Living through a dream

Today has been one of the weirdest days of my life! Went in such a super fast blur, I actually feel I've been through a dream.

Remind me to add this in my autobiography, if I ever write one. Hey, watch it. Don't take your eyebrow up that high! If Pamela Anderson can write her autobiography, so can I! (Coming to think of it, it isn't such a bad idea, especially since my statue’s gonna be installed too!)

Ok, I'm digressing way too much. Lemme get back on track.I woke up before the alarm went off (as I always do during exams).. and I didn't have even the slightest queasiness I normally get on the morning of an exam. I was actually feeling pretty confident I'd do my exam well. That was so un-me (un-me counter starts.. 1). The butterflies paid my stomach a visit only as I was about to enter the exam hall. Good, I'd been expecting them. :)

From then, my day went completely upside down. I started every problem confidently, only to get stuck somewhere. This happened, unfortunately, to almost all the questions. There has not been a single examination, where I've actually sat through the entire 3 hours. I just cannot. I either finish my exams pretty soon because I'm well prepared, or I leave the exam hall early cause I don't know much. Today, I stayed for an extra 5 minutes (un-me counter.. 2). God bless that invigilator. (Whether the extra time helped, I never will know.)

I was almost in a state of shock. I had this dazed look stuck on my face from the time I left the exam hall. People actually came up to me and said, "Don't worry.. you will pass" even before they asked me how I'd done! Hmmm, I must have looked awful. It was almost 3 by the time I reached hostel, and I wasn't feeling too hungry (If there's anything un-me, this definitely is! Strike 3). Mess workers had made Pulao, and I mechanically ate it. Not a trace of that stupid grin that's normally plastered on my face whenever I eat pulao (that's 4 now) prepared by mom of course. I got a vague idea of how bad I looked when my mom said, "I've never seen you like this. Forget the exam. Sleep well tonight, and start studying properly for the next exam." (Should I start a un-mom counter?).(This was obviously said on a Saturday night when I went home after a full week of terrifying exams)

I switched the television on, to catch the Australia - South Africa game. The way the Proteans dragged it out, I actually started feeling bored. And this is the same person who actually sat through a Holland-Namibia game (my un-me counter stopped working.. it has never been given this much work in a single day.. besides, I realise it's getting on your nerves!). And then, I read the most dreadful set of records ever, which said even Glenn McGrath scored a half-century once :o

And no, there weren't any flying pigs sighted over the Gabba. :)

My friend called me up and laughed his guts out! I was pretty amused myself. Certainly helped ease my tension a bit. And from there-on, the day once again turned on its head. A couple of friends called me up and said they'd forgotten to wish me yesterday with all that exam tension. But, of course, they didn't forget to ask me for a treat! Not to worry fellows, Treat are there. :)Wondering why I'm being so cheerful all of a sudden, especially after all that I've gone through today? That's coz my sister gave me the best surprise I've ever received. My new Spectacles! 8-). Thanks a million, sis! I promise I'll be nice to you (for the next one month at least!! hehe). And here I am, typing all this out, over a very yummy dominos pizza, the second one I've had this week.

Life isn't so bad, after all. :)

Survival is the key

I thought I'll chip in with a post today.So here I am sitting, thinking what to write and all that and wondering why the hell am I feeling so damn optimistic today in spite of life being nothing but overly miserable.Won’t it be good to be a tree? It would be awesome. I'd have the right to be lazy all my life! "Look, I got roots and can’t leave this spot even for you, can I?"
And cook all my food and never bother about the disappearance of flesh from between my bones and skin anymore...I'll also grow thorns and big ones at that. I don’t want any monkeys climbing me. would also like to get rid of the birds, they irritate me with all the chirping and dropping. In that case I’d be a fruitless, leafless one. a CACTUS!! Yes that’s what! For those whose life has been nothing short of a story, writing stories is but a knee jerk reaction, and writing them on a blog is jus a way out of the many possible.
Just came to know that people are moving on, forgetting the past and growing new roots. Cant do much, am a tree remember? That too a cactus, no shade, no fruit, basically useless, just trying to survive for its own sake.so fly away birdie, there is nothing out here in the desert. Go to the lush lands, where the grass is green and the sun is shining. And hey hey hey, don’t try sitting on my branch here. It's wicked thorny...try move out of the desert as fast as u can and don’t think too much about me, I’d be ok, I was made for the desert.

Sid rules and the musings match. Somehow cant recognize the right people at a given moment. This sometimes leads to you having juvenile altercations with the person. Kill the liar as always is the remark!

You are a LIAR

Before we were born, a whole society of storytellers were already here. The storytellers who  were here before us taught us how to be human. First they told us what were are – a boy or a girl – then the told us who we are, and who we should or shouldn’t be. They taught us how to be a man or how to be a woman. They told us to be a proper woman, a decent woman, a strong man, a brave man. They gave us a name, and they told us the role we would play in their story. They prepared us to live in the human jungle, to compete with one another, to impose our will, to fight against our own kind. They filled us with knowledge, and ofcourse we believed them.

From the storytellers around us, we learned how to create our own story. By exploring the story that we create, I discovered that the story has a voice. You can call it ‘thinking’ if you want. I call it the ‘voice of knowledge’ because its telling you everything you know. It’s always trying to make sense out of everything. That voice is always there. It never stops. It’s not even real, but you hear it. You can say, “Well it’s me. I’m the one who’s talking.” But if you are the voice that is talking, then who is listening?

    The voice of knowledge can also be called the liar who lives in your head. The liar speaks in your language, but you spirit, the truth has no language. You just know the truth; you feel it. The voice of your spirit tries to come out, but the voice of the liar is stronger and louder and it hooks your attention almost all of the time. You hear the voice and what it is telling you? “Look at you. Who do you think you are? You will never make it. You aren’t smart enough. Why should I try? Nobody understands me. How can I be happy when millions of people are dying of starvation?”

     That voice is usually lying because it’s the voice of what you have learned, and you have learned so many lies, mainly about yourself. The voice of knowledge can come from your own head, or it can come from people around you, but your emotional reaction to that voice is telling you, “I am being abused.”

   Every time we judge ourselves, find ourselves guilty, punish ourselves, it’s because the voice in our head is telling us lies. Every time we have a conflict with our parents, or our beloved, it’s because we believe in lies, and they believe in them, too.

   But it’s not just that. When we believe in lies, we cant see the truth, so we make thousands of assumptions and we take them as truth. One of the biggest assumptions we make is that the lies we believe are the truth! For example, we believe that we know what we are. When get angry we say, “Oh that’s the way I am.” When we get jealous. “Oh that’s the way I am.” But is that true? I am not sure about that.

    I used to make the assumption that I was the one who said all those things that I didn’t want to say. It was a big surprise when I discovered that it was not me; it was the way I learned to be. And I practiced and practiced until I mastered that performance.

   Two thousand years ago on of the greatest masters said, “And you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” Free from what? From the storyteller who lives in your head and talks to you all the time. When the voice in your head finally stops talking, you experience inner peace. If you follow two rules, all the lies that come from the voice of knowledge won’t survive your skepticism will simply disappear.

   Rule one: Don’t believe yourself (Don’t take that as “Don’t believe IN yourself”). When you hear the voice in your head, don’t take it personally. You know that it’s usually lying to you. Lies can only survive if you believe them. If you don’t believe your own lies, you can make better choices based on the truth.

   Rule two: Don’t believe in anybody else. When people talk, you have no idea if what they are saying is coming from their heart or from the liar the lives in their head. Listen because the communication can be wonderful.

   You can change your life refusing to believe your own lies. Start with the main lies that limit the expression of your happiness and your love. If you take your faith away from the lies, they lose their power over you. If you stop believing in lies, your whole life changes just like magic. You will be free of fear, drama, and conflict. This is the absolute truth.

You betrayed my trust but in someway, it worked wonders for me. I realized what I wrote above and I wont come back at you and strike with vengeance. It was a learning experience and I gained a lot of knowledge about myself and my upbringing. It encompasses the endearing quality I harboured sometime back. Now I am a changed person. Very careful before each move and each word I say. Trying hard to stay like this, but the liar inside me wont die as easily but I will make sure it dies one day and that will be a day when, despite all your efforts to drown me, I will come out as the winner. You will still be where you are and hopefully gain something by tampering with my numbers. But there will be a day, you will realize how big a fool you were to have done that.

pack

I am too honest for people to understand me because such are the ways of the world these days that even the truth is supposed to seen as a sarcastic remark first and then absorbed in after an hour's explanation. I cant explain any fucking thing to you so think whatever you want to I dont care a shit. Bloody when I want something to be fair to have fun, there are always people there to spoil it. Inspite of saying nothing about it, I get victimised generally. Dont understand why. Maybe because I dont say anything. All these people understand is the language of high volume and scorn. From today I am biggest bastard around and dont care of what you or a matter of fact anyone thinks of me. I will take my time to learn these acts but becoming a miser sonovabitch doesnt take time because I see every second person here being one. So better be careful because the next time you will be see me, you will see a new facet, the calculated, the sly, the dishonest, the biggest ranger and the mother fucker ever born in mankind, Dont be taken aback, I am sure you wont because you are used to it. Now only actions no more of words, even though there were too less, now no more of it. Will never come to you for anything either, as if I did huh? and dont expect any more favours...because everything is an open market now. War is officially declared. Lets see who wins...the newbie or the experienced man who is not of his words.


Everything is wrong, Everything is wrong, Everything is wrong, Everything is wrong, Everything is wrong, Everything is wrong, Everything is wrong, Everything is wrong, Everything is wrong...

Thats the first lesson I learnt...general assumption.

Daddy Rules!

An extract from my dad's scribblings...


It is a truth, widely acknowledged, that every toddler's education must begin with "Twinkle, twinkle, little star". I must admit that I, who grew up before the pre-school era, would have remained ignorant of all the must-know nursery rhymes if it was not for doting parents and their performing wards. All the world's a stage for these kids who have educated and entertained me in various living rooms, wedding halls, railway compartments and airport lounges. Listening to kids' recitations are, any day, a better pastime that discussing problems related to business and such alike or the city crime news. But I admit that sometimes, it does stretch one's patience when the kid in question buries his/her face in his mother's lap and the mother embarks upon a protracted struggle to get the child to oblige. Good that I did not have to ask my son or daughters to do such acts, but I do believe that they would come up with the best, especially my Varun known as Rishabh these days ( LOL@dad!!).

What magic could time-worn rhymes hold for the listener? I for one am ever ready for yet another presentation of twinkle,twinkle just to wonder at the multitude of variations in the lisp(wah wah wah!! Grow up dad will you??). Added to it is the observation that since children hear and interpret the words in their own unique way, every presentation is delightfully fresh, kaleidoscopic version of the worn-out lines. Once I heard Ruchi(my daughter) reel off half a dozen rhymes, one after another and conclude with a perplexing 'dakunoomishankoo' utterance. Embarrasingly, I came to know about this from Ruchi when she turned 18( LOLOLOLOL@dad!!). She translated it as , 'Good afternoon and thank you', which apparently, was the line the kids recited before dispersing. But the best one came from a chubby li'l kid [Hi to the person I am talking about;)]. Not surprisingly, his favourite rhyme was "Chubby Cheeks". The recitation was accompanied by appropriate actions. The child pinched his cheeks, touched the chin and eyes and curled the hair in the manner suggested in the poem. For the last line, 'Mother's pet, is that you?' the teacher obviously not indicated any handsign. The kid paused for a minute, decided against doing an incomplete job and did his choreography. He put both his hands on the belly, said 'mother's pate', is that you?' and signed off by patting the abdomen three times with an enthusiatic "YES!!YES!!YES!!"

The idea behind writing this was the fact that gone are those days when my kids used to do such beautiful senseless acts and make people smile. My daughters are married now and my son is doing engineering. I see them doing things which I thought I would once do. I am living my life again through my son who entertains a bunch of people by playing music, wins gaming events, does so many things that I wanted to do, the ones I did but was not as successful as he has been. The bugger doesn't like getting clicked, but he send me this pic of his playing the bass guitar. A wonderful pic where he plays "The End" by the "The Doors". Just hope that he gets whatever he wants in life and becomes a successful man.

Wonderful post dad! I still dont believe that you people did not learn twinkle twinkle hehehehe. What a shame...infact what a pity :)). Thank God you did remember my new name. You did not know about dakunoomishankoo?Tsk tsk. Psst..Ruchi told me about that also hahahahaha. Very clever indeed dad, realising that pulling your leg would be easy in a post like this. So you added that chubby cheeks version. Thu! I dont know what I was trying to do then! Worst was the fact that I was chubby then! CRAP of the highest order. Honestly Dad, I dont mind doing it again for you :). Really happy to know that I am a source of happiness and as far as music is concerned, you are my mentor. You taught me how to play the guitar. I shifted to bass, thats a different story. Hey for everyone's knowledge, my Dad plays awesome piano. He even has his very own Yamaha Grand piano and he plays it wonderfully well! Dad introduced me to this section of music called Rock and Roll. Not forgetting about Floyd and the blues and what not! Dont worry dad, even if I dont get whatever I want, we will always be happy...

Tada!

I always wanted to do this but I still cant see her on this very special day. Never has there been a day when a kid goes to meet his mom to wish her "Happy Birthday". Anyways wont become a reason to celebrate and as such my meg is not bothered about such silly things and the demise of grandma wont help matters either. You are one person for whom I can do anything, really... and on this note I wish you very Happy Birthday! God bless you ma. Love you tons, wont leave you ever! Take care of yourself. I will be back, not much time left. Just bear for another 3 years like these 18 years which have passed by and you seemed to like the whooshing sound it made. No one at home. Take care of dad and blackie. Ruch, Ann and I will take care of ourselves and and and I will keep all my promises! For those who wonder why I dont like to be clicked is because I am my mom's son who herself doesnt like getting clicked. But to get a glimpse of my mom, I used my dog.

Happy Birthday Mom!

A Pretty Pleat...

Hymns, chants, sacred invocations: My ears pick up the melodious aubade of my grandmother—primitive and pastoral. Myriad birds twitter and squawk outside, playing their part in the florid melodic concerto. Leaving my bed, I shuffle towards the kitchen of our village house (they call it haveli). It was ancient, rural, warm, in exactly the same form as my great-grandfather built it; large, high-ceilinged, wooden shelves stacked with shining brass utensils, the brick-hearth coated with clay and husk with an enormous chimney over it. Once, having faced a volley of arguments by her family against her ‘prehistoric’ kitchen, frustratedly grandma had said, “I know all of you consider my kitchen a wrinkle on the face of this beautiful house. But I love it the way it is. Change it after I am dead and gone”. That concluded the issue once and for all.
  
     My nose picks up an array of aromas – sandalwood incense, wet earth, ground spices, herbal tea and a distinct body aroma which is unmistakably grandma’s. Up at the crack of dawn while the rest of the family slumbers, her old bones go about their chores with a religious zeal. Bathing in cold water, washing the kitchen, feeding the cows, invoking the gods before coating her earthen hearth with cow dung and only then starting the fire, watering her tulsi shrub in the courtyard – and all the while singing Vedic hymns. She smiles at me; her wrinkled face lighting up, the round vermillion spot on her forehead rising up a wee bit. One by one the family members awaken and congregate in her kitchen for their share of the hot herbal tea. There, sitting on low wooden stools, sipping spiced tea, they all discuss their respective work for the day; the cacophony of voices sounding like a veritable melee. Yesterday, the family congregated in the ‘ancient’ kitchen for the final time. Grandma died. And with her died the spirit of the house. Isn’t it sad how, out of sheer ignorance, we sometimes mistake a pretty pleat for a wrinkle.

God Bless you grandma… I will forever regret the fact that I did not spend as much time with you as much I was supposed to or maybe it was not in my share, your love and affection. An incorrigible loss.