Untitled

Well, that last one on Optimism seems pretty ironic now... Especially since my CAT bombed in the interim. Yup. Thats my second CAT bombing. I do not, however, intend to make a habit of it. My sponsors would chuck me out. So there are all those other tests to write... More pretty pink OMRs... BRING 'EM ON, I SAY !!!... Err... with ALL due respects, of course. For, as I said, I do not intend to make a habit of this paper-bombing business. An overrated experience... I should know by now....

My weekends are currently spent in travelling to exotic places and colouring OMR sheets. Well, some people might question the exoticity ( you dont think there is such a word ?..... CAT is OVER, I say !!!... ) of the places I visited. To those people I do not give what is commonly known as a "damn".

There have been a few spectacular insights on the way. One regarding what is commonly known as the "criminal streak" supposedly innate in all humans. I beg to differ. There is, in addition to ordinary "criminal tendencies", a "suicidal streak", and a "homicidal streak" in man. That adds up to quite a spectrum, not a mere streak. Especially if you are standing near the door of a speeding train. Even more so if there are other people too standing near the other door. A moment charged with possibility.... Then it passes. Blip.

I was wondering..... Is it better to be Deluded than to be Depressed ?... Maybe Depression is Delusion too.

Well, that should do for now. I wanted to write a gross story or somethin. But that will probably have to wait.
Everything feels so different. I don't feel the same either. Let it be this way.

Well, Life is ONE weird thing.... A "thing" at best.

....On all those things I thought Optimism really was.... And how relieved I am that they are all wrong...

....Just that I thought optimism was about being a goody-goody who never complained and saw bright, beautiful things that others would not see even through electron microscopes... and being totally blind to big ugly things like" why does life keep dishing out this kind of stuff to me" and "bad day after bad day after bad day"... Some sort of corrupted, selective vision while looking at life... So I thought this was just another kind of fraudulent thinking... Fake happiness... I might even have tried it but it never worked, also because the pessimism was WAY too deeply ingrained...

Then I thought... Hey what I THOUGHT about optimism was all THAT ?.....Really ? Did I believe all THAT ?... Eeew !.......And just putting the thoughts that way showed where I was probably wrong....

I thought optimism was about hanging on till the "real thing" comes...

It is actually about HAVING the real thing right here right now... No waiting. No game-playing...

Sounds ok... Good copy, in fact. But it's STILL not easy to undo the thinking patterns of a lifetime... But just thinking of how much happier I could be if I stop thinking negative thoughts kinda helps... It is as simple as that.

Funny thing is, I used pessimism as a cushion. Defence mechanism. "Nothing can be worse than what I imagine if I imagine the worst". Correct. But does that really make anything any better ?.... Well if you genuinely believe that only horrible things happen to you all the time (like I did...) then you might get the perverted satisfaction of saying "Aha! Not quite upto what I thought.... you could not surprise me.. ". It is really SICK... But so are so many of our thought patterns... As long as they are vague thoughts in one's head, one never realises the absurdity. But put it into words, or THINK it out... and man...

Then I really believed that if I was too optimistic, Life would give me below-average stuff because I would be content anyway ( which should not be a problem if I am REALLY content... but hey, I thought it was about WAITING for better stuff and ACTING good...) So I would be cheated, right ? I could get better if I set my standards higher. Refuse to be pleased. I might be exaggerating. But something like this was probably in my head. Another damaging thought pattern.

Then there was the spooky thing about being grateful and counting blessings. I found that as soon as I start countin my good things, they start to disappear... Really ! Maybe it was just a phase. But it scared me for good. Like, it would be so much better to be grumpy than to start losing the blessings one by one simpy because I started being grateful or counting them ! I haven't unravelled this mystery yet... But I have long since started being grateful and moderately optimistic... At least this was one dumb pattern I FORGOT about !

All these silly thoughts crumble when you emphasise the "BEING" happy part... not the "acting" happy... or "pretending to be" happy... or even "keepin ur chin up so that Life will be impressed and reward you with REAL happiness sooner or later"...

That last one... I really seemed to have believed it for a long time.... No wonder Optimism seemed like a painful struggle ! It's really very simple. Just that we sometimes lose our capacity to see the simple things... That happens. But that's all that happens. Just THAT. The rest of the story is fictitious. The long row of dominoes is imaginary. There is no crisis. We can all go home now.

Survival Tactics

There's something to be said about Karma with no thoughts wasted on results.
Sometimes that's the only way.

"If sometimes we don't get lost, there's a chance we may never find our way".

One of my favourite quotes. Understandable, since I seem to have made quite a career out of getting "lost". I mean, this wandering thing... is so addictive.... One just keeps moving aimlessly... as far as the tether would go... And it gets to a point where one just CAN'T be still. In one's head.

Sometimes life derails. And the derailment is thoroughly appreciated and celebrated and experienced. After some time, one thinks, " This is boring. Let me get back to where I was before this happened". Then maybe get "back". Maybe.

Life keeps moving. If one falls behind, just run a few paces and hop back in. Continue the ride. Cuz underneath all this, life is alright. Its working in its own way. And working fine. It never goes wrong. I do.

Maybe my grip will slacken. Maybe I'll fall behind again. But I'll get back here everytime. Time and again. That's how it works.

Just one question. Why do I keep jumping out at the slightest opportunity ? Why do I not want to continue "here" in the first place ?

Cuz "this place" is not where I belong. This place is an interim detention. And I want to get to "that" place where I belong before it's too late. Before it doesn't make a difference anymore. Before it ceases to matter. Before all resistance dies out.

"Life" and " I " seem to have contradictory interests.....

Quite a situation.

:)

Half-Baked Human: Part 2

Disclaimer : This could be gross.

Life seemed suspiciously ok for a while. My friends were always asking, "Are you high ?" and I was forever saying, "Man, you DON'T know...".

Then it happens.

I get a package in the mail. Wrapped in brown paper. The mailman drags from the van to my door. Man, I do NOT have to be told what THAT is. Sigh.

I take it inside. Wonder what to do next. I open the package. No, there's no card saying "Luv, A & B". Only a note stating that the defects found in the enclosed item were of my own making and hence the item would have to remain in my custody. Great.

The ache is back. I have to do SOMETHING before the entire list of symptoms unfolds and I am left powerless once again.

I take the bloody thing in my hand. Heavy, sure. Hmmm.

I take it to the kitchen, not really thinking of what I was doing. Get the cutting board. And the knife. Place the "item" neatly in the centre of the board. I start slicing thin layers. The ache is forgotten for the moment as my brow furrows in concentration. There, done ! Now to turn this thing by 90 degrees and start slicing again. Hmmm. Finished with that as well. Now what ?

I take a frying pan. Place it on the fire. "Heat oil. Saute till done." Okay. DONE.

Now what ?

A rustling sound in the backyard. That damned dog.... Always jumps the wall but cannot jump back. Wait a minute...

I put the stuff in a newspaper and open the back door. The dog responds to my whistle. Here doggy.... Hmmm. That's the last I see of it. At least it served a purpose for someone.

It's dinner done, I shoo the dog away. And dump the dishes in the garbage can.

Sigh. Feels MUCH better. Another day ends. To bed, and a dreamless sleep.

Morning sunshine. Well, nearly noon, actually. I open the door and pick up the paper. What's that noisy vehicle ? The Corporation's garbage van. And just outside my gate, the reason for it's arrival. The dog. Dead.

Great. I didn't mean to. Honest.

The van takes it away.

Now what ?

I struggle to think of ways in which it might come back once again. Hmmm. I'll think of something when that happens.

People are back to asking me "Man, are you high ?".....

The Good Life.

Investment Tips

Arranged marriage is low-risk, low-return investment. Love marriage is high-risk, high-return investment. Capital recovery is virtually impossible in both.

Advice : Put your money elsewhere.

Don't believe me ?

Try this : "A fool and his money are soon parted."

... All Rights Reserved, Life.

Life socks you hard in the face and then catches you as you come crashing down. One cannot help but wonder what the whole exercise is all about. I mean, what's the whole point ?.... Life, listen, lets sit down and talk this through. Where's your script, and what's this psychedelic action sequence doing here ?.....

Half-Baked Human

Things are going way too far. I am convinced that I cannot handle any more episodes. Man, I have no use for this thing. It's just too much trouble. I stuff it into a sack and set out. My luggage makes me feel awkward but on the street noone seems to notice. Ah... Good. Or maybe I don't care anymore... By now.

After what seems a never-ending journey, I stumble in through the gates. Cold, impassive building. Suits me just fine. The burden is becoming unbearable now. I drag it to the door. A voice answers my tired knocking. I step in. Two cold, smug types behind a massive desk. They eye me with indifference as I drag my sack across the floorboards. Hmmm. A and B. Well, I don't care. Just give me a minute to leave this here and I'll be as smug as you two.

A : What ?
Me : I want to return something.
A : What, that ?
Me : Yeah.
B : Bricks ?
Me : Ummm.. Somethin like that.
A : Cut it out. What's that ?
Me : Heart. I don't need this anymore. Never did, actually. Thought I'd return it.
B : Why here ?
Me : Think I got it from here.

These guys are gettin on my nerves. The feeling must be mutual, by their looks.

B : Leave it here.
Me : You mean, just... around here... (middle of the room)
A : Yeah.
Me : Ummm... Ok.

I hesitate.

Me : I have some other complaints too.
B : What ?
Me : I mean, there are some other problems too. Gross mistakes.
A : Pun intended ?
Me : Ummm ? ...

Ahh... Whatever...

They exchange wry smiles. But I've got to clear it all up right now.

Me : I want them seen to. Maybe fixed.
A (to B) : Go check the records.
B goes into another room.

A gazes at the sack. And then stares blankly into space. My gaze shifts round the room. Bare walls. No furniture except for the table and two chairs. Not even a clock. I liked that. I shouldn't have expected one here anyway. B comes back.

B : Just like I thought. Half-baked human. Multiple defects.
Me : What ?

What ?.......

Me : What is that supposed to mean ?
B : Figure out for yourself.

Well... This probably explains some things. But it doesn't solve anything. Or wait...

Me : I want to turn myself in.
A : What ?
Me : I want to leave some more things here. Most of me, in fact.
B : We don't want all that. That's bad enough (nodding at the sack).
Me : I mean, take me out of me, and I'll leave the me here.
A : Which "you" ?
B : What the... Good thing there aren't too many of these half-baked types around...
Me : Am I the only one ?
B : Sure hope so.

A seems to be considering the proposal. Hmmm.

Suddenly, a creaking sound. I watch A's jaw drop and his smugness give way to surprise. The creaking grows louder and ends in a crash.

A : ... Where ?....
B : That thing went right through !

I turn around, My sack is gone. A gaping hole in the floor with splinters sticking out. Darkness below. I look up at their stunned faces. Ok guys, be smug now. Why do you think I wanted to leave it here anyway ?

Their shock gives way to dirty looks. Hmm. No further business, I guess. Whatever. I turn to leave.

A : Wait. What are you going to do with the vacuum ?
Me : What vacuum ?
A : The thing you left behind, it leaves a vacuum where it used to be.
Me : I think I'll keep it.
B : Thought you'd turn that in too.

I open the door and step outside. Past the gates and out on the street. I eagerly search for a difference. Both within and without. Only a numbness.

I make my way home. The sun is down. My bones ache. That was quite a burden to carry. Sleep sinks in.

I wake up. Sunshine. I sit on my bed and wonder if it was all a dream. Well, whatever.

I stand up. Feel a lightness within my ribs. I have to lean a little to the left to balance myself.

Wait a minute..... Yeah, RIGHT !... But can there be another explanation ?

For the moment, I don't care. Feels good. All you demons.... Come back and get me. There's nothing here to get.

Life goes on. Much better though, I must add.

Dreams...

Sleep without dreams is like an empty toffee wrapper. And there's such variety....ranging from the downright hilarious to the most thought-provoking. Or just a bunch of random images. Dreams make sleep worthwhile... or else it would be like one was simply knocked unconscious every night. How drab.

There was a time when all my dreams were dimly lit documentaries on travel. In school, it was C.P. Travels and new routes and missing the school van... In college, it became KSRTC buses, staring at rows of them and wondering which one to board, waiting at bus-stops, and countless journeys... Always travelling. I read somewhere that it means that I feel someone else is controlling my life. Neo in The Matrix, eh ? Not bad... Then it began to include train journeys. Trains with no roofs, trains with the door on the roof....

Then of, course, exams... Exams where I am late, haven't studied a thing...exams where I am running out of time but doing nothing about it, or wandering outside the exam hall, watching other people write....And finally I wake up and think " Oh, that exam was last week. It's all OVER." It's SUCH a WONDERFUL feeling to realise that. A wonderful start for any day...

But the funny thing is, I don't "feel" a thing in my dreams... I never panic. Seeming "nightmares" are the regular stuff of my dreams, but I just think " Oh, that's how it is, isn't it ?... hmmm.." I might be going to die in my dream (ever so often), but I feel this same thing. All kinds of disasters... Lost in jungles, wandering over strange territory, lost from the group in excursions, hiding with fugitives, chased by a pack of dogs, hiding in huge mansions, imminent death in many forms, abductions... Still the same "oh really...hmmm..." reaction. I am genuinely entertained by my nightmares, they are as entertaining as horror movies probably are to most people. When I wake up, I think "Ooh, scary...". But while dreaming, I just sit back and enjoy... And maybe criticise the lighting and the plot. That's one thing... All the dreams have dim lighting. Lack of guts in real life ?

Then there are dreams that defy logic... Like being the only sister of twelve brothers and travelling with them to Africa ( by train, again) to attend my sister's wedding... (which sister ?) on some mountain-top (Kilimanjaro ?). There was even a dream about the end of the world. I was on the terrace, probably night.... and there were meteors raining down on earth, huge swooshing rocks going up in flames... And I thought "How pretty ! So, this is how the world ends...hmmm...".

deja vu

Hmmm. One month of sinful sloth behind. Exactly one month since I shot out of a swivel chair in the Communication Lab into FREEDOM...The FIRST "engineer" ( in a very, ah... broad sense of the term...) to finish the morbid academic 4 year stint at our college.... The FIRST one to be DONE with the LAST of the exams... How great the future looked... No more long nights of straining over chromatic dispersion or matlab programs or microwaves... No more assignments to plagiarize... No tests to postpone (having postponed more tests than we have ever written in the past 4 years...)

Sigh... Turns out I was also the FIRST to lose all fascination for the new routine.

Sleep at 1 am. Wake up at 10.am. Have brunch. Fight with the cats. Check mail. Re-re-re-confirm that there's nothing worth anything on TV. Read Jim Corbett. Eye cats with suspicion. Turn the kitchen upside down trying to fix a snack. Go for a walk. Watch the senior citizens overtake me. Return home disillusioned. Fight with bro. Feel drowsy. Have a bath. Shoo cats out of my room. Go to the terrace. Get a sore neck from staring at the stars. Watch an aeroplane with it's hiccuping lights swoosh by. Listen to the neighbours clanging dishes in the sink. Inhale the aroma of their dinners. Wait ! That's from this house... My dinner ! Hurtle downstairs. Do justice to the meal. Watch dad chase cats. Ping a dozen missed calls to my now "ex"-classmates. Go back to the terrace. Stare at spooky tree-tops in the moon-light. Stare at lights in the distance. Wonder what people there are doing. More interesting lives, I hope ? What's that creature stalking me in the dark ? Another cat ! Time to go downstairs. Realize that no amount of reading will get me to sleep. Go to bed. Toss and turn. Try to forget Corbett and his ferocious felines. Toss and turn. Bright sunlight. Hey, why are you waking me up - it took me hours to fall asleep !