Sunday, September 17, 2017

Dare to Love

A rainy evening with a filter coffee in hand my pensive mind processed the current events pathologically. Too many things have been said and done - some never done but thought aloud about.

Image may contain: 1 person, sitting and dog

Flashback - a little furry puppy came under the wheels almost. No mother, no litter nearby.  Orphaned at 35 days. First thought - stray, must have run atray. Second thought - let's find it a home.

We grew up and grew tired of the teething woes - her teeth seemed incisive enough to make us decisive about giving her up. Marks, cuts and bruises on my skin seemed a tell a gory tale - but nothing as bland as pup-teething!


Couple of times, when the pick-up was finalized, the last minute back-outs soon started an alarm bell. I had wondered where did she land at my abode with furry paws - the 5w-s and 1 h of her existence / co-existence with me. Now, when we almost parted ways, why she never let go. Even in shadows!


Now she is firmly entrenched in my being and the 4 walls of my humble abode. Never will I ever think of giving her up - no matter the penance the growing up days impose on me or shoot me in a mellow daze.

She comes as a blessing - to relieve me of some of the past gloomy days : showing me the yellow rings of sunshine. Her slow acceptance of the human kind - may be kind human remains a question in her mind - and co-existence with a kingdom unknown of her own, seemed a joy to discover.

Dogs had always fascinated me. I had always wanted one. When the little one came into my life, I had been unprepared for it - defenceless too to her animal instincts. Giving up was the easy escape route. Yet when I looked deep into her soft chocolate eyes, I knew she was my home if not the other way round.


Jimmy's eyes tell their own story - expressive canvases they reflect her mood and security at shelter.
Her eyes turn woeful on the rainy day when she sits pensive staring at the footfalls of human life below. She is happy when cuddled - though 'to love' is not a language she yet knows given her tender life stage.


The Facebook pages I am a part of, tell appalling stories of dogs abandoned. When owners cannot take care of their dogs, given illness or the other excuses, they resort to the cheaper option of abandoning them on the streets. Few wait for a better home for their furry friend. What I have realized is to have a dog seems to be norm de plume of a well-off lifestyle : breeds of dogs a status symbol. But when the caretaker realizes the folly of ambitions, the furry friend is abandoned with haste and no backward glance. Nowadays, you see German Shepherds, Golden Retrievers or Labs - unhappily roaming around with the decorated collars but emaciated selves and hungry eyes.

Question - why take responsibility of another life, when you cannot give it a life?!

So many times, my parents or grandparent has urged me to give up my bundle of joy. They are scared of joy, I feel. Or are scared of consequences of joy - the corollary that brings bucketful of sobs. Most have grown up with pets of their own - trysts that tell their own tales but for their own child, that tryst must remain a chapter in a story-book and not real life. Real life must be walked only on rose petals - not shards that raw emotions can leave one with.

I remember couple of phone calls which have shaken me up - primarily because they woke me up to the ocean of differences between generations. I was told to put up my furry baby for adoption because when her time is over, I'll cry. I should not hence invite that sorrow into my life.

The words left me bereft of words. It seemed odd a life- lesson to exchange hands - how could one tell a younger one to avoid sorrow. Is that not a part of life that makes you grow up? Is that not how you turn into a realist?

The lesson shared should have been of celebrating each day of joy - and being sad when the time comes : the strength to fight the sorrow would be the moments of puerility shared ahead. They alone would sustain the dark days - the memories made and laughed at would greet every tear that would form at the corner of the eye.

Death - of a pet / partner / self - is an eventuality that cannot be escaped. The lesson shared should be of courage to love - #DARETOLOVEANDBELOVED










Wednesday, August 16, 2017

The Second Fiddle

Image result for versailles netflix


A contemplative post - on the nuances of being a Second Fiddle. Recently I have been binging on Netflix - addicted hopelessly to period dramas. The Crown Season 1 finished in a day for me - and then my hungry eyes clapped onto Versailles.

Versailles - talks about the Sun King and his ambitious rise. Each and every frame captures the grandeur that Paris is, was and forever shall be. The glamour that formed the golden halo actually arose from Louis IV's golden period.

The actors are as illustrious as the set and setting. The director is able to take the creative leap back into the past - enlivening History and my own perennial love for European History.

However, when all shines bright, a rather 'queer' character creates a curious headline for himself. None other than the King's brother, Phillipe.

Image result for versailles cast netflix

Phillipe - played by Alexander Vlahov - is an unfortunate case of chance going in the way of change. A cavalier at heart with Chevaliar in his heart - Phillipe makes a strong argument of how the Second Fiddle in fact is the fulcrum to the head.

Phillipe - a couple of years younger to the monarch who is famous for his line "I am the state" - had been a brilliant strategic oversight - purposely left to enact behind the scenes in the King's Palace. His sulk is encapsulated in all its truth - he is but a mere human being, puppeted and parodied on by his own sibling and the rest of court

The brotherly ties appear infrequent - the bond spoken of only in dire straits. The King appears to merely tolerate his flamboyant brother - taking for granted his heart of gold.

Image result for versailles netflix

Phillipe - lost in the shadows, however chooses not to be overshadowed. His colourful interests make homosexuality the cover story of the court - his courting of Chevaliar despite heterosexual marriage is carried on in aplomb. His love-hatred for the King is evident through the words he utters and the words he hears back from Chevaliar. To make a mark and strike memory, he even dresses up as a woman and willingly is the laughing stock of the court.

Very seldom do his actions meet approval or thoughts find resonance. Yet he carries on with his life and duty towards the court - his latent desire to always be seen as a leader, at par with the Emperor.

In truth, Phillipe is a better war strategist - a decorated Army General and a clear headed pragmatic director of the battle-fields. His valour and astuteness is the talk of the town - much to the chagrin of the King who is seen as more of a "King on the chess board"

The Sun King does not like to be eclipsed - no matter the ties of the blood or the might of the brain to serve the State.

On reflection, I wondered. in our daily lives, how much do our lead roles need the support of the likes of Phillipe - the behind the scenes victory craftsmen.


Here are some of the common daily life scenarios 



1. At workplace :
You slog like a dog on the slides - the final report credits the seniority. Hours spent with a hunchback and 2 decade old eyes crowfeet-lined : yet there is a hapless joy or a joyless sigh. Why - is the question that's TOM.

2 In a relationship :
Face it or not, the woman plays second fiddle when it comes to decision making. Men are perhaps hardwired into under-taking all major decisions regarding HOME - finances, design, layout, hygiene, - you name it, you get it. The more you harp on "independence" or "equality" men see that as femi-Nazism and instantly look down through their flared nostrils. No matter the degrees, when it comes to life-partner, there is a degree of 'second fiddle' playing up its sad tune. Of course that builds up as a grudge and wham - the household war erupts. Wonder why men are not tagged as "home-maker"!

3. Within the  Famil(iar)y 
Sometimes the age wizened age, when they reach a certain age, they cross the 'ok-plateau' of naked joy on seeing the dominant many. Mostly its the father, the oldest friend or the brother. Its also the mother who by power of the womb places stake on the central decision making nerve of your body. You listen - if you don't go their way - you're branded a rebel.

4. The Autowalas
Driver's seat redefined - GPS proves directionally purposive but when it comes when it comes to ethicality : you're shot to the back-seat (literally and pun well intended!)


I am sure the world over there must be so many such scenarios. Playing the unc-credited for 'second fiddle' can lead a Grudge or the Fudge -


a) Grudge - lots on mind, nothing on lips except the smile crease. Pent up emotions - volcano like. Crows feet and forehead creases. Suppression and submission. Till a point. The main reason for this many of us who are coerced to playing the second fiddle, do so in conflict of their own base nature. The base nature cannot lie low or still for long.

b) Fudge - Lack of ownership and the happy passage of responsibility from one's shoulders to a more dependable one. Happiness at not being in the driver's seat but only a pillion. Not consultative - but an executionist. Key reason being the disengagement of mind from task or lack of alacrity. Such beings rate mental contentment higher : waste no energy on forming or holding a grudge.


The second fiddle thus has his or her own motivations, needs and expected benefits from the role. The role brings no glory - instead figures as more challenging as its multi dimensional and quite layered. Complexity of its existence and enforcement brings to light the poor inter-personal understanding and the main gap of treating one another on equal footing. Eye to eye can avoid the stye.

Monday, May 8, 2017

LinkedUn


Image result for delete linkedin



It's a hot summer day when the lady of the house enters the silent abode in a pensive mood. She takes her steps slowly and settles her sweaty self on the bed. She flips the AC button and switches it on the coldest temperature.

Its yet another defeat after a disgruntled work-day - now, quite her usual serve but still not her cup of tea. Of the fiery spirit but the dejected heart - she lies still as the hot tears fall. She tastes the salt in them and tries to wipe them away. Yet her hand seems to be powerless - as helpless as she.

She finds herself a misfit - a misfortune who dont understand the shades of corporate (or corporal?) politics - her naivety erodes her of her own positivity

She used to be a believer - a foolish hopeless soul who believed in the radiance of the career ladder, in the unequivocal ferocity of honesty and also in her own dreams.

But reality soon robbed her of any mirth - she lived away in her own state of exile, remote to the closest even. Her mind had become a numb conundrum - frail to the sounds of every dream crashing with a deafening roar. She found no voice of her own.

She saw all, happy and elevated. Her partner too seemed to be flush with joy - only blushed when comparisons lay stark,

She thought them all and thought them through - chased away the tail of of all thoughts and brushed away all hopes. She now preferred a blank space, where her mind was - she had killed the chatter.

She longed for a renewed chapter - to fill her with a rekindled vigor for life. She was ambitious - but the lackluster ways of her organization, failed to live up to her expectations.

Strung on the tight-line, her reflex seemed to pause her own acrobatic joy - she who dreamed to somersault and waultz into new professional highs - now pressed the brakes too hard and too fast.

All day, all month and all year - she found the empty notifications of someone else's good luck - of someone's new position / designation - yet she found none of her own making. She found the professional app to be a stranglehold - to serve as a reminder to her own folly or perhaps a mirror to ask the hard questions too.

The networking philosophy seemed to ridden with narcissism - the social media site had the noiristic under-belly of selfishness and individualism. Humanitarian ideals of helping others seemed to be amiss from its constitution.

Day after day, seeing others celebrate - made her celibate her own drive.
Her pale skin, lifeless eyes and cold around her heart - made her sickly in mind and soul.
She found no way out - stuck was she like a spider in her own web or womb.

Slowly she reached out and uninstalled the app.
She could not much help herself to change her destiny overnight - but at least enable herself to delete a sign of negativity in her life,

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

India -> the Auto-wala theory (copyright the coinage)

A couple of days back I read an article that cited stats on how India was the saddest country compared to her neighbors. The article brought a smile - for the citizens of today, you don't need Stats to verify what you feel and live through everyday. 

Image result for india saddest among neighbours

Onto its 70th year of Independence, I wonder what all has the country done. My thoughts have been mirrored in the questions / thoughts raised by LSE as the panel too sought to answer the same maze-like venomous thoughts. (https://scroll.in/bulletins/54/as-india-turns-70-london-school-of-economics-asks-some-provocative-questions)

I am no Economist - I am merely a "General Class" citizen in a country where being a "GC" will land you nowhere. Reservation policies and privileges act against you. 

I live strata-ed in the middle class segment too - however the bulk of the population bears the brunt for the lack of vision the country shows - infallibly everyday! 

Taxes eat into salaries - so that eating OOH / at home seem a luxury. A water-stressed market now, the country shows remarkable finesse in being constipated in thoughts as well. 

Ergo selection of certain officers in the high post despite the Progressive Role Models of the country now. 

We have Virat Kohli - who  is globally known and acknowledged as India's youth icon. His aggression on and off field, the way he stands up for his values / beliefs as also his love for the opposite sex - tells a lot about the shape of the thoughts here today in our country. His social media accounts and the comments only testify the mindset of the youth today and his influencing power. 
Image result for virat kohli

Image result for farhan akhtar mard



There is Farhan Akhtar who actively stands up to reshape age old patriarchal thoughts through his fervent public speeches and impassioned stance for equality at instances of the Vagina Monologues and his MARD campaign. 

Stand up comedies today exemplify the satirical outlook the citizens have started imbibing today - the humor is refreshing because they bring to life daily stress points caused by our macro structures stunting a progressive thought flow.


Image result for 2016 bollywood movies

Instagram is visual rendition of the how the people today are rising up against stereotypical thoughts - you only need to look at Saloni Chopra's account to understand the stigmas she is trying to debunk.  

Image result for saloni chopra instagram

Bollywood now is ripe with examples of citizens standing against the normative thoughts or the constipated structures - e.g. Dangal, Pink, Udta Punjab among others. There are social messages being evinced through films such as Ki and Ka, Ae Dil Hai Mushkil or Dear Zindagi - that espouse the love and respect for the softer shades of life. The whole of celebration of individuality is so clearly apparent in the mass media platforms - with Bollywood playing a pivotal role today. 

Despite such thought movers and soul shakers - we only need to look at certain mismanagement examples -  the over flowing frothy lakes, polluted potholed roads, incessant honking at roads and junctures, lack of pedestrian walking spaces, improper planning of infrastructure with the commuters spilling onto roads and just about being saved from being run over - to understand that despite the thought progression, the country remains myopic ; unable to internalize the actual "winds of change". 

The question therefore remains in all its perversity - is our country not really reading the though trend or listening to its citizens? And if that be so, where is our Democracy? 

Despite the apparent progress we witness in our role models, why is Regression setting in with flares of communal-ism? 

A part of it was answered the other day I took an auto ride to Koramangala. As my eyes roamed around the traffic signals, a thought struck at how the autos / auto walas represent the core of the Indian mindset today. If you look at auto-walas today, you know the barriers to progress of our land. 

How we see autos today - (specially in Bangalore) 

Related image


  1. Untrustworthy - an unusual alacrity to over charge beyond reasonable means
  2. Insect-like - crawls into any spot in the traffic without regard to other commuters and crowd around in hoards. Just like insects or the moths to a flame. 
  3. Jugaado - the quintessential Indian word to describe the mentality. Squeezing for any benefit from anywhere and anyhow. To get what you want is the goal - the short cut is not even a backward glance. 
  4. Malefic - accidents are only a "touch" away as the autos try to out-maneuver traffic to its whims
  5. The "kuch bhi chalega" mentality - least effort placed at being ethical but most at con-conviction
The article is meant to make people think - though the article also wonders what happens when citizens think? Does the country take note of the citizens thoughts and needs? Where are we living and what is the future? How can India become a super power when it has slipped from Developing to an Under developed world? 



Tuesday, February 21, 2017

The Lost Woman

Indian mentality and mindset is always anchored to a man - for a woman. There is no place for identity or self-confidence. And sadly, the docile meekly but firmly try to impose the same "civilian" codes on other women.
Image result for radha krishna


Here is the Pretty Story of a character called Radha. Her name semantic of the pedantic joy she spread as she poisoned her Krishna.

Radha met Krishna when they were mere children - innocence was more part of Krishna's story. Krishna was idealistic, filled with notions of clouds, wonder and magic. In his shape of a woman, he never sought a form - rather completion. A reader, a leader yet a voice never angry - Krishna chose the might of the pen over the sword in most cases of his life. Ergo, the spiel of a spiral.

Radha on the other hand lived in disillusion and denial of her own self. Her folly was further misguided by her aimless but a conniving mother and a sisterhood of no shame. Her animatics had no action point - reason saw no fruition because there was no base. Radha lived in the world of signs and notion - love meant the man chasing her, relationship meant her assertion over the man and motherhood meant her complete control.

The children in these two wanderers soon grew up - Radha a more vicious and a vivacious self, Krishna a nomad but curiously a shelter-seeker.

Radha and Krishna remained steadfast friends - both awed by the dissimilarities they brought to each other : as a stark grey in their rainbow worlds otherwise.

One day, the story of Adam and Eve caught their attention - and funneled down to a union. But one was prepared to dominate while the other saw no means of escape.

Marriage was always about the wins and losses, the gains and spoils and the hits and misses. Full of oxymorons, the stature of marriage between the two souls became a bondage : one aware the other unaware.

The aware one sought passive means to escape - technology afforded a convenient world. The friends made over social media suddenly seemed more real, the sexting became the pleasure principle while the digital flings the course of corrective action. For the unaware, ignorance remained bliss - as she lost her own personhood in the miracle of her being.

Radha, felt her womanhood with every passing day. She asserted her illusioned omniscience on the more knowledgeable soul - drawing wonder at her courageous folly. She fought for attention - around her there were shards of glass for others to walk on as they meekly tread her path in life. She remained joyless - full of spiteful dreams and made others lose any spark of life too. Yet she never woke up.

In their blissful ignorant world there were two sudden occurrences. One was the dawn of cherubic innocence - and the other a Game of Thrones. As random has no play in  this world - so did the Theory of Coincidence wreak havoc in Radha's image of a perfect life.

In a day, stripped off her colors, she remained stranded - feeling her own self-pity mocking herself. Her womb felt heavy - yet she remained untouched by remorse.

She found flaws in everyone, argued without a base, wanted to crush all with all her force and be the Kali. She never ever was the Creator, anyway. She felt the fumes of the blue murderous rage awash her dark soul, her charred eyes burned red as her heart rot away in jealousy. Insecurity ate her vision of life - she dug her claws on every back she found : regardless of child or adult.

Radha was a function of her hatred - she spread no love even to her own flesh & blood. Krishna, lay at crossroads of his own way to Life and at the Destruction of a loveless life. He prayed for the smile while the tears poured all around him. His idealism lay shaken, his belief in Radha's maturity lay broken.

Both were at opposing ends : Radha's insecurity her barrier. Yet she saw nothing of it, the supremacy of her conceit found every vein capricious in Krishna. The battle ensued and exited with Krishna on his path to victory and Radha stranded on an island of self-woe : still blaming others for her own state of negation.

As days passed, Radha grew lonely : her need for a man proliferated to choosing Tinder over the reality of life. In her definition of love, she had sought to impress upon Krishna, her tattooed presence. She had wanted to be his Manna - but all she did is break his own Mojo. She sought for a world of passion, instead she brought bitterness into every household she stepped into. She wanted security of a man, as her mother had taught her - but instead, she made the man insecure of his own self. She felt unwanted, unloved, dejected - but never really questioned her own self and the tears she brought others with her own unethical life-path.

The story of Radha and Krishna - inverts the reality of the mythological story we have grown up with. The root of the story is love and blind faith - the germ is the concept of unconditional love that made Radha blind to any man.

My story here, is metaphorical of the modern day relationships : where the Saas-Bahu serials fueled the stereotypes of a relationship which find followership in even the most progressive.

The mindset of a woman towards the man in India / or maybe outside, then becomes a case of ownership and pawn. Her pride lies in domination of his spirit - unknowingly she herself buries the relationship though in her crude uninformed mind, she begins to believe that she is the Saviour. There is no "Lover" in people like Radha here - they only seek to be loved but have no knowledge of how to impart love. Such women, are lost and "loose" - they are the moles that turn cancerous. Their perennial islandic worship of their own selves - never ever being perceptive to the man's emotions - makes them critical of every blessing. The man is the Provider - not the Partner. The man is the Caregiver - but not the Friend.
It's still a sad world and women like Radha deserve a sad ending.

Monday, November 7, 2016

The urban poor floor mat

There must be a universal syndrome in the fast changing corporate world - of the disparity in the pace of lifestyle, lives and livelihood. It could translate into differences of years of experience or the qualification certificates one may possess as skeletons in the closet.

Image result for urban poor girl



The increasing pressure to be "one" or "at one" in every possible way - makes you reach out for decision bench-marks much against your will.

In the end, all you have is a blank space where your heart is supposed to be and a plastic smile plastered on your face. You have to be happy - else myriad probing questions by all. No-one can really understand the depth of emotions that run awry in you.

A drawback in the quantitative ability makes you run within concentric layers - never to find an escape. The work-life is a curse-land - as it gnaws away at your time on earth. You know that there could be other avenues to shine in -  but again the certificates seem to have a say of nay on their own!

Everyday, you face the mirror to see the face and presence you slowly start to hate. Depreciation of respect earmarks your presence in public quarters as well.

You see the other batch-mates - living lives self-made. Where happiness is allowed to filter through too.

And then you see your own shadow - no silver linings there!

There are moments when the body is a dead-weight force retarding your own life-acceleration. You may feel the urge to get up and run amok - lose yourself in the crowd of the unknown - never to return back to the same place ever again.

But you are stuck - in chains to the place you don't belong to. With people you never can associate yourself fully with. You slowly romanticize your own melancholy - citing it as depression.


Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Flu-Id



Flu-Id - the term came to my mind when I had started to think about the cross-roads that currently strae back at me as I look upon my roadmap of life. Today, with 5 years into the job life, I can safely be called a mid-senior employee! But is that all / part of it?

So far, I have seen the booms and slumps in career - gone up the money ladder and savored the fruits of hard-worked patience. But sometimes, the persona that greets you every morning from Monday to Friday - somewhere seems distant to your core being.

The question of conflict arises then - who am I? Am I the one, presenting at the board-rooms or over face-less telephonic conversations - am I the stuttering / the so-called uber confident being that graces with the e-commed fashion avatar-ian attires? Am I the one who keeps smiling to all the vagueness around - luxuriating in a selfish minute to laugh at the folly?

Or, am I the one treated so special to some - parents, siblings and better halves? The one that can err but can be forgiven with whole heart and spirit?

As I sit pondering, this duality plays into my mind and I wonder why we exhibit two sides to us at every situation? Or, for a recipient of an action.

Laterally, as I ponder deeper, watching the plumes rise up from my coffee cup - I wonder should there really be two sides to us. Are we intrinsically Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde - but may live in denial / frustration of its awareness?

In essence, if there be two sides to us, then a divide must exist between the two / more than two selves. Immaturely we keep terming this the work-life balance.

Frankly, there is no divide - no L.O.C. It's all a seamless journey we traverse through daily and encounter a new shade each day.

Life, is one flow - perhaps unidirectional - perhaps flowing in myriad streams. It's more like a river, with many tributaries and dis-tributaries. It flows. On. And on.

Maybe this life as we know - we tend to live it in fragments, knowing perceptibly there's a divide in all spheres. But what if we change our thinking? What if we think that there is no divide - and that it's all connected into one-way-road?

In that case, there really is no work-life balance - and you can only feel as special as you allow yourself to fee. Here two thoughts are evinced co-laterally. One is raising one's own self-worth in one's own eyes. Self-perception is a key ingredient to confidence and happiness.

Second work is a sub-set of life and not life itself. And neither can life distance itself away from work. Neither are hydra-headed monsters fighting between themselves - both are harmonious and symbiotic.

Recognition at work leads to a happier you and a happier life - it's a cycle.
Being content leads to a more productive work - again a cycle.

Our effort should not be to separate the two - but treat them as twins. They are the Yin and Yang of our Flu-id.

Being self-reassured enables you to glide through both the hemispheres of work and life - leaves you lighter. A clutter in either, leaves you disenchanted from your own life. The trick is to then love yourself and your life - to move on harmoniously at all aspects of life. Each is a shade and a reflection of your life, the river!





Sunday, March 20, 2016

Being an Aunty to an Uncle!!





On a Sunday afternoon- when the sunlight outside is making merry, scathing the environment- an alarming thought strikes my idle mind. This came up in a conversation, when my Significant Other happily termed me as an Aunty.

No, it does not feel nice to be addressed so - when all along you are used to the roses and blushes of communication. To be promoted to seniority, is hardly a pleasure. But when did that perception change I wonder.

Tracing back to the past 'n' number of month events, I realize to whatever my better half suggests, I negate scrupulously, citing my story of lack of time." Or, it's too sunny outside," with baleful eyes vexing at the yellow sky.

Role reversal tells me how telling it is on his boyish patience. My man may have grown up to his 6.1" frame but inside him is the little boy who still wants to play in the mud with his best friend and dog all rolled into one. Inside me too, lurks the little girl, with the wild hair flying loose, waiting to chase the wind, against the sun - much against all odds. Both the little girl and little boy want to play - in the sun, amidst nature, with sweet sweat pouring down tanned backs, our hands & feet stained with the muddy marks that bring a glow to our ruddy cheeks.

But is it age or life-stage that suddenly makes me an Aunty and he gets to retain his little boy image and not be the dreaded Uncle?

Stirring my orange Rasna and making sure the ice-cubes clink against each other, I ponder to the sudden shift in our dynamics. No this is not a couple post or me trying to be a pseudo love-guru. It's  a post that will help me figure out where and how the time changed - just like the Rasna would take time to dissolve in the water for the bright orange spark - my inner turmoil must also see the light of the day.

We read posts on anti aging treatment - taking the passage of time for granted. But what are we really doing the passage of time, to make it worthwhile? Moments do not freeze over and not all memoirs can be Instagrammed - but what about the moments of purity that one must find time to revel in? Do we create time from our busy calendars to "check-in" such moments in our lives?


Technology has eradicated the tempospatial dimensions that separate us living beings from fusing together into a Pangea like Organic state. Yes, Facetime with the cousin, distant in the Amreeka is appealing - what is not are the diurnal all day long, Whatsapp pings on groups or ping pongs of emails where the peanuts scream their pea-brains out!

Technology seems to be a multi pronged attack force - unless you switch it off, it destabilizes your every anchor. And even when you switch it back on, you are bombarded with more and more and more.. of the same loop!

In the end two things get drained, the battery and the battered mind. There is loss of capacity for processing the beauty of life, living, simple moments spent with loved ones before they do not become the Late - or simply loving yourself! Mostly, we are tired, bone weary from the incessant staring at laptop or phone screens - with no time than to simply crash at the end of the day.


Is it only in India, I wonder? This slave driven template is mostly found in our land, where we work across countries and even work for those countries who may have the money but not the brain power. What a brain drain chain!!

We become Aunties and Uncles - with alopecia like tendencies and stressed Varicose Veins every where - mainly because in a day of 24 hours, we desire for 35 instead - the remaining 11 for US only!Instead we message each other - "I love you".. "I miss you!".. "I want to spend time with you only and no phones!!"

No phones?! Has it really come to that? Have we really started a new chapter of our collective consciousness where digital detox, is a desire than a must?

We live in a world of IM - where along with the faster messaging service, our response time to situations too have become increasingly shortened. Flexibility is a taken for granted ability where all of us lean out to multi-task through the trillion of tasks that surround.


Time spent on ourselves and with each other - seems like a sinful indulgence. The result is a burnt out soul - further charred by the sadistic sun.


The sun too shamelessly laps up the carbon footprint created by our willful use of technology - the more we use phones, iPads, gadgets, robots, ourselves too (we are machines, too, remember?!?!) - the more carbon emission spirals up the sun-path - fueling  Coldplay to blare while we glare - "It was all yellow..."


There was once an ad I remember, where they showed the sun sipping out the brain juices or maybe the elixir of life from a child's head - to that creative frame-work, I must contribute my humble paintbrush stroke - our very own Laptop mouse or perhaps the phone radiation - what a carcinogenic feast we expose the primal body parts to, day in and day out!

Soon we'll find a new age pornography - where man f**cks a computer- what'll we get - bipedal computers who are Robot's best friends?

Dear Moon - here we come. The ones who love to be young sans alopecia, technology and pings.


Sunday, February 7, 2016

Being Human!




The title of this post comes with a lot of reflections - of the recent occurrences that only merit opening up of a can of worms. I write this in disgust and bewilderment - at the sheerness of the low levels that we all have sunk to.

The trigger is obviously the recent news reports (not Salman Khan!) where everyday the reporting hot button is the Public Display of Attitude (new age PDA?)

Daily, the breakfast news covers the horror stories of rape, molestation and the ISIS debacle. We see images and videos of the innocent being bombed, beheaded, plundered - and strangely, instead of protecting our  women, women are treated as scapegoats or the gateway to a man's possession of land.

Yes, we did have the Chengiz Khans of history who fathered a nation almost - but that was then, and this is NOW. Or, is it?

I'd been watching a beautiful tale of loss humanity - aka Chappie - where the movie beautifully illustrated how even a robot could be more compassionate and forgiving than us - fellow Homo Sapiens. Chappie began with the robot being brought to life as an experiment - only to see the power of AI over IQ / EQ. The word 'Mommy' went beyond the organic bond to transcend into the cyborg borders - where the core remained the same goals of cocooning protection - mutually exclusive.

A promise assumed a child-like purity - one to be honored till the end. It's only the twisted brain - in the spree of greed - that could manipulate the innocence every baby is born with. Chappie in fact showed the nascence of conscience - and how it spirals into a dark tunnel with the passage of years.

We are all born with a blank slate - which we should design with our own free will. Our fate depends on the homes we are born to - our Makers. But its only the layers of societal transformation that metamorphose - uh, wait the right word is decompose- to a being alien to the design we'd intended to choose for ourselves.

Chappie left me wondering at our own fate today. What we were to what we've become. The Dark Triad of Personality wields a destructive core - that dis-balances and destabilizes us from our own vantage points.

When I look at the world today, I'm awed at the HATE we all seem to have for each other? We, as a race, have lost empathy and compassion - the main qualities that had once made us humans. We have lost the feeling of love - specially in an age when the Predictive Text has helped us label it as LUV.

As a breed, we have lost our own identity - being shaped by our own beast - into beings worse than animals. Do we have a new name then for our race now? Are we still humans? What parameters can classify us into that breed - that's on the verge of extinction?

When John Lennon had written Imagine, either he must have had the foresight of the Armageddon that has struck us now - or, he must have been childishly optimistic of the human intelligence. That intelligence sadly has changed its face to its evil twin, cunning and deception - that have wrecked havoc across the world and have made Noah's Ark a Titanic sinking slowly. The iceberg is the ticking time-bomb of hate - it's a slow and active volcano that spews forth it's wrath today through multiple channels and distributaries.

Is it too late to hope for a world where we all are united and at one with each other? Is Pangea as a concept too far away from the human-scape of comprehension and acceptance?

Have we really lost all our virtues that had once set us apart - and now we only function on the 'id'?
Is it too late to let the time awaken us - only to see that the earthlings need each other - to leave a better planet for our future??




Wednesday, September 30, 2015

An Ode to a Marriage?


http://t.co/FDXbb1JAO1


If I were YOU
and YOU were ME

Would this world
any different be?


I would do
What you now do

How I did it
You would've no clue


You would make
Errors of mine

and I would scorn
Please do not whine


I would cook
While you lay and smile

You'd do the dishes
Till I lay a while


You would be fat
and I would be fit

Well.. I am not
Complaining about that bit


You would be calm
when I would go mad

And i would make peace
if your day has been bad


But when going gets tough
we would be WE

There'd be no you
There's be no me


Brave face we would put
For the world to see

Deep inside though
scared we would be


You would shout
No... wait ....that would be me

See how confusing
It can all be?


So better you are you
and I am me

A Perfect world
it will never be