Of Sheep and Shepherds
May 23, 2007 at 10:39 am | In Life, Philosophy, Rules | 7 CommentsIt sucks to do things that you don’t like to, but then there are times when you have to do them anyways. Yes, we always have a choice, but a choice between the ugly and the worse is hardly a choice. Even if you shamelessly market ugly to something as something better than worse. It helps when your conscience supports your actions, by mitigating the unbearable. Then there things that you are supposed to do, about which your conscience or your thought process does not seem to grasp the teeniest of the bit of.
It is not that logic fails, it cannot. People do not care to embrace it. Why? I do not know, because I am not one of them. I hate people who follow things blindfolded, like sheep following a shepherd. What is worse, they don’t just follow him, but keep tracing his path long after the shepherd is gone. Why? Because everyone else is doing the same. Why? Because you are supposed to do it. Why? Because it is the right thing to do. It is here that I lose my temper. How in the name of anything, can you know what is right or wrong when you don’t even know what you are doing? They proclaim that sometimes things are not run by logic or reasons. I disagree, though I may agree that there are things which have right answers; but our acts must be dictated by logic.
Why can one not have not have long hair? Why are some things taboo? What perplexes me is, why were things that were taboo ten years back, cease to be sonow? They don’t know when wrong became right and when right became wrong. It is OK to be ignorant if you know that you are so, but it is grossly repulsive ifyou agree to something without knowing what it is or what it stands for. Being wrong is understandable, but not being accommodating enough to doubt the veracity of things and not acknowledge mistakes is a sin.
Few things are absolute in absolute terms. The fact that the temperature outside is 50 degrees on the Celsius scale is absolute on the Celsius scale. Though it actually means that it is somewhere half-way between the freezing point and the boiling point of water. Something which is green in color to our eyes, may not be the same for other creatures. This just asks us to be flexible in out views. A Brit and an AAmerican can fight for ages over the fact that water boils at approximately 100 as well as 212 degrees, yet both can be simultaneously wrong and right. Does my own example not contradict what I was saying all along? No. Explain to the American about Celsius and the Brit about Fahrenheit; tell them what logic has been used in either case. If either refuses the existence of the other, or believes in the superiority of what he thinks,then he is the sort of person I have been talking all along.
This can apply to innumerable situations. Most people do not know, why we do or follow something. This is what I detest, I will only be wrong in rejecting their way of life, if someone actually tells me what all of that stands for, a reason good enough; not that you must not wear pink, because it is a gay color or become being a doctor is better than a ballet-dancer.
The reason why things change is because of people themselves. Afew among the billions who chose to defy the taboos till they are no longer taboos. Who choose to live their life, and not some one else’s. You can be the shepherd, or be the sheep. If you meek, pun fully intended, it is not because of shepherds; but because of the other sheep.
Things that mastercard can’t buy
May 14, 2007 at 9:17 am | In Uncategorized | 8 CommentsI wish my card worked for these:
Marks. Lest you are studying in Chaudhary Phool Devi Vishwavidyalaya, Patna. Though they too accept only cash.
Time. What the heck, I’ll run short of time even if they postpone my exams by a year.
Pens & Pencils. All you can do two minutes before an exam is- Beg, Borrow, Steal
Words. I’ll pay a hell lot for not saying ‘Frick, I knew this. Why didn’t I think of this’
Sleep Caffeine has its limitations.
Mistakes 3×3=9 not 6.
Luck 2+2=4 also 2*2=4.
Asteroids. Imagine your building collapsing a day before your Physics paper. Eureka. Taliban, on the other hand can lend me a couple of tommies. Sounds a bit too far fetched though, they don’t accept cards either.
Phone Calls. ’Hello, haan papa kaafi tough paper tha. Lekin theek thak hua. Agle paper mein aur mehnat karunga…… haan haan khoob man laga kar padh raha hoon’
Well Well, cards cannot make me stop day-dreaming either. They only way they help me is they help me pay for the food and cokes during my night-outs. Attempts to study while I watch Two and a half men. Oh yeah, my best bet actually is Bluma Zeigarnik’sZeigarnik Effect which states that People remember uncompleted or interrupted tasks better than completed ones. (Click on the link to know that I did not make any of that up. Though the name is indeed cool.)
For the record, there is no money in my bank account.
Colours: A Short Story.
May 10, 2007 at 7:41 am | In English, Literature, Short story | 19 CommentsI like writing down stuff, this is a short story that I wrote some days back. Please comment on this and let me know how you think it is. Would greatly appreciate criticism.
He held the flower gently by the fingers of his left hand as he cut the petals into tiny pieces with his right.He couldn’t remember the last time he was beneath the tree; or even why had he stopped coming altogether to the park, pull a flower and keep tearing it down to small little pieces. There was not a single day, ever since his first day at the university, that he didn’t sit by the giant Banyan tree at the center of the park. He would then pluck a flower from the hundreds of plants which lined the jogging track of the huge park. ‘Good old days’ he said to himself.He was already trapped in the vicious circle, where one dwells in the past to ignore his present and wishes to avoid the future.
He looked at the northwest corner, where there were yellow sunflowers. There were also yellow orchids and blue lillies there. You could find the small white coloured flowers near the fences of the park to the east, whose name he still didn’t know; with the peach coloured roses lying right next to them, he recalled. While in his second year, he had seen Professor Killsman and Proffessor Millen kissing there. Akrit smiled as their aged faces popped up in his mind. He knew everything about this park, well atleast more than anyone ever did. He knew which color could be found where. He didn’t really care which flower it was, “Life is all about the color”- he used to say
He smiled as he remniscised about his past. He was going to die in minutes, or even seconds. The arsenide that he had with his coffee, would probably kill him any moment. He started laughing hysterically, a laugh that he had never laughed before. He laughed and laughed till his stomach started hurting and tears rolled down his cheeks. He recollected that he hadn’t laughed properly for a long period of time, and he laughed more. A pink rose caught his attention and he stopped laughing. Pink, that was his sunny colour, he used to pick up pink whenever he was happy.The day he first saw Samantha, sitting on the benches not far from the tree he was sitting, he had a red rose in his hand. He kept selecting red till the day he married Samantha.
This park has been his refuge since the day he came here. He found joy,comfort, solace and peace here. It is here that he used to write his poems, his booker-nominated books and here did his homework. He even found Samantha here. That is why he thought it proper that he should live his final moments here. He started laughing hysterically again, only more deliriously. He wondered if dying at a place of choice really mattered, he asked if anything ever mattered at all . Samantha didn’t matter anymore. Sarah, their six year old blue eyed girl with a dimpled smile and a dreamy voice didn’t matter anymore. He was flooded with emotions, with faces and feelings. Of things done and things which he couldn’t undo. He looked at all the colors of the flowers around him. He had picked every single colour that he could find in the park, to give him company to the grave. He fell, as the world seemed to blur. The final moments of his life spent crying, because he knew that some things did matter. Not the place where you die, or the colour you pick- but some things do matter. A gust of wind swept away all the flowers and the colours. It left only a white tulip which was gracing his serene face.
UPDATE: Here is Part II of the series.
Cartoon Cartooooons
May 2, 2007 at 8:40 am | In Uncategorized | 6 CommentsWent to a beach last night which is quite close to the hostel where we live. Varun, Muzzu, Nishant, Benji, Niaz and Jake reached there before me and cartoons were being dramatically discussed. Eight eighteen year olds not talking about Paris Hilton, Victoria Beckham or David Beckham; the Iraq war or how American capitalism sucks or engine failures in F1 but cartoons of all things! Since I entered the discussion late I had no idea how it started but all sorts of cartoon names and characters were being tossed around. ‘Do you remember Swat Cats? ‘Yeah came right after Centurions‘ ‘Heck, the flying guy there was my favourite’. Captain Planet (He is the hero), Caveman, Moby Dick, were the group of toons for the starters. Then the next course included Dexter’s Laboratory, Popeye, Power Puff Girls, Johnny Bravo, Jetsons, Flinstones, Richie Rich and others.
Yeah the bunch of programs which were on Zee TV followed. Ducktales, Tailspin, Gummy Bears, Chip n’ Dale, Little Mermaid. Then there was the Sony-time. Bewitched, I dream of Genie (or something like that), Dennis the Menace (Did I spell that right? I am sure could have done that the correctly about ten years back ) Phew! Finally the Cartoon part ended with the Small Wonder’s episode where there is another robot guy and singing of the title song by me. How Disney channel sucks and how Cartoon Network has screwed things up by creating kid-zones and dad-zones….
You would think that all this would be enough; discussing Superman’s love interest along-with Batman’s lack of ’Super-Hero’ skills and our favourite character; but we had just started. Then there was this discussion how Prince of Persia and Alladin had similar themes and story lines. ‘Shift + L ‘ was a cheat to get to the next level. Of course Road-Rash’s ‘XYZZYSPOON[shift+1]‘ Nitro Boost was way cooler, though no general consensus could be reached on whether Sierra Nevada was a better map than City. After wondering why Road-Rash 1,2,3,4,5,6, 6 Special Edition did not come out we moved on to other games. There was Dave and there was Pac-Man and Wolf-3D was plain kick ass! Could the video games be left out? Contra ( Does anyone even have a count how many different types of them are there? ), Mario ( Hmmm. What’s the last level in that? ) and that racing game where you change lanes (with oil slicks and fuel stations) and so many others.
It is hard to be your age. So much harder to behave like you are ten years older, but so much easier to behave like you are ten. That was pure concentrated fun. Now the word undiluted only reminds me of Acids and Bases. How Dexter was so cool that I wanted to be a scientist (Or was it that I wanted to be a scientist and I liked Dexter’s). Those two hours were fultoosh fun. Reminding that I used to come from school and eat my food for at-least 90 minutes so that Mom wouldn’t ask me to go and sleep and hence I would be able to watch TV. I made sure my drawing classes were after 7:00 pm so that I could watch those cartoons. It was a nice change from talking about performance hungry games whose graphics look lame the next year; and which themselves end up in the thrash-can three days after you install them. I said it was easy to behave like a ten year old but impossible to be one.
Just then someone’s Mom calls and tells him to improve his grades. Yeah and yeah then we all had this thing about responsibility, expectations, capabilities, happiness, careers and of course – money. Things which are no fun to write about. About which you already read, hear and talk all the time. The bubble burst. It always does, that is why it is called a bubble.
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