what does the mind tell you on a sleepless night?

How independent is independent thinking after all? 

Adwitiya

men with polarity get famous, men with duality get anonymous, but its only the advaita who becomes one of Him  

A moment of respite in an otherwise inhuman life

Random musings of an under-occupied mind

"Understanding women" is the greatest oxymoron ever used.

The little blocks

Yesterday came across an article on Facebook (how much more sadder can it be? *sighs*) about the photographers block. Fancy name for utter laziness, I tell you. A handicap nonetheless. Over the past few months I have realized that I am dealing with not just this one, considering the number of boats I have planted my feet in, rather loosely, but a multitude of others. I have a great urge right now to describe them and flaunt them as to how many things I am dispassionately passionate about. I might give in by the time I am finished writing. I might (un)knowingly be doing that right now,  trying to make it sound like you might have missed something or you weren't smart enough to read between the lines (the small sadistic pleasures in life).

I am trying to make sense out of it. I really am. Where am I going with this, is the question I ask rather than about the blocks I described above. And then they say there are no stupid questions. Whoever said that didn't have to deal with a bad student I guess.

Dealing with these blocks however can be fun. Or can be made to look like it. First step could be anything ranging from identifying what all you could be blocking advertently or inadvertently to actually doing something about it. But the great heroic lies in transitioning between these steps. Once you identify and brood over them, over and over again, and then some more then you realize that you had realized it long ago that if the realization had to come it would have already been realized. But hey, isn't the first step identifying the problem? This is where the fun comes in. Overtly thinking about them makes the clock work like a sprinter. In no time you fast forward so much of time that you can't help notice the relativity and elasticity of it, conveniently branching your thought process into a cosmic dimension triggering a whole new level of imagination which, at the end of it, leaves you with an air of superiority over the mere mortals. The smirk on the face is almost palpable as a first person. As for someone who might be obliging you by taking a note, a chipmunk would have fared better if a tabular comparison was to be made between the two of us, by the obligator. And the chipmunk would win, hands down, on all accounts.

I actually achieved the objective of this little note. I started writing it some 6-7 weeks ago. I started with a photographers block and ended up with a writers. Talk about living up to your expectations. I never fail to not surprise myself. I sometimes wonder how many lifetimes Premchanda had to take to complete Gaban if he were in my shoes?

Kill the hippies?

If I am allowed a bit of an exaggeration (of course I am) organised behavior leads to an ism akin to what was prevalent in the Nazi Germany or more recently in say a North Korea. Or on the other extreme leads to a pretty mundane and boring lifestyle that falls apart like a house of cards if a single element goes awry.  What I may sound like might be a naysayer but it is certainly not without a justified reason. It obviously involves a little generalization. You may well point out the exceptions but it will go on to prove the rule.

There is a question asked as much by people as I ask myself. Why exactly do I love India? Am I a nationalist? No. Patriot? Hell no. Does India provide the best possible lifestyle to its denizens? Not by a mile. Are people honest in their entirety? We have consistently been rated one of the most corrupt nations of the world. Why then? Why exactly do I love my country when I list a plethora of negatives about her?

There has to be something, right? What is that something? Is that something intangible? Mystical may be? And the ones fascinated by the grossest form of porn available? Please. It’s certainly not the poverty. Then it dawns on me as it always does when I least expect an answer smack in the middle of the road listening to my favorite song only to be woken up by a screeching car and a ship like honk backed up by a slow motion of events like turning the head around only to see the middle finger raised high up connected to a contorted face screaming the F word (listening to Pink Floyd helps btw. Trust me). We have strangely but beautifully versed to organize ourselves in the chaos that’s India. It’s like an interspersed web of craziness thorough which anyone and everyone that makes this country as his/her home finds a way out. Nothing goes exactly the way it’s supposed to be. The end result? The awareness level is pretty high. The brains always open, receptive to say any untoward happening that may stand right in front of you staring point blank trying to scare the life out of you. In most cases it can’t. I mean where else can you have the liberty to board a running train knowing a slip might prove fatal but still doing it or driving on a national highway on your side still keeping in mind that it might still not be yours.  Google will achieve true greatness the day it is able to map each and every street, nook and corner if it is able to achieve it even in Beta. Where else can one start worshipping the stone knowing that the divine is formless though worshipped in forms that number in millions which to the developed world looks downright insane?

If you still remember something I wrote some notches above right after the “you still trying to figure out the title” you might have made a connection there. If you haven’t still, well try again. It’s not that intelligible or is it? Not that I completely disregard everything the west has to offer. In fact there are many pluses to its stable. The quality of life in certain “developed” nations is certainly better. Now I am using “quality of life” in the most stereotypical fashion here. It is pretty easy to live and spend your life in the west to a certain extent. What it does end up making though is caricatures or humanized robots (the Japs and Germans can take a cue). The knowledge is straight from the book and not contextual. Practically in most cases it works like magic. But if something goes a little out of control it’s a ripple effect that spirals up and down every level and strata.

Every one has his/her own way of living. As nature’s way everything has to be balanced. The above description might just be enough to substantiate it. 

alienation?

"No matter what happens I don't give a damn". Or is it? Hitched on to the news channels the moment it came out. To those very channels which I don't leave a chance to ridicule. But the point here is not this. It's a more trivial issue. Who is going to build what, and where. The moment it's turned on you get mind numbing analysis pointing to histories and geographies of the world. When you try and make sense out of it? Absolutely none. You are still glued. You will turn it off in disgust. But will switch it on again in the hope of sensationalism. Something which makes your blood boil. Makes the adrenalin rush to your veins faster than you thought it should. Were there riots, any casualties reported, is it going to end soon? What? Everything pitch normal? An outward sigh of relief. Because as long as it's not in your backyard you would secretly wish abnormalities. Are we so crippled in our minds that we have become apathetic to peace and normalcy that we don't really see it eye to eye? Why is it that we can't stand united in the times of normalcy? We always need a crisis for that. 

Was I in favor of a particular decision. Frankly speaking, yes. I was. What is it? How does it matter any which ways? But yes there was a falsity here. That I convinced myself I have alienated myself from it.

For the unawares the verdict on Babri Masjid demolition came out today.

PS: This was written a long time ago.