You're a soul that wants to choose a body.
Every body has some ailment, the soul must accept that. None of them is perfectly healthy. But some suffer from a headache, some have tootaches and some have cancer. A healthier body and mind will heighten the possibility of a better quality of life, happiness and ability to achieve more.
A soul without a body feels discomfort like a person in winter with little clothes. So the soul has the incentive to hurry. But there's a tradeoff - should it wait in the cold to find the health it desires or should it quickly choose one and risk a life of agony.
Everything is a possibility: the healthy might fall greatly ill the next day, and the dying might become a runner. But you, the soul, knows the body it wants when it sees it. Don't get confused, the soul will feel it strongly when it has the orders to enter a body.
How everyone's a gold digger: money makes or breaks every relation
1 people tried commenting Thus spake Kaala Kavva at 11:37 AM
Every relation between two people is like eating at a restaurant and then figuring out who pays. You can split, or one of you can pay but it's hard to decide who does. In a good, smart and mature relationship, both the people have the ability to pay and both the people always offer to pay the full amount. They both have a sense of duty towards the relationship and offer their best. There is a hidden expectation that if one pays today, the other one will even it out in another meal or another day - but they will and that they never restrict themselves.
The problem arises when one of the people decides to become stingy and makes the other one pay. He could directly say 'Oops I don't have enough money. Please help me out here' and this is acceptable if it happens once, or twice or thrice - but if the demand presents itself more often than expected the other person gradually start feeling abused and cheated and taken for granted. You will not want to eat with such a person and you'll want to find other people to eat with.
The problem is even more vicious if the stingy person decides to be dishonest about it, and pretends to look for money in his wallet, or lies about forgetting to bring it. Thanks to our gift of subconscious communication, our gut always tells us when we're being wronged - especially if the situation repeats itself. In that case, the victim of the injustice is even more repelled and puts his guard up and starts restricting their offer to pay eventually.
Now the currency in which you pay could be money, or it could be emotional support, or it could be effort you put to comfort the other person, or it could be blind trust you give. If you're always the pillar in which the other person is standing, and you never have that chance to be supported when you're weak, you'll feel misused. If you're always the one putting in more effort to make the other person happy, but that's not being reciprocated you won't feel it justified. If you pay a lot of trust and don't get the same amount of trust back, you're bound to want to restrict yourself sooner or later.
Ultimately, every relation is give and take. So you should be very open to paying every time when you have the cash, and somewhere you expect the other person to at least offer every time because you don't know when your wallet might be empty and you'll need their help. But continue mooching off the other person, and you'll incite a sense of resentment in the most large-hearted creature.
Sometimes we eat with a person who's not as well off as us and really can't afford that kind of a meal. In such a case, you'll probably sponsor their meal a few times because you're a nice person, but it's nothing you'll look forward too. We're programmed to look forward to a meal where the money will eventually balance itself out.
So next time you're with someone, pay. Or at the very least - offer, genuinely.
The problem arises when one of the people decides to become stingy and makes the other one pay. He could directly say 'Oops I don't have enough money. Please help me out here' and this is acceptable if it happens once, or twice or thrice - but if the demand presents itself more often than expected the other person gradually start feeling abused and cheated and taken for granted. You will not want to eat with such a person and you'll want to find other people to eat with.
The problem is even more vicious if the stingy person decides to be dishonest about it, and pretends to look for money in his wallet, or lies about forgetting to bring it. Thanks to our gift of subconscious communication, our gut always tells us when we're being wronged - especially if the situation repeats itself. In that case, the victim of the injustice is even more repelled and puts his guard up and starts restricting their offer to pay eventually.
Now the currency in which you pay could be money, or it could be emotional support, or it could be effort you put to comfort the other person, or it could be blind trust you give. If you're always the pillar in which the other person is standing, and you never have that chance to be supported when you're weak, you'll feel misused. If you're always the one putting in more effort to make the other person happy, but that's not being reciprocated you won't feel it justified. If you pay a lot of trust and don't get the same amount of trust back, you're bound to want to restrict yourself sooner or later.
Ultimately, every relation is give and take. So you should be very open to paying every time when you have the cash, and somewhere you expect the other person to at least offer every time because you don't know when your wallet might be empty and you'll need their help. But continue mooching off the other person, and you'll incite a sense of resentment in the most large-hearted creature.
Sometimes we eat with a person who's not as well off as us and really can't afford that kind of a meal. In such a case, you'll probably sponsor their meal a few times because you're a nice person, but it's nothing you'll look forward too. We're programmed to look forward to a meal where the money will eventually balance itself out.
So next time you're with someone, pay. Or at the very least - offer, genuinely.
My selfish reason for being against dowry
0 people tried commenting Thus spake Kaala Kavva at 1:04 PM
You live in urban 2015 but dowry exists in various forms, shapes and sizes. It creeps up from behind innocuous masks and plays the role of horror it has always played.
I've studied from the best institutes in the world, have done well professionally and don't really have a lot of problems in presenting myself. All this means a lot of matrimonial attention and makes me worthy of a good amount, you know. But apart from the fact that asking for (or getting without asking) dowry makes me feel like a major parasite, my biggest problem is that it turns the whole affair into a trade. It makes marriage into a business deal, a property transaction and the woman into a commodity that is being traded. I'm sure rounds of negotiation are carried out and final amounts are reached and after that everything is happy and rosy. After all, we've also seen this in hindi movies since childhood where the jerk is ready to marry the woman but only for a huge sum of money - it doesn't feel that alien - or does it ? The only issue is the girl's father does not ask them to buzz off, but instead wait's for the director's instructions to the hero to save the day.
But if we all agree that dowry is a hideous monster and it's unethical and unmanly, what is the point of this article a clever mind may ask. I've been trying to ask myself the question why is it wrong to do give or take dowry. But before that let's imagine a situation where two families getting merged are in principle okay with the concept of giving and taking dowry. I have always believed that if you're doing something that you in your heart feel is right, then it is ethically correct. So being very objective and applying the same theory, if people believe in their heart of hearts that it is morally acceptable, then let's vindicate them of the guilt for a moment.
Let's be super-objective and look at it from a practical point of view. What's the problem with treating a marriage like a deal or trade, even if were ethically justified. Well, the real problem is that when a relation starts like a deal, it will always remain a deal or a trade. How do you ever expect a human being to forget that she was traded like a commodity, and her new family accepted her only on a financial condition that was placed on her original family. How can you ever expect that person to treat the new family like her own?
Every relation in the world is give and take, someone might argue, all of them are trades. But think of the trade you had with your parents. You were little and helpless and mute. But they selflessly served you, gave you everything including material and values and made you independent. They didn't put a condition, but always hoped for your best sacrificing their happiness for yours every single day. And due to this most people end up loving our parents and being loyal to them even though people might not always agree or get along with them after growing up.
But parents don't plan this. Nature has subconsciously taught parents the way to welcome someone into your family. It's through selflessness and acceptance. Let the same knowledge apply to accepting someone into your family after marriage and if the basis for that acceptance is a major condition, especially a financial one, tell me how the person in question will ever forget that. How will that person ever selflessly love the others and how will she ever truly become a part of the family. I've always thought selfless love is a significant part of a marriage, but hey I could be wrong of course. All forms of conditions, pressures and terms just abrade the base of a newly formed relation and that, to me, is not a great starting point.
I've studied from the best institutes in the world, have done well professionally and don't really have a lot of problems in presenting myself. All this means a lot of matrimonial attention and makes me worthy of a good amount, you know. But apart from the fact that asking for (or getting without asking) dowry makes me feel like a major parasite, my biggest problem is that it turns the whole affair into a trade. It makes marriage into a business deal, a property transaction and the woman into a commodity that is being traded. I'm sure rounds of negotiation are carried out and final amounts are reached and after that everything is happy and rosy. After all, we've also seen this in hindi movies since childhood where the jerk is ready to marry the woman but only for a huge sum of money - it doesn't feel that alien - or does it ? The only issue is the girl's father does not ask them to buzz off, but instead wait's for the director's instructions to the hero to save the day.
But if we all agree that dowry is a hideous monster and it's unethical and unmanly, what is the point of this article a clever mind may ask. I've been trying to ask myself the question why is it wrong to do give or take dowry. But before that let's imagine a situation where two families getting merged are in principle okay with the concept of giving and taking dowry. I have always believed that if you're doing something that you in your heart feel is right, then it is ethically correct. So being very objective and applying the same theory, if people believe in their heart of hearts that it is morally acceptable, then let's vindicate them of the guilt for a moment.
Let's be super-objective and look at it from a practical point of view. What's the problem with treating a marriage like a deal or trade, even if were ethically justified. Well, the real problem is that when a relation starts like a deal, it will always remain a deal or a trade. How do you ever expect a human being to forget that she was traded like a commodity, and her new family accepted her only on a financial condition that was placed on her original family. How can you ever expect that person to treat the new family like her own?
Every relation in the world is give and take, someone might argue, all of them are trades. But think of the trade you had with your parents. You were little and helpless and mute. But they selflessly served you, gave you everything including material and values and made you independent. They didn't put a condition, but always hoped for your best sacrificing their happiness for yours every single day. And due to this most people end up loving our parents and being loyal to them even though people might not always agree or get along with them after growing up.
But parents don't plan this. Nature has subconsciously taught parents the way to welcome someone into your family. It's through selflessness and acceptance. Let the same knowledge apply to accepting someone into your family after marriage and if the basis for that acceptance is a major condition, especially a financial one, tell me how the person in question will ever forget that. How will that person ever selflessly love the others and how will she ever truly become a part of the family. I've always thought selfless love is a significant part of a marriage, but hey I could be wrong of course. All forms of conditions, pressures and terms just abrade the base of a newly formed relation and that, to me, is not a great starting point.
Romeo and Juliet and teenage love and revelations
1 people tried commenting Thus spake Kaala Kavva at 5:47 AM
Did you know Romeo was around seventeen and Juliet just a month shy of fourteen. We're all enticed by what we can't have. The grapes that seem sour are actually really sour sometimes and yet the heart soars at their very sight. Had their families been well-associated, most probably their parents would've talking about getting the pretty kids married. The thought of which would obviously disgust Romeo beyond his wildest dreams, getting trapped with just one sickening relationship to deal with his whole life.
Had they been free to "date", they would have devoured all preparations of lust and love, made the mistakes you're bound to make and gathered all the experiences. Then one fine day, Romeo would've made an insensitive comment about Juliet's new shoes or lustily eyed Juliet's well-endowed friend which would obviously have driven her to insanity, and after a few of these they'd soon break up and move on sooner. Romeo with the well-endowed friend and Juliet with one or more of her fifty male friends. Probably.
But alas, they were kids. Teenagers with raging hormones, stepping out of the crusted shell of childhood, ready to rebel, ready to face the world. And they couldn't possess each other. What can be a more effective catalyst for them to idolize what they had for each other, drive them crazy, have wrench their hearts and souls out for each other, and end their lives at the thought of losing the other. It's difficult to imagine the level of obsession and desire, mentally exaggerated or not, they experienced.
If Romeo had not succeeded in killing himself at the mere (false) news of Juliet's death, and had reflected upon his actions a few years later in a calm and serene environment (read: lying in his new girlfriend's lap), he'd have laughed and thought himself a crazy kid. But no, you've got to have what you've got to have.
Had they been free to "date", they would have devoured all preparations of lust and love, made the mistakes you're bound to make and gathered all the experiences. Then one fine day, Romeo would've made an insensitive comment about Juliet's new shoes or lustily eyed Juliet's well-endowed friend which would obviously have driven her to insanity, and after a few of these they'd soon break up and move on sooner. Romeo with the well-endowed friend and Juliet with one or more of her fifty male friends. Probably.
But alas, they were kids. Teenagers with raging hormones, stepping out of the crusted shell of childhood, ready to rebel, ready to face the world. And they couldn't possess each other. What can be a more effective catalyst for them to idolize what they had for each other, drive them crazy, have wrench their hearts and souls out for each other, and end their lives at the thought of losing the other. It's difficult to imagine the level of obsession and desire, mentally exaggerated or not, they experienced.
If Romeo had not succeeded in killing himself at the mere (false) news of Juliet's death, and had reflected upon his actions a few years later in a calm and serene environment (read: lying in his new girlfriend's lap), he'd have laughed and thought himself a crazy kid. But no, you've got to have what you've got to have.
Justin Bieber can help you when you're troubled - Read only when suffering
1 people tried commenting Thus spake Kaala Kavva at 8:32 AMSo you're pained, troubled, frustrated or if you haven't followed instructions, plain simple bored. Maybe things are not going your way. Maybe all five of your girlfriends dumped you or you lost your favorite piece necklace. Maybe you found something perfect and lost it, or maybe you have no hope of finding good about life. Someone may have hurt your pretty feelings or said something rude as hell. There is hope for recovery, read on.
Let me describe three awesome methods that work like magic - but you have to believe. Do you believe?
The Bieber-Life Method
Think of the life options Justin Bieber has. You have the same options. Yes I'm equating you to Bieber (or Rebecca black depending on your gender.. Focus human, don't throw unnecessary arguments at me!) Bieber has divided the world into two very distinct sets. People who absolutely love him - mostly made of crazy impulsive hot teenage girls and maybe guys; People who absolutely hate him - for no apparent fault of his except that his music is extremely popular. People hate him to the extent that people label all 'disliker's on youtube videos of geniuses like Beethoven or Mozart to be Bieber fans. In any discussion of good music, Bieber is brought up as a contrasting example. We all have witnessed this. You think Bieber has no idea about it? Of course he does. Do you think this doesn't cause him sleepless nights and loss of apetite, the millions that hate and disgrace him and his music? I don't know and for the poor guy's sake, I hope not. But let's learn from this. There are a lot of things going wrong in your life. Whenever you think your life is bad, you should know that at one point it will be worse. But at each point, there are so many things going right. For example, the millions of crazy girls who'd give all their riches to take a peek at Bieber, or just touch him or maybe even be able to use the same toothbrush he discarded. There are good things in your life. I'm not taking the burden of counting them for you, go do it yourself. But in the end Bieber ha a choice to cry and pain over everything that's wrong in his life a.k.a. haters or focus only on the good things a.k.a. lovers. Bieber should know that haters and lovers will keep changing positions but if that starts bothering him day and night, how will he continue to make the "awesome" music he does.
The Old-ugly-fat Method
Say you're 30. Or 20 or 10, doesn't matter. And you're having a hard time right now. Loss of hope, love, money, health - whatever. Imagine in your head that you're 60. You're 60 years old, have fat falling out from everywhere and have ugly wrinkly skin. But you have everything else - a perfect family, a perfect home, good health, a lot of money, good friends and a lot of time on your hands. Basically you're living the life. Now you find a lamp like Aladdin's and rub it, and comes out a genie who gives you an option to skip all the struggles, and pain, and aches and heartbreaks, and losses and chores of life and makes you that 60 year old awesome person we just spoke about. Would you take the deal?
If you said Yes, I can't help you. If you said no, then look what you just did. You accepted that all struggle and suffering and pain. So own it, be amused by it and enjoy it because you signed up for it when you agreed to live on.
The Painful-gym-workout Method
Have you ever lifted a dumbbell? Do you know how hard it is to get a 16" bicep and a perfect six pack? Do you know much suffering I have been through to reach a stage where I can be proud of my physique? A lot but I enjoy that pain - we call it the sweet pain. Enjoy the suffering, hopelessness and pain. That is what will make you immune to it, that is what will make you stronger and better. Also, go and actually workout in a gym or maybe just go and run. It'll make you feel so much better. If you can't do that, take a shower. If you're sad because there's no running water at home, cry. Do anything worthwhile to feel better.
Levitation, flying, climbing. No editing.
0 people tried commenting Thus spake Kaala Kavva at 1:07 PM
Photography credits: Vinayak Tripathi
Flying credits: Maniraj Singh
I was driving to the dreaded city of Gurgaon and it was pouring. Fat water drops were forcefully smashing and surrendering against my loyal windscreen that guarded me against their attack. And the frantic wiper came bolting into the scene, and cleared the battleground like a servile minion clears path for a bigshot politician.
I listened to the Moonlight Sonata for the 48th time and wondered why something written on such sombre, minor scales and conscipiously sad notes made me feel ecstatic. Add to it the incessant beat of the droplets against the glass and rhythmic screech of the wiper - this made some wonderful music.
Sad music, instead of making you worse, makes you magically feel better. The secret behind the serendipitous phenomena are a set of proteins released in the body called endorphins. These chemicals function as neurotransmitters that help regulate moods, sleep patterns and the way one responds to pain and stress. When present in the body, endorphins act as a natural painkiller and are able to provide a sense of comfort, wellness and happiness.
As you immerse youself into the sad undertones of heart-wrenching musical melodies, the body experiences stress. The conscious brain soon realizes that there's nothing as gravely wrong to feel despicable about and the body's natural response is to release endorhpins. This is the same way in which the body handles negative reactions like crying, fear and physical pain. Endorphins are also released while joking, enjoying, dancing and falling in love. However, the activity which produces the maximum amount of endorphins in the body is sexual intercourse. Yes! Without using any rocket science concepts here I can say that sex feels better than even sad music - I think we all agree.
This is probably the reason why you see people who're depressed listening to sad songs, crying and sometimes even cutting their wrists. A friend mentioned once that when emotional suffering became too much to handle, she used to slit her wrists such that physical pain would offset her emotion pain. Now I can say that the underlying reasoning was endorphin release. I want to remind her now, that sex feels better than even piercing skin with blades as well as sad music!
So the next time you're listening to the Moonlight sonata or any other dispiriting music, just hang on and you'll soon feel the bliss.
When you're
talking about a fit body, apart from a healthy heart and brain, I assume you're
talking of well-toned lean body. That is exactly what this article talks about.
Fat loss is a subject I'm extremely passionate about and have been researching for
years now. In fact, I am in the
middle of writing a book on the subject. In the process, I have experimented quite
a few techniques on myself and have learned from research, medical science and
most importantly experience.
I co-founded an
e-commerce company focused on health products called madeinhealth.com last
year. Apart from products, our company used to sell revolutionary and practical
dietplans we created for people trying to lose fat, gain weight or gain muscle.
(A larger e-commerce player acquired our company recently and dietplans are
sold no more... But I still hold the secret formula *wink* )
Disclaimer: I'm not a nutritionist
and neither have I attended any formal course on the subject. People in the UK
should not follow this article - you might lose a "few pounds" and
that is not a good feeling in that country. (Yes, you are allowed to kill me
for the miserable pun). Now lets get down to business.
Why weight loss
is not the same as fat loss
Weight is a
very bad indicator of body fat. Your weight varies throughout the day - when
you eat, when you drink water and after you relieve yourself. One can never be
sure of one’s progress if it is measured in terms of weight. Moreover, bodyweight
includes water weight, muscle weight as well as fat weight.
If you starve
yourself, or miss meals, you might as well be losing muscle (yeah even girls
have muscle, girls) and being happy about losing weight – which is a favorable
circumstance. The first and most important thing to do is stop measuring your
weight and start measuring inches. More so, measure your body at the same time
of the day - immediately after waking up and having refreshed yourself.
Why a calorie
is not just a calorie
When I enter my
cutting phase to accentuate my six-pack, you will find me having oily Chicken
Tikka and Kebabs at night, or maybe even Chicken Nuggets from McDonalds.
Surprised? Don't be. The whole calorie fuss you experience around yourself is
true in principle but without a proper understanding of how the body functions,
using such simple math with cause more harm than gain.
To move ahead,
you need to understand that the villain of this story is called
"insulin". Insulin is a hormone that is released in the bloodstream
that is responsible for slowing down (or ceasing) the process of fat loss and
encouraging fat (and other nutrients) deposition into your tissues. Insulin
(read Gabbar) shows up soon after you have something that is very simple for
the body to digest (these goons called simple carbs). Some examples of simple
carbs are Sugar (Samba), Rice (Raaka), Flour (Kalia), Potatoes (Pappu pager)
etc. As soon as Gabbar shows up, all productive villagers in the bloodstream
who're busy burning fat run away into hiding and the reverse process of fat
gain starts.
The solution
here is to have a lot of complex carbs like veggies (Jai), Pulses (Veeru) and
slow digesting proteins Chicken (Thakur), Eggs (Ramu kaka), Milk (Jaya
Bachchan) in your diet, sprinkled with a few Basantis here or there. These
foods will make sure appearance of Gabbar is minimum and fat burn is carried on
at all times. Don't judge your diet by the amount you eat but by the quality of
the food -and even if you have some fats (Mausi jis) bundled with these foods,
you're in no grave danger. You will eat more calories but it will still lead to
fat loss (and hence a happier Ramgarh)
Why exercise
alone will not get you to your goal
I have often
heard people saying – “I'm joining the gym because I want to lose weight without
changing my eating habits”. And even though I'm all in for exercise let me say
these people will never see substantial or sustainable fat loss. As a thumb
rule, with regards to fat loss exercise is only 25% of the deal and diet
control is the other 75% of the job.
So if you're a
businessman and one customer gives you business worth Rs. 75 and another worth
Rs. 25, it does not take a rocket scientist to figure out where to put more
focus. To put things in perspective,
the effect of one long strenuous session of exercise where you sweat
your blood out is as good as not eating a medium size chocolate pastry - choose
for yourself. Exercise does play its role in burning calories and speeding up
your metabolism - all good things - but the effort required to get the same
effect is immense. If you're lazy like me, choose the smarter path. Exercise
hard but rely only on diet control.
Why fatty foods
don't make you fat
As explained
earlier, anything that digests quickly spikes blood sugar levels and hence
insulin levels - the culprit. Fats, on the other hand, slow digestion and
insulin secretion. Infact foods that contain good fats (omega 3,6) actually
help with fat loss. Fats by
themselves cannot deposit in your fat (adipose) tissues without the aid of
insulin in the bloodstream.
Let me chose an
example to shed more light on this. If you’ve seen Sholay as closely as I have,
you will notice even though Gabbar lives a simple life in the mountains, has a
lot of physical exercise (dacoities, murders, horse-riding) he still has a lot
of baby fat on his body unlike today’s villains who have a perfect six pack say
Chhedi Singh (Dabang) – mainly due to the kind of monotonic vegetarian diet he consumes
namely pulses, flour and rice which he loots from the villagers – rich in
carbs, low in protein.
Why regular
measurement is a must
Imagine you ran
a business but there were no books to report the accounts. The only time you
would know how your business was doing was when you had too much cash for a
long time in the bank or went bankrupt. Reporting and analysis is a must. Fat
loss is a science of the body as well of the mind and staying motivated is a
big part of the process. Trust me when I say this - there is no feeling greater
than seeing the numbers decreasing, seeing your effort and self-control paying
off. You measure yourself again just to be sure and you feel blissful. This is
the only thing that will keep you motivated to move further. If you're walking
blind, you will surely lose focus soon.
Below is a plot
of a kind of information I can bet you’ve never seen. This is a graph of my
waist measurement vs. date – taken during my cutting phase two years ago around
the same time of the year. Every time I saw a drop from my previous
measurement, there was no measure of my excitement and this was the best motivation
to tread further onto this path.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNx399x8i3uCoBOCAcIdlrczmAE4OJhP2pxIg6JVPyve5jqfQZvHnBTrCZlzB9kp3qouZI4AjKPvKM2vj_rXPyd3Q44GtO4vcGGetOMoV-buUmaZkGsSxXKq-4xla2ZXaFSEHjsmcOcQ_/s400/body_gr.png
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNx399x8i3uCoBOCAcIdlrczmAE4OJhP2pxIg6JVPyve5jqfQZvHnBTrCZlzB9kp3qouZI4AjKPvKM2vj_rXPyd3Q44GtO4vcGGetOMoV-buUmaZkGsSxXKq-4xla2ZXaFSEHjsmcOcQ_/s400/body_gr.png
What is a bad
diet
Dieticians will
give you all kinds of diets just to make money these days. Someone will ask you
to eat only salad, or force you to prepare weird concoctions that require you
to live in your kitchen. Truth is fat loss is possible by eating normal food
(as much as you need to subside your hunger) but knowing what to avoid. Any
diet that is not balanced in macro and micronutrients or that makes your starve
is a bad diet and you might see short term results (because the body has no
other alternative during fasting) but then it causes harm to you in ways you
don’t immediately realize.
A village
cannot survive if there are too few people living in it. You need all kinds of
people – farmers, traders, Thakurs, Tanga-transporters etc to keep the wheel
running. What you really don’t need is too much of those criminals.
Summary
To summarize, a few things that you should
remember when trying to cut:
- For
all practical purposes, don’t worry about how much you eat. Your major concern
should be what you eat.
- Don’t
be so scared of fat (esp. unsaturated fat. Another post on that soon). Be very
scared of simple carbohydrates – sugar, bread, flour, cold drinks, chocolates,
ice-creams etc
- Hitting
the gym will help a little bit but it won’t solve all your life problems
- Follow
a strict diet, exercise and regularly measure progress (in inches and not in
pounds)
- Sholay
gives deep insight into fat loss and fitness
1. Simple living, High thinking
His style of living was very simple - old, torn clothes, overgrown beard, teeth rusting for months and a luxury-less life in the mountains, Gabbar was so dedicated towards his mission in life that he not a single moment for life's comforts. With thoughts like "Jo darr gaya, samjho mar gaya (he who is scared, buddy, consider him dead, already)" immediately shows the depth of his being and his profound nature.
2. Kind-hearted personality
Since Thakur had used only his hands to arrest him, he punished only Thakur's hands. If he wanted he could have easily beheaded Thakur or kicked him in the groin twice, but his kind-hearted and sympathetic nature stopped him from doing so.
3. Lover of arts
The fact that he relished songs like "Mehbooba O mehbooba" shows the hidden art-lover in Gabbar heart. Unlike other dacoits, his being was not insensitive and raw. He also understood the importance of dance and like a brilliant artist, recognized Basanti's singing and dancing talent within minutes of kidnapping her.
4. Fair judgement and disciplined leader
Only because Jai and Veeru were two and Gabbar had sent a team of three, was he forced by principle to admonish his employees. Had there been a third person in their team, Gabbar would have gladly accepted that the other team was better off and let them off without punishment.
5. Free from profanity
Gabbar was careful to never go beyond "Haramzade(Bastard)" or "Soor ke bacho(Son of a pig)" while motivating his juniors. Unlike todays generations which would use every profanity in the book to curse people's mothers, sisters and even to-be daughters; and hint at other incestuous relationships while venting out anger, Gabbar was in full-control of his profanity vocabulary.
6. Lover of comedy
He had an amazing sense of humor. Before killing Kalia and his friends, he made sure that they had a good strong laugh so that they bid farewell to this world laughing heartily. He was the modern world's laughing Buddha.
7. Respect for women
After kidnapping a sultry and attractive woman like Basanti, he only requested her to dance. But only god knows what he might have done had been a villain in today's day and age.
8. Hermit lifestyle
He had adopted the path of a hermit lifestyle as shown by ancient hindu rishis and Buddha. He used to get a meagre amount of grains and rice from the residents of Ramgarh and he was completely content with that food and had never expressed any desire for gold, silver, hyderabadi biryani or chicken malai tikka.
9. Children welfare activist
Apart from dacoity, he had also taken up the task of putting innocent young children to sleep. Countless mothers took his support to scare their children to sleep each night so that they could wake up fresh for school the next morning and get better education.
10. Determined Freedom fighter
Like every other great personality, Gabbar fought for his and his people's freedom. He had also been to jail for the same cause and was determined to do anything for it.
I strongly feel these are somethings everyone should know about Gabbar and try to incorporate in their lives. Most of these were found in a hindi article which was as hard as iron to read, so I translated to english and edited the article for human welfare. Hope reading this enriched your life today. Click here to say hi on facebook.
It pains to think, to create new, each time,
And being mediocre is but hardly a crime,
But I can twist meanings or even break rhyme,
if you don't believe me, look I just did.
Did your puppy die young or did you trip into a manhole? Did you visit the dentist yesterday or did you find out your girlfriend was a boy? Bad things happen and as life would say - they have a right to happen. Given that we've suffered once through the torment should not mean we should retain memories that torture us for decades. But what is the solution?
So you want to know how to erase a certain portion of your memory. Welcome, you've come to the right place. After years (probably) of practice and grueling experience I bring the secret out to the world today. Honestly, I don't know how long I've been working on this as I've mistakenly erased all my progress more than once. Now I realize buying a diary would have been a good idea.
It will take you around an hour to erase memories worth a year but you have to be extremely careful. Oops, I almost forgot:
Disclaimer: Following this procedure might cause serious brain and memory damage. I don't want you to write an email to me saying you forgot your mother's maiden name! On second thought, I don't think you'll remember my email in any case, so knock yourself out.
The best and the worst thing about this self-treatment is that you will never know you did this to yourself. In fact, you won't even remember reading about it. So if you're thinking you're reading this article for the first time, think again. (This is where you stop reading and think because I asked you to) Okay don't stress your puny brain, it's no use. You will not be able to recall which memory you erased (Blah! What's the point otherwise) The worst part (for me) is that this will (supposedly) make your life better and you will not be able to show your gratitude by sending me free money. I suggest you send me a lot of money and gifts right now because I'm going to help you. Another point to remember is that you won't remember anything about this whole conversation we're having so you really can't refer friends or recommend me. There are, however, a few exceptions to this.
"Whoa! I don't remember very well but whatever this dude helped me to do must've been awesome! I brush my teeth everyday and I am happy. Isn't that enough for you guys?" -
Jack Prasad, Patna
"Unlike the genuis author, I maintained a diary of all the thoughts I erased. But now after erasing them I'm not sure whether I wrote them or one of my friends is playing a prank. This sucks!"
Sheela McWarth, Baltimore
If you are convinced that I can help you change your life and forget all the pain, Click here to buy the secret in ebook form. All this, because we should not suffer more than once. If you're not convinced it's because you have been cursed to live with all your painful memories and neither man nor beast can help you through it.
No talks, no writing, no advice can put you on ease;
when the heart aches, you just need a release;
no friend, no stranger, no family can help subside the pain;
the source of the ache is the only source of your peace.
In this article I shall attempt to review this article. The idea of reviewing the current article is absurd but then also pay attention to the fact that the author is aware of this absurdity. A review is helpful because it helps us understand whether a piece of text deserves to be read or not, without even reading it. This article, on the other hand, destroys into bits and pieces the whole concept. In normal circumstances, a reader will first read the review and might/might not read the actual text, but because this article was founded on clever fundamentals, the writer forces you to put in the extra effort and read an unreviewed piece of text which is exemplary. The result is like a piracy-less world for the software developer, like a cent per cent efficiency thermal engine for the engineer and the likes. Another point to appreciate in the article is the kind of examples provided for clarity. The best part of the article, however, is its ending statement.
This is one of the prettiest houses I have lived in. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. I'm sure the construction workers too must have loved this place (and they would term it as Love at first site). But it is now time to say adios.
Lets call my house 1644. 1644 has been with me for 7 months now, providing me with food, shelter and clothes through the kitchen, ceiling and the closets respectively. A deep emotional bonding has set in our minds for each other. 1644 has behaved very very well except for a number of fused bulbs caused by cheap wiring. But overall, it has successfully captured my heart.
I have treated it like my own. I have made sure that everything was in order, that every surface was shining, every line was straight and every bulb was burning, time after time. On many of my idle days, have I spent romantic afternoons vacuuming the floors, rubbing the counters, dusting the mirrors for as you can see I have a cleaning problem. People ridicule my devotion to cleanliness and healthy cooking, and they will always but that doesn't bother me a bit. People are not as good as houses or jeans or iPods.
I have cared for 1644, I have loved it. All of my friends have appreciated it and it has given me all the space to dance around in my room or play the guitar in the kitchen or bellow away in the hall. And with only two days of wonderful quality time remaining, I have started to notice imperfections in the cleanliness of my apartment.
Now comes the big question - Is it logical to clean the apartment before I leave? The management will get it cleaned by a cleaner before a new tenant arrives. I have absolutely no obligation to leave with all the surfaces glittering. I have a tight schedule, but my heart and brain are in a struggle.
Heart: You have lived here, loved here. How can you let your last memories be imperfect! Have you stopped loving your very own 1644?
Brain: Dude! Don't get emotional! It's just a house... They'll clean in anyway
Heart: Stop being foolish and lazy. You cannot betray the house.
Brain: Betray a house? How drunk are you you stupid heart?
Heart: Shut up or I'll beat you up like I beat all the time!
Brain: Then I will get super excited and you will have to work more, you mule!
The heart and brain have, as you can see, many issues. But now what must be done! Should I spend 1-2 hrs cleaning and making the whole place spic n span or should I just leave the job for the cleaning lady and abandon all affection for my pretty pretty place.
Lets call my house 1644. 1644 has been with me for 7 months now, providing me with food, shelter and clothes through the kitchen, ceiling and the closets respectively. A deep emotional bonding has set in our minds for each other. 1644 has behaved very very well except for a number of fused bulbs caused by cheap wiring. But overall, it has successfully captured my heart.
I have treated it like my own. I have made sure that everything was in order, that every surface was shining, every line was straight and every bulb was burning, time after time. On many of my idle days, have I spent romantic afternoons vacuuming the floors, rubbing the counters, dusting the mirrors for as you can see I have a cleaning problem. People ridicule my devotion to cleanliness and healthy cooking, and they will always but that doesn't bother me a bit. People are not as good as houses or jeans or iPods.
I have cared for 1644, I have loved it. All of my friends have appreciated it and it has given me all the space to dance around in my room or play the guitar in the kitchen or bellow away in the hall. And with only two days of wonderful quality time remaining, I have started to notice imperfections in the cleanliness of my apartment.
Now comes the big question - Is it logical to clean the apartment before I leave? The management will get it cleaned by a cleaner before a new tenant arrives. I have absolutely no obligation to leave with all the surfaces glittering. I have a tight schedule, but my heart and brain are in a struggle.
Heart: You have lived here, loved here. How can you let your last memories be imperfect! Have you stopped loving your very own 1644?
Brain: Dude! Don't get emotional! It's just a house... They'll clean in anyway
Heart: Stop being foolish and lazy. You cannot betray the house.
Brain: Betray a house? How drunk are you you stupid heart?
Heart: Shut up or I'll beat you up like I beat all the time!
Brain: Then I will get super excited and you will have to work more, you mule!
The heart and brain have, as you can see, many issues. But now what must be done! Should I spend 1-2 hrs cleaning and making the whole place spic n span or should I just leave the job for the cleaning lady and abandon all affection for my pretty pretty place.
I might be a healthy young lad with a pulse of 45 and low body fat but my right eye is red and I do not know why. As I lay relaxing on my bed, which constitutes most of my day nowadays, I realized that everybody is full of imperfections but more importantly every body is full of imperfections.
Why am I then wasting my time optimizing profit and make rich men richer, when I can be a route to subsiding the pain of the poor. I suddenly realized I need to start a free clinic where I can treat people who can't afford it. And that's just a start. I suddenly envisioned that I could help support other free clinics and hospitals of the sort. Imagine medical care being like primary education - free! That would also assume I'm super-rich so that I can afford to spend like that or I am earning efficiently and putting most of it back into the cause. Oh my god! I'm talking social entrepreneurship. Yes, that's what I want to do. I don't care about being rich and famous if I have an abundance of three basic things in life - food, shelter and clothing. But I do
From the time I graduated until about thirty minutes ago, my plan was to earn a huge sum of money by the time I'm thirty and retire to live on interest. Perfect life. Practice music all this while become a musician of some sort. Suddenly, everything has changed and a medical degree has been added to the scheme of things. I still plan to pursue music but an MBBS is what is attracting me now. My friend warned me a while ago and asked me not think about an MBBS because it is just too much work. I was convinced by him then but I don't think I'll be at peace if I do not follow what this whimsical heart of mine says.
In high school I opted for non-medical because I was scared of biology. Since all my friends were preparing for IIT, so did I. Life has paved the path for me and with little effort I am where I am, though I never thought I deserved it. The thought that people take me for being much smarter and deserving than I actually am, seems very true. And I am sure my life will make way without me worrying or struggling a lot for what I think must be done!
Life might not go as we plan it, but it is still our responsibility to plan it!
Why am I then wasting my time optimizing profit and make rich men richer, when I can be a route to subsiding the pain of the poor. I suddenly realized I need to start a free clinic where I can treat people who can't afford it. And that's just a start. I suddenly envisioned that I could help support other free clinics and hospitals of the sort. Imagine medical care being like primary education - free! That would also assume I'm super-rich so that I can afford to spend like that or I am earning efficiently and putting most of it back into the cause. Oh my god! I'm talking social entrepreneurship. Yes, that's what I want to do. I don't care about being rich and famous if I have an abundance of three basic things in life - food, shelter and clothing. But I do
From the time I graduated until about thirty minutes ago, my plan was to earn a huge sum of money by the time I'm thirty and retire to live on interest. Perfect life. Practice music all this while become a musician of some sort. Suddenly, everything has changed and a medical degree has been added to the scheme of things. I still plan to pursue music but an MBBS is what is attracting me now. My friend warned me a while ago and asked me not think about an MBBS because it is just too much work. I was convinced by him then but I don't think I'll be at peace if I do not follow what this whimsical heart of mine says.
In high school I opted for non-medical because I was scared of biology. Since all my friends were preparing for IIT, so did I. Life has paved the path for me and with little effort I am where I am, though I never thought I deserved it. The thought that people take me for being much smarter and deserving than I actually am, seems very true. And I am sure my life will make way without me worrying or struggling a lot for what I think must be done!
Life might not go as we plan it, but it is still our responsibility to plan it!
Pants or jeans are better then people and one day, occurred a horrific event which I have still not been able to digest completely.
I sat blithely facing my PC when I remembered them; I remembered my pants(jeans), the soft, blue, faded, comfort giving and finger-hole-spangled pair of jeans that I'd been awaiting for the past few days. I hoped I would see it some day folded up cleanly in my almirah, back from the laundry.But that auspicious moment had not yet arrived so I decided to discover the truth behind the situation amiss. So I decided to enquire about the situation and went straight to mom, for she handles this department.
Unaware of the fate, I asked her about the jeans and she refused to tell me where they were. When I demanded the reason it was told to me that the jeans had a finger-hole at a location not considered respectable (the crotch obviously) and they were not fit enough for me to wear. All this reasoning was alien to me and I insisted that the pair of jeans be handed over. But alas, she was the mom, the home minister, the caretaker, the winner. She always had a jaundiced eye for that smooth, soft, pretty piece of cloth because it was the victim of a cute little decent hole (at the knee).
But I wasn't one of those who give up so easily. I harped and carped until the pair was finally brought into our presence from the nether regions it had been deposited in, ready to be given away to the underprivileged.
"Oh this! Only this!", I said looking at the crotch-hole. And then with a smile of relief I uttered,
"This can be stitched without any effort!", for the she knew the magic tailor. The magic tale of the magic tailor is pretty interesting. This guy is so talented he can make irreparably out-of-proportion clothes as perfectly fitting as an underwear. He can stitch huge holes without a trace, he can transform clothes to different sizes so that I can wear my father's shirts and what not. Anyway, back to the story.
"Sorry son. That's not possible. This cannot be stitched. ", and I knew her ulterior motives behind saying that.
"Oh no please! I know it can be", I begged
"Mani, you're not going to wear jeans with holes"
"I like these jeans!", I complained
But she was mercilessly indifferent to my imploring.
"If you wear these again, I'll tear it", she threatened me and slid her finger through the crotch hole of those lovely jeans she hand in her hands showing me the latent power she possessed.
That was it. I was in love with the jeans and my mother did not let me wear them. I was furious! I snatched the pair of dead cloth out of her hand, and with one fierce movement of my hand it rent apart. It felt like suicide and I walked away with a grimace.
Real love is what describes our relation. Such a beautiful piece of cloth; immensely tender and caring. And I tore them with my own hands. I wanted to cry but could not. If you're wondering why I was so caught on up a simple pair of jeans then let me tell you, it takes me months of perseverance and tolerance to endure a new piece of cloth for a long time until it is rendered comfortable enough to be wore. I am then devoid of any misgivings about its behavior throughout the day and I starting love that cloth. And look at fate, just when everything became perfect we were sundered apart!
Inanimate objects elicit love much more easily than people, because they are so predictable, so helpful and selectable. Their inanimateness is their virtue. Take for example a book, one could love a book. You have the fullest opportunity of being yourself, of being off your guard while with a book. Like a lamp, a lamp is lovable. It'll give us light, beautiful peaceful yellow light and demands only a predictable about of power, a nominal amount I say. People are fickle. Don't put the PC in the inanimate category because this devilish piece of plastic and metal is the machinofication of fickleness. Pants are better than people and I lost one.
p.s. this post has no deeper meaning / reference to any other event in my life. It is what it seems to be. (This post occurred in chapaat v2.0 too)
I sat blithely facing my PC when I remembered them; I remembered my pants(jeans), the soft, blue, faded, comfort giving and finger-hole-spangled pair of jeans that I'd been awaiting for the past few days. I hoped I would see it some day folded up cleanly in my almirah, back from the laundry.But that auspicious moment had not yet arrived so I decided to discover the truth behind the situation amiss. So I decided to enquire about the situation and went straight to mom, for she handles this department.
Unaware of the fate, I asked her about the jeans and she refused to tell me where they were. When I demanded the reason it was told to me that the jeans had a finger-hole at a location not considered respectable (the crotch obviously) and they were not fit enough for me to wear. All this reasoning was alien to me and I insisted that the pair of jeans be handed over. But alas, she was the mom, the home minister, the caretaker, the winner. She always had a jaundiced eye for that smooth, soft, pretty piece of cloth because it was the victim of a cute little decent hole (at the knee).
But I wasn't one of those who give up so easily. I harped and carped until the pair was finally brought into our presence from the nether regions it had been deposited in, ready to be given away to the underprivileged.
"Oh this! Only this!", I said looking at the crotch-hole. And then with a smile of relief I uttered,
"This can be stitched without any effort!", for the she knew the magic tailor. The magic tale of the magic tailor is pretty interesting. This guy is so talented he can make irreparably out-of-proportion clothes as perfectly fitting as an underwear. He can stitch huge holes without a trace, he can transform clothes to different sizes so that I can wear my father's shirts and what not. Anyway, back to the story.
"Sorry son. That's not possible. This cannot be stitched. ", and I knew her ulterior motives behind saying that.
"Oh no please! I know it can be", I begged
"Mani, you're not going to wear jeans with holes"
"I like these jeans!", I complained
But she was mercilessly indifferent to my imploring.
"If you wear these again, I'll tear it", she threatened me and slid her finger through the crotch hole of those lovely jeans she hand in her hands showing me the latent power she possessed.
That was it. I was in love with the jeans and my mother did not let me wear them. I was furious! I snatched the pair of dead cloth out of her hand, and with one fierce movement of my hand it rent apart. It felt like suicide and I walked away with a grimace.
Real love is what describes our relation. Such a beautiful piece of cloth; immensely tender and caring. And I tore them with my own hands. I wanted to cry but could not. If you're wondering why I was so caught on up a simple pair of jeans then let me tell you, it takes me months of perseverance and tolerance to endure a new piece of cloth for a long time until it is rendered comfortable enough to be wore. I am then devoid of any misgivings about its behavior throughout the day and I starting love that cloth. And look at fate, just when everything became perfect we were sundered apart!
Inanimate objects elicit love much more easily than people, because they are so predictable, so helpful and selectable. Their inanimateness is their virtue. Take for example a book, one could love a book. You have the fullest opportunity of being yourself, of being off your guard while with a book. Like a lamp, a lamp is lovable. It'll give us light, beautiful peaceful yellow light and demands only a predictable about of power, a nominal amount I say. People are fickle. Don't put the PC in the inanimate category because this devilish piece of plastic and metal is the machinofication of fickleness. Pants are better than people and I lost one.
p.s. this post has no deeper meaning / reference to any other event in my life. It is what it seems to be. (This post occurred in chapaat v2.0 too)
I've heard many say with unshakable conviction that their friends are their lives. But I shall beg to differ, and openly proclaim that friends are for free. I use a vernacular punch line to signify that as important as one might consider friends to be, they ultimately turn out to be insignificant. Jump not to conclusions or opinions as of now but just give this humble heart a chance to express what lies in it.
I beg you to not assume that I consider friends unneeded. They so much are needed! To share one's moments, to have a sense of belonging, to enjoy little joys, to et cetera et cetera; they serve a million purposes. I cannot disagree to that. Only that my contention is that friends are like currency notes and not like money. They are so much needed, and they need me (assuming that I'm the centre of the universe), but how long can one hang on to the same note? You need them but you also need to not need them one day.
We befriend people at work and play. We all have pals and best-friends. We become intimate and personal with people, speak to them as our own. We get them close to ourselves, just to leave them one day. When friends have distances to bear, their friendships behaves in the same way. Which should be observable from common experience. The place a certain personality held in your heart some time ago, has been replaced. I have friends without whom I felt fractional at one moment and now I don't even know, they might be living in Antarctica. People get bored, people get too used to to the same people. Meeting new people is always fun. What does this all suggest? Well.
I have no mind to undermine the close relationships (or superficial ones too for that matter) people possess, but I just intend to say that they are as temporary as a fly sitting on your arm. Bad analogy, I know. It's just because my next post is going to be about flies and other stuff.
Relatives already exist for us but friends are the ones we choose. We hear this all the time. But when desires clash, when interests intersect, when egos, and when material gains gain higher priority, then the connection is weakened. Friends keep coming and going, that too very easily. And I'm sure there'll be one day you'll think not so grandly of your best friend as you do today.
That is perhaps the reasons all friendships grow. The more one gets to know a person, more the vices that are discovered from behind the veil of the smiling sweet face. Disappointment rises and with a pinch, the goodness factor of the relation goes down.
We bind ourselves to others only for ourselves with a completely selfish view in mind. We continue that binding until it gives us joy, or assistance, or pleasure or satisfies some need or desire or whim. As soon as that is fulfilled, the other person is as important as a fly on the arm. Once we start to not get what we expect of the relation, we tend to terminate it. That's the whole, the simple and the plain truth.
Unfortunately, one cannot do without friends, but when friendships rise, so do expectations. The wise say that there are three things a person must have to be termed a fool. First, useless actions; Second, useless speech and finally useless expectations. In a nutshell, it is a sin to expect. For if the by fulfilling your expectation the other one must suffer pain (on a overall calculated basis, done subconsciously) you're going to suffer.
Being mercilessly honest, we're all part of the herd too. I myself suffer from the flaws I impute on others. I make friends for my benefit, for the purposes mentioned earlier. I stay loyal becuase I expect the other one to stay loyal. But since I am the centre of my universe, it's perfectly fine to look down on everybody and assume for some time that I am perfect. I too am a temporary person for other, my friends too will get bored of me and people will forget me too. But the best part is, I forgive them for being so and I forgive them even if they're not able to forgive me. Relations will break and rise, and the best part is that I'm perfectly fine with it because life will go on until one day ofcourse... :D
I do not write this because I have been betrayed by some friend in the recent past (or will be in the recent future). I do not write it because it is time to leave behind friends, family and home. Nothing substantial has happened to trigger this post. It has always been with me. So don't worry "friends" :)
But life is not all that dark. The ray of hope comes from the fact that friendship is not a rarity after all. Speak few kind words to someone and wallah! The other one likes you. That's another friend for you. Spend on currency note, work more and earn more notes. That's the principle of life. One shall always need some money but the notes are to be done with at some point of time.
This may make me sound like a criminal of the 4th degree but here it goes. Go on, break friendships, form new ones just to break or forget them one day. Love your friends but keep in mind that everybody is as evanescent you are, or I am for that matter. Be ready that they're not going to need you one day and you will not need them perhaps. Time has to power to make you forget anything. Life is fair.
I beg you to not assume that I consider friends unneeded. They so much are needed! To share one's moments, to have a sense of belonging, to enjoy little joys, to et cetera et cetera; they serve a million purposes. I cannot disagree to that. Only that my contention is that friends are like currency notes and not like money. They are so much needed, and they need me (assuming that I'm the centre of the universe), but how long can one hang on to the same note? You need them but you also need to not need them one day.
We befriend people at work and play. We all have pals and best-friends. We become intimate and personal with people, speak to them as our own. We get them close to ourselves, just to leave them one day. When friends have distances to bear, their friendships behaves in the same way. Which should be observable from common experience. The place a certain personality held in your heart some time ago, has been replaced. I have friends without whom I felt fractional at one moment and now I don't even know, they might be living in Antarctica. People get bored, people get too used to to the same people. Meeting new people is always fun. What does this all suggest? Well.
I have no mind to undermine the close relationships (or superficial ones too for that matter) people possess, but I just intend to say that they are as temporary as a fly sitting on your arm. Bad analogy, I know. It's just because my next post is going to be about flies and other stuff.
Relatives already exist for us but friends are the ones we choose. We hear this all the time. But when desires clash, when interests intersect, when egos, and when material gains gain higher priority, then the connection is weakened. Friends keep coming and going, that too very easily. And I'm sure there'll be one day you'll think not so grandly of your best friend as you do today.
"Little known, better liked"Myself
That is perhaps the reasons all friendships grow. The more one gets to know a person, more the vices that are discovered from behind the veil of the smiling sweet face. Disappointment rises and with a pinch, the goodness factor of the relation goes down.
We bind ourselves to others only for ourselves with a completely selfish view in mind. We continue that binding until it gives us joy, or assistance, or pleasure or satisfies some need or desire or whim. As soon as that is fulfilled, the other person is as important as a fly on the arm. Once we start to not get what we expect of the relation, we tend to terminate it. That's the whole, the simple and the plain truth.
Unfortunately, one cannot do without friends, but when friendships rise, so do expectations. The wise say that there are three things a person must have to be termed a fool. First, useless actions; Second, useless speech and finally useless expectations. In a nutshell, it is a sin to expect. For if the by fulfilling your expectation the other one must suffer pain (on a overall calculated basis, done subconsciously) you're going to suffer.
Being mercilessly honest, we're all part of the herd too. I myself suffer from the flaws I impute on others. I make friends for my benefit, for the purposes mentioned earlier. I stay loyal becuase I expect the other one to stay loyal. But since I am the centre of my universe, it's perfectly fine to look down on everybody and assume for some time that I am perfect. I too am a temporary person for other, my friends too will get bored of me and people will forget me too. But the best part is, I forgive them for being so and I forgive them even if they're not able to forgive me. Relations will break and rise, and the best part is that I'm perfectly fine with it because life will go on until one day ofcourse... :D
I do not write this because I have been betrayed by some friend in the recent past (or will be in the recent future). I do not write it because it is time to leave behind friends, family and home. Nothing substantial has happened to trigger this post. It has always been with me. So don't worry "friends" :)
But life is not all that dark. The ray of hope comes from the fact that friendship is not a rarity after all. Speak few kind words to someone and wallah! The other one likes you. That's another friend for you. Spend on currency note, work more and earn more notes. That's the principle of life. One shall always need some money but the notes are to be done with at some point of time.
This may make me sound like a criminal of the 4th degree but here it goes. Go on, break friendships, form new ones just to break or forget them one day. Love your friends but keep in mind that everybody is as evanescent you are, or I am for that matter. Be ready that they're not going to need you one day and you will not need them perhaps. Time has to power to make you forget anything. Life is fair.
You wouldn't know how it feels to be seventy-and-two, alone, disowned and blind. But Shanti Devi did. Shanti Devi - which meant the goddess of peace - how ironical could things be. Shanti Devi was considered no more than a blind pack of bones by her sons who had asked her to leave 'their' house. She served no purpose and just took up space in the house. She kept crashing everywhere, made irritating noises with her walking stick most of the the time, and spoke no better than babble. Her sons thought her fit to be homeless.
The destitute lady moved slowly with her walking stick unaware of her surroundings. Her eyes had left her long ago and now everyone she had had too.... or maybe she never had them. She had no purpose, no destination. Knowing not where to go, she kept walking slowly, thinking death was her only home, wishing that it devour her as soon as possible. So she kept walking and walking and walking and waited for death.
The world was full of noise, of people shouting, of sirens, of cars, of chats and cries but what was the purpose. People jostled her here and there, someone pushed her, someone stopped her but she kept going steady, apathetic. Death is the ultimate end. Death is the final outcome. Nothing could penetrate her ears now. She had to just keep walking. An uproar happened and a horn blared loudly but did she care? Did she care that on the busy day hundreds of people were restrained by the policemen who waited to go to their desinations? Did she care that she was in the middle of a road which had been cleared for the President's cavalcade which traveled at almost double the speed of normal traffic? Did she care that the first car of the cavalcade was about to crash into her? Perhaps not. But Bhanu Prasad cared. His valor pushed him forward, out of the crowd to be held by the hand by a policeman. He pushed the policeman and ran forward towards the old lady as fast as he possibly could. He pushed her aside just before the braking limo hit him at speed of light. Bhanu Prasad died there and then.
Shanti Devi's emaciated body got a push so hard, she flew and landed onto the footpath and rolled over to the next street on the downsloped road. The policeman Bhanu Prasad had pushed lost his balance, tripped and fell head first into an open manhole. The car in the procession braked so hard, it toppled over, took a few and crashed into the public which had been stopped by the policemen. The rest of the cars crashed into first car and the whole cavalcade was obliterated by an explosion which resulted from the combustion of the leaking fuel from one of the cars. All of the people, including the president died from the explosion. The people who were left alive to witness the explosion ran with all their might, resulting in a stampede and killing many more. Yasaf ali, a suicide bomber whose mission was to kill the president thought he would now have to save his life for another heaven-worthy task. But he was also killed in the stampede and the burdensome weight of people's legs could not be endured by the bomb.
In a matter of 20 seconds, all that was left was Shanti Devi - bleeding from the head, unaware of what happened, in agony and now in pain. But did she care? Perhaps not. She began to walk again and and started to wait again.
The destitute lady moved slowly with her walking stick unaware of her surroundings. Her eyes had left her long ago and now everyone she had had too.... or maybe she never had them. She had no purpose, no destination. Knowing not where to go, she kept walking slowly, thinking death was her only home, wishing that it devour her as soon as possible. So she kept walking and walking and walking and waited for death.
The world was full of noise, of people shouting, of sirens, of cars, of chats and cries but what was the purpose. People jostled her here and there, someone pushed her, someone stopped her but she kept going steady, apathetic. Death is the ultimate end. Death is the final outcome. Nothing could penetrate her ears now. She had to just keep walking. An uproar happened and a horn blared loudly but did she care? Did she care that on the busy day hundreds of people were restrained by the policemen who waited to go to their desinations? Did she care that she was in the middle of a road which had been cleared for the President's cavalcade which traveled at almost double the speed of normal traffic? Did she care that the first car of the cavalcade was about to crash into her? Perhaps not. But Bhanu Prasad cared. His valor pushed him forward, out of the crowd to be held by the hand by a policeman. He pushed the policeman and ran forward towards the old lady as fast as he possibly could. He pushed her aside just before the braking limo hit him at speed of light. Bhanu Prasad died there and then.
Shanti Devi's emaciated body got a push so hard, she flew and landed onto the footpath and rolled over to the next street on the downsloped road. The policeman Bhanu Prasad had pushed lost his balance, tripped and fell head first into an open manhole. The car in the procession braked so hard, it toppled over, took a few and crashed into the public which had been stopped by the policemen. The rest of the cars crashed into first car and the whole cavalcade was obliterated by an explosion which resulted from the combustion of the leaking fuel from one of the cars. All of the people, including the president died from the explosion. The people who were left alive to witness the explosion ran with all their might, resulting in a stampede and killing many more. Yasaf ali, a suicide bomber whose mission was to kill the president thought he would now have to save his life for another heaven-worthy task. But he was also killed in the stampede and the burdensome weight of people's legs could not be endured by the bomb.
In a matter of 20 seconds, all that was left was Shanti Devi - bleeding from the head, unaware of what happened, in agony and now in pain. But did she care? Perhaps not. She began to walk again and and started to wait again.
This is a selfish post. But I'm sure what applies to me, applies to all.
Three days is what it takes.
The bad thing about memory is that it is short term but the good thing about memory is that it is short term. And this bodes well. My four-year ten-year (tenure) at Eye Eye Tea is about to end and that manifest itself in sudden change from Yo Insti! to No Insti.
There is the good part of it. No more friends trying break one's privacy apart, no more boring lectures from Indian profs. No more useless presentations and hopefully no more fraud. But then since every coin has two faces (yes coins are a proper subset of monsters) the bad part will be, no friends, no lectures, no worthless presentations and no more fraud. No wait, there's more. No more WindT and no more lunching around and no more idle time wasted in hostels and no more many things.
But then the bad part too has a good part and a bad part. So the bad bad part is, it pains, all of it. It hurts because one is so used to all this that such a big change is as tough as giving birth to a cow. But then the good bad part is that the pain lasts only three days.
As a result of innumerable deep and brain-wrecking scientific and social experiments, I have come to the conclusion that within a span of 72 earthly hours, the magnitude of such pain reduces to such a small extent, it is barely noticed (which means I notice it only when I'm having a bath). In a nutshell, I forget stuff in three days. All associations, dissociations, medications etc etc are out of my mind by this time. Which is incredibly nice to hear.
Earlier I had plans getting into arguments and clashes with all my friends, so that I may hate them and separate more easily. But how could I fight with the physical location which I am so fond of? And how do I eradicate all memories that rest in my head. Fighting will help me rid of only people. But that, perhaps, does not seem necessary right now. All I'll prepare myself is for those three days of agony - which is, to practically speak, nothing. Therefore, I shall depart in all peace and calmness with a smiling face. For I shall know that after three days I shalln't miss a thing!
As for location, I will certainly find an equally beautiful location at the place I go. And as for people, let me quote one of my wise friends.
"Ache log to har jagah hee hote hai yar" (There's good people everywhere my friend).
I will forget them, they will forget me, eventually. And I will find new friends to forget them one day too. And then there are some things I love, which will certainly stay with me such as iPod, jeans, guitar and myself. Which too can be renewed upon requirement.
Make and break - The stern rule of nature which binds everyone. Sounds depressing but it feels good to know that all pleasure and pain must end one day. But let me leave the pondering for later and rejoice because..
Three days is what it takes.
Three days is what it takes.
The bad thing about memory is that it is short term but the good thing about memory is that it is short term. And this bodes well. My four-year ten-year (tenure) at Eye Eye Tea is about to end and that manifest itself in sudden change from Yo Insti! to No Insti.
There is the good part of it. No more friends trying break one's privacy apart, no more boring lectures from Indian profs. No more useless presentations and hopefully no more fraud. But then since every coin has two faces (yes coins are a proper subset of monsters) the bad part will be, no friends, no lectures, no worthless presentations and no more fraud. No wait, there's more. No more WindT and no more lunching around and no more idle time wasted in hostels and no more many things.
But then the bad part too has a good part and a bad part. So the bad bad part is, it pains, all of it. It hurts because one is so used to all this that such a big change is as tough as giving birth to a cow. But then the good bad part is that the pain lasts only three days.
As a result of innumerable deep and brain-wrecking scientific and social experiments, I have come to the conclusion that within a span of 72 earthly hours, the magnitude of such pain reduces to such a small extent, it is barely noticed (which means I notice it only when I'm having a bath). In a nutshell, I forget stuff in three days. All associations, dissociations, medications etc etc are out of my mind by this time. Which is incredibly nice to hear.
Earlier I had plans getting into arguments and clashes with all my friends, so that I may hate them and separate more easily. But how could I fight with the physical location which I am so fond of? And how do I eradicate all memories that rest in my head. Fighting will help me rid of only people. But that, perhaps, does not seem necessary right now. All I'll prepare myself is for those three days of agony - which is, to practically speak, nothing. Therefore, I shall depart in all peace and calmness with a smiling face. For I shall know that after three days I shalln't miss a thing!
As for location, I will certainly find an equally beautiful location at the place I go. And as for people, let me quote one of my wise friends.
"Ache log to har jagah hee hote hai yar" (There's good people everywhere my friend).
I will forget them, they will forget me, eventually. And I will find new friends to forget them one day too. And then there are some things I love, which will certainly stay with me such as iPod, jeans, guitar and myself. Which too can be renewed upon requirement.
Make and break - The stern rule of nature which binds everyone. Sounds depressing but it feels good to know that all pleasure and pain must end one day. But let me leave the pondering for later and rejoice because..
Three days is what it takes.
ABC of me
A
for the anda
- Age: Jaise ladkiyo se nahi puchhte unki wages,
Ladko se bhi na poocho, ai zaalim, unki ages...
- Animal: Only if I was 10 feet taller, I'd bloody resemble a giraffe. Ummm you could say I'm a short giraffe!
- Anger: Only when someone takes my hanger! Na na, Just kiddin'. You don't even need to do that.
- Alcohol: Methanol, Ethanol, Propanol etc etc! Dekha I know it alls!
B
for the banda
-Birthday: I don't believe in birthdays!
-Believe in yourself?: Naaa!! I'm just a myth!
-Been in love: I thought only humans 'fell' in love. Never knew beans suffered the same disorder.
-Best weather: Arre this damn weather. Ok, a poem for weather on this very note. (Not the currency wala note you greedy pig)
Whether oh weather,
Whether you weather,
My love for you O weather,
Like shoes of hard leather,
Shall never ever weather.
-Believe in miracles: Toone meri beliefs ka thheka le rakha hai be.
-Believe in God: Only.
-Believe in Santa: Nopes. I think banta's the better guy.
C
for samundra
- Colour: Bloody racist! Hum bharateey hain. No color caste creed sex etc matters.! Oops.. maybe sex does (Dirty mind)..
- Chocolate/Vanilla: Vanilla khaayein mere dushman! Woh to sasti hoti hai!
- Coffee: Bas ab caaffee ho gayi. Summer's here dudes!
- Chinese/Italian: None! What do you take me for? A Cannibal!
- Cake or pie: Dude! Comparing cake and pie is like .. like.. comparing pie and cake man! I mean there's no comparison. Don't ask ze foolish questions.
- Cooking: Do I look like a pressure cooker. Well, I've been wondering. If a cook cooks food, what does a pressure cooker cook? Pressure? Hey wait wait wait.. Do you mean there's a pressure cooker inside our stomachs!?
D
for danda
- Day or Night: As far as I think both exist. Where is the point of conflict ?
- Danced: Apahij
- Dance in the rain?: Oh my gawd! My delicate clothes shall get wet! Don't dare think on such preposterous lines.
- Drugs: Love em! But couldn't ever have um. It all started when I went to a drug store once and I found only medicines! In my mind I thought 'Weird' and then I said 'Weird'.
E
for imli
- Everyone has a: desire for mani.. Oops I mean money!
- Eyes: None. I'm deaf, dumb and blind. This is a braille keyboard. Hello braille keyboard.
F
for funda
- Full name: Konse full ka naam batau? Gulab? Chameli? Champa? Sab pata hai mujhe, sab aata hai.
- First crush: Kala Khatta! Juhu beach.
- First thoughts waking up: What is the purpose of this life? Who am I? What am I for? What is this 'I'? How did I come into existance? Is all this real? Why am I thinking all this? How shall I answer these questions? Is this the right question? Do I like asking questions?
G
for ganda
- Greatest Fear: Fear
- Greatest Strenght: Chapaaaaat padega to samajh ayega
H
for hottori honzo! (ref: Kill Bill)
- Hair Colour: Depends. Which hair.
- Hate: to Hate.
I
for india
- Interests: Loan dene ke interest charge karta hu. Only 2.5% pa. Click here to apply now.
- Insanity: Perfect insan. Madad karna, ache karam karna, daan dena, vidya lena, pooja karna, satya uchaarna. Aur kya karega insan.
- Impulsive: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
J
for jhanda
- Job: Jobless.
K
for kaanda (pyaaz)
- Kids: 31.19 (All secret)
L
for ladaku vimaan
- Letter: Letter pe sher arz kiya hai...
Jinke dil mil jaate hain weh khat nahi likhte,
Jinke dil mil jaate hain weh khat nahi likhte,
Ab to e-mail ka zamana hai.
- Love:
To fall in love is in vain,
for he that falls into it fain,
shall roil away,
in dust and pain.
M
for manda (for example dhanda manda)
- Moron: Yeah. Abhi kam on hai. More on karo! Light bhi on karo. Fan bhi on karo. AC bhi on karo. Sab kuch on karo! Moron!
N
for nanda (mere dost naam)
- Naughty: In what sense? ;) Naughty!
- Number of Siblings: 998102832, 9919248134
O
for onda (bengali anda)
- One wish: To have no more wishes. Oops I mean nau more wishes!
P
for panda
- Place: Omnipresent.
- Princess: Dude! The word is princesses!
- Prince: Prince detergent tikia aur powder ka zabardast fan!
- Pizza: There are only 2 kinds of pizzas in the world. Cheese pizzas and the rest. Thank you.
Q
for kyu?
- Questionnaires: Questionnaires?
R
- Reason to cry: Anything! But only khushi ke aasoon.
- Reason to smile: Anything! But only khushi ke aasoon.
- Reason to laugh: Anything! But only khushi ke aasoon.
S
- Shoe size: kyun? joote gift dega kya ? Nike Please! US 10
- Smoked?: Cant even touch yaar!
- Sing well?: Ubharta sitaara!
- Single: Jaan kya kare hai?
- Stuffed Animals?: exist only for people with stuffed brains
T
- TV: I dont watch them TV. Them TV watch me!
- Tatoo: for gadhe ke tattoos
U
Umbrella: Nopes. Umbrella karna paap hai.
V
Vanity: In vain.
W
Weakness: You're talking about weakness!!! I feel monthness!
X
X-factor: X-factor? Like X-PM or X-gf ? Kya? 3.424 ? Kya?
Y
Y-factor: Abe yeh blog hai ya equation set?
Z
Zodiac sign: Aquaaaaaa... *dead*
I turn around to grasp your neck,
to fill the air and strum you on,
to suffuse the mind with aural gleam,
And I turn around to find you gone.
I recall the days of splendid sounds,
the notes and tones and beats you spawn,
Then I feel that it was all a dream,
And I turn around to find you gone.
The pick is lonely, the mic dejected,
My throat, in memory, does only mourn,
I sing alone your sweet refrain,
And I turn around to find you gone.
The air is bland, my life is chilling,
all music, sans you, is traffic horn,
I miss your sonorous voice in pain,
And I turn around to find you gone.
With a stroke of mighty luck, while typing in the most-typed word on my computer, I erred. To err is human and to forgive divine and thinking of the same lines, I forgave myself as easily as I can gobble up a Tuna Sub! But the mystery is already broken, the secret has already leaked. I typed in googe.com instead of google.com and like somebody discovered polythene as a laboratory mistake, I too discovered a nondescript writer whose splendid words met my heart with utter delight and I could not but disagree with this savory poem.
"Give money me, take friendship who so list,
For friends are gone come once adversity,
When money yet remaineth safe in chest,
That quickly can thee bring from misery.
Fair faces show friends when riches do abound;
Come time of proof, farewell, they must away;
Believe me well, they are not to be found
If God but send thee once a lowering day.
Gold never starts aside, but in distress,
Finds ways enough to ease thine heaviness."
Barnaby Googe (1540-1594)
And inspiration greeted me with a lovely surprise and yielded this small piece.
"When joys abound and in times green,
they drift along even paths unseen,
And make their way with subtle faces,
And come to inquire how I have been.
As shall arrive the moment of distress,
Then I'm in need of a severe redress,
And those who comfort only at comfort top,
Forsake me so, like a greedy mistress.
Then no gold no money no riches allay,
the pain I bear, of being left this way,
I ask then neither of them nor gold,
I ask of nothing, for all shall betray."
Kaala Kavva (1986 - God Knows)
The Big Bang transpired, the suns broke down, the earth cooled, algae and bacteria mated and humans happened. But the topic of discussion is much more intense and complex that the simple aforementioned lineage. After humans came to be they discovered that they were the possessors of two spherical great camera-like instruments fit right (and left) on their faces and their using these two very complex contraptions they could "see" what was supposed to be seen and what was not.
Keep the fact well with yourself that in the days that I talk of clothes were not much in fashion and humanity roamed in its birthday suit. What was supposed to be seen is not interesting enough to be discussed, hence has been abandoned, but seeing what was not supposed to be seen entailed major consequences. For example the amount of attachment attached to the utility of the contraption grew in exponential proportions, so much so, it came to be known as the person himself, or the "I". (Later as renamed Eye to avoid ambiguity).
Vision was a spectacular sensation only because it could show the homosapiens race what it was not supposed to see. But exercising the spectacular faculties, most people ended up either being extremely excited or developed a great sense of inferiority complex (depending on "what" they saw) and the eye became the bane of mankind for turned men either into rampant hooligans or dismayed outcasts (again depending on "what" they saw).
To remove the eye was an option but now the greedy man got attached to the portion which was not what was not supposed to be seen, in other words, the boring part would do. To remove the eye demanded an infinite deal of effort, time and pain and therefore what came into existence being borne out of the innovation of man was called The Brief.
The brief was what humanity needed - a mask for the mask-worthy, a cover for the lowers, a ban for the man - and the brief was what it got. In its earliest forms, it was known as "Brief of the Leaf" owing to the material it was made of. The brief since then has achieved infinite popularity owing to its novelty and application. But what is popular is desired. There have been various reports of masked phantom-like structures, who were nothing more than giants of greed and egotism, who raided innocent brief clad men (and women) and took away their brief to glory packing them in their rectangular cases later known as briefcases. Due to the non-existence of police and courts at the archaic time I talk of, the poor people who had spent the lives' earnings on acquiring briefs, could do nothing but mourn the loss of the briefs. This state came to be known as "bereafement".
The brief has been endorsed by millions of celebrities in each and every age. But the generation that now consumes alcohol in dinner party (with a few exceptions such as I), this generation of ours, has forgotten all the wonders of the brief. It is worn not as a symbol of integrity, rectitude, and honor but out of compulsion and disagreement. Radical species have always been present amongst us who will forsake the tightening of their pants to honor the existence of the Brief. The brief has been honored by all superhero-creators who to the concealed embarrassment of superheroes will insist on them wearing their briefs outside and show the age of today what significance the common Brief held amongst their ancestors. Thus it is our moral and cultural duty to regard the Brief and wear it openly and maintain our honor.
Keep the fact well with yourself that in the days that I talk of clothes were not much in fashion and humanity roamed in its birthday suit. What was supposed to be seen is not interesting enough to be discussed, hence has been abandoned, but seeing what was not supposed to be seen entailed major consequences. For example the amount of attachment attached to the utility of the contraption grew in exponential proportions, so much so, it came to be known as the person himself, or the "I". (Later as renamed Eye to avoid ambiguity).
Vision was a spectacular sensation only because it could show the homosapiens race what it was not supposed to see. But exercising the spectacular faculties, most people ended up either being extremely excited or developed a great sense of inferiority complex (depending on "what" they saw) and the eye became the bane of mankind for turned men either into rampant hooligans or dismayed outcasts (again depending on "what" they saw).
To remove the eye was an option but now the greedy man got attached to the portion which was not what was not supposed to be seen, in other words, the boring part would do. To remove the eye demanded an infinite deal of effort, time and pain and therefore what came into existence being borne out of the innovation of man was called The Brief.
The brief was what humanity needed - a mask for the mask-worthy, a cover for the lowers, a ban for the man - and the brief was what it got. In its earliest forms, it was known as "Brief of the Leaf" owing to the material it was made of. The brief since then has achieved infinite popularity owing to its novelty and application. But what is popular is desired. There have been various reports of masked phantom-like structures, who were nothing more than giants of greed and egotism, who raided innocent brief clad men (and women) and took away their brief to glory packing them in their rectangular cases later known as briefcases. Due to the non-existence of police and courts at the archaic time I talk of, the poor people who had spent the lives' earnings on acquiring briefs, could do nothing but mourn the loss of the briefs. This state came to be known as "bereafement".
The brief has been endorsed by millions of celebrities in each and every age. But the generation that now consumes alcohol in dinner party (with a few exceptions such as I), this generation of ours, has forgotten all the wonders of the brief. It is worn not as a symbol of integrity, rectitude, and honor but out of compulsion and disagreement. Radical species have always been present amongst us who will forsake the tightening of their pants to honor the existence of the Brief. The brief has been honored by all superhero-creators who to the concealed embarrassment of superheroes will insist on them wearing their briefs outside and show the age of today what significance the common Brief held amongst their ancestors. Thus it is our moral and cultural duty to regard the Brief and wear it openly and maintain our honor.
I feel old. Not in terms of but age in terms of time you wisecrack. Ah by the way, this post shall stink of narcissism and shall not tire describing the most describable personality, that is ofcourse, I. So flee while you can or I shall inextricably intertwine your thought in this muck of emotions and uncanny zeal that I so possess.
Coming back- by feeling old, I mean to say, I feel like I felt three point two four one five one eight approximately years ago. (Writing numerals seems 2 indecent for my blog). The same old indifference, the blithe mindset, the carefree demeanor, the thoughtless expression; all my good friends are back. The dear old feeling of being dispassionate, of believing that friends are for free, knowing life is fair, enjoying pain as deserved, the joy in one's own pain, the ability to let go; all my beloved companions are with me now. Left me due to misunderstandings bottomless, they now have made their way back.
What disturbs me and delights me, eccentrically enough, is my idiosyncratic characteristic of infinite changes of the mind within infinitesimal time. Didn't get that right? You weren't supposed to either. All I'm trying to say is that it takes just a moment, that sudden moment, when that sudden thought arises and my mind drenched completely in one emotion is completely lifted out of it. What thought? I don't know. But all I know is there is such a savior thought always that levitates my pained self out of the agony, and oddly enough, the thought is never, as a rule, spawned by any event. Only after moments of introspection, at a time unheralded, it makes way into me. Before that sudden transition of the mind, I keep grieving and worrying. But after that sudden moment, which comes unannounced, I am the happiest person on earth and that period lasts long until the stones of time and events knock me down again into the seas of depression.
But this very time, I feel the phase has gone for good. How it happened this very time, is another story in itself. It should have been the twenty-fifth of July, year two thousand and seven that I, suffering from causes innumerable, decided to follow the ideals that have always been floating around in my head, acquired by study, discussion(thanks to some people), introspection and the uncommon common sense. Commend my innovation (or condemn my folly) for I wrote them not on paper but on my Orkut's About Me. And each time, I the narcissist viewed my orkut profile, I would read and repeat and understand the simple English statements written by myself and then came the auspicious moment.
And since then I have been balanced, poised and in peace. I live in peace. I care of none and yet I care of all. I am at peace with myself, at peace with boredom, at peace with insults (need some more work although), and at peace with every piece of the this world. See me and realize that I am just the same as I was before, the same attitude, the same air, the same lightheartedness, but a bit wiser. But this is not the end. For the benefit of the ones, like I, whom friends too have given up in their agitation, I commemorated those mightily helpful lines on WikiHow.(http://wikihow.com/Be-Indifferent). Although I haven't yet received hundreds of thousands of I'm-a-die-hard-fan-of-yours and oh-will-you-marry-me-please emails each day, I feel some or the other poor, destitute, forlorn fellow must have benefited by my modest, selfless and altruistic effort. Oh! I'm so modest, I'm proud of myself! (Please appreciate my modesty, won'ts you?)
Coming back- by feeling old, I mean to say, I feel like I felt three point two four one five one eight approximately years ago. (Writing numerals seems 2 indecent for my blog). The same old indifference, the blithe mindset, the carefree demeanor, the thoughtless expression; all my good friends are back. The dear old feeling of being dispassionate, of believing that friends are for free, knowing life is fair, enjoying pain as deserved, the joy in one's own pain, the ability to let go; all my beloved companions are with me now. Left me due to misunderstandings bottomless, they now have made their way back.
What disturbs me and delights me, eccentrically enough, is my idiosyncratic characteristic of infinite changes of the mind within infinitesimal time. Didn't get that right? You weren't supposed to either. All I'm trying to say is that it takes just a moment, that sudden moment, when that sudden thought arises and my mind drenched completely in one emotion is completely lifted out of it. What thought? I don't know. But all I know is there is such a savior thought always that levitates my pained self out of the agony, and oddly enough, the thought is never, as a rule, spawned by any event. Only after moments of introspection, at a time unheralded, it makes way into me. Before that sudden transition of the mind, I keep grieving and worrying. But after that sudden moment, which comes unannounced, I am the happiest person on earth and that period lasts long until the stones of time and events knock me down again into the seas of depression.
But this very time, I feel the phase has gone for good. How it happened this very time, is another story in itself. It should have been the twenty-fifth of July, year two thousand and seven that I, suffering from causes innumerable, decided to follow the ideals that have always been floating around in my head, acquired by study, discussion(thanks to some people), introspection and the uncommon common sense. Commend my innovation (or condemn my folly) for I wrote them not on paper but on my Orkut's About Me. And each time, I the narcissist viewed my orkut profile, I would read and repeat and understand the simple English statements written by myself and then came the auspicious moment.
And since then I have been balanced, poised and in peace. I live in peace. I care of none and yet I care of all. I am at peace with myself, at peace with boredom, at peace with insults (need some more work although), and at peace with every piece of the this world. See me and realize that I am just the same as I was before, the same attitude, the same air, the same lightheartedness, but a bit wiser. But this is not the end. For the benefit of the ones, like I, whom friends too have given up in their agitation, I commemorated those mightily helpful lines on WikiHow.(http://wikihow.com/Be-Indifferent). Although I haven't yet received hundreds of thousands of I'm-a-die-hard-fan-of-yours and oh-will-you-marry-me-please emails each day, I feel some or the other poor, destitute, forlorn fellow must have benefited by my modest, selfless and altruistic effort. Oh! I'm so modest, I'm proud of myself! (Please appreciate my modesty, won'ts you?)
I speak of the past. Since when millions of clock-hands have been accomplices in the escape of so great a desperado, time, who engenders and devours, without mercy. Of that past, let me now relate with great ardor, the story of a great Princess: The greatest, bravest and the wisest to keep foot on the sole of leather; reverend, charismatic and dynamic Popli.
I speak of the past. When dwelt giants, elves, sorcerers, spirits, monsters and the like, out in the open, to the common knowledge of the dullest race seen by the sun: mankind. And then ruled Popli with all her might, and all her wisdom, and commanded the lands, and the people, and everything except that, and the trees and the heavens and everything except that, that I can't tell in this hurry. She wielded her sword with such passion and fury, everything came to shudder and even lightning couldn't match her glory. And then she did the justice, she was the police and she was jury. Of Popli's descent, this is the story.
Popli had conquered innumerable lands and enough seas fit for a million giants to bathe for millions of years. She, through her valor and her invincible arm, crushed armies as strong as mountains and bought man and beast to her feet. But the vicissitudes of life show one's eyes what no magical eye has ever descried. It was during the war of Tyreelnioutrs that whilst Popli chopped off the head of several thousand giants, for it were the race of the giants she fought against now; it so happened that she incurred a wound on her arm and that very lesion lost her more blood than she could have well imagined, causing her to flee. As a temporary refuge she considered a small cave nearby the battle-ground and went inside to mend her broken flesh.
By the ill-fortune that the heavens had promised her, that happened to be the abode of the grim, vile and unfriendly Hondoleen. Hondoleen was as special as the visitor in his cave, for he was not just a sorcerer but the king of kings of sorcerers whose powers outstripped any creature within three galaxies of his existence. And power breeds evil so Hondoleen's wicked ways were known in the fourteen worlds. He sat in deep meditation but was stirred by some noise and smell of blood. As he lifted his sinister eyelids, light set forth his eyes the greatest Princess to be seen. Why O lowly creature dos't thou chooses't to perturb me with thy disdainful presence in my solitary dwelling, exclaimed Holdoleen with rage at being disturbed. But might one be the greatest sorcerer or deadliest knight on the face of the earth, one had no business of abusing the honor of so great a princess such as Popli. Her bloody sword swished out of her scabbard and her blood boiled with rage as she cry'd, Thou art a fool to talk such to me O base mortal and brandished her sword in front of his sullen face.
Seeing this offensive act Hondoleen got so slighted that he resolved to use his most powerful and complicated sorcery against Popli. O wretched princess, thou prides't thyself with all your atchievements. Now see what thou shalt suffer, bellowed Hondoleen and with the cast of a wicked spell, Popli broke all abetting clock-hands, left all of them behind, and found herself standing in the middle of Ring Road, with her wounded arm, and her sword as sharp as sharp can be, stained with blood of a thousand giants, and a million eyes set on her, and innumerable small crawling creatures without feet but wheels bellowing unpleasant noises and strangely dressed men screaming out of the creatures' heads. Popli was terrified and froze with fear. See the play of fate, she who had been cross with fear since her childhood was seized by pangs of it now for she was completely ignorant of her surroundings.
Hondoleen had been mighty successful. He had sent her to the 21st century where she knew no one and none knew her heroic endeavours. From the time of the innocent giants, she had been thrown into the age of cruel humanity. Put into an asylum for speaking the truth, Popli learned the new ways of the world around her. It indeed took her time to know and understand what had been done to her, but now everything is normal. But her valor needed space to vent.
She changed her name to Peepo for Popli sounded very weird, and lives quietly a fake life of a normal human. But sets out on errants from time to time, secretly, with the help of her sword (and a Magnum FF5i she has acquired) to save the face of the earth from miscreants, ill-doers, giants and other wretched entities. Though no one knows of her virtuous deeds except some deer friends whom she condescends to tell her real story. Some have mocked her but those who can trust her, believe her and her actual story. For none have seen the actual age of magick from where Peepo comes; the mind is unable to digest what it has not perceived. Peepo lives the life of a normal girl, living in normal circumstances, with normal emotions such as fear, dismay and attachment. She acts as a normal college student, in a normal college and performs normally but deep inside her heart still lies smouldering, the actual Popli who shall one day rule the earth by her invincible arm.
I speak of the past. When dwelt giants, elves, sorcerers, spirits, monsters and the like, out in the open, to the common knowledge of the dullest race seen by the sun: mankind. And then ruled Popli with all her might, and all her wisdom, and commanded the lands, and the people, and everything except that, and the trees and the heavens and everything except that, that I can't tell in this hurry. She wielded her sword with such passion and fury, everything came to shudder and even lightning couldn't match her glory. And then she did the justice, she was the police and she was jury. Of Popli's descent, this is the story.
Popli had conquered innumerable lands and enough seas fit for a million giants to bathe for millions of years. She, through her valor and her invincible arm, crushed armies as strong as mountains and bought man and beast to her feet. But the vicissitudes of life show one's eyes what no magical eye has ever descried. It was during the war of Tyreelnioutrs that whilst Popli chopped off the head of several thousand giants, for it were the race of the giants she fought against now; it so happened that she incurred a wound on her arm and that very lesion lost her more blood than she could have well imagined, causing her to flee. As a temporary refuge she considered a small cave nearby the battle-ground and went inside to mend her broken flesh.
By the ill-fortune that the heavens had promised her, that happened to be the abode of the grim, vile and unfriendly Hondoleen. Hondoleen was as special as the visitor in his cave, for he was not just a sorcerer but the king of kings of sorcerers whose powers outstripped any creature within three galaxies of his existence. And power breeds evil so Hondoleen's wicked ways were known in the fourteen worlds. He sat in deep meditation but was stirred by some noise and smell of blood. As he lifted his sinister eyelids, light set forth his eyes the greatest Princess to be seen. Why O lowly creature dos't thou chooses't to perturb me with thy disdainful presence in my solitary dwelling, exclaimed Holdoleen with rage at being disturbed. But might one be the greatest sorcerer or deadliest knight on the face of the earth, one had no business of abusing the honor of so great a princess such as Popli. Her bloody sword swished out of her scabbard and her blood boiled with rage as she cry'd, Thou art a fool to talk such to me O base mortal and brandished her sword in front of his sullen face.
Seeing this offensive act Hondoleen got so slighted that he resolved to use his most powerful and complicated sorcery against Popli. O wretched princess, thou prides't thyself with all your atchievements. Now see what thou shalt suffer, bellowed Hondoleen and with the cast of a wicked spell, Popli broke all abetting clock-hands, left all of them behind, and found herself standing in the middle of Ring Road, with her wounded arm, and her sword as sharp as sharp can be, stained with blood of a thousand giants, and a million eyes set on her, and innumerable small crawling creatures without feet but wheels bellowing unpleasant noises and strangely dressed men screaming out of the creatures' heads. Popli was terrified and froze with fear. See the play of fate, she who had been cross with fear since her childhood was seized by pangs of it now for she was completely ignorant of her surroundings.
Hondoleen had been mighty successful. He had sent her to the 21st century where she knew no one and none knew her heroic endeavours. From the time of the innocent giants, she had been thrown into the age of cruel humanity. Put into an asylum for speaking the truth, Popli learned the new ways of the world around her. It indeed took her time to know and understand what had been done to her, but now everything is normal. But her valor needed space to vent.
She changed her name to Peepo for Popli sounded very weird, and lives quietly a fake life of a normal human. But sets out on errants from time to time, secretly, with the help of her sword (and a Magnum FF5i she has acquired) to save the face of the earth from miscreants, ill-doers, giants and other wretched entities. Though no one knows of her virtuous deeds except some deer friends whom she condescends to tell her real story. Some have mocked her but those who can trust her, believe her and her actual story. For none have seen the actual age of magick from where Peepo comes; the mind is unable to digest what it has not perceived. Peepo lives the life of a normal girl, living in normal circumstances, with normal emotions such as fear, dismay and attachment. She acts as a normal college student, in a normal college and performs normally but deep inside her heart still lies smouldering, the actual Popli who shall one day rule the earth by her invincible arm.
Addictions, Predictions, Benedictions and Attempted Valedictions...
6 people tried commenting Thus spake Kaala Kavva at 9:25 AMAlright! I admit I'm addicted; irreparably addicted. It's actually hopelessly too, but saying that, I guess, would be plagiarism and plagiarism is a tool I seldom use (and that too happens only in practical reports which I no more have to make! Yahu!!) . I'm addicted to alcohol and I've never touched a bottle. And liquor isn't sold in tetra-packs. A coffeetotaler(new version of teetotaler) says this ironical statement. There are truths in truths contained like an onion. The greatest being, of things a many, I feel like a minion. (The baniya at the baniya shop wears dhoti banyan.)
Let me now shed (jhaad as they say in hindi) some philosophy. Animals, they say, are unconscious, below the mundane. There does exist a higher level of consciousness which is much above all unneeded affairs. The unconscious are happy, the fully conscious are in bliss. Man, the one in the middle has all the problems to himself. Hence in an attempt to go beneath their level, humans consume alcohol. I think it stupid.
But how so ever stupid I may think it, I remain a first-degree hypocrite. (May I have a big hand of applause please (for dinner obviously)). Indulging in people is again alcohol. People are alcohol and like alcohol they make you forget your worries, weaknesses and wails. Eating, drinking, laughing, sleeping - the fool has so much to do, so much to indulge himself, so much enjoy and enjoy for ignorance is bliss. That (gobi ka) fool am I. (Applaud! Why do I have to remind you? ).
And I'm so hooked to people and people's talks, I can't rest myself. My prediction is that if I continue on the same path, I shall be led nowhere except nowhere. Bereft of contentment, devoid of joy, senescing, once in peace and tence ruffled, I see myself some years down the line, in the exact state as I am now, taking one step ahead and another back, tiring, exhausting, breaking and reaching right here, nowhere. (Hey no applaud now please, that was mighty serious).
I desire myself, my old self, rather pine for my old self instead of pining for other people and languishing myself. I want to be what I was at a time of yore. I was and I have descended ever since. I want to rise, whatever be the price, potatoes or rice, I want to win the prize. (How stupid that was). I'm a complete forgiver, five giver rather, when it comes to myself. I have forgiven myself for everything and practiced categorical forbearance towards my evil intentions. I pray to get a better self. What else can I do?
Addicted I am. I knew it long time back, so I thought of healing the bloody thing if you'd agree on calling it a disease in the first bloody place. Talking of addictions and stupors, there are many types of them, you know. Opium stupor, did you know, wears off when one takes a cold water bath. So I sat in front of the PC and asked if I wanted to Gtalk. My mind said 'I do', in the same fashion as they say in the Hollywood movie weddings. Have you noticed one thing, by the way, that whenever the bride or the groom answer the priest by saying 'I Do' they don't even bloody look at him. They're so engrossed in themselves, those impatient freaks, they can't pay a handful of respect to the vicar. How do I care ? So I wanted to Gtalk. I went straight to the bathroom, swwwoooosh and steeped myself wet with a shower of chilly cold water! My 38"(last time I measured) chest heaved out of the coldness of the contact and I thought to myself, 'Yes! I've outstripped myself'. But later I realized I'd only stripped myself for the bath and nothing more. I came back (with clothes) and still wanted to Gtalk. Damn everything. This addiction is worse than opium.
Then you have the hangovers and the withdrawal symptoms, and they're horrible. Let me not relate them to you now. What remains the pith, is I don't want any kith, and that people are a myth. (And with addictions, life is shith). Let me now resolve, to rise above all this or at least to want to rise above in the first place. I have decided to be detached, impassionate, unaffected. Oh yeah baby! Bring it on! I'm ready for you, I'm like daddy for you, mark my tone, too heady for you!
Enough being said I shall consider it best to leave the kind reader at this point to wander in his/her imaginations about what state I be in now and later return to his/her work diligently. And even if you don't, how do I care.
Let me now shed (jhaad as they say in hindi) some philosophy. Animals, they say, are unconscious, below the mundane. There does exist a higher level of consciousness which is much above all unneeded affairs. The unconscious are happy, the fully conscious are in bliss. Man, the one in the middle has all the problems to himself. Hence in an attempt to go beneath their level, humans consume alcohol. I think it stupid.
But how so ever stupid I may think it, I remain a first-degree hypocrite. (May I have a big hand of applause please (for dinner obviously)). Indulging in people is again alcohol. People are alcohol and like alcohol they make you forget your worries, weaknesses and wails. Eating, drinking, laughing, sleeping - the fool has so much to do, so much to indulge himself, so much enjoy and enjoy for ignorance is bliss. That (gobi ka) fool am I. (Applaud! Why do I have to remind you? ).
And I'm so hooked to people and people's talks, I can't rest myself. My prediction is that if I continue on the same path, I shall be led nowhere except nowhere. Bereft of contentment, devoid of joy, senescing, once in peace and tence ruffled, I see myself some years down the line, in the exact state as I am now, taking one step ahead and another back, tiring, exhausting, breaking and reaching right here, nowhere. (Hey no applaud now please, that was mighty serious).
I desire myself, my old self, rather pine for my old self instead of pining for other people and languishing myself. I want to be what I was at a time of yore. I was and I have descended ever since. I want to rise, whatever be the price, potatoes or rice, I want to win the prize. (How stupid that was). I'm a complete forgiver, five giver rather, when it comes to myself. I have forgiven myself for everything and practiced categorical forbearance towards my evil intentions. I pray to get a better self. What else can I do?
Addicted I am. I knew it long time back, so I thought of healing the bloody thing if you'd agree on calling it a disease in the first bloody place. Talking of addictions and stupors, there are many types of them, you know. Opium stupor, did you know, wears off when one takes a cold water bath. So I sat in front of the PC and asked if I wanted to Gtalk. My mind said 'I do', in the same fashion as they say in the Hollywood movie weddings. Have you noticed one thing, by the way, that whenever the bride or the groom answer the priest by saying 'I Do' they don't even bloody look at him. They're so engrossed in themselves, those impatient freaks, they can't pay a handful of respect to the vicar. How do I care ? So I wanted to Gtalk. I went straight to the bathroom, swwwoooosh and steeped myself wet with a shower of chilly cold water! My 38"(last time I measured) chest heaved out of the coldness of the contact and I thought to myself, 'Yes! I've outstripped myself'. But later I realized I'd only stripped myself for the bath and nothing more. I came back (with clothes) and still wanted to Gtalk. Damn everything. This addiction is worse than opium.
Then you have the hangovers and the withdrawal symptoms, and they're horrible. Let me not relate them to you now. What remains the pith, is I don't want any kith, and that people are a myth. (And with addictions, life is shith). Let me now resolve, to rise above all this or at least to want to rise above in the first place. I have decided to be detached, impassionate, unaffected. Oh yeah baby! Bring it on! I'm ready for you, I'm like daddy for you, mark my tone, too heady for you!
Enough being said I shall consider it best to leave the kind reader at this point to wander in his/her imaginations about what state I be in now and later return to his/her work diligently. And even if you don't, how do I care.
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