Chanting the Cry Away

There is something that I noticed recently. The reason to chant. There is this guy who introduces himself as someone who has a lot of influence with people and matters relating to religion. Though a good friend of mine whose feelings I do respect, personally, I do not contain myself in shackles of religion. However, there came a point when he tried to tell me something that he wanted me not to do and as usual, I did not quite appreciate someone who had the nerve to tell me what to do and what not to. So I had to ask him to mind his own business and let the decisions I need to make be mine. Saying that, I was carrying on with my work and suddenly I hear humming of some strange kind. This guy was sitting in his lotus position and chanting mantras! Duh! Was he trying to intimidate me? Or maybe wanted to remind me that he is somebody who realms in power everyone sees and very few oversee. Or could it be that he was trying to find his own space to come clear off that disturbed peace by walking off into his world of surreal fantasy?! However, I was trying to smile with these thoughts.
Then came a situation when we had to rush in to oversee the rescue attempt of a few labourers who got trapped in a landslide. Interestingly the situation was more complicated than we expected; to find that the landslide was more man-made than natural. This situation arose not due to negligence yet due to complete submission by the so called “engineers” who worked around a heap of loose mud to keep a tree intact and went about building a structure around it commissioned to do so by one of the unquestionable high priests from a religious pact. 2 died. Still more awaiting the same destiny… though noone still can refute the foolishness of the structure. Is it the poverty of the people that makes silencing their cry so easy?
The self-acclaimed and often accepted power of this religious clan makes me wonder if other’s life is so easy to be taken for granted and easily coverable under chants which many do not understand. These are unsaid stories that will remain unsaid. The victims of these overt thinkers who profess their world of fantasies which they proclaim capable of seeing so blatantly misguided and taken for a ride… which by the by, they seemed to enjoy. So who cares?! Power does play its rounds so well.

Bottomline: This land where I live is a land where someone said “Even if thou reavelth thy third eye, thy mistake shall be a mistake”

What is this life if full of care?

Hello! Know what? Life has its twists and turns yet there are moments when dead ends are often the point where one reaches no matter how many expected right turns one takes, no matter how many crossroads one gets to.

Life is interesting and at times i force myself to say those favourite words of mine... "Lifes Good!" someday without feeling so untrue.

However, yesterday there was a sudden change in my thoughts like a flick of a whip, a reality check. Do I really have time to waste on trivial issues of life? Are the things I don't have time for so trivial? What are trivial things and what are not?

Thinking of the reality check, I felt that some patterns just re-emerge and think a good bull must have learnt its lesson from one whip and I just want to not re-do the things that once I regreted. Seriously I do not want to take that guilt trip again nor do I want to wander in a lost land of no hope. Then why do I plunge? Thats a questions I often ask myself only after taking the plunge... bit too late to answer anyway.

Life has odd corners too with someone waiting for you. Once you get near, you know that it is only an illusion. How long does one chase shadows? Worth chasing? Worth wasting so much time? The answer is obvious yet we chase... yet we get lost... yet we wonder... yet we never stop.

Now what? Reality check. Is it really going to make sense? Is it going to help me with my logic? Or are these too big to let the heart take its own course? Heart, mind, body and soul-whats the difference? All a game of semantics I suppose.

Bottomline: Life is only a genetically passed disorder and death is hereditary

Visiting The Forsaken Territory

Its been a long time since I have written with anger. Today I am angry and now as I write this, I am angry. I am angry with too many and as I always, keep reminding myself that, “someone who angers you, conquers you” and today, now, I stand conquered and incomplete acceptance.

The kind of thing that one gets angry about is the essence, the killer, the vulnerability and I have not learnt yet to deal with it. The cause being the result of the effect, the conditional boxes trying to contain me again, yet again, is the cause.

What started since yesterday being told that I should score people less in the tests, followed with people telling me what clothes I look better in expecting to dress up for their expectation, followed by people trying to tell me what to speak and what not to and all that BULLSHIT… by now I am fed up and have learnt from the past that once you let someone tell you what to be, you lose yourself, your own being and this is something that I do not want to go through at the moment. Have traveled well enough and have taken these paths that appear before me and have hated these patterns, refuted it and have lived sans guilt for a long… quite happily, for a very long time since. I hate these conditional boxes and if people want me to fit into one, they might themselves fit into that filth without bothering me. I am complacent and I hate being checked upon. Now people try as they try with other mortals… forgetting the fact that I was neither born yesterday nor do I consider them anything more than nothing.

I hate it when someone tells me what to do. Once again I have always done what is said to be never done and have always quite confidently and deliberately rebelled to break these conditional boxes and now, this audacity by people to imply boxes around me?! Surprising! Quite surprising!

Who the hvjkadha are these creatures to disturb my peace? Wish this was the good old days in the wild wild west when momentary anger can be vented and justice met then and there. I am sure I would have taken a few down or atleast died than lose my liberty, than let people contain me in these conditional boxes. I hate these conditional boxes. It has taken me so many years to reach this stage of complacency. Managed to free myself from many strangling conflicts, so many decisions that had to be taken, so many rules that were broken, so many effortless decisions, so many thoughtless thoughts, so many rebellious encounters and so so much… yet they want me to lose all this? In moments?! Just like that?! What the lkjdap;f? This is not it. This is simply not it. I hate these conditional boxes.

Nothing has contained me and no one ever has nor ever will. Now then, why expect? Who the jhahfoa do they think they are to tell me what to do? Who the nhdfjosgosdjgl do they think they lkashflhqlkf are? Nothing. Nothing at all according to me. What makes them think that I care a rats arse about who the bloody ,dgfaf they are? I don’t. or do I? I really don’t. they can go and live their bloody miserable hajlhfdwq up life and I care less. Have I given them undue attention and importance that they feel that now they can pontificate? No. I seriously don’t respect humans. No not at all. If they think that I do, I am sorry, I have disappointed you and happy that I have. Agjdq you all!

Infact, I despise you all who live with one squinted eye bothered about the world supposedly watching you and another on your miserable self entitled to life long guilt trips. I think you live your ljahfa life and let me live mine and I don’t want to belong to your group. Why pull me in? Why even try? I hate these condition boxes and I don’t want to be there where you can take your already rotting arses and screw yourself there.

Bottomline: Never let people tell you how good you are as they soon have the power to tell you how bad you are too.

Now What If...

"How much is too much?" This used to be the question sans answer posed a long time ago and the drama still continues.

Yesterday, I was called by Dr. X in the Department and in an announcement meant to reach the entire Staff Room through me, it was told that I had erred by giving a full mark for a student in the class test.

According to the hypothesis, 'they need space for improvement by marking them less.'

There was a question once again thrown at me, if there was no place where I can reduce the marks. There wasn't. This kid had taken pains to write the Psychological and Psychiatric aspects of the concept, had presented it really well and there was simply no error. Actually, given a choice, I would have marked more. Yet I had to agree upon power thrown around that I will mark them less next time "Giving them the space for improvement" Duh!

Now what if people tell me whats the minimum marks I can give rather than tell me the maximum?

Now what if people leave the extent of the mark to be given to the discretion of the Lecturer and just keep their perspectives to themselves?

Now what if people learnt to pontificate less?

Now what if I still don't believe that someone has to be marked less just because I have the power to tell them that I can... because I can?

Now what if the students decide that marks cannot judge how good they are?

Now what if people try to figure a way to positively reinforce good work rather than highlight the not so positives all the time?

Now what if I still don't fall for this pressure and still decide for myself what is best even if I am not right?

Now what if the world learns to stop containing people within limits and give them space to grow?

Bottomline: Now what if... we recheck ourselves?!

They Definitely Need To Be In A Workshop

Coming back from a workshop, there was something I wanted to blog about. Will verbattim the process for better understanding...

Scene: The workshop, a senior Professor, is surrounded by hand-picked company of girls... they are about to begin discussion on a topic on "Process"... and the dialogue goes as follows in the paradise of fools...

Antique Prof: O.K before we begin, lets understand what 'supervision process' is.

Aspiring Student: Sir, whats a 'process'?

Antique Prof: Yeah, thats what I want to start with. O.K, since none of you know, let me explain what a process is.

(It was almost nearing lunch time)

Antique Prof: When we go for a buffet, we first take the plate, right?

Aspiring Students: Yes, sir!

Antique Prof: Then we take some chappatis, right?

Aspiring Students: Yes, sir (in Chorus)

Antique Prof: Then we take some chicken, then some mutton, then some raitha and proceed to eat... right?

Aspiring Students: oh, yes sir! (now almost reaching a fake state of ecstasy)

Antique Prof: We do not dump everything in one... rather, we follow a system and that is process my dear!

(I would have expected light effects and more drama at this point. However, this old guy, being a bachelor and having every right to be so, is also supposedly a very powerful person in his own den. So now for the hysterical part...)

Antique Prof: Now did you get it?

(As he secretly pryes on the fake attention, his quiet satisfaction got busted when one among the few said...)

Aspiring Student: No, sir!

Antique Prof: Why?

Aspiring Student: "I am a vegetarian sir!"

(Duh! I almost fell off my chair hearing this... untill this old guy goes...)

Antique Prof: O.K, so you take a plate, you take some chappatis, you take some mushroom, you take some gobi manchurian, some raitha and proceed to eat... now thats a process... (puff! pant! puffed out!) Did you get it?

Aspiring Student: Ahhh! now I understood it.

(Professor giggles, I almost lose my balance... I can hear the chorus "Long live the community of fools" singing in high pitch somewhere in the corner of my head)

Bottomline: Wonder how some so called 'Men' behave like fools in the company of women