The Three Kinds of People

In a recent conversation with my son, he mentioned that we should not be cutting ties with people; this was after we were wondering about being independent and self-reliant without bothering or disturbing others. He reminded me of an earlier conversation we had when I had mentioned that it is not ideal to to be dependent and lost nor wise to be independent and alone but quite reassuring when we can be 'inter-dependent'. He added on, 'We have lost too many people who we couldn't get along with and we are left with only a few... let's not lose them too.'

This was neat and timely. The books say, people either go towards people, avoid people or move away from people. The first two are surprisingly sympathetic and pathetic. Those who move towards people with a sense of neediness to be accepted, respected and loved are those who need constant validation; those who avoid are the one's who have been affected during earlier interactions with certain kinds who would have broken a trust or even better - betrayed them. The third kind are the complacent ones... with no need for validation nor fear of being betrayed - they simply move away minding their own business with self-assurance. Which one to be or not to be, is our choice and ours alone.   

Personally, I have committed to be of the third kind. Superimposing Transactional Analysis to these three types, this may also be compared to being a dependent child and transforming into a selective adolescent/adult and later maturing into a spaced-out individual. While this may sound and appear to be a personality trait, it is a dependent variable based on our situation. It is retrospective. 

My son seems to be right in content yet we may have to differ in perspective. For some considered lost, who walked away, who shut doors, who live in a scripted delusional narrative do not deserve to be with you for better or for worst. At this point, we may not know what we appear to be or which category we get slotted into by others. That is upto them and we have no control over it. The best I can say to those who have taken their time to label and slot me into a category of their convenience, I may be guilty as charged; but, the charges are guiltlessly accepted...  

Have You Met These Kinds

Often it seems to me that I have this irrevocable personality flaw to notice what I consider 'wrongs' and an intense urge that comes with it to set things right - almost like an OCD. Wanting to expose some academic and financial scams recently I had filed a few RTIs (Right To Information). In good faith, it was foolish on my part in hoping that these self-proclaiming good guys in religiously whitened pedestals would be true to their word. It was a mistake. Should have realized that these dark clowns in dark spaces would be who they are true to themselves - the unhappiest lot I have ever encountered - who unless you experience personally would never believe the kind of falsehood they live in so incessantly, shamelessly and lavishly. 

To cut the long story short, all the responses from their side to queries raised to them, were either blatant lies or fabricated non-sense. Cowards lie. It is like that pesky frotteurist who has no other way but to do what he does in silence, in fear of being exposed otherwise. These guys are so creepy too and to realize that they have been entrusted with big responsibilities makes me wonder if the whole world has gone mad, being unable to realize the true nature of these scoundrels who the world not only trusts yet also genuflects ritually. Lying, Creepy, Cowardly Scoundrels.

It is their ability to project themselves as angels covered in white that people easily believe in them and that they mean good. They are like these white-washed haunted houses - inviting and nice outside while deceptive and pure evil within. They are seasoned traitors and marked betrayers. Day after day we get to see, hear and even meet these kinds - in the streets, in the market, in our families, in our workspaces and often closer than we ever imagined or suspected them to be. Those Lying, Creepy, Cowardly, Filthy Scoundrels.

They live on us. The strange thing is that they make us feel that their validation is important to us when in reality, they depend on us validating them to exist. They are paranoid and masters of imagination and suspicion. They suck you out to live. Those Lying, Creepy, Cowardly, Filthy, Parasitic Scoundrels.

Giving them too much of accolades - even of their immense capacity to do evil - would make them feel large. Those unworthy souls unfit for a morsel should be denied being served a banquet of praise they would relish. Let us deny them of that. They deserve to be ignored like how we would swap aside a mosquito no matter how irritatingly it spins around - it definitely is not entertaining. How I wish they could see and realize that. Wish they could be sent to another planet too - preferably to one that does not even exist - where they can chew each other's head; the sight as such would be like watching a pit full of slithering vipers, adders and mambas and every other known and unknown slithering creature in an orgy fest to get the best of each other. Good riddance to bad rubbish, please. Those Lying, Creepy, Cowardly, Filthy, Slithering Scoundrels.

The very fact that they are capable of lies and are a big fat living lie themselves, indicates that they will defeat their own purpose of existence much sooner than later. At the end of the day, truth only triumphs and truth alone triumphs. Still, those Lying, Creepy, Cowardly, Filthy, Slithering, Clumsy Scoundrels... Duh!     

Boring People

We have innovated everything I suppose. What we do now is just 'improvize' on what already exists. All the 'clever' questions that can be asked, have been asked and all those 'witty' answers needed to be given, have been given... in case we have not found the answer to a question yet, it only means that we have not searched enough.
At large, we are a 'stuck' generation with nothing more to ask and nothing new to answer that one has not already heard of... we are just one stuck generation with all the questions and solutions and with nothing new to find... 

This Is Sexy

People who write regularly sometimes say that they reach a point in writing when they cannot get anything out, cannot write any more, atleast temporarily; this is what they call 'the writer's block'. To overcome this they say you have to have a muse; a muse is someone who springs lust within, lust that makes you chase, the chase that inspires creativity, an inspiration that lasts only till it ends in sex; once the muse is attained like in the case of sex, it ceases to be a muse too.
Recently I could not write. This had nothing to do with a writer's block nor did I need a muse, atleast at this moment. I often ensure not to invest time in anything that does not affect me... "if something does not affect you it is not worth going through" I always say. Yet, this that I saw was a little too much to digest. I saw the war crimes caught on tape from the island nation submitted to the UN and other agencies that promise justice for the victims. Victims, people with skin, bones, heart, mind and soul, just like everyone else; it easily could have been you and me, had we born there and spoke the language for which they underwent this torture. Women being killed, stripped and their naked bodies teased... in the same order; children screaming from bunkers unable to reach the bombed bodies of their parents lying right in front of them fearing the awaiting bomber above them; girls raped along with their mother; people paraded naked, blindfolded and then shot point blank; lifeless bodies of children and mothers swamped in blood carrying them crying helplessly, asking, "what did these children do?"; unanswered, some old people already suffering the mercilessness of time being ripped to pieces, torn and bleeding, hardly whimpering nevertheless cry; truckloads of bodies heaped and to get more space stamped to crush them to make way for more space to crush in further more bodies; all this happening as the military who commit these acts against unarmed people cover these acts in their mobile phone cameras with laughter and a sense of pride.
The international community is quiet. Quiet just like me because it did not happen at my door step and thanks to the remote control and choice of channels, switching to a song and dance sequence is easy and healthier. These people, the victims of war and crime, in the mean time will be quiet, too weak to cry any more; hurt beyond repair, lifeless and voiceless. After water reaches your nose, why bother if it reaches your eye or covers you whole?!
Now, would anyone bother to read this post if it had been titled any different? Its hard to write when some things affect you beyond repair and it feels like being killed under water, with mouth closed shut, unable to scream, with no one to hear even if I did. Now the buck stops there even with me! Such unworthy, self-obsessed, selfish bastards we all are.

p.c: http://www.ashleyb.org/archives/001437.html

The Idiot Who Bought A BMW... (Unlike the Monk who sold his)

An interesting New Year for me this time and as usual, neither missed the tradition of the 12'O Clock chapel nor the vehicle-top view of fireworks while wishing everyone walking by a "Happy New Year." However, this time had my son (barely 3-months old) who seemed to enjoy the fireworks more than anyone around and it was sheer joy seeing him enjoy. Then came the moment of truth...

This usual event takes place right in front of an old church's graveyard where the traffic is rather slow (both inside and outside the gates. Pun intended.) although the year-end often has this understandable rush. And this year, was no different from any previous years I have known. People tried to negotiate for space in their little cabs, cars and bikes with some parked comfortably on the sides. Somehow, things managed to go smooth with people adjusting, giving way as often as they could. All till the Bloody Monstrous Whore (a BMW) came in or rather tried to and out of it 2, the owners I suppose (or rather slaves), worried that their by now headlight-blinking, horn-screaming, polished treasure which no one else cared a rat's-arse about not get a scratch nevertheless a much feared dent on new-year's eve I suppose. Trying to command others to move, these slightly over-sized buffoons tried to shoo people expecting the respect to be strewn upon them for the very and the only reason that they got out of a BMW. In this little town, no one seemed to care nor seemed bothered to obey the demanded respect for the BMW nor its slaves. Further honking, further blinking of head lamps and still no budging... in fact it only grossed the crowd and they verbally pulled a middle finger straight at the 2 fatsos' faces. The BMW backed up giving way for the cars already in line to move... did they have another choice?! hahaha! I'm luvin it. Sometimes, the crowd's whisper is louder than an idiot's scream I learnt.

Bottomline: "Property is intended to serve life, and no matter how much we surround it with rights and respect, it has no personal being. It is part of the earth man walks on. It is not man." Martin Luther King, Jr.

To err is human and to forgive I need wine...

"Its a vice to advice the wise... advice otherwise." A few days back my younger brother had the nerve to tell me something I did not want to hear. That being an uncalled for shot, a cheap one, one that I wasn't expecting, I tolerated. 'He is my brother, right?! (never too heavy to carry).

The confining space of the vehicle we were traveling in kept me from walking away... there was a sudden stillness inside the jeep as the road seemed to move beneath. Was irritated and not angered. For sure I know that 'a Man who angers you conquers you.' So, as often as I do, I just wanted to know the root cause for this sudden rise of offense that seemed to have shattered the norms of brotherhood. It is always the best option to put an end to something that we don't like immediately, then and there, the very first time or bear with it and give an open permit for people to repeat the same thing at their will once again.

So sans saying a word I held a position of silence and pondered "why would he even think of taking me for granted?!". The truth, I know, often lies in the unspoken words than the ones spoken and I began reading between the lines. Could it be his insecurities? Could it be his doubts? Is he projecting his confusion? Or should it be a mean streak that he had began cultivating of late that needed some Big Brother intervention? Or is it something he was doing behind my back that makes him feel smarter just because he thinks that I don't know yet?! Well, it just required a little bit of left headed exercise to connect those logical matrices and the puzzle was solved. And me relieved.

Right now, I am just waiting for the right time, place and situation (those three vital elements) to break the revelation and as often as ever, the truth to be spoken as raw as it gets and calling the spade a spade and nothing else to put a brooding misery to rest for good. Rather than not give away my own insecurities and defend my ego I felt good that I was beginning to respond better than react with age. One more lesson for the road on the road. C'est la vie...

Bottomline: "The greatest bounties given to man are, judgment and will; happy is he who misapplieth them not." Akhenaton? (c. B.C. 1375) Egyptian King and Monotheist

Heal The World

Its so strange when I wonder about the generation I live with (The next one after mine).

There was a phase when the one's who occupied this world had questions. Questions... questions after question, questions sans answers yet questions built upon questions and at times even questions questioning the questions. A generation of quests I must say. The drive, the fuel were those questions.

Then came the answers. The generation of solution seekers determined to leave every question left behind answered sans rot. The generation of seekers I must say. The fire, the guts to answer, the faith on truth some discovered and some invented.

Then followed the one's we are with today. After almost every question having been asked and almost all the answers given, the ones today are stuck with nothing to ask that hasn't been and nothing to seek that hasn't already been sought. Now they hang inbetween with everything given and with neither drive nor fire and neither fuel nor guts. Just hanging in there wasting their time in a fake, unclear, virtual fantasy almost blowing up in mists of thin air right against them.

When myth is high, science is low and vice versa... now, our great generation having nothing to prove living in a comfortable world of information pollution enjoying the smog of it in every inhalation. How wonderful?! And now they rest in their own misery of superstition, ritualistic traditions and eclectic philosophies and values that suits them... moment to moment. Changing everything they shit with something to fill in once again to stink once more.

Bottomline: “Before you go and criticize the younger generation, just remember who raised them.” Author Anonymous

The Significant Stop!

The open confession to begin with, I do not appreciate pro-government nor pro-military notes and do not render my support in any form to these congested, worm-infested, greed-creeped, manipulative divine hole of son's and daughters (now they have 33% reservation too) of the 'feminine form of the loyal creature'. Journalists and media seem to be so anti-people too these days yet somehow, somebody, somewhere manages to break these miserable assumptions trying to blanket-cover people into rendering them into misinterpretations and lobbying misguided point of views; thus sabotage brain cells of the common mass they care the least about. Often I wonder why pro-people, pro-environment friendly, pro-cultural and traditional safeguards of the society get sidelined and victimized as terrorists. Constitution was the biggest enemy to these souls who were free to live life their way till then. With the right to vote granted, lost was their right to self-respect, dignity and right to live above all. This comes with the tribals, often referred to as the 'uncivilized mass' who need to be "civilized" and make them come into the 'main stream' of "development" in whatever definition we choose to give these terms.

People are lost and people are trained to kill.... in the military and by the people. Now who is the victim?! Think about it... both are! Then the benefactor?! Uncle West and the government babus who run to fetch the morsels strewn at them for being the pimp in between to help them clear jungle territory, flora and fauna dear to those who live and those who live in there and every one who comes in between... all for making way for mines which by the by gets labelled as 'civilization measures'... actually thinking about it, they actually erect hospitals (specialized) as part of their "Corporate Social Responsibility" activity which by the by would not be required if their malicious projects were not sanctioned in the first place and our people safeguarded instead of providing hospitality to alien uncles and aunties... we were always a rich man's slave and slave to anything with a white skin... weren't we?! The reminiscence of licker's of the white man's thrash. The Media, Journalists and Social Workers often becoming a part of the pseudo-welfare measures... after all we are fools too.

Why do we kill our own to feed a breed that does not bother? Why are we a breed that don't bother? Why do we we even breed?

Dog eat dog world this. Heads want to demoralize, demotivate and snub the growth of the so called "team members". From where do they come? Why come at all? How long will people survive on these pseudo-pretentious faking?! If I were to belive that truth alone triumphs, then why bother about these lying, scandalous games people play? "Why bother" more effectively applies here I suppose. Respect is something that exists only till a point I decide to give. After that... who the fcuk cares dear?!

Bottomline: When the lofty boss walks, the humble pagan knows very well and 'that' he knows way too well how to humbly bow and silently fart

Defending A Lie

Over the last week, after the glorious return from the mountain tops, as if to ruin the lifted spirits, a son of a bitch inspires me with lies and expects me to defend. Can anyone understand how difficult it is to defend lies than prove truth?! Its like having to prove that unicorns don't exist... how do I do that?!

This a-hole drops in from God's own country known for stabbing people on their backs and does the same with moi. Thanks buddy! The issue errupted because I confronted him directly Man to Man... the problem was it took me a while to realize that some fellows sprout hair even after castration. This fcuker actually cried during the confrontation! hahaha... The sobber's trails leads to the comforting demands he sets forth at his HoD's table, later the Dean's and a sequence of inter-departmental meetings that followed. Duh! More ass-kissing and ass-wiping for that son of a bitch.

However, it irritated me, not quite angered. The one thing I long for is to fight a real enemy and these fcukers spoil the sport. Too many people have offered me the courtesy of fighting for real and fighting for a cause... the fight that errupts the soul within and troubles your sleep and refreshes you with a cause to wake up for, sharpen your swords and fight once again... and now this trivial a-hole wants someone to wipe his tears?! "Grow up! or shoo shoo go get Papa the bone (bitchy mutt)!" At the end of the day, a Manz gotto do what a Manz gotto do! So haven't slipped him from my scope yet it moves...

Bottomline: "It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious." Oscar Wilde

The Traffic Signal

One day as I was driving past the traffic in the peak hours of the morning, I saw for fact that every human is rushing towards something only s/he knows and in a mindless effort to negotiate, cares so less for the other mortals taking the same path. So in the road, just as in the trip called life.

The rudimentary challenge that confronts my mind at this moment to get past this suburban drudgery is the chronic dissatisfaction that confronts all my efforts and makes it seem so fragile… is this bubble we live in so delicate? When do we have a story of our life worth having, carved on stone instead of these fading passages we tiringly try to write in the sands near the shore… nevertheless even stones disappear with constant dropping of tears don’t they?

Probably the emergence of this unpleasant and demanding vacuum devouring me which makes me frantically search for those little pleasures of life hidden and lying submerged in the unknown hues of a pleasant sky often when realized, comes from within. Probably we expect too much from outside to make us happy… or is it due to the bulging ambitious drive which oversees the stones one has to step on despite the flesh being torn, we seldom wait to frown as our eyes are lifted somewhere high on the mountains we wish to reach, our legs still walking on? At the end of the day, what the heck are we all walking for following the trails left behind by others in flocks hoping that this is the trail every lost soul takes?

The easiest path is to follow the footsteps of others I suppose… no wonder books sell so well. We second-hand creatures!

One more thing that I get to see are people in the verge of anxiety and with a rush of fear and hope to have everything under their control even those beyond, resort to superstitions. Those which make us pledge some elements responsible for the ways we screw up our lives or things around it.

These days I am so glad that I was present during one of the life changing sessions I had attended during my college days… the person who talked was a renowned and famous actor known for his criticism of religion. He said that if religion uses fear arising out of anxiety as a tool to imprison us in our own self acclaimed prison and thrives on the revenue thus expected to exculpate us, then who needs such a religion which brings forth such superstitions for its own promotion?

By renouncing religion, we save ourselves from this complacency of surviving on such superstitions. What one has to deal with and carefully uproot is the fear and anxiety that lies beneath deep rooted, instead of trying to chip out branches or apply makeup to an unhealing wound.

Bottomline:
If I were to put it in a pure language of Economics, ‘An uneven distribution of my soul sans a tryst between my heart and mind in the perfect market situation bothered by countless thoughtless thoughts.’ Just like every intellect questioning in remorse at the end of the day the knowledge which corrupts and the second-hand learnings and thoughts without which he would have been better off… those signs of learning that got him labeled eccentric which he can’t deny… and he still thinks in borrowed conceptions and perceptions to understand his hunger and evoke his own thoughts. Still thinking… Now what?