me a happy Valentine's Day when you call! That'd be nice.

45 mins...

Clementine: What took you so long?
Joel: I just walked in.
Clementine: Mm-hmm. You miss me?
Joel: Yeah. Oddly enough, I do.

Creationist, Evolutionist...Chinese?

As I sat there, doodling around, bored to death with whatever was going around, my friend started this discussion on a topic that has been discussed to death. Divine creation vs the Big Bang. No sooner did this fellow start that topic than another wannabe intellectual jump in with his angle on the whole thing. I love it when people still feel like they have explored some new dimension to an issue that has been taken, analyzed, ripped apart, then analyzed some more, then ripped further apart, and then analyzed even more.

So this guy started with how he had the inside scoop on how it could not have been God who created this world. My friend obviously assumed the opposite side of the debate and a totally noisy and unentertaining duel ensued. Note that had the other douchebag taken the side for God, my friend would just as happily have defended the Big Bang. I, in the meanwhile, sat totally zoned out, pitying myself for several things at the same time.

A few minutes later, when I zoned into the real world that was the thoroughly vain argument bubbling around me, I found out that somehow, my friend supporting God was totally serving this other guy. That simply meant that this buddy of mine was a better debater than this other guy, since neither of them really had any point. But nevertheless, it got me thinking.

Now I don't care much for either the Creationist or the Evolutionist theory. But if I had to, had to choose, I would go with the Evolutionists. Not because I believe more in science than in religion or anything. But very simply, in the black and white of it, this world looks more like an accident than a divine creation. If there was a theory that said that God created a different world, lets say called Zalubar, and the bagasse of that process eventually formed the earth, I am willing to buy that. But to believe this world is a creation of God himself is kinda reducing Him to a shoddy ass workman. If in fact, there are people who buy into the whole creationist thing (and there are like a bazzilion of those), I wonder what kinda mediocre God these people believe in. If they think all their God could come up with was diseases, deception, cheating, misery, crime, violence, hunger, disaster, and hatred, I am not sure they should be even worshipping such a God in the first place. Heck, the writers among us humans can conceive a better world, at least in ideas.

As always, I ended up departing from that discussion between the two of my buddies by encapsulating my own half-baked takeaways. Also attempting to reconcile the two so that we could end the most boring discussion in the world. Here is my version of the whole thing:

There was a God. He caused the Big Bang. Out of it was born a world. It began developing rapidly and if everything would have gone according to plan, God would have shaped it himself. However, due to the rapid growth the universe was undergoing at the time, God couldn't afford to focus simply on one project. Plus the costs too were increasing beyond their estimated values (scope creep if you will). So, the real God, outsourced the creation of this world to someone who would do the job with a minimum-acceptable-standards tag and in a reasonable timeframe, before the lava and all that cooled. Thus, our world was born. To the absolute optimists among us, there is enough to make them feel good...the rivers and the forests and the what nots. For the pessimists too, there is enough...the diseases and the cheating and deceptions and what have you. So, a project saw its completion, with minimum acceptable standards, a fair amount of cost cutting (through adoption of some second rate processes)but with just enough to justify its existence. Juxtapose this with todays state of affirs and you might agree that I have stumbled upon the most divine secret. This is the most I can offer by way of support to the creationists:

If you believe this world was indeed a divine creation, then God, the Creator, has gotta be Chinese!

When the proverbial tree falls in the forest, in reality, there is always someone to hear it fall. Either someone who happens to be there by chance. Or only some other several trees that lie there, felled previously in the same way.

You can't kid yourself by hiding under a garb of ignorance.

Beating

For years you were shielded
From all this stupid misery
So carefully you treaded clear
To avoid this exact drudgery
But then you had to falter
And leave me with this picture unfinished
It’s a cruel world this
Where no slip-up goes unpunished
You idiot!
Do you still have to go on beating?
Is this an experience worth repeating?

I know you never fell in love
You were purposefully tripped into it
But to someone it was a victimless crime
Too bad only you think it’s a whodunit
You idiot!
Do you still have to go on beating?
You were taken by her and you were broken by her
Just get it over with now
Or are you still waiting for something?

I'm afraid of hearing that good bye
Tired of being someone's in-between guy
She never was nor would be mine...
...I know once upon a time I did try
Always is the most meaningless word
In this vast language
Used to fill in gaps,
It’s plugged in like a wedge
You had to go ahead and act
Now look what you've done
Ten thousand ways to die
And you chose my favourite one
Traded my peace for her pain
You had to lend my steam to her train
If in hindsight it all looks presaged
Why then does the effort appear in vain?

And you still want to keep beating?
Without any reason or rhyme
Oh but no one cares about you at all...
Stupid stupid stupid heart of mine!

Everything is Broken

Of everything man has ever invented, the most pathetic invention has to be adhesive glue. It just shows how desperate and disillusioned we are. We are actually willing to expend resources on scientific research to come up with a way to assuage our disillusionment. I wonder if chainsaws and adhesive glues tell us something about the personalities of the noble souls that invented them. If so, I would rather be the inventor of the chainsaw than that of the glue.

Broken lines...broken strings
Broken threads...broken springs
Broken idols...broken heads
People sleeping in broken beds
Ain't no use jiving
Ain't no use joking
Everything is broken.

Broken cutters...broken saws
Broken buckles...broken laws
Broken bodies...broken bones
Broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath feel like you're chokin'
Everything is broken.

Broken hands on broken ploughs
Broken treaties...broken vows
Broken pipes...broken tools
People bending...broken rules
Hound dog howling...bullfrog croaking
Everything is broken.

Broken bottles...broken plates
Broken switches...broken gates
Broken dishes...broken parts
Streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken.

Broken nights...broken days,
Broken leaves on broken trees,
Broken fingers...broken paws,
Broken sweat on broken brows.
Ain't no use runnin', honey,
Ain't no use jokin'
Nothing's workin'
Everything is broken.

Broken lives, hangin' by a thread,
Broken water...broken bread,
Broken mirror...broken chair,
Broken roads...goin' nowhere.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Can't help it, honey,
Everything broken.

Broken clock, on a broken wall
Broken voices in a broken hall
Broken beginnings...broken ends
Streets are filled with broken friends
Take a deep breath, baby, feel like you're chokin',
Tell me the truth now,
Everything broken.

Broken flesh on a broken floor,
Broken keys, for a broken door
Broken idols...broken heroes,
Broken numbers, addin' up to zeroes
Hound dog's howling, bull frog's croakin',
It ain't easy, baby,
Everything broken.

My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She never said she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
Make promises by the hour,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can't buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she does not bother,
She knows too much to argue or to judge.

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers' nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love, she was like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.

Be. Please be.

I sat there waiting idly, watching people go by. I was not in the best of spirits, but it wasn't something unusually crappy that I could crib about either. With an empty mind and an interesting book in hand, I just sat there. I had gotten tired of reading and was just not feeling upto it. So I shut the book and put in my earphones. 'You're a big girl now' by Dylan came on. Wow.

As I stretched out my legs, staring blankly at people around me, my mind was marrying off the visuals I was seeing to the audio that I was listening to. Its astonishing how much your imagination can stretch when it really wants to. I was listening to the song and relating it to perfect strangers around me. And it made so much sense. Like it applied to each one of them...the bartender who was working like a programmed machine, the girls who were giggling in the corner, the old men who were discussing business, couples who were probably in love, and a group of guys who were pulling each others' legs. 'You're a big girl now'. "What a wonderful song" I thought.

Wait wait wait (movie-like rewind sound plays). WTH. I must be going insane. How on god's green earth did that song apply to any of those people? Even all the Dylan crypologists wouldn't relate that song to anyone but a girl. I seriously needed to get some sleep. These kinds of visions were scary.

I got up, stuffed the book in my big black bag, and began to leave. 'You're a big girl now' kept controlling my mind. It began making sense again.

It is 12.30 in the night on a Sunday and I haven't had a day off for the longest time. I have had 25 and 30 hour workdays on supposedly 'long' weekends and I am tired. Not because of the work and not because my client has humiliated and debased me in the worst possible way, openly for absolutely no fault of mine. I am tired just because I am. Tired of everything. Tired of being alone and tired of being taken for granted by everyone in this world and tired of crying. I am tired because not one person in this world values and treasures me. I am tired because I have to exist.

Why can I not be who I am and survive happily. Why does everyone have to hate me, curse me, mock me, and despise me so? I have had it with 'if you are going to be that guy, you will always get screwed.' Why can't I just be whoever I may be- stupid, simple, naive, idiotic, dumb, pathetic, whatever. Why can't I be loved for what I am. What if I just am that way. Is that a sin? Do I have to suffer? It feels like I am not life-ready. Like I am not good enough to be in this crappy world. And people often justify this shit by citing Darwin. Thats the biggest misquote ever. Its fair if you have to be fit to survive. But I am not talking fitness here. Apparently, fitness is confused with the guile, stealth, and cunning that you require to trap a fleet footed hare. All I am asking is to be not screwed for the kind of person I am. Don't fucking make me regret being a nice guy.

And the worst thing is that no one around even knows what I am talking about. All of you are so fucking deaf and muted to this cruelty that I seem to be a weirdo. You laugh when I am hungry and you celebrate when I weep. I hate this world and I hate you and I hate myself and I hate everyone.

I don't care about any one of you. All I want is for the constant lump in my throat to not choke me. All I want is to not feel like I will break down every hour. All I ask for is for just one person,one fucking puny person, to simply listen to and understand me and this is what I get!

This is no way to live...paying through your nose for always meaning well and trying to be a good person.

They say there are only two real emotions- Love and Fear. All others are derivatives or manifestations of either of these. I think that could be true.

But apparently, both cannot co-exist. Where there is love, there is no room for fear and vice versa. I don't agree with that. There are times when you love and fear. I don't know how to explain it. But I think it is possible.

Mera kuch saamaan tumhare paas pada hai
saavan ke kuch bheege bheege din rakhe hain
aur mere ik khat main lipti raat padi hai
woh raat bujha do, mera woh saamaan lauta do
mera kuch saamaan tumhare paas pada hai

Patjhad hai kuch...hai na?
patjhad main kuch patton ke girne kee aahat
kaanon main ek baar pahan ke laut aai thee
patajhad kee woh shaakh abhi tak kaanp rahi hai
woh shaakh gira do, mera woh saamaan lauta do
woh shaakh gira do, mera woh saamaan lauta do

Ek akeli chhatree main jab aadhe aadhe bheeg rahe the
aadhe sookhe aadhe geele, sukha to main le aaye thee
geela man shayad bistar ke paas pada ho
woh bhijwa do, mera woh saamaan lauta do

Ek so sola chaand ki raatein ek tumhare kaandhe ka til
Ek so sola chaand ki raatein ek tumhare kaandhe ka til
geeli mehendi ki khushboo, jhooth mooth ke shikwe kuch
jhooth mooth ke wade bhi sab yaad karaa do
sab bhijwa do, mera woh saamaan lauta do
sab bhijwa do, mera woh saamaan lauta do

ek ijaazat de do bas, jab isko dafanaaungee
main bhi vaheen so jaungee
main bhi vaheen so jaungee

Renowned scientists in a highly reputed laboratory recently conducted a detailed study to compare two very different yet oddly similar types of misfortunes known to the human kind- a gun-shot in the chest and heartbreak. Here are excerpts from their findings:

• It was found that at their worst, a gun-shot in the chest was just as painful as heartache. The intensity of pain described differed between subjects, but it wasn't enough to discern between the two mishaps.
  
  
• Gun-shotees, as opposed to heartbreakees, were thankful that their pain, while intense, didn't last for extended periods of time. They said they hit the bottom right after the mishap and then felt a rapidly dwindling pain at isolated times during the day in the following period. Heartbreakees however, couldn't say which period was less painful than others. In a few cases, the subjects said their pain increased progressively; a few said each day was just as painful as the previous one, ever after. Reportedly, not many subjects recovered totally. Ever.
  
  
• Among those that had been unfortunate enough to experience the same pain more than once, shotees said that after their first time, each of the next times weren't as painful. Heartbreakees on the other hand said each progressive heartbreak left them 'a thousand times more devastated than the previous one'.
  
  
• Commonalities between the two mishaps included inability to breathe at a lot of times during the day, heavy dependence on those around, sobbing, recurring memories of the incident, the lead up to it, and the happy times before that, inability to attach a rational explanation to it, and general disillusionment.
  
  
• When asked to describe their most stark thoughts at the peak of their plight, those who were shot at feared "Oh God! I am going to die". On the contrary, those with broken hearts said "Oh God. I wish I were dead." In a significant number of cases, the heartbreakees said they would have preferred if the breakers of their hearts had, in fact, shot them in the chest with a gun.

Based on these findings, scientists have dared to pass a verdict: A 'meh' for gun-shot and a 'No price is too high to avoid it' to heartache. The chief scientist justified this verdict saying, "It was a really difficult choice to make. However, the thing about heartbreak is that you don't die from it. You should, but you don't. It leaves just a bit of life in you to make you walk around all day like a zombie. The pain is just as much as a gun-shot. But everlasting. You could guard yourself against a gun-shot, expecting or watching it as it came, but heartache gets you much more surreptitiously.

And while gun-shots have clear-cut culprits, with heartache you don't know who to blame."

Vanity Where

I had a very stimulating conversation with this chick the other day over coffee. Now, stimulating to me usually meant, something where I could argue and counter-argue till the cows came home. And the person at the other end gullibly plays into my hands. Thinking naively that I must be smart and can talk on any topic under the sun. The experienced ones are now in on the secret and don't even give me the time of day if they have anything better to do. But anyway, this chick was apparently a noob. So yea, I had this conversation with her. Off-late, I consciously try to improve as a person by avoiding those kinda conversations. But sometimes you've just gotta indulge.

So this chick started with something like 'You know whats wrong with this world? Everything is so frikkin pretentious.' I saw a window, nay highway, of opportunity, decorated with flowers and red carpets leading upto it. Inviting me to arrive at the stage which I am so adept at occupying annoyingly. (Note, I am too chicken to actually occupy a real stage, lest you start painting an inaccurate picture of me. The only stages I grace are the ones I create in my mind. And boy, did I rock that scene once!) So anyway, she said this thing in a pretty serious manner. And I had to dig into my now discarded repertoire to come up with something that looked just as insightful. Here, I want to point out that I have (or had?) this annoying habit (actually a sub-habit). No no...not the one where I write too much stuff in brackets. Its the other one. Whenever someone says something that is important to them, I have to showcase my intellect by saying something like, "Well what you say is perfectly right...However...there are like a million points that I think you are missing..." Go ahead...you laugh now...but trust me, it is very annoying. I have had it done to me too, and I can relate with all those who I have pained on that one count. Some people tell me this trait is typical of the city I come from. I think that might be true. Dunno.

So back to the conversation. She complained of how everything around us was pretentious and how that was the reason for all misery. I quipped, "Well..you are right...but you know what I think? I think things would still be better if the world pretended well. The problem is not so much that everything is pretentious. Its that everyone sucks at pretending." Again, like a true noob, she gave my words some thought. And I could see a nice session brewing. Conversations over coffee. Isn't that what these chains charge you a bomb for? Well, thats a different scam altogether. Trust me, hot guys making intersting conversations sell their coffee. Not the other way round. Coffee or tea or booze or whatever is only incidental. These coffee chains should be sharing their profits with me. I dare them to take me off the scene in the middle of a conversation and put in some average guy. We'll see how long the conversation sustains then. We'll see how much interesting discussion that overpriced coffee fuels. Anyway, this can be the subject of another post. Now back to the convo.

So I said the world was in the shape it is in because everyone (mostly) sucked at pretending. She asked me to elaborate (rookie mistake again). I gave her an example. "Lets take our shitty tabloids for example. Undeniably and totally pretentious. Yet, badly so. They generate words like glitterati and chutzpah and what not to describe lame things. This business of making up words and attaching them to regular concepts to make them look exciting is the backbone of pretentiousness. Right? But they do a shoddy job there too. Look at the real cool things in the world. They always have cool names. Agreed. So when you want to make something look cool, it should first have a catchy name. For example, the 70s were universally accepted as really really cool. I say its because of the name of that decade. The Seventies! How cool does that sound. On the other hand, look at the decade that we are in right now. What name does it have? The OOs? The units? You see...no cool name. Is it any surprise that this decade sucked total ass then?"

I saw that look of adulation and adoration in her eyes. Like she had just heard something simple, yet profound. She must have been thinking, I had such insight on regular topics. I must be a smart guy. And I decided to drive that car till the fuel, in this case biogas, ran out. "So you see...its the name that defines the cool. If only the powers that be focused on applying the principles of pretentiousness for popularising the real cool stuff before getting on to the vain stuff, the world would still be a better place. I say, first have a name for this decade. Then coin words to describe irritating celebrity couples."

"Well, that is right...you have a point." What! I had a point? Ok. They don't make girls like her anymore. Thats for sure. I decided to push my luck still further and squeeze in some more bullshit. "You know what. I should just come up with a sexy name for this decade and patent it. How about calling it the Ravis? We'll of course spell it more pretentiously. Like the Raviez or something. I could patent it and earn a royalty everytime some fashion rag used it. If there is anyone in this decade who has really had fun, they could tell their grandkids later in the 30s about how much fun they had in the Raviez. As things stand now, there is no name they have to remember this decade by. I could also patent an abbreviation like Rz. You see...all this would count as pretentiousness. But smoothly executed. If everyone was so good at it, the world wouldn't be in this shape. Thats what I live for. Making this world a better place."

That was it. She was floored. She was thinking, "This guy has everything. He is smart and fun!" Thats how its done. Thats how you nail the chicas. Not by driving swanky cars and spending oodles of dough. But by making stupid convo. And believing in what you say. The key is to come up with interesting stuff on the go. I came up with some more crap. "You see, I can cite evidence to support my case. Take restaurants for example. What fancy names they have for all their stuff. Aubergine for vanga, Okra for bhendi, Bell Pepper, Caper, Farmers Bread, Cottage Cheese....blah blah. Believe me, we would have much leaner people if they named dishes for what they tasted like. But thats the key. You name something cool and it will sell." Done. This girl didn't have a chance. She made a mistake by giving me an opening to this convo. And I snatched the microphone and turned it into my own tonight show.

Man, do I miss the good old times. Looking forward to more khaavi. And even more fun stuff.

"Alien like you"

I know that you don't know
That I know what you know
We've got secrets between us that
Nobody would believe if we told them.
So let the stars all shine.
Let the water make wine.
Cuz broken souls
Will become whole
Tonight
You know its right
So lift your eyes
And let me in
Cuz baby I am an alien...
...Like you
Will you ever wake at night
And realize the reason
Why you knew me then
Is maybe I am an alien
Too?
Would you ever
Let me be an alien with you?

I know that you are leaving
Its hard with the feeling
We must be millions and billions
Of light years away
So let the heavens flare
And lets not be scared
Cuz we know that loves a world
Above this one
Just like the sun.
So lift your eyes
And let me in
Cuz baby I am an alien...
...Like you
Will you ever wake at night
And realize the reason
Why you knew me then
Is maybe I am an alien
Too?
Would you ever
Let me be an alien with you?

Days of solitude are gone
Because we've both spent away too long.
Hearing voices on the radio.
Cant let anybody know
No we cant let anybody know.
So lift your eyes
And let me in
Baby I am an alien...
...Like you.
Will you ever wake at night
And realize the reason
Why you knew me then?
Is maybe I am an alien
Too?
Would you ever
Let me be an alien with you?

"Trash into trash equals trash flavored trash."

"Hello...Am I talking to Mr. Ravi?"
"Uh...yes...you are...".
"Thank You Sir. I am calling on behalf of Citibank. Sir, you have just been specially chosen for a new insurance plan as a reward for being a esteemed Citibank Credit Card holder Sir. Can I go on and inform you of the various features it offers to you as a specially chosen customer?"

I have always been a sucker for these you-are-so-special-to-me/us, you-mean so-much-to-me/us traps. I couldn't resist hearing how special I was to a commercial profit-hungry bank.

"Sure go on..." I heard myself say.
"Sir this is a special Life Insurance plan that you won't be able to buy from the market Sir."
"Ok"
"Sir it provides you with a cover in case of your unfortunate death Sir."
"Well not sure how unfortunate it would be...but go ahead..."
"Yes sir...so sir this plan offers you Life Insurance in case of any kind of death with no processing hassles sir."
"Ok"
"A special feature is our murder and suicide insurance sir. Even if you committ suicide sir, your nominee will get the full cover sir."
"Suicide insurance eh? And I have specially been chosen for this one you say?"
"Yes Sir...specially chosen..."
"So the news is out then?"
"What sir?"
"Never mind...go on please"
"Thank You Sir. So sir, this wonderful new plan, with suicide insurance, will provide your dependants with financial security in the case of your unfortunate death sir. May I know how many dependants you have sir?"
"Well, no one depends on me for anything...if thats what you are asking. I am not needed."
"No sir...not like that. Any spouse..."
"Nope."
"Any children?"
"Really?"
"No sir. What about your parents sir?"
"Ah them."
"Yes sir, them. It will provide them with security and no hassles sir."
"Yea...I'm not sure who depends on whom in that relationship. But I understand. Go on please."
"Thank you sir...you can also choose any third person as your nominee too sir...there are many more features too sir...blah blah blah"

A fat nasty old man once began a conversation with me saying "Assuming you die tomorrow..." That was a sidey local company. This phone dude had all the charm and panache that you'd associate with a glam foreign bank. So he went a step further and addressed me saying "Assuming you kill yourself tomorrow sir...".

And like a naive country boy, I bought into both these guys. At least this call centre guy made me feel like I would be worth something to someone once I died. That someone could be anyone I chose! That did make me feel special. Like I was really the chosen one. It was almost like I won at a lucky dip at a funfair and as a prize, I got to make a wish. No Conditions Apply. Or at least hassle free...as the man said.

So now, I am like a flesh and blood at-par cheque, encashable anytime, issued in favor of those who 'depend' on me. They may not have any particular interest in me being alive. But I have handed them some incentive to bump me off, should they ever get too tired of me. Is that sweetening the deal for anyone to want me? Yea right!

It scares me how much these corporations can change the way we look at things.

In finance, you have loans, and you have repayments. You take loans, and you pay them back. Plus interest. Once you take a loan, there is no escaping the payback. It is usually painful, but there is no easy way out. What repayment is in finance, karma is in life. A perfectly logical and analogous concept, I used to think. But there is one gray area.

In finance, there is also a concept of a write-off. If a person with absolutely no repayment capabilities somehow avails of a loan, there is usually no payback. Just default. The fact that this person didn't deserve a loan is fine, but thats in the past. The fact remains: he offtook that money and is totally incapable of paying it back, even partially. The lender can only write it off now. There is nothing that he can do to make good his loss and so he decides to let it go. The only winner here is the defaulter. The reason? He played so beyond his means that whatever he was worth paled totally in comparison to what he owed. And so it was written off. Had he taken a smaller loan, he would have been pushed and shoved around and nagged to somehow arrange for the payback. Not so for a ridiculously large amount.

The question then, is that can there be a Karmic write-off? You act cruel, and it will come back to you in equal measure (plus interest). Thats the way its supposed to be. But what if you act so cruel that there isn't enough dead weight in the world to balance off your cruelty? Do you enjoy a karmic write-off because you are so depleted of karmic assets that there is no chance of even a substantially partial payback happening? And if it is so, in the short term (read: just this life and not the future reincarnations or whatever) is it advisable to go so overboard with your negative karma that providence has no chance of a significant recovery? Can you expect to be let off the hook?

Well, guess I can think out of the box. And its always good to know you have choices of actions.

Definitely sounds better than abiding tamely.