Set It Free

Somehow there are a faces you don’t want to see… for instance, there is this yesteryear actresses’ daughter who tries to strut out of her mother’s legacy in an attempt to establish her own presence; yet, the sad thing is that she neither has the essence nor the stuff that her mother had; no, not one bit and every time I see her on the screen, I flick the screen as if in auto-mode and if she appears on some magazine cover, not by her merit but through her PR efforts, I flip the magazine into the nearest garbage bag… where I think she rightfully belongs. 

Another instance that I recall, while talking about puking at the memory of a person was someone I admired quite intimately - who at one point of time, a long, long time ago, made me forget my name… once. Cursed with chemosensory memory, I remember people and recollect events through olfactory stimulation and I distinctly remember this person’s smell… a concoction of talc mixed with cheap, teenager’s deodorant. After years, while straying in the aisles of a supermarket, the same mixture of talc and deo filled the air – must be someone who tried to sample the concoction, leaving behind the trail… by now, what once enchanted me, disgusted me. Looking for the nearest exit, in a frantic attempt I rushed out and threw up. 

Memories can be delicate and dangerous – a double-edged sword – can slay the reaper as well as cut the keeper. How I wish we had a pen drive-type memory box instead of the God-given hippocampus… to turn on and off memories that we wish to keep, restore or destroy completely at our will.

The sad part of memory is that unlike energy, memories, can be created as well as destroyed… never replaced. Yet, the memories attempted to be replaced, filters through the phenomenon of truth; where an enforced lie cannot replace or gaslight memory. Memory, is personal, is internal and uninfluenced as this storehouse sits comfortably relying to be influenced by amygdala - the powerhouse of emotions; emotions, that spurs out of experiences - both painful and pleasurable that are personal. This wiring of God, is irreplacable. A dark tunnel that allows only the keeper to enter, explore and exit. 

The very common mistake that people do, is when in a superficial mode to overcome a strong overpowering emotion, thrust an external pressure to convince a person that the memory they hold is incorrect and subject a person to their perspective of what the other’s memory has to be. But why would anyone try to replace another person’s memory? Well, it could be a passively jealous sister-in-law, a conniving lawyer, a greedy mother, a purposeless brother, a corrupt family that may see the pinnacle of selfishness as the crux of success or even an aimless therapist who for reason’s (only) their own, recreate a world that suits their convenience for their victim. But then, truth cannot be destroyed. Though reciprocatively one may agree superficiously for the influencer’s sake, truth, when suffered, erupts when one needs peace the most. At the end of the day, our mind effortlessly remembers what is true and was experienced rather than an enforced effort to replace it with a lie to grab things beyond our reach. Truth, will set you free.

Life Is A Waste Of Time

Pork, turkey and cheese have been rinsed, marinated and stocked to the brim in the freezer;
Carols we heard sing, crackers were bought and family get-togethers all attended;
Lights and stars hang around as gleefully as the people who bring out those smiles right in time for those selfies...
This is supposed to be Christmas eve.
When so many things happen around me, my mind wanders into areas I need not tread. Everything seems like a waste of time - food, job, education, people and nevertheless, life itself - a sheer waste of time. It is not like I am in this thanathos mode for the first time... yet, a few things grave enough to leave a scar have happened around me this recently that has made me wonder, what is the point in life(?)
Coming to think about it, like it were an achievement, my lack of ambition has become a burden rather than a blessing at the moment. It actually surprizes me. I realize that life has this huge potential to tease us and test us at the most vulnerable of times - when principles you stand for get mocked and beaten, the ones you thought took vows of chastity and were supposedly clean, happen to be the rottenest lot of hypocritical liars, spineless slaves become speechless spectators to the oppressor's delight and alas, people who you fight for betray you at last and run away as far as they can while you stand there all beaten and bruised. And you still stand, know(wish)ing that there is truth in the saying, 'The truth shall set you free.' From what? For what? I don't know.
Once again, what is truth? Is it something that I believe? Something that I comfortably believe or perhaps believe for comfort's sake? Truth, as a Bio-technologist put it, '...is 360 degree. It is a point from where you feel what you see (360 degrees around you) is what it is. What you believe to be true from that certain point at that certain time.' Within the radius of that point, there are perhaps 360 more or even more points and from each point is another 360 degrees - which gives 'truth' an unlimited chances and infinite possibilities to exist with a multiple 360 degrees within that small 360 degree from which we see it. So now, what is truth after all? Is it an illusion or a pet delusion we all seem to have chanced?
The more you ponder, the more useless everything you believed to be true is. Everything a sheer waste of time. Time taken to know, to understand, to believe, to follow - all a waste of time.
We all want to be the one's who know everything, who want to control everything and think that we can plan and execute everything and cling on to anything that we find comfortable to rest our beliefs in and name it 'The Truth'. Truth is far from it. 'I don't even know what it is' - perhaps that is the truthest of truth you could possibly hear from me right now. I really don't know why people betray, why people become spineless, why people value survival more than living with dignity and respect, why people want everything they desire when they can give nothing to deserve it, why those closest to you decide to step into silence when their voices, even their simplest whisper would mean so much to you... I don't know. I really don't know.
Life is a waste of time.
Happy Christmas Everyone...        

My Misadventure With Truth

Today my country celebrates its Republic Day, the day it brought forth one of the longest constitution drafted within three years since its independance into effect in one of the world's largest democracy. My friends, those poor natives a.k.a "our grave internal threats" who are getting killed for trying to preserve their land, territory and resources would regard this day as the day a plan was laid to curtail their freedom-in pretext of providing welfare through compulsive reforms, the day when their pride and age-old tradition, culture and wisdom were snatched, hatched, boxed and despatched to fit into blueprints drawn to make them nothing more than exhibits in our historical archives. They have not succeeded still (thank goodness!) yet they haven't tried to stop trying too. Duh!

 

Have some of the neo-modern slaves gained freedom by gaining their monetary benfits by selling their dignity, time, families and self? Have corporate slaves who work for their needs within those COBs in well strategized segregations (usually based on race) that the segregator (usually the one who is trusted with running the organization) feels others are too stupid to notice-really not notice? Has slavery really ended when our fundamental rights are snatched in the name of some new-found policies that we are made to follow "obligatorily"? If not, your slavehood is lost.

 

Today, if you raise your voice against these practises, those 'holier than thou art' humans who indulge in it, would call you "violent," "need tuning" and sit you quietly to "observe" what they do which they think is the best. This is neither the best nor is it sustainable as there is fault in their thought; the thought that they think that there is nothing beyond their race or their learning that they can see in others. This limitation is their downfall. And this downfall inevitable if this scenario persists. Till then what is the point in a constitution, policies, rights, freedom and liberty? Just a mockery of international injustice and missions right at your face... hahaha! Atleast I can laugh thinking of those who think that I was born yesterday or can I?   

 

Bottomline: "I know you are here to kill me. Shoot, coward, you are only going to kill a man." Che Guevara 

Liar Liar Pants On Fire

A lie need not necessarily expose the truth; instead, all it usually does is expose a liar, hardly believed thereafter. Truth then is altogether a different story... always said the way one wants others to hear the story; cooked up with half truth and whole lies... and at the end of the day, truth, is a pathless path afterall. Ces't la vie...

p.c: http://guyism.com/women/ashleymadison-com-reveals-what-the-average-adulterer-looks-like.html

Read This Farmer

The humble Indian farmer has been in the NEWS for various reasons; ranging from his plight due to lack of rain affecting his crops, presence of flood due to excess and needless to say, suicides in outraging numbers due to his unrecoverable debts. The farmer has been subject to covering full pages with crisp photographs  along with his family in magazines and newspapers, which otherwise have nothing much to offer anyway and at times does achieve its pre-assumed target to gets us thinking deeply about their plight. Making us wonder where our conscience has gone. 

Watch the vegetables we buy today... they simply don't rot-thanks to the farmer who uses preservatives and knows how to inject them intrinsically into their skin. Look at all the fruits available in the stores, in excess too-thanks to the farmer who uses fertilizers and pesticides in plenty to boost the yield. Look how the produce from the farms shine-thanks to the farmer again for rubbing the skin of these chemically created yield further with wax to lure the buyers. Land, consumers, humans, ethics, sustainability-does the farmer care? Are his actions justifiable as much as the justice he cries to have been denied to him in the tabloids and ever-moving media cameras? Does he wonder, bother and care about the people who are affected by him as he asks shamelessly for people to help him out?  Is he as humane as he wants others to be? Does he think about how his actions affects the society as he constantly blames the society for his plight?

The once upon a time backbone of our country, today stands extended like an appendix-useless and causing us pain-unbothered. As we are force-fed these "bio wonders" of modern age, does the farmer or the country that promotes these care? As we have reduced ourselves into becoming test grounds for these seeds, fertilizers and pesticides, does the farmer who makes the choice to make the final decision to implement these which kill the land really care? As we consume these products and become lab rats and source out a major chunk of our hard earned and borrowed revenue for the hospital industry via paying the bills in counters where we shouldn't be and as families as we drown in deep debts, does the farmer really care about the avoidable-damage he causes? And the  farmer manages to have the nerve to ask, "Why no one cares?!" Isn't this an interesting paradoxical irony?! "Hey farmer, are you wondering still why no one cares about you? Let me ask you, why don't you care about others too?" All I can say for now is, "Get well soon farmer." And till then you cry, cry, cry... you make me cry too. 

p.c: http://debbiedoesraw.blogspot.in/2008/11/gmodead-farmers.html

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

Raise Your Stakes

What to do when one knows that it is never the wise and always the fool who try to run behind people to offer help yet is forced to?!

Life has always taught as it always does and always will that people holding placards shouting "May I help you?" actually will be taken for granted and actually represent that majority of the community that have problems themselves and try to cover it up by trying to solve the problems of others. Hope all Social WOrkers and Psychologists are listening!

That is why we need to bill the clients so that they feel that they need to get thier money's worth from the sessions... otherwise any professional risks being taken for granted. And usually any service offered for free, is criticized, doubted and ineffective. Charge people for God's sake! I am sure if they can get into shit, they will pay well to get out of it as well.

Paying makes people feel good. They feel worthy to feel good cause they have paid for it. Giving people a chance to feel good, if thats our aim, then topple bills on them. Unless we pay for the medicine, the medicine effect is often negated. No wonder that wonder drugs from the poor sage sitting under a tree meditating, listening to you and making customized medicines poured into bottles the ragpicker picked and cleaned for re-use, often given with a sense of passion and free of cost is ditched with haste and the stethescope and syringe injecting the red medicine (which is actually onlyu a dose of B-complex) more effective (though a placebo) as it comes with a cost.

The Veblen Effect! The costlier it gets, the better it is supposed to be. Bridegrooms quoting a higher dowry (price) tag on their heads are often fought for like a prized calf... Guys ask for more! Charge more! Raise the demand. Superfluous though it sounds, thats what works. Greedy Mamma's and following suit, the Pappa's will give anything to get this guy to put up with their dripping daughter to save her from her misery. Ask for nothing in the name of "Socialism", "Equality" and "Justice" et all the crap, they will deem upon you some malicious scam or ostracize you unmercifully condemning you with some strange unnameable disease yet to be discovered that you possibly might have. Try it; find it; one will know. Why even risk, just raise your stakes and save yourself of all these embarassment.

Bottomline: “When the world has once begun to use us ill, it afterwards continues the same treatment with less scruple or ceremony, as men do to a whore” Jonathan Swift

In Response...

After a long time I received an intellectual feedback to a post and I felt it would be ideal to respond. The comment goes as such:

>"I don't know the context behind the pseudo misogynist rant, but you are right on expecting the woman to take care of herself. But the expectation would be mutual, right?"

"mutual", depends on where you decide to stick your relationship to-the heart, the mind or the soul. That sounds very oratory... so let me put it this way. If one were to respond sans react (which seldom we adhere to), the choice between instinctual reaction (slightly barbaric often our own and so natural) or logic response (a civilized option always imposed, cultivated and nurtured) needs to be made.

Yet often the instinct is hungry and needs to be fed, the animal within screams for release for the better, rather than seal the coffin with restrictions even before one dies.

The ideal pair is just as much complex as it is simple to find the right combination. A masochist is an ideal match for a sadist and an exhibitionist ideal for a voyeur and so on and so forth... arranged marriages shown desperation and lack of hope where 2 souls come with a bowl of expectation to be filled... how can 2 people with begging bowls feed each other?! yet we decide to give in to arranged marriages?! The dilemma between 'have to marry' and 'want to marry'... yet just as everything in life comes, this too comes with choices.

">people asked me whether he was impotent
Poor cousin. But poorer are the people who asked such a question.. they are 'sans intellect'."

Sans intellect or maybe they were opinionated. After all, all the facts, we believe in, all the theories we learn, all the knowledge we feed ourselves with, correcting and recorrecting, pondering and wondering, information, news and all the "intellectual" feedings we push into us, are all a maze of opinions of others... Probably they too just came out with a hypothesis and I can't confirm the null hypothesis yet... probably they could be right too.

">attempts were made to save the girl's face by telling my cousin that she had refused him first
Bollocks! I guess if it hadn't been the family folk who said this, he would have given them the ... He could still do that.. euphemistically. ;-)"

Women typically (when generalized) like to refuse and not be the refused. So a gentleman will always grant that wish to her as a final kiss goodbye. And there is no need to attack the arrow and spare the archer... the comment was designed elsewhere, so whats the point fighting the messenger?! hahaha... Once again sticking on to barbarism I personally believe in, diplomacy or euphemisms are only a compromise for a deadly mixture of a cleverly designed instinctual logical attack-which requires patience... yet everything of class comes as a result of patience... don't they?! The longer it takes, the thicker the venom and heavier the strike and at times a venemous strike is not even necessary with time passing by... So, till then I shall route in my "pseudo" rants naturally misogynist. Hahaha! Buddhism helps.

Bottomline: Truth is lie told the way you want others to hear... 'relative truth' and 'absolute truth' as Buddhism notes... "a pathless path" as truth often is explained, is only a bubble...

The Turmoil of Truth

Education hardly solves any issue... infact it only doubles it. Often we learn that somethings are supposed to work in a particular way and if doesn't, there is another theory to explain why it didn't. Unlearning is mastery of a paradox; an unlimited scope to revisit and reflect upon experience.

The strangest myths are often unpredictably broken by silence when an erupting soul refuses to accept lies that hovers over the surface refusing to let it emerge. The mythically plundering soul however, rests sleeplessly between the unknown faith lying helplessly, brooding over an illusion of clouded reality and truth-which is always lies told the way you wish others to know... from all these emerges the thought of breaking free. Breaking free for once. Breaking free from fake unrealities and misguiding principles that entwine over morale and values conveniently twisted. Breaking free for once before we die.

What is the truth we hold? What are the lies we dispell? What is the genuiness of the justice mystified? What is the need for all the pomp and luxury?

This is when class steps in to show that most of the complications can be done away with if and only if the desire to manifest the self surrounded with objects unknown to show the difference can be negated by adopting to nothingness and live sans difficulty, with ease as if nothing is required... nothingness completes and that is the beginning and so is the end. The turmoil of loss is managed more by class than by experience.

Bottomline: “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”-Buddha